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" ' W. . « . . ----'• - * » » 9 ^ m r Volume xx. Helena, Montana, Thursday, September 16, 1886. No. 43 <Tl(.c iilcchly ^(raU, R. E. FISK D. W. FISK. A. J. FISK, Publishers and Proprietors. Rates of Subscription. WEEKLY HERALD: One Year (in advance)..................... Stx Month*, (in advance)........................ Three Months, (in advance).......................... ) 00 When not paid for in advance the rate will lie Four Dollars per year^ Postage, in all cases, Prepaid. DAILY HERALD: City Subscribers,delivered by carrier $1,00a month One Year, by mail, (in advance).................. $'i 00 Sir Months, by mail, (in advance)............... 5 00 Three Months, by mail, (in advance)........... 250 *#"A11 communications should be addressed to FISK BROS., Publishers, Helena, Montana. <3 00 1 75 _ , , ,. , -, . „ , Largsst Circulation of any Paper m Montana SHADOWS. "Tliis midnight and the full orbed moon" Shines brightly on tlieijniel street ; This place which hums w itli life at noon. And sounds with tramp of hurrying feet, Is -dent now. no human tone Breaks pn the dull and chilly air ; Naught but the night wind's hollow moan Sweeps o'er the pavement, bleak and bare. But no: behold on every hand A multitude: they pass us by 1 They move along a silent hand \\ ith speechless lip and sightle-s eye : Their shadowy footsteps yield no sound ; Their cheeks nr*- pale and dumb their tread ; Who are ti(ev walk this weary round? These are the shadows of the dead.. These once were ou» familiars all. Our fathers, mothers, brothers, wives, Those whose dear memories still recall All happy thoughts of joyous lives: Tlieir friend, more than a brother de-r. Who breathed for us his latest sigh . That fair and loved one by who«e bier We stood and wept and longed to die. In lift they lived for u- alone : v ••. } In life their hearts we linked with ours ; 1 »ear eyes ' how are you turned to stone Whose tears for us once fell in showers? Speak hut a word, bestow one glance On those who love your memory still ; I.et one kind smile hut fall by chance To make the old time pulses thrill. They lieed ns not. our words are vain ; They yield us neither glance nor smi'e: Listen! the hollow sounding main Is lapping gainst the distant isle; But no fond sounds of greeting come From lips so dear in days of yore ; Nature still speaks, but these are dumb ; They are but shadows, nothing more. Dear shadows, unsubstantial forms. We eunnot clasp, we cannot hold ; Vain is the human love which warm* For that which in the grave lies cold. The fondest yearnings of our hearts Are lost on that which death hath spoiled : And love which lives where life departs, Grasps but a shadow and is foiled. TKirru. <i holy and eternal Truth ! Thou art An emanation of the Eternal Mind. A glorious attribute, a nob.'«part Of uncreated lieing. Who can find. By diligent searching—whe «-an lind out thee, The Incomprehensible, the Deity ? i The human mind is a reflection caught, From thee, a trembling shadow of thy ray. Thy glory beams around us. but the thought That heavenward wings its daring flight away Returns to where its'fliglit was first l>egun. Blinded ami dark beneath the noonday sun. The soul of man, though sighing after thee, Hath never known thee, saving as it knows The stars of heaven, whose glorious light we see. The sun, whose radiance dazzles as it glow's— Something that is beyond us, ami above The reach of human power, though not of hu man love. Vain philosophy may strive to teach The secret of thy being. Its faint ray Misguides our steps Beyond the utmost reach Of its untiring wing the eternal day Of truth is shining on the longing eye. Distant, unchanged, changeless, pure and high, And yet thou butt not lefthyself without A revelation. All we feel and see Within us and around forbids to doubt. Yet speaks so darkly and mysteriously Of w hat we are and shall Is- evermore, We doubt and yet believe, and tremble i adore._ _ n\ THE KIVEK'S BANK. The sun-god's parting shafts of gold Quivered and fell on field ami wood. And silent, as in hours of old, 1'pon the river bank we stood. Did not that waning glory east A charm upon the flowing tide. And give us back the Summer's past, _Tlie bloom that fled, the light that died ? Silent, and tilled with strange delight. We watched the sunset brightness fade, And felt the first cool breath of night Creep up through mist and mellow shade. It whispered of a time of rest. Of pain outlived and labor done. When all the things we count the l>est] Ami lived for, shall be fairly won. And even in life's rugged ways These happy thoughts of pea«-e return, For we have learned to fix our gaze Beyond the liounds which men discern. We know not where God's river flows, Nor where its wavesshall wash onr feet. And yet each foretaste of repose He gives us is divinely sweet. APPARENT INTOXICATION. Important Cases in Which Mistakes Have ffeen Made. (London lancet.] There is reason to fear that mistakes are not uDlrequenty made, even hv skilled observers, in the recognition ot drunken ness, by what may be called "apparent in toxication." The unsteady gait, the con gested face and neck, the vacant eye, with drooping lid, and even the spirituous breath of apparent intoxication, may one and all be the effects of disease or dis turbance of function, which has no neces sary connection with the abuse of alcohol in any form. A melancholy instance of blundering in respect to this matter may he cited from the life of the late Col. Her binger, who was accused of intemperance during his field service at Tonqnin, bnt happily acquitted. Prof. Peter, who had opportunities of studying the case of this diseased officer shortly before his death, elicited that he was suffering from a malady of some years' standing, which produced cerebral autemia with such gid diness that he could scarcely sit on his horse. Similar cases are by no means un common, and while it is more than ever necessary to denounce the practice of per mitting police officers to determine whether a man or woman is drunk or the victim of disease, it is requisite to go much further than this and to call the special attention of skilled practitioners in medicine to the possibility of being mistaken by erroneous impressions on this subject. Settling the Vase Question. The editor of an art journal says the pro nunciation of vase depends upon its price. One costing twenty-five cents he would call v-a-s-e; one costing $25 he would call v-a-h-z-e, while the Morgan peachblow thould be called v-a-w-z-e.—Norristown Herald. '---- —■ LAURA'S VACATION TRIP. [For the Herald.] "You must take a trip this summer, dear," said Mrs. Leighton, as she passed a cup of tea to her daughter. , "You are surely in time with your sugges t km," sai d Laura with a slight laugh, Rim ing to the stormy March scene outside. "\Yhat possessed you to think of that just now, Mother?" she added, dropping the sugar from the tongs contemplatively "The letter I got from Mrs. Ila/en this morning, I suppose. She sjieaks of longing to get hack to Newport again. And well she may. Their house there is magnificent ! Oh girls, things are so different from what I had planned!" Poor Mrs. Leighton was a little incoherent in her agitating reminiscences, and she sighed profoundly, as she wiped her eyes, and answered Madge's request for cake, by passing the pretty silver basket. "But you must take a trip this summer, as I said before, Laura, your salary is raised, and I spoke early, so as to suggest the propri ety of saving all we can, and so you can de cide where to go. You are not to go to any farm house, but to a regular resort—sea shore or mountains—" "But is'nt Madge to go too?" interrupted Laura . "I don't want to go alone; and just think of the money it will take, at the most economical rates!" Mrs. Leighton shook her head. "No we can't afford to have Madge go this year. You must have some sort of a chaperon , of course—" "Now mamma," interrupted Laura, "let me plan ! You and Madge and I can go a little while to some quiet place, for what it would cost me alone at a popular resort." But little Mrs. Leighton was a resolute wo man, on occa-ion, and this was an occasion. Laura had been teaching three years, and was getting worn out and jaded looking; if she did'nt rest and rejuvenate, she would surely become a regular old maid teacher. Madge laughed, and even tired Laura smiled, as Mrs. Leighton added firmly. "You are a dear noble girl, and have done your duty, and more. Madge shall have her turn —yours comes first." Laura did not argue farther, and it was con sidered settled. Mrs. Leightun forthwith overhauled the entire wardrobe of the three, and the best was selected for Laura's use. She sent for guide-books, and they spent many hours studying the most desirable points. Laura would not go to Newport, because several of their former stylish friends had cot tages or mansions there. She would not be patronized. She did not care to go to Bar Harbor, and she decided not to go to Mar tha's Vineyard or Nantucket. She said she would like to go to Chatauqua, but her Moth er said—"No summer schools for you my dear. Recreation and re-t is what you need." So Laura told her mother to select a place, So Laura told her mother to select a place, but she found it impossible to decide between the attractions of mountains, lakes and sea shore. So the spring glided away, and when [une roses perfumed the air, and com mencements were all the rage, Laura's school closed, and she was still undecided where to spend her summer. Their own ouiet village home seemed the most desirable resting place to her, but Mrs. Leighton was determined to have Laura taste of the life she was destined for, liefore her father failed and died five years ago. Peo ple of sense had admired Laura's step, when she left the boarding school where each year's expenses were a small fortune, and took a two years' Normal course, and secured a good position in a vallage graded school. Some had bewailed her hard lot, but she was happy in her work and independence, and in i i the care of her mother and sister. But [une was passing and Laura must get off, so Mrs. Leighton announced one morn ing at breakfast. Laura laughed, and said—"Well, I'll leave you to decide to-day, perhaps 1 -hall get an inspiration, for I guess I will go up to the city, take lunch with Sue, and get her to help me match that silk. Will you go "1 am sorry, but I agreed to go to Em ma Warren's and take tea," said Madge. Laura carried out her intentions. Ten o'clock a. m. found her stepping aboard the train, and in less than an hour she was in Boston. She had been there only occasion ally, since they moved away, and the sense of familiarity and of strangeness made her uncomfortable, until she reached her cousin Sue's and awaited the answer to her ring. Sue was the wife of her father's favorite nephew, and she had been taken into their hearts most cordially. She had been mar ried six years, and two little ones claimed her care. She was a devoted mother, and people laughed at her anxieties. The house was a stylish one, on a good street, and furnished handsomely and artistic ally. • * Charlie was doing well in his profession, and it was a happy home. A neat maiden opened the door to Laura, and exclaimed—"Oh, Miss Laura! How pleased Mrs. Glenn will he to see you ! 1 will tell her." She led Laura to a little reception room, and left her. Laura glanced around and was about to run up to Sue's room and surprise her, when a voice arrested her attention. It was Sue's but husky and full of tears. What could be the matter? Evidently she was with some one in the library, which was across the little hall. The heavy portiere hid from sight, hut did not exclude all sound. She was saying—"But what can 1 do, Doctor? I can't take the children on such a trip this time of year, and if I could, I should'nt be able to nurse Charlie. Poor boy ! I have no one to leave here. The nurse is a good one, but—Oh dear!" She broke down, anti Laura heard sobs. Sue was in trouble, Charlie must be away from home, sick. - 0 She hastily crossed the hall just as the maid returned from a fruitless search for Mrs. Glenn in the nursery. "Mrs. Glen is in the library, I am going in, Noah," said Laura. "All right Miss," said Noah, and tripped away. I^ura raised the portiere ami beheld Sue lying back in a big chair with her handker chief to her eyes, while good Doctor Jones looked at her in distress. As Inura advanced a step into the room, Sue glanced up. In an instrnt she was across the floor, and was kissing Laura anti dragging her toward the doctor. "Miss Leighton !" he said in surprise. "Laura Leighton, I do believe!" cried Sue delightedly. "Now Doctor, she ll help us think!" She turned to I-aura and her eyes over flowed again, as she said shakily, "Charlie of ! I went to Chicago on business, and is sick at a hotel. He had me telegraphed for, and Dr. James just brought it. Now what am I to do? Charlie is sick among strangers, and there are my two babies— "Go to Charlie, it is your duty," said Laura promptly. "Thd children are well, I suppose, and I will stay here, and oversee the nurse, in my ignorance. But I'll be faithful Sue." Sue stared at Laura in wonder and de light. "Will you dear?" she asked incredulously. "Madge wrote you were going away for the summer, and I imagined you belle of some ball roonr" No dear, you ought to go—1—" "But I prefer to stay here," said Laura firmly put quietly, "I have not decided •where to go, and it will be a pleasure to help you if you will trust me." "Trust you ! You are an angel in brown linen !" laughed Sue hysterically. "And perhaps Charlie will be able to come home soon, and Miss Leighton can go on her trip yet," said Dr. James. "But go now, Mrs. Glenn and rest a little before train time, I'll call for you." lie took his hat and bowed himself out, and Laura went with Sue to her room. There were only three hours before train time, and Laura used her utmost exertions and all her wits to get Sue off in good shape, on time, for the distracted little wo man was continually stopping preparations to pet the children, and bewail the necessity of her trip. "Don't wo ry, Sue!" said Laura sooth ingly, "I shall stay right here, and write to Madge to send my things." And so when -he left home, Sue felt things were as well arranged as possible, under the circum stances. "Oh, I forgot!" cried Sue, with her foot on the carriage step, "Brother Horace is coming home from Italy—expect him any lime. If he comes before we get back, take care of him for me." She sprang in, kissed her hand in farwell, and was gone. It was after three p. m. Laura wrote an explanatory letter to Madge, and asked her to have her clothes sent her. She insisted her mother and sister should consider her as having the best kind of a vacation. * She sent Noah with her letter to a box, then went up to the nursery, and romped with the bright-eyed Harry and curly-haired Mabelle. Dinner was served at the usual hour, and Laura felt lonely at the table where she had been accustomed to Charlie's gay banter, and Sue's witty retorts. — _1~ At the children's bed time, she went to the nursery, and after Mabelle was arrayed in her pretty nightdress, she held her, while nusre subdued frolicsome Harry. As Laura sat in the fading twilight, sing ing to sleepy Mabelle, the sweet German lullaby song, she heard stealthy steps in the hall, then a sudden opening of the door, and a tall manly form stood in the room. The next instant he was behind her little camp rocker, and clasped her and Mabelle in a fond embrace, while he exclaimed in low laughing tones— "Ah, little sister, I've taken you and the babies by storm, have'nt 1 ? Got here a little sooner than I expected!" Laura, with a struggle regained her free dom, and turning, faced the stranger. Then he saw his mistake; his face crimsoned, and he stammered, "I — I beg pardon ! 1 supposed 1 was in Mrs. Glen's nursery—I am her brother, just home from Europe ! Thought I would take her by surprise—thought you were—my sis ter !" Laura, though blushing with confusion, had, by this time partially recovered her compo-ure, and said — "1 presume this is Mr. Dayton ! Yes, this is Mrs. Glen's nursey, but she is away, and I reign in her stead—for a while." Mr. Dayton, w ith gentlemany courtesy, re stored the little rocker, and he took another chair while Laura explained who she was, and why she was there. Then the gas was lighted, and as the chil dren slumbered to sleep, Mr. Dayton and Laura adjourned to the drawing room. At his request she played and sang, and al together, they spent so pleasant an evening, she forgot to apologize for her plain street dress, and he forgot to notice it in his admi ration for the bright, intelligent face, and ex pressive Pansy eyes. The acquaintance,- begun in an unusual manner, developed into a warm friendship, in their mutual care for the children. Hor ace declared it was his duty to attend to his sister's children, so nurse had an easy time, while Horace and Laura with the little ones, sauntered on the common and in the garden, or drove out on charming country roads. They were both almost strangers in the city, and rarely met an acquaintance. On one of their drives, about a month after Sue's depar ture, Laura said, "I should'nt he surprised to see Charlie and Sue any day, as Charlie is doing so well." "And then what shall we do ?" sighed j Horace dismally. "Sue will surely take these tots off our hands, and— "Oh, I shall go home," said Laura, unless mamma orders me off somewhere," and she related her vain effort to find a suitable re sort for her vacation. "My coming here was a Providence—for me," she added, "for it stopped the W'orry." "And a Providence for me," said Horace softly, "for it has given me a chance to fiind a true woman, one I want for my wife! Will you be mine, Laura?" he asked in sud den anxiety, as her eyes drooped, before his gaze. She did not reply, and he gently lifted her chin, and met in her beautiful eyes, the answer he wanted. "Uncle Horace!" cried Harry—"What you doin' ? You only got one line!" Horace laughed, and Laura reached him the other line, as he turned about for home. When they drew up before the door, an excited little woman in a traveling dress, ran down the steps and caught first one, and then another of the little ones, and bestowed hugs and kisses promiscuously on the young people, while the pale invalid smiled in the door way. Sue was delighted with the result of Laura's generosity, and, to tell the truth, so was Mrs. Leighton and Madge, when, a few days later Horace accompained Laura home. They were to be married Christmas, and when he left, Horace said, "We'll take Laura's trip next summer." F. A. R, One Was Quite Enough. "No," said the henpecked husband, a« he scratched his bald head, "I am not a believer In Mormon ism, not by a long chalk." "Why not;" asked the Mormon sympa thizer with whom he was conversing. "Because," replied the hen pocked man, "I don't believe in having two wives. 'No map tan serve two masters. ' "—Boston Courier. SOCIETY n FRANCE. HOW THE GOVERNMENT OFFICIALS OF FRANCE ARE HOUSED. Theodore Stanton Tells About the Palat es Inherited by the Republic From the Monarchy and Empire—The Etiquette That Prevails in Official Circles. [Special Correspondence.] New York, Aug. 20. —The Kreuch presi dent, tlie French cabinet ministers and the other high state officials, such as the presi dents of the senute and chamber of deputies, the prefect or governor of the department of the Seine, in which Paris is situated, and the director of the Bank of France, are so well housed that they can entertain in a way be fitting their public station, no matter what their private fortune may be. In Washington a member of the cabinet often lives in a hotel or in some house whose rooms are so small that he would find trouble in acconunotiat ing a whist party, not to speak of the multitude that always res)«»lids to a public reception. About the same thing is true of the official world of London. But in Paris the situation is quite different. The re public lias inherited from the monarchy and empire a large number of palaces, some of which were constructed centuries ago to lie the residence of princes of the blood, while others are of recent origin, and were built for this or that ministerial department. Thus, the Elysée, where President Grévy lives, dates from 1718, ami lias liad as master or mistress Murat, Mme. de Pompadour, the great Napoleon, who retired here after Waterloo, and hero signed his abdication; Wellington, Alexander I anil Alexander II. Louis Napoleon, when president, resided in the Elysée, and it was in this same palace that ho planned and executed the coup d'état that made him emperor. The president of the chamber Is lodged in a wing of the Palais Bourbon, and the home of the Prince tie Condé; w hile the Petit Luxembourg, the resi dence of the president of the senate, has sheltered Louis XV11I, Napoleon and his brother Joseph. When Gambetta became president of the council a few years ago he created two or three new portfolios, and forthwith the gov ernment provided the titularies w ith suitable official homes. For example, t lie minister of commerce was installed in the former embassy of Spain oil the quay facing the Tuilleries, and thus it happens that M. Lockroy, the present minister of commerce ami a member of the Victor Hugo family, a plain man of advanced democratic principles, is living in a mansion elegant enough for a prince. But the high officials of the French Repub lic are not simply provided with a roof ami four walls. The same generous state fur nishes the houses in the coinpletest fashion. Carpets, curtains, chains, pictures, dishes, kitchen utensils, liveried servants, bed linen, everything, in short, except what the minis ter wears and eats, is given him. When he is offered a portfolio he has simply to |>aek his trunk, call a cub and drive to the palace of which he is henceforth the master, and when the ministry of which he is a member falls he has only to pack the same trunk, take another cab and return to his old quarters, in each ministerial department there is u special bu reau charged with the business of looking after the material wants of the minister, buy ing rar]it ts when necessary, mending weak backed chairs, discharging or hiring servants, etc. It has been said, and jierliaps with some truth, that one ot the causes of the frequent change of ministries in Fi ance is the easo with which a minister can take lip and lay down the household [»art of his office. Besides giving them a furbished house, the state also provides a decent salary for its ministers. Lader the empire they used to get 100,000 franca. T<>-day the sum is re duced to 00,000. But this is a large salary when you take into account the above men tioned perquisites. President Grévy receives in all 1,200,000 francs. No wonder, then, that there is no end to social festivities, and that a man who is poor out of office can give en tertainments when in office that only million aires would undertake in private life. For instance, M. Goblet, minister of public in struction, invited several thousand people last season to a musical and dramatic enter tainment w here the leading singera and actors of the capital held forth, and where the re j of the capital held forth, and where the re freshments were offered on the most elal>orate and bounteous scale. I have seen balls at the foreign office where they give you at supper whole bottles of champagne, which you set on your table and use as you might at your own house or in a restaurant. At the Elysée balls the buffets are besieged from 10 o'clock until daylight, and an appreciable hole must be made in M. Grévy's salary, large though it be. The etiquette that prevails in French official circles is in many particulars very simple, though a little more rigorous than that of Washington. A lady may go to public re ceptions in any kind of dress, but a gentleman will not be admitted if he has not donned a "swallow-tail" and a white neck tie. Some bucks had the doora of the Elysée shut in their face a year or so ago, 1 «cause they wore pink neckties, for some reason or other. An English female esthete of the Oscar Wilde school, created no little sensation last winter at one of M. Grévy's receptions, but the ushers never dreamed of stopping her at the entrance door, liecan.se she was not in low neck and had discarded the regulation bustle. But let any man thus venture to disregard the l.chests of the tyrant Fashion, and he will never be able to shake hands with the president of the French republic. The advocates of woman s rights should make a note of this concession in favor of the fair sex. In order to go to an official ball or musical and dramatic entertainment a ticket of invi tation is necessary, and it is often very hard to get one, unie s you ai e on good terms with the American legation, or have friends in the chamber or senate. Tliere was such a demand for tickets to M. Goblet's entertain ment, which has already been mentioned, that the rather small parlors of the minister's house were so full that nine-tenths of the guests could neither hear nor see anything. At M. Grévy's balls you are packed us tight as in an elevated railroad ear when the surface roads are on a strike. M. Floquet, president of the chamber of deputies, is an advanced democrat. So when he was chosen by his colleagues to the high office which he fills with signal ability, he decided to give a more popular tone to official society. Consequently, ho announced through tho public prints that there would be dancing at his receptions, and that no cards of invitation would be sent out. Now there is a line big ball room at the president's, and his wife is very rich, so that good music and good refreshments are never lacking there. No wonder, therefore, that at the third ball of the series, when the existence of this free dancing party had bean bruited throughout Paris, there was such It jam that the demo cratic M. Floquet dared not venture on a fourth. The French are improving in their manner of dancing. They have always been loud of this graceful amusement; but the waltz, the most elegant of steps, has been until lately very badly executed in all French ball rooms. The Boston, that slow, beautiful movement which characterizes the American waltzers, Is beginning to gain ground lu France. At Pau last winter the Boston was taught in the dancing schools, and at the last Elysée ball I noticed more than one French couple indulg ing in the transatlantic step. The French round dancers never used to "reverse," but would go round and round like a top until weary and bew ildered, when they would rest and then begin again their wild whirl. Now they reverse some, I am glad to say, lor their •wn sake. There is one class of French society that never appears at these official gatherings of the republie. I refer to the so-vailed nobility. Outside of the members of the diplomatic corps, who are of course required to be pres ent, you rarely hear announced a duke or a duchess, u count or a countess, even a baron or a baroness; and yet the upper classes of this country have a plethora of "titled peo ple," many of whom have no more right to their noble name than the late fount Johan nes. Some of these gentlefolk are the genuine descendants of famous old families, have edu cation, culture and wealth, and would Ijo brilliant acquisitions to the often rather hum drum republicans of both sexes, who crowd the official drawing rooms. But they will have nothing to do with the present order of things, which, say w hat you will, is a great source of weakness to the republic. They are waiting for the return of king or emperor, and if they do not work actively against "the powers that be," they at least exert a powerful influence passively against the consolidation of republican institutions in this country. These social gatherings, therefore, teach a lesson in current politics, as well as give amusement to the governing classes of democ racy. In the contest between low-neck and high neck dresses it may be said that the repub lican ladies of France rather lean toward the high necks. By this 1 do not mean to say that you do not lind bare shoulders at the re ceptions and balls which have just been dwelt upon. Un the contrary, tho large majority of the ludit-s [»resent w ould almost put to the blush Adam and Eve after the mémorable apple scene. But when you compare the ladies of one of these republican gatherings to the ladies fourni in the drawing room of the noble aristocrats, you then see what progress has been made by tho former toward banishing the nude from society. From this point of view it may be a good thing that the fashion able aristocrats stay away from republican entertainments. If they aontinue to do so for a few more years, and if the republic does not fall in the meanwhile, who knows but that the high-necked dress may finally get the upper hand and relegate its rival to the bal let and the bodies of the demi-monde. If this occurs in Faris the low-neck cause will bo lost throughout the whole world, ,tor the French capital is -till the pope of fashion. Theodore Stanton. Which? In the suburbs of a quiet little town in Westchester county a colony of our colored brothers has established itself, and withclam ming. whitewashing and general chore pur suits the little clan is flourishing. There art a few morally black sheep in the eoinniuuity, and one of them got himself into a corner the other day in this manner: George Smith, one of the selectmen of the town, has an unusually fine collection of blooded fowls and has been very much an from noyed by midnightexcursion parties from the "Black Hills." His brother Frank, who re sembles him wonderfully in peraon and speech, is a state game commissioner. They were walk ing in the w oods last Sunday, when they came upon one of the bad darkeys, who was lying on a moss-bed asleep, with a lino string ot quails partly concealed under his coat. A gentle kick aroused him, and he scrambled to his feet. "IV hat have you got under your jackets" asked the town councillor, while his brother stood behind a tree. Don't you know that it is tho close season for all garnet" The coon looked around uneasily, lingered his shirt front up and down, and blurted out: "Say, boss, ef you'se Mistah Frank Smith, dem's chickuns. Ef you'se Mistah George Smith day's quails. Which is yerf" They let him go.—Tid-Bits. How to Catch Trout. Let me give you a [winter for an impromptu method of catching trout, which has recently come to my notice. It is not only time-sav ing but humane and economical. Go off into the solitude of the mountain fastnesses, where there are purling brooks which you have reason to believe abound in the speckled beauties. Carry with you an old pair of trousers, with the end of the legs carefully tied with string, and having fas tened the open end of these over the outlet of one of those deep, mysterious holes in which the trout love to bask, whip the stream, from twenty feet above down to the trousers, and if you don't bag a mess of the prettiest fish imaginable the gentleman who first explained this method to me is unworthy of an honest man's confidence. It may be well to call attention to the fact that this is a fish story.—Life. The Little Folks. "Why, Mattie, you have put your shoes on the wrong feet!" "What'll i do, mammal they're all the feet I've got."—St. Louis Globe-Democrat. A teacher, in catechising her class of boys at Sunday school, asked, "Who was the strongest man?" A little chap of eight years answered, without a moment's hesitation: "Sullivan. Now ask me who is the best rower."—Harper's Monthly. AN AVERAGE SCHOOL COMPOSITION. A schoolma'am at the Chase house has the following juvenile composition among her schoolhouse manuscript: "A codfish is the only Annymal that ain't got no neck. There ain't but one kind of a fish in the world that lives on the land and Flys round in the air, and that is a fish hawk. A codfish has a large mouth, and my Sunday school Teechers got a large mouth toe. Two kids got fiteing in the vestry one day and one of era pulled quite a lot of Hare out of the other kids Hed and the Superingtending pounded one of his Eers with a book and so they quit. A fish would look funny if they had legs and could run." —Squirrel Island (Mass.) Squid. Tue doctor is hastily called to the bedside of a sick man. "Alas!" he murmura, as he takes the hand of the patient, "there is nothing to be done. His hand is already green." "But, doctor," returned the wife, "my husband is a painter, and that is the reason his hands are stained." "Oh, well," replied the doctor, "that does make a differ ence, to be sure. He really has some chance. If be were not a painter he would be dead in five minutes "—French Fun. MEDIÆVAL E0ST0N INSTITUTIONS. Certain Ancient Customs Which Boston Refuses to Abandon. [special Corrcsportlence.] Boston, Aug. 23.—The Boston Lancers es corted the governor the other day out to Harvard college commencement. The lan cers wear red coats, flat topped helmets, a long white drooping feather, besides their trousers and other corporeal appurtenances. They are armed with poles. On each pole is a red flag. Every lancer is packed about on the street by a horse. It is a very old mili tary organization. Boston is proud of them. They look pretty and are as useless as they are pretty. In modern warfare they might get within 100 yards of the enemy's line be fore the last lancer was surgically operated on anil tunneled through by a ball from re peating l ilies. Their principal use is to pro tect the governor when he is hauled through the streets on college commencement days. They fill the bill in Boston that the lord mayor's coach does in London. Here that coach would readily pass for a circus chariot, and the newly elected mayor, in his purple robe, as one of the principal performers. Another medkeval Boston institution are the lire alarm I »cl Is. Thor ring simulta neously, though unies apart, whenever a hysterical woman "smells somethin' burnin' " and turns on the lire alarm. To live near a Boston lire bell is to be woke up from one to three times per night from tnree to five times a week. This both tries and develops an evangelical patience and resignation. A mania prevails here for bell ringing. In many of the suburban towns within fifteen miles of Boston they start the church bell regularly at 'J o'clock at night, as they have done tor the last 200 years. There is no reason for their doing it, except that they have always done it. It-is a necessity, cus tom has made it so. In one village, through the exertions of certain progressives, this bed-time ringing was stopped. They were obliged to resume it. The conservatives couldn't sleep without their y o'cloc k peak The chimney sweep is another mediaeval feature here. He can be found and hired from a certain dingy cellar in Brattle street. He can be seen alter operating on some old, aristocratic, blue blooded chimney, like a pur gative, to clear it of soot, returning to his hole with his long brush, Ids short brush, his scrapers and himself, a walking mass of soot and dingiuess and a terror to light summer dresses and the wearers inside of them as he is wormed toward them by the convolutions of the midday crowd on Tremont street. I know here in Boston a large business house whose head did all he could to discour age a stranger from engaging in an enter prise requiring a certain service from that house. The stranger was assured that there was no money in it, that scores of others had in the same way tried and failed. The stran ger by Lis pei-sistency carried ids point and the result is un increase of business to said firm. The head of the firm in this instance did not know t hat the stranger was the agent of a conqiany with half a million of capital, and that the proposition made him was but one of several entering wedges, and that the afore said company, for good reasons, desired as little publicity as possible in their transac tions. The head of that firm imagined at the time that lie was the dog and the stranger the taiL lie lias since found out, from a finan cial standpoint, that ho is the tail and the stranger the dog. Still, as there is money in it, he swallows his conceit and allows himself to be wagged when the clog, by virtue of su perior power, is pleased to send an agitation to the caudal machinery. And this is the me tiiæval Boston business man. When you aie very "sharp" to outwit a bulldog, look slntrp that you don't run plump on a bull. There's a great deal of damaging conceit here as well as elsewhere, on the part of busi ness men. Y ou will be told here in various ness men. Y ou will be told here in various ways that you don't know anything about business unless you are strictly in the lines of the business world, and tbis before that business world has had any chance of testing your capacity or incapacity. 1 know of one very strict business man here who is always talking of having things done in strict busi ness fashion, who will show by his answer to another's business letter that he lias forgotten w hat w as w ritten him, if, indeed, ho ever really got hold of it. I know of a great cor poration, having scores of branch offices here, whose employes, in self-protection, are obliged at times to pro! st against the care less method of sending unknown and un authorized persons to collect moneys daily due, without written or <-rs from headquar ters. Pi; ax tick Mulkuku. Where the Butions lame From. The minister's wife sat on the front porch mending the clothes of one of her numerous progeny. A neighbor passing that way stopped in for a friendly chat A large work basket half full of buttons sat on the floor of the porch. After various remarks ef a gos sipy nature the visitor said: "You seem to be well supplied with buttons, Mrs. Goodman." "Yes, very well, indeed." "My gracious I if there ain't two of the same buttons that my husband had on his last win ter suit I'd kuow 'em anywhere." "Indeed?" said the minister's wife, calmly, "I'm surprised to hear it, as all these buttons were found in the contribution box. I thought I might as well put them to some use, so I— what, must you go I Well, be sure and call again soon."—Merchant Traveler. The Social Favorite. Yes, he has a massive forehead and a man ner débonnaire, and his lips seem framed to utter little trifles light as air. He's an artist without question, and is bound to make his mark in whatever line he chooses his fine talents to embark; he has such command of language, and his smile so very sweet every damozel entrances, who declare it is a treat to keep still and simply listen to whate'er he has to say when discussing any topic, whether grave it is or gay. What's his name and his profession! To what tastes does he incline? Well, he's chiefly known, my lady, as the "slugger of the nine."—Life. Diplomat!«) Peddling. CoL Bowser met Jenks the other day, and asked him what he was doing for a living. "Selling a deodorizing powder." "Last time I saw you you were selling an insect killer to be sprinkled on the floors." "I know; now I'm going around to the same houses selling this disinfectant to get the smell of the insect powder out of the house. Next week I'll loom up with a mix ture to drive away the smell of the disinfec tant."—St. Louis Whip. ___ It Is rumored that The Congressional Rec ord is to suspend. This comes of trying to publish a funny paper without any advertise ments. The czar will give each Siberian exile an Btr a slug of tallow un bis birthday.—Life. FROM BOSTON. A .Scrap from Prentice Mulford About Writers. [Special Correspondence.] Boston, Aug. 30.—Able and interesting writer-are increasing at a rate alarming to those 'ong in the profession. "Everybody" now writes and almost everybody writes well. New literary stars of second and third class magnitudes are constantly appearing in the horizon. A new con stellât ion rises, sets and starves about once in seven years. The average pay on newspapers may be $13 a week. When the literary horse is worked out, he or she goes off in a corner and dies quietly and miser ably. Of late people's writings are most valued who have done something worthy of note and can tell of it. An ex-Confederate or Union general who tells his story m a magazine probably gets as much for it as the mere Bohemian receives for half a year's work in telling other people's stories. An article from Jay Gould or John L. Sullivan would bring the average Bohemian's yearly salary. This is as it should be. People want that those who have done something should tell themselves how they did it. The mem writer who can do nothing but write is really now a mediaeval institution. Besides, tho profession, as connected with new.-papers, is not respectable. To be known as a "news paper man" or "correspondent" is to be prac tically tabooed in fashionable and business circles. A "newspaper feller," male or female, is regarded as a sort of spy or eavesdropper, ready to pounce on any bit of gossip, real, manufactured or inferred, and sell it for a price. Uf course, the public wants tho gossip, still they are disposed to regard its collectors as sate only when they are poaching on other jieople's preserves. These observations are intended only for the latitude of Boston. Prentice Mulford. Brother Gardner on Advice-Giving. De longer I lib on top dis airth fie harder I im convinced dat de man who profits by your idvice gibs you no credit fur it, while de one who loses by it am your enemy. I has reached dat pass in my private life w liar, in case a Babur steps in to ax my opinyun about de weather lor the nex' twenty-tour horn's, I dudge de inquiry an' turn de conversashun to hard cider as soon as possible. If I predict rain an' hit it, dar' may be too much fur his beans or not 'nuff fur bis'taters, an'he am sartin to lav - it up agin me. If 1 predict rant an' it doau' come, fte loses confidence in my judgment an' holds me in contempt. Fur de las' twenty y'ars i hev been seekin' de happy medium, au' dat's de chief cause of my bein' hump-backed an' bow-legged, an' liver all ujtsot. I doau' want to be so good dat a pusson dares to come au' steal my hens in the daytime, feelin' dat I'll forgive him, an' I doan want to be so bad dat none ob de nay burs will dare to come in an' borry soft soap, kuowin' dat I like to lend. In tryin' to strike de happy medium my hens hev all died of do pip an' none of de borryed soap has bin re turned. I want to treat all my nayburs alike, but w hen Johnson comes in an' abuses Smith, an' Smith comes in an' abuses Johnson, de happy medium w hich I search aroun' fur makes en emies of boaf, bekase I doan' agite with either. If I pray so loud dat my bazoo flouts out on de night air to de ears of de nayburhood, someljody remarks dat wind power religion may be all right to trade mules by, but it doan reach de gates of Heaben. If I pray in sieh a low voice dat nobody bars it, remarks pray sieh a low voice dat nobody bars it, remarks are made to de effeek dat I has cooled off a good deal since payin' dat bill fur three months' pew rent. My left hand naybur has chill'en who am de terror of Kaintuck. He comes ober to me in de gloamin' an axes what should be done. De happy medium would be to buy a mad dog an' turn him loose in de back yard, but de suggestion makes de man my enemy. My l ight hand naybur has chill'en who am 50 good dat dey lay down an' let dai'selves be robbed an' pounded. He wakes mo up in do rnawnin' to ax my advice, an' when 1 tell him to pack dem off to an idiot asylum he doan' speak to me agin fur six months. Do medium which we should strive fur ma> de divided up as follows: 1. Be deal iu nayburhood quarrels. 2. Be dumb as to men's faults unless you am in de witness bijx. 3. Be silent wlien you can't praise. 4. If you advise at all, agree wid de ideas of de pussons askin' it. 5. A blind man am nebber brought into court fur a witness. Ö. Wisdom am not in knowin'such a power ful sight, but in keepin sheton what you doau' know.—Detroit Free Press. Beware the Freezer. It is a thankless task to warn young people of the evils of overindulgence in cooling viands and drinks during the heated term. Young people w ill be young people, but not very long if they keep on gorging that insidi ous foe to health and life, ice cream. There is death, and, what is worse, premature old, age in the freezer. A single teaspoonful of ice cream dropped upon the tongue of a rat tlesnake w ill kill the man that drops it just as quick as the rattlesnake can get a crack at him, which will be while he is measuring the ice cream. Fifteen grains of strychnine, mixed with a freezerful of ice cream, will kill as many peo ple as a young man can stand treat for. A dog shut up in an air tight iron box for six weeks and fed upon nothing but ice cream will die. A young man named W. S. Thornton pro lurnptu» »usly declared that he could live on Ice cream. He ate fifteen cents' worth, and defiantly ordered another dish. While wait ing for it, lie heard a noise out in the street, and going out to see what caused it, a steamer on its way to a fire knocked him down and ran over film. An ambulance was summoned, and while waiting to be conveyed to the hospital the wretched youth died of old age.— R. J. Burdette in Brooklyn Eagle. He Needs bat One Thing More. We are told an affecting story by a gentle man from Peoria, Ills. A little dog had ono of his legs badly crushed under a loaded dray. A young physician picked up the suffering animal tenderly, carried it home, and found that only amputation could save its life, which was done in a very skillful manner. The sagacious dog, it appears, did net forget the great service, for one day when the physician called, some months after the surgical opera tion was performed, it hopped up nimbly on its three pins and nipped a good big piece out of the calf of the Good Samaritan's leg. Now ho only needs thu hydrophobia. — Cincinnati Commercial. a m m as mg as a Barn Door. Editor—Miss Devereaux is quite musical? Host—Yes, very much so. Visitor—Does she sing in English? Host—She does, and I'm-sorry she doesn't sing in Kalamazoo or some other far away place.—American Musician.