New York dispatch. [volume], September 27, 1885, Page 7, Image 7

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

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CONTRACTIONS.
*Tbo ways of this life ar© so hard
For ns to understand;
*Tl)p joys we reach lor so oftan slip
From out our eager hand.
The things we prize most soon decay,
While those we want not. stay;
Turning to sorrow’s darksome night
Joy's blithesome merry day.!
We keep back much of warm heart love,
Because what share wo give
Is flung back like a worthless flower
We deem unfit to live.
Our warmest friends oft traitors provS,
While strangers turn to friends,
And threads which look the smoothest are
Made up of tangled, ends.
The dreams we dream, the joys we feci
Are brief as morning dew.
And staffs we think strong and secure,
Break ’neath our weight in two.
But when of yonder heavenly life
God gives to me a share.
My greatest joy will be to find
No contradictions there.
1 DUEL JS TSE DARK.
BY F. CHAMBERS.
After many vain attempts, I have obtained
The facts of a remarkable episode in the life of
Andrew Buhley, who died in Philadelphia last
Winter.
He was a Southerner, nearly seventy yoars
bld, and, considering his age, the most pro
bounced sport and gambler I ever knew of.
This fact, and the presence of a queer scar on
Iris face, together with his having been known
in the principal sporting places in New York
and Philadelphia, since the war, made mo anx
ious to get some information about his life,
Vhich, I am sure, had had its adventures.
He was a cold, hard man, who made few
Iriends and few enemies. Bis reputation of be
ing an old-time sport, who could, nevertheless,
still hold his own in playing a deal or pulling a
pistol, gained for him a sort of respectful con
sideration among his associates. He was a
jbold player and a cool winner at almost every
game of cards in vogue. Be never lost all con
trol of his temper, though when the cards went
against him he would case his mind by uttering
low and rapid curses, the most sulphurous and
blasphemous ever hoard in a faro bank or any
where else.
He was never surly so long as others kept
their distance: he never smoked, but drank
uniformly—and moderately- the best of liquor.
As far as I know, there was only one man North
with whom he chatted familiarly, and it was
that man who gave me the following account ot
the fire-eater’s duel:
In 1855, Buhley, then about forty years of
age, brought some male and female slaves to
the block in Lafayette to sell. He had for ten
or more years been sole proprietor of an inher
ited plantation in Jefferson parish. Lafayette
was the capital—or county town, as we should
say here--and was connected with New Orleans
by a ferrv ovet the Mississippi river.
The slaves were left in charge of a keeper,
awaiting the time set for the auction, and Buh
ley sought the principal hotel.
He was soon engaged in a game of euchre
with a man named Compton, a professional
gambler and sharp. The latter had made quite
a stake the night before, had been drinking
considerable, and was reckless and excited,-but
bis opponent played a cool, steady game.
Compton lost at firnt, and then insisted upon
raising the stakes for the next game. Winning
this, he nearly cleaned out Buhley, who had not
brought much monev with him. Upon being
asked if ho would like to put up a thousand
dollars, Buhley offered to send for a mulatto
female slave worth fifteen hundred dollars, to
be staked against twelve hundred dollars cash.
After considerable mutual badgering—which
did not engender good blood—they agreed to
play on these terms, provided the hotel pro
prietor should appraise the girl as worth fifteen
hundred dollars market value. The girl proved
to be a very trim and well-favored mulatto,
seventeen years old about, and was declared by
the proprietor to be worth at least the price
named. , .
A distinct verbal agreement was made, and
the men began to play for the stakes—twelve
hundred dollars against, the slave. Compton
played an astute game, but found that he was
well matched. Each man tried to aggravate
the other, but for a time neither succeeded in
doing so. as no pretext for a quarrel occurred.
Finally, Compton, determined to “break up”
his cool adversary somehow, said :
“ Why don’t you put up money, and not bar
ter your own flesh and blood ?”
Instantly he found himself covered by a Colt’s
seven-shooter, and the infuriated slave-owner
Snarled out:
“Take that back, or I’ll blow your heart
out.”
The taunt had been uttered by Compton in
the full belief that he could draw in time to de
fend himself, if necessary, but, although his
hand moved as soon as ho saw the first motion
of the other’s, he had not been quick enough.
He had to relax his hold upon the hall-drawn
weapon to avoid certain death.
“ Let. us settle this after the game is finished,”
said Compton.
“ Now ’’’ thundered the other. “ Repeat after
me, ‘ I beg your pardon for what 1 said,’ or you
are a de .d man.”
“A duel! a duel! I demand a chance!”
cried Compton.
“Well, I’ll give you a’chance, although you
are an infamous hound, and have no rights with
gentlemen.”
Compton was nowise anxious to avoid a duel,
for he neither lacked bravery nor was willing
to get the name of lacking it, but winning the
stake was an object he never lost sight of.
Having very decidedly discomposed his ad
versary, he wanted to finish the game.
“Come, play out the game. Give me an op
portunity to win what 1 staked my money on’—
and fight afterward.”
i Buhley wanted blood, not money, but he be-
to realize that he v.as being beaten in cool
ness by one whom he had tried to excite; so for
his own sullen satisfa - -ui, he resolved to win
the game by skilllul pla\ mg, and then force a
•fight.
Buhley told my informal: c that he then and there
determined to never a .. inlet anything on earth
disturb his cold, stern watchfulness in playing.
He won the game and Compton allowed him to
take the money. Buhley pulled a bell-cord and
told the attendant who appeared to summon the
proprietor again.
On entering the room the latter’s eyes fell
upon the face of the giro who had been kept in
the room pending the issue of the game. He
saw what he had not : *u before—an unmis
takable resemblance between her and the man
•who had called for him. It was not that decided
and general similarity that would surely be ap
parent to everybody, but. it existed and was lia
ble to be revealed in certain occasional postures
Apd expressions.
He involuntarily started, and Compton saw
and understood his look.
Many slave owners m the South were quite
drilling that the gratification of their passions
should result in an increase of slaves—which
meant an increase oi wealth. The offspring
generally showed little trace of the father, ex
cept in having a lighter color than the mother.
The lighter the mulatto-woman the higher her
fijarket value when sold as a slave.
Most of the slave-raisers when they thought
of the probable fathership of any oi the slaves
they purposed selling, comforted themselves
with the belief that the child might have been
fathered by some one else. Excepting cases
-where this iniquitous adjunct of slavery had
Utterly annihilated all human feeling, the plant
er who saw positively that he had lathered a
mulatto, had some compunctions of conscience
regarding maltreating or selling it.
In this instance the unholy fact of the girl’s
paternity declared itself to Buhley for the first
.lime just as he saw the expressions on the faces
of his enemy and his host. He had possibly
/wished for such an increase of his slave wealth,
and would not have withheld himself from sell
ing such a child or working it as other slaves,
even if he knew he had iuthered it. But when
he had always been able.to fall back upon the
convenient belief that it was not his child, he
Tvaa enraged to find out the real fact at such a
lime.
‘ With increased eagerness for a fight to the
death, he turned to the host and said :
“ This man and I want to fight a duel. Send
Ahis girl to my keeper you know where he is.”
.Then to Compton: “It is for you choose the
Weapons and appoint the time.”
“ Bowie knives, in a dark room, immediate-
.ly,” was the laconic response.
The proprietor wa> not at all disconcerted by
these announcements, it being no unusual thing
Ijn the South then for bo:h a game of cards and
a duel to be begun and finished in an hour.
Compton produced a bowie knife of the regu
lar size, but as there was not another in the
iparty, they had to borrow one from a guest in
•the bar-room. The readiness with which the
loan was made would surprise a New Yorker of
Ahis dav—that is, in a respectable hotel.
s juare room of about twenty by twenty feet
Was assigned. The shutters of the two windows
Were closed, blankets hung over and tucked
around and blinds drawn down. After all of
Aho furniture had been taken' out, each of the
combatants shut hims-fif in the room alone for a
Sime, to be assured th?:. i • was absolutely dark.
The details were th-, n arranged. The men
Were to enter the room and take positions in
diagonally opposite corners, knives in hand,
When the lender of the bowie knife was to shut
jand lock the door. The click of the lock was to
i>e the signal to begin the lighting, and the door
Was to be opened in precisely five minutes, when
hostilities must cease, if not already over
Here I will give Buhffiy’.g account of what oc
curred, just as it was ;noted to me :
! As 1 heard the lock turn, a full sense “of the
porror of my situation camo over me. Al
though I would not have weakened had there
Jbeen any possibility of doing so, I thought of
What a fool I had been to expose myself to the
Possibility, or rather probability, of being
packed to death merely for the sake of having
& chance to kill the other man. Never before
pad the knife business seemed so much more
terrible than facing a pistol. The idea of ven
geance seemed to be crowded out of my mind
I resolved to kill my man simply to prevent his
hacking me. I would stand still two paces from
pay corner and listen. These thoughts scarcely
pccupied a second. 1 could hear his light tread
and the rustle of his clothes as he felt in the dark
ness with his knife. I realized what an advan
tage I gained by remaining still. As my ear got
Iraineu lo catch the ..-light sounds and, as he ap-
proached me, I could more a?-$ more accurately
locate him, whereas he had no i.usasis of locating
me— unless he could see !”
“ This last thought saved my life, al least so I
have always thought. I remembered that when
we entered the room to test its darkness, we left
a brightly lighted room and remained in the
dark one only a few seconds. But as our eyes
became accustomed to the darkness, we could
soon see a little, unless the darkness was un
qualifiedly absolute. An indirect ray from a
covered kevhole would be some light.”
“ Thinking this, I strained my eyes as well
as my ears. I soon heard him near me and I
looked intently where I thought he was. Yes, I
saw him, about six feet directly in front. I
sprang through the air, making a lunge from
right to left.”
“ It was lucky that I saw his dark outline, but
it would have been still luckier had I seen what
he was doing. He was feeling downward with
his knife, so that his first touch of me would not
only apprise him of my position but cut me in
the face so as to make me wince or start back
ward for one brief instant. Being prepared for
it, he would immediately raise his arm and give
a fatal blow.”
“ My locating him prevented this, but, as I
caught him under the left ribs, my face was cut
straight down with the point of his knife which
he must have held horizontally, edge down,
with his wrist beneath the handle.”
“The force of my blow and the shock incident
to a stab of that kind carried him to the floor,
just as the outsiders opened the door. I had
let go of my knife (probably because of my
own pain and excitement combined), and blood
was streaming down my face. You see the cut
happened to take its course down the exact
centre of my forehead and nose.”
“ Compton did not die for several minutes,
but he never uttered a word nor gave a sign to
any of the parties who-attended him.”
Buhley bathed his face and had court-plaster
applied to it. Although the wound was slight
it left a scar, the cut being near the bone
throughout its whole lengh.
He sold his slaves that day, including the
mulatto girl above referred to and returned to
his plantation a more sour, dark-hearted and
cruel man than jhe had been before. He be
came the most noted and one of the most suc
cessful gamblers in New Orleans. He lost his
plantation during the war, but he never got
entirely out of money—for cold-blooded cun
ning in handling cards and watching opponents
became his one pursuit—and he was successful
in it.
He generally won, and when he lost he never
lost all. He lived well, dressed well and never
evinced any regrets on any score whatever.
My informant believed that Buhley’s suicide
(he identified the body) in Fairmount Park,
Philadelphia, was caused by the knowledge
that in his friendless and desolate old age he
would have to give up his active habits and
resign himself to rejections that could not be
endured. He was found with a bullet in his
brain and a revolver held as in a vise by his
stiffened hand.
WAS SHE FRIVOLOUS?
MA BELLE, OR MEHITABLE SHANKS.
The Rev. Mr. Shaw contrasted greatly with
his surroundings—bis spotless cloth fitting so
well his strong manly figure; his clear-cut
Grecian features, and dark wavy hair thrown
back with careless grace from his’ smooth brow.
He was visiting one of those wretched tene
ment houses used by the very poor, and before
him was a forlorn group.
A widow who had just buried her husband,
she had five helpless children—the eldest six,
the youngest a nursling baby, and a pair ot
twins among them. The rags were worse than
all, the dirt of poverty everywhere apparent.
An expression of almost'sublime pity rested
on the countenance of the minister.
The woman with her apron thrown over her
head, rocked herself to and fro, and wailed
lorth her troubles.
“ 1 don’t know what I am a goin’ to do for my
self and the little ’uns. Though my old man
would have his drink, he didn’t beat us, and
brought enough to us to keep body and soul to
gether, but now I know we can’t do nothin’ but
starve and die 1”
“ Have you no friends ?” asked Mr. Shaw m a
low tone.
“Some, but as bad or wuss off than us. Yes,”
she said, looking up with a grateful, bright ex
pression. “There is one—Lord bless her!—
who has done a lot for me—Miss Mehitable
Shanks. She sent medicine and the doctor to
the old man, and guv’ me clothes and suthin’
to eat, and many’s the man, woman and child
what blesses her for takin’ care of ’em. Why,
sir, she even leaves little cards with stamps on
’em, and Job Potter, who can write, sends ’em
to her when we are in a very bad state.”
After assuring her of his sympathy, and that
he would do what he could for her, the minister
wended bis way home. As he thought of those
to whom he might appeal, a vision oi a sweet
bright face haunted him, but while he lingered
over the thought most tenderly, there was a
shadow on his brow as if there was some slight
jar that marred the harmony of his thoughts.
Mr. Shaw was rector of one ot the wealthy
churches of the city, and Ma Belle Lee was one
of his parishioners. Her face was Madonna
like in its tender curves and beauty, the large
blue eyes with just a tinge of sadness, the per
fect curve of the red lips, a faultless complex
ion, and blonde hair that was like a halo ot light
round the graceful head. But ah, when she
talked it was like a damper, a mist on a beauti
ful picture, marring the tints that otherwise
would have been perfect.
Bright and witty, but a butterfly ; such a de
votee to society that one longed for the expres
sion of a single serious thought that could
leaven into something like common sense this
personification of frivolity. With it all, how
ever, she was lovely and lovable to every one,
and Mr. Shaw had long struggled against an
interest in her, the indulgence of which he telt
would be fatal to his future happiness and use
fulness.
Absorbed in these thoughts he found himself
in front of Mr. Lee’s house, and, obeying an
impulse, he turned into the gate and was ad
mitted.
As Miss Lee entered the parlor he thought he
had seldom seen a fairer vision, and was vexed
to feel his heart throb more quickly and thrill
with a pleasure that he felt must be controlled.
She greeted him with that easy grace which was
one of her principal charms.
“ Ah, Mr. Shaw ! lam glad to see you ! I
have had a real spell of ennui this morning.
The last novel is wretched, as both hero and
heroine died in the most provoking way, all be
cause of some overstrained idea of duty, and I
was just wishing that some one would come in
and I could have a cheerful little chat to dispel
the gloomy impression.”
“Then I’m afraid,” smilingly, “you will not
like your present visitor. I have not come in a
very cheerful humor, and, beside, I wish to ask
a favor.”
“ A favor. That is too lovely! Consider it
granted, even to the half of my kingdom. lam
truly glad that you wish to ask a favor of me,
because I did not think your opinion of mo suf
ficiently good lor such a thing. Do you know,
with a sudden droop of the eyes, “that you
always make me feel as if I am doing something
wrong ?”
“Do I? Well, I shall give you an oppor
tunity to redeem yourself. I have just been
visiting some of those wretchedly poor families
in street, and I would like so much if you
could interest some ladies in their behalf—visit
them and relieve them.”
A look of consternation overspread her pretty
face as she exclaimed :
“Oh, indeed, you don’t mean for me to go
there I How could I ever stand it ? I can’t
bear such places I Ask me almost anything
else. The dreadful men and children—the
odor ! Ugh !” with a shudder. “ Ask me al
most anything else?”
A look of Keen disappointment drifted over
Mr. Shaw’s face.
She suddenly brightened and said :
“ I do intend to do something good next week.
I have refused a german,” triumphantly, “ that
I may attend the charity calico ball to be given.
You know all the dresses are for the poor, so I
shall do some good.”
“And what is your dresfe to be?” asked Mr.
Shaw, with rather an indescribable inflection to
his voice.
“ The loveliest light blue silesia, with a flow
ered cretonne front,” she. replied, enthusias
tically, “sleeveless waist, Media collar, shirred
and very bouffant draperies. It will be beauti
ful, and I know it will seem very nice to some
poor woman who has never had anything like
it!”
“ Yes,” he said, in a tone quite saturated
with irony, “ I don’t doubt its useiu?ness; but
don’t you think you ought to add a lew yards
of illusion to make some warm bodies lor those
who have no fires, and a few yards of ribbon to
decorate the little freezing arms ?”
“Now, you are angry with me, Mr. Shaw,”
she said, hesitatingly. “ Don’t think me utter
ly heartless, but I can’t go to street. It
would really give me a little blue chill.”
“ I could never consent to such a cruel thing
as that,” he said, with an unpleasant smile. “1
really feel that I owe you an apology for in
truding such a disagreeable subject, particu
larly alter your nerves were shattered with
your novel. Good morning,” afid he bowed
himself out rather abruptly, with a strange lit
tle pain in his heart.
He did not again allude to the subject to her,
but found other ladies who interested them
selves most warmly in the work.
Everywhere that he went in his charity
rounds, he could see and feel the influence of
Miss Shanks’s good acts. She seemed to be an
angel of mercy who never tired and who de
voted her entire time to charity. AIY that she
did was marked by a practical good sense and a
depth ot thought and feeling that he could not
fail to admire. Still he never chanced to meet
her.
One day, when entering the postofiice, he saw
in advance of him the graceful figure of Ma
Belle Lee. She was unaware of his presence
and, standing idly behind her, he felt as if he
had received an electric shock as she asked :
‘ls there any thing for Miss Mehitable
Shanks?” and then received and pocketed sev
eral postal cards.
If he was astonished at the question he was
still more so at the effect which his discovered
presence produced upon her.
Neck, face and brow, even to the roots of her
golden curls, were dyed in a painful crimson,
her eyes dilated with an expression ot conster
nation; but with a few hasty steps he overtook
her. He was lost in a bewildering surprise.
She was the last person with whom he would
NEW YORK DISPATCH, SEPTEMBER 27. 1885.
have connected Miss Sharks in any way, and
her great agitation, as he walked beside her, in
creased his surprise.
A sudden bright suspicion caused his heurt
to beat almost to suffocation.
“ Tell me, Miss Ma Belle,” he said, “ what
have you to do with Miss Shanks’s letters?”
“I really can’t understand, Mr. Shaw, what
right you have to ask such a question. In all
things spiritual I acknowledge your right, but
in this instance you forget yourself.”
“Tell me,” ho said, with eager, regardless
haste, “ are you Miss Shanks ?”
A sudden burst of tears was her only answer
as she hastily pulled down her vail and walked
silently beside him.
A calm of perfect joy descended upon him as
he realized the truth. He walked by her
side until he reached her home, then, without
invitation, he entered it with her.
As they reached the parlor she tossed aside
her hat, and stood before him more like a discov
ered culprit than the little saint she had proved
to be.
There was a defiant sparkle in her eyes as she
turned her flushed face to him.
He took both of her hands in his.
“ So, Ma Belle, Ma Belle,” he murmured ten
derly, “ your heart is as beautiful as your face,
though you have vailed your goodness under
an exterior of frivolity. This is not the general
rule of humanity.”
“But, Mr. Shaw, if it is a fault it lies entirely
at your door.”
“Have I anything to do with it?” in surprise.
“I have been thinking for a long while that you
were entirely beyond my control.”
“Nevertheless, I have only been obeying your
instructions. Don’t you remember—some time
since you preached against ostentatious charity?
‘Let not tby left hand know what thy right hand
doeth/ I thought there was a world of truth
and force in it, and I have only practised what
you preached. And now, Mr. Shaw,” she said,
with a demure glance at him, “if you are done
with my hands, I will not trouble you to hold
them any longer.”
“No,” he said, gravely, “I do not wish to re
turn them. Ma Bello IMa Belle !” quickly and
tenderly, “give me the privilege of owning them
always. Won’t you, darling?”
She caught them quickly away.
“No, no,” with a low laugh. “It is Miss
Shanks with whom you have fallen in love, for
Ma Belle Lee has only had your toleration.”
“Ah,” ho said, “that was when I thought you
were a butterfly.' Now that I know you to no a
saint, I beg you to share your grace with me
and help me in all good things. lam willing to
take either you or Miss Shanks, or, in defiance
of the laws of the land, I will take you both !”
“She hesitated ; then, with a lovely blush and
smile, she laid her hands in his.
‘ One for Miss Shanks—one for myself!”
He drew her to him, and felt that one sermon
at least had been bread cast upon the waters,
which had returned to him after many days.
STORY OF7 SKELETON.
A Pitiful Chapter of Starvation, Despair
and Death.
(From the Denver, Colorado, News.)
A narrow, almost imperceptible trail running
along the edge of a gulch. To the left was a
rather steep hill covered with bowlders,
with here and there clumps of cactus, with their
gorgeous bloom of gold or crimson. At inter
vals, standing like ghostly sentinels, were the
stalks containing the white bloom, with its faint,
but sickening odor of the soap-weed, whose
pointed leaves, with their cruel, sharp tines,
warned the intruder to stick to the trail. Of
forest there was none, unless the thickets of
scrub oaks and the few diminutive cedars scat
tered here and there could be called a wood
growth. Far down the valley, however, for a
number of miles, which it would be difficult to
enumerate when looking through the clear,
distanceless Colorado atmosphere, the tops of
tall, majestic pines, could be seen merging into
the bluish haze ot distance. Occasionally wild
roses, columbines, the beautiful fleur-de-lis and
other flowers of varied and gorgeous hue
skirted the lily-defined path, varied occasionally
by the sweet bloom of the wild plums growing
in luxuriant abundance near the creek. No
sound was heard save the murmuring of the
tiny stream as it fell in its rapid descent over
the pebbles and rocks which offered a feeble
resistance to its course. Presently the noise of
hoofs was heard striking the loose stones scat
tered on the trail. Directly the heads of two
horsemen appeared coming through the plum
thicket and out on the “ open.” For the first
time in an hour the elder broke the silence.
“ This seems to answer the description of
Coyote gulch, where Harry said in his letter of
a year ago he was working in some placer
diggings ?”
“ Yes, but where is his cabin ? I do not see
any signs of workings here nor even that any
one ever lived here,” said the younger. “We
have followed his trail for several miles without
seeing any signs of a human habitation.”
“ We will keep on for an hour or two before
we abandon the search,” said the elder.
The journey was continued for perhaps an
hour longer, when both travelers simultane
ously espied on the opposite side of the creek,
near a growth of cottonwoods and willows, a
small cabin. Descending the bank they forded
the shallow stream and rode up to the door of
the cabin which had attracted their attention.
A slight breeze coming down the gulch caused
the door, which was open, to move lazily on its
rusty hinges, making a creaking;, disagreeable
noise, which causes a shudder of dread to pass
through the travelers. No signs of life, how
ever, could be seen anywhere. Pushing the
door open they entered the one room which had
done duty as a dining-room, kitchen and bed
room. In one corner was a cheap sheet-iron
stove, such as miners pack on burros on the
range. A rough deal table stood in the centre
of the room, on which were a few tin dishes,
which were moldy from age and want of use,
and would seem to have been there for a great
many months.
In one corner was a bunk made of rough
boards, with blankets which seemed to cover
some object. The strangers advanced to it,
pulled down the blankets and were horror
stricken at the sight disclosed—a grinning,
fleshless skeleton lay before them.
In the bony hand 'was clutched an iron key.
Looking around the cabin a common wooden
chest was found in an obscure corner. The key
was placed in the lock, the bolts of which, being
quite rusty, were forced back with difficulty.
Finally, the lid.was raised, exposing a number
of articles. On the top were several letters, the
first of which ran as follows:
“ ’Tis no use, the world has treated me badly.
I have fought with fate and have been van
quished. Whoever finds my body will please
communidate with my mother at No. 1,532 Indi
ana avenue, Chicago. Ill.”
Another letter was directed to Miss Virgie
Marshall, No. 875 Prairie avenue. It was sub
stantially as follows :
“I have fought against fate, but everything
seems to be conspired against me. At times
fortune seemed to favor me; then the water
would give out and for weeks I would be on
the verge of starvation. Ona day there came a
flood, water, blessed water flowed in abundance
for several days. The riffles in my sluices 1 air
ly sparkled with gold. At the end of a week,
however, the water ceased, everything became
dry. I cleaned up my sluices, gathered the
gold dust and sent it to Denver. The receipts
barely furnished me with the bacon and neces
sary camp supplies for a short time. I strug
gled on, but what could 1 do without water ?
Every loot of ground contained gold, but with
out means to get it. Of what avail was it that I
had millions on my claim ? I am afraid that
our dreams of early youth will fail. My love is
as strong as ever, but the time for redeeming
my promise seems as remote as ever.”
Another letter read:
“I have given it up; farewell home, happi
ness and love. Failing in everything, although
using all the faculties which God has given me,
I lay me down to die. * * * I have eaten noth
ing tor three days, but do not complain. * * *
Virgie, good-by. * *
The pitiful record, which showed disappoint
ment, starvation and death, stopped here.
Harry Lawrence's remains, the poor skeleton
which had fought the lonely battle of life in this
obscure gulch, were boxed and sent to Eastern
friends, and thus was ended one of the bright
dreams of life, gilded by the golden prospects of
youth, hope and ambition.’
Poisonous Colors in Candies.
The Deleterious Effects of Chromes
and zlnilines.
The use of glucose, terra-alba, or any other
adulterant in candy, is not the worst thing
about the confectionery business. , A great deal
has been said about adulteration, however, of
late, and the public has measurably lost sight
of the fact that some candies are absolutely
poisoned by the coloring substances that are
used to make them showy and salable. The
efforts oi the National Association of Confection
ers to suppress the use of deleterious sub
stance in candy, and thus to make it more in
viting and paving the way leading for an in
crease of business, has brought into promi
nence the danger arising from the use ior
coloring purposes of chromes and anilines.
This society has had demonstrated by analysis
that a great many coloring substances, called
non-poisonous, possess qualities that unfit them
to be safely used in confections. This has been
so successfully demonstrated that in some
States it has been made a violation of law to use
any other than vegetable colors in candies. In
New York the Health Board has condemned a
large amount of color-poisoned candies—chieflv
yellow, chrome colored stuff, built up of sand
and glucose in the first place, and then set off
in gaudy lines to catch the public eye.
But glucose as now made is not harmful.
Neither is a limited amount ot terra alba so de
structive to the physical organization as might
be supposed. It is at least inert and the dam
age it causes is only that its weight and bulk
clogs up the system—or may do so. But all an
al.nes and chromes are poisonous. They are
very cheap and their colors are very strong, and
these desirable qualities are the sufficient al
lurement which lead to the use of these sub
stances by so many candymakers. The vegeta
ble colors are dull and unattractive, beside be
ing hard to mix and apply. But they are harm
less. Many poisonous colors have' been used
innocently, but the confectioners have given
the matter so much attention of late that it is
fair to presume that the use of deleterious sub
stances hereafter will not be due to ignorance.
Usually, according to a prominent local con
fectioner, the nicest looking candies are the
most dangerous. This is true of many creams
| and fancy confections. Common stick candy is
| usually colored with cochineal and carmine.
I These, by the way, would not be so acceptal le
to the consumer, were it an etor-present recol
lection thsrt cochineal is powdered bugs, and
carmine a preparation of cochineal. But both
are pronoutyced to be harmless. The blue
color in candy i« produced from a preparation
of iron. This iron-made blue combined with
yellow will give green, and all of these results
may be harmless. Yet these are the colors most
to bo feard if produced from chromes,fete.
Aniline is a produst of coal and arsenic enters
into its composition. Chrome is a metal, and,
in its various forms, as used in candies, has
been shown to possess injurious qualities in a
high degree.
“The quality of confections of late have- im
proved,” says a local wholesale manufacturer,
“ and only the dealers whir have no reputation
at stake can afford to take chapcea with poison
ous colors. The legitimate dealer makes more
money in the long run by au honest policy, and'
what is of still more importance, his customers
live longer.
FUNERAL REFORM.
PAUPERS BURIED FOR TWENTY
FOUK CENTS.
Bids were received the other day by the
County Court of Jackson county, Missouri,
from the various undertakers, ior the burial of
the county paupers. A Kansas City Journal
reporter happened to- be present when the bids
were opened, and was paralyzed when the
court announced that the bid ot Ei>geno Carlat
had been accepted at twenty-four cents- a pau
per.
“ Did you say twenty-four cents or twenty
four dollars ?” the reporter asked of Judge Ad
kins.
“Twenty-four cents,” he replied. “Cheap,
isn’t it ? We’ll save enough on that to pay Dr.
Fee the SI,OOO he wants for the city hospital.”
Judges Lynch and Chiles smiled approval,
and the reporter asked:
“ Is the undertaker expected to bury the pau
per for that amount?”
“Yes, sir; and he files a SSOO bond for tho
faithlul performance of his duties,” replied
Judge Adkins.
“ Cheaper for a pauper to dio than to buy a
dinner,” chimed in Clerk Burr.
“ ,How many paupers will be buried, do you
think?” asked the reporter, “and how many
will find their way to the dissecting table ?”
“ Oh,” replied the court, much shocked, “the
undertaker is under bond to bury she bodies.”
“ For twenty-four cents ?”
“ Yes, sir, ” severely, “ for twenty-four cents.”
“ Then you don’t give the undertaker authori
ty to sell the bodies to medical colleges?” que
ried tho reporter.
“ Of course not,” indignantly.
“How much does it cost to dig a grave?”
asked the reporter.
“ Oh, I don t know what it costs.”
“ What is the most common kind of a coffin
worth?”
“I never had occasion to use one myself and
I can’t enlighten you.”
“ What is it worth to send a man with a team
to take the body to the Potter’s Field ?” con
tinued the reporter.
“ Oh, the undertaker has to have the wagon,
team and a man any way, so that doesn t
count,” replied the court.
“Does the contract price, twenty-four cents,
include the services oi a minister ?’’
“ Well, no, I don’t believe that a minister is
called for by the contract. You see,” continued
the court, confidentially, “it is a big advertise
ment to have the burying of the county paupers
and that is the reason undertakers will do it
cheaply. Why. after .the bids were closed, an
undertaker came here and offered to bury the
paupers for nothing.”
The reporter, inquiring at Carlat’s undertak
ing establishment how it was that they could af
ford to take the county work at 24 cents a case,
the gentleman in charge there said: “ Oi course
24 cents a case does not begin to pay us for the
expense oi a burial; but, you see, the advertis
ing pays. Every time there is a county case,
the newspapers cannot help mentioning the
name of the undertaking establishment, and if
there is an inquest, maybe it is mentioned two
or three times. It goes right in the reading
matter, too, where everybody reads it. Every
time we get a county case we will get $lO or sls
worth of advertising and you newspaper folks
cannot help yourselves, either. But the county
cases nearly all pay outside of that, too.”
“ How ?” asked tho reporter.
“ Why, although a dead man’s iriends may
not always come round on the day of his death,
some of them nearly always do come around
the day of the burial, and when they see tho
coffin which wo uso for county cases, they near
ly always want something better. The county
coflin is a good one, just as good as any other;
but of course it is by no means an expensive
one. All things considered, it pays to take
county cases at 24 cents each.”
AN OLD GAME.
F OLLOW MY LEADER.
This old game is very often played in real
life. No one can be surprised at its prevalence
who has ever noticed tho resemblance of human
kind to a flock of sheep, following its leader
over walls and ditches. Two gentlemen were
looking from a window, when they saw a cab
bage roll from a passing market wagon. In
stantly over a dozen apparently sane persons
began calling after the wagon as if the vegeta
ble had been made of gold. The driver stopped,
looked back at the cabbage, yawned, and drove
along.
“ What an absurd fuss people make over such
trivial occurrences !” said one of the gentlemen.
“Now I am positive that I could draw a crowd
of five hundred persons about that cabbage,
within thirty minutes, and not leave this room.”
“Do it!’ said his friend, pulling out his
watch. “It’s now half past eleven. Begin.”
The first speaker went to the window, threw
up the sash, and, taking a cane, pointed earn
estly at the mud-covered cabbage, with a terri
fied expression. Presently a cab driver noticed
the action and began to stare at the vegetable
from the curbstone; then a bootblaek stopped,
a bill-poster, a messenger boy, and a merchant.
“What's the matter?” inquired a German,
approaching the innocent basis of his national
dish.
“ Don't touch it! look out there ! stand
back !” shouted the gentleman at the window.
At his horror-stricken tones the crowd fell
back precipitately, forming a dense circle about
the cabbage. Hundreds came running up, and
the excitement rapidly increased.
“Look out there !” frantically exclaimed the
author of the confusion. “Take that dog away,
quick !”
Several stones were thrown at the animal
sniffing round the cabbage.
“ Take care !” said a cab-driver to a police
man, who was shouldering his way through the
mass.
Meanwhile the pavement was blocked, the
streets became impassable, women screamed
and rushed into shops, and a man began to tie
a bucket on a long pole, with which to pour wa
ter on the fiendish invention.
As the crowd was by this time dense, the two
gentlemen moved away from the window and
sat down. In a few minutes there was a hur
ried tap at the door, and a delegate appeared
from the mass meeting outside.
“ 1 should like to know, gentlemen, what the
facts are,” he said.
“ What facts ?”
“ What is there peculiar about that cabbage
out there ?”
“ Nothing in tho world,” was the soft reply,
“ except that it seems to be surrounded by
about a thousand brave and sensible people.
Can we do anything else for you?”
The man reflected for a moment, then said he
thought not, and retired.
VOICES FROM* THE GRAVE.
Experience of a Woman Whose Hus
band Has Been Dead Twenty Years.
(Washington Special to Chicago Inter-Ocean.)
A telegram from Toledo this morning relates
the story of a farmer in Montclara, Ohio, who
died and was buried thirteen years ago, but is
still writing to his family. The Sunday Capital
prints a story quite as remarkable, as follows:
“ A very remarkable case has come to my at
tention through a friend in the Pension Office,
which furnishes incidents for a novel as power
ful as any Dumas or Eugene Sue ever used. In
1834 a lieutenant from an Ohio village was killed
in one of the battles of Virginia, and his body
was sent home, buried with military honors,
and a handsome monument erected over it by
the citizens of the place. Thousands of people
paid their tributes of honor to the young hero
and looked upon his face as the body lay in
state at the Town Hall. He left a widow, to
whom he had been married only a year, and
for more than twenty years she has been trying
to get a pension, but, although she keeps fresh
flowers upon her husband’s grave, she cannot
prove that he is dead.
“ The records in the Adjutant-general's office
are perfect, and affidavits can be furnished
from'thousands of people who saw and recog
nized his lifeless body, but every few months
she receives a letter from him written in a hand
as familiar as her own. Two letters never
come from the same place; now they are post
marked in Colorado, then in Texas, then in
New York. Once she got a note from him dated
at Washington’. He appears to know what is
going on at home, and alludes to local occur
rences with a familiarity that is amazing. He
sends messages to old iriends and gives her ad
vice about business matters, which it seems
impossible for a stranger to know. She cannot
answer these ghostly missives, because he never
gives any clue to his whereabouts, and no de
tective has even been able to find him. Her
friends believe that the writer is some crank or
malicious person who takes this way to annoy
her, and the distress the poor woman Suffers
cannot be measured by any other human ex
perience.
. “ Long ago she ceased to open envelopes
which came with the familiar address, but sends
them sealed to her attorney, who uses every
possible means to secure a clew to the identity
of the writer. The only circumstances to sug
gest that it may possibly be her husband, are
the penmanship and familiarity tne writer
shows with the lady’s private life ; but how he
could keep himself posted is. another mystery
that cannot be solved. Several times the writer
has intimated that he might soon pay-her a visit,
but the next letter always contains an apology
for not having done so.' The has suf-
fered agony of mind beyond u escnption, and
het life has been ruined by this £wrrible mys
tery, but of late she has become moZ®. resigned,
and would neither be surprised nor disappoint
ed if her husband should some day into
her door/’
ST. LOUIS CATFISH.
THE EFFECT OF ANGLE WORMS'.-
(the Chicago Tribune.)
“1 knew I’d get a bite when I put them angle
worms on my hook,” said the President, as he
watched the bob on his line intently; “some
thing yanked it like a mule just then, but it got
away."
“ Bullhead/’ said the doctor, briefly.
It was a sunny afternoon in the Adirondacks,
and the men had begun fishing too soon after
dinner for much luck with the bass or pickerel.
The President had concluded to try angle
worms.
“How do you know it was a bullhead?” he
said to the doctor. “It felt a little like a bass.
A bass likes—look out! By Jove! I’ve got
him!”
And with a sweep which nearly broke his rod
he landed on the beach a fish about eight inches
long and with a head big enough for a young
shark. The fish had a greenish back, yellow
belly,, what looked like a pair of horns, the eyes
of a demon, and a mouth with an expression
about it- which suggested murder in cold blood.
“I told vou so,” said the doctor. “It’s a
bullhead.” *
“It’s a monster, anyhow,” said the President.
“Look at that mug I 'Are they good to eat?”
“O, they’re not bad, properly cooked. The
bullhead belongs to the great catfish family, or
the catfish belongs to the great bullhead fam
ily, I don’t know which—the kind they’re try
ing to introduce in England just now, and
which English sportsmen are protesting against
—they’re a great food fish of the coarser kind.
But we don’t know what catfish are in the East.
It’s a great pity you never made a visit West,
Mr. Cleveland.”
“ Why so ?” said the President.
“ Because then you’d have seen a Mississippi
catfish. No man has really seen life who has
not looked upon a Mississippi catfish.”
“ Did you ever see one, doc?”
“Did I? Well, I should say so. A few years
ago I bad to stay in St. Louis for a week, and
there I got acquainted with the Mississippi cat
fish. They live on catfish there. The river and
the sloughs in the region are full of catfish, and
some of them get to be monsters. I’ve seen
catfish there seven feet long.”
“Doc,” said the President, “when you lie,
why don’t you lie reasonably and artistically ?”
The doctor became excited.
“I tell you I’m not lying,” he exclaimed.
“ This isn’t my fish I’m talking about, but the
fishes other fellows have caught. What excuse
would I have for lying? O, you may laugh,
but I’ve seen catfish” that couldn’t wear one of
your collars, not by a long shot. Why they
hang around the levee at Bt. Louis and grow
big and lat on what is thrown into the river, and
when the fishermen catch a big one they find all
sorts ot things inside him. I saw one catfish
opened in the market there, and they took out
a gold bracelet, a setter dog, a pair of buck
skin gloves, a darkey baby, and seven copies of
the city ordinaces ! I tell you a catfish will eat
anything ! This one was six feet nine inches
long, weighed 210 pounds, and the steaks cut
up from it sold for over $9.”
“Doc,” said tho president, “did you take
anything at the tent in addition to the little ap
petizer before dinner ?”
“ Not a drop!” retorted the doctor, hotly.
“ And I’ll tell you what it is, Mr. Cleveland, I
don’t forget the respect due to the President of
the United States, but I want it understood that
out here in the woods some respect is due me,
also, as a sportsman and a gentleman. I know
what lam talking about. I say it with all pro
per regard, but you’ll never know what a coun
try this is till you have been West. Your ignor
ance of the West, sir, is the one weak spot in
your administration.”
The President made no reply, but he
tered to himself a little later, as he was putting
on some fresh worms: “It may be doc is
right. He doesn’t seem to have been drinking
—but I never thought a bullhead could hold so
much. Bayard’s been in Missouri. 11l ask him
about it when I see him.”
THEY WERE RELATIONS.
BUT THE RELATIONSHIP WAS
RATHER MIXED.
< A queer case of mixed relationship is that of a
widower and son who married a widow and her
daughter,, the son marrying the mother and the
father the daughter. When the widower mar
ried the daughter he became father-in-law to
the widow, vifio was his daughter-in-law; or, in
other words, was father-in-law to his mother-in
law. His wile became the stepmother of his
son-in-law, who was in fact her half-brother,
being the full son of her father, her husband.
When tho son married the widow he became the
father-in-law of his own father, because his wife
was his father’s-wife’s mother. By his marriage
the son became the stepfather of his stepmother,
who was his stepdaughter. The widow is not
only the mother ot her daughter, but also her
daughter-in-law, and her daughter becomes
her mother-in-law.
The widow is likewise the daughter-in-law of
her husband’s father, who, it will be remem
bered, is her son-in-law by reason of being her
daughter’s husband. By marrying the widow
the son became the son-in-law of his mother,
the wi.e of his father. The son became the
father of his father’s wife, his half sister, his
own daughter, because she is the daughter ot
his own wife. The old gentleman,by his marriage
with the daughter, became his son’s wife’s son
in-law, that lady likewise being his daughter
in-law, although being his wife’s mother. The
father’s wife, as stepmother to his children, is
therefore stepmother to her mother and step
father, the latter being the son of her husband.
If the union of the son and the widow be blessed
with a girl babe, the little one would ordinarily
be the old gentleman’s grandchild. In this in
stance, however—the old man being son-in-law
to the son—ho, in addition to being its grand
father, is a half brother to the infant and the
child is half sister to its grandmother. In case
the daughter, who married the widower, should
have a boy, he would at once become his grand
mother’s half brother and her brother-in-law at
the same time.
Guv Weekly
» x. » J « *** —
Here is a “ pome ” which wants to know
IF IT IS ANYBODY’S BUSINESS ?
Is it anybody’s business, when a young man goes
to call,
If he enters at the kitchen or the parlor or the hall ?
Is it anybody’s business, but the girl’s he goes to
see,
What that yobng man’s name and station may hap
pen for to be ?
Is it anybody’s business if he stays till it is late?
Or anybody’s business if she follows to the gate ?
If he kisses her at parting and she does not seem to
grieve,
Is it anybody’s business save tho man who takes
his leave ?
If he comes to take her walking on a pleasant after
noon,
Is it anybody’s business that they do not come back
soon ?
If by chance they come together upon the public
street,
Is it anybody’s business if she blushes when they
meet ?
If he goes to see her Sundays and often stays to tea,
Is it anybody’s business what his business there >
may be ?
Is it anybody’s business what sort of a beau she’s
got ?
Or anybody’s business if she loves him or does
not ?
Is it anybody’s business? I would really like to
know.
If it’s not, I’m sure they’re many who try to make
it so.
Here is k campaign skit. It relates to
PREPARING FOR THE CONVENTION.
“John,” remarked a Saratoga hotel keeper to his
clerk, “ see that the supplies are kept replenished.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Order plenty of flour, meat, fruit, and every
thing necessary for a big crowd.”
“ Yes, sir; what’s coming?”
“The Republic■■■• : :ate convention meets here
next week, you hi.
“Yes, sir; and the Democratic convention meets
only a few days later.”
“Ah! I had forgotten that. Just add to your
order sixty-seven barrels of whisky.”
It isn’t every clay that we hear of
A NEW DISEASE.
“ Bromley, is it true that you lost your hired
girl ?”
“Yes, Mr. Dusenberry; she died.”
“ Ah ! What of ?”
“ Corroboration.”
“ Of what ?”
“Corroboration. She wanted to know whether
there was really any risk in lighting the fire with
kerosene.”
Our old friend, Im P. Cunious, thus dis
courses on
THE QUESTION OF THE DAY.
“ The melancholy days have come—
The saddest of the year !”
And now, on street and ferry-boat,
This question wo may hear :
“ Must my last Winter's overcoat,
Which shabby does appear,
Be made to serve, its owner
Through another Winter drear?”
Alas 1 the times are still so hard,
I very much do fear
That not only my overcoat,
But also my head-gear,
Will have to do full duty
The remainder of the year,
Unless I shall be fortunate,
And see my way full clear,
And bet on the right candidate
At the election which is near I
The Lewistown«(Me.) Journal publishes this
extraordinary story of
FISHERMAN’S LUCK.
“To illustrate fisherman’s luck,” said Mr. Skil
lings, “I.will tell you an incident that happened
while our party was fishing for those big salmon at
Metapediac, in New Brunswich, not long ago. One
of our party was a greenhorn who had never caught
a salmon in his life. We sent him up on a beach,
and told him to cast his fly in a pool there while we
went out in our canoes. At supper time he had
not returned, and we were much worried about
him. We had decided to start after him wheu he
marched into camp with a forty-two-pound salmon
hung on a stick over his shoulder, the fish’s tail
dragging on the floor. It was the biggest salmon I
ever saw,”
“ How did you get him ?” we demanded, excited
ly. He said he was casting from the beach, when
he thought his line became tangled in a snag. Soon
this “ snag ” leaped out of the water. It was a
forty-two-pound salmon. “ I raced him up and
down the beach half a mile for six hours,” said he.
“ ‘Well, but how in the world did you land him ?’
we asked, excitedly. He had no gaff and no ope to
help him.
" ‘Well,’said he, ‘I noticed, along toward night,
that the fish acted tired. I drew him as near the
bank as I could, made my line fast to a sapling,
waded into the water, took the fish up in my arms,
and tossed him up on the bank/ The most novel
.yay of catching a salmon I ever heard. Of course,
if' the big fish had not been about dead, he could not
ha\ v » landed him in this way.
the curious part of this story is yet to come.
Ono oA our party had struck a big fish in the pool a
day or two previous. Examining this salmon’s
mouth, fee found his fly and broken hook in it. Sci
ence had lost the big fish and luck had taken him.”
We see here ffce difference of the kissing of
single and raarried men. The latter know
HOW TO KEEP THEIR MOUTHS SHUT.
A little conversation that took place tho other day
may throw some light oa> this statement. Twa*
young ladies, bosom friends, were to retire.
It was the hour of midnight—the hour when young
girls wax confidential with eash other. Alice was
polishing her finger nails. Ethol was braiding her
hair. There was a epell of silence, broken only by
the steady rub, rub of the polisher and the rsttle of
Ethel’s bangles. Suddenly an idea struck Alice.
With one bound she sprang to her feet, showering
pink nail powder all over the carpet.
“ Ethel, what do you think? I only heard it to
day. I forgot to tell you before and I’ve been just
wild ever since.”
Ethel (with a mouthful of tortoise-shell hair*
pins)—“Um-um.”
Alice—" Now, brace yourself. You’re going to get
the biggest surprise you ever had in your life.
Bobby Burton is a married man and he’s got a boy
seventeen years old, right here in Bau Francisco.”
Ethel (letting the hairpins drop on the bed and
wiping her mouth)—“ I thought so. It never
fails.”
Alice—“ Thought so I How could you think so?
Haven’t we all supposed him a bachelor for years
and years? What never fails ?”
Ethel—“ Oh, something. Now, Alice,if I tell you,
will you give me your solemn promise never to no
tice what I say or think anything of it ?”
Alice—" On my solemn word of honor. Go on; go
on.”
Ethel—“ Well, remember your promise, now.
Well, I’ve got away I can tell a married man from a
bachelor, and it never failed yet, only 1 thought it
had until just now.”
Alice—“ You mean thing,and you never told me !
Go ahead!"
Ethel—“ Well, when a bachelor wants to kiss a
girl—now, Alice, if you giggle I won’t say another
word—when a bachelor wants to kiss a girl he al
ways asks her permission or says something about
it first. And that isn’t it all. He generally says
something about it afterward, too, which is very
embarrassing.”
Alice—“ And a married man—why-y, Ethel?”
Ethel (with dignity)—“l don’t say a married man,
you horrid thing. I say a man who has been mar
ried. When he wants to kiss a girl he doosntt say a
word. He just kisses her.”
Alice—" And afterward ?”
Ethel—" And that’s all there is about it.”
SCINTILLATIONS.
The transformations of nature are
wonderful. Put a herring in a tin box with some
cotton-seed oil, and it immediately turns into a
sardine.
An honest man can speak for himself.
A rascal always wants to consult a lawyer before he
makes a statement, and then he will not be found
telling the truth.
A clergyman at Mount Desert is said
to have recently closed his prayer by saying: “ O
Lord, now that our Summer visitors have departed,
wilt thou take their place in our hearts ?”
A Down-East fire company, in a reso
lution on a deceased member, says; “He has re
sponded to his last alarm.” It is a wonder that
they didn’t add that he “ has gone to his last fire.”
“ Well, may I hope then, dearest, that
at some time I may have the happiness of making
you my wife?” "Yes, I hope so, I am sure,” she
replied. “I am tired suing fellows for breach of
promise.”
“ Have you heard Miss Simpson sing
since she returned from France ?” “Several times.”
“Do you think she has improved ?” “Very much.”
“In what particular ?” “She doesn’t sing as much
as she used to.”
A Bonanza woman .wont out for rasp
berries last week riding an ancient plug. The ap
pearance of a boar rejuvenated the animal, and the
woman was quickly deposited in front of Bruin on
the ground. The bear had seen it rain everything
but women, and left much disgusted and disturbed.
“I am just as much opposed to tip
plingas anybody,” said Fenderton; "but, never
theless, liquor rightly used is a blessing to human
ity. Wheu I was ill last Winter, I actually believe
it saved my life.” Fogg—“Very likely: but how
does that prove that liquor is a blessing to human
ity ?”
Judge (to darkey witness): “Do you
know the nature of an oath ?” Witness : “Sah?”
Judge : “ Do you understand what you aro to swear
to?” Witness: “Yes, sah. I’m to swar to tell de
truf.” Judge: “And what will happen if you do
not tell it?” Witness: “I’spects our side’ll win
de case, sah.”
Western Actor (to Playwright): “You
touch up plays, I understand ; introduce new busi
ness and that sort of thing?” Playwright: “Oh,
yes.” Western Actor: “Very well. I’m going into
Missouri next week with ‘ Hamlet,’ and I want you
to rewrite the play so as to bring in two bloodhounds
and a baby ?”
Dude to doorkeeper: “Ah, could you
—aw —let me see—aw—Mlle. De Montfort ? You
know her—chawming young eweature, with blonde
hair, don’t you know. Dawnces—aw—in the ballet.”
Doorkoeper, gruffly : “ No, you can’t see her, young
feller. If you have any message, give it to me. I’m
her grandson.
A Frenchman who had purchased a
country seat was complaining of the want of birds
in his garden. “Set some traps,” replied an old
officer, “and they’ll conie.i I was once in Africa,
and there wasn’t supposed to boa woman within
two hundred miles. I hung a pair of earrings and
a bracelet upon a tree, and the next morning I found
two women under the branches.”
Clerical looking gentleman (to boy) —
“My little man, can you direct mo to the camp
meeting?” Little boy (in great haste)—“ Yes, sir.
It’s jest on de odder side of de hill.” Gentleman—
“Ah, thanks. I suppose the attendance is large
and the results satisfactory?” Little boy (with en
thusiasm)—" Y6s, sir, de results is wery satisfac
tory. Me fadder tapped a kag o’ beer jest outside
de groun’s an’ sold it all in less’n an hour. I’m
goin’ fer an odder kag.”
BASEBALL.
BASEBALL NOTES.
Vinton has been released by the Athletics.
Johnston, Boston’s new man, is batting heavily
this trip.
McCarthy, released by the Bostons, is now with
the Haverhills.
Anson, Farrar and Connor have now put out 1,000
men at first-base.
Last season Esterbrook made 185 hits, but this
year he will do well with 100.
Captain Morrill, of the Bostons, is tho happy
father of a new-born daughter.
The Brooklyns have secured a very valuable man
in M.cVey, late of the Atlanta (Ga.) team.
Mapes and O’Brien, the battery of the Atlanta,
Ga,, team, have been engaged by the Baltimores.
Strief has been released by the Athletics. He will
take his old position in the Cleveland Fire Depart
ment.
Manager Barnie, of the Baltimores, is negotiating
with Hofford and Kilroy, the crack pitchers of the
South.
Boston claims to have cleared more money on the
season than Chicago and thinks New York alone can
beat her.
The American Association has at last reinstated
poor Dave Rowe. He will finish the season with the
Lucas Club.
Fred Lewis, released by St. Louis, is at his home
in Utica, disengaged. He puts in ,his spare time at
umpiring.
Healy, Lucas’s new pitcher, is only nineteen years
of age, and is over six feet in hight. He is a machin
ist by trade.
The Bostons have again changed positions, Sutton
and Wise going back to their old positions and Nash
to second base.
Arthur Irwin, for the past three years short-stop
of the Providence nine, was. released September 20
at his own request.
Buffington won an SBO overcoat, the gift of Direc
tor Appleton, of the New Yorks, by winning the
Chicago game of September 15.
There is some talk of a game between the Beacons
of Boston and the Young Americas of Philadelphia.
They are the two strongest amateur clubs in the
country.
Whitley, late of the Bostons, is doing some terrific
batting with the Newburyports. He leads the club,
and stands very near the top of the New England
Association.
The American Association and National League
have agreed to hold a special meeting, October 12th,
in this city, to ratify the recent action of the joint
conference committee.
McCarthy, recently released by Boston, has added
very materially to the strength of the Haverhills.
Ha is batting heavily, and has occupied the posi
tions of pitcher and shortstop.
W. 11. Robinson, of the St. Louis Club, was pre
sented with a gold badge by his West Philadelphia
friends on coming to the bat for the first time in the
game of the 15th inst. in Philadelphia.
The contracts with the Louisville players expire
on October 15th, but the boys will remain in Louis
ville for awhile to take part in exhibition games with
several of the League clubs. The Cincinnatis will
also play there in October.
It is said to be a settle# fact that Esterbrook will
be released by the New Yorks next season. His bat
ting and fielding have not come up to the expecta
tions of Manager Mu trie. There are plenty of clubs
that would be glad to get him.
Flynn, the pitcher of the Meriden Club, has been
engaged by the Metropolitans. He was told to re
port last Monday, but he failed to put in an appear
ance. His contract having been approved, he is lia
ble to be blacklisted for his action.
In case the Chicagos win the League pennant,
they will play between October 16th and 20th a
series of three games with the St. Louis Browns,
champions of the American Association, on the Ath
letic Club Grounds in Philadelphia.
Newark has released Old Hatfield, the third base
man, Burns, late of Baltimore, succeeding him in
that position. Hatfield has not missed a game this
season. He was fair in his position and at the bat.
Burns can discount him with the stick, but will not
Manager Jim Hart, of Louisville, la indeed a bust
ler, and is picking the best fruit fronj the Southern
League tree while others are waiting for it to fall
into their maws. In addition to Ramsey and Joo
Strauss, he has just bought from Macon, for S4OO,
the release of Red Mack, the finest second baseman
in the South, and one of th© heaviest batters in that
section.
A series of five games will be played between tho
Philadelphia and Athletic Clubs in October. Tho
first game will be played at tho Athletic Grounds
on Thursday, the 15tb; the second at Recreation
Park on Friday, the 16th; the third at the Athletics
Grounds on Saturday, the 17th; the fourth at Recrea
tion Park on Monday, the 19th, and the fifth at the
Athletic Grounds on Tuesday, the 20311.
Joe Strauss, of Columbus, considered the best
catcher in the Southern League, has been secured
to catch Ramsey. The Athletics wanted him, but
wrote for his terms. Those are not the days to wait
for the mail’s delay, and the manager who relies
upon that method of communicating with plavers
he may went, gets left. The Philadelphia Cisb’was
also after him, but was just a little too late.
The recent Detroit-Buffalo deal is regarded by
President Soder, of the Boston Club, as entirely con
trary to au agreement made by the conference com
mittee's meeting in Saratoga and subsequently ratr
fiod by the clubs of tho League and American A rsc*
elation. He says the action ia illegal, and be
notified President Young, of the League, and Presi
dent Day, of tho New Yorks, that such is bis opin
ion, in response to inquiries from those gentlemen.
The Virginia Club, of Richmond, wh’ch up to re
cently held the lead in the content for the cham
pionship of tliia- association, disbanded September
18th. Insufficiency of support was tho cause. Tho
players had not been paid for a month, and there
was no prospect of their getting anything. The
game scheduled September 18th with tho Bridge
ports was not played 1 , as there was not gate money
enough to pay thorn tho guarantee, and it was given
to the Virginias because the Bridgeports refused to
play without the guarantee money paid in advance.
The directors of tho Virginia Club turned its affairs
over to the players September 19th, bub the latter
met with no bettor success.-
Eczema!
For the benefit of suffering humanity, and in heartfelt
gratitude at the wonderful re u ts, I deem it only my
duty to give this unsolicited testimony in favor of Swift’s
Specific. My wife has Deen afflicted with hereditary
Eczema or Salt Rheum from her infancy; it has increased
in intensity with each succeeding Spring, and being some
what skilled in medicine myself, I tried every remedy I
could think of for years—Sarsaparilla combined with
every form cf PotAssite, “Cuticura,” pills of every kind,
and hundreds of other remedies, lotionsand alkali washes 1
of every known kind, but they all gave only temporary
relief. During the Spring of 1831 her lower extremities
became so inflamed and sere that she was obliged to keep
them constantly coated with a covering of “ Fuller’s-
Earth,” mixed wet and allowed to dry on. Among other
things, she was afflicted with a periodical nervous head
ache, occurring regularly every seven days, sometimes
followed by intermittent fever for weeks at a time,, so that
her life became a burden to her.
This Spring I determined she should 1 take 9. S. 8., and
follow strictly the directions in regard to dose, diet, eic.
This was about seven weeks ago. After taking the first
large bottle the disease seemed to increase; the burning,
itching and inflammation became unbearable. She, how
ever, persevered in the use of the medicine. After taking
the second bottle the inflammation began to subside.
After the third bottle the inflammation disappeared, and.
the sore spots dried up and turned white and scaly, and
finally she brushed them off in an impalpable white powder
resembling pure salt. She is now taking the sixth bottle,
three tablespoonfuls four times daily. Every appearance
of the disease has gone, and her flesh is becoming soft,
white and smooth again; and what is more, her periodical
headaches have disappeared, and she is now, at 53 year#
of age, enjoying the only good health she has known for
upward of 40 years. No wonder she declares with em
phasis that every bottle of S. S. S. is worth a thousand
times its weight in gold.
Any further information concerning her case will be
cheerfully given by herself at her residence, No. 13S
Mallett street, or by me.
JOHN F. BRADLEY,
No. 44 Griswold street.
Detroit, Mich., May 16, 1885.
Be sure to get the genuine, and send for Treatise on
Blood and Skin Diseases, free.
For sale by all druggists.
THE SWIFT SPECIFIC CO.,
Drawers, Atlanta, Ga.
No. 157 W. 23d street. New York.
HUMPHREYS’
H Manual of all Diseases,
By F. HUMPHREYS, H. D.
RICHLY BOUND IN
CLOTH and. GOLD
Mailed Free.
TTST OF PRINCIPAL NOS. CURE 3. # „ PRICK.
S. g Fevers, Congestion, Inflammations...
2 s Worms, Worm Fever, Worm C01ic.... ,25
3fl Cry ha g Colic? or Toething of Infants. .25
4gßiarrhea of Children or Adults .25
BpJysentery, Griping, Bilious Colic 25
6 H Cholera Morbus, Vomiting 25
7 H Coughs, Cold, Bronchitis 25
9aNeuralgia, Toothache, Faceacho ,25
SS Headaches, Sick Headache, Vertigo.. .25
a it. . a..'* JBk
HOMEOPATHIC
IO Dyspepsia, Bilious Stomach..- .25
1 i I Suppressed or Painful Periods .23
121 Whites, too Profuse Periods
13j Croup, Cough, Difficult Breathing.... .25
14 Malt Rheum, Erysipelas, Eruptions.. .25
15 Rheumatism, Rheumatic Pams 25
16 Fever and Ague, Chills, Malaria 5(9
li 1 ? Piles, Blind or Bleeding. «,5(5
19 Catarrh, Influenza, Cold in the Head. .50
20j Whooping Violent Coughs... .50
24GGeneral Debility, Physical Weakness ,50
271 Kidney Disease .50
Nervous Debility. .1.0(1
Weakness, Wetting 8ed.... .50
SaßPiseasca of the Heart, Palpitation..l .<M>
'Specifics.
Sold bv Druggists, or sentpostpaid on receipt of
price.—HUMPHREYS’ BIEDICINE CO., 108 Fulton St. N.Y.
EXCELSIOR!
THE JUSTLY CELEBRATED
AND WORLD-FAMED
Excelsior Lager Beer
MANUFACTURED BY
GEORGE BECHTEL,
is g’uaa.
It is the FINEST FLAVORED
and MOST WHOLESOME Beer
before the public.
It is pronounced the BEST and.
Purest Beer,
by eminent Physicians and Chem
ists, and they recommend, it for
INVALIDS as well as the robust.
It has received
from PHILADELPHIA, NEW
YORK, PARIS, SYDNEY, and
JAPAN for excellence and pu
rity, and
Stands Unrivalled I
All communications should be addressed to
GEOEISE EECHTEE,
STAPLETON, STATEN ISLAND, N. Y.
There is a Beautiful Grove, Bowling
Alleys, Restaurant, &c., connected with tha
Brewery, for the use of Pleasure Parties.
strengthens, enlarges, and de-tj
Ki t tP./SSHJI, relops any part or .lie body. SI.S
vJL £. vcJmvULv Nervous Debility Pills, sl. In-ra
Invigorating Fill, sl. All post-paid. Address • »
m New England Medical Institute, S
No. 24 Tremont Row, Boston, Mass. jj|
BURE ¥@OKEUH
Dr. Bohannan’s “Vegetable Curative’’ is warranted to
permanently cure all forms of Spermatorrhea or Semi
nal Weakness, Impotency, etc., and restores ‘-Lost
Power,” and brings back the “Youthful Vigor” of those
who have destroyed it by sexual excesses or evil prac
tices, in from two to seven weeks’ time. It has been
used by Dr. Bohannan in,his private practice forever
thirty years, was never known to fail in curingeven the
WORST CASES. It gives vitality and imparls energy
with wonderful effect to those middle aged men who
feel a weakness beyond their years. Young men suffer
ing from the consequences of that dreadfully destructive
habit of Self-Abuse can use this medicine with l the as
surance of a speedy and PERMANENT cure. The in
gredients are simple productions of nature—barks,
roots, herbs, etc., and are a specific for the above diseases.
©3"Price Five Dollars, sent with full directions, etc.,
to any address. For sale only by Dr. C. A. Bohannan,
N. E. corner of Sixth and Biudle streets, St. Louis, Mo.
Established in 1837-
iTS“Dr. B.’s “Treatise on Special Diseases,’ which
gives a clear delineation of the nature, symptoms, means
of cure, etc., of SYPHILIS, SEMINAL WEAKNESS,
Etc., Sent Free to any-addressupon receipt of o".e stamp.
Diseases of Men Only ; Blood Poison, skin
diseases, inflammation; obstructions bladder, kid
neys and other organs; weakness, nervous and general
debility; mental, physical prostration, Ac., successfully
treated and radically cured; remarkable cures perfected
in old cases which have been neglected or unskill fully
treated; no experiments or failures.it being self evident
that a physician who confines himself exclusively to the
study of certain classes of diseases, and who treats thou
sands every year, must acquire greater skill in those
branches than one in general practice Dr. GRINDLE*.
171 Wa«t iath st,, between 6tb and 7th avennas.
7