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tjswis ^ndfpritdeaf ^nili) $tep;i|)fr: Joii the promotion of ffii| falitiipl, jj?oqfai, ^icultooil and flj,ommci;riaI J liferents of Ity ?ouft. ^ Jtebms---$2.oo a tear in advance. ^ Vnt oo ~7~ | YORKVILLE, S. C., WEDNESDAY, JANUARY 4=, 1893. INTO.!. T -U. tJl/. BY F. A. MITCH1 Copyright, 1892, by A * CHAPTER IV. SEACKi THE FARMER'S SON. Mark took his pipe and went down to the yard to lave a smoke. Going back to the barn be entered into conversation with an old iarky Bitting on a barrel by F^jfcihestable door and evidently master oi bery^fine night, sah." /fpThat's notVery good tobacco you're ramoking, uncle. You'd better take some this hyar." m$ y'. sah.'* ''Dftyyu hear any news, uncle" My/eame't Dan'l, sah. No, eahflaont gut no news 'cept de sojere is getting mighty thick at Chattenoogy." "Do you kugw how many are there?" *1 reckon 'bout free .hundred thou?sand. ,~'i ~ * * * ? Mark laughed^ . "You're not much at figures," he said. "No, sah, I ain't got no larnen." *? "Uncle, I ehant want anything of yon while Pm hyar, but you must have somep'n to remember me by all the same," and Hark put a new crisp dollai greenback in the old man's hand. . "Bress de l>o'd, you is de fines' specermon ob a po' white gentleman I eberhac de facilatnde ob meeten." "Well, don't spoil it all by tellen t'other hands. Keep if to yourself." "Sbonuff. I ain't.gwine to tell nobody." - Mark left Uncle Daniel chuckling on " his barrel and strolled about the grounds. Presently he found himseli walking near the front of the house. The mother and daughter sat ou the veranda in the moonlight. Presently n? J l.. .1 anil bUO IMU^UbCi VOU1D UUWU tuu ovcyo w**v advanced to where Mark was loitering. "Mamma says that if yoa like yot may?she would be pleased to have you come up and sit on the veranda." "Thank you!" Mark was about tc lift his.hat in his usual deferential manner, but suddenly remembered that he was not supposed to be a gentleman. He followed the girl up. to the veranda, and she placed a seat for him near where * they were sitting. '.'Your brother is a good deal younge: than you," said the mother when Mart - was seated. "Oh, yee, ma'am: he is'ten yean younger." . "You don't resemble each other at all You are light, and he is dark." "So wo don't. Jakey's my stepbrother, you know." . - "You didnt tell us that," remarked t_ J ue lauy. , " You're very thoughtful of him," said Mian Laura, "considering he is only yotu stepbrother." "Waal, ma'am, I'm very fond of him all the same." "He seems to be a peculiar child." "Yas, Jakey, he is peculiar, very peculiar, ma'am." "You haven't told us your name yet,' said the mother. "Slack. Fm Fanner Slack'saon." "How many field hands does youx father own?" "Father, he don't own no niggers ai alL We're jest only poor whites." ""You're very' frank about it," said Laura. '.'Waal, there ain't no use makes purtensions." "And yon go to Chattanooga torn or Towr asked the mother. "Yas, ma[am: I c&llate ter do some tradenthagT" # "And you will return this way?" ' "1 reckon H! be along- hyar in a few days." The mother continued the pumping process for awhile, but whether she made no progress, or whether Mark succeeded in establishing himself in her confidence, she arose and walked with all the statelineas of a southern high born matron into the house. There she resumed the book she had been reading earlier in the evening. \ "What bright ttar U thatT' Mark had kept up his assumed char acter very well during her presence Now that he was left alone with th< daughter he was put to a much severe: test. The girl had something of thi stateliness of her mother as that state liness had appeared in her mother' youth. Mark had been so usedfrom hi childhood to meet a refined bearing wit) one equally refined that he fouiid it dii ficolt to avoid doing so now. "Don't you love to look at the stars Mr. Slack?' asked the young lady. "Waal, yas, Miss"?"My name is Laura Fain." i "I hev always been fondo' the scienc or? He paus6ly bB" tftrWeiltyremen: be red that jxxJr "white trash" were no usually versed in any of the sciences. M A aKaionrmliAd. AQV1 VUVUlJ t ouvjgu^? "Waal, yas." . "'How did you cofce to learn astronc mjT / "Oh, I don't know nothen 'boot it," h / said quickly. "I hearn a man at Jaspe talken onct. He said a heap o' qua things." "What bright star is that?" pointing. "Venus, I reckon.*^ "I wonder how far it is from us?" sh said musingly. "Venus? Why Ve$ms is sixty-eigb [ ? millions of miles, I reckon" "I happen to know that's a correct ai swer." Mark suddenly became conscious c having forgotten himself. He recoileci ed his critical position and resolved t proceed with greater care. "How far is the moon?' asked Mif Fain. "The moon's a hundred million miiei I reckon." "Oh, no. You're far oct of the wa there. It's only about two &u<cirea am forty thousand miles." "Waal, now!" exclaimed Mikk in we! feigned surprise. crL- 1?1?' atlhim. hr OQO IWkCU ocoinuujjij ?> > -Mark looked as if he had simper receive >n interesting piece of information. "Do yon like poetry?' she asfced chanf ing the subject. "Some'at." "My favorite poet is Teouylon. Is b yours too?" ^ This was dangerous ground for Marl He had a special fondnewfor foe try, an was more likely to betray timself c v this than on any other snbjeci "No," he said; "I love Sbelfcy best." "Why, Mr. Slack, howcanjrouunde stand Shelley? I can't." , j "Waal, he is kinder obtf/jplike." "Do you remember anry<*j}iis poem A If you do, I would likefljl Itor you r 1 peat it." S "Waal, I mought gi\? B>lh few lin f.; ] of the 'Ode to the Spir* (Mature.'" "Please do." ( ySEOCMJA* j EL, (LATE U. S. A.) I s' " J merican Press Association. Mark would have done well to let the "Ode to the Spirit of Nature" alone; but with a beautiful girl beside him, the ^ > . half moon sinking in the west and all i nature in repose, he momentarily forgot ? t his assumed character entirely. He be- "t gan, intending to give only a few lines and not to forget his dialect; but the spirit of nature was in him as well as . in the poem, and by the time he had recited a few lines he was as oblivious to ( the character of Slack, the farmer's son, > as if he had been the poet himself. Sud- ^ denly he awoke to the consciousness of having given the whole poem in his nat- ^ ural tone and with his ordinary accent. ; "Mr. 81ack," said his listener when he i had finished, "did you learn that from ( a man in Jasper?" "No?no?I?waal," he stammered, "1 . ?l??rnn irf W? fwmrftmfnn I . X-jLTJ DIVIO U giuuvv w? ??w | bat failed to detect any unusual expression on her face. He took courage. yrhat do yon raise on your planta1 iion?' Bhe asked. 1 "Oh, we put in some potatoes and 1 cq{n and straw this year." . "Straw?" "No, no; not straw." Mark was as little conversant with the farmer's art L as he was familiar with the poets. "I mean hay." , 1 The girl looked at him and smiled. "The wheat was all gotten in early this summer, 1 am told," she remarked ' casually. j t "Yas, we got in ourn early. We jest , > finished up before 1 kem away." . r "Why, Mr. Slack!" Mark knew that he had blundered j > again. ^ "Wheat is gathered in July," she in- ( I formed the young fanner. ' 9 "I mean the corn," he 6aid wildly. ] 1 "The corn comes later. It is ripening 1 now." j Mark felt it was all up with him so * far as deceiving Miss Fain as to his being j a farmer, but he struck out boldly to ' undo some of the mischief. j "Waal, you see, Miss Fain, to tell the j whole truth, dad he don't reckon much j 1 on my farmen. He says I oughter be a j perfessor or somep'n o' that sort." "A.gentleman, for instance." j : Mark made no reply. For the first tiipe he detected irony in her tone. i "Mr. Slack?if that is really your name, which 1 don't believe?you are fi certainly not very complimentary to my sense of perception." ' "How sor "In trying to make me think you are ^ not an educated gentleman." Mark saw the futility of keeping up ' the sham with Miss Laura Fain any longer. He resolved to give her so much Wo "AnfirJnnon a a wao TlOPOflUflnr fn 1 keep her from betraying him, if indeed he could do so at all. His manner and his tone changed in a twinkling. "I will be frank with you. 1 am not , what 1 have pretended, bat 1 am not here to injure you or yours." "Who are your She spoke with a certain severity that she had not shown before. "I cannot tell you. My secret is not my own." I "Are you a Union man?" i ?Yea.n "A northerner?" "Yes; but let that suffice. You would regret it if I should confide anything more to you. Yet from this brief interview I have learned to trust you suffi1 ciently to place my life in your keep- c ing." 5 She thought a moment. A faint shudder passed over her. 4 "I don't want to know your secret." "Will you tell your mother what you 4 ! have discovered?" asked Mark anxiously. 3 ) "Not for worlds." "You suspect"? He paused and D 1 - - r looked at her inquiringly. ( "Yes, yes. Don't say any more. Don't breathe another word. Only go away ' from here as soon as possible." "I shall go tomorrow morning. I j shall always hold you in grateful re- ' membrance. You are a splendid?a * lovely woman. I owe you" "Yes. yes; go?go early." ' She rose and went into the house. In ' a few minutes a colored boy came out c and told Mark that he would show him to his room. As Mark had been there ! ' before, he knew this meant that he was 1 expected to retire for the night J As he went by the parlor he glanced in. The mother sat by a lamp on a ' "center table" reading. Miss Fain's face was also bent over a book. It was j ' white as the margin of the page she pre- ' tended to read. ! 1 ! ' CHAPTER V. J 1 GLORIOUS PERFIDY. When Mark went down stairs the next , morning, followed by Jakey, they were invited into the breakfast room. Laura j . Fain was there, but her mother was not : Mark looked at Laura, but she avoided : his gaze. ?le asaea arter ner momw. 3 "Mamma scarcely ever gets up to r breakfast," she said as she poured out 3 a substitute for coffee. During the meal she said but little, , 8 and that was only on commonplace sub3 jects. She seemed to have more on her a mind than the soldier who was taking r. nis lire in ms nanus, ana studiously avoided looking at him at all. Jakey ate heartily. Mark noticed him eating with his knife and otherwise displaying his humble origin, while he was j himself eating like a gentleman. He 0 thought that it was lucky Mrs. Fain was ' L, not at the table. ^ After breakfast Mark follovred his hostess through a door opening into a ! sitting room on the opposite side of the ( hall from the parlor. h "Miss Fain," he said, "I know too well ' the station of your family and southern . e ' customs not to accept as a gift the hos- ' r pitality you have afforded. I can only j r express my indebtedness, and the hope : that some day the war may bo over and ! | I can come down here and show my j , gratitude for something of far more j 4 4 ^ 1 ?,1 ? - | moment to me man a mgut a iuu^iu^. He paused, and then added: j j "May I ask a question? Are you a Union or a Confederate girl?" "Confederate." Mark looked at her uneasily. ,{ "I inferred from what you said last ! ' night that you will not betray me." 0 ! "I will not." I "But you think you ought to." el "Id0-" Mark stood gazing at her. She was | 5 ; locking out of the window with a trou- j ' j bled expression. y ' "Miss Fain," he said, "you may be a doing wrong; you may be doing right. At any rate you are acting the part of a [1 woman, and this act makes you in my ; eyes the loveliest woman that lives." i The words were scarcely Bpoken when d the muscles of the girl's face contracted ) into an expression of horror. Mark could r. 1 not understand why his speech had so affected her. The natural uncertainty of his position impelled him to look about ! 10 him for the cause. Glancing out of the | front window he saw an officer in gray j ?, uniform on horseback in the act of reachid j ing down to open the gate. ,n "Come, quick!" she said, seizing his arm. "No, no! Mamma! She doesn't j know. Oh, what shall we do?" r* Mark took her by the hand and spoke to her coolly, but quickly. "Call Jakey | ) for me, and we will both go down 6tairs i and from there to the barn. We can then go out without meeting this officer, for he is doubtless coming in. There is | 88, no especial danger. We shall meet plenty | of soldiers before we return." I She flew out of thersom to find Jakey. ' Vhile she was gone Mark watched the pproaching horseman. He was a fine pecimen of a southern man?tall and lender, with long black hair, mustache nd goatee and a fine black eye. He >oked, as he came riding up the roadray, the impersonation of the southern entleman. Before he had dismounted Mark and akey were on their way to the barn. Laura Fain opened the front door just s the officer was coming up the steps. "Why, Cameron!" she exclaimed, how did you get away? 1 thought you cdd me you were to be officer of the tiard today." J?l persuaded my friend the adjutant o Retail another man." WTas there a special reason?" 'Certainly. 1 positively couldn't stand t another day not to see you. Besides ve ate momentarily expecting orders to :ros?to this side of the river." "Brit you will be nearer to us then, von'tfou?" "1 art afraid not Once on this side "Now oo tf you can!" the 8(tid. nought aim quite a gentleman for one o poorly dressed." "But I changed my mind, mamma." aid Laura quickly. "And what was the occasion of so udden a bouleverseruent?" asked the aptain. "Why?why, when we were Bitting n the veranda after you went in. mamna" "Sitting on the veranda with a oounryman!" exclaimed the lover. : "Well, yes; mamma said to invite jve'li Dot Biup ueurei tuttu fitntu ui Poe's.. We may join Colonel Forrest lear Sparta, or wherever he may be, loubtless somewhere in the enemy's rear. He. seldom troubles the Yankees n front, put you are not listening, my { larlinjj.-eftd yorfare pale. You are not .11?" "Certatiily not." "You are sorry that 1 came?" "Why, Cameron, what do you mean? You know I always want you to come." She led the way into the sitting room, from which Mark had disappeared bat i minute before?a minute is a long while sometimes. Mrs. Fain entered ind received the guest most graciously. Captain Cameron Fitz Hugh was a poung Virginian, a graduate of the University of Virginia law school, tho son if wealthy parents, whose acres and negroes were numbered by thousands. He 3ad known the Fains before the war, Mrs. Fain having been born and reared in the Old Dominion. During a visit of Laura, to his people, shortly before the breaking out of hostilities, he had fallen in love with her, had proposed and was ' accepted. Both families being agreeable, the two were engaged to be married. 'This is an unexpected pleasure, capain," said Mrs. Fain. "I did not suppose 1 could get away ?day." "Everything is unexpected in these j limes. We never know who is coming i o us. Last night ll slept uneasily for 'ear that we harborec* a guerrilla in the louse." "How is that?" ashed Captain Fitz 3ugh. - \ "Where are the strangers, Laura?" "I think they are gone, mamma." "A countryman and hfe little brother," aid Mrs. Fain to the captain. "Laura tim up. But I was going to My"? jaura's inventive powers had giined ime to act by the interruptioi?"1 iound that he was only an ignorant 'armer after all, for 1 asked him how ar the moon was, and he said he reck- \ rned it was a hundred million mil<p." "That doesn't prove anything,"; Fitz 3ugh remarked. "1 don't believe there's m officer in my regiment knowsjthat. But it becomes us to be very cajeful. rhe commanding general has mide it mown unofficially through his staf officers that he is especially desirous ct con- j sealing his intentions. One spjfpene- ; crating for even a day at Chattafaooga might frustrate all his plans. If the enemy knew that we are concentrating 1 there, and how weak we are tlbre at present, he would or at least he jbould some down with a large force and drive us south." A troubled expression crossed baura's face. "Indeed!" said Mrs. Fain. "1 was j uot aware of that. Suppose the young man was a spy." "Cameron," said Laura.."1 wish you , wouldn't talk so to mamma. She will ; be suspicious of every poor beggar that asks a crust. The man's name was Slack, i There are plenty of Slacks umoog the poor whites about here. 1 have a sick ! family of that name on my hands now not a mile up the road." "Has the fellow gone?" asked Fita Hugh. "I think 1 would better see him." ! "Gone! of course he's gone," said ! Laura, with a heaving bosom. "Where did he say he was goiite?" "To Chattanooga," said Mrs. Fun 'I'll mount and follow him. +f-ecn | easily overtake him on horseback.? "Nonsense," said Laura, with ajpont; I "you have kept away from meifora week, and now you are going as sion its | you've come." ; j "But, my darling, would you shave me" j j - ? i i. , L I "i would nave you stay wiiere juiare. and" j Mrs. Fain, seeing that some cooitf was coming, wisely withdrew. . "And what, sweetheart?" ; "Tell me what I love to hear." sis said softly. \ "I've told you that so often youBlould j certainly be tired of it by this time?' Fitz Hugh looked inquiringly inb her face as he smoothed back her hau( He was used to these requests to repe$ his assurances of affection, but tliertwas a nervous something about his fi?cee this morning that puzzled him. His back was toward the wirlow, while she was facing it. Suddenly Bhe clasped her arms tightly around tin. "Now go if you can!" she said, affecting a playful tone. ,;y j "Why, Laura, what does this uwki?" he asked, astonished. "You don't love me," she wMnedJ "Love you, pet! You knowjl do." "Then why do you act so?" "Act how?" "You never come any mora but you want to go right away." "But, sweetheart"?a half dozen ki$8e3 for exclamation points?1"I only intrnd being gone a little while." ? "If you once start out to follow somebody you don't know anything aljput you'll be gone all day, and then you'll be ordered away, and maybe 111 neverko you any more." Never was a lover more charmed!at such evidence of woman's ajfection, jjod never had this lover less cause to (be charmed at the evidence of his bold upon Laura Fain. Had Chptain Htz Hugh seen what Laura Fain saw from the moment she put her mm around him and held his back to the windoIL. Mark and Jakey going down the w? to the gate?he would hare exclaim^. "Oh,"woman, thy name is perfidyP po "Oh, woman," the departing soldier gu would have responded, "thy name is indeed perfidy, but how glorious thy perfidy!" CHAPTER VL ^ ^ ^ THK^ LINES.^ ^ ^ ^ | Mark handed the. wild whiskered fsp~y- Pe man the crisp ten dollar note. th j "Jakey," said Mark as they passed be- tu. hind trees that hid them from the house, w "I don't like that officer coming to the eaj Fain plantation just at this time. There'll * ^ surely be some mention of us, and it is ? possible he may want to have a look at . ns. You know, Jakey, we're only poor. W1 modest people, and don't want to be stared at." / "We ain't got our store clothes on, and don't want ter make no acquaint- aa i ances," Jakey observed solemnly. j? Mark had noticed Laura Fain's agitation when she caught sight of the officer ; at the gate, and knew there was good reason for it. He did not fear that she j"3 | would betray him intentionally, but that she might be led to do so from her very ?? anxiety to keep his secret. "The first chance we get, Jakey, we'll ?? take to the woods. We told them we were going to Chattanooga, and if this ?a officer takes it into his aristocratic head "? to escort ns with true southern polite- nc ness a part of the way he'll expect to find ns on the Chattanooga pike." "N' twonldn't be perlite fo' ter git in 6 his way." They had gone but a trifling distance :J1C when they came to a creek flowing?as a wayfarer they met told them?through ' ?l Moccasin gap. The road crossed it by something between a hedge and a cul vert.' Mark led the way from the road , up the creek and began to climb the hillsr on which there was sufficient Pu growth of timber to afford concealment. For au hour he trudged along with Wl Jakey beside him. ?He tried to get the boy to give him his hand to help him along, but Jakey demurred indignantly 1 and kept his sturdy little legB so well at 8h work that he never once fell behind his companion. At last they came to a hut occupied ' by an old negro. .1 "Good morning, uncle!" Baid Mark. f" "Mornen, sah." . 'Hev y' seen anything of a colored boy "bout eighteen years old go by hyar this mornen?" n* No, sah." "He's my boy Saw, and I'm a-hunten him. He run away last night. He'll git a hundred ef 1 ketch him." "I ain't saw him, sah, 'n 1 tell yo' what, marst'r, ef I had saw him 1 wouldn't inform yo' ob de fac." "Tbet's the way with you niggers, vow -ttre "nmnoetf lurnuu yunr neaus. But it won't last long. Our boys'll drive 'em so fur no'th pretty soon that you darkies'll hev tostoprunnen away." "Now don' yo' believe datso sarten." "Do you really believe the Yanks can whip us?" "De Lo'd hes sent 'em to tote his colored people out o' bondage." Mark was satisfied with this prelim- * inary examination that he could truBt ^ the old man. "Uncle, I'm no 6ecesh. I'm a Union man. 1 want to stay with you today and travel tonight. Keep me all day, *s and I'll go uway as soon as it is dark." "Fo' de Lo'd. I knowed yo' wa'n't no south'n man all de time." "How?" "Yo' ain't not de south'n man s wayo' "c talken. Yo' did liit well enongh, but yo' cain't fool me." 'Well, will you keep us?" en 'Reckon I will." so * What'h your name?" to "Randolph's my name, 6ah. Jeffson hii Randolph. My marst'r said he gib me a ab mighty big name, but hit didn't do no foi good. l)ey always call me notten b& to Jeff." lui You're as well off as the president of th the Confederacy in that respect," said tai Mark. "I guess we'll go inside." i ou Yes, go in dar. Keep dark." | Mark and Jakey waited for the day to | toi pass, and as they had no means of amus- j lec ing themselves it passed very slowly. I no Jakey played about the creek for awhile, I ba but both were glad when the darkness j ea came and they could get away. j fri Before setting out on his expedition | Mark had carefully studied a map of th the region, preferring to fix it in his on mind than to carry it about his person. ce Upon leaving Jefferson Randolph's hut tu he made direct for the Tennessee river. all Once there, he knew from his reraem- i be brance of the map that he was not far j ge from Chattanooga, and that between j at him and that place was Moccasin point, , th formed by a bend, or rather loop, in the w< river, the point putting out southward j a for more than two miles, with a dis- j he tance of nearly a mile across its neck. ( he But he knew the ground was high on ne the east 6hore of the peninsula, and he j 6t( did not know the proper place to strike j inland and cut off the distance around j the river's margin. There was no one I Of near to inform him, so he kept on by the river. to It was late at night when they reached I a point where the river took a slight bi turn to tfie east, and about a mile from w< the quick bend around Moccasin point, a < Marx was anxious to enter Chattanooga ut either lute at night or soon after day- wi light, hoping to meet few people, that th his entrance might not be noticed. He cast his eye about for some means of co crossing the river. Noticing a skiff m moored just below a hut, he surmised ah that the skiff belonged to some one liv- gi ing in the hut. Going to the door he knocked. ca [ "Who's thar?" j w< | "Do you una own the skiff on the river ! po J below hyar?" ! th "Waal, supposen I does?" j lo: j "I want to cross." [ he "What d' y' want ter do thet fur at j as i this time o' night?" j "Father dyen. Just got word a spell i sti ago." ; cb "What'll y' give ter get over?" ! so "Five dollars." j fe ' "What kind o' shinplasters?" j ti< J "Greenbacks." i ^ { "Whar d' y' git 'em?" j u, j "From 6ome people ez got 'em traden bh i with the Yankee sojers at Battle Creek." ui j "All right, stranger, but it's a sight o' he bad times ter be called ter a man's door I ic at night. You uns go down ter the river ! cc "n I'll cover y' with my gun tel I know | ve 1 yer all right." j ct | "I won't mind a small thing like that ef you'll put me 'n my lectio brother j 0I | across." st Mark and his companion went down ce ! to the river. Pretty soon a wild lookingman, with a beard growing straight out ni from his face like the spokes of a cart u i wheel, came cautiously down, covering v, i them with a shotgun as ho proceeded. n "Got a pass, stranger?" Ci "No." ! i, "Reckon they won't let y' land when C I y' get over thar." B1 i "These army fellers are like a rat h 1 trap," said Mark; "they ain't so partic- c< i ular as to goen in; it's the goen out they F I don't like. But v' better try to 6trike a. i Inton tbe river whar tber ain't no ard." "Far how mach?" "An extra fiver." "Greenback?" "Yon ain't very patriotic. Won't y* tee Confederate bills?" Not when I can get green una." 'Y' ain't a Union man, are y'?" No. But I know a valyble thing len I sees it." The night would have been very dark d it not been for the moon behind the iuds. As it was, the boat could only seen from the shore when they drew > near. They pulled up the river west Moccasin point, keeping near the 3t bank. They conld see campfirea guards on the other shore. Once, tting too near a river picket, they sre seen and challenged. "Who goes thar?" "Oh, noueo' your business!" said Mark ringly. "Pull in hyar or I'll make it some o' y business." "Oh. now. see hyar! We can't stop ery tive minutes to please a guard. >w do you know but we're on army, .siness?" "Well, pull in hviy^ud show your pars." ... . . M^fiwhifo4flW4t*Vynnit wasdManing e oars moving gentl? anfc tap ooat rned at an angle with tHNvtrent, lich was taking the boat toward the st shore. "Now pull awayKfearty," lispered Mark, and the bchtafeot out sight of the picket in a twining. A illet whistled over their heads, but de of the mark. "Golly 1" exclaimed Jakey. "What a rty tune it sings 1" They were now off Moccasin point, id Mark began to look for a landing ice. Just above he noticed a campe, and above this was a place where e bank was low, with overhanging *es. Mark directed the ferryman to ill for these trees. He slipped a handrchief in one of the rowlocks?the ly one used in turning the boat into ore?so as to muffle the oar. The ast seemed to be clear for a landing, it as they drew near they proceeded utiously and listened for the slightest und. The boat's nose touched without ise, and Mark and Jakey got out. Mark handed the wild whiskered ferman the crisp ten dollar note, which clinched eagerly. "Yer purty well ter do, stranger, conleren yer close." "Didn't y' hyar what 1 said to the lard 'bout business for the array?" "Yas." "Waal, don't say nothen 'bout it. Th' rafederate service pays ez it goe3." The ferryman cared little whom he died if he could make ten dollars in e night, and dipping his oars in the iter rowed away from the shore. Mark turned to look about him. His st move was to get under the trees, om there he proceeded inland for a ort distance, looking for something. "Ah, here it is!" he said presently.* low I know where 1 am." He had struck the Nashville and Chataooga railroad, which runs close to the rer bank for about a mile near where landed. He knew he was about two ilea from the town. "Now, Jakey," he said, "we'll bivouac jbt here. As soon as it is light we ast set out. Are yon sleepy?" "Am I? Reckon 1 am!" CHAPTER VII. THE CAMPS AT CHATTANOOGA. ap," he said, "I bc'n thlnkcn I'd like ter Jinc the army." A.t the first sign of dawn Mark awaked his companion, who was sleeping soundly that it required a good shake rouse him. Jakey sat up and rubbed j eyes with his fists while Mark looked out him. He could see down the river r half a mile, where he noticed bluffs the waters edge, and thought it was cky he had not been forced to land ere. JJeyond were the Raccoon mounins, while close to the southwest Lookt mouutain towered above him. Aiter Jakey had completed his fist ilet?the only toilet either made?Mark 1 off on the railroad ties to Chattaoga. The railroad soon left the river nk, and they proceeded in a nnrthsterly direction, striking the town Dm the south. A. great many tents were in sight as ey passed along, and Mark judged at ce that there was a large force conntrated there. He was tempted to rn and retrace his 6teps, for he knew ready what he was sent to discover, it to get out was more difficult than to j t in, and he was not willing to risk an I tempt in the daytime, so he entered i e town in which citizen and soldier ' 3re alike asleep, and without meeting soul walked about till he came to a itel called the Crutchiield house. As i approached the door opened, and a gro boy with a broom in his hand )od in the opening. "Can I git a room?" asked Mark. "No, sah, not till de proprietor wakes >." "My little brother is tired; he must go sleep at once." The boy's eyes opened wide at a dollar 11 slipped in his hand. Without a 3rd he took a key from the rack above 3esk in the office, and in a few mines both travelers were safely lodged, ith no one but the negro having seen em enter the town or the house. "So far, so good," 6aid Mark. "Now mes the real racket. By this time toorrow morning 1 shall be either safe ross the river again, or 1 wouldn't ve a Confederate bond for my life." After a few hours' sleep he rose, and lling Jakey they made a toilet and ;nt down to breakfast. Mark had pursely neglected to write his name on e register, and hoped that the landrd would not notice the omission. But i did, and the guest entered his name Mark Slack, Jasper, Tenn. After breakfast he took Jakey and rolled around the town, making pur;ases. Ho thought it prudent to get me of his greenbacks changed for Con- j derate bills, fie followed the sugges- j in .TnVfiv bad made at settimr out and ! lught some calico and tobacco and j e squirrel gnu Jakey had modestly j (ggested for himself. Mark was not f twilling to have the gun with them, as j ) thought it might possibly bo of serv- j o in case he should get hunted and >rnered; but in that event he counted : ;ry little on any means of defense ex- | pt flight or deception. Mark was astonished at the number j : officers and soldiers he saw in the [ reets. He found a new general in | tminand, of whom ho had not heard as prominent leader, Braxton Bragg. Ho lade a circuit of the town and an estilate of tlio troops, hut this was of little ulue, for upon the arrival of trains igiment after regiment marclied into imp. Mark stood on the sidewalk holdlg Jakey by the hand, looking at tho onfederates tramping along under tho ;ars and bars, their bands, when they ad any, which was rare, playing disordantly "Dixio" or "Tlio Bonny Bluo lag." "What regiment air thet ,'ar?" asked I Mark of a soldier standing beside bin puffing at a rank cigar. "Eighth Tennessee." "Whar they all come from?" "Tupelo. Come from thar m'self i spell ago." "Whar y' goen?" "Only old Bragg knows, and he won'i tell. Reckon we're goen no'th to Knox ville ter foller th' two brigades ez weni up a spell ago." "What troops air all these hyar anc them ez is comen?" "Waal, thar's Cheatham's and With era' divisions, and I reckon Anderson's I saw Gineral Polk terday, 'n they sa] Hardee's hyar. I'm in th' Twenty fourth Tennessee m'self, and thet'i Cheatham's. Lay's cavalry brigade ii hyar. Thet's all tne cavalry i Knows on.Mark was amazed. A large sonthen force was concentrating at Chattanooga and perhaps they wonld ponr into Ten nessee or Kentucky by one of the routei pointed oat to him by his general. I was a splendid plan, provided the gen eral who was to execute it could kee] his enemy from knowing his intention) long enough to throw an army on hi) flank or rear. Then in making a circuit of the towi Mark was impressed with the natura atoength of the position. He gazed ove; the plain eastward, his eye resting 01 Missionary ridge, but did not dream o the soldiers' battle destined to tak< place there a year later, when the mei in the Army of the Cumberland, disre garding the plans of their superiors would start from the bottom of tha mountain and defeat an enemy pourini Bhot and shell down upon them fron the top. "Why didn't our generals occupy thi place when they couldr sighed Mark "Now it is too late." While it was evident to Mark that th< enemy were concentrating for a movi against the Union lines, there was noth ing to indicate where they would striki except the mention of the^wo brigade as having gone to Knoxville. He knev that they might strike any one of sev eral points from Battle Creek to Knox ville, and eagerly sought for some indi cation where it would be. Hestrollei about with Jakey all the afternoon, tin two sufficiently resembling countr bumkins to avoid suspicion. Passing i recruiting station, Mark went inside tb tent, where an officer was writing at i pine table. "Cap," he said, "1 be'n thinken I\ like ter jine the army." "You're just the man we want 17 ~ KnMA on/) m?oolC XUU VU piCUlJ Ui uvuo ntiu iuuuu*?. I should reckon you'd been in the rank afore this." "Waal, 1 don't want ter fight oute; my Btate 'f 1 kin help it" "What state?" "Tennessee." "1 reckon you'll have a chance to figh in it if you join the army." "Reckon so?" "Yas; I'm recruiten fur Cheatham' division. Thar all Tennessee rigement in our division except the artillery 'n rigement o' Georgia and one o'Texas ir fan try." "Whar is yer division?" "Across the river. At Dallas or Poe't somewhar up thar. Y' better let me pu yer down fur my rigement, the 1 Tennessee." "I mought hev ter go way down south. "No fear o* that jest now." "What makes y' cal'clate on t?" "There's two divisions across nowourn and Withers'. Y' don't reckon thei goen ter cross the river fur the purpos o' marchen south, do y7" "Oh, I don't know nothen txjut mili tary." "W?q- rfin tqIs-" "Eryreckon allthe sojers here is goe: to fight in old Tennessee, I reckon I will The abolition army hez overrun our state "n 1 want ter see 'em driv out." "The way to do it, my good man, is t take a musket and help." "Do ye reckon th't's what we're goei ter do?" "I tell you that two divisions are al ready across, and 1 happen to know tha all the transportation in the shape o cars and locomotives that can be foam are bein corraled hyar fur a furthe movement. Come, now, my man, sto; talken and take yer place whar y oughter be. What's yer name?" The officer took up a pen. "All right, cap, count me in. I'll jes go 'n git my bundle and be back hyar i; half an hour." The captain hesitated. Mark bega: to fear that he was thinking of usinj force rather than let so promising a re cruit go. "Are you sure you'll come back?" "Sarten, cap." Mark moved away, and it was not ur til he had got out of sight that he real ized he had run a great risk, for he sa\ that the captain would have detaine him had he not believed in his sincerit; about enlisting. Mark went straight to the hotel an paid his bill. He feared the recruitin officer might send for him or have hii followed, so without waiting to eat hi supper he made a package of his pui chases. Jakey took his gun and slun hia powder and shot flask over hi shoulder. Then the two left the hot< to begin an attempt to leave Chatti nooga. Their stay had been only froi sunrise to sunset, but Mark had gaine all the information lie was likely to a< quire and was anxious to get away wit it. True, he did not know where th enemy would strike, but this he woul not be likely to learn. [to uk conti.nl'ki) kkxt wkkk.l Fun.?"What is it?" asked Mi: Staflbrd, as Wallace Smith raised h hand. "Tommy Duiilap is sticking a pi into me!" "Why do you do so, Tommy," sai his teacher reprovingly. "Oh, it is fun!" said Tommy, wit a grin. "Is it ?" asked Miss Stafford, "Coir ? ? * - ? t ?r.... , Here aim lei me see; i vujuy um > well as anybody." Tommy walked slowly up the aisl He did not know what Miss Stallbi was going to do. He was afraid si would punish him in some way, ai her ways of punishment were so quee ami never agreeable to naughty boys "Stand here beside me," said tl teacher, gently. "Now, I am going see if sticking pins is really fun," ai taking a pin from her desk, she priel ed Tommy's hand lightly. The boy winced, and drew his hai away. "Why, it is fun, isn't it?" said Mi Stafford, and she pricked again hard this time. "Ow!" cried Tommy. "Oh, what fun it is?" said his tcac er, giving Tommy a third prick. "O-o-w!" screamed Tommy. "Don't von like it?" asked Mi Stafford. "You told me it was fun !' "Well I don't like to be hurt whimpered Tommy. "Ah, that is the trouble with tl kind of fun ; it always hurts som body! Wallace does not like to hurt any better than you do, and wh was fun to you was pain to him. 11 member, Tommy, that the fun will hurts a person, or dog, or eat, or bir or any living tiling, should never indulged in. Next time that y< want fun, stop and ask yourself whet er it is going to cause pain." mistaku as an antiim?tk.?it frequently asked how much musta should he given if it is desired to ma a patient sick in ease of croup or pi soiling. A tablespoonI'ul of grow mustard to a tumbler of warm wat is the rule. Salt is almost as ellic eious as mustard if the latter is u at hand. If the lirst tumbler has i effect give more, and tickle the ha of the throat with a feather. 1 5Ui.$ccUanrmt;s Reading. WITH A WAGON TRAIN. It has been proved beyond the shadt dow of a doubt that after the Mormons ' located at Salt Lake they bent all their energies to two things?making I friends with the Indians and seeking to prevent white people not of their . own faith from penetrating into that country. They did gain the good r will of the several tribes of Indians . with whom they came in contact to 3 such a degree as made it safe for a 3 Mormon to go anywhere. Once in a 1 while one was killed before he could i identify himself, but the man who , proved himself a Mormon need have - no fear of the savages, who had been 3 trained from infancy to hate a white t man and take his scalp whenever op portunity offered. j This desideratum was accomplished 3 in various ways. They made common s cause with the redskin against the remainder of the white race, promising 1 him all the scalps and plunder. They 1 made him presents, caused him to ber lieve that they were persecuted bei cause they espoused his cause, and in f other ways got such a firm hold on his a affections that he became the most i powerful ally that they could have se lected. They made him arrow heads . and lance heads, they provided him t his first fire arms and best tomahawks, J they fed him when he was hungry, and 1 helped to outfit him when he went tc war. 8 When the California gold fever be gnu to push long wagon trains across the country, the Mormons saw what 3 the result would be unless they could 3 stop the rush. Left to themselves, the savages would no doubt have attacked 9 in every case where there was hope o! 8 | success, but not one person would hav< 7 i been killed where ten actually yielded up their lives but for the assistance oi I the accursed Danites. These were th( " | "good men and true" of the Mormor church?the enthusiasts and fanatic! 0 | who could be depended on to carry oui ^ j any order ftnd preserve the secrets o 0 1 their church with their last breath. I They knew the country, the trails the streams, and ravines 'and valleys j I from Council Bluffs or St. Joseph t< I their own doors in Salt Lake City . J They were strung out along ovei I *1.- t.nil onrl in nrmstftn' j I 11112 UVCIIilllU VSUIIy UIM* ... g ! communication with the Indians j They acted as guides?were elected a; a ; captains of trains?sought every posi tion which would enable them to pla^ | into the hands of their allies and worl the destruction of trains. This wrii t not even suspected, however, unti they had worked fearful slaughte: among the gold seekers. No living 8 man will ever be able to give figurei is on the train people murdered during a the many years in which the overlant l- trail was in daily use. The first train I went out with, sait an old scout, consisted of fifteen wag j; ons and fifty persons. Of these twenty it two were full grown men and wel h armed, and each one fully realized th< perils which beset the route. It woult " seem the height of folly for a husbant to invest his all in a span of horsei and wagon and set out for Californii - with a sickly wife and three or fou: i children, but plenty of them did so e Indeed there was no train without it! women and children, and their pres i- encc always increased the dangers j Previous to leaving St. Joe, we Unci t< . /.Wt . .-i'''"- of tj^e train, a "bass.' a j whose word should he luw until w< ' reached the end of our journey. ' ! This position naturally fell to soim veteran?some hunter, scout or India! 0 fighter, who was posted as to the way and routes of the Indians. Some suel a man was always going out with a train ; In our case the choice lay betweei : two?oncan old trapper of many year * i experience, who looked honest anc * I seemed to have plenty of experience a I and a man who was a stranger to all r | but who was loud in his boasts of hov P I many Indians he had killed and wha e ! a brave, careful man he was. I dis j liked him at first sight, as I know hi . ! did me, but, though I did all I coulc Q ! to defeat him, he was elected to thi i position of captain. He was a fellov a | with an ugly, sulky look to his face eyes which were constantly rovinj ^ about and could never look you squari in the face, and in my heart I believe< I he meunt us ill. | I found one or two others who en j. | tirely agreed with me, but the majori [. ! ty were perfectly satisfied that he wu v i all right, and it would not be prudeu d j for us to say anything until we had i y j better foundation than mere suspicion It would have been rebellion to speal d against him or refuse to obey his or 5 1 l.? !,** nnii'nr tn riisnrn g I (K'rS| llllll lie null Ull J>vnn vw ? n 1 us and put us under guurd. s | At that date the train which pro r- { gressed one hundred miles into Kan g sas was sure to find the advance guar is of the Indians. On the fourth da; ;1 | out we sighted some at a distance, i- | narrowly watched our captain. II 11 closed the train up in good ordei d | stationed the defenders where the could do the most good, and exhihite h ! such nerve and caution that I bega e j to feel ashamed of myself for bavin; d suspected his loyalty. Hut for on circumstance, I should have banishc all suspicion. We saw the first Indians two hour before sundown. None of them cam nearer than half a mile, seeming to b 's i content with an inspection of on ; strength. An hour later, and we wer within two miles of the spot where w proposed to camp, the captain, whos id | name I neglected to state was Hakei ran up a green Hag on one of the wap ons. This Hag, as we afterwards eon ! eluded, he must have had secrete 10 1 about his person. He explained tlia ;ls if lie ran up the Hag the Indians woul i conclude that there were soldiers witl e- the train and haul off, and no one?n "d j one hut inc?questioned the truth c ,l! j policy of the proceedings. It struc "I ! me that he raised the Hag for a signa ') and when I stated my suspicion to on ' j or two others of the hand, they agree ,e j with me that he could have no otlie t? ( object. From that time we watchc >d , his every movement with the eyes ( k- a fox, but he made no further sign fc many hours. When we went int >d camp he took all the precautions th most timid could suggest, and I don ss | believe he slept two hours betwee er dark and dawn. The night passed without an alarn and it was after noon next day befor I'" j we saw Indians again. We had bee traveling an hour after the noon ha when we came to a singular bit < ss ground. It was a ridge about lift " feet wide, with heavy washouts or dr !" ravines on each side of it. This plat i could be avoided by turning to eitlu ''s the right or left, but Baker who ws e- mounted as most the rest of us wen l,e led the way right along this ridge, ut ( was watching him, and I saw that li ; was further ahead than usual. I ah: L'h saw him make a curious sign. II d, raised his right arm on a line with h !)C ear, bent the forearm across his hea< [>u and held it thus for a few secont with the palm opened and toward h horse's head. Looking ahead and I the left, I thought I caught a bri is glimpse of a dark object, somethii: rd like a black head peering above tl ke bank of the ravine. I was close to tl >i- head wagon, and I asked the iium I lid halt, and in twenty words made hi er understand that I lirmly believed tl a- Indians had prepared an ambuscai iot for us. I had made him understaii no this when Baker halted, and turned ek ! us with the query : I "What's the matter now ?" "The route looks dangerous," I answered. "The route is all right; bring your wagons. "Why can't we go to the right or left ?" I asked. "Look here," he began, as he rode back, is this^rain under my orders or yours?" "Yours, sir." "Then you be careful. If you attempt to interfere with me, I'll order you under arrest. Come on with the wagons." He turned and galloped forward. As he did so I rode to the right and a companion to the left to reach a point ' where we could see into the ravines. ' We both saw the same sight?the dry ditches crowded with redskins, and we both cried out together: "Shoot the villiain ! He has led us into an ambuscade!" I don't know who killed him. Five or six of us fired together just as he put his horse on a gallop, and he toppled from his saddle and fell to the earth. The Indians, seeing that they were discovered, sprang up and made ; a dash at us on foot. Although without a leader, we did just the right thing. Every man rushed to the front, leaving the rear of the train to take care of itself, and we gave the sav1 ages a volley which broke them up and left nine of their number dead on the ridee. The living sought cover, ran down the ditches behind a rise where 1 their ponies were concealed, and made j off without firing another shot, although there were eighty-four of them ' in the band. Had we got the train strung out on that ridge, every soul in the train would have been murdered ? within ten minutes. Baker was, as I * found out several years later, an active t Danite, and had led more than one l' hundred emigrants to slaughter. f , MISTAKEN POLITENESS. I Is there any one who has not sufferf ed from the mistaken politeness of J friends and neighbors? How many | times have host and guest sat matyr^ like till late in the evening, making j. heroic efforts to be agreeable, because each feared the other would think it rude if he expressed a wish to retire! ' Most of us, too, have been visited in j affliction by neighbors for whom we care nothing, and who care nothing ^ for us, but come because they thought t it would not be polite to stay away. A young miuister, not long ago, spent ' a Sunday with strangers. A (let the s evening service he said to a friend: " "My preaching tonight was a failure, j and I'll tell you why. The morning s service always exhausts me, and I am j in the habit of taking a nap in the afternoon ; then I feel fresh and bright at night. But the people with whom * I am staying devoted themselves to y entertaining me this afternoon, and I j thought it would not be polite to excuse myself. So I managed to keep I awake and appear interested, but my evening services had to suffer the eon~ sequence." , The friend chancing next, uay 10 meet, the young minister's hostess, made I some refrence to him, , "0," said the lady, "we liked him very much except for one thing. H? 3 stayed down stairs all the afternoon, and seemed to enjoy being entertained so well that we felt it would be rude ' to leave him; aud I confess I got completely tired out." What a mistaken politeness was this " on both sides! Every true Christian , is willing to deny himself even in little 4 things for the huppiness of others, but when two people deny themselves, and succeed in making each other miserable, the absurdity of the so-called politeness is apparent. And yet few of us are wholly guiltless in the matter. Politeness is a desire to please others, ' and to avoid whatever may be disagreeabl'e to them. It isn't always , easy to know what will please another, especially one who is a comparative ' stanger, and the only solution of the | difficulty is in simple frankness. Let t the host say to his guest: "I think you must be tired, and I hope you will feel ' at liberty to go to your room at any j time, though, of course I have no desire to hurry you." Certainly no one would stay after that unless he really was enjoying himself, in which case 1 the true host would be quite willing to b put aside his own preference in regard , to retiring. Oftentimes a host invites his guest to visit the manufactories?of the place or to go on some excursion, because he thinks his friend would wish to go, j when in reality it is an umitigated * bore to both. How much better tor him to say: "Now there are such ^ and such things which we might do, but I have no wish in the matter ex~ cept your pleasure. If you wouldn't 1 enjoy them don't hesitate to say so, and I should he delighted if you would suggest something else." This would j preclude all danger of obliging him { to do what was distasteful to him. j j If children, from the first, were ^ ; trained to frankness (not the so colled j bluntness which causes people to say I and do most disagreeable things, but i the frankness which answers friends | and acquaintances just as they would ! like to be answered), then they would ? , seldom make themselves and others (j uncomfortable through mistaken politeness.?Congregationalism ? 1 AN INTERESTING QUESTION. e i The London Spectator raises an inr tcresting question when it asks "whethe er there is not some ground for supe ' posing that, apart from questions of e our own convenience, there are not Pj i some desperately wicked animals I which are not only wicked per se, but i- 1 quite conscious that they are doing d i actions which place them outside the it i pale both of human and animal cond I sideration." Men are apt, as a rule, ii ! to consider animals in the bulk?to o j say with the school-boy that "the ir { horse is a noble animal," and let it go k at that, lint any one who has lived |( much with horses or with dogs, knows e I that the dispositions among them is as d i great as among men; that there are r horses and dogs which, judged in relad tion to the majority of their kind, are )f criminals, and deserve to be treated ir like criminals. That is to say, they o do wrong, not because U is their "ine j stinet," or because they know no bet't ler?as tigers prey on human life?but n | in contradistinction to their own moral ' sense. The consciousness of guilt is a 1, very common trait in all domesticated e animals. n Animals have the power of selfIt control. Any well-trained dog or >f horse will give you a conspicuous illusy tration of the truth of this theory; y I and even cats and birds, which some :e people place on a level with dogs and r i horses, although the evidence is is against this conclusion, have shown p( themselves to be by no means indiflerI ent to ethical considerations. Many ie ' wild animals, too, like elephants, differ io morally in no small degree. is Curiosities About Dentistry.? 1, Those who imagine that the care of Is the teeth and the replacemcu t of the is I natural grinders with false ones is ;o "something new under the sun," may ef be surprised to learn that artificial ig | teeth were made of ivory, placed on ie plates of the same material ami held ie | together and in place by gold wires to and rivets oOO to 1.()()() years before m Christ. Herodotus, "the father of hisic tory." tells us that the Kgvptians of le I the fifth dynasty understood the disid eases of the teeth and their treatto ment. There are several passages in history to lead one to the belief that I Ca-sar and Anthony wore artificial teeth. The date of the introduction of false teeth into Europe is uncertain. They were known in England as early at least as the discovery of America. "The Mathematical Jewel," published in 1855, contains an account of Sir x John Balgrave, "who caused all of hys teethe to be drawne out, and after bad a sett of ivory teethe in agayne." The visitor at the Centennial of 1876 was given a chance to view the false ivory masticators which once served the immortal Washington. CORN COB PIPE INDUSTRY. Corn cobs ure not only used as a fuel, but are also manufactured into tobacco pipes by Messrs. H. Tibbe & Son, of Washington, Mo., who have bujjU up a large and novel industry by manufacturing tobacco pipes from corn cobs. Mr. Henry Tibbe obtained through Munn & Co., a patent on July 9,1878, for a pipe made from a corn cob in which the interstices are filled with a plastic, self hardening cement. In 1882, Mr. Tibbe formed a stock company to manufacture corn cob pipes under his patent, and now receives as a royalty alone $250 a month, and, in addition to this, draws about $10,000 per year as his share of ^ie profits, which latter amount to about $50,000 a year. The company has the immense advantage of requiring very little money to carry on the business, as. the corn cobs are bought directly from the farmers by a St. Louis concern which delivers the cobs to the company and receives all the pipes the factory turns out. The only difficulty experienced is that they frequently cannot get a sufficient number of cobs to supply the demand for the now very popular corn cob pipes. The best cobs are the so-called Collier cobs, as they are very large and the grain is not so deeply seated in the cob as in the ordinary corn ears. Good cobs bring about a cent apiece, so that a farmer receives about $30 for a wagon load. The size required is about 1? inches in diameter, and each farmer desiring to supply cobs receives an iron ring of this size to iqeasure the cobs with. Rejected cobs are not usually carted back hy the farmer, and furnish a cheap fuel for the boilers of the factory. ' The ends of the accepted cobs are cut off by a circular saw, and a good sized cob is, in addition, cut in two pieces for making two pipes from a single Cob. Each piece is then bored out by suitable boring machines handled by the boys and serving to remove the pilh. The hollow pieces are then turned on the outside to give the proper shape to the bowl of the pipe. A good turner usually prepares about 3,000 cobs in ten working hours and receives $1 a thousand as compensation. The interstices in the turned pieces are then filled in with a plasttc, selfhardening cement, after which they are dried, sandpapered and shellacked. A barrel of cement is sufficient to fill the interstices of 30,000 pipes, and to shellac the same only a single gallon of shellac is necessary. The present plant of Messrs. Tibbe & * * - _/ ?f Son Has a capacity 01 ouu gruoa ui pipes per week.?Scientific American. HURRIED EATING IMPAIRS HEALTH. A habit easy to acquire, and most difficult to overcome, is that of fast eating. The best of food, taken without thorough mastication, is less digestible than that of au inferior quail- ^ ty, well chewed. The mouth is a mill, arranged to supply digestive fluids in proportion to the amount of griudiug done. When food is taken repeatedly without being sufficiently ground, the glands secreting this fluid lose their activity from want of use, aud dyspepsia ensues. Children should be trained to eat slowly, no matter bowJiupgrv or what important business is pressing.^-Much safer a little food well ground than a hearty mpfli swallowed Wiaste. Cold food is even more digest thau hot, if token too rapidly^^^?^^^ ' The normal temperature of ^he stomi ach is about ninety-eight degrees; food | has to be ruised to this temperature J before digestion can take place. A large quantity of cold food thrown 1 into the stomach by rapid eating is sure to prove more or less injurious; ! the same food, well masticated, would ! in the process have considerable heat ? imparted to it; hence, would be comparatively harmless. Is is easy to see why ice-water, taken with the meals, or in quantities alone, so often proves hurtful. When a person is very tired, chilled, or overheated, the stomach, j like the rest of the body, is not in j good running order, even for well mas! ticatecl food. At such times a cup of ; hot broth, milk or water, with a dash ; of cream aud sugar to flavor the latter, j would not tax the digestion, and | would temporarily relieve the cravings of hunger, and so give time for nature's j balance to be restored. These few sugi gestions are not for the invalid only, ! but for the well, with the hope that they may aid the former to regain, and | the latter to retain, that prime bless| ing?health. T. I> CI.T,,, (IT It ATS WKSCttlllxu a ami. i uiuv came near losing my life by being too ; smart," said Marion K. Forney, a ; member of the Mendacity Club, which was holding an informal session at the Lindell. "I was at Rio Janeiro ; and desired to go to Havana. There ? | were at that time no steamers plying , between those ports, and I had to take passage on a sailing vessel. The ship was to sail before daylight and I went aboard early to get comfortably ! settled. That evening I sat on the deck until long past midnight chatting I with a party of Knglishmen, who were ' also passengers. Presently one of them got up, tossed his cigar overboard and announced that he was go! ing ashore. 'The d?1 you are!" exj claimed one of his companions. 'You'll get left.' 'Exactly, he replied; I 'and if I go in this ship I'll get drowned. Look there! Don't you sec the rats arc leaving it?' and he pointed to the gang plank. Sure enough the J rats were going ashore, a hundred or more of them, headed by a good old rodent. Well, we all laughed at the young Rritishcr for believing sador j superstitious, and I guess I was the ! greatest scoffer in the lot. lie went and we stayed. On the second day out the ship sprang a leak, and before night was under forty fathoms of water. We took to the boats and drifted about for twenty-four hours before we : were picked up by a Brazilian barque ! mid taken hack to Rio. One of the 1 first men I mot was the young Englishman I had ridiculed. He was the most generous man I ever met. He never once said, "I told you so.' "?St. Louis Globe Democrat. Tub "Ross" Tukk.?Accounts have often heen given of extrordinary trees, but here is a story which "claps the climax" in that line. It is stated that the largest tree in the world has heen discovered in Fresno county C'al., in the most rugged portion of the mountains, about two uiiles north of Kentucky Meadows. This monarch of the forest was circumscribed by a radius of a mile or more of almost impenetrable underbrush. The tree was measured about four feet from the ! ground, and a rope of 121) feet 5 inches I long was necessary to span its circumference. | flaf' The German minister at Waslij ington is known there from his invariable good humor, "as the man who i laughs." A