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Richland beacon. (Rayville, La.) 1869-1890, March 29, 1873, Image 1

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Persistent link: http://chroniclingamerica.loc.gov/lccn/sn86079088/1873-03-29/ed-1/seq-1/

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Pr- Miscellaneous Selections.
[ets ABSENCE.
'Th rough azure halms of lonlines,..
bra ails t t mnt: no cloudyv nfleet
e. o:nvoWI l o'er the ttracklers wa., t,
r.+'A his path with snowy deewp,
t1idltc ulUme JzD5 thlat trolic ,11.e.;
onl' `-eul , by t ashing I,.,e.z,, "lllAlwd
rIr'Igs swin shadows down to I~ess,
A 1,i n,. e the tunlight doubly sweet.
.iurth'. iLl,ttnltd face is glad no more,
I Fpr' '.,nless beneath, the noon:
#I .tl.~as w nds in covert lie,
P 1 \r hunt n liihtsome comlanmies
t lr~,lgh rwhi..r ing grain anti .ighing trees:
Th. -.' asnti, mnl.ind no reply
To th. *IInh I.,arning of the shore,
. Bullt ' 4b, asway in we ary swoon.
A bird in .,nldlrtlhickt I ings,
And if a os he hi:- -.,, .- 1is tillt.,
in miles andI ule.. tit. ! hit'd;
For nD'er' such ].at ,ii:':... Cnoln,
O)f heart e an lll, ll*... lone.
W as in a sulmmer li,",'':,|t" .. ' :1;
Tight l dI.ied are hi- .. . ,
his mate. is lost b. .r, '
(/one is the nam.eless cht:l,rl I 'I
The outer world in kill 'I.
The interchange, the. light
And 'twixt our souls, th:: .* r :. :Ir,
Lie leagues' of sttrles atm ",, .
Asleep upon a silent main :
Nothingto-day its heart-mate bi.:
Nor any answer to its qutest.
(ne kiss of shadlow or of air
The world to lovelier lift would stir.
" r might I clasp that distant hand,
Then love would grace for nme the who',
.o light a touch on hand or soul,
So liglhta touch to sea or landl
Makes all things one and all tUings fair.
Wtke, winld! anl blow a touctth front her!
-Scribaer's for .fart ,
BILL WILSON'S CONFESSION.
The boyish frolic which I am about to
relate-said Bill, looking rather melan
choly--seems a nmuch more serious piece
of business, looked at through the inter
vening years, than it did at the time to
me. Indeed. I am not sture that the au
thorities over there would consent to look
at it in the light of a boyish frolic at all;
although I think that what happened to
the old woman, my mistress, was a good
thing for her, as it certainly was for ev
ery one else, and as for the old man, he
was always sayilg he was ready to go,
and if he went a little sooner than he
supposed he was going, It could have
made but little difference to him. lie was
my second master. lie lived on Severn
street in Clerkenwell. and his place of
business as well as his residence was a
tall, brick building, standing all alone, a
dairy where the cows never saw daylight
being on one side. and a bowling-alley on
the other. How long he had lived there
the Lord only knows. Toe name over
the window-"'James Macdonald, Print
er,"-was printed in very old-fashioned
character., and almost Invisible, from the
dusty accumulations of many years. I
passed his shop one particularly bright
morning, which perhaps accounts for my
seeing the bill in his window, which read
thus:
"Boy wanted,-mnst be the son of industrious
parents. Sctch ,re ferred ; must h. able to read
and write, and be a strictly moral and upright
lad."
When I first cast my eye on this bill I
had my hands stuffed into my breeches
pockets, and was whistling "The girl I
left behind me," but the moment I read
the bill I drew my hands out of my pock.
eta, and began to hum a Presbyterian
hymn,-for I was born a hypocrite, and
lying with me was a natural gift,-and
then I rang the bell. It was answered by
a good-deal worse-lookingboy than I was,
though he was considerably larger.
" Wot do you want?" said this young
ster, eyeing me with great jealousy, for
my knees were not patchela as his were,
neither did I wear corduroys.
"I want the place wot's vacant," said I,
coafidently, " I'm a virtuous and upright
lad."
"O, you are, are you," replied the boy
mitially; "well, you won't do, 'cos
..on aln't big enough."
S" I'm as bil as you be," said I, getting
ready to run if he showed fight.
"I can fight you with one 'and," he
replied.
"And I can fight you with one hand,"
said old Macdonald, coming up behind r
and giving him a blow which knocked his
head against the wall. "Come in, my
boy," he said to me, "you look likes nice,
pious boy. Does your father drink?"
"No, sir," sam I, "and he goes to
church, regular !" It is possible that this
was not, strictly, the truth.
"And you go with him, I suppose,"
continued the old man.
"Yes, sir," I replied. "and I say my
prayers every night like a good boy.'
Neither was this, perhaps, strictly the
truth.
"Then I think you are theoy I want,"
aNldtheoldman. I want a b thatis
willing to make himself generlly useful
for his food and lodging for the first six
months, after which I will pay him a
trifle, and if he serves me falthflly for a
year or two I may apprentice him, in
which ease," said my master, patting me
kindly on the head, "he will become, in
course of time, a gentlemanly compositor,
and perhaps be able to save enough to
take him to Ameria."
This was a prospect sufficiently glori
ous. I have always blamed old Macdon
ald, for exciting my imaination too much
at rst. It was a aingular fault for a
man of his years, but he pMid the penalty
for it.
" I'm sure I'm willing," mid I to him,
eint the good impresaon I had made,
-all I want ls a hanoe to say mT prayers
imaser looked at me searchligly
whea I made this remark, but, apparent
ly convinced of my sincerilty, he said:
"I am glad to see youa so thought~tnl,
Wlham; youa arema very nice boy. Now
we will go up stairhn."
Accordingly, up stairs we went. and
there I saw tbe old woman, my mistress
- shraunken, dried-up wisp of humanity
-goodness only knows how old Fhe was.
But she had a bright, keen eye that rest
ed on me the moment I entered the room.
"James, he said, sharply to her has
band,"don't have aaything to do with
that boy; he's a hypocrt; he's false to
the backbone; he's capable of poisoning
his mother."
I don't know what made the old lady
speak ofa pious boy like me in that wayi
but I know hnow I felt and what
, dIright, old ooman.'" I thougeht, "if
I wasonly big enough to pitch you out
of thewinder: erlflIeverI gets a el t
burn yt alive!" ThtIs what thoaght
ad I thoght itwith more mtea y, per
hapsthan mstt s boys d have
beenapaleof. The old man iokedathis
wife, rathber astonished at her observa
tions, and said:
"' Nonsense, my dear, he is avery niae,
plous boy, and his father and mother
doa't drink, and go to ehurch regularly."
"1 don't believe a word of it," said Mrs.
M., and the . sbakinr her aist at me, she
said, ,.0, you good-for-nothing wretch."
" I want to be a good boy," I said,
mekly; but the thought of burning her
up alive came into my bad stronger tan
ever, and It kept coming into my head in
spite of me.
"Your mistress will show you what to
do," observed old haedonamld, trotting
down stairs with a look of dimppolatmest
n his face. My mistrem surveyed me,
when he had gone, deliberately and care
fully, for about half a minute; she then
grasped me by the hair of my head and
turned me round several times, like a hu
man corkscrew, to make her survey more
complete. After this she too,. hold of my
ears, one in each hand, and humped my
head several times against the wall, which
operation seemed to complete the proccvs
of exanmilntion.
"Yor area bad, deceitful boy," said she.
"but that is no reason, after all, why you
should he denied a chance to earn your
bread. ('ome, let me see you wash the'.
dishes." It appeared that the junior boy
acted as servant-girl in old Macdonald's
.st ,blishment.
No boy ever washed dishes better than
I did that morning. I madle them shine.
:an they were very dirty,, too. I wanted
to conciliatethe old woman. if possibl ".
The finsl wipe was belag administered to
the last platter when my master appeared
in the room.
"'llow does he get along?" he inquired
glancing at me.
"lIe does well enough," said the old
lady. 'but he's so decitful in his looks."
" You ought to be ashamed of yourself,"
said my master, "to talk of a nice boy In
that manlier."
My master's manner, as he spoke these
words, showed a little trepidation- quite
i istifled, indeed, by the crisis they precip.
it ited. No sooner were his words fairly
i,'.red than the old lady, whom I had
.upposed to be quite feeble, snatched up a
dish-cloth and hurled it at her husband,
the slippery article lodging for a moment
on his noble Roman nose, then falling to
the floor with a splash; she then selected a
variety of articles and pelted us till we
left the room and went down stairs, and
just as we got to the bottom a wash-dish
mull of soap-suds descended upon our
heads, the old lady being undoubtedly one
of the positive sort.
"Never mind, William," said the old
man, "what your mistress says or does;
,he is getting old and a little eccentric. I
hope you are not a revengeful youth."
O"0 no, sir,"lI answered, eagerly, "I
know we must always forgive and for
"That's right, my boy" replied my
master, smiling through his soap-su Is;
'You know the plumber's shop over the
way." he continued.
"Y"es, sir," I replied, "the shop with
the nump in the window."
"The very one," said he, "what a nice,
,mart boy you are! I want you to go
wer there and present this little bill, and
tell them that Mr. Macdonald must have
the money. We can never get along with
)ut money. William."
I started immediately, very much
pleased, deeming my mistress's estimate
)f my character totally erroneous, and
thinking that I was indeed a pretty nice
tort of a boy.
"What a good thing it is," thought I,
' to be such a nice boy as I am." This
was my reflection as j knocked at the pri
rate door adjoining the plumber's shop,
or the shop itself was shut up, and there
were very few signs of business around
the premises. The door was opened by a
lovenly-looking woman, who took the
ill and read it.
"Well," said she, looking at me in a
rery peculiar manner, "I ,, are a nice
ep."
" I know it," said I, smiling compla
wntly, " I'm a very nice boy, and I work
or Mr. Macdonald."
"A very nice boy," repeated the woman,
-and now her sarcasm became perfictly
dain,-"when did you pet out of New
rate? How do you like picking pockets?
'hat do you mean, you young thief, by
oming here with your bills?" And with
hat she slammed the door in my face,
*nd I went back- to report in a somewhat
melancholy frame of mind, and told the
Id man my story.
"You are a very nice boy," said he, "not
o lose your temper and throw a brick at
"If I did that it would be wicked, sir,"
said.
,"Nevertheless," said my master, "one
f the first things to learn in a printing
fice is perseverance; so I will make out
new bill and you shall go over again."
A little reluctantly, but pleased with
ny master's flattery, I started once more.
[he same woman opened the door but
he took no notice of me, but called up
tairs, "Dick, Dick, come down;" and
rery soon that gentleman-the half
Irunken, dirty plumber-made his ap
earance at the end of the passage-way.
"Just look here," said the woman,
o.nting at me, "what a nice,'young jail
ird old Mac has sent over now. Did ever
rou see such a villainous face?" As she
mid these words the man caught up a
woom that was standing near him, and
rooeeded to "go" for me; but as I went
onaiderably faster than he did. I arrived
afely a, Macdonald's again.
"Never mind." said the old gentleman,
with a bland smile, "you shall go again,
md say I'11 send an officer. Never say
lie, William; nothing like perseverance.
You are a very nice boy."
"Please, sir, I don't want to go again,"
[said.
"Then," said he, with a horrible frown,.
'"then you won't be a nice boy." I made
so hrther objectiwon, but went at once.
&s I opened the door, who should I see
upon the sidewalk but the mierable
archin who had opend the door to me at
trst. Not knowing what his feelings to
wards me might be, I did not speak to
him, but he addressed me with easy fa
milaitity.
" 'Ere," said he, "you boy. come 'ere,"
"Wot do you want ?" said I, with stiff
"Wot are ym a-etthg 'ema make a
YoJeoU for?" he inluired, with
'Wot do you mean?" I inquired, with
lignitled curiosity.
'-Why," sayd he, "they're making a
monkey of you-sendingyou over there
o get that money, whleh they knows
they'll never get it, which it's been ow
ing 17 years. They do it with all the new
"Wot can be done.' I inquired.
"'Take your wengeance," said the boy,
darkly, producing from his breeches-pock
t a smaull, brass esano, about six inche
long. "Take your eagssmce."
It was too bad, butjust at the moment
that the boy uttered, with sternemphasis,
the word "wemeaece," the old man, who
had been watching us through the win
dow, suddenly opened the door and lug
god the young man ir by the collar of the
"I will teach you," said Mr. I., "to
corrupt such a nice boy as that." And
be proceeded to teach him by means of a
strap.
Watching the writhinog form of the
an hty boy for one brief moment, 'and
reflecting what an excellent thing it
was to be a niceboy, Ideprted again on
my mission. I knocked at the plumber's
door once more and waited some time for
it to be opened, t, atlas, in vain. I knock
edagain; still no answer came. Finally,
I commenced a rather vigorous kicking at
the door. I had just got settled down in
this business, when a window above me
opened and a lot of dirty water descended
upon me like a shower-bath, while the
volce of the woman exclaimed :
"There, If that don't saisfv you, let us
know, asd yon an have some more."
IOn the whole I thought it did sati'f,
mn. I was easily satNtiled. I went back
to my master's in a saddened moud. re
If.ltinmg mournfully that being a nice boy,
like any other good thing, had its draw
ha.'k<--itd iburdens, carles and responsi
hiliti s. What wa: my astonishment and
dismay when the. ci I:an said with :a
bland usmile: -
" Well, William ; try it attain."
" leae. sir, I can't." I iepli'tl. The
old man frowned his dtlrkest frown. walk
et straight to his drawer and took out his
strap.
S'l'leace. sir." I said. "" wet are v-o a
going to do? I'1 tell tell my tther. Wt do
you nake such a nice boy as I am do such
tquer jobs for? Wot is the iue of a hx.y's
being a nice boy uniess he can do as he
pleases?"
" YFou a nice boy." said the old man.
with feigned amazement, " why. you're
the worst boy I ever saw." Thereupon.
without unneces.ary delay, he gave me a
severe drubbing and sent Ime down staidrs
to keep the other boy company. I did
not hesitate to approach the latter indi
vidual with suI.ggestions of a practical na
ture. All resentment was washed away
in the billows of our couunon grief.
' Where's your old c:irnon?" said I.
coming to the point at once.
"Are you bound to take your wen
geance?' inquired the boy, cautiously
thrusting his hand into his pocket.
"I am," I answcre I with stern deter
mination, "we'll load the cannon full of
powder and stones, and tie it to a brick.
and stick it on the post outside the door,
and make a llzglg and tire it through the
window at old man when he goes to
shut up shoi."
Although my companion was the happy
proprietor of the ordnance. and also en
joyed the ecstasy arising from the con
sciousness that his pockets were full of
loose powder and matches, besides, yet
the brilliant operatiou proposed by me
never seemed to have struck him. He
was delighted with it, and we carried out
our programme pretty fully, waiting till
8 o'clock to do so.
About that time Mr. Macdonald's at
tention was attracted by an appearance
resembling a small volcano on the post
outside his door. That appearance was
caused by the burning of my "tizgig."
Hardly had the old man opened the do )r
when a tremendous explosion startled
him out of his wits, while the stones from
the cannon smashed several of his win
dows. Then all was silent-all save the
hurrying to and fro of startled pedestrians.
and the spasmodic shouts of "l'o-liee,"
"po-lice," which proceeded from the
lungs of James Macdonald. Luckily.
Severn street was a "no thoroughfare"
street. on which there was little travel,
and so nO horses were frightened.
I am sure we were glad of this, as we
walked unconcernedly down St. John's
road, looking lire nice, innocent boys, as
we were. And I should be still more
glad if I had not the worst part of my
story to tell. But I had made a previous
agreement with the other boy to recover
the cannon, if possible. after the old man's
shop was shut up. With this important I
end in view, I crept slowly tp Severn
street, about an hour after the explosion.
The brick and the cannon were on the
spot. All seemed still as the grave; no
light was to be seen. But just as I ladd
inv hand upon the cannon, a heavy hand
was fald upon me, which subsequent
events proved to be the hand of Mr. Mac
donald. He dragged me playfully into
the house ; lie struck me aflfictionately on
my limbs and hack and face with a heavy
eane; he kicked me enthusiastically a- he
dragged me up stairs; my hands and flice
were bleeding when he thrust me into the
kitchen. The old woman was there, the
ad man's strap in her hands. She struck
me furiously with the buckle end; my
thumb was broken; it is stiff to :his day.
They thrashed me till they were tired,
and commenced again. They went be
yond all reason ; they had no mercy; they
were devils, both of them, and had been
all their lives. They would have killed
me, but a workman ran up stairs and in
terceded for me.
"Very well," said the old man, as I
crouched, trembling, in the corner, "we
will whip him no more to-night, but we'll
keep him here till morning, and see
whether his father will rather have him
whipped or sent to prison."
Saying which, the old man took me by
the collar and dragged me up stairs.
Thrusting me into a dismal. unfurnished
garret, he locked the door and said:
"I hope the devil will run away with
you before morning," and left.
Little cared I for devils or goblins then;
I boiled and foamed with revengeful fury;
Ipaced the floor and wrung my hands
and prayed that the building might fall;
I cursed myself because I was powerless
to torture them to death, little by little.
I nursed my fury hall two bours, when I
heard a volee in the room below-the old
man's bed-room.
"It was foolish," said the old woman.
"Why?"' inquired my master.
"Because the boy might have matches
and burn us up alive."
"Be would burn himself up, too," re
plied my master.
"Perhaps not," said she "the scuttle is
not fastened, and he could slide down the
gutter-pipe."
"-els too great a coward for that,"
said the old man, and that was all I heard
andall I wanted to hear. I hadamatch.
About two hours after this conversation
occured I was walking painfully up the
St. John's road, in the direction of ql1n
too, when I heard the cry of "Fire.'
and, turning, I saw the flames just dart
ing through the smoke in the direction of
Severn street. I walked onward as fastas
Icould, but that was slowly, turning now
and then to watch the progress of the
flames. When I reached the Angel inn at
Islington I looked and saw that the fire
was a bright, a glorious, a furious, a hot
fire, and I hoped that the old man and the
old woman were in it-and they were.
Iturned my face from the fire for f e
last time, and from London forever.
When, in the morning, I reached the town
of Barnet, the streets were fuhl of the ter
rible catastrophe which had occurred the
night before-of the burning of a man
and woman and boy to death.
No sympathy at all was expressed for
the old people, '* because they had locked
the boyin lthe garret;" but every heart
was bleeding with pity for the " poor lit
tle boy." So easy it is to make a mistake.
I suppose my friends always thought I
perished as reprted. Better for them to
think so than to know the truth.
IT is claimed that the climate of Alaska
is steadily growing milder; that, whereas
it was formerly impossible to raise veget
ables of any kind there, the hardier vari.
eties are now regularly produced; and
that apple-trees transplanted from Califor
na, five years ago, are already bearing
thruit. It will be some years, however, be
fore the Territory will be attractive as a
winter resort.
-Having. perhaps, found other efforts
to secure attention unavailing, a num.er
ofTrojan spinsters have adopted the inge
nious plan of veiling themselves closely,
andti causing their male acquaintances to
take them out riding by lot from a
central rendezvous.
A Buddhist Ircend.
IN the village of $arvathi there live!d a
young wife named Kteeah, who, at the i
age of lourteen g:ave birth to a son : and
she loved him with al! the love and joy of
the ipos:+e~' or of a newly-finnd treasure.
for hi- fuiees was like a golden cloud, his
eves fair and tender as a blue lotus, and
his stile Ifright and beaming like the
morning light upon the dewy flower+.
But when the boy was :,hble to walk. and
could run about the house, there camte a
d:iv when he suddenly fell sick and died. I
And Ktieeah, not understanding what had
happelned to nwr fair lotus-eyed boy,
clasped hin to her bosom, and ws'nt about
the villags, from house to house. praying I
and weeping, and beseeching the good
pIotbple to give her some mediceine to callre
her baby. But the villagers and neigh
bors, on seeing her. said :
" Is the girl maid. that she still tIars
about on her breast the dead body of her
child ?"
.At length a holy man. pitying the girl's
sorrow, said to himseltl: "Alas! thi:
Khesah does not understand the law of
death ; I will try to comfort lher." And
he answered her, and said : "My good
girl, I cannot myself give you anay medi
cine to cure your boy, but I know a holy
antl wise physician who can."
"Oh !" said the young luother, "do
tell me who it is that I may go at once to
him !"
And the holy man replied: "lie Is
called the Buddah; li he alone can cure thy
child."
Then Keesah, on hearing this. was
comforted, and set out to tindrhe Buddha,
still clasping to her heart the lifeless body
of her child. And when she found hinl,
she bowed down before him, and said :
"' O my lord and master! do you know
of any medicine that will cure my baby?"
And the Buddha replied and said:
"Yes, I know of one, but you must get
it for me."
And she asked: " What medicine do
you want? Tell me, that I may hasten in
yearch of it."
And the Buddha said: " I want only a
few grain, of mustard-seed. La:ve here
the boy, and go you and bring them to
me."
The girl refused to part with her baby,
but promised to get the seed for him. As
she was about to set out, the pitiful Bud
dha, recalling her, said:
"My sister, the mustard-seed that I
require must be taken from a house where
no child, parent, husband, wife, relative.
or slave has ever died."
The young mother replied, "Very good.
my lord :" and went her way, taking her
boy with her, and setting him astride on
her hip, with his lifeless head resting on
her bosom. Thus she went from house
to house, from palace to hut, begging for
some grains of mustard-seed. Th,- people
said to her: " Here are the seeds; take
them, and g thy way." But she first
asked:
" In this, my friend's house, has there
ever died a child, a husbind, a parent, or
a slave ?"
And they one and all replied: " Lady.
what is this that thou hast said ? Knowest
thou not that the living are few, but that
the dead are many ? There is no such
house as thou seekest."
Then she went to other houses and
begged the grains of mustard-seed, which
they gladly gave her, but to her question
ings one said, " 1 have lost a son ;" an
other, "I have lost a parent;" and yet an
other, "I have lost a slave ;" and every
one and all of them made sonme such reply.
At last. not being able to discover a single
house free from the dead, whence she
could obtain the mustard-seed, and feel
ing utterly faint and wear', she sat her
self down upon a stone, with her baby in
her lap, and, thinking sadly. said to her
self, "Alas ! this is a heavy task I have
undertaken. I am not the only one who
has lost her baby. Everywhere children
are dying, parents are dying, loved ones
are dying, and everywhere they tell me
that the dead are more numerous than the
living. Shall I then think only of my own
sorrow?"
Thinking thus, she suddenly summoned
conrage to put away her sorrow for her
dead baby, and she carried him to the for
est and laid him down to rest undera tree,
and having covered him over with tender
leaves, and taken her last look of his loved
face, she betook herself once more to the
Buddha, and bowed before him.
And he said to her : "Sister, hast thou
found the mustard-seed?"'
"I have not, my lord," she replied: "for
the people in the village tell me there is
no house in which some one has not died;
for the living are few, but the dead are
And where is your baby ?"
"I have laid him under a tree in the for
est, my lord," said Keesah gently.
Then msaid the Buddha to her; "You
have found the ,rains of mustard-seed
you thought thadyou alone had lost a son,
but now you have learned that the law of
death and of suffering is among all living
creatures. and that here there is no per
manence."
On hearing this, Keesah was comforted,
and established in the path of virtue, and
was thenceforth called Keesah Godami,
the diseipleofthe Buddha.-Mrs. Anna H.
Leonowens is " ~T Romance of the Harem."
spaI.-Ileresasg compueatims. •
Our news from Spain for the last few
days has been of a singularly muddled
character. One conclusion only has been
possible, and that is that Spainis ina con
dition bordering upon chaos. The re
ports of one day differ from the reports
of every other. One day we are asked to
believe that the Republic is an assured
victory. Next day the cause of Alphonso
is in the ascendant. Today, atrne to
say, we are asked to believe that legiti
macy. divine right and Ultramontanism
are once more in Spain to dominate the
situation. Olozaga, the Spanish Minister
in Paris, has notified his government by
telegraph that representatives of the Eu.
ropean governments in Paris have decided
to send a collective note to the govern
ment of Spain declaring It to be their be
Ilef that their respective governments
will cease to hold diplomatic relations
with that country Uf any serious attempt
is made to proclaim a Federal Republic.
Wemust take newsas we find it; but it
does seem as if the European government
representatives in Paris were taking upon
them, if this report speaks truth, a ttle
too much responsibility. Surely it is not
their business to take such action. Al
lowing our reader. to judge of this piece
of intelligence as they may think fit, we
are compelled to notice another singular
report. President Thiers, it is said, has
recognized the belligerent rights of the
Carlksts. This news is scarcely less as
touncing than that to which we have just
called attention, I' Is Parisian in both
instances, and it is probable that this aso
counts for its extraordinary character.
President Thiers has been a lifelong op
ponent of divine right. How he can,
even in seeming, lend his influence to the
Crlist cause, it is difficult satisfactorily
to explain. Is it possible that by encour
aging the cause of Don Carlos Presiden'
l'hiers is of the opinion that he will ruin
the prospects of the IkRepublic, wnich, in
his heart of hearts, he dislikes? It is no
impossible that the Republic in Spain will
once again go down, It is qtite clear
that the thinartlical governments have
nII, sympathy with the present republican
e.xperiment. If they can thwart it they
will. It is not impossible that Don Car
los in the confusion will reach the throne:
but if he should succeed we can hardll
think that his retention of power will lie
of long duration.-N. Y. Herald.
- --- -ow----- e
A Rare Case of ('esience.
One ofthose rare Cases where. con
science compels the restitution of stolen
property, often noted in storv,but seldta
occurrint, in real lite. transpired in our
city on Wednesday. The facts in brief are
:as follows:
Mr. J.ames Moore,h:ardware dealer, no
ticed a man loitering about in his sto)re
yesterdlay morning, whose peculiar man
niEr and occasional wistful glances plainly
denoted his desire to relieve his mind or
some burden. lie remained some time
in the store, but finally took hiideparture
without stating his business.
In the afternoon le again made his ap
pearance with a companion. They .eated
themselves near the wsove, and,after a
short time, the companion said his friend
had something to say to Mr. Moore,
whlo thereupon invited the mtan into his
counting room. After a little hesita
tion lie announced his errandt which, he
said, was a desire to refund to Mr. Moore
the value of articles stolen from his store.
Hit said that. for a number of years past,
he had, at different times, purloined arti
cles of hardware from the store, and that
lately the crime had weighed heavily up
on his conseience; that he had been unable.
to eat or sleep in consequence, and that
he wanted to make all the reparation in
his power.
Ihe then took from his pocket-book a $.
bill, which he handed to Mr. Moore, ask
ung if it was enough. Mr. Moore replied
that lhe knew nothing of the matter, or
the amrount taken, and askedl if it was not
too much. After some little deliberation
the man took another $3 note from his
pocket and said he thought that wa.t none _
to much, and would not more than cover
the value of the things he had stolen.
During the forenoon of the same day
he visited the store of Ward, Humphrey
& lD)oge. and, taking Mr. Humphrey
aside, he said he had stolen from his store,
at a previous time, a number of chisels, j
which he took from his pocket. They
were in a new, bright condition, evident
lv never having been used, and tie said
thev had not. lie related his story of his
thieving operations to Mr. Humphrey,!
and said that it had been a sort of mania
with him; that he had been in the employ
of a man in the town where he lived for
fifeen years, and that no suspicion of Iis
propensities was entertained by his
friends. He talked very freely about
himself, asserting that he had suffered se
vere pangs of conscience through re
morse, and was determined in future to
remain s'rictly honest. He urged Mr.
Humphrey to accept $10, which he ten
dered hinm but the money was refused.
After leaving the store he went d!own
to DI. L. Guernsey's bookstore, and,
calling him to one sdle, presented an old
copy of the New Hampshire R .g;ter.
which. he said, he had stolen from him
some time ago, and wished to pay f~tr.
lie uurst into tears as he made the confics
sion, and said that he had frequentlvy in
tlulged his peculating disposition there,
and desired to make ample restitution.
lie also related the story of his compunc
tions to Mr. Guernsey, and stated that he
had been converted to religion. He paid
down five or six dolars, which he though t
would cover the value of goods abstract
ed.
The above were all the visitations the
man made in this city; and those with
whom lie conversed, and to whom lihe
made restitution, were satisfied that his
repentance was sincere. His character is
represented by those who have known
him for years to be good; and it must
have been a genuine work of conscience
'which made him confess that le secretly
deserved an opposite reputation. We
have the man's name and location, but
deem it imliroper to publish them, as it
would be wrong to engraft a stigma on
the reputation of one who has, as above
described, acted so honorably and exhib
ited proof of true repentance for past mis
deeds.-N. I. Patriot.
The quee's Grammar.
ITr is, of course, well understood that
the Queen's speeches are written by her
ministers. Her present government hap
pens to contain in the First Lord of the
Treasury and the Chancellor of the Ex
chequer, two very distinguished classical
scholars. Yet bad as the grammar of the
Queen's speeches usually Is, the Ministry
seem this t me to have surpassed them
selves. The Queen herself writes-when
she chooses to address her subjects per
sonally-verysimple and dignlfltd Eng
lish. But who could read withmout trans
lation such a sentence as the following?
The thanks of the government are ex
tended to the arbitrators for "th" care be
stowed by them on the peaceful adjust
ment of controversies such as could not
but impede the thull prevalence of nationrl
good-will in a case where it was specially
to be cherished." This conundrum we
leave the reader to render into English ;
he may succeel by dint of running it
through two or three times. Agdan
when the government wishes to say that
they were ableto go on with the arbitra
tion because the indirect claims had been
excluded, they record that the Quen
"was enabled to prosecute the inquiry in
consequence of the exclusion of the ind
reet clAimns." We do not think a state
documentshould be Ilppant or hmillar,
but surely the remsources of our language
are sufmdent to express any plain tetln
words which are at once clear and diga
fied.-Hearth ad House.
*- - ---
"Joklang 8Go Here t"
Old Uncle Jimmy, as he was called, al
waystook a leading 'part as one of the
congrgatio, and sometimes the "boys"
thought he interested himself a little more
talun was necessary about their afairs and
doings, for he was always cting some
one about their "moraae," and xin
their bd deeds to the publie. So the
("the boys") concluded they would brea
him of this habit.
The schoolhouse in which the services
were conducted was arranged in the old
style, the seats running round the sides
of the room. Now, Uncle Jimmy had one
particular beat, which he always claimed
and occapied during services.
Now for the plan of attack, which was
thus: A small ole was made through the
sat,and a common darning-needle hfast
ened to a wooden spring under the seat,
to which was attached a string running
round the entire room parallel with the
seat; the string was fastened to the spring,
so that when it was pulled in a certain
direction it would cause the needlle to pass
up through the seat, and whoever happen
Sto be on it would receive the full benefit
of the situation.
Well, the time came for the trial: the
boys were all there early. At last, Uncle
Jimmy came in and dropped into rhis ac
customed seat. No sooner hadl he touched,.
however, than he boundedl up again,
with a vell that might easily have been
mistaken for that ofa mad hull. On look
ing around for the cause of hibll sudden di
comfo,rt. Ihe could tind nothing,. and soon
all wa< e1ai. t again.
After the -.rvice' h:lI begun, some one
:ave the -tring anothe'r slight pull. when
Iae'e .limmy lhouted oult:
"J,&ci,,7 . ,in.g ,,s, herre."'
The minister and congregation looked
:ta him, and some of them rose in their
Sseats: biut. as before', everything quieted
down, and .servi'es procueded.
After awhile. forgetting his troubles.
Ulncle .Jiriny gralually went off into the
"'.and of Nol." when the string was
.atain jerked, more resolutely than before.
I nale Jinmmny njumpel up atrain, rubbing
the afflicted parts. and exclaiming:
"Joking-joking going on here !"
This time the piarson and deacons gath
ered round him. and the boys, being, no
longer able to hold in. burst out laughingt
in which the rest of the congregation soon
followed suit.
A more thaorough search was made, the
nesdlie found, but not the boys.--Erchngte. s
Jes Soe.
In leno, near Virginia 'ity. Nev., a
we:alihy ranch proprietor named .less,
somewhlat adv.tnced in years, was brought
to a peculiar sense of his domestic loneli
ness by some unnientioned experience of
the last winter, and wbecanme suddenly alive I
to the grievous dis:ulvantage of livin~ in
a territory almost wholly destitute of eli
gible fetmale society. In his forlornness
ie, took a trusted acquaintance and poor
neighbor named Leonard into his confi
dence. bewailing the social situation thiat
shoull leave a pr..sentable old bachelor of
his pecuniary qualifications without a
mistren to address, and was charmed to
hear that it was within the power of
friendship to import for him a young lady
of a virtue and prettiuess worth any man's
fortune. Since their coming from one of
the Atlantic States two or three years pre
vious. Leonard and his wife had pros
,r-nd too scantily to feel justified in send
l" for their dlaughter, Florence, whom
they hadl left in a dependent position
with relatives: but upon ascertaining as
above the matrimonial inclinations of the
rich and easy-going Mr. Jess, the parents
*oncoeived that here was a rare chance to
at once bring their child to the Pacific
and establish her, and mayhap themselves,
enviably for lift. The girl's photograph
was shown to the pleased ranchman, with
the assurallne that its original was a per
fictly obedient daughter and could be
pledged absolutely- and the result was
that a" letter, enclosing money, was
promptly sent to Miss Floreneein thleEast.
bidding her to come without delay. The
ep-tite said nothing about the matrimoni
al conspiracy, however, and somewhere
between San Franelseo and Reno the un
suspicious maiden became acquainted
with a flilow-traveler named Littlefleld,
a young printer, also on the way
to the latter place, whose recip
rocated love at first sight was destined
to work dramatic effec.ts in the general
comedy. It was iunder the courteous es
cort of this other new arrival that she
gained her father's" door, and the slight
grace of parental gratitude with which
he wias dismissel gave a decided chill to
her own sense of welcome. After that
the revelation of the purpose of her sum
mons from so far away, and the introduc
tion of Mr. Jess. found her In as little
mood for filial submission and maidenly
approval as they deserved. Possibly Miss
Leonard might have been more readily
controlled in the matter had not her heart
been already Interested elsewhere, for she
was not naturally given much to sell-will;
but now not all the ranchman's money
could make the owner tolerable to her,
and the more she revolted from the idea
of being sold like merchandise, the holder
she became to escape the paternal bar
gain by any possible means. Littlefield
did not venture to visit the house whither
his first welcome had been so unpromis
ing. but Florence soon contrived to meet
him elsewhere and confided to him her
predicament. His response was a hearty
offer of himself in marriage ; the event to
be attained by strategy. The girl con
sented as heartily, and together they ma
tured a scheme to be carried out as fol
lows: Miss Leonard was to seem to as
s nt to the marriage with Mr. Jess, but
insist that it should be solemnized on a
certain day by Bishop Whitaker, in Vir
ginia City. Arriving with the expectant
bridegroom in the latter town, she was to
send him out from the hotel to look for
the bishop's house, and then slip away
herself to that house in company with the
duly awaiting Littletleld. The plot, says
the Territorial Enterprise, was actually put
into execution some two weeks ago. The
rich ranchman left his bride-elect at the
International Hotel, in Virginia City, to
inquire his way to the spedfled parsonage,
reaching the bishop's just in time to be
greetedby the speetace of his more ao
tive and hitherto nnknown rival's tri
umphant wedding. "You're too late,
old man," said Littleleld. "Well, so it
appears," responded the outwitted man
much demoralized for a time, but sensible
enough to return philosophially to Reno
.thereafter without useless protesttions.
How Drinknlg Causes Applexy.
It is theessential nature of all winesand
pirits to send an increased amount of
blood to the brain. The Arst el~t of
taking a glass of wine or stronger form of
alcohol, is to send the blood there faster
than common, hence the dreulation that
gives the red tlace. It increases the aetiv
ity of the brain, and it works faster, and
so does the tongue. Butif the blood goes
to the brain faster than common, i r
turns faster, and no special harm results
But suppose a man keeps on drinking, the
blood Is sent to the brain so fast, and in
such large quantities, that in order to
make room for it the arteries have to en
large themselves; thy increase in size,
ad in so doing t press alnst the
more yielding d l d veins which
earry the blood out of the brain, and thus
diminish their size, their pores, the result
being that the blood is not only carried to
the arteries of the brain faster than is na
taral or healthful, but it is prevented from
leaving it as fast as usual; hbence a double
set of causes of death are in operation. A
man may drink enough brandy or other
spirits in a few bhours, or even minutes,to
bring on a fatal attek of apoplexy.
How Muah will Keep a ore.
A horse welih frem tento twelve
hundred pounds wil eat about slx tons
of hay, or its equivalent, tin a year. And
we suppose the real point to get a is,
whether one can aeephis horse cheaper
on some other product than hay. This Is
an exceedingly difficult question to an.
swer--it depends so much on circumatan
ices. We shall not attempt to answer it
fuldly at this time, but will menly say
that, in ouiopiniou, three and a half tons
of corn stalks and two and a half ts of
corn would keep a horse a year in Illya
good condition as six tons of good hay.
We may estimate, also, that it will tke
three and a half tons of oat straw, and
two and a half tons of oats to keep a
hlorse a year. A bushel of oats weighs
ithlirty-two pounds, so that it will take
ove-r 1.5 buhaels and three anda half tons
of straw to keep a horse a year. It would
t;ake about two acres of good land topro
duce this amount.--Am. Stock Journal.
Hints to Owners of Watches.
A wAli(n is a most delicate machine.
and a very little thing is enough to damn
age its system, and make it go too fast or
too slow, or to arrest the motion of its
wheels, and it is just that very little thing
that you don't take any notice of. Show
us your watch, and we'll tell you what
are the habits of its owner.
A person of irregular habits will spoil
the best watch in the world. Careless and
inexact people will always have watches
that go fast or slow---r that co both too
fist and too e . . -'" , a'ti
be steady an.. ,it-. yt.l
need not expe at VI ,
can rely on. "
All the hi... .... . world
will be unatic. :, g,% ,uuan waten that
regularity which is lacking in yourself,
and which you cannot. therefore, preserve
in your watch, and which you destroy as
fast as the watch is regulated. For a
watch should be wound up every day at
the same hour, and as soon as possible in
the morning. And the best occasion for
doing this is when the minute-hand marksL ;
seven or ten minutes after the hour-hand
has marked the hour.
The operation of winding tip a watch
should never be performed carelessly or
roughly: but, on the contrary, with great
precaution. especially at the moment when
you give the final turn to the key. Then
you should gently moderate the move
ment, so as not to wind the watch tip too
tight.
You should always take good care to tit
the key perfectly Into the key-hole before
commencing.
It is not a good plan to carry
about with you. unless it is kept in .
and never carry it loose In your pn
as it is liable to get dust into It, which
will introduce into the watch, from time
to time, in winding it up, to its great
detriment.
Never, under any circumstances but
those of extreme necessity, open the in
terior compartment-that which contains
the machinery of the watch.
In winding up the watch, the hand
which holds it should remain perfiectly
steady and without motion.
The hands may be advanced or set back.
when necessary, without any harm being
done to the watch, although contrary to
the popular notion on the subject.
The difference of temperature, or the
habit which some have of carrying tlhe
watch about the person for a period, and
again leaving it motionless for a great
length of time on some piece of furniture,
may cause a sllght irregularity in the best.
watch.
Whether the hands are advanced or se.t
back, we should never touch the regula
tor. as long as the defect is trifling.
The crystal case of the watch should
never be opened, except by the watch
maker.
By keeping these rules In mind.: aid
iutting them in practie, people woluld
have less trouble with their watches. anlld
far less need of the services of a watch
maker. -ExeAcange.
A Clever Stratagem and its Result.
The York Wo,rl,. details the mnanner in
which Mrs. Slater, a resident of East Fif
teenth street. trapped and brought to
grief an individual who had attemnptted to -
blackmail her. After a correspondelnce
between the parties, the alleged black
mailer, whose name is Mclaughlin, was'!
induced to visit his supposed victim. The
result of his visit is given as fellows :
Mclaughlin, now sure of his game, pro
sented himself almost defiantly at the.
house, stalked into the parlor, whither he
was ushered by the servant, and while
Mrs. Slater was being announced. Lahey
(a detective concealed in an adjoining
room), who was at his post. observed the
rascal grinning at himself in the mirror
and smoothing his hair. On Mrs. Slater's
entrance, McLaughlin saluted her with a
half ceremonious, half patronizing air, sat
down on a lounge and crossed his legs.
Mrs. Slater went through the secrecy
pantomime of shutting the doors and
sitting down on a lounge,. heard the story
of the scandal, the particulars of which
need not be repeated. McLaughlin arrived
at the end of his story, hesitating a little,
and Mrs. Slater helped him out by saying
that the scandal must be stopped.
'Well." replied "Friend," nothing more
easy." "ow'?" Inquired the lady. "You
see," said the blackmailer, "this girl has
been married and wants to get a set of
furniture. Now I have no interest in the
matter, but I am sating as your friend,
and I think $25 would stop her mouth."
This was beating about the bush, so that
Mrs. Slater went a little further and asked
him if she gave him $25 would he stop
the andal. McLauhlin said he would
do it for that saum, and Mrs. Slater pulled
out her purse and handed him two $10
and one $5 bills which had been previ
eusly marked by her husband and the
detective. "Friend" was about put ting
the money in his wallet when lahey
steped round to the door of the front
paior, and opening it made him his
prisoner. MeLaughlin was taken to the
Twenty-second Street Station House,
w-here he fretted, finmed and blusteredl for
at least ten minutes, and then made a
clean breast of the matter, and acknowl
eded that the scandal in which he hlad
Implicated Mrs. slater had no foundation
in bet. The police have ascertained that
when arrested MeLanghlin was perfecting
two other schemes for blackmailing, ana
that he had during the past week victim
laed several persons, among them two
priests.
The Stremgth ef Timber.
To strength of a piece of timber de
pends upon the part of the tree from
which itls taken. Up to a eertain are,
the heart of the tree is the best; after that
period, it begins to fnil gradually. The
worst part of the tree is the sap-wood,
which Is next the bark. It is softer than
the other parts of the wood, and is liable
to premature decay. The deletetrious
componeat of the sap-wood is absorbed,
if the trems is allowed to grow for a longer
period, and in time the old map-wood be.
comes proper timber-flber smlar to heart
wood. Hence, the oodne of a tree, for
timber purpose, depend on the age at
which flthe tree was cut down. When
on, the heartwood is thebest; at ma
~p with the exption of the sp
wodthe treak is equaly ood throdgg
out; nd, when the tree is allowed to
aow too lo, the heartwood is the .rst
e howyP m of weakness, and de.
The bJ eumsrem d by felling
the s at Ie d aitnrity, which de
ponds on its mat u a l as on the soll
and climate. The aoh,besei, elm. and r,
are generally esonidered at thir ist
when of 70 r 80 years' Imrowth, and th e
eak i seldom at its best In lesm tlie than
100 years, but much depends on surround
ing circumsatances,. As a rule, trees
should not be cut before arriving at me
turity, because there is then too much
sap-wood, and the durability of the tint
ber is much inferior to that of trees felled
after they have arrived at their hfull de
velopment-Popular &iece MontAly.
-King Oscar, of Sweden, has accepted
the title of adminl in the uih fleet.

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