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IF I SHOULD DIE TO-NIGHT, If I should die to-ntght. My friends would look upon my quiet faOe Before they laid it in its resting place, And deem that death had left it almost fair; And, laying snow white flowers against my hair. Would smooth it down with tearful tenderness, And fold my bauds with lingering caress; Poor hands, so empty and so cold to-night ■ If I should die to-uight. My friends would call to mind, with loving thought, gome kindly dsed the icy hand had wrought; Borne gentle word the frozen lips had said; Errands on which the willing feet bad sped. The memory of my selfishness nnd pride, My hasty words would all be put aside; And so I should be loved and mourned to-night, If I should die to-nigbt. Even hearteTstranged would turn once more to me, Recalling other days remorsefully. The eyes that chill me with averted glance Would look upon mo as of yore, perchance, And soften in the old familiar way. For who would war with dumb, unconscious clay ? Be I might rest, forgiven of all to-night. Oh friends, I pray to-night, Keep not your kisses for my dead, cold brow. The way is lonely—let me feel them* now. Think gently of me—l am travel worn; My pattering feet are pierced with many a thorn. Forgive, oh, hearts estranged, forgfva. I plead 1 When dreamless rest is mine I shall not need The tenderness for wlricb I long to-night. “ oOWlace.” RELATED BY THE ACTORS. RUSSEL CAREW’S STORY CONCLUDED. Just two days before Christmas I went down to Shellford. The weather was still bitterly cold, and the snow lay thickly on the country through which we passed. Carpenter was with me, although I was strong enough to do with out him. Miellford was a pretty little town on the south coast, which from almost insignificance was last rising into prominence as a fashionable water ing-place, somewhat to the disgust of its more aristocratic and exclusive inhabitants, and equally to the delight of the occupiers of a ter race of brand-new villas facing the sea. Uf course it was the dull time just then, and the town looked dreary and deserted, as seaside towns almost always do in the Winter. The dusk was beginning to gather when I left the station. Unless I went at once to Rose mount, it would be too late to go that day, and I was longing to see Avice. A porter gave me the inlormatiou I wanted. I'osemount was a large house standing on the cliff road, the first on the right. Carpenter went to the hotel to engage rooms. I started for Rosemount. I found it without.difficulty. It was a long, low house, standing far back from the road, yet plainly visible from it, a pretty old-fashioned place, with a veranda. The grounds at the back were extensive; but in front there was only a large lawn and a few trees. The snow still lay on the gabled roof and on the lawn; but the red brick of which the house was built had deepened in color with the pass ing years, and looked warm and genial in the dull gray light. Several ot the windows were lighted, and my heart throbbed fast and furi ously as 1 crossed the lawn and went toward one of the windows of the ground floor. I lelt by no means confident as to my reception. Opposed to Duncan’s and Ralph’s assurances that Avice had refused my love only because she believed that I had betrayed her sister, and that her-subsequent conduct had proved that her heart was not in the refusal, was my own con viction that ?he did not care for me, that her anxiety on my behalf had been prompted solely by the fact that she was remorseful—tender lit tle heart I—for the physical suffering of which she had been the cause, and that I should never win her love. My satisfaction in my wealth, too, all faded in the knowledge that Avice was not a governess, but a wealthy heiress. I felt sad and anxious as 1 approached the lighted window. It opened into a small room prettily and artistically furnished, brightly lighted by a fire on the open- hearth, and wbicn first sight I thought was empty. Bui a mo ment undeceived me. Lying hack in a low chair was a slender, black-clad flgU’rG, staring with wide, unseeing eyes into the red glow of the fire, and looking, oven in that dainty room, strangely solitary. Something in her attitude, in the droop of the pretty head, in the little hands hanging idly at her sides, struck me as so hopeless, so tired, so unutterably sad, that my eyes grew dim and misty as I turned hurriedly away and went to the door. When the servant opened it, I asked if her mistress was at home. The girl answered af firmatively, and led me through the hall into a charming, old-fashioned, fire-lit room. The wintry twilight allowed me to see the artistic and dainty arrangement of the furniture, the old china, the profusion of hot-house flowers in every available receptacle. “ \Vhat name shall 1 say, sir?” 1 hesitated a moment, then replied: •‘No name. Please tell Miss Croft that I came on business.” The girl looked surprised-perhaps my mus tache and long, fur-lined coat did not look very business-like. When she left the room, I crossed over to the fire ; a little low chair stood near it, a book lay on a gipsy table near, with a flower Upon its open pages. I took it up and slipped it into my pocket, and, as I turned from the table, I met two smiling blue eyes, so life-like that 1 almost started, They looked at me from out a gilt frame hanging over a mantel, a frame surrounding the picture of a beautiful woman, and bearing one word—her name Mabel.” I was still looking at it when the heavy portiere shading the door was pushed aside, and Avice came in. (She came forward, a slim little figure In a long black gown, and it was only when she had advanced half-way up the room that she recognized me. She stopped short, growing pale to the lips. There was a moment’s dead silence in the fire lit room ; as the red light fell upon her, I saw that she was greatly changed ; she looked years older as she stood there, a slender figure in her unrelieved black robe. vVhy ha>? you come ?” she asked, in a sur prised tone. Something in her face gave me courage to an swer. “ Can’t you guess, Avice ?” I replied, and held out my arms to her. The next instant she was folded in them, and was sobbing on my breast. 1 felt a groat throb of thankful pride at my heart. Without any proof but my word, she trusted me. “How can you bear the sight of me?” she presently, when j had told her, as gently ft? I could, of my cousin’s treachery and death. “ It is not very hard,” I answered, with a smile. “ Although, indeed, Avice, I have hardly Been you yet.” ■ t , She raised her face then shyly, and 1 drew her forward to the firelight. Was it the face 1 had seen half an hour before ? Could it be the face that had been pale and haggard and worn ? This one was so softly radiant, so beau tiful, with its lovely, shy blushes, that I almost wondered at her beauty, familiar as it had been, great as I had deemed it always. But, in truth, I had never seen her face look as it did now; it had never looked so sweet and tender and womanly, in the old days at Wood gate ; her eyes had never shone with the love light which illumined them now ; the little red mouth, which had been so firm and proud, was only sweet and tender. I think even the memory of the past suffering was obliterated during that happy hour; and Mabel’s blue eyes seemed to smile approvingly on us out of her golden frame. “And you have quite forgiven me,” Avice whispered at last; “really, Russ ? Oh, tell me it there is even the shadow of a misgiving in your mind I Have you forgotten my offense ? Remember my provocation I Oh, think, dear— she was my sister : we were ‘ot one race,’ and I loved her 1” “He was my cousin; we, too, were of one race,” I answered, with my eyes resting on her face. “ Are you afraid to trust me, Avice ?” She did not speak; but her eyes answered me, and I was satisfied. THE END. SWORN TO. A PECULIAR GER MAN-AMERICAN CASE, _ (From the Chicago New#.) '•la der Shudge in?” The question was asked by one of two men ■ a they entered Juatiee Kersten’s private office. “ Yes. What can Ido for yon ?’’ queried the Justice. The first speaker, with hat in hand and an uneasy glance at Constable Keegan, who was sitting near by, approached the judicial desk, ana, leaning Over, whispered: “ Dis is a brivate madder.” Oh, speak out 1 There is nobody here who will repeat what you say.” “ No, Shudge, I gaunot do it. Dis vas a ferry brivate madder.” So the German, with his friend, was conduct ed to the private sanctum, and, not without many nods and winks, unbosomed himself: “ You see, Shudge, I vas in a bad fix. Dis is mine frent. He lift here many years. He haf a fine Iran. I gome to dis country fife months ago. Igo to lif by mine treat’s house. I lit happy dere. I gets blenty saner kraut und speck, und haf mine beer efery meal. To-day mine frent gomes to me. He say, 'Yacob, how vos dot ? Dose neighbors say dot vhen I vhas by mine vork you make love to mine Iran. Is dot so, Yacob r “Shudge,” continued Jacob, "I vas all proke tip. Dot mine frent should tink dot of me makes me veel terrible. I say to mine frent: ‘ Fritz, you feel pad about dis, ain't it ?’ Fritz, lie say: 1 Yaoob, I veel more as pad; I veel like goin’ by Linggon bark unt trown myself.’ * Fritz,’ I say, ’ don’d you do dot. It vas all von lie.’ ‘ Gan you broove dot, Yacob ?’ say Fritz. Isay: ‘ I don'n know, Fritz, vedderl can broove it,’ und den, Shudge, ve both gry und gry, und ve vsel terrible bad about it.” Justice Kersten by this time began to feel • trifle ftnpatient. Speaking to Fritz, he said: “ Well, what do you want to do about it 1 Do yon want to have Jacob arrested for trifling with your wife’s affections ?” “ Nein, nein, Shudge ! Hef him arrested ? He vas mine frent.” “Well, what are you going to do about it?” "JI haf * blan,” spoke up Jacob. “ I gets yon to make me oud von paper—vat you gall it ? Von paper vot I echwearn to ” “■You mean an affidavit, I suppose?” "Yes, dot vas id. I vant to schwear dot I ton’t never make lofe to mine front's frau.” Accordingly Jaistice Kersten eet to work. In the course of’half an hour he had drawn up an affidavit which was a model of legal verbiage «and choice, robust German. It set forth the undying regard Jacob and Fritz had for each other; how their heretofore pleasant voyage down the stream of life had been interrupted by a storm raised by the malicious breath of scandal. It refuted in the most emphatic man ner all the allegations set dying by gossipy old women and in vigorous terms declared that Jacob thought too much of his friend’s wife to dream of trying to steal away her matronly heart—she has six children. W,bon it was all finished and Jacob signed it, the Justice received a five-dollar fee. Fritz put the affidavit in his pocket and bore it home in triumph to flaunt in the faces of all the gossips. A IARRiA«IE ESSAY. THE PHILOSOPHER AND THE HUMAN BEING. “ Bosh !” exclaimed the philosophic McPebble, impatiently. “ What’s the use of laying so much stress upon beauty. Why, man, it’s only skin deep.” “Nobody wants it to be any deeper,” retorted young Oliver de B , with calmness. “One doesn't want it cut into and appraised by gross material tests, but to look upon and worship, and to gam delight from. A thing of beauty—” “Is a fright at iorty 1 Why quote poetry as if it were necessarily argument? Look at most of the middle-aged women of your own acquaint ance 1 Aren’t they mere burlesques of their now younger selves?” “Not at all. The attractions of juvenility have in most cases simply giveaway to attractions of a more substantial and enduring kind.” “Describe them I Enunciate them I” de manded McPebble, extending his index-finger with the air of a man frozen with disgust. “Oh !’’ said Oliver, blushing. “ There’s sure ly some attraction in the fact that a woman is a man’s wile, and—and—and the mother of one’s children. ’ Me Pebble’s attitude softened. He laughed victoriously. Then he stuffed his pipe with ceremonious deliberateness, and after puffing it for full a minute in silence, and sinking back into a plump arm-chair, he said quietly: “ Why have a wife at all ? And, more import ant still, why have any children ?” “It gives a man an- ” “ Look at me, my boy 1” again interrupted McPebble, between the teeth that clasped his black pipe, “ hasn’t marriage been a curse to me? Isn’t it a fact that Mrs. McPebble and I despise each other ? Doesn’t my eldest son hate me, and wish me dead because I forbid him to set the next-door neighbor’s house on fire? Don’t my six children work steadily against me, and persecute me like so many Amalekites ?” “ But to have a wife and family gives a man an ” “ And yet I was like you once. I had an at tack of love—youths have attacks of love just as children have attacks of measles and old men suffer from gout—and I must get married for sooth 1 My case was just like yours. My La vinia was at least as beautiful as your Alice. Look at her likeness on the wall 1” Oliver looked at the likeness. It represented, to him, a greasy-looking young person in a stu pendous crinoline, with au expression of coun tenance that seemed to say, “ What do you think of me ?” and a mass ot black hair hideously sup porting a gigantic comb at the back of the head. He determined to make no comment upon the portrait. He would simply try once more to answer the question that his friend had put to him a minute previously. “But to have a wife and family gives a man an object in life,” he said with emphasis. McPebble had all but drowned his compan ion’s remark with a volcanic spell of coughing, and was indeed already striking an appropriate attitude for his next remark; but he caught the words “ ?bject in life,” and started to hto teot in an instant. 1 “Ob.ect ift life 1” he shouted. “Are you so maq, you must willfully create a lot of trouble so as to make it the object of your life , to get out of it? Is it a sensible object in life simply to make the best of a grievance that you might have avoided ? Object in life, indeed 1” he added scornfully. “ Why, man, if that’s the : kind of object you want, you’d better knock your own house down so as to have an ‘ object ’ in building it up again I” And Me Pebble thrust the shovel into the coal scuttle with a sound of thunder, apparently to save himself the pain of listening to any more of Oliver s ridiculous arguments. “Ah, well,” eaid the youth, with a sigh. “I love the girl, I suppose, and if you wore to phi- : losopbize until the crack of doom it wouldn’t prevent my marrying her.” “If you love the girl,” rejoined the older man ■ sharply, “ that is proof positive that you'd bet- ■ ter not marry her. How can you tell whether j she is good or bad if you love her ? Why does the fly get stuck in the treacle? Because he loves it. Why does the drunkard get killed by , the liquor ? Because he loves it. Why does the moth get crippled in the candle? Because • he loves it. Of all the blind leaders of the blind love is surely quite the blindest. What is her j character like ? That is the question. Has she ( any reasoning power ? Has she any ” “ I hope she haea’t Joo much reasoning pow- . er,” interrupted Oliver de B , who felt that ] he had already hsard enough of McPebble a , heresies to make him extremely uncomfortable, i “ because, if she had, she would certainly never , deign to marry a great, rough, graceless brute j like me. But as it is—thank God—she will. ■ Nay, no more, dear Mac. Nothing will alter me. . I’m off. Good day.” “ Tatta, my boy. It’s no business of mine. I , can only say that you are going into difficulties < with your eyes wide open; that’s all.” ( “Not with my eyes wide open,” answered i Oliver from the staircase, “ but with my eyes j Closed in that golden dream that has been the | one happiness of many a wretched man’s life.” ( “Any relation to ‘love’s young dream’?’ i cried the exasperating McPebble. “Ah, well, i my boy,” he added, “ dream on until the whole ( thing ends in nightmares,” an admonition which , received no answer but the loud slamming of j the street door as Oliver left-the house. That evening Oliver told his Alice all that his adviser had said, and the two lovers found but i little difficulty in accounting for the same, “Mr. McPebble,” said Alice, “is what Alint • Winnie calls ‘ a married bachelor ’; he hasn’t enough goodness in him to make him care for . a good Woman or to make a good woman care J for him, so he neglects hia wife and keeps to his own single and he doesn’t want to part with you. He doesn’t want you to get married ; and desert him.” “That’s if,” eaid Oliver, clasping the maiden closely to his Bide; “ but I’m afraid that we shall be obliged to desert him, dear, when we do gel married. Nothing muet come between you and me.” “ No, dearest,” answered ths through Oliver’s right whisker, Then Oliver, who Wa in those days begin ning to prosper as a member of the bar, fixed a datfo for the Wedding in terms that would have caused McPebble, had he been a listener, to de clare that his young friend ought to be put un der restraint. And Alice offered no opposition. Now this narrative has an odd sequel. After the marriage the friendship between Oliver and McPebble was arrested, except that the two, being both barristers, would occasion ally meet in professional work. McPebble con tinued to live at his own chambers in Pump court, leaving his wife and family to thrive as best they could at Camberwell, while Oliver and Alice both dwelt at South Kensington. Thus two years passed away. But one a.ternoon “intbelong” the little house at Kensington was shaken by a loud knock at the door, and When it was opened in marched McPebble, askiag excitedly for Mr. or Mrs. de B . “I’ve an extraordinary thing to tell you,” he said, when the young couple had entered the drawing-room wnd their little son had been ban ished out «f hearing. “An extraordinary thing,” he continued, sinking his voice to an em phatic whisper—“l don’t know whether to be glad or sorry !” “What is it?” asked Alice and Oliver in a breath. “ I’ve fallen in love with my wife 1” exclaimed McPebble, striking the attitude ot a man who hardly expected to be believed. “ I’ve fallen in love with my own wife I I went to see her yes terday, and, poor old dear 1 she was up to her eyes in anxiety, and I couldn’t help saying to myself, ‘ Well, Mac, you nave been a savage !’ What am I to do ?” “You’d better think the whole thing out, calmly and logically,” said Oliver, with a smile full of meaning. “Do nothing of the kind, Mr. McPebble,” said the generous Alice, as she slapped her hus band half seriously. “ Take a house out here; we can show you then how to make up and be happy.” McPebble took the house as advised, and is carrying out the instructions of Mrs. Oliver de B to this very day. a slavST wealth. HIS HEIRS CLAIM IT IS IN THE STEPHEN GIRARD ESTATE. (Fi'om the Cleveland Leader,) A singularly romantic history is revealed by a suit entered lately by Jerome Carty, counsel for Madame Rose de Laulanies, of Paris, against the city of Philadelphia, as trustee under the will of Stephen Girard. Madame de Laulanies is the only surviving descendant of Toussaint L’Ouverture, the great slave dealer of San Do mingo. L’Ouverture was born a slave, was manumitted by hie master, educated himself and took up the cause of the blacks. The French were in possession of the island, and the influence of L’Ouverture being feared, he was summoned to France by the first Napoleon, and a detachment of French troops was sent to compel his obedience to the order. Toussaint L’Ouverture feared that he was putting his head into the lion’s mouth, and, it is said, de posited bis entire fortune with Stephen Girard, who was then in San Domingo, with the under i standing that in case he was detained in France i against bis will, the whole sum, or as much of it as might be necessary, should be used to aid ' his escape, The blacks arose and Girard, it is averred, sailed to this port, retaining all the 1 valuables. L’Ouverture died a prisoner at the , tort ot Tcurs, HU wife and hU (wq sone lived, NEW YORK ’ it is declared, in the hope ol finding Girard and regaining the money. L’Ouverture had complete confidence in Gir [ I ard, who was bis close Jriend. The tradition of I the family was that he had some exact memo i i randa ot the money and other valuables en i i trusted to his care. Greater strength is added > , to the claim in the opinion of the plaintiff by the » fact that some fifteen years ago a lawyer from i Philadelphia appeared in Paris seeking the > heirs of Toussaint 1 Ouverture, and proposed I to a lawyer there to furnish him with proofs that f a large part of the estate of Stephen Girard had been entrusted to him by I’Ouverture. The lawyer disappeared from history and no trace ;: of him has since been found. The case was i sent to Mr. Carty by Edward Kelly, a prominent English lawyer, resident in Paris. Mr. Kelly wrote: “ You will, of course, understand that I must have been well satisfied of the likelihood i of success before taking up a claim of this char acter,” Mr. Carty wrote to AV. Hayward Dray ton, president of the Girard Trust, asking per mission to examine the Girard archives, so that he might find whether the mercantile papers of the old merchant contained anything respecting the claim. The request was refused. A bill in equity, asking that the trust be compelled to make discovery of such knowledge respecting the claim as may be under their control, will be filed. Mr. Carty sailed to Europe Saturday to seek evidence in France to support the suit. The specific amount of the claim is about $2,000,900. Girard’s estate is fully $20,000,030. THE MOUNTAIN LION. Interesting Eacts about tiie Largest Cat in America. [-Pasadena (Cal?) Cor. San Francisco Cat’.’] “ Of all the sly oats that can bo found, the mountain lion beats them all," said an old hunter in the. San Bernardino country. “ Some months ago,” he continued, “ I went into the hog business on a small scale, bought two dozen shoats, and for a week I lost a sboat every night, and I could not for the life of me find oat who was the thief. For the first three nights after I missed one I hung around the pen until nearly morning, but it seemed as if the moment I stepped out one of the shoats stepped offi so I got a friend to watch with me, and we fixed up a big dry goods box ana got into it, aud sat there alongside of the pen. I reckon we kept awake until four o'clock, when we fell asleep. I was awakened by hearing a shoat squealing, and out I rushed, and my friend after me ; but the shoat was gone, and just as wo were about starting for the bouse I happened to cast my eye toward a big log that ran into the hog-pen, and there were two of the greenest eyes you ever saw. I didn’t wait to find out what it wae, but let fly with my ride, aud the next second out came the biggest old mountain lion you ever saw. I wasn’t ten feet from him, and as he went I took him over the head with the butt end of the gun, and my friend, carried away with excitement, finished him with his knife. He was six feet long—the biggest one I have seen here. And how do you suppose he worked it ? You’d never guess it. You see, there was an old hollow log that I had fixed up as a drain, .but had used it for some time back to run water into the pen, and through this that cat would creep until he got well in, and then he would reach out a claw and grab a shoat, as they slept right around the entrance, and it would be dragged into the log, and, of course, nothing would be seen. It was a cute piece of busi ness. “The mountain lions are not as common as they were once, but you can find them around if you are inclined to hunt. I’ll never forget the first one I ever saw. 1 bad been out in the mountains prospecting—yo.u know everybody prospects here—and about four o’clock in the aiteruoon it began to suow, and I was certainly ten miles from home and had to make it, so I began the down trail. It got dark about six, ' so that I had to almost feel my way, and the snow was flying thick and fast and nearly six inches deep. I reckon I had gone along about : two miles when I thought 1 heard a low, soft 1 step behind me. I pulled up and listened, and ' the noise stopped so quick that I thought it 1 was an echo, and I started on again, but the moment I moved I heard this soft step coming on, and as I hauled up a second time I heard a twig'break, and then was sure that I was being f followed. A friend of mine was dogged in that way once by a Mexican and shot at, and it oc curred to me that perhaps some one was after me, thinking I had something valuable about me. At first I didn’t know what to do, as when . I stopped the thing behind ms did the same. I muet confess it made me nervous. You know if j you can see a thing it’s all right—you know what to do, but when something is following f you into the dark it's a different thing. So I ; waited a moment and then ran ahead for a hundred yards as fast as I could go and then . made a rush for a tree and stood behind it. It was a good scheme, as I completely fooled my , follower, and in a second or so I saw a long, . black figure, like a man crawling along on hands and knees, going so carefully that I could ■ hardly hear it from where I stood. I had my rifle ready, and just as it got opposite to me I j fired. The animal leaped ten feet, I should say, , into the air and fell back with a snarl—a dead mountain lion. I don’t know whether it would ! have touched me or not, but it looked very bus- ! picious. 1 didn’t take any chances. " I never saw or heard of one tackling a man, , but I can tell yon what they will do. They will ' whip a grizzly bear any time, and the grizzly ' is king on ths coast. I had it straight from an ’ old partner of mine in the mining business. He Was over in the Rockies, and well up one time, j and, on this particular occasion, on an elk ’ hunt. They had been after the game half a day, . when all at once they heard a fearful roar in the brush, and, rushing in, they looked through . and saw a big grizzly and a mountain lion hav ing a regular rough-and-tumble of it. They were jumping about so, and rolling over and over so fast thkt they could not tell who was ’ getting the bestof it for some time, and they , didn’t want to shoot lor fear of spoiling what they called the fun; so they stood by and watclb . ed the fight. The grizzly was evidently trying • to squeeze the lion, which was so slender that j it wriggled and squirmed out of the way, but , all the time scratching and tearing just as you , see a cat when she is fighting. With such tac- . tics as this it didn’t take long to finish the businoes; the hair was flying from the grizzly, j and both animals were covered with blood and ! screaming and roaring so that you could have heard them a mile or more. All at once the , bear made a break and tried to run, but he was j that weak lib fell over, and as the two brutes lay on their sides the man shot them both. Yes, j the bear was done for. The hide was com- ( pletely torn in pieces and good for nothing. I t believe the mountain lion would have got away , all right; the only thing the matter with it was . some of its ribs were broken and it was well torn up. You see the great hold of a grizzly is , to knock an animal over with its claw or paw, , and throw its arms about a man and squeeze; | but a mountain lion will tear and scratch so , cmick that there isn’t much chance to come out ■ alive. “To see k Hfonntain lion on the ground or , clinging to a tree they don’t look as though they ( could do much in the way of getting around, , but there isn’t an afeimal in the country that can beat tlipm jumping, aud I’ll tell you why I ■ think so. ~ 1 was up in the north part of the State ene'Wmter, and on a hunt we sighted ft lion crouched on a rock. We were below her, so she didn’t get our wind, and just as I Was getting ready to drop her she took ene or two steps and seemed to go right into the air. It was all done eo sudden that fot a second I was kind of bewildered, as I didn’t see from where 1 stood where she went, but moving out from behind the ro k I looked over and there she was on a deer, tearing and snarling like a cat. We stopped that quick and secured the venison and eat too. I had the curiosity to measure the distance Irom where I first saw her to where she struck, and how far do you suppose it was? Well, she had made a clean jump ot over sixty feet, and judging from the way the deer was pounded up she innst have struck square on it and nigh broke every bone in the animal’s body.” The power of the puma is not exaggerated, and. many instances are on record where grizzlies have been found dead, nnd torn in away that showed that the mountain lion must have done the work. Instances ot their remarkable jump ing powers are very common in the East and South, and in this country, near the McCloud river, where the animals are very common, Mr. Livingston Stone followed their tracks to the foot of Mouut Persephone, where they con verged to the foot of a cliff twenty feet in height, showing that to reach their home the lions must have taken this leap directly up. The mountain lion is remarkable for its wide geographical range. When I was on the Florida reef some years ago. the wreckers on the key complained that a panther, as they called it there, had swam across from the main land and carried off a pig, while another shoat had its ear bitten off. In the it is com paratively common, and known as the painter among the woodsmen. In fact, it ranges both Continents, from the Straits of Magellan north to Canada. In South America it is known as the puma; in California the American lion or cougar, while the carcajou or quinquajou and catamount are other titles given it in various lands. The American lion, however, is its true title, as it is the largest cat in this country, and takes the place ot the lion here. Long, slender aud graceful in its motions, litho and powerful, it is the type of agility and strength; and it it does not possess the courage ot the African oats it has quite enough, when hemmed in, to give the hunter a good fight I have been in formed that a specimen has been killed in this State six feet in length, including the tail, and this may be considered the maximum size. In such an animal the height at the shoulder would be about two feet and one or two inches. A puma was kept at Woodward’s, in San Fran cisco (whether it is there now I do>not know), that was nearly as large as an African lioness, measuring four feet from the tip ot the snout to the root of the tail. In contrasting the puma with others, it will be noticed that its head is smaller in proportion to the eize ot the body than all other cats except, perhaps, the leopard. The skull is about eight inches long and five and one-half inches wide. The color ot all the pumae that it has been my good fortune to see has been a uniform reddish brown, becoming lighter below. There are no markings except in the young, upon which there are several rows of stripes and spots on the back and sides. The panther has been the subject of many thrilling adventures, in books, but I have never ' been able to find a single instance in the East where one of these animals voluntarily attacked a human being, though when wounded they make a savage resistance. So, too, the books contain accounts of the roars of the panther ifiien it was wandering about the camp at DISPATCH, JUNE 6, 1886. 1 night, and while I have spent considerable time i in the most impenetrable parts of the Adiron . j Hacks, where these sounds are supposed to be f i frequent it was never my good fortune to hear . the roar of the American lion ; and, moreover, I . found that all old hunters said that it was an 1 extremely quiet animal, tollowing its prey si j lently. i In South America the natives tell many stories j of its cunning that are to be received with some [ caution. Ono of these tales is, that it imitates t the bleating ot the deer so accurately that these I animals are lured within its reach. i : The greatest pest in Southern California to » the farmer is the wildcat. It attains quite a i large size among the foothills, and commits 5 great depredations in the chicken yards. A friend recently caught one that had a'record of [ forty chickens before it was finally trapped ; [ I and that the creatures are vicious and will fight when cornered, there is little doubt. The same friend heard a noise in his chicken-coop one night some time ago, and going out, revolver in ; hand, saw in the dim light a large cat. He fired twice in rapid succession, when the animal sprang, but eaught the third bullet in mid-air and dropped dead at his feet. The coolness of these creatures is proverbial. A few weeks ago I followed the Arroyo Seco down from the mountain on horseba k with i Prof. Wheeler, of the University of California, when, as we turned up a road loading to Orange Grove avenue, not a stone’s throw irom the thickly settled portion of Pasadeua, the largest wildcat I ever saw—indeed, I was inclined to think it was the spotted lynx—stepped out ot the bushes in front of our horses, sat down on its haunches and gazed at us, and finally after each party had satisfied its scrutiny, it leaped into the bush and disappeared down the steep sides of the canon, neither oi us having any weapon to stay it. It is, as I have suggested, not impossible that it was the spotted lynx, that ranges south as tar as the City of Mexico, along the Rio Grande country and into Southern California. It is, however, quite rare, and I have never heard of a specimen having been caught here. This animal, while it seems to differ from the common lynx, is iu reality only a variety, the animals varying in a remarkable way in color and the arrangement of spots. Wildcat hunt ing may be included in what is called doubtiul sport. Good dogs are needed to tree the ani mals, when they can bo picked off like ripe oranges with the rifle. The difficulty in the way of good honest sport in this country lies in the fact that there are no good hounds, and by hounds I mean foxhounds. Alter finding that it would cost from S3O to S4O to bring a dog from the East by express, I made an attempt to find a thoroughbred foxhound, but up to date I have tailed to discover him in Southern Cali fornia, though my quest developed some of the most remarkable dogs called hounds it was ever mj’ good fortune to see. The deer-shooting is very good here in the season, and with a good pack of thoroughbred Virginia hounds and good horses, some fine sport might be had and the game would have fair play. If space allowed, I should like to make an appeal for tho American fox-hound. Curiously enough, our Anglo-American anice seed fox-hunters of the East prefer the English dog, on the ground that it is English, probably, when, in point of fact, for our country, for hard work, the animals are not up to it. In England foxes are chased on level ground, but here our bona fide hunting country is, as a rule, hilly, and our fox-hounds are perfectly adapted for the work, and certainly in beauty, shape and staying power, they are without peers. To show how thoroughly the American fox-hound is left out in the cold, there is no class for it in the New York dog show or the Westminster Kennel Club, and the American fojt-hound is a type just as much as the fine pointers are. I refer to such dogs as L. M. Worden’s pack, of Rochester, or any Van now in the pack of Mr. Van Dalsen, in the Orange Mountains. While I offered to match these dogs that had an old Virginia pedigree, in the field against any Eng lish fox-hounds, on any points, it was impossi ble to arouse au interest, as the American hounds were un-English. Cannot some of our dog men do something for llie American fox hound ? Successful Ballads by Men Not Known to Kame or Fortune. (Fi-om the Nashville American.) It would seem that by some strange fatality the writers of popular songs never do partici pate in the occasionally enormous pro .ts de rived by publishers from their works. A news- ■ paper paragraph wont the rounds during ■ Titiens’s last tour in America, describing how i Couch, the composer of “ Kathleen Mavour neen,” came to the great artist and thanked her ] lor tho feeling and the skill with which she had , sung his song at a concert in Baltimore, where he was then residing. He mentioned at the . time that he had sold his composition long ] years before for £5. H. P. Dauks, a very prolific song writer, dis posed ol his “ Silver Threads Among the Gold” ] for $25. For a year he had failed to induce ; various publishers to take hold of it and make , some business arrangement with him. At last he found a printer who agreed to share the ex- , pense of setting it up for one-half ot the result- , ing profits, if there were any. The expense of j printing the song is considerable. The plates cost about sls, and copies ot it may bo turned , out for something like two cents apiece. The supposed advantage of having a song , published by a well-known publisher is not so much that he bears tho expense of publishing ] as that he has facillities for circulating through , the trade, and thus paving away fonts intro- j duotion to the public. It is a supposed advan- , tage, for songs are introduced to the public by , a man. or woman on the stage singing them, and f not by a music clerk behind a counter inducing , .seminary girls or young collegians with must- j cal tastes to purchase a copy here or there. However, Mr. Danka and his printer goi the , song up in shape lor public sale, and did what f they could to present it to public attention. , They made a little success the first year, but , the impetuous anfl creative spirit of Mr. Danks , was not satisfied. It was going too slowly for him, and be finally sold out to his partner for ; the amount mentioned above. “ Silver Threads ; Among the Gold ” steadily grew into popular- , ity; it made its way to England, and in point of | sales easily ranks with any song ever publish- , ed. The share which Mr. Danks sold for $25 , would have yielded him perhaps $5,000 iu the | two or three subsequent years. "J. P. Skelly, the composer of 'My Pretty Bed Rose,’ and many other successful songs, whose sales have reached four and sometimes five figures, has never profited by those suc cesses. He invariably sells his compositions to publishers outright, and is so prolific that he makes a living from this work. He sells songs all the way from $5 to $25 apiece, and writes as many as half a dozen a week. From some of his compositions the publishers never get any ( return ; from others the returns are very large. Mr. Henry P. Work, who died m 1885, and who was without any doubt the most successful among the writers of modern popular songs, is the exception which proves the rula illustrated above. “ Mr. Work never sold a song to a music pub lisher for a fixed sum,” recently said Williis Woodard, who knew Mr. Work int mately. n His was a printer by trade, and when he start ed in to write songs, as a pastime for leisure hours, he determined that he would never pub lish his works savo on royalty. The result was that he died worth over SIOO,OOO, and his songs are still profitable to bls heirs. ‘Babylon is Fallen’ and ‘Marching Through Georgia’ were among his earlier successes ; ‘ Grandfather's Clock’among his latest. ‘Marching Through Georgia’ is considered a standard song, and sells to the extent ot 8,000 or 9,000 yearly. “ I shall never forget the first time I heard ‘ Grandfather's Clock.’ I was then employed in a western music store. He came in and sang it to me. He was a very bad Binger, and the subject and its treatment were both eo quaint, the movement of the melody so unusual, that 1 did not know what to think ot it, or what to say about its probable success. My opinion of it was that the imitation of the clock movement was novel and attractive, but I did not venture to say anything further. The song was pub lished, but it was a long time before it won its way to the popular ear, to say nothing of the popular heart. It was shown to minstrel singers, who threw it impatiently aside. Wam bold declared that he would not sing such trash. In spite of everything, however, it made its way and became popular. Then Wambold did sing it, and especially advertised the fact. Among Work’s other songs are: ‘ Father, oh Father, Come Homo with Ma Now,’ ‘ The Loss of the Lady Elgin,’ ‘ The Fire Bells,’ and ‘ Drop the Pink Curtains.’ Work tried a number of times to write successfully humorous songs, but failed every time.” The Romance Maine Girl. ALL’S WELL THAT ENDS WELL. (From, the Lewiston Journal.) When a young girl, she fell in love with a poor follow,<who returned her affection, but didn’t have money enough to pay the parson for mar rying them. It was decided fcsfi he should start for China to seek his fortune. She made a vow that she would not marry for three years, and if, at the expiration of that time, he had not returned, she would be at perfect liberty to act at her own pleasure about matrimony. Six months passed, and the girl heard not a word from her lover. A year went by, and no letter. The girl grew almost distracted, for she came to the conclusion that he had either gone back on her or was dead. A second year went by and nothing was heard from him. At this time another gentleman began paying his attentions to the lady, and finally asked for her hand in marriage. The girl thought ot her vow and said, “No; not until three years are past” The second man urged her with all his power to marry him. He offered bar wealth and luxu ry, but "she was true to her vow, and said that she would not marry till the expiration of tho three years. Long before this she bad supposed her lover dead. The end of the third year was drawing |o a close, and she had promised the ardent suitor for a year and a halt that when the time was up she would marry him on the following day if her former lover did not return. The day came and the man didn’t return from China. On that very day the wedding bells were rung, and • they were united in marriage. Hardly had the ; marriage ceremony been performed when a i ship cams into the bay from China, and on ■ board was her lover, who had left her three i years ago to gain a fortune tor them both—re- ■ turned. Imagine, if you can, her grief when 1 she saw him. He cams back, abundantly rich, 9 to claim her as his bride, and she had three - days before married another. The blow nearly 9 crushed them both. But six years wore away, r and in the meantime the man married and went [ out West to live. In a few years his wife died, i He had not heard one word from bis old love • in many years, and one day, merely from curi osity, he addressed a letter to her brother, in- » quiring if she was alive, and if so, where she > resided. He received a letter shortly after that » she had been a widow for several years, and > living near Portland. The gentleman left for Portland on the next train, and in less than a ’ week’s time they were married, and to-day they are living happily together in tho suburbs ' of Portland. SAVED IJY A DREAM. BY C. S. M. While so-called superstition is ridiculed by all intelligent people at the present day, it is hev i erthelees a fact that nine people out of ten have i more or less superstition in their natures, and give rein to it. Dreams are supposed by the masses to have just as much significance as a hundred years ago, and Friday is considered the unlucky day ot the week, the same as when sailors refused to leave port on that day. There is, however, say what you will, something in dreams, visions, warnings and the like, which now and then startles candid and intelligent ! minds. A few years ago a man named Bronson, who was an agent for a big seed-house, was travel ing through Tenhessee making collections for his house. He had to visit many towns off the railroads, and in such cases he secured a horse and buggy or rode on horseback. One night, after he had finished his business in Chattanooga, he made ready for a horseback trip of fifteen or twenty miles the next day. Upon retiring to his room for the night, he sat down to smoke a cigar. He was neither over tired nor sleepy, but after smoking a few min utes he had what he termed a vision. He was riding over the country on horseback when at a junction of the roads he was joined by a stranger. He saw this man as plainly as one can see an other in broad daylight, noting th© color of hair and eyes, and t iking particular notice of the fact that the horse, which was gray in color, had a “y” branded on its left shoulder. The two rode along together for a mile or more, and then came to a spot where a tree had blown down and fallen across the narrow high way. They turned into the woods to pass tho spot, he in advance, when he saw the stranger pull a pistol and fire at his back. He felt the bullet tear into him, reeled, and fell from bis horse, and was conscious when the assassin robbed him and drew his body further into the woods. He seemed to see all this, and yet at the same time knew that he was dead. His corpse was rolled into a hollow and covered with brush, and then the murderer went away and left him alone. In making an effort to throw off the brush the dead man came to life; that is, the agent threw off the spell and awoke himself. His cigar had gone out, and as near as he could calculate, he had been unconscious, as you might call it, for about fifteen minutes. He was deeply agitated, and it was some time before he could convince himself that he had not suffered any injury. By-and-by he went to bed and slept soundly, and next morning the remembrance of what happened in his vision had almost faded from his mind. Luckily for Brouson, he made some inquiries at the livery stable as he went for his horse, and he was told that it was a lonely road, and that it would be prudent to go armed. But for this he would have left his revolver in his trunk at the hotel. He set out on his journey in good spirits, and found the road so ro mantic, and met horsemen going to town so often, that he reached the junction of the roads without having given a serious thought to his vision. Then every circumstance was sud denly recalled in the most vivid manner. He was joined there by a stranger on a gray horse, and man and beast tallied exactly with those in the vision. The man did not, however, have the look or bearing of an evil-minded person. On the con trary, he seemed to be in a jolly mood, and he saluted Bronson as frankly as an honest stranger would have done. He had no weapons ; in sight, and be soon explained that he was go ing to the village to which Bronson was bound ; on business connected with the law. The agent could not help but feel astonished and startled at the curious coincidence, but the stranger was so talkative and friendly that there was no possible excuse to suspect him. ; Indeed, as if to prove to his companion that he ( meditated no evil, he kept a little in advance i for the next half hour. Bronson’s distrust had • entirely vanished when a turn in the road brought an obstruction to view. There Wks a fallen tree across the highway I This proof that j every point and circumstance in the vision was j being unrolled before his eyes gave the agent a j great shock. He was behind the stranger, and ( he pulled his revolver and dropped hisj hand | beside the horse to conceal it. i “ Well, well 1” said the man as he pulled up ; his horse. “ The tree must have toppled over < this morning. We’ll have to pass around it to 1 the right.” 1 Bronson was on the right. The woods were j clear of underbrush, and naturally enough he i should have been the first to leave the road, t But he waited. ] “Go ahead, friend,” said the stranger, and, i as if the words had been addressed to the j horse, the animal which the agent bestrode < started up. Brouson was scarcely out of the road before j he turned in his saddle. The stranger had a ] pistol in his right hand. What followed could < not be clearly related. Bronson slid from the i saddle as a bullet whizzed past him, and a d second later returned the fire. Three or four | shots were rapidly exchanged, and then the l would-be murderer, uttering a yell to show that i he had been hit, wheeled his horse to gallop off. 1 He had not gone ten rods when the beast fell < under him, and he kicked his feet from the t stirrups and sprang into the woods, and was i out of sight in a moment. Th© horse hftd re- < ceived a bullet in th© throat, and was dead in a i few minutes. As a matter of cottrse, Bronson put th© case in th© hands of the proper officials, but th© , hors© could neither be identified nor the man 1 overhauled. It was agreed that he was an en- i tire stranger in that locality, and that, while he i did not know Bronson nor the business he was < engaged in, he was ready to commit a cold- ] blooded murder and take his chances of find- i ing a fat wallet to repay him. i A MONTANA STORM. How a Man Lay Five Days Helpless in • the Snow on a Mountain. (From the Rochester Union and Advertiser.) There is stopping at ths National Hotel in this oity a man with as bright an intellect and as true a heart as ever the Emerald Isle pooduced, about whom thero is nothing false, save what : appears to be his feet, and it is the story of how he lost bis pedal extremities which has excited the astonishmentjof all who have heard it. The re markable circumstances which Timothy Carroll relates in telling why he wears artificial legs seems almost incredible, but truth is often < stranger than fiction, and this case appears to . illustrate that proverb. A reporter called to see Mr. Carroll, and found him comfortably resting on the veranda. In describing how he lost the lower portions of both legs, Mr. Carroll said : “It was on the : morning of December Sth that I parted with Major McDowell at Idaho City, and started westwardly for Banner. He was superintend- : ent of the Elmira Silver Mining Company, and ■ was going to Elmira, New York, to pass the ' Winter, while I had charge of tho company’s property at what is called the Banner District, and intended to remain in Banner all Winter. For about five miles I traveled on horseback in company with several friends. The others then returned with the horses and I proceeded on snow-shoes, the snow being about eleven feet deep on the level. I had still a long distance to go, but made rapid time on the snow-shoes, which were over ten feet in length, covering about fifteen miles in this manner, when toward evening I was taken with cramps and was un able to walk a step. “I was then on Moose Creek Monntain—the spot where I was taken with the cramps being about twenty miles west ot Idaho City and sev eral miles east of Banner. My feet had frozen without my noticing that they were particularly cold until they suddenly refused to obey my will and I became helpless, unable to stand on my feet. I lay down on the snow, and to keep warm rolled to and iro. The snow sank and I was buried in a cavity with walls of snow sev eral feet high, but with room in which to roll around. My only hope was to keep alive until some one would pass along the path. For five days and nights I lay there hoping for help, and during that time, it is needless to say, my Buf ferings were terrible. My provisions were about exhausted when I lay down, and on the third day I became exceedingly hungry, but that was the only day when 1 desired food. Most ot the time 1 was thirsty, and occasionally I allowed a little snow to melt in my mouth, but this seemed only to increase my thirst, and I knew it would not take much snow to kill me. “ It eeemes to me that I did not sleep once during those fearful days and nights, but kept moving my body as much as possible to prevent freezing to death. I also kept beating myself with my hands so violently that my body be came black and blue over almost the entire surface. I think that if I had gone to sleep there would have been no awakening. I had companions part of the time, however, but they were anything but pleasant company. Three mountain lions, about as large as full-grown Newfoundland dogs, discovered me on the fourth day and started a watch over me, evi dently waiting for my death. They kept on the upper cruet of snow and did not jump down in the cave in which I was. They were airaid of me and I was able to keep them at a distance by shouting and gestures. “ I was almost dead when I discovered them. The warm breath from one of the brutes lean ing down toward me awakened me from a stu por in which I was falling. I really believe that they saved my lite, however, for the hor ror excited in me at the prospect of having my body devoured by the brutes kept me from again falling into the stupor which means death. “ During these days I kept my watch going and kept memoranda of what was occurring’in a small book, in order that if 1 died my identi ty and fate might be known. There seemed little hope for me, yet I determined to make a vigorous fight tor life and to let those who found my remains know that I had not given up without a struggle. s It was on tho fifth day that a mail carrier t traveling between Idaho City and Banner , once a week came along the path, and my sen t : safiona at the prospect of relief I can’t describe . |to you. It seemed an infinite comfort to hear a ) human voice other than my own, and be as sured of assistance. The mail-carrier did what he could for mo and hastened to procure help, s the lions then leaving me to follow him. Th© ; next day he returned with about a dozen men, [ who carried me to Idaho City, where both my legs were amputated about nine inches below tho knee. “ With kind treatment I recovered, and in a few months was able to again be around, hav ing procured artificial limbs. Before the ampu tation I was five feet ten and a half inches high, and in consequence of the artificial limbs being too short I am now only five feet ten inches in bight.” SlßA nger~than "fiction. A Vagrant Returns to His Family, to Find the Door Closed on Him. (From the Indianapolis News,) There are strange things outside of fiction; in other words, there are incidents in the world of real which outshine fiction. Some years ago the husband and father of a family in this city sud denly disappeared, leaving those entitled to his care in a destitute condition. His disappear ance was solely due to pure cussedness, he having become dissipated and improvident, and, being too worthless to work and earn an honorable living, he took to tramping, and at rare intervals, and for several years, was in directy heard from in various parts of the country. The family lost sight of him entirely, and the children only remembered him as an unpleasant dream. In her girlhood days the wife and mother had followed a vocation, which made her independent of want, and when as sured of the desertion by her husband, and realizing that the care of the little ones now de pended upon her exertions, she assumed the burden, and not only kept her flock together, but she educated them, and trained them in honorable ways, and as they grew toward n?*" urit y, she taught them, severally and indi vidually, the vocation which had been their preservation, so that to-day they have a com fortable home, luxurious in its appointments as compared with their shelter when the husband and father cowardly deserted them. Last week the tramp returned to his old quar ters, only to find the family elsewhere, and he congratulated himself that he had fallen upon good times once more, and so presented himself and claimed the rights which were once his. He met with a chilling reception. He brought back with him his old dissipated habits, and he was ragged, unshaveh and unwashed, as well as nearly barefoot. “ You seem to have done pretty well,” was his salutation to the elder son. “ Yes; thanks to mother,” was the reiointler. Just then bis daughter came bounding into the room, the picture of health and happiness, and the son introduced her, and as they talked she sat down to the piano and sang a song to show her accomplishments. Then came the wife, who greeted him very coolly, and upon hearing his plaint that he was hungry, she directed him to be fed, and retired to her room. Still later, he stated he was tired and asked where he should sleep, and was surprised when the son replied '•Not here,” and then the boy added, "mother cannot endure the sight of yon, and her word is law with us. You deserted her without cause and left her to struggle alone. This is her home and ours, and here you cannot stay.” The son then gave him sufficient th defray his hotel bill and he was shown the door. The next day the children made him the suggestive present of a pair of shoes, and he took the hint which they forcibly conveyed, and when last seen he was headed due east. It is their prayer that he may never again return to darken their door, and he, himself, despite hie drunken, besotted con dition and worthless existence, realizes that there is a gulf in that family he cannot bridge. A Word to Husbands.—Much of the household peace depends upon the husband and father. Children are close observers and apt imitators of their elders. Should the father be addicted to the habit of fault-finding, especi ally in regard to the food set before him at meal time, and the weary, discouraged wife—in the vain attempt to defend her reputation as cook— arouses his ire by making excuses, then the children of tho family will be listening to an angry tirade ; or, what is worse, a quarrel (if the mother has not complete control of her tem per) ; and of course they will be apt to follow the example set belore them, and discord will reign in the household. That is not an attract ive picture of home life, yet in some families such a scene is enacted almost every day. Men often mar the happiness of wives and children by fault-finding, and surely they gain nothing to their own peace of mind by indulging in it. It is just as much the husband’s duty to sit down to the table with a cheerful, sunshiny face, and make the best of the food set before them, as it is the wife’s duty to keep the house in order, and prepare the meals regularly. But the ordinary husband does not seem to under stand how bis wife appreciates a word of praise. If she prepares some dainty dish to tempt bis appetite, he is too careless to note how eagerly she waits to know if he likes it. Appreciation is one of the best incentives the world affords. Alter the labors incident to the preparation of a meal, how it seems to rest a woman to hear her husband say : “ How nice and light your bis cuits are,” or “ Wife, this meat is cooked to suit my taste,” and other words of commendation. A few words of approval repays her for her trouble. Just try this for once, careless hus band, and see if your wife’s face does not light up, and all traces of weariness disappear on tho instant. Oh, think ot the many things you can do to brighten her life. A little apprecia tion by one she loves goes a good wav toward making a woman happy. Many a weary mother drags out her life unappreciated, scarce finding a word of sympathy from her husband. Marriage Among the Hindoos.— Among the Hindoos marriage is managed en tirely by the parents. Courtship is literally unknown in India, and the persons who are united in wedlock remain perfect strangers to each other till their nuptial day, and olteu for a long period afterward. Everything is settled to suit tho fancies or caprices of the parents. To the parties chiefly concerned marriage is a pure lottery ; but fortunately Hindoo connubial life is not generally a miserable lot, as tho wife is unsurpassed in faithfulness and devotion to her husband. The bridegroom is in his teens and the bride has hardly seen ten summers when they are united ior life. The boy inmate ot a Hindoo house finds himselt betrothed by his father’s or grandfather’s command to some girl —perhaps an infant of six or seven years old— whom he has not seen ; nor does he see her till at the age of fifteen or thereabout. While he is yet at school he is sent to fetch her home to his mother's or grandmother’s zenana. There the child-wife takes the lowest place, and be comes at once the toy and slave of all the women. She has to learn her domestic duties under the strict eye of her mother-in-law, and drudges on—unless indeed (as is generally the case) there is a widow in the family to have all the work heaped upon her; for a Hindoo widow is the cursed of gods and men. How ever, even if this be the case, the child-wife must learn to do her work, and absolutely obey her mother-in-law. Kansas Laws in Regard to Murder ess.—Says the Cincinnati Enquirer: The most curious law in the United States dealing with punishment of murderers exists in Kansas. The Legislature in 1872 passed a bill which provided that any person convicted of murder in the first degree should be sent to the Peni tentiary, there to remain until the Governor of the State signed a warrant for and fixed the date of his execution. This was a fearful responsi bility to nlaee upon the Executive, who would hesitate before being directly responsible for the death of any man, no matter how heinous his crime. The responsibility was shifted from the jury or court, to which it properly belonged. That law is still in force, and the result has been that the Kansas Penitentiary is crowded with murderers, as no Governor would order their execution. Forty-one convicted murder ers, four of whom are women, could be hanged any day by order of the Governor. Some of their crimes are unparalleled in the annals ot cold-blooded assassination. One of these days, unless that strange law is repealed, there will be a grand hanging tournament in Kansas. The State will elect a Governor pledged to rid the community ot a band of cut-throats. It may be stated that the law was a neat bit of strategy on the part of the opponents of capital punish ment. It seems thus far to have fulfilled the expectations of those who desire to see hanging played out. A Luxuriant Growth Of Hair May be obtained by the continued use of Ayer’s Hair Vigor. ** A few years ago ray hair began to turn gray, and, a short time after, fell out so freely that I became nearly bald. Ayer’s Hair Vigor stimulated a new growth of hair, and of the original color. I have applied the Vigor, occasionally, since that time, and my hair is now strong and abundant. — Ira D. Kennah, Utica, N. Y. I had been troubled, for years, with I have used Ayer’s Hair Vigor for th® scalp disease, and my hair was weak past two years, and found it all it is and thin. The use of five bottles of represented to be. It restores a natural Ayer’s Hair Vigor cured my scalp, and color to gray hair, promotes a vigorous gave me a luxuriant head of soft, black growth, and keeps the hair soft and hair. — Mrs. E. H. Foster, Lynn, Mass, pliant.—Mrs. M. V. Day, Cohoes, N. Y. Ayer’s Hair Vigor, Prepared by Dr. J. C. Ayer & Co., Lowell, Mass. Sold by all Druggists and Porfumers. Scrofulous Humors originate in the blood, which, when vitiated, carries disease to every tissue and fibre of the body. Ayer’s Sarsaparilla eradicates all traces of the scrofulous taint from the system. I have used Ayer’s Sarsaparilla, in my family, and know that it is a reliable specific for Scrofula. I have also pre scribed it as a tonic, and honestly be lieve it to be the best blood medicine compounded. —W. F. Flower, M. D., Greenville, Tenn. Ayer’s Sarsaparilla, Prepared by Dr. j.C.Ayer&C«.,LcweU,Mas». Sold by all Druggiaw. Price JI; six ’ Hydrophobia Cub d ,by Sweating.—• An Odessa correspondent writes: A ease of hydrophobia suceesslnlly cured by means of< sweating baths, is reported from Kisehinieff. and appears, according to rhe Ruski Counter, to be well auihenti -ated. A boy was bitten by 'kA .° g 011 A P ril . Bth - Od April 25th, tho noy first mamlested signs of the disease, being unable to swallow h uids, the sight of which in n'Y B A pa^°'i ysm j He waa »t once removed to the hospital and placed by the doctors in a sweating bath the temperature of the water be ing gradually but rapidly raised to 42 degrees Leaumur. At this stage the boy became uncon scious for an hour. He was taken Irom ths bath, quickly swathed in cloths and placed in room having a constant temperature of 20 de grees Reaumur. The same process was repeal ed in the evening and twice a day for the follow ing three days, when the patient’s appetite wa» fully restored. The boy has now been die** missed from the hospital in his usual health, and is declared by the faculty to be entirely and thoroughly cured. Whether the virus has by this means really been effectually eradicated, or its malignant activity only temporarily re-- pressed, remains to be seen. A Foolish Tragedy.—A shocking affair took place recently at Bordeaux. M.- Goudal, an employe in the Woods and Forest tf- Department, whs divorced some time ago from’= his wife. Ho had two mistresses, one of whom lately threw him over, whde as to the other her received anonymous letters telling him that sh® had several other lovers. The man became sombre and taciturn, a prey to violent And on one Sunday evening he took the mis tress who still ostensibly remained faithful to him to dine at a restaurant in the suburbs, anti during the rep Ht so plied her with wine that she became intoxicated. The pair then re turned to Goudal’s rooms in the Rue Terr® Neuve, and a short time after their arrival th® neighbors heard the noise of a vehement dis pute, followed by the report ot firearms. Rush ing into the apartment they found Goudal dead on the ground, and the woman badly hurt. Goudal bad fired two shots at his mistress,, wounding her in the neck and jaw, and had. then blown out his own brains. There was a letter on a table in which Goudal announced his intention of committing suicide, but gave nd reason for his determination. Was Jumbo an Elephant I —Big and/ tall as Jumbo was, he had not attained to his full size, and waa expected to grow for two or three years to come. He had grown consider ably since his arrival in America. His food consisted of grain, 1 ran, hay, vegetables, such, as carrots or beet-roots, 4o», and of these arti cles he consumed between five and six hun dred pounds per day. He drank about three barrels of water a day. In addition to his great size, there were several peculiar physical fea tures about Jumbo which excited much curios ity among naturalists, and led some eminent scientists to express the opinion that he was - not an elephant at all, but that he was allied to the old and now extinct mastodon species. In his back there was a deep hollow, where, in other elephants backs, there was a large con vex curve, and his head was curved in a mark ed manner where other elephants are hollow. His knees were not in the same place as ar® ■ those of other elephants. They were much nearer his thigh, making the upper part of hi. leg unusually short and the under part unusu ally long. The Dog. —A dog is, like his master, subject to great variations. He is cunning, mean, magnanimous, thrifty or wasteful. Ha is sometimes oven provident, as when he hides the superfluity ot one meal in order to enjoy his store, should fortune not favor him so abundantly on some future occasion. This de-,' monstrates that his intelligence is not “blind instinct,” as at one time it used to be the fashion to style it, ior this foresight is only possible after a process of ratiocination. A dog is, moreover, grateful for kindness and tenaciously) mindful ot wrongs. It seems, as becomes th® descendent of a wild animal dependent for it® daily food on the keenness ot its senses, to ba more acute in smell and hearing than man ; and its native taste, uncorrupted with, .long contact with conventionality, is proved by the dislike which the higher type of dogs display toward the piano. Again, while one dog will eave up for an evil day, another will gorge itsell with out a thought for the morrow, A Litterateur and His Watch. —M. Francisque Sarcey, the eminent French IMera* tew, has addressed the following elegant letter to a contemporary: “My dear Sir,—Yesterday evening as I was leaving the Vaudeville, an honest gentleman, who wished to know what time it was. made a mistake and took my watch, supposing it his own. The watch, by an extra ordinary accident, remained in his hands, a® that, when I returned home, I found only th. chain attached to my waistcoat, bereaved of it. watch. I valued this watch, because it was a present from About in the name of the XIXo Siecle, at the time when we attacked the clerical, in company. The person who, through absence of mind, put it into his pocket, will not be abla to get rid ot it very easily, because my name is engraved on the ease. Perhaps it would be to his advantage to bring it back to me at 52 Bn® de Dona 1 . There would be nothing to fear.—. Yours, FuANcisquß Sabcev.” The Hindoo Craftsmen’s Feet.—The supple, delicate fingers of the craftsmen are a. remarkable as those of the Japanese, although their hands are ranch larger, but one thing must very forcibly strike these clever work men, and who observes the primitiveness of their appliances the sad fact that the march of civilization has deprived us Western nations ot the use of bur toes. To be able to use four hands instead of two in art work must obvious ly be an enormous advantage, and the long, prehensile toe o the Hindoo craftsman is even more remarkable than that ot his Japanese brother. To see the ivory worker turning hia lathe with his upper hands, while he guides it and holds the ivory in his lower ones, is quite an education in possibilities ot development of what to us are redly almost rudimentary or gans—daily, in fact, becoming more so under the operation of the fashionable bootmaker. Indian Jugglers.—The jugglers of India are unsurpassed in natural magic. A juggler took an earthenware pot, filled it with earth moistened with a little water, and placed among the earth a mango seed which had been examined beforehand. This done, he threw a sheet over the pot and almost immediately re moved it again, whejit appeared that the seed had, in the space of say half a minute, become a young mango tree. Again the sheet was thrown over tho pot, and, on being a second time re moved, the mango tree had doubled in size. The same process was repeated a third time, and now the tree was covered with small, un ripe mangoes. This time the juggler plucked the tree up out of the earth, displaying th® roots and tho remains ot the original mango stone from which the tree was supposed to hav. sprung. The Singular Man.—Says the Boston Record: Speak ng of school stories, I went to school myself once, and one day, when visitor, were present.-tho teacher thought he would show off the spelling and defining class. Thing, went on well until the word '* singular ” was given out. There seemed to be a diversity of Opinion as to the meaning of the word, one say ing it meant one thing and another another, until the teacher, by wav of throwing light upon the matter, asked: “ Now, if T should say a man was a singular man, what should I mean?"" whereupon a bright boy shouted: " A man that didn’t have any wife I” Collecting Debts in China.—A Chi nese statute enacts that debts, which are noir, settled on New Year’s Eve, cannot subsequently be recovered: but, according to recognized usage, a creditor who has vainly pursued a debtor all thron .h the night may still follow him after daybreak, provided he continues to carry his lighted lantern as if he believed it was still night. This, however, is the creditor’® last chance—at least in Canton. Cheap Organs.—The latest swindling scheme being practiced throughout the coun try is by New York sharpers, who are so anx ious to plant organs in every farmer’s home that they give them “ free,” and as an evidenc® of good faith, require only M to pay the freight. Two weeks alter, a twenty-five-oent mouth organ arrives—by mail. Ocean Dep hs. —The greatest depths in the Pacific are to the south and east of Japan, where there are abysses of over five miles. In the Atlantic the • reatest depths is to the north of the Virgin Islands, where there is a depres sion of a little over fortr miles. Affections Of the Eyes, Lungs, Stomach, Liver, and Kidneys, indicate the presence of Scrofula in the system, and suggest alterative treatment. For this purpose, Ayer’s Sarsaparilla is unequaled. I was always troubled with a Scrofu lous Humor. Lately my lungs have been affected, causing much pain and difficulty in breathing. Three bottles of Ayer’s Sarsaparilla have relieved my lungs, ami improved my health generally?— Lucia Cass, Chelsea, Mass.