New York dispatch. [volume], March 29, 1885, Page 7, Image 7

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

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NEW ORLEANS, 1885.
BY ELLA WHEELER WILCOX.
_ queen of Indolence and idle grace,
ML. Robed in the remnants of a costly gown,
She turns the languor ot her lovely face
Upon Progression, with a lazy frown.
QSer throne is built upon a marshy down,
.Malarial mosses wreathe her, lik-e old lace,
rWith thin, crossed, feet, unshod, and bare and
brown.
She sits indifferent to the world's swift race.
cross the seas there stalks an ogre grim,
Too listless, she, for even Fear’s alarms.
While frightened nations rally in defense,
l@he lifts her smiling Creole eyes to him.
And reaching out. her shapely, unwashed arms,
She clasps her rightful lover—Pestilence.
Doisrocims.
-
many.
(From Chambers’s Journal.)
• > In England, indeed throughout tho United
kingdom, schools of cookery are gradually be
coming a recognized national institution. Ad
mirably conducted they are too; there is noth
-§ng bf the “young-ladyism ” principle about
4hem, for the ’teaching combines the kitchen
faaaid 0 with the cook’s dudes. The students
dmust learn not only how to arrange the con
sents of a pan, but also how to clean it after-
Y rward; howto prepare the fire, cleanse the flu©,
wlacklead and polish the range; even to scrub
;the floor. If their position is above the need of
/making’these as daily duties, the knowledge
kfits them for directing others, and thus pre
senting those domestic troubles, in the form of
swastehjlness of time and means, that too often
tnar fife hope-peace of young housekeepers. In
some of ilibse schools efforts are made to add
lessons in dressmaking and getting up fine
liinen. As 'yet, however, this is only tentative.
Still it shows that the spirit of educational en
ergy is rousing the middle classes to raise even
cares ” to the dignity of an art.
® : ’ But Witfi us, domestic instruction is confined
Jfco lectures and class-lessons given in courses
for specified charges. We have no organized
system of domestic education, such as exists in
? jjermany. Even there, domestic schools are
&e comparatively recent introduction of private
They are increasing in number
and influence, and may ultimately, as most
things do there, meet with the paternal atten
tions of the government, and be expanded into
Jjubli? institutions. So lar, they are on a simple,
-even homely scale. One at Freiburg, ill Badon,
is conducted by a lady who started it on her
own resources of spirited energy. Suddenly
deprived by adverse fortune of a leading social
position, she resolved to utilize those talents
Which hitherto bad been exercised only in the
tevay of general household superintendence. Her
reputation as a Hausfrau and for having the
deftest fingers for needlework, had made her
lady-friends regard her as a domestic authority.
Acting on this, she decided on organizing a
modelled on one then acquiring repute
«n Berlin. Her only shortcoming was dress
snaking, as taught on scientific principles, of
/cutting out and blackboard drawing. With
patient courage, she went to a large city, and
itbere placed herself for some months under the
taecessary tuition, so that when her undertaking
iwas fairly started, site was competent to fulfil
ftU its responsib lilies.
► Oh one point, domestic schools differ from all
Other educational est&bhishments—they are in
tended only for grown-up young ladies.
' jMadame Kuenzer, at Freiburg, receives no pupil
under fifteen to sixteen y ears of age, when school-
’ books are closed, and’ a knowledge of home
practical duties is required. Where it is de
sired to pursue accomplishments, arrangements
are made for lessons in music, drawing, lan
guages, &c. But these lie outside of the school
techeme, which aims only at the prosaic utilities
bf domestic life, which,*in tact, for the moment
fthuts out the drawing-room and embraces the
-Regions of the kitchen, the laundry, the work
hf jroom, and general household departments.
IT ; Germany’s reputation for Hausfraus has hith
erto been too easily gained on the strength of
the custom for its young girls, especially ou the
pve of marriage, to put themselves for a few
weeks under the chef at a hotel, or one holding
> teway in the kitchen of some great house. At
Freiburg, for instance, the cAef at the bishop’s
palace is often called on to direct young ladies’
White hands in the making of pastry or stirring
of Fauces. At the domestic schools, however,
such mere fancy lessons are distinctly refused.
Against them Madame Kuenzer at once set her
face, accepting only those pupils who wish to be
thoroughly initiated in the whole course of do-
Imestic training, for which she considers twelve
months not too long an apprenticeship. To ee
eure»this, her pupils must board and lodge with
- her in a simple, homely, family-life sort of way.
fastidiousness might consider this way
as primitively rough und ready, unless insular
* motions have been blunted by much brushing
jup against Continental habits. To preserve the
jhome character, Madame Kuenzer limits her
school to ten or twelve pupils. A lady assists
lhe'r to superintend the arrangements; servants
jare there as solid aids; the house is pleasantly
its young inmates are busy as bee’s
kinder their active directress, whose gracious
manners and vivacity betray the partly French
t prigin of her characteristics’.
In the early mornings, at the quaint Market
,JlTace. one may meet Madame Kuenzer and two
or three of her young pupils. They are busy
pricing and buying the day's needs; the girls
learning how to choose provisions, to modify
■extortionate market charges, and to keep a wary
«ye on just scale-weights. The girls left at
|bome are occupied with room-cleaning, tidying,
-dusting, bed-making, etc. Some are told off to
srim the lamps—a necessary duty in a foreign
.gasless house—or restore* table and pantry
K order after the breakfast debris, for the pre
parations of which meal several had previously
assisted. On the return of tho ‘ marketers?
those whose turn it is flock into the kitchen.
’This is large and light; in the centre rs the cook-
Sng-stove, open all round, and admitting four
‘young cooks at a time—a veritable multum in
yarvo of hot and cold water arrangements, and
sitensil and implement compartments. Here
-the cooking lesson is given —getting ready the
coup, a process in Germany of the most coin-
F plicated nature; preparing the meat; washing,
cleaning, cutting the vegetables; measuring and
mixing spices and condiments; making and
Trolling the pastry; seeing after and stirring the
sauces—lor every dish at every course has a
sauce, and that a different one—attending to
Che progress of the various pans on the fires in
Cheir boiling or simmering duties—the laborious
operation of preparing a German dinner ending
£n results much appreciated by those who
practically test it.
German cooking doos not terminate with a
meal. There are endless adjuncts that have to
be prepared and kept ready. An English cook
considers herself rather exemplary if she takes
care of “stock;” she often, too, seeks to enforce
her general reputation by filling the house with
nauseous odors from the “rendering of fat.”
■With a German cook tho first is just a part of
her daily routine, while in the latter respect she
far surpasses her British sister by doing it on a
more magnificent scale. Forinstance: She pro
cures five or six pounds of raw mutton fat; af
ter carefully paring, trimming, and cutting it
Unto about half-pound pieces, she puts it into a
pan on a slow fire. In another pan she puts the
same number of pounds of pork fat, similarly
prepared. After tome hours’ simmering the
| contents of the pans become perfectly liquid,
and are then mixed together. Five or’ six
of butter, previously heated into posi
tive oil, are stirred into them. The whole is
then clarified, poured into a stone jar, left to
cool, and serves for some months as cooking
butter. Then, also, a good Hausfrau has the
coffee roasted at home. If, in the’cooking but
ter operation, open windows have to ba resorted
to, in the coffee roasting open out-doors have to
1 be added. Even then one longs for “all the
perfumes of Arabia” to relieve olfactory suffer
ings.
Some of the cooking stock in trade, however,
| is of a more acceptable nature. There are
8 the odd cuttings of bread, which are care
f fully kept until well hardened; they are then
I buttered over and left a long time in
I ' pan in the oven, then pestled and
r onrfnr q mto dust and kept in reserve for fry-
Ing fish, cutlets, &c. Sour cream, too, is care
luuy Bturod, as, mixed with yolk of eggs, it
plays a large part in soups, Ac. Then there are
pickling and preserving, which are the very
coat of arms of German storeroom dignity, and
ftll, sorts of other preparations that must be
p kept ready for need.
Beside all these extraneous duties, there is
the keeping in order of the numerous cooking
ntensils. The Germans have certainly a won
derfully inventive faculty lor kitchen vessels
?nd implements, the use of which, until the re
k cent introduction by the schools of cookery of
A* many of them, would have bewildered English
housekeepers, but which in Germany are as in-
B valuable as they are ingenious. To keep them
B in spotless condition is one of the lessons Mad
ame Kuenzer’s young pupils have to learn, as
also to understand the methodical system of the
i cleaning, polishing, &c., of the kitchen and all
I its fixtures.
| A more important lesson still is impressed on
I them—never to waste a fragment that can be
L utilized for present or after purposes. It is this
r kitchen economy in foreign households which
l <j. snarks so great a contrast- with English waste
fulness. It is to be hoped that our schools of
cookery will reform all that.
While Madame Kuenzer’s kitchen is full of
bustle, the work-room, though quieter, is not
| less a scene of industry. large room with
four .windows, a centre-table where “cutting
out” is practiced, a blackboard whereon part of
a dress is sketched lor a pupil to copy by math
ematical measurement, before venturing to inis
■ manage material. The young girls are scattered
about the room, at the windows or elsewhere
some at dressmaking, some at plain sewing’
some learning to mend stockings with the knit
ting-stitch, which, when well done, shakes credi
bility as to a previous hole. There is no need
to teach actual knitting, for, as Spartan ba
-1 Lies used to get spears as playthings, Ger
man baby-girls get knitting-needles as toys,
and have their stockings ready by the 'time
they, can walk. At least, so jesters sav—
. a. still more incorrigible one declaring that,
■ the last trumpet-call, German women
V ai l ! ® 9 placidly, stocking-knitting all the
time. Madame Kuenzer’s pupils, however, do
linnt themselves to stockings. Endless are
the knitted articles they turn out, both of a use
ful and ornamental nature. Then there is a
S frame, curiously nail-tacked out in design, at
which one of the girls is sitting, and really fab
ricates a shawl. Another is occupied in mak
ing beaded lace. A third is busy refashioning
an old dress, and repiecing parts in away to
defy the cavils of the microscopic eye. INew
bonnets are being trimmed, or old ones remod
ernized; or there is an umbrella getting recov
ered; or fancy shoes being renovated; or per
sonal or household linen being darned in a
way—it of damask material, the design is per
fectly preserved—to defy the most critical scru
tiny. In short, it would be difficult to a
comprehensive view of the varieties of needle
work practiced in that busy room.
On laundry-days there is a great activity. For
the washing of the heavy things, special laun
dresses are engaged. Still, tlie young girls look
on and learn, while giving a helping hand.
When ironing and clear-starching time arrives,
the girls stand to the fore and receive regular
working instructions. With the ordinary teach
ing of “getting up ” linen, laces, muslins, etc.,
there is combined the secret ot “ cleaning ”
stuff or silk dresses, carpets, colered curtains
and tablecloths, so as to restore to them a pris
tine freshness.
Wishing to prove to her friends that she had
not mistaken her vocation, Madame Kuenzer
arranged a sort of exhibition of the varied la
bors of her pupils, and invited Freiburg “ So
ciety ” to come to it. The result was a chorus
of wonder and praise, of which the girls re
ceived their due meed, while the largest share
was given to the brave-hearted woman who had
so boldly entered a new field, and now proved
her success was deserved.
Madame Kuenzer, believing that all work and
no play dulls girls as well as boys, provides va
rious means of relaxation. She has her box at
the theatre, to which those of her pupils who
choose may join in the subscription, so as to
take it in turn to accompany her. As this only
amounts to eighteenth <?e per porformancoj
there is no tendency to extravagance; and as
the theatre opens at six o’clock and closes at
nine, there is not much fear of encouraging dis
sipation. Neither is there toilet outlay, for a
pair of gloves added to the home dress, with a
shawl for the’shoulders and a hood for the
head as protection while quietly walking to and
fro, are all that a lady deems necessary for tho
enjoyment of the always excellent performances
at the theatre.
In snowy Winters, when King Frost makes it
hard and glistening, Madame Kuenzer takes
her pupils ou a sleigh picnic into the wonderful
Black Forest, that almost incloses Freiburg in
its mystical grandeur. In the Summer-time,
many are the delightful excursions that relax
the labors of her busy young bees, who are thus
led to think that a thorough training in tho
practical duties of life is worthy of acquisition
in itself, and rendered none the less beneficial
when brightened by such judicious recreations.
Is a domestic school so conducted, possible
iff this country ? As a boarding-school it would
be scarcely possible. But might not the pres
ent cookery schools be expanded into further
branches of practical life ? If the teaching were
put within the means of “small tradesmen’s”
daughters—from which class Madame Kuenzer
mostly recruits; her pupils—the undertaking
could not but be a success.
BATTLE OF FAIToAKS.
A REMINISCENCE OF THE WAR
FOR THE UNION.
(From the Washington Republican.)
After the long and harassing siege of York
town, and the wearisome march up the penin
sula to Richmond, the brigade (General James
L. Kemper’s) to which the writer’s regiment
(Seventeenth Virginia Infantry) was attached,
had been enjoying a much needed rest, even
company drills having been for the time discon
tinued. On the evening of May 30th, 1862, we
were camped in tents on the Richmond fair
grounds, which is a level plain of considerable
extent. When we lay down to sleep that night
the weather was clear, though very sultry. Soon
afterward a thunderstorm came sweeping along
and we were subjected to a regular cloud-burst.
The rain came down for hours, not in drops or
sheets, but literally by the bucketful, and soon
the entire camp was afloat. All we could do
was to hastily pack up our blankets and traps
and stand in half a foot of water and wait pa
tiently for the waters to subside. Not long alter
midnight the adjutant came around with the or
der to pack our knapsacks (which we had done
already) and pile them, leave tent standing,
and be ready to move at a moment’s warning in
light marching order.
We knew very well what this order meant, for
the sudden rise of the Chickahominy after a big
rain was well-known to us, and we knew also
that the army of General McClellan was divided
by the treacherous stream. Under the circum
stances we were glad ot our thorough soaking.
By daybreak we were on our way down the Wil
liamsburgh road in the direction of the enemy.
The front line of General McClellan's left wing
was only some six or seven miles from Rich
mond, and we could have gotten over this dis
tance in two hours with ease, in spite of the fact
that the road was covered with pools of water;
but we‘were halted at every mile or so with a
long wait, and it was nearly noon before we got
within view of the enemy’s pickets.
You may be sure there was much comment
excited by the unaccountable slowness of the
movement—the American soldier was very apt
to criticise the strategy of his generals. Growls
went along the lino : “ The Chickahominy will
go down as fast as it has risen, and they can
lord it even if tho bridges are swept away.”
“What in the hell are we waiting for,” etc.
General D. H. Hill’s division was ahead of us
on the road, and it was some time after 12 M.
before bis skirmishers began to exchange shots
with the hostile pickets. I have never been able
to understand why the onset was not made at 9
or 10 o’clock at tho latest, for on our side the
battle was mainly fought by the infantry, so
that the difficulty of bringing up the artillery
could not have been the cause of the delay. It
is true that General Huger did not get up with
his division until late in the evening, although
ho did not have to march further than we did;
but then we had sufficient force for tho job then
apparently on hand without him.
When, however, Hill had once begun to fight,
he did not let the grass grow under his feet, as
it were. His onset was impetuous and deter
mined, and tho tremendous crashes of musket
ry, the charging yells, and the booming of Ca
sey’s cannon showed to us in the rear that hot
work was in progress in front. After the battle
was begun Kemper’s brigade was drawn up in
line of battle, in reserve, on the extreme right
of the right wing, the brigade having suffered
heavily at the stiffly-fought battle of Williams
burg some weeks previously. We stacked arms
and listened to the continuous roar of the battle
until about an hour before sundown. That was
the brigade’s first experience in the rear of a
battle, and it was a very unpleasant one.
Streams of wounded men in ambulances, on
stretchers, or bloody, dirty, and grimy, painful
ly hobbling along, came constantly pouring
back from the front, and the sight was a douse
of cold water, so to speak, upon our enthusiasm.
Moreover, I think all soldiers will agree with
me that the suspense, when expecting ev
ery moment to be called into battle, is more
wearing upon the nerves than to be in the com
bat. At last one of Longstreet’s aids came gal
loping toward us, and our colonel remarked,
“Now comes our turn,” and at once called us
to attention. The brigade was at once put in
columns of fours and headed down the Wil
liamburg road at the double quick, for we were
told the enemy had been heavily reinforced and
Hill’s men were giving back. The mud was a
perfect loblolly, and knee deep, and double
quicking was hard work. When the brigade
emerged from the woods into the large open
field in front of the redoubt and rifle pits thrown
up by General Casey, the head of the column
was assailed by a storm of shot, shell, and bul
lets from the Federal lines, which were estab
lished in a belt of woods about 200 yards beyond
the redoubt. Kemper led the regiments on in
columns of fours until we got right up to the re
doubt before he gave the order to throw us into
line of battle.
Now, fifty yards beyond the redoubt was a
house, to the right a short distance a barn, and
to the left a huge pile of wood teu leet high and
fifty yards long. Beyond these were the little
dog tents, pitched helter-skelter by Casey’s di
vision. Up to this time wo had had no help
from our artillery, the Fauquier battery, which
accompanied us, being stuck in the mud, with
half its horses killed and the men unable to
bring the guns to bear. When the head of the
column reached the redoubt, and we had seri
ous losses while crossing the field from the
raking shots, the order was at last given to for
ward into line and charge, but this was easier
said than done, especially as far aa the Seven
teenth Regiment was concerned. We were
rushed into line as well as the obstacles above
referred to, which were in our immediate front,
would permit, and then dashed in among the
dog tents. Here it was worse and worse, for
we could neither jump over them nor tear them
down, except with frightful loss, and as it was
we lost heavily in a few minutes. Kemper led
the brigade on foot as gamely as a man could
do, but his dispositions were faulty, and finally
he yelled, “Give back, mon, to the wood-pile
and the rifle-pits 1” and we did so without stand
ing on the order of our going, but we left many
a bravo fellow behind us. Once behind the
rifle-pits we had our innings, for the men of the
Fauquier battery had managed to get two of
their twenty-pounder howitzers in position be
hind us, and they poured shrapnel and canister
into the hornet’s nest in the woods at a lively
rate, to which we added our quota in the infan
try way.
At the beginning of the fight Kemper had sent
the Seventh Virginia Infantry to make a detour
behind the woods and fall upon the enemy’s left
flank and rear, and Colonel Florence executed
the movement with success, for at this juncture
—it was twilight nearly—we heard the crash of
his volley on our right front, and we
jumped over the breastworks to go forward to
help him, it was found that tho troops who had
worried us so badly had gone back through
the woods in disorder. That ended the fight
ing for that day, and it was a sorrowful day, for
I lost my friend and blanket partner. When
going into the fight he said to me, “ Ono of us
will go under—l feel it.”
On searching, I found him among the dog
tents, still living and conscious, but horribly
wounded. Both his arms were broken, two
balls had passed directly through his body,
and he had a flesh wound in the thigh, and vet
he lived until about midnight. His was the
most remarkable case of vital endurance that
| ever came under my notice during the war.
The brigade made a capture that day, which
was some little solace for onr loss. The barn
referred to was literally crammed with sutler’s
supplies. Barrels of brandies, whiskies, wines,
Ijo .es of crackers, cheeses and canned goods
NEW YORK DISPATCH. MARCH 29, 1885-
and groceries were there sufficient to supply
all. It was some time before the commanding
officers found out the existence of this treasure
trove, for the com;:any officers wore as zealous
in sampling the delicacies as the men, and
when at last a guard was placed over the de
loctables, or what remained of them, the ma
jority of the brigade were half-seas over, and
with canteens and haversacks filled beside.
The troops slept peacefully that night, but
there were many swelled heads and aching
brows in the morning. The sun had scarcely
peeped above the horizon next day when firing
was renewed on our loft, where |General! Gus
Smith was in command, and as the battle rolled
toward our position the shells began to explode
around and over the brigade line very uncom
fortably. However, Huger’s meli were now or
dered up to the front, and Kemper was directed
to hold the redoubt and rifle pits at all hazards,
in case the front lino was forced back, as it was
thought that the entire Federal army was now
across the river. While we lay here, General
“Jeb” Stuart rode out in front of the line, in
open view of the enemy’s batteries, and ap
peared purposely to make a target of himself.
While the shells were popping around him he
kept his horse plunging and curvetting, fihd,
waving his hat, seemed to enjoy the fun hugely.
But, as one of the soldiers remarked, “Some
body out to go out and hit him with a stuffed
club, for makihg such a fool of himself.” The
brigade of Kemper needed no such encourage
ment to do their duty. Well, the battle of the
second day was a tame affair compared with the
savageness of Chat of the day before, and about
noon both sides seemed to have got enough of
it, and npiso of the battle gradually died
atvay. The Confederates had failed to smash
the Federal left wing, and had lost heavily,
General Johnston having been severely wound
ed, but they had not been whipped, and they
held ground until after nightfall, when
they quietly withdrew to their own lines, taking
twenty pieces of captured artillery with them.
BILL ABB oFfaRMING.
A Place for Freedom, Latitude and a
High Grade of Happiness.
(From the Atlanta Constitution.)
It’s a wonder to me that everybody don’t.go
to farming. Lawyers and doctors have to sit
about town and play checkers, and talk politics
and wait for somebody to quarrel or fight, or
get sick; clerks and bookkeepers figure and
multiply, and count until they get to counting
stars, and the flies on the ceiling, and the peas
in tho dish, and the flowers on the papering;
the jeweler sits by his window all the year
round, working on little wheels, and the me
chanic strikes the same kind of a lick every day.
Those people do not belong to themselves; they
are all penned up like convicts in a chain gang;
they can’t take a day nor an hour lor recreation,
for they are the servants ol their employers.
There is no profession that gives a man such
freedom, such latitude, and such a variety of
employment as farming.
There’s no monotony upon the farm. There’s
something new every day, and the changing
work brings into action every muscle in the hu
man frame. We plow and hoe, and harrow and
sow, and gather it in at harvest time. We look
after the horses and cows, the pigs and sows,
and the rams and the lambs, and the chickens
and the turkeys, and geese. We cut our own
wood, and raise our own bread and meat, and
don’t have to be stingy of it like city folks. A
friend, who visited us not long ago, wrote back
from the town that his grate don’t seem bigger
than the crown of his hat since he sat by our
great big friendly fire-place. ■
I may be mistaken, but it seems to me a lit
tle higher grade of happiness to look out upon
the green fields of wheat and the leafing trees
and blue mountains in the distance, and hear
the dove cooing to her mate, and the whippor
will sing a welcome to the night, and hunt
flowers and bubby blossoms with the children,
and make whistles for ’em and hear ’em blow,
and see ’em get after a jumpin’ frog or a garter
snake, and hunt hens’ bests and paddle in the
branch and get dirty and wet all over, and watch
their penitent and subdued expression when
they go home, as Mrs. Arp looks at ’em with
amusement and exclaims: “Mercy on me; did
ever a poor mother have such a set 1 Will I ever
get done making clothes? Put these on right
clean this morning, and not another clean rag
in the house 1 Go get me a switch, right
straight, go ! I will not stand it!” But she will
stand it, and they know it—especially if I re
mark. “Yes, they ought to be whipped.”
That saves ’em, and by the time tho switch
comes tho tempest is over, and some dry clothes
are found, and if there is any cake.in the house
they get it. Blessed mother I fortunate chil
dren 1 What would they do without her ? Why
her very scolding is music in their tender ears.
I’m thankful that there are some things that
corner in the domestic circle that Wall street
cannot buy nor money kings depress.
WORK OF THE PARIS POLICE.
Tho Late Prefect Tells How Every
Class of Society is Watched.
The secret agents of police in Paris are pro
vided with cards, which, in cases of danger,
will insure them the protection of the regular
police. They frequent clubs and other meet
ings, the wine shops of the exterior boulevards,
and houses and streets of ill-fame, and also at
tend at the senate and chamber of deputies
during the Parliamentary session. In the morn
ing they prepare their reports, generally speak
ing, at the prefecture, in the,archives of which
is to be found detailed accounts of the career
and character of hundreds and thousands of
individuals in France. These records form
colossal pyramids in the lumber-rooms, and are
alphabetically arranged according to the names
of the persons whose histories they chronicle,
so that when any one comes suddenly to the
front, or is compromised in any criminal affair,
the librarians can have no difficulty in laying
their hands on the official summary of his or
her antecedents. So complete is the collection
that the name of the most obscure rag-picker
in Paris has its chroncle as well as the President
of the republic.
In regard to these secret agents of the second
category, M. Andrieux is as explicit as he is
indiscreet. “ A man’s coachman,” ho says,
“ a man’s mistress, a man’s barber, a man’s
valet may belong to this battalion.” Many
saloon-keepers and house-porters are actually
compelled, under pain of forfeiture of their
licenses and positions, to act as the sines of the
prefecture.
Several journalists, who are the bitterest poli
tical opponents in opposition newspapers of the
powers that be, and not a few frantic orators
who “do ” the stump at Socialistic gatherings
and denounce the criminality of capital amid
the cheers of tho workingmen, are in the pay of
the police authorities. The high-born and re
spectable Imperialist, who mixes in Prince Na
poleon's society and calls him “My Lord,”
“Your Majesty,” and sports a violet in his but
ton-hole on tho occasion of tho anniversary mass
for the repose of the soul of Napoleon 111. at the
Church ot St. Augustine, keeps up his gorgeous
equipages and pays for his Bonapartist dinner
out of the public funds.
The simpering royalist who carries about
with him over his heart a tattered fragment ot
one of the old white flags of France, and who is
gushingly tender and enthusiastic in his de
fense of the throne and altar, is “ rigged out ”
at the expense of the state, and is paid to spy
on the movements and actions of the loyalists,
just as his Bonapartist colleagues to look alter
the Imperialists.
Each of these agents must have some ostensi
ble trade or profession at which he may occa
sionally employ an hour or two ot his time in
order to avert any suspicion that may be enter
tained of him. Thus every class of society in
Paris is under the most active, although the
most insidious, vigilance.
THE SCUDBERRY -CASE.
WHAT LED TO A DIVORCE SUIT.
(From the San Francisco Post.)
It Bsems that Dr. Scudberry, of the United
States Navy, was married about three years ago
to a lovely young Oakland girl, to whom he had
been engagedjlor a long time. Shortly after, he
was ordered to join the Asiatio Squadron, and
only returned to his bride a few days ago. Dur
ing his absence his wife determined to employ
her time in the study of medicine, which she
hoped would prove a delightful surprise to her
husband on his return. Unfortunately, she en
tered a homeopathic college, her worser half
being of the allopathic persuasion. The doctor
was on his way home irom the train, upon its
arrival, when he saw a crowd around a drug
store and was informed that a man had just
fallen down in an epileptic fit. Forgetting his
eagerness at the call of humanity, the doctor
rushed into the store, where he was astounded
to behold his wile engaged in consulting the pa
tient’s pulse.
“ What does this mean ?” exclaimed the aston
ished surgeon.
“ Why, I have a surprise for you, darling,”
said Mrs. Scudberry. “You see, lam a regu
larly qualified homeopathic physician.”
“ Homeopathic ?” sneered ' the astonished
husband.
“ Yes, get,” said Mrs. S., sweetly, as she got
out her pilules; “ this dosing people with buek
ets-full of slop is getting out of date, precious.”
“ And so you have been actually roped in by
that gang of pellet-peddling ignoramuses, have
you ?”
“Don't be rude, my dear,” said the female
practitioner. “You can’t expect to keep up
with the march of science in Asia. Just stand
back, and let me save the patient.”
“ Save fiddlesticks I” snapped the allopath.
“ Woman, go home and cease trifling with hu
man life—or perhaps you had better mix a mus
tard plaster while I resuscitate the subject.”
“ Why don’t you two quit fighting anil go to
work?” asked the victim’s wile, who had just
decided that she wouldn’t look well in black.
“ When ■ this female person is removed I
shall proceed in the regular way,” said Dr. 8.,
stiffly.
“ I will n ot be answerable for the consequences
unless that old fogy withdraws !” rejoined Doc
tress 8., haughtily.
“ You’re a quack!” roared the husband.
“ You’re a butcher !” screamed his wife.
And in this style they went on until somebody
announced that the patient had picked himself
up and walked off, he being tho only person
who escaped, as tho police arrested the whole
crowd for creating a disturbance.
The divorce case of Scudborry vs. Soudberrv
is set for the Fall term.
SYLVIA’S FEALTY.
A POLITICAL LOVE STORY.
BY JASMINE.
(From the Oakland (Cal,) Tattler.)
“Do you know,” said Sylvia, with a restless
movement ot her pretty peacock-lan, “I am
really unhappy this morning.”
Webster Arbuthnot leaned over with a look
of such obvious devotion that a third party, if
there had been any such a disagreeable person
present, could not possibly have doubted his
hopeless infatuation.
“ Tell mo all about it,” ho said, possessing
himself of the hand nearest him. “What is
it that troubles my darling?”
Sylvia’s sunny head drooped on his shoulder.
“Papa is going to run for Congress,” aha
said, disconsolately; but was quite unmindful
of the start her lover gave. •’ We always havo
such a disagreeable timg when pa t* running
for an offige, Wo have to conciliate the lower
classes, you know. Wo always have receptions,
and I have to shake hands with such horrid
men. Why, when papa was running for City
Controller, I sat for a whole hour on the sofa
with a blacksmith, and I drank champagne
with a’ll sorts of queer people—carpenters and
tinkers, and—and what.do you call those men
who shovel coal ? Coal-drivers I No ”
“ I hope you did not despise these men be
cause of their occupation,” exclaimed Webster,
a little bit shocked at such labguage.
“ Oh, dear no. They were papa's constitu
ency, and some of them were quite clever fel
lows. 1 didn’t mean it at all. Only it seems
queer. Why, I met a mechanic who could talk
as well as—as you do. But it does keep us in
such a turmoil, when papa rtms for oflice, that
you must pardon me if I am a little cross, and
even speak disrespectfully of his followers. Oh,
Webster,” sighing, “after we are married, I
hope you will never take to politics.”
Webster got up "quickly.
“ I am sorry you don’t like it, Sylvia,” he
began, in a nervous way. But a sudden burst
of music from a brass baud broke off hie speech
abruptly.
“It is a parade,” Sylvia cried excitedly,
springing to the window as the band, at the
head of a body of delegates, turned the corner.
Webster followed her reluctantly. He had
grown suddenly.pals.
“ Sylvia,” he Baid hurriedly, “ I .
“It is the opposition,” she interrupted.
“ See ! There is the banner.” “We want re
form, and we have secured it by the nomination
for Congress—.”
Sylvia gasped.
“ of Webster Arbuthnot ?”
“ Darling I” he cried, flinging his arm around
her. “ Let me explain. I was just going to
tell you, when ”
“ Then you are going to run for Congress,
too I And against papa ?”
“They forced the nomination upon me. I
was the compromise candidate. Heaven knows
I did not seek the honor; but I was in such a
position that I could not ”
“Oh, no doubt,” she answered caustically,
freeing herself from his embrace. “ Those
honors usually are thrust upon one, it seems.”
“ Sylvia you are unkind.”
“And no doubt you expect to defeat papa.
Oh, the arrogance of some men is astounding.”
“ Don’t be angry darling. I am sorry that
your father and I happen to be tho opposing
candidates. But every man has a right to his
opinion, and it cannot make any difference to
us, what are our respective politics.”
“No ? It makes just this difference, Mr. Ar
buthnot ”
“Mr. Arbuthnot? Sylvia!”
“I should be sorry to marry a politician,
anyhow—they ara always a low set; but I will
not marry one of the opposition.”
“ Oh, my darling, don’t say that!”
“ I mean it. You knew that I did not like
politics. If you would rather engage in them
than please me, you may do so. 1 have nothing
more to say.”
‘ But you would not have me give up my
honest convictions just because you oppose
them, Sylvia. You could not respect me as a
man.”
“I mean exactly what I say,” she replied,
shrugging her shoulders. “I have no desire to
hamper you in any way. Let us consider our
engagement at an end.”
Webster drew back and looked at her. Her
tall figure was drawn up to its full hight, her
eyes flashed, and ho knew by the haughty curl
of her proud lips that she was both earnest and
angry.
“As you will,” he replied, taking his hat with
a dignified bow. “Good morning.”
She turned when he had left her, half hurt
that he had taken her at her word and gone
away. Then,"Goman-like, sha burst into tears.
“He can just go,” she said, sobbingly. “He
can go and reform tho cor-cor-rupt party to
which my father belongs; but oh, I do hope he
will be beaten.”
Several weeks before the election ex-Control
ler Scott, who had been so occupied as to rarely
eat nt homo, was dining at home with his
daughter.
“So you and Arbuthnot cannot make it up any
more ?’”
As he spoke he looked over the top of a news
paper, which was well known as an organ of the
popular party.
“1 am not a friend to tho opposition,” she
said, proudly.
Mr. Scott laughed.
“ What a girl you are, Sylvia. You’ro an out
and-out partisan. But you needn’t have been so
hard on young Arbuthnot. He’s a nice young
fellow—too nice to run as a candidate of such a
party as tho opposition; but, bless you, he
hasn’t tho ghost of a show. Wo’ro going to
sweep the polls this time.
“ Then you feel sure of your election, papa ?”
“I’d bet my last dollar on it. But I’d rather
the papers would do the square thing. This
attack on Arbuthnot’s record in tho custom
house is downright mean.”
“ You are to spoak in Billingham Square to
night, aren’t you ?” Sylvia said, changing the
subject deftly. “ Thomas is going to drive me
there.”
“ You must not think of such a thing.”
“ Oh, yes. I will go in tho barouche, and I
won’t even stick my head out once. Now, papa,
don’t bother ;‘Cousin Fred is going with me,
and you know I never heard you make a atump
speech.”
Sylvia had her way about this. At the hour
appointed for the mass-meeting, she was driven
to the grand stand. Billingham Square was
packed with people. By the light of the blazing
torches, carried by the clubs who had turned
out, Sylvia saw such a scene as she had never
witnessed before. Her carriage could not get
very near the platform, and. as the wind was
blowinglthe wrong way, Mr. Scott’s speech was
all lost to her.
“ I can’t hear a word, Fred,” she said, turning
to her cousin.
Across the sea of upturned faces, showing
every gradation of virtue and intelligence,
marking every station in life, touching every
phase of depravity, Sylvia saw her father
haranguing the populace with all the earnest
ness of enthusiasm.
“ Oh, I wish I could hear what ho says,” she
cried, leaning forward. Bui her couaiu drew
her back.
“You mustn’t show your face, Sylvia,” he
said, emphatically. “There is a perfect mob
around you, and you promised that you
wouldn't look out of the window.”
“ But I can’t hear,” she retorted, in vexation.
“ I might as well go home."
“ I think it would be a great deal better,”
said her cousin. “ But you can’t drive through
a crowd like this without killing some one; so
there’s nothing to do but wait till it breaks'-up.”
“If I only had some chocolates. Don’t be
disagreeable, Fred. Won’t you run over to
Marron’s, and get me a box?”
Fred hesitated.
“ I won’t stir, and it won’t take ten minutes.
You’re a man, and you can get through the
crowd very easily. Do, there's a dear boy.”
Fred got out, and did as ehe bade him. Syl
via sat iu the carriage, looking curiously at the
surging crowd. The horses shied a little at
some passing torches, and Sylvia leaned for
ward thoughtlessly, so that the light fell full
upon her beautiful face, with its misty glory of
yellow hair.
Tho crowd saw her.
“Whew! ain’t she a stunner ?” cried some
coarse fellow, with a leer in his eye. and in p
moment several ugly faces were peering iu the
carriage door, making vulgar comments- and
shouting their approval.
With a low, frightened cry, Sylvia shrank
back in the carriage.
“Isay, beauty, gimme a kiss, won’t yon?”
cried a'low fellow, with hia hand on the* door
and his foot on the step.
“This is Mr. Scott’s carriage!” she cried,
frantically. “ Help I help !”
A strong hand came to her deliverance. The
ruffian was dragged away by the collar; there
was a fierce scuffle outside of the carriage, and,
cowering in one corner, Sylvia heard the cry of
“Police!” Then there was a roaring in her
ears, and she came very near fainting. Sud
denly some one touched her, and said, in low,
tender tones:
“ Slyvia, are you safe ?”
“ Webster !” she sobbed. “ Oh, thank God !
Take me home—take mo home!”
He had gathered her in his arms, and she
was too much frightened to resist.
“ Drive on,” he cried to the coachman. But
this was impossible now, for the way was fairly
blocked.
In the crowd a fight was in progress, for the
rowdies who had accosted Sylvia resented the
interference of some one who had coins to her
rescue, and a passage-at-arms followed. Two
fellows in particular closed iu a souffle, and,
before the police arrived, they had drawn
weapons.
The s'harp report of a pistol was heard unex
pectedly. But, iu the surge ot a scuffle, the
course of the ball was changed completely. Fly
ing wide of its intended victim, it sped over the
heads of the crowd and struck Sylvia’s father,
who was still speaking. He fell forward, blood
gushing from a wound in his side.
“Mr. Scott is assassinated,” was the cry that
echoed through the streets. Sylvia heard it, and
sank insensible into Webster’s arms.
That was an awful night. Fred, delayed in a
souffle with a thief who tried to pick his’ pocket,
oame home, wild with anxiety, having failed on
his return to find either Sylvia or the carriage.
Mr. Scott was in a dangerous condition, but uot
dead. It was a singular sight, in the weeks
that followed, to see the opposition candidate
spending all his leisure time at the bedside of
his antagonist.
“ You’ll beat me now, Arbuthnot,” Mr. Scott
said, with the resignation of extreme weakness.
“ ’Ton days before election make or mar a can
didate, and I haven’t the ghost of a show, lying
here like a helpless baby.”
“I don’t feel so sure, sir,” said Webster,
quietly. “ You were very popular as Controller,
and a great many of the opposition are going to
vote for you.”
“ Maybe so. But, if lam beaten, I’ll have the
consolation ot knowing it was by a good man.”
But Arbuthnot was right. A great many of
tho opposition did vote for Mr. Scott. Tho
wound he had received, moreover, awoke gen
eral sympathy, and so brought him votes. Ho
had in tho district a majority of five hundred,
which elected him.
When the returns were all in, and Webster
knew positively that he was defeated, ho camo
to Sylvia with a smiling face.
“ I am beaten,” he said bravely. “But I shall
count my loss as little if you will only renomi
nate me as your husband.”
She looked at him with shining eyes and held
out her hand with a sweet impulsiveness.
“You are elected—by an overwhelmingly ma
jority,” she said, softly.
He took her in his arms and politics were no
where.
But I think that I ought to ask you to for
give me,” she said at length. “ You have be
haved beautifully, dear; and I am proud of
you—if—you do belong to tho opposition. I
think every man has a right to' his convictions,
provided they are generous, and—and—if a
man has a taste lor politics—a real taste I mean
—of course he can’t be blamed for "
Hero she was spared the necessity for further
humiliation lor Webster stopped her mouth
with kisses.
The second year of their marriage, Arbuthnot
was again nominated for Congress, and ran bo
much better than the candidate ot the popular
party that ho polled a higher majority than any
candidate who ever ran in that district,
a toTmagdalen.
STORY OF A RECLAIMED LIFE.
(Fi-om the Indianapolis lleies.)
Among the guests atone of the loading hotels
in Indianapolis, Ind., a few weeks ago, were a
lady and gentleman from New York, who, for
the purpose of this narrative, may be vaguely
designated as Mr. and Mrs. B. Ho was a man
of excellent social and business standing, and
bJio a lady who was especially noted for her
charity anil benevolence. They stopped in the
city for several days, and while here were en
tertained by Vice-President and Mrs. Hen
dricks, for the two ladios had an acquaintance
of several years’ standing, which was begun
under very remarkable circumstances, and
which eventually developed into a firm friend
ship. Mrs. B. was not altogether a stranger to
Indianapolis, for she had lived here before, and
she had come back on an unpleasant but duti
ful errand. Her early days had been days of
darkness, and she had' returned to clear up the
mystery ot her parentage and do what she
might to repay the kindness of those who had
befriended her when she most needed friends.
Her life had not always been a pleasant or an
upright one, but of late years she has done and
is still doing everything in her power to atone
for early waywardness and to keep the feet of
other young girls from straying into the path
which hers had trodden. Doubtless many peo
ple who read this will remember her wheu a
girl, and the troubles which resulted in her ex
ile from her home and friends.
About ten years ago she came to this city
from Lafayette, and lived here with friends. No
matter now what her name was, she was but
fourteen years old—a beautiful young girl, gay
and thoughtless. Like Mary Brandon, “she
had no mother to teach her,” and her downfall
was at the time attributed, whether truthfully
or not, to one to whom, above all others, she
had reason to look for protection and support.
For a few weeks the papers were filled with ac
counts of her doings, and eventually she was
sent to the female reformatory. It was here
that Mrs. Hendricks, who was then one of the
board of managers of the institution, and other
kind-hearted ladies, became interested in her,
and tried to reclaim her, but it was a difficult
task, for she had become embittered against all
the world. One day an elderly lady, who was
stopping in the city, visited the reformatory,
and spent several hours among tho inmates.
She became particularly interested in Miss 8.,
and finally agreed to adopt her and take her
to her home in Canada, which she did. She
lived there quietly and peaceably for many
months, and then disappeared. Every effort
was made to find her, detectives were employed
and sent to the larger cities in the country, and
advertisements were inserted in all the papers,
but all with no effect.
Nearly a year afterward a letter from New
York came to her benefactress from her, and it
told a pitiful story. She had fallen and re
formed, and fallen again, and she wrote :
“ I am determined to do right. If I find I
cannot, I will kill myself, for I have had enough
of misery and shame.”
The lady went to her, found menial employ
ment for her in a large dry goods establish
ment, and she worked faithfully and lived hon
orably, encouraged by the motherly care and
teachings of her newly-found friend. The
junior partner in the store was attracted by her
pretty face and lady-like ways, and advanced
her to a more lucrative position, and eventually
begau paying her marked attention. He asked
her to niarry him, and she refused him time
and time again. He became importunate to
know the reason, and finally she told him the
whole story of her life—her sin and her Buffer
ing-holding nothing back. Most men, whose
creed of morality is never self-applicable, would
have avoided her after that, but he did not. Ho
took her out of the store, had her privately in
structed in useful and ornamental knowledge,
and at the end of a year’s probation married
her. Since then her life has been pure and no
ble, and in spite of the fact that she has a good
social position, and everything that culture and
refinement can suggest, the greater part of her
time is spent in helping tho poor and trying to
save the erring. She is the New Magdalen, iu
fact, and not in fiction.
Last Summer, when Mr. and Mrs. Hendricks
were in New York, Mrs. B. called, made herself
known, and invited them to her house. There
a reception was given in their honor, and it was
attended by many leading people of the me
tropolis, while the papers gave lengthy accounts
of it, but neither the guests or reporters sus
pected for an instant how the hostess and her
distinguished guests had become acquainted.
A return visit was promised, and when Mr. and
Mrs. B. came to Indianapolis, none were more
greatly pleased to see them than Mr. and Mrs.
Hendricks. Mrs. B. left her without ascertain
ing what she desired concerning her parentage,
but before she went she visited the reformatory,
her former habitation, and arranged to find
good homes for those unfortunate women who
desired to reform, but had not the opportunity.
FRENCHJUPERSTITION.
A Sorceress Condemned to Twenty
Years’ Imprisonment.
The sorceress of Villejoint, Franca, has just
been condemned to twenty years’ imprison
ment at hard work, and after that to twenty
years of surveillance by the police. Last Sum
mer this woman, Tommier, made the acquaint
ance in the church in Blois of a rich old lady,
Mme. Duval.
“I have succeeded,” said she, after some
preliminary conversation, “ in discovering the
secret which formerly rendered the sorcerers eo
powerful, and what they used to do I can do. I
cau restore harmony and peace in the home of
your daughter, and I can also, if you desire it,
give you a large fortune. I have the power to
make gold come up out of the earth like water
flowing from a spring.”
Fascinated by these remarks, the old lady
took the woman home with her to Villejoint, a
village two miles from Blois, and gave her the
best spare bed-room. Then tho next morning
she gave her a sum of money, which the hag
locked up in a bureau drawer, and, handing
Mme. Duval the key, said:
“ I have pronounced the charm, and as soon
as I am gone it will begin to work; but if you
should, during my absence, open the drawer,
the spell will be broken.”
The woman went away, promising to return
on the fifth day. This she did, and, on enter
ing the room where the money was, exclaimed:
“I am inspired. I see all around me buried
in tbe earth. If I had only four 100 franc notes,
two of 500 francs and 2,000 francs in gold I
could draw up thousands of millions from the
earth.” Ths sum she asked for was added to
the treasure in the drawer, a cfucifix was placed
on it, another charm pronounced, and the old
thief departed, promising to return on a fixed
date. On her third visit more money, all the
jewelry and silverware in tho house were add
ed to the pile in the drawer. On her fourth and
last visit she gave Mme. Duval a white powder
that was to be burned the following Thursday
after she had carefully closed all the doors and
windows of her room. “As soon as it is con
sumed,” said she, “ the earth will open and give
forth its treasures.” Mme. Duval obeyed in
structions. On the day and at the hour named
she pounded tho powder into a small brazier
and a terrible explosion followed; the windows
were smashed, the ceiling torn open, the walls
racked, and when the neighbors rushed in they
found Mme. Duval lying on the floor in Buch a
state that ehe was supposed to be dead. On
her recovery she was finally induced, after
much persuasion by the local magistrate, to re
late all the circumstances of this most extraor
dinary affair.
THREE ms OF TEETH.
A CASE.
(From the Penver Tribune.)
A very curious experience in dental surgery
is reported io have recently transpired in Den
ver. Mr. T. O. Cooper, of/bis citv, a gentleman
of about fifty years of age' had for a great many
years been wearing falsa teeth with a rubber
plate. About a year or a half ago a little swell
ing appeared beneath the upper lip and just be
low tbe nose. The swelling soon became very
painful, and he was unable to wear the plate in
his mouth for a very long time. , He went to
several physicians and surgeons, who tried va
rious remedies in the hope of healing it over.
Some of them thought it was a disease of the
jaw-bone. He was finally sent to Dr. C. N. Guy
er, a dentist in the King Block, who, noticing
tho roughness of the surface, ventured at a
guess, which turned out to be a true one. He
told Mr. Cooper to take out his teeth and rub
ber plate and wear them in his pocket.
He then commenced treating the jaw with co-
coaine, the now and valuable anneathetio. By
this moans, with much less pain to Mr. Cooper
than could have been supposed, he succeeded
in extracting a long, narrow, bony substance,
which proved to be a tooth—the result of that
remarkable and much disputed phenomena,
third dentition.
Dr. Guyer has the tooth in his office. It would
never have been very strong or very healthy,
but would have appeared in the natural way
had not the plate pressed upon it. This press
ure caused it to lay horizontally along the gums
instead of coming out perpendicularly. On the
tooth being removed Mr. Cooper’s pain was soon
relieved, and no bad results have followed the
operation. Dr. Guyer considers this undoubted
proof of a third dentition as extremely remark
able.
ana.
This has been a cold Winter in this neighbor
hood, but it has not been a patch on what
they’ve had out West, if the following is
A TRUE STATEMENT OF SOLID FACTS. ’•
" We’ve had a very cold Winter,” said a traveling
man to a Westerner on a train between Milwaukee
and St. Paul.
“Yes,” was the response, *'purty cold. Colder
up here, I guess, than it was in your State.”
“I don’t know about that; it was so cold along
the lake shore that stove-lids froze in the holes, and
when a man went to bed at night ho had to break
the covers with a club before ho could turn them
down to get under them.”
••That’s rawther cool, but it’s not a patchin’ to
what we have up in this country. I’ll tell you a lit
tle experience I had in January. I run a livery sta
ble, and a mountain tough came in to hire a rig. It
was §o darn cold that I wouldn’t let anything go
out, and the cuss' got mad and began to tear around.
I follered him out on the street, and the first thing
I kuowed he had his pistol out, pointin’ it right at
mo. I thought I was a goner, and backed off about
twenty feet, when he blazed away.”
“Did he hit you ?”
“No, and that’s the funny part of it. The air was
froze so hard around the muzzle of bis gun that the
bullet bounced back and knocked one of his eyes
out, and I had to pay the blamed old fool’s doctor
bill to keep him from suin' mo for damages.”
Here is an amusing story told by the London
Graphic about
SHAKESPEARE AND THE MANAGER.
A certain Jew money-lender, once upon a time,
took the Garrick Theatre, in Loman street, White
chapel, and to make a good beginning opened it with
“Hamlet,” a certain popular West End tragedian
being engaged to sustain ths role. The theatre was
in very low repute at the time, even in its' imme
diate neighborhood, and on the opening night he
sent forth complimentary admissions to all the
principal tradespeople around. Now, this trage
dian followed the old traditions of the part, and
went about in the second act with “ his hose un
gartered” and hanging down his leg. When Mr.
Moses, as we’ll call him, caught sight of this from
the back of the boxes, he rushed round behind the
scenes and furiously assailed the prompter. “Vat
is the meaning of this?” he cried. “ Vat does that
man mean by not tying up his stockings? I never
was so ashamed of anything in all my life. There’s
Mrs. Abrahams, the fruiterer, and Mrs. Jacobs, the
fishmonger, and all the eZiie of the neighborhood in;
it will ruin me.”
“ But it is quite right, sir,” said the prompter,
showing him the book.
Mr. Moses put on his spectacles and examined
the passage. “Who wrote this play ?” he cried,
more wrathfully than ever.
•• Why, Shakespeare, sir,” answered the astonished
functionary.
“Then,” cried Mr. Moses, shaking his forefinger,
“you may tell Mr. Shakespeare that he'll never
write another play for my theayter.”
Wo have road a story somewhat similar to this
one, but the scone of it was located in Ireland,
while this is said to be
A CIRCASSIAN TALE.
A man and a girl were traveling in the same direc
tion. They did not know one another, but had met
accidentally. The man carried a live chicken in one
hand, a walking-stick in the other, and a good-sized
copper kettle on his back. He was also leading a
goat. As they turned from an open lane into a dark
mountain pass, the girl said to the man:
•’ I am afraid to go with you through this pass/, It
is lonely and secluded, and you might wish to kiss
me against my will.”
“If you had been afraid of that,” answered the
man, “ you would not have come with me. How
can I kiss you against your will, when I have this
big copper kettle on my back, this stick in ono hand,
this wild chicken in the other, and this shy kid to
lead ? lam bound, hand and foot.”
“That’s true,” replied the girl, “but if you put
your stick in the earth and tied the kid to it, and
then put down the chicken and turned the.kettle
over it, you might be wicked enough to kiss me in
spite of myself.”
“ The Lord bless the sagacity of woman,” said the
man, rejoicing, “ I should never have thought of
such an easy way ?”
And as they came into the pass he put the stick in
the ground, tied the kid to it, turned the kettle over
the chicken, and was wicked enough to kiss the as
tonished girl with the greatest energy.
From Boston cometh this gentle wail for
PLEASURES PAST.
1. The Winter’s almost past, the time is coming
fast that brings the genial sunshine bright and
clear, clear, clear, and paragraphers gay will shortly
put away the sealskin joke until another year, year,
year.
2. The coalman and the plumber, all through the
coming Summer, will bo allowed to take a well
earned rest, rest, rest, and, springing from its
tomb., the ice cream joke will boom in new and
handsome garments gayly dressed, dressed, dressed.
3. The picnic sandwich, too, existence will renew,
and jokers on its make-up will descant, cant, cant,
declaring it is made of neither ham nor bread, but
from the hardest kind of adamant. Giant, mant.
4. Then, both in prose and verse, the jokers will
rehearse the tale anont the lovers who till late, lato,
late, sit on the stoop and spoon, or, ’neath the sil
ver moon, together swing upon the garden gate,
gate, gate.
5. But this is merely done for purposes of fun,
intended as a little harmless chaff, chaff, chaff
no malice in the play—to drive dull care away, and
make the melancholy person laugh, laugh, laugh.
Few car-drivers would object to
SUCH A SOFT SNAP.
“Jim,” said a street-car driver to his conductor,
“discipline is pretty strict in the army, ain’t it ?”
“Stricter than that of a bell punch.”
“Those court-martials are fearful things, ain’t
they ?”
“Dreadful.”
“All the same, I wish wo had court-martials in the
street-car business.”
“You do ?”
“You bet. Getting retired for twelve years on half
pay would bo as good a snap as I'd want.”
The gentleman who received advice from a
friend in Canada
MAY FEEL LIKE STAYING AT HOME.
A few weeks ago the cashier of a Milwaukee bank
wrote to a distinguished resident of Canada as fol
lows:
“ Dear Sir—l have a splendid opportunity to gob
ble up $60,000 and join you in Canada. Can I have
fun enough to offset the sacrifice of reputation,
home and a largo circle of friends ?”
The distinguished resident replied by next mail
as follows, and wrote “in haste” on the envelope:
“Don’t you do it. I got away with a heap more
swag than that, and I can’t find a Canuck who’ll
even drink beer with me.”
It is said that the D. R. misses his dear Bibla class
more than all else.
The thiefs experience in thia brief story is
NOT A VERY UNUSUAL ONE.
First thief—“ You’re a lucky dog. I didn’t expect
to see you out so soon. So the jury didn’t convict
you ?”
Second thief—*' No.”
“ And yet there you stood before them with the
stolen money in your pocket. It’s lucky they
didn’t search you.”
“ They did.”
“ They did 1 They didn’t find it ?’•
“ No, 1 didn’t have it.”
“ Why, what had yo.u done with it T”
*' Paid it to my lawyer.”
The deliberation of tho Boston young woman
must have
COMPLETELY CRUSHED THE DRUMMER.
A drummer struck up an acquaintance with &
Boston girl on a train that was snow-bound in a
recent blockade. The car was cold and the young
lady sat with her hands in her muff. With that
gentle and persistent delicacy in such matters for
which the male sax, and drummers in particular,
are noted, he managed to get one of his hands into
the muff along with hers.
“ Sir 1” she said, stiffly, “ what do you mean by
such conduct ? lam inexpressibly shocked, sir. I
am from Boating, and I would have you know that
such familiarity is resented. I would be justified in
screaming for assistance; but I hate scenes, and I’ll
give you just twenty minutes to take your hand
out of there.”
SCINTILLATIONS.
You can slip through Harvard now
without any help from Greece.
There are two things in this world no
body is ever prepared for—twins.
Lovers, like armies,. get along well
enough till the engagement begins.
When whisky gets the better of a man
he may be sure the devil is foreclosing his mort
gage.
Remember, young man, dat de best
frian’ yer’s got on dis earth is a better frieu’ ter
himself den he is ter you.
Teacher—“ What does the proverb say
about those who live in glass houses ?” Small Boy
—“Pull down the blinds.”
If Carl Schurz should insist on a for
eign mission, Alaska could be made into a foreign
country as easily as any other.
When a good man goes wrong every
■ body notices it. When a bad man goes right, he ex
pects to be paid for it right away.
Down in Mexico they call an editor a
“periodista,” perhaps because it’s his business to
put periods “and sich” into other people’s copy.
“ Ooh, whati a recreation it is to be dy
ing of lovo 1 It sets the heart aching so deliciously
there’s no taking a wink of sleep for tha pleasure of
the pain.”
It is scientifically estimated that if all
the “champion” roller-skaters in America should
stand up in a row, there wouldn’t be people enough
left to count them,
A good many, men wear newspapers
under their vests to keep the body warm. So it
often happens that a man has more intelligence un
der bis coat than under his hat.
If the land in England and Wales were
divided equally among the entire population, each
person would receive 1.44 acres, of the annual value
of about $32, or a little more than sixty cents a
week. Laud Reformer Henry George makes SIOO a
night trying to persuade everybody to come down
to sixty cents a week.
Life must be very pleasant on the Con<
go, Instead of a man having to rush home at 4P<
P. to give his wife lour hours' time to prepare for
the opera, and then wait another half hour on the
front steps until the 200 and odd forgotten things
are found and arranged, the Congo husband stroll,
home a few minutes before the performance begins
and simply saysi •• Sarah, adjust your hairpin. We
will go to the opera.”
An Amazonian Paradise.—Among the
colonial possessions, or, more correctly, de-
Rendenoies, of Holland, there is a remarkabla
ttle State which, in its constitution and orig
inal costume of its inhabitants, surpasses the
boldest dreams of the advocates of women’s
rights. In the island of Java, between the cities
of Batavia and Samarane, is the kingdom of
Bantam, which, although tributary to Holland,
is an independent State. The sovereign is, in
deed, a man, but all the rest of the government
belongs to the fair sex. The king is entirely
dependeut upon his State Council. The high
est authorities, military commanders and sol
diers are, without exception, of the female sex,
The Amazons ride in the masculine style, wear
ing sharp steel points instead of spurs. They
carry a pointed lance, which they swing very
gracefully, and also a musket, which is dis
charged at full gallop. The capital of this little
State lies in the most picturesque part ot tht
island, iu a'fruitful plain, and is defended by
two well-kept fortresses.
• , »■"<■*
A BuKaiAKS’ Association.—The last
reported novelty in London Is a burglars’ com
pany, which conducts business in a most care
ful and systematic manner. It has a number oi
inspectors, who travel over Europe in quest of
openings for ‘'work,” and mechanics who can
open the most elaborate safe. Finally, there it
a solicitor who negotiates the restitution oi
bonds for a commission of thirty-five per cent,
All the managers have received a prison educa
tion.
MW.ll.nrTO
Scrofula.
Vanderbilt’s Money Couldn’t Buy It.
The Acworth News and Farmer, of this week, says: Mrs.
Elizabeth Baker, living within three miles of Acworth,
remarked that Vanderbilt’s fortune could not buy from
her what six bottles of Swift’s Specific has done for her.
Her statement Is as follows: For thirty-one years I have
suffered almost death from that horrible disease, scrofula.
For years I was unable to do anything in keeping up my
domestic affairs. Last October I was induced to try Switt’l
Specific, and used two bottles, and was so much benefited
by it that I purchased four more from Messrs, Northcut <k
Johnson, which has almost entirely relieved me. I foal
like a new person, and can do all my own housework. Be
fore I took the S. S.'S, my life was a burden, as my entire
person was covered with sores, and in this miserable oon
dition I did not care to live. I had tried every known
remedy, and my case was generally regarded as incura
ble. I had been treated by the best physicians to no avail
I most heartily recommend Swiff’s Specific to the af
flicted.
Messrs. Northcut & Johnson, merchants at Acworth,
say: We know Mrs. Elizabeth Baker personally; we ars
familiar with her case. She is highly esteemed in tfall
community.’
Rheumatism Twenty Years.
I have been a sufferer from rheumatism tor twenty
years, at times with almost intolerable pain. I bad ths
best medical treatment, and took all sorts of remedies,
but without relief. Being reduced almost to a skeleton,
and not being able to walk even with crutches, I was in
duced to try Swiff’s Specific, and it acted like a charm,
and I am to-day entirely relieved. Have thrown away
my crutches, and am in excellent health. I believe
Swiff’s Specific will cure the worst cases ol rheumatism.
Mbs. Ezra Mershon. Macon, Ga.» Aug. 4, ’B4,
Communication.
Wetumpka, Ala., Sept. 28, 1884.—About six years ago
I became afflicted with a very disagreeable skin disease,
with large, dry seres and many crusted pimples on my
face, hands and shoulder. The sore on my shoulder eat
out a hole nearly an inch deep, and the cancerous appear
ance of one of the sores near my eye alarmed me very
much. I tried all kinds of treatment, but found nothing
that seemed to afl’ect the disease. I finally decided to try
S. 8. S. on advice of a physician, and iu a short time the
scabs dropped from the io .es and left my skin smooth and
well. I consider 8. S. 8. the greatest blood medicine
made, and the only thing that will cure the disease with
which 1 was afflicted. I think my trouble was the result
of a terrible attack of malarial fever, contracted while
farming in the Tallapoosa river swamp. I can be found
at my office in the court house at Wetumpka, You can
refer to me.
J. L. Rhodes, Dep. Sheriff Elmore Co., Ala.
Treatise on Blood and Skin Diseases mailed free.
'las Swift Specific Co., Drawer 3, Atlanta, Ga.
Variety* is the Spice of Life.
There is variety in the letters received by Mrs. Lydia E.
Finkham, testifying to the cures effected by her Vegetable
Compound and the groat relief afforded to thousands ol
women In all sections. Mrs. C—, of Toronto, says: “I have
taken three bottles with very gratifying results.” Mrs.
Stephen B, of Shefllngton, Quebec, says: “ I am now using
the fourth bottle and have derived great benefit already.”
Sarah C ,of Eugene City, Oregon, says: “It is tire best
medicine for the female sex I have ever found.” Mrs.
C ,of Santa Fe, says: “Your Compound has done me a
great deal of good.” Mrs. n. S. D ,of Portland, Me.,
says: ”It has done for me all it claimed to and I cheer
fully recommend it to all suffering as I have done.” Mrs.
D. H. E ,of Lexington, Va., says: “I have taken one
bottle and I assure you I feel a great deal better, I feel
strong as eyerand I’ve never felt a pain in my back since
the second dose.”
Suffering Womanhood*
Too much effort cannot be made to bring to the attention
of suffering womanhood the great value of Lydia E. Pink
ham’s Vegetable Compound as a remedy for the disoaflei
of women, and perhaps nothing is more effectual than the
testimony ot those who have been cured by it. Such an
ono is the wife of General Barringer, of Winston, N. C,,
and we quote from the General’s letter as follows: “ Dear
Mrs. Pinkham: Please allow me to add my testimony t 6
the most excellent medicinal qualities of your Vegetable
Compound. Mrs. Barringer was treated for several years
for what tho physicians called Leucorrhea and Prolapsus
Uteri combined. I sent her to Richmond, Va., where she
remained for six months under the treatment of an emi*
nent Physician without any permanent benefit. She wat
Induced to try your medicine, and alter a reasonable time
commenced to improve, and is now able to attend to hel
business and considers herself fuliy relieved.'* [General
Barringer Is the proprietor of the American Hotel, Wing*
ton, N. C., and is widely known.— Ed.]
LYDIA E. PINKHAM'S VEGETABLE COMPOUND la
prepared at Lynn, Mass. Price, sl. Six bottles for $5.
Sold by all druggists. Sent by mail, postage paid, in form
of Pills or Lozenges, on receipt of price as above. Mrs.
Pinkham’s “ Guide to Health ” will be mailed free to any
Lady sending stamfe. Letters confidentially answered.
VETIfsPECIFIGS
*' For the Cure of all diseases of ‘AZ-
Horses, Cattle, Sheep
DOGS, HOGS, POULTRY.
Used successfully for 20 years by Far
mer?, Stockbreeders, Horse R. 8., &o.
Endorsed & used by the U-S.Gorcriiin’t.
HUMPHREYS’ MEDICINE CO.,
109 Fulton St, New York.
* Humphreys’ Homeopathic ®
Specific iOi
In b use 30 years. The only successful remedy for
Nervous Debility, vital Weakness,
and Prostration, from * over-work or other 6aWs.
$1 per vial, or 5 vials and Urge vial powder, for $5.
Sold by Druggists, or sent postpaid on receipt of
BRANCH STORE, NO. 823 BROADWAY,
wnroiw
Used for over 25 years with great success by tha
physicians of Paris, New York and London* and supe
rior to all others for the prompt cure of all cases,recent
or of long standing. Put up only in Glass Bottles
containing Capsules each. PRICE 75 CENTS.
MAKING THEM THE CHEAPEST CAPSULES
IN THE MARKET.
|Perfezi®oS®jHM~££B
Kblgorating Pill, sl. All post-paid. Address %
New England Mhu-ical Institute, >•
No. 24 Tromo’s Row, Boston, Mass. ■;
A ” A7ZZ AZSA" ; ZAA AZA
zzjz.; zzz; zza
IN TWO HOURS. A PERMANENT’ CURE GUARAN
TEED IN EVERY CASE. I’rof. A. W. ALLEN. No. CO 4
GRAND STREET, New York City. ALLEN’S SWEET
WORM WAFERS, a positive cure for STOMACH and i'iit
WORMS. All Druggista, Pamphlet Free
$$ Pisa a?- those suffering from tho
Ml
cay, lost manhood, etc., I will send you particulars Of a
simple and certain means of self cure, free of charge,
fca&vpur address to F. O. Moodus, Cona*
7