Newspaper Page Text
IX AX HOUR.
BT XOHA riRHT.
I.
.... ASTicirATiow.
'I'LL take th orchard tth," hil,
Niikin(t lowly, miiinic riowly:
Th lirook WM dni-i within iu tied,
ThhiHuo flung 11 ww ol ml
Low in the Wrisl, m lurid elie led.
Acnww the ilrird lmok-aw he went,
Sinrinc luwiv. Miii'in? cl'iwiy:
Mm- knurra-iv mw ln- nun that i-nnt
Iff fi.-rv Mi win wilt iliwnl
Hie nev'rr fw tlie whf-at w.is btnt,
Th' urn pirrhrtl. t!if l!ns mi liii"l:
s-miririr i-w;y, ni!in? b mviy,
.-r - itnti'lrti llif ilrmi h fti;i-.l
A .iiimii'-r picMP .nr iBr i n 1 i-:,,
Wiih rwet-k aud in i viitt- (ukI.
II.
I)lAPPOI!Tlr.VT.
Hut li'imowrifl c. iininc all the wiy,
: irl. i ii sr b.w-.y. pacinif i-li ly,
Slii kmi-w tin- l-iit w.iv.tt w.irti-ring lay,
Shi u th ll'.-onii liry iff y,
Mie m:i.-l tin- lit ir bniokut'fi'jiluy.
A limip had .primp from out tlt Sout j
ltm . m-liinir ! -iy, pa'-inir slowly,
She only rit ilir tiurninc lirouth :
ll'Tt'Vin witc hot. Hil l I'-irr.ht'il hiTmni.tl,.
VetBWu t the wind blew
ir.iiu the South!
And when the win1 bronnht welcome rain,
Hull kivhinir l-wly, icinir slowly,
. ,T .. . ,.. lur uuirjr praia;
It'i' only a lone orchard lane,
lu re o!ie ha I waited all in vain!
Srribnrr'i for September
MARK IIASCAIX'S CONf'EMAL
SPIRIT.
Axn it was ahout as tall a wcMni ,v
they get ii. too,'' said the j-oung man,
little hheepishly, lint still wry proudly.
He was having his brother's wedilin:
advertised in a city newspaper. H
tiioujrJit, somehow, that everybody must
leei an lutcre-t in thru wedding, cvru to
the sharp, business-like rlrrk who took
Ins money anil his advertisement behind
the counter in the city newspaper olllee
io iirk iiascaii. a country hoy, young, a
little hit " green." unused to grand wed
dings, city ways, or city linery, this wed
ding of his brother's was the one resplen
dent event in the history of the world. It
was something to drc-im over and tr'.l
about, Itiit the sharp business rlerk be
hind the counter in the city newspaper
othec paid no attention to Dick Hascall.
Heliion-d the bahtully bo:istful litl
remark in the loftiest manner, as though
a "tjill weifcimjr" was the most ordinary
thinffin the world to liim, as though be
bad a "tall weddin?:" of liis own even'
lay in the year, fur that matter. Ii k
looked disappointed at the sliarp clerk's
evident want of sympathy, and turned and
went out without venturing1 any more re
marks. Now, if I'd Iwen that newspaper
clerk, I d have certainly a-ked what the
bride wore, and who married 'em, wouldn't
you y
Dirk Ha-scall's brother's name was Mark
llasrull, a country si-lioolnuster, with a
pwecf tenor voire a farmer's son lie was
vVto bail married on Khort arnuaintanee
1M1 (ioswall. a jrav.brilli uitcitv cirl, who
played the piano. She played atreotnpani
inents. while he sanir Dreaming: of Thee,
Ixive," with his sweet tenor voire, and in
hrce weeks' time they could not exist
away from each other. After a lengthy
and extensive acquaintance of six weeks,
Mark Hascall went, one Friday nhrht, to
the modest dominie which was the home
of bis father and mother, and said :
" Mother, I am groin? to lie married."
" Yes; so is that brindlecalf," remarked
Iame Hasc:i!, sarcastically.
" Hut, mother, it's so." said Mark. I'm
jroinjrto Ik marrieil as soon as school's out
to Hell :swall. Vou'veseeii her, haven't
you. mother? "
Dame Hascall set down the pan of corn
dougrh, with which she was feeding: her
springr chickens, and wiped her brow witli
Her apron.
" Markey. Markey!
she said faintly.
" Whv. motlier, w
Don't skeer me,
Kit is there scary
" responded Murk,
about iK'ina: married ?
ebeiTfully. " Von were married, you
know."
Dame Hascall ncovered ber presence of
mind immediately. She never wasted
anytime iu fivhiir way to her emotions.
She picked up the bowl of corn dou;li
apiin.
"Mark." said she, 44 is it trutli you've
lieen tcllin' me?"
"Sure, motlier. I Ik-come all the way
from Sweethriar to tell you about it."
Mother Hascall looked at him with her
Trimmest, most "meat-axry" expression.
" So you've cnjrajriil yourself to that
city jrirl, have you ? And now you po to
the bouse, march to your room.tro into the
clos't anil shut the door, and gret down on
your knii's and a-k lioil A'migrhty to for
Tive you lor bcin' a fool I"
She took her empty dougrh pan, and
walked slowly into the bouse in a most
stalely manner, without another word.
-Mark frowned with vexation at tirst.
then he laughed, then he fell to thinking;
bow littie his old mother knew about him
and his Isabel, and about true love in "Ten
erxl.
They were married as soon as ever bi:
anrclic IsalwI's multifarious and inultiglo-
nous weiidmgr rarments could lie pre
pared. It was a "tall wendingr. sure vn-oug-h.
Isaln-l's father was not a rich man
and lie sent nearly all Ins worldly sav
ing's to jrive bis daughter a magnificent
wedding and some forks and spoons. Then
he washed his hands of her future, and left
her to her husband and Providence. So
they were married because they could not
exist without each other.
It was one of those hurried matches
which sometimes take place between two
young people whom the lates have decreed
shall make fools of themselves.
They did not kivp house, liecause Bell
didn't know bow to wrk. and, secondly,
In-cause they had no house to keep. They
remained at Farmer HaraU's, and they
bad not been marri 'd three months before
they began to discover that two congenial
souls who had liccn mated in heaven le
forchand. and born for each other, ami that
sort of thing, could nevertheless quarrel
like two squabbling pigeons. Dame Has
call worked for them and was rather kind,
but prim and. on the whole, not encour
aging to a sweet girl-bride. who wore white
Swiss morning' rolies trimmed with laee
and inserting, and didn't know how to
make soil soap.
" I think vou don't understand dear Bell,
mother." explained Mark. " She is not
one of those lrivolous city girls who can't
io anything but dance "and thumb the
piano. I H-ar Bell has a very Mierior intel
hvt. That's what attracted me to her lirst,
you know. That dear girl actually knows
political economy; and ber favorite au
thors are Mrs. Browning and Tennyson
and Emerson.'
" I don't know nothin about Ennvson
Temerson," answered Dame Hascall, in
(lisibiin. " But I doubt Mrs Temerson
didn't learn her how to make a loaf of
yeast riz bread, or to raise a brindle calf
by hand, or to do anythingclse that a poor
farmer's wile lias to put lit r shoulder to.
Knowin' how to do them things is what I
call a savin' knowledge. However, she
can learn, I spose. I wish her well, and
you too. and I'll teach her bow to make
butter and take care of calves and cab
bages." Mark smiled to himself as he turned
away, and thought how his brilliant wife
would stan- at the thought of touching her
dainty hand to a churn. But the smile
was more than hall a sigh. Mark worked
in the hay held. He had alwavs been tin
industrious lad. but never steadv. Some
days he would work like a steam ox,
crowding into one day as much as a slow
man would do in three davs, then mayle
he wouldn't lift his hand for a week. He
was just so in even thing. All bis life
went by jerks. He wanted something to
hoi I him steady, Dame Hascall said. He
seemed to have found it with his new wife
at tirst. He worked valiantly on the
farm, and came home at night tired, hun
grv, and with soiled clothes, not at all the
trim gallant who had won the love of dain
ty Bell Goswell. It wasn't always agree
able to Mrs. Bell to put up her rerinedlips
to !e kised by a man who had dirty hands
and dust in his mustache. By and by she
left of wming to meet him w;hen he came
from work, and remained iu the vine-covered
porch reading Margaret Fuller. In
consequence. Mark wasn't always as sweet
tempered as Bell thought him before they
were -married. Bell never learned to
"raie a brindle calf !y hand." She di-c-laned
she could not endure the thought
of such coarse things,
" Mother is going t
tv tilo n summer
boarder. llell "said M.irk one d ir. "lie's a
ior!rait painter, I believe, or some fellow
like that. He's coming out here to fish,
an 1 stud ideal heads he's got iu his own
head."
" What's he like ?" asked Bell.
" Oh ! a useless fellow, wasting idle days,
nn
VOLUME I.
I guess. I le reads poetry, and is of the
literary sort."
"(iood '"said the brailliful wife. "Ihcn
at last I shall meet somclio.lv in this for
lorn corner who carca for something that
I do. I slull lie so glad."
Mark sighed again, but this time there
was not the ghost of a smile along with
the sigh. They were drifting apart, and
yet he and his beautiful city wife had not
been married six months. "
The "summer boarder" came a lazy.
good-looking artist, exci-edingly intelli
gent, exceedingly polished in his manners.
He and Bell became good friends. They
took pleasant walks together while Dame
Hascall was churningaiid Mark was work
ing in the field. They read poetry and
philosophy together till Bell began to be
bright and animated again,
'It's quite like old times," she said to
Mark. "Xow I've found somebody at
last who is like mv own set. the friends I
used to know before I came to this dull
old place."
Mark frowned. "It seems to me, Mrs.
Hascall. that you would like to forget
entirely that you've grot a husband," he
said, dryly.
Oh, dear, no! But you are no compa
ny to me now any more, you know."
I Ins time Mark didn t sigh. He frown
ed darkly, and muttered something Bell
couldn't hear, though it sounded savage.
Summer lengthened into autumn, but
the boarder still lingered, and oneea neigh
bor remarked to Dame Hascall that kT
daughter-in-law and her boarder seemed
very much pleased with each other's com
pany.
So they were. Une morning tliev sat
on a hall-shaded bank reading, liell was'
radiant in her gray autumn dress and soft
shawl. The artist looked at her with un
mistakable admiration, as he laid down
the book and said :
"Mrs. Hascall there is I beg your par
Ion, but how did you ever happen to
marrv vour husband and sett e down in
this desolate spot? Believe me, you did
yourself a grievous wrong when you
buried yourself alive here."
Sometimes I begin to think I made
mistake," answereJ Mrs. Hascall,
gloomilv.
Mistake !" echoed the artist. "Vou
have thrown your life away. I wish
Mrs. Hascall, I must paint you before I
go. I have been looking for a face which
would be my ideal of Tennyson's Maude,
for months. The moment I saw your
face, I said to myself. Here is my Maude."
lie picked up ttie hook again, "llnsis
how I should paint you, Lady Maude,
listen :
"Col'l and clear-cut face, why come yoo. so cru-
euy nie K v
Breaking a Hlumberin which all spleenful folly
was ilrnwne!.
Pale with t he golden beam of an eyelash dead on
me oneeE.
I'asHionlins, pale, cold face, etar-sweet on a
gloom profound."
A strong sudden hand parted some
bushes near them, a tanned, wrathful face,
with white teeth gleaming through the
sun-burnt lieard. glowered at them, and a
wrathful voice exclaimed :
"P'raps you'd like to paint her hus
band, too, wouldn't vou? Dinsmote, if
you want to know why she married me.
and threw her life away. I'd recommend
you to ask me. By the Lord Harry !
madam, I should think you'd be ashamed
of yourself, dawdling away your time
with a senrinienhd donkey like that, and
letting vour husband's mother wait on
you like a slave! Bell, go home."
She looked at nun a moment as it she
could have struck him down, so much
passion shot out f her blazing eyes. He
never thought it was in her. 15nt she
recollected almost instantly that it was un
pliilosophical. as well as unlady-like, to let
the Old Adam rise in her soul. She look
ed at her irate lord a second and answered,
icily :
"Mr. Hascall, perhaps vou overheard me
remark, a moment ago, that I sometimes
iired I had made a mistake. Allow me
to remark, now, that I am sure I have
made a mistake."
He swore savagely, and tflrned on his
heel and strode away. He did not come
to dinner nor to tea. A little after mid
night something came tumbling and
kicking at the front door, and the some
thing was Mark Hascall, and lor the
lirst time in his life. Mark Hascall was
heavily intoxicated. It is a man's way,
you know.
That was the beginning of it After
that, no more peace, no more love for those
two. Mark HascaH's life went by jumps,
and he had taken a long and deserate
downward leap. Their life henceforth
was a series of bickerings and bitter quar
rels. These two souls that could not
exist apart, you know. At the end of a
year. Bell went home to her father's, an
ill-tempered, disappointed woman, to hang
like a stone on the shoulders ol the father,
who, but one little vear hefoic, had rublied
bis hands and fondly whispered to him
self that he was rid of the burden of one of
his children, at anv rate. Then Mark
drank himself beastly drunk to drown his
troubles, and followed her to take her
home again. She refused to go. and there,
iu the presence of her mother and sister,
he raised his hand and struck her in his
drunken rage.
Even then her cold presence of mind
did not leave her. She pushed him
across the threshold and out of doors
with her own hands, and made as if
sh" would have spumed him with her
foot.
'1 shall make application for a divorce,
to-day," she said to him in her calmest
voice.
It sobered him instantly.
"Do you really mean that?" he asked.
" So help me God, I do ! I will never
live with you another day. For your fu
ture I have neither faith, hope, nor chari
ty. Go!"
She pointed with her hand to the street.
and he went away without a word. Iu
lue course of time, a year and a half after
these two congenial souls bad been pro
noumvd one, because they were unable to
exist away from each other, a divorce was
granted to Mr?'. Ilasvall. and the custody
of their infant son given to her, she being
in every way fitt"d to rear him properly
the court said. The most common occur
rence in the world, you know hapiiens
every day.
Mark made no remonstrance to any part
of it. He did not drink so much as before,
but seemed sunken into a sullen, leaden
apathy. On the day the divorce was grant
ed he came to the house and asked to sie
his little boy. Even Bell could not find in
her heart to deny him. especially as her
former husband was perfectly sober. She
carried the child down stairs herself.
" You are free now," said Mark.
Yes.' she answered, with enthusiasm.
The old dreams and old ambitions seem
to shine before me again. I take off vour
ring and return it to you, and with that I
put off the old life forever. Thank God, I
am free! I am going to put the past out
of my life so entire ly that 1 shall not even
remember it. I have no memories ; I
have hopes once more I have hoiHs. I
am free, free ! A hope is better than a
memory. Ah. I have wings !"
And the little child?" said Mark, soft
ly.
Her cheeks flushed hotlv. She elasned
the baby closer. "I shall" take him with
me wherever I go." she answered. I
shall devote my life to him, and try to
make him wiser and better than his father"
she hesitated a little, and then added
gently "or his mother."
Now that it had really come, and she
was all free from the druuken husband.
The coarse mother-in-law, and the horri
ble old life, with its shameful bickerings,
was it odd that she suddenly felt a strange
sense of sadness and melancholy ? Those
who have passed through like experience
will understand it.
Mark kissed the baby.
" Well good bve," he said.
" Good bye." she answered.
But neither held out a hand across the
gulf which lay between.
Isabel had said that the old dreams and
ambitions shone before her again. She
M
H
MILAN,
was but twenty when her ill-starred mar
riage ended in a miserable divorce ; only
just beginning life then, so to speak. The
dream of her girlhood, belore
she met Mark Hascall, and found
in him her " congenial soul," had
been to go on the stage and In
famous. Ah! I don't suppose there ever
was a romantic boy or girl who didn't have
the same dream one time or another. The
ambition came back to her now with a
wild heart-bound. If she could beeomean
actress, and show thorn all what she was
capable of Mark, who had blighted her
lite, as she said to herself, the coarse old
mother-in-law who snublicd her, and even
her own father and mother, who seemed
tired of her and disappointed in her.and to
look upon her a a burden on their hands,
and who somehow didn't seem to care for
her as they used.
She didn't consult all her friends about
it. She made up her mind all to herself,
and when she was ready to go she just
went, and the friends stormed afterward.
When jou want to do a thing, the best way
is to go and do it. Isabel was young, bright,
handsome and persevering, therefore she
succeeded, and when she was successful
her friends who had turned their backs
on her turned around face front again, and
opened their arms. It's the way of the
world.
Her life was full of ups and downs and
petty vexations, too. ami hard work ; but
throughout it she had one steady joy her
brave, bright, pretty boy, her Leon. "Moth
er's heart could not have longed for a finer
son. He grew and thrived "like a June
blossom, until one morning Isaliel remem
bered it was his birthday, and he was ten
years old. He had never given her a mo
ment's sorrow in his life, except that when
he was a very little fellow, he used to
run to her from his play sometimes, and
say :
" Tommy's papa is going to take him a
ride. Where is my papa, mother?"
At such moments life seemed very bitter
for a little while. As the child grew old
er, however, be ceased to ask her such
questions. He seemed to undei stand it
himself. And now Leon was ten years old,
and she had heard no word of Mark Has
call since the day he kissed the child and
went away.
That summer she took her boy and went
to an obscure farm house in Mi.ine for the
vacation. Though in Maine the settlement
was as new and " unfinished " one might
say, as any place in the Western wilds.
That was why she chose it. She saw so
much art all the year round that the very
breath of nature rested and gladdened her
life. They had neither dictor nor minis
ter in the settlement. They didn't need
any doctor, they said, and no minister liked
so rough a living as theirs was.
The old lady at the farm-house "rave Isa
bel her best bed, covered with the delight
of her eyes, her "saw-tooth" quilt, with
calico teeth so sharp and fierce that they
looked as if they might have sawed your
head off at any moment. Isaliel liked it,
liecause it was old-fashioned and country
ish, and somehow, as she grew older,
countryish things liegan to lie beautiful to
her eyes. I think it is so with most of us.
Brave Leon was as full of childish happi
ness as his little body could bold. He
made acquaintance with the pigs, sheep
and cows at once, and was soon on excel
lent terms with even the old mother hens.
He watched the nests in the morning, and
ever and anon came running merrily in.
holding up a fresh-laid egg, and cackling
to imitate the brown hen that laid it. Isa
bel thought she was happier than she had
ever b'-en before, glad with the innocent,
heartful happiness of childhood.
One day Leon fell into the little river,
and before they could rescue him the
bright, sweet, loving child was drowned.
Isabel would have torn her heart out to
bring him to life again, and when that
would not do it, she could have torn her
heart out with agonv. The only joy, only
hope ol her lonely lite, was taken away.
She cursed the hour she was born.
" If your husband was only alive to help
yon bear it, it wouldn't lie so hard," said
the mild, sweet-faced old 1 indladv. " It
appears like a man's arm is strong to help
a woman through troubles. I've had six
children, and I buried four of them when
they were little. 'Peared like it would
have killed me when I lost them, only for
my husband. He held me up. There is
no friend so near to a woman as a good
husband. Forty years my old niaimnd I
have heltl together, through good and bad,
and the older we get the more good there
is and the less bad, and in a few years
more, please God, it will lie all good", and
no bad any more," said the dear old lady,
reverently.
Isabel wept bitterly. " I have no friend
in the world, not one, now in my trouble,"
she said.
The old lady held up her hands in dis
may. " Dotj't take on like that," she said.
Her son came in and whispered to her.
She arose anil went out with him.
" Mother," said the young man, " there
is not a preacher within twenty miles of
hen1. V hat shall we do tor a burial ser-
vice?"
Ag.iin the old lady held up her hands in
dismay. "To be sure!" she exclaimed.
" But there's the schoolmaster, John. He
is a kind. Christian man, and will say it as
beautifully as any minister could" He
ought to be a minister, this day, and he's
a lesson to "em as it is. There never was
!o good and wise a man in the settlement,
John, or one the people loved so. Get the
schoolmaster, John."
They told isabi l, who was in such a
maze of grief, poor, heartbroken, lonely
creature, lhat she scarcely knew what
they said. They had the child's funeral
in the school-house, and all the neigh
bors, good, kindly people, came to help
her bury her dead. In the school-house
Isabel coveted her face, and scarcely saw
the tall, pale man in black, who stepped
timidly up the oK'ii space beside her boy's
colli n. He read a chapter which is very
blessed to l)creft mothers :
"Sutter little children to come unto me,
and forbid them not, for of such is the
kingdom of God."
Isabel beard that, even through the
darkness of grief. Then the schoolmaster
sang a hymn. Isabel started when she
heard it. For the voice which sang was a
thrillingly sweet, rich tenor voice, and the
hymn was one which once mother-in-law
Hascall sang at a child's funeral.
Isabel looked np, as the beloved school
master advanced and with reverent hands
uncovered the face of her boy. He look
ed at her too, then, and also at the dead
child in the cotHn. 'Alien he began softly
and gently:
'this little one "
He stopped. While they looked to see
what it meant, there came a sudden, heavy
fall. The beloved schoolmaster had faint
ed across the coffin of the dead child. Isa
bel's heart seemed bursting, while thev
lifted him up anil sprinkled his face with
water. , For the pale face of the beloved
schoolmaster was the face of Mark Has
call. He recovered himself in a minute,
and sank beside the coffin, clasping it iu
h!s hands with a bitter cry. Driven by an
impulse she could not resist, Isabel hur
ried forward and fell on her knees beside
him, and they wept together beside their
dead child's coffin.
I May be the bright spirit of the dead lit
i tie child embraced them both iu his tender
arms.
Do you know what the rest is ? It is
never quite possible to be entirely off with
an old love. We never can feel toward an
old love exactly as we feel toward the rest
of the world.
Altera little time Mark Hascall and Isa-Ih-1,
older, sadder in some ways, wiser
through some gall-bitter life lessons, join
ed their hands again in a holy bond, this
time without any diamonds or splendor.
And this time it was a holy bond indeed,
hallowed by the memory of what had
len. Between them there is nothing
now but peace, love and happiness. It is
because they choose to have it so. and
make it so. They will go down hand in
hand to a beautiful old age, like the be
loved old couple whom I see sometimes,
AN
GIBSON COUNTY, TENNESSEE, SEPTEMBER 17, 1874.
bending together over a newly opened
rose, or leaning over the gate, talking soft
ly and looking at the distant green hills
like Christian viewing the Delectable
Mountains. I am sure that no young love
is half so beautiful, half so sweet as this
gentle old love.
Isaliel writes as follows to a friend who
has quarrels with her husband, and threat
ens to leave linn because they are noi
" congenial," and cannot live together iu
peace. I hus :
ISABEL TO HER FRIEND.
" I have learned all 1 know of happiness
through a sorrowful experience : there
fore is n;y knowledge worth something.
Do not let the pernicious idea take root in
vour head thai you and vour husband are
not congenial."' The baleful poison of
this modern philosophy has ruined hosts
of homes.
" I know that there are no two well dis
posed iiersons of sound mind on earth,
who cannot live together eaeefully, hap
pily, even, if both make up their minds to
do"it. The sacred, old fashioned way
' till death do part' is the best, wisest and
holiest. A scrap of an old poem which I
read years and years ago, flits through my
brain as 1 write:
"Steep the soul
In one pure love, and it will last thee long."
A Colorado Fiend.
It is not so very long ago that it was
chronicled in these columns how a party
by the name of Packer had arrived at Del
Norte, declaring that he was the only sur
vivor of a party of six that had started
early in the spring lrom Utah for the San
Juan mines, the rest having killed and eat
en each other to preserve themselves from
starvation. According to advices from
that point, Packer's story has been found
so far true that his five companions have
been killed, but there is every reason to
suppose tliey have been murdered by him
tor the sake ot plunder.
Some two weeks ago. Captain C. II. Gr.i'
ham, tif Del Xorte, while prospecting on
the south branch of the Gunnison, came
upon the corpses of five men lying in some
hrusti at the toot ol a lofty pine tree in
secluded valley. The bodies were all more
or less mutilated. The head of one had
been severed from the body : the head of
another was badly crushed, while the flesh
had been cut in huge masses from the
breasts, thighs, and the fleshy part of the
legs ol all, and bullet holes gaped in the
region of their stilled-forever hearts. The
bodies of two were in a perfect state of
preservation, so as to b; easily recognized,
hut the remaining three were mutilated,
so that their own mothers would not have
known them. Xear one of the bodies was
an open pocket-book, in which was a mu
tilated note in favor of Israel Swan, fir
$.-)U0, but besides several blankets and tin
cups, no other personal property of anv
kind was to lie seen. The. discoverers of
this fearful crime did not attempt to alter
the condition ot the bodies, but started for
Saguache, where Parker, notwithstanding
Ins cannibalistic story, had been confined.
He had, however, just before contrived to
To escajie, and is supposed to have sloped
for Aew JUexico. there seems but little
doubt that the five dead bodies are those of
George Noon,James Humphrey, Sam Bell.
Israel Swan and frank, with whom
Packer started from Salt Lake.
This, too, does not seem to be the first
assassination Packer is credited with hav
ing committed. Four years ago he is said
to have killed three men on the Divide, in
El Paso county, the Sheriff of which offers
a reward of$."i)0 for his head for doing the
same. The Sheriff of Saguache also offers
$-00 for his arrest and return to that place.
ine description declares lum to De a
stocky, thick-set man, 5 feet 8 inches high.
and about 30 years old. Two of his front
teeth are wanting, and the first and fourth
lingers of his left hand.
i'he fact of the flesh being cut in the
manner described oft the bodies found by
Captain uraliam, might seem to give cur
rency to the idea that Packer's story was
partially true, and that he had killed them
to avoid starvation. But there are enough
game and berries in that district of coun
try to render such cannibalistic measures
unnecessary, and the fact that no articles
of value were found on either of the dead,
confirms the theory that they were mur
dered for their earthly possessions. Deli
ver News, Aug. 25.
A Singular Accident.
The Providence Press contains the fol
lowing account of a very singular accident
and narrow escape from death :
A remarkable accident, which came near
resulting in the death of a young lady,
occurred at the Delaine Mill in Olneyville
to-day. Margaret Donnelly, aged 18
years, of No. 10 Howard street, is em
ployed in the sewing-room and runs a
sewing-machine. About 9:30 o'clock this
morning one of the young men at work
in this room took up a rope, some twenty
feet in length, for the purpose of throw
ing it over one of the nails suspended from
the ceiling, in order that he might "pull"
some cloth over it. A noose was fixed at
the end of the rope in which one of the
ends of the cloth is placed, and by this pro
cess the cloth is drawn over to another
machine, situated some thirty or forty
feet away. The rope was coiled up like a
lasso, but in throwing it from him the
young man miscalculated the distance and
it was sent over one of the main shafts,
which passes through the sewing-room
into one of the adjoining rooms. The
noose caught Miss Donnelly firmly around
the neck, and before she was aware of it
she was drawn suddenly upward. Her
assistant, a young woman some years her
senior, took in the situation at a glance,
and grasped her by the waist, meanwhile
screaming loudly for assistance. A young
man standing near by ran to the aid of the
unfortunate young "woman and grabbed
her by the dress. All three were pulled
up some ten feet or more, when Miss Don
nelly's head came in contact with a board
projection near the shaft, the rope gave
way, and they were violently precipitated
to the floor. Miss Donnelly was picked
up in an insensible condition and con
veyed to her residence. Dr. J. B. Greene
was summoned, and on examination it
was found that her neek had been serious
ly bruised, and she had sustained other
severe injuries. It is expected that she
will recover.
Her companion also received a severe
wound on the head. We learn that no
blame is attached to the young man who
had charge of the rope. The escape was a
miraculous one.
The New King of the Turf.
A Saratoga letter to the New York
Graphic says : Not having seen the great
race, the next thing was to see t?e vic
torious racer ; so to-day I drove out tocall
upon Fellowcraft. Fellowcraft is as gen
tle as a little dog, and submitted to being
kissed and patted with a quietness that
almost became patronizing condescension.
He has not a proud air, however, like
some of the racers of his family, notably
his uncle. Asteroid, who always strikes an
attitude when visitors approach him. Fel
lowcraft looks rather meek, but yet has an
air of determination, as if conscious that
when things become serious he would
show who was who. He is a chestnut, and
has some of the Lexington marks, a pair
of very long white stocking3 on hia hind
legs, and a good-sized star on his forehead.
His mane and tail are decidedly blonde,
just the rcd-vellow with which the blonde
of the period has familiarized us. He had
on his traveling clothes of red flannel, but
one of his attendants kindly removed his
bonnet to show his face. Fellowcraft hurt
himself not a whit in the race; he came
in those present at the finish told me
perfectly fresh, and looking as if he could
run another four miles. He ate a good
square meal, full niiions, as soon as it was
offered him after the race, and no better
sign of health can a horse evince.
Some Adrentares With Catamounts.
It is doubtful if any Secimens of the
catamount, or panther, oiice the terror of
our forests, now survive in the State of
Vermont ; but as late as in 18(57 two of
these animals wen; killed in different parts
of the State. In the autumn of that year.
a fox-hunter, near the foot of Ascuntney,
Mountain, in Weatherstield.Vt., had a valu
able hound mysteriously killed. All hisef
orts were vain to trace the cause of the ani
mal's death. The mangled remains found
showed that the dog had received terribly
rough usage, but what sort of antagonist
had done the deed, the hunter could not
even guess ; for it was not supposed that
there was anv wild animal in the vicinity
capame ol killing a lox-nounu. borne
time afterwards, several children on their
way to school one uav, met a strange am
mal in the road. It did not seem inclined
to turn out for them. On the contrary, it
faced them with so ferocious an appear
ance that they turned anu tied. Most for
tunately the animal did not pursue them
When they reached home and told what
they had seen, their parents could not be
lieve tne story. The description given by
thf! children answered to that of a cata
mount, but as no such creature had been
seen in that thickly settled region for near
ly forty years, it was decided that the
young people must have been frightened
by a dog.
On the 30th of January, however, a
hunter by the name of Venight struck the
track of some strange animal, and feeling
curious to learn what had made it, fol
lowed the footprints to the top of Pine
Hill about one mile south of Downer's
Hotel. There he found the tracks led
into a den. Night was approaching and
he could not stay to investigate. He
could hear a low growling in the den, and
this convinced him that some dangerous
animal was hidden there. Finding ma
terials near at hand, he stopped up the
hole as near as he could, and went home.
The next morning, in company with sev
eral other men who were armed with gruns
and had shovels also with them, he re
paired to the spot again. He found
that his prisoner had not escaped.
The only way of reaching him in safely
seemed to hie to dig down to the den
from above. After two hours of labor
they cleared the earth from the rocks over
the cave, and found a small hole through
the roof. Then procuring a rail, they
thrust it down through this aperture, and
immediately a fierce snarl came up from
the darkness below. The next moment
the end of the rail was spitefully seized,
and held so firmly, that the man who stood
at the opening could not pull it away.
Several other men took hold with him,
and drew the rail up by main strength,
bringing the animal along with it. As
soon as the creature's head appeared above
the rocks, a ball was tired into it. The
catamount (for the men were certain now
it was a catamounts relinquished his hold,
and dropied to tlie bottom of the cave
again. This operation hail to be twice re
peated before the fierce animal was killed.
When he was dragged from the cave he
measured, from the tip of the no.e to the
end of the tail, seven feet and nine inches.
He was thirty-two inches highland weighed
one hundred and twenty-one and one-half
pounds. The skin was stuffed by Prof.
Hagan, formerly Sfate Geologist, and is
now on exhibition at Downer's Hotel,
Weatherslield, near the foot of Ascutney
Mountain.
The same year, on the ISth of Decem
ber, a man by the name of Gomen, living
in the town of Johnson, on the Lamoille
Biver, was going through a piece of woods
to the house of a distant neighbor. On
his way he saw in the srow the tracks of a
large animal with which he was not ac
quainted. He followed the footprints,
and, after some time, the creature itself
started up from a clump of bushes, and
confronted him. It was a full-sized cata
mount. One glance at his long, lithe
body, his liery eyes and merciless te?tb.
was sufficient to remind Mr. Gomen that
discretion is the better part of valor ac
least to a person unarmed and he incon
tinently took to his heels. Going home,
he goon collected thirteen men with
guns and three good dogs, and with this
force he returned to the woods. l)iviiing
here, one party went around and station
ed themselves where they could head oil"
the catamount should he attempt to es
cape. 1 he other party with the dogs loi
lowed up the track. They had not gone
halt a mile before the catamount showed
himself on the other side of the woods,
where the first party lay in wait for him.
One of the hunters fired, and wounded
him in the hip. At this, the dogs being
close unon him, the animal turned, and
with an enormous leap plunged into the
undergrowth. The ground was level
here, and it is asserted that this single leap
of the huge eat measured from twenty-five
to thirty feet. Af.er tearing his way
through the thickets for ten or eleven
rods, hotly pursued by the dogs, he sprang
into a tree, and commenced jumping from
one tree to another, t many, reaching a
large spruce, he curled himself upon a
limb, nearly forty feet from the ground,
and faced his enemies. The hunters were
close upon him. Several shots were fired.
most ot them taking etlect, and one bull
brought him to the ground. The dogs
rushed upon him, but wounded as he was.
they soon found that they were no match
for the tierce animal in a close light.
They would have paid dearly for tneir
rashness had not a ritle-ball put a speedy
end to his struggles.
This catamount was eight fett and a
half-inch long, and two feet seven inches
high. His weight was one hundred and
two pounds. He was very lean, and when
his skin was stripped off, the cause of his
leanness was discovered. His head and
shoulders were tilled with porcupine's
quills. One or more of them had passed
entirely through his head, and many oth
ers were half way through, showing that
at some tune he had made rather sorry
work of trying to devour this small but
formidahle kind of prev. Had he been in
good flesh he would have weighed much
more, ana in that case, too, it is UKeiy ne
would have sold his life much more dearly
than he did. Franklin B. Gage, in l'outh's
Companion.
The Streets of Moscow.
Russia boasts her civilization, but civili
zation cannot be called pertect till the art
of keeping clean is thoroughly understood
and tho-oughly put in practice. From the
following description of the old jiuscoviie
capital by a foreign correspondent we
should suppose the city needed another
fire equal to the one that burned it down
in the path of Bonaparte :
hen the thaw comes, and the sun De
gins to shine. Moscow becomes a city ef
stinks. All the long-imprisoned animal
and vegetable matter which the frost has
kept sweet all the winter, now poisons tne
air and by the month of May the cholera
usually sets in. Kussia is the headquar
ters of cholera, and no wonder, consider
ing that in matters of cleanliness and
common decency the Russians, as a na
tion, are yet children. Indeed, it is frcm
Russia that the cholera taint has been
wafted westward into Eurojie.
Europe suffers by its propinquity to
Russia, just as a cottager suffers from his
neighbor s dunghill, be his own cottige
and belongings ever 60 clean. No words
can give anj idea of the filthy and neg
lected state of a Russian town in spring
and summer. In spring, for instance,
owing to the bad paving and draining,
every street is either a water-course or a
morass.
At Moscow, especially, owing to the na
ture of the soil, tlie stones sink and become
displaced, and the black mud ooze3 be
tween them. A horse that has sunk up to
his belly in mud is no uncommon sight in
the streets of Moscow. I have frequently
been obliged to hire a carriage to take me
across the street, and this not from an
delicacy about soiling my boots. I have in
I my time seen bad roads of all descriptions,
EXCHANGE
and on both sides of the world, but I have
never seen any roads in town or country
so atrociously bad as the streets of Mos
cow. The pavement, instead vf being an
Improvement, makes them worse, for it
rises here in hillocks, and sinks there to
form holes full of water or liquid mud.
As soon as the mud dries and turns into
dust, many streets resemble the dry beds
of mountain torrents, and the carriages
rock and roll in them like ships in a
storm. The sun is very hot in the early
spring, and in consequence of this, and
the cold, dry wind that prevails, the air is
full of dust.
A Texas Romance.
Years ago, and yet not so nianv. for it
has been since the war, some disagree
ment arose between a couple of married
folks in one of the old States, and after
much pain and suffering and public ex
posure of family a flairs in the courts, a
decree of divorce was obtained and they
who had stood at the altar of Hymen to
be joined in union were parted at the altar
of Justice, to which they had appealed.
Their own way each of tfiem turned, and
long years have come and gone since then.
The husband and father traveled with his
burden to the golden shores of California,
and there, no doubt, tried hard to forgive
and forget. Ihe wife and mother, with
their babe, struggled with the skeleton of
her deadened lite and in time came to
Texas. By some fatality the husband
came to Texas also.
Last Friday they both were aboard the
train bound from Galveston to this city.
The little daughter, while looking curi
ously over the car at all the strange faces,
suddenly caught sight of her long gone
father. Before her mother could stay her,
she had rushed to him crying "Papa !
papa !" The greeting of father and child
was touching and beautiful. All the old
emotions, all the smothered love of wile
and child, came back in an instant.
Mamma is here," said the little girl ;
come and go to her." And she led her
father up to the astonished mother, and a
poetic predestination was accomplished.
They met and talked as of yore, and soon
all was well with them again. Chastened.
as by tire, they seemed to know each other
better. 1 lie sequel is soon told.
After reaching- Houston the services of
Rev. Mr. Hackett were called for, a license
obtained, and the marriage vows resumed
with a far better understanding of their
nature and sanctity. And thus it is "AH s
well that ends well." Houston (7Vara)
Telegraph, Aug. So.
Heroic Rescue.
The Old Colony (Mass.) Memorial has
the following account of an act of hero
in :
One afternoon when a sudden storm oc
curred, Oscar Marsh, of Duxbury. assist
ant keeper, was in charge of Plymoutl:
upper lighthouse, which stands just out-
id.; the harbor. Just before the squall
Henry Marsh, a brother of Oscar, came
near the light in his sail boat and had a
conversation with Oscar. Immediately
after leaving, and when in mid channel be
tween the lighthouse and Dick's Hat, the
squall struck his boat which was at once
thrown down, the ballast shifted, and she
remained upon her beam ends. Oscar saw
the accident from the light, but was appa
rently without means of assistance, the.
only boat in the vicinity being a small
lory anchored some forty yards from the
light. Meanwhile, Henry bad crawled
unon the ex nosed nortion of the boat
where he clung for life, the water rising
rapidly, the wind meeting the tide, and
causing a. short, combing sea. A moment,
and Oscar had made up his mind.
He tirst lit the lighthouse lamps, that
they might be m readiness in case of any
accident to himself. Then, stripping off
all his clothes, he lashed a pair of oars to
his back, and leaping from the building
into the water, now raging with the luil
force of the sudden gale, he started to
swim tor his dory. It was a toilsome ser
vice, but at last safely performed, and soon
alter he was alongside the wreck, but not
a moment too soon to save his brother
from his perilous position. Taking Hen
ry into the dory, almost helpless from ex
haustion, they strove to save the sail ooat,
and finally succeeded in towing her into a
safe anchorage, with the loss only of an oar
and rudder.
The whole performance occupied about
an hour, and lit its conclusion both broth
ers were saved from death and in the light
house, nearly prostrated from the long
exposure and severe exertion.
Au Artificial Face.
At a recent meeting of the Medical Soci
ety of Loudon, a member, Dr. Hutchin
son, exhibited a patient who had lost a
large portion of his face by disease, and to
whom the deficiency was supplied by arti
ficial means in a way similar to that by
which some of our dentists treat loss of
palate, nose, etc.
The disease had resulted in the destruc
tion of the superior maxilla, all the
spongy bones, and also the soft parts, in
cluding the nose, some of the cheek, the
upper Tip, and nearly all of the soft palate.
A rhino-plastic operation being deemed im
practicable, the case was treated mechani
cally. To supply the lost parts internally
an apparatus was constructed ot vulcanite,
bearing mineral teeth, which articulated
with those of the lower jaw. and this was
held in position by the vulcanite being
adapted to the whole of the inner surface
of tlie nasal fossse, thus affording a hold
by means of suction. For the sake of
lightness the whole of the apparatus was
hollow, while the outer surface was coated
with soft gutta percha ; the floor of the
artificial piece formed the roof of the
mouth. Mr. Hntchinson had also made
an artificial nose of vulcanite. This was
fixed to the man's face by an elastic band
which passed around the head. The junc
tion was partially hidden by means of a
moustache fixed to the upper lip, which
was also artificial. Mr. Huehinson com
ments on the fact that the man's occupa
tion (he was a mason) and his position in
life compelled him to treat the cae in the
simplest manner possible. Various ded
icate improvements in the shade of color,
mode of attachment, and usefulness of
mastication, could be made In the case of
persons in a higher sphere of life, who
would appreciate delicacy of manipulation.
A Circus of Fleas.
The latest excitement in Berlin is the
exhibition ef drilled fleas. The exhibi
tion takes place on a large sheet of white
papei fastened upon an ordinary table, to
which all the spectators approach in turn,
so as to be able to witness in all details the
extraordinary maneuvers of these little,
but marvelously powerful and gifted ras
cals. Here you see one of the muscular
fleas rolling a small barrel along with its
feet, as the men do in a circus ; there you
see a slim, voluptuously built madam of
the species walking along in crinoline and
carrying her parasol, with all the affecta
tion of a city miss : at another place a
well-trained fellow performs on the flying
trapeze without any danger to his neck,
however, since the bigerest fall would not
break that ; white below the trapeze, on
the paper, a host of little ones are turning
somersaults at a fearful rate. The largest
specimens of the collection have been
trained to draw wagons, drays, carriages,
etc. To fix the harness properly on them
the flea-timer places his pupils on a piece
of paper covered with mucilage, where
they have to stick. He then, by the aid
of a watchmaker's loop, arranges a strong
gold thread around their bodies, and at
taches it to the wagon or carriage. The
ladies of Berlin attend the exhibition in
large numbers, and seem to take an ex
traordinary delight in the performance of
the little creatures, who are fed regularly,
every morning, from the arm of the great
flea-tamer. Hearth and Home.
Brcn'ettes are in fashion now, and the
blondes are pale with envy.
NUMBER 29.
Posting an
Old Couple
Spots.
on Historic
un tne tram the other day were a very
confiding old man and a very innocent old
lady. They had passed away five-sixths of
their lives hidden away behind the hills of
, - . . . . i
ci mum, aim were goin z u ' esiern
Michigan on a visit to their son. After
little skirmishing round the old gentleman
pitched into me about the "crops," "sile,
and when 1 found how innocent he was.
gave him all the information I could. All
at once, as he rode along, the wife caught
his arm and exclaimed :
" Look out, Samuel, or you'll be forget
ting that place where tiiey tit !"
The old man explained. He said that a
young man who came down from Canada
with them told him to look out for the bat
tle-field of Braddock's defeat as soon as he
left Detroit.
I was going to reply that the young man
was an infernal liar, but the old lady seem
ed to nave set her heart on seeing ttie
spot, and the old man was so anxious
that I couldn't bear to disappoint them,
When we got down into the woods I point
ed out the "battle-field," and they put their
heads out of the windows and took in the
scene.
i" Think of it, Hanner!" exclaimed the
old man, as he drew in his head; "think
of them Injuns creeping through them
woods and shooting Mr. Braddock down
dead !"
" My soul !" replied the old lady seem
ingly overcome at the idea, and she kept
her eyes on the woods until 1 thought she
would twist her neck oft.
We got along all right for about five
miles more, and then the old man wanted
to know if we weren't down pretty near
the spot where Tecumseh fell.
" Where !" I yelled, and he said that the
same young; man had informed him that
the railroad ran close to the identical spot
where the great Indian warrior fell and
slept.
" It'll be a powerful favor to me an'
Samuel if ye'll point out the spot!"' urged
tae ol lady, placing her hand on my arm.
How could 1 go back on what that brazen
young man bau said? The old folks had
made up their minds to see the spot, and
if I didu't show it to them they might wor
ry for weeks, and they might think the
young man had lied, or that 1 wasn't post
ed in the historic spots of my ownS-aie.
Lor' forgive me, but a mile further on I
pointed out a hill and said :
"Behold the last resting place of the
great Tecumseh !"
" Think of it, Hanner just think of it !"
exclaimed the old man, "right there is
where they got him !"
"Mercy! but it don't seem posssible!"
she ejaculated, and she had to get out her
snutt-box before she could recover from
the shock.
The old gentleman said he had a partic
ular interest in seeing the spot, because he
knew the man who killed Tecumseh
used to live right by him.
" He must have been an awful Injun !"
broke in the old lady, "for the young man
said he didn't die till they had cut off his
head, and feet, and hands, and blowed the
body up with a barrel of powder !"
I wanted to get away alter that, fearing
that something worse was coming, biit
she insisted upn my taking a pinch of
snuff, and so I kept my seat. We weie
just beyond Brighton, when the old man
came at me like a steamboat, with :
" Now, then, how fur is it to the spot
where they found the Babes in the
Woods?'
I wanted to get out of it, but how could
I? That young man had deliberately lied
to those nice old folks, and I hadn't the
moral courage to tell 'em so. and thus had
to make a liar of myself. It's awful to de
ceive any one, especially a good old man,
and a lat and motherly old lady on their
way to the tomb.
" That's yes that's the spot !" I said,
as we came to a dark piece of woods.
" Think o' that, Hanner !" he said, his
head out of the window, "think of them
babes being found there !''
" Yes, it was fearful !" she replied
"seems as if I could almost see them stub
bing about in there now !"
There was another historic spot of which
the young man bad told them, but they
IiSd forgotten it, and I was never ihore
thankful. They kept qut until the
f-brakeman yelled out, "Lansing," and
then the old man bobbed up and exclaim
ed: " Lansing Lansing why, here's where
tney nung lom Collins, am t it?"
He explained that Tom Collins, a Chi
cago desperado, had murdered eleven old
women and drank their blood for his liver
complaint, and after be'ng hunted for
miles and miles, had at length been cap
tured at lansing, cut to pieces oy the in
furiated populace, and then left hanging
to a tree.
I had to point out the tree. It was a
tree near the depot, and the tail of a kite
had lodged in lis branches.
"There's whar thev hung him, Han
ner:" said the old man, stretching his
neck.
" And there's some o' his shirt left yet!"
exclaimed the old lady, and as I backed
out of the ear, the good old man was re
marking that he was going to ask the
train boy if he didn't have the pamphlet
lite of 1 om Collins, so that they could tret
further particulars. Detroit Free Press.
Directing a Postal Card.
The Pougbkeepsie (N.Y.) iVisio says: On
Saturday a letter was received on a postal
car on the Hudson River Railroad, having
this queer direction : t irst came the name
of the party to whom the lttter was in
tended Rev. Mr. SometxHh- or other.
Below this, neatly fastened t3 the envel
ope, was a hsh-hooK, painted red. 1 hen
came the rest of the direction, "Dutchess
County, New l ork." Ihe clerks looked
at it, pondered the matter deeply, and
were inclined after severe study to give
the matter up, like a hard conundrum.
After a while one of them suggested Fish
kilfas the destination of the letter, a fish
hook being used to kill fish, of course.
That did for a first guess, but another
clerk beat it all hollow by suggesting
"Red Hook." This evidently was the
place meant by tlie funny letter-writer.
But another difficulty arose. There are
two Red Hook post-offices in Dutchess
county; one Is Red Hook proper, or
"lower," and the other is Upper Red
Hook. To which of these offices should
the letter go? F'urther study caused that
trouble to vanish also, for was not the
point of the fish-hook turned downward
to indicate the lower Red Hook? Of
course it was, and the clerk triumphantly
deposited the letter in the lower Red
Hook mail-bag. and before this time'
doubtless the dominie has had his eyes
gladdened by the sight of the red fish-hook
sent to the lower Red Hook by his wag
gish correspondent.
We seem at last to have reached hard
pan in the matter of murder. Mr, Rae, of
Kansas City, had a dispute with the late
Mr. Schneider concerning a game of cro
quet, and, instead of braining him with a
mallet, went for a shot-gun and roquetted
twenty-six buckshot into his opponent's
heart a big joke on Schneider, which he
took in dead earnest. We thought that
when men took to killing each other for
muffing hot bug-smashers and juggling
keen daisy-cutters at base-ball, we had
got about as low as we could go, but this
Kansas City incident reveals our error.
And now we shall expect to read that a
Quaker and a Mennonite, while playing
mumble-peg both being considerably un
der the influence of ginger-beer became
involved in a quarrel concerning a knotty
point of the game, and killed each other.
St. Louis Globe.
44 Soxxt, how did you get that hole in
your pants Ty 44 You know old Snarley "
"Yes." "And his dog?" "Y'es." "Well,
thereby hangs a tale, and hereby hung the
dog, and that's the hole story."
PO'GEST PARAGRAPHS.
Tot School for Scandal Plymouth
Church.
A irrni girl said of her Ill-tempered
uncle: "He hasn't got a single laugh In hU
face."
Josh Buuxos say. "Snccessdon'tkon
slst in never making blunder, but in
never making the same one the seckond
time."
" Mt twin-brother is a pile-driver," is in
aristocratic circles driving out "That's the
sort of hair-pin I am," as the correct
phrase for self-laudation.
Two young men out riding were passing
a farm-house whei-e a fanner was trying to
harness an obstinate mule. "Won't he
draw r said one of the men. "Of course,"
said the farmer, 44 he'll draw the attention
of every fool that passes this way." The
young men drove on.
An accommodation train between James
town and Lake View was the stvne ofs
little Incident on Thursday, ""ton don t
think that the boy is under 10, hey, and
yon wont pass him for half fare? Just
look t that, will ve " And from out the
old carpet-bag the old lady.with trembling
eagerness, brought the well-worn family
Bible, and taming to the page reserved for
births and deaths, held it triumphantly up
under the conductor's nose, with, "IKies
that look as though I was a liar, young
man?" With such testimony before hw
eyes, the conductor could do no less than
pass the boy for half fare, amid subdued
applause from the passengers.
When the Rev. Mr. Hallock was settled
in Plainfield it was his custom to collect
his own salary, tor which every voter in
the town was assessed. Calling upon Mr.
D.. the blacksmith, one day, he said: "I
have a small bill against yon." " And for
what?" "For preaching." Said Mr. !..
44 1 have heard none of your preaching."
The fault is your own," said -"dr. u,
the doors have been open, and you
might have come in." Not long after, as
Mr. II. was one day passing the black
smith shop, Mr. P., hailing him, said : 44 1
have a small bill against you." "And
for what?" said Mr. II. "for shoeing
your horse." 44 1 have hail no horse shod
tiere," said Mr.it. " ine lauic is your
own," replied air. v., " the noors nave
been open, and you might have come in.'
Mr. H. paid the Dill. Vongregntwnalut.
Harry sat at his father's side at a friend's
table. Somebody passed him the bread.
Harry touched a piece that was dry so ho
dropped it and took a softer one. " My
son," said the father reprovingly, 44 never
touch a piece of bread or cake that you
never mean to take." Harry ate his bread
and remembered. After a while the cake
was passed round. When it came to Har
ry, the little fingers made a quick adroit
movement, and hauled oil three large
slices. 44 Why, Harry !" cried his father.
Well, papa," said the boy, bravely,
vou told me to take all tlie pieces I
touched, and I touched all these." 44 No,
no, my son ; I said to touch only what
yon meant to take." Ana tnat s just
what 1 aid, papa, i meant to take evury
one, ana l tnea ior mat oiner nig snce
with the pile of sugar on it, but I didn't
quite get it." Everybody laughed, and
the father wisely concluded io give iiarry
his next lesson in table etiquette at home.
Factory Butter.
Under the factory system, the market
is now supplied with cheese ef good and
uniform quality, and at prices that cones-
pond favorably with other articles of diet
n daily use. it is true there is stm mucn
cheese placed upon the market that is ot
inferior quality, and, also, large quantities
of rich cheese that, from imperfect ripen
ing, will not bear transportation, especi
ally to foreign markets. Nevertheless, we
are yearly improving in this direction, and.
undoubtedly, will continue to do so until
we shall produce cheese that shall rank as
first-class in any market in the world. As
this is being brought about, the consump
tion and demand will increase, thus giving
new impetus to this important industry.
The present lack in dairying in the We.-t,
is a system by which butter can be made
by the same system as is cheese ; tor fac
tory butter, like factory cheese, always
commands an extra price. That is, while
it does not, perhaps, bring the price ob
tained by certiun individuals who make
large quantities ofbutter. in home dairies,
it does bring prices higher than ate oti
tained by what are considered to be good
dairymen. What is now wanted, is the
fostering of butter factories, or the com
bining of butter-making with cheese-making
in the same factories, so that, in the
spring and fall, and during the winter,
when fresh-made butteralways commands
good prices, more attention could be paid
to its manufacture.
There is every indication, now, that first
class butter will command higher prices
than usual this fall and winter. This was
the case last winter ; in fact first-class but
ter always commands high priis in the
West, and the reason wh v such is the case
is that there is never a full supply of what
was, at one time, known as "gilt edge"
butter, but which now is not taken on this
brand unless the maker is well known.
Really first-class butter, however, will
bring a large price even in summer, if
sent to market cool, and thereafter kept so.
When butter can be contracted tor at
thirty cents the year through, there is ful
ly as much or more money in if, as in
cheese at current prices, if the value of the
skimmed milk and butter milk be taken
into account.
While butter may be manufactured in
small dairies, of fully as good quality as in
large ones, there are certain necessities as
ice, uniform packages, and facilities fo-
carrying and shipping, that are absolutely
necessary. These can be more cheaply
obtained in factories, for the amount of
butter made, than they can be in small
dairies. These; aggregated, would forn
a great saving in the manufacture of but
ter, and consequently in the profits, to say
nothing
of the absolute uniform quality
of the product. For this reason, we again
urge the more general establishment of
butter factories in the West, either sepa
rately, or, as we believe would be more
profitable, in connection with cheese fac
tories. Western Rural.
Eggs ts. Meat.
Would it not be well to substitute more
eggs for meat in our daily diet? About
one-third of the weight ot an egg is solid
nutriment. This is more than can be said
of meat. There are no bones and tough
pieces which have to be laid aside. A good
egg is made up of ten parts shell, sixty
parte white and thirty parts yelk. The
white of an egg contains eighty-six per
cent, water ; the yelk hfty-two per cent.
The average weight or an egg is aoout two
ounces. Practically an egg is animal
food, and yet there is none of the disagree
able work of the butcher necessary to ob
tain it. The vegetarians of England use
eggs freely, and many of these men are
eighty and ninety years old, and have been
remarkably free from illness. A good egg
is alive. The shell is poro"s, ami the oxy
gen of the air goes through the shell and
keeps up a kind of respiration. An egg
soon becomes stale in bad air, or in very
dry air charged with carbonic acid. Eggs
may be dried and made to retain their
goodness for a long time, or the shell may
be varnished, which excludes the air.when,
if kept in a moderate temperature, they
may be kept good for years. The French
people produce more egg3 than any other,
and ship millions of them to England an
nually. Fresh eggs are more transparent
at the center, old ones on the top. Very
old ones are not transparent in either
place. In water in which one-tenth of salt
ias been dissolved, good eggs sink and in
different ones swim. Bad eggs float in
pure water. The best eggs are laid by
young, healthy hens. If they are properly
fed, the eggs are better than if they are al
lowed to eat all sorts of food- Eggs are
best when cooked four minutes." This
takes away the animal taste that is offen
sive to some, but does not so harden the
white or yelk as to make them hard to di
gest. An egg, if cooked very hard, is dif
ficult or digestion, except by those wun
stout stomachs; such eggs should be eaten
with bread masticated very nneiy. An ex
cellent sandwich can be made with eggs
and brown bread. An egg spread on toast
is fit for a king, if kings deserve any better
food than anybody else, which is doubtful.
Fried eggs are less wnoiesome than doucu
ones. An egg uroppeu into not water is
not only a clean and handsome, but a deli
cious morsel. Most people spod the taste
of their eggs by adding pepper and salt.
A little sweet butter is tne Desi uressmx-
Eggs contain much phosphorus, which
13 supposed to be useful to those who use
their brains much. Poultry Review.
