New York dispatch. [volume], January 10, 1886, Page 6, Image 6

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

Image provided by: Library of Congress, Washington, DC

                
6
A LITTLE SUMMER ALL SHUT IN.
’Tis sweet to have, when storms begin
To roam o’er the earth so wide,
A little Summer all shut in
From the frozen world outside;
A little Summer all our own,
From tho days when the robins go.
To the days when they come from a warmer zone,
And the pansies peep from the snow.
The rich may daily on dainties dine,
And daily on velvet tread,
But give to my home the trailing vino,
And the blooming flowers instead;
A cheerful wile in a sunny room,
Who sings as she flits about;
What care I. then, with tho plants in bloom,
For the Wintry winds without.
Bow sweet to come from the constant din
Of life’s contending t.de,
To my little Summer, all shut in,
From the frozen world outside;
To watch the bright geraniums grow,
From the bud to the open flower,
While the on tor world lies under the SHOW,
And bound by the ice king’s power.
The poet sings of the better land,
•‘Where flowers immortal bloom,”
And so I can partly understand
The glories beyond the tomb.
How sad and dreary tho •earth would
Through all of the weary hours.
Bad God not given to you and me
The beautiful birds-and flowers.
CtfVIWjLBOSE.
BY U LYDE RAY M OND.
“Look, Leila ! That must ba the new gar
dener whom Mr. Tresscott had just engaged.
You know Mrs. Bartlett was speaking of it yes
terday and praising his exquisite taste as a
florist. And what ait extremly handsome per
son he is I Ido wonder it ho would give ma a
■rose ?”
These words, uttered sotio voce, were not
bo lowly spoken as they were evidently meant
to be; lor the “ handsome person” alluded to,
busily employed in training so magnificent
climbing-roses over a lattice arbor close to the
garden-wall, bent a little more earnestly to his
‘work to conceal the smile which suddenly over
spread iiis frank blonde face, and his blue eyes
'twinkled with some inward conceit which evi
dently amused him very much.
“ \\ hy don’t you ask him ?” was the re
ply, in a voice whose cold, half-sneering
accents clearly betokened a haughty nature.
“So I will,” said the first speaker de
•cidedly.
And both came to an abrupt halt in their
leisurely stroll past the beautiful grounds be
longing to Allred Treseott, of whose great
wealth and approaching return from his foreign
lands they had heard so much.
And then the handsome gardener turned his
face—sedate enough now, since the smiles had
been forcibly suppressed—in the direction of
the two young ladies, as a sweet girlish voice
Lal,-roguishly inquired:
“ Slay I beg one of those beautiful roses,
sir ?”
“Certainly, miss,” was the courteous re
sponse; and the white straw hat he wore over
his short, crinkling auburn curls was lifted
with gentlemanly grace.
He selected several of tho ’most perfect
flowers the vines could boast, and presented
them with a lew simple, fitly-chosen words.
" Ho has tho air of a prince, upon my word,”
secretly thought Hose Reynolds, as she stuck
the crimson roses in her belt, accompanying her
pretty thanks with a glance from her lovely
dark eyes, more expressive of her admiration
than site was really aware of.
She was one of the loveliest of brunettes,
Blender and graceful, with a clear dusk com
plexion, tints of deepest rose and coral in
cheeks and lips, and a smile that was en
chanting.
At least so thought the gardener as she flash
ed one dazzlingly upon him, when, with a gra
cious littlo bend of her d.usky head, she turned
away to join her friend who' had stood rather
haughtily aloof.
“ Well, upon my word, Rose, yon have made
B conquest to be proud of,” said the young lady,
sarcastically, as they resumed their walk. “The
fe.low has evidently fallen in love with you. I
could see it in his eyes. No doubt he lancies
the attraction mutual. Flirting with a common
gardener ! Ha 1 ha ! what would your aristo
cratic mamma say to that?”
“ Hush, Leila, he will hear you !” exclaimed
Rose, warningly, while a warm blush dyed her
cheeks, as she felt that the handsome gardener
hail looked at her admiringly, albeit as respect
fully as though she had been a queen.
“ Well, what if he does ?” carelessly retorted
Lelia Damon, to whom the feelings or opinions
of a social inferior mattered little one way or
another. “ He’s merely one of Mr. Trescott’s
servants.”
“ His manners are those of a gentleman, nev
ertheless,” said Hose, quite warmly. “ And a
handsomer man I’m sure I have never seen. I
don t see how you can speak so, Leila Damon.”
“ Well, well, don’t get excited, Rose, dear,”
returned Leila, laughingly. “You may waste
your smiles upon the gardener if you like. I
shall keep miue for his master.”
And the two girls passed on beyond the gar
den wall and out of the hearing of the hand
some young fellow who seemed so intent upon
training his roses in the way they should go.
Yet not a single word of the low but distinct
dialogue had escaped him. Be bad keen oars,
and if girls would talk audibly about himself,
almost in bis very presence, it was scarcely his
fault if he beard what they were saying. So at
least, he reasoned, and the look ef amusement
deepened upon his expressive face.
“8-0-0!” he muttered, slowly and softly to
himself, “ I’m merely one of Mr. Trescott’s ser
vants, am I? Very well, my proud Miss Damon;
I’m glad you’ve enlightened me as to my social
status. I’ve heard of your beauty and bril
liance, and thought of calling at Mrs. Bartlett’s
this very evening for the purpose of making
your ladyship’s acquaintance. Now, I’ll turn
this little piece of nows to some account, or my
name isn’t—”
He paused, and a long, low whistle was emit
ted from his smiling lips. Clearly, the young
lady’s scornful words bad not disturbed his
happiness to any great extent.
In Hose Reynolds s mind, long after her walk
was ended, the picture of the handsome gar
dener in white shirt sleeves and wide straw hat
with the sunlight falling on his bright fair face
and glistening auburn curls, as he reached up
ward in tying his refractory vines, lingered
pleasantly, and she actually lound herself blush
ing when she put the roses away in a little cab
inet whore she kept her most cherished sou
venirs, hardly knowing why she did so.
And then she blushed again, in shame and
. anger at herself; for Rose also had her pride,
and the thought of being interested in “one of
Mr. Trescott’s servantt,” as Leila had called
him, however superior he might seem, did not
exactly please her.
“ But I fcxow he is a gentleman,” she reflect
ed, thoughtfully. “ And, because he may be
unfortunate in worldly circumstances, must 1
regard him as an interior, as Leila does ? In
tei'igenso and refinement were expressed in
every line ol his handsome face, while his man
ners were just perfect. I'll ask|Mrs. Bartlett
about him. She and Mr. Treseott are old
friends; she can doubtless tell me all about his
establishment.”
And she started at once to interview Mrs.
Bartlett on the subject, but as suddenly
changed her mind.
“No, no, I’ll not mention it,” she decided,
with her hand on the door knob. “ What non
sense to think of him at all! Leila was right—
I m airaid I am too romantic. The idea of
bothering my brains about a man whom I have
Been but once, and. shall probably never see
again
And Hose laughed, in ridicule of herself, as
ehe took up a piece of the lat st craze in em
broidery and began to stitch awav for dear life,
in order to forget all about the handsome
. stranger.
But Fate decreed that she should think ot
. him in spite of herself; for that very day, as she
and Leila returned home from making a call they
encountered him just turning an angle of the
.house, on his way to the side gate. .Evidently
he bad been around to tho kitchen door.
Miss Damon olevatod her patrician head a
trifle higher and deigned him not a glance as
.ehe swept haughtily by, her elegant skirts al
most brushing against him as she did so.
Rose, however, gave him a kindlv nod and
smile of recognition, at the risk ot a lecture
from Leila later on, and—it really did seem
strange—the glance that flashed from those
magnetic blue eyes, as the young man grace
fully lifted his bat, brought the bright color
once more to Hose’s cheek.
“ A confirmed case of love at first sight,”
laughed Leila mockingly, with a significant
glance at my heroine’s conscious face. “Oh,
Rose, Rose ! what would Mr. Morton say if he
could only behold those blushes which, I
haven’t a doubt, he woo d give half bis fortune
io be able to call forth ? let how readily they
come and go at ft mere glance from Mr. Tres
oott's gardener!”
“ Leila, you are too ridiculous,” flashed Rose
halt-angrily. “ There’s no lovo about it; I nev
er thought of such a thing. But as to Mr. Mor
ton, with all his hundreds of thousands, ho can
not compare, either in looks, manner or that
}'e ne sais quoi which stamps the true gentle
man, with this ‘common gardener,’ as you
please to term him. There 1 you have my can
did opinion. Miss Damon. Now, let’s drop tho
subject."
And., with her dark eyes flashing, Hose ab
ruptly quitted her companion and walked
straight around to the kitchen door.
“Mrs. Bartlett,” she began impetuously,
“ who is that gentleman whom we first met go
ing away from here? Mr. Trescott’s new gar
dener, is ho not? Are you acquainted with
him ?”
“Acquainted with Allred Williams ! I should
eay so," returned the landlady, with a proud
smile, as if the acquaintance was au honor
“ I’ve known him lor years. He first called to
leave this beautiful basket of fruit, through Mr.
Trescott’s orders. And you arc quite “right'
Miss Rose, in calling him a gentleman, for that
he is by birth and education. And because ho
happens to be poor, and chooses to do what
ever honest, congenial work falls in hia way
rather than be dependent, he is none tho leas a ’
gentleman, to my thinking.”
“Nor mine either, Mrs. Bartlett,” exclaimed
Rose impulsively. “ I told Leila from the first
that he- But oh, dear ! how dreadfully warm
it is, breaking oft suddenly as if she ielt the
telltale color rushing to her lace. “ 1 shall <
have to run right up stairs and don something i
ceol agd table. Ta, ta, ajrg, Bartlett, I
hope you will give us some of ttds lovely fruit
for tea.”
And, with one of her bright smiles, Rose has*
tily deserted the kitchen* while Mrs. Bartlett
smiled mysteriously, and. -brew her own conclu
sions from the young l&?.y’s crimson cheeks.
“ A gentleman by birth and education?’
Somehow, Rose Reynolds found a mine of
comfort in that siaaple statement. Ho was her
equal, thus far, and she no longer felt that
vague sense of shame or romantic tolly in re
cognizing him when they chanced to meet, as
’they did sometimes, when, in fulfilling Mr.
Trescott’s instructions, he called to leave a
friendly gift of choice fruit or flowers for Mrs.
Bartlett.
“ Heigho 1 I wish there was no such thing as
‘social caste? or that I was liKo Leila, too
haughty and soulless to be in danger of forget
ting mine?’ sighed Rose, half in earnest, half
sportively, as she placed her little French
booted foot upon a fallen log which served as a
bridge over a somewhat turbulent stream.
She usually took her walks alone now, as
Miss Damon had grown much too sarcastic to
make her chaperonage a thing to be desired.
She also carefully avoided the Treseott grounds,
of late, yet how true is it, after all, that
" There is a destiny that shapes our ends,
Rough hew them how we will.”
Ros© had taken a newToiite this afternoon,
and, when she came to the rustic, romantic
looking bridge, she stepped upon it without a
moment’s hesitation. Halfway across, however,
the rapid swirl of the waters beneath caused
her to grow terribly dizzy and almost lose her
balance.
White and faint and wavering, she was about
to fall when the sound ot a clear, strong voice
from the opposite shore suddenly thrilled her
heart with hope and braced her failing courage.
“Steady, steady, Miss Reynolds !” command
ed those low, firm, reassuring tones. “Don’t
. look down. I’m coming to assist you I”
i And, after one long moment of breathless
suspense and fear on Rose’s part, ho—Alfred
j, Williams, tho gardener stood beside her.
Without a word, he took her band in his and
t led her gently and safety across tho noisy, swirl
t ing stream. On the bank they stood still and
looked into each other’s eyes.
t It had been a real danger—ao much so that
j both (aces were pale and solemn, and in his was
5 that unmistakable look that nameless, intangi
ble “ something ” which told her that she was
i loved, that her life or death meant everything
to the man beside her.
“ Oh, Rose ! Rose he cried huskily, drawing
. her closely to his side, “ what if I had not
chanced to see your danger 1”
For one instant he seemed to have forgotten
. everything eave that passionate love which had
so suddenly burst its bounds and showed her
his inmost heart as by an electric flash. The
. next, he gently released her and turned away,
t “ Pardon me, if you can, Miss Reynolds,” he
i said, brokenly, yet with a touch of hie old
proud independence. “ I did not dream that I
i should so far forgot myself—tho great differ
ence in our social stations .”
; “ Could you think that I would remember
s that now she interrupted softly, with a
glance that thrilled him through and through.
“ But for you I should have drowned. What
have you said or done that you should aek my
. pardon ?”
She stood before him, her lovely dusk face
bathed in blushes, her lips half-parted in a
tender smile, her proud dark eyes drooping
■ shyly before the gaze that seemed striving to
read her very soul. Then:
“ Rose ho exclaimed, in a voice vibrating
with intensest passion. And the next moment
she was tightly imprisoned, a willing captive,
in his arms.
“ You have made me tho happiest fellow in
the world, Rose,” ho eaid after a time, when
they came down from the clouds to practically
discuss thoir future, “ but that same world will
declare that you have done a very foolish
thing. You will experience bitter opposition
from all your friends, my darling.”
“ 1 expect that,” said Rose, her coral lips
closing in a flfm red line. “ But 1 have made
my choice and shall abide by it.”
******
That evening Mrs. Bartlett’s pretty cottage
was looking its brightest in honor of an ex
pected guest. Mr. Treseott had suddenly re
turned and had sent word to Mrs. Bartlett that
he should give himself the pleasure of calling
there at once.
“ The sly fellow 1” exclaimed the good lady,
laughingly. “As if I didn’t know that lam
not the attraction that draws him here so
quickly. He’s heard of my young lady guests,
you may depend, girls.”
Leila smiled complacently. She had made
herself very charming for the eyes of the young
millionairs and had but little doubt of her own
success. She had been so absorbed in her
coming conquest that she had almost forgotten
to sneer at Rose, who had bravely confessed
her betrothal to the handsome gardener.
Rose was also in a quiet flutter of happiness,
for her lover was coming too, and would* there
after take his rightful place among them as her
affianced husband.
Presently the bell rang, and, after a brief ab
sence, Mrs. Bartlett re-entered the parlor on
tho arm of an elegantly-dressed and distin
guished-looking man.
“ Mr. Treseott, young ladies?’ she announced,
with a beaming smile. “The loag-looked-for
has come at last.”
Leila, who had risen to her feet expectantly,
sank back upon the sofa with a gasping, word
less cry of consternation. Her hopes were sud
denly dashed to atoms. The man who stood
before them—tho young, handsome, much
talked-of millionaire—was the supposed gar
dener whom she had snoered at and despised.
Rose simply looked her amazement. She
had no words to express the emotions that over
whelmed her.
“My darling,” said Mr. Treseott, taking her
hand and speaking in low tones that reached no
ear but hers, “ once more I must ask your par
don ; yet this time it will be easier to grant, I
think?’
In his pleasant, off-hand way he then related
to them ail the story of his little deception, and
how it came about; of the conversation he bad
unintentionally overheard when, on the first
day ot his arrival, he had been mistaken for bis
own gardener.
“Being a somewhat romantic fellow,” he
added, “I had a great desire to be loved for
myself alone, and at once persuaded Mrs. Bart
lett to assist me in keeping up my masquerade.
The result has been eminently satisfactory—to
me, at least. In giving away a rose that morn
ing, I but won another Rose, whose beauty and
sweetness will, I trust, brighten all my future
life.
INAMES AND NICKNAMES.
THE STATES AND TERRITORIES
OE THE UNITED STATES.
Alabama—The name is of Greek origin, signi
fying “ Here We Rest.”
Arizona Territory—An Indian word, meaning
“Band Hills.”
Arkansas—French and Italian words, signi
fying “Bow of Smoky Waters.” The fictitious
name of the State is “Bear State,” from the
number of these animals formerly found there.
California—From Spanish words, meaning
“ Hot Furnace,” The fictitious name is “ Gold
en State.”
Colorado—Spanish word, meaning “ Color
ed.”
Connecticut —An Indian name, signifying
“The Long River.” The nicknames are, “Free
stone State,” “Nutmeg State.” and “Land of
Steady Habits.”
Dakota—lndian word, meaning “ Allied.”
Delaware —Named in honor of Lord Delaware.
It is called “Tho Diamond State,” from its
small size aud its intrinsic value; “ also “ Blue
Hen State.”
Florida—From the Spanish, meaning " Flow
ery ;” so called from the abundance of flowers
and the day (Easter Sunday) upon which it was
discovered. From its shape, it is sometimes
called the Peninsula State.”
Georgia—Named in honor of King George IL,
of England. The nickname is “ Empire State of
tho South.”
Illinois—An Indian word, signifying “ Tribe
of men” The soubriquet is “ Prairie State
also “ Sucker State.”
Indiana—ls so called from the Indians. The
original meaning of tho word Indian is “River.”
The nickname is “The Hoosier State.”
lowa—An Indian word, meaning “ The Sleepv
Ones.” The fictitious name is “ Hawkeye
State,”
Kansas—AHrtndian word, signifying “Smoky
water.”. The sobriquet is “Gardea of the
West.”
Kentucky—An Indian name, signifying “ The
Dark and Bloody Ground.” The nickname is
“ The Corn-cracker State.”
Louisiana—Named in honor of King Louis
XIV. of France. The soubriquet is “Creole
State.”
Maine—So called from Maine in France. Tho
fictitious name is “ The Pine Tree State.”
Maryland—Named in honor ot Queen Henri
etta Maria of England.
Massachusetts—An Indian name, signifying
“Blue Hills.” The fanciful name is “The Bay
State.”
Michigan—An Indian word, meaning “The
Lake Country.” It is nicknamed “ The Lake
State,” also “ Tho Wolverine State.”
Minnesota—From Indian words meaning
“Cloudy Water.” It is called “The Gopher
State.” 1 ;
Mississippi—An Indian word for “Father of
Waters." It is nicknamed “The Bayou State.”
Missouri—An Indian word, meaning “ Muddy
Water.” y :
Nebraska—An Indian word, meaning “ Shal
low River.”
Nevada—Spanish, signifying "Snow Clad.” >
The fictitious name is “Sage Hen State.”
Now Hampshire—Named from Hampshire J
County, England, The sobriquet ie “The Gran
ite State.”
New Jersey—Named for the Isle of Jersey. >
The sobriquet is “ The Jersey Blue.”
New Mexico—Spanish; named from tho coun- 1
try of Mexico, meaning “ The Palace of Aztec— 1
God of War.”
New York—Named in honor of the Duke of <
York and Albany, it is called “ The Excelsior t
State ” and “ The Empire State.” E
North Carolina—Named, with South Carolina, 1
in honor of Charles 1., ot England. The ficti
tious names are “The Old North State,” “Tho f
Tar State,” and “The Turpentine State.” j
Ohio -An Indian word signifying “beautiful.” 1
It is nicknamed “The Buckeye State.” 1
Oregon—Signifies “The River of the West.” «
Pennsylvania — Penn’s woodland is the signifl- a
cation. The soubriquet is “The Keystone t
State.” a
Rhode laUnd—Samoa from the 'jsle of t
NEW YORK DISPATCH, JANUARY 10, 1886.
t Rhodes, in the Mediterranean. Rhodes signi
fies “A Rose?’ It is nicknamed “Little
- Rhody.”
t South Carolina—Named in the same manner
- as North Carolina, which see. Tho soubriquet
is “The Palmetto State.”
Tennessee—Derived from Indian words signi
f lying “River of the Big Bend?’ It is nicknamed
• “Tho Big Bend State.”
5 Texas—Spanish, said to signify “Friend.”
- It is nicknamed “The Lone Star State.”
J Utah—Named from the Utes, or Utah In-
. dians.
i Vermont —From the French, signifying
. “Green Mountains?’ It is called “The Groen
Mountain State.”
i Virginia—Named for Elizabeth, Queen of Eng-
> land, the “Virgin Queen.” It is nicknamed
• “Tho Mother of Presidents;” also, “The Old
• Dominion.”
Washington Territory—Named for President
i Washington.
West Virginia—See Virginia.—lt is nicknamed
3 “The Panhandle State.”
) Wisconsin—Named from its principal river,
. and that from the French, meaning “Flowing
> Westward.” The fictitious name is “The Badger
State.”
Wyoming Territory—An Indian term, mean
ing “Large Plains.”
; a BBimiasa
• BY AN ENGLISH EX-DETECTIVE.
One frequently reads in tho papers of appli
j cations made to magistrates respecting missing
• friends and relatives, aud the almost invariable
. reply that “no doubt the press will kindly take
. note of the application,” a hint which is seldom,
t if ever, disregarded.
Thus it came about, not very long since, that
j the public might have road in the daily prints of
[ an application being made to a sitting magis
trate at the Hammersmith Police Court by an
[ old gentleman who said he wished to ask for ad
vice as to the disappearance of his niece. She
. had lived with applicant ever since she had been
a child, and had grown up under his care. She
; was now eighteen years of age, and had been
moat dutiful and attentive, and he was afraid
she had been decoyed from her home by some
j designing adventurer, more especially as a sum
of money and certain valuables had also disap
peared at or about the same time.
- “Had appli ant applied to the police ?” asked
; the magistrate.
“l\o, he had not done that, as he was advised
by his nepbevy —who also lived with him, and
who was cousin to the young lady in question—
that it would be only making the matter public
i and lead to no practical result. Indeed, he said
his nephew did not know of his present applica
tion.
“Do you know of any attachment which this
young girl may have formed, or have you any
reason to suspect any particular person' ot hav
ing decoyed her away ? ’ again asked the magis
trate.
“That is the most painful part of the case,”
replied tho old gentleman, evidently strongly
agitated. “I understood that she had formed
an attachment, but I only discovered the real
character ot the man a day or two since, when
my nephew informed me that he had ascertained
that the man was a moat abandoned charac
ter.”
“Had you questioned your nioce upon the
subject at all ? ’
“Yes, on the morning of the day upon which
she disappeared; and then she answered my
questions in such a straightforward manner that
I felt the hints my nephew had previously given
must have been based upon false reports, and I
regret to say we quarreled upon the subject?’
“Then you do not know who this suspected
individual is ?”
“Not in the least, your worship.”
“Then, in that case, I would strongly advise
you to lose no time in seeking the aid of the po
lice. Make a personal application to Scotland
Yard. Tell the authorities that you do so upon
my advice, and I have no doubt you will soon
hear something of the young lady. In the mean
time, I have no doubt the press will kindly take
note of your application.”
“The applicant,” said the report, “thanked
his worship and retired.”
And there the case ended—so far, at least, as
the public were concerned. But there maybe a
lew inquisitive people who would like to know
what the sequel ol the story is like, and as I had
something to do with that sequel, 1 don’t think
it would be out of place if 1 were to tell the
story.
Jabez >Smithwick—that was the old gentle
man’s name—made his appearance at Scotland
Yard in due course; but as it is against the rules
to act unless upon distinct evidence ot a crime
having been committed, and as Smith wick would
notcharge his niece with the theit,nothing could
then bo done. But, after a short while, Smith
wick’s desire to learn something of the where
abouts of his nioce overcame his scruples, and
he laid the necessary information and we began
to act—that is, 1 began to act, for the case was
put into my hands for investigation.
Jabez Smith wick lived in an old-fashioned
house set amid the market gardens and or
chards ot Chiawick, near to the river, and sur
rounded on all sides by its own extensive
grounds. Here ho resided with his niece, Lucv
Smithwick, his brother’s child, who, having
died within a fortnight of his wile, left the little
one to the charge of Jabez; and a sweeter,
more loving child never entered a m in’s house
to brighten it with her presence and enliven it
with her prattle. The old man, who soon grew
to love his charge with as much affection as it
she had been his own daughter, had to make
considerable alterations in his bachelor estab
lishment. First a nurse was engaged, then in
due time a governess appeared, and then a spe
cial maid and other female servants were added
and all for tho comfort and behoof of tho little
orphan, to whom the old man devoted himself
with never-tiring love, —a devotion she repaid
by lavishing the whole affection of her warm
and sunnv nature upon him. Matters went on
thus happily until littlo Lucy was about twelve
years ot age, when a new inmate came to the
house in the person of Joseph Appleton, old
Smithwick’s nephew, the eon ot his half-sister
and whose parents had died in India.
The children—Appleton was Lucy’s senior by
about three years—seemed to have got on pretty
well together, owing, I believe, in a great mea
sure. to Lucy’s gentle spirit, though a great
deal of the old familiar intercourse between un
cle and nie.-e was necessarily broken and inter
rupted. But the old man still clung to her, and
trusted in her, and thus it camo about that as
she grew up she assumed charge over her un
cle’s establishment, and became his adviser in
all matters relating to his worldly affairs, much
to young Appleton’s disgust, whose one aim in
life was to ascertain how his uncle’s property
was to be disposed of in the event of the 1 old
man’s decease.
Joseph Appleton was a mild-mannered, gen
tle-spoken young man, with very fair hair
brushed scrupulously smooth ; smooth white
skin, light-blue eyes, and very white hands, of
which he was exceedingly vain. As old Smith
wick introduced us to each other, 1 could see he
regarded me with mild disfavor. He was much
too gentle a youth to do anything except in a
very hesitating and seemingly nervous fashion,
as though askfng pardon for differing from you
in opinion. He struck me at once as being
something of an Uriah Heap ; but I thought he
overdid his part—he was much too humble.
And though he strongly resented his uncle’s ap
pealing to the magistrate and the police, ho was
very zealous in affording me all the assistance
in his power to discover his lost cousin.
“ You see, Mr. Norton,” bo remarked to me
when we were alone, “my uncle has sought the
aid of the police against my advice. I wished
it kept very quiet, because I thought she would
eventually return ; and beside, thia publicity
only brings disgrace upon her aud us.”
‘•But by keeping quiet, as you term it, you
would have given the thief a chance to get clear
away.”
“ Do jrou think, then, my cousin has not taken
these things ?”
“That is my opinion at present, and I have no
doubt I shall not be long before I can show you
I am correct.”
“Well, I hope you may be successful,” he
answered, with what I thought was something
like a sneer. “But,” he continued, changing
the conversation, “this has been a very sad
blow to my uncle—he trusted Lucy so very
much—and now that she has robbed him in
this way, be will not believe anything one tells
him or m any one.”
“ Yourself, lor instance ?” I queried.
“ Yes, myself, for instance. Dear me I it al
most breaks my heart to think how he has shut
himselt out from society. You heard him say
just now that I was to give you all tho details o f
this unhappy affair. That is the first show of
anything like confidence he has exhibited to
ward me.”
“Humph! Indeed! Now I think I should
like to have a look at your cousin’s room, and
then I will examine tho servants—all of them,
please—if you will have them in readiness
when I come down stairs. I think I should
prefer,” I continued, as heromained in Mies
Lucy’s room closely watching my movements,
“to conduct my investigations alone.”
“ Uh, yes, yes, certainly, if vou wish it.
Here,” he said, returning, “is the‘ list of things
my cousin has taken with her.”
“ Whew I” I whistled, as I glanced at this list,
which contained items of money, jewelry, secu
rities and title deeds. Are you sure vou are
correct ?”
“ Perfectly certain.” ;
“Buthow can you bo? How can know
what your cousin has taken ?” I asked, fi-dug :
him with my eye.
“ Those are all the things missing. My uncle
told me what to put down,” he replied, evading
my glance. ° ]
“But your uncle told me he did not know i
himself what was missing.” i
“ He—he must have forgotten.” j
I was about to make a rejoinder, but I thought ]
it well not to press him too tar then, as it might t
put him on his guard, so I merely replied: “Ab
very likely,” yet convinced that, for some i
reason or other, he had told me a lie. J
My search in Miss Buoy’s room gave me no I
clue, neither did my cross-questioning of the c
servants lead to anything. Miss Lucy had been
seen by her own maid at hah-past five, and she ‘
had been first missed at half-past six. i
What struck me as a curious circumstance
was the (act that although she had, as was sup- t
posed, made off with bo much of her uncle’s a
property, yet she had taken nothing of her own a
witti her in her flight. There were her watch v
and chain and other jewels, and all her wearing I
apparel. She could only have had on (according a
to her maid’s account) her ordinary walking 1
attire, not taking evena change of linen, and yet
there wag nothing to indicate a hurried depar- a
- ture, or the preparation for flight, which could
a scarcely have escaped my practised eye in look
ing for such things.
r P*d I suspect Lucy Smithwick of being the
t thief? you ask. Well, to be candid with you, I
did not. My suspicions rested upon Joseph
- Appleton ; but what had he done with his
1 cousin ? He might have taken and hidden the
jewelry and securities, but he could hot have
hidden his cousin very easily, unless, indeed,
he had But there I stopped. Would he
- have the pluck to do that ? Mild-spoken and
gentle-mannered as he was, I quite believed
• him capable of mwde?’ even, if he found it
i necessary to remove a rival from his path;
and that ho was jealous of his cousin I had not
- the smallest doubt. While //he was tho thief,
I this disappearance of Lucy Smithwick was
I necessary in order to divert suspicion from
himself.
t I le.l him on to talk—to talk of himself, his
uncle, of Lucy, of this attachment of which
1 something had been said, and I soon found he
was eager enough to converse upon this point.
, “ Who was the fellow ?” I asked.
r “ A farm laborer, or market-garden fellow,”
L- he replied. “I had seen her with him several
times, and expostulated with her upon tho
. strangeness, not to say the impropriety, of her
conduct, but all to no purpose. She resented
my interference, and the only thing left for me
r was to keep the knowledge of this wretched
. matter from my uncle?’
[ “And did you succeed?” I asked, sympa
thizingly.
“ Yus, for a time ; but he came to hear of it
through, I believe, the tittle-tattle of a servant,
. and, though I defended Lucy, he would not
, hear me, and told me I was as bad as the rest
, of them ; and she also flew at me, told me that
> it was I who was the mischief-maker, and that,
moreover, she would not give this fellow up,
’ and there was a regular scene.”
t “ When did this occur ?” I asked, somewhat
f surprised, lor this story of a quarrel was news
. to me.
, “ On the morning of tho day on which my
. cousin disappeared.”
, “Have you seen anything of this gardener or
j laborer fellow since your cousin went away ?”
> “No. I haven’t been able to catch so much
j as a glimpse of him anywhere.”
[ “ What sort of fellow was he—l mean in ap-
, pearanee? You would know him again if you
[ saw .him, I presume 2”
“Instantly. He was a rough-looking fellow,
with the usual hang-dog expression of such
[ men.”
“ That is not a very clear descriplion to work
upon. Was he tall or short, dark or fair, stout
or slim ?”
“ Well, let me think. I have only caught
, glimpses ot him, and these dark. Autumnal
evenings do not give much opportunity for
; studying such details.”
“ Oho 1” 1 thought. “ You’ve been playing
the spy, have you ?”
But. I said nothing.
“ He was rather tall, and stoutly built, and I
should say more dark than fair.”
Having thus ascertained all I could from him
ut that time, I left him and sought the uncle.
“1 understand, Mr. Smithwick, that you had
a quarrel, or perhaps 1 ought to eay a dispute,
with your nioce on the morning of the very day
on which she disappeared. Is that so?”
“ Nothing ot the kind, my dear sir. Nothing
whatever of the kind, I do assure you. The
dear girl and I never had anything like a wry
word.”
“ Then, if anyone says there was a quarrel,
they tell a lie.”
“Au infamous lie. But who dares to say so ?”
“I must ask you not to press that point. Lid
you or did you not know of your niece's occasion
ally meeting a man who is described as a labor
er on one of the market gardens hereabouts ?
Please be careful in your answer, as it may as
sist me greatly.”
“1 did hear of such a thing from one of the
servants, who has since admitted that my nep
hew told her, and, after repeated hints troin
him, which I ignored, I asked my niece, in his
presence, what amount of truth there was in
the rumor. She replied that she had occasion
ally met a who was not indifferent to
her, but that, owing to some old family differ
ences, he had not had the courage to come and
see me ; but she had at last persuaded him to
do so, and he had promised to call in a day or
two, upon his return to town.”
“ And is that all that took place ?”
“ Absolutely everything.”
“r he did not say who this gentleman was !”
“No, I did not ask. I know of no one with
whom I was at feud, and so I merely said,
‘ Very well, Lucy, my dear, I can trust you, and
when he comes I have no doubt these family
differences, which 1 daresay are only imaginary,
can bo actuated. Nothing of the kind shall
stand in the way of your happiness if I can help
it? and then she kissed me—bless her !—and
went away, and I have never seen her since?’
“ And your nephew heard all this ?”
“Yes, every word?’
Why had Appleton told me these lies, unless
he had had a hand in the disappearance of his
cousin ? I aeked myself, more than ever con
vinced of his guilt, and I tried to avoid him;
but his attentions and proffers of assistance be
came so persistent, that; he hindered rather than
helped me in his zeal, and I began to feel cer
tain all this was done to throw me of: the right
track; so that, at last, I decided it would°be
better to let the scent lie for a short time, and
accordingly le/t Chiswick in order to devote
myseli to other work.
The old gardener who kept Jabez Smithwick’s
grounds in order, being somewhat feeble, was
on tho look-out for an assistant, and about this
time one evening, as ho sat smoking his pipe in
the bar parlor of the Crown and Anchor-an
old-lash oned hostelry not very the
scene oi his daily labors —he was accosted by
an old, crabbed, weather-beaten-looking stran
ger:
“ Hillo, old Jim Speedwell! Be it true, as
I’ve heerd, that you be wantin' some help up
yonder at Muster Smithwick’s ?”
“ Yes, but I ain’t a-goin’ to have you, who
ever you be,’ : said Jim, in his surliest tone and
without removing his pipe-aud be could be
very surly when he thought proper.
However, in spite of his declaration to the
contrary, old Jim Speedwell did engage the
stranger as his assistant, and I’ill Dicks entered
upon the new sphere oi his labors the next
morning. And very busy he was, too, with
spade and rake and hoe and broom—whenever
any one was looking—but mighty idle when left
to himself. His branch of horticulture ap
peared to be devoted to the hunting of worms,
lor he was ever digging in out-of-the-way
places—moist corners, where good fat ones
might h been expected-behind masses of
shrubs, in unfrequented spots where the grass
and underwood had been neglected and allowed
to grow pretty much at their own sweet will,
and here he would turn over the soil very
carefully and methodically in his search.
It was strange, too s what a fancy Bill had
taken for Joseph Appleton -not that he allowed
bis regard to be seen, lor whenever Appleton
appeared, Bill would devote himsel. to his
work with renewed vigor; but it always hap
pened to be in that part of the grounds most
affected by Appleton in his rambles.
“ What do you find to do here ?” asked Ap
pleton, peevishly, one day. “You’re always
clipping and digging, and messing about these
bushes.”
“I do whatever Jim tolls me. He be head
gardener—l bean’t?’ was the sulky answer.
“ Jim’s a fool, and so are vou. I tell you to
go somewhere else, I want to be alone.”
“ Wheer must 1 goo, then ?”
“ Anywhere - to the devil, if you like 1”
“Thank'ee for nothing,” said Bill, and he
walked away. But he didn’t walk very far, for
he doubled on his footsteps and came creeping
back to the spot where he had left Appleton°
taking care, however, to keep himself well hid
den behind a thick growth of shrubs and ever
greens which skirted tho edge of the grounds.
Appleton had disappeared, but a rustling of
the bushes and a gentle waving of the branches,
intimated his whereabouts. At that moment a
bird flew out of the bush with a cry and flapping
of its wings, and immediately alter Appleton
emerged, his pale lace looking paler than ever.
Whatever he had been doing, tho bird had
startled him. He looked furtively around with
evident terror, aud, leaving the spot with re
luctance walked toward the house.
Immediately he was out of sight, Bill made
for the spot where Appleton had been; there
was nothing there. Ho looked all around,
and up and down; but there was noth
ing whatever to attract his attention.
But stay ! There was a littlo thread of twisted
yellow silk hanging from the holly bush and
close to tho ground.
“ That’s out of tho tassel of his smoking cap,”
said Bill, as he carefully smoothed tho silk in
his band. “ That proves he has been here be
fore, because he hadn’t his smoking-cap on to
day, and he must have stooped very low for it to
get down there. But the ground isn’t disturbed.
Isn’t it, though ?” he continued, as he looked
a second time. “ Why, this grass has been
lilted off in layers, and put on again! That’s
an artful move, certainly 1” he said, as he took
up a large square of turf, revealing the fact
that the ground underneath had been lately
disturbed.
Bill Dicks very quietly proceeded to turn it
over again with the aid of a small garden trowel
which ho took from the pocket of liis jacket. He
had only scraped away a few inches when his
trowel grated against a metaliic-like substance,
and directly afterward lifted from its hiding
place a flat tin box.
“Ah 1 here you are at last!” he said. “ You
are the member which my gentleman had made
by the tinsmith on the ‘ Dials? I knew I should
find you somewhere about here. Aha, my dear
Joseph, when I heard of your having this made
I knew I was on the right track I”
While he was speaking, he took a key from
his pocket, and, having unlocked the box, pro
ceeded to transfer the contents to various recep- 1
taeles about his person —money, jewelry, papers.
Having emptied the box, he locked it' and re- 1
placed it in tho earth, carefully restoring the !
turf as he found it. i
So far it was all right. I had found the miss- i
ing property. But where was tho missing girl ?
Joseph Appleton had hidden the one—of that I
had ample evidence. Had he not hidden tho
other ? But where ?
“Time and patience?’ I repeated to myself.
“If she’s above ground, I'll find her yet: and
if„well ”
I would not go on any further. I still re
tained by character of Bill Dicks, as giving me •
a better chance of watching; and one evening, <
as I was leaving the garden by a side gate 1
which opaned into a lonely and unfrequented 3
lane, I saw a stranger loitering about. I looked 1
at him sharply, and ho beckoned mo toward 1
him.
‘•Will you earn a shilling, my man?” he 3
asked. <
1 “Ay, sir, if I can, and thank’ee.”
“ You are employed at Mr. Smith wick’s, here,
are you not ?”
9 “ Yes, sir.”
[ “ Thon, can you tell me whether anything is
i known as to Miss Smithwick’s whereabouts ?”
3 “I don’t know nothin’ about her,” I replied,
3 purposely stupid, as 1 wanted to find out what
3 he was driving at. He stamped his foot, and,
, alter a pause, said :
j “ Will you take a note to Mr. Smithwick ? I
I don’t want his nephew to see it -do you under
l stand that? I nodded and grinned. “It may
t cost you your situation, for I understand he’s a
; bad-tempered man ; but if it does, I’ll find you
t another.”
, I consented to take the note on these condi
j tions, and promised to bring an answer if he
i would wait for me at the Crown and Anchor.
He seemed 8 somewhat astonished at my confi
j dence, but said he would await my return at th"
i house named. 6
s I took the letter to old Smithwick in my own
proper character.
It was a straightforward, manly communica
’ tion, telling the old man who he was—Ed
-1 ward Milton—the son oi a man who had injured
3 oldSmithwick many years before, and knowing
r or believing that he still bore resentment
1 against his family, he had not had the courage to
3 meet him. He had, however, met and loved
1 his niece, but the knowledge of the old load
kept him from asking Smithwick for his con
_ sent to wed his niece. He had been away, and
had only just heard of Miss Lucy’s disappear
t ance. Ha concluded by asking Smithwick to
} grant him an interview. Thus the fiction of the
t farm laborer disappeared, and another lie of
t Joseph Appleton’s was exposed.
t , The interview took place, and then I learned
that these young people had been in the habit
’ ot meeting at a certain spot in the lane I have
already alluded to. The exact place was point
t ed out io me by Milton next morning. I did not
. expect to find anything there, but 1 thought it
as well to investigate even this unpromising lo
r cality, for Ido not believe in missing opportu
nities. The hedges on both sides grow high,
. and as tho lane made an abrupt turn it widened,
and there was a little stretch of sward with a lew
x bramble bushes. I poked into the bushes with
my stick, and, prying among them, caught
. sight oi a piece oi what bad once been white
! note paper, but now dirty, stained, and crump
led. I picked it up, and having carefully
smoothed it out, read the following, written iii
' lead pencil:
“ Oct. 29, 18—
“Mz Dsakest—l have unexpectly returned
j; to town, but am very ill. Be at the old spot, at
the old time, to-night. My messenger is to be
; trusted, and will bring you to me. I have
i something of importance to communicate.
“E. M.”
“ October the 29th—eh ?” I mused. “ That is
; pie very day the poor girl disappeared ! This
is evidently a plant. The case certainly gets
blacker and blacker for you, Master Joseph. I
only hope, for her sake, that you have not stain
ed your hands with her blood.”
l Milton, as I had anticipated, denied all knowl
edge of the letter, and, taking counsel with
him and the old man, I decided upon forcing
, the hand of Joseph Appleton, and, by telling
■ him what I already knew, compel him to con
fess the rest.
He was very bold at first, denying every
thing ; but when I exposed all his little fictions,
■ be confessed that he had put his cousin in a
lunatic asylum—“as being the most suitable
place for her,” he said. He had induced two
disreputable members uf the medical profession
' to sign the necessary certificate for a consider
ation, and had, by means of the forged letter,
induced his cousin to go to the meeting-place.
From there she had followed the messenger to
where a carriage was in waiting, aud, thinking
she was to be taken to see Milton—who, she was
told, was at the point of death—Lucy got in and
was driven away, not to her lover, but to be in
carcerated as a dangerous lunatic in one of the
worst asvlums in the country.
If I had permitted Milton to have got at Ap
pleton I really believe he would have killed him
on the spot. He coolly confessed to his villainy,
saying he thought Lucy was getting too much
into favor with the old man, and he did not in
tend that she should have his money.
“ You vagabond I you scoundrel!” cried
Smithwick “I wonder you didn’t put me
away I ’
“ Well, I might have quieted you if you had
given me time,” ho eneeringly 'answered. *• I
knew Lucy wouldn’t linger very long under the
treatment of Dr. Jackal, and then 1 might have
put you there also. There is no necessity for
doing anything violent when such men as Jack
al are ready to do it for you, and the law can’t
touch them ; so it’s sale all round.”
I felt tempted to knock this sneering devil to
the ground myself.
Lucy was soon released from her captivity,
and though we could not do anything to Jackal,
1 made it pretty warm tor him, and the exposure
dtd this much good, that he very soon after
shut up shop and went out of the country.
Lucy’s health had suffered considerably from
the confinement and cruel treatment she had
undergone, but the return to her uncle’s house
and tho knowledge that her lover and her uncle
were something more than friends, helped to
restore her to some semblance of her old self,
and when, a few months after, she was married
to Edward Milton, she was as pretty and at
tractive a bride as one need ever w<sh’to see.
As to Joseph Appleton, he saved everybody
trouble as to what should be done with him.
He committed suicide by swallowing a dose of
poison.
THE RABBIT’S FOOT.
A PECULIAR SOUTHERN SUPER
STITION.
(From the Arlcansaw Traveller.)
Tho rabbit foot in the South, and especially
in Arkansas, holds a place which nothing can
supplant. The buckeye aud the "lucky bone,”
taken Irom the catfish have been thrown aside,
aud no longer is it necessary for a colored
man to make a cross-mark and spit in it when,
having forgotten something, ho turns back. He
simply crosses himself with the rabbit foot, and
the lancilul sentinel, standing on the wall of su
perstition, cries " all’s well.”
John G. Carlisle, Speaker of the House of
Representatives, is a firm believer in the efficacy
of the rabbit loot. Less that twelve years ago
Mr. Carlisle was a confirmed drunkard. He
had started out with bright prospects, but the
great horn-spoon and the blue-rimmed bowl of
Kentucky conviviality was too much for him,
and in ths language of a distinguished blue
grass poet ;
He fell
Like a lightning bug
Into a well.
Temperance lecturers and revivalists tried to
braco him against temptations, but in vain. Ho
struggled manfully, but he had not power to
control himselt. One day, while Mr. Carlisle
was bathing his feverish brow at the town well,
an old kidney-footed negro, known as Wall-
Eyed Buck, came along, and said :
"Look lieah, Mars’ John, why’t yer quit dat
foolishness ?”
“ I would if I could, Buck.”
“ I doan’ ’spute dat, but by yese’f yer ain’t
got de power. I means why doan yer take de
right cou’se an’ ’mount to suthin’ in the
worl’?”
“I haven't been able to pursue the right
course, Buck.”
“ Bat’s borcase yer doan know whut de right
cou’se is.”
“ I have tried everything.”
“No yer ain’t, Mars’ John. Now, lemme tell
yer whut’s de tack; etit’s yer ernes’ wush ter
quit drinkin’, jes’ cross yese’f six times wider
rabbit foot an’ go on erbont yer bus’ness.”
“ Go on, old man, you are foolish.”
“ Now, look haah,” Buck replied, taking out
a rabbit foot, “ dis thing can’t hurt yer, an’ dat
oughter make yer willin’ ter let me try it on
yer. Jes’ hole still er minit.”
Mr. Carlisle laughed at the old negro’s super
stition, but suffered him to apply the rabbit
toot.”
"Now,” said Buck, when he had several
times crossed Carlisle, “ yer days o’ carousin’
is over.”
Carlisle laughed, went to a saloon not far
away, and asked for a little Bourbon with Blue
Licit water on the outside.
"Hold on,” said he, just as the bartender had
prepared the drink. “ I’ll pay for it, but I real
ly cannot drink it.”
He wont away rejoicing, for the burning thirst
had left him. The next day he went to his ol
fieo and bent himself to the study of the books
which he had so long neglected. He secured a
rabbit foot and kept it in his pocket, ready at
all times to apply it in case of emergency. The
people were so much gratified at the vigor of
the principle shown by Mr. Carlisle that thov
soon gave him a position of trust. When .he
first aspired to the position ot Speaker his
iriends, though willing to do anything for him,
laughed at his absurd aspirations.
Carlisle, however, did not entertain a doubt
of his coming success. Not only did he retuse
to entertain a doubt, but he refused to even
treat the doubt with courtesy.
One day, just before the contest, Mr. Carlisle
was seen crossing himself.
“ What are you doing there ?” asked some one
who saw the performance.
Carlisle blushed. “Ab,” said the man, "I
know what you are about. You are a Catholic,
aud are exercising your.mummery.”
Thon Mr. Carlisle explained that he was ap
plying the rabbit foot.
The man roared. He went out and told many
of the Congressmen that Carlisle was as super
stitious as a negro, and that it would not be
right to vote for him. A large number agreed
that they would not, but just as soon as the
caucus met the last one of them voted for Car
lisle. Since then he has had no trouble. His
star is shining brighter and brighter, and if it
should not be dimmed by his probable election
to the Vice Presidency, he is likely to become a
man of influence with coming Administrations.
thought it a Bullet.
BUT IT WAS ONLY LIGHTNING.
(From the Greensboro Home Journal.)
Captain J. M. Storey, of this county, probably
was struck by bullets ofteuer than any other sol
dier from this state. He was hit some fw nty old
times. Once oa picket somitbing awful struck
him. As he regained co sc otisa ss, he thought it
must have been a canuoa bail. But it waau’t. The
captain’s expression was:
1 never felt so good in my life as when I found
it was only lightning !’
The same thunderbolt knocked down seventeen of
Captain Storey’s comrades.
ONLY A DAISY -
BY E. M. D.
It wag only a daisy I Haw on my way,
Smiling up sadly at skies that were gray.
Seeming to sigh for the beautiful May—
The May so long faded and dead.
I was sad when this fancy arose in my mind.
And the leaves brushed along by the Autumnal
wind
Seemed like hopes that had passed, leaving sorrow
behind,
Or like remnants of joys that had fled.
I looked once again at that pale little flower.
That smiled up so cosy and sweet from its bower,
And feared not the roughness of Winter s dark
hour,
And I thought of earth’s sorrow and pain,
And of how, through its strife, we should bravely
bear on,
And the robe of endurance and piety don,
Never grieving for pleasures or joys that are gone,
But hope on for fair Summer again.
The Piazza Was Cold.—Says the
Dover (Del.) Sentinel'. “ Have you beard about
the Seaford man who never used a sleeping-car
until the Norfolk line down the Peninsula was
opened ?” asked a railroad conductor of a news
paper man the other day. He replied that he
hadn’t, and the conductor continued: “ Well,
it sounds a good deal like a fish story, but it’s
true. This Seaford man—l won’t give him
away -was on his way home from his first visit
to New York. He had never been on a sleep
ing-car before in his life, and he seemed to be
considerably mystified concerning its interior
arrangements. He was too proud, however, to
ask any questions. The berths were, ol course,
all in order for their occupants, but something
seemed to be am ss to our unsophisticated
passenger. He was the first to make prepara
tions for bed, but he did it with a great deal of
deliberation. He sat down on the lower berth,
pulled off one boot, and then glanced anxiously
around. It was fully five minutes before the
other boot came off, but when it did he had
solved the problem. Pushing his boots under
the bed he started for the rear platform and
nothing was heard of him for some ten minutes.
Then be put his bead in at the door and called
out: “All yon in there look out, for I’m a
coming 1” And he did, too, with a rush. He
had undressed out on the platform, made a
bundle of his coat, pants and vest, and as be
shot into his berth after a dash up the aisle ho
remarked, half aloud, to himself: ‘Dod dnrned,
ef ’twarn’t kind of cold out there on that blamed
piazur.’ ”
Mexican Feather Work.—Slow, pa
tient toil is the secret of the marvelous perfec
tion of this beautiful work. I tried hard, says
a writer, to find out how they made the lovely
birds on cards which they offered for sale in
the streets. A i riciwl took me to tbe house of
one of the artists. It was a little hovel, whore
be sat on the mud floor and to.led. But when
be heard us coming be put away all his work
and would not let us see it. Ho‘was an Indian,
with brown skin and straight, black hair. He
wore ragged clothes and had an old blanket to
keep him warm at night. Poor as be was, no
money would tempt him to show us the secret
process he had learned from bis father, which
had been in the family for hundreds of years.
Great skill is required to produce a perfect pic
ture. Birst the Indian traces on the card the
outlines of the body of the bird in wax, just
enough for the feathers to stick to. Then he
begins at the lower part ana places them on,
one at a time, one row lapping over the other,
as a slater lays slates. He works slowly and
patiently. Perhaps this is the secret of his per
fect work, and the reason that no other people
have been able to equal him. The result is a
bird that looks as though it might sing or fly.
The eyes are made with glass beads, and the
bill and feet are painted so nicely that they ap
pear to be a part of the bird. Then he paints a
twig or branch lor it to rest on, or makes one
from a feather, and his work is done.
The Largest Sewer in the World.
— A large sewer is being constructed in Wash
ington, which is stated to be seven feet larger
in diameter than any other sewer in the world.
In its smallest part it is larger than the largest
of the sewers in Paris. For over 2,000 feet it is
a circular sewer of twenty-two feet in diameter.
There is connected with it a sewer 5,000 feet, or
nearly a mile, and twenty feet in diameter. A
fully-equipped palace car, locomotive and all,
could be run through it without difficulty. This
enormous sewer is intended to drain the im
mense watershed lying to the north of the city.
Beside that, it will carry to the eastern branch
of the Potomac all the contents of the smaller
system of sewers in the northern part of the
city. It will take probably a year to complete
the work. The Boundary Street sewer, with its
connecting systems, will cost, when completed,
over §700,000. At present the work of excava
tion is carried on by machinery, which lifts the
.-oil and lands it on the completed part of the
work by means of a system of cables. The
same cables are used in lowering the bricks and
cement to the workmen.
Sjte Had $25,000 in Her Stocking.—
Says the St. Paul Pioneer Press: A few days
ago a lady stepped into the depot at Stillwater
and purchased a ticket for St. Paul. She then
approached the station agent and told him that
she had a large sum of money on her person
and was afraid to go alone, as there were sev
eral men in the waiting-room that she thought
were watching her. She stated that she had
been traveling through Europe and had stopped
off in New York several days on her return,
where she had obtained $20,000 worth of gov
ernment bonds and $5,000 in money, making in
all $25,000, which she carried on her person.
The agent doubted her story and asked her
where the money was. “In my stocking,” she
replied, at the same time reaching down and
drawing therefrom a bunch of paper, which she
showed and which proved to be genuine Gov
ernment bonds. By the direction of the agent
one of the employes at tbe depot, accompanied
the lady to St. Paul, where he was presented
with a handsome pin as a reward for his ser
vices.
A Russian Joke.—Gloomy Siberia
has furnished a joke of her own that has made
all the i.ussians laugh. Ivan Petroff, a mer
chant and Mayor of the city of Gorki, of the
Tomsk Province, died awhile ago. The citizens
raised two hundred roubles to procure a paint.ng
of the dead Mayor. They sent the money to Mr.
Skotti, the well-known painter of Moscow, ask
ing him to make a portrait of the Mayor. They
did not inclose any photograph, but gave this
description: “Age fifty-two years and six
months; stature, live feet and six inches; hair
and eyebrows auburn; eyes gray; nose, mouth
and chin, ordinary, face, clean. He had no
special traits except.stammering.” The artist
laughed, and gave thQ (rder to one of his young
pupils, Astrakhoff, Who in | few days painted
the portrait of the stammering Mayor and sent
it t<s Siberia. In a few Weeks Skotti received a
letter from the Gorkians, saying: “ The rela
tives of the late Mr. Petroff and the rest of the
citizens believe that no better likeness could
have been made.”
Presence of Mind.—Says the Bis
marck Tribune : Miss Belle Franklin, a school
mistress of McHenry county, is the heroine of
the Missouri slope. Miss Franklin was sleeping
in a shack which she had built upon her claim,
when she was awakened by the crackling noise
of the prairie fire. Looking out across the plain
she saw the dancing flames skimming across
the prairie. The brave girl knew that her
neighbors, living half a mile distant, were away
from home, and the fire would soon envelop the
house, barn, hay and grain. Jumping from her
bed, she hurried away to the low log-barn, in
which the farmer’s extra team was tied. Har
nessing the animals, she rushed them out to
the plow, and before the fire had reached the
premises she had turned several furrows, and
formed a fire-break which saved the property.
What a subject for an artist!
How Glass Eyes Wear Out.—The
most perfect are made in Thuringia, Germany,
and have a more natural appearance than oth
ers. The iris is covered with silver and the
blood vessels with gold, and, when properly in
serted, they will move almost as readily as their
natural companion. Of course much depends
upon the condition of the socket and the state
of the muscles as left by the surgeon. The
greatest trouble is tbe matching of the eyes.
Eyes wear out, their life being about a year or a
little over, though occasionally they last a much
longer time. The salt and alkaline solutions of
the tear ducts, however, have quite an effect on
the surface of the glass, and in the course of
time roughen it, so that a new eye is absolutely
necessary.
Ayers Cherry Pectoral
Is an anodyne expectorant, of great curative power. It aids the throat and lungs in
throwing off diseased matter, and, at the same time, allays the irritation which causes
the abnormal action of these organs. A. B. Deining, Atchison, Kans., writes: “I have
used Ayer’s Cherry Pectoral, for throat and lung difficulties, with marked success. It
effected a complete cure at a time when I had almost despaired of recovery. I con
sider it an invaluable remedy for all diseases of this character.”
Ira Eno, Dale, Ky., writes: “I have used
Ayer’s Cherry Pectoral, and find that it
STRENGTHENS
the system, allays all tendencies to cough,
promotes natural and refreshing sleep, .
and most effectually cheeks the progress
of a cough or cold. I would not be with- '
out it for many times its value.” J. 11. ;
Cushing,Brownsville,Texas,writes: “I
have used Ayer’s Cherry Pectoral with '
most satisfactory results. It cured me of
a terrible racking Cough which the pre- •
scriptions of several physicians failed to :
reach. It is the most effective remedy I :
have ever used.” ;
PREPARED BY
DB. J. C. AYER & CO., I«well, Mass., U.S.A.
For Sale by all Druggists.
Proposal to Tax Foreigners in
France. —Says a correspondent: Oddly enough,,
at the very time when general complaints are
made by the traders of Paris that* foreigners
are deserting this once gay city, several mem
bers of the Republican party have introduced a
bill into the Chamber of Deputies proposing to
levy a tax on foreigners. It is proposed that
every foreigner residing in France should pay
eighteen francs per annum if he belongs to what
may be called tbe better class, whil artisans
and servants are to be taxed only six francs:
women and children under age are to be ex
empted. A foreigner omitting to have himself
registered within two months of bis arrival is to
be taxed twice over. Foreigners born in Franco
who do not get themselves naturalized in the
year following their coming of age are to pay
fifty-four francs, no matter to what class of
society they belong. This measure is supported
by the Hep oblique }'ranacise t which explains
that, in the frontier towns especially, Trench
workmen suffer from the competition of foreign
ers, who are exempted from military service
and enjoy “ all the blessings and privileges ”
which are supposed to accrue from residence
in Trance. I understand that there are five
hundred thousand Germans residing perma
nently in this country, and about half that
number of Italians, mostly belonging to the
working classes. A tax of six francs per head
could hardly have the effect of protecting
national labor, but it would certainly be re
garded as an indication of national ill-will.
A German Ship Canal.—The ship
carnal which Germany has decided upon build
ing from the North Sea to the Baltic is dis
tinctly a military measure, though it will no
doubt bo made profitable by tolls imposed up
on tbe commerce which will naturally traverse
its waters. The harbor of Kiel, on the Baltic, is
one of the most highly prized possessions won
by Prussia in the Danish war, which finally
closed tho Schleswig-Holstein dispute. As a
naval port it has always been regarded as
very valuable ; but its position would render
it of very little practi al use in war for opera
tions elsewhere than in the Baltic. By the
construction ot the canal referred to, whose
cost, by tho by, is estimated to be 156,000,000
marks, or about §59,039,000, the Baltic port will
be brought into direct connection with th®
German Ocean, through the month of the Eyder
and just opposite the British military posses
sion of Heligoland. In th s way the' journey
from sea to sea will be shortened by several
hundred miles and tbe effective force of the
German navy vastly increased. It will neces
sarily, however, prove a severe blow to the
commercial prosperity of Copenhagen, for,
when constructed, the highway to the Baltic
and White Seas, will no longer be through
Danish waters. But Bismarck probably con
templates this result with complacency, and,
perhaps, as one step toward the ultimate ab
sorption of Denmark by Germany.
A New Mexico Circus. —When at the
Montruelfo Plaza ranch in New Mexico, th®
other night, two handsome young men quarrel
ed; every one, the girls and boys, fiddlers and
all, followed in a troop from the big ball-room
to tho barn-yard. There the two handsome
lads, John Brophy and William Johnson, drew
their revolvers to settle a dispute with hot shot
that which hot words had brought about. Just
then in rushed Thomas Harris, and seizing the
muzzles, one in the right and the other in the
left hand, read a common-sense lecture to the
duelists. But he could get no word or sign
from either save “Let go I” uttered savagely
by one and echoed by the other. “ Then shoot,
and may the Foolkiller pity ye I” said Harris,
whereat he stepped aside, and instantly there
was an exchange of load. Brophy was shot
twice—an inch above and an inch below the
heart—and a ball through Johnson’s lungs soon
shut off his breath. Though both men lay dead
in the moonlight, the Christmas dance wont on
within, and the merriest of the dancers was
Peacemaker Harris.
Murder on a French Railway.—A
mysterious murder, resembling in many points
the murder of the chemist Aubert by the indi
vidual Fenayrou, has just been brought to
light. The facts of the crime, so far as they
have been ascertained, are as follows : “Joseph
Meunier, the coachman of Madame do la Ver
derie, has been missing since Oct. 26. His body
has now boon discovered m a pond at some dis
tance from Longueville station on the Eastern
Railway. It appears clear that Meunier, who
had been sent by his mistress to Troyes, was
followed by his murderer or murderers from
Paris, murdered in the railway carriage, and
thrown out of the train, the assassin following.
After the crime the body was wheeled in a bar
row to the pond in which it was found. Tho
barrow was missed by the station officials on
Oct. 26, and found in the water. M. Taylor, the
now chief of the Paris detective service, is ac
tively* engaged in the case, but the circumstan
ces of the crime make it difficult to obtain a sat
isfactory clue.
A “ Wild” Torpedo.—A few months
ago the owners of Atlantic steamers were given
a painful shock by the news that there were
more than a dozen hulks floating about tho
Atlantic, most of them laden with lumber, and
floating deep in the water, so as to prove as
dangerous as a rock to any steamer that might
chance to come in collision with one of them. It
is now the turn of the owners of steamers
plying in the Mediterranean to lie awake, for a
new and hitherto unheard-of danger threatens
their vessels in the shape of a torpedo which
broke loose from its moorings on the coast of
Africa and is now floating placidly about, just
under the surface of the deep blue sea, seeking
whom it may blow up. “A “ wild” torpedo is
an unparalled danger in marine navigation, and
for possibilities will discount a “ wild” freight
train.
Photography.—Says the Nevada Ter
ritorial Enterprise : Among the wonders oipho
tography, it is said that, with a lens made of
rock salt, it might be possible to photograph in
the dark. One operator has succeeded in pre
paring plates which are sensitive to the rays ly
ing beyond the red end of the spectrum—the
dark heat rays—and with such plates, used with
a rock salt lens, there should be a possibility of
photographing bodies which possess a high
temperature, although that temperature may be
below that needed to render them self lumin
ous. It is evon possible that such a plan may
some day be so perfect as to give us that in
formation about the * dark suns ’ that are be
lieved to crowd the firmament—or, rather,
heavenly bodies, whibh once were seen, but
have now cooled down so as to be invisible.
Little Willie screams and storms
with a burn upon his arm. To little Willie joy
is sent, by using Salvation Oil, the great lini
ment.
A New War Vessel.—A Scotch ship
builder has submitted to the British Admiralty
the plans of a novel war vessel, intended for the
defense of the Clyde and other estuaries. The
vessel is 150 feet long, thirty feet wide, and is
divided into thirty-two water-tight compart
ments, by bulkheads. The bottom of the hull
describes a segment of a circle, allowing the ves
sel to turn on her axis, and above the water line
she has a steel belt two feet thick and sloping
up and down, so that a shot striking the apex of
the belt would be shattered, or would glance off
if it struck the slopes. Her armament consists
of two powerful guns--one placed forward and
tbe other aft. The funnel is made on a tele
scopic principle, and on deck, when in action,
there would be nothing on which a shot could
take effect except thegunff.
John G. Saxe.—Although now almost
forgotten by the groat public, John G. Saxe still
lives. His present home is Albany, N. Y. Ha
receives no visitors, rarely leaves his room,
and no one is permitted to converse with him
save his son and the faithful housekeeper who
has been with him for more than a score of
years. In appearance the poet shows unmis
takably the effects of years and tho succession
of family bereavements through which he
passed during the latter years of his residence
in Brooklyn. Tho once massive frame is bent,
h.s luxuriant hair, so often admired in times
past, has nearly all gone, and his eyesight
grows dimmer each day. He perforins no
literary work of any kind, and awaits patiently
the end, which apparently is not far off.
Power of the Sea.—A remarkable in
stance of the power of the sea in cutting
through the hardest rock is afforded by the dis
appearance ol a huge mass of basalt, which, un
til lately, formed a landmark for sailors on the
coast of Denmark. This rock, or cliff, which
was about one hundred feet high, rose out o|
the water, and had the appearance of a monk,-
hence its name, Munken. A portion of it foil
last yen’, and now the remainder has been cut
off just below tho water-line, forming a danger
ous reef. Floating ice-blocks have no doubt
helped the waves to cut through the mass.
Edward E. Curtis, Rutland,Vt., writes:
“ Eor years I was in a decline. I had
WEAK LUNGS,
and suffered from Bronchitis and Catarrh-
Ayer's Cherry Pectoral restored me to
health, and I have been, for a long time,
comparatively vigorous. In case of a
sudden cold, I always resort to the Pec
toral, and find speedy relief.” Dr. J.
Francis Browne, Philadelphia, Pa., writes:
“Twenty years ago, being then in active
practice as a physician, I obtained the
formula of Ayer’s Cherrv Pectoral, and
I have often prescribed that remedy with
gratifying results.”