New York dispatch. [volume], February 08, 1885, Page 6, Image 6

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

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6
WHATEVER IS, IS BEST.
BY ELLA WHEELER WILCOX
I know, as my life grows older,
And mine eyes have clearer sight,
That under each rank Wrong somewktr®
There lies the root of Right.
That each sorrow has its purpose,
By the sorrowing oft ungUessed;
But as sure as the sun brings morning,
Whatever is, is best.
I know that each sinful action,
As sure as the night brings shad®,
Is sometime, somewhere, punished,!
Though the hour be long delayed.
I know that the soul is aided
Sometimes by the heart’s unrest,
And to grow means often to suiter,
But whatever is, is best.
I know tbore are no errors
In the Great Eternal plan,
And all things work together
For the final good of man.
Aud I know when my sonl speeds onward
In the grand eternal quest,
I shall say, as I look earthward,
Whatever is, is best.
W AS AX ADDER
BY VIOLET WHITE.
CHAPTER VII.
W BLTO EYES KO LONGER DIMMED WITH TEARS.”
By the tim® Cecil O’Shea reached London his
anger had faded, and conscience was nowhere.
It was then late at night, far too late to dream
of going on further before morning. He went,
therefore, to his own rooms, which were all in
readiness, in ©bedieuee to the orders which he
had sent on by telegraph from Edinburg earlier
in the day. Fires were burning brightly, the
table was laid for dinner, clean clothes were
laid out, and a bath ready for use. And indeed,
by the time he had washed away all traces of
ms long journey and slipped into fresh clothes,
had eaten a good dinner with a fine appetite,
and finally found himself, with a huge meer
schaum in his mouth, lying in a big chair be
fore a glowing fire, why, he felt very much at"
peace with himself and all the rest of the world,
especially with the woman of his heart, Susan
Eliot! Oh, how rapturously he thought about
her that night; how he recalled every dignified
and gracious gesture, every look of the beauti
ful brown eyes, every tone of the rich sweet
voice, every line of the calm pale face ! He quite
forgot that he had not spoken plainly te her,
and he had not received the assurance of her
love, and ho bethought him of the gay bright
ness of her ways, of the playfulness with which
she had seemed to misunderstand him, of the
coquetry with which she had resolutely pre
vented him from making a declaration. In
abort, he thought of her as a man does think ef
Ihe woman he loves, and, more thaji that, be
thought of her also as of the woman who loved
him.
And on the following morning he betook him
oeli to Aldershot, the great hive of fighting bees,
there to try to trace the birth and baptizm of
Robin’s child. First, he went up to the little
Tillage church, that tiny and quaint edifice ap
proached by a green-bordered, tree-shaded
Toad, as rural and old-fashioned ns if a soldier
had never walked along it, and as it such dis
turbing elements as bayonets and cannon had
never come within a hundred miles of the spot.
With a little difficulty he found the sexton,
who promptly aided r him to find the parson,
who, in his turn, professed the utmost willing
ness to show him the registers. And so to
gether they turned the register of baptizms
over, until they came to the entry which O’Shea
had come so far to find:
"December 21st, 18—. Bertram Cecil
Alured, son of Bertram and Ethelberta Eliot.”
That is it, if you will make out a copy,”
O’Shea said, laying his finger upon the place.
Is spite of his strong manhood, he could not
help his eyes dimming as he thought of the two
lair young lives which had been brought to so
sad and tragic an end—the lives which ought to
have been so happy.
“ Yon are not the clergyman who baptized the
jhild ?” he asked presently.
“ Oh, yes 1 I remember the mother perfectly
—a beautiful girl she was, but seemed so deli
eate and frail. Are you—any—relation oi
here?” He asked the question in a hesitating
kind of way, as if lie did not quite know how it
would be received.
“ She was my sister,” O’Shea replied.
" Indeed 1” The other seemed a little sur
prised, and finished copying the certificate be
fore lie spoke again. But, when he had care
fully dried it on the blotting-pad, he looked up.
*• Yen said, ‘ was.’ Is she not living ?”
“No; she died a few weeks after this”—with
a gesture toward the book. “ She was caught
in a storm while going up to her husband’s
boms in Scotland, and died the night she reach
ed it.”
■“lndeed! Thai was very sad!” murmured
the clergyman sympathetically. “ Then she
Was going to him ?” he remarked suddenly.
“Oh, yes! Why?”
The ether hesitated; but O’Shea urged him to
speak.
" I beg you to tell me anything you know,” he
eaid earnestly. “Itis a matter ef most serious
aaement to us just now—to find out afereat deal
that has been hitherto hidden by what I might
•all an accident—certainly by the fault of no
sue.”
“ I was sent for to her house,” said the cler
gyman then, “where the child was baptized in
the presence ef two servants. However, before
the ceremony Mrs. Ralston saw me privately,
teld me her true name, and asked me to bap
tize the child and enter him in the register in
his own name, which I did.”
“ Mrs. Ualston ! ’ exclaimed O’Shea.
“Yes; that was the name she bore here. I
visited her several times, for she seemed ill and
in trouble, though not poor.”
“ Oh, but she was married 1”
“ Yes; she showed me the certificate of the
marriage herself. Ono servant only knew her
in Mrs. Ralston, the other had been her nurse
in childhood.”
“Ah I And where did she live ?”
“In Trinity Terrace. She had a furnished
house there, of which, when she left Aldarshot,
she paid the rent for three months in advance.
I happen to know this, because the landlord,
knowing me well, and knowing too that I visit
ed her as a clergyman, came to me at the end
of the three months to hear what I could ad
vise him to do with the effects she had left be
hind. 1, told him to pack them up and keen
Vhein, Ah some 6ne was «y>'s tC
fooner or later—for, ef emifse, I lyie* as
really married,”
“Thaj wgi? Very kind of you. If you will give
jfsfi Il's address, I will go and see him. Per
haps you do not know what became of old
Aileen ?”
“Oh, yes; she is living with Colonel Mc-
Knaghten 1 Mr. Gordon, the landlord of the
house, tried to get information out of her as to
Whom he should apply respecting the prop
erty, but she was not to be persuaded to give
up a single name. Like myself, she was bound
by a promise never to betray her real name,
and she kept it faithfully.”
“ I am very much obliged to you,” O’Shea
eaid gratefully; then he gave him the outline of
hfa sister’s story, and the reason of Bertram
Sliot’s long-continued absence and silence.
From there he went to see Mr. Gordon, who
was only too glad to find a clew to the owner of
half a dozen large trunks which he had lying in
one of his attics. Then he set out to find old
Aileen, the faithful old Irishwoman who had
nursed both Robin and himself in their child
hood. At the sight of him, Aileen broke down
into bitter weeping, and sobbed passionately
when she heard of her dear Miss Robin’s cruel
death.
“ 1 was bound by me oath, Mr. Cecil,” she
went on excitedly. “ And when me blessed
lamb went away on her cold and Wintry jour
ney, how was I ever to guess that I should
never see her again?”
“No, no, Aileen you eould not guess it. I
am not blaming you, but quite the contrary.
But, now that I have found you, and there is no
longer any need for secrecy, I don’t like you to
remain here. You had better go back to your
Own place at Ballysbaunon.”
“ And is it yourself that lives a deal at Bally
gbannon ?” she asked, her old eyes brighten
ing at the mere idea of once more beholding
the old country.
‘ “Not so very much, Aileen,” he answered re
luctantly, then added briskly, “ But I shall be
there a good deal in future.”
“Andis it married you’re goin’ to be, Mr.
Ceell?” she asked.
•‘lt’s not improbable, Aileen," he answered,
•while a thrill of fierce joy shot through his heart
at the idea of his marriage—to Susan Eliot.
Before he returned to town, he sent off a mes
rsago to Susan. “ The child was born Novem
ber 2.9th, was called Bertram Cefil Alured;”
and, that done, he felt comparatively easy in
Lhis mind.
The certificate of the marriage was easy
.■enough to find, for he knew the church and,
.nearly enough, the date of its solemnization.
And so, alter only four days absence, he was
able to turn his face northward once more, and
jgo as last as rail and steam could take him to
| the lonely Highland cottage where his love
dwelt and had her quiet home.
Ho was to leave King’s Cross by the morn
ing Scotch express; he arrived in good time, he
picked out a good oarriage, saw to a good sup
ply of newspapers, foot-warmers, and ell the
other odds and ends of comfortable travel. And
then, just at the last minute, when he was con
gratulating himself on having the carriage to
himself, the door was Hung open and a gentle
man jumped in.
O’Shea was rather disgusted. However, the
stranger, after a glance at O’Shea’s pipe and
pouch, which wore lying on the Seat opposite te
him, lighted his own meerschaum with a civil
“I see you don’t mind smoking.”
“ Not a bit.” returned O’Shea, stretching out
his hand to take his own pipe.
They smoked in company, with ono or two
remarks about the weather, and the last thing
in politics, but without anything like friendli
ness or cordiality springing up between them.
O’Shea could not make out what he was—a big,
fine, bronzed feHow, with a fair beard and a
pair of keen blue eyes -a man with a frank and
pleasant manner, yef the manner of one who
evidently did not want to make friends With
him. Indeed, when, at Peterborough two ladies
got into the compartment, he turned himself
and his rugs and packages all out into the next
ono,.which was a smoking carriage. O’Shea did
not see him again until they met in the dining
room at York Station, where he contrived, in
Ute halt hour allowed tor the purpose, to put a
good square meal out of Bight, and informed
O’Shea that the soup was excellent. When he
joined the train, however, he went back to his
smoking-carriage and O’Shea to the company oi
the two ladies.
But at Edinburgh they met again in similar
circumstances; and, when O’Sbea left the car
riage at Fynelock and jumped into the dog-cart
which he had ordered by telegram to meet him,
to hie astonishment he saw the stranger again,
walking quietly down the platform. But the
next moment the horse had started, and they
who had come so far together were apart at
last.
To O’Shea’s impatient imagination, that drive
eeemed longer than all the rest of the journey
which he had come; but the hills which backed
Gleufylde rose to view at last, and then the
moor stretching away to meet the sky, then the
long, low, rambling house. His heart beat fast
as ho ssw it.
And there was such' a welcome when hs
reached it and was fairly across the threshold !
such a warm hand-clasp from Sir Bertram ! —
such a sweet greeting from Susan ! O’Shea felt
as if he had stepped into Paradise. It was long
past dinner-hour, but a hasty meal was pre
pared for his refreshment. Susan gave direc
tions for his comfort, Sir Bertram showed him
the way to his room—the way he knew perfect
ly well, without a guide—the doctor came down
stairs and greeted him as a brother, Azor
thrust his stately head under bis hand, and the
less dignified Growl danced frantically about
him, and finally lay down at his feet and whined
for joy.
And then—ah, then I—when he had been
made the hero of a couple of hours, when he
had been feted and made much of to his very
heart’s desire, there came an imperative knock
ing at the door; and then the big, yellow
bearded, blue-eyed companion of his journey
walked into their midst, and, without an in
stant’s hesitation, and with but one exclama
tion of “ Susie !” took Mies Eliot into his arms
and kissed her a dozen times at least.
Sir Bertram and O’Shea both sprang to their
feet.
" Why, Berty, my. boy !” cried the old man.
The newcomer turned from Susan, holding out
his right hand, while he kept her a prisoner
with the other.
“ Well, grandfather, I hope you’re glad to
see me back again ?” he said joyously.
“ Glad 1” echoed the old man. “ Oh, my dear
lad 1”
Susan’s lips quivered, for it was almost the
first time that she had ever heard her grand
father address the younger Bertram so affec- ,
tionately.
“ We have great news for you,” Sir Bertram
continued. “ Yonr eousin has recovered, and
is now in his right mind, but weak, very weak.
Still, Doctor Garforth thinks a long sea-voyage
will do wonders for him.”
“By Jove, you don’t say so, the dear eld j
chap I” Berty exclaimed, then turned round -to ,
Susan. “My darling,” he said, “ you are ten ,
thousand times lovelier than ever,” and after
that Cecil O’Shea turned on his heel abruptly ,
and left the room. ;
Oli, but it was a bitter, bitter blow to him to (
realize that her heart had all along been out (
with the Arctic explorers while he had fondly |
hoped ho was winning it for himself—to realize ,
that, while she had been as deaf as an adder to ,
him, yet this yellow-bearded blue-eyed sailor ,
had charmed her heart away from her long ago I
Oh, it was a b’tter retribution for his falseness j
to the sweet blue eyes over at Braeside !
He stalked into the cosy bed-room which he j
had left so recently with such different feelings, ,
and after turning the key m the lock with a (
vicious twist, dropped into the great arm-chair (
beside the bright Are which had been made up ,
for his comfort and gave himself. up to all the t
misery of reflection.
How he had been deceived ! What a heart- t
less coquette she was ! To think that, after all j
the indications he had given her of his love for r
her, alter all the assiduous coiirt he had paid j
her—to think she could serve him like this I t
It was too bad 1 She might.ha.ve told him at t
once, for she must have seen and understood ~
what ho wanted—she must have recognized j
well enough what al! the approaches which he g
had made toward tenderness had been meant
to convey. At least she might have discouraged E
his attention—at any rate, alter that awkward j
announcement in the newspapers of Ire engage- j
mont to Violet Estcourt! But instead of that, j
what had she done? Had she not given him t
distinct encouragement on the morning when he 8
had pressed her band so meaningly, when he E
went with her into her cousin’s sick-room ? And B
theu had she not a'so encouraged him to return
quickly—as quickly as possible —to Glen- j
fylde, where she must have known perfectly a
well he could only wish to come with one pur- E
pose ? He felt be had a right—yes, a distinct t
right to bo angry, and he was angry, very an- *
gry. He had been deceived —done ! Never in r
all the world, be told himself, had a man been n
so badly used I v
But clearly he was out of it entirely. It was j,
plain that he must give np any idea he might t,
Once have had of sharing Busan Eliot’s life, and a
the sooner he forgot that sweet and golden j,
dream the teller. would have a'pipe and ,
think over wbat be should do next.
He sat leaning forward, his elbows resting on j;
his knees and puffed furiously at his pipe, and e
as he watched the great clouds of blue smoke, s
a different view of things seemed to force itself p
in upon his mind and, as his resentment gradual- t
ly subsided, a fair vision of other days rose up j,
before his eyes and he began to think once again p,
of a pair of sweet blue eyes not fifteen miles
away from him at that moment—eyes that „
seemed to be looking straight into his own with a
a trustful and longing gaze which carried his p;
thoughts back into scenes not framed, in snow „
and thrust the attractiveness ef Susan Eliot’s K
soft charms into the background.
He shook himself impatiently as the remem- p
brance of his own faithlessness stood out in his tl
mind with cruel distinctness, and he paced up e
and down the room for a minute or two with a j,
new look in his eyes, a new purpose in his face, {]
“ What a cad I have been 1” he thought. “Both
of them true, while I would have been false and p
mean ! But it is not too late.” r
He hastily washed hie face and brushed his
hair, and then made his way down stairs with j
an air of contented decision, very unlike the ex- c
pression which he had worn an hour before. j
“ 1 think I have told you all I found out at c
Aidershot,” he said soon after he had joined j]
ths happy group in the drawing-room. “ I hope g
you’ll not mind my leaving you in good time to
morrow, for I feel I have been long enough g
away from Braeside.” „
* * * * ’ g
The sweet blue eyes are no longer dimmed «
with tears, nor the curves ol the tender mouth j,
down-dro"", aa w;tI1 »_ tlX i e by anti suspense. The s
old saw which says “ What ths eye se6§ *S. —* t
heart grieves not for ” proved true again, for r
Violet Estcourt never knew how nearly she once B
came to losing her lover. And now to-'day, there
is a sweet little blue-eyed lady at Ballyshannon p
who thinks dear Cecil never gave any other than T
herself thought or glance, and never dreams t
that her best friend, Mrs. Bertram Eliot, once
held it in her power to make er mar the happi- y
ness of her life. t
They all go often to Charlewood, where the c
old man reigns again with Bertram, the light of <.
his eyes, as comfort and companion to him. He e
would like Bertram to marry again, deeming 1
his long mental affliction an illness only, a mere t
accidental thing; but Bertram is too honorable j
and too true to the memory of his lost Robin Red- i
breast—he, as Susan was more than ence, is as <
“ Disa? as as Addee.” s
THE ESD. 1
HITS ALL ROUND.
BY DERRICK DODD, OF THE BAN FBAN- <
CISCO POST. 1
"No,” said the burglar to his pal; “ there’s '
no use of our breaking into that house to-night. *
I saw a man collect the gas bill there this morn
ing.” (
It is at least a curious fact that the day the <
Legislature adjourned over, and came down ,
here in a body, there were five burglaries com- j
mitted on one street up town. ;
Worth, the great man milliner, has reduced i
bis price for.an ordinary trousseau to $15,000. ’
This will be glad news to bank clerks and oth
ers contemplating matrimony. i
“Why! this is nothing but hot water, waiter 1
—where is my soup?” “All out, sir; but I’ve
given you an extra plate of butter, so you can
grease the water to suit yourself.”
A hotel landlord at Memphis was compelled .
to ask a debating society to make less noise, us
they were bringing a emall-pox sufferer up
stairs. In the handsomest manner the club ad
journed down the fire escape.
A Louisville darkey was sentenced for three
months for stealing a rooster. He was soon
after released ou a legal technicality, his lawyer
having proved that it was a duck he had pur
loined. Case of out on a fowl.
The editor of the Petaluma is under
stood to have recently gone crazy. It is sup
posed that some other Petalunatio paid him a
cash subscription instead of settling up in tur
nips, as is the custom up that way. There are
some shocks no constitution can stand.
There is nothing like getting just what you
ask for. A Marysville man, with SIO,OOO capital,
advertised for a partner “ with plenty of push.”
The next day he found one who pushed him into
a well forty feet deep, and then pushed on to
Canada with the boodle.
A VILE SLANDER.
The slanderers of that great and good man,
Jay Gould, say that he was saved frem drown
ing at Long Branch last season. As he came to
sufficiently to speak he turned to his rescuer
and gasped out:
“Sir, I owe you my life, with interest at nine
per eeut. per annum, payable monthly until
matnri ”
And then he fainted.
A BACKSET.
It was in a New York bar-room the other day
that a “prominent Californian” was telling a
group of awe-struck listeners how his partner
had just telegraphed that he had struck a S6OO
per ton lead in the Sary Jane mine, when a par
rot behind the bar yelled :
“ Dry up, you old fraud I”
“I—l didn’t know there was another’Frisco
man present,” stammered the P. C., and he slid
out.
A WILDE SUGGESTION.
Oscar Wilde is out in a manifesto to the effect
that woman should “ entirely discard corsets
and adopt the three leading features of the
dress of the East.” This is somewhat ambigu
ous, not to say startling. As the three leading
features of ladies’ attire in the East just now
are Arctic oyojehooß, pulse-warmers'and ear-
[NEW YORK DISPATCH, FEBRUARY 8, 1885.
tips, it would appear to the thoughtful observer
that a lady wearing nothing bul those articles
and not even protected irom tbfe inclemency of
the weather by the addition corsets, would
present an appearance sufficiently unique to call
forth the vigorous criticism oi the police.
OLP WPflj LASOIDE.
AN ACTOR’S STORY.
The theatrical season of 1854 was disastrous
all ■ever California, and as the Winter closed in,
matters seemed to grow worse instead of bet
ter. The flush times of’49 and ’SO, had ex
hausted all the pleasure-seekers, and gay young
sparks who used to tbrow down a slug on ths
tables of the Eldorado, and who hardly looked
down to see whether they had won or lost,
were now sparring the keepers of second-class
restaurants for breakfasts, or dodging around
through toe free lunches to save themselves
from going supperless to bed.
1 had come from New York expecting a
brilliant engagement. The bottom had dropped
out of it, and as I had soon run to the end of my
string, it got to be a debatable question whether
I should blow out my brains, or emigrate to Aus
tralia, which at that time was a beacon of golden
hope for those who had missed the rich harvest
of’49 and ’SO; days which even in the brief
space of five years, were regarded as the olden
time. The Metropolitan Theatre, owing to bad
management, was a dead loss. The little
Union collapsed after an engagement of a tew
weeks, during which the salaries were an un
known quantity.
Some provincial managers had come to town
looking tor available talent, and having seen me
give a very spirited and classical rendering of
the third act of “ Hamlet,” and dance an Irish
jig in the afterpiece, they concluded that I would
do, so I closed an engagement tor one year on
very satisfactory terms—my banker had ne
glected to keep my balances all straight—and
my new managers were not in the habit ol mak
ing advances, so I was at my wits end how to
reach my new Eldorado. The fare to Sacra
mento was ten dollars, and there were certain
little liabilities which had in honor to be liqui
dated before I took my flight, and where to
raise the necessary capital was a puzzle.
I bad a passing acquaintance with an express
man, who ran upon the river; that is to say, I
had drank quite a number of times at his ex
pense, and had done him the honor to smoke
sundry fine cigars, for which he had paid half
a dollar apiece—and tor which no doubt he was
abundantly grateful. I briefly explained my
dilemma to my iriend, and the result was an
invitation to share tho hospitalities of tbo ex
press room. My trunks were placed among a
fiilo of express baggage. I left Ban Francisco
ate in the afternoon and when I awoke the next
morning we lay alongside toe levee at Sac
ramento.
It was Sunday morning—so after securing
quarters and getting breakfast, I strolled over to
the theatre which was to be the scene of my future
triumphs. 1 saw crowds oi well dressed ladies
and gentlemen going in. I followed of course
to find a church service going on. The stage
was set in a palace arch, and the throne chair
which the minister occupied, did effective ser
vice that night iu “ Richard the Third.”
The season opened disastrously, for the first
nfght the raiu poured down in torrents, the
streets were black as pitch—for lamps were a
luxury unknown—sidewalks were vague and
uncertain, and the whole town an impassable
ocean of mud. The result was “ a beggarly ac
count of empty boxes.” The next night was
worse than the first, and on the third night a
total receipt of ten dollars did not warrant us
in desecrating the drama any further; the
money was returned to our disappointed pa
trons, and old Meph and I retired to the green
room, as it was called by courtesy, to smoke
the pipe of peace and draw whatever consola
tion we might from some genuine old Periquo
tobacco and a bottle of good old Blue Grass,
which had braved the dangers of Cape Horn to
find a final resting-place on the banks of the
Sacramento.
The rain came pouring down, and we had
made a pretty heavy inroad on the bottle and
had smoked half a dozen pipes, when old Meph
looked up and quietly remarked that it would
be a fine night for a ride. Thinking, of course,
that it was only one of his grim jokes, I an
swered that if there was one thing that I liked
more than another, it was a ride in just such a
night as this.
“Ye can take the bay mare,” he said, “and
I’ll take old Lightning. Do get ready, my boy,
and saddle at once.” and he began to pull on a
pair of high india-rubber boots and to incase
himself in a hard weather coat.
I thought he was only trying me; so, taking
my cue from him, I proceeded to get ready for
my ride. We stepped out to the stable, which
was just back of the theatre, Old Eteph carry- ’
ing a lantern before. The horses looked up as- i
tonished as we opened the stable door, as much '
as to say, “ What in thunder are you fellows do- >
ing out at this time of night, and in such :
weather ?” -
The ffiare I was to ride was a delicate, beau- i
tiful creature, and (t seemed like fiendish cru- <
elty to take her out of her comfortable
stable into such a howling storm. Tho horse :
that Old Meph rode was a great big, angular, i
raw-boned brute, with wicked, whitish eyes,
but between him and his master there seemed
to be the most perfect understanding.
Lonely night rides, as I afterward found out, i
were Meph’s favorite pastime, and while riding 1
along he would hold quite extensive conversa
tions with tho ungainly brute, whose sole merit 1
was that he would keep going till his master <
got ready to get off. I
Tho saddle-girths were fastened and every- 1
thing in readiness, when the stable door was 1
thrown open, and we rode out into the night. I i
expected every moment he would tturn back, i
instead of which he kept right on to the ford of
the American river. i
The bridge had been partially destroyed by a <
preceding flood, and tho only way to cross the <
river was by the ford. We reached the river i
bank, and, without a moment’s hesitation, Old ’
Meph dashed in, and, drawn by a strange fas- i
cination, which I eould not resist, I followed. ]
It was scarcely a minute, when I had reason to I
curse my folly, for I was swept away in the. boil- <
ing flood like a feather. The mare struggled i
gallantly, but it was evident her strength was 1
failing, when, above the roar of tho waters, I <
heard the voice of Old Meph crying, “ Come on, ;
coirie on !” At the sound of his votes the mare ;
gave a wild , plunge which neiirly Ihfew nls I
ipom my saddle, and EtaHe a desperate effort to <
reach the bank. At the rate we were 1
swept s-yng it was Ohly a question of a few min
utes when I would be thrown into the whirl- ;
pool; where the flood of the American river i
me’ts the rushing waters of tho Sacramento.
“Come on, come on 1” came faintly through
the blackness of tbo night, and then all sounds ;
were swallowed up in the roar of the storm and
the wild sweep of the rushing waters.
I was thoroughly drenched, and the extra
weight of my wet clothes, added to my own,
told heavily on the mare, and I felt that it would
only be a very short time when all would be
over. I had almost abandoned all hope, when
suddenly the mare struck foothold, trembling
like an aspen leaf. All at once her feet seemed
to fail her, and she plunged wildly forward,
her head completely under the water. I was
dazed and choked, and clung wildly to the born
of my saddle. She recovered horself, however,
and gave three or four tremendous leaps, and
we stood upon the river bank. I felt faint and
weak, and just like laying down to dio where I
was.
“ Hallo I hallo 1” camo to me faintly from the
distance, but I was too weak to reply. “ Hallo,
come on 1” kept coming nearer and nearer. At
last I mustered voice to half shriek out an an
swer, and Old Meph and Lightning were beside
me.
I would have given all I ever possessed or
expected if I could have reached the other side
of the river, but the nearest shelter was at Oak
Grove, twelve miles away. Old Meph handed
me a large flask, which was his constant travel
ing companion, j Two or three good swigs
brought back a little life in mo, and once on
solid ground the mare seemed to gain new
vigor.
Old Meph, though soaked to the skin, pranced
about as lively as a cricket, and, taking a long
swig from his flask, said, with a low chuckle :
“ By jingo I this is jolly !”
I did not feel a bit jolly; on the contrary, I
felt very miserable; but it was no time to show
the white feather, so I assured him that I had
never enjoyed anything so much in my life. To
be sure that we were properly fortified, we took
another drink, and Meph, putting spurs to
Old Lightning, dashed over the plain, leaving a
cloud of mud behind him.
I followed him as closely as possible, occas
sionally making flying leaps over small pools of
water. There was no road and no guide that
I could see; but Old Meph never paused, but
dashed along with a whoop as if he was travel
ing on a macadamized road. Through one
part of the plain the mud was deep and we
were compelled to feel our way along, so that
it was getting well toward morning before wo
arrived at Paddy Walsh’s, at Oak Grove.
The horses were cared for, and after seeing
them well bestowed, we began to think of our
selves. No word of complaint came from Old
Meph, but with a grim smile he asked me how I
liked it. I told him that next to a trip in a
balloon, I especially loved that kind of riding.
The house itself was built of rude logs, and
the bar-room was about twenty feet square.
The bar occupied one corner, and was hidden
behind a lattice work which seemed strong
enough to stand a pretty severe seige; a huge
padlock hanging in a stout staple gave notice to
all corners that the contents within were pre
cious and must be paid for on demand. In the
centre of the room was a square table covered
with a gray blanket, and around it sat four mon
engaged in a game of poker.
The players scarcely looked up as we entered,
but seemed intent on their game. They might
have been miners or drovers, or road agents
for matter of that, for their costumes were rude
and coarse. They wore broadbrimed slouched
hats, which being tipped forward completely
concealed their faces; their pants were tucked
in their boots, pistols and bowie-knives in their
belts, marked them as men ready tor anything
at any time.
Meph was leaning with his back to the bar
and looking toward the players he said, “ will
you join us gentlemen ?” Whether it was that
they did not recognize the |title as belonging to
them, neither of the players answered, but kept
right on with their game.
“ Well, Jim,” said Old Meph, “ then yon
and I will go it, Paddy pass us out old Black
Jack.”
Paddy passed out a big black bottle which he
kepi lor lavoicd customers—and the yery fact
• that Black Jack was passed out was an evidence
i that tire visitors stood high in the estimation of
f the host—we filled our glasses and touching
I the® together, drained to the bottom.
I “ Can yon give us a room, Paddy ?” said Old
Meph, “for we’ve had a long ride and the
®tr was damp.”
“ I don’t know,” the landlord replied. “If
the gentlemen in the game there stay, they’ve
got my only room. If they don't you’re welcome
to that.”
“ Oh, we can get along with one.” Old Mepb
answered, “or a shake down ou the floor, and
I it you have any dry duds just trot ’em out, for I
can’t drink whisky fast enough to keep the
water out.
“ Well, you can ask the gentlemen, and if they
are willing, I am.”
i Meph walked over to the players and said:
“ Gentlemen, do you stop here to-night ?”
Neither of the players took the slightest no
tice of the question; they were so intent upon
the game that they appeared not to have
heard him. Then the players discarded their
bands, and tho dealer gave each one the cards
he required. There were no words exchanged
but one ef the players put out to the middle o:
the table five bright, shining gold pieces. This
was quickly answered by the others, the last
man doubling the stake. Then each one laid
dawn a greater stake than the other, till the en
tire stakes of all the players lay in the middle
of tho table. One laid hie hand down—there
were four tens.
“ It won’t do,” said the second, laying out
four queens.
The third triumphantly threw down four aces,
and reached for the pot. The fourth quickly
whipped out his bowie-knife, and drove it into
the table close to’ the other’s hand, saying:
“ Hold on, gentlemen ! hold ou ! wait till I
show up bofore you draw the pot I”
“ Kin you beat four aces ?” quietly sneered
the holder of the biggest band.
“I don’t know, Sam—l don’t know; but don't
you touch that pot till I’ve laid down my hand.”
“ Well, lay down your hand, and let’s see
what’ll heat four aces.”
“There’s the picters, gentlemen,” said the
last player; “ a royal flush takes the pot,” and
he reached for the money.
Quick as a flash the holder of the aeee raised
his pistol and fired, and in less time than it
takes to tell it, all of the players were engaged
in a deadly fray.
The whole thing occurred so quickly that
there was no time for thought or retreat. I had
dropped to the floor when the firing began,
thinking that was the safest place, and when the
firing ceased I looked around, and Gid Meph
was lying on the floor beside me, breathing
heavily. I jumped to my feet and seized his
hands, and tried to raise him, but he moaned
and fell back.
“ What's the matter, Meph ?” I almost
ecreamed. “Tell me; are you hurt?”
“ I'm done for, Jim,” he faintly said. “ It’s
all up with me now. Lay me down, Jim—lay
me down.”
I stretched him on the floor, and taking off
my coat, laid it underneath his head and knelt
beside him. I opened his coat, and just below
the heart was a ragged hole, from which the
blood was oozing. I felt him convulsively grasp
my fingers, and draw me down toward him.
“I’m done for, Jim,’ he said, in a faint whis
per. " I've had my last ride; and now, old fel
low, I want you to make me a promise.”
“ Anything that a friend can do for a friend,
Meph, I’ll do for yon,” I replied, almost choked
with grief. “ What is it ?”
“ Shoot old Lightning, andbnry me near him.”
I gave the promise, and in a few minutes Old
Meph lay dead upon the floor.
I walked out to the rude stable, which was
back of th© hone©, just as the day was break
ing. As I opened the stable door old Lightning
looked up as if expecting his master. I did not
pause—it I had, my heart would have failed
me—but I drew my pistol and fired, and old
Lightning fell like a shot. The inquest was
held next afternoon on Old Meph and ono other
who had fallen in that fray.
Wo buried them out in the grove of oaks, and
laid old Lightning near his master. The phan
tom steed and the spectre rider crossed the
Btyx together.
A HIGH CAStFrOBREBY.
How They Manage These Things in
Remote Austrian Regions.
(Vienna Letter in the London Telegraph.)
A startling and mysterious robbery is re
ported from Linz, the particulars of which read
like a page from one of the novels of Alexandre
Dumas, the elder.
Recently Herr Peszl, Postmaster at Neuzeug,
a small locality in the district of Linz, had to
take a sum ef 4,000 florins, together with some
papefs Cf value, to the town of Steyr. In the
train ho entered into conversation with a re
spectably dressed individual who gave himself
Out to be an insurance broker, and was evi
dently well acquainted with Steyr and the sur
rounding country. They traveled together as
far as Linz, when the stranger, announcing his
intention of putting up at the same hotel as his
companion, suggested that they should drive
thither irom the station together. To this the
postmaster agreed, aud accordingly they both !
got into a two-horse closed conveyance that was
waiting outside.
Shortly after starting, tho pseudo insurance '
broker offered the unsuspecting postmaster his ■
snuff box, and no sooner had Herr Peszl par- '
taken of its contents than he lost consciousness.
When ho began to recover his senses ho was 1
being driven at a furious speed across the open
country. While still in a confused state Herr ■
Peszl asked his companion whither they were
bound, but instead of replying the latter ap
plied a damp cloth to Herr Peszl’s face, which
caused the postmaster to relapse into his former
unconscious condition.
He has no recollection of what occurred for ’
some time afterward, but in tho morning he
once more revived and found himself in a small 1
open trap, seated next to a mail he had nevsr
seen before. Another man, in peasant’s dress. 1
was leading the horse. Herr Peszl at onto re- 1
marked that his bag of valuables had disap- J
neared, together with his fur coat, which had I
beeu replaced by a thinner ons made of a kind 1
of Tyrolese homespun cloth. They were driv
ing along a valley unknown to Herr Peszl. In
the course of half an hour they stopped in front
of a dilapidated peasant house, built of rough,
gray stone. The postmaster was bidden to
alight, and. waejsondueted to a large, bare room
bfi thS ground floor, Where hb was kept a pris
oner for four flays. Food was brought to him ;
by tho man dressed as a peasant. •
About 3 o’clock one morning Herr Peszl was ;
aroused from his sleep by the same individual,
and, after dressing himself, was led about 2JO '
paces from the house, where a sledge was wait- ’
mg for them. It was apowing hard and almost ,
pitch dark. As thay drove, along Kerr Peszl '
pressed his jailer with questions, but all tho
answer ho could get was that he was being
driven home. About an hour and a half from ,
the time of their start they pulled up within :
forty yards of a small railway station. Ou ;
alighting, Herr Peszl found himself face to face
with, the man who had traveled with him to
Linz. That mysterious individual handed to
Herr Peszl his fur ooat and monoy-bag, together
with a ticket for Steyr, whither he urged him
to return at once, as he was wanted by the po
lice. All this was the work of a couple of min
utes. The train was m the station, and Herr
Peszl had only just time to take his seat without
asking further questions. On examining his
money-bag he found it empty, which cannot
have caused him much surprise. On reaching
home be was shown ths following telegram, re
ceived at the Neuzeug Post Office during hie ab
sence: “Thank God! I am aliwe, and hope to re
turn in two days. Let them know iu Steyr. A
thousand greetings. Signed, Peszl.” The hero
of tliia extraordinary adventure is a man «f such
excellent character that so far his narrative does
not seem to have excited any suspicion oil the
part of tho local authorities.
A DUpE-DECOY.
How He Plays His Fellow-Dudes for
the Benefit of His Beggar Pal.
[Fi-om the Philadelphia News.)
“Do you see that young dude walking up the
street with those four swell companions ? Well,
that gent is one of the trickiest of the many who
live by their sharp wits. Keep an eye on him,”
said a reserve officer on Chestnut street, yester
day. The fashionable group at once became
the object of attention.
This action was followed by a general and
veryftiberal almsgiving by tbo tailor-made men.
Coins were showered into the beggar’s ragged
hat, and the conclusion naturally drawn would
be that the party had just returned from a
church revival, where “ charity ” was the sub
ject of the sermon.
While walking up Chestnut street, the tricky
dandy a little in advance, the bon-tou crowd
suddenly stopped before a poor, decrepit, blind
beggar. ‘ Dude No. 1 entered into an animated
conversation with his companions.
“ Oh, no; charitable motives have very little
to do with the proceeding,” remarked the peace
guardian.
“ That’s the last act of a clever trick of the
dude. You see, it’s done in this way,” con
tinued the officer : “ The fashionable young man
and that blind beggar, strange as it may seem,
are confederates. The beggar stations himself
on a principal thoroughfare, receiving whatever
extra alms he can get, while the dude hies off
to a neighboring hotel or billiard-room. He
plays several games of pool or billiards with
the young bloods there assembled, is very com
panionable, invites them to drink, and finally
proposes to patronize some other saloon in the
vicinity.
“The beggar is stationed between these two
places. The young fellows innocently comply.
The gang walks up the street past the blind
beggar, who at that moment wails sadly. The
sharper dude is suddenly conscious-stricken,
turns back, throws a dollar or two into the
man’s hat and jocularly invites his comrades to
do the same. As a rule they comply. Then in
a bantering way the dude offers to bet $5 that
he will contribute the most, the stake of the
vanquished to be given to the beggar. A weak
point in the average young fashionable is struck,
the bet is accepted, the sharp dude contributes
$lO or more, the bloods have their pride of
birth aroused and cover that sum. At length a
limit is reached, the contributions stop and the
four unsuccessful men, the dude probably
among the number, forfeit $5 apiece to the beg
gar or continue to contribute.
“ The young bloods are fleeced without know
ing it, and console themselves with the idea
1 that they have done something very charitable.
, i It is needless to say that there is a grand divide
> afterward between the two sharpers. You see,
f that crowd has just been roped in, and the
; worst of it is we can prove nothing against eith
er of tho operators. There’s big money in it, I
I tell you,” concluded the stalwart preserver of
> the public peace.
‘ TALKS WITH BOYS.
i
BY M, QUAD.
“What troubles me,” writes a boy from
Georgia, “is how I am to get a start in the
' world. I am sixteen years old, have a fair
common school education, but no money and
, no chance to learn a trade. Put yourself in my
place and tell me what you would do.”
There are a good many difficulties about
making the start you speak of, but there are
no grave reasons why you shouldn’t get along
in life. First, if you want to learn a trade, auc
no chance offers at home, widen your field.
Almost every day I meet a boy who left South
ern Indiana on feet with six dollars in money
and walked to Detroit in search of a place to
learn a trade. He was penniless when he
reached this city, but his frank face and
straighforward talk made him friends, and in a
week he was an apprentice to a tinsmith. He
is now in the last year of his trade, and the
other day, when I asked his employer how he
liked the boy, he replied:
“ From the end of his first month with me I
could trust him with my whole business. He
is honest, diligent and correct, and when his
time is out I’m going to give him an interest in
the business.”
If you have no leaning toward a trade, and
no work offers at home, you must find it else
where. If you do not want to end your days as
a laborer, you must make np your mind in ad
vance of any step to be diligent and faithful—to
be beneet and economical. By observing the
first three maxims, you will hold any place you
may secure, and have the good will of your
employer to follow you into new fields. By ob
serving the fourth, you can, in a tew years, ac
cumulate sufficient capital to enable you to en
ter into business for yourself.
What boys have done other boys can again
accomplish. Eight out of every ten of our rich
men were poor boys and made their own way.
As for those who began life with plenty of
money, not one out of eight has been anything
like a success. Detroit, Cleveland, Buffalo,
Albany, St. Louis and every other city contains
men who began life by working for smaller
wages than will ever be offered to you, and who
are now worth from $50,000 to $1,000,000 apiece.
Some of the old growlers will tell you that it
was all in luck. Don't you begin your career
by believing iu Inck. It leads to the poor-house
by tho straight road. What the lazy man calls
luck, is simply diligence,economy and manage
ment.
Pick out the laziest, poorest man iu your
town and you will find him growling about luck.
When he comes to explain his career you will
see that ho planted potatoes and waited for luck
to come around and hoe them while he sat on
the grocery steps and talked politics. The ill
luck he growls about has come more through
his own sliiftlessness and bad management than'
from any other cause. Diligence makes luck;
economy makes luck; honesty makes luck. It
is too late in the day to make the world believe
that some folks were born to be rich and others
to bo poor. It rests solely with the boy and
man.
Five or six years ago I happened to be in a
railroad office when a boy of fifteen entered and
applied for a position. His parents were poor,
but they had taught him good manners. His
clothes were ot cheap material, but they were
clean. The head elerk, to whom the boy ap
plied, looked him over from head to foot, asked
a few questions, and told him to call again.
“I’m going to give that boy a chance,” he said
after the lad had departed.
“Don’t you have a dozen applications every
week?”
“Y’es; but when a boy of his age has the cour
age to walk into an office like this all alone and
make application, lie has something in him.”
The boy was given a place as messenger, with
a salary of $3 per week. I was in the same of
fice the other day, and where do yon suppoqs I
found him? The head clerk had been promoted,
and this boy was in his place, and his salary had
risen from $3 per week to SIOO per month. Was
it luck? No. His diligence and faithfulness
had promoted him step by step, and the same
things will take him higher and higher, until he
will some day fill the position of superintendent
or president of the road.
Do you remember of reading of the boy “Sam”
at one of the b!g iron foundries in this city?
One day, after a tramp of over 100 miles—hav
ing run away from a poorhouse where he had
been for two or three years—he entered the
yard of the foundry and asked the first man he
met for work.
“ You ?” sneered the man, as he looked down
upon the lad in contempt, “ what could you
do ?”
“ Learn the trade 1”
“ Pooh I Who are you ?”
“Sam.”
“ Sam who ?”
“ Sam who wants to learn a trade.”
“Humph ! go away before the dog bites
you!”
But Sam walked into the shop, asked for the
foreman, and made application in such an
earnest way, that he was given a place. For a
few weeks he made himself useful in running
errands, and he then turned to topis and was
made an apprentice. This is his third year,
and he is not only proving himself a skillful
mechanic, but he has saved a goodly share of
his wages, and carries a bank-book. He eould
not read nor write when he entered the shop.
His evenings have been taken up with study,
and to-day he writes a good hand, ean figure
rapidly, and is a fair hand at drawing patterns.
Is there any luck in Sam's lease ? Not a bit of
it. Had he been impudent and shiftless, he
would have been a loafer to-day, instead of a
diligent mechanic.
Nine cases out of ten the boy who is thor
oughly determined to make something of him
self will succeed. He may have to encounter
rough usage, but the resolution which earried
him out into the world will carry him safely
through any crisis.
The Perim op Fub Shoes.—Clara
Belle tells this story.in the Cincinnati Enquirer:
Fur shoes are the newest thing for fashionable
girls’ feet. They make one look, not like puss
in boots, but like a puss in skirts without boots.
Their warmth is a strong recommendation.
They are slipped on after the mantier of Over
shoes, but they are as long as ordinary leggings.
There Was a lightweight maiden in a street car
with me. I don't Suppose she could have
balanced a scale in the hundred-pound notch,
clothes and all, sad yen are requested to keep
her, lack of pbnderanoe in mind, in view of what
I am going to tell. She sat on one of her
calves, after the manner common to her sex,
ifnd tho tip of her fur shoe was just visible be
yond the drapery ou the seat. The man who
sat next may not have been Mr. Slugger Sulli
van—l haven’t the pleasure to know him by
sight—but he certainly was as big and brawny
ns that illustrious Bostonian. By sad mischance
he wqre gloves cf a color like the shoes of my
companion. He dropped ene of them as he rose
to quit the oar. His eyes fell on the shoe. The
conductor had stopped the vehicle, and was
waiting patiently for the burly passeqger to get
out; it was no time for unnecessary delay. Tho
fellow grabbed the girl’s foot. That member
was so email, I suppose, that he didn’t feel it
ipside of what he supposed was hie glove, on
which she had eat. “ Excuse me,” he said.
Then he yanked. The power of his jerk was
immense. The resistenee was comparatively
slight. A section of fur-covered limb was
hauled into sight. For an instant there was the
spectacle of the poor girl lying flat on the seat,
with one toe pointed to the* roof by the relent
less hand of the athlete. Then things explained
themselves. The man darted out of the car, as
though escaping for dear life from a whole mob
of enraged belles, and the outrageously mal
treated girl resumed the pose of propriety, with
demure self-control, though her cheeks were
hot enough to light matches by.
Mad® Mad by a Lottery.—Lotteries
are so much in vogue in France that no sooner
is onedrawn than several fresh ones are start
ed. The drawing of the prizes may be produc
tive of some excitement, pleasurable or other
wise; on the minds of ticket holders; but it ap
pears from a recent very sad case ef sudden in
sanity that the disappointment at not winning a
prize is sometime, too much for weak minds.
The case in question is that of a young woman
of humble station, earning her living in Paris.
She bad bought a ticket—only one—in the Dec
orative Arts Lottery, recently drawn, and this
flimsy scrap of pape'r she was sanguine enough
to believe would prove the foundation of her
fortune. When the list ot the winning numbers
was published it was eagerly scanned by the
poor girl, who for some days afterward re
mained in a desponding state of mind, for the
castles in the air she had been building on the
strength ot a dream or a presentiment—which
led her to choose a certain number—had van
ished. Subsequently she lost her reason com
pletely, and, leaving her home, rushed wildly
through the streets waving the unfortunate
ticket in her hand, shouting that it was the win
ning number and that the bi" prize had been
stolen from her. The police had to interfere and
take her to the station, whence it is likely she
will have to be transferred to an asylum for the
insane.
A Sociable Spider.—Says a letter in
the Cincinnati Enquirer: Some years ago I'was
living in St. Louis. All day long I was busy,
but in the evening I was my own master. Let
ting down my curtains and poking my fire tea
steady blaze, one evening, I drew my chair np
to a table near the wall and began writing.
Soon I was surprised to find that my room had
another occupant, no other than an Immense
black spider, which advanced sociably toward
me upon the table. I was quite surprised to
find that he showed no fear, but sat looking at
me with attention. I pulled a straw Irom the
broom and drew it gently over his body and
legs, to h’s great delight, for ten minutes, when
he retired. The next evening he reappeared, to
my surprise, and we went through the same
antics with the broom straw, to hie evident
pleasure. This was kept lip all that lonely
Winter, and the solitude of my evenings was
greatly relieved by my big spider friend, who
came out regularly every night for a frolic with
me and the broom straw.
The Great Charlatan 'of France.—
1 The following ouiioua account has appeared ol
Mangin, the celebrated black-lead-pencil maker,
■ who died recently in Paris. He drove every
1 day in an open carriage, attended by a servant,
to his stands, either by the column of the Place
Vendome, or on the Place de la Bourse. His
servant handed him a case, from which he took
large portraits of himself and medals with de
scriptions of his pencils, which he hung on
either side of him. He then replaced his round
j hat with a magnificent burnished helmet
( mounted with brilliant plumes. For his over
coat he donned a costly velvet tunic with gold
fringes. He then drew a pair of polished steel
gauntlets upon his hands, covered his breast
with a brilliant cuirass, and placed a richly
i mounted sword at his side. His servant then
put on a velvet robe and helmet, and struck up
a tune on an organ mounted in gold. To the
crowds gathered around be then exclaimed,
“I am Mangin, the great charlatan of France.
Years ago I hired a modest shop in the Rue Ri
voli, but could not sell pencils enough to pay
my rent. Now, attracted by my sweeping crest,
my waving plumes, my din and glitter, I sell
millions of pencils.” This was true. And his
pencils were the very best.
Misrlaoed Leniency. —The misplaced
leniency oi French juries for the most ferocious
criminals has received one more illustration in
the small village of Broom, near Linan. A
young peasant, called Gautier, was in the habit
of ill-treating his mother, in the hope of coming
in sooner for her property. Unable to endure
it, the latter resolved to sell her land and go
somewhere out of her son’s reach. Exasper
ated at this resolve he determined to get rid of
her at once. Finding her asleep, he first tried
to strangle her with a rope. Black finger marks
on the victim’s neck show that, finding this
method ineffectual, he had used one hand te
throttle her, while with the other he bad closed
her mouth and nostrils. Some of her teeth
were knocked out by the violence of his grasp.
The jury found “extenuating circumstances,”
and the murderer therefore escapes with hard
labor lor life.
Medicinal Value of Lemons. —The
way to get the better of the bilious system with
out blue pills or quinine is to take the juice of
one, two, or three lemons, as appetite craves,
in as much water as makes it pleasant to drink
without sugar, before going to bed. In the
morning, on rising, at least half an hour before
breakfast, take the juice of one lemon in a
goblet of water. This will clear the system of
humor and bile with efficiency, without any of
the weakening effect of calomel. People should
not irritate the stomach by eating lemons clear;
the powerful acid of the juice, which is always
most corrosive, invariably produces inflamma
tion alter a while, but properly diluted, so that
it does not burn or draw the throat, it does its
medical work without harm, and, when the
stomach is clear of food, has abundant oppor
tunity to work over the system thoroughly.
Lincoln and Stanton.— A new Lincoln-
Stanton story comes from Washington. It re
lates to an application /or appointment as army
chaplain, which remains on file in the War De
partment, and bears these indorsements: “Dear
Stanton—Appoint this man a chaplain in the
army. A. Lincoln.” “ Dear Mr. Lincoln—He
is not a preacher. E. M. Stanton.” Three .r
four months elapse, evidently, and then we
have: “Dear Stanton—He is now. A. Lin
coln.” “Dear Mr. Lincoln—But there is no va
cancy. E. M. Stanton.” “Dear Stanton—Ap
point him a chaplain-at-large. A. Lincoln.”
“ Dear Mr. Lincoln—There is no warrant of law
forthat. E. 11. Stanton.” “Dear Stanton—Ap
point him anyhow. A. Lincoln.” “ Dear Mr.
.incoln—l will not. E. M. Stanton.” And ha
didn’t. But apparently be told the applicant he
could leave his petition on filo.
Rich Trophies.— Says the Boston Ad
vertiser: “A French traveler from Stamboul
tells a wonderful story of the sights he saw.
There were two thrones, one of enameled gold,
with incrustations of pearls, rubies and emer
alds. Also two caskets studded with rubies
and diamonds, in which hairs from the Proph
et’s board are jealously preserved. One room
was hung with armor and sceptres; caskets and
escretoires lay on the table. In another room
are the costumes of all the Sultans down to
Mahmoud IL Each of the costumes has a silk
scarf attached, together with a magnificently
chased dagger and a diamond aigrette. Final
ly, the sacred treasure, consisting of the relics
of Islam, the mantle and standard of the Proph
et, his sword and bow, the swords of the first
Caliphs and the oldest manuscripts of the Ko
ran.
Queen Victoria’s Parsimony. — A
characteristic story about Queen Victoria is go
ing the rounds. What is called the “ candle
end ” economy is now literally practiced in her
most gracious majesty’s household, and it is
accomplished through the ingenuity of her
head servant. He recently invented a machine
which euts down the candle after guests have
used it so as to leave a fresh wick; the scrap
ings are collected, returned to the candle fac
tory, made into candles and sold again to the
queen at reduced rates. Victoria saves quite a
little pin-money by this thriftiness, and the
master of the household rejoices over the pos
session of the massive brain that gave birth to
this money-saving invention.
Self-Flavored Beef. —Says the Wash
ington (Ga.) Gazette: A gentleman from the
country brought in some fine beef not long
since and sold it to several fainilies. The next
morning the several households had steak for
breakfast and the several ladies were asked why
they had put so much onion with the beef.
Each one denied the charge in toto and the
cooks were hanledupfor an investigation. The
latter said the “ sperets” must have done it, for
they “ knowed noth ng about the ingerns.” It
was afterward ascertained that the cattle of
this farther'Lad Ifeen feed ng in a pasture where
wild onions grew in great abundance.
A Russian Sentenob.— The lack of
liberty of any kind in Russia is illustrated by a
court sentence which was pronounced at Odessa
not long ago. A native of that place became
converted to a creed somewhat resembling Meth
odism and took to preaching. He was accused
of having denounced image worsh p as prac
ticed in the Russian Church, was arrested and
tried under the o’d law of blasphemy. Not
withstanding that he had the mostincontestable
iroof that he did not use the words imputed to
lim, he was convicted by a jury and sentenced
to imprisonment for three years and nine
months.
Underground Wires. —says the Chi
cago Herald: Rapid progress is being made in
Chicago in getting nd of trnal telegraph and
telephone wires. The work of placing the wires
under ground is going forward without attract
ing attention or disturbing business. There
are now 718 miles of underground wires in the
city, and the Inter Oeean. predicts that in a year
or two atrial wires in Chicago will be as much a
thing of the past as the erection of frame build
ings within the city limits. In this particular
at least, Chicago will bo envied by other cities.
A Villages Moved. —By the recent
Spanish earthquakes, a village in Grenada has
been moved bodily some sixty feet in a north
ward direction, a deep semi-circular crevasse
appearing on its former site. The course ef the
little river near which the village stood has
been blocked up, and a lake is being formed.
Many of the sulphur springs with which the
region abounds suddenly ceased flowing, but
reappeared a day or two after in a state of un
usual heat, indicative, no doubt, of the char
acter of the force at work below.
A New Kind of Bagging.— A Georgia
machinist has invented a fire-proof cotton bag
ging which promises to abolish the eld jute bag
ging and reduce the cotton insurance rates to
minimum figures. It consists of an earthy or
asbestos-like substance, dissolved in a glue-like
whitewash, and 'screed over bagging made of
cotton goods. The invention is called “ anti
phlogan,” and the inventors claim that it is
easily made, is as cheap as sand, and that the
■whole bagging is made cheaper than the jute or
gunny bagging now used.
Worth Squabbling For. —lmagine an
area about the size of the United States, rich in
soil, teeming with natural wealth, traversed in
every direction by great navigable rivers, and
sustaining a swarming population, and we get a
taint idea of the importance of the Congo ques
tion. The Congo region is a very rich plum, a
second India, in fact; and England’s rivals,
which have seen their neighbor gobble up the
prize lands of Asia, do not mean to let her re
peat history in Africa.
AYER’S .=. PILLS
• fa
Ayer’s Tills are entirely vegetable in
their composition, act speedily and thor
oughly, and impart tone and energy to
the whole system. They may be given to
children with entire safety. L. O. Brag
don, Columbia, S. C, writes: “I have
used Ayer’s Pills In my family for years.
I give them to my children, in preference
to any other physic, and always with the
most gratifying results. They are invalu
able as a home medicine.” A. B. Foster,
Children’s Home, "Westville, Conn.,
writes: “ We have used Ayer’s Pills, and
think them a very safe and excellent
family aperient.” B. D. Jackson, Wil
mington, Del., writes: “I have used
Ayer’s Pills for a number of years, and
have never found anything equal to them
for giving me an appetite or Imparting
energy and strength to my system. I
always keep them in the house.”
PREPARED BY
I®. J. C. AYER & CO., Dowell, Mass, U. 8. A,
For Sale by all Druggists.
Ale and Beer. —Ale and beer are now
adays commonly used as more or loss converti
ble terms; but the difference between those
commodities was originally very great. Ale
was the national drink ot England long before
the Conquest, and comprised all drinks made
from corn, though rich peoele also drank wine.
Great care was taken that ale brewed for sale *
should be good, public tasters and assayere
being appointed to test it. This ale, however,
was brewed very weak, and was drank, as a
rule, within a fortnight ot production; it was
not even clear, and wenld be reckoned nowa
days very poor staff. Ale, in fact, was in no
wise a heavy liquor, and drunkenness among
the mass of the people was comparatively rare.
Ale was made without hope. “Beer” was not
applied as a name for ordinary malt liquor un
til hops—which had at first to bo imported—
came into use. “ Hops, reformation, carp and
beer came into England in one year.” It war
long before beer made way against the simpler
ale; but when it once began to gain ground, ale
was soon driven out
Who Was Driving ?—Ou© of tho pret
tiest conceits in Mr. Harris's (Uncle Remus)
new book is put into the mouth of an old negro
driver. He had run away from his master, and
could not be caught; but an old lady bought
him because he had saved the lile of her son,
and he surrendered himself, and became a
faithful servant.
When the old mistress came to die, her wan
dering mind dwelt upon the negto who had
served her so faithfully. She fancied she was
making a journey.
“ The carriage goes smoothly along here,”
she said. _ Then, after a little pause, she asked:
Is David driving?” and the weeping negro
ened out from a corner ef the room :
“ ’Tain’t po’ Dave, mistr’ss I De good Lord
done tuck bolt er de lines.”
And so dreaming as a little child would
dream, the old lady slipped from life into the
beatitudes, if the smiles of the dead mean any
thing.
The Club Man and Hrg Niue Little
Wife.—He is a club man with a nice little wife.
Like many another married man also possess
ing a n ce little wife, he has grown careless ia
his attentions. He runs down to the club
nearly every night She stays at home every
night. But then her place is at home. A
box of eandy makes amends for any slight,
thinks he. Now, she dea’t cry when ho just
goes out “for an hour.” She simply calle
“ good-bye ” from the head of the stairs, then
goes into her room, puts on her prettiest dress,
dabs a little powder on her nose and waits for
the door-bell to call her down. Then she skips
into the parlor and spends a delightful evening
with another club man—one of those dear
fellows who hate to see women neglected. It’s
all perfectly proper eo far. But some day there
will be a row. Then, poor little wife, you will
be the sufferer. “There is one law tor the man
and another for the woman."
A Cat and a Rat.— A. correspondent
writes to the London Pall Mall Gazette:
“While pulling down a block ©f old buildings
in Fetter Lane an interesting discovery has
been made. There is a local story that about
fifty years ago a cat was seen in chase after a
yery large rat. When the hunt had lasted a
few minutes both pussy and the rat disappear
ed suddenly into a erevice of the wall. Yester
day the workmen, in destroying some part of
the masonry, found the fossilized remains of
both the oat and the rat. The position in which
the pair were found gives evidence to a hard
struggle having taken place. The cat was on
ts back, holding firmly between its forepaws ite
>rey, while the rat’s snout was toward the cat’s
lead. These interesting relics are almost per
fect, showing that in some way both the ani
mals must have got in su*jh a position that they *
were entirely shut out from the atmosphere.’*
The Peninsula of Corea. —The penin
sula of Corea is separated from China by the
Yellow Sea, and from the insular empire of the
Mikado by the Straits of Corea and the Sea of
Japan. It is about five hundred miles long and
about one hundred and fifty miles broadband
in its physical aspects bears a strong resem
blance to the kingdom of Italy. It is a high
land country, with the prevailing course of its
mountain-ranges running from north to south.
The whole peninsula is subje.it to greater ex
tremes of heat and cold than alternate in a cor
responding latitude in Europe. The valleys of
Corea may be held to be nothing but great rice
fields, always under water, and where the ox is
the only beast of burden. The Corean himself
is aknost amphibious—all day long he works in
the water. Corea is richly furnished with min
eral resources—gold, silver, copper, iron, and
coal are said to be of frequent occurrence.
Three Votes Decide a Question. —
Hot Springs, Ark., has become a no-license
town, lor two years, in a cuneus way. There io
a statute that at each State elect.on the ques
tion of license shall be submitted to the ballot.
If a majority of the voters be not for licenses,
then it is unlawful for the County Court to
grant them. At the last election the question
was overlooked inadvertently. It was taken for
granted that, by common consent, license would
□e voted. The returns shewed three ballots in
the county against license and none lor. Thus
the anomaly of three votes closing all the
saloons in the county for two years and thwart
ing the will of thousands is presented. There
were thirty saloons in Het Springs which paid a
revenue oi $32,000 to lire county and city. Th®
matter was taken before the courts, but the
saloon-keepers were defeated and they must
suspend business for the next two years.
A New Varnish. —A varnish has been
invented in Germany for foundry patterns and
machinery. It dries, leaving a smooth surface,
almost as soon as it is applied. It is thus pre
pared: Thirty pounds of shellac, ten pounds of
Manilla copal and ten pounds of Zanzibar copal
are placed m a vessel, which is heated external
ly by steam and stirred during irom four to six
hours, after which ISO parte ©i the finest potato
spirit are added, and the whole heated for four
hours to 67°. The liquid is dyed by the addi
tion of Grange color, and can then be applied ae
a paint on wood. When used for painting and
glazing machinery, it eonsists of thirty-five
pounds of shellac, five pounds of Manilla copal
and 150 pounds of spirit.
A Singular Auger. —An auger which
bores a square holo is in use in a Cleveland
machine shop. Ths Herald of that city thus de
scribes it: “ Its .nd, instead of having a screw
or bit, has a cam motion which osi Ulates a cut
ler mounted on a steel rocking knife which cuts
on both sides. In order to prevent the split
ting ot the wood, the ends ot tho'cutter are pro
vided with small semioireular shaped saws,
which help in cutting out perfectly square cor
ners. It is estimated that this new process will
save the labor ol three men who work witl
chisels, as one man can conveniently cut a two
inch mortice in the same length of time he can
bore a round hole.”
A Gossip’s Bridle.- —There is ia the
venerable ehurch ef Walton-ou-Thames (Eng.)
a “Gosep’s Bridle”—a curious instrument pre
sented by a person of the name of Chester. It
was intended to be worn ae a punishment by the
fair sex whose tongues had engendered mis
chief. It bears this inscription, “ Chester pre
sents Walton with a bridle to curb women’s
tongues that talk too idle. 1613.” The presenta
tion is said to have beou due to the circum
stance ef the person whoso name it bears having
lost a valuable estate through the instrument
ality of a gossiping woman.
Thoroughly Understood Human Na
ture. A wise Quakeress used to say, in her
sermons, that there were three follies of men
whieh always amazed her. The first was, their
climbing trees to shake fruit down, when if they
only waited a little it would fall of Its own ac
cord ; the second was, that they should go to
kill each other, when, if they but waited, they
would all die naturally ; and the third-was, that
they should run after women, which, if they
would not do, the women would be sure to run
after them.”
A Dangerous Practical Joke.— Near
Utica, the other day, where some men were at
work compressing hay for market, one of them,
in fun, put a lad of fifteen into the empty com
press. The driver of the team, seeing the “ fol
lower” in its place, started the horses, and, be
fore the boy could be rescued, he was so badly
squeezed that his life is now despaired of, or at
least that he will be a cripple for life from a
spina' injury.
Most of the diseases affecting the diges-
• tive organs yield readily to the influence
, of Ayer’s Pills. They stimulate the
, Stomach, Liver, and Bowels, and restore
■ the system to healthful condition. A.
A. Wostenhqlme, Utica, N. Y, writes:
“Whenever I am troubled with Indiges
tion, I take one or two doses of Ayer’s
Pills, and am,prompt!y relieved. I have;.
. used these Pills for years, and have never,
, known them to fail.” Randolph Mor?e,’
, Lynchburg, Va., writes: “I have neygr
. found anything equal to Ayer’s Pills for,
; keeping the Stomach, Bowels, and Liver,
• in good working order. I always use thegj
I when occasion requires.” F- H. Knapp,
I Detroit, Mich, writes: *‘A.ver’s Pills’
i cured me of Dyspepsia, from which Iha J
: suffered for years. They done Jim,
: more good than any other faedicine X
have ever taken.”