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Il mm. s» 7 * Ü □ œ i il wmrngWZmm Vf *K /////.% m n : ssa si m m m r® \i Sé« le? 2 i » #S 2 9âF SS 1 ( v-i~* * - W» PA1 3sâ?«N //# SS! jt?s SHNRj ir ,/•? «Q JAV MMB a «ï « vtiihiàti .dSf~ sMIlHiM *»* « Ç» '&;• K wm SP»»® & OC Volume io. Helena, Montana, Thursday, June 15, 1876. No. 30 THE WEEKLY HERALD PUBLISHED EVKRY THURSDAY MORNING. FIS£ BROS., - Publishers. TERMS OF SUBSCRIPTION, Till,'MS FOB THE I)All. Y I!KHALI). ■ill's'',rib- uv (deliver' d by carrier) jK*r montli. |3 0Ü Oik I Mu <>M intli ... I " .' 1111 ' s 3 00 0 0.1 1'2 00 22 00 TEH MS KOH THE WEEKLY HERALD. months. Written for the U< 2 M) raid.] I.E.VrCK. Could I fix my thought upon paper, 'Twond he the prettiest thought in tlie world As you'd say; but I can't, it is subtiler Than the electric flow on the wire, i can't measure it; fine as gossamer. To touch, is I tear, to destroy. Can you tell me the reason, dearest, That words give delight some alloy? Why when the meaning is fullest. Language is that of the eye ? Why the wittiest speech is the dullest. And silence the converse of dry. When the flood-gates of feeling are open, And the acme of pleasure and pain Sweeps in an exquisite current Back from the heart to the brain! Why lips never moved to such music. Why ear never heard such a strain, Aud the heart that it touches can never Be cruel or cold again ? Oh, tell ine the wonderful secret, Unravel this tangled skein, lsit me not plaed for the answer— If ever you knew it—in vain II ki.kna, .1 une 1, IsTC. I. R» V, (121 K( (l ÏÎB.I.I.S. lit HOWARD S. GOULD. (Supplementary to Poe's "Bells." An attempt to complete the po m which Poe left incomplete.] Hear the holy Sabbath bells— Christian bells! What a world of consolation in their utterances dwells! They commemorate the Duv When "the stone was rolled away The From the Sepulchre." where lay L*rd of dory— slain for sm not IP's own! There He hurst the bonds of Death With Omnipotence's breath, And majestically rose, Triumphant o'er His foes, To the right hand of God—Three in Gne— Win 're He maketh intercession For our manifold transgression, Evermore ! Now the bells are iouuly calling, bidding every one repair To the sanctuary, where We may offes praise and prayer; Their reverberating echoes, through the circumambient air Arc rolling, rolling, rolling. They are calling, calling, calling, In tones that are consoling, And in tone# that are appalling— To believers, consolation: To the »corners, condemnation, Evermore ! Still the hells are tolling, tolling. And their echoing notes are rolling Over vale and plain and mountain, Caking all men to the Fountain Whence life and joy and peace are flowing evermore, Evermore ! Now their tones grow louder, deeper, They might wake the dullest sleeper On this peaceful Sabbath morning With their word ot solemn warning— "Time! Time! time! Time! time! time!" ponderous tongues reiterate, monotonously "Time! Time! time! time! Time! time! time!" Tili the ending of the hour ends the chime. Thus each swinging Titan knells, As his music peals and swuis From the tower wherin he dwells, ilis final monosyllable of "Time," \\ hose cadences fantastically rhyme To the rolling and the tolling of the bells! Th The Two WebHfers, [Editor's Drawer, in Harper's Magazine for June.] When Mr. Webster visited England, after he hud attained fame enough to precede him, an English gentleman took him one day to see Lord Brougham. The eminent Briton received our Daniel with such coolness that he was glad to get away and back to his rooms. The friend who had taken him at once returned to Lord Brougham in haste and anger. " My lord, how could you behave with such unseemly rudeness and discourtesy to so great a lawyer atul statesman? It was insulting to him and tilled me with mortification." " Why, what on earth have I done, and who on earth have I been rude to?" "To Daniel Webster, of the senate of the United States." "Great Jupiter, what a blunder! I thought it was that fellow Webster who ii.tde a dic tionary and nearly ruined the English lan guage." Then the great chancellor quickly hunted up the American senator, and having other 'astea in common besides law and politics, they made a royal night of it. We see no reason why editors shouldn't be allowed to go to church on Sundays, just the same as any other poor people ; but when one wakes up suddenly during the sermon and yells out to the devil to come and take copy, you can't blame the congregation for having a sly snicker at his expense. LOSING THEM BOTH. The dearest little rosebud of a girl; with cheeks where a pink flush came and went, aud biueeyes, wilh long, golden brown lashes, hair that waived without the aid of pins or irons. 1 always thought her name was the most suitable that could be chosen for her though the only wonder was that the old far mer Budd did not name his only daughter De borah, or Rebecca, or Sarah Jane. llosanna had fortunately been her father's grandmother's name, however, and so came a Rose Budd into the world ; for Mrs. Budd had made the Anna a middle name instead of part of the first, aud dropped it. When 1 began to like Kose Budd so much that I thought seriously of proposing to her. ilil'um Roper liked her too. He was live years older thaft I ; a plain man of twenty nine, with faint sears on his face and a bald spot on the middle ot his head. A poor man studying medicine late ia life, because he had not been able to study in his youth, only hop ing for ids diploma in a y eat , with the prac tice all in the future; aud i, at twenty-four, had the Mosswood estate for my own, and moue}' enough to live on comfortably. There could be no comparison between us, I fondly hoped, that would not be favorable to me, and 1 coolly, though politely, took my place before nim, and cut him out on all occasions with Rosebud. I, young rich and handsome, and, as I supposed, elegantly dressed ; be, plain, poor aud shabby, looking ten years old er than he really was. What chance had he against me ? And so he slipped quietly into the back ground and I made love to Rosebud, and one day kissed her on the cheek, and told her that life would not be worth having to me if I could not win her; and she said nothing, but out-blushed all the roses, and let me kiss her again. After that we walked boldly' arm -iu-arin through the village, aud friends teas ed me, and the other beaux dropped away, and one day I gave her a ring to wear c her left baud forefinger. Two weeks from that day I went to Lon don on business. I intended to stay a week, but I was so successful that I remained longer ; finally 1 went into business in the city, and began to know people. 1 visited at the bouses of wealthy merchants, and met their wives aud daughters, and by degrees began to understand that, though my Rose bud was very fair aud sweet, she was not a hot-house flower. In other words, her dress was not like the dress of a fashionable belle her manners were homespun, iter education poor. She was very good—excessively good, but not an elegant lady. Then, too, she sent me notes in big buff envelopes, and used lit tie " i ' for the personal pronoun, which should have been honored with the capital "I." And Farmer Budd with his uncouth coats and wonderful hats and long straggling beard and hair, was not the sort of a father-in-law I should admire; and there was Miss Hann over. Perhaps that fact was the most power ful one of all the workings of my disenchant ment; for Miss Hannover was beautiful, all millinery and upholstery ; and Papa Hann over, was called Prince Hannover by his friends, and had his dinner table set for forty ever day ; and wore a fortune in diamonds on his bosom, and made friends wherever he went, by his lavish gifts, and was the greatest stock gambler in London. Papa Hannover had smiled on me, and counciled me how to invest, aud had dined me with his daily forty friends, and had said, "Violette," love, this is Mr. Markham, one of those country gentlemen of whom we are trying to make city men." And Violette had smiled radiantly upon me. Since then how many tete-a-tetes had 1 not had with her—how many rides ! I was learn ing to dance with her, and I had forgotten to write to Rosebud for two weeks, when came an anxious little note on blue paper, begin ning thus: "Deajî Henry : i take my pen in hand much troubled in my mind regarding you i know you would write if you were not sick —O, Henry, if you are sick do tallygraff and let father come up and see you. Henry _ will not write any more until i hear from you—i am too troubled in my mind. We are all well and in the hopes that you will enjoy the same blessing i remain Yours truly. Rose Budd." " P. S.—Do not let pa come if you are sick, i am so troubled in my mind.'' I hastened to reply, the awful dread of Mr. Budd's fatherly care hanging over me. so to speak, by a single hair. I wrote to Rose, but how? 1 shall not copy that cowardly letter here. When it was in the box, I did try to fish it out again, but it was too late. It had gone, and its termination, "Thanks, Miss Budd, for your friendly anxiety concerning my health; I am sure that Mr. Budd does not share it," was perhaps the worst of all the lines by which I told her, not in frank, hon est words, but in a manner that no woman could fail to understand, that I did not choose to remember that we were betrothed. After that no more letters came in yellow envelopes to trouble me, and I paid at tention to Miss Hannover, and invested m 3 ' money according to Hannover's advice. And days and weeks and months rolled bv, and if thought of my little Rosebud, failing be cause the sunlight of my love was withdrawn from it, crossed my mind, I drove it away with a sigh. I could not help it, I said ; it was fate. Fate meant me for Miss Hannover, for Violette, and we had met, that was all. No, not quite all ; one day—I remember it was the day after a splendid ball, and I called on Violette, W'hose escort I had been the night before—one day I made this latter statement to Violette Hannover, and she hav ing heard it bestowed on me her most aristo cratic stare, and asked me if I did not know that she had been engaged to Mr. Twenty plum for six long months. "And be married next week. Mr. Mark to ham." added she. "So 3 'ou see you must be mistaken about fate." "And you have onl 3 ' been flirting with me?" 1 said bitterly. " Do you know' that you gave me reasons to hope everything from you ?" " 1 know it is time for me to dress for a drive," said she. "So you must sa 3 r good afternoon ;and dont look so ridiculously tra gic, Mr. Markham. I hate scenes." And I felt that I deserved it all, as I went for the last time down the steps of the Hann over mansion. In a fortnight Violette was Mrs. Twenty plum. In a month Mr. Hannover was a bank rupt—one of those who take a foreign trip with plenty of money in their pockets, while others lie crushed beneath the fragments of their broken branches al home. My money went with his. 1 had come to London with a moderate competence. I had increased it by speculation untii I was abso lutely wealth}'. Now I found myself almost poor. There remained to me only the Mosswood proper!}', which must be turned into a farm, and I myself must leave my hope of being one of tiie city millionaires behind me, and become a plain farmer—a man of the same social status as Rosebud's father, without bis comfortable knowledge of money in the bank to comfort me. However, with the bursting of the bubble fortune, the circle which had gathered about Hannover had been seemingly scattered to the winds, and people knew that Miss Violette had jilted me, and also that my money was gone. The city had lost man}' of its charms, and I wrote to the woman who had kept the house at Mosswood for my father until his death, to make it ready for my return. Then selling the funiture of my bachelor rooms, and packing my smaller belongings in a few trunks, I started homeward. 1 must go back to Mosswood and become a farmer. I should find Rosebud fading gradually away, of course, and }'et I knew she would be prettier than ever. How she had loved me—how ungrateful I had been for that love. Now 1 would make amends. I would write as many repentant letters as was necessary, and she would, of course, forgive me. No woman ever forgets or ceases to love any man she has ever loved, you know. Yes, after a little maidenly re sistance, Rosebud would bloom for me again. 1 was as sure of this as the train bore me on ward, as I was that the moon would rise that night. There is no adage more true than the one that declaies that the misfortunes never come alone, but in troops. Often, of course, one brings the other. In my case, the anxieties that bad trooped so thickly about me made me nervous, and so led to a severe accident Having alighted at a certain station, I de layed my return to the carriage until the}' had started, I remember running after them, and then—what do I remember then ? Darkness, dreams, pain, an awakening in a little room with white curtains aud a toilet table, and vision charmingly dressed. The same one saying slowly. " Yes, yes, yes ; I think he'll do, And understanding this was my old friend Hiram Roper, I asked : " How did 1 come here ?" trying to sit up, and failing in the attempt at Well" said Hiram, "wife and I were the station, and I saw you were a good deal hurt, and we brought you on. You know this is my house." " Yours ?" said I. " And you are married and in practice, I suppose ?" "Yes," said Roper. "O, yes; getting on famously. And you've had a time, but you'll be on the right soon. Come and tell him he will, Rosebud." And there—yes, there was Rose. After had ruminated on the fact a few' minutes, I felt that truth was stranger than fiction. "Are you better, Mr. Markham?" said Rosebud, bending towards me. Here was a poetical story # worked out in our proper persons. A wounded and repent ant hero, I had been sent back to Rosebud to be nursed and forgiven. Had she not for given me, she never would have flown to my aid. All that I could do just then, was to squeeze her hand. She took it away rather quickly ; but that was very natural. I had not seen her for three years. She did not know of my con trition. But she had not pined or faded ; she was on the contrary, stouter and rosier than ever. Just then, Dr. Roper being present, I said nothing, but afterwards, as the evening shadows fell, she brought me tea and toast ; and then I took her hand and said : "Dear Rosebud, how' good of you." Aud she answered : "O, dear, no—don't mention it." "You are an angel of forgiveness." I said. "A—I,—I have always loved you Rosebud. 'Tis true, a siren laid her spells upon me, but the hallucination is over" "I shall think you are wandering again, ' said she, "if you don't stop talking so. Do take your toast." "No," said I, "no, not a mouthful, Rose bud, until you will assure that you will forget the past, and once more give me the love—" "Mr. Markham!'' cried she. "Callme Henry," said I. "Rose if you had hated me, would yon be here so kindly ministering to my wants ?" Here ?" said she. " Where should I be but in my own house ? I'm sure I've nothing to forgive you, either. Since you allude to our flirtation of three years ago, and since you will talk of it, I will tell you, once for all that I don't think that we ever should have been happy together. And 1 always liked Hiram the best, only he was so shy. And my goodness, we were married as soon as he got his diploma." " Married !" cried I. " Why, yes," said Rosebud. "How else should I be here? You know this is Dr. Roper's house ? Didn't you know 1 was his wife before? Dear old fellow he is—the " is as if ond the We the bed best husband woman ever had, I'm sure, and Mr. Markham, I know now that I never really loved you." I don't know' whether that was true or not, but that did not matter. She did not love me then, and does not now', and I lost her. I live alone at Mosswood now', an old bache lor, with a limp and the d}'spepsia, and she and a boquet of little blossoms flourish over the way at Dr. Roper's. Some time, perhaps I may marry. Hiss Flint would have me and so would the Wid ow Witrgins; but whatever I may get to wear ever my heart it will not lie a rosebud. I threw that away long ago, and Roper picked it up, and it makes bis life fragrant. 1 -«re»- > Aoî eesses and Their Admirers. It has generally been supposed that the masculine portion of the population aggre gated to themselves the sole right of making love to the heroines of the drama, and that from their attentions solely the actresses suf fered. But such is not the ease. Indeed, it would be a matter of surprise were it known bow many of otir public woman are badgered and bothered by the silly of their own sex who fall in love with them and worry them with attentions. Une charming lady on the Boston stage is actually beset by romatic girls who Lave conceived a strong affection for her simply on the stage, and the tricks which they restor to see hor and much win her acquaintance are varied and much more ingenious than the other sex employ. They follow her about while she shops ; they besiege her door and beg for admittance; they flatter aud coax her maid, and try to wheedle her into admitting them. They send, daily, baskets of flowers aud fruit, tied about with white ribbons as though they were wedding favors. They send her books of poems with double pencil marks at all the gushing lines. They write notes and inclose newspaper poetry; they find who her friends are, and even play agreeable to them to get into the desired presence. Perhaps the very decided rebuffs which they meet only encour age them. If they did not know how utterly impossible it is for hardworking women, whose task-inaster is the pvblic, to give time them, they would cease their importunities. To send tokens of appreciation like flowers, is all well enough, indeed, it is a pretty remembrance occasionally ; but no person cares to burdened with an obligation which she can not repay, and it is a great bore be adored to such a fearful extent. A question ol Insurance. 7 ie Chicago Tribune says: "A beautiful and bashful young woman of about nineteen summers called at the office of a life assurance agent last w eek, and asked him timidly if be could tell her how long people of a certain age would live. "Madame," replied the agent, caughing respectively behind a prospectus and drawing his chair nearer to her, " here are our tables of expectation and average mortality, which contains all the information upon the subject Unit you can desire." " Well," said she, "how long wifi a man of sixty-seven, and that eats peas with his knife, live?" "According to our table, madame," replied the agent, "he should, on an average, survive eleven years, three months, and sixteen days. " That," said his visitor, " would be to the 1st of August, 1887 ?" "Precisely, madame, on the average ex pectation of mortality, for we all must die, and it is, therefore, well to insure against loss to the loved ones in a company whose char acter—" "And how much could I insure his life for ?" " Oh, for any amount, say for $50,000," he answered, taking up a blank form of ap plication ; " let me recommend the unexam pled advantages offered by our non-forfeita ble endowment policy." " Well," said the young woman, " I think then, that I'll marry him." " Insure him, you mean ? " replied the agent. " No, marry him ; you insure him. You see," she added, with a burst of confidence, " I love Herbert, aud Mr. Dawkins is old enough to be my grandfather. But Herbert is poor, and I just worship the corner lots that Mr. Dawkins builds on. And Herbert is very patient, and says if I will only fix a day, no matter how long he may have to wait, he will be happy. Now, you say Mr. Daw kins will die by the first of August, 1887, and as it wouldn't be decent to marry again till I've been in mourning a year, I'll arrange to marry Herbert on the 2d of August, 1888, aud if Mr. Dawkins doesn't die by then you'll erive me $50,000. Oh, thank you," and with a deep bow she swept out of the office." Beyond the Wisdom ol Nnn. She was a pretty girl, nicely dressed, and she sat diagonally in a rear corner of the streetcar, occupying about two seats. Another lady came in, and turning herself sideways, sank into a swam-like dip across the three adjoining seats. The young lady in the corner looked at the other's back, and sniffed with her nostril ; looked at the languid con tempt of the attitude, and sniffed with her other nostril ; then regarded the lady's cos tume, and finding it elegant, sniffed with both nostrils. Beginning to get mad, she rubbed her nose violently, first with the sec ond joint of her forefinger, and subsequently with her handkerchief. Slowly their eyes met. One flashed undying hatred and scorn ; the other irradiated lofty pity and disdain. They had never met before, and now they only for a moment. What had happened ? We give it up. A hotel in Kansas has the following notice displayed in the bedrooms : "Gentlemne wishing to commit suicide will please take the centre cf the room, to avoid staining the bed linen, walls, and furniture with blood." ly it io an his er is the On the Other Korne, [From the Danbury News.] Mr. Filkins is seized and possessed of a re spected grandmother, aged over one bundled years. At the earl}' age of two years it is firmly believed she gazed upon the face of the noble G. W. During this Centennial year, centenarian grandmothers are quoted far above par, and Filkins felt a sort of com mendable and virtuous pride in the newspaper paragraphs that went around the country re ferring to th< with hers. Filkins is al just fast eiunu »Id lad}' and counl mg his cam -o the owner of a rapid ma: h to lose. Recently he ties ew r<.! n a in ' lit co vote to bn; cillai e it his v.ooc to sell tlie animal, for he ! likely young colt, which wanted to raise money cnoimli he put an adyeitisement in tin and calmly waited. One morning as he was busy pile*, two strängt rs drove up to ids crate sind fastened their horses. Their vehicle was biilliantly decorated t»y the painter's art, was covered, and bore upon its side the following words- "Great Museum of Centennial Won ders." The smooth-faced man, who ap peared to be the spokesman, approached Fil kins with— "Saw the notice in the paper about your she's "You did, eh?" said F. "Well, high stepper aud no mistake." "Thought we'd see, this being the Cente n nial > T ear, if we couldn't get her to take to Philadelphia and—" "Oh! yes; you want to trot her out down there, do you? Well she is a fast one, and no mistake." "Isn't that rather peculiar language to use in speaking of so aged—" "Aged! Why, man, what are you talking about. Wipe off your cliiu! Aged! Why, she's sound in wind, limb aud stomach. Never was known to kick or bile. She's gentle as a kitten, and as for pedigree—" "Well, all that's gratifying of course. How about Hamilton Wash—" "Ilambletonian, of course she's Ilamble tonian stock, her dam—" "How's her teeth?" "Sound as a dollar; never gets 'off her feed : ' eats her four quarts of—" "Does she use glasses, Mr. F.? Does she smoke or chew? Will you sell her or only rent bet? We'll take her off your hands and make it an object for you. Of course, the natural feelings of relationship must lie con sidered, but biz is biz, aud we'll pay cash down for the old—" "What in--and--are you talking about, you bald-beaded old reprobate?" "YourlOO-year-old-grandmolher, of course; we want to buy her or rent her for our 'Great Centennial Museum of Wonders.' We've got an anaconda already, a playful little cuss,and a living skeleton, who'll be amazing good company for the old woman. If you'll rent her for cash, just trot her out and—" At this moment the stranger observed that Mr. Filkins was carefully selecting out a large-sized club from the pile and "hefting." it in a threatening manner. They at once gave up hopes of effecting a deal and with drew in haste, followed by about a cord and a half of wood—beech and maple body wood—wafted wildly after them by the irate Filkins. That night an unwonted teuderness was evident in the voice and manner of Mr. Fil kins, as he tenderly told his beloved and aged old grandparent to "shut her darned old mouth and crawl off to bed." to Tlie Door-Keeper of tbe Neunte. In spite of political changes and the large- ness of executive affection, Washington can exhibit some moss-covered public function- aries whose continued devotion to office could not be surpassed even in conservative Eng- land. In wandering about the corridors and galleries of the Capitol, one comes across some curious specimens of this kind. They are evidently employes, for they have their hats off and nothing to do. There is a set- tled look about them, an appearance of ad- hesion when they sit, and of adhesion when they walk, all of w hich tells you plainly that they have grown into the govermental fabric and feel themselves an essential part of it. In the Senate chamber, sitting at the left of the presiding officer, is a tall, ruddy-faced old gentleman. His hair and whiskers are long and snowy white, while the former is brushed down until it is wonderfully glossy and smooth, ending withal in a single row of curls. The hair is quite marvelous, but the row of curls is a phenomenon. For years upon years it has surrounded his head like a fleshly sprouting aureole, and never has a single hair been seen displaced. Neither the vehemence or passion, nor the ardor of af- fection, nor domestic sorrow's, nor official duties have ever disarranged its glittering ymmetry. Tornadoes have raged, earth- quakes shaken, two wives have been tender- cared for and creditably buried, but the silvery radiance of that curl has shown through it all. No one knows how old he is, nor exactly when the curl commenced. He began his public career in the Senate as a page and a small boy; he is now continuing as the doorkeeper of that chamber, and tbe climax of venerable propriety. His duty Î 3 sit there in his great arm-chair, giving in: terest and dignity to the assembly, and to an- nounce the bringing of messages from the House and the President. This he does, having first stepped out in front of the pre- siding officer, with admirable elocution and unexceptionable bow. Then he resumes seat, and the w'hole Legislative body breathes more freely. Supposing the exer- tion should induce apolexy, to which he looks liable, the consummate flower of door-keep- would be gone .—Letter to Woodstock Stan- dard. --^ H 4^» » -- Congress has another investigating job. It charged against Mr. Conkling that he is man who kissed Dr. Mary Walker.