New York dispatch. [volume], January 17, 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
LIFE EVERLASTING,
BY M. S. BROOKS.
By the roadside it grows.
Lifts its white crown,
While the blushing white rose
Was trampled down.
To-day I met my lovo
Of long ogo.
Her hair was silvery white, and yet, the low
Sweet voice that charmed me
In th’ olden days
Still spoke in softly modulated ways
Oi bonks and art, albeit wrinkles lay
Where once I watched the smiles
And dimples play.
My love-and yet ’twas not,
How was it Time
Had spared to eye and voice their gracious prime ?
How laid his touch on cheek.
On lip, and brow,
Saving, thy friend is banished, buried now—
Yet never reached that inner, sacred shrine
Save to enrich, adorn,
And make divine ?
Co learn the secret, changed we all must be;
Life from within is immortality.
ES3KJES£H3 ,
OUTSIDE THE Ifllß.
BY L. E. SOMMERS.
(From the Chicago Inter-Ocean.)
‘•Get out of this, you little vagabond 1 Ain’t
f’ou ashamed of yourself to be found loitering
n the streets at this hour of the Go
homo, now, or I'll take you to the lockup,” said
a sturdy guardian of the peace to a thinly clad
girl lingering in the doorway of a large office
Dnil ling ou La Salle street
“ I wasn’t doing any harm, sir; I only wanted
to get warm,” she retorted, crouching back in
to the doorway as a gust of wind whirled the
enow into her face.
“ Nice place to get warm I Come along—l’ll
take you where it is warm enough,” said he,
laying his hand roughly on her arm.
With a frightened cry she jerked her arm
from his hold and ran swiftly away.
“ Well, I’ll be beat I” he mutters, and opens
the door from which he has driven the girl and
warme his hands over the register.
The girl, meanwhile, continues to run, occa
sionally looking back to see whether she is pur
sued. In turning a corner, she comes in forci
ble contact; with a belated pedestrian. He
looks at her in astonishment as she raises her
eyes to his face and murmurs an apology. He
js evidently of a benevolent turn of mind, as he
Stops to inquire into the cause of her apparent
fright.
“ I was only standing in a doorway, sir, try
ing to get away a little from the wind, and they
told me to leave. That is all, sir.”
“ Have you no home to which to go to ?”
•‘Yes, sir, I have a home, but I want to earn
some money before I go there to-night.”
•*I understand,” he returns, thoughtfully.
“It is really too bad—too bad. But come with
mo. Perhaps I cun help you.”
They walk rapidly for about a block, when he
pouncoH abruptly before a policeman, tramping
his rounds with much vigor to keep his blood
In circulation in the frosty air.
“I met this girl on La Salle street, near Wash
ington street. She seems to have no place to
go. You had better take her to the police sta
tion for shelter. It is a pity she should throw
herself away in the streets. She seems very
young. Here is my card,” says the good Sa
maritan.
The policeman looks at the card, acknowl
edged the introduction of the good, great (in
avoirdupois) man with, “As long as such gen
tlemen as you live, sir, we will be able to dis
pense charity with good effect;” and turning his
eyes to where the girl had been standing, he
etares in amazement, and muttering an apology
to the gentleman, starts in pursuit.
“As I thought—a professional beggar,” mur
murs the man of good intentions as he swings
himself on a passing car.
The policeman soon loses sight of the girl,
and, to warm himself, steps into a brilliantly
lighted saloon and imbibes freely of warming
liquors, receiving with becoming’ resignation
the commiserating comments of the customers
of the place at his unfortunate position in that
bitterly cold weather.
Meanwhile the girl has continued her course
northward and crossed the Wells street bridge.
Exhausted, she lingers in the entrance to the
Northwestern Railway depot. As no one seems
to observe her she ventures into the waiting
room and warms her blue, cold fingers by the
register.
A lady in rich attire views her distrustfully,
and gathering up her parcels walks to another
part of the room. The child watches her cu
riously with her large, dark, sunken ©yes, and a
defiant tear rolls down the thin, sallow cheeks.
With a swift, nervous movement she wipes it
away with a handful of her dark hair, which
hangs in tangled masses over her back and
shoulders, giving her a strange, uncanny ap
pearance.
A small silk purse lying on the floor catches
her eyes, and the gleam of the gold and silver
within is tempting. She picks it up and walks
to the lady, who had evidently dropped it when
she changed her seat at the time the little va
grant came near the register. She looks up at
the girl’s approach, and, seeing the purse in her
hands, arises hastily and snatches it from her.
“ My purse,” she says, shortly, but adds, as
if somewhat ashamed of herself: “ Thank
you,” and turns to a gentleman approaching her
fcnd bids him a smiling good evening. The girl
lingers in their vicinity a moment and timidly
lays her hand on the lady’s arm. She turns im
patiently and says with a shiver of disgust:
“Go away, you wretched little beggar.” One of
the depot policemen hears the remark and
roughly orders the girl to leave the premises.
She hurries away, and after running some
blocks turns down a side street. She looked at
the sky, now clear and blue and studded with
innumerable stars. “ You are cruel,” she says,
shaking her (head repraochfully, and as she
hears footsteps advancing, she turns abruptly
and runs.
A young woman, walking just in front of the
terrified child, makes a misstep and is precipi
tated into a snow drift at the edge of the side
walk.
The girl extends her hand to assist the other
to rise.
“Thank you, child,” says a pleasant vo’ce.
“ Why, you have no gloves’ on ! How cold your
hands are 1 A small bunch of icicles. Here,
run away and buy yourself a pair of mittens, it
you have none,” and she slips a coin into the
child’s hand and continues on her way.
The little homeless one stops under the first
lamp post to examine her treasure. “ A half
dollar 1” she exclaims, and the weary little
heart gives a great bound of joy. She again
runs, and this time her speed is checked in a
grocery store, where she invests all but five
dents of the fifty in tea, broad and sugar. On
regaining the street she hails a car, and curling
herself up in one corner on a bench, looks with
wide, waking, thoughtful eyes on the frozen
window opposite.
“This is as far as we go,”announces the con
ductor, after a long, tedious ride, and the little
figure again struggles in the snow, hugging the
small parcels to her breast.
Nothing but snow 1 Great white fields of
•now, though the city behind and the heavens
above are gleaming with, thousands oi lights.
Stiller and colder the night grows, but still
that dark dot moves along through the white,
vast stillness of the night.
The large, dark eyes at length spy an appar
ently long-sought-for light ahead. She soon
reaches the structure from which it gleams,
•nd, opening the door without a key, she enters
and seeks her way up a dark flight of stairs.
The great bright eyes of rats peeping out of
their holos do not frighten her. “Go away
you,” she says, chidingly, as if surprised at
thefr boldness in confronting her. Rapping
lightly at a door at the head of the stairs, or,
jnore properly speaking, ladder, she gained ad
mittance.
“ I’ve got something to eat papa,” she says,
cheerfully holding her hands to a small stove
©milting considerable warmth.
“Something to eat;” he repeats, eagerly, and
graapa the cold hands in his own and chafes
them gently.
“ I have been watching for yott, my Pearl,
and I was fearful that the winds had dug your
grave and the snow filled it. But you have
Come backf my Pearl,” and the white, long hair
df the old man mingles with the black locks of
the child, and he kisses her often and tenderly,
as if they had been separated for a term of
years.
“ Here, Pearl I see here ’ I have perfected
my discovery ; the secret of perpetual motion
is ours!” and the long white fin-era pointed to
ft sheet of brown wrapping paper on the table,
covered with angles, squares, and all m?u?te£of
shapes and curves, which, in their intricacy,
formed no definite c-ut'ine of any kind.
“ Yes, papa, uo will talk it over alter we have
had something to eat,” and she unclasps his
arm from about her waist and prepares the tea.
“How did you earn the money?” he asks,
fondly.
“ I did not earn it, papa. A young lady gave
it to me.”
A shadow passed over her face as she replied,
•nd the bright, keen eye of the father observed
it.
“Come here, my Pearl,” he says, gravely,
and draws the light on the table by his side
Dearer to him.
She laid the bread she had been cutting on a
cracked plate, which she placed on a napkin in
the centre of the table, then turned her face to
him. He took it between his hands, and looked
anxiously into the eyes of his child.
“ They have been rough to you, my Pearl.
Come rest your head on my breaat and cry. I
see the tears in your heart. My sweet flower, I
have leant on you till tne slender stem is ready
to break. But I may yet be able to use my
limbs. So cheer ;up, my precious Pearl. But
let us drink the tea. It smells good, after we
have had nothing but warm water for days and
days.
“ Hand me my medicine chest, my Pearl. We
must both take some medicine, to make us
Stronger and cheer our spirits.”
She smiles through her tears, and places a
•mall paper box beside him on the table.
Brushing his hair from his lace, she draws
the table closer to the stove, moves his chair
Dear the table, and, seating herself, pours out
the tea.
“It tastes good, papa, she says, touching it
daintily to her lips, and then takes a long
draught, as if to emphasize her words.
“ That is right, Pearl. Drink and enjoy it.”
He drained the tea in his cup at a draught,
•nd when she refilled their cups said: “ Let me
gome hJedicin© in Hus, my Bearl, 6Q that wo
will grow stronger. Perpetual motion and per
petual life—two grand discoveries; they ought
to bring me fame and fortune.”
“ Perhaps they will yet, papa. They have a
book in this city, as you tola me, in which they
have all the names of the great people who live
in Chicago. They call it * Directory,’ so if you
could remember the names of some of the doc
tors and mathematicians you used to know I
can find out where they live in that book and
tell them all you have discovered.”
“ They would not believe it, my Pearl 1”
“But, papa, I would explain it all to them just
as you do to me. I would tell them that the
philosophy of perpetual motion is plainly dem
onstrated ”
“Bo not speak of it now, my child ; we will
rest for a time. I was so fearful lest evil should
befall you when you left me this morning that I
worked without’ceasing to quiet my anxiety.
Later in the evening we will discuss the latest
phase of our intricate labors, but now,when you
have had enough to eat, you can move your
chair close to mine and sing me some song, like
you used to do when you were only a child.”
“But lam a child no longer, papa. 1 am al
most a woman. I will be fourteen years old
next week.”
She sits down beside him and leans her head
on his shoulder. He strokes her soft hair gen
tly till it looks glossy and smooth. Her heavy
eyelids quiver as she endeavors to resist the de
sire to sleep.
“Sleep, sleep, my Pearl. You require rest.”
She puts her arm about his neck and kisses
him. He draws her close to him with one arm,
and with the other hand raises his second cup
of tea to his lips.
“My poor, tired Pearl,” he murmurs; and the
lean, ’white fingers toy restlessly with her black
hair.
The sL.rs looked down and smiled when they
saw the two asleep. “They are tired,” they
whispered to each other, and winked and
winked and blinked and looked wise.
But when the moon came she said, “This is
wrong. They used to watch me nightly, and
ponder on strange things. I must wake them,”
and she flashed her regal splendor full into the
old barn upon the sleeping man and child.
“Let them rest—they are weary,” said the
frost, and he spun a curtain of rarest design
over the often-patched window panes.
When the sun saw them in the morning, still
asleep, ho thought, “Not yet at your labors,
my friends ? 1 must despoil your home of this
pretty curtain the frost has wrought across
your window.”
And the stars, the moon, the frost and sun
light all did what they could for those who had
loved them. But the father and child did not
stir, and the rats and the mice danced about
them, and ate of the bread she had brought,
and tore bits of his and her hair away to build
them new nests for their young, and ate of their
flesh.
And the vermin lived all through the cruel
Winter, and in the Spring-time they scampered
over the fields and enjoyed the sunlight, but at
evening always returned to the old barn at
nightfall, and* wrought new nests for their
young, of black and white hair and bits off old
cloth, and fed their young on human flesh.
But one day a stray match got ignited, and
burned full many a nest built of black and
white threads, solt and warm, like the finest
silk, and tne old Darn for half a» Lom waa a.
sight to idle passers-by. The fire department
was called, but it was registered as a false
alarm, for it was an empty barn that had taken
fire just outside of the city limit.
And the stars, the moon, the frost, and the
sunlight have looked upon a few scattered
bones, and the heavens have wept upon them;
and as they crumble to dust the earth absorbs
thorn. And the stars, the moon, the frost and
sun still gaze on strange ambitions, strange
misfortunes, strange endings.
TRAPPING SPY.
BY AN EX-REBEL.
In the Winter of 1864, when Johnston’s army
lay at Dalton in Winter quarters, I made two or
three excursions in the direction of Chattanoo
ga, picking up more or less valuable informa
tion, and was resting after one of these raids
when the Incident I am about to relate oc
curred.
That Yankee spies were penetrating our camps
was a well-known fact. Two or throe had been
arrested, but it was only two or three out
of a dozen, and orders had been issued to all
regimental officers to be vigilant and alert in
seeking to detect the presence of strangers. All
the scouts had, as a matter of course, received
the same instructions, but for a week nothing
resulted from this combined watchfulness.
One afternoon, while sitting in the quarters of
an old friend belenging to a brigade band, a
crowd gathered outside and I heard the music
of a fiddle. Stepping to the door, I saw a Ger
man about forty years of age in the centre of a
circle of soldiers, seated on a cracker-box and
playing the fiddle in a rnde sort of way, as if
entirely unmindful of their presence. The man
wae in citizen’s clothes, and for what seemed a
very good reason. His right arm had been am
fmtated at the elbow. I looked him over close
yas he sat there, eyes half closed and keeping
time with his foot, and I could not say that I
had ever seen him before.
“Give us a song, Dutohy!” cried a dozen
men in cherus after he had played for a spell,
and be at once complied. The first verse ran
as follows :
“Oh ! doan’ you see my falling tear.?
Oh I doan’ you know dat I vba. Bad ?
Dot vhile you laugh uud merry vbas.
No home I hat to make me glad.”
He had not yet finished it when I was trying
hard to remember where and when I had heard it
before. His voice was soft and plaintive, and the
air of the song was one to captivate a soldier.
They crowded closer and were silent while he
sang the second verse:
"Nopody vhaits to welcome me.
Nopody cares vich way I go;
I vhalks alone, adown life’s path.
My happiness vhas turned to woe.*'
I was struggling like a prisoner to break his
bonds. Years ago I had heard that song and
had not heard it since. It was in vain I cudgeled
my brain; but just when I was in despair, 1 hap
pened to notice how he was holding and play
ing the fiddle. His right arm was gone, as I
have told you, but with the stump he was hold
ing the bow by a simple contrivance and with
his left hand he was fingering the strings. In
deed, the soldiers were remarking on the novel
ty of it. I had not watched him thirty seconds
when memory came to my aid.
In the Summer of 1859 I made a trip to a
watering place In Wisconsin—a bridal tour.
One evening, as my wife and I sat on the porch
of the hotel this man came along, haying a little
girl with him, and as be played that fiddle and
sang she joined in the chorus and accompanied
him on a banjo. This was one ot the songs he
sung that evening—seven or eight versee to it—
and it was so sad and plaintive that we paid him
to repeat it two or three times.
Now, I could not say that he was not a Con
federate, but the fact that he was not in our uni
form. and that I had seen him so far North, was
enough to rouse a suspicion. As soon as he had
finished his song, ho offered tor sale, from his
pack, buttons, thread, needles, pencils and
other small wares, and did a rushing business
for half an hour. He could have sold every
thing right there, but he suddenly packed np
and moved away, even when a dozen customers
had money in their hands. This action seemed
queer, it not suspicious, and I followed the
man. In half an hour I was certain that he was
a spy and had been making an estimate of our
strength.
Without entirely losing eight of the man, I
communicated my suspicions to the officer-of
the-duy, and the result was an arrest. The
man did not even change countenance when he
found himself between the bayonets, but
marched off as If such allairs were down on his
programme.
Upon reaching the gnard-house he calmly
submitted to a thorough search of his person
and pack. This lasted a full hour, but we made
no discovery of importance. The man denied
that he was ever north of the Ohio River, and
claimed New Orleans as his residence. He
learned tho song from a vagabond musician
who visited that city, and had sung it in hun
dreds of Confederate camps since the war.
There wae absolutely no evidence against him,
and he would have been set at liberty had I
not entreated the officer to give me until next
day to look up something to confirm my suspi
cions.
I at once mounted my horse and rode through
all the adjacent camps, and I found that he
man bad visited every one of them. He had
certainly taken in the whole corps in his rounds,
and was heard of among infantry, artillery,
cavalry and even the hospitals. As a peddler
he would have done thia, but as a spy he would
have done the same thing. All the evidence I
could get wae that be had appeared, played his
fiddle, snug his songs, and sold his notions,
claiming to some to be selling on commission
for a sutler, and to others that he was in busi
ness for hmisel’.
I returned to headquarters clean done np,
and mad at myself for having made such a
mess of it. The man was all right and I was
all wrong. I went to tho guard-house to ask
him a few farther questions, and it seemed to
me that my sudden sntranqp rather confused
him. While I questioned 1 also watched, and
presently I observed that he Beamed to have a
very large quid of tobacco in bis cheek. Mind
you, I was looking for trifles, and I no sooner
noticed the fact I have mentioned than I
watched to see him expectorate, and soon real
ized that he was not doing so. This wasn’t
at all natural, and I begun at his head to look
him over. When I came down to the third but
ton on his blouse there was no button there.
All the others were in place, but this one was
missing.
The man was talkative and even jovial, and
by-and-by I left him with the remark that I
would go and report to the officer and have
him set at liberty. I stepped out, walked
around for fifteen minutes, and then re-entered
the guard-house. The third button on his
blouse was now in place, and the quid of to
bacco no longer bulged out his cheek. When
ordered to “ peal ” his coat he hesitated for an
instant, and I saw him change coontenauce,
but off it came, and I carried it to headquar
ters.
"very button on that blouse was not only a
hollow cylinder made to screw together, but
each cavity was filled with proofs to convict
him as a spy. Hs had worked an entire corps,
and he had the number of men, pieces ot artil
lery, condition ot arms, and whatever else
might be asked lor. It must have taken him
two weeks to secure such full and explicit in
formation.
When he was brought before Gen he
felt that the jig was up. There were his owe
NEW YORK DISPATCH, JANUARY 17, 1886.
notes to confront him. He refused to utter one
single word, and seemed to have made up his
mind to pay the penalty without flinching. It
was brief work to try, convict and condemn
him, but he was never executed.
On the night before his execution ho died on
his blankets. He was in the full vigor of years
and health, having a hearty appetite, and his
death has ever remained a mystery. There was
no wound of any sort on the body, and ot the
five surgeons summoned to investigate, all
wore certain that he did not take poison ot any
sort. After playing on his fiddle for half an
hour, he lay down on the blankets with the re
mark that it was his last night to sleep. A
guard sat within ten feet of him, and saw him
apparently fall into a sweet slumber, but two
hours later he was dead.
HUMOR OF THE HOUR.
BY THE DETROIT FREEPRE33 FIEND,
HE WHISTLED.
“ Your train hag been gone two minutes, air,”
Baid the man at the passenger gates of the
Brush street station, as a traveler came puffing
up with a valise in each hand.
“ Two minutes, eh ?”
“ Yes, sir. ’
“ But I hollered to ’em to wait.”
“ Didn’t hear you, sir.”
“ Didn’t hear me whistle ?”
“No, sir.”
“ Well, 1 suppose you didn’t, and I’ll have to
wait. If I’m late lor the nest train I'll tele
phone you Irom up town or send a boy with a
note.”
IT WAS A RIPPER.
“ Ever see a worse storm ?” he asked, as he
entered a Baker street car early yesterday
morning.
“ Speaking to me ?” queried one of the three
or four men in the car.
“Yes. Isn’t this a ripper?”
There was no answer.
The car came up town, and the “ ripper” got
oTat Griswold street and went up two pairs of
stairs into his dice. He hadn’t got off his
overcoat when the other came in, scraped off a
lot ot snow on the stove, warmed his hands and
by-and-by inquired:
“ What was it you said to me on tho car ?”
“You? Oh, I made some remark on the
weather.”
“ What was it?”
“ I asked you it it wasn’t a ripper.”
“Ahl I didn’t exactly catch it. Yes, it’s a
ripper—worst ripper I ever saw.”
Thon he pulled off his overcoat, sat down, and
for two long hours he wolloped the weather
right and left, beginning at Hudson’s Bay and
ending np in Florida. He talked snow, rain,
hail, blizzards and fog, and to get rid of him the
other had to put on hie overcoat, lock the door
and walk around the block. As they parted at
the foot of the stairs the visitor observed:
“Yes, this is a ripper. Any time we are
coming up town together and you want any in
formation about the weather I shall hold myself
ready to give it to you. I’ll come in to-morrow
and talk with you all day.”
he wanted honors.
“ Some fellers played me out ot $56 up at
Port Huron yesterday,” said a young man of
about twsuk. U.. 0. who called at tho Central
Station yesterday.
“ How?” asked the sergeant.
“ Well, one of ’em had three cards, and he
tossed ’em around and wanted me tojbet I could
pick out the ace of hearts.”
" It was three-card monte.’.
“ Was it? That’s what I came in to ask you.
I’ve read about confidence games, string games,
and so on, but didn’t know what this was.
Thank yon.”
“Did you take any steps to have them arrest
ed ?” asked the sergeant as he was going.
“ Oh, no. I merely told ’em if I ever caught
either one of ’em in St. Thomas I’d mop the
ground with him. Oh, I didn’t propose to make
’em any particular trouble.”
“ Yon must be a generous-hearted man.”
“Well, lam. Another thing is, I never had
anything happen to me. Nobody ever slugged
me, or picked my pocket, or drew a gun on me,
and when I sit down with the boys in Bebee’s
grocery and venture my opinion, somebody
speaks up and says :
“ * What do you know about it ? You never
went anywhere or had anything happen to
you.’
“ The case will be different now. I’ve bin
swindled out of fifty-six dollars and tho boys
have got to stand back for me. This ’ere case
will stand me in five hundred dollars in reputa
tion. I’ll be pointed out on the street as the
chap who got in with the monte men and I’m
going to the papers this afternoon to have ’em
give me a good lift.”
“ They don’t all take it this way,” observed
the sergeant
“ No, I suppose not, but you see my policy,
don’t you ? If I could only get my pocket picked
of the eleven dollars I’ve got left rd be the big
gest man in St. Thomas for a year to come. Do
you know of a burglar who will talk with me, or
a pugilist who will give me a black eye to carry
home ?”
A DOG WHICH CAUGHT ON.
“ Yes, that ere dog belongs to me, I s’pose,”
repbed a farmer at the market yesterday, when
rallied in regard to an ungainly cur which was
lying under his wagon.
“ Is he any good
‘•Not the least bit. I’ve tried to give him
away, and I’ve tried to drive him off, but it’s no
go.”
“ Why don’t you lose him here in town ?”
“ I’ve tried it in vain. Lemme tell ye what I
did in September. I brought that cur up here
with me, and I got on the street ears and rode
around for half a day. Away up Jefferson ave
nue he got into a row with some other dogs and
lost the car, and I went home feeling that lie
was done for. Next morning I went at it with
my boys and painted the front fence and the
house so he wouldn’t know the place if he came
along. I tied up a calf in the front yard, out
down all the weeds, and so changed the gener
al looks of things that my neighbors didn’t
hardly dare come in. On the third day we saw
the cur coming down the road from town and
everybody got inside. He came up, looked
around in great astonishment, and his tail drop
ped as if somebody had tied a brick to it. In
his bones he felt that it was the old place, but
the painting up sorter paralyzed him. He Hat
down to think it over, and all at once he camo
over the fence and began to gambol around as if
tickled to death, He had got on to something,
and it was no use trying any longer to fool him.”
“ What did he discover ?”
“ Why, there had been three panes of glass
out of the garret winder for over two years and
we’d forgot to put ’em in. As soon as’he raised
his eyes and saw that winder, he knowed the
house belonged to me, and a dozen o’ your
best lawyers couldn’t have made him believe
I’d sold out and moved away. Dogs is no
fools, and don’t you forget it.”
NOT USED TO IT.
A well-known real estate dealer ot Detroit has,
for several years, driven a slab-sided ola horse
before one of the worst-looking buggies on
wheels. The harness is never greased, tho
vehicle never washed, and the long-haired
equine hasn’t been tickled with a curry-comb
for years, Tho other day some friends of the
agent decided on an improvement. The rig
was taken from in front ot hia office to a livery
stable, where the horse was brushed, the har
ness blackened, and the buggy washed and
oiled. It was then returned without the owner
being any the wiser. Along toward night he
came out of his office, started for the horse,
stopped and looked around, and presently
celled a policeman across the street and asked :
“ Do you know my rig ?”
“Yes.”
“ Did yon see any one drive off with it ?”
"No. This looks like your horse. He’s been
here for two hours.”
“I declare, but this is my Tom, though I
don’t remember the buggy.”
“ Why, sir. it looks as if somebody had been
cleaning the whole thing up for you,” observed
the officer.
“So it does, but I don’t thank ’em for it. I
wish people would mind their own business.
When I want my buggy washed I’ll give orders
myself.”
Ho untied the horse, climbed in and started
oft, but all of a sudden the animal shook his
hsad, made a break for the sidewalk, and the
buggy brought up against a hitching-post with
the loss of a wheel. Luckily for the agent, some
one caught the horse before he could do farther
damage.
“Now, then, somebody has got to pay for
this I” shouted the man, as he climbed down.
“ Everybody knows this horse to be as gentle
as a lamb, and I’ve had this buggy fourteen
years. A gang of scoundrels go and meddle
with the rig. and this accident is toe bonse
queneel I’ll put the detectives on ’em within
n hour, and I’ll make the whole caboodle wish
they had never been born !”
UNPR®L'?TiuUS t
ALWAYS JQLLY UNDER DIFFI
CULTIES.
Just before the close of the war, President
Lincoln ran away from the politicians and office
seekers of Washington, went down to Citv Point
in the steamer River Queen, and invited him
self to stay with Admiral Porter on board the
'tagship Malvern. She was s small vessel, with
poor accommodations, but the President was
content to occupy a small state-room, six feet
long by four and a halt wide, and would not ac
cept the offer of the Admiral’s larger room.
When he retired for the first night on board,
he put his shoes and socks outside of his state
room door. The socks had holes in them, but
they were washed and darned by the ship’s
tailor, and plaood, with his cleaned shoes, at
his door.
“ A miracle happened to me last night,” said
the President at .the breakfast-table. “ When I
went to bed I two large holes in my socks, and
this morning there are no holes m them. That
never happened to me before. It must be a
miracle.”
“ How did you sleep, Mr. President ?” asked
the Admiral.
“ I slept well,” he answered ; “ but you can’t
put a long blade into a short scabbard. I was
too long :or that berth.”
Tho President was six feet four inches in
big lit, and the berth was only six feet long.
That day, while the President was away from
the ship, the carpenters enlarged the state
room, lengthened the berth, and made over the
mattress to fit it. Nothing was said about the
change to the President. The next morning he
came out smiling.
“A greater miracle than ever happened last
night,” he said. “I shrank six inches in length
and about a foot sideways. I got somebody
else’s big pillow, and slept in a better bed than I
did on the River Queen, though not half so
lively.”
“I think,” adds Admiral Porter, who tells
the story, “that if I had given him two fence
rails to sleep on, he would not have found fault.
That was Abraham Lincoln in all things relat
ing to his own com ort. He would never per
mit people to pnt themselves out for him under
any circumstances.”
M OirfimSCESCE.
BY J. E. PANTON.
She waa very tall and stately, and she was
nearly eighteen; it was in September, she said
she thought it must have been the year before
Waterloo, when the whole coast was in a fer
ment oi expectation, and they never went to
bed round Lui worth without a last look at the
sea, and a gl ince at the “ Beckons,” to be quite
sure the signal had not been given that should
rouse the village and send the inhabitants post
haste inland, toward Salisbury Plain, where,
lor some reason or other, perlect safety was
supposed to be had by all those who were to
assemble there when Napoleon had landed and
added England to his already rapidly increas
ing list of conquests.
She told me'tbis little history herself, with
her old figure drawn up to its bight, and her
keen black eyes looking over the calm blue sea,
and, as the 'episode 101 l Irom her lips, it was
easy to see how pretty she had once been in
those distant days when she had a lover, and
“ Bony s” name served to quiet the children in
the quaint old cradles, and to curb the riotous
spirits o. the boys, who are either old men now
or dead, too—drowned in the blue ocean, may
hap, or fallen in some of the many battles,
whose soldiers come from such quiet places as
the Dorset village where our old friend lived.
Often we have said to her, “ How little wo
could understand why Napoleon never came to
harry the villagers and make the coast his
own;” but it was only just before she died, and
we were walking in her garden, when distant
guns proclaimed death to the partridges in the
stubble, and when the hollyhocks, dahlias and
sunflowers nodded to each other across the
quaintly bordered path, where the edges were
formed of the bones ot cow’s ieet, saved, doubt
less, from many a jorum ot broth, brewed lor
the poor folk in the parish, that she told us, in
a mysterious whisper, how on such a night as
this Napoleon did land in the tiny cove yonder,
for she had seen him there with her very own
eyes.
“ft was a warm September night,” she said,
flushing and blushing for all her eighty years,
“and I could not sleep— he was out—and, de
spite the moon, I knew they meant to run a
cargo round the point there, because the ‘ven
ters’ were on the wrong track, or had been
bamboozled into going up country in search of
a lot of brandy supposed to be hidden behind
the chimney ot Farmer 8 ’s kitchen, and
though I felt nearly sure of Jack’s safety, I could
not help wandering about, hoping to see the
frigate or hear that she and her crew had ac
complished the run.
“ When 1 remember those days,” she added,
“I wonder how folk live now, all seems so
quiet here; then there was always something
going on, nnd we lived our lives, and did not
dream them away. We were always hearing of
great victories, or dreading Napoleon’s land
ing, or running cargoes ot lace and brandy—
beautiful lace, ot which I could show you pieces
even now. At present we rely on our newspa
pers only for incident, and nothing like an ad
venture ever comes our way. Still, 1 have had
adventures, and so, I suppose, I must e’en be
content with the remembrances of them.
“ Look down from here and you will under
stand how 1 saw Napoleon. You see irom this
headland I can command a view, not only of
the cove, but of the open water. Ob, it was a
perfect night! Inland I could discern the
newly-cleared wheatfields, and turning to the
sea, at first 1 perceived naught save the glisten
ing expanse of ocean, lighted up like day by
the great yellow harvest moon set in a dark
purple sky, dotted here and there with yellower
glistening stars. I could see the lights in Port
land, and in Weymouth village, where the
King and Queen lay; but our own lights were
out, and beyond the bark of a farmer’s dog or
the rattle of a chain in the barn-in the hollow,
there was not a sign of life, and I seemed alone
in the world; it was very, very lonely, and ra
ther eerie; but just as I made up my mind that
I would go home, for there was nothing to see
outdoors, and, as I cast a last look abroad for
the ships far, far away, 1 discovered a black
speck that, as it came nearer, I made out to be
a longboat, moving swiftly toward the cove as
last as oars could bring it.
“ I waited up there until I knew that it really
was a boat, and then I crept down the coast
guard’s path into the little cove. Eight men
were rowing, and in the stern sat two other
men, one wrapped in a great dark cloak and
with his hat drawn down low over his brow,
and the other in some black raiment that ap
peared an ordinary civilian’s dress, although
the moonlight glittered on a sword and on a
pistol he clutched in his hand.
“As I reached the shore and crouched low
behind a rock, the boat glided in round the
point, and the rowers lay to on their oars, and
I could hear a whispered colloquy between the
two men. Alas, I knew not their language, and
so I could gather nothing from them ot what
they were or what they intended to do.
“At last the boat was beached close by my
hiding-place, and the two men got out. The
shorter one ot the two drew himself up, and
taking off his hat, stood for a few minutes as if
In prayer, and as the moon shone straight in
his face, I seemed to know it was the conqueror.
“ I cannot tell yoa now what I ielt, as those
men walked up the narrow road into the vil
lage, peering here and there, about into pig
sties and over hedges, as if they were looking
out for booty; but I dared not move. I only
realized who he was.
“ The men sat very silent in the boat, though
every now and then I caught an unknown word
in a foreign tongue; but after a long, long time,
as it seemed to me, Napoleon and his aide-d'e
camp returned, smiling and complacent, and
before I recovered my nerve, their longboat
was moving away as swiftly and as silently as
it came, its head straight for Cherbourg, on the
opposite distant coast of France.
“Of course I told my story, but equally, of
course, I was not believed. I described Napo
leon to the old sailor who had seen him often
over there, and he turned white, and said it
was ft wonderful lifelike dream, for sure.
“ But it was no dream, my dear,” she added,
putting her hand on my arm and speaking in a
low voice, “It was no dream, for I saw that
boat myself come straight away over the sea
for miles in the moonlight I saw it go back
until it disappeared a black speck on the hori
zon, and I knew Napoleon once landed in Lul
worth Cove, having made the whole journey
there and back to Cherbourg, on a still Septem
ber night”
THEY WOULD *HAVE PIE.
MEN WHO DEMANDED PASTRY AT
UNREASONABLE HOU RS.
(From the Cincinnati Enquirer.)
Jesse Wood tells a good story of a farmer
whom he saw at the breakfast-table one morn
ing in the leading hotel at Nashville:
When the waiter handed the rustic the bill of
fare, he glanced over it and remarked:
"Johnny, just bring ’em all in. I’m gosh
darned hungry, and just got in Nashville.”
Tho waiter grinned, and, after being gone for
a lew minutes, returned with dishes that made
a great semi-circle around the stranger’s plate.
He counted them all over, and then, with a
doubtful look, remarked:
“Looky here, waiter, I don’t see any pie, and
I’m mighty fond of pie, too.”
“ Say, mister, we don’t set no pie for break
fast at this hotel. Only have pie for dinner.”
The country gentleman, with a look of dis
gust, turned to Mr. Wood and said:
“ Neighbor, this is a of a hotel.”
“ Why ?”
“ Two dollars a day and no pie.”
Doc Bamford, clerk at the Burnet Hoose, tells
a similar story of a man who once stopped at
the Tremont House in Chicago. He braced up
to the hotel counter and greeted the clerk with:
“Before I register at this hotel I want it un
derstood that I must have pie for supper.”
“ Well, sir, you can have pie if ws have to or
der extra pies made.’'
“ That’s all right, then. I’ve had pie for sup
per ever since I was three y ears old, and I’m
bound to have pie now.”
STOoTifT NONSENSE.
A BUTCHER’S RATHER DEAR FUN.
[From the Cincinnati Times-Star.)
The Village item, of Bucksville, Pa., last week
contained these two items, eno following the
other in the local notes : The citizens ot Mar
bleton are mourning the loss of twenty valu
able dogs poisoned by some miscreant. Butcher
Sagar, of Marbleton, announcea that he has
just made up a large batch of fine large sau
sages. The items were inserted with no inten
tion of perpetrating a joke even by insinuating.
Editor Rourke hadn’t even noticed the peculiar
combination that might be made with them.
The first intimation that he had that his paper
bad created a sensation was when Butcher
Sugar came up to his office, three steps at a
time, snd, bursting into the office, knocked
Editor Rourke off tho stool he was sitting on
and then swept tha waste-paper around like
flying snow-flakes with his helpless body. The
butcher was torn loose from the astounded and
broken-up editor by the compositor and the
devil.
“Now, maype, py Gott, you brindts me
again dose sosage vos a bizent tog maidt up,
alratty,” he yelled; “maype you vos teeuk
now dot I was von sosage machines myseluf,
proke on dar rampaitoh out. Maype I don’t
vos vairee as a bizent tog myseluf, py ohimmin
nitty, hub ?”
Th® compositor and the devil led the irate
butcher down stairs. Editor Rourke repaired
his damages as well as he could. Then he
looked over the columns ot his paper to find
what he was indebted to for one enlarged
head and a disfigured suit of clothes. He found
out. He saw that some of the boys had inter
preted the news from Marbleton for the butcher,
who was a Dutchman who never stood any non
sense. That didn’t stop Editor Rourke from
going out and having Hegar arrested all the
same, and the butcher had to pay him fifty
dollars lor bis little pastime in the editor’s
sanctum.
TOM AND CHARLIE.
BY CLAUDE STUART.
I have often noticed a great attachment be
tween brothers, but I have never since seen
such love as existed between Tom Harrell and
his little brother Charlie.
Tom was six years old when little Charlie
was born, and from that day he adored his lit
tle brother, and tried in every way to do him
some service.
All his spare moments he would spend in
trying to amuse Charlie, and his return from
school each day was hailed with coos of delight
from the baby.
It was “ Buddie Tom” who carried Charlie
up stairs to bed each night, and who soothed
him in his many babyish misfortunes.
Nobody could sing such sweet songs as
“ Buddie Tom;” nobody could build such nice
block houses as his wonderful brother, thought
little Charlie, and as months rolled by the love
grew more intense.
Charlie was weak and puny, while Tom was
as strong as a horse, and, as Charlie grow old
er, Tom shielded him from all harm.
Tom fought battles for him; Tom taught him
all the boyish games—in short, Charlie grew to
think Tom a pa’ragon, while Tom thought Char
lie was sent to cheer and make happy the rest
of his L fe.
But alas! from the day of Charlie’s birth,
tho old people of the village shook their heads
and said among themselves: “He will not be
here long,” and instead of getting strongef’ as
he grow older, little Charlie seemed to grow
weaker every day.
At length,’when he was but six years old, his
condition became so alarming that bis mother
called in a doctor. “My dear madam,” he
said, “he is slowly fading away. In one month
he will be gone.”
It was not unexpected to her. She had
watched him from inlancy, and had long sus
pected that her darling would never reach man
hood. But did Tom suspect the truth ? She
must break the news to him; for if little Charlie
should leave them and Tom unprepared, it
would break his heart
She told him, and at first he could not realize
it. “ God would not be so unkind,” he said, “as
to take my darling from me.”
But slowly be became reconciled to the
truth. God was good and wise and He knew
what wae for the best.
In his dreams he would see his precious
brother, appearing transfigured in the angelic
throng.
As the days slowly slipped by, he would hold
the little one close to his breast, as if loath to
part with him ; but he was reconciled, resolving
to so live here that hereafter he might share the
heavenly joys with his brother. At length lit
tle Charlie was taken to his bed, and the lamp
of life which had been burning so feebly hith
erto, began to flicker, showing that it was well
nigh gone out.
At length the end approached. It was dusk
when little Charlie awoke from a dull stupor
which had lasted several hours.
“ Tom,” he said, in a feeble voice.
‘‘Here I am, darling,” said Tom, drawing
closer to the bed.
“ Tom, I feel so lonely; it’s so dark. Take
mv hand, Tom.”
Tom took the little hand, which was fast be
coming cold, into his own.
“ I can’t see you, Tom ; sing to me, brother.”
So Tom began, with quavering voice and eyes
filled with tears, that beautiful hymn that Char
lie and he loved so much :
“ABIDE WITH ME.”
“Abfda with me; fast falls tho eventide;
The darkness deepens; Lord, with me abidej
When other helpers fail and comforts flee,
Help of the helpers, O, abide with mo !”
Little Charlie's face still looked sad and wist
ful, so he continued:
“Swift to Its close ebbs out life’s little day;
Earth’s joys grow dim, its glories pass away;
Change and decay in all around I see;
O» Thou who changest not, abide with me !”
The little face looked brighter, and he said:
“It’s brighter, Tom, and 1 see some one beckon
ing, Sing I”
“I need Thy presence every passing hour;
What but Thy grace can foil the tempter’s power ?
Who, like Thyself, my guide and stay can be ?
Through cloud and sunshine, Lord, abide with me!”
Charlie was too far gone to speak, but he
pressed his brother’s hand. So Tom sang on:
“ I fear no foe, with Thee at hand to bless;
Ills have no weight, and tears no bitterness;
Where Is death’s sting ? where, grave, thy victory ?
I triumph still, if Thou abide with me.”
By thia time all the sad look had left the
little one’s face, which waa now illumined with
an angelic smile:
“ Hold Thou Thy cross before my closing eyes;
Shine through the gloom, and point me to the
skies;
Heaven's morning breaks, and earth's vain shadows
flee—”
Tom burst into a flood of tears, tor. with that
triumphant strain little Charlie’s pttre spirit
passed away into the fair land of angelic bliss.
SUNKENJTBEASURES.
THE BURIED SECRETS OF THE
BOTTOM OF THE OCEAN.
(From the London Standard.)
Not long ago Vigo bay, in the north of Spain,
was the scene ot a treasure-seeking expedition.
Many a naval battle has been tonght in these
Slacid waters. But all of them, Sir Francis
'rake’s included, fade into insignificance
beside that in which Rooke and the Dutch
captured the galleons laden with the wealth ot
Mexico. Five of these huge treasure ships
were set on fire, and eleven borne off by their
captors. What became of the latter wo know.
But five, laden with wealth untold, after burn
ing to the water’s edge, sank beneath the waves,
and as no ono has yet boon able to recover the
pieces of eight, and the bars ol “ plata,” it is
logically certain that they still lie there under
silt and sand, waiting for the happy men who
can find them. Unfortunately, the sea has a
jealous trick of concealing its wealth. No
doubt, as in Clarence’s dream, there most be
perdu at the bottom of the ocean, “ wedges of
gold, great anchors, heaps of pearls, inestima
ble stones, unvalued gems.”
Yet, in all the wonderful tales told by sea
going men, there is no instance of a diamond
coming up in the tallow of the sounding lead,
and the mariner who remembers finding a bar
of gold in the fluke of his anchor, has not ven
tured to try the faith of the world with his rem
iniscences. Tbe truth seems to be that currents
soon scatter such objects, and in time they get
overlaid with great accumulations of sand, mud
and ooze. For three long years the “Chal
lenger” dredged and heaved the lead and
swept tho sea-bottom with cunningly contrived
tangles. All manner of objects, dead and liv
ing, were brought to light, until it seemed as it’
Father Neptnne had very little more to conceal.
Still, tbe most curious fact about the expedition
was, that, in spite of the thousands of ships
which have gone down in mid-ocean, of the tens
of thousands of men whose bones must lie
there, not a trace, not a hint did lead, or dredge,
or trawl, or tangle bring to the surface of man
or his works.
Not a bone or a button, a precious stone or a
bit of metal, or anything which could, by the
finest process of induction, be regarded as hav
ing belonged to a ship, ever came within the
ken of Sir Wy villa Thomson and his companions.
The “ Challenger,” of course, fished in deep
water. Near tbe shore it might have found
plenty of remains of the kind indicated. At
the same time, considering the fate ot the
treasure-seekers, who have had only a limited
area to search, the chances of finding a needle
in a haystack, or of lighting on Captain Kidd’s
buried plunder, are promising compared with
diving after the ingots which disappeared only
a few years ago. The timbers of the ship have
rotted, the waves have tossed tbe boxes hither
and thither, time has rusted or eaten away the
bands which bound them, and tho metal itself
gets so incrusted with sand as to be undis
tinguisbable from the debris around it.
MISERIES OF A PLAYWRIGHT
Julian Hawthorne Gets Himself Into
a Bad Box.
{From the Chicago News.)
Mr. Julian Hawthorne has been writing a
comedy for the Madison Square Theatre, and he
is having a dreadful time. The day after Christ
mas he went up to the theatre to superintend
the first rehearsal, and Mr. F. M. Palmer as
signed him to a big arm-chair m one of thepros
ceniuntoboxe*. All at once Mr. Hawthorne
beheld a beautiful young woman dissolving in
tears near the left lower entrance. To his eter
nal credit be it said that Mr. Ii« wthorno’s heart
is not so callous as to te insensible to the subtle
influences of a beautiful young woman in tears.
He called the young woman to him, and asked
her why she poured out her heart through her
beautiful orbs.
“ I’m—l’m—the soubrette,” sobbed the young
woman, “ and tho author has—has—neglected
me I Boohoo 1”
•• Nay, my child I” quoth Mr. Hawthorne,
tenderly. "lam the author ; pray, how have 1
neglected you ?”
“You haven’t written in enough lines for
me,” explained the soubrette, brightening up.
“ Then I ought to have a song in the first act
and one in the last act, too. Please, sir, will you
give them to me?”
“ Indeed I will,” replied Mr. Hawthorne. “ I
were a sphinx should I refuse so mean a boon
to one so fair."
Tho soubrette danced sway in high glee,
clapping her hands and laughing merrily. The
leading lady heard her and inquired into the
cause of her merriment. Presently the leading
lady, looking for all the world like Mary Queen
of Scots going to her bridal, swept toward the
box where Mr. Hawthorne sat. The leading
lady was even more beautiful than the sou
brette ; never had Mr. Hawthorne’s eyes beheld
such a dazzling vision of feminine loveliness.
But the leading lady had grievances and she
begged Mr. Hawthorne to adjust them. Did
Mr. Hawthorne comply ? The leading lady was
simply irresistible.
Then came the first old woman, and tbe first
walking lady, too.
■‘Gosh I” thought Mr. Hawthorne, “is ihere
to be no end of this panorama of female beauty?
This must be some wild Oriental dream I”
But no—it was not a dream. The first old
lady wanted more lines in her part of the come
dy, and there was not enough pedestrianism in
the three acts for the first walking lady. Both
of these fair importunates wept copiously.
“ Well, I reckon I had better start lor Sag
Harbor,” said Mr. Hawthorne, as he looked in
to tho box-office for a few moments later.
“ What, off so soon?” asked Mr. Palmer.
“Yes,” replied Mr. Hawthorne, wearily, “I’ve
been in tho theatre about twenty minutes and
I’ve mapped ont work enough to keep me busy
three months.”
“How so?” demanded Mr. Palmer.
“ Well,” said Mr. Hawthorne, consulting his
notes, “ I’ve promised to write in two songs and
30» lines for the soubrette; I’ve promised to in
troduce two new costumes, three new dead
faints, seven new shrieks and twenty-fonr new
kisses for the leading lady; I’ve promised 200
lines and a country dance to the first old lady,
and somehow or other I’ve got to work in a cou
ple of miles more for the walking lady; so I ll
not be apt to be around the theatre again until
Spring.”,
Systems Pattm
Nebraska’s Sleeping Beauty.—A dis
patch to the St. Louie Globe-Democrat from
Columbus, Nebraska, dated Jan. 11, says: News
reached here to-day from the tarm-honse seven
miles northwest, that Minnie Dishner, Nebras
ka’s sleeping beauty, recovered consciousness
Sunday, January :;d, the seventeenth day of her
hystero-catalentic trance sleep. The roads have
been impassable until the present time, and
news oi her recovery could consequently not be
received before. The girl fell iuto the trance
from which she has now revived, the ( th day of
last November. During tbe interval she
has lain, to all appearance, a lifeless being,
with the exception of respiration and pulsation.
When Miss Dishner awoke her mind was appa
rently clear and unimpaired, her appetite and
general feelings good, but her arms and legs
paralyzed. She declared that she was con
scious during the whole time of her protracted
trance, but although she everted, her utmost
will-power to evince her consciousness, she
could not move a single muscle. She says she
had no physical pain until tbe fortieth day of
her sleep, when an electric battery was applied.
Since then she has suffered a thousand agonies
of body, and at times it seemed as though her
mind would give way under the strain, and she
now complains of terrible physical sufferings m
consequence of the shock to her system. The
doctor in attendance says, however, that she
will recover in a short time, and will also regain
full control of her limbs.
Life in a Snowflake.—Some imagina
tive and wonderfully learned German scholars
tell us that every snowflake is inhabited by
happy littlo beings, who begin their existence,
hold their revels, live long lives of happiness
and delight, die and are buried, all during the
descent of the snowflake from the world of
clouds to the solid land. These scholars also
tell us that every square foot of air possesses
from twelve to fifteen million of more or less
perfect living beings, and that at every ordinary
breath we destroy a million, more or less, of
these happy lives. The sigh of a healthy lover
is supposed to swallow up about fourteen mil
lion. They insist that the dust, which wiil, as all
know, accumulate in the most secret and secure
places, is merely the remains of mill.ons and
billions of these little beings who have died of
old age. All this, of course, is mere guess
work. But Ido know that the snow in some
parts of the world is thickly inhabited. I have
seen new snow in Idaho black with little in
sects. People there call them snow-fleas. They
are as lively as possible, and will darken your
footprints, walk as fast as you may. They are
found only on the high mountains and only in
very fresh and very deep snow. They, of
course, do not annoy you in any way. They
are infinitely smaller than the ordinary flea, but
they are not a whit less lively in their locomo
tion.— St, Nicholas,
•
Good Faith.—There is no nobler
quality than that ot keeping faith with friend
or foe, and many touching examples of this
sense of honor in men was shown in the civil
war. A Confederate officer was found between
the two opposing lines and taken into the
Union camp. As be carried a lantern and wore
his own uniform, it was evident that he had no
purpose as a spy. He declared that, believing
truce signals had been displayed, he had taken
the opportunity to search lor some oi his miss
ing men. The Federal soldiers, accepting the
explanation, permitted him to return to his
own lines. Upon another occasion, the captain
cf a company of Maine volunteers was taken
prisoner. “ I am compelled to take your
sword,” said tbe courteous Southerner, “but I
will leave it at Blank’s,” naming a certain
farm-house in the neighborhood, “ and if you
ever come back this way, call there and you
will find it.” The prisoner thanked his captor,
though having little iaith in the promise. A
year afterward, bis division happening to be in
that section, curiosity led him to call at the
house. He inquired for his sword, and found
it had been there a year. “I’ve had a heap o’
trouble keepin* it for you una,” said the wo
man, “ but hcah it am.”
Krupp’s Works.—The most recent
and authentic data show that in 1860 the total
number of workmen employed by Herr Krupp
was 1,764. In 1870 they had increased to 7,081.
At the present time the total number employed
in all the establishments of Herr Krupp ’ex
ceeds 20,000. If we add the wives and children
dependent upon the workmen, the total number
of persons supported by the Krupp works is
not less than 65,381. Of this number fully
29,000 dwell in cottages built by Herr Krupp,
and belonging to his works. There are eight
separate and distinct departments belonging to
this enormous concern—the vast extent of work
shops at Essen ; three coal mines at Essen and
Bochum; <547 iron-ore mines in various parts
of Germany ; several iron mines near Bilbao, in
Spain ; an extensive series of smelting furnaces,
and the ranges at Moppen for the testing of the
Krupp guns. Beside the eleven smelting fur
naces, there are 1,542 puddling and heating fur
naces. The number of steam-boilers em
ployed on Herr Krupp’s works is 439, and the
total horse-power of the 150 steam-engines in
use is 185,000.
A Zoologist’s Dream.—lt was t-lio
Poissons Fossiles of Agassiz that gave him
rank as one of the most learned living zoologists.
He worked entirely by instinct, and his work
had in it something of the character of an in
spiration. A story of his own aptly illustrates
this key-note of his character. One evening in
Paris he had been toiling hard but uselessly at
“ developing ” (as the phrase goes) a fossil
fish; in his sleep he dreamed that night all the
details of its organization. He rose, and hastily
sketched in the dark the thing so vividly and
strangely presented to his sleeping vision. The
next morning he was surprised to find in his
nocturnal drawing feature’s which he thought it
quite impossible the fossil itself could ever
reveal. He went to the Jardin des Plantes once
more, and, with the sketch before him, suc
ceeded in chiselling the surface of the stone
under which portions of the fish proved to be
hidden. When exposed, it corresponded exactly
with his dream and his drawing. The brain
working by itself had reconstructed the whole
ffom the fragmentary evidence.
Forty-six Years in One Pulpit.—Dr.
George Jeffrey, ot Glasgow, says the Christian
Leader ,where he has preached upward of forty
six years, is reported to have explained the se
cret of his being able to maintain an unbroken
ministry in the same place so long to one of the
former members of nis church, who is now a
merchant in New York. “I read,” says Dr. Jeff
rey, “every new book that has a bearing upon
my special work, and make extracts from it and
index them, so at any moment I can find them
when wanted. In this way I keep myself from
moving in a rut. I work as hard as I used to
do at twenty, and I keep so far ahead with my
sermons that there are always ten or fifteen un
finished ones lying in my drawer ready to re
ceive the results of my latest readings. 1 call
them ‘sleeping sermons,’ but it is thev that
sleep, and not the people who hear them.’ 1
A Holy City.—Pagan, one of the an
cient capitals of Burmah, is in many respects
the most remarkable religious city in the world.
Jerusalem, Benares, Rome, Kieff—none of them
can boast the multitude oi temples and the lav
ishness of design and ornament that make mar
velous this deserted capital ot the Irrawaddy.
Deserted it practically is, for the few flimsy huts
that stand by the river are inhabited only by
pagoda-slaves and men condemned to perpetual
beggary. For eight miles along the river bank,
and expending to a depth two miles inland, the
whole space is thickly studded with pagodas of
fell sixes and shapes, and the very ground in so
thickly covered with crumbling remnants ot
vanished shrines that according to the popular
saying, you cannot move a foot or hand witL-.-ut
touching a sacred thing.
AYER’S JB. PILLS.
Ayer’s Pills are entirely vegetable in
their composition, act speedily and thor
oughly, and impart tone and energy to
the whole system. They may be given to
children with entire safety. L. O. Brag
don, Columbia, S. C., writes: “I have
used Ayer’s Pills in my family for years.
I give them to my children, in preference
to any other physic, and always with the
most gratifying results. They are invalu
able as a home medicine.” A. B. Foster,
Children’s Home, "Westville, Conn.,
writes: “ "We have used Ayer’s Pills, and
think them a very safe and excellent
family aperient.” R. D. Jackson, "Wil
mington, Del., writes: “I have used
Ayer’s Pills for a number of years, and
have never found anything equal to them
for giving mo an appetite or imparting
energy and strength to my system. I
always keep them iu the house.”
PREPARED BY
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Cockfighting. —Formerly
ing entered into the occupations of old and
young. Schools had their cockfights. Travel
ers agreed with coachmen that they were to
wait a night if there was a cockfight in any town
through which they passed. When English
country gentlemen had sat long at table, and
the conversation had turned upon the relative
merits of their several birds, a cockfight often
resulted, as the birds in question were brought
for tbe purpose into the dining-room. Cock
fight; ng was practised on Shrove Tuesday to a
great extent, and jn the time of Henry VII.
seems to have been practised within the pre
cincts of the court. The earliest mention of
this pastime in England is by Fitzstephen. in
1191.
Children Play at Bull Fighting—
.— recent traveler in Spain tells how tho chil
dren in Granada play at bull fighting. Ono boy # ,
holding a pair of wooden horns on his head,,
represents the bull. Other boys, mounted on
each other’s backs, were pier dors, while others
again, with their jackets in their hands, were
supposed to be matadors and chulos. The bull/
would stamp his feet and roar, then make a
rush at one of the chulos, whose jacket was
thrown up by the wooden horns, but whose
body was never touched. Then the bull would
charge one of the picadors, whereupon the boy
playing horse would throw himself to the
ground, and allow himself to be properly gored.
Our ADdon.—A widespread legend of
great antiquity informs us that the moon is in
habited by a man with a bundle of sticks on his
back, who has been exiled thither for many cen
turies, and who is so far off that he is beyond
the reach of death. This tradition, which has
given rise to many superstitions, is still pre
served, under various forms, in most countries;
butjt has not been decided who the culprit
originally was and how be came to be impris
oned. Dante calls him ( ain ; Chaucer assigns
hise.'.ileasa punishment for theft, and gives
him a thorn bush to carrv, while Shakespeare
loads him with the thorns, bat byway ot com
pensation gives him a dog for a companion.
How to Brush the Teeth. —This is
a matter of no small importance. Most people
brush across the teeth from right to left. This>
manner of brushing will not remove the accu
mulations from between them, but tends rather
to force the debris into t-li-e interstices. The
brush should be placed against the teeth at the
gums, and rotated toward the masticating sur
faces. It will thus act somewhat like a bundle?
of fine tooth-picks. In order to make the work
effectual, the brush should be applied, as de
scribed, both inside and outside of the teeth,,
and also upon the grinding surfaces of the dou
ble teeth. The mouth should then be thor
oughly rinsed with tepid water.
The Violet. —Vitruvius, a celebrated,
writer who flourished under Julius Ofetrar, telle
us that the flowers ot the violet were not only
used to adulterate or counterfeit the celebrated
blue of Athens, but were also employed Im
moderate hunger, to cure ague and inflamma
tion of tbe Jungs, Ac., and the blossoms worn atk
garlands were considered as a charm against,
falling sickness. Tho Tomans used to put
large quantities of violet-petals into casks and
cover them with good wine: from this infusion
they procured a drink called oSplatam, which
was used only on festive occasions. Tho petal®
of roses were also used in the same fashion, and
called rosa.tum.
Interesting Relics.—An urn of clay
lately found while a ditch was being;
dug on the east eyilo ot tbe Isle
ol Gothland has been sent to the Stock
holm Museum. It contains 2,696 unbroken
and 191 broken silver coins, part with old Ger
man and part with Anglo- Saxon stamps. There
are beside, silver bracelets, some with figurings
appended to them, and also some rods of the
finest silver, such as in early times were out and
used instead ot money. The total weight of the
treasure is about nine pounds. The chief in
terest for antiquarians lies in the fact that old
German and Anglo-Saxon coins have been
found together.
Every one lias a will and a mind to
think for himself, yet many will go about hack
ing and coughing until a friend recommend#
Dr. Bull’s cough syrup for that cough.
America’s Fibsi Bbassfounder.—Jo
seph Jenks, who was born in London, but died
in Lynn, Maas., in , 1688, is supposed to have
been’ the first brassfounder in America. Ont
May 6, 1648, he aecured a patent from the Mas
sac’husetta Legislature for a water-mill and for
a saw-mill. In 1652 he made the dies, it is said„
for the silver ceinsge—the “ pine tree ” money
of the province. In 1654 he made a fire engine
for Boston, and in 1655 he received a patent for
an improved method of manufacturing scythes.
In 1667 he had an appropriation for the encour
agement of wire drawing.
The Old-Fashioned Boy.—lf the boy
of to-day is built on the same plan and the
same calibre as the boy ol fifty years ago, it is
his training that is ont ot joint. The same
urchin who used to love to go trapping, fishing
or bathing, who used to kick up his bare heels m
the fields—the boy who need always to run with
the old fire-engine and read dime-novel Indian
stories—wasn’t in the habit of shooting himself
or taking poison. Lite was too full of the essence
ot good times, the youngster was too lull oS
vitality ever to allow his mind any thoughts of
death.
Alpike Accidents.—Since 1859 ther&
have been 80 accidents, whereby 134 persons
have lost their lives in climbing the Swiss Alps.
Of these, 40 were guides or porters, 80 tourists,.
2 monks of Mount St. Bernard, 11 workmen
journeying over the mountains, and one was t>
crystal seeker. In 16 accidents the climbers
were not roped together; in 2.8 the tourists were
alone, or unaccompanied by a guide. During
the sixteen years from 1859 to 1875 there were
673 ascents of Mont Blanc, 25 of which ended fa
tally—that is, at the rate of one death to every
26 assents.
Shaggy Wool Cloth.—The newest
and prettiest dresses of shaggy wool fabrics r.ra
made up with plain wool facings and finishings.
Tbe silk makes them very much more effective,
and may correspond or contrast with the drees
goods, as preferred. But those with silk chosen
to match, are usually in bettor taste. When,
plain and shaggy wool are combined, silk may
be used with as good results as with the shaggy
stuff alone. When smooth and rough fabrics
are combined, a band of the rough is generally
placed around the foot of the skirt.
The Earth’s Surface.—The surface
of tbe earth may be .divided into three great!'
regions—the abysmal area, occupying, so to
speak, the bottom of the basins, covering one
halt of the earth’s surface; a border region, oc
cupying, so to speak, the sides of tbe basins,
covering three-sirieenths of the earth’s
and lastly, the continents, which cover five
sixteenths ot the earth’s surface. The average
bight of the elevated plateaus of the continent#
above the submerged plains Ic.rming tbe abys
mal regions is fully three miles.
We Cannot Live to Ourselves.—
Says tho Rockville Tribune: Undoubtedly the
I riited States could withdraw from all com
merce with other nations and live within itself,
just as China and Africa did for thousands ofc
years. And the result would be very similar.
"“ God hath made of one blood all nations that
dwell on the face of the ea rth,” and the nation
that is sufficient unto itself is certain to stag
nate. Through all history the nations with the
largest foreign trade have been most progres
sive, humane and liberal.
The Eagle’s Relatives.—Last Sum
mer, in Glen Mask, Forfarshire (Scotland),,
where there is an eyrie, a large golden eagle
was caught by tho claw in a ermine-trap. The
keeper had not visited tho trap week, and
upon doing so was surprised to find a fine live
eagle, surrounded by tho dead bodies of over ft
score of rabbits, which had been brought, evi
dently by his relatives of the eyrie above, who
had kept their unfortunate brother well fed
during his week’s imprisonment.
“Come Down.”—A youthful theolo
gical student, so minute in stature that he ordi
narily cannot make himself seen when behind
the pulpit desk, recently preached near Exeter,
N. H. An aged woman eat in the front pew, and
was greatly concerned to see a boy in place ot
tic expected minister. So she slipped on viptos
to the pulpit s’airs and beckoned to b'm, whis
pering loti ly, “Come down, my boy: you
mustn’t sit there. That's too place for the min-
Most of the diseases affecting the diges
tive organs yield readily to the influence
of Ayer’s Pills. They stimulate the
Stomach, Liver, and Bowels, and restore
the system to healthful condition. A.
A. "Wostenhohne, Utica, N. Y., writes:
“Whenever I am troubled with Indiges
tion, I take one or two doses of Ayer’s
Pills, and am promptly relieved. I have
used these Pills for years, and have never
known them to fail.” Randolph Morse,
Lynchburg, Va,, writes: “I have never
found anything equal to Ayer’s Pills for
keeping the Stomach : Bowels, and Liver,
in good working order. I always use them
when occasion requires.” E. H. Knapp,
Detroit, Mich., writes: “Ayer’s Pills
cured me of Dyspepsia, from which I had
suffered for years. They have done me
more good than any other medicine I
have ever taken.”