The Wahpeton times. [volume], February 27, 1890, Image 3

About The Wahpeton times. [volume] (Wahpeton, Richland County, Dakota [N.D.]) 1879-1919

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SOLILOQUY THE FIBS1V
Heighol So this is London, and
a
smakey, foggy, dismal metropolis it is,
to my the least of it.
Reminds me of young Simpkins, of
''-our class, who undertook to write an
apostrophe to the ocean—a la Byron—
and completed one line: "Oh, thou pro
digious dampness!" Simpkins stuck
there and couldn't get any farther but
there is no such limit to London damp-
By the great ponds of Michigan, the
air here seems to nold water in solu
tion I One runs a risk of being drowned
inbreathing!
I suppose this is what Mr. Guppy
•called a "London particular," but with
all due respect, I don't think London is
particular, or she wouldn't havo such
an atmosphere.
Fine showing, this, for an April
morning! Ho, 1mm! I really must get
up and comm tnce my pilgrimage.
I can't understand why I should have
started on this European tour, and con
demned myself to wandering about
looking at things I don't want to see,
climbing mountains I don't want to
climb, rummaging around through
nasty streets where I don't want to
rummage, and inliaing oilers that I
decidedly object to. What is the- use
now of my "doing" London, and sub
jecting myself to fatigue, odors, and
"ackney coaches, when I accomplish it
all so much more pleasantly with one
of Dickens' novels at home in a ham
mock, or drifting down the Chesapeake
I can't understand why I should want
to see the Tower because the princes
were murdered there, nor the Avon be
cause Shakespeare was born there, nor a
hundred and one other places because
something was done or wasn't done
there! If a man tells me that his fa
ther was hanged, I am quite satistied to
believe him without rushing off im
mediately to see the place and bring
ing away a piece of the gallows or a
shred of the rope.
Thank heaven, when I'm through
with London my occupation's gone, and
I can go home in peace. Constantino
ple, Venice, Rome, Switzerland, Paris
—I've done them all, and pretty thor
oughly, I hope, though my people at
home will be sure to think of some con
founded place that I ought to have seen
but didn't see. Something that I have
omitted which they have been dying to
see for goodness knows how long.
Think I'd better coach up on the
gnide book, and—that reminds me I
gave mine to the pretty girl whom I
rescued in Venice from the gondoliers
—those fellows are as bad as London
'ackney-coachmen—and who was so
charmingly grateful. Said she hoped
we might meet again, and she was ever
and ever so much obliged to me, and it
was so nice to meet a countryman, for
she was American. I would havo
known that if she had stopped after
"nice"—and a great deal more to the
same eff ect, all in the sweetest voice and
witli the cordial, confiding way which
belongs alone to our girls. Uless 'em!
Shook hands with me, smiled more in
her soft gray eves than with lier lips,
and left me standing there with my hat
off, a spectacle for those rascally boat
men
Made a memorandum on a blank leaf
of my guide-hook to this effect:
Prettiest picture in Venice. Study
in gray. Gray eyes, grey robe, lianio
Gray. Worth a fortune, but by the
right person to be had for the asking.
N. 1$.—Would that I dared to ask.
Then I gave the nearest gondolier a
twenty franc piece to overtake her and
retrieve to Mademoiselle the book she
did neglect. And that's all.
By Jove, I must get up!
SOLILOQUY THE SECOND.
Three weeks in London! Well,
London isn't so bad after all, and I am
really interested in hunting
UJJ
queer
places.
I'd give a farm just to find Mrs.
Todgers' lodging-house, and Miss Grav
is constantly looking for a Curiosity
Shop. That I'should meet her again,
and especially this human labyrinth,
is apiece of good fortune little short of
fatality. Her mother and 14-year-old
brother constituted the party, and the
old lady says she really doesn't know
how they would have managed to see
so much of London but for my valu
able aid. I'm a disinterested party,I am!
Hanged if I don't believe I'm getting
too much absorbed in the ilesli tints, and
the perspective, and the foreshortening,
and the coloring of my study in Gray.
She has not said a word about my
guide-book, not even whether she re
ceived it or not' but she seemed glad to
see me, and I—pshaw! I'm too old to
lie abed and day-dream like a school
boy I think I'll go home. I've seen
enough yellow fog and black smoke.
Mrs. Gray says they are going to Scot
land, and the Hebrides, and all those
moist dem'd unpleasant places that
William Black rejoices in—and, indeed,
when on a can sit by a warm fire and
read about rain and wind, leaden sky
and dewy heather, it isn't bad but ex
cuse from participating, as the man
said when he was going to be hanged
Yet I can be with her by going. She
said her mamma wanted me to go so
much. I wonder whether she speaks to
me with mamma's lips? Girls do, I
know, particularly when they are afraid
to let a fellow see that they, take any
interest. For example, if her mother
wanted me to go as an escort, and she
herself didn,t care a straw whether 1
went or not, she would have said: "I
want you to go so much." It's a good
sign when mother comes to the front.
Bah! I'm trying to construe nothing
into something—a practice I thought I
had abandoned ever since the days
when persuaded myself that a certain
school-girl returned my youthful pas
sion, because she permitted me to carry
her bookstrap to school, a dream that
was dispelled by her subsequently con
ferring that privilege on another young
gentleman in knickerbockers.
But still I should like to see Scotland
and the places so "clustered around
with historical associations"—I believe
that's the phrase—which one reads
about in—in Sir Walter and—and other
historians. At home they'll be sure to
ask me about Auld Reekie, St. Ronan's
Well, Corrie Nan Shian, and Coilan
Togle, and what shall I say? It is
clearly my duty to go to Scotland, be
cause—Harry Olden, you are pulling
the wool over your own eyes! You
don't care a jot more for of&inaryplaces
with extraordinary names than you do
for extraordinary places with ordinary
names! Now acknowledge it's the girL
Well, oonfound your impertinenoe, sup:
fKMefyn the girl 1
I Mb going to Scotland.
BOULOtar TBC TmBD.
Ah—grrr—km—g&ooeht By Jovi,
how I must have been snoring! I nev
er felt so little like getting up in my
life, though the sun is pouring in at the
window, and the whistle of the part
ridge comes from the hillside like a
morning matin:
The breezy call
of incense-breathing morn.
The swallow twittering from the straw-built
shed
I'm glad I came to Scotland—glad
we loft the beaten track of tourists and
took up our quarters at this Highland
hostelry. I don't think I ever enjoyed
rambling through woods, and picking
ferns, or sketching hill-tops, half so
much, even on the banks of the old Sus
auehana—my benison on her broad bos
om!
I'm sure there must be something
about these Highland braes that nourish
es rhyme, romance and all that sort of
thing, for a follow seems to drop into
poetry as naturally as Mr. Silas Wegg.
Laurel—I beg pardon, Miss Laurel—
my study in Gray—says she knows I am
of a poetic temperament, and 1 am so
foolish as to go hammering up verses to
prove it! Ah, well! When it is happi
ness to be foolish, 'tis foolishness not to
be happy!
Seems to me I've, heard some quota
tion like that, enly briefer. Heigho!
Yesterday was a red-letter day in my
existence. To be sole guide, assistance,
counselor and protector of the dearest
girl in the world for a whole day of
rambling through forest and glen, is
what I call a blessed privilege! We
explored Ben Voirlich—all the moun
tains in this country seem to be af
flicted with Christian name of Benja
min—spoke our littlo piece over Mo
nan's Rill, and ate our luncheon in
"Lone Glenarty's hazel shade." I
think I must have spouted a whole
canto of "The Lady of the Lake" at
different times, and how spirited she
was over the defiant stag—how her
beautiful eyes fill up at the death of "my
gallant gray."
Well, it's a blessing I know Scott by
heart! It is precious little else I know
besides poetry and novels, but she de
fers to me as if I were an emporium of
information. Said she:
"Mr. Olden, you seem to feel poetry,
while other people, just say it. You
give it a ring of reality that is more af
fecting than finished declamation."
I—"It must bo because you are my
auditor then. Generally I regard poet
ry as a combination of fantastically ele
vated words and ideas—a hyperbolical
expression of ultra-human sentiments in
ultra-human language. With you for
a listener, it seems almost appropriate,
so high a rank do I give you."
Sho (archly)—"I wonder if I have
anything to do with the feelings which
prompt you to wind up an impassioned
poem with some absurd parody or bur
lesque.
I—"Oh, that is done for the purpose
of taking the edge oft' what you might
otherwise consider sentimentality—and
partly to convince myself that I am not
growing sentimental in reality."
She—"Is sentiment such "a crime in
your eves?"
I—"Not a crime, but a source for ridi
culo. Promise me not to laugh—not to
think me absurd—and I'll play at ro
mance like the veriest lover of them all.
'I havo a mighty leaning to it!'
She—"Some day you'll play at it in
earnest, and bo the 'veriest ltjver of
them all. or I am no phrophctess."
I—"Mcthinks tho day has come—the
hour and the woman! Can you not see
that sincc I have known you—since
that happy day in Yenico
She (naively)—"When you returned
mv book
I—"All! You did get the book?
Then it has told you that from the first
I have set up your picture in my heart,
and fallen down before it
She—"'All on a Summer's day!'
Are you not getting dangerously near
the brink, Mr. Olden—of tho iake, I
mean'! You might wet your feet."
I—"Do you think I say this a vein
which justifies fliojjant interruptions,
Miss Gray
She—"Do you think I treat you in a
way which justifies flippant gallantry,
Mr. Olden?"
I—"You wrong me when you treat as
gallantry the homage of a man
She—"Is quite as serious as he usu
ally permits himself to be, or as he has
been during any summer vacation for
the past l.alf a dozen years. Who
parodies Rosalind and says, 'Come, I'll
woe thee, for I'm in a holiday humor,
ana like enougli to be ensnared'
I—"You regard mo as a trifler, I
see."
She (regretfully)—"And only think
what you might have been! Let us go
home."
Now, what does all this mean?
Am I in love? And is there
a chance for me? As to the first, yes
and the second Well, she scorned
the manner and not the matter of my
wooing. There's some comfort in that.
If you can convince a woman that you
were a trifler until you succumbed to
her, she is prepared to forgive the
first, and to regard the last as very
natural.
"Only to think what you might havo
been." She said it almost mournful
ly. Now, I don't think I might have
been anything in particular but I shall
try to be it from this time forth, and
she shall be the judge. How beautiful
she is! I'd give a king's ransom to
hear her say
There's the breakfast bell!
SOLILOQUY THE FOURTH.
Jangle, jangle, jangle! Confound
the church bells! A fellow can never
sleep on Sunday mornings with their
clamor!
Back to Edinburgh from the Hebrides
—back from the land of mist, and
clouds, and romance, with a full deter
mination to read about, but not visit it
henceforward. Too much, fish and
Gaelic to suit me. Three months gone
and the ground covered with Autumn
leaves since I've been dangling in her
train and—and I fear I've been making
a fool of myself! Does she care for me
at all? Well, I'm a sanguine, self-per
suasive man but putting all that aside,
I think I am gaining ground a little.
Why am I not ecstatically happy
then I expected to be, and—by Jove,
I will be! I have lived a quarter of
a century without having seen any
woman so beautiful, so lovable
and I know she's far too good for
me. What a conceited idiot I am!
I dare say it's all my egotism, and
she really never gives me a second
thought. And yet when I pulled that
reckless yoang scapegrace brother of
hers out of Loch Mayle, she put both
her cold little hands in mine, and
whispered some incoherent words, of
which I could only catch, "Forgive me
—I know you better now." Fahaw!
that was only gratitude. And yet, when
I held her hands, and tried to tell her
how gladly I would take far greater
risks for ner sake, she did not take
them away, but raised her.ex&s to tar
fibti
^{§fi
trod on airfor
She fc
leaf on whii
and traa^Bgly Ihaft I
afterward
book, too. saw the
I wrote that abaurd
nlkuu
makii
She had torn it out and was making a
relic of it. That might be because of
its oddity, and probably means nothing.
There never was gin so proof to flat
tery as not to preserve such a sponta
neous tribute. She treats me just the
same as ever—is friendly and cordial
no more. Uncertainty, then, is all I
arrive at— nntertainty as to her feel
ings, uneasiness as to mine,
Pretty much the same way I felt at
Long Branch, three years ago, when I
spent a fortnight trying to determine
whether I was in love with Lucy Ro
mer, and, if so, whether she would be
pleased to hear it at the end of which
time she married young Landless, and,
to my surprise, I was pleased to hear
it!
Suppose this was to result similarly?
I think I'd better go home. And yet
there will be something lost out of lifo
when I
leave her. I sli ould be wretched,
I am afraid but not so wretched as I
would be should she refuse me. Per
haps not so wretched as I might be
sventually if she accepted me.
"Where shall I find the concord of
this discord?" Apparently, not in this
bed, for it looks like what Mrs. Part
ington calls a "corruption of Mount
Vociferous." Hello, Bools! Bring niq
some hot water!
Mr. Henry Olden, get thee home on
the next steamer.
SOLILOQUY THE FIFTH.
0 Lord! O Lord! I feel as if I had
just parted with my immortal soul, not
to mention everything I have eaten foe
the past twenty four hours. Seasick
ness! The man
who
called it one of tho
3omic diseases was surely never seasick I
A. myriad of curses on the reeling, rock
ing old tub. 1
could almost
wiBh she'd
go to the bottom!
1 wonder how Miss Gray and her
mother are standing it! I hope to heav
en I shall not soe her again until
she recovers, or else I'm done
with romance forever! The old
lady would insist on taking this
steamer, and I think it was a dispensa
tion of Providence to cure my malady.
How can a nian worship when his divin
ity is white around the lips, and red
around the eyes, with a drawn, pinched
look, as if anxiously expecting a catas
trophe.
How coiild I have been such a sim
pleton as to dwaddle sentimentally
through a whole Summer, and start
home during the equinoctial storms?
A proper termination this for love's
young dream, and all its attendant fol
lies! Sweet reveries and murmured
vows, forsooth! Moonshine all of it,
and, ns for poetrv—it is a mockery, a
grinning skoleton! O Lord, I'll never
be a fool again!
I supposo Miss Gray loathes the very
remembrance of all that midsummer
madness, and I recall it with tho same
unbounded satisfaction I derive from
recollecting a meal of cold pork and
potatoes. Pork! Ugh! I'll never eat
again! They say this steamer will
reach Now York to-morrow, and I here
register avow that I'll go back home
and stay there—be a misanthrope,
philosopher, cynic, hermit—anything
but a sentimental fool! Amen.
SOLILOQl'Y THE SIXTH.
Will the day never break Those
swallows outside of my window have
been chattering for an hour as if it
were their wedding day. The 24th of
April—just a year to-day since I landed
in Venice—just a year since I began
studying the light and shade of my
huautiful picture in Gray, and to-day
I place it in my father's hall! Ah, there
comes the sun! How the clouds gather
golden fringes! The birds are singing
as if they knew uiy happiness! The
dew is sparkling on the grass. It is
springtime, and my wedding day.—
Sheldon Borden in Tho Argonaut.
The Green-eyed Honster.
"But, for the love of Heaven, hear me
before you drive me from you. I will
go far away where you will never see
me more, but before you drive me from
our little home where we have been so
happy, before you tear me from your
heart, listen to me. O, George! my
husband, my love, hear me! I am not
bad, George! I am your own true little
wife! O, George kill me if you will,
but do not, O, do not say such awful
things to me!" and with a cry of pam
May Hartman threw herself at her hus
band's feet and clasped his knees.
"I have heard enough," replied her
husband with cold indifference. There
is all the money I have in the world.
Take it and go! Take your child with
you! I never want to see either of you
again!" and pushing her rudely from
him he left the house. Long she lay
with her face buried in her hands, heed
ing not the baby fingers that lifted the
masses of golden hair and crowed with
delight as the sunlight glittered upon
it. She did not weep or cry out she
silently prayed for death. Only three
years a bride! Three years of happi
ness such as angels might envy. Three
years with George, brave,
generous, the idol of her
the king of her dreams.
was no bitterness in her heart
the designing woman with her God
like face and devilish malignity who
had filled her husband's ears with skill
ful falsehoods. She only crouched
like a wounded fawn and prayed that
she might die. Out in the cold Decem
ber sunshine with her babe in her arms
she wandered on and on
manly,
heart,
There
toward
uDtil
the river,
with its floating ice and sullen splash,
was at her feet. Clasping her child
tightly to her bosom, with a prayer for
the man whose smile was life to her,
she—heard him say: "May, I wish you
would put this young kid in his crib.
How in thunder can I sleep when he
keeps kicking me in the back and put
ting his fists in my ears?".
The Faro Faussion.
Speaking of faro and other wicked
games, a Virginian, after remarking
that in the be tier d%s of the republic
when everybody played faro, a gentle
man was distinguished by the comment
"He plays with red checks" from tho
poor white-chip trash, dwelt upon the
passionate love for the game which pos
sesses men who get into its clutches.
"Years ago," he said, "two of the finest
lawyers in New Orleans on their way to
New York stopped at Charlottesville,
Va., because they heard there was a
man there who dealt faro. They found
the man and played all night. About
midnight one lawyer whispered to the
other: 'He's cheating.' 'Hush!'said the
other 'I've known that for two nours
but there isn't another faro game with
in fifty miles."—Philadelphia Record.
.A
A
I nomber
of men aremarrledby their wires. Out
side her natural oharms a woman has a
certain mesmerio will-foroe to bring to
bear on a man which isdangeroustohis
welfare. There are critical moments in
a man's career' when it will take all the
resolution he can master to refrain from
compromising himself for life.
I was much amused with the experi
ence of a friend of mine who a short
time ago received his first lesson in
what may be called bachelor prudence.
It seems that the affair commenced in
good nature, took on a little crescendo,
as the musicians would say, and finally
ended with an allegro marziale.
My friend is one of those good
natured men who look at everything
from a sentimental point of view.
Overlooking the excellence of his
motives, he is the most uncomfortable
being to get along with possible. In
his head oro all tho virtues of the Pala
din, chivalry of a Sidney, and tho
heoric self-abnegation of a Socrates and
with every now book ho roads he adds a
new ideal of conduct. It is not surpris
ing that ho sometimes promises more
than he can carry through.
He got into trouble in tho most natur
al way in tho world, and indeed the thing
has happened to others than he. A
young man had bean grossly impertinent
to a girl friend, but in order to save
that girl friend a scandal the matter
had been overlooked. The cub who did
tho deed, however, is rich and marriage
able, and consequently still has a foot
ing in society. A girl, a-stranger to my
trienu u« 11 saiu, snubs the cut). In
tense enthusiasm of my friend. Noble
and discerning girl. etc.,
etc. will be introduced at
once. (What a dangerous thing it is to
be introduced at once! Mem.—Always
mako it later if you can.) My friend is
introduced in due form. Intense em
presscment on the part of my friend
gracious reception on the part of the
girl. One dance, and then another.
A german favor, whigh is returned an
invitation to call, which is accepted with
alacrity. Tho call is made and proves
agreeable. Further invitation to call,
and then a promise to read from these
authors who combine beauty of thought
with weight of meaning. Vows of pla
tonic friendship, (What a dangerous
thing vows of platonic friendship are!
Vem.-Never make them.)
The drama moved on. One evening
my friend called with a particularly
well-chosen assortment from Ruskin,
Emerson, and DeQuincey, as pieces do
resistance, and a little of Barry Corn
wall and Mrs. Browning's "Portuguese
Sonnets as plats cucres. The fire was
burning brightly on tho dogs. A few
flowors were arrauged in a slender sil
ver vase, and an almost imperceptible
perfume pervadod the room. As my
friend throw himself back in the long
easy-chair and experienced the exquisite
masculine thrill of pleasure in ruining
the lace tidy, he fell to thinking what an
agreeable duty was his to fill a fresh,
pure mind, with angel eves and sylpli
like form, with fair thoughts taken from
the masters of prose and song. This
train of thought was peculiarly agree
able to him from the fact that it was
quite disinterested. "Some day," thought
my friend, "some good follow will be
made happy by the influence of this
teaching." These delightful imagina
tions were brought to a close by the
ajnjearance of the fair pupil herself.
After chatting pleasantly for a little
while, my friend asked whether he
should begin reading.
"I should like it very much," she said,
quietly.
So he began. First with Emerson's
"Napoleon" then with DeQuincey's
"Joan of Arcthen followed a sonnet
or two, and then a love song by Barry
Cornwall. And as my friend's voice rose
and fell and became strong with noble
scorn, awful with elevation, quiet with
reserved strength, and melting with the
accent of pathos and love, he could not
help thinking. "How much I am doing,
to be sure, for tho other fellow. The
reading was concluded with the rapt
air of one of whose thoughts were too
full for utterance. He closed the beauti
fully bound volume of Ruskin's "Queen's
Gardens," and looked vaguely up from
the glowing logs to the mantel-piece
above.
"How beautiful it is," finally said the
pupil.
Yes, it is very beautiful," replied the
master.
The latter now rose to take his leave,
when the fair pupil herself rose, and, it
seemed to him, fairly planted herself
before the door. Without the slightest
note of warning, she thus addressed
him:
"I wish," said she, with a sentimen
tally desperate air, "you—would—not
call any more."
My friend felt a cold chill of horror
stealing over his members. His knees
trembled. The eyes of the young lady
were firmly fixed upon him. He was
expected to do something he knew he
was. What was it?
"Certainly," he managed finally to
stammer out.
"You know it is different with a girl
than with a man," sho continued, sadly
"you have been coming hero so often
that people are beginning to talk."
He now knew too well what was ex
pected of him, and for a moment he felt
an overmastering impulse to comply.
He overcame it manfully, and as he re
covered his selfcontrole, and managed
in some measure to meet those search
ing eyes, he became, after the manner
of men, brutal.
"He would cooperate with her," he
said, coldly,' 'in giving the lie to public
opinion.*
How, I do not know, he got out of
the bouse. As he gained the garden
gate, he ran from the haunted spot—
ran and ran away from danger and in
consequence. And then, in the cold
moonlight, he sat down on a curb
stone. The cold moon was sailing in
the sky, and as he sat down on the
curbstone and looked up at the heaven's
blue, he murmured, in devout thank
fulness, the one word, "Saved! saved!"
The wind that was stirring the elms oi
the street seemed to whisper the same
happy thought, and this is tho end ol
my extremely ungallant but very in
structive story.
Keal Estate in New York.
The movements in real estate con
tinue to attract attention, since they
indicate an incessant advance, and
each successive sale distances previ
ous figures. One of the remarkable
features in this specialty is the im
mense size of the lile insurance build
ings. This system began with the
New York life, which paid $450,000 for
the corner of Broadway and Leonard
street,and then erected a marble build
ing which cost an equal sum. Th|
Mutual life went still deeper into exl
•"owns granite battling otsuf
ncinnt coat to make the entire invest
ment^ million and a half. Next is
the Equitable life, which has just fin
ished the grandest building of the'
kind in the world. It is of granite,and
covers almost an entire square front
ing on Broadway, and probably coat
in more than two millions. The
enormous rents paid for offices render
these buildings profitable investments,
but now such rents can be paid is sur
prising. A lawyer here will pay for
office rent a larger sum than in the
country would support a family.
A£akeof7ire.
A correspondent of the New York
Times, writing from Waterloo, an ex
tensive estate in Nassau, describes a
curious body of water to be seen there.
Tho lake is nearly cue thousand foet
long and two hundred to three hundred
feet broad. It is an artificial lake, the
former proprietor of Waterloo having
built it to store green turtles in. The
plan was to buy the turtles alivo and
put them in tho lake and let them in
crease in sizo and numbers, when they
would always be ready to be caught
and eaten. Millions of fish could be
kept in tho lake at tho same time, and
thus the occupant of Waterloo would
always havo a good dinner waiting in
tho yard. The lake's bed is cut out of
the solid rock, and is only a few hun
dred feet from the ocean. It is con
nected with the sea by a small canal,
also cut through the rocks and when
the gate in this canal is left open the
tide rises and falls in the lake.
It was one of the darkest nights I
ever saw, Wo went into the boathouse
and pushed out a heavy rowboat. I
took the oars and we pulled off. The
first stroks gave me a fine start. There
had not been any unusual appearance
ofphosphorefeance on the surface of tho
water more than is often seen on tropi
cal seas but as soon as the oars stirred
it up they seemed to be dipped in melt
ed gold. There was actually fire there,
I was compelled to think. While I was
wondering at it, a fish, srartled by our
splatter, darted across the pond near
the surface, and in his trail was left a
streak of yellow fire. Then we saw at
different places on tho surface little
vapory clouds of fire flashing and dart
ing about like the northern lights.
"If you havo a newspaper in you
pocket," said my companion, "lay it on
your lap and splash the water with
both oars, to see whether you can get
light enough to read by."
I did so, and was able to read tho
heading and all the large lines without
difficulty. I took an oar then and
splashed the water, and wherever a
drop fell back into tho lake was around
spot of fire. There was something
startling in seeing so much tire floating
about. And I had not the faintest no
tion where we were. I had gone out
upon an unknown lake, in total dark
ness, and had no idea how large nor
how deep it was, nor where the current
—if there was any—might carry us.
"If you pull hard and watch the bow
and stern of the boat, you will see
something curious."
I did so, and was well paid for the
exertion. When a boat moves fast
there is always a cutting of the water
at the bow, and a little eddy loft just
behind the stern. That outwater and
that eddy were of flaming fire. More
fish darted about, leaving fiery trails.
Indeed, wherever the water was agita
ted it turned apparently into fire. When
the agitation ceased tho fire disappeared,
except that there was always a little
sparkling upon the surface. We splash
ed, and rowed, and watched. One of
the most curious effects was to throw
something from the boat to a distant
part of the lake, and watch the fire
splash. A fountain put in the centre
of the lake would be a fountain of fire.
We measured tho depth with an oar,
and found it to be four or five feet. It
is mentioned as a curious circumstance
that the water in the lake can be changed
as often as desired without destroying
its phosphorescence. Various analyses
of the water have been made, but with«
out anv ereat results.
Food and Nutrition.
All know that the body consists ol
the food eaten, digested and assimilated
that a growing body needs proportion
ately more food than one which has
reached its growth and that a body
habitually active needs much more than
one habitually at rest. It is not so gen*
erally known that every particle of the
body is in a sonstant state of waste—
lives but for a moment and is succeeded
by a new living particle, and so from
birth to death that every movement of
a limb, each action of an organ, every
contraction of a muscle, every thought,
volition, desire, passion, every emotion
of joy, grief, fear or anxiety uses up
nervous force--itself the product of tho
food-formed flesh. The failure of the
food supply to equal the body's demand
is starvation.
But many seem to be ignorant of the
fact that one may starve more or less
on an abundance of food, provided the
body does not contain all the elements
of the body. Some forms of dyspepsia
are of this kind. It is as when land is
unfruitful from lack of a single element,
—say phosphate of lime,—though the
soil is otherwise rich. Some persons,
women especially, keep habitually
feeble—partially starved—by living
mainly on white bread and tea. Natural
milk contains, in a divinely determined
proportion, all the elements that make
up an infant body but thousands of
infants yearly starve to death, many of
them in homes of affluence, because fed
on artificial foods, the best of which fall
far short of nature's marvellous sup
ply.
Scurvy results simply from a lack of
vegetable food, and light cases of it is
more common than is thought. The
patient is pale and sallow is disinclined
to exertion has aches and pains in his
back his gums are spongy, swollen,
and bleed almost at the touch. Multi
tudes of such cases are relieved at once
on taking a proper quantity of vegeta
bles with their food.
In rickets there is not lime enough
for the bones,—not one-half as much
as their should be. Hence the bones
are soft, and bend the head is big the
teeth are black and loose the breast
bone protrudes the ribs fall in, and the
abdomen is enlarged by the crowding ot
the liver, etc.
It is mainly a disease of the poor, and
begins within the first two years of life.
It is due in part to the poor quality ol
the mother's milk, she being imperfect
ly fed, and in part of the child1a being
fed with food it cannot digest.—Youth^i
Companion.
What! braakflwt sot jrat tmOy,
win. 111 •crsteh alla* 1 a
About thoaaffowmthat so aaplra to
a patriot's crown
Thara'a
goldm-rod,
the
But lacking all the sweetness of a humbler
candidate,
The violets und daisies, too, among the
throng we see,
But jione among the manj seem quite ap
propriate.
Ah! breakfast needy now, Ma.v, and buck
wlicat cakes at tlia
t?
Ton know the charm to give a rhymster's
appetite a zest.
I think a few more meulslike this would real
ly make us fat
Buckwheat's our national ltower—or flour,
whichever you like best.
DRINK FOR LIFE OR DEATH.
From Blackwood
It was then about the middle of
March, and consequently later than
is usual for moving troops, as the
days begin to get very hot on the
plains in tho Carnatic about that
time of the year. But ours was special
duty and as we should only march
the early morning, we did not fear
tho inconvenience ol the in id-day heat,
but looked upon the whole thing as
rather a laik, and a welcome change
from the monotony of garrison duty.
As to the cholera, not one of us gave
it a thought. Not likely it would
touch 0110 of us!
It was on the second day after
leaving Arcot that l'rivate Thomas
Atkins, who was my right lile, sud
denly had to fall out. I expected him
to rejoin our ranks before long, but
did not trouble myself about his ab
sence. It was not until we reached
the camp, and had finished breakfast,
that I heard anything more ab5Ut
him.
1 then learned that he was buried.
I knew cholera was awfully sudden
in its attack and effects, but I had
not imagined the possibility of its
carrying off a healthy man quite so
rapidly. Of course immediate inter
ment must take place in tho case of
death on the line of march. I had
liked Atkins much, but I fancy his
death and burial were sosuddenthat
the rest of us failed to realize the
truth of what had happened to our
comrade, and half expected to see
him turn up again. Anyhow we soon
forgot the incident.
Late in the alternoon I was listen
ing to a description of Vellore bvone
of our fellows who had been there,
and speculating on the chance of see
ing the crocodiles which Tippoo Sul
tan had placed in the moat round the
fort, as the best possible sentinels to
prevent prisoners from escaping, or
any of his troops from attempting
to desert, when suddenly I felt spasms
and sickness.
"Holloa! old fellow, how blue you
look!" remarked a companion sitting
next to me and as he spoke n.vcom
rades shrank terror-stricken from me.
It needed 110 doctor to tell me what
was the matter. Tne cholera had
seized me!
I was hastily conveyed to the tem
porary hospital where our assistant
surgeon already had several cases of
the disease under treatment, and I
was laid on a charpov. I rapidly
passed from the first to the second
stageofthatmalady, and by 9 o'clock
at nicht the incessant vomiting and
purging had reduced me to a con
dition of weakness approaching in
sensibility. I was consumed by a
burning, raging thirst, but the dress
er disregarded all my entreaties for
a drink of water. The system of
treating cholera in those days allow
ed the patient nothing more than
just to have the lips moistened oc
casionally with weak brandy-and
water and this simply aggravated
the torture of thirst' Now-a-days
champagne is given, and the sufferer
is allowed to drink pretty freely.
The hospital was, of course, only
a pandal, hastily constructed with
palmyra leaves, with a large cuscus
mat at the entrance at each end. Two
large chattics of water were placed
just outside of each entrance, from
which a coolie from time to time threw
a pannikinful on the cuscus to this,
so that the wind, blowing through
the west mats, might cool the tem
perature inside the pandal. This re
sult certainly was attained, but at
the cost ot intensifying the pangs of
the patients, whose thirst was tanti
lized by hearing the splashing of the
water.
1 had begged, sworn and menaced
at intervals, but no one paid the
slightest heed to me, and I was sink
ing into that condition ot torpor
which is the immediate precursor of
the third and fatal stage of cholera
iriotent
an afterglow that gOda
year's
daclfae,
A apray, when aaen ailone, alack! how feat
unrieM and brown.
And mayflower of a «ea-shell pink, thesweet
est, eoyest laas,
Though aurely ahe would never do to repre
sent the west.
Then there'a the clovers, red and white, that
mingle with the graaa
They do not crave a public life, they love
the quiet beat.
There'a mountain laurel, evergreen of perfect
symmetry,
CAME to India
in 180—as a pri
rate in the —th
Regiment and
a
formed part of
the garrison at
Arcot. Lifo in
a a in
India is very
dull and 1 have
often wondered that British soldiers
out here are, on tho whole, such a
steady, well-behaved set of lads.
Compare a soldier's life in a small
Indian station, with being quartered
even at Malta or Gibraltar, and
either of these places will seem like
Paradise though the "Hock" is by
no means popular, and is always
called
a prison lv the troops for the
time being in garrison there.
Well, we found Arcot horribly dull,
and it was with great satisfaction
that wo heard an order had been
given for our company to march to
Vellore to strengthen the garrison
there, which had been very much re
duced by cholera.
Mgniy Uatened fort
I wantedto hearmrii
The? stopped at leni
and tne doctor examined
"Mottled." I heard fctat
the dresser. I was nearly
by the singing or rather dm*
in my ears so I lay perfective
less, so as not to )t a single wo
what they might *ay escape me,
possible.
"He is insensible already,"
doctor continued, "and will not last
long. So Wetherall will make sixl?'
"Make six?" I said to myself*
"make six what?" "Six corpses, jjj
course, for burial at daylight to
morrow morning," a voice seemed io
laugh out, with fiendish exulation.
The dresser said something which
1
could not distinctly hear, but the
answer enlightened me as to the sub*
ject they were discussing.
"Oh, yes, there will be room enough
in fact, for two more if necessrary."
They had gone, and the place wa»
in darkness save the glimmer of a
cocoanut-oil lamp. I heard the
scratchiug of inumootiesjust outside
the pandal.
It was the noise made by the camp
followers who were digging a common
grave for six of us, leaving room for
two more, if necessary.
I felt utterly stunned, and quite in
different as to my fate,which.ofcourse,
I considered settled, after what the
assistant surgeon had said. My
tongue was like apiece of dry leather
in my mouth, which had long since
ceased to yield any saliva to relieve
the ngonizing burning of my throat
and palate. I could not have made
any sound had I attempted todo so
but I did not try, for the attendants
were all stretched on the ground fast
asleep. I felt I was deserted—left to
die.
1 was beginning to wander, I think,
and was back again in the bright
green English meadows, picking dais«
ies with my little sister, and so 1
should have passed away. But just
at that moment, the coolies who
had finished digging tho grave—my
grave—passed "the entrance of the
pandal and one of them, with more
consideration than his class usually
show, threw a pannikinful of wab
011 the cuscus tathi:
It was like a galvanic shock to me.
I resolved to have a drink at any
risk. I had to die, so what matter ii
1 hastened my death an hour or two
by drinking cold water. At least
should be relieved from tho torture
of thirst and die happy.
I tried to get up, but was too week
to stand, and fell down atonce. Then
I reflected that I was more likely to
be seen if I walked and if detected in
my attempt I should be brought back,
and perhaps be strapped down to
die. So I tried to crawl.
I was about ten minutes dragging
myself the forty feet from my cot to
theentrance, and I wriggled under the
cuscus tathi like a shake.
There were the chatties before me!
The first I seized was empty, and
tho disappointment nearly made me
swoon but the second was brim full.
1 threw my arms around it and.,
dragged myself to it. I plunge^ my
head into llie delicious, limpid water,
and devoured, rather than drank,
huge mouthfuls of the cool and heav
enly fluid. 1 felt my stomach swel
ling with the enormous draughts I
swallowed but 1 laughed and drank
again and again. 1 recked naught of
life or death then.
At length I could drink no more,
and then discipline asserted itself.
I knew I had no right to be out there,
and I thought if I were missed from
my cot I should be reported. So I
crept back the way I had come, and
shortly after fell into a profound
sleep.
It was broad daylight when I
awoke and saw the assistant surgeos
and dresser standing beside me.
"How is this?" asked the doctor,
'Wetherall ought to be dead."
"Please, sir," said I, "I am feeling
much better, and have no wish to
make the sixth this morning."
Ho knew I had overheard his re
mark on the proceeding night h*
smiled sadly, and said, "I am sorry
to say there were six without you.
But I cannot understand how it is
you are alive. Mostextraordinaryl"
I rapidly recovered and as I had
never indulged in the pernicious coun
try arrack sold to soldiers out her®,
I was soon quite strong again. I was
made sergeant very soon, and I re
mained upward of 20 years, serving
with different regiments out here but
it was some time before I told any
one how I recovered from my attack
of cholera. However I told the doc
tor one day all about it: and though
he said the cold water ought to have
killed me I observed the poor fellows
in hospital with cholera got an
extra
allowance of water.
All my people were dead pr scatter
ed, and I had no wish to return to
England. So 1 took my pension
and the bounties that I obtained, add
ed to my savings, enabled me to
buy this bit of land. I am doing well,
and have all a man can wish for t*
make him happy.
Theatrical Sharks.
There are as many deceptions
practiced in the theatrical profession
as in any other line of business. Man
agers and actors both are
constantly
obliged to be on the lookout for tricks
and games of all sorts which are
practiced weekly. There are adven
turers and adventuresses who proba
bly never stepped afoot on the stage
who are roping in young peopl''—
various schemes or other all
time. In most of these cases
trick is to extract money from young
aspirants to theatrical fame.. The
latest game is one being practiced by
an alleged comedy company in New
York, which is advertising foractors
and actresses to fill out its cast. As
soon as this "fake" organization re
ceives an applicant requesting hint
or her to forward f5 for. the manu
script of the play which is to be pro
duced, the letter also careftilly stat
ing that the amount will be returned
as soon as the receiver |oins the com
pany in New York. In many instances
the money is forwarded, but noiMa*
is ever seen or heard ot the
Vast
•as
mm
th*
1
$
1
1
,?$
•,-0
t'V$.
$
,ij
the
v"'
script or the company.—I
St. Louis Globe-Democrat
SilBpI