New York dispatch. [volume], September 29, 1878, Page 6, Image 6

About New York dispatch. [volume] (New York [N.Y.]) 1863-1899

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6
BALLAD.
♦BY J. E. W.
My lova lift took me to the fields,
And through the woods, and o’er the lea;
He said the ctiarms w itch Nature yields
Were such as those he found in me.
I looked upon the streaming light,
That tell around us everywhere;
He said the sun won d not be bright
But that it wished to match my hair,
I stooped to cull a simple flower,
And in its scent he found a sun;
He told me Flora gave that dower
To those whose breath was pure as mine.
I listened to the roving breeze,
That waited leaves from every tree;
And loudly he declared that these
Were like the vows he sighed to me.
I paused to hear the happy birds,
That sang their trusting mates to rest;
He said such songs, too sweet for words,
He sang to me within his breast.
And when the dews came down, he said
A sadder symbol these impart;
For these are tears that angels shed
To see that we again must part.
Thus daily did he me rejoice,
But never now these chirms I see;
For I nave lost the gentle voice
That made them all so dear to me,
IX MIGHT PLACE.
A LION HUNTER’S STORY.
"Here we are at last!”
“ And precious seedy we all look.”
"Yes, that abominable Mediterranean nearly
.finished me off. Well,, here goes to forget sea
sickness—for the next few months,, at least—
and thoroughly enjoy ourselves.”
These remarks were uttered by Hugh Vnl
liamy, Guy Gee, and myself, Sidney Shipton, as
wo sat round a well-spread table in a French
hotel in the north of Africa, all three being pale
and slightly green as to complexion, not being
good sailors. It was a great consolation to
each of us individually that the others were no
better than himself, tor no one could laugh at
his companions.
It is, no doubt, a great, misfortune to .have
plenty of money and nothing to do—or, at least,
it is voted so by some of those who have but a
small proportion of. that necessary article, and
have their time fully occupied in earning that
little ; but we three young men were all in that
position, and the countenances of my compan
ions had not yet assumed that expression ,of
, ennui and disgust at the "slowness ” of things
in general not unfrequentlymet with.in.our
great metropolis. For my .own lean say.notu
ing;but I never feel.tired..of living, except
. during the first week of.a sea voyage.
Hugh, Guy, and J,had.been somewhere, to
gether for the last three years, for sporting pur
poses ; and this time we bad resolved to realize
. our long-cherished dream of seeing the African
lion in a state of nature. Each of us had made
up his mind to kill the first lion, and .we had
two or three bets on,about it.
We did not itay long, in this civilized part of
the world, but hastened to get further south ;
and though it was early in December, and con
sequently rather cold, a healthy brown was
fast tinging our skins, from the open air
and exercise. The highest mountains were
. already crowned with enow, and we heard
that it was by far the beat time of year for
. sport, as the game, forced by the snow and cold
. air of the bights to do so, came down into the
plains, where the temperature was milder. We
should probably find hyenas, wild boars and
lions,-if we were fortunate, and there seemed
good prospect of adventures of an exciting
nature.
M’e took up our quarters at a small town
southeast of Morocco, and had not been there
long before Guy came in one morning, having
been out early, with eyes that told me at once
.that he had heard news. However, he took his
.seat at breakfast without any remark, and
-merely answered my query .of “Is anything
up?” with a quiet “Yes.”
I restrained my curiosity; and, as I expected,
finding be was asked no questions, he soon
spoke.
“A lion has been seen at a farm not far off,
and helped himself to a sheep. Here is a chance
for us.”
Vulliamy sprang up.
“ Hurrah 1 Come along, boys. Don't let’s
lose any time.”
He bud fetched his gun, and examined it, and
we soon had all our weapons in readiness, and
sallied forth. There was some excitement in
the place about it, and a battue was organized,
we being of the party ; but with no result. No
lion turned up, and we had to content ourselves
for the day with smaller game. However,
though we were disappointed this time, an op
portunity occurred before long for us to have
our wishes gratified. We had for a week or
two been staying at a lodging-house on the out
skirts of the town, riding out daily in search of
any game that might turn up; and during this
time,Gee had somehow managed to make
friends with an Arab chief, who had invited us
all to bis house, some miles from the town.
Guy had expressed his desire for a shot at the
king of beasts, and his new acquaintance prom
ised that we should have the pleasure of hunt
ing the lion very shortly if we would go.
After a little hesitation we agreed to accept
Hid invitation, in reality not a little delighted
at the novel experience thus offering itself;
and a few days after wo were riding out to his
place. He welcomed us with much cordiality,
and we learned that several lions bad lately
been seen it) the neighborhood, and that almost
every morning the Arabs of his tribe found va
cancies among their floeks. It was time some
thing was done, and a battue was decided on
for the following day. gjaHja*—
Oyrjipjt show»l "J on qho night of our arri-
Y_... o.,are which had that day been
in the hope of catching one of these mglitly
visitors. It was a mere bole <li-g m tfio ground,
Iff prevent the animal from
jumping out, and was concealedby a light cov
ering of brambles. ■
A most fearful noise Awakened me, in what
seemed the middle of the night, though it must
have boon toward morning; and it was some
time before it occurred to me that it emanated
from the throat of a lion, which had undoubt
edly fallen into the trap; and, as I lay and list
ened, I could make out that the roaring was ,
responded to from further off. It was im
possible to sleep again, as the bowls continued;
and, as soon as it began to grow light 1 dress
ed and joined some of the men, who were
evidently on their way to look at their im
prisoned enemy. There, sure enough, was a
magnificent lioness, who lashed her sides with
her tail, and looked hungrily at us as she
bounded from side to side of her prison. There
was so much power in every movement of the
beautiful, litho creature, that at first I could
not avoid shrinking back with a shudder.
“Fancy playing mouse to that great cat,”
said Hugh’s voice in my ear; for he and Guy
had joined us. “It would pretty soon be all
up with you, wouldn’t it?”
This gave one a very different idea of the
power of these creatures from that ensuing- on
a visit to a menagerie. Ou my first visit to-a
menagerie, I remember being very much dis
appointed in the lions, which were not half
what 1 expected; but nd one who has not been
lion-hunting can imagine the difference be
tween those poor, confined, tamed things and
this active, powerful, graceful creature, which
lasheditself into a fury as.it sprang up in a
vain endeavor to get at us or to make its es
cape. VVe saw it dispatched then and there.
We had returned to the house, and were at
breakfast, when a man came in, pale and trem
bling, to say that he bad been on his way to a
farm not far off, when he had come across two
lions apparently asleep in the road, scarcely a
quarter of an hour before. He had como back
at once, taking the greatest care not to disturb
their slumbers, no doubt, or he would not have
been there.
Horses were speedily saddled,and we reached
the place the man had indicated, to find that
the animals had gone, though fresh traces
showed that they had not vacated the place
many minutes. We dismounted to try and
discover which direction they had taken, when
we saw evidently the two emerge from among
some trees. They were splendid specimens,
and the chief judged them to bo about five years
ol age. Catching sight of us, they stood snll
for a tew seconds, then turned ard disappeared
into a thicket of trees and shrubs.
Hugh and Guy looked all excitement, and I
felt mv heart beat fast, but not with fear.
Our host, seeing that we were all impatience
to pursue, turned to me, for he could speai: a
little French^and we understood each other
pretty well.
“It would be madness, with so small a
party,” he said. “But wait a minute.”
He said a few words to one of the men who
bad accompanied us, and who now galloped off
m the way we bad come.
We waited and waited, until Guy Gee had al
most lost bis temper, for we were obliged to be
guided by our host’s w.shes under existing cir
cumstances; but at last we were surrounded by
a hundred or more of Arab boaters, of whom
more than half were armed with sticks and
hatchets 1
When 1 saw these men descend into the rav
ine where the lions had taken refuge, and pene
irr.'.e into the thicket. I was horrified at their
audacity—quite unnecessarily, as I afterward
fo'ino, as tliev are given to tS’.iag pretty good
c.i.'e of tliemselves.
1.1/..fi.t.liu o:ir .propirations, the n i
ri 1 il.nu to g>t a good bit ahead, and
. ..v._-o tneir traces tor-two hours without
commg near them. At last we caught
: rhi of them some distance before us, just as
tentered a little wood where the trees were
thick and close, and it was difficult to get
along.
“It would be very dangerous,” said the chief,
drawing rein, “ to attempt to follow them there,
for you cannot see for the smallest way round
you, and may have a ball bit you by accident,
or put one into some one else; or while you are
occupied with one beast, the other may be upon
you before you are aware of him.”
“What would you advise, then?” asked Vul
lianiy.
“That we return and try elsewhere,” was the
reply. “If we fail to find a lion, a wild boar
may do instead.”
“Botheration!” said Guy to me. “I wish
wo had obtained some beaters, and come inde
pendently. It does seem a cowardly trick to
run away after following them so far.”
I looked! back at the dark and gloomy thicket,
and could no* help owning inwardly that the
Arab w»» It was very toappoijjtipgi
! but Hons seemed to be plentiful, and we had to
.1 console ourselves with the hope ef another.
We soon reached a ravine somewhat resem
bling the last, with sloping, rocky sides ; along
each side ran a sort of natural platform, and
on one of these Guy and I found ourselves, fol
lowed by some fourteen or fifteen of the Arabs,
armed with guns, while opposite us were Vulli
amy and our host, with the rest of the men who
carried fire-arms.
The beaters were down in the hollow between
us, and began their work. For an hour we fol
; lowed the course of the ravino without any re
i suit, and I was beginning to feel slightly fa
tigued, when the report of a gun from the op
posite side put us on the alert. The bushes
were too high for. us to see over, and, as the
beaters had given no sign, I asked some of the
Arabs whether they thought it could be a lion
that had been fired at. The answer was a neg
ative movement, for I only knew a word or two
of their language, and, none of tnose who fol
lowed us speaking French, I could not gam any
further information.
Under these circumstances Gee and I contin
ued to advance, and a minute after there was
another shot. Our horses began to tremble and
snort, refusing to go on, and at last I.thought
we must be near the game we sought.
“By Jove!” cried Guy, “look here, Sid. AU
those cowardly Arabs have cut their sticks.”
I looked round, and, instead of being followed
by a little party of armed men. to my astonish
ment there was not one in sight.
“ Where are they ?”
“Up m the.trees behind us,” said Guy. “Well,
I don’t sea where the danger lies; but perhaps
we had better follow their example.”
I had dismounted with the intention of taking
this. advice, when right before us a huge lion
bounded out of a thicket of lentisk trees, Bis
skin streaked with blood—for he was wounded
—and his terrible fangs disclosed in a savage
snarl.
Ho caught sight of us, and camo straight for
me, whereupon I lost all presence of mind. No
doubt I ought, to have awaited his advance,
taken aim between the eyes, and fired at five
paces off;.but I must be a great coward, tor I
did no such thing.
“Bun, Guyl” I shouted, and I dropped down
behind my horse, which remained motionless, >
paralyzed with terror.
Then followed a few minutes of suspense, a
terrific, deafening roar, a shot, and I felt a
shock that extended me on the ground. I be-:
bevel.was unconscious for a minute; but as
soon as I recovered myself I sat up and looked
round, feeling sick and giddy.
Neither lion nor horse was visible. . A little
way .off I. saw two or three Arabs peering from
among the branches of a tree down into the
ravine. A motionless .figure, face.duwn.ward off
the ground, next attracted my attention,.and;
my heart sank as I . saw it was Guy.
.I,rose staggeringly.to my feet, when .the;
Arabs signed to me energetically to follow their:
example. However, I would not do so without!
seeing how it fared with my poor frie.n<l;,for Ji
felt that it he were dead I should, never forgive!
myself for my. loss .of courage. I knelt down !
by his side, and laid my hand,on his .Shoulder j
to turn him over.
“ Guy, old fellow.”
“ Hallo 1” he said, springing up, rather white,
but apparently as whole and sound as ever.he
was in bis life. “Here, come and let’s get up
a tree 1”
We were speedily ensconced in the branches
of a tree, and as soon as we were safe he looked
at me and laughed.
“That was rather narrow,Jw.asn’t.it|? ~\But I
say, Sid, are you hurt?”
“No, I think not, I said, rather doubtfully,
for I was still contused and misty in my ideas.
I heard from Guy afterward what had taken
place during those few minutes after 1 took
shelter behiad my horse.
ilo had dismounted at,the same time, when
the poor terrified animal snatched the reins
from his grasp, and galloped off. He saw the
lion appear, as. if about to spring on my horse,
and, keeping his presence of mind far better
than 1 had done, he took aim; but before he
could tire, at one and the same instant my
horse backed suddenly, and threw me full
length on the ground, while the lion, changing
his attention, made for Guy.
He saw it in the act of springing, fired, and,
missing, threw himself face downward on the
earth, when the animal went quite over him,
was greeted by shots from . the surrounding
trees, and again took refuge in the ravine.
Not feeling sure that the creature was not still
at hand, waiting for any sign ot lite on his
part, Guy lay still till I touched him.
It was some time before any one would ven
ture to go and explore in search of the lion,
though we knew the poor wretch must be either
dead or dying, considering the way he had
been peppered. At last Guy slipped to the
ground, and hastily loaded his gun.
“I’m going,” he said; “come along, Sid.
We’llgo alone if every one else is afraid.”
In an instant our host joined us, and he was
soon followed by a number of the others. We
found the noble beast lying quite dead at the
bottom of the ravine. The chief presented Guv
with the skin, as a token ol his admiration for
his courage, when we parted from him, with
many expressions of regret, a week later.
THE PREMIUM WOMAN.
BY THE DETROIT FREE PRESS FIEND. ]
Sunday afternoon, while three or four hun- '
dred sight-seers were loafing around the en
trance to the State Fair grounds, a lonesome
looking covered wagon, drawn by a faded old .
horse and driven by a woman, hove in view on 1
the Holden road. It was plain enough that
some family was on the move, and it was soon '
ascertained that the family consisted of only a
woman and two children.- The wagon stop- 1
ped as it reached the ciowd, and bendiijg fo"- 1
ward to look on every side, th* ***••' . . ■.
inquired - " uuUQ 1
a font here ?”
A boy answered her that the State Fair was
about to open, and she called to the children ,
under the cover:
“Sam, you wake up, and Mary, you wake up,
for here’s the biggest crowd of folks you ever
seen!”
No one in that crowd had ever seen such a
homely woman. She was cross-eyed, teeth out.
nose awry, and mouth big enough for two. A
man in the crowd stepped forward after a long
loon at her face, and said :
“Madam, we are offering a premium hero for
the homeliest woman in America. Do you wish
to enter for it?”
“How much is it?” she asked.
“Two dollars.”
“And bow much’ll I have to pay ?”
“ Nothing.”
“I’m in America now, ain’t I?”
“Yes.”
“ Then set me down as the woman who’s go
ing to win that two dollars or die 1 Here, Sam,
you hold this boss while I git down whar’ the
jedges kin have a fair look at me 1”
She got down. The crowd roared and threw
up a hundred hats, but she drew herself up and
solemnly remarked;
“When they offer a prize on the homeliest
woman in America I’m going up to the bead
of the class like a four-hoss team 1 Wbar’s the
jedges
“Madam,” said the man who had previously
addressed her, “you are entitled to the prize.
I believe you are the homeliest human being I
ever saw. I don’t think you’d look any the
worse it you had one eye out and was bald
headed.”
“Hand over the chink,”sliojsaid, holding out
her band.
He placed a two-dollar bill on her palm, and
said:
“Champion homely woman of America, ac
cept this premium !”
“You bet I will!” was her healthy reply, and
in five minutes she had four or five dollars in
change tossed at her. Wnen the shower ceased
she made one step from the ground to a seat
on the wagon, shook up the old horse, bowed
right and left, and said :
“ Now, Sam, you git back thar’, and Mary,
you git back thar’, and we’ll drive along to the
fust vacant lot and go into camp ; fur if I kin
take a prize here before the Fair opens, what
kin we nope fur when the performance gits un
der full blast 1”
HE LIKED LAW SUITS.
A RATHER DISAGREEABLE OLD
MAN.
A very large number of persons, says the Lon
don Sunday Times, are now visiting Dulford
House, Collampton, the residence ot the late
Mr. Bethel Walrond, whose strange and eccen
tric lite was revealed by a recent will suit. The
premises are thrown open to the public in con
sequence of the sale necessary to meet the or
der of the court for the payment to Lady Jane
Walrond and her daughter. The house and
grounds are encireled by a brick wall a mile in
circumference and twelve feet in bight. The
lawn was converted into a rabbit warren, the de
ceased keeping thousands of rabbits. His chief
companions were Ijis rabbits and his dogs. He
held the belief that on the death of human be
ings their souls passed into the bodies of dogs.
As these animals died he gave them a funeral,
and on the lawn there are ten graves, each hav
ing a headstone bearing an inscription setting
out the name of the animal, the place and date
of birth, and the date at which he died. Until
the day of his death Mr. Walrond kept m his
house the embalmed body of a daughter whoso
soul he believed had found a resting-place in 1
the body of one of his dugs. Na one was ad* |
' mitted by the’deceased to the wjir.i.it ;
special permission for each visit,'and the en- ■
: trance as well-as the front of the house were
guarded by a number of cannon.
The body of the deceased daughter was kept
in his dressing-room, and his own bedroom was
fitted up with the view of familiarizing him
with death. He slept in a massive canopied
Devonshire oak bedstead, on the foot-board of
which there were three skulls of females fixed.
Over each corner of the bed there was a black
feather plume. In the bed so decorated he
died. The bed, the drapery of which was crim
son and gold, is now to be sold with the other
things. The oak furniture is very massive, but
most of the fittings show signs of the neglect
consequent on the deceased’s retirement. He
spent the greater portion of the last fifteen
years of his life in the study of the lawsuits in
which he was involved, and in the pursuit of
which he seemed to find enjoyment. It is re
marked in the neighborhood that he did not
mind who he went to law with, or on what sub
ject he fought, and he was regardless of the
money spent if he could only beat his antago
nist. At one time and another he employed
soJicitorfc aad ho xoqueated that ma
NEW YORK DISPATCH, SEPTEMBER 29, 1878.
> every document his full title as a grandee of
Spam and as a member of various orders should
• be set out. The extent of the deceased’s estate
la Devonshire was 3,000 acres.
I .......
: SAVED BY A DOG.
)
An Adventure in the Marais,
France.
At the time of which I write I had just been
made a partner in our house of business. Un
i til this period I had been much confined to the
1 couuting-house, and it was now considered de
-1 sirable that I should travel for a few months, in
1 order to make the acquaintance of our prinoi-
• pal customers, many of whom were French.
1 In those days railways were unknown, and the
■ diligences slow and uncertain modes of con
’ veyance, I therefore traveled on horseback,
accompanied by my trusty dog, Iron.
Lion was my faithful companion for many
1 years, and once did mo goo! service, as you
I shall hear. On one occasion, being bound for
: Noirmon tiers, my road led through that part of
La Vendee known as the “Marais.” It was
1 then literally a marshy tract of country, thinly
populated by an almost amphibious race. The
swampy ground was intersected by numerous
■ canals that frequently served as roadways.
Through these the peasants traversed the dis
trict in flat-bottomed boats called “nioles,” and
always armed with a long pole, with which they
cleared the quagmires or propelled their boats,
according to need.
It was toward the close of the day, in the last
week in October. The air felt chilly and damp.
A mist hung over the lowlands, rendering ob
j eots invisible at a short distance. On one side
of the road along which j was riding, a broad
dyke flowed sluggisuiy, on the other stretched
an extensive tract of heath and furze-covered
ground, brown and desolate, though here and
there a few blossoms still lingered amid the
dark prickly green.
I found it was vain to think of pushing on to
the coast that night, and I hoped to come upon
some, village or farmhouse where I might find
restand refreshment lor my tired horse ana
myselt. .Hooked from side to side, endeavor
ing. to pierce the mist, in search of some object
that .would guide me. At length, a little fur
ther along the road, I perceired several cows
standing at the border of the dyke, as if wait
ing, and on the opposite side I could faintly
discern: traces of culture.
“There must be a house hereabout,” I said
to myself, and as the thought passed through
my mind a punt came gliding over the dyke,
impelled by a vigorous push from the pole of a
sturdy peasant.
.The cows, lowing, advanced close to the edge
ofi the .dyxe,. evincing their readiness to be fer
ried across to their milking place. As the
punt touched the bank the boatman stuck his
polo; in the earth and threw a rope round a
stump.of alder, while the cows stepped on
board. Slipping the rope again, he was about
to pash, off without taking any notice of my ap
proach; when I hailed him.
“My friend,”.! said, “can you direct me to
a house where I may find a night’s lodging ?”
“No,” the man replied in a surly tone.
“There are not many houses hereabouts.”
“But there is surely a farm over yonder,” I
returned, pointing with my whip in the direc
tion ot the fields.
“Maybe,” the man answered. “But we don't
take in strangers at our place.”
Without another word, ho pushed off to tiro
opposite side of the dyke, where the cows land
ed, and set off leisurely homeward.
“Can you not direct me to some place of
shelter, my good fellow?” I called out as the
man tethered his boat.
He took no notice, but made fast his punt.
Then, with a “kup, kup,” to bis cows, he
walked away, and disappeared in the mist.
I confess the wish I sent after him was not a
blessing. There was nothing for it, however,
but to proceed; waiting in the road was evi
dently useless. I touched my jaded horse
lightly with the whip, rousing him from his
meditations, and, whistling to Lion, I set for
ward on my way.
1 could now only see a very few yards before
me through the increasing gloom. To be be
lated in that dismal country was no pleasant
prospect. The road was in many places quite
unprotected from the dykes, and" every mile
that brought me nearer to the sea-coast ren
dered the country more dreary. Salt swamps
began to alternate with sandy heath, and the
road became little more than a causeway car
ried through a morass, where the slightest devi
ation from the beaten track might cause horse
and rider to sink, with little prospect of rescue.
Now, however, I distinctly heard a footstep
bebiud me on the road, and, turning, I saw a
man, who had started out of the swamp appar- 1
ently, leaping-pole in hand. Lion growled, but 1
at a word from ms he came close up to mv
horse, though still uttering a low, dissatisfied
snarl. 1
The man, as I could perceive in the fast-gath
ering dusk, was a sufficiently rough, disreputa- 1
ble figure to excite the suspicions of any dog 1
accustomed to good society. His ragged shirt, *
open iu front, displayed his brawny chest. His 1
coarse frieze jacket was out at the elbows. ]
Ttuck-lipped and low-browed, with his hair •
hanging in matted locks under his broad-brim- 1
med hat, bis appearauce was certainly the re
verse of prepossessing. Nevertheless, such as
he was, 1 hailed his advent as a godsend. Sure
ly he could be induced, by promise of reward,
to guide me to some habitation where I could
pass the night. .w. ■
When I made this proposal, witty th* offer o' ’
money for his trouble, Iwjli) -gj hig eyes glit l
ter under his shaggy Thero w „ no vil .
•A® P sal ', uct even a farm-house, be said in a
’"„i patois; but if 1 would put up with such
accommodation as he could give, he would take
me to his own cottage near at band. j
I gratefully accepted his offer. Anything (
would be better than being lost in the morass, ;
which might only too probably be the case as (
night closed in. The man took the horse by j
the bridle and led him on, Lion following close ;
at my heel, still, by an occasional growl, pro- (
testing against the arrangement. After proceed
ing a few hundred yards my conductor turned ,
off the main road to a causeway leading to the (
right through the swamp. By this time barely ,
light enough remained to render discernible j
the sullen pools that lay here and there on 1
each side; while, rising out of the marsh, .
patches of higher ground were visible as we .
passed along. These were apparently planted ,
with osiers and alder trees, aiid loomed dark ,
like little islets in the midst of the sea of mist ,
that covered the fens. Toward one of those ,
the man directed bis way.
I heard a quacking of ducks as we traversed
the pathway between the osiers, and at last we
stopped before a cottage, or rather cabin. ,
through a hole in the roof of which a wreath of
turf smoke found its way. Adjoining, stood .
what at first appeared to be a mound of thick
foliage, but which proved to be an outhouse. I
afterward found that it was constructed ot ;
wickerwork plastered over with mud. Mauy of
the willow twigs had taken root, and covered !
the erection with a canopy of green.
The horse having been relieved of saddle and
bridle, and led into this primitive stable, where
a few handfuls of hay aiid a drink of water had
to serve him for supper, I followed my guide
into the cottage, saddle-bags in hand. He at
first made some objection to Lion’s entrance,
suggesting that he might remain in the stable, ,
but to this 1 refused to listen. Lion was there
fore admitted, though with a bad grace. 1 .
found the interioa of the cottagelow and smoke
stained. The one uuglazed window was par
tially closed with a wooden shutter. A turf lire
smoldered on a flat stone that served for ,
hearth. At one end, iu a corner, stood a rude (
pallet bed covered with sheepskins. Opposite
was a heavy wooden press that looked as if, at ,
some former day, it had known better quarters. .
“You will have the place to yourself.” said
the man in a hoarse voice; “I am going out
again. You’ll want supper, I suppose.”
I signified that such refreshment would cer
tainly be desirable.
He opened the cupboard and brought out a ;
loaf of black bread, some eggs, and dried fish.
These latter he proceeded to cook. He then
produced a bottle of wine, and set on the table
a plate ana drinking-cup of a more respectable
kind than might have been expected.
I drew out my purse, and placed a few coins j
in the man’s hand.
“If you are going out let me pay you now.
my good friend,” I said. “ I must start at day
break, probably before you return.”
For a moment I was startled by the greedy
manner in which he eyed the money; but he
merely expressed bimselfsatisfied and pocKeted
the coin. Then taking down a lantern that hung
from a nail in the wall, ho lighted it, anil set oil
on his nocturnal errand, whatever that might
be.
When, having finished my supper, and hav
ing given Lion his share, I had time for reflec
tion, the sinister countenance ot mv host be
gan to haunt me unpleasantly. However, he
bad provided me with a roof over mv head, and
that was'something to be thanktul for, in that
foggy, dreary, isolated spot. I threw more
turf on the fire, for the bit ot candle that had
been lighted when I began my supper burned
low, and 1 did not relish the idea of being left
in the dark.
Before it failed mo, 1 thought it advisable to
take-a survey of the premises. Beside the en
trance door, there was another at the end of
the room ou one side of the press. Opening it
I found it ied into a sort of lean-to, partly filled
with hay. I raised the candle and glanced
round. The place seemed to be a receptacle
| for all sorts of odds anil ends, some of which
! raised imcom'ortitbldoubts, so out of kejp.iig
' did taev see n with rhe cottage and its inmate.
I’iie turtuer i looked the more my suspicions
became excited.
I took a pole that stood against the wall and
moved the hay. An irresistible feeling took
possession of me that it had been thrown there
for purposes of concealment; nor was I mis
taken. The first object 1 turned up was a boot
of Parisian make, and near to it I found a Rus
sia leather valise with a brass plate at one end,
on which I made out the initials G. F.
A cold shiver ran through my frame. It was
a situation that might well dismay the boldest.
I could no longer question but that I had fallen
into a nest, of brigands. A very few months
before a good deal of painful interest had been
roused by the mysterious disappearance in this
part of the country of a commercial traveler
named Charles Favel, and the conviction
forced itself on my miua that I had come upon
the relics of this unfortunate man.
It was scarcely probable that my host car
ried on his nefarious traffic without accom
plices. In all probability he had then gone to
acquaint the gang that a bird had’been caught
4'■ How many might there ? I was
' alone,with only a dog for my companion. True,
I I had pistols in my saddle-bag,- but ot what
i avail would they be against a number of des
peradoes ?
For a moment I thought of sadding my horse
and making my escape, but on cooler reflection
such ah attempt seemed to be only flying from
uncertain to certain peril. If I had been in
danger of losing my way in the dusk of even
ing, how could I hope to keep to the pathway
• in the dense darkness that had now closed
round ? I put away that idea, and determined,
if attacked, to sell tny life dearly at any rate.
“Forewarned, forearmed.” I said to myself,
as, returning to the principal room, 1 took down
the pistols from my saddle-bag, and looked to
the priming.
“If they make any attempt upon us they
shall have a hot reception, Lion, my boy,” I
said, and Lion looked iu my face and slowly
wagged his tail, as much as to say, “ Let come
what will, we are ready.”
I threw myself on the bed without undress
ing, and placed the pistols under the bolster.
Lion stretched himself at my side. I had no
intention of sleeping, you may be sure. 1
watched the fire for some time, but the fatigue
of the day had overpowered me, and objects
became dim and indistinct before my eyes.
Once or twice 1 started as a noise caught my
ear, but 1 soon convinced myself tnat it was
only my horse stamping in the outhouse, or
the ducks disturbed in tneir sleep. I struggled
hard to keep on the alert, but the wearied
senses re used their office; past and present
began to be mixed up in inextricable confusion,
and at last I suppose 1 fell asleep.
I must have slept for some hours, when I was
suddenly roused to full consciousness by the
report of a pistol, and a gurgling sound as of
some one being strangled, and by the faint
glimmer of the fire I saw a man stealing to
ward the bed, and the glitter of*a knife be held
m his hand.
To catch up my pistol and fire was the work
of an instant. Fortunately, though my aim
had necessarily been uncertain in the hurry
and semi-darkness, the shot had taken effect,
thoroughly disabling the ruffian, for the arm
that heid the kuife dropped powerless by his
side. He groaned and staggered bacx against
the wall tor a moment, then with a volley of
curses he turned and fled through the open
door.
Meanwhile I had sprung from the bed and
hastened to the assistance or Lion, who had
pinned another of the brigands by the throat.
The dog’s instinct had proved right; as 1 had
expected, it was the master of the cottage. He
had ceased to struggle and was nearly at the
last gasp. A discuarged pistol lay close to
waere lie had fallen; it must have gone off in
the air when the dog flew upon him, thus rous
ing me.
In my examination of the premises I had ob
served a coil of rope; with this 1 bound the
miscreant's arms tightly, and then called Liou
offi not a moment too soon.
Wnen the mm recovered sufficiently to
speak, he began to cry lor mercy, but the only
consolation ne got from me was the assurance
that I should by early morning give notice ot
what had occurred at the nearest prefecture,
and that doubtless a couple of geas-d’armes
would conduct him where he would he taken
care of. After awmle he ceased to plead, and
lay passive, only groaning with the pain of the
injuries he had received from the dog’s fangs.
I did not yet feel myself out of danger. It
wanted some time to daybreak, and every mo
ment I expected others of the gaug might come
to the rescue of their comrade. 1 reloaded my
pistol, and at a sign Lion placed himself at the
door on the watch. At length welcome streaks
of light appeared in the oast. It was not so
misty as tne evening before ; the wind during
the night had brought a heavy shower, and
cleared the air. As soon as it became suffi
ciently light to distinguish the pathway through
the swamp. I saddled my horse, and, with a feel
ing ot thankfulness at my escape, retraced my
steps to the high road, leaving my treacherous
host bound on the floor of the cottage.
The sun rose as 1 cleared the morass, casting
long shadows before me; and presently a faint
blue line on the far horizon gave token "that the
bourne toward whicn I journeyed would soon
be reached. Iu another hour 1 saw the little
fishing village before me. the sea sparkling in
the morning sun, and beyond, the island of
Noirmontiers.
When I made my deposition, I gave a full
and particular description of the cottage. It
appeared that a gang of highwaymen had in
fested the district for some time, eluding the
search of the police; no doubt was made but
that the men who had attacked mo formed pari
of the number.
When the gens tfarmes arrived they found the
cottage empty; my host must have been liber
ated by his accomplices; but, once put on the
track, the law soon had the wretches in its
clutch. The ringleaders were executed, the
others sent to the galleys. My host confessed.
It had been his part to lie in wait for belated
travelers and lure them to bis cottage. Mv
suspicions had been too well founded; poor
Favei had been murdered, and the same fate
had been intended for me. The ruffians, how
ever, had not calculated upon the strength and
courage of Lion. He it was who saved my life,
and deserved the thanks of the inhabitants of
the Marais, and all who traveled that way, for
being the means of bringing a gang ot despera
does into tho hands of justice.
IRISH TRi ITS.
OLD JUDY-A TURF TICKET.
(From Chambers’ Journal.)
We read of
Tongues in trees, books in the running brooks,
Sermons in stonei, and good iu everything.
But in our dealings with the Irish poor wo find
tongues and books and sermons as eloquent and
instructive as are to be met in any inanimate
objects. “God is good,” is the saying on their
lips in every emergency; and their patience and
implicit trust in Providence in all their difficul
ties are wonderful. — — •**
A striking example ot this firm faith was an (
old woman well remembered in the parish, where
she had come as a stranger, and lived for years (
without any fixed home or apparent means of
subsistence. Old Judy bad contrived to secure
the good will and respect of all, rich and poor. ,
There was a decency of manner and appearance
about her tb.t spoke of better days; she was
scrupulously clean in her person; and her '
clothes, though ever so worn and threadbare, '
were patched and made the best of. The neigh- !
bors gave her “ the place of her bed,” some
times in one cabin, sometimes in another, and
her little figure trotting along with a stick in
her hand, came to be a familiar and well-known
object. The magnates of the place patronized
her; and whenever blankets were given out, or
there was a distribution of food or clothing, old
Judy’s name was sure to be down in some one’s
list. Every stray shilling or sixpence bestowed
on her was forthwith invested in ginger-bread
and sugar-sticks. An occasional gift of a bas
ket ot apples was a welcome addition to her
store; and with this stock in trade she took up
her post at the school-house gate and beguiled
the scholars of their halfpence by her tempting
array of good things.
■ When not thus employed, Judy’s usual seat
was a long'stone bench at the gable- end of a
thatched cottage by the roadside. Hero she
used to sit basking in the sunshine, her trem
bling bands resting on a staff—a picture for an
artist; with tho wrinkled fresh-colored face like
like a frost-bitten apple peeping out from the
frill of her clean white cap, over which was tied
the scarlet kerchief that forms so picturesque
a feature of Irish headgear; her tidy little gray
cloak, turnad-up stuff gown, blue petticoat,
well-blacked brogues, and gray stockings. And
as she sat on her favorite bench, with generally
two or three village children playing about her,
her figure harmonized well with the lovely view
around. .
As fair and pleasant a view it was as could be
seen anywhere, and one on which no eye could
rest without deiigbt. To the left, Kilkeedy
church with its “ivy-mantled tower,” the tail
spira rising from a clustering mass of glossy
verdure ; and beyond, the trees and sunny fields
of the Rectory, to which a Gothic gateway led
through a cloistered walk of overarching ever
greens, bony and yew, laurel and arbutus. On
the right, crowning tho green upland, sur
rounded by a belt ot trees, with background of
purple mountain, Carrig o’ Gunniel Castle, that
beautiful old ruin, the cynosure of Clare and
Limerick, that loose down so proudly over tho
broad Shauuon. Across the road opposite the
cottage was a large field,
Tee ricuest land in all the glebe,
bordered on one side by a hawthorn hedge and
on the other by a row of lofty elms ; a broad
expanse of verdure, with its single fine tree in
the centre, a noble beech, underneath whose
spreading branches the cattle loved to gather
for shade from the sun or shelter from tho
breeze. Nowhere did the grass seem to grow
so luxuriantly or wear so bright and rich a
green. And in Summer, when the sun was set
ting and the crimson glory of its rays were
flung across this pleasant field, brightening
with mellow light the cheerful landscape and
touching with silvery sheen the windings of the
far-off river Maigue—fair indeed was the scene.
Pleasant then was the mossy walk along the
hedge, or the path beneath the trees. The
glowing sunshine, the gorgeous western sky,
the quiet church, the clover-scouted velvet
turf, all so glad and beautiful 1
Alas for the changes brought by the revolving
years! The old. familiar church is gone, llutli
iess hands have cut down the lordly beach, and |
> the eyes that glo.-iod in the sylvan beauties of
' the plaee. t.ie master mind iliac planned and
i tended all with loving care, are closed for ever.
There were times when Judy, like many others
whose means of subsistence were less preca
rious, was very low in the world, and then she
might be seen on a Sunday seated outside the
door of the chapel, when the country people
were going to mass, with a white plate on her
knees to receive the halfpence of the charitable.
This was generally an extreme measure, and
one which, being rather ashamed of, she felt
needed an apology.
“An’ what can Ido avourneen ? Sure if the
good Christians don’t give it to me, I must die
entirely. An’ look at my old cloak, honey, with
the daylight coming through it in spite o’ me ;
an’ ’tis flying it will be before Winter, in rags
an’ tatters. I don’t know what I’ll do; but God
is good.”
“Well, Judy, we must get up a subscription
to buy you another. It would be a pity to see
you ■ flying.’ ”
And accordingly a petition was drawn np and
some names entered, and away started Judy to
“gather little or much among the,quality.”
Ajul a proud lijtle woman she was wbe» iu dnaj
, time she came trotting home with a smart gray
; cloak she had bought ia Limerick with the
■ fruits of her collection, “for less than half
price, and it better than new. An’ now wouldn’t
> she be warm night an’ day, with the fine blanket
i already, an’ the elegant cloak forby.”
i Judy’s comforts were soon needed, for her
i health failed, and she was unable to do any
thing to help herself, or to sit out in the open
■ air selling apples and lollipops. This was a
I great loss to her, for “ sure,” said the poor old
woman, “the pence I got from the scholars
were what I put my depindence iu to buy the
bit of soap an’ the sod of turf, an’ maybe a grain
of snuff of an odd time. It’s enough for me to
be trusting to the neighbors an’ the gentlefolks
for lodging an’ clothes, an’ for the potatoes an’
■ the cup of tay, without going to trouble them
for sm ill little things of that sort. But God is
good, acuishla, Go! is good 1”
Her trust in the divine goodness was justi
fied. One of her patrons put her on his list of
■ weekly pensioners, and placed her as a perma
nent inmate of the thatched cottage outside of
which was her favorite bench. There at times
she sat, attended as before by her escort of
young urchins, for Judy was’ most popular
among tho juvenile population.
And when she grew quite feeble and unable
to go about, there was not a boy or girl m the
parish who was not at all times ready and will
ing to run with her tin can for broth or to fetch
syrup for her hacking cough, or perform any
little service she required.
When at last the stone bench was unoccu
pied, and poor Judy’s vacant place knew her no
more, her constant exclamation “God is good!”
seemed to have brought a blessing with it.
Like the fowls of the air and the lilies ot the
field, she had neither storehouse nor barn, could
neither toil nor spin, and yet her Heavenly
Father had not allowed her simple wants to go
unheeded.
This Irish trait also manifested itself strong
ly in a bright, cbeerful-loouing woman, who ap
peared among a host ot applicants at tho door
of an office where turf tickets were being dis
tributed.
“Here’s your ticket, good woman,” said the
clerk. “You’ll have to pay one-and-sixneuce
for it, and they will give you three shillings’
worth of turf at the turf-yard."
“Och, then, sir, I may as well leave it with
you so,” replied tne woman. “Where would I
get one-and-sixpence ? The never, a farthin’ in
the world-wide have I to pay for turf; an’ how
would 1, with six children to provide for, an* no
fath r over them since Christinas last?”
“ Here’s a sixpence for you,” said a bystand
er. “But how are you to make up the rest ol
the money ?”
“God will give it to me, n'aver fear,” said the
woman, as, thanking the donor profusely, she
walked briskly off wino a beamin g face.
The next morning she made her appearance
again al the office.
“I’ve come for the turf ticket, sir,” site cried
—“an’ here’s the price of it,” holding un in
great glee her one-and-sixpence. “Didn’t I
tell you God would give it to me? So he did;
glory bo to His holy name I He nerer disap
pointed me yet.”
A neighbor inquiring how it had come about,
drew forth her little story.
“ Why, you see,” she said, “when 1 left this
yesterday, I hadn’t a spark of fire to boil the
handful of potatoes th : neighbors—long life to
them—gave me for the children’s suopers. So
I went to the copse benmd the village to try
would I pick up any sticks or braiiihies that
would serve me till such time as 'twas pleas
ing to the Lord to send me the price of the
turf. Well sir, I had gathered a small bundle,
when I looked up an’ saw a gentleman on horse
back coming across the field over foreuent mo.
There was a gate at the end of the field, an’ he
stopped when be camo to it an’ t.ie l to open
it. The horse was very contrairy, an’ wouldn’t
stand for him all he could do. an’ the gate was
stiff moreover; so when 1 see that, 1 threw down
the sticks an’ ran to open it. ’Twas lucky I
did, for the horse by this time was gottiu’ quite
cross entirely.
“Where do you live, my good woman ?” sez
the. gentleman, riding slow, an’ I keeepin’ uo
with him.
“Don’t you see my little cabin, sir?” sez I;
“ that’s it by the roadside yonder.”
“Is it tliat hut covered with the potato
stalks?” sez he, turning round on his saddle;
"without window or chimney in it, an’ the
smoke coming out through the top? Why,
woman alive, that isn’t fit for a pig, let alone a
Christian, to live in!”
“ A pig is it, sir ? Why, then, I wish I could
show your honor the six beautiful children, God
bless ’eml that I’m rearing iu that cabin;
every whole one of them with skins as white as
snow, an’ as fat as if three cows were milking
morning an’ night for them. 1 buried then
father, rest his soul! the time of the cholera ;
an’ 1 must strive now and do for them with the
help of God, till they’re big. Here’s the road
now, sir; and there isn’t another gate, so good
morrow kindly;” for I was afeard o’ my life
some one might make away with my little bun
dle of sticks; an’l sei, oft running back again
toward the wood. The gentleman called out
afther me to ax what I was in such a hurry for.
"Stop a minute,” sez be ; “an’here’s some
thing to help the six children.”
“ With that ho pulled out his purse an’ throw
a shilling down to me. The moment I saw it, I
knew ’twas God sent it for the turf. I put it
along with my sixpence, an’ I'm come now for
the ticket. We’ll all be fine an’ warm this many
a day with such a sight o’ firing.”
~~“0LD~SL”
HE DISCOURSES ON THE POLITI
(From the Atlanta Constitution.)
“Politicks is gettin ter be er moughty po’
bizness,” said Old Si as he lighted the lamp.
“ What makes you think so ?”
“ Well, dere’s varit-us sinus’round dat pints
at de conclusliin. Now, in my young days only
de fust folks ob do lain’ engaged in
hit war er perfessbun den berlonging’ ter de
leedin’ sitizenj.”
“And isn’t it so now ?” ’
“Well, you jess stan’ ’round dose co’ners one
day an’ see ter yerseff. I tell yer, now, dere’s (
purtjt nigh mo’ candidates in dis county dan
dere is tax-payers, fer er fack !”
“That is rather a bad sign for the times.”
“Dat’s da very pint I waz er Hingin’ at. Yer
see dere’s too menny folks in dese days dat’s
huntin’ up some way fer to keep frum wurk. i
Dey’s developin’ evoryt’ing day’s got, ’eeptin’
dere mussel. Hit’s gimme dis offis, an’ den
gimme dat offis, tell or man jess hez ter fite
’em offen him wid rocks an’ sticks 1”
“ Weil, Si, how do you propose to remedy the
matter?”
“ Dat’s er hard queschin fer er sivilyum nig
ger ter anser, but bit’s time in dis country fer
de fokes—an’ when I sez fokes I meens fores
ter git up an’ ’tend ter dis oflie-holdin’ bizness
fer doreselbs. We'se been ’lowin’ de wahd
meetin’s too much rope in dis yere bizness!”
“ Well, now, give us your plan ?”
“ W’y let de fokes come out an’ say dat dey’s
gwine ter take er han’ in de skirmish—let ’em
choose ob good men an’ stan’ by ’em tell dey’s
safely aukored in dere places, an’ den lot do
country hab some res’ fum dis hyar brigade er
candidates. Dat’s mo, now!”
“ Perhaps that would be a good way to bring
matters to a head.”
“ I kno’s hit wood. Dere aint nufifin dem fel
lers ’spises mo’ dan ter heor dat de fokes is er
movin’ fer derselos. I tell yer dar’s got ter be
less ob dis hy»r markin’ time an’ wheelin’ ter
de let’ an’ de rite, an* mo’ strate-forierd march
in’ an’ a chargin’ ob de enuemy bafo’ tings gits
squat’ agin ’round hyar! Somebody’s got ter
blow de trumpet an’ wake de sleepin’, er dar’U
be mighty ruff times ’long hyar by-an’-by I”
And the old man was dead in earnest. .
Safety of Railroad Traveling.
Marvelous Immunity from Accidents.
{From the Cincinnati Times.}
Some tinao ago we referred to the reports of
the railroad commissioners of Massachusetts,
on the marvelous immunity from accident rail
way passengers had enjoyed in that State for
the twenty years or more covered by the re
ports.
The similar fact showing the safety of rail
way travel is brought out in the report made to
the Connecticut Legislature by the railroad
commissioners of that State. Thero were car
ried in 1877 in that State 4,254,015 passengers
who traveled an average distance each of fifty
miles, or 212,-700,000 who traveled one mile.
Out of the immense number there was but one
killed. That one was found near a bridge, and
is supposed to have walked off the train. So
even for this one death the railroad company
was not directly responsible.
Contrast this immunity with what might have
been reasonably expected to happen in the old
days of stage coaches. Tho Hartford Courant,
which appears to have given a great deal of,
time and study to the investigation, says it
would have required 425,000 coaches, 6,000,000
horses and 425,000 drivers, to convey these pas
sengers, and at an average rate of eight miles
an hour it would have taken thirteen days for
the coaches to pass a given point. Who that
remembers anything abjut the dangers of trav
el in the old times can believe that but a single
accident would have happened ?
Old sailors in a fierce storm thank the Lord
they are in a staunch vessel instead of on the
land. But as compared with a vessel., the rail
road train is an ark of safety. Even tho won
! dertully fast train that runs between Philadel
phia'a nd New York, whose speol i< at times at
the rate of seventy-tw.) mites an hour, has run
for more than two moritha with entire freedom
from accident. The casualties that occur on
any road are very few in number, and the num
ber of persons killed or injured in comparison
with those who travel is very small. If all who
travel should take out a policy in an accident
insurance company, the stock of that company
would soon be worth a very high premium.
A PRESIDENT’S MUSCLE.
Lincoln’s Giant Strength—He Outlifts
Powerful Sailors.
General Viele, in Scribner, says that few were
aware of the physical strength possessed by
Mr. Lincoln. In muscular power he was one in
a thousand. One morning, while we were sit
ting on deck, he saw an axe in a socket on the
bulwarks, and, taking it up, held it at arm’s
length at the extremity of the helve with his
thumb and forefinger, continuing to hold it
there for several minutes. Tho most powerful
1 sailors ou board tried in vain to imitate him.
i M r * Lincoln said he could do this when he was
> eighteen years of age, and had never seen a day
| since that time when he could not. It occurred
; to me, when readins the details of the plot that
; terminated in the death of the President, that
his abduction, which was at one time proposed
• by the conspirators, would have resulted verv
■ disastrously to those who should have the te
i merity to undertake it. The plan proposed was
• to waylay the President at night during one of
his frequent visits to the War Department,
where he was in tbe habit of going to read the
tolegraphich dispatches during tbe time of im
portant military movements, and where he
would often remain until a very late hour, re
turning alone through tbe grounds of tne
White House. A half-dozen men were to seize
and carry him off, but had they attempted it,
they would probably have found that they had
met their match, for he had the strength of a
giant. Judge Swett, of Chicago, who was an
intimate friend of his, says that be has seen
him dash into a crowd w here two powerful men
were fighting, and taking each by the collar,
hold them out at arms’ length in the most help
less and ridiculous position.
Platte.
A Poacher’s Joke. —ln a certain
Ayrshire village says the Glasgow (Scotland) Mail,
not far from the borders of Wigtownshire, there
exists several bands of notorious poachers, who are ■
too dangerous to' secure close attention from the
game Keepers, in their tastes they are not at all
| fastidious, all being fish that comes to their net,
and they will bag anything from a partridge to a
deer. One of these gangs met recently in order to
p y their il' egal calling, and after a good deal of I
weary trudging they were returning nome, lightly I
laden,and somewhat disconsolate. Ou tne roadside
they discovered a village “ worthy,” who had been
worshipping faithfully at the shrine of Bacchus, and
was sleeping off the effects of his potations. A
bright idea struck one of the party, and the sleeping
inebriate was at once transferred to the large bag
whica the party carried. In a short time the bag
and its contents were transferred to the back shop
of an illicit dealer, who was in the habit of buy mg
the proceels of the poachers’nocturnal depreda
tions. Hurriedly throwing down the bag and its
contents tae bearer demanded 10s to account of the
consignment, and as the dealer supposed he had
excellent value in venison, he at once complied w.ta
the demand. Tae cash sent the gang to a conven
ient public-house, and it is needless to say it did not
<ast long, When tbe dealer found a little leisure
he proceeded to the back scop to inspect what be
considered his excellent bargain, and was a little
surprised to fi id the animal moving. Believing
that tbe poachers had only injured the “ game,” he
procured a ponderous bludgeon in order to comp ete
me work, and admistered a heavy blow to tne bag
and its content!, whica had the effect of extracting
a yell of pain that made the dealer start. Cautiously
opening the bag, he found a human head, and kn ?w
tuat he had been “done.” For various reasons the
dealer was never heard to make loud complaints
.u out tbe “ sed,” but many of tbe villagers got hold
of the story, and it is not uncommon to hear a
mischievous urchin making pointed reference to it
on the street when the dealer is at a safe distance.
A Remarkable Duel. —A combat has
been fougat well worthy of being recorded by any
card gifted with a taient for epic poetry. The com
oatants were two sculptors living or staying in the
Eternal City, who met one another the other day in
the forum at Traj m, and, under the influence ot a
sun worthy of July rather than September, engaged
in a fierce quarrel which soon attracted a crowd o
tne curious. Before the altercation had proceeded
from words to blows, one of tao disputants suggests
•id an adjournment to some distant spot, requesting
his antagonist to provide himself with a pistoi, and
promising to do taesime himself. At the appoint
ed hour tbe meeting took place at Maccao, eaco
caaiupion appearing punctual./ with his weapon,
out wituout anything in the shape ot a second. It
must have been a somewhat difficult matter to set
tie the pre.iminaries, and especially to arrange as to
giving the signal for firing. But “ where there's a
wul tnere’s away,” and by this pair of determined
heroes everything was decided as smartly as if a
.vbole bevy of seconds had been there to keep the
ring. The first shot was discharged at a signal giv
en, as it appears, by both, and by mutual consent,
and at the same moment both marksmen fell wound
ed to the ground. There, too, they continued to
lie, being both too badly wounded in tho leg to
move without help. Whetuer they entered into
amicable converse while taus lying within speaking
distance, history does not inform us; but it could
hardly have occurred to either to doubt tuat honor
was satisfied by the double result of the encounter,
it is to be hoped that perfect amity was re-estab
lished, and that the quondam foes had a pleasant
colioquy to while away the time, for it was long be
fore a chance passer-by could bo hailed and inducsd
to play the part of a good Samaritan. Tne .ast news
of the wounded dueiists represents them as travel
ing home in the same carriage, to be treated by the
same doctor, by whom the respective wounds are
pronounced to be so exactly similar that it will re
quire just twenty days to heal each one of them.
Remarkable Echoes. —In tho sepul
chre of Mettella, the wife of Su’.la, in the Roman
Campagna, there is an echo which repeats five times,
in five different keys, and will also give back with
distinctness a hexameter line which requires two
and a half seconds to utter it. On tho banks of the
Nhaa, between Bingen and Coblentz, an echo repeats
seventeen times. The speaker may scarcely be ;
heard, and yet the responses are loud and distinct, J
sometimes appearing to approach, at other timps to <
come from a groat distance. Echoes equally beauti- 1
ful and romantic are to be heard in our own islands. <
In tue cemetery of the Abercoru fami v, at Paisley, 1
(Scotland) when tne door of the chapel is shut, tile
reverberations are equal to the sound of thunder.
If a single note of music is breathed, the tone (
afecends gradually with a multitude of echoes, till it ,
dies in soft and bewitching murmurs. In this
chapel is interred Margery, the daughter of Bruce,
and the wife of William Wallace. The echo at the i
Eagle’s Nest, on the banks of Killarney, (Ireland) is ,
renowned for its effective repetition of a bugle
call, which seems t) be repeated by a hundred in
struments, until it gradually dies away in the air. j
At the report of a cannon, the loudest thunders re- ;
verberate from the rock, and die in seemingly end
less peals along tho distant mountains. At the
Castle of Simonetta, a nobleman’s seat about two
miles from Milan, (Italy) a surprising echo is pro
duced between the two wings of tae building. The
report of a pistol is repeated by this echo sixty
times ; and Addison, who visited the place on a
somewhat foggy day, when the air was unfavorable to
the experiment, counted fifty-six repetitious. At first
they were very quick, but the intervals were grc-ter
in proportion as the sound decayed. It is asserted
that the sound of one musical instrument in this
place resembles a great number of instruments p.ay
ing in concert. This echo is occasioned by the exist
ence of two parrellel walls ot considerable length, be
tween which the wave of sound is reverberated
from one to the other until it is entirely spent.
Treating a Priest with Contempt.— 1
An Irish peasant complained to the Catholic pr est
of his paiish that some person had stolen his best
pig, and supplicated his revarenco to help him to
the discovery of tbe thief. The priest promised his
best endeavors; and his inquiries soon leading him
to a pretty correct guess as to tbe offender, he topk
the following amusing method of bringing the mat
ter home to him. Next Sunday, after the service of
the day, he called out with a loud voice, fixing bis
eyes on the suspected individual:
“Who stole Pat Dooian’s pig ?”
There was a long pause, and no answer; he did
not expect there would be any; and descended from
the pulpit without saying a word more. A second
Sunday arriving without the pig bein’? restored, his
reverence again looking steadfastly at tae stubborn
ourloiner. and throwing a deap note of anger into
the tone of his voice, repeated the question :
“Who stole Pat Dooian’s pig? I say, who stole
poor Pat Dooian’s pig ?”
Still there was no answer, and the question Was
left as before, to woik its effect in secret on tne con.
science of the guilty individual. The hardihood of
the offender, however, exceeded all the honest
priest’s calculations. A third Sunday arrived, and
Pat Doolau was still without his pig. Some strong,
er measure now became necessary. After service
was performed, his reverence dropping the ques
tion of “Who stole Pat Dooian’s pig?” but still
without directly accusing any one of the theft, re
proachfully exclaimed:
“Jimmie Doran I Jimmie Doran I you trate mo
with contimpt!”
Jimmie Doran hung down his head, and next
morning tbe pig was found at the door of Pat Doo
ian’s cabin.
The Human Race. —A statistician in
England, in studying a ceneration *o£ a million oi
people from birth to death, finds that one-fourth of
them die before they reach five years; less then one
twenty-eighth between five and ten years; in tbe
next five years the mortality is lower tfi&n at any
period; in the next five years an increase, especially
among women—the influence of dangerous occupa
tions begins to be seen in tbe deatn-rate. Eiiiht
times as many men as women die violent deaths.
This is perceptible for twenty years. Consumption
is prevalent, and accounts for one-half of the deaths
from twenty to forty-five. From thirty-five to
forty-five tbe effect of the wear and tear of the sys
tem are seen. At forty-five the million is lessened
to four hundred and twenty-one thousand one hun
dred and fifteen—death-rate increasing rapidly.
About one-sixth of the million is leit at seventy-five,
at eighty-five only thirty-eight thousand five hun
dred and sixty-five are fett, aud at one hundred two
hundred and two are left. At fifty-three, men and
women surviving are about equal in number, and
from fifty-five onward the women exceed the men.
Cure for Hydrophobia. —Thia dread
ful disease, which has been considered in
curable, seems in a fairway of yielding to medical
treatment. It appears that the Arabs have a secret
remedy lor it in the shape of fragments of a beetle
tolerably common in Tunis. These fragments are
taken internally, and, according to the recent re
ports of a French savant, possess powerful vesicat
ing properties, and it would endanger the patient’s
life to increase the dose too mucn. The Arabs are
unanimous in affirming the efficacy of this remedy,
which will act, however, only during the eighteen
of twenty days subsequent to ibe biting. It scarcely
admits of a doubt that tho remedy occasions at
tacks of colic, and, being extremely powerful,
should be administered only with the greatest pru
dence. Whether this is the only known remedy o/
not remains to ba shown, but it should put doctors
on the right track. •
The Famous City of Damascus.-Da
mascus has been ruined by the opening of tho Suez
Canal. Tne overland trade, both Oriental and
European, by caravan,with Bagdad and the Persia.
Gulf, uas been diverted to tu s water way. nouse
rent nas declined thirty aud fiity per cent., a id
large numbers of empty shops and house i in every
part of tue city indicate tne general decline. Tao
streets are filled with beggars, both Moslem and
Christian, and that, too, in a city where, eighteen
months ago, a beggar was a rarity. Tae more ele
vated districts of Lebanon, which formerly con
tributed the principal portion of the mendicants
during Winter months, have this year sent double
the number to swell tho amount of local indigence.
The far-famed eye of the East is now dull and lus
treless.
Surgical Operation on a Bear. —ln
the public gardens of Vienna a bear underwent an
operation for cataract. He was blind in both eyes.
A strong leather collar was buckled around his neck,
and the attached chain passed round a bar of the
cage. Two powerful men pulled him up, so that a
sponge containing chloroform might be applied to
his nose. The first evidence of the action of the
chloroform was a diminution in his struggles; one
paw dropped and then the other. The door of the
den was opened, and his head laid upon a plank
outside. Tae cataracts were removed aud the bear
was drawn back into his cage. Next morning he
came out oi bis den staring about him, caring uoth
mg or the light, licking his paws, and ev.doutly
I uaoiylng in the lecwcry of liikUt.
3 Louis R apoleon’s Cubl. —At b, sale re-
J cently in Paris, a wonderful price was obtained for
1 five iranc pieces which have a peculiar historical in
ti tarest, though not of remote- date.. The coins in
b quest on are known to modern numismatists—or, at
I any rate, to that considerable number of them
wuese home is in Pans—is “ the coins with the
, carl.” There were never more than twenty-three of
, them, and the tale ot their origin is sufficiently eu
’ r ous to deserve mention, if not to give the coins
[ their fancy value. Some time after Louis Napoleon
■ had assumed the Presidential chair, and while ru
) mors of the intended coup d’etat were already in the
air, it was decided to set tbe profile of his face upon
i the national coins. A specimen flve-frano piece was
. brought from the mint to the President, and left
5 ior his a.cprova.. He was troubled with a great deal
o. other business, and allowed the-piece to lie on a
mantelpiece in the palace without ever taking t o
’ trouble to examine it with any care. After the
• lapse of some days ue took it up, and after a short
i> sc. utiny discovered teat the face wrs, as he thought,
1 spoiled by the appearance of a small curl of haT
i which the artist had represented on his forehead,
i He accordingly seat down to tbe .mint to object to
tide ornamental detail, and beg that it should be re
moved. Unluckily, the authorities, alter what
se?med a respectful delay, had accepted tbe silence
tue President as a proot that he. was satisfied, and
were at the moment actually engaged in stamping
the pieces with the die on wh ch the obnoxious.curl
of hair appeared. This proceeding was at once stop
ped, but twenty-three of the coins were already
turned out, ana these identical twenty-three five
iranc pieces have now been put up ior sale, and
bought ior tbe respectable sum 01 just £lO a piece.
A Strange Reunion. —Among the pas
sengers on the ovenand train bound lor San Fran
cisco, one day a short time ago,was an ex-Governor
of the State of Tennessee, accompanied by his fam
ily. At one of tbe small stations on the Central Pa
cino road, a short distance from Ogden, the train
was boarded by one oi the gambling sharps that in
j lest the line, on the lookout for v.ctims to fleece,
< by means of the swindling devices practiced by the
thievish crew. The fellow succeeded in robbing
one oi the passenge.s of the better part of his trav
eling capital, when the transaction attracted the at
tion or other passengers, and some commotion en
sued. The affair not occurring in San Francisco,
(here were no police there to protect the gambler,
and he was seized and a tierce demand made ior tho
restoration o: the plunder, with a drawing of pis
tols and threats ot dire vengeance. In tbe midst of
tbe tumult a lady in the car gave a shriek and fell
in a swoon. It was the wile of the distinguished
gentleman from Tennessee. The attention of tbe
gambier was drawn to the incident, and immedi
ately his pistol ie 1 from his hand, as if from a
stroke of palsy, and he staggered backward in a
helpless condition. On recovering his nerve, tho
gambler restored the money taken irom his victim
aaid hastened to the assistance of the «ady. A mu
tual recognition appeared to ensue between the
gambler and the party, and the meeting was evi
dently a sad one. Tne remaining passengers in
the car perceived sufficient to understand tnat an
erring son had unexpectedly met with bis parents,
aud that car was relieved of further swindling at
tempts the remainder or the passage.
Defects in (Jems.— The value of a
jewel is estimated by its rarity, its freedom from
flaws, and its weight. The weight is reckoned by
the carat, which is equivalent to rour grains—forty
tour carats being contained in an ounce. The man
ner in which a gem is set in an ornament of jewelry
depends chiefly on its comparat.ve freedom from
defects. If precious stones are translucent and frea
from spots or flaws, they are always set vyithout any
setting or foil behind them. When jewels possess
any faults, aud are thus o' inferior value, various
methods are emp.oyea to conceal their defects, and
to disp.ay any beauty they may possess to.the great
est advantage. This is usually doue by setting them
in a metal frame, aud by putting some bright reflect
lug metallic surface behind them. Still further to
uighten the effect of the jewels, this foil is generally
colored by the jewe er so as to reflect light of that
color best suiteu to d.splay their depth of tint to the
greatest advantage. Tais is done by coating the foil
with a varnish of colored gelatine. This liquid is
prepared by soaking isinglass in water until it
swells, and then dissolving it in alcohol. The solu
tion of isinglass may then be colored any tint re
quired to suit the stone—either yellow, with saffron;
red, with cochineal; or blue, with litmus. Other
colors, of various tints, may be prepared by mixing
these in different proportions. Sometimes jewels
are painted on the back with a composition of this
kind, to increase, the beauty of their tints. By this
means an inferior stone may be made to look like
one of considerable va.ue.
An lowa Inn-Keeper in J erusalem. —
Some ten years ago, says the Davenport (lowa)>
Gazette, Mr. Jonathan Brin ton of Washington, lowa,
became possessed of the idea that he was com
missioned by the Saviour to open an inn near Jeru
salem and so become a pioneer iu the work of re
buildin? and Christianizing the Holy City, for it
was made known to him in a vision that the ancient
g.Qry of Jerusalem was about to return unto her.
He was worth about $20,010; he gave SIO,OOO to his
wife and son, who preierred to remain on the farm,
hoping that tho husband would be relieved of his
insane notions by rougn experience. So the hus
oand went away alone, arrived at Jerusalem in
safety, bought several acres of land in tbe most,
desirable location he cou.d find two miles east of
the city, built his inn, and opened it for the accom
modation of tourists to tho Holy Land. Two years
nave elapsed, and whether he has been cured of
insanity or not is not known, but it is very cer
tain he struck a good thing when he built that ho
i tel. His letters home Lave been of the most cheer
ing character; bis health has been good, he sees
good times all the while. His pictures of prosperity
nis longing for bis wife’s companionship, have
caused Mrs. Brinton to decide to goto her hus
band. She has sold her property in Washington
Gouty, aud this week leaves with her son to join
her husbapd at his inn on the s opes of Judea.
Novel Drive. —Among tiis many fan
ciful experiments made by George, the third Earl
of Oxtord, was one of driving four red deer (stags)
in a phaeton, instead of horses. He succeeded in
reducing them to perfect discipline, and oiten took
excursions with ttiem in the public roads. It hap
pened at last, as he was ono day driving them to
Newmarxet, that tueir ears were accidentally sa
luted with the cry of a pack of hounds, who soon
a ter approaching tue road, immediately caught
scent ot the four-in-hand, ana commenced a new
sort of chase. In vain did his lordship exert all his
charioteering skill; in vain did his weh-trained
grooms endeavor to ride beiore them; reins, tram
mels,and the weight o: the carriage were oi no effect;
off taey went with tne celerity of a whirlwind, and
t.iis modern Phaeton bane fair to experience the
late of his namesake. Luckily, however, his lord
ship had been accustomed to drive these fiery-eyed
steeds to the Ram inn, in Newmarket, which was
most happily at band. Into the yard they suddenly
bounded, to the dismay of the ostler and stable
boys; here they were fortunately overpowered, aud
the stags, the phaeton,and his lordship were all in
stantaneously huddled together,in a large barn, just
as the hounds appeared in full cry at the gate.
An East Indian Legend.— A curious
Ejbl Indian “legend,” treating of tbe future of the
Mogul Empire, and based upon the prediction of a
priest, mane many years ago, has been put into
verse in Dresden, and is now in circulation in that
city. It describes how the great Mogul Monarch,
Arunczebe, when io.lowing his resolution to extir
pate the English irom Hindostan, was stopped in
bis work by a holy Braumin, who held beiore his
tace a magic mirror, in which he saw the continued
growth of the British power until only a shadow re
mained of his own. At length tho shadow itself was
swept away and another imperial throne was set up,
with a lady seated iu its chair. The priest had
given assurance that two hundred years of expiitioa
aud servitude were necessary in order to free Hin«
dostaa from the evil powers that controlled her des
tinies, and for that reason all prisoners had been set
free by Arungzefce. Tbe legend goes on to say that
when tbe lady becomes seated on tbe throne, the
scene suddenly dissolves iu a thuqder clap, and In
dia resumes her sway. Tbe priest’s prediction is
well known, says the legend, to tbe natives of India.
The first part of tbe prophecy, it continues, has
been fulfilled alreadv—a woman sits on the Mogul
throne, and tbe fabric of British Empire iu the East
is now cracking and ready to fall to pieces.
Pledging in Blood.— A singular cus
tom prevailed among the young men of former
t mes, in England, which showed a spirit of roman
tic gallantry far exceeding anything which exists at
present. 'Io show their devout attachment to the
ladies of their choice, they frequently punctured
their arms with daggers, and mingling the blood
with wine, drank it off to their healths. This cus
tom aeems to have been an imitation of a rite of
great solemnity among the ancients, wh ch is men
t oned in Sallust and Livy. We have an allusion to
it in several old plays, and, among others, Green’s
“Tu Quoque,” thus: “I will fight him that dares
say you are not fair; stab him that will not pledge
your health; and with a dagger pierce a vein to
drink a full health to you.” In a character of Eng
land, written by a French nobleman in 1699, which
is printed in the “ Harleian Miscellany,” he says:
“Several encounters confirmed me that there was a
sort of perfect debauchees, who style themselves
Hectors, that, in their mad and unheard-of revels,
pierce their veins to quaff their own blood, which
some of them have done to that excess, that they
died of the intemperance.”
Raining Ice Bullets.— A correspon
dent of tbe London Times describes a terrible hail
storm which swept over Tiflis a short tim« ago. Tho
indication of bad weather was the approach of a
tnunder-storm, which was followed by a deep gloom,
as a black mass of cioud was seen approaching the
town from the southwest. A grateiul puff of air
became in the course of a few seconds, a violent
squall, and soon the air was full of hailstones, two
inches in diameter, and weighing an ounce. The
hailstones fell in thousan Is, being driven by the
wind with the velocity of a snowball t rown by an
able-bodied school-boy. They were composed of
hard ice in concentric layers, alternating with a
white aud less transparent ice, and a crystalline
structure consisting of radial spicu.se. Houses ex
posed to the southwest suffered tho most, the win
dows rattled to the music oi tne baii, and one crash
after another announced their fates in succession.
In one case, a cloui bole was made iu a pane of glass,,
as ii it had been pierced by a bullet. The bom
bardment lasted irom five to tou minutes, and then
rain began to fall in torrents.
Fearful Results of a Scratch. —Ths
daughter ot Major Wm. O. Drew, of ths Washing
ton, D. C., Fire Department, an interesting young
lady, about twenty years of age, is lying danger
ously ill at her home, No. 132 W-shingtou street
Georgetown, Irom tae effects of a cat scratch, re--
ceived a few days ago. She was washing a pet cat
when the treacherous animal clawed the forefinger
of nor light hand, Rawing th? blood. Nothing was
drought of the woiLt.i at the time, but finally in
flammation sec ir. ■ extending up the arm, soon
encompassed her wn > o b Ad. efforts to check
tue inflammation failed, and the condition of the
young lady became so precarious that tbe street was
closed, so as to allow her as much possi
ble.
The Dunwich Rose.— Near the coast
of Suffolk are the ruins of Dunwich Priory, and iu
the cleits of these ruins grows the Dunwich rose.
Tais rose is said to have been brought by monks
from Normandy many centuries since, aud it is
stated that it will grow nowhere else. It degener
ates when cultivated, and resembles the Scotch
rose. It is a powerfully-scented flower, rambles
over the surface of the cliffs, and is known to fi®ta-«
nists as Rosa, arvensis. The flower has a single blos
som of purest white velvet, with antlers of black
or brown, a smooth brown stem With long sharp
thorns, . and smooth-pointed dark green leaves
growing like blackberry-leaves.
A little boy irom New York wont into
the country visiting. He had a bowl of bread and
milk. He tasted it, and then hesitated a moment,
I when his mother asked him if he didn’t like it, to
■ 1 which he replied smacking his lips : “ Yes, ma, X vyiiS
i wishing our milkman won-d ««en a cow.” p