The Wahpeton times. [volume], April 16, 1891, Image 2

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

Image provided by: State Historical Society of North Dakota

                
%y
i)£
1*1
sgtel
mi
OKO. P. QABRED,
WAHPETON, NORTH DAKOTA.
1
WHEN Borne of the alleged fraterqal
beneficial schemes are fairly looked at,
it suggests whether the American
eagle, supposed to be emblematic of a
sharp-sighted people, is not really a
gull
IT is very clearly the intention of
nature that man shall "rustle" for his
living. Nature abhors a drone almost
as much as a vacuum, and every crea
ture whose physical or mental forma
tion denotes a fitness for activity is
placed under the necessity of exerting
its powers.
CONFIDENCE in the courts is one of
the most important guarantees of good
order. If the' habitual criminal be
lieves that punishment is reasonably
certain in case of detection, he will be
slow to commit a crime, and if the
"reputable citizen" feels sure of the
tribunals of the law, he will bo slow to
take the law into his own hands.
THE careless and apparently indis
criminate manner with which the
courts of to-day destroy the wills of
rich men, documents that embodied
the purpose and object of a lifetime of
toil, has become one of the notable
and notorious abuses of the day, and
against this evil there is rising a vig
orous demand for rectification and re
form.
THERE is no excuse in these days ot
newspapers for any sane person of
adult age getting victimized by green
goods men, or pocketrbook droppers,
or sweaters, or card sharps, or sham
beggars, or bogus reformers, or any
other such frauds. Not to know of
them is to bo convicted of gross lack
of information, for which there is
excuse.
no
PUBLIC opinion in the United States,
stimulated by innumerable and glaring
miscarriages of justice, for many years
has been steadily ripening to the con
viction that radical remedies are need
ed in our system of trial by jury.
Events are imminent, international in
their character, which inevitably must
wield a powerful influence toward
focusing this sentiment.
WHEN man knows in part, he is
eager to know in full. He is sure to
make effort to know. His mind works
from the known toward the unknown
by varied processes. He reasons. He
traces analogies. He imagines. He
adds surmises to his certainties. And
after a while one is puzzled to know
now much of his story is dream-stuff
and how much the substance out of
which true history is made.
THE idea that the development of
Alaska will impoverish that country
would have been queer doctrine in the
ears of Secretary Seward. Still the
fish and the gold and the furs and the
woods that will come from Alaska for
years to come will enrich people in
other territories of Uncle Sam, and
when her own resources are exhausted
Alaska may get rich herself by a ju
dicious series of summer hotels.
WE expect brutality from the de
graded and ignorant classes, for their
training has been such as to dull the
edge of sensibility we look for less
sympathetic and considerate impulses
from men than from women, because
of the constitutional difference between
the sexes, and the influence of the hard
fight with the world to which most
men are subjected, and from which
most women are spared. Yet it is not
from the slums or from brutal mascu
linity that we find the worst cruelty
comes.
THE cost of coal production in Eng
land has increased very largely of late,
necessitating much higher prices. At
the same time the demand for it, owing
to the rapid extension of manufactures,
has come at last to equal, if not exceed,
the supply, and fears are entertained
even now that fuel will have to be
imported from abroad, so that it will
not be lone1 before we of the United
States can compete on more than even
terms with the home product. All
that wo need now is the vessels with
which to conduct this trade.
IT is a great mistake to imagine that
success without effort will ever make
a man or woman happy. What we
cease to strive for ceases to be success,
and gradually becomes more and more
Worthless. Suppose the same wages
to be paid for nothing that are now
rendered for skill and energy and per
severing work, or the same applause
to be Bhowered on the mere trifler that
Is now given to the public benefactor,
could they possibly kindle the same
joy in the heart of the receiver that
they
BOW
do? They would mean noth­
ing, stand for nothing, and shortly
would be nothing.
Tire opening of our first century
la an age of great men. The ending
of that century seems to be an age of
men. The stately forms of Wash-
Vtaoklin appear to dwarf the leaden
to-day. The opening of pur first
seems
to us to have been
by a fine and lofty spirit
was simple. Money counted
(•comparatively little. Men were
fd by other weights than by shek
yThis close of that century is an
a spirit by no means so
Mpwqr making has become
'W*m* ot our people.
gfetra into exist*
CBLIA'8 HOMB-COMINO.
Maidens, kilt your skirts and go
Down the stormy garden-ways,
Pluck the last sweet pinks that blow,
Gather roses, gather hays,
Since our Cecil comes to-day
That has .been too long away.
Crowd her chamber with your sweets—
Not a flower but grows for her!
Make lier bed with linen sheets
That have lain in lavender
Light afire before she comes
Lest she finds us chill at home.
Ah, what joy when Celia stands
By the leaping blaze at last,
Stooping down to warm her hands
All benumbed witli the blast,
When we hide her cloak away,
To assure us she shall stay.
Cider bring and cowslip wine,
Fruits and flowers from the cast,
Tears and pippings too, and
Safl'ron loaves to make a feast:
China dishes, silver cups,
For the board where Celia sups!
Tben, when all the feast ing's done,
She shall draw us round the blaze.
Laugh, aiul tell us every one
Of her lar triumphant days—
Celia, out of doors a star.
By the hearth a holier Lar!
A RUSSIAN STORY.
It is the morning of the Epiphany.
The intense cold of tlie night has
moderated, but the barometer still
marks fifteen degrees below zero.
Prom the tall steeples of innumerable
churches the bells of St. Petersburg
ring in the sacred feast. In an ex
quisitely appointed room of a palace,
where tender lights filter through the
golden shadows of silken hangings,
sits a woman. Her attitude is one of
repose, deep, unruffled. From the
crown of her little flame colored head
to the tip of her dainty shoe, she is a
perfect bit of dame nature's art. If
she were standing we would call her
tall, but she sits crouching in her chair
with all the abandon of a dozing ti
gress. She gives a little yawn.
"Ah! late as usual," she says aloud.
As she speaks the door opens and a
servant enters.
"Captain Repine," he announces.
He follows quickly on the man's
heels—short, thick set, with a dull Cos
sack face and kindly smile, wearingthe
uniform of an officer of the imperial
body guard.
"Pardon, my dear Elisaveta. Have
I made you wait?"
She gives her shapely shoulders a
slight shrug, but watches him with
contemplating eyes as he rattles on.
"Imagine, my beloved, I thought
that I should not be able to take you
to the races. I was so rushed at the
last moment. Oh, but they will be
superb! Never has the track been
more pei'fect—hard as a rock, and not
a flake of snow."
"Indeed," says the lady, languidly.
Putting out a lazy, beringed hand, she
draws back the curtain that hides her
window. "It is superb." she assets.
"You know how difficult it is to ac
complish that," continues the young
officer, "withjthis cursed wind drifting
the Ladoga snow. Still I must tell
you that 500 men have worked at it.
Brave fellows!"
"The journals say something of a
three horse race-"
"Yes the event of the day. But,
come
"We have still an hour," she an
swers and motions him to a seat
beside her.
"No, no at your feet, always at
your feet, Princess Veta," says the
young man gaily, flinging his head
back to better look into the opal-tint
ed eyes above him. With her little
pointed chin against the rose of her
palm she sits lost in a world of revire.
"Do you remember Sergius Hotzka?"
she asks suddenly.
He shrugs his shoulders, accustomed
to the willful wanderings of the great
city's petted belle.
"How could I ever forget him?" he
says in turn. Was there ever a man
who left more ineffaceable traces be
hind him? He was an original mad
man."
"Original!" echoed Elisaveta. "Ah!
what a cowardly word. Original?"
she repeats, as though interrogating
her own thought. The young man
frowns slightly, but she goes on with
calm retrospection. Only three years
ago," she said, "and he appeared
among us like some brilliant meteor
fabulously rich astonishing the world
with his eccentric prodigalities. Then
all those clod-rooting swine, they
deserted him when he was no longer
wealthy."
Her lover's white teeth are like a
'wolfish danger signal as he turns to
look at her.
"My dear," he says, coldly, "you
can't expect the world to be faithful
to a proscript."
"Proscript?"
"Exactly. They say that political
complications were his ruin. At any
rate he is banished from St. Peters
burg."
'"Then he is in Siberia?"
With all a soldier's diplomacy he
says, indifferently: "I believe not.
The peasants tell a story of a hermit
of the Steppes, who mends kettles
and plows for the farmers. Many be
lieve it to be Hotska, with the re
mains of his own famous stud."
"Farmers—kettles," echoes Elisave
ta absently.
Suddenly she turns on her moody
swain.
"Come. Alexander," shecries "I can
see the crowds gather from here.
Quick—we must hurry."
It is scarcely a half hour later and
the race-course presents a brilliant
spectacle. The river Neva is now only
a colossal roadway between two walls
of splendid rose granite that line its
quays. It is a ipirror of polished
steel. Stands, richly decorated with
flags, occupy at least a quarter of the
inclosure, and over a hundred thou
sand spectators surround the arena.
In the center of everything a great pa-J
vilion draped in purple and gold shows
that royalty is expected to" take part
in the city's festival. A huge figure in
white uniform shows itselr. The im
assiveness of his countenance, with
is eagle profile and small glittering
eyes, is unmistakable.
'Tie he, the autocrat—the Emperor
of all Russians.
E
Anil Hamilton and Jefferson 'and
From the human hive mounts and
swells a growing noise cries, oaths,
calls from the Kras senders, all blend
themselves in a formidable roar,
"Long live the Czar!"
At this moment a rosewood sled
drawn by whiteJiorses stops in front
of the box nearest the royal pavilion.
The president of the jury precipitates
himself at the horses feet and aids a
young woman to descend. The tall
figure, with its long. loose wrap of
priceless blue fox and its aureole of
wonderful red hair, is well known in
St. Petersburg. She is the Princess
Eliasaveta Palorna, the beauty of
three seasons. Repine follows her.
Under her little fur cap, with its
jeweled fez, Veta's eyes look out.
serene, impenetrable. A bell Bounds,
and silence falls on the waiting mul
titude. From open gates stream a
dozen or more horses harnessed to
light sleds of gilded osier. They are
pure-blooded Arabians, thick-set
mustangs from the steppes, and highly
bred OrloffS with sweeping manes
white and shiny as spun glass.
The people watch these
preliminaries
api 11 hetically. They are waiting for the
"piece de resistance," the three-horse
race, with princes as drivers. Already
four races nave been run, the track is
cleared and the 500 workers take up
their task of sweeping away the pow
dered ice beaten up by the iron hoofs.
Once more the gates open and three
splendid bays appear with the same
sled of gilded osier, but larger and
more elegant. They are followed by
three black Finlanders, with shaggy
coats and tails that sweep theground.
The last comers are Orloff stallions,
white and dazzling as the snow itself.
Their short hair glistens as though
oiled, and silver reflections shadow
their smooth flanks and elegant necks
their mouths are black and their nos
trilsimmense, quivering and roselined
their eyes, tender, yet prominent and
full of lire, are circled by a sooty ring
like those of the Asiatic women. They
are the pets of the hour.
There they stand, the nine
superb creatures, controlled by a
splendid discipline that does not per
mit the most timid pawing of their im
patient hoofs, and with over two hun
dred thousand eyes admiring their
matchless perfection.
Three sorry horses, emaciated and
sad, splashed with mud and covered
with a ragged harness, half string, half
leather, advaced slowly into the arena
behind them trails a clumsy vehicle,
made from the bark of a Russian fir
tree and shaped like the Laplander's
hunting sled. With drooping heads
and dragging limbs the weary beasts
come forward and place themselves
besides their aristocratic predecessors.
A cry of horror rises up from the
crowd. Leaning back in her box Veta
watches the late arrivals with fixed in
tentness.
The bell rings noisily. The race be
gins.
The bays led by several lengths.
The middle horse, an old favorite, lifts
his feet with all the alluring charm of
a star of the nation's hippodrome.
His companions, brothers from the
Don, thin and ardent, run without ef
fort. After them come the Finlanders
tearing furiously on the reiij£. Suffi
ciently in the rear to astonish their
backers are the Orloff stallions verit
able wonders of beauty and breed.
Finally, following at along distance
behind their royal leaders, are the
three strange beasts with their Laplan
dish sled. They run irregular, and
their little thin belts give out a mel
ancholy sound. It is in this order
that the sleds pass for the first time
in front of the judge's stand.
Half-way on the second round the
Finlanders fling out their sturdy heels
with such velocity that they look like
the lialfcircle of a bounding hoop.
They pass the bays. A quiclc swell
ing of their massive chests and they
forge ahead.
"Hurrah!" shrieked the people,
ravished with the success of their
favorites. At this moment the un
known peasant straightens up his
giant frame. Pushing back the heavy
hat drawn down togjiis eyes, he grips
the reins with an iron hand gives a
curious prolonged whistle. His skele
ton horses are strangely metamor
phosed. As though in answer to some
superhuman command, they give one
gigantic leap and fairly fly. For a
moment they run beside the white
stallions.
"The Orloffs leads!" screams the
multitude, then shudders.
Beyond the shapely heads of the
city's favorites stretched six dark,
Eeads
ointed ears, to be followed by three
with glaring eyes, and foaming
blood-flecked jaws.
With her body stretched half out of
her box Veta watches them with fas
cinating eyes. Her chest heaves, her
limbs tremble, and her face takes on
the anguish of the laboring brutes.
"Don't worry," whispers Repine.
"They will lose."
They will win!" she answers hoarse
ly. "I know them."
"The Orloffs gain," says somebody
in the next box.
"Ah!" groans Veta, and bites her
lip to the blood.
Once more the peasant's whistles
startles the still air, and with a pro
digious effort his horses leave the oth
ers behind. Transfigured by the wak
ing of their unknown blood, carried
away by a secret ecstacy, with float
ingmanes and sonorous breath, they
rush on toward the expected goal.
They reach it—victorious—winners
by three lengths.
For one long moment the people rest
mute with stupefaction, utterly in
capable of applause. They stare open
mouthed at the sordid beasts thathave
beaten the noblest blood of the land,
then like one man they dash forward
to look at them, to ask their race and
the name of their uncouth driver.
As the victors pass Veta leans out
to look at them. "I must see them,"
she says aloud.
At the sound of that voice the peas
ant starts. Lifting his head, their
eyes meet. She pales, but that is all.
Months have passed, and the ex
traordinary event that astonished the
Peterbourgeois is no more'than ancient
history. Nobody has learned the
identity of the mysterious peasant.
Many believed him a sorcerer. Others
thought him a great doctor of some
unknown science, whose powerful
Eeasts.hadgalvanizedonly
otion the exhausted
But it is all a memory
now. Anew sensation is on the tapis.
All St. Petersburg is talking of the
marriage of Prince Alexander Repine
to Princess Elisaveta Palarona.
It is evening, and Veta, stands for
the first time in her husband's home.
She is alone on a great veranda that
half circles the palace. She still wears
her wedding dress, and the stones of a
diamond tiara sparkles in her hair.
"Mistress," says a voice behind her.
She turns to comfort her husband's
faithful old servant. *"Mistress, a
prefeent awaits you at the palace
gate.
Shall I lead you thither?"
"Yes."
She follows him down the steps with
all the lazy insolence of a fine lady
who grants a favor her long gown
sweeps the dew off the grass, ana the
moonlight mirrors itself in the soft
curves of her naked arms and shoul
ders.
Presently
a
she stops, stricken by a
mysterious influence. A moment more
and a strange sight meets her view.
They are the jrapiprs of the 9fv».
n,8*
With a wave fromher hand Ivan goes.
The horses whinny softly at thesound
of her voice and nose her hair and face
with doglike gentleness.
"Why are you here?" she whispers,
a sudden catch in her throat that she
stifles against the emaciated cheek
nearest her.
From out pf the deep shadow comes
a trembling voice. "Why do you
weep, Princess?" it says.
Sne sees him now for the first time,
still in his peasant's garb and with
head uncovered, low before her. It is
a noble head, with splendid lines and
a beautiful mouth, but worn and
shadowed as those of the famished
beasts beside him.
"Why are they like this, Sergius?
The best racers in the kingdom could
have brought their price. There cer
tainly was no need to starve them."
"We have starved together, Prin
cess," he answers gently.
"Then the story that the people tell
is true?"
"(^uite true."
With the skeleton creatures between
them' they are silent a wavering mo
ment. Then, with a mute caress of
their unkempt necks, he says: "Be
kind to Sergius Hetzka's only friends.
Good night, Elisaveta Repine."
"Repine!" she had forgotten that.
"Is it farewell?" she asks him blind
ly-
"Farewell!" he repeats.
The horses whinny piteously as the
gates close close behind him then turn
with dumb, questioning eyes to the
pallid woman beside them.
Brutes that they are, they tremble
at the sight of that countenance,
quivering and terrible.
"Wait," is her husky whisper.
With her face pressed tight to the
iron bars she watches him turn an an
gle in the roadway his footsteps die
away in the distance he is gone.
Flinging the gates wide open she
says one word
"Go."
A sudden rush, and they are swal
lowed up in the night.
The next day the newspapers con
tain a sensation.
Three wild horses have killed a
prince's bride.—Translated from the
French of Iola Dorlian, by Nito Fitch,
for Saturday Review.
NEVER SPOKETO HIS WIFE.
A Connecticut Man Who Will Talk to
His Brother, But to No One Else.
John Pratt, of Danbury, Conn., who
shot James Morrow and was dis
charged on the ground that the shoot
ing was accidental, has in all the sixty
years of his life never spoken a word
to any livingperson except his brother
William. With him he converses
fluently and with freedom, but al
ways assures himself that there is no
other listener within hearing. He has
been married twice, each time his wife
being a sister of his mother. His
second wife is now living. No children
blessed either union The efforts to en
trap John into conversation have
been many and ingenious, but never
successful. His hearing is unnatural
ly acute.
One explanation of John's peculiar
ity is that his mother incurred the
enmity of her husband's father, who
lived with them. She swore that she
would never speak to her father-in-law
again, and she kept her oath for fifteen
years, when she died. On her death
bed her husband tried to persuade her
to at least say she would forgive his
father, but she would not relent.
Three months after taking the strange
oath John was born.
When John was about thirty years
old a young married couple from New
York spent the summer at a house
near John's farm. The young wife
was deeply impressed with the many
stories told of her temporary neighbor
and expressed a desire to be intro
duced to him. Her husband humored
her whim and an introduction took
place. From that time there was a
marked change in her. She returned
to her home in New York and in due
time a son was born to her. That
son occupies a responsible position
with the government at Washington,
but he is a deaf mute.
A Method to Determine Death.
The French Academy of Sciences ten
or fifteen years ago offered a prize of
£1,600 for the discovery of some
means by which even the inexperien
ced might at once determine whether in
a given case death had ensued or not.
A physician obtained the prize. He
had discovered the following well
known phenomenon:—
If the hand of the suspected dead
person is held towards a candle or
other artificial light with the fingers
extended and one touching the other,
and one looks through the spaces be
tween the fingers towards the light,
there appears a scarlet red color
where the fingers touch each other,
due to the blood still circulating, it
showing itself through the tissues
which have not yet congested. When
life is entirely extinct thephenomenon
of scarlet space between tne fingers at
once ceases. The most extensive and
thorough trials established the truth
of this observation.—Tit Bits.
Two Kinds of Hotel Thieves.
The overcoat thieves who raid the
hotels at intervals are abroad in the
land again, and almost daily com-
Eeen
laints are made by guests who have
despoiled of tneir raiment. A
commercial traveler who consideltd
one overcoat sufficient for his visit V.o
Cleveland was obliged to borrow one
from a hotel clerk yesterday, in order
that he might mingle with the people
and proceed with the transaction of
his business. Hotel proprietors rare
ly report such thefts to tne police, and
compromises are made by settlement
with the victims. At times the miss
ing overcoats prove to be valued at
extraordinary sums. Recently a guest
who lost one said it Was new, bad cost
him $80, and was cheap at that price.
He finally compromised for $50. An
investigation showed that the coat
originally cost him $40, and he had
worn it for three winters.—Cleveland
Leader.
8ome Curiosities of Solenoe.
The important fact is established
that the electrical resistance of a
mummyis6,000,000ohms. The cran
ial temperature of the citizens of Col
orado is 1 deg. Fahrenheit higher
than that of their lees favored East
ern brethern. Hiebuman race annual
ly absorbs 8,000,000 pounds of nico
tine, one drop of which will kill a cat.
A Birmingham gentleman carried a pea
in his right ear for live yean and
seven months, when it was success*
felly remoredj^Ageoeralpractition-
THE YOUNG WILL PINO SOME
THING HERE TO INTEREST
TH
£M
Joe's First Temptation^--A Little
Thief--How a Little Beetle Got
Something to Eat—A Zoologloal
Game.
v.Joe's
First Temptation.
Deacon Jones kept a little fish mar
ket. "Do you want a boy to help
you?" asked Joe White one day. "I
guess I can sell fish."
"Can you give good weight to my
customers and take good care of my
pennies?
"Yes, sir," answered Joe and forth
with he took his place in the market,
weighed the fish and kept the room in
order.
"A whole day for fun, fire-works and
crackers to-morrow!'* exclaimed Joe,
as he buttoned his white apron about
him the day before the Fourth of July.
A great trout was flung down on the
counter.
Here's a royal trout, Joe. I caught
it myself. You may have it for ten
cents. Just hand over the money,
for I'm in a hurry to buy my fire
crackers," said Ned Long, one of Joe's
mates.
The deacon was out, but Joe had
made purchases before, so the dime
was spun across to Ned, who was off
like a, shot, .lust then Mrs. Martin
appeared. "I want a nice trout for.
dinner to-morrow. This one will do
how much is it?"
"A quarter, ma'am," and the fish
was transferred to the lady's basket
and the silver piece to the money
drawer.
But here Joe paused. "Ten cents
was very cheap for that fish. If I tell
the deacon it cost fifteen he'll be
satisfied, and I shall have five cents
to invest in lire-crackers."
The deacon was pleased with Joe's
bargain, and when the market was
closed each went his way for the night.
But the nickle in Joe's pocket burned
like a coal he
could eat no supper and
was cross and unhappy. At last he
could stand it no longer but walked
rapidly tapped at the door of Deacon
Jone's cottage.
A stand was drawn out, and before
the open Bible sat the old man. Joe's
heart almost failed him, but he told
his story, and with tears of sorrow
laid the coin in the deacon's hand.
Turning over the leaves of the Bible
the old man read: He that -covereth
his sin shall not prosper but whoso
confesseth and forsaketh them shall
have mercy." "You have my forgive
ness, Joe now go home and confess to
the Lord, but remember you must
forsake as well as confess. And keep
this_ little coin as long as you live to
remind you of this first temptation."
—New York Mail.
Lincoln's Inauguration Car.
I wonder how many of our little
readers can guess the fats of the car in
which Lincoln rode from Springfield to
Washington to his inauguration—
way back in 1861? None, I dare say,
for it has fallen from its once high po
sition to that of a "sleeping or bunk
iar for a "Railroad Fence gang,"
which traverses the country in every
direction, building fences along the
various railroads. And you may be
sure that wherever they go and this
interesting fact is made known—and
the men are proud to tell it—this car
receives much attention.
So when this "gang" were building a
fence on a road runninginto our town,
Belmond, Iowa, and their cars stood
switched on a side track—this one car
that bore our beloved president to
Washington on that momentous oc
casion, was an object not only of cu
rious hut loving attention.
The e&r, of course, looks somewhat
antiquated, with its small windows,
outside shutters—and other equally
out-of-date belongings—more like an
emigrant car than the palace couches
that are now open to the common
people.
On the outside of this ca.r is painted
the name of the fence company. In
side it has two double tiers of nice
spring bunks accommodating some
sixty men. Everything looked neat
and wholesome—and so did the other
three, dining, cooking, and living-room
cars.
But I couldn't feel quite reconciled to
the fate of this car—which, at this
late day should, I think, possess
enough historic interest to be preserv
ed as a relic. Wouldn't it be very
proper to, have this car restored, if
Ee
ossible, to its original condition, and
on exhibition at the World's Fair?
How a Little Beetle Got Something
to Eat.
The one I am speaking of is very
small, and its name is Sitaris. There
is a kind of a bcc which makes cells in
the ground.' Now Mrs. Sitaris put
ftn
egg just at the entrance of one of
these cells, and it was hatched one day
in October. When the little Sitaris
came out of its egg, he had six strong
legs. He did hot use them at once,
but took along nap until April, sleep
ing all through the cold winter.
When the spring came, he began to
stretch himself, and ran anxiously
around his little prison, looking for
food. He must have been very hungry
after such a long sleep.
Now, the father-bees come out of
their cells before the mother-bees, and
when little Sitaris saw a father-bee
coming out, he jumped on his back
and rode on it very safely till a moth
er-bee came, and then he
rarer
jumped
on
her back. By and by motner-bee laid
an.egg, and little thief Sitaris jumped
on the egg and sailed around, as if on
a raft, in the honey which mother-bee
had left for her child.
But little Bitaris was very greedy,
and there would not be enough honey
for him and the baby-bee, too, so he
quietly- ate up the egg first, and then
there was plenty of honey left for him,
and he ate and ate till he changed into
a fat white grub, and did nothing but
float on the honey, with his mouth in
it, eating the whole time, till the hon
ey was all gone.
Then he new thinner and thinner,
and after a^ little his slcin all came off,
and he changed so much in his looks
you would not havs known him fis
kept opchancipgtnore andmoie,mMi
had a great m*ny very straaftiad-
loo
Gertie's Friends.
Lady Dufferin, in the sweet old song,
has told us that
"The poor make no new Mends,'
But oh! they love the better tar,
The few their Father sends."
A touching "local" in the Detroit Free'
Press shows vividly en'ough the tender
pity which the1lowlyfeel for each other
in sorrow and suffering. A passer
through Clinton Street one day ob
served a little Irish boy hiding in a
door-way aud crying. A sympathetic
inquiry brought to light one of the
most beautiful stories ever recorded of
the sick poor.
In a wretched cellar, a little girl ten
years old lay very ill. The window
panes were broken—it was march, by
the way—and variously stuffed. For
one pane the supply of upholstery had
given out. The wind and the boys
looked in easily. Just within range of
curious eyes the cot of the sick child
was stretched.
The gamins of Clinton Street dis
covered her plight. One little fellow
dropped an orange through the broken
glass a plaintive voice thanked the
unseen giver. Such acts of mercy be
came the fashion in that poor neigh*
borhood. Every day saw the cubs of
the street cuddling
like cossets out
side
the window.
Wisps of evergreen, swept out of
florists' doors, broken flowers thrown
away, offerings of fruit with the decay
ed part cut off—every delicacy for the
sick that the resources of Clinton
Street afforded went through
that broken pane. One little fellow
begged a bunch of frozen Malaga
grapes from a dealer, to whom he
offered his ragged cap in payment.
One day the boys said, "Gertie is
dead," and the street-boys became
the mourners behind the hearse of the
starved and frozen child.
A Little Thief.
Mrs. Plumb, across the alley, thinks
her yellow cat, Buff, the most know
ing cat in the world. I begin to think
so, too.
I was sitting at my upstairs window
this morning when the milkman came
and left milk in a bowl on the table on
Mrs. Plumb's back porch.
Buff was sunning himself under the
table, and never opened his eyes till
the milkman was gone. Then, as
quick as a wink, he hopped up on the
table and began lapping the milk,
often stopping to look around at the
window, as though he feared his mis
tress might see him.
Two or three times he seemed to
think he heard her coming out, and
he jumped down and curled himself
under the table as if he were asleep.
Rut no one came out, so he hopped
up again,
He ate till he had enough, evidently,
then he jumped down, washed himself,
and lay down to sleep. Just then his
mistress came out.
She looked sharply at the milk, as
she took it up, and then at Buff. And
would you believe it! that cat open
ed his eyes and began to stretch and
yawn as though he had been asleep a
week, then followed her into the house,
mewing to befed!
Later in the day, when my window
was open, I heard Mrs. Plumb say to
her husband.
"We must get a new milkman, He
cheated us shamefully this morning!"
Buff was near by, and seemed to me
he looked as though he understood,—
but he said never a word. Wasn't it
too bad?—Youth's Companion.
Honor Mother.
There are few eminent men who have
not said that their success in life was
largely owing to their mother's teach
ing, and who have been proud to
honor her. The following is one of
the many illustrations of this truth:
The mother of John Quincy Adams
said in a letter to him, written when
he was only twelve years old: "I
would rather see you laid in a grave
than grow up a profane and graceless
boy."
Not long before the death of Mr.
Adams, a gentleman, said to him, "I
have found out who made you."
"What do you mean?" asked Mr.
Adams.
The gentleman replied, "I have been
reading the published letters of your
mother."
"If," this gentleman relates, "I had
spoken that dear name to some little
boy who had been for weeks away
from his mother, his eyes could not
have flashed more brightly than did
the eyes of that venerable old man
when I pronounced the name of his
mother.
"He stood up in his peculiar man
ner and said—
'Yes, sir, all that is good in me I
owe to my mother."'—The .Day.
spring.'
A Zoological Game.
The names of all the company are
written on slips of paper and put into
a basket. Each person then'chooses
either a bird or beast, and writes its
name on a slip of paper, its size and
color on another slip, and its habits
a third these slips are all to be
on
thrown into three different baskets,
appropriate for them. After this one
of the party drawB a slip from the
first basket and Teads it aloud he
then draws a slip from each of the
other two baskets and reads them.
There may be a pat deal of amuse
ment in the qualities that chance to be
thus placed against the names of
Brown, Jones or Robinson. The
animals' names are left to the end of
the'game, when they and their various
sizes and qualities and habits may be
appropriately sorted.
"Fooleoap."
Everybody knows what "foolscap'*
paper is, but everybody does not
know how it came to bear that name.
In order to increase his revenues,
Charles I. granted certain privileges,
amounting to monopolies, and among
these was the manufacture of paper,
the exclusive right of which was sold
to certain parties, who grew rich, and
enriched tne government at the ex
pense of those who were oblued to
use paper. At that time all English
paper bore the royal aims of water
marks.
The Parliament under Crom­
well made sport of this law in
every possible mapner, and among
other indignities to the memory of
Charles it was ordered that the royal
arms be removed from the paper, »nd
that the fool's cap and bells should be
used as a substitute. When the Rump
Parliament was prorogued these were
also removed but paper of.the size of
rliamentar^xooniaw, which is
f*bput seveoteenby foiptsen
titill bears the naoMot "fcol*
^«*^eelrtlopftl4rt»blVr."
"I a,m
goodness,"
agt-
lever in O man's natut^
said the colonel, as the
Merrill Record'quotto him.7 '1 hitdj
the pleasure obce of knowiiigan.honest'
gambler. Hiked him, too, for he was'
a gentleman. The days of this class#
of gamblers arepast, however, and to*
day they seisin to be a scurvy, lot.
"Moore, when I saw him, was a IE
sissippi gambler. He traveled, in tai
lived, on the big river steamboats,
never attempted to conceal the triSh^l
about himself. It was simply: 4Q4p9
tlemen, I am a gambler by occupation
and a good one. If you care W have
me play with you it will give me great
pleasure. If you don't it doesn't make
a particle of difference."
"I got to know Moore very well, and
I soon discovered that when playing
with the average man, luck being equaT
he would win ninety-nine times out of a
hundred. I never touched cards, but I
used to like his society He was a won
derfully entertaining talker. On sum
mer nights the stewards used to serve
dinner on deck for those who preferred
to have it there. After dinner we
would go up to the hurricane deck
and when Moore was on board he
would bring out his flute and play for
us. When the moon was out and
threw a thin blue veil over the water
or when theboat carving the darkness'
swept so close to the shore that it
brushed the dark 'willows on the bank
the rising and falling notes that came
from his instrument were gentle music
to the ear. I never knew him to pro
pose a game of cards. He would play
there until some one suggested a game
when he would take his instrument
hpart and put it away in an indiffer-V
ent manner.
"I watched him at play one night
when Satan seemed to throw every
card to this calm, self possessed man.
There was a cool, matter-of-fact way -4
about him which froze the ardor of
every one else except a young man
about 25 years old. This player was
in ill luck, but with flushed face and
feverish eye he made his bets furious
ly, only to lose every time. It soon
became evident that he was playing
beyond his means. Moore must have
noticed it, for he ceased to bet heavily
against the younger man. This anger
ed the other.
"There was a pot of $300 once, and
everyone had dropped out except
Moore and the young man. Moore
had been playing his hand like a won
derful automaton, passionless but
sure. No man but his opponent per
haps could doubt that he held the
winning hand. Suddenly when his
rival had bet $50, Moore laid down
his hand, saying
4I
'Not with you,' said the young
man, swelling. 'Not until I prove that
you are afraid to bet,' and with a sud
den motion he threw his hand across
the table and seizing Moore's hand,
turned the cards face upward on he
table.
"I was on my feet at the instant to
arrest Moore's right arm, for I felt
that he would draw his revolver at the
insult. But a hush fell over those
around the table and the hot-headid
young man was gazing stupidly at the
cards before him. Four aces lay there
—an invincible hand, for straights
were not played. There was a bluie
tinge in Moore's white lips and the
young man looked bewildered and
bur.st into tears.
'We can't play together any more,'
he cried. "You threw money in my
iocket because I was losing too much.
can't take it,' he said arising from
his chair.
'You can't said the gambler in an
even voice. 'I laid down my hand.
The money iB yours, Besides,' he add-'
ed with a shiver, 'I held out an ace on
you.'
"Every man at the table knew that
Moore had lied. We all got up andleft
the young man sitting there before
his money. I found Moore shortly
afterward on deck looking into the
darkly whirling water.
"'Give me your hand.' I said,
"What in the world did you mean?
You never cheated at cards in your
life.'
'Tut, tut,' he answered, with a
little laugh that was slightly harsh,
he is only a boy and I loved his moth
er once.
EN.
The feminine termination^as'fallen^^ 3S||
into disuse of recent years, so tbat
poetesses and authoresses are now
seldom mentioned but the Chicago
Mail calls attention to some new esses.
A reportress on a St. Paul paper
speaks of a lady "who is well-known
as a realestatespeculatress." A Pitts
burg paper alludes to "the presiden
tress of the board of managers of the
world's fair and an Indianapolis par V11
per chronicles the elopement of a
"dime museum freakess."
If this matter is to go on, it is time
the school teacheresses were heard
from.
Not Fresh.
Not Fresh.
The ''tramp" nuisance is largely
Abated,
at least in some'parts of the
country, but it has ljrft its mark upon
literature.
"Whew is your Wood-pile, lady?"
inquired
a
tramp, to whom the kind-
hear^hoylMeperhadgiven "a bite
"It's outui the shed. How though
t
folofyciut0 offerto
I not going to split any
.? MaiO Mlit this
bjbcuit."~Bofton
M.
won't bet. I
have nothing. You played that hand
well.'
"The young man reached out fever
ishly for the pile of money and then
his hand lay on the table.
"That is not true," he said. 'You
have a good hand and are afraid to
play it against me.'
"Moore shot a hot glance across the
table at him, and two red spots flash
ed into his cheeks.
'I lay down my hand," he said,
slowly, but with a slight tremor in his
voice.
'And I say," added the other in a
low tone, 'you are a gambler and
therefore a coward.'
'Hush,' I said, laying my hand on
the young man's sleeve, 'You don't
know what you are saying. He is not
a coward by any means.'
"The young man shook off my hand
vehemently,
'He isa coward," herepeated, 'and
I will answer for my words at the next
landing.'
"I looked at Moore. He sat stiff
and motionless,' with a terrible fire in
his eyes. I was amazed at his next
words.
'Does the game go on?' he asked
lr
IS*
*1
-fe 'f
1
I vs1
U'jl
i-V1
"{[/J
I "-V 'r'r*''V
sr
iff
I