New York dispatch. [volume], September 20, 1885, Page 6, Image 6

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

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6
THE CURATE.
What aid he Snow about it—the boy who stood up
In the*qnalnt old oak " three docker ” In the ancient
houee of prayer ?
No sign of modern culture had touched the build-
Whosestrong square tower had crowned the head
for centuries untold.
The brown worm-eaten benches were ranged in or
der due, , , ,
And high amid the galleries proud reigned tne
squire’s pew.”
And names for long forgotten spoke dumbly from
the wall, _ .. A . n
While through the latticed windows came, the oil
lows’ rise and fall.
What did he know about it—the boy with earnest
Standing above the worshipers in the solemn time
worn place ?
There were hoary heads below him, and faces lined
by need, ' .
They had stol’n from empty board and hearth, to
ask the Lord to heed.
To the worn and weary pilgrims on life s hard
downward way,
What, from his fearless starting-point, had the young
lips to say ?
What could he know about it? Had those bright
eager eyes, ,
Seen once below the surface of our mortal miseries r
The sin, the doubt, the sorrow, the emptiness of
The bitter, strong temptation—the failing, fainting
strife ?
The girding on the armor, to fight the battle on,
With victory's hope and guerdon alike for over
gone ?
The broken dream, the shaken trust, the loss, the
Wrong, the fall,
Ah, boyhood in its happy Spring, what could it
know of all ?
The sea roared on below us, the winds above us
swept;
The voice went flowing onward, the old folk stared
or slept.
And with a rueful sigh and smile, one glanced from
them to him.
While the sunset touched the cross to gold, but left
the chancel dim.
KK22aE3E3Ja3SSSZ3SSESn\SETSS33a
THE DOUBLE PISC.
TOLD BY AN ENGLISH EX-DETEC
TIVE.
CHAPTER I.
A STRANGE COINCIDENCE.
I was down at Margate for my holiday—and
health ; for I had had a very hard time of it
over several difficult cases, but which I had car
ried out successfully, and therefore had earned
a good rest.
I had put up at the “ Hoy,” and had there, by
the merest chance, met an old schoolfellow—one
Tom Sparling, whom I had not seen since I left
school.
Tom had been a noblo, kind-hearted, merry
little fellow, always in disgrace—as such young
wags generally are—ready with his pencil, with
which he caricatured us every one, from the
headmaster down to the smallest boy in the
school. Of course these clever little sketches
would have gained Master Tom no end of
thrashings had it not been for me ; but I loved
the little fellow, and protected him.
Well, as I was saying, I met Tom at the Hoy.
He knew mo at once, and was the same gay,
light-hearted fellow as ever. We chummed in
together at once. Tom told me he had become
an artist, had studied in France, and had made
such a good thing of it that he had determined
to travel “ all over the world, ’ as he said in bis
exaggerated style, and asked me if I would ac
company him.
Of course I had to refuse; but seeing Tom
Buch a swell, I did not like to tell him I was a
detective, and therefore made some excuse, and
there the matter dropped.
One day we were walking past the police sta
tion, when my eyes happened to fall upon a bill
stuck upon the announcement boards. It ran
thus, or as near to it as I can remember :
£SOO REWARD.
Whereas a certain man, calling himself James
Dyer, having committed several forgeries on differ
ent banks in London and the provinces, the above
reward will be given to any one procuring his ar
rest, upon his conviction.
Description : Height, about five feet ten inches
but appears much shorter, from a habit he has of
stooping; hair, silvery grey; lace, pale and wrinkled;
walks a little lame, and uses a crutch stick. His
hands shake as it slightly palsied. Grey curly beard,
whiskers,, and moustache. His eyes seem week, and
he wears large silver-rimmed blue spectacles. Is
drossed in a broad-brimmed, low-crowned bat, long
black coat reaching down to his heels, and buttoned
up to the chin, so as to show very little collar; small
clerical-looking tie; large shoes, in which he shuf
fles along. Age about seventy, &c.
In a moment my business habits showep
themselves.
Out came my not e _hook, and down went the
description.
“ Hillo, Jack, old fellow ! Why, what are you
up to?” demanded Tom, in surprise.
“ Oh, nothing,” I replied hastily, as I replaced
my note-book—“ only I fancy I know something
of that old gentleman and I pointed to the
bill which Tom read, and then whistled softly,
as he raised his eyebrows in surprise.
“ Hang it all!— you cannot know anything of
him ! ’ said I.
“ Begging your pardon, but I fancy I do.
Gad I—l only hope you have not as good cause
as I have to remember him. Come in to the
Hoy, and I’ll tell you all about it.
Need I say that! at once agreed, and we were
Boon comfortably seated discussing a bottle of
sherry and the subject of importance to me.
Tom’s story is soon told :
When in Baris he had stopped at a private
hotel or boarding-houso, where he met a Mon
sieur Gru az—a most affable old gentleman,
who bore his gout and palsy with a patience
which would have done credit to Job. He loved
art and artists, and talked largely of his pic
tures in London; in fact, hinted’that he was
then seeking for some to purchase. Tom was
young and ardent. He fell into the trap, and
having received from the old gentleman a
splendid commission to paint some of the beau
tiful scenery around Montmorency, he was de
lighted. The old gentleman was to have gone
with him, but the morning they were to start he
was attacked with a tearful case of gout. Tom
would have stayed with him, but to this M.
Gruaz would not listen. So off he went, leaving
M. Gruaz groaning in bed. In two or three
weeks he returned to find that M. Gruaz had
loft the hotel, and bad been so very caretui that
his young friend’s valuables should not be lost,
that he had taken them all with him, even to
some of bis clothing.
“ There was I, left almost without a penny. I
drew upon my father, and that put that all
right. But, Jack, he took one thing that I could
not replace.”
“ And what in the nama of goodness was
that ?”
“ Your sister’s portrait in a silver locket.”
“ Why, how the deuce did you get that?” I
exclaimed. “ I did not even know that you
knew her.”
“ Only as a little girl, about my same age.
She used to come once a week to see you at
Bchool. Like most brothers, you did not ap
preciate those visits as you should have done.
I used to walk and talk with her while you
raced about; and of course—it seems foolish,
because i was only about fourteen then—l fell
in love with her.”
The last part of this speech was said in a low
voice, and with bowed-down head.
“ Do you love her still ?”
“ I do, and always shall. I have tried to find
you out, but you had all disappeared, no one
knew where.”
I understood many things now. Of course
wo could not be found. My father had failed,
and we became so poor we hid from every one.
I had noticed sister Nell’s dullness, and ’knew
the reason now. Poverty made me take to the
profession I was then in. I knew that Tom
would not care for poverty, but would he like
to marry the sister of a detective ? I did not
know, and dared not, or would not, put him to
the test just then. I would see Nell first. So I
•said:
“ As for the portrait, Tom. you need not
mind that. The original is still in the land of
the living. But you must do what I tell you.
At present I cannot explain matters—not even
tell you of Nell and my address. Poor father
died years ago. Now, I want you to stop here.
Write to me often. Address me as George
Grimleaf, at Post-office, London. I will
answer your letters regularly, and let you know
how Nell gets on.”
“Is she well ? Is she married ?”
“ She is delicate, and not yet married. Now,
not another word. Until I have found out that
man I .”
I paused, for as I placed my hand on the
table, I noticed that Tom had sketched out on
the top of the marble table an exact portrait of
what I should imagine Mr. James Dyer. The
habit of playing with the pencil had stuck to
him still.
“ This,” I cried, “is the portrait of the man
who robbed you.”
“Yes,” he said, peevishly, “of course it is.
But can you not tell me ”
“ Not another word. Don’t rub it out. Can
you make me a complete sketch in my note
book-say in ten minutes. I must catch the
next train to London.”
“ In five !”
“Do it.”
It was dtfne, and in half an hour I was in the
train speeding as fast as I could to London
with what 1 was certain was an exact portrait
of Mr. James Dyer in my pocket. Surely a
strange
CHAPTER 11.
A GAME OF CARDS—I WIN.
I saw my chief, told him as much as 1 chose,
and then went to the bank which had been de
frauded.
All I could learn was that false checks, beau
tifully executed, had been passed by a person
described, in several banks on the same day.
At the last bank he had tried, some suspicion
had arisen in the cashier’s mind just as the old
wretch had left, and he dispatched a junior
clerk after him.. But the old fellow had evi
dently feared this, for he hailed a hansom cab
and drove rapidly away up Oxford street. Un
luckily the young fellow did not follow.
After some trouble I found out the cabman.
and he told me that he had put the “ old gen
tleman ” down at the corner of Newman street,
Oxford-street. What became of him afterward
he neither knew nor cared, as “ the old gent ’’
had paid him liberal, and never grumbled at
nothing.
Not much of a clue, but still a clue, and I at
once set to work.
The case had been given into my hands, so
the first thing I did was to order all the police
on the beat of Oxford-street and Newman-street
not to take into custody any person of the de
scription given in the Hue and Cry. My next
was to disguise myself and make up exactly as
Mr. James Dyer, and then I tottered up and
down Oxford street and Newman street—chiefly
the latter—for some days.
At last I began to think that my plan was a
bad one, and was about to give it up, when just
round by Charles street I came face to face with
a handsome young fellow with reddish whis
kers, beard, and moustache, dressed in the
handsomest style, eyeglass in his eye, cane in
his hand, and his hat cocked a little on one
side.
As his eyes fell upon me, he turned pale as
death. The eyeglass fell from his eye, and the
cane nearly slipped from his grasp.
I knew at once that I had my man, for he
started as if he had seen a ghost. How true it
is that “conscience makes cowards of us all.”
I gazed vacantly about, and then, as he was
about to pass me, inquired, in a mild voice :
“Ifyou please, sir, could you tell me the way
to the Tottenham Court-road ?”
He had recovered his coolness now, and fixed
as fine a pair of keen, bright eyes upon me as I
had ever seen.
Ho did not speak at once, but keeping his
eyes steadily fixed on me, slowly drew from his
pocket the police bill.
“Look here, ray dear fellow,” he said, in a
stern voice, “have you seen that ?” And he
held the bill out to me.
I gazed vacantly at it, and shaking my head
as 1 re-adjusted my spectacles, replied :
“ No, sir. I have only just come up from the
country about a little business affair, and ”
“Then take my advice and go back to the
country as soon as you can. lam not a man to
live on blood money, or 1 would call the first
policeman and, by giving you in charge, earn
five hundred pounds. Think yourself lucky
that you have fallen into the bands of a gentle
man, and be off. You may take that with you
to road on your way into the country.”
And here the impudent rascal actually thrust
the bill into my hand.
Oh, how I should have liked to pin him then I
But I dared not. I was convinced in my own
mind he was James Dyer, but I had no proofs,
and to arrest the wrong man is a very awkward
thing, as I need not say.
As he turned round, leaving me with—(what
I flatter myself was a capital piece of acting)—
a blank look of astonishment upon my face, he
came lull butt upon a fine, handsome fellow,
who. shaking his hand, cried out:
“ Ilillo, Hilton ! how are you, old fellow? I
went to the Hotel to find you, as I prom-
ised you last night, but found you had gone
out.”
“ Yes, yes; I had to go out to get a check
cashed—your check cashed, you know, at the
Bank. But come, I am ready for you
now.”
And putting his arm through that of the
young fellow, he swaggered quickly away.
“ That is my man,” thought I, “and 111 have
him in a day or two. But how at present I can
not make out. However, I’ll see.”
“ I hailed a cab and drove to my lodgings,
from whence I very soon emerged again, dress
ed as a heavy swell. Another cab had been
fetched, and in this two leathern portmanteaus
wore placed, and then I drove to the Bank,
entered it, and desired an interview with the
manager.
This was immediately granted, and I very
soon had explained my business to him, and
then asked if any one of the name of Hilton
kept an account there.
*“ No; but he has seen me about it,” replied
the manager. “He has cashed several checks
here, drawn by Lieutenant Laurence, and—
well, to tell you the truth, I do not like Mr.
Hilton.”
“And may I ask why you do not ?”
“ Well, 1 think he leads the lieutenant—who,
between ourselves, is young and foolish—into
gambling. Mr. Hilton has changed the lieu
tenant’s che ks here lor a very large amount;
but Lieutenant Laurence has never had one of
Mr. Hilton’s in return.”
“ Clue number two,” thought I; “ but I must
still be care ul.”
I could hear no more from the manager, so
drove to Charing Cross railway. There I dis
missed my cab, explained to the superintendent
who I was, and had my luggage placed on an
other cab.
Ail this trouble is necessary in order to enable
detectives from being traced by the swindlers,
and I was safely lodged in the hotel 1 heard Mr.
Laurence mention, where I determined to take
up my abode for the time.
Fortune favored me again, for on entering the
billiard-room I found Lieutenant Laurence en
gaged at a game of billiards with Mr. Hilton.
Laurence lost every stroke - indeed, it would
have been a wonder it he had not: tor while he
played with a trembling hand, showing too
much brandy, and drank 8. and B. with a
feverish thirst, I noticed that Mr. Hilton’s hand
and eve were perfectly firm and steady while he
sipped his brandy.
“By Jove, Hilton,” drawled Laurence, “I
can’t make it out. You must have the devil’s
own luck. Why, there was not a fellow in the
could stand up against me except Captain
Abbott, and he played like a professional.
Now, you do not play well.”
This was false, for Mr. Dyer (or Hilton)
played a very good game indeed—far too good
a one for the boastful lieutenant.
At each bad stroke Lieutenant Laurence had
more soda and brandy to cool his hot mouth
and console his wounded pride.
At last he threw the cue down on the table,
after making a fearful miss, and cried out, im
patiently:
“ I shan’t play any more to-day. I’m not in
the mood—seedy, you know. I’ll pay you the
game, though,” and taking out bis pocketbook
from his coat, that hung up against the wall, he
handed Hilton a bank-note.
“ Tut 1 You played wildly. At one time you
had the game in your own hands. Come, nev
er say die ! Have another game or two before
dinner.”
“No, the weather is too hot,” said the lieu
tenant, as he flung himself on the settee by my
side. “If I had the game once in my hands it
was jolly soon out of them. Now. that last shot,
I used to make it with my eyes shut—l did in
deed,” and here he turned to me as if to notice
the effect this astounding assertion would make
on me.
“ You put too much ‘ side ’ on,” said I, quiet
ly puffing at my cigar. “ Take my advice next
time, and play it like this.”
As I spoke I advanced to the table, placed the
balls in position, played, and made the hit with
the greatest ease; for I am an expert player.
I saw Hilton’s eyes fixed upon me with that
eagle look a bold bad man always has. I saw
directly what he meant, or thought. It was,
“ Is this man a gentleman like Laurence, or a
sharper like I am ?”
“Perhaps, as you will not play with me, you
will play with this gentleman ?” sneered Hilton
to the lieutenant.
“ No, I won’t, but I'll back him for a fiver
against you,” exclaimed the lieutenant, firing
up.
“ Gentlemen, gentlemen,” I said, “ 1 do not
wish to cause any disturbance. lam a good
player, and should like a game if either of yoir
will oblige me. Wo can play for stakes or‘not
—I rather prefer not.”
This answer rather mystified Hilton, but he
made answer:
“ Are you stopping in the hotel, sir, as we
are ?”
“ Yes, or I should not be able to enter this
room, which is reserved only for gentlemen
staying here.”
“In that case I will play. Never mind the
stakes ; we will find each other’s strength before
that.”
I agreed. Moro 8. and B. was ordered, we
played, and—l won.
Hilton was annoyed, the lieutenant delighted
—in fact, so delighted that he proposed to play
me. I agreed. We played, and he won.
At that his delight knew no bounds. I must
dine with him. Hang an introduction !—we
could introduce ourselves. Hilton was going to
dine with him, and I must also. He would take
no denial, so at last I was bound to accept that
which I would have given fifty pounds to have
accomplished.
“ You played that last game better than the
first,” said Hilton in French to me, as we went
up stairs to dress for dinner.
He spoke in French, because during a part of
the game I had hummed over a French song,
and mentioned that I knew Paris well, while
Lieutenant Laurence had freely owned he could
never remember a word of any language but
his mother tongue.
“It was policy, not play,” I replied, in the
same language.
“Good! Let ns understand each other.”
“ Not now—later on and so we parted to
meet again at dinner.
I must say the dinner was a very lively affair.
Hilton was at first somewhat surly ; but after a
time he cheered up, and when the champagne
flowed freely our party was actually jolly.
After dinner cards were proposed, and I, to
Hilton's amazement, declared that I would look
on for a little. Hilton would have refused to
play, but Lieutenant Laurence insisted on his
revenue, as he called it, poor boy.
They played, while I, wheeling an easy-chair
close to the table, first watched the game, and
then fell, or pretended to fall, into a tipsy doze.
“ Why did you ask that fellow up ?” demanded
Hilton, in a hoarse whisper. “ How do you
know who he is? Some card-sharper most
likely.”
“He can’t be that; he would have played had
he been,/ said the lieutenant, wisely.
“ Pish ! I have been in Paris and Germany,
and have-seen uZZ the moves of the sharpers
there. He lost that game to you purposely.”
*• Purposely ! Why, what on earth should he
do that for ?”
“ Why, to lead you to on to play again, and
then to fleece you.”
“ He wont t have much left to fleece me out of
if you play as you have been playing lately,”
grumbled Laurence.
And well might the young fellow have said so,
for never did 1 see such fearful cheating in my
life.
Cards disappeared and reappeared from the
sleeves of his coat and the back of his waist
coat. It was wonderful. Of course, as the
lieutenant was more than halt tipsy, he be
lieved he could do this trick more openly than
NEW YORK DISPATCH, SEPTEMBER 20, 1885.
usual. But at last he did it a little too openly,
and the lieutenant saw it.
“.Hilton,” he cried, sober enough now, as he
dashed down the cards, “you are cheating.”
“ Sir,” returned Hilton, with dignity, “if you
forget that you are a gentleman, please do not
forget that I am one.”
“But I saw you slip a card down your coat
collar,” urged Laurence, the influence of drink,
which had left him at the first shock of the dis
covery, reasserting itself and making him un
certain again. “At least, I think I saw you do
it.” And he passed his hand dreamily over his
eyes.
“Bah ! you are drunk. We will play no more
to-night. You have mixed the cards, and as I
was on the point of winning the game, I take
the stakes.”
He stretched forth his hand to tfeize some
notes, which were before Lieutenant Laurence
—who seemed once more helpless—when I
sprang up, and pushing his hand on one side,
cried :
“Stop ! Lieutenant Laurence is right. I have
watched you cheat all along. I ”
I said no more that moment, for he struck me
me a blow in the chest which sent me reeling
back a couple of yards.
I thought no more about whether I had the
right man or not. I knew he was a swindler,
and above all, he had struck me.
I flew at him and we grappled. Only a few
minutes were we locked together, then we both
fell crashing on a chair, which under our com
bined weights gave way, but luckily I feu on
top.
Lieutenant Laurence had stood horror-strick
en all through this scone, which did not take
as long to act as to tell.
The door was flung open, and in rushed the
people of the hotel, demanding what was the
matter.
“Nothing, gentleman, nothing,” I replied, as
I sprang lightly up, leaving my man sprawl
ing on the floor; “only I have arrested a most
notorious swindler. Lift him up and examine
his coat.”
“But he is handcuffed!” cried one of the
waiters, in surprise.
“Exactly so, and the prisoner of Sergeant
detective Leon,” I replied. “ I should not have
put the bracelets on, only he used violence.”
They helped the wretched fellow, who was
blue with rage, to get up, and I shall never for
get the look of fiendish hate he gave me.
His coat was examined, and the concealed
cards brought to light.
“Well,” he laughed, “I confess I did cheat
that young fool, but I don’t think the law will
give me much for that.”
“No; but they will for forgery and theft I
arrest you M. Gruaz, alias James Dyer, alias
Harry Hilton, on the charge of forgery. Now,
mark me: You need not answer any questions
ot mine unless you like, for what you say will
be taken down against you. Do you remember
a Mr. Thomas Sparling, at the Hotel
Paris? Ah, I see you do, although you won’t
answer ! I know you were the man when I met
you in Newman street.”
“ You!”
“ Yes, I made-up like you purposely. I knew
you were far too clever to use a disguise twice,
and therefore the exactimage of yourself would
startle you.”
The wretch ground his teeth with rage, but
spoke never a word.
He was tried. We had discovered that he had
a mean lodging in a court loading out of
Charles street, and here he kept his disguises
etc. The people of the house were a queer lot,
and cared nothing about how their lodgers made
their money so long as they were paid. Strange
to say, the only thing which belonged to Tom
Sparling, which we found in -the fellow’s
trunks, was the silver locket with sister Nell’s
likeness in it, I suppose it was too valueless to
dispose of.
Nell is now Mrs. Sparling—which she might
never have been bad I not become a detective—
and James Dyer is and will live at the. public
expense for some ten years longer.
So ends the story of the Double Disguise.
THE DETROIT^ SOLOMON.
Wanted Thirty Days—The Other Sort—
On a Wager—’Spected It.
WANTED THIRTY DAYS.
“ Yes—ah—yes, sir—glad to see you, sir,”
observed the bland and smiling Frank Johnson,
as he toed the mark.
“ Thanks,” curtly replied his Honor.
“ Nice weather ?”
“ Yes.”
“ Watermelons about gone? ’
“Yes.”
“Sorry I made you trouble.”
“ Oh, never min’d that. It is our pleasure to
show goods, whether people wish to purchase
or not. Anything I can do for you this morn
ing ?”
“ Well—ah—you know, if it wouldn’t be
too much trouble I guess I d go up for thirty
days. I was drunk, you know. I’ll be very
much obliged.”
“ Well, you may go up for thirty.”
“ Thanks. I’m neither handsome nor rich,
but when a man does me a favor I always re
member it.”
THE OTHER SORT.
John Harrison walked out like a man in
search of a victim, and his feet had scarcely
touched the mark when he demanded:
“ What sort of an outrage do you call this ?”
“Prisoner, you are charged with disorderly
conduct. You had ”
“ The officer who swears to any such thing
is a liar !” shouted Harrison.
“ Prisoner be calm.”
“ I’m calm enough—calm as any American
could be under the circumstances. I say it’s
one of tho worst outrages of the nineteenth
century.”
Two officers and two witnesses testified that
the prisoner was fighting on the street, and that
he resisted arrest.
“ When a man calls me a liar I shall fight!”
shouted Harrison.
“ And every time you fight I shall fine you
five dollars !” replied tho Court.
“ I’ll never pay it ■”
“ Then you’ll go up !”
“ Then I won't I”
“ Prisoner, your fine is increased to ten dol
lars, and if you give me another impudent word
I’ll make it fifty dollars !”
Mr. Harrison wanted to, but he didn’t.
ON A WAGER.
“ This was only a bit of sport,” explained
Charles Williams, as he sheepishly looked over
the desk.
“ As how ?”
“ Why, one of my chums bet me five dol
lars that 1 daren't drink two bottles of cham
pagne.”
“ And yon drank it ?”
“ Yes, sir.”
“ And are here for being drunk ?”
“ Yes, sir. It was all for sport, your Honor,
and I hope you’ll let mo off.”
“ Your fine is ten dollars. One-naif is for
being drunk, and the other for making a fool of
yourself.”
’SPECTED IT.
“ George Scott, you were arrested fow prowl
ing around at fiight. What have you to
say ?”
“ I was gwine home, sab.”
“Where had you been?”
“ To de lodge. ’
“ Why did you have a bag with you, and why
were you hiding in an alley ?”
“ Dunno, sah. Reckon I was walkin’ in my
sleep.”
“ Well, the best time to walk is when you are
awake. I shall send you up for a thirty’.”
“ Yes, sah—l ’spected it, sah.”
“ Let this be a warning to you never to attend
another lodge. They bite like a serpent and
sting like an adder.”
AN ASTONJBHED GAMBLER.
A NEW KIND OF BLUFF RAKES
IN A BIG STAKE.
(From the San Francisco Chronicle.)
That well-dressed and generally polite frater
nity usually classed as “sporting men” was in
an unusual agitation last evening over a choice
bit of gossip affecting one of its members of
most robust'proportions and a young profes
sional man who is only a dilettante in the sport
ing world. The story goes that the two men
were members of a poker party which played
from Monday evening until office hours yester
day morning in the club rooms of a well-known
Kearney street gambling house. The party
then became reduced to the two concerned in
the story, when the dilettante suggested that
they should retire to a small room in the rear
and play alone.
They did so, and twice, when their privacy
was interrupted by a third person, the dilet
tante requested that they should be left alone.
They played until two o’clock yesterday after
noon, when the sport remarked to his opponent,
who had been losing, but had $125 left:
“When you loso SIOO more—if you do—l’m
going to quit. I’m tired.
The SIOO was soon lost, the sport pocketed his
winnings, and the other asked carelessly :
“How much have you won ?”
The sport emptied his pockets on the table,
counted the money, and found that he had $525.
Then ihe dilettante coolly reached for the pile,
put it in his pocket and rose, with the remark :
“Come to my office and I’ll settle.”
The proceeding was so cool thdt the sport
thought he was to be paid in a check, which
would include S3OO which the other previously
owed him. He followed the amateur as far as
the corner of Bush and Kearney streets, when
the latter turned on the sport and said :
“I don’t want you to follow me any further.
If you do, there will be trouble.”
As he said this, he moved his hand in the di
rection of his pistol—a weapon with which he is
an expert. The adipose sporting man was de
cidedly amazed at this, but only remarked :
“Well, I don’t propose to ge’t into a shooting
scrape over a measly $500,” and turned on his
heel and departed.
The gossips last night referred with particu
lar emphasis to tho fact that the sport has no
legal redress, as the manner in which the money
was taken could be claimed to be merely a loan,
and there is no evidence to prove even that. It
was also reported that when the couple reached
Bush street the dilettante said :
“You robbed me of this money, and I now
propose to keep it.”
The comment on this was that “any one
would have to play a very fine game to rob that
man at cards.”
\ JilfiKT B THE HOSPITAL.
BY WILLIAM H. MAHER.
We had fled from our home, where diph
theria had just taken away one of our children,
to the private ward of the hospital, in our efforts
to save the others. The sisters who had charge
of the ward stepped softly hither and thither,
saying little about those in the rooms around
us, but we caught a word here and there that
gave us some cue to the occupants and some
insight into their troubles. The days were
short; tho nights were very long. Our little
child looked at us, that scorching August day,
as if asking us why we did not help her. The
evening was breathless. Windows and doors
were all open, that a breath of air might be
coaxed to come in. The child lying on the bed,
scarcely covered, was continually tossing and
moaning, and as the hours lengthened the air
grew closer. We spoke in whispers as we
fanned her, and hailed with delight the promise
of a storm.
Across the hall from us was a man just closing
his career ot delirium tremens; his voice and
that of his attendants could be heard in vary
ing tones. Near us was an elderly German
woman who was slightly deranged and brought
here for care; she was too weak to move from
her bed. Not far from her was a sick traveling
man, brought here because he had nowhere
else to go, and beside him a hotel clerk, who
could get no care at his hotel.
The male attendant of the ward was one of
the poor men belonging to the institution; the
sister who was in charge to-night one of the
youngest nuns, and one that was exceedingly
anxious to do her full duty.
These people entered but dimly into our
lives. The little child on the bed was our
whole world, but when she slept or when she
was quiet our ears heard what was saying about
us, and only then.
The sky blackened as midnight came; the
flashes of light grew brighter and nearer; the
air began to move; the limbs of the trees tapped
at our window, and by and by the faint mutter
ing of thunder was heard. The electrical ef
fect in the a r was quickly felt in all the rooms.
The sister began looking alter windows and
doors, and the thunder hurried near.
Crash ! What a terrible shock I It seemed
just at our very door, and as if that was the
loosening of the flood gates, the rain came
down in torrents.
“Sis-tare I Sis-tare 1”
What is that ? Ah, it is the German woman ;
poor soul I Perhaps the thunder has frightened
her.
“Sis-tare ! Sistar© I Oh, oh, oh !”
And th© voice fell into a muttering, unintelli
gible cry.
Hark! That is not the sister. No, it is tho
crazy man (drunk crazy) across the hall. He
talks loudly and his attendant closes the door.
Other sick men call lor the sister, and we hear
her step as she passes from room to room
across the hall.
With doors and windows closed to keep out
the storm, the air in the roams becomes stifling.
We watch our child and forget storm and sur
roundings. Her symptoms seem to our ignorant
eyes less favorable. Her eyes seem to be ques
tioning us as crash after crash of thunder fol
low each other.
“ Sis-tare I Sis-tare !”
That moaning cry breaks in upon our forget
fulness. Poor woman! alone in her room,
what wierd fancies may she not have from out
this terrible storm?
“ Sis-tare ! Sis-tare ! Oh, sistare!”
What can she want! Her cry is heart-break
ing, so one of us search lor the sister. Yes,
she hoars her and has been there, but the
woman wants companionship more than medi
cine, and she must attend equally to all.
Crash ! How learfully close it is ! No won
der the man whose brain has lost its control
shouts out, and tho sister hurries to the assist
ance oi the attendant. How she soothes the
patient! Hear ner : “Yes, yes; take this,
dear, take this.” Bho comes out looking ex
hausted, and hopes the dose she has given him
will send him to sleep.
This long from our own child. Tho storm affects
her as it does the others. Let us soothe her
and help her. The clock moyes so slowly; the
storm seems so interminable. The little face
continues to question, and just as we think we
have soothed her to quietness
“Sis-tare! Sis-tare! Oh, sis-tar© !”
Tho moan fills the whole house, and every
room that but now was quiet, is at once in need
of the watcher, and the sick are calling for her.
“ Come and eat something.”
It is the voice of the sister.
“Como.and get a cup of tea, and you will be
helped by it.”
Who can eat? No, we do not need it. But
she is wise, and she understands. How many
just such anxious parents may she not have
seen in that same room?
“ Come,” she says, and one goes. Yes, she is
wise. Here in the little pantry over her gas
stove she has made a pot oi tea and has spread
out a little lunch. We had not felt the need of
it, but the strength it gives is very grateful. We
take turns at tho little table, tho sister hardly
able to stay a moment with us.
“ Yes,” she says, “it is busy to-night;” and
she says it in broken English with a French
shrug. “ People are always uneasy in a storm.
And to-night the thunder is so loud, and the
lightning so bright, it is more worse than she is
known of before.”
“Bis-tare! Sis-tare!”
“Yes, that poor old woman is lonesome. Her
husband have staid with her before now, but to
night he went home, and she is troubled. But
she is not in grief; she is company wanting.”
And the sister shrugs her shoulders in sym
pathy.
A noise in the room across the hall arouses
her. “ Yes, it is that good man. It is much
pity; lie is so good, but when he drinks then he
goes on.”
“ Has ho been here before?”
“Uh, indeed!” with an expressive shrug, “he
was many times here. We will make him good.
Oh, indeed, yes, bo was here.”
It is but an hour since the storm began. It
seems a week. The flashes of lightning are less
frequent; tho rain is gentler, can wo not open
the doors? Ah, what blessed air comes in! If
only such a storm could heal these suffering
ones.
“Sister! Sister!”
That is not the old woman, but the whispered
call of the attendant opposite.
“Sister! Sister! Come quick!”
What is wrong now? Her soft slippers skim
over the hall floor quickly; wo hear them
whisper together; she hastens away again, and
by and by returns with another, in whose voice
we recognize the Sister Superior. What is it?
“Sis-tare! Sis-tare!”
They pay no attention to this, but hasten into
the room.
“Canyou leave your child a moment?”
It is the Superior.
“What is it, Sister?”
“I fear the man is dying.”
So is our child, but we can step across the
hall.
“Is there aught wo can do?”
“No ; the doctor said he was afraid for him—
h© could not stop- and he was such a nice man
when he was himself.”
“Sis-tare I Sis-tare!”
“Go to her, Sister, and comfort her,” and the
Superior sends her helper.
Dying ! No friend near but the Sisters of
Charity ! Dying! Killed by himself, and dy
ing in this bare room where, perhaps, many
others have died. No look of intelligence in the
eyes ; the brain evidently full of wild visions.
Dying ! Dying in the hospital! A good place
to go to when one was sick—a good place to get
better in, but, alas ! a dreary place to die in.
The storm is over. Open doors and windows
and lot out the foul air. We are not able to stop
and weep over the dying of others ; our own
child demands our every thought. Is it our
fears that lead us to think she looks worse ?
Would that morning and the physician were
here I The pulse is weaker. Is it worse ?
“Ho is dead,” some one whispers at our door.
Yes, the world is dyin" ! Why shouldn’t he die ?
He was past middle li.'e; h© abused his man
hood. He has tempted fate, and he should die;
but this little child
“Sis-tare ! Sis-tare I”
Yes, this old woman will probably get better
and live on for years, while this little child
How quiet«she is !
Yes, this little child lies here struggling for
her life. How quiet the world is after the storm !
is death as quiet to this man, or has he gone
from a troublous world into one still more full
of trouble ?
Is it time for medicine? But what good is
medicine? We have been too anxious to be ex
act—to measure so carefully; but of what avail?
W© have been wishing lor the morning, but now
we dread it. Every minute is taking her away
from us. The birds begin to twitter on the
trees ; the woman has gone to sleep; a faint
gleam of light breaks in the sky; the morning is
coming all too swift, for it will bring us only a
baby’s shroud.— Chicago Inter-Ocean.
SEA-BASS" FISHING.
Interesting But Trying Sport Off Cape
May—A Contest of Eishermen.
(From the Philadelphia Star.)
Our point of destination was “Bear Hole,”
though why it was thus called I am unable to
say, ner could any one tell when, how, or by
whom it had been discovered. Presumably, its
whereabouts was gleaned from the coast survey
charts, and curiosity probably prompted some
body to test its qualities as a fishing ground. At
all events, there was such a locality as “Bear
Hole,” and it was known to be a groat place of
resort for sea bass. The water is full sixty feet
in depth, and the bottom of an uneven, shelly
character.
What is the extent of th© depression did not
appear to be known to the Captain, but he
seemed to be familiar with the direction in
which it lies from Cape May, for, without leav
ing his wheel or consulting compass or chart,
he steered right up to a small buoy—a bit of
pine block, two feet in length by six inches in
diameter, which he had anchored there on a for
mer visit. There we anchored, and as all hands
were keen to take the first fish, the baited hooks
were overboard and fish taken before the
schooner’s headway had been checked.
Then the fun began, and continued fast and
furious for several hours. It required little
skill to catch the bass. They were plentiful and
hungry, took the bait freely and were easily
hooked and landed. Mr. K. and myself took the
launch, and, with the first mate to scull us,
moved a little way from th© big boat. Now our
sculler, like Dick Chamberlain, of Somers Point,
was partly deaf, and also an ardent fisherman.
He looked with scorn upon my rod and reel,
and openly boasted his determination to beat
me that day. He enjoys a big reputation as an
angler, and has rarely been beaten by a hand
lin© fisherman. He had never been pitted
against a rod and reel before, which probably
inspired him with greater confidence.
Well, the match began, the deaf man and th©
handline, against your humble servant and th©
rod and reel. H© started out well, bringing up
as his almost first catch a three-pound bass.
You should have seen the smile of triumph that
illumined bis countenance as ho tossed the first
fish into the basket. I was not far behind him.
I brought up two nearly as large as his, and for
a time we had it nip-and-tuck. But ho soon be
gan to see the advantage I enjoyed in being able
to hook a fish mor© certainly than he. Then I
had first-class Chestertown hooks, than which
there are none better for sea bass. He had
hooks of the ordinary kind. After an hour s
fishing he began to weaken. I could perceive
that he began to regard the rod and reel and
Chestertown with a feeling akin to respect, and
that he felt that he had made a great mistake
when he thought he could beat me, ©ven in sixty
feet of water. What surprised him most was
that almost invariably I ;landed two fish, while
he got only one—occasionally two. He couldn't
understand it, though 1 did, perfectly.
My secret was this: Whenever I hooked a
single fish, instead of reeling it in, 1 would
wait for another to bit© and then hook a second
one. 1 had not long to wait, lor the fish were
plentiful and the biting free. The ability to
take two at a time in this way depends upon the
tact of the rodman in distinguishing the differ
ence between the “pulling” of a hooked fish and
the sharp biting of the fish just taking th© bait.
W© did not keep count, but I think I caught
two to his one. Excuse this personal mention.
I allude to th© incident only for the purpose ot
illustrating, as I have so frequently done, tho
superiority of the rod and reel for deep sea or
any other kind of fishing over tho bungling
hand-line.
The water was as clear as crystal. We could
see the hooked fish coming up to the surface at
a depth of ten or fifteen ieet. On one occasion,
just as I brought a fine bass to the surface, a
five-foot shark made a dash for him, but my
fish escaped, and as the shark appeared to be
disappointed at his failure, he swam around
the boat in the most impudent manner. It was
a beautiful sight, for the water was perfectly
clear, and every graceful movement of his
sharkship was visible.
Trailing my hooked fish in front of him, he
would follow it with the utmost eagerness, only
to find himself disappointed when he appeared
to be most certain of the prize. After tantaliz
ing him for some time in that way, 1 enticed
him to the boat’s side, when I gave him a prod
with my rod, which started him off like a flash
to the depths below.
We fished for about three hours, the total
count footing up four hundred and sixty-six
good-sized bass, a large number of them rang
ing from two to three and a half pounds, but
the majority averaging not more than from
three-quarters to a pound.
The sea bass is not a gamey fish, in the true
sense of the term. He is a vigorous biter, but
h«as feeble powers of endurance. In fifteen or
twenty feet of water such a catch as ours would
afford much better sport, but to reel up two
fish, weighing variously from one to two
pounds each, from a depth of sixty feet, is sim
ply hard work. But my hand-line companions
enjoyed it immensely, and I am free to say that
it was a pleasant episode to me. The
lovely, the company agreeable, and the sailing
all that could have been deaired had we had
just a little stiffer breeze.
A WESTERN GOVERNOR.
HE DIDN’T UNDERSTAND STYLE.
(From the Youth’s Companion.)
One of the most popular Governors of Illi
nois was John Heynolds. Leaving Tennessee
at an early age, he settled in Illinois when it
was a territory, and by his courage and skill as
au Indian fighter won the title of “ Old Ban
ger.”
He had received but a limited education, but
his natural abilities, generous impulses and
honest dealings gave him such popularity that
the people made him a judge, a member of
Congress and Governor of the State. But in
every station he was always “Jack Reynolds.”
While he was a member of Congress, Mr.
Darby, of St. Louis, who tells the anecdote,
called upon him at the capital.
“ Well, Governor,” said Darby, “ how do you
like life in Washington as compared with life at
your home m Belleville ?”
“Mr. Darby, it don’t suit me, sitting around
here on these line, silk-cushioned chairs; I
don’t feel at home as I do at Belleville, sitting
on tho logs and fence rails with the boys, and
whittling sticks.”
When the State of Illinois determined to
build railroads, it sent Gov. Reynolds as a
commissioner to Europe to negotiate its bonds.
The British minister at Washington gave him
letters of introduction to several noblemen in
London. Mr. Darby tells, without vouching
for its truth, the following story of the Govern
or’s first introduction to the English aristoc
racy, illustrating the ignorance and the lack of
polish which used to be regarded as evidence
of American superiority.
As soon as he arrived in London, he called on
a nobleman, who happened not to be at home,
and left his card and a letter of introduction.
In the course of a few hours a note came from
the nobleman, expressing regret at not meeting
Gov. Reynolds, and inviting him to dine the
next day. The note also stated that the noble
man’s carriage would be at the Governor’s resi
dence, a few minutes before the appointed hour.
When the carriage was announced the Governor
came down to find a splendid equipage, with
coachman and footmen dressed in livery.
“How are you, gentlemen? How are you?
Which of you is the duke ?" asked the Western
Governor.
His grace is at home ; we are his servants,”
answered one of the servants, surprised at the
salutation.
“ Well,” said his excellency, “get in, get into
the carriage.”
“ No, sir, if you please—the carriage is for
your excellency -we ride outside.”
“ What! only one man inside, and three of
you outside in the rain 1” exclaimed the “ Old
Ranger,” astonished at what he regarded as the
selfishness of aristocratic customs, so different
from the free and easy manners of the Western
frontier.
American Women.—The frankness of
tho American young woman has in it (says
Mr. Archibald Forbes, the well-known war
correspondent and lecturer), on the threshold,
a certain bewilderment and even embarrass
ment for the British male person, especially if
his collars be stiffly starched. She has so utter
an apparent absence of self-consciousness; her
mental equipoise is so serenely stable; her good
fellowship, it one may use tho term, is so natural,
that he cannot see his way easily to the sola
tion oi the problem. I assume him to be a
gentleman, so that his intuition deters him
from a misconception of the phenomena that
confront him. She flirts, he finds; she is an
adept in flirtation, but it is a flirtation “ from
the teeth outward,” to use Carlyle’s phrase;
and he is lain to own to himself, like the fox
hunting farmer who tried unsuccessfully to get
drunk on tho claret, that he seems to “ get no
forrarder.” But although the citidel of the
fortress seems to him strangely impregnable
because of the cool, alert, self-possession of the
garrison, I have been told by heroic persons
who have ventured on the escaalde, that if the
beleaguorer be he who fortune favors, it will
terminate an honorable siege by a graceful
capitulation. Human nature is human nature
all the world over. And there is no greater
error than the prevalent one among us
that domesticity is not a leading virtue of
American married couples. That there is too
much of -hotel life for American families I
concede, and I am fully conscious of the faults
and evils of the system: but that it entails any
impairment of the higher domestic virtues I
have failed to discover. It not easy to see how
a woman is deteriorated as the companion and
friend of a man—as the participator in his as
pirations, his troubles, his studies, his higher
life—because her conditions release her from
the duty ot devising tho details of a dinner,
from the irritation of demoniacal domestics,
from tn© drudgery of checking the grocer’s
pass-book, and the sad realization that all
baker’s are liars, and mostly robbers as well.
Horrors of Cholera in Spain. —Here
is a translation from a Valencian paper: “In the
Province of Valencia, the place which has com
paratively suffered most, is Torres, situated
about ten kilometres from Sagunta, containing
about 800 inhabitants. In the place itself there
are neither doctors nor dispensary, but medical
assistance and medicines were supplied from
Algimia, where the cholera was also raging—
very soon the former also failed them, for of the
two doctors one died of the disease, and the
other, after losing his wife, was attacked by the
terrible epidemic. As these towns, and that of
Alfara de Algimia, were thus deprived of medi
cal aid, the mayor went to Valencia to lay the
state of the case before the governor, and -pray
for help. On his return ho fell a victim to the
scourge. The panic was increasing. The
butcher and his family died, and the town re
mained without the supply of meat. But this
wasn’t all. The baker and his family suffered
the same fate as the butcher, which made things
still worse, as the families still in existence were
very few of them in a state to make bread.
There was still more to come. The gravedigger
was struck down, and in a single day there were
eighteen dead bodies, with nobody to bury
them. The force ot the civil guard in barracks
there consisted of four men and a sergeant; the
wives of three of the guards had died, and the
remaining guards were all ill. When assistance
arrived, which infused a little animation into
the people, the greater part of the houses were
shut up, either in consequence of the death ox*
fight of the owners. Only about forty were in
habited, and these were all occupied by cholera
stricken patients.”
A Good Move.—At the best Summer
hotels everywhere there is a tendency to do
away with the use of French on the bills of
tare. The movement originated with the land
lords, who lound that as their guests could not
read French, they ordered everything on tho
bill, making it a very expensive racket.
A Dog That Understands. —The Bos
ton Record is responsible for thia story: There
is a Newfoundland dog of the historian’s ac
quaintance, Lion by name, who gives daily
proof of his comprehension of what is said to
him. A lady called on his mistress the other
day. During her call Lion came in rather
slylv, lay down on the parlor carpet, and went
to sleep. The conversation ran on, and the
visitor said finally:
“ What a handsome Newfoundland you
have?”
Lion opened one eye. “Yes,” said his mis
tress, “ he is a very good dog, and takes excel
lent care of the children.”
Lion opened the other eye, and waved
his tail complacently to and fro along the car
pet.
When the baby goes out he always goes with
her, and I feel perfectly sure then that no harm
can come to her,” bis mistress went on.
Lion’s tail thumped up and down violently on
the carpet.
“And he is so gentle to them all and such a
playmate and companion to them, that we would
not take a thousand dollars for him.”
Lion’s tail now went up and down to and fro,
and round and round with great and undis
guised glee.
“But,” said his mistress, Lion has one
serious fault.”
Total subsidence of Lion’s tail, together
with the appearance of an expression of groat
concern on his face.
“ Ho will come in here with his dirty feet and
lie down on the carnet, when I have told him
time and again that be musn’t do it.”
Here Liou arose with an air of the utmost de
jection and humiliation and slunk out of the
room with his lately exuberant tail totally crest
fallen.
Ominous Prophecies Concerning 86.
—Somebody has unearthed an old prophecy for
the year 1886 of a decidedly uncomfortable
nature. It appears that in the church of
Oberemmel, near the city of Treveri, in Ger
many, there is a stone tablet some centuries
old, on which is cut the prophetic verse—in
prose it may be rendered:
“When Mark shall bring us Easter and
Anthony shall sing praises at Pentecost, and
John swing the censor at the feast of Corpus
Domini, then shall the whole earth resound with
weepings and wailings.”
Now it so happens that next year Easter falls
on St. Marks Day, Pentecost on that of St.
Anthony at Padua, and the Corpus Domini
comes on St. John the Baptist s Day, June 21.
Here, then, are the first conditions of the
prophecy fulfilled, so that now believers in
prophecies and anxious minded persons gener
ally have only to sit down and think of every
thing disagreeable that can possibly happen to
this poor old planet and the dwellers thereon
between January and December, 1888. And,
really, if the cyclones and earthquakes and
epidemics, and “ war and rumors of wars” of
the years 1882 3,4, 5, are to be eclipsed, the
prospect is not an agreeable one.
Two Romeos to a Juliet.—Says the
Oshkosh (Wis.) Dispatch: “An interesting lit
tle love comedy is reported on the train north.
The train had stopped at Oshkosh, where two
men, walking up and down the platform, finally
espied a girl through the coach window. They
entered the car and greeted her with all the ar
dor of two Romeos, she playing Juliet to both.
They endeavored to induce her to get off at Osh
kosh, but she felt inclined to go to Appleton.
While they were discussing the point the train
started, and the two Romeos concluded to go
to Appleton with her. Then the picnic com
menced.
First one would occupy the seat with her, hug
ging and kissing her with an ardor that was un
dismayed by the presence of many passengers.
Then he would go back to the rear of the car,
and the other man would hug and kiss her until
his conscience told him that his time was up ;
then he would retire and give the other man a
chance. It was iun for the passengers, and the
comments and side remarks may be better
imagined than described. The girl was alive
at last accounts, and is visiting her friends at
Appleton. The two men probably hugged each
other all the way back to Oshkosh.
Mustard and Pneumonia.—A physi
cian says: Pneumonia can be cured if the per
son will apply over the lungs a poultice of mus
tard and flaxseed meal, keeping quiet and warm
in bed. Prompt action is of vital importance,
and there is no occasion for -waiting the arrival
of a practitioner, when so simple a remedy may
be applied by any one, and if taken in season
will, I think, be effective. In my first experi
ence, my determination not to give up my busi
ness, even for a day, came near costing me my
life. The case was neglected till an eminent
physician said that my right lung would be of
just as much use to me out on the table as in
the condition it then was, a fact of which I was
already pretty well aware, but the mustard and
flaxseed poultice mastered the disease and re
stored my lung to its normal condition*, as good
as new. In the second attack a year later, the
case was taken in hand promptly, the poultice
applied, quiet and warmth maintained, and
speedy recovery ensued without a physician be
ing called. Mustard is an old-fashioned cure,
and its healing virtues can hardly be over-esti
mated. It has saved many a doctor’s bill.
The Historic Covent Garden.—The
Duke of Bedford is one of the richest peers in
Great Britain, and is said to rise up every
morning the richer for some lease which has
fallen in during the night. The lucky grant by
which his ancestors, the Russells, came into
possession of Covent Garden and its neighbor
hood dates as far back as 1552. The “Garden”
originally formed part of the grounds of the
Abbey of Westminister. Edward VL, who was
mostly distinguished for his generosity in giving
away what did not belong to him, presented it
to his uncle, the Duke of Somerset. When that
nobleman was attainted, it again passed into
the hands of the sovereign, and then, with
seven acres called “Long Acre,” was given to
John, Earl of Bedford. New streets were built
by him and his successors, who had managed to
secure a dukedom. It was during the reign of
King Charles 11. that the famous market began
to rise in importance, and it was again secured
by the Russell family by a new grant. It is
stated that no English family has taken more
money out of the same space of land without
any trouble to itself.
They Have Their Ears Shaved.—
Says the Boston Gazette : A person unfamiliar
with the fashion can hardly imagine the number
of people who, each time they have their hair
trimmed, also have the tonsorial artist shave
their ears. Many elderly gentlemen are both
ered with thick hair on their ears, which would
grow in many cases to a considerable length,
and which would naturally attract much atten
tion. It is well enough that they should have
the hair trimmed from their ears, but of late
years it has grown to be quite the fashion among
swell young men, whether they have a crop of
hair upon their ears or not, to regularly, each
week or two, allow the barber to lather and
shave their ears. All barbers are familiar with
this class of customers, and a fashionable jone
in this city said, a few days since, that a dozen
or more gentlemen customers at his establish
ment have their ears shaved regularly.
The Ticking or a Clock.—Slight
thought the ticking of a clock may be, its sud
den cessation has a wonderful influence upon
the inmates of a room in which the timekeeper
is located. A dim realization 'of something
wrong steals over the senses—a feeling as if
something of value had been lost, or a friend
had gone away perhaps never to return, or as if
some of the children were sick, until suddenly
some one looks up and exclaims: “ Why, the
clock's stopped!” And immediately the ill
defined forebodings dissipate, the little shadow
of gloom melts away, and as the winding-up
process is completed, and the cheery ticking
recommences, the family circle regains its
wonted buoyancy of spirits and the members
wonder what it was that made them feel so
gloomy a few moments before.
Sparrow and Humming-Bird. —At In
dianapolis the other day a gentleman saw a
sparrow, all his British blood evidently aroused,
starting alter a small object, which, in its flight,
glittered like a fragment from a rainbow. They
quickly disappeared, but presently the sparrow
came winging its way back, not with the air of a
conqueror, but plainly in lull retreat, with the
speck of tridescent plumage close behind him.
The sparrow dropped into some tall grass to
escape, but his assailent was not to be shaken
off, and fell upon him, the sparrow uttering the
‘ most distressing cries. The spectator of the
conflict drawing nearer, the humming-bird was
frightened off, and the badly whipped sparrow
escaped further punishment from the lance-like
bill of his antagonist.
THE BEST
remedy, for all diseases arising from a dis
ordered condition of the stomach or liver,
is Ayer’s Pilis. Mrs. Rachel C. Decker
ton, Germantown, Pa., writes: “For
three years I was afflicted with Liver
Complaint. I tried the best physicians in
the country, but could get no relief. I
was advised to use Ayer’s Pills, and,
having done so, believe my liver is now in
a perfectly healthy condition.” Thos.
Gerrish, IVebster, N. H., writes: “ I was
compelled to quit work in consequence of
a severe bilious trouble. In less than one
month I was cured by the use of Ayer’s
Pills.” Jacob Little, Tampico, Mexico,
writes: “ Ayer’s Pills cured me of Stom
ach and Liver troubles, which annoyed me
for years. By using them occasionally,
I enjoy the best of health.”
Ayer’s Pills,
PREPARED BY
DR. J. AYER & CO., Lowell, Mass., U.S.A*
■ For sale by ah Druggists.
I A Snake Egg Hatched by the Warmth
j of the. Human Bopy.—Says a Greencastle dis
| patch in the Philadelphia Times.* “ Ma, I be
, neve there s a mouse in my bed !” exclaimed a
| young lady near Antietam Junction. Her
i mother was not so much alarmed by the re
mark as she would have been if it had related
to the maternal bed, but suggested that th©
young lady should invest gate.
The bed clothing was hauled off und the
mouse did not make its appearance. The mat
tress was then tiltod off the bedstead, but no
mouse.
“ My child, you are nervous.” said the moth
er— I go to sleep and don’t think about it any
more.”
About midnight the girl gave a loud scream
bounced out of bed in a hurry. The bed
clothes were hastily dragged off and the mat
tress shaken, but the mouse was not forth
coming.
am sure I felt it move then,” sobbed the
* ri &P tene d maiden. “ I know it’s something.” .
lue mother calmed the nervous young lady
with difficulty and tried to induce her to go tc>%
sleep again. She did not do so, however, until
placed in the spare room in a bed of generous
proportions and above all suspicion of harbor*
ing mice. The next day a rigid investigation
was held. Nothing less than cutting open the
mattress would satisfy the young lady. There
wasn t any mouse. Instead of that, when the
bedtick was cut open and its contents emptied
on the floor, a garter snake two feet long wrig
gled about, scared half to death. A broom
stick calmed the snake’s nerves forever in a>
short time. It is supposed that a stray snake
egg was sewed up in the mattress with the
shucks which constituted the bulk of its stuff
ing.
An Adventure With a Shark.—Says
the Boston Herald Mr. Richdrd Freeman, &
fisherman, had a desperate encounter with a>
swingtail shark off Rai., ©ford island, which re
sulted in its capture alter an exoit.ng struggle*.
The shark made its presence known to Mr.
Freeman by charging under the boat and near
ly upsetting it. Mr. Freeman, armed with a
clamming fork, kept the shark at bay, and by
several well-made thrusts mieted the monster,,
and as he thought he had it lifeless proceeded
to load his sharkship into the boat, which wasr
accomplished after considerable effort. Mr.
Freeman started tor Boston with his prize, and
everything progressed smoothly until off Long
Island Head, when, to the surprise of Mr. Free
man, the shark became as active as ever, and
made things pretty warm for Mr. Freeman. In
the struggle the boat was overturned and tho
cantor and captive were left to fight out tho
battle in the water. Remarkable as it may
seem, Mr. Freeman succeeded in righting the
boat and securing the shark with a rope, by
which he towed his prize to South Boston Point,
where it is now on free exhibition at the Grant
House. Considering the fact that Mr. Free
man’s capture measures fiiteen feet, and is one
of the most dangerous man-eaters captured in
the harbor for years, it is without doubt a great
curiosity. Mr. Freeman was quite exhausted
after his struggle, and is the he>o of the hour
at City Point.
Kicked the Nonsense Out op Him.—•
An English nobleman, speaking of the benefit
ot school life, said he was care ally educated at
home by a private tutor until he was ten years
old, when he was sent to Harrow. He had an
exalted opinion of himself and stood aloof from
the boys on the playground. A ter a time on©
or the boys came up to him with the question,
“Who are you ?” The answer was, “I am the
young Lord So-and-so, and my father is an
earl.” “Oh, indeed,” said the questioner,
looking at him from head to foot; then seizing
him by the shoulders behind, he proceeded to
kick him, saying, “ Well, here's a kick lor his
lordship, that’s another for the earl, and this is
one for luck.” He reported the outrage, but
was only laughed at, and soon found that, how
ever much he might esteem himself, his school
mades did not value him at the same rate.
A Raven- of a “Literary Turn.”—
Rats are not the only dumb creatures which
have shown a “ literary turn ” in getting posses
sion of post-letters. Some years ago, it is rela
ted, a postman was going his rounds delivering
letters in Kelvedon, in Essex, (Eng.) carrying a
registered letter in his hand, ready to deliver it
at the next house, when a tame raven suddenly
darted down, snatched it from his grasp, and
flew off with it. The bewildered postman could
only watch the bird while it made a circuit over
the town, which it did before alighting ; and, as
soon as it got to a suitable place, it set to work
to analylse the composition of the missive by
tearing the letter to pieces. The fragments were
shortly afterward collected and put together,
when it was found that part of them were the
remains of a check for thirty pounds, which was
afterward renewed when the singular affair was
made known. _
From Fiddler to Judge.—One of the
Justices of the Maine Supreme Court occasion
ally amuses himself, when he is alone, by tak
ing down an old fiddle and playing on it. The
Judge used to be an expert performer of jigs
on the fiddle, but since his boyhood has not
devoted much time to the violin. He was born
and raised in poverty, and the story of his life
is almost a romance. His father was the fid
dler of the village, a nomadic and jovial soul.
Said an old neighbor the other day, “When I
went to muster, sixty years ago, I used to sea
the Judge and his father playing the fiddle for
dances at six pence per tune. That was th©
regular price in those days. None of the dan
cers ever supposed that their little fiddler
would become a Judge of the Supreme Court.”
Quaint Epitaphs.—Says the Boston
Transcript: The following quaint epitaphs were
found on tombstones during the wanderings of
one of our citizens in the old burying ground in
Jaffrey, N. H. The stones were side by side:
“Sacred to the memory of Amos Fortune,
who was born free in Africa. A slave in Amer
ica, he purchased his liberty, professed Chris
tianity, lived reputably, died hopefully No
vember 17, 1801, let. 91. Erected by William
Farnsworth.”
“Sacred to the memory of Violate, by sal©
the slave of Amos Fortune, by marriage hia
wife, by her fidelity his friend and solace. She
died his widow September 18, 1802, &t seventy
three years.
Social Life in China.—A favorable
feature of Chinese life is to be found in the fact
that there is no caste, as in India, and that the
highest positions are open to aspirants from all
classes. Instances are not uncommon of men
rising from the lowest walk of life to fill tho
highest offices in the land. The people live in
clans, and the family lines are very distinctly
drawn. This system presents a great obstacle
to the spread oi Christianity. “It is a very
serious thing,” writes the Rev. 0. B. Henry,
“ for a man to face a whole hostile clan with th©
confession that he has forsaken the faith of his
lathers, and can no longer worship at the tombs
and ancestral shrine.
The Cost of Cologne Cathedral.—
A statement has just appeared in the Cologne
Gazette of the cost ot restoring and completing
the great cathedral, from 1823, when the work
was resumed after a neglect of nearly three
quarters of a century, down to the Ist of April
of the present year. The amount, including a
contribution ot 250,000 marks from the Cathe
dral Tax, was 21 millions of marks, or £1,050,-
000. This is quite independent of gifts of valu
able objects for the religious services or th©
decoration of the building, and of a large num
ber of private donations and funds for pious
foundations.
Is It Not a Good Custom ?—Through
out Wales, as well as in Scotland and the North
of England, in those districts possessed of great
humidity of climate, the custom of placing th©
grain as soon as cut into small wind-mows is
seldom if ever deviated from even in the bright
est, most settled weather. These puny ricks,
containing only about a cartload of sheaves in
each, when well built, will throw off the hardest
rain without sustaining injury; and grain sel
dom receives damage in the t wettest harvest in
those districts where the custom is univeEsally
pursued.
The Bulldog Fly.—A correspondent
of the Toronto Globe, writing from Manitoba,
says that a newcomer in that country finds it
extremely difficult to become reconciled to tho
insect pests. A bulldog fly, so called, is worse
on cattle and horses than the mosquito. He
says that he has spent six hours out of the eight
one is supposed to sleep fighting the pests.
The bulldog fly possesses a pair of animated
pincers, and as soon as they strike they takeout
a piece of flesh. Ordinarily they do not trouble
men, but on horses and cattle they are perfect
devils.
EFFECTS.
Ayer’s Pills are made from the concen
, trated extracts and active remedial prin
■ ciples of purely' vegetable substances.
• They are, therefore,far more effective and
• satisfactory' in their cathartic, diuretic,
i and tonic effects than Pills made by’ the
; ordinary process from powdered drugs.
, M. C. Lawson, Greenville, Tenn., writes:
i “ I have used Ayer’s Pills for Stomach
, and Liver troubles with excellent results.”
i J. M. Hodgdon, Stillwater, Minn., writes:
: “Ayer’s Pills are invaluable as a cathartic,
and especially for their action upon the
liver. I am sure they' saved my life.”
Antoine Albertz, Los Angelos, Cal.,
writes: “ Ayer’s Cathartic Pills cured
me of a severe bilious attack, when the
medicine given me by’ the doctors failed;
to do any' good.”