New York dispatch. [volume], June 06, 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
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.