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Volume xxi. Helena, Montana, Thursday, March 31, 1887. No. 18 <T\c lilcrldîî trail!. R. E. FISK D. W. FISK. A. J. FI SK Publishers and Proprietors. Largest Circulation of any Paper in Montana -O Rates of Subscription. WEEKLY HERALD: One Year, in ml \ a nee).............................S3 00 f»1x Months. (In advance)............................... * «5 Three Months, (in advance).........................• } 00 When not paid for in advance the ra*e will be Four Dollars per year] Postage, in all cases, Prepaid. DAILY HERALD: City Subscribers,delivered by carrier 81.00a month One Year, by mail, (in advance)................. SO 00 -iix Months, by mail, (in advance)............... 5 00 Three Months, by mail, (in advance)........... 250 If not paid in advance, 812 per annum. All communications should be addressed to K1SK BROS., Publishers, Helena, Montana. V\ EMPTY NEST. A grave old man and a maiden fair Walked together at early morn ; The thrushes up in the clear cool air Sang to the farmer planting his corn. And oh! how sweet was the fresh turned mound! ..... And oh 1 how fair were the budding trees For daisy's silver and daffodil's gold Were full of the hai py honey bees. Ah. look ? there's an empty nest.'' she said ; And I wonder where sing the last year's birds?" Then the old man quickly raised his head. Though scarcely he noted her musing words ; He tore the nest from the swaying tree. He flung to the winds its moss and hay, And said: "When an empty nest you see, lie sure that you throw it far away." Rut why?" she asked, with a sorrowing face— Why may not the pretty home abide?" ''Because." he answered, "T'will be a place In which the worm and the slug will hide. Last year 'twas fair enough in its.way— It was full of love, and merry with song; But days that are gone must not spoil to-day. J | Nor dead joys do the living joys wrong.' The maiden heard with a thoughtful face— Her tirst false love had gone far away— And she thought: Is my heart liecome a place For anger and grief and hate to stay? Down heart, with thy sad, forsaken nest! Fling far thy selfish and idle pain, The love that is ours is always the best; \nd she went with a smile to her work again. WE AKE tllANbED. We feel our love has long grown cold. And vet we dare not own That, day by day, a silent change Has o'er our spirits grown. We see it, though our eyes the while Are blinded by our tears ; With words of former tenderness We strive to mock our fears. But we are changed. We are not one, As we were once of old. Oh, would to God that we had died Before our love grew cold! We've struggled hard against our fate, Our hearts still warm to keep. As way-worn men strive with the cold That numbs them into sleep. We have not let one unkind word The bitter tiuth reveal ; The world knows not, must never know, What both of us now feel, That we are changed. We are not one, As we w r ere once of old. Oh, would to God that we had died Before our love grew cold ! Bound, like the felon bound of yore, Unto the lifeless clay. Linked to a love long dead, that shows Fach moment more decay. In secret we must hug our bonds, Till death will set us free. I weep, my wife, to think that I Have forged these chains for thee ; For we are changed. We are not one. As we were once of old. Oh, would to God that we had died Before our love grew cold. THE JEWESS. When Russia was oppressing the Jews Joaquin Miller wrote this ascription to the Jewess. It is as sweet and stately and tender as anything David sang in the psalms: My dark-browed daughter of the Sun, Dear Bedouin of the desert sands, Sad daughter of the ravished lands, Of savage Sinai, Babylon— 0 Egypt-eyed thou art to me A God-encompassed mystery. t «... 1 see a sail Hagar in thy eyes. The olielisks, the pyramids. Lie hid beneath thy drooping lids ; The tauny Nile of Moses lies ~m. Portrayed in thy strange people's farce, And solemn mystery of source. The black abundance of thy hair Falls like some sad twilight in June Above the dying afternoon, And mourns thy people's mute despair, The large solemnity of night, O Israel is in thy sight. Then eomo where stars of freedom spill Their splendor. Jewess ! In this land The same broad hollow of God's That held you ever, outholds still. And whether you be right or nay, Tis God's, not Russia's, here to say. GOLIATH AND DAVID. Goliath poised his mighty spear, Twas fifty fut in length. And unto David drawin' near, He punched wid all hia strength. But David was surprisin' quick, And sphry upon his pins; So dodgin' nately. wid his stliiek He whacked Goliath's shins. Wid pain the giant howled and grinned, And dhrapped both Shield and lance, To rub his legs the lick had skinned, Thin David saw his chance. Takin' a brick from out his scrip, He put it in his sl.ng. And, whirlin' it 'round head and hip, He let it dhrive full swing. Right to the mark the dornick flies, As sthraight as to a hod; It slimote the wretch between the eyes And stretched him on the sod. Thin David, for to prove him dead. In sight of all beholders, » hopped off his unbelaven head From his blasphainious shoulders. To a Three Cent Ficce. Co, sickly semblance of a silver dime, Thou worriest me worse than a six cent fare. Fit only for token in some fair clime, Where barter's the mode and coins are rare A half muffled curse greets thy hybrid face Whenever men use thee to buy and sell ; Among dollars and cents thou hast no place— Go hang as a bang on some dusky belle. —Philadelphia CaO. A Chestnut "Turn Over.** The "funny man" we do detest •puaq joq uo pmsjs 04 pvq aqs jj AY ho aims at us his ancient jest— '.aoqamos 4! 4 « ?a3 p.oqs MOtnj A joke (?) so aged, stale and hoary— —pcoj Apuajpj s.oqs mood sjqx The same old. weary, dreary story üniqproj v 04 sjuoo u.q toq n. 9A AOJJ Of how we curious daughters of Eve m - , , . '*" oqs v J° P"! 5 ! I s * 9 ! aqs jj (Ihough this latter fact, we deeply grieve) v '-»oqoiuos tno 41 puij n. 9 qs taq no^C jng must stand on our heads a point to find î.wouïj 04 40 U 4 q 3 no oqs JSuiqtouios 8,41 these comical (?) lines from tne "funny man's" _ mind. UÏIUOM V S01JJ04& 3UIU4XUB g un i Tt The Star of Bethlehem. [< 'hlcago Tribune.] The New York Herald has recently de voted considerable of its space to the so called "Star of Bethlehem," and its de scription has been copied into other papers far and wide. The special stimulus for the effort is the expectation by some people that the star which burst upon the vision of Tycho Brahe November 11. 1572, will reappear in 1887, its period as a variable being assumed to be 315 years. The pre diction is based upon the recorded occur rence of similar phenomena in the years 1201 and 945. As these three dates are separated by intervals of 308 and 319years, and as three previous appearances at cor responding intervals would carry us back to the beginning of the Chistian era, some would-be wise man has jumped to the con clusion that this star is the one which ap peared at the birth of Christ. The hint has been so extensively accepted that a great many people are on the qui vive for a sight of the stranger, and seem to await it with contidence that there can be no mistake in regard to it. A little closer acquaintance with the tacts will suillce to show that the whole thing is a blunder—at least in so far as identity may be claimed for the star seen by Tycho with that reported by Matthew to have gone before the wise men of the East in their search for the infant Savior. The language of the gospel is that the star went till it "stood over where the young child was." That means that the star must have læen very near the vertical when it passed the meridian above the pole, in which case its declination was not more than 32° north. The apparitions re ferred to as having occurred in subsequent years were visible not far from G0° of north declination and could never approach the point overhead at Bethlehem so nearly as the midsummer sun comes to our zenith. It is evident that such a star could not fill the conditions laid down in the gospel, and a reappearance in the latter part of the nineteenth century conld not be properly regarded as forming a connecting link be tween us and the scenes enacted near Jerusalem 1,891 years ago. There is really no proof of identity be tween the star seen by Tycho and those strangers which blazed out in earlier years. The positions of none of them except the last were noted precisely enough to enable the astronomer to draw a connecting line between them. But it is not beyond the range of possibility that a variable star should exist with such a long period, though it is difficult to do more than guess at the conditions that would cause a star to blaze up at such long intervals and die out to invisibility during the lapse of such enormous cycles. Several cases of varia bility within less time are known, the two most notable examples being Algol, which goes through all its changes in a few days, and Myra, which requires the largest part of a year for the details of its perform ance. But these and all the other known variables keep in the same point of the heavens, as referred to the earth, while passing from dimness to effulgence and back again to the phase of faintness of light. There is no reason to think that an object, variable or otherwise, can describe a journey extending over a twelfth part of the circumference of the sphere and return at the vast.lineal distance that separates us from the nearest fixed star. Such an idea involves what may be called a math ematical absurdity, which must be ac cepted by those who expect to see the Star of Bethlehem shine out in the constella tion of Cassiopea, which is where Tycho saw his marvel. IVhy Women Marry. I Detroit Free Press.) ad article has bee« going the rounds of the press entitled, "Reasons Why Men Marry." So I have begun to make in quiries why women marry. 1 began first on my landlady at dinner time, but she answered me so sourly, "Because I didn't stay single!" with a look that added "you idiot" plainly as words could have done, that I tremblingly made up my mind to pay ud mv last month's board bill and pursue further inquiries by post. So to the question, "Why did you marry?" the following answers were re ceived: "Because all fools weren't dead yet." "Because I had the chance." "Because I didn't want to be a hired girl. I soon found out, though, that I was working for my board and clothes." "I threatened him with a breach of promise suit if he wouldn't." "Because I wore so much store hair and bought my complexion he thought I was 24 instead of 42." "Because I never wanted to go into any business where I couldn't be boss." "Because I was as big a fool as most other girls are.'' "Because he always said I was an angel. Now he always says he wishes I was one." "To see who was the best man. I've found out I am." "Out of pride for my sex. He had al ready outlived three women. I have brought back the palm of my sex. He was my first husband and I'm looking for my sixth." If there is any woman who reads this paper who married for love, money or spite, write quickly and let me know, or it any such case has come under your notice please inform me and you will be suitably rewarded. The Strongest Man on Earth. (Virginia Footlight.l There is a man on the Carson river, be low Dayton, named Angella Cordelia, who claims to be the strongest man in the world. He is an Italian, aged twenty-eight, and stands five feet ten inches, weighing 198 pounds. His strength was born with him, for he had no athletic training. He differs from other men chiefly in the osseous structure. Although not of unusual size, his spinal column is much beyond the ordi nary width, and his bones and joints are made on a similarly large and gener erous scale. He has lifted a man of 200 pounds with the middie finger ot his right hand. The man stood with one foot on fioorj his arms outstretched, his hands grasped by two persons to steady his body. Cordelia then stooped and placed the third finger ot his right hand under the man's foot, and, with scarcely any preceptible effort, raised him to the height of fonr feet and deposited him on a table near at hand. Once two pow erfüll men waylaid Cordelia, with intent to thrash him, but he seized one in each hand and hammered them to gether until life was nearly knocked out of them. Misery in London. In his recent pastoral letter Cardinal Manning says: "We are in a third Baby lon, as great as Rome. It is the capital of a Christian people. Is its people Christian? We are responsible for all that is Catholic scattered in this wilderness of 5,000,000 of men; and we are debtors to labor with even more unselfish love and denial of self than other men, and that in all work of humanity and of sympathy with those who suffer, be they ours in faith or not. They are our brethren; they share the same sufferings and sorrows. We are their debtors in all the seven works of spiritual and of corporal mercy. Upon multitudes among us there is an uncon sciousness like sleep. They have never known poverty or want. Their well-pro vided life is, they think, the lot of all, or might be, and therefore ought to be, so that they will not even read or listen. They do not know the condition of our poor, but the fault is their own. Others, again, there are who know the truth, but are so confident in their theories of social science that they give no prompt salva tion to those that are not in conformity with rule. The laws of the moral world are indeed inflexible, because they are devine: but the state of the moral world is always abnormal, and to a large extent immoral. Nevertheless we are debtors to all men. And hunger and mis ery have rights, even in the worst of men. And we have duties, even to those whom we may never be able to save. But into this large field of Christian obligation it is not necessary to enter now. Only two words shall be added. We have never sounded the deep sea of the misery of Lon don; nor will those soundings he ever taken until the efforts of official search be largely helped by the spontaneous personal service, both of men and women, devoted to the works of Christian and human benevolence." What Our Statesmen Drink. [From the Boston Traveler.) The President and his official advisers are Dot a unit upon the drink question. Mr. Cleveland likes a glass of Plebian beer, but since his increasing stoutness he has used it in very moderate quantities. He has no lovejfor the stronger drinks, and con fines himself almost exclusively to malt liquors. Mrs. Cleveland is a strict temper ance woman, and does not drink even the light wines. Secretary Bayard likes red wines, and a glass of good old Burgundy is his delight. Secretary Manning, like the President, is fond of malt liquors, with an occasional glass of light wine. Secretary "Whitney's wine is champagne. He sips all the regular driDks ou the table, but in variably saves himself for the champagne. Whitney has grown remarkably stout with in the last few months. Certainly no man in the cabinet has been so high a liver as he. Secretary Endicott treats his aristo cratic stomach with a choice selection of old and rare wines. He is a connoisseur, and his judgment is probably second only to that of Justice Gray, of the Supreme Court, and Senator Hale, both of whom are experts. Both of these gentlemen, how ever, paled before President Arthur, of whom a celebrated wine merchant said : "He is the finest judge of Madeiras in this country, and his opinion npon other wines is almost as good." Secretary Lamar hasn't any particular liquor. He does not linger over the wine cup, neither does Postmaster General Vilas, but neither will shy a glass of rare vintage. Attorney General Garland is fond of neither wine nor malt liquors. He drinks plain whisky, with a very little water in it. How Much Can be Dreamed in Five Seconds. [From the Revue Scientifique.] I was sitting with police official at his office, and we were discussing some fantas tic story, when an employe came in aud sat down beside us, leaning bis elbows on the table. I looked up and said to him : "You have forgotten to make the soup." "No,no; come with me." We went out together, goiDg across loDg corridors, I walking be hind him, at the college where I was brought up. He went to a wing of the house which I knew well, and which led to the class rooms. Under the stairs he showed me a stove, on which stood an oys ter shell with a little white paint in it (I had been mixing water colors the evening before.) "But you have forgotten the vege tables. Go to the porter at the other end the court yard ; you will find them there on a table.'' I waited for a long time ; at last I saw him making signs to me that he had found nothing. "It is at the left hand side," I shouted, and saw him cross the yard, coming back with an immense cab bage. I took a knife from my pocket, which I always kept there, and at the mo ment when I was going to cut the vegetable I was awakened by the noise of a bowl of sonp being pot heavily upon the marble top of the table next to my bed. It appears to me that the idea of soup was suggested to me by the smell at the moment when the door was opened by the servant bringing in the soup while I was asleep, and it takes five seconds at the most tj walk from the door to the bed. Bogus Butter in France. The French Legislature has adopted a bill regulating the sale of oleomargarine, of which the following is an abstract : "It is illegal to sell, import, or export margarine, oleomargarine, or any other mixture of fat or oil nnder the name of batter, whatever may be the quantity of either of these substances that may be mixed in it. Thejpenalty is a fine of from $10 to $00, and from six days to six months imprisonment. All fraudulent mixtures of butter and fat which are prohibited are liable to confiscation. The Coart is also empowered to publish particulars of the fraud, and of the punishment inflicted, in the newspapers, public markets, or places where the fraud has been committed, or npon the doors of the honse of the delin quent at his expense. A person convicted a second time will in all cases receive the extreme penalty. Every seller of imita tion butter, or mixture of butter, is bound to inform the buyer of the nature of the compound, and 1 have the casing or wrap ping paper printed with the words 'Mar garine,' or 'Oleomargarine,' in plain charac ters. All articles for holding these fats must have these words burned in by the manufacturers and wholesale dealers. The same words are to be used upon all in voices and bills between buyer and seller, and the same terms most also be nsed by carriers, nnder heavy penalties." FROM ACROSS THE SEA. THEODORE STANTON WRITES OF SOME FRENCH CUSTOMS. He Compares Them With tbe Customs of the United States and Not Always to Our Advantage—Hints for People Who Wish to Enjoy Social Life. [Special Correspondence ] Paris, Jan. 31.—I propose in this letter to give your readers an idea of a few of the social customs that differ iu France from those that prevail in the United States, and here, as in some other things, I think you will find that France is superior to us. We Americans are often too apt to consider as unworthy of study and imitation what we are pleased to call "the effete nations of Europe." But a long residence on this side of the ocean has convinced me, that while the Unite-l States possesses many virtues, it does not possess all the good things of this world. Thus several of the social customs of France could be transplanted with benefit into the United States. In America, even in our large cities, it is more the exception than tbe rule if a lady bas a regular "at home." But here in France, and especially in Paris, everybody—even gentle men in some instances—has his or her "day." The day and the hours between which the lady is ready to receive callers are generally printed in the left hand lower corner of her visiting card, and it is only on that day and between those hours that she can be seen by her friends. Sometimes it may be every Tuesday or on every other Thursday, or on tho first Saturday in each month; hut every lady in Paris, even of the most unpretentious sort, has a fixed afternoon when she receives her friends. This custom has many advantages and very few disadvantages. Here are some of the advantages: When, for instance, a French housewife, with culinary tastes, is busy in the kitchen, she is sure that Mrs. Brown or Mrs. Jones will not appear in her parlor all attired in fine robes, and thus force her to leave the cake to spoil and to lose a precious hour, or, it may be, a whole afternoon, that was to have beeu devoted to replenishing the dessert drawer. Fewer "white lies" have to be told under this system, for nobody calls on Mrs. Smith except on Tuesday, and then Mrs. Smith is never "out." Again, Mrs. Smith can—unless she happen to be poor, and yet have rich acquaintances which is oftener the case in aristocratic Europe than in democratic America—be as richly dressed as her visitors, w ho, she knows, will not con:e in upon her before a certain hour on a cer tain day. So she never has to enter her own parlor making excuses for her attire, that she came in just as she was in order not to keep you waiting, that you must excuse her stained hands, because she was in the midst of making currant jelly, etc. And now here are some of the advantages to the callers. In the first place they never have to wait "only a minute," while Mrs. Smith is jumping out of her kitchen dress into her parlor robe, which often takes nearly a half hour. Then again, you do not ring a door bell in Paris and experience the disagree able feeling that perhaps your unexpected call is throwing a w hole family into conster nation. No; it is Mrs. Smith's daj r , and the door is immediately opened by a neatly at tired maid servant, who, perhajjs, looks slat ternly on all the other days of the week, and who conducts you iuto a cozy parlor, where the fire is burning, guests are chatting and the delicious aroma of tea rises from a little side table. You find Mrs. Smith really glad to see you, for she has been expecting you. You often meet agreeable visitors, and you sip a cup of tea or quaff a glass of w ine, and start out on the next call rested in body and refreshed. Mrs. Smith has appeared at her best, her home looked orderly and inviting and you were not saying to yourself during your visit: "I wonder if I am not interrupt ing some household duty?" or, "Mi-s. Smith looks as if she wished me gone," or, "Am 1 not staying too long?" or some other such mental question that always haunts the brain of a sensitive person who inflicts a "surprise party" in the shape of a call upon some help less friend. Another admirable French custom is what is known as the "faire part." Thus when a child is bora, when a mariiage or funeral oc curs, all the friends and acquaintances of tho family are informed of tbe event by receiving a printed letter. The many advantages of this custom will readily occur to you. Here are some: You never run the risk of asking a husband about his wife who has l>een dead a month ; you do not congratulate a father on his baby who has not yet been born ; you do not address an old flame as Miss Black when she has been married for six months to the man at her side, nor do you write a letter to Mis. Johnson, when she has been divorced and remarried and is now Mi-s. Robinson. It is no uncommon thing in America, to return to your native town after a year's absence, and to be in continual fear of making mistakes of this kind. I had several unpleasant experiences of this sort during my visit to the United States last summer, after a five years' sojourn in Europe. But in France, it is rare that this happens. Marriages and deaths and births, are not published as in England, in the advertising columns of the newspapers, where nine friends out of ten never see them. Y r ou receive per sonally a notice and thus you easily keep the run of all that has occurred among j our ac quaintances in respect to these three cardinal events of life. The importance of the visiting card in France may be shown in connection with this "faire part" custom; when you receive one of these notices, you are always expected to send in return your card. If you are very intimate with the family, you should write in the corner a few words of condolence or felicitation according to whether the "faire part" informed you of a death, a birth, or a marriage. In tliis way long letters of condo lence and congratulation are often avoided. But in most cases, ninety-nine out of a hun dred, you need simply return, by post, your visiting card in an open envelope, requiring a one cent stamp. Thus this custom costs neither time nor money. While speaking of cards, I might mention a peculiarity in France that strikes the Am erican. The wife has no individual visit ing card as in the United States. Thus, Mrs. Benjamin's card reads Mr. and Mrs. John P. Benjamin, and not Mrs. Julia S. Benjamin. The husband, on the contrary, has an indi vidual card. So when Mrs. Benjamin leaves cards on another married couple, she hands the servant one on which is printed Mr. and Mrs. John P. Benjamin, this is for the lady of tbe house who is being called upon, and two others bearing the name Mr. John P. Benja min, which are for the lady and gentleman of the house. This complete burying of the wife's name and individuality iu that of the , husband is quite the opposite i f the Amer ican practice, and has no advantages that I can discover. On the contrary, it is open to criticism, lor the -wife's family is often more widely known than that of the husband's, so that it would frequently be a benefit to him and her to preserve some reminder of her origin. This is especially true in aristocratic Europe, where a name, if it be a famous one, carries great weight with it, and aids in political and social advancement. Theodore Stanton. | OLD SEW YORK. PRENTICE MULFORD RECALLS THE DAYS THAT WERE AND ARE NOT. Where Are the Hoys that Used t«> Itun With the Machines When the Cry of Fire was Heard?—What is the Progress of To-day? [Special Correspondence.1 New York, Feb. 28.—I knew New York when rum of good quality was three cents a glass in front of the South street bar screens and six cents behind them. Every bar then iu that part of the city had a screen which divided the price of drinks, and the high priced sixpenny drinkers from the low priced threepenny ones. That was in 1854 or thereabouts. Swell cigars were three cents each. The remark "he smokes three centers" was a criticism on per sonal extravagance. These may seem as small things, but small things denote prog ress. As to cigars and whisky have we pro gressed ? In price, certainly. But the "Mose" of 1854 would have been inclined to make kindling wood of the bar which should offer him whisky of the average quality sold to day at ten cents and hash of the bar keeper. He could do and did do such things on provocation. He was a "tough," but not the murdering, sneaking, ninety-nine cent pistol "tough" of to-day. What he did he did ou his muscle, aided by his "spanner" or boot toe. Have we in that respect progressed? Mose was the volunteer fireman of 1854. He has vanished. His red flannel shirt, plug hat tipped over his eye, soap lock curl, trousers tucked in boots and coat flung on arm re main only in the memories of the relative few who are rapidly becoming fewer. He be longed to that New York era when, after a readymade clothing house fire, the "b'hoy" sported a new overcoat, when the ununi formed policeman looked like a tramp, when the ".Star," Wallack's old theatre, was the highest one uptown; when there was no shopping promenade above Union square, when Bond and Bleecker still retained a hold as fashionable streets, when white linen suits troin top to toe were the thing for gentlemen's summer wear. When a man who had seen Paris was somebody ; when the old style merchant wore a swallow tailed coat to business, a high side board collar, a black stock, and a gold chain and seal dangling from his waistband; when oyster stews were a shilling each ; when the volunteer fire companies ran the "masheen" on the sidewalk if they wanted to and left wrecks of old women and their apple stands far as the eye could reach; when at a big fire the boys manned the double deckers, and sang "The Stormy Winds They do Blow" by the hour, when the great omnibus sleigh, after a snowstorm, was a feature of Broadway, carrying its load of fifty or sixty, or as many men, boys, girls, etc., as could cram in or bang on, or sit in each other's laps three deep, and every body snowballed them as they jingled past, and they snowballed everybody. Have we indeed progressed? Have we now such fun as people had then? Have we grown any younger, or youthfuller, or agiler? Is our digestion or carrying capacity for solid or fluid necessary for nutri tion or recuperation or otherwise as good as it was then? Have we progressed? What does a fire amount to now? It is noth ing but a prosaic mechanical affaii - —a hauling to it of a steam pump on wheels—a severely rigid and disciplined affair with no songs, no fights, no poetry, no free rum, no freedom for the fireman's soul to expand and dare danger and death to pluck a new overcoat from the devouring flames in the bosom of Abraham's clothing store. Where is tho fire man's funeral we used to have every Sunday and the dead march in Saul down Broadway ? I used to run occasionally with "34," and was awfully licked one night by "14's" boys, who housed somewhere near the rear of Trinity church. 1 do not know the friend who chas tised me. But he was a lively kicker. I re member how, after he knocked me into the gutter of that period, he impelled me forward for an entire block before I remembered to resume my perpendicularity on two legs in stead of aii lours. It is not dignified, I know, to mention these things. Perhaps it is not proper; I should cover them up, I should never allude to them. Yet why not? I am not to-day the person of so many years ago. That person, that possibly reckless and im prudent youth is in a sense dead. I have grown out and away from him. He is, or w'as, another fellow. Paul the Apostle speaks of himself as "dying daily;" that is, daily he got rid forever of a part of his old self. Hence he argued that the Paul of last year or ten yeai-s ago was in no wise the better Paul of to-day, and that the Paul of to-day was in no way responsible for what the Paul of ten years ago might Lave done. In that sense then we do progress. In that sense 1 have progressed some since that long distant com munion with my unknown, and possibly never to be known, brother of No. 14. Never since in this world have I met the group of young friends who went down be fore that charge of "14's" boys. One, my fel low boarder, came home that night without his hat and with one eye of a color different from that of the day preceding. Those were some of the risks we ran at that time in try ing to keep New York from burning up. Where now are the dives and dens of Bleecker street, forty years ago lived the town's elite. In dingy rooms where they shave for five cents, you may look up and see the walls and cornices which once looked down on fashionable weddings and solemnly fashionable funerals. And this is progress! It's going ever on, too. It is creep ing, creeping further and further up town. Trade now has its grip on Fifth avenue blocks and blocks above Madison square. The bric-a-brac dealer is sandwiching himself here and there among the private residences. He invades these with his expansive and vio lently showy plate glass window. He is first. The second hand furniture man will be last, with the Dutch grocery for a partner on one comer and Ling Lee's laundry on the other. Time, A. D. 1900. Only thirteen years hence! Prentice Mulford. COMMENTS ON CURRËNT TOPICS. Onr Troublesome Surplus — Something About Immigration. There probably never was a nation in his tory that has had a financial embarrassment similar to that which is now disquieting this country. We have so much money in our treasury that we don't know what to do with it. The receipts are so much larger thau the outgoes that gold, silver and greenbacks are being locked up and are unemployed, a state of things that really embarrasses trade, w hich requires for its transactions the full volume of our circulating medium. But the sitting congress w ill undoubtedly dispose of the sur plus, not bv reducing the tariff or abolishing the internal revenues, but by making ex penditures for sea coast and lake defenses, iu providing a navy and in increasing the pen sion fund. This last item has swollen to ap palling figures. It is estimated that the money paid out for pensions will in time nearly equal the cost of our civil war, which was the most exhaustive one known to his tory. W'e have already appropriated over $1,000,000,000 in extra payments to those who entered our military service—a sum sufficient to have built us a navy, constructed sea coast defenses, improved our harbors and water ways and re-established our merchant ma rine, so that our flag would again be seen in every important port on the globe. But in stead of this outlay for national purposes we have spent it in gratuities to old soldiers and sailors and their families that were not asked for. Still these vast sums have been spent among the poor class, and doubtless have helped the retail business of the country. W'ith all our extravagance we have more money in the treasury than at present we know what to do with, for the reason, no doubt, that unlike Europe, we have no gigan tic armies and navies to maintain. Emigration in the past has moved on iso thermal lines. That is, when human being9 in any part of the world wish to change their place of living, they go westerly and in stinctively choose regions that reproduce the climate of their old homes. Hence the Nor wegian finds his way to Minnesota; so does the family from Maine. The New Englander keeps on due west. The German emigrates to Missouri or Kansas, the Italian to Brazil. It is rare that a northern people will seek a southern climate, or vice versa. When the Dutch settled on New V nrk Im y they chose Communipaw as their home, because it was low ar.d sandy: in other words, it reproduced the physical characteristics of Holland. It was, of course, the least desirable of any lo cality of the now noble harbor of the metrop olis. All former emigrations were due west; hut a change has come, and the iron and coal fields of the central zone of our southern states are new centers of attraction for tens of thousands of northern families. A new Bennsvlvania is growing up in northern Georgia, Alabama and Mississippi, in Ten nessee, North Carolina and soutli western Virginia. The change is so marvelous as to be almost incredible. In a region heretofore given over to cotton growing, there are now mills, iron foundries, as well as the most diversified industries; a reproduction, in short, of the workshops of New England and the middle states. The old south has passed away forever, and a new south, which, in its industrial occupations is indistinguishable from the north, has taken its place His First Patient. A physician who now stands very high in his profession tells with great enjoyment of his first, visit so a patient, and its amusing re sult: "My diploma and a well filled medicine case and $5 in cash comprised my earthly possessions when I landed in B-, then a small, new town in a western state. "Renting a small, furnished room, I printed my name iu bold black letters on a piece of pasteboard, and put it iu one of the windows that opened upon the main street of the town. Then I was ready for patients. But the people seemed discouragingly healthy, and the outlook was not promising. "It was three weeks before I had a call. Then there came to the door an elderly, angu lar woman, who asked: " 'Be you the dock? " 'I am,' I replied, looking as wise and dig nified as a man could who had been called 'dock.' "She then said that her 'old man' was 'ailin' somewheres,' and asked me to go and discover if I could what was 'the matter of him.' "No young recruit ever went forth to bat tle with greater anxiety than I went forth to meet my first patient. I cannot to this day account for the nervousness that possessed me. My knees literally shook as I entered the room in which my patient lay. "Making an effort to look wise, and trying hard to affect the manner of an experienced physician, I said: " 'Put out your pulse.' "Realizing the mistake I had made, and magnifying it into a most horrible one, I made matters worse by saying: " 'No, I meant let me feel of your tongue.' "The sick man, puzzled, and probably doubtful of my sanity, added to my con fusion by asking: " 'What feri" " 'Oh, it was only a little slip of the tongue 1' I said, with what must have been a ghastly smile. 'Are you very sick V "That's what I want you to find out V said the patient. "Oh, yes; tobe sure!' I managed to say. Then I went through the usual formula, gaining a little in self-confidence, but was not greatly elated as you may judge, when th i man, eying me keenly, said on my de parture: " 'Green hand at the bizness, ain't you? I guess you don't know as much as you think you do.' "I did not seem to myself to know as much as I thought I did ''—Youth's Companion. An Outlaw Indeed. A woman who keeps a boarding house on Larned street called at police headquarters yesterday to complain that a gentleman boarder had skipped her house, leaving a hill unpaid. "He owes me about $40 and I want him caught," she added. "What kind of a person was he?" asked the sergeant. "Well, the day before he went away he offered to marry me to settle the bilL You can judge what cheek he has." "And you refused?" "Yes—no—no, I didn'tl" she exclaimed as she blushed clear back to her ears. "It was all settled that we should be married, and that's one reason why I'll pursue Mm to th« ends of the earth. A mag who'll jump a board bill and a marriage engagement, too, is an outlaw who should be locked up."—De troit Free Press. LIFE IN NEW YORK. Some Industrial Aspects—A Dressmaker»* Kail Described. [Special Correspondence.! New York, March 7.—The other day I wanted some sewing done, and determined to try and find some nice, midtile aged woman— a widow—who kept a little thread and needle store on Third avenue and took in sewing when I lived farther down town than now, and who at that time did a great deal of the plain sewing of my family. Mrs. B. was a very small and very quiet woman, who had been left a widow with three children and an aged mother to take care of under circumstances that seemed as hopeless as they well coule, be. But she acquired a little money from the fund of a society of which her husband was a member, and with this she bought a small stock of thread and needles, tape, ribbons and paid a month's rent in advance for her little store aud rooms. Her mother took care of the children and helped with the work of the house, while Mrs. B. took charge of the store and sewed, when not waiting upon customers, from morning till night. The children occasionally helped in the store out of school hours, but tbeir mother was ambitious for them, and the most indefatig able worker, for such a little bit of a woman, you ever saw. Years went on; tho children had grown into young man and womanhood; the little mother looked older and paler, but kept the store and sewed as industriously as ever. All the time that was not claimed by customers was spent in making garments which were displayed in the window and sold to the poor women of the neighborhood, for themselves and their children. She had also added to her stock such materials as were used in making undergarments, aprons, wrappers and the like, and the quality was so good the price so moderate that many of her patrons preferred to have her furnish the goods as well as the workmanship, and thus add a small profit to her modest charges. Her daughters had grown into very nice looking girls. They were never seen upon the street, but so rarely in the little shop that neighbors began to make remarks and consider it "a shame," with the sympathetic benevolence that so many people exhibit in attending to other people's affairs. But the little woman, who had never changed the fashion of her plain black dress and white apron, took no notice. She had determined that her daughters should go through normal college, and they did, grad uating with honor. She had determined that her boy should go through the New York college, and he did; but somewhat to her dis appointment, decided to go into business, in stead of finishing up at Columbia or Harvard, as she had hoped. About this time her mother died, and I left that part of town. I heard nothing of her for several years, ex 0 pt that the store had been given up and the young people had all obtained positions—tbe boy as a clerk down town, the girls as teachers in the prepai atory department of the college. When I rung the bell of tho neat little house, on a side street, the other day, where I had been told Mrs. B. lived, a clean but diminutive German maid servant opened the door, and in reply to my inquiry asked me to walk into the parlor. It was a pretty room, simply furnished, but with books and late magazines upon the table. I hardly liked to state my errand to Mrs. B. when she en tered, though there was little difference in her nppearanoe. She still wore a plain black dress, but tbe apron had disappeared, and her face was quite free from the restrained look of care which formerly possessed it. "No, I do not take in any more sewing," she said, in reply to my inquiry. "We managed to purchase and pay for this little house before I gave up, assisted by a small sum left me by my mother. The girls are both teaching, are very much liked and the best daughters in the world. Charlie has obtained a line posi tion as trusted and confidential clerk in a large business house, and there is no longer any necessity for my earnings by the needle." She did not seem to realize any great change, probably did not feel any. Doubtless sho still does the sewing for the household, makes shirts for Charlie and helps the girls to keep their wardrobes in good condition. But the struggle is over; she conquered difficulties with the most slender of weapons, the needle, but with heroic patience and devotion, and has her reward iu the care, the security, the filial love which renders her closing years the brightest of her life. There is a dressmakers' union in New York —not fashionable dressmakers, not those who live in fashionable side streets up town and import costumes which cost several hundred dollars, nor even those who live in the region of Lexington avenue, keep house and main tain a more or less proud constituency, but the hard working rank and file of dress makers, who para a living and ask no odds of anybody. This "union" gave a ball the other evening, invited their friends, paid the ex penses and would have resented any imputa tion of not being perfectly competent to do so. The young women were as handsome, as well dressed, as respectable and refined look ing a body of young women as could be brought together anywhere, and did not seem to consider themselves in the least pitiable. A little conversation with one or two of them revealed the fact that they considered them selves better off than formerly, l»ecause in in the receipt of better pay. A girl who can "cut," and "lit," and "drape" (there are plenty of so-called dressmakers who cannot do either) can command all the work she wants, one assured the writer, at $2.50 per day and her meals. Although, as they do not begin until 8 o'clock, and leave at G, they sometimes prefer not to wait for the late din ner, but take the midday lunch and supper after they reach home. Two young women who worked out at dressmaking for a num!>er of years in New Y'ork, saved up money enough to set up for themselves in Brooklyn. They opened a little store w here they sold trimmings, and did a general dressmaking business. They wen net very good dressmakers, for they lacked tbo general culture and training which is of such value in any special pursuit, and they had picked up the business by working at low wages in a great dress and furnishing estab lishment. But they were industrious and per severing, and so they got on. They lifted the mortgage on the frame house in w hich they lived with their father and mother, and they prospered until a ne'er do well brother came back destitute from the west, with his wife and baby, and fastened himself and his family upon them. They took him into the ßtore —they did not know what else to do—and in six months he had ruined their business, destroyed their credit, abstracted their funds and broken them hearts. One died of the shock of it— the doctors said it was consumption ; the other is going out by the day again, deter mined, if possible, to pay off the mortgage they were obliged to put again upon the little home iu order to save the family credit, Jennie Junk