VOL. VI. RUSSELLVILLE, POPE COUNTY, ARKANSAS, THURSDAY,MAY 20, 1880. NO. IT.
uncertainty.
BY JOHN MORAN.
All ye who dwell beside the sea,
And hear its inarticulate speech,
That no one soul mat wholly reach
Nor one ear com pass utterly,
Kemember that the fluctuant sounds
Which miss your heart, nor thrill your
sense.
May touch another s with intense
Conjecture, owning not your bounds.
A< myriad streams conjoin to east
The murmurs ol all times and lands.
Cm countless alien sea-washed strands,
And altogether blend at last,
So those who different ways hare trod.
Of thought and speech, of frost and fire,
May, at the end of all desire.
Come to the Silence known for God.
Wherefore, alone, to vr,u and me.
The sea abides, not calm or storm,
The truth, and not the outwarm form—
But still the old uncertainty.
And if two souls should haply come
i o where His oracles enscone,
Would I,ore accord them some response,
Or be to ail their questioning dumb?
A STORY OK THE GAMING TABLE.
"Re-1 wine!”
It was the croupier’s hoarse cry. again
and again reiterated, only diversified
with that of “Red loses!” which broke
the stillness in the superbly appoi ted
room at Hamburg, with the gaining
table in its center, round whicli were
gathered its eager votaries, behind whom
were the scarcely less interested groups
of lookers-on.
“Come away, my dear,” said a very
lovely woman among the spectators, in
a whisper to her husband. “I am sorry
that we came. This is no place for
i tfitri, 111* lit ill 11if. wiiii u ayuui mv; iiv-iiva
as she spoke, an exquisitely beautiful
girl, scarcely more than a child, of some
twelve or thirteen summers, who stood
beside them.
“Come, Pearl,” the father said.
But the girl stood entranced, her eyes
fixed upon a man’s face seated at the
furthest end of the table. It was a
strikingly handsome face, even when
wearing as it now did, the expression of
calm born of desperation. No tinge of
color was either in cheek or lip.
His eyes shone with a strange and
hard glitter, and were fixed upon the
balls as they were swung round, as
though on the color uppermost hung his
hope of life or death.
And so it was. lie had sat down pos
sessed of a fortune; he arose a beggar!
Fate had steadily pursued him with
mocki nr hopelessness, until he had
placed his last stake, only to see it mer
cilessly swept from him.
He half rose from the table. What
more was to Ire done save to go out
somewhere into the still night air and
send a bullet through his heart or brain.
It was at this moment the girl, with
flushed cheeks and half-parted lips,
darted up to his side.
“Take this,” she pleaded, “for my
sake,” and pressed a gold piece into his
ertd hand.
He turned. To his excited imagina
tion she seemed scarcely mortal in her
pure, childlike loveliness. His first im
pulse was to return her offering—he was
not vet an alms-taker—hut again rang
out the croupier’s cry of command to
place the stakes.
The child stood breathless in her eager
expectancy, her eyes burning with le
verish interest.
A sudden impulse overmastered him.
Without speaking a word lie placed the
gold upon the table.
The next minute a small tide of geld
was at his elbow, lie staked it all again.
Again he won. A bright spot of scarlet
replaced the palor in his cheek, which
spread and deepened as Dame Fortune,
who had so persistently frowned upon
him, now reserved for him only her
smiles.
Morning was breaking when he arose
from the tallies, no longer a desperate
man, but with his fortune threefold re
stored to him.
After his first winning he had turned
to restore to the child ner offering} hut
she had vanished. Should he ever find
her—ever repay the debt ? lie knew
not; bet standing at last under the clear
blue sky, with a great weight lifted from
his heart and brain. Ilarold Clayton
vowed that it should be ins life search,
hut liiut the lesson taught him should
never be forgotten, and the gaming table
should know him nevermore.
Six years passed, and Harold Clayton
was winning name and fame in his own
land in his profession as an artist,
Standing one night in a crowded as
sembly, someone in passing touched him
lightly on the arm with her fan, and
glancing round lie met the smiling face
of his hostess.
“Come,” she said, “I want to present
you to my belle, it you can prevail
upon her to give you a sitting, and trans
fer her coloring to canvas, you will ren
der yourself immortal.”
“is she, then, so beautiful?” he ques
tioned.
"Judge for yourself,” she lightly re
joined, leading him to a little group do
ing homage to tiie fu’r girl in its center
"Miss Kayourn—Mr. Clayton,” were
tfce lormal words of tire introduction, at
Harold bowed an acknowledgement be
fore the woman whom ins artistic eye
confessed the moat beautiful that in all
his wanderings he hud met.
> Before the evening was ended he
might have added, the first woman
whom he had ever loved, since she had
awakened in him an interest as new ai
it was strange.
Through the next week her face
haunted him. Then they met again
ami the charm grew and deepened. He
could not define it; away from Miss Ray
burn he was restless and uneasy, until
l:e again found hiiuscll within the scope
of her fucination.
Yet her nature remained an enigms
to him. Although so young in yeurs, sc
beautiful in tonnaud nature she seemet
cold even to haughtiness, reticent almos
to scorn.
It was as though some exquisite marble
statue had risen in his pathway, whiel
might some day warm into life.
•She welcomed Him whenever they me’
with a manner which, while it yave bin
no cause for complaint, yet chilled tin
hope springing within his breast.
One day, on going to her home, tin
servant met him at the door witli the nn
nouneeuient that she was very ill. Thii
knowledge brought other Knowledge—
the fact t iiut lie could no longer concea
from himself that he loved her, and Ilia
oil the hope of ids winning her hung liii
1 lc’s happiness.
He went back to bis studio, wretchec
and despairing, and seated himself ai
the easel. He hud not meant to pain
her face—His brain seemed uncouciou
of ids lingers’toil—yet, when the morn
ing broke, it was her features smihni
upon him from the canvas, and he re
membered the words his hostess had
uttered on the night he first had met
her—that thus should he render himself
immortal.
He grew pale and wan in the days of
anxious suspence. when those who
watched over her couch knew not which
would conquer, the angel of life or
death. But there came an hour, never
to bo forgotten, when he was admitted
into her presence.
She was very white and fragile, but
more beautiful than in the coloring of
perfect health. A new expression, too,
I was in the violet eyes raised to welcome
him.
"I am very glad to meet you ngain,”
she said gently. “I hear you have been
anxious about me. You are very kind.”
Then the words he had not meant to
speak hurst from his lips.
“Anxious?’’ he said. “Can a man.
Miss Rayburn, perishing of hunger, hear
of the famine without a shudder? I am
presumptuous, you will say. It is true.
What is my life, with its many settled
pages into which your eyes could never
look, that 1 should dare offer it to you?
And yet, purified by your love, I would
try to muke it more worthy. Tell me—
answer me! If I serve as Jacob served
for Rachel, is there hope tliat I may win
you? My darling! my darling! I love
vou! 1 cannot live my life without you!
Will you not share it?”
Lower and lower dropped the lids un
til the long, dark lashes swept the mar
ble cheek, when the sweet mouth trem
bled; but the momentary weakness pass
ed as she spoke:
rorgei an mai you nave saw, air.
Clavton. It can never be.”
“You do not love me?” he questioned
sadly.
Again that swift expression of pain
flitted across the lovely face.
“I shall never marry,” she answered,
“but,” and in her voice crept an almost
pleading tone, “I need my friends very
much, Mr. Clayton. Do not desert
me!”
“I can not,” he replied. “To desert
you would be to desert the hope of one
day forcing you to unsay those cruel
words—the hope which will go with me
to my grave.”
W nat was the barrier between them?
This was the question ever ringing in
Harold Clayton’s ears. As shelooked
when she pronounced his doom, so he
had fancied she might have looked
when the statue warmed into life.
Since then she had been colder, more
distant than before; but he had caught
the momentary expression, and trans
ferred it to the picture on which his
every leisure moment was spent.
He was thus engrossed one morning,
ever striving to add new beauty to his
almost perfect work, when a low knock
at the door aroused him.
“Come in," he called, and then he
bent anew to his task, without so much
as raisinghis head, until a low, laughing
voice sounded beside him.
“We were caught in the shower, Mr.
Clavton, and I persuaded Margaret to
seek shelter with me here. I did not
dream she would find herself fore
stalled."
It was Mrs. Somers who spoke—the
lady who had first presented him to Miss
ltayburn—whose instructiont be had,
unknown to her, carried out.
“Margaret,” she added, turning to her
friend, “you have lieen sitting for vour
portrait, and did not let me know. Why
have you kept it such a secret?”
He laid now sprung to his feet in time
to see the rosy tide spread over Marga
ret Rayburn’s’ face.
It is a liberty I took without Miss
Rayburn’s knowledge, Mrs. Somers,” he
explained. “I assure you I have never
been so fortunate as to secure a sitting.”
“Well, you shall have one now, and
you must thank ine for it,” she rejoined,
while Margaret turned away to examine
the sketches and studies lying about in
profuse confusion.
“Here arc some sketches taken while
I was studying abroad," said Harold.
“Will you amuse yourself by looking at
them?”
“I will return in a few moments,” in
terrupted Mrs. Somers. “Wait for me,
my dear.”
A word oi expostulation rose to Mar
garet’s lips, but too late. The door had
closed behind the speaker.
Silence fell between the two thus left
behind, when a loud cry arrested Har
old’s attention. He sprang to Miss Ray
burn’s side.
Her eyes were fixed upon a little sketch
sat a mail, haggard, desperate, despair
ing, and by him a child, Holding out to
him a single gold-piece, with a smile in
her eyes, und seemingly a prayer on liei
lips
“ You would know the history of that
picture,” he said. “Let me tell you:
Years ago I was in Hamburg. The gain
ing tables attracted me. and every night
found uie beside them, losing or win
ning, according to the fortune of the
hour. One evening the demon Ill-luck
pursued me. 1 lost and lost until I
found I was beggared. Maddened, des
perute, I resolved to pu' an end to my
miserable lile, when some one touched
my shoulder; a child-angel stood before
me and slipped into inv hand a piece of
gold. ‘For my sake!’’ she whispered.
The croupier’s hoarse call warned me no
time was to be lost. I staked the gold
and won, but turning to give her back
her own she hud fled. When 1 rose
from the table I had recovered all and
more, but I vowed a vow to my unknown
deliverer that I would never again haz
ard a dollar of the fortune I considered
hers. 1 have never found her, Marga
ret. The child will never know her
work, but I am not afraid to meet her,
for I have kept my pledge.”
“Harold!” it was almost a whisper, but
something in the tone made his heart
give a wild, joyous leap—“have I known
you all this time, and have you just
found me out? It was this, Harold,
which separated us. I dared not give
my life to a mail whom I had first known
as a gambler. I sup}>osed von still
played, and 1 thought that to see again
the expression on your fuse I had seen
that night would kill me- Tell me, is it
true? Have yon never touched a card
since?”
“Never!” ho answered, solemnly. And
i it is to you I owe it—it and life. Pearl
—little Pearl,can you not trust the uiau
who has been so long faithful to the
child to be still fuithlul to the woman?
i My own, you wiir not doom the life you
have saved."
Hut at this juneturo Mrs. Homers,
' opening the door, beat a precipitate re
t treat to re-enter at a more opportune
i time. The explanation was complete,
- the rest need not be told. Two hearts
; now beat as one.
JESSE JAMES’ JOKE.
“duite Three More Supper* to the Gov
ernment.*’
Globe-Democrat.
The Pullman sleeping-car passengers
who arrived in this city yesterday morn
ing by the Kansas City passenger
train over the Chicago and Alton road
had an interesting experience, and one
that created no little alarm in their
midst, a few miles this side of Kansas
City, as they were en route here Wed
nesday niglit. It was learned by a Globe
Democrat reporter, from one of the train
men, that the notorious Jesse James and
two of his (rang hail been part of the
human freight for a short distance, and
had impressed their fellow-passengers
with their bravado and importance in a
manner that would not readily be for
gotten, at least by the timid and peace
loving ones in the number. The rail
way officials knew nothing of the ailiiir
whatever, and from the passengers the
particulars of the sensation were gleaned.
The first one found was Mr. J. D. Wood
worth, a well-to-do lumtier and hard
ware dealer, of Garnett, Kansas, who
was registered at the Planters’ House.
He had just come in from Kansas City,
and corroborated the statement made by
the train hand as to the presence of the
James gang on the train.
Mr. Woodworth said:
“We left the Kansas CityUuion Depot
last night shortly after dusk, with a pret
ty ftill train. I had a birth in the rear
sleeper, and passed through the cars
back to that birth, and did not go for
ward upain after we left the Grand A v
enue depot. As the train was pulling
out from that depot three men entered
the sleeoer, and stood just within the
door for several minutes. They did not
seem at home, but, on the contrary, ill
ut ease, and appeared to be on the alert
lor some important development. They
were all decently dressed, and one, who
appeared to be the leader, held a r« -
volver by his side, partially concealed
by the folds of his overcoat. I thought
they might be officers of the law await
ing the coming through of some crim
inal, and not wishing to offend, turned
my gaze in another direction. About
ten minutes elapsed ere they left their
position by the door, and the leuder re
marking something about supper, the
trio passed on through the sleeper and
into the dining-room ear, the last car of
the train. Supper was shortly announced
and several of the sleeping-car passen
gers and myself went back to partake of
the meal.
Tne waiters were flying around as if
their lives depended on their alertness
and strict attention to duty, and then
down ut the rear I saw the three men
who had acted so strangely in the sleep
er. They were seated at a table, eating
and on the table rested three murderous
looking large revolvers at full cock. The
man in charge came up to me, und said,
in a low voice, not to express any sur
prise at what I saw, as the strangers were
the notorious Jesse James and two of
his men. If let alone they would harm
no one, but if an attempt at their capture
was made some one would assuredly get
hurt.
This injunction was cautiously repeat
ed to the other half dozen persons
aboard, and we all tell to eating in
silence, and casting occasional glances at
our celebrated companions. The leader
who tallied exactly with the description
given of Jesse James, exhibited the ut
most sang froid. He laughed and chat
ted in a rather boisterous manner with
his companions, but apparently closely
observing everything and every one iii
the car at the same time. The subject of
their conversation was lost to me, but it
seemed to amuse them hugely. At the
completion of the meal, the leader cooly
picked his teeth, and as the engine
whistled for Odessa they all three arose,
picked up their revolvers and walked
out on the rear platform. Nothing was
said as to payment for the suppers by
the employes, but as James (if the leader
was he) closed the door, defied his hat
by way of a partial salute, rnd cried out
in a clear, ringing voice, “Charge three
more suppers to the Government!”
A Mr. Wild, from Springfield, Mo., an
other one of the passengers, bore out the
statement made by Mr Woodworth, and
stated that the two men accompanying
the leader were unknown to him, but
the leader was none other than the noto
nous guerrilla and train-robber, Jesse
James. lie had encountered him on
numerous occasions, and could not be
mistaken ns to his identity.
The probabilities are that Jesse James'
and his companions are either planning
some bold raid, and revealed themselves
on Wednesday night in the above iuan
uer so thut, when the job is completed,
at a point removed to Kansas City, sus
picion will be allayed as to their com
plicity, or, through a sheer spiiit of
braggadocio, wishing to run down a lew
miles over the line, adopted that method
of introducing themselves to their fel
low- passengers.
Kxtravaguuco.
New York Times.
The luxury of the present day as far
exceeds the luxury of lStiti us the arts
which minister to the senses have gone
far beyond the invention mid ingenuity
of that time. Never in the history of
this republic has wealth been able to
procure such an infinite variety of mat
ter to please the eye, adorn the person,
and tickle the palate as now. The
newly-ricli man, who could have spread
his table in lStiti as a rich man can
spread his in 1880, would have so far out
shone all his comrades that they would
have been ready to die with envy. The
devices now employed for the display of
wealth were utterly unknown ten years
ago. “The newest thing” in what we
may call social art sets the town rgog
onlv for a day. To-morrow brings a
fresher and niore costly invention to
spur the jaded fancy. The trades that
live on the extravagant whims and the
vanity ot men and women thrive apace.
Professional caterers say that there
never has been a season in New York in
which so many costly dinners and simi
lar entertainments have taken place as
that which has just now passed. The
customary old-fashiontd 'dinner-party
has given place to what is called a fete,
flic guests sit down to a table which is
an elaborate work of art. The decora
tions and service are brought together
from the four quarters of the globe, and,
above all, they must be diflerent from
any tiling over seen or heard oi before,
There is u limit to euting and drinking,
as well as to the variety of the provision,
i K.ery social “rounder’ knows the ever
! lasting and invariable recurrence oi
j oysters, soup, fisli. roast, entrees, sorliet
j and game. The changes are rung on
| these courses with needless multiplica
tion uml “damngble iteration," from
December to Easter, with scarcely a
pause for the pretended fasts of Lent.
But lack of novelty in the menn is made
up by the prodigality and gorgeousness
of table adornments. The bill of fare is
painted on satin, and each guest is pro
vided with a souvenir of the festivity
which takes the shape of a work of deco
rative art. In some instances, as if in
despair of being able otherwise to outdo
the latest extravagance, the guest is pre
sented with gay knickknacks, artistic
trifles, and even articles of jewelry.
“Favors for the german’’ are made to
puzzle the good sense of their recipients
with bits of costly bijouterie, the accep
tance of which will make high-spirited
people blush with mortification. Or at
some festivity the host, amid other ex
cellent fooling, inverts his company with
crowns, robes, stars and garters, making
a little carnival of what might have been
a pleasant social reunion. Ladies’ lunch
parties, or dejeuners as they are deli
cately called, are made to outvio the
heavier feats of mere men, lor the love
liest of God’s creation refuses to be dis
tanced in any possible extravagance.
Children’s parties are quite as sumptu
ous us those of the grown people.
Though these may be held in the day
lime, they must be under an artificial
light; and the tender darlings, who
should be nourished on simple food, and
dressed in comfortable attire, are decked
in silks and laces, be wiggled and becurl
ed, diamoned, gloved and laced “within
an inch of their lives.’’ To these poor
little butterflies will be fed the same sort
of indigestible stuff which their elders
regale themselves witliaL When these
wretched children are grown up, if they
survive this cruelty, me will have been
exhausted for them. They wijl squeeze
the orange dry before they are out of
leading strings.
Extravagance is always vulgarizing.
The tendency of the time in which sen
suous pleasures dominate is inevitably
downward in respect to manners, morals
and real refinement. The painted, gild
ed, art-decorated and notoriety-seeking
social extravagance of the present time
has nothing to commend it but the plea
that “it makes business for somebody,
and keeps money in circulation.” But
the evil influence of such an unnatural
condition of things far outweighs this
doubtful good. Example leads to uni
versal imitation. The millionaire who
ostentatiously orders priceless Johannis
berger at his club will be faithfully,
though remotely, imitated by somebody
who is very far from being a millionaire.
He was a well-intentioned Croesus, who,
hearing one of the jeuneue dorree Dropose
a great piece of exravagance, promptly
said: “I can not afford to join in it.”
But aside from the malign influence of
example, the vulgar prodigality of the
time is destroying all the finer graces of
life. Ostentation and display are fatal
to the social virtues. There can be no
sweet home life, no sacred domesticity,
no rational comfort, in ' " '
has once been invaded
shine, and outshine, in society. When
the demon ot social discontent comes in
at the door of a brown-stone front, all
the better angels of our nature fly out of
the attic windows. Tpe grace and
beauty of life are gone forever.
Her Arm* Around Him.
The news ol Mrs. Christiaocy’s state
ment about her husband has evidently
traveled very rapidly to Peru, as the
minister is already beginning to inun
date departments with statements con
cerning his wife, and how she came to
leave Peru without aid from him. He
says that when his wife came on to him
in Peru she was under the protection of
a Mr. George Haight, an American resi
dent in Peru. Haight is a man of fami
ly. He took a fancy to Mrs. Cliristian
cv and paid tier a great deal of atten
tion. The minister avers that Haight
came too often to the legation, and that
he was altogether too devoted to his
wife. He acknowledges that he did have
a scene with his wife, but it was occa
sioned by his coming into hissaloon one
afternoon suddenly and finding his wife>
in Haight’s arms. Another scene that
he hud with his wife was upon the dis
covery of a letter written to her by Hr.
Victor Christiancv, now in Leaven
worth, Kan., in which the doctor ex
pressed himself more ardently than a
stepson should. Mrs. Ghrisliancy, in re
ply to tins, says :t is true J»ir. unrisiian
ey charged her with being in Haight’s
arms, but that it only arose from his ex
treme jealousy. Haight was sitting talk
ing with her in the legation parlor.
They were at a round table. Mrs.
Christiancy reached across his arm for a
book, excusing herself as she did so. At
this juncture the minister came in, and,
as she says, the memorable knock-down
scene took place. The Dr. Victor letter
she admits; but as it also contains a ref
erence to the Chandler bargain and the
money paid to ChriBticncy, she does not
think'that letter will be brought for
ward verv prominently in the case.
Thai Dr. Victor professed a great ad
miration for her is true, but that site
has ever encouraged liiui is denied. She
says that her relations with Mr. Haight
will hear the closest scrutiny.’ .She com
plains that Minister Christiancy, when
he sent for her to come to Peru, did not
iurnish iter any traveling companion,
not even a maid. A Spaniard on bourd
the steamer unnoyed her veiy much by
his insolent attention, and Mr. Haight,
a gentleman vouched for by the cap
tain, was the means of protecting her
from llic troublesome Spaniard. Minis
ter Christiancy, at the end of the voy
age, thanked Mr. llaight for wliat he
had done, and cordially invited him to
the legation.
A Virtue of the Flea.
Chicago Tribune.
Sooner or later every creuture finds an
advocate. Now appears from Armenia
a much-traveled Briton, by the name of
Captain Creugh. and loudly sings the
soothing, so[>orilie virtue of the wicked
flea. This astounding wanderer assures
us, ns of his personal experience, that in
Armenia at least “the crawling of insects
from the crown of the head to the soles
of the feet, is so lethargic, and, like the
action of shampooing, so soothing to the
limbs of the weary traveler, that the in
stant the fleas have covered his body in
as great a multitude as the ants on an
ant-heap, he, with a smile of satisfaction
on his face, drops gently into profound
and refreshing slumbers. An English
Consul, after a Jong residence in Arme
nia, having retired to his native country
on a pension, had become so accustomed
to the fleas that he was unable to sleep
without them, and his house-maid al
ways curried a snull-box lull up-stairs
and put them into his bed with the
warming-pan.’’
It does little good lor Congressman to
call another a liar. That's tgo common
. and too cheap to give otfcnsg,
for the Ladies.
A new fabric for street costumes is
shown in damask beige.
Turbans are very much the fashion,
both in bonnets and hat
Threads of green, yellow, blue, black
and white make up the color called ser
pent.
Nearly all the Tuscan braid shown by
the milliners is old, for very little was
imported this year.
Even the window shades are now em
broidered, sometimes with flower de
signs and sometimes in simple cross
stitch.
Fawn Gold, Gold Fawn, Tea-rose or
Ecru—any shade under the sun—in the
choicest of all spool silks, the “Unequaled
Corticelli.”
Linen collars and cuffs are being set
aside for neck and wrist trimmings in
laces and soft goods of various kinds,
black net among others.
An effort is being made to revive the
bands of black velvet which were once
worn around the necK, but they are not
likely to prove very popular.
One of the most admired fabrics of
lingerie used is the figure tnull, which
shows a pearl or yellow while ground,
with small bouquets in several colors.
The tendency is to return to the
princess style of dress; this is seen in
street suits. The costume is in one
piece, and the drapery and platings are
set on.
The new printed satin foulards, so
much used lor trimmings and for suits,
m combination with plain satins and
silks, have the same effect as hand
painting.
Tub prettiest button ot the season is
of carved peurl coated with silver by
some new process, and the play of color
through the film of metal is exceeding
ly handsome.
Food fur Animals.
Philadelphia Times.
Visitors to the Zoological Garden have
noticed down in the lower end of the
grounds, a little to the right of the place
where the polar bears are kept, a line of
low, rambling buildings,built against the
fence which separates the grounds, from
a long strip of land lying between the
gardens and the New York branch of
the Pennsylvania Railroad. The last ot
these buildings is a good deal better
than the rest, being a tall, close, frame
shanty of pine boards and having a
door in it. The others, smaller, more
uneven and without any doors, are
nothing more than mere sheds or stalls.
Always in front of them will be seen a
pile of clover hay, with half a dozen,
more or less, sorry-looking horses, the
sole occupants of the sheds, feeding
thereon. An inspection ot these ani
mels will usually show a plethora of de
fects in the way of damaged eyes or
spavined joints or broken wind-gall, in
the majority of instances being the reg
ular accompaniments of old age, and
being but another way of describing a
horse broken down by weight of years
and past his stage of usefulness. Occa
sionally younger animals may be seen
in the stalls, but these ure also suffering
from some affliction of body or limb,
and stand on the same footing as the
rest.
These horses, once they get under the
above-described sheds, have all one
common destiny—they are to be killed
and dressed as food for the animals of
the zoological garden. The amount of
food consumed daily by the animals,
large and small, is no little. The chief
meat-eating animals are the lions, tigers,
leopards, pumas and hyenas. Altogether
they consume about 175 pounds of horse
meat a day. Four horses a week is the
usual average in keeping up the supply
of these animals alone. Next in point
of heavy feeding come the elephants.
Their chief food is hay, if which it
takes about four times us much to keep
an elephant as it does to keep a horse,
the elephant eating 100 pounds of liny
vswtij' mvuiuuiiiix. /xim 111 wiui t
to keep up his appitite the hay must be
the best going, being invariably tbnothy
of the best grades. Other animals that
eat hay are the giraffes, the camels, the
deer, zebra and different animats of the
cattle species. Most all these are fed
on what is known as mixed hay, timo
thy and clover, which is about 20 per
cent, chcaiier than the timothy alone.
Two wagon louds a week is about the
amount used. Rich wagon load is sup
posed to contain 3,000 weight, or a ton
and a half. The price for timothy is
ubout $20 per ton, which makes the
three tons per week equuljto $00. The
mixed hay rods in the neighborhood of
$18 a ton,"thus making the weekly cost
of that necessary supply $54, which
added to $00, gives the weekly cost of
huv alone in the sum of $114.
As to the cost ol horse meat for the
other animals, this is not as much us
might be imagined. The horses are
usually purchased at the horse market
by one of the employes at the gar
dens. who has all sm n wo k in charge.
The horses, as above stated, are usually
animuls which have been superannuated
and useless. The average price paid
per head is about $5. As four horses
l>er week suffice the cost for horse meat
foots up about $20 a week. The lions,
tigers, leopards and pumas arc not the
only animals that are fed on horse meat.
The wolves and foxes and prairie dogs
and monkeys and black bears also come
in for their share of the supplies, being
led almost altogether on this kind ol
meat. It is regarded as singular that
these animals—lions, tigers and leopards
—Mhould make no distinction between
horse meet and beef, albeit it is a point
in favor of the pocketbooks ol the cor
porators of the gardens. For lour years
preceeding their discovery that the ani
mals would eat horse meat as well as
beef they kept feeding them on the lat
ter. Two years ago it was found that
they would eat horse meat as well as
that of beef, and provisions was made
accordingly. .Since then the society has
been practicing judicious economy by
feeding the animals on horse meat alto
gether and they save about 60 per cent.
The cost of feeding the lions, tigers,
leopards and pumas as stated is about
$20 a week. Add this to $144, cost of
larger animals, elephants giraffes and
Others, and the cost Is $104. This does
not nearly represent all tho animals fed
in the garden, nor does it come near be
ing the chief item of cost. There area
hundred and one other creatures re
uuiriug, in niuny cases, much more
delicate and costly food. The sea-lions
have to be fed on tlsh usually fresh and
salt inackrel, each animal taking twelve
or fifteen to each mpul twice a day, and
consuming altogether $00 pounds of fish
daily- Next in point of delicate livers
i gome the I’olar bears, Whose regular
diet is bread soaked in milk, with fish
now and then for a c hange. The black
bears are also given bread. 100 pound
being used daily. Vei’itubles of uliuost
every sort are fed liberally to ttie difl'er
ent animals—cabbage, potatoes, carrots,
onions and turnips.1 The elephants ate
great cabbage eaters, in addition to their
standard diet, bay. The giraffes, sin
gularly enough, are great onion eaters,
while the deer and goats anil atiimals of
the cow species eat carrots and turnips
and potatoes. Bran and oats and corn
are ulso liberally distributed—mostly
once or twice a week—among the hay
eating animals. The most delicate and
expensive feeder in the place perhaps is
the ou rang-out ang, which gets beef, po
tatoes, bread and honey. As there is
only one iu the collection at present, the
cost of keeping this grinning satire in
the human species is not multiplied.
Another delicacy which must not be
admitted in the diet of the Polar bear is
fish oil, of which they get several sup
plies a week A fter the hay the oats is
perhaps the next chief source of ex
pense in the way of animal food. As
lor the fowls, the larger ones are fed on
corn, and the small ones arc fed on
canary seed, and all of them now and
then get a small portion of meat. The
cost of feeding the animals alone foots
up about $100 a day. All the horses
that go to supply the meat-eating ani
mals are killed on the ground, in the
slaughter house that stands at the lower
end of the row of sheds in the lower part
of the garden.
Fottr Hugs to the Square.
milUiM VUIUUIUVIVM.
The man who walks at night Rees
funny things. On "Wednesday night,
between 10 and 11 o’clock, while n fact
stater was cleaving the dimness of Wal
ton street, his attention was attracted by
a youthful couple who were walking at
the frightful speed of fifteen minutes to
the half square. While he was thinking
how long they could keep up this pace
without stopping, they stopped within
the friendly shadow ot a huge bill
board, and the young man clasped the
young lady to his heaving bosom and
kissed her. Then be looked up and
down the street, as though expecting
some one whom he sincerely iioped
would not come, and then suddenly re
membering that he had a previous en
gagement, he turned and embraced his
companion in a long, living and busi
ness-like manner, and then he kissed
her. Somehow lie seemed to feel that
he had not made a complete success, and
he kissed her again. Then, as it dis
pleased with iiis style of work, he re
peated it in a sort of Emma Abbott way.
This struck him as being quite the
thing, and he practiced it several times.
After a while he stopped kissing the
young lady and hugged her. And just
here he displayed real genius. He was
a master ot the art. He showetl a per
fect familiarity with every possible style.
He clasped ber gently, then he squeezed
her rapturously, then he grabbed her
violently—tlien he embraced her slowly
and impressively—ttien he bugged her
as if lie bad firmly resolved never to go
into any other business as long as he
lived, and then he thought he heard
somebody coming, and they walked off
as if nothing in the world had happened.
They turned into Broad street, and hav
ing joined their friends, the shadows,
near Wilson’s coal yard, they repeated
the Walton street performance without
any material change ot programme.
And then they strolled Icisurly iuto
Luckey street, between Forsyth and
Broad, and in answer to an encore gave
another performance of the same des
cription. After this they passed iuto
Forsyth street, and when tfiey neared
the brat Baptist Church the idea oc
curred fo the young man thut he would
give n farewell performance. They did
i, ...i l., _i
the un ecn audience was almost moved
to tears at the extremely touching sight.
And then those happy nocturnal closer
to my bosom comes moved silently down
Walton street, and the unseen audience
of one slowly dispersed.
The Ex-Khedive’s Trouble*.
New York World.
The ex-Khedive of Egypt, who with
his harem is reciiUnsr at Resina, would
do well to provide himself with an extra
supply of patent locks, bull-dogs, broken
botilos, eat leasers, and Ethopiuus with
rolling eye-balls and curving scimetars.
Not long ago one of the beauties of his
harem elofted with a young Italian urtist,
and now a fair Circassian, Miss N'asik
Missak, who is rising sixteen, has flown
to a mansion opposite where lives a
young gentleman “who,” says the re
port, “had fallen in love with her from
seeing her at the window and with whom
site had managed to carry on a panto
mimic wooing. It seems that the young
man’s affection is sinwerc, for he has now
applied to the municipal authorities of
Resina to publish the police of his in
tended marriage with the interesting
young fugitive. Rut the authorities are i
much embarrassed by this request, for
the Italian law demands that all stratig
j ers wishing to marrv must produce a
certificate from the authorities of their
native country that there exists no im
pediment, and as this young girl, now
only sixteen years of age, was sold in
Cairo when a mere baby, no one knows
to whom to apply.” Who can lie sure
that the wily ex-Khedive, it not openly
offering a chromo for each elopement or
stimulating the export trade of wives
and bayaderes by a liberal system of
bounties, is ut least tipping the wink to
the ferocious eunuchs whom lit* puts on
guard and leaving the lront door care
fully unbolted at night. The charinx-of
unlimited female society might com
mend themselves to a despotic ruler in
Egypt, where the inmates of the harem
could be kept secluded and beyond the
influence of Frankish fashion-plates, and
where, if the worst came to the worst,
he could remove to another of his pala
ces or try the water-cure upon the ob
noxious females in connection with a
suck. Rut in Italy, with a fixed income,
a comparatively narrow house and no
possibility of extinguishing summarily
the lights of his harem when they begin
to flare up, it is so clearly to the ex-Khe
dive's interest to make reductions in the
stock of spouses he f» carrying that we
shall not Iks surprised to learn by and by
that, with true Oriental cunning, he has
been conniving at the elopements he
pretends to condemn.
--.
A young New Yorker was introduced
to a Rostou girl, and before they were
acquinted thirty minutes, she got so
spooney that she called him an aster
ulapis, a Silurian placoid, and u cartila
ginous vertebrate. He returned to New
York by the midnight train.
CREAM OK THE MAILS.
Nugget* of Wit and Wisdom from Out
Kxclnsngea.
A BARK ON THE SEA.
—His bark Is on the sea,
And from pain he’ll toon he free,
Not much longer shall he chant his every-day
whine,
nis body's getting frail,
And thereon hangs a tail,
For he’s hound for the happy land ot canine.
—Hackensack Republican.
ODE TO A FISH WORM.
Unlucky creature! When the cruel hook
Impales thee, ere I plunge thee In the brook.
Thou canst not, by an agonizing yell,
The fearful tor.uies thou endureai tell.
Thou canst not, by thy countenance, express
Thy awful suffering and dire distress
’Ti«only in Ihy power to twht and squirm,
Hut I cun tell what that d .si mean, o, worm!
Aud shall all this pain inflict on thee?
No; I’ll s ow merer— al Whai do l see
III yonder pool »o deep? It Is a iroull
A big three-pounder! 1 must have him oull
For what are you to such a prize, O worm?
Thy hour has cornel (Jet on that ho. kt Don’t
squirm!
Ha! You resist me! "Twill avail tha naught
That trout still waltz far thee. It mutt be
caught—
Oh, drat! I’ve dropped the worm, and too, by
snuni.
That cussed hook I’ve baited with my tliumbl
Couloui d the thing! I’ve lost that worm, and
more.
The trout made off the minute that I swore,
-N. Y. WorlA
EVENLY DIVIDED.
Six medical experts examined a man
as to his sanity and were evenly
divided. After they had wrangled about
it for a week it was discovered that they
bad examined the wrong person alto- j'i
gether.—Detroit Free fret*.
BARNUM SHOULD HAVE THEM.
It is now said that Cove. D. Bennet,
lately acquitted in Jersey City of the
murder of uoliceman Smith will hetnn.
Mr. Barnum will miss the greatest op
portunity of his life it he does not get
Bennet, Hayden, Jessie Raymond, Chas
tine Cox, and the Widow Oliver and at
tach them to his managerie as a “bappv
family.” “There’s”—several hundred
dollars in it.—Unknown.
HOW TO ceox A HUSBAND.
A short ai tide going the rounds of
the press is e ititled “How to Cook a
Husband.” If he had a voice in tho
matter he would prefer to be ‘toasted"—
at the club; but when he gees home and
kicks up a family broil be ought to be
"basted.” A "chafed” husband is not
desirable. Perhaps, after all.it would
be best to pa'-boil him, for often pa boils
with rage when he is obliged to meander
up and down the chamber at midnight
with a squalling infant in his arms—
we’ve been told.— Horrittoum Herald.
WIIAT THE PEOPLE DO.
A few take Ihefr religion home from
church with them, but most people leave
it wrapped, like the chairs and pictures
in brown holland to be kept clean for
their return at the end of the season.
This is good for the religion, and is often
as delicate as the feather in a lady’s hat,
and sea air takes the cur! out of one,
and hops, germans and board walks
make tho other very limp; so the wise
woman leaveth her old clothes and re
ligion in the fastness of her dwelling
place, and going forth to the sea-shoru
she singeth andduciceth in the cool wa
ter and winketh at her spouse, or, if she
be a maiden, she blinketh at the spouse
of some one else, or smiletn on the un
wise young man who skippeth also
among the jelly-fish of the ocean.—
liotlon Transcript. -
A ST. LOUIS QUABTET.
The magificent quartet—Crawford,
Baker, Buskett and Field—who aston
ished the audience at Pope's the other
night, were so proud of their success
that they took a stand on the top step of
the Post Office and began tne rehearsal
of a new piece.
“Come where my love lies snoozing,”
sung the tenor, ejecting a quid of to
bacco from his lelt cheek.
the appy ’ours u whey,” chimed in
the basso, placing a cigarette between
his teeth.
“Go ’way from dar!” shouted Beverly
Jackson, the colored janitor, from the
inside. “No use hollerin'; do office
won’t open lor half an hour.”
The quartet expect to go on a starring
tour next summer, and will visit Lead
ville and tue Gunnison Country by per
mission of the Vigilance Committee.—
Globe- Democrat.
SOME SUGGESTIONS TO MINISTERS.
A circus never runs too long for spec
tators, but let a sermon run over forty
minutes and a congregation can’t sit still.
—Detroit t'rtr Prett. Now we see no
possib.e lUBiiticulion for a comparison
here. Just gtve the pious party a
chance, if you please, and then fasten
your critical tentacles on the congrega
tion, you sacrilegious old literary octo
pus. For instance: Baring the prefa
tory 'emarks of the minister, let him
sit down on the unobstructed platfotm
with his feet dangling over the edge,
which he is to grasp with his hands, and
then draw a leg over eacn shoulder, and
we have liiin in a position kuowu as the
froe atti.ude. This will secure attention
tor live minuteB, and as the discourse ad
vances. he may unwind himself and
btaud erect, holding the left logout hoti*
zontully and ciasping the left mot in the
hand. No minister, however, bhould at
tempt this leal unless he lias every con
fidence in his pants. When he has re
mained in this position two minutes
and a half, he might go through a like
manoeuvre with the right leg for the
same period, and thus ten minutes are
consumed, in which he has secured the
wrapt attention of the cougragation, and
is prepared to get down to business. At
this point he will resume his proper
position, and whenever a passage is to
he emphasized he will turn a backward
summersault, alighting on bis feet, head
or any other (tart of the anatomy his
proficiency will allow; and while
awaiting the impressive silence after
his }ieroration to strike in, be may make
a tour of the platform with backward
hand-springs. These performances are
merely suggested, of course, their adop
tion being advised only in the contin
gency that the minister is forced into
competition with the circus, us our im
pious contemporary, we think gratuit
ously fore shadows.—Motion Transcript.
A i.adv with a fatal squint came once
to a fashionable artist lor her portrait.
He looked at her, and she looked at him
and both were embarrassed. He spoke
first: “Would your ladyshinpermit me,"
lie said, “to take the portrait in profile?
There is a certain shyness about one of
your ladyship’s eyes which is as difficult
In art as it is fascinating in nature."
Prince Bismarck has been conquered
at last, his old associates, beer and to
| hacco, having turned out enemies, He
I baa given up both.