New York dispatch. [volume], August 09, 1885, Page 6, Image 6

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

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6
PARTED.
BY BENJ. S. PARKER.
A white kerchief shaken afloat
By the tremors of one pretty hand.
And a boy with his heart in his throat
At the edge of the wave, on the sand.
She kisses her soft finger tips
To the sorrowing lad on the shore.
And her shallop goes out 'mid the ships.
But returns its fair burden no more.
The sun has gone down in the West,
And the winds and the sea are at peace.
But the lad stands and beats on his breast,
And his sorrow has never surcease.
There are cargoes, and sailors, and ships,
And the breezes blow in from the isles;
But alas 1 for two warm, ruby lips.
And two dimples that melt into smiles.
And alas I for the slight, fickle mind
" That forgets, amid flatterers and ease,
The brown country lao left behind,
With his yearning outreaching the seas.
UIS HEART’S DESIRE.
BY MRS. E. D. WHITNEY.
On a sultry evening in April, some six or
eight men were grouped round the doorway of
the Lynnford Arms.
They had stopped to chat with the landlord,
who was seated beneath the portico, with a tan
kard of good home-brewed ale on a little table
by bis side. , . ,
The men were talking in excited tones, and
conflicting opinions were expressed upon a sub
ject which seemed to be of all-absorbing inter-
“ Far be it from me to suspect or accuse a
Fellow-creature of crime,” said Mr. Bassett,
“but if it was not Mr. Parkhurst that mur
dered Mr. Greene, all I can say is, * Who was
it?’”
The speaker, having thus delivered himself,
surveyed the group with an air of complacent
satisfaction, as who should say, “ Gainsay’that
logic, my friends, if you can I”
His observation met with respectful silence.
Mr. Bassett was a farmer and landed proprietor
of good repute and substantial fortune, and had
been for many years exceedingly popular in the
little town of Lynnford, whither ho came nearly
every week to sell or purchase cattle. By the
simple townsfolk he was regarded almost as an
oracle, such an air did he possess of prophecy
and wisdom—so entirely did the views he ex
pressed on any and all subjects appear to be
based on the strictest impartiality and justice.
Other theories were advanced, and the con
versation went on in animated iaccents until at
length the host of the Lynnford Arms, who had
hitherto been a silent listener, slow’ly took his
pipe from his mouth, and laying it down on the
table, brought his fist down beside it.
“ No,” said he, firmly, “my friends, Mr.
Parkhurst never murdered that man. He i»
locked up for a crime that he never committed.
I don’t believe any jury would entertain the
idea of his guilt.”
The speech of the worthy host was likewise
received with deference. Being a man of few
words, anything that he said was naturally in
vested with considerable importance, and the
above remark was uttered with an air of convic
tion which could not fail to impress those who
beard it.
Soon the argument rested between the host
and Mr. Bassett, the other men being well con
tent to hear them discuss every incident which
could possibly have any bearing upon the sub
ject.
“ Appearances are against him, friend Hard
ing,” rejoined Mr. Bassett, addressing himself
to the landlord. “ This Mr. Greene came down
here to see Mr. Parkhurst on business. When
it was completed he started to take the night
express to return to London, and Mr. Park
hurst offered to walk with him to the station.
They left the ‘Beeches’ together, while Miss
Mildred stood on the piazza and watched them
until The trees of the avenue hid them from
sight. She was surprised to see her father re
enter the drawing-room after an absence of
thirty minutes, as every one knows it takes a
full hour to walk from the ‘ Beeches ’ to the
railway-station and back again. The next day,
before sunrise, the old gentleman is found mur
dered in the very lane where Mr. Parkhurst
says he parted from him, Mr. Greene having in
sisted upon his returning to his daughter when
he had seen him thus far on his way. Now. I
ask you, how can Mr. Parkhurst expect to bo
pronounced ‘ not guilty’ with such facts as these
staring him in the face ?”
“ Well, well,” replied Mr. Harding, “to-mor
row will show whether he is guilty or not. It
has boon a terrible blow to the poor young lady,
bless her innocent heart 1”
“Yes,” interposed another. “My wife went
up to the ‘ Beeches ’ yesterday morning to letch
the things for the Dorcas Society, and there was
Miss Mildred walking up and down the hall,
and stopping every now and then with clasped
hands and a white, scared face to look at the
great front doors, as though she was praying
for them to open and let in some reassuring
message or word.’'
“ Poor, winsome lass !” assented the kindly
host, “it is nearly five weeks since her father
was arrested and locked up, and they say she
has scarcely closed her eyes or tasted a mouth
ful of food from that day to this.”
The speaker gave a sigh, in sympathy with
the picture of human sorrow that he had just
been contemplating, and was about to raise his
tankard to his lips, when, happening to look up,
he hastily replaced it on the table, and, rising,
pushed back his chair to make way for a gentle
man who had been standing for a moment un
perceived, leaning against one of the columns
of the portico, who now advanced to enter the
house.
The other men, glancing up, raised their hats
and stepped respectfully aside.
“Pray don’t disturb yourselves, my. good
friends,” said the new comer, returning their
salutation with a stately and courteous gesture
as he passed by them.
He paused, however, on the threshold of the
little hostelry, and turned to the landlord, who
had followed him.
“Pardon me, my dear sir, but I have a fancy
for knowing who is this Mildred, whoso name I
heard mentioned among you?”
“Miss Mildred, my lord, is the only child of
Mr. Parkhurst, the gentleman who is accused
of murdering Mr. Greene.”
“ You seem to regard her very kindlv ?”
“ She is only sixteen years old, my lord, and
there’s not a man m this little town of Lynn
ford, but would have been glad to give up half
his wealth, it he could have saved the poor
child this trouble. She is as pretty as an angel,
and as good as she is pretty. They say she is
the living image of her dead mother.”
A gleam of interest hashed across the features
of the listener; his eyes grew dim with a mo
mentary tenderness, as though some bygone
dream of joy had returned unbidden to claim a
passing thought.
Htf made no reply, save to thank Mr. Har
ding for the information, and wishing him good
night, proceeded to his chamber, attended by
his servant, who had been standing motionless
&t the foot of the staircase.
The personage whom we have just intro
duced was none other than Lord Barrowes,
who had come, while on his circuit, to hold
court at Lynnford. The trial for muder was set
down for the Bth inst., and he had arrived on
the eve of that day.
His lordship was a man of distinguished
bearing and imposing presence. Generous, af
fable, high principled, he was universally ad
mired.
In person, Lord Barrowes was decidedly
handsome. About forty-five years of age, his
appearance would have led one to deem him
not less than fifty, so far removed was he from
all the follies and passions of youth, or those
which are to be seen at a much later period,
and his manner, which was conspicuously that
of “the old school,” contributed to this im
pression. In addition to this, his hair and
mustache were iron gray, and on his face were
deeu lines produced by profound study and
meditation.
But we must turn to contemplate a fairer
picture. While the kindly sentiments of the
townsmen were leading them to deplore the
sorrow which had fallen upon Mildred Park
hurst, that young lady was seated in a low
chair on the rose-embowered piazza of the
•‘Beeches.”
The tears rolled down her pale cheeks as she
thought of the morrow. The pleading voice
beside her was powerless to charm away her
grief, or to assuage it even for one moment.
And yet, Lionel Ashton was a man whom but
few maidens would have failed to smile upon.
The only son of a wealthy banker, young, hand
some, with unclouded prospects, he might,
without vanity, have ventured to hope that his
wooing might be successful.
But the beautiful face before him betrayed no
emotion, save the fears for her lather, which
almost consumed her heart. His ardent words
brought no blush to the cheek that resembled
the petals of a white rose.
“ uh, Lionel, hush 1” she murmured. “What
you ask is impossible. In this hour of sorrow
let me ieel that you are my friend. Come, with
dear Lady Ashton and Grade, to uphold me in
the ordeal through which I must pass to-mor
row. I never had a brother; let me find one in
you 1”
With a stifled sigh, be took her little hands m
his own, and pressing his lips upon them,prom
ised to obey her in ail things, and to always de
serve her iriendship.
Respect tor her distress held him mute, even
if he would have urged his suit, but something
in her manner forbade him to hope.
“Dear Mildred,” said Grace Ashton, as she
hastened up the steps and reached her friend’s
side, “do not fret. When I left you, a few mo
ments since, I strolled down as far as the gate.
While I stood there, Mr. Bassett came by and
stopped to speak to me. He says that Lord
Barrowes arrived this alternoon and put up at
the Lynnford Arms. All the men are charmed
with his kindly, sympathetic manner, and are
convinced that a gentleman so conscientious
and in. uential will never see the innocent con
demned. lon must be hopeful, Milly; 1 am
sifre no harm will come to your father. Who
knows ? Perhaps at this hour to-morrow we
may all be rejoicing over his release.”
Her che.erful words were not without e.fleet,
and, somewhat reassured, Mildred talked more
calmly ot the subject which was uppermost in
their minds.
Filially, as the night wore on and the clock in
the church tower rang out the hour ot ten, Lio
nel rose and took his departure, leaving his sis
ter seated with Mildred in the moonlit garden
where the toll traea wfito OftsL’ncr .fantastic shad-
owe on the silvery paths and the air was heavy
with the scent of honeysuckles and roses.
The Bth of April, which was the day set
apart for the trial of Mr. Parkhurst, rose clear
and bright. A gentle breeze relieved the at
mosphere, that on the previous evening had
sultry and oppressive.
Before 9 o’clock the little square in front of
the court-house was well-filled with those
whom both curiosity and kindly interest had
drawn thither, to await the events of the occa
sion, while all those who could claim the right
to a place within the hall of justice, did not fail
to avail themselves of the privilege.
Precisely at 10 o’clock the Judge took his
seat upon the bench, the various officers of the
court having already proceeded to the per
formance of their respective functions.
The room was crowded to its utmost limits,
and amid the dead silence which had suddenly
fallen upon the whispering multitude, the
prisoner was called to the bar.
Several cases were set down for the same
day, but precedence was given- on the calendar
to that of Benjamin Hibbert Parkhurst, whom
the coroner’s jury had found guilty of murder
in the first degree.
The man who appeared in answer to the
summons, looked strangely out of place in the
felon’s dock. The stately form and noble
countenance seemed better fitted to grace the
foremost ranks of chivalry and honor.
So thought Edward, Lord Barrowes, as he
raised his head from the perusal of some
papers on his desk, to look upon the prisoner.
But the latter was apparently indifferent to
every object save one. His eyes had
sought and quickly found the being who was
all the world to him, and while his gaze rested
upon her with tenderness unspeakable, the
Judge followed its direction.
His regard encounters a pale, beautiful face,
which he sees only in profile. What is it that
causes him to start and tremble ? Whence
arises this strange emotion that obscures his
vision and oppresses his breath? The color
mounts to his cheek, the radiance of love, the
witchery of passion cast their golden beams
across the silence of years, and, tearing aside
the mask of indifference, belie the staid expres
sion that his features have worn. He con
tinues to gaze, unheeding, upon the girlish
form, his agitation becoming perceptible to all,
when the voice .of the Prosecuting-Attorney
rouses him at length from his reverie.
Recalling the onerous duties of his position,
Lord Barrowes recovers his composure. More
from the force of habit than by any successful
effort of his own, his attention is slowly with
drawn from the spiritual loveliness of Mildred
Parkhurst and centred upon the case which is
being argued before him.
After briefly stating the events that had led to
the arrest and indictment of the prisoner at the
bar and setting forth the facts which clearly
pointed to him as the author of. the crime, the
learned counsel called his witnesses. They
consisted of two villagers, who testified to hav
ing met Mr. Parkhurst.walking in the direction
of the railway station, with the late Mr. Greene,
at a quarter past nine on the night of the mur
der, and Mr. Parkhurst’s man servant, who
stated that the two gentlemen had left the
Beeches together at nine o’clock on the evening
in question and that at half-past nine his master
had returned alone. The villagers further re
marked that the prisoner and his companion
were talking in excited tones; they might have
been quarreling; the witnesses could not say.
The defense was brilliant and forcible. One
of the most eminent lawyers ot the day had
been retained in behalf of Mr. Parkhurst, and
his eloquence found its way to the hearts of tne
hearers and established in the minds of many
the firm conviction of his client’s innocence.
At length the counsel for the prosecution rose
to make bis final remarks. Having shown, with
considerable elaboration, that Mr. Greene must
have met his death at the hands of Mr. Park
hurst, he asserted, in conclusion, that the cir
cumstantial evidence was sufficient to hang the
prisoner.
A shudder ran through a slender form—a
childish face grew deathly white. With a kind,
motherly touch, Lady Ashton took the little
hand within her own. Otherwise, all was still.
It now remained lor the case to be given to the
jury. ‘ „
The judge paused longer than was his wont;
as though loth to perform the task that was to
him an almost daily occurrence. But it could
not be avoided, and with the violet eyes of Mil
dred Parkhurst fixed upon his features, Lord
Barrowes commenced, in impressive tones, to
instruct those from whose lips would proceed
the verdict which would be to her either life or
death.
“If,” continued his lordship, “ upon carefully
weighing the evidence, you find established the
elements necessary to constitute willful mur
der, then it will devolve upon the court to im
pose the penalty provided by the law. If on the
other hand, after due consideration, such ele
ments appear to you to be absent, then you will
render a verdict of not guilty.” Here the voice
of the speaker grew solemn, and the spectators
could see that he was passionately in earnest.
“But,” ho added, “ I charge you to pause and
consider the gravity of the decision which rests
with you to pronounce. The life of a fellow
creature—nay, even more than that—hangs upon
your words. Better were it a thousand fold
that the dead should remain forever unavenged
than that, through the erring perception of hu
man wisdom, the innocent should be con
demned.”
As he concluded the counsel exchanged
glances of amazement. Never bad they heard
the celebrated Justice display such undisguised
partiality, and their wonder was great.
But his words had been prompted by feelings
that they dreamed not of—feelings that swayed
his will, and rose above his sense of duty;
The jury retired.
Once more Lord Barrowes let his eye wander
to the fair face which was again turned away
from him. Whence came this vision of former
days? Had his early love returned—the Mil
dred whom in bygone years he had worshiped
and lost? it was the same exquisite form ; the
features were the same in their delicate beauty;
only lovelier, younger than before. He had.
adored her; but the priceless jewel of her love
had been given to another.
Memories of those golden days flocked around
him, and the moments flew by unheeded. The
silence was becoming painful and oppressive,
and when the instant arrived which was fraught
with such terrible significance, it brought the
feeling of relief that always seems preferable to
suspense.
The jury, having been absent some twenty
minutes, filed slowly into the box.
The prisoner, who throughout the proceedings
has maintained a calm and dignified mien, now
looks at his daughter as though seeking to im
part to her seme of his own dauntless courage.
But she is unconscious of his gaze. The room
seems to swim before her eyes, a tumult like
that of a surging sea resounds in her ears;
faintly, as though borne from o’er the distance,
she hears the voice of the judge putting the
dread question to the foreman, and as the latter
opens his lips to reply, she is dimly aware of
some confusion near the door of 'the court
room.
Two men enter hastily, accompanied by a po
lice officer; there is a brief whispered colloquy,
and then the clerk of the court advances toward
the bench, holding in his hand a black leather
pocketbook.
All who are present bend forward to look;
they hold their breath to listen. The excite
ment is intense. The proceedings are sus
pended at the most critical point, while the in
terruption is explained, as follows:
The previous day, at sunrise, some laborers
going to their work, had discovered in a field
on the outskirts of the town, the lifeless body
of a man.
With all possible haste they informed the po
lice. Inquiry was instituted throughout the
neighboring towns and villages, and it was
promptly ascertained that a tramp answering
the description of the deceased, had been seen
from time to time during the past six weeks
roaming about in the vicinity of first one vil
lage and then another.
He was a suspicious looking character, and
many persons had refused to give him shelter.
In some places, however, he was seen to have
money in his possession, when he paid for food
and lodging.
But finally, he had recourse to begging; then
it must have been that, homeless and starving,
he had died from exposure and want.
The body was identified, and upon examina
tion, heart disease was pronounced the imme
diate cause of death.
At the command of Lord Barrowes, the arti
cles found upon the person of the deceased vag
abond were produced.
They consisted of the pocketbook already
mentioned, and a silk handkerchief stained with
blood. In the former were discovered a num
ber ot cards and documents which were quickly
recognized as the property of the late Mr.
Greene. In one corner of the latter was em
broidered the monogram H. W. G.
In due form the case was dismissed. The
man who had been so unjustly suspected and
wrongfully accused, stepped down from his in
congruous position, while the occupants of the
court-room pressed round him en masse, shak
ing his hands and offering their congratula
tions. Foremost among them was Mr. Bassett,
striving to atone for the suspicions he had en
tertained, by his outspoken and sincere re
gard.
There was only one who knew naught of what
was passing; one voice which was silent amid
all the rejoicings. Mildred lay insensible in
Lady Ashton’s arms.
» * * » »
Beneath the roof of the Beeches glad and
thankful hearts are beating.
Upon the termination of the proceedings in
court, Lord Barrowes accepted the cordial invi
tation of Mr. Parkhurst, and consented to trans
fer his belongings from the Lynnford Arms to
more comfortable quarters within the elegant
and hospitable mansion, having allowed him
self to be persuaded to prolong his visit for an
other twenty-four hours.
Mildred’s swoon was not of long duration, but
wearied with excitement and anxiety, she re
tired to her room immediately upon reaching
home.
It is nine o’clock, and the impromptu dinner
party is over. Several of the neighbors, among
whom of course are the Ashtons, have been in
vited to meet Lord Barrowes on this happy oc
casion.
The gentlemen having joined the ladies in the
drawing-room, the sound of rippling laughter
and the murmur of pleasant conversation are
once more echoing through the spacious apart
ments and being wafted out upon the fragrance
of the summer night.
The distinguished guest and his host are
standing near an open window, talking not only
of recent events, but of days long past, when,
becoming aware Qf a sudden silence, followed
NEW YORK DISPATCH, AUGUST 9, 1885.
by a suppressed murmur of astonishment, they
look up.
Advancing gracefully toward them is Mildred.
But how changed since the morning I A few
hours’ repose have restored the roses to her
cheeks. Her eyes are radiant with gladness,
her lips are parted with a sweet, shy smile.
She has planned this little surprise for her
father, who has not expected that she would feel
sufficiently recovered to appear.
Clothed in an evening dress of soft clinging
white cashmere, with pearls wound round her
fair neck and arms, and white carnations in her
hair and on her breast, she passes by her
guests, acknowledging their presence with a
simple courtesy, and goes straight to Lord Bar
rowes.
Placing both her little hands in his, she
glances up into his face with humid eyes.
“Oh,” she asks softly, “how can I ever
thank you?”
He gazes fondly on the lovely upturned fea
tures, as he answers.
“ What have I done, my dear child, to merit
such kind words?”
“You have saved my father.”
“ But have you not heard ? Did they not tell
yOU ”
“Yes. Lady Ashton told me all that hap
pened,” sher interrupts, “ but Lionel ascer
tained what the verdict would have been, and
our deepest gratitude will always be due to
you, my lord. Appearances were against my
dear father, and your noble words influenced
every one in his favor.”
The little hands are still clasped in his. He
looks at her in speechless admiration. Her
voice touches a chord that has for years been
silent. Moved by an irresistible impulse, he
bends over her.
“Mildred,” he says, in tones trembling with
emotion, “your father tells me that your
mother’s portrait hangs in his study; he has
given me permission to see it. Will you be my
guide ?”
Wondering, vaguely agitated by his manner,
she assents, aud laying her hand lightly on his
arm ; leads him from the room.
His heart is beating almost to suffocation.
Upon this moment he has staked the one hope
of happiness that life can ever hold lor him.
Ho knows that he is precipitate, rash, but he
will not hesitate.
As they pass down the long corridor, she
glances up at him with sweet, shy grace. She
does not speak, however; not for worlds would
she intrude upon his silence; her youthful
imagination has surrounded him with a halo of
nobility and heroism; all the latent romance
and ardor of her nature are merged into the
tender reverence with which she regards him.
Entering tho study, they stand before the por
trait of Mildred’s mother, where it gleams fair
and bright amid the dark plush hangings.
Lord Barrowes silently gazes upon it, and the
girl beside him feels his arm tremble.
Presently he turns to her, taking both her
hands in his, as before,
“ Mildred,” he says, in a low, impassioned
tone, “hear me. I loved your mother as lew
women are ever loved. She did not return my
affection, but no other being has effaced her
memory from my heart. When I saw your lace
the buried love rose again—the intervening
years were forgotten. My youth returned, with
its hopes and aspirations; the sweetness of an
unconquerable idolatry resumed its scarce-in
terrupted sway, and my earthly path was again
illumined with the radiance that is but a fore
taste of heaven.”
The slender form before him is quivering like
the aspen. He draws her closer to him, and
raises the beautiful, agitated face to his own.
“My darling,” he continues, “it is early, I
know, to tell you tins, but I love you. I hold
you enshrined in my heart as no other woman
has ever been, save one. Mildred, lor her dear
sake my life has been desolate. Oh, tell me,
child, will you consent to fill that vacant place ?
Wil you Ie my own—my wife?”
The violet eyes are dim with unshed tears as
she glances up at him in mute surprise.
“ Remember,” he adds, gently, “ihe love that
I offer you is not the growth of a day, Mildred.
It was implanted in my heart soon after my
boyhood, and though never warmed by the rays
ot tho sun, it grew none the less surely, and
strengthened with the passing years. Will you
trust yourself to it. darling ?”
■ There is a moment’s hesitation— a moment in
rWl)ic|i Lerd Barrowes experiences all the agony
ot suspense, and then the sweet eyes, that had
drooped beneath his aadent ga .e, look up slow
ly, timidly, into his own.
Reading in their depths a passionate, unspo
ken yearning, she thinks of his lonely life-of
the privileges offered to her, a simple girl, of
restoring happiness and sunshine to that noble
loyal heart, aud with a sudden thrill of joy she
lays her hands gently on liis breast. '
’“Oh, yes, ’she whispers, tenderly, “if I can
take my mother’s place, my lord, 1 wiil be to
you all that she might have been—had she
loved yon.”
“ May Heaven bless you, my precious one—
my darling !” he murmurs, as he showers rap
turous kisses on her white brow, her eyes, her
lips.
A few moments later Mr. Parkhurst comes in,
to remind Mildred that her presence is re
quired by her guests. Seeing the fair head of
his daughter reposing contentedly upon tho
breast of the great and learned judge, he pauses
in astonishment.
But Lord Barrowes holds out his hand,
which meets Mr. Parkhurst’s in a cordial grasp.
“After all, my friend,” he declares, look ng
down on the lovely, blushing face, while the
intensity ot his happiness trembles on his lips,
“Heaven’s gilts are pretty equally divided.
Years ago,” pointing to the portrait, ‘‘ Fate and
you robbed me of one Mildred, only to bestow
upon me a dearer one to-day.”
famouTfunerals.
Magnificent Pageants in Honor of De
parted Heroes.
(Irom the Boston Advertise)',)
To a philosopher, of course, the disposition ot
the lifeless human body seems a matter of small
moment; but to the great body of the people the
funeral rites and last resting place of one of its
great heroes are matters of keenest interest. In
view of the recent obsequies of otlr own
great national hero, it will be interesting to re
call the honors paid alter death to the remains
of some of the great captains of history.
Two long years were consumed in the for
midable preparations for the funeral of Alexan
der the Great. Dying at Babylon, he directed
that his body, which was immediately em
balmed with elaborate care by Egyptian and
Chaldean adepts, should be deposited in the
Temple of Jupiter on an Egyptian oasis. Un
deterred by the enormous distance, the proces
sion set forth, an army ot workmen having been
sent forward to repair the roads and bridges.
The funeral car was drawn by sixty-four mules,
chosen for their strength and size, splendidly
caparisoned. The car itself was ot surpassing
magnificence, the spokes and naves of the
wheels and ends of the axles being covered with
gold, the platform upholding a royal pavilion
incrusted with gems, supporting a throne and a
coflin, the latter of solid gold and filled with
costly spices. But the body never reached its
destination. Ptolemy arrested its progress and
it at Alexandria, which city may be said
to have itself proved the enduring monument of
the conqueror.
Very different was the funeral of Julius
Cresar. The circumstances of his death were
so tragic and such enormous crowds gathered
to the ceremony, that they could not be formed
into a procession, and the different classes of
people were accordingly asked to come together
under their appropriate insignia in the Field of
Mars. The body of the great Roman was ex
posed, lying upon a 'gilded bed, covered with
scarlet and cloth of gold and placed under a
magnificent canopy in the form of a temple.
Alter the funeral ceremoni.es were over a
question arose where they should burn the
body. Some suggested a temple on Capitoline
Hill; others suggested the Senate House, where
he had fallen. The Senate, less willing to pay
him extraordinary honors, proposed a more re
tired spot. The discussion’was fast becoming a
dispute, when two soldiers, with drawn swords
and blazing torches in their hands, forced their
way through the crowd and set fire to the bed.
In a moment there was the wildest excitement.
The multitude fell to work directly building the
funeral pyre upon the spot. First they brought
fagots and then benches from the neighboring
porticos and next any combustible material
they could find, and at length, as the excite
ment grew, the soldiers threw in their arms,
the musicians their instruments, while others
stripped down and threw upon the flames the
trappings of the funeral procession. So fierce
was the fire that it spread to the neighboring
houses and was only with the greatest difficulty
extinguished. As a fitting monument, the peo
ple erected to the “Mighty Julius” a lofty
column surmounted by a star.
Coming down to modern times, the accounts
of the obsequies of the “ Iron Duke,” perhaps
the greatest ever known in England, and the
second funeral of Napoleon must still be borne
freshly in mind by many of the veterans of to
day. The Duke of Wellington, after lying in
state five days at Chelsea Hospital, was borne to
his last resting-place in St. Paul’s, on a car
drawn by twelve horses, accompanied by a vast
military and civic concourse, the latter includ
ing Prince Albert, both houses of Parliament,
Judges, nobles, public bodies, the mourning
coaches of the Queen and royal family, and an
innumerable throng of the people.
Napoleon’s funeral, as a parade, remains un
paralleled in our times. The cherished remains
of their hero, having been received by the
French from the English, nineteen years after
his death, it was not so much a funeral as a
vast triumphal procession that followed, during
which all France resounded with booming can
non, tolling bells and strains of martial music,
while the excited people lined the banks of the
Seine and filled the air with frenzied shouts and
cries and sobs of joy and gratulation. The re
sources of funeral art were exhausted upon the
pageant, and the imagination is unable to dis
tinguish the details of a procession in which
the catafalque, the central object of interest,
was borne on a moving mound of gold and
velvet drawn by sixteen black horses, and
guarded and escorted, it is said, by an army of
150,000 soldiers.
Compare with these splendors the quiet and
simple funeral rites of our own Washington, so
befitting republican simplicity and the character
of him who was, nevertheless, “ first in the
hearts of his countrymen.” A gathering of the
dignitaries of the neighboring towns of Alexan
dria, with the militia and Freemasons, his
friends and neighbors, his own war-horse, duly
caparisoned, led in the midst, one vessel in the
river hard by firing minute guns, and the whole
procession confined to his own private grounds,
■ftheie his tomb was made and still is,
RATS AND RAT TALES.
An Humble Glove Purveyor Tells a Re
portet Some Thrilling Experiences.
(From the Chicago Tribune.)
About 9 o’clock last night a reporter saw a
man standing opposite a vacant lot on North
Clark street. The man had his coat thrown over
his arm, his shirtsleeves were rolled up, his red
brow perspired beneath the straw hat that was
tipped on the l ack of his head, and his eyes
were fixed intently along the wooden sidewalk.
Suddenly the man’s attitude changed. From a
passive being afflicted by the weather, he be
came transformed into a very demon of activity.
“Hi! there, Bob I sic ’em 1 Hi! there ! sic
’em I sic ’em 1 he kept shouting, in a voice
hoarse with excitement, while his arms at the
same time revolved like the arms of a windmill.
A small, black, four-footed animal flashed out
ot a corner, the man tore up one of the planks,
and in an instant the quadruped had disap
peared beneath the wooden sidewalk. Then
there issued forth sounds of a tremendous row.
The dog barked and yelped, short, sharp squeals
came in between the barks and the yelps, and
all the time the man on the sidewalk was still
jerking his arms about and shouting :
“Good do" Bob ! Good dog 1 Give ’em thun
der 1 Give ’em collery morbis 1 Don't let up 1
That’s right I Sic ’em'!”
In a few minutes more the dog backed out of
the hole and laid a rat at its master’s feet; then
it plunged in again and speedily reappeared
with another Tat. This performance it repeated
until it had laid seven plump rats before its
master, who gathered them up and put them
carefully into a big canvas bag which hung in
side of bis coat.
“Good dog, Bob ! said the man encouraging
ly to the dog, which had sat down in the gutter
to lick the blood off its wounds.
The pair then moved on, and the reporter fol
lowed them. Then they came to another wood
en sidewalk opposite a lot that was being built
upon. The man again stopped and fixed his eye
along the line where the planks terminat
ed at the edge of the gutter. First one, then an
other, and then a third rat sneaked across the
street and disappeared under the sidewalk.
Then the man commenced yelling again for Bob
to “come on and sic ’em I” and the dog darted
under the plank which its master had pried
open for it by a vigorous jerk with both hands.
Speedily the same row beneath the sidewalk
took place as formerly,while the man kept danc
ing, hallooing, and encouraging his dog, which
was a wiry black and tan English terrier weigh
ing not more than ten or twelve pounds. In a
few minutes the battle under the sidewalk died
away in a series of faint squeals, and once more
the dog came out and laid a number of dead
and quivering rats at its master's feet.
The reporter could no longer contain his cu
riosity, and he went to the man and engaged
him in conversation. The individual said his
name was Jack—“ Jack the Rat-catcher, by
them as knows me well.” He scorned the idea
that he ate rats or gave any of them to his
family, “ though,” he remarked, “ there might
be worse things for a feller to eat than rats it
he was mighty hard pushed, as them folks in
Paris was during the Prussian war.” He ex
plained that the skins of the rats made first
rate material for gloves when they were prop
erly prepared and tanned, and that he could al
ways get as high as twenty-five cents a do-en
for them from glove manufacturers.
“ I often think,” said Jack, when he had
grown philosophically talkative over a glass of
beer—“ 1 often think when I sees a fine-dressed
lady a-passing me, with her head stuck up in
the air, that she thinks she’s got on fust-rate
gloves from Paree, and all the time, maybe,
she’s only giving an airing to some of poor
Jack’s ratskins. ’
Muskrats, he thought, made tho best skins
for gloves in the absence of other and more ex
pensive skins; “ but,” he said, “ you kin only
ketch them muskrats along the in-shore lakes
m the cold weather, when they are all living at
home in their mud houses, and as the job of
ketching them ain’t very pleasant, I am quite
content to take what I kin find beneath them
wooden sidewalks.” As soon as he got home
bo would skin his night’s catch and stretch and
dry-the skins, and maybe would make a dollar
or a dollar and a quarter out of the lot.
Thon Jack continued:
“ I’m an Englishman, and learned rat-catch
ing in England, so that I am pretty well used
to the brutes, an’ kin handle them just as easy
as I kin this ere glass—your good health, sir.
When I fust came over here I tried rat-catching
in Brooklyn, and did pretty well around hotels,
where they paid me lor ketching them, and I
afterwards sold ’em to gents as had dogs for ten
or twenty cents apiece. Some days I’ve seen
me make more’n five dollars, easy. But the
good woman died, an’ I kem along here to Chi
cago and struck into the ratskin game, an’ as
it’s easy work and doan’ cost me nothin’ ceptin’
my feed and Bob s there,”—here he threw Bob
a cracker—“ I sticks to it, and does odd jobs in
the daytime, lor, you see, I kin only pull the
rats at night-times in quiet places, as I would
be arrested for causing a crowd if I does it in
tho daytime. Even now sometimes a crowd
gets around me, and scares me and the dog,
and I’ve got to git away and seek for some quiet
place to hunt in.”
“ Well, what do you think of Chicago for rats,
Jack ?”
“ For a noo place, so to speak, it’s pretty
good, an’ it'll be a fust-class place for ’em when
it gets a little older. Lor’ 1 What a pile of
good ratskins must have been spoiled in that
there big fire o' yourn ! It jes’ vexes me to
think on such waste. Howsomever, I was say
in’ Chicago s a pretty good place lor rats—for a
young city, that is, of course, remember. 11l
jes’ give you an instance. One night 1 was goin’
home on West Halsted street pretty late, an’ I
came to an old wooden sidewalk, an' saw some
thing that made me stop there right dead. I
knew I hadn’t been drinkin’ anything to speak
of, but for the life of me I couldn’t make out
what was.the matter with that there sidewalk.
It kep’ humping up and down jes’ like the
waves on the ocean, an’ I was scared to walk on
it, thinking, of course, I’d be thrown down and
badly hurt. It seemed to me that there was
more’n a quarter ot a mile of that sidewalk on
tho move, and I began to feel seasick like and
mighty queer. I grew desperate, however, and
so I makes a run for it, trusting to luck to keep
my feet. Well, sir, every time I put my foot
down tho planks yielded kin’ o’ soft like, and
then there was the all-firedest squeaking and
s you over heard. Lor 5 ! it was some
thing fearful, and it makes me feel faint to think
of it now. (Thanks, sir, I don’ min’ if Ido take
a bracer, for my nerves ain’t so strong as they
used to be.) Well, sir, I got home all right and
tumbled into bed jes’ as I was, boots and all.
Next day I went down to that sidewalk, and,
would you believe it, sir, the gutter was full of
dead rats all the way along. There must have
been thousands of ’em, sir. Fact I Yon see, as
I found out afterward, the rats were piled so
thick under that sidewalk that they kep’ raisin’
and heavin’ the boards up, which was what
gave the feelin’ of sea-sickness, and when of
course a big heavy man like mo commenced
running and jumping along on top, I naturally
kept squeezing piles of them out into the street.
It was the first time I ever see such a lernomo
ny, although, when I come to think of it now,
sir, I do remember there was another time when
I see’d ”
Before Jack had finished his next story the
reporter had suddenly remembered another en
gagement, and lied.
ANIMALS.
How Dogs and Ponies Aro Trained for
the Stage and Circus.
(Trom the Indianapolis Times.)
Passing by the Grand Opera House a few days
since, a Times reporter saw through tho open
door a whizzing black streak across the stage.
Impelled by curiosity, he went in, and found that
a lull rehearsal previous to the Fall tour was
bomg conducted by Professor Morris, dog and
pony trainer, and that the dark comet-like
affair spoken of was nothing more than a
brunette canine making a trilling leap of some
thirty feet. Two magnificent little West India
horses, recently imported by Vanderbilt for
tho use of his children, but which proved to be
vicious and were sold to their present owner,
were also on the stage. In the few weeks that
he has had them Professor Morris has taught
the ponies their respective names and made
them comparatively tractable. They form in
line, halt instantly at the word, and are rapidly
learning to take their positions in an equine
pyramid, which will be a novelty in the enter
tainment of tho coming season. At the end of
half an hours hard work with the sturdy little
creatures, their heated trainer, wiping the per
spiration from his lace, took a seat and was
asked:
“ How did you happen to take up this busi
ness ?”
“ Through sheer love for it,” said he, en
thusiastically. “ Why, when I was a child
of 10 I ransacked around and captured every
cat in the neighborhood. I took those unfor
tunate felines—twenty-four of them—and made
yokes, rigged up a harness and hitched them to
a little wagon which I owned. There they
were, twelve pair, hauling gravel from a path
that was being graded. That was my first ex
perience in the business. Afterward my
brother gave me a dog, which I carefully
trained, and a little later I came into posses
sion of a horse. He was also educated by me,
and with them I took the road. I have since
traveled extensively, always adding to my
collection, until I have twenty-one dogs and
six ponies.”
“ What is your mode of training them ?”
“ After securing a dog I let him do nothing
for about six weeks, spending my time in learn
ing his disposition and traits of character, for
these dumb animals vary very much in those
attributes, as do human beings. Aitor that I
teach him his name, and he is ready for the real
training. The first and hardest trick is to teach
him to walk on his hind legs. When this is ac
complished the rest is comparatively easy.
With a pony I proceed in much the same way.
Now, notice these animals teeter.”
The board was balanced, and the two ponies
came obediently on to the stage at being called,
and took their places with some evident trepi
dation.
“ They have only been at it two weeks,” said
their owner, “ and are consequently somewhat
frightened.”
The ponies were talked to and encouraged as
though they were persons, and soon grew firm.
Soon one was tapped on the fore leg by the
trainer, and putting it forward, the board, which
had been previously balanced, fell on the oppo
site side. Then the same limb was touched on
the other side, and promptly withdrawn, Up
came the opposite end. This was repeated un
til the animal discovered what was wanted of
him, and he went through the motion without
being urged.
“Now,” said the owner, “that illustrates the
whole principle. I use patience and firmness
alone. Hard work is the animal trainer s only
secret, although there probably is a subtle in
fluence which a successful person can exert
over his charges. An animal must never be
released from practice until he has done per
fectly that which you require of him. Once
break that rule and your influence is gone, for
the brute knows that you have failed with him,
and seems to respect you accordingly.”
“ Which are the smarter, horses or dogs ?”
“ Oh, dogs, by all means. Why, those fellows
almost rt ason, and they know as well as I when
a break Is made. They can also understand
language to a certain extent. Notice this one,”
and with the word he called a woolly-looking
dog to him, and with a sympathetic air began to
commiserate him. “ Poor fellow, one of the
dogs lias abused you; go find him and lien
him.” As the trainer said this an expression of
rage came over the animal’s face, and he
growled and showed his teeth in a savage man
ner. Jumping down, he ran about the stage,
growling at and trying to provoke a fight with
every dog he met, and acting as though he
smarted under an insult which he was anxious
to avenge.
For the coming season a car is being con
structed which will accommodate the six ponies
in rubber-lined stalls, the dogs in separate
cages, and the attendant grooms in a room at
tho end. With this outfit Prof. Morris expects
to travel over the United States.
GRANT PAID INHIsWiN ODIN
How a 16-year-old Boy Made the Gen
eral Obey His Own Orders.
(From the Cincinnati Enquirer.)
Captain John H. Steere, now an inmate of the
Soldiers’ Home, tells a good story, showing how
he, when but sixteen years of age, made Gen.
Grant obey his own orders.
The occurrence took place in the early stages
ot the war, shortly after Grant had received
his commission as brigadier-general and was
placed in command of the military district of
Missouri, with headquarters at Cairo. John
Steere, then a boy a little over sixteen years of
age, enlisted and was ordered with five others
to report at Cairo, which they did. Five days
after enlisting they were drilfed in marching
and maneuvering without uniform or arms.
This was continued for a few days, when tho
new recruit got a uifilorm and an old Harper’s
Ferry musket, one of those old affairs that every
time the gun was discharged the shooter had to
go huntin* lor the hammer of his gun.
The morning after young Steere got his gun
he was stationed at General Grant’s headquar
ters as guard. The headquarters were located
on the levee fronting on the Ohio river, near the
junction of tho Mississippi river. It was in
November, and the day was a cold and boister
ous one. »Steere’s military experience was very
limited indeed, and the inclement weather did
not exactly suit him.
His orders were to let no one except an officer,
or one on official business, enter the building.
He stood at his post of duty until chilled
through and through, when he sot his musket
up in one corner of the door, leaning against
the sill, and himself close up against the build
ing, with the cape of his overcoat pulled up
over his ears to keep warm.
As every person who came near the place
seemed to be an officer he molested no one, de
voting all his time and attention to keeping
himself warm and comfortable. Morpheus
courted him, and he was on the verge of taking
a pleasant snooze when some one coming down
the stairs aroused him. Looking up he saw an
officer buckling on an elegant sword. After
passing through the door the officer came to a
halt, and, looking at the guard indignantly
asked:
“ What are you doing there?”
“I’m the guard,” replied Steere.
“An excellent guard, indeed. Do you know
whose headquarters this is?”
“Yes, sir—General Grant’s.”
The officer looked at the guard a moment in
silence, and then thundered:
•‘Stand up there, sir, and bring your gun to a
shoulder 1”
Young Steere did as requested, bringing his
gun to a shoulder like a squirrel hunter. The
officer took the gun from him and went through
the manual of arms for him. He remained with
him for fifteen or twenty minutes until he taught
him how to handle his gun, when he asked:
“ How long have you been in tho service?”
“Several days.”
“ Do you know who I am ?”
“ No, sir; never saw yon before.”
“I am General Grant. You have deserted
your post of duty, sir, which is a very serious
breach of discipline. I will not punish you this
time, but, young man, be careful it does not oc
cur again. Orders must be strictly and prompt
ly obeyed always.”
Several days alter this young Steere was put
on guard on a steamboat which was being load
ed with provisions and ammunition,with orders
to allow no one with a lighted pipe or cigar to
come within a given distance—about fifty feet.
Ho had not been at his post of duty more than
an hour when General Grant approached with a
lighted cigar between his teeth. He seemed to
be in deep thought, but the moment he came
near the gang-plank his musings were inter
rupted.
“ Halt 1” cried the young guard, bringing hie
gun to his shoulder.
The General was taken completely by sur
prise. He looked at the young guard, who had
him covered with his gun, amazed, and then his
countenance showed traces of arising anger.
But he did not budge an inch.
“I have been taught to obey orders strictly
and promptly,” explained Steere, quoting the
General; “ and my orders are to allow no one to
approach this boat with a lighted cigar; you will
please throw yours away.”
Grant smiled, threw his cigar into the river,
and crossed the gang-plank on to the boat.
Two Turtles 'Trade Shells.—The
Live Oak (Fla.), correspondence is responsible
for this tough story :
“ I had a soft shell turtle once,” said the ma
jor, “ that could beat any turtle on a trade I
ever saw. Where 1 lived the pond on my place
was a very small one, and in summer time got
pretty low, specially if the season was a dry
one. The Summer was very dry in 1871, and
Judas, which was the name of my turtle, and
he was a little fellow—wouldn’t weigh over
eight pounds—had a bad time of it. The fleas
stung him so badly that he was in a fever most
all the time. One day I was walking down by
the pond when I noticed him and a big turtle
talking very earnestly together. I stepped be
hind a tree so that they couldn’t see me, and
watched the fun. Judas was trying to get the
land turtle to trade shells with him. They
argued a long time, aud I was afraid Judas
wasn’t going to make it. Presently a bright
idea seemed to strike him. He whispered to
old hard-shell, the latter nodded yes, and then
Judas went into the pond. When he came out
he had a young gosling that had got killed
somehow, and he had stored it away for his own
eating. He laid it down and I knew the trade
was made. It was the funniest sight I ever saw
when they began to shuck. It was just like two
old fellows trying to swap overcoats, only a
tighter fit. When they changed suits and 'got
on their new clothes I couidn t hold out any
longer. I bust out laughing and then they saw
me. It made Judas so mad he put for the
woods and I have never seen him since.”
“The biggest turkle 1 ever seed,” said the
old Cracker, “ was down at Smyrny, in ’56. Me
and my pardner cotched hit. Hit weighed eight
hundred and seventy-six pounds and four
ounces. We had to let it go, though, kase thar
wan t any house within ten milds.”
“ How could you be so exact about the weight,
then ?” inquired the professor.
“Kase we hed jist cotched one of them big
redfish, and we used hits scales,” was the sar
castic response.
Origin of the Fan.—This is the Chi
nese legend ot the origin of the fan. One even
ing, when the beautiful Kau Si, daughter of a
powerful Chinese mandarin, was assisting at
the great least ot lanterns, she was so overcome
by the heat that she was obliged to take off her
mask. But to expose her face to the eyes of the
profane and vulgar was a serious offense against
the law; so, holding the mask as closely as pos
sible to her features, she fluttered it rapidly to
give herself air, and the rapidity of the move
ment still concealed her. The other ladies pres
ent, witnessing this hardy but charming inno
vation, imitated it, and at once ten thousand
hands were fluttering ten thousand masks.
Thus the fan was evoked and took the place of
the mask.
The Bee as a Barometer.—A German
who has studiously watched every movement of
the honeybee, asserts that they are excellent
storm-warners. He says that on the approach
of thunder storms bees, otherwise gentle and
harmless, become irritable, and will at once at
tack any one, even their usual attendant, ap
proaching their hives. A succession of in
stances are given in which the barometer and
hydrometer foretold a storm, the bees remain
ing quiet, and no storm occurred; or the instru
ments gave no intimation of a storm, but the
bees for hours before were irritable, and it
came.
Debt in Mexico a Serious Matter.—
Getting into debt in Mexico is a serious busi
ness. If a debtor is unable to pay on the day
his debt is due he is arrested and chained to a
post for five days. Then an officer looks at him
to see if his punishment has enabled him to pay
his debt. Of course it hasn’t, and so the debt
or’s labor is sold to the government for forty
cents a day until the obligation is discharged.
The government sends him with a gang of
felons to a silver mine, aud he does not see the
light again until the debt is discharged.
French Houses. — France contains
7,609,464 dwelling-houses, comprising 10,739,821
apartments and lodgings, beside which there
are 1,115,347 separate buildings serving as fac
tories and workshops and ordinary places of
business. There are 3,996,571 houses in France
with a ground floor and one story ; 851,547 with
a ground floor and two stories ; 216,429 with a
ground floor and three stories, and 86,359 with
a ground floor and four or more stories. More
than one half of the houses have only a ground
floor.
A Healthy Dress for Girls. —Miss
Lookabout, in the Boston Herald, says: “I know
I shall astonish a good many people when I say
that I think that venerable and highly respect
ed article of female dress, the chemise, may ad
vantageously be wholly dispensed with. Every
one is supposed to have a chemise ‘to her
back,’ but that this supposition is not
wholly true was proved to me some time
ago. When at the seaside last Autumn, two
girls, mutual friends of mine, and whom I intro
duced to each other, went one warm day with
me to bathe.
‘’One said to the other:
“ ‘I am afraid you will be awfully shocked when
you see me undress.’
“ ‘Shocked 1 why ?’
“ ‘Well, I hardly like to tell you ; but the fact
is, I have so little on.’
“‘I don’t wear much,’ said the other. ‘All I
have is combinations, stays, and one petticoat
under my dress.’
“Curiously enough, both these girls were
dressed in precisely the same way—in woolen
combinations, stays (well shaped and not too
tight), one petticoat, and a dress which, from
its elegance, gave no suspicion of the state of af
fairs underneath. As I had an opportunity of
observing, these young ladies were dressed in
perfectly sanitary style, although none but my
self had any idea of the fact, and in spite of it,
they passed of the best-dressed girls at
the place where we were
staying.
“I have since had several opportunities of
observation, and I find that quite a number of
the best-dressed women of my acquaintance
have renounced the use of the chemise in favor
of woven combinations. The majority, how
ever, I believe are not induced to do so by san
itary considerations, out simply because the
chemise is a bulky article, and makes them look
stouter than is natural to them, whereas the
combinations, being made in a stretchy mate
rial, fit somewhat closely and show the symme
try of the figure. This is, to my mind, a very
good reason why the chemise should be given
up, but, from a health point of view, we can
find a still better one. Chemises are generally
made of linen or cotton, both of which mate
rials, as I have already said, are unsuitable for
clothing because they are good conductors of
heat, bad absorbers of mosture and bad vintil
ators.
Skunks in the Far West.—The skunks
are a nuisance in more ways than one. They
are stupid, familiar beasts, with a great pre
dilection for visiting camps to pick up any
scraps of meat that may be lying about. I have,
time and again, known a skunk to spend several
hours of the night in perseveringly digging a
hole underneath the logs of a hut, so as to get
inside among the inmates. The animal then
hunts about among them, and of course no one
will willingly molest it; and it has often been
known to deliberately settle down upon and
begin to eat one of the sleepers. The strange
and terrible thing about these attacks is that in
certain districts and at certain times the bite of
the skunk is surely fatal, producing hydro-
Shobia, and many cowmen, hunters and sol
iers have died from this cause. There is no
wild on the plains, no matter what its size
and ferocity, so dreaded by plainsmen as this
seemingly harmless little beast. Once a num
ber of us, among whom was a huge, happy-go
lucky Scotchman who went by the name of
Sandy, wore sleeping in a hut, when a skunk
burrowed under the logs and got in. Hearing
it move about among the pans, Sandy struck a
light, was much taken by the familiarity of the
pretty, black-and-white little animal, and, as it
seemed in his eyes a curiosity, took a shot at it
with his revolver. He missed, and for a wonder,
the skunk retired promptly without taking any
notice of the attack, and the rest of the alarmed
sleepers, when informed of the cause of the
shot, cursed the Scot up hill and down dale for
having so nearly brought dire confusion on
them all. The latter took the abuse very
philosophically, merely remarking, “I’m glad a
didn't kill him mysel; he seemed such a decent
wee beastie.” The sequel proved that neither
Sandy nor the skunk had learned anything by
the encounter, for half an hour after the “decent
wee beastie ” came back, and this time Sandy
fired at him with fatal effect. Of course the
result was a frantic rush of all hands from the
hut, Sandy exclaiming with late but sincere
repentance, “ A did na ken t’wad cause such a
tragadie.”
Salmon Fishing in Japan.—Says the
London Pall Mall Gazette : What will the Lon
doner who pays (probably more often does not
pay, for he can not afford it) halt a crown a
pound for his salmon, think of a place where
salmon are so numerous that they crowd each
other high and dry on the seashore, where the
rivers are described as a mixture of water and
fish, and where in a single haul of a small seine
5,000 salmon are caught? Prof. Milne, of earth
quake celebrity, has recently visited the Kurile
Islands, which stretch between Japan and Si
beria, with the object of studying the volcanos
there. He sailed round the island of Iturup,
which is about 713 miles long and 80 broad, and
whose inhabitants here and there along the
coast of Ainos are engaged in fishing during the
season. Here is his description of the abund
ance of fish: “The fish which are caught are
salmon and salmon trout. These exist in such
numbers during the Summer and Autumn sea
son that their fins sticking out of the water
near the entrances to the rivers look like tan
gled masses of kelp; while up the rivers it is
but little exaggeration to say that some of the
pools are mixtures of fish and water. With a
rifle bullet you may pierce four or five at a sin
gle shot. The single shoals are often covered
with dead fish, which, in their struggle lor ex
istence, have become so weak that, having once
run themselves ashore, they are unable to Re
turn to deep water. A single haul of a small
seine upon the beach brought to land a huge
heap oi fish varying in weight from four to
twenty pounds, the number oi which we rough
ly estimated at 5,000.”
The Crack Russian Regiment.—The
Preobrajenski Regiment of the Foot Guards is
the oldest regiment in the Russian army, and is
composed of men selected for their size and
strength. The commander of the regiment is
the emperor, and most of the grand dukes are
on the list of its officers, which comprise mem
bers of the oldest Russian families. After the
formation of the regiment by Peter the Great, it
became the nucleus of the Russian artillery and
navy, and its officers still have a boat with a
special flag reserved for them in the fleet. Each
of the regiments of the guard has its character
istic type. The Preobrajenskis are distin
guished by their size, the Semenoffskis by their
good looks, the riflemen by being all of the same
bight, and the men of the Paloff Regiment by all
having snub noses. The latter also wear high
grenadier caps, many of which still bear the
marks of bullets fired at their wearers in recent
campaigns. The best shots in the Russian army
are the men of the Rifle Battalion of the body
guard of the imperial family, and one of the
guards’ battalioas is composed entirely of Fin
landers, commanded by officers of the Swedish
nobility. The officers of the guards are selected
from the Pages’ Corps, the principal military
school of the empire. One of the most distin
guished of the pupils of this school was Prince
Krapotkin, the well-known Nihilist. His name
was inscribed in letters of gold on the marble
tablet where the names of the most eminent
members of the corps are recorded, but it has
now been blotted out.
Frequency of Earthquakes. —M.
Perry, a French astronomer, offers a novel ex
planation of the frequency of the earthquakes
which have produced so much disturbance on
the surface oi our planet of late. His
theory is that they are caused, like
the tides, by the attraction of the sun
and moon; and he argues that it is only natural
to suppose that the sea of fire in the interior of
the globe obeys the same influences as the
ocean on its surface. M. Percy has investi
gated the particulars ot no fewer than 5,400
different shocks of earthquake, and a compari
son of their dates demonstrates that these
phenomena are most frequent during the
periods of full and new moon. He has further as
certained that the shocks have been most violent
when the moon has been in the meridian of the
place where they occurred, just as a tide in a
seaport over whose meridian the moon is pass
ing'is higher than that in any of the neighbor
ing ports.
Remarkable Tragedy.—An extraor
dinary and tragic accident is reported to have
occurred near Paris. A horse was seen gallop
ing wildly along the road to St. Germain, the
vehicle to which the animal was attached being
enveloped in flames. Several persons having
succeeded in catching the horse, a dreadful
sight presented itself. In the bottom of the
burning vehicle the body of the driver was
found, reduced to an almost indistinguishable
heap of cinders. It is supposed that the man,
having lit his pipe, fell asleep and that the
burning ashes set fire to the old woodwork.
The Fight
against that feeling of indolence and de
bility, common to every one in the
spring and summer months, is of no avail
without the aid of Ayer’s Sarsaparilla.
By its use, impurities are expelled from
the blood, and new life is infused into the
veins. It stimulates and strengthens all
the digestive and assimilative organs.
C. A. Wheeler, Hotel Clifford, Boston,
Mass., says: “A few bottles of Ayer’s
Sarsaparilla, taken in the spring, make me
feel well and strong the whole year.”
C. J. Bodemer, 145 Columbia st., Cam
bridgeport, Mass., says: “I have gone
through terrible suffering from dyspepsia;
but I have cured myself, and saved a
great deal of money in doctors’ bills, by
the use of
Ayer’s Sar
saparilla.” It will help you.
Prepared by Dr. J. C. Ayer & Co., Lowell, Mass., U. S. A.
For sale by all druggists. Price $1; six bottles for 83»
A Sanitary Anomaly.—The super
visors of San Francisco have been making a **
carelul investigation ot the condition of things
in the Chinese quarter of that city. They say
that not less than thirty thousand people from
the Celestial empire are there packed as close
as sardines, yet they make this remarkable
statement: “ In a sanitary point of view, China
town presents a singular anomaly. With the
habits, manners, customs, and whole economy
of life violating every accepted rule of hygiene:
with open cesspools, exhalations from sinks
and sewers tainting the atmosphere with nox
ious vapors and stifling odors; with people
herded and packed in damp cellars, living lit
erally the lite of vermin, badly fed and clothed,
addicted to the daily use of opium to the extent
that many hours of each day or night are
passed in tbe delirious stupefaction of its influ
ence, it is not to be denied that, as a whole, the
general health of this locality compares more
than favorably with other sections of the city
which are surrounded by far more favorable
conditions.” The only explanation which they
can discover for this is that the open wood-firea
and constant smoking which prevail there fu
migate the section and nullify its foulness.
Standing on Her Head.—A young
Indian chief was so delighted by a tintype of him
self, taken by a wandering artist at the agency,
that he wanted a picture of his squaw, who wag
placed in position before the camera. Just ag
everything was about ready, the chief wanted
to see how his better-half would look. He nut
his head under the cloth of the camera, andj to
his horror, saw she was standing on her head.
He instantly jerked his head out from under
the curtain, but saw her standing on her feet.
Thinking he might have been mistaken, the In
dian took another peep, and saw she was again
standing on her head. He remonstrated with
her, saying she could not expect a picture to
look like her if she persisted in standing on her
head. The squaw denied any such acrobatia
ner.ormance. Upon taking one more look, Mr.
Indian flew into a rage, grabbed his squaw by
the shoulders, shook her violently, and dragged
her out of the place, saying she was bewitched
and should not have a picture until she learned
to stand on her feet.
A New Style of Bank Note.—An
entire new kind of bank note, printed in colors
instead of the blackband white of the Bank ot
England notes, is being prepared for issue by.
the Bank of Scotland. The promise to pay in
the body oi tbe note is surrounded on two o$
its sides by a broad ornamental band, and on
the other two sides by a border in which the •
value of the note is printed a great number of
times. On one border the seal and counter-seal
of King William 11., of Scotland, are printed in
brown on a yellow ground, and between theui
are the royal arms on a blue ground. On the
upper border are the arms of the bank in browri
on a yellow ground, with the date ot the estab
lishment of the bank, 1695. The chief novelty
of the new note is in its colors, which will, of
course, make reproduction by photography im
possible, and it is believed will prevent forgery.
The paper on which the new note is printed is
made by the same firm as produces the BanX of
England note paper.
Did not Forget Old Friends.—Five
years ago a remarkably bright and pretty girl of
seventeen, worked in a San Francisco laundryj
The son of wealthy parents fell in love with her.
She returned his passion, but said that she
would not marry him, as he wished, because
she was uneducated and coarse. Then he of
fered to send her away to school. She accepted
this offer. During the ensuing four years sh©
was in a Montreal convent, very apt and studio
dious. The training wrought all the change
that was desirable, and the wedding took place,
with a long tour in Europe afterward. The
couple returned to San Francisco lately. Ta
show that she had neither forgotten nor wag
ashamed of her former employment, the bride
gave a grand supper to those of her old com
panions who could be brought together.
Worthless Mahogany. — Says the.
Art Amateur: The market is just now full o£
mahogany furniture, ot which the puublia
would do well to beware, as it is made of the
poorest quality of Honduras wood. It comes
under the head of mahogany, strictly speaking,
but is lighter in color, feeble in fibre, and por
ous almost to rottenness. To prepare it for
the market it is duly colored, varnished and
polished, and is easily palmed off for the bet-<
ter kind. Furniture made of this wood breaks
down far easier than walnut, especially under a
shock. An expert can detect it by its being
much lighter in weight than true mahogany.
The only protection lor those who are not ex
perts is not to buy mahogany furniture simply
because it is cheap.
How He Found the Thief.—Says thq
Worcester (Mass.) Spy: The death of B. U,’
Simes, of Milton Mills, recalls an incident that
occurred about thirty years ago. He was a
merchant and a very shrewd man. One day he
discovered that his till had been robbed, and
he resolved to say nothing about it to any one p
not even to the members of his family. Some
three months afterward one of his customers
said to him :
“Did you ever find out who took that money
out of your till ?”
Mr. Simes replied : “ I never have till now*
but now I know it was you, as I have never told
any one that I lost it.”
And he made the man pay him the amount.
Prolific.—A patriarchal couple named
Leger, who have done much to make up for the
shortcomings of many oi their countrymen and
women in repopulati’ng France, are now living;
at Rozoy-Belval, m tbe Aisne. They have had
twenty-seven children, ot whom twenty-five are>
living, and three are serving in the army in
Tonquin. The father and mother, aged respec
tively seventy-three and sixty-eight, cultivate a
farm, aided by six other sons. Of their twenty
seven children twenty-one were boys. The
woman gave birth to five in one year—three on
the 2d of January and two on the 27th of De
cember.
Missionary Work not Successful.—
A Georgia colored woman just returned from
Liberia, where she has lived for seventeen
years, says to the Atlanta Constitution: “Among
the thousands of natives I saw while there only
three had been civilized and christianized.
Missionaries are scattered all over the
and they find no trouble in getting crowds bl
the natives into their churches and schools.
Many of these profess conversion and are en
rolled as Christians, but almost invariably they
go back to idolatry when they return to their
tribes.”
Boiled Water the Safest.—The sani
tarians now advise that all drinking water
should be boiled smartly for half an hour, ta
destroy the germs of disease which are com
municated to the system through water more
than in all other ways. This is especially to be
commended in all cases where the drinking
water is at all suspicious in its quality. When
cooled by/ ice it loses the insipidity which the
boiling imparts. It is claimed that the use of
boiled water for drinking affords immunity
from cholera where it is prevalent.
Electricity a Tamer of Beasts.—Art
animal tamer has used electricity as a subduer
of unruly beasts with great success. His in*>
strument is an apparatus shaped like an ele
phant prod and charged with electricity. Three
ot his lions who were touched with it showed
signs of the greatest terror; the tiger, when
shocked, crouched in the further corner of hia
cage, and the boa constrictor, nearly twenty
feet in length, straightened out as if dead and
was motionless for six hours.
She Was Shrewd. —A piece of evi-*
deuce in a Quebec breach of promise case was a
cuff with an offer of marriage written on it. One
night, while the defendant was holding the
plaintiff’s hand and whispering fervid words, ha
popped the question in manuscript on the
smooth linen at her wrist. She was sentimen
tal or shrewd enough to keep that article out
wash, and now it is of practical value.
A Hot Spot.—Assab, a very small town
on a bay at the southern extremity of the Red
Sea, is said to be the hottest place in the world.
Aden, 103 miles further east, has a terrible rep
utation for heat, but Assib is said to be hotteff
by some 3°. For four consecutive months ther
mometer readings at 9 A. M. averaged over 90% .
and during the whole time rarely fell below 88%
How to Cure a Cold.—Pour about
half a pint of boiling hot water over about &
drachm of pulveri ed camphor, and inhale th©
vapors arising therefrom ten to twenty min
utes. Great relief is at once experienced, and
after two or three repetitions the discomfort is
said to disappear entirely.
Renewed
strength and vigor follow the use of
Ayer’s Sarsaparilla. Mrs. Ann H. Fanis-;
worth, a lady 79 years old, So. Woodstock,!
Vt., writes: “After suffering for weeks
with prostration, I procured a bottle of
Ayer’s Sarsaparilla, and before I had.
taken half of it my usual health returned#
Thos. M. McCarthy, 36 Winter str., Lowell,
Mass., writes: “ I have been troubled, fo»
years, with nervousness, and pains abouß
my heart, especially in the morning.
also suffered greatly from debility. I hav®,
been cured by Ayer’s Sarsaparilla, ans
am now able to do very hard work.*
Henry 11. Davis, Nashua, N. H., writesj
“ I have found relief from that feeling og
languidness, prevalent during the sprigy l - 1 '
by taking Ayer’s Sar
saparilla
I have taken it for years.” r