Newspaper Page Text
The Ghost Robber,
On a fine evening in the spring of 1830. a stranger,mounted on a noble-looking horse passed slowly over the snow-white lime stone road leading through the Black Forest. Just as the sun was going to rest for the dav, when the gloomy shadows were beginning to stalkfhe drew rein, as he said: 'This must be near the spot, surely. I'll stop here, anyhow, for a while, and see what I can learn." He thereupon dismounted and entered the parlor of the inn, where he sat down beside a small table. How can I serve you, meinheer?" said the landlord. Sec to my horse outside,'' replied the guest carelessly, but at the same time eyeing the landlord from head to foot "and let me have some wineRhine will do." The landlord was turning to withdraw from the stranger's presence, when he stopped and said: Which way, meinheer do you travel?" To Nanstadt," replied the guest. You will rest here to-night, I sup pose continued the landlord. I will stay here for two or three hours, but I must then be off, so as to reach my destination there in the morning. I am going to purchase lumber for the market." And you have considerable money with you, no doubt?" asked the landlord, innocently. Yes, considerable," replied the guest, sipping at his wine disinterestedly. Then, if you'll take my advice," said the landlord, you'll stay here till morn- ing." Why?" replied the stranger, looking up curiously. "Because," whispered the landlord, looking around, as if lie were disclosing a great secret, and was afraid of being heard by somebody else, "every man that passed over the road between this and Nanstadt at midnight for the last ten years has been robbed or murdered under very singular circumstances." "What were the circumstances?" asked the stranger, putting down his glass, empty, and preparing to fill it again. "Why, you see," the landlord went on, while he approached his guest's table and took a seat, "I have spoken with several who have been robbed all I could learn from them is that they remember meeting in the lonesome part of the wood some thing that looked white and ghastly, and that frightened their horses so that they either ran away or threw their riders they felt a choking sensation and a sort of smothering, and finally died, as they thought, but awoke in an hour or so to find themselves lying by the roadside, robbed of everything." "Indeed," ejaculated the stranger, look ing abstractedly at the rafters in the ceil ing, as though he was more intent upon counting them than lie was interesttd in landlord's story. The innkeeper looked at him in aston ishment. Such perfect coolness lie had not witnessed for a long time. "You will remain then?" suggested the landlord, after waiting some time for his guest to speak. "IT' cried the stranger, starting from his fit of abstraction, as though he was not sure that he was the person ad dressed. "Oh, most certainly not I'm going straight ahead, ghost, or no ghost, to-night." Half an hour later, the stranger and a guide, failed Wilhelm, were out on the road going at a pretty round pace toward Nanstadt. During a flash of lightning the stranger observed that his guide looked very un easy about something, and was slacking his horse's pace as though he intended to drop behind. "Lead on," cried the stranger, "don't be afraid." "I'm afraid I cannot," replied the per son addressed, continuing to hold his horse in, until he was now at least a length be hind his companion. "My horse is cow ardly and unmanageable in a thunder storm. If you will go on, though,I think I can make him follow close enough to point out the road. The stranger pulled up, instantly. A strange light gleamed in his eyes, while his hand sought his breast pocket, from which he drew something. The guide saw the movement, and stop ped also. "Guides skould lead, and not fol- low," said the stranger, quietly, but with a firmness which seemed to be exceedingly unpleasant to the person addressed. "But," faltered the guide, "my horse won't go." "Won't he?" queried the stranger, with mock simplicity. The guide heard a sharp click, and saw something gleam in his compan ion's right hand. He seemed to under stand perfectly, for he immediately drove spurs into his horse's flanks, and shot ahead of his companion without another word. He no sooner reached his old position, however, than the stranger saw him give a sharp turn to the right, and then dis appear, as though he had vanished through the foliage of the trees that skirt ed the road. He heard the clatter of his horse as he galloped off. Without waiting another instant he touched his horse lightly with the reins, gave him a prick with the rowels and off the noble animal started like the wind in the wake of the flying guide. The stranger's horse being much su perior to the other's the race was a short one and terminated by the guide being thrown nearly from his saddle by a heavy hand which was laid upon his bridle,stop ping him. He turned in his seat,beheld the strang er's face, dark and frowning, and trem bled violently as he felt the smooth, cold barrel, of a pistol pressed against his cheek. "This cursed beast almost ran away with me," cried the guide, composing himself as well as he could under the cir cumstances. "Yes, I know," said his companion,dry ly, "but mark my word, young man, if your horse plays such tricks again, he'll be the means of seriously injuring his master's health." They both turned and cantered back to the road. When they reached it again, and turned the heads of their animals in the right direction, the stranger said to his guide, in a tone which must have convinced his hearer as to his earneat cess: "Now, friend Wilhelm, I hope we un derstand each other for the rest of the journey. You are to continue on ahead of me, in the right road, without swerv ing either to the right or left. If I see you do anything suspicious, 1 will drive a brace of bullets through you without a word of notice. Now push on." The guide had started as directed, but it was evident from his mutterings that he was alarmed at something besides the action of his follower. In the meantime the thunder had in creased its violence, and the flashes of lightning had become more frequent and more blinding. For awhile the two horsemen rode on in silence, the gudie keeping up his di rections to'^the letter, [while his follower watched his every movement as a cat would watch a mouse. Suddenly the guide stopped and looked behind him. Again he heard the click of the stranger's pistol and saw his up-lifted arm. Have mercy, meinheer," he groaned I dare not go on." I give you three seconds to go on." replied the stranger, sternly, One!" "In heaven's name, spare," implored the guide, almost overpowered with fear, look before me in the road, and you will not blame me." The straDger looked. At first he saw something white standing motionless in the centre of the road, but presently a flash of lightning lit up the scene, and he saw that the figure was indeed ghastly and frightful enough looking to chill the blood in the veins of even the bravest man. If his blood chilled for a moment, therefore it was not through any fear that he felt of his ghostly interp reter, for the next instant he set his teeth hard, while he whispered between them jnst loud enough to be heard by his ter ror-stricken guide: "Be it man or devil?ride it down I'll follow. Two!" With a cry of despair upon his lips the guide urged his horse forward at the top of -his speed, quickly followed by the stranger, who held his pistol ready in his hand. In an other instant the guide would have swept past the dreadful spot, but at that instant the report of a pistol rang through the dark forest, and the stranger heard a horse gallop off through the woods riderless. Finding himself alone, the stranger raised his pistol, and took deliberate aim at the ghostly murderer, and pressed his finger upon the trigger. The apparition approached quickly, but in no hostile attitude. The stranger stayed his hand. At length the ghost addressed him in a voice that was anything but sepulchral: "Here, Wilhelm, ye move out of your perch this minute and give me a helping hand. I've hit the game while on the wing, haven't I?" The stranger was nonplussed for a mo ment, but recovering himself, he grum bled something unintelligable and leaped to the ground. One word to his horse and the brave animal stood perfectly still. By the snow-white trappings on the would-be ghost he was next enabled to make his way in the dark toward that individual, whom he found bending over a black mass, about the size of a man on the road. As the tiger pounces upon his prey, so the stranger leaped upon the stooping figure before him, and bore it to the ground. "I arrest you in the king's name, said the stranger, grasping his prisoner by the throat, and holding him tight. "Stir, hand or foot until I have you prop erly secured, and I will send your soul to eternity." This'was such an unexpected turn of affairs that the would-be ghost could hardly believe his own senses, and was handcuffed, and stripped of his dag ger and pistol before he could find time to speak. "No, landlord," replied the individual addressed, "I am not. But I am an offi cer of the king, at your service, or special duty, to do what I have to-night accom plished. Your precious son Wilhelm, whom you thought was leading an in nocent sheep to the slaughter, lies in the road, killed by his father's hand." Two weeks later at Bruchsale prison, in Baden, the landlord of the sign of the Deer and the Ghost of the Robber of the Black Forest, who was the same identi cal person, having been proven guilty of numerous fiendish murders aud artfully contrived robberies, committed at differ ent times in the Black Forest, paid the penalty of his crime by letting fall his head from the executioner's axe, since when traveling through Schwartzwald has not been so perilous to life and purse, nor has there been seen any Ghostly Knight of the Road in that section of the world. Artemus Ward on the Platform. From the Sunday Cleveland Leader. To begin at the beginning, there al ways was a suggestive incogruity in Ar tmus Ward's announcements. This time it was advertised that the lecture would l^e just one hour long, commencing at a quarter to eight and ending at nine. Now, it was precisely a quarter of eight when there emerged from the right up per entrance of the theater the well known slight form of the veteran show man. I say well-kVown." but the ex pressions of those around me as he took his seat were those of surprise, as if they expected to see the burly creature that dispenses show-bills in the frontispiece of The Great Moral Panorama." No likeness to him was truly discern able in that frail, thin, faultlessly dressed figure that now sat so quietly at one end of the stage. The impression on one was fpain. The face wore such pallor the eyes were so preternatunally large and melancholy. It seemed as if death had already marked him for his own. In a moment or two he seemed disturbed. He took out his watch and looked at it. Then he looked inquiringly and axxious ly at a part ot the audience. Then he put back his watch. He then changed his position shifted one leg over the other after half a minute shifted it back, and followed up these motions, with oth ers suggestive of uneasiness so contin ually that they began to infeet the audi ence. We were all wondering what it could mean. As his nervous unrest be came more marked, our sympathy with the evidently suffering lecturer became positively uncomfortable. He now took out, looked at intently, and replaced his watch again, glanced at the audience piteously, as if expecting The Widow from them some relief, tilted back in his chair then forward again, as if catching a thought that he might topple over, and then he half arose, sat again and began positively to tremble. Our nervous sym pathy was now at fever heat, and I really believe something to relieve the suffering lecturer would have been done when sud denly a large clock in one of the churches began tolling the hour of eight. At the first stroke he grew calm and collected, and as the last was echoing on the stilled air he arose to his feet, and coming to the center of the stage, his voice was heard low and hesitating and apologetic, ex plaining that his trepidation during the last fifteen minutes had been caused by the fact that he had been advertised to begin speaking at a quarter to eight and end at nine, and yet only to speak an hour, and he couldn't tell whether to be gin at a quarter to eight and speak till a quarter^ nine, or to begin at eight and end at tine. Here his apology might have ended. But a mere apology did not suit his de signs. He went on into an elaborate and ingenious exaggeration of his. of course, imaginary feelings of suspense. I can hear even now his slow, quivering, hesi tating voice as it struggled (I can use no better word) out to us, in visible embar rassment, all the more effective because it was feigned. It was the best serio comedy to listen to his recital of his ina bility to speak more than an hour and the dileum in which he had been placed, and on either horn of which he affecting ly said he had been iearing he should be tossed. In explaining, or attempting to explain the situation more graphically, he used a word which was obviously not the one he wanted. He immediatelyperceiv ed this and glibly remedied it by pronounc ing another. But this, too, was plainly incorrect. So he stumbled upon a third synonym, but this was so conspicuously inexact, that he halted, nonplussed. Then he tried to go on again, but the fourth attempt was the choice of so in congruous a word as to cause a smile. As if painfully aware that he was becoming rediculous, he went back and began all over again. But this was too much the audience drowned his voice in peals of wild hilarity over the long joke to which itself had contributed. And when a few minutes later, he was pathetically telling us all, that he had come there to Boston to lecture so that he might get money enough to go to Africa, for he would feel as if he had lived in vain if he didn't go to Africa, and, bursting into tears, he didn't want to live in vain, he would rather live in Bostonso great was the laughter, theie wasn't, as at Teddy Striker's funeral on a rainy day, a dry eye visible. _ Where Pineapples Grow. A letter from the island of Eleuthera, in the Bahama group, written to the New York Sun thus describes the cultivation of the pineapple: That the soil of Eleu thera should yield such an abundance of delicious pineapples, is a matter of won der to a person who has been used to the fertile lands of the United States. One who has never been on a coral island can form but the faintest notion of the exceed ing roughness of the surface, and ungrate ful aspect of the ground. The island of Eleuthera,which furnishes such vast num bers f pineapples, is, indeed covered by a wild vegetation, in the main, while the earth from which it springs is, in great part of the roughest conceivable charac ter of rock. Holes of every size, form and description, some of them partly or wholly filled with dirt, the debris of de cayed vegetation, loose fragments, large and small, round and angular, sharp and hard, everywhere abound. The rock sticks up its stinging points and cutting edges in the most irregular and provok ing fashion. No plough, no spade no hoe can here be used. The only thing that can here be done is to stick a sprout into one of the holes and let it take care of itself, which it almost invariably does right well for it likes that kind of soil, and sips its sweet nourishment from the little dirt it may happen to find in the hollow of the rock. The holes are very close together, the sprouts are placed scarcely a foot from each other, and as the plant grows up it spreads its long, sharp, hard leaf blades, with edges armed with little rasping, saw-like teeth, up from the ground and abroad in every direction. The plant has a thick supply of these outbending leaves, lapped closely one over the other near the ground, and out of the centre of which comes up the fruit, one pineapple only to each plant, which then perishes, and leaves behind a progeny of young sprouts, and these being stuck in the hol lows insure a new crop for the succeding year. This replenishing can be kept up for about six years, and then the whole field about exhausted, is left to itself, the plants die out, in the course of time the soil is renewed, and fresher fields now demand the care of the pine grower. The only attention given to tha plant is to keep the field clear of weeds, and that is almost daily work the year round. One negro man can attend to about two acres. The worst weeds to contend with are species ot bidens, a plant very well known in the United States, as Spanish needles, and a kind of crab grass. One object of placing the plants so close to gether is to give the pineapple possession of the soil, and the weeds little chance of usurping the ground. The first sight of a pine field is astonishing, for it presents a Broad indicate jumble, of a vast mass of interlacing leafy sword blades, and the firsi impression is that such ajam of vege tation womld be utterly incapable of pro ducing any fruit whatever, whereas the fact is, the acre properly attended to yields tho enormous number of ten to twelve thousand pineapples. There is another enemy, no less for midable than the weeds that requires looking after very sharply, and that is the rat, which attacks the fruit just as it is about to ripen. If no measures were taken to prevent the depredations of these troublesome creatures, very few pineapples indeed would escape their destructive jaws. The planter has a remedy. Sweet potatoes are cooked, and while they are yet hot, the sulphur ends of common matehes are broken off and introduced into them. The phosphorus is diffused throughout the substance ot the potatoes, and th se being placed among the priaci pie plants are eaten by the rats, which almost immediately fall dead trom the effects of the poison. Brixon Sets Porevisky. a Trap for The Widow Brixon has about made up her mind to get married. It is so lone some, she says, dragging along, day after day, with no one to scold but the children and having to foot all the bills herself. She dropped in to see Mrs. Sanders the other clay, just after the family had got through with their dinner, to find out whether lac could be colored brown, and tell about the carpenter coming home the night before and giving his wife a black eye. Quite naturally, in a little while, she got to talking about the street-car conduc tor, and asked Mrs. Sanders if she really didn't think it was her duty, as the moth er of fatherless children, to marry him. 'Has he proposed to you?" queried the practical Mrs. Sanders. "Oh bless you! no but then he would in a minute, I know, if I'd give him the least bit of encouragement," said the blushing widow, smothering a sigh with the leg of a chicken that had somehow or other run the gauntlet of the Sanders'din ner table in safety. "What makes you think so?" asked Mrs. Sanders, gathering up the dishes, with the hope, most likely, of being able to save somothing for supper. "Wellahumwhy, really, Mrs Sanders, if you must know, I'll tell you: You never in all your born days saw a man look so miserably cut up and down hearted as he does whenever he drops in of an evening. Why, as sure as I live, he'll set there by the fire for half an hour, looking as though he hadn't a Iriend on top o' ground, and every little while sigh ing as if he was about to swallow his last breath," said the widow, wiping her lips on her apron and glancing wi*h interest at a segment of pie which atill lingered on the table. "Is the man troubled with rheumatizi:" asked Mrs. Sanders, pushing the pie with in her reach. "O dear! no. At least he never com plains," replied the widow, giving the pie a reception that ruined its shape. "How's his liver?" continued Mrs. San ders, pouring out her dishwater. "What?" "Ain't he bilious?" "Why, Mrs. Sanders! Do you s'pose I'm a doctor?" "That ain't got nothing to do with it If the man acts like you say he does, his liver's all out o' kelter, as sure as you're a lone woman, and nothing but the blue mass will ever straighten him out, and make things look cheerful to him again. If you take any interest in him, you ought to give him a little motherly advice about it," said Mrs. Sanders, rolling up her sleeves. "Oh, mercy! never, no! That ain't it at all, Mrs. Sanders. Because your man looks like a nankeen sun-bonnet with the jaundice, you needn't think everybody else in town has a lazy liver. I guess I ain't blind, and I can see the man's head over heels in love with me, and is afraid to let on about it. Brixon acted that very elf-same way. Why, you ought to see him choke up and and act like a goose every time I speak to him. And then he's so tender and patient with the children. He always brings 'em a pocketful of pea nuts or candy and little John Rufus will climb around over him, and pull his hair, and gouge him in the eyes, while Mary Angcline will be poking him in the side with a strip of kindling, and Philip Alon zo sticking pins in his legs, and him a set tin' there all the time, as meek as a mis sionary, and trying to make out it's capi tal fun." Would any man stand all that if he didn't have a warm spot in his heart for the children's mother^ No, indeed, Mrs. Sanders that man loves me to distraction, and is suffering martydom for fear I'll find it out." Well, maybe he is," said Mrs. San ders but why don't he speak out like a man with common sense, and get put out of his misery?" O well, I suppose it's because I've never given him any encouragement, I didn't want to do it, you know, until I had a chance to see whether Mr. Breni zer across the way, had any thoughts of marrying again, for he has a mighty good job in the coffin factory, and could afford to keep a family well. But he hardly ever looks at me when I meet him, and I won't be made a fool of any longer. And so, this very night, if Porvisky drops in, I shall burst into tears, and talk about how sad, and lonely, and wretched I am, and how the children all cry for him when he's away, and will be engaged before he gets out of the housenow you see." And the woman returned to her little ones with an Indian-summer glow around the heart.Breakfast Table. A Father's Long Search Rewarded. One of the strangest circumstances of life, more like fiction than the truth, came to onr notice this morning, says a recent issue of an Ottumwa (Ind.) exchange. It seems that several years ago a family of German people, consisting of father, moth er, and two children, lived in New York where the wife and mother sickend and died, leaving the man with but little mon ey and the two children to care for. The father had two sisters in that city, who, like himself, were strangers in a strange land, and to each he gave a child. The children seperated from their father and mother and from each other, fretted them selves sick, and it was thought best to place them in one of the various orphan asylums of that great city, where they could be together. Here they seemed to thrive, and the father by his labor was able to support them in a style that guar anteed them a home and comfort for the time being. This was nine or ten years ago. The father wandered out West in hopes of bettering his condition, and final ly found himself in St. Louis, where, soon after his arrival, he was prostrated with the typhoid fever, from which he only re covered to take the small-pox. He was a long time in recovering, and found him self without money for his own support, and in the long time intervening no mon ey had been sent for the support of the children, and the managers sent them with hundreds ol others, to this State and elsewhere in the West, finding homes for them, wherever they could, in the best families. After his recovery, and when money matters were better with him, he wrote in regard to his children, but could get no word from them. As soon as pos sible he made his way back to New York, but was refused information as to where his children could be found. 1 After searching the city in vain he star- ted out West again, and finally found himself in Louisiana, where he undertook farming, but was drowned outhis part ner losing his life. He sold his farm for $5,000 and, with the proceeds, returned to New York. This time he tried the po tency of gold, and by the offer of $300 to the manager, he learned that the children had been sent ont West, to Ottawa, Iowa where they had found homes with a man by the name of J. W. Carpenter. This place he visited, but without avail, and despairing of ever seeing his ehildren again, he went to St. Louis. In that city he was relating his life his tory to some of his German friends, when some of them suggested the idea that as the names were somewhat similar, Ottum wa, la., was meant. He immediately wrote to J. Carpenter, Ottawa, la. In due time the mail brought him the good news that his children were here and in good health. As may be expected he was not long on the way, and a day or two ago arrived in this city, where he found his children, nearly grown occupy ing a good home with Mr. and Mrs. Car penter, to whom they have become great ly endeared. Such is the story he tells himself. The children will remain with their foster parents, while Mr. Miller will probably make his home in this part of the country. PALLIA TLE A. FE S. One by one they fall and fade,J Some in the sunshine, some in the shads, Some in the bright and glowing noon, Some 'neath the cold and quiet moon One whirleth here, one falleth there, Till the ground is covered, the bough is bare So every field and path receives These fading, falling, dying leaves. One by one we fall and fade. Some in the sunshine, some in the shade, Some in the bright, unclouded light, Some in the cold and quiet night. One mourneth here, one parteth there, Till the soul is weary, the heart is bare So every field and path receives, These fading hearts, these dying leaves." Shepherds in Jnde a. Shortly after leaving the city we met several flocks of sheep, preceded by their shepherds, walking slowly towards Jerusalem, and at once the full force of all the beautiful imagery, and the many touching similes derived from such scenes and associations, and so often alluded to in Scripture, came vividly before me. These Arab shepherds, clad in the turbans and simple appass worn by their class, and earring a wooden crook in their hands, walked in front. The sheep, which are a peculiar and very handsome breed, are mostly low sized the fore parts ot their bodies of a fawn color the hinder parts white: they have long, pendent, silken ears and sweeping tails their faces more oval and longer than the species in these countries, and they have altogether a more pleasing, docile and mild express ion of countenance. Not one of them ventured before the sheperd, but stopped or quickened their pace as he did or if a young and forward creature lagged be hind, or strayed to either sides, a single word from their leader, often a very look, brought it back and checked its wander ings. A few favorite lambs frisked about their master, rubbing them-selves against his legs and ^armc-nts. After the sheep came some young goats and iambs, and the whole* procession closed with about two dozen of old pat riarchal-looking goats, which brought up the rear. These goats have long horns* and pendent ears, that hang almost to the ground, and their hair is glossy blaek and of the finest grain the sheep and goats were perfectly distinct. These shepherds are often to be seen about sim set slowly approaching the city from all sides, to seek shelter for their flocks dur ing the night, in some of the deep valleys by which it is surrounded, carrying the the 1 unbs in their bosoms. It is almost incredible, the influence that the shepherds of Palestine possess over their flocks many of them have no dogs but a word is often sufficient to make them understand and obey the will of their shepherd. He sleeps among them at night, and in the morning leads them forth to pasture always walking before them, guiding them to those places where they can enjoy the best food, and resting when he thinks they have obtained sufficiency, or during the heat of the day in some cool, shady place, where they all immediately lie down around him. lie has generally two ot three favorite lambs which do not mix with the flock, but fol low close at his side, frisking and fond ling about him like dogs indeed the degree ot intelligence and understanding that exists between the Arab and his flock is truly astonishing. "They know his voice, and follow him and 'he careth for the sheep It wa* probably to snch shepherds as these that the angel anounced the glad tidings of the Savior's birth. Wilke's Narrative. Hook's Practical Jokes. There is a story told of Hook carrying off a splendid wooden Highlander from before a snuff shop, throwing a cloak round it, and thrusting it into cab. "My friend," he said, addressing the driver, who looked rather astonished at the fig ure, "a very respectable man, but a little tipsy." Not even the passers by in the street were exempt fiom his cool impu dence. Observing a man of most pompous air strutting down the Strand, he stop ped him with "I beg your pardon sir, but may I ask if you are any one particular!" Then, without waiting for a reply he walked off, leaving the stranger transfix ed with amazement. These, however, are but poor specimens of his effrontery. Strolling one day arm-in-arm with Dan ial Terry, the actor, up a street in Soho, his nostrils were assailed by the most savory odor. Looking down an, area, he saw the servant's in the kitchen below dressing up a very fine dinner. "A party, no dedbt," said Terry "jolly dogs! what a feast! I should like to make one of them." "I'll take a bet I do," re plied Hook. "Call for me at ten." Leav ing his friend, he mounted the steps and knocked at the door. Believing him to be one of the expected guests, the servant conducted him to the drawing-room,where a number of persons had already assem bled. Making himself perfectly at home heuVl half-a-dozen people about him laug.'.tg at his bons mots, before the host discovered that a stranger was present. "I beg your pardon sir," he said, address iao' the uninvited one, "your name? I did not quite catch it servants are incorrect." "Smith, sir, Smith," re plied the unblushing Theodore, "don't apologize, you are quite right, sir, ser- 4 vants are great blockheads: I remember a most remarkable instance of their mis takes." "But really, ftr," interrupted the host mildly, "'I did not anticipate the pleauie of Mr. Smith company to dinner. Whom do you suppose you are addressing?'1 "Mr. Thompson, of course," answered Hook, "an old friend of my father's. I received a kind invitation from you yesterday, on my arrival trom Liverpool, "to dine "with you to-day, family partv, come in boots, you said." The host at once disclaimed the name of Thompson, or an knowledge of the vivacious Smith. "Good heavens! then I have come to the wrong house," exclaimed the hoaxer, "my dear sir, how can I apologize? so awkward, too, and I have asked a friend to call for me." The old gentlemen, probablv thinking so witty a personage would make an excellent ad dition to his party, begged him to remain. With a profusion of apologies, Hook at first pretended to declineultimately ac cepted. Everybody was delighted "with him all the evening he kept up a constant fire of wit and repartee, and ultimately sat down to the piano, and sang extempore verses on every one present. In the midst of these the door opened, and true to his appointment, in walked Terry, at the sight of whom, striking a new key, he sang: "I'm very much pleased with your fare, Your cellar's as fine as your cook My friend's Mr. Terrv the player And I'm Mr. Theodore Hook." Belgravia. English Breeding. N. 1). Conway in Cincinnati Commercial. The combing and washing of that "boat load of pirates," as Emerson calls them, which landed at Hastings, an what is called the Norman conquest, have gone on steadily, but it has lett still a certain roughness in many embryonic youn English geatlemen, which easily "shows itself on opportunity. It was displayed particularly at Cambridge university on Saturday afternoon, when the honorary degree of LL. D. was conferred on Dar win. The giving of this degree has been attended with circumstances rendering it one of exceptional honor. The senate had been convened in special congrega tion for the purpose, a thing never^ done but in most important cases, and Charles Darwin stood alone to recieve the honors of the university, and of his scientific friends who went down in large numbers from London. No gathering of equal numbers and distinction has been known in any university in this kingdom since Thomas Carlyle was inaugurated as lord rector at Edinburgh. The senate-house was densely crowded, there being many ladies representing the Ghton and Newham college. The under graduates, or as many of them as could be packed in her gallery, managed to stretch across the upper pan of the room a string suspending the eftigy of a monkey in aca demic costume, and also another nonde script form was suspended as ''the miss ing link."' A proctor repaired to the gal lery to seize these effigies. In the scuttle the monkey fell to the floor and was im pounded but the mis-ing link remained suspended in the air above the heads of the learned men and public orator. This was not so bad, and might have passed as fair fun, but the uproar and disorder which the youths kept up was so incessant, their "chaff" so rude and vulgar, that it was generally felt that if two of the gal lery boys, who showed themselves such adepts in animal cries, and suspended themselves over the company, the famous 'link'' would have been no longer misMnrr. It wis impossible to hear more tiian an occasional word or phrase of the orator's (Mr. Sandys') oration, which was in Latin. Even the reporters laid down their books aud depended on getting a copy of the oration after the row was over. It was a pity that so neat an address from so accomplished a speaker should have been so far lost to the many who would have enjoyed it. He alluded to Mr. Darwin's father and grandfather, and, much to the delight of Mr. Galton, who was present, spoke of him (Darwin) as an example of "hereditary genius." He quoted irem classic authors their recogni tions of the resemblance of the apes to man (which the gallery immediately illus trated). He spoke of Darwin's education at Cambridge in the college of Milton: of his important early work, "The Voyage of the Beagle," and of the later works by which he has made so large a mark on the world. As he went on, the gentlemen and ladies on the floor endeavored once or twice to assert their right to hear, but hardly succeeded. At the end, however the ovation to Darwin was universal. Throughout, indeed, there were indica tions of the great man's popularity. There were no flings at him in the "chaff," though many allegations of a simious an cestry of certain university officials who made their appearance. When Darwin stepped forward he was greeted with long continued applause from floor and gallery, there being not one of the signs of disap proval which invariably make themselves beard when there is such a feeling preent. That Cambridge is proud of Darwin is amply shown. When he emerged from the building the enthusiasm outside among the populace was as great as if all the orthodox pulpits of the town had not been denouncing Darwin as the f*l de stroyer of the blessed belief in the fall of man from original perfection, and the substitutor of evolution for redemption. Catching Cold One chief danger from colds is the ex hausted state of the body that first occurs, so it is not able to resist unfavorable in fluences. People who are not very vigor ous should avoid over-exertion and keep the strength up to the highest point. It will help those prone to a cold to sleep all tney can. Another cause of colds is eat ing too heartily after a day's work, when there are not forces enough to digest the food and keep up the circulation. Eat moderately at night if you would avoid a cold. A cold in its early stages may be broken up by hot foot-baths, warmth to the body, especially a hot pack or a hot bath in the middle "of the day, with much friction and quiet in a comfortable room. It is not advisable to take a hot bath at night in such cases. When you have a cold, don't eat much or work much un less you have great physical strength, when a hard day's work may be a good thing to equalize the circulation and re store the action to the skin, which always suffers when one takes cold'Herald of Health.