New York dispatch. [volume], July 26, 1885, Page 6, Image 6

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

Image provided by: Library of Congress, Washington, DC

                
6
THE ONE GRAY HAIR.
BY WALTER SAVAGE LANDOR.
The wisest of the wise
Listen to pretty lies,
And love to hear them told;
Doubt not that Solomon
Listened to many a one—
IBomo in his youth, and more when he grew old,
I never sat among
The choir of wisdom’s song,
But pretty lies loved I
As much as any King—
When youth was on the wing,
And (must it then be told ?) when fyonth had quite
gone by.
Alas I and I have not
The pleasant hour forgot
When one pert lady said,
"0 Landor, I am quite
Bewildered with affright;
X see (sit quiet now) a white hair on your head,
Another more benign,
Drew out that hair of mine,
And in her own dark hair
Pretended she had found
That one, and twirled it round.
Fair as she was, she never was so fair.
ROMIES MARQUIS.
BY ETTIE ROGERS.
“ I wonder the fellow did not send you a
whole conservatory, Homie 1 You would tire
of his big scentless callas and waxy smilax and
new-fangled roses by now, I should think,” said
Lonzo Secor, a brawny young naan with Sno
dark eyes and pleasing features.
“His flowers are lovely. And Daigh Harley
is not a fellow—he is a marquis !—and he has
exquisite' taste, I think,” answered Homie, a
shapely and comely girl with silky, shiny hair,
and with eyes as blue as the larkspurs which she
had just fastened in the trim corsage of her
gray cashmere gown.
“ His taste, whether exquisite or question
able, has already marred the harmony between
you and me, Homie. Ido not wish my prom
ised wife to encourage nor wear the floral gifts
of a man who is to be distrusted, even if he
does claim to be a marquis,” the young man re
turned, with feeling.
“O, everybody knows about his title, and his
riches, and how honored he is by the nobility
in his own country,” Homie said, with a little
pout of her cherry lips. “Any girl might feel
proud of his delicate civilities.”
“One ean be civil to a girl without sending
her tons of costly exotics,” Lonzo remarked,
with a disapproving glance toward a huge
gilded basket brimming with -gardenias and
orchids and rich lilies. “ His exceedingly deli
cate civilities are altogether too significant,
Romie.”
Homie blushed rather guiltily. For an in
stant the eyes of larkspur blue -were hidden
behind her suddenly lowered lashes.
“The significance can be only compliment
ary,” she presently said, with her face turned
from him. “ And if I should prefer to share
the ease and grandeur of a marquisate rather
than to drudge in .a petty office, waiting for
what may sever happen, scribbling miserable
letters for a dime a page—then even you, Lon,
cannot blame me,”-she added, recklessly.
“ Why, my dearest,” he protested, with pain
and incredulity in his tones and -in the changing
expression of his pleasing features, “do you
really dislike the letter-writing so much ? But
you need not remain in the office, Homie; we
need not wait—my earnings even now, with a bit
of economy, would make a comfortable home
for us.”
“ I bate the shifts and devices of an impera
tive economy,” she declared scorftilly; “I have
&nown nothing all ray lite but that. I want
something more ennobling. But I am afraid
you are dreadfully unreasonable, Lon.”
She looked very charming, with the willful
frown on her pretty brows, the saucy pout on
her cherry lips, her whole little air of perverse
acorn and exaggerated dignity.
But he sighed as bo gazed at her, and his fine
«yes darkened with reproach.
“ I do not know that I am so distressingly un
reasonable,” he said, rather angrily. “ But I
cannot feel pleased when you are so disposed to
credit the grandiloquent fables of a sleek pre
tender.”
And with that blunt retort he impatiently
turned from her, swiftly closed a door behind
him, and the next second he was gone.
“ Well, these blustering sort of people never
harm anybody,” she thought, as directly she
donned a graceful mantle and coquettish bon
net, and went out into the wintry street. “And
beside poor Lon loves me too dearly to inter
fere with what will give me such superior ad
vantages: ho has a heart of gold even if he is
Hunt and impetuous and unrefined, and must
always remain a common mechanic.”
She tripped blithely onward, and soon entered
the grimy little office where she served as the
niggardly-compensated assistant of an interest
ing individual who professed an efficiency to
produce all manner ot composition, whether
sonnet, sermon, speech, elegy or bridal song,
epistles social or commercial, amatorial or
cuierwise.
“ A lady is waiting,” the interesting individ
ual said, with a gesture toward a tiny apartment
where epistolary productions were indited.
Homie glanced at the waiting occupant, and
beheld a stoutish and extremely ruddy young
Woman who wore a coarse Newmarket, and was
bonneted with beaded velvet and laded cardi
nal plumes.
“The letter, miss, is for one who was to be
my husband,” the young woman said tear
fully. “ And maybe, miss, you can say better
what I want to tell him, if you will hear the
wicked fashion ho took to get mv money and
things when the ship brought me here, and how
he sneaked away with everything, and with
never at all a care for me, and I in a strange
country with none of my own in ever a bit of
the city. And sure I am, he has gone back to
sweet Medowne to some other girl as maybe
hungering for his love words—sure, indeed I
am, be has gone back to the old country now;
he persuaded me here as I might make no hin
deranco to hie deceitful wooing. And to sweet
Medowne to sinful Daigh Harley, the letter is
to go, miss.”
Homie’s fair face was as white as the soft
tulle about her pretty throat; her hands shook;
the eyes ot larkspur blue were like two flames.
“To Daigh Harley, Marquis of Medowne ?”
was her faltering interrogative.
“ There was never at all a Marquis of Me
downo in the whole of the old country,” was
the reply. “Though sure X am with his dainty
hands, and his lordly strut and his bad graces,
ho deserves the nickname made in sport ot him
by the laddies as had no liking for his doings
and ac,tings. I am believing now that the sor
rier tool I was for trusting him ever at all,
knowing how smooth he could be in his deceiv
ing, and how honest laddies had never a prais
ing for him. But I had the liking for him, miss,
And maybe he intends never at all what is not
the true, and maybe he will come back if a real
touching letter goes straight to sweet Me
downe.”
But Romie indited no epistle for “sweet Mo
downe ” beyond the sea. Instead, she planned
a little comedy which meant a revenge for her
self, comfort for poor troubled Lonzo, satisfac
tion to the despoiled emigrant, and condign
punishment to the sham nobleman.
She shuddered and her white cheeks flamed I
as she again petered her own plain parlor, per
fumed with the geent of the costly floral mtu I
w, 2'.Cu not improbably had ueeii purchased
with the laboriously earned and carefully
hoarded gold of the duped young woman from
“ sweet Medowne.”
“ The odor sickens me,” she murmured as
WuG 19M)ed back in her low rocker before a
cosy tiro which sparkled in the narrow iron
grate.
As she sat there, a dainty tapping sounded at
the door and she turned her shiny head to be
hold the spurious marquis of Medowne—a fas
tidiously dressed personage with a sleek blond
head, a blandly insipid visage and an immense
yellow crescent of a mustache, with waxed
horns curving about his pinkish chin.
“ Ab, Miss Romie, how deliciously cosy you
always manage to make your pretty room 1 I
am quite reminded of a certain boudoir in my
ancestral castle—an enchanting bijou of a place
—which is awaiting a selected occupant, you
know,” he lisped, with a smirk and with due
daintily gloved hand extended toward her.
“ And the selected occupant chances to be
just now awaiting you,” said Romie, ignoring
the extended hand and looking charmingly de
mure as she arose from her rocker and rolled
pack the double doors of the brightly lighted
room beyond.
4 “And sure I am, a castle neverat all you
had, Laigb, dear,” said the rebuking voice of a
stoutish and ruddy young woman, who, at the
moment, became visible. “ A poor bit of a
home you had in sweet Medowne, where you
were born and where you lived until you went
adventuring as a valet or something. But ah,
Daigh, dear, I still have the liking for you—the
liking that must follow when you bid, and still
I am believing you intend doing the true by
me.”
“Is she—ah, the most singular younfc per
son—is she insane ?’’ the man queried, with an
attempt of the unconscious and politely puz
zled, although he was somewhat speedily back
ing toward away of egress.
But a lucky egress was not just then to be
effected, for a second later a brawny hand
clutched his immaculate collar, and the vigor
ous figure of Lonzo Secor loomed up beside
him.
“ You do not leave here until that young wo
man is righted,” Lon avowed, resolutely. “ The
slightest call from me will bring an officer.”
“ But why could we not have a nice little
wedding ?” Romie inquired, innocently. “I am
certain we have plenty of flowers.”
“And, Daigh, dear,'sure I am I grudge you
the money never at all,” pleaded the ruddy
young woman who was whimpering behind a
cardinal cotton handkerchief. “My hands are
strong and cheerful to work for yon, and I
knowing you cannot help your dainty whimsi
calities, and beliaving you intend the true now
as you bare not gono back entirely to sweet
Medowne.”
lie trapped of’ender looked decidedly fool
ish and uncomfortable; but he yielded—he
chose u udoubtedly what he considered tho lesser
evil-and when the simple emigrant left the
house, she leaned upon the arm of a husband
for whom she still had “ the liking,” the pa
thetic and imperishable love which is not al
ways destined to be the glory and joy oi a con
stant woman.
And when all was over and the strange guests
were all departed, Homie resumed her low
joelser before the wy ty,v,
She looked very contrite and submissive as
she shyly glanced at the lover who had in
stalled his manly self in an easy-chair near her.
“I am heartily ashamed of myself, Lon,, she
confessed with candor, but with something of
the old saucy pout.
“For what?” said he, generously affecting
ignorance, lest the girlish shame might be too
poignant.
“I am sorry about the flowers—l am sorry I
was rude to you, Lon,” she said softly and with
tender tears in the eyes of larkspur blue.
He laughed half roguishly, and then he drew
the shiny head against his faithful heart and
fondly kissed the pouting cherry lips.
“Love pardons greater errors than you are
ever likely to commit, my dearest,” he said.
MY LITTIUdUKE.
BY E, H. G.
My father had been clergyman in the qniet
little English parish I was born, and L
hie only child, had reaped the benefit of a care
ful education, which he had given me during
hie spare hours. When, a little after my twen
tieth birthday, my father died, leaving his un
tarnished name as sole inheritance for my
mother and myself, I began to realize the value
ot his teaching, tor it—aided by mv vigorous
health and a fair spirit of determination—must
now keep the wolf from the door.
My father had rich, influential relatives, but
they were too much occupied with the respon
sibilities which wealth brings to take to heart
the troubles of their poorer kindred—though,
perhaps, I am ungrateful to say this, for it was
through tho intervention of my uncle that I
gained the position which assured to me at last
the happiness of my life.
In Southern Prussia, in the Duchy of Berold
stein, the position of nursery governess to two
children was vacant—a most desirable place,
the children being the infant con and daughter
of the late Duke or Eeroldstein, who had died
only six months before.
Thanks to my uncle, I was tho chosen appli
cant for ’this position. 1 felt fairly conlident
with respect to my proficiency, for at first my
task would be only to have the supervision ot
the noble children and to teach them to speak
my English tongue correctly; but I confess that
I felt very down-hearted as I went on board the
boat that was to take me to an unknown
country.
“ Your brother need not be uneasy about you
—we shall land safe enough on the other side,”
said the cheery captain, standing near me.
I smiled through my tears, for tho tall, frank
eyed young fellow watched me from the shore,
with such a look of anxious regret on his face,
was not my brother.
As Charlie kissed me—he had never kissed
me on the lips before—and whispered, “Keepa
good heart, Alice, my darling—we shall meet
again when prospects are brighter,” I felt more
hopeful than I had for months before, for his
words seemed to contain in them a certainty of
fulfillment.
Charlie Kent and I had been lovers almost
from babyhood, and, now that childhood had
long since passed, I cannot say that our feelings
lor each other had changed, save to intensify.
We were both very poor, but were content
enough to wait for better times.
Schloss Beroldstein proved to be a very
stately old mansion, a trifle repellent in its air
of antiquity and isolation from the rest of the
world. A park extending many miles lay be
fore the Castle, and from my windows at the
back I had a beautiful view of the Eifel mount
ains. The grounds at one lime must have been.
laid out and tended with royal care, but now the
statues were broken, the fountains out of repair,
and an air of neglect pervaded the avenues ana •
shrubbery.
The duchess lived in the strictest seclusion,
on account of her recent bereavement, her only
concern being the welfare of her children. My
little charges were charming—a twin brother
and sister, ana the only surviving children of
the family.
Roderic, the young heir to the dukedom, was
a truly beautiful child, rosy and cherub-like,
with a promise of intelligence ia his lace which
well befitted the high rank to which he was
born. Amalie, the little girl, was a quieter,
softer copy of her brother, and already the pair
were devotedly attached to each other.
The children were rather more than a year
old when I arrived at Beroldstein—certainly
too young to derive much benefit from my pres
ence, I thought; but, as it was customary in
high families to have the children learn foreign
tongues from the cradle, my conscience quieted
itself.
Very little time elapsed before I found my
self the friend and confidant of Frau Brenner,
housekeeper at the Castle. Among other bits
of information, she told me what I rat&er ex
pected to hear—that Schloss Beroldsteia was
launted.
“it is quite the spot for a ghost to choose
for midnight wanderings,” I remarked ; and,
though secretly amused at the old woman’s ©se
dulity, I encouraged her by my air of deep m
tere ft to tell ,me more of this spectral visitant.
it was the well-known story of a lady in white
appearing as the silent herald of a death in the
family. Three years before, one dark, stormy
night, the sentinel at the gates had seen the ■
White Lady gliding among the trees toward the
castle, and before morning the uncle of the late
duke was stricken dead with paralysis. Three
times the white apparition was soon during the
week before his Highness Duke Albrecht died,
and, according to Frau Brenner, no member of
the Von Beroldstein family had ever been gath
ered to his fathers without the assistance of the
White Lady. Tho mere mention of her name
made every servant in the place shudder, and
even the more enlightened members ot the
household did not deny her evil influence. In
tact, I had frequent occasion after this to won
der at the amount of superstition prevalent
among even the higher classes in this little cor
ner oi the world whither fate had drifted me.
{Some months later I was out in the park with
the two children. It was mid-winter, and there
was snow enough for sledging; tho children,
clothed from head to foot in soft white fur and
half buried in a polar-bear robe, were enjoying
a ride in their swan-shaped sleigh in white and
silver, with an arch of tinkling bells attached
before, in the Russian fashion. ,
While a 'ootman pushed the dainty little ve
hicle, I walked on one side talking to the chil
dren and enjoying their babyish delight at the
glistening frost and snow.
Boderic was brimming over with life and ex
citement, and his restless little hands, mittened
in fur, clutched at every low-hanging icicle and
glittering twig, thereby letting in much of the '
cold breath of Winter on hia more composed
sister. As we went briskly down the avenue, a
lady richly dressed in black velvet and sable
met and stopped opr little cavalcade. I won
dered who this grand dame could be who pre
ferred a lonely walk in the deserted avenues to :
a drive in a luxurious carriage with good com
pany.
“ I must pay my respects to the young duke,” 1
she said pleasantly.
She took little Roderic’s hand in hers and
looked at him long and intently, but not with
the expression that his rosy cheeks and bright 1
blue eyes ought to have awakened in the face of 1
a woman. Her look was more as if she bore the i
innocent little fellow malice, and, when he
pointed with delight to the lions’ heads in dead
gold which fastened her mantle, she drew away
imnatientlv. After asking a few questions about 1
ho^eric T s ’ he&itn I
which I was proud to answer with glowing
"praise, she resumed her walk with a stiff adieu
to me, and not a word or look for little Amalie,
who, aided by her brother, threw most affec
tionate kisses from her mittened fingers after i
the retreating figure.
I felt a sudden unconquerable dislike to this
woman; she was tall, stately, and beautiful, in |
a statuesque, heartlesa way, but I knew there
was no more tenderness in her than there was
blood in her velvety cream-like complexion.
“Who is that lady ?” I asked of the footman,
when she was out of hearing.
“Madame Elizabeth, of Beroldstein, tho wife
of the late duke’s younger brother. She would
be duchess now if it were not for this little
man”—gently touching Roderic’s curly hair.
“ They say her mind is sometimes astray, and I
believe the gossips are right.”
In feature,, carriage, and gesture she was
much more the high-born dame than was the
amiable mother of the two children in my
charge, and it seemed afterward to me as if
Madame Elizabeth protested silently against
tho fate that had not elevated her to the place
which she would have adorned so well.
“Has Madame Elizabeth any children?” I
asked.
w ¥ea, two boys; but they cannot be Dukes
of Beroldstein unless misfortune overtakes my
young master, which Heaven forbid 1 Madame
Elizabeth cannot become reconciled to the fact
that her husband is only the second son.”
The dislike I had conceived for the new
comer only increased on nearer acquaintance;
she had come lor a visit oi some weeks, per
haps months, to the castle, and I noticed that
without exception the older servants ot the
place either spoke ill of her or never mentioned
her name.
“She is one of tho beautiful demons that one
hears about in tho stories ot my country,” re
marked Frau Benner, with a shake of her head.
“But one should not judge her too harshly;
she lived all her youth in a lonely part ot Rus
sia, with no mother to guide her, and under the
influence of a father who was none too saintly.”
Shortly after this my attention was taken up
by an event much more interesting to me than
the intrigues ot tho Von Beroldstein family.
Charlie, my lover—bless his faithful heart! —
had, by dint of persistent search, obtained a
position in a bank at Trier, a trifling distance
by rail from Beroldstein, and had installed
himself in that town. The delightful knowledge
ot a true friend and protector being near at
hand gave the world a wonderful brightness
for me, and even little Amalie began a baby-at
tempt at repeating the simple home tunes
which from sheer lightness oi heart I sang in
her ears all day.
To see each other again was happiness enough
for Charlie and me, and we found no time dur
ing our brief meetings to mourn that the pros
pect ot our beginning lite together was still in
the dim future. I had a most trustworthy mes
senger for my innocent communications to
Charlie in the person of an Alsatian nursemaid,
Lisette by name, who declared herself ready
and anxious to serve me by every means in her
power. Iler attachment dated from an occasion
when I had shielded her from a severe repri
mand. She had carelessly allowed little Rod
eric to play with a dog known to be fierce, and
the little fellow had been bitten just below the
knee—only a slight wound, but enough per
haps,to causejthe girl’s dismissal, if discovered.
Yiith a little foietbought, J an-anget) to dress
NEW YORK DISPATCH, JULY 26, 1885.
and undress Roderic for a few days, so that tho
wound would not be noticed, and neither Lis
ette nor I ever called attention to the three lit
i tie scars left on the baby’s round white leg.
: Lisette repaid me by accounting, most ingeni
ously, for my brief absences with Charlie.
*******
1 Little Roderic had been slightly ill with some
childish malady, and for a few nights I had
slept beside his bed, until, at the urgent re
quest of Madame Elizabeth, I went to take un
disturbed rest in my own room. I wondered at
her solicitude, lor she was usually selfishly in
different with respect to the comfort of others.
Rather unwillingly 1 resigned my care of Rod
eric to a rosy-faced country maiden who prom
ised faithfully to keep a vigilant eye on the
young duke.
In the early gray of the following morning I
was awakened from a sound sleep by an up
roar in the house, at the thought of which I
still shudder. Cries and lamentations sounded
from the children’s apartments, and, rushing to
the spot, I saw the duchess on her knees be
fore Roderic’s bed, with a group of frightened
servants gathered near her, the one who had
been left in charge of the baby, moaning and
calling on the name of all the saints, her face
ghostlike with terror.
“In Heaven’s name, what is the matter?” I
cried.
“ Look !” was all the duchess could utter,
pointing to a little form moving uneasily on the
pillows.
Instead of tho beautiful sleeping cherub that
I had kissed only a few hours before, a terrible
face, purple and distorted, with wild eyes, and
limbs rigid with suffering, lay before me.
“ When did this happen ?” I asked, with a
shaking voice, seizing with a grip like iron the
arm of the nursemaid Lottchen.
“ The Holy Mother forgive me,” the girl be
gan, “ for the five short minutee that I dozed 1
His young lordship was sleeping like one of the
Messed angels, or I should not have given way.
As I opened my eyes, I glanced toward the
door, when—the saints defend mo !—I saw the
long trailing garments and ghostly form of the
White Lady disappearing in the darkness 1 My
voice was gone with fright, or I should have
screamed. As the life came back to me, I look
ed at the bed and saw the awful change that
had come over the young master. Oh, Frau
lein, am I to blame because the White Lady
stole away his health and beauty in her death
kiss ?”
The girl fell upon her knees in a paroxysm of
grief, and I could understand no more of her
incoherent exclamations.
The whole scene was so weird and shocking
that it seemed as if my senses were leaving me.
Every possible remedy had been tried for the
child, who was evidently dying. The whole
household had been aroused; but Madame
Elizabeth had not yet appeared on the sorrow
ful scone. I inquired where ehe was; but no
one seemed to know. Before the physicians,
for whom servants had been dispatched in all
directions could arrive, tho baby had breathed
his last. One could not help a feeling of relief
that his sufferings were over, and no one
seemed able to realize fully the great loss that
the Ducal House had sustained.
The doctors confessed themselves completely
baffled, and unable to account for the sudden
and fatal turn of the child’s apparently slight
illness. The story of the White Lady and her
deathly kiss was firmly believed in by the ser
vants, and among the more responsible mem
bers. of the household it seemed to gain cre
dence.
The whole occurrence seemed 4o me mon
strous and impossible, and I half believed it all
a horrible dream; but there was the dead child
before me—a sad reality. Late in the afternoon
I had stolen in unknown to every one and stood
before the bed where he lay. As I looked at
the quiet, rigid form, the conviction seized me
with a strange force that this child was not the
heir of Beroldstein—treachery might so easily
exist where misfortune was traced io super
natural influence."
The little face, marked and drawn ac if from
a burn, gave no idea of how the child had
looked in health-the limbs seemed the same,
and the light curling hair was like Roderic; but
still my eyes were dry, and I could not mourn
over this mysterious changeling. Something
within me.rebelled against the mockery of the
ducal coronet and lace adorning the death
bed of a poor little .stranger.
I told no one my suspicions—l had, ala<,>no
proof!—and, to liill my excitement, I went out
into the gathering darkness, paying little hoed
to the distance I walked. At last, feeling
weary—l was miles away from the castle—l was
about to return, when I saw a light glimmer
ing from a cottage window within a few steps
from where I stood. I was surprised to find a
house in that lonely spot, for I had been told
that that portion of the moort&nds was too low
lying and barren for human habitation. As the
idea of a short rest was not unwelcome, I
looked through the thinly-cnrtaincd window,
and saw that a tall dark woman bending over a
steaming saucepan on ihe stoue and a little
child in ragged aiothes making friends, with a
shaggy dog were ithe only occupants of the
room.
I was about to make my arrival known, when
a second 1 ok at tlw child, whose face was
turned full toward the window, made me pause
suddenly. Was I dreaming, or were ‘those
really little Roderic’s blue eyes looking up
with the frank wide open gaze that 1 knew so
well ? The so:t golden curls had been cut off,
and the coarse rustic clothes wore a good dis
guise; but I knew my young charge too well to
be deceived.
Like a madwoman, I flew hack ever the long,
dark road to the Schloss. It was not safe to let
my investigation go further alone, so I seized
on the first servants I found—Max, the coach
man, and the maid, Lisette, whom I had be
friended— and, ghing them a hurried account
of what I had seen, 1 led them back to the lone
ly cottage.
We made our way in unceremoniously
enough. At ihe first glance the room seemed
vacant, and my heart sank, but the next mo
ment we discovered the baby asleep upon a
pillow in a dark corner.
The man gathered up the little bundle and
bore it to the light; the baby awoke and looked
with sleey, hazy eyes at the disturber of his
rest. Even then I saw no look of recognition
on the servants’ faces. Could I be mistaken ?
The thought was misery.
But, becoming fully aroused, the little child
sat up and held out his arms to me, claiming in
baby language an old friend.
“It is our young master—l have no longer
any doubt,” the man said, instinctively raising
his hat.
“ Look for the mark of the dog’s bite on his
knee, to make sure,” put in Lisette, trembling
with excitement.
I had not thought of this before, and was
thankful for the girl's suggestion.
As I expected, we found the three little prints
made by the dog’s teeth in tho baby’s tender
flesh.
At this additional proof of my darling’s iden
tity I fell upon my knees and sobbed for pure
delight, thanking from the depths of my heart
the mysterious Providence that had directed
my steps to the desolate cottage.
At that moment the woman whom I had seen
on my first visit entered the room, and tho look
of terror that came over her face at seeing us 1
shall never forget.
“ What—who ” she began, confusedly, but
Max interrupted her, bv saying, coolly:
“ We have come to relieve you of the care of
this child: he is needed at the Castle, where he
belongs,”
bulling the little boy into my willing arms,
he whispered a few words to me to the effect
that I was to go back with all speed and send
two or three men to relieve his guard over the
suspicious premises.
An hour later the Schloss Beroldstein was
the scene ot the greatest excitement. The news
spread like wildfire throughout tho whole neigh
borhood that th 9 young duke had been restored
from the dead.
I dressed little Roderic in hie own clothes,
gave him his toys on the hearthrug, and then
brought hie grief-stricken mother to look at the
pretty picture.
I ehall not attempt to describe how the house
of mourning changed to one of rejoicing. A
last but striking proof that the young heir had
returned was the unfeigned delight with which
little Amalie welcomed back her brother.
......
The dark woman of the cottage was put un
der arrest, and with very little hesitation made
a statement to the following effect:
She, Anna Freitschler, had come some weeks
before from Thuringia to Beroldstein with the
lady known as Madame Elizabeth. She had
brought with her her little boy, one year old—a
pretty child when in health, fair and blue-eyed,
but at that time much disfigured by illness.
The doctor had said that the child was too ill
to travel—that he might die any day—and she,
Anna, had not wished to make the journey;
but Madame Elizabeth had given her a large
sum ot money, with a promise of more, if
she would bring the child, and she, being a
poor widow, had hot been able to resist the
offer. She was required to give a promise to
live alone in the cottage that Madame Elizabeth
would choose for her, and to tell no one who
she was or whence she came. She did not
know for what reason she had been sent for, or
what purpose she was destined to serve; she
was only content that the promised money was
paid her at regular intervale. The baby grew
much worse, and became shocking to look at,
with its face like a scarlet mask. One night,
when Anna thought it very near its end,
Madame Elizabeth, dressed in white, came
alone and on foot to the cottage—her second
visit there that day. She seemed very much
excited, and said Anna must let her take the
child to the castle, where there was a great
physician who might perhaps cure him. The
woman was accustomed to obey, so she wrapped
the baby in a blanket and gave him to her.
Madame Elizabeth came again that night, very
late, still holding something in her arms.
“ They could not cure your baby—he is dead,”
she said, “ and I have brought you this child in
his place.”
And she laid in Anna’s arms a little boy not
unlike the one she had taken away. Madame
Elizabeth then gave her an astonishingly large
sum of money, and told her that she was to
prepare to go with the child back to Thuringia
as soon as possible, there to rear him as her
own, and she made her promise never to tell a
soul of the exchange that had been made.
Anna had no idea of the wrong she was doing ;
she had only blindly obeyed every order of the
mistress who had her completely in her power.
It was proved beyond a doubt that Madame
Elizabeth, disguised as “ a ghost,” had stolen
away the young heir of Beroldstein with the in-'
tent to secure the succession for her son, a
crime deserving bitter expiation. But a worse
punishment than the Jaw could jufliot
the miserable woman—she became permanently
insane, and in tho asylum, where she was kept
in close confinement, it was said that her mental
Bufferings were terrible.
For my efforts in restoring little Roderic to
his ancestral home I received a recognition
from th® duchess which made my union with
Charlie possible, without fear of want in tho
future.
humoFof the hour.
BY THE DETROIT FREE PRESS FIEND.
THE BORROWING FAMILY.
Tho borrowing family sent Jack over to Mrs.
Smith’s to borrow some vinegar.
“ Go Blow and speak politely,” they said, as
they gave him an empty bottle and their bless
ing.
Jack gave a rap or two, and Mrs. Smith
opened the door with a jerk.
“ What do you want now ?” she asked,
shortly.
Jack hemmed and hawed,
“Please, ma’am, I camefor—camefor—
cam ”
“ There isn’t a drop of camphor in the
house,” said Mrs. Smith, and slammed the
door.
As the boy tumbled off the stoop ho felt that
the look she gave him would have kept the
family in vinegar for a month.
THE FISH IN JONES’S NET.
The other night, after tho thunder-shower,
Jones dropped in on a neighbor and found
about a dozen people assembled.
“ Well, well, you look cheerful after such a
close call,” growled Jones, as he removed his
hat.
“ What close call ?”
“ Why, lightning struck the barn in the alley
not a hundred feet away.”
“Oh, dear I” said one of tho women, “but I
knew it all the time. One of my arms has been
numb ever since.”
“And it affected my foot,” said another.
“ And it set my heart to palpitating.”
“And my elbow has felt queer ever since.”
Every one in the room remembered to have
been shocked, and every one was thankful over
the narrow escape.
By-and-by a boy, who had been thinking
deeply, gushed out:
“ Why, there is no barn in the alley 1”
Amid the deepest silence everybody remem
bered this fact, and the boy clinched it with :
“And how could there be, when there iemo
alley 1”
Jones had lied, but so bird all the others.
WE WENT HOME.
“Now, then,” said the colonel, “here’s'the
rifleand there’s the alligator. Get down be
hind this log and take a dead rest and aim for
his eye.”
The reptile wasn’t over 100 feet away, -lying
on the shore of the lagoon to dry his scaly back.
If he had eyes they were shut, but I got down
with ihe determination to planta bullet-some
where back of the base of his great jaws.
“ Hold on 1” whispered the colonel, “ you
can’t hit nothing with the gun wobbling all over
the log. Steady, now 1”
I get my eye down to the gun and was fish
ing for the right spot, when the colonel broke
in with:
“ Great lands ! but see him shaking 1 If you
fire now the bullet will go clear over Baton
Rouge 1”
I aat «p and draw a long breath, and than got
down and pulled the trigger. I was etill pull
ing when the colonel whispered:
“ Well, I declare I but the gun isn’t cocked 1”
- I drew up the hammer and took another long
breath, and just then the alligator opened his
mouth litso the door of a shed and yawned as
naturally .as a human being. I looked at him,
instead of the sights, and the colonel nud“ed
me and said:
“ Say, I -don’t believe we loaded thatgun after
shooting at that buzzard 1”
He was right. We had to load it, and just as
we had finished the operation I detected a smell
of musk and heard a wallowing in the sand,
and, as we nose up, that blessed old reptile put
his fore feet on tho log to look over.
“Now give it to him I” shouted the colonel,
and I raised the gun and banged away. It was
a Winchester, and I banged again. The alli
gator looked at me in a puzzled way, and at the
third report he backed off and started for the
lake. Hollowed and opened a “leaden hail ”
-on him. Twice be-turned his head and gave
me a look of reproach, and as he was about to
enter the water, he put up his fore foot and
.wiped a tear from the corner ot his left eye. I
Lad grieved his feelings—intentionally and
maliciously insulted a crocodile who had, per
ihaps, been a philanthropist all his days.
“ Gimme that gun 1” said the colonel in a
husky voice. “ I brosght you out here to give
you a chance to kill an alligator, but I’ll be
hanged if I’ll be a party to any such conduct as
yours ! That ’gator has been shamefully treated,
and ha feels it, and ten to one if he doesn’t hold
mo responsible and give it away to every durned
reptile ip Louisiana. Let’s go home 1”
HORSEWHIPPING A MAN.
A woman about 30 years of age, and wearing
the look of a person bound and determined to
have blood, entered a saddlery store the other 1 "
day and asked to see some horsewhips.
“ I—ah—for a carriage ?” asked the man.
“ No, sir ! I want to horsewhip a man !”
“ Indeed—ah ! Then you want a rawnide ?”
“ Yes, and a good one.”
“ Certainly, madam. Our stock of rawhides
is large and well-selected, and each whip is fully
warranted. I—ah—that is—have you selected
a victim yet?”
“ That s my business, sir; and how much is
tho price ?”
“Seventy-five cents, madam; and I assure
you that I meant no offense. I was going to say
that a hard blow would draw blood.”
“I want it to 1” she muttered, as she cut the
air two or three times and then walked out.
She next appeared on the west side of the
Public Library, where her actions soon gave the
snap away to a dozen people.
By and by a dapper little man turned into
Farmer street from East Grand River, and the
woman at once braced up. Ho must have seen
her half a block away, but instead of showing
tho white feather he boldly approached. As he
camo within a few feet she flourished the whip
on high and squealed out:
“ Villain, I have you !”
“What is it?” he’coolly queried.
“You have slandered me, and I’m going to
horsewhip you 1”
“ Bah ! How have I slandered you ?”
“You told the people at the boarding-house
that I was extravagant, selfish, and a gossip,
and that my husband had threatened divorce.”
“Well?”
“Well, I am goingto publicly horsewhip you !
Villain, get ready for it 1”
“Pooh!” ho sneered. “When 1 have told
your husband that you were out riding with
Mr. ; and that you had a frog supper with
Mr. ; and that you were flirting on the ferry
boat with young ; and that you pass half
your time chinning with the avenue clerks, you
my have something to get up a row about. Good
day.”
She stood there and saw him walk off, and
half an hour later a small boy called on the sad
dler and said:
“ Say, mister, the lady says yer kin have tliis
’ere whip for fifty cents.”
“Did she use it?”
“ Naw I She came home and rubbed the paint
off her face and got out of her- tight shoes, and
I heard her say it wasn’t a good day for usin’
rawhides. I guess the hose wouldn’t stand it.”
WAYLAYING A GROCER.
One afternoon not long ago a very innocent
looking, middle-aged man entered a grocery on
Michigan avenue, bought a nickel’s worth ot
tobacco, and suddenly began laughing.
“What’s happened?” queried the astonished
grocer.
“ Say, I’ve got a friend who roosts on the top
limb of American history. What he doesn’t
know about the Revolutionary war isn’t worth
knowing, and he’s mightily glad to air his opin
ions on every possible occasion. Say, I’ve got
him dead to rights 1”
“How?”
"We got to talking about Lord Cornwallis
the other day, and he said the surrender was
on the 17th of the month. I said the 27th. We
disputed and got hot, and I’ve been over to the
Public Library to settle the matter. I’ve got
tho date in this book, and now I’m going to get
a bet of $lO ont ot Jim. Hello, there 1”
At that moment his friend entered the store,
and the first comer at once said:
“ Bay, Jim, do you stick to the 17th ?”
“Of course.”
“How much?”
“ Any sum you like.”
“ Well,” said the first, as he winked at the
grocer, “ I don’t mind going $5 even up.”
“ And I'll take the same,” said the grocer.
The S2O was handed to the shoemaker next
door, and the grinning grocer rubbed his hands
and remarked:
“All right. Open your book and paralyze
him.”
.. The book was opened. The man ran his fin
ger along the lines to a stop, rubbed his eyes,
held up the book a little, and finally said:
“ Here, grocer, what does it say ?”
“It says, ‘There was no escape, and on the
17th Lord Cornwallis surrendered.’ Hang it 1
vou said it was the 27th 1”
“ Yes, I know, but I must have got itmixed.”
“ I’ll take that $20,” said the student of his
tory, as he reached out his hand.
He got it, and the two skinned out.
The grocer sat down in a tub of onions to
think it over, and when he became satisfied
that it was a gum-game to beat him, and that
the two men were confederates, he rose up and
kicked a dozen washboards sky high and
marked the price of strawberries up four cents
per quart .
THAT BABY.
A VERY MUCH SURPRISED YOUNG
MAN.
(From the Boston Herald.)
A young man residing at rhe Highlands, hav*
ing succeeded in saving quite a sum of money,
resolved one evening last week to go in quest of
amusement. He found it, and reached home in
the early hours oi the morning in an inebriated
condition. After he had been in bed a short
time he was rudely awakened from his slum
bers, only to discern by his bedside the stern
visage of his father.
“ Where is the child you have secreted in this
room ?” the latter asked.
By this time thoroughly aroused, partly by
astonishment caused by the question, he fal-
“ What child ?”
“ There is no use denying it,” replied the old
gentleman, “ I distinctly heard the voice of a
small child coming from this room.”
At that instant the voice of a baby, ooming
directly from the side of the young man, was
heard. Horror-struck, he quickly turned down
the bed-clothes, when the form of a child about
six months old was brought to light. The old
gentleman, alter inquiring about his son’s
whereabouts the previous evening, sent the in
fant to the home on Chardon street. The young
man, it may be said, was unmarried, and was
ignorant as to the manner in which he obtained
the child, but had a faint recollection of placing
something in bed upon his arrival home. He
has left off drinking, having signed the pledge.
He says that it is bad enough to see snakes
when he gets drunk, but when he finds himself
in possession of a baby, then it is time to'leave
off drinking.
UNCLE IKE’S’TROUBLE.
HE CANNOT INSTIL RELIGION
INTO HIS SON.
Uncle Ike Green was passing a white-wash
brush over the surface of a board fence on Bt.
Charles street, when Elder Samson Martin
oamo along, and said: “ How you do dis mawn
in’, Mister Green. I ain’t seed you in ’er long
time.”
“I’m jes’ poorly, thank yer, Brudder Martin,
but I’m still gettin’ round, an’ by de grace ’er
de lawd I manages to do tolerble well dese hard
times.”
“I’seglad to hear yon say dat, Mister Green,
but whar’s your boy ’Pete ? He ain’t been nigh
de Sunday-school fur de last two weeks.”
“De Lawd in heben only knows whar dat boy
is, Brudder Martin,” replied tho only man,
sadly, as he loaned his long brush against the
fence and took a seat on tho curbstone. “ Some
times 1 wakes ep in de night au’ moans ’bout
•dat boy, ’case I feels dat Satan has cotch ’im,
an’ dat his soul is gwineter drop in de fiery
lake. When dat boy wus fust born his mammy
sot her mind on his bein’ ’er preacher uf de
gospel, but jes’ soon as ho got ole enough to
play ’round de streets he took de notion in his
head dat he was gwineter be er barber ou er
steamboat. Not more’n er week ago I hears
’im goin’ round de house singin’,‘l’m er ram
blin’ gamblin’ man what roams de whole world
round.’ Jes’ as soon as I hears dat singiu’ I
goes out in de back yard an’ pulls ’er board ofPn
do chicken coop an’ ’monstrates wid Pete lor
more’n hour, but it don’t make no ’preesion on
’im. It was jes’ same as if you pours water on
’er duck.”
“Dat wus sorrerful, Mister Green,” said El
der Martin solemnly, “ pow'ful sorrerful, but
did you ’tempt to ’still ’ligion in dat boy’s heart,
Mister Green.”
“Yes, Brudder Martin, but Pete wouldn’t
have nullin’ to do wid Tigion. At de last ’trad
ed meetin’ what dey had at de Good Hope
Chapel, while Parson Ligo Smith was proachin’
’bout Judgment Day, Pete gits ’er mask what
looks like er skullerton, an’ sticks hie head in
de door and groans like 'er speerit, an’ half de
niggers in de church has fits, an’ Sister ’Liza
Wilson wus nigh kilt gittin’ out der winder,
’case her dress got cotch on ’er nail, an’ she
hung dar wid'her head pinted at de groun’,
kickin’ her heels an’ prayin’ de lawd to give
her more time. Parson Smith he flew out ’er
de winder back ’er de pulpit same as ’er bird,
an’ no one seed him ’til de next day, when be
sends word to my wife dat he was comin out to
my house dat night. You know dat my house
is back ’er Car’lton an’ dat you’se got to walk
’er foot-log cross de kinal ’fore you git dar.
Well, Pete he hears dat Parson Smith is coinin’
an’ he sneaks outer de house and greases de
foot-log wid soap, am’ de parson he cums ’long,
walkin’ mighty brisk, an’ jes’ soon as he tramps
on de log his feet flies up an’ he drape in de wa
ter. 1 hears de parson yellin’ an’ splashin’, ah’
runs whar he wus an’ gits on de log, an’ de fust
ting I knows I finds dat I wus in the same per
dickermint wid de parson, an’ bofe us would
been dar yit if Ben Johnson hadn’t come ’long
an’ fetched us ’er plank. When 1 got to de
house I took er cypress root and went huntin’
for Pete, but he warn’t dar. But I knowed he’d
been-triflin’ wid dat foot log, ’case ’fore he lef’
de house he had his lip stuck out an’ I s’picion
ed dat I see a mean look in bis eye.”
“Dat’s s’prisin’ to me, Mr. Green, mighty
s’prisinj,” remarked Elder Martin, with a sigh.
“It ’pears dat your boy Pete don’t have any
’’epect for people.”
“No, ear; dat boy don’t even ’spect his own
parents, ’case one Sunday I sat out in front er
de house in de sun an’ drapped to sleep, an’
Pete sees mo dar an’ takes er han’ful er cuckle
burrs an’ troes ’em up in my ha’r. You knows,
Brudder Martin, dat when er cullud pusson gits
er euekle burr in his ha’r, dars’s no use tryin’
to git it out 'ceptin you shear de ha’r off. Dat’s
’zaetly what I had| to do, an’ de flies dey pester
me monstrous, jes’ as true as I’se born.”
“All dat you’se got to do, Mr. Green, is to
bear de burden an’ true’ in de Lawd, an’ sing
an’ pray. Dat boy Pete is miratin’ round now
mighty biggetty, but torment is gwineter reach
’im, an' every time he makes you mean he
pierces Jesus’s side.”
The words seemed to afford the old darkey a
great deal of comfort, and, bidding Elder Mar
tin good day, he picked up his whitewash brush
and resumed bis work in a thoughtful way.
A STAGE RIDE.
THE WARMING-UP A WESTERN
JEHU EAVORED HIM WITH.
Senator Sherman enjoyed a break-neck ride
down Siskiyous Mountain on his stage journey
between Eedding and Roseberg, Ore. The
Ohio statesman had pre-empted a seat with the
driver to get a better view of the splended
scenery on that elevated divide. The pace
from the summit was a tearing one, and the
steep, narrow grade made the ride appear par
ticularly hazardous. The Senator suggested
that he could view things better at a slower
gait.
“ Got to make time,” replied the Jehu, brus
quely.
“ I assure you that I am in no hurry at all,”
exclaimed John, casting his eyes down the pre
cipitous, crooked roadway.
“ But I am,” retorted the reckless whip as he
let the nags out another notch.
Sherman was scared. He had reason to be.
Others had been scared before him, and more
are sure to find themselves in the same fix. A
second later: “ Driver, pull up. I just as
leave—in fact, I prefer to walk down this
place.”
“No you don't, Senator. I’ve got three
minutes to reach the valley, and I’m going to
make it or break a log.”
The lively six-broncho team sped recklessly
ahead, Sherman holding on with might and
main.
Turning a sharp curve, the swing-pole sud
denly snapped. For a few moments things
looked squally. A single lurch might send the
coach over a 300 feet precipice.
“ Keep your seat,” cried the Jehu, who, with
brake and reins, quickly brought his team to a
standstill.
A little later Sherman was holding the lines,
his foot braced on the “ holdback,” while the
driver was down among the cattle splicing the
broken swing bar.
All was in order again presently, and the
Senator, reassured as to the entire safety of the
twelve-mile-an-hour canter down a forty-five
pitch grade, kept his place to the bottom with
out a quiver.
Thinking it over now, Sherman says it was
the most exhilarating stage ride he ever ex
perienced, and he wouldn’t mind making the
trip overland from California a second time,
just to take in that interesting piece of Star
Route expediting down the Siskiyous.
effecFoFdiscipline.
AN INCIDENT OF THE REBELLION.
: F
(From ihe Chicago Inter-Ocean.}
While Andy Johnson was Military Governor
of Tennessee, the inadvertent playing of
“Dixie” by a lady, led up to what was called a
riot. Listening to the jingling of “Dixie” on
the piano, a soldier made an uncomplimentary
and offensive remark, and was immediately
knocked down by a citizen. The soldier recov
ered and proceeded in quick time to bounce
the citizen. Other citizens rallied and the sol
dier called lor help. A dozen men in blue
went into the fight and reinforcements came to
the other side. The provost guard interfered
and arrested the refractory civilians. They were
overpowered by the crowd and driven to shel
ter. "The crowd swelled to thousands aud be
came riotous. For an hour it held possession
of the street for two or three squares, and it
seemed that the serious trouble so often
prophesied was coming. There was intense ex
citement in the city, and one of the regiments
stationed near was ordered to the scene of the
riot. This was one of the oldest and one of the
finest regiments in the service.
The regiment came down the cross street at
platoon front and at a double quick. The
steady, firm, quick step on the stones of the
street had a queer effect on the rioters. They
listened in quiet, and when the first platoon
wheeled with splendid precision on to the
street occupied by the crowd, the civilians in
front gave back without a word. On came the
soldiers and back went the rioters, until those
in the rear stopped the way, and the more dar
ing began to throw stones. The platoons went
suddenly into line and the command closed up
at company front, the noses ot the men in the
front rank almost touching the noses of the
rioters. The only word of audible command
had been “ halt,” and when this was given, the
soldiers stood at a shoulder, seemingly intent
only on having their lines straight. They
seemed to ignore the disorderly mass in front
until the voice of the officer in command thun
dered out, “A’tent shun.’- They listened quiet
ly to the instructions, which were to fire one
volley and then clear the street with the bayo
net, and at the word every rifle was at a ready.
Then the officer spoke to tho crowd, and in two
minutes ths street was clear and not a shot was
fired.
The Bird’s Answer —Last autumn a
book-seller named Meyer, ot Ronneburg, Ger
many, tied a waterproof label under tho wing
of a swallow, which had occupied a nost at his
house and had become comparatively tame. On
it he wrote a query in German, to the effect that
he wished to know where the swallow would
pass the Winter. The bird returned to its
former nest, bearing an exchange label simil
arly fastened, saying, in German also : “In
Florence, at Castellan's house, and I bear many
gaUWufc”
Pferdlawo IWto.
Extraordinary Hallucination. —Male
branche, a celebrated philosopher of the seven
teenth century, was for a long time the victim
of a singular notion. He fancied that he had an
enormous leg of mutton attached to the end of
his nose. A friend would shake hands with
him and inquire, “ How is M. Malebranche to
day?” “Pretty well, on the whole; but this
horrid leg of mutton is getting quite unbearable
by its weight and its smell.” “ What 1 This
leg of mutton?” “Yes. Can’t you see it hang
ing there in front ?” If the friend burst into a
laugh, or ventured to deny the existence of the
strange phenomenon, Malebranche would get
angry. At length a colleague of his, a man
gifted with a sense of the humorous, determined
to cure him by some means or other. Calling
upon him one day, he affected to perceive the
cause of his trouble and inquired about it. The
imaginary patient, overcome with gratitude,
ran to embrace this first believer, who, stepping
backward, uttered a cry “ What! Have I hurt
you, my friend I” “ Certainly; you have run
your leg of mutton into my eye. I really can
not understand why you have not tried to get
rid of that awkward appendage long since. If
you will allow me with a razor—an operation
performed without the slightest danger ”
“My friend, my friend, you will have saved
my lite ! Oh 1 Ah I Oh 1” In the twinkling of
an eye the friend had slightly grazed the tip of
his nose, and, producing from under his cloak
a splendid leg of mutton, he flourished it
triumphantly in the air. “ Ah,” exclaimed
Malebranche, “ I live, I breathe ! My nose is
free, my head is free ! But—but—it was a raw
one, and this one is cooked 1” “ Why, of
course; you have been sitting for an hour close
to the fire I” From this time Malebranche
ceased to be haunted by his leg of mutton.
Like the Tail of a Kite.—Mrs. John
White, living a few miles from Hawley, Pa.,
went out on the hills near her house two weeks
ago to look the huckleberry barrens over and
see what the prospect was for the berry season.
While standing at the side of an old road she
heard a rattlesnake sound its rattle immediate
ly behind her, and then felt a tug at the skirt of
her dress. She looked around quickly and saw
that a big rattlesnake had struck at her, and
that its fangs were fast in the bottom of her
dress skirt. Mrs. White started on a run for
home. The Bnake’e fangs were so securely fast
ened in the dress that the snake was carried
along. Mrs. White ran so fast that the snake
was whipped and tossed about like the tail of a
kite.
The distance to the house was a quarter of a
mile, and when Mrs. White reached her door
she was so much overcome by exhaustion and
fright that she fainted on the steps. Her daugh
ter ran to her assistance. When she saw the
snake, with its teeth fast in her mother’s drees,
she did not stop to investigate matters further,
but ran screaming to a neighbor’s half a mile
away. She supposed that the snake had bitten
her mother and killed her, and so announced
when she reached the neighbor’s.
A man ran back to Mrs. White’s. She had re
covered sufficiently to crawl into the house
The snake was still fast .in her dress, but was
dead. The thrashing on the stones and against
the ground that it had received had beaten the
life out of it. The snake was four feet long and
had seven rattles.
The Condition of Hindoo Women.—
A recent issue of the Times of India contains a
very remarkable letter which the editor vouches
for as genuine and unprompted. The writer, a
Hindoo lady, discusses the question of the so
cial status of Hindoo women, and gives a most
?athetic description of their miserable position.
'he wicked practice of early marriage has, she
declares, destroyed, the happiness of her life.
She adds : “Without the least fault of mine I
am doomed to seclusion. Every aspiration to
rise above my ignorant sisters is looked upon
with suspicion and interpreted in the most un
charitable manner. Our lawgivers, being men,
have painted themselves pure and noble, and
laid every conceivable sin and impuritv at our
door. If they are to be trusted, we are’a set of
unclean animals created for their special service,
and they, by right divine, can maltreat us at
will. The treatment which servants receive
from European masters is far better than
that which falls to the share of us Hindoo
women. We are treated worse than beasts. We
are regarded as playthings. The loss of mental
and physical freedom which a girl experiences
the moment she steps into her husband’s house
cannot be realized by Englishmen. She must
not sit or speak in the presence of her father-in
law or mother-in-law or any elder member of
their family; she must get up early, go to bed
late and work with the servants.” So the
writer proceeds through a long catalogue of
miseries.
Experiments With a Corpse.—Some
curious experiments were made on the decapi
tated head of Gagny, the murderer executed at
Troyes, fifteen minutes after its separation from
the trunk. The blood of a dog was infused
through the carotid artery, aud by titillating
the nerves the eyelids became contracted, and
movements were visible in the lower jaw.
These results were also obtained with the head
of Gamahut, Madame Balierich’s murderer,
but the doctors at Troyes experimented fur
ther. Electric currents were applied to the
nerves of the face, and caused mot on. The
trunk was then acted upon by the same forces.
The nerves of the hands were visibly affected,
and twenty minutes after execution the heart
was made to beat. This organ was found to be
clogged, owing, it is supposed, to the stoppage
of the circulation a few minutes before death.
The condemned man had, in fact, become livid
when brought face to face with the instrument
of death, and it was conjectured that the circu
lation stopped at that moment. The experi
ments were conducted by five medical men of
Troyes.
Could Not Forget.—A Pennsylvania
paper tells this story: Jim was a tame crow be
longing to the late George M. Doll, of Mill
Creek, Pa. As Doll lay in his coffin, Jim sat on
the lid, and gazed intently on his master’s face
through the glass cover. The bird followed the
orocession to the grave, hovering over the
iearse. Perched on a tree he watched the
burial, then flew upon the grave, uttering criee
of diStress. He took up his abode there. Mrs.
Doll had a little house built there for him. The
crow had learned to say “George,” Mr. Doll's
first name, and was continually calling forhlm.
Last Sunday, when Mrs. Doll went to visitor
husband’s grave, she found Jim lying dead by
the headstone. The bird had apparently died
of grief.
A Squirrel’s Home.—While repairing
a locomotive on the Mount Washington Itailway
the other day, the engineer found that the pis
ton rod would not work, and, on examination,
he discovered that the cylinder contained near
ly two quarts of cherry stones, deposited there
by a squirrel which had built its nest in the fire
arch. In going to the cylinder to deposit the
nuts, the squirrel had to pass through the
grates into the fire arch, through a flue to the
smoke arch, through the exhaust steam-pipe to
the steam-chest, and through the steam port
hole into the cylinder, traveling forty feet each
way.
A Double-Sided Illustration.—A fe
male teacher was on very intimate terms with
the male teacher in the same school. He was in
the habit of strolling into her room during the
recess, and chatting with the object of his affec
tions. His name was Smith. One day the lady
teacher endeavored to malto the class compre
hend the omnipresence of God. She explained
to them that God was everywhere. “Now, my
dear children, suppose you all go out of this
room, except myself, and I stay here. Am I
alone 1” asked the female teacher. “No,” ex
claimed one of the little girls; “ Mr, Smith
will bo with you.’’
The Great Mohamedan Feast.—Dur
ing the month of Ramadan no good Mussul
man allows a mouthful of food or drink to pass
his lips. But it does not discommode the Turk
at all. He simply reverses the order of things,
and sleeps day-times instead of nights. There
is no law against his eating at nights, and, it not
being good for work, he gives his waking hours
to pleasure, and the month, from sunrise to sun
set, becomes a vast carnival in all countries un
der Mohamedan rule.
The Horse-Shoe Superstition. —The
superstition connected with the horse-shoe is
supposed to have its rise in the halo which is
made to surround the heads of saints in pic
tures. In early times the halos were often
made of shiny metal, in the form which one
may see in old engravings. By degrees the
colors of the picture faded, leaving the metal,
which was shaped almost exactly like a horse
shoe.
IT IS
Safe to Take
Ayer’s Sarsaparilla, and those who use it
are always ready to say a good word in its
favor. Mrs. C. Johnson, 310 Hicks st.,
Broooklyn, N. Y., suffered greatly from
debility, and says: “ I did not think it was
in the power of medicine to produce such
a wonderful change as Ayer’s Sarsaparilla
has effected in my case. I feel that I have
entered a new life.” Mrs. E. R. Henry,
4th st., Lowell, Mass., writes: “ For years
I was badly afflicted with Salt Rheum in
my hands. My physician advised me to
try Ayer’s Sarsaparilla. I did so. The
result was perfectly satisfactory. . I have
more recently used it in my family with
equally pleasing effect. It merits al! that
is claimed for it. As a blood purifier
Ayer’s Sar
taparilla has ao equal.”
Prepared by Dr. J.C. Ayer & Co., Lowell, Mane., U. 8. A.
For sale Py ftU Druggists, price $1; for Wtj
nA R^ I ’ OIIMED Eiab.—Says the Council
Bluffs Herald: "There is a young man in this
city—a good-looking young fellow—who has a>
sweetheart out in the country a tew miles, and
he spends two evenings every week in her soci
ety. A few nights ago he staved till the usual
hour, and as he passed out the front door ha
discovered that it was cloudy and dark. Hs
did not relish the idea of driving alone through;
the gloomy night, and hinted about a good deal
to get an invitation to remain, but it was noft
forthcoming. But the young man was equal ta
the emergency. Going down the steps ho art
fully contrived to slip and fall gently to the
ground ; thereupon ho sot up a tremendous
groaning. The r ise worked admirably. Tha
girl screamed, the men folks jumped out of bed,
and carried the young man tenderly into tha
house. His horse was put up and ho was as
sisted to undress and deposited in the epara
chamber. He had hardly begun to chuckle oveir
the success of his stratagem when the girl’s
mother put in an appearance armed with a mus
tard plaster a foot square and ten-horse draw
ing power. This she immediately proceeded to
clap on the small of the young man’s back, where
he nad incautiously located the damage to hia
frame. For two mortal hours that woman sati
by the bod, and was not satisfied till she beheld!
with her own eyes a blister an inch deep, Thai
young man is now a reformed liar.
Fishermen’s Superstitions. —
anglers say that if a woman strides across thd
rod na trout will be caught that day. The fisher
men at Preston Pans, if on their way they meet!
a pig, at once turn back and defer their em
barkation; the evil bodes ill for their fishery.
In the Orkneys fishermen on going to sea wouldl
consider themselves exposed to imminent!
danger if by accident they turned their boat in
opposition to the sun’s course. It is also thought
a bad omen to turn the prow of a boat toward!,
the shore. They believe that for anyone to say
“Good luck” to them when starting is ominous;.
also that pins found in a chnrch and made inta
hooks get the best fish. Tackle, they say, stolen
from a friend or a neighbor, will secure better!
fortune than that bought with money—a
of larceny more profitable to the fisherman than
comfortable to his friends. The Cornish fisher
men have a superstitution that if a white hard
frequents the quays at night a storm will arise*
Sneezing, a potent omen in ancient days, ha<3
its potent for good or evil among seamen. A
sneeze on the left side at the moment of em«-
barking prognosticated evil, while a fortunate
sneeze on the right side insured a favorable
voyage.
Winfield Scott’s Chabming Wife.—J
Maria Mayo is said to have refused more than je
hundred suitors before she accepted General
Winfield Scott, who courted her when he was si
member of the Richmond bar as Mr. Scott.
After entering the army he continued hie ad
dresses, and was refused successively as Cap
tain Scott and Colonel Scott, and it was only as
General Scott, the victorious hero ot Lundy’,
Lane, that he at last won the band of the much
admired belle. Mr. William Henry Haxall, of
Richmond, relates that on one occasion he visited
Mrs. Scott soon after one of her trips to Europe.
He went in the evening at nine o’clock, and aftes
some time, when he thought he had paid a call
sufficiently long, he slyly looked at his watch,
and, to his amazement, found it was one
On his apologizing for the length of his visit.
Mrs. Scott assured him she never retired be
fore one or two o'clock, but she had no idea it
was so late, Mr. Haxall being one of the most
agreeable gentlemen she had ever met, when,
in fact, ho had not spoken a dozen words, but.
was a charmed listener to her interesting dev
scription of her travels abroad.
Mexican Widows and Orphans.—lf a
Mexican lady is widowed and has no means, a.
family council is held. Her male relatives or
those of her deceased husband charge them
selves with the education of her sons, and pro
vision is made for her and her daughters. Event
if the widow and young ladies should be accom
plished, they are not expected to work for their
bread. On the contrary, if a widowed niotben
is wealthy, she can not be independent. Custom;
exacts that the care ot her property and' th®
education of her sons shall bo delegated to mala
relatives, and, unless she is really an old
woman with adult children, she must either?
reside with her kindred or keep some staid,,
matronly person in her household byway of
protection against criticism or scandal! Mexican
gentlemen are so thoroughly imbued with tha
idea of womanly helplessness that they do no?
seem to regard the charge of a bereaved family
as an unnatural or an unjust burden, but accept
all the duties it involves as really sacred obliga
tions.
Must Lie Down to Rest.—Says ait
authority on horses : To a hard-working hors®
repose is almost as much a necessity as good!
food, but tired though he may be,, he is often
very shy to lie down, even when a clean bed is
provided for him. Unless a horse lies down
regularly, his rest is never complete, and his
joints and sinews stiffen; and while it is true
that some horses that sleep in a standing posi
tion continue to work for many years, it iff
equally true that they would wear much longer,
and perform their work much better, if they
rested naturally. Young, nervous horses no’t
infrequently refuse to lie down whan first mado
to occupy a stall, and, when introduced into e>
town stable, the habit may become confirmed,
unless inducements are offered to overcome tha
disinclination.
The “ Atlantis ” of the Ancients.—<*
Scientists generally agree that the “Atlantis ”o£
the ancients was an island of continental dimen
sions between the West Indies and the weak
coast of Africa, now buried beneath the waters
of the Pacific Ocean. Gigantic sculptured fig
ures are still to be seen upon Easter Island, ev
idently the work of a different race than that
which now inhabits the island, and one mucli
more numerous, eince the works referred to ars
on too large a scale to have been constructed!
except by many hands. The hieroglyphic tab
lets of wood discovered upon Easter Island are
the only instances of a written language ir s
Oceanica. The governments of France, Ger
many and the United States are now investigat
ing and exploring this island.
STyg, Book of Death.—The records of
Lih«BW»on are now in the Govern-'
o>ijpAdjfct’ Washington. They are in a>
ja?’’ IjlHl* inches thick, about three feek
fqet wide. Its paper is now yelt
Lpw with but the ink is as black as when ij
first ftom the pen. In the book more
thin 17,wp f, patients are entered, and the record
shows thatf about 15,000 of them left the hospital!
for the grave. Whole pages show that the pris
oners died on the same day of their entry to th<
hospital, and the diseases which are recorded
opposite their names are those of dysentery,’
etc., diseases which arose, beyond doubt, from;
the poor condition in which they were kept.
Jews in France.—According to statis
tics published by the Judische Press, there
were in Paris in 1789 barely 500 Jews. In 1806
the number had mounted to 3,000, in 1842 ta
12,000, in 1872 to 40,000 and at the present day*
the Jewish population is believed to exceed 50,-
000. In 1821 the French army had in its rank®
one Jewish genera), Baron Wolff; one chief off
battalion and three captains. In 1883 there
served under the French flag five Jewish gene
rals, five colonels, nine majors, twenty-five
heads of battalions, ninety captains, eighty-nine
lieutenants and 104 sub-lieutenants.
Thb Whipping-Post in New Hamp
shire.—The whipping-post bill, introduced in
the New Hampshire Legislature, provides thafc
any person who shall brutally beat his wife a
shall receive not less than ten nor more than
forty lashes, or be imprisoned in the county
jail not exceeding six months, or both, at th©
discretion of the court. The punishment shall
be publicly indicted in or near the jail yard by
the sheriff of the county in which the crime wao
committed, or by some deputy or officer design
Dated by him, the blows to be well laid on. Th®
fee is placed at sl.
Little four-year-old Josie has been
looking forward to a visit to the country this Sum«
mer. On hearing her mother read from a letter
that her cousin whose home she was to visit, had!
the valedictory at the high school graduating exer
cises she burst into tears. When questioned as ta
the cause of her grief, she sobbed : “Lillie has got
the val'dict ry and if I yo up there I know I shall
catch it.” She is expecting to go however and rum
the risk.
Nellie 8., a tliree-year old girl, was!
much interested in the procession when Barnum
was here, and a day or two after, when people at the
table were talking about it, she held up her hand?
to enforce silence, and broke out with: “Did you
see the umphants with their tails in thei<
mouths ?”
IT IS
Sure to Cure
any disorder that arises from impurities
existing in the blood. Even where no
particular disorder is felt, people live
longer, and enjoy better health, for puri
fying the blood with Ayer’s Sarsaparilla.
John W. Starr, Laconia, lowa, writes:
“Ayer’s Sarsaparilla is the best blood med
icine of the day. I was troubled with
scrofulous complaints for several years.
I took only two bottles of Ayer’s Sarsapa
rilla, and now feel like a new man.” A.
S. Pettinger, M. D., Glen Gardner, N. J.,
writes: “Ayer’s Sarsaparilla is an excel
lent alterative tonic, and in ail cases where,
such a remedy is needed I prescribe it.”
Mrs. H. M. Thayer, Hillside st., Milton,
Mass.,writes: “Ayer’s Sar
saparilla
is the best medicine I ever took.” -