New York dispatch. [volume], July 18, 1886, Page 6, Image 6

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

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6
THE WATER FAY.
BY HEINRICH HEINE.
The evening darkness slowly
The sea with mists blurs o’er;
With mystic murmurs rushing
The wave steps white ou shore.
Steps from the wave the mermaid—
Beside me sinks to rest,
And from its vesture stealing
Escapes her loam-white breast.
She bound me to her bosom
And strained with passionate might;
" How fast thine arms are pressing,
Thou lovely water sprite I”
••Fast in my arms I press thee.
Fast to my bosom hold;
I strive from thee to warm me
The evening is so cold.”
" The moon grows ever paler
On yonder cloudy bight;
Thine eyes are wet and troubled.
Thou lovely water sprite.”
"They are not wet with weeping,
Tho’ fast and free they rain;
Bnt in mine eyes from ocean
These showers of drops retain.”
The mournful sea-mew calleth
And angrier grows the bay;
"Thy heart is striking wildly.
Thou lovely Water Fay.”
"My heart is striking wildly
And wild my bosom’s storm,
Unspeak’ngly I love thee,
Thou darling human form I”
PLEADING FOR i FURLOUGH.
A Reminiscence of Lincoln and
Stanton.
BY CHARLES K. BISHOP.
It was Fred Walton, an energetic young man
of nineteen, who thus addressed his mother:
“ it lather does not obtain a furlough this
week, I’ll go to Washingt -n myself and seek an
inter, iew with President Lincoln, who is too
kind-hearted a man to refuse to grant a reason
able request if presented t > him in the right
wav. It is necessary that father should be here
to attend to his property, for which he has been
offered a considerable advance upon the price
paid tor it a lew years ago.”
“ I kn ;w that, my son,” said Mrs. Walt n, in
reply, “ but what chance have you to pre ail
up n the authorities in Washington to allow
your father to come home, when even the mem
ber ot Congress from this district has failed to
make an impress! n upon the Secretary of War,
without whose consent the President has dis
tinctly said the furlough will not be issued ?”
•• I ve thought of all that, mother, but, as I
have said, Mr. Line In has a kind heart, and if
I can obtain an audience with him, 1 think I
shall be able to so put my request as to achieve
for it a ready compliance.”
“ You have my c nsent to go, Fred, if you
feel so confident that you’ll succeed. I know
that y. u have perseverance and persistency,
and will make both felt in y. ur mission to the
National Capital.”
A week rolled by, and as all efforts in the in
terim had failed to accomplish the end in view,
Fred Walton left New York city on his errand of
duty.
But he had something more than a business
interest to urge upon the attention of the Presi
dent. His mother bad been in a decline for
some time past, and the doctors gave no hope
of prolonging her life bey; nd a tew months. His
lather had enlisted for the war, and it promised
to be a protracted one. Hence the necessity of
pleading anew for a furlough.
On Fred's arrival in Washington he repaired
at once to the residence of the gentleman who
represented, in part, the 1 mpire City. He
found him in, and asked to be introduced to
the President as early as convenient. The next
day was named for the interview, but the mem
ber of Congress gave Fred no encouragement
as to a satisfactory result. At the time of which
we write the government had made up its mind
to prosecute the war of the rebellion with great
er vigor than it had before done. The Secre
tary of War had announced that few furloughs
would be granted in the future, and those only
in cases of extreme necessity. Beside which an
important f rward movement was in contem
plation and every officer and man in each corps
Was expected to be in his place.
It was under these disadvantages that the
y; uth, Fred Walton, made his first visit to the
White House in behalf ol his father. Mr. Lin
coln received him very kindly, b.t reiterated in
str ng terms the reas ns why his father could
not be furloughed. He said he felt very sorry
for all concerned, but under the circumstances
he could not be more indulgent to one than
to another. In vain Fred urged the delicate
health of his mother. The President c uld not
be moved. He had put his foot d >wn, and evi
dently meant to keep it there. Naturally a man
of the most tender feelings, he had been so im
fiosed upon during the progress of the war, that
t seemed he had determined to show very lit
tle of the favor and affection hereto! re as
cribed to him.
Was our young friend dismayed? Yes, for
awhile; but having slept upon the President’s
refusal, he thought he would urge his suit be
fore the Secretary of War. He was not un
aware of Mr. Stanton’s peculiarities. He had
seen him held up to the public gaze as almost a
monster, but lie knew he was a human being
notwithstanding, and so with set lips and a con
fident manner he called upon the grim Secre
tary. He called alone, so that if repulsed, no
one but himself would know how be had been
received. To his surprise be found Mr. Stanton
comparatively unengaged and disposed to listen
with interest to what lie bad to say. But Fred
saw that no ordinary reasons would suffice to
procure the long-sought-for furlough, and so
he dwelt upon the slender thread upon which
his mother’s existence hung, and in bringing
his remarks to a close, alluded to the faithful
ness with which his father, who held the com
mission of second lieutenant, had discharged
his duties.
“ I know your father quite well,” said the
Secretary, “ and a better disciplinarian is not
to be found in bis company, ana for that reason
I was amazed to learn that he had begged for a
furlough for business purposes. No one knows
better than he how the issuing of furloughs
has been abused, and at this juncture to ask to
go home I regarded as an unsoldiorly solicita
tion; but your mother’s frail condition, not be
fore told to me, has put your application in a
new light, and it you can persuade the Presi
dent to make your father’s case an exception to
the rule he has laid down, I will give the order
for a brief furlough.”
Mr. Stanton here signified that the interview
was at an end and Fred Walton retired from his
presence, after thanking him for his courtesy
and conditional promise.
But how was he to approach Mr. Lincoln
again ! He was apprehensive of offending him
with another appeal, and. beside, it was not al
ways easy to gain access to the executive cham
ber. Should he wait another day ? Alas !
there was no help for it, tor on going to the
White House he was informed that the Presi
dent was indisposed and perhaps would not be
able to see visitors for a day or two.
Poor Fred ! was his mission, after all, to be a
fruitless one ? We shall see.
The day following the announcement of the
President’s sickness, Fred sauntered into
Willard’s Hotel, and almost the first words he
heard were in the form of a salutation addressed
to Col. B , who commanded the regiment in
which Fred’s father was an officer.
The gentleman who had accosted Col. B
was the same member of Congress who had
interested himself in Fred’s task, but who had
ceased to make any energetic efforts in his
favor, believing it to be “ love’s labor lost.”
Fred was not personally acquainted with Col.
B , but as soon as courtesy would admit, he
made his presence known to the two friends
who were in conversation, and an introduction
to the colonel soon followed.
Fred did not hesitate to urge Col. B to aid
him in behalf of his father, and soon got from
him a pledge to see Mr. Lincoln on the subject.
He said he had simply acquiesced in Lt. Wal
ton’s application for a furlough, as he had no
objections to his receiving one, it the Secretary
Of War did not object, but now that he had been
apprised of the pressing necessity for it, he
would use his best influence with those in
authority to have it granted.
The night after this meeting with Col. B
brought but little sleep to poor Fred. Just be
fore retiring he had received a dispatch from
New York, stating that his mother had had a
severe hemorrhage of the lungs, and advising
him to return home as soon as possible. He
was comparatively a youth, but he had the feel
ings of a man, and it was some time ere he
could compose hie thoughts for serious reflec
tion. He loved his mother more than his own
life, and his first impulse was to take the
earliest train for New York, but if he did so his
father would not be given his furlough, and his
mother would have to die without seeing the
husband to whom she had always been de
votedly attached. A man of mature years
would have been sorely puzzled as to the pro
per course to pursue, and the reader may easily
imagine why a young man like Fred Walton
should be in doubt.
At last he recalled to mind the promised
visit of Col. B to the White House, and he
made a resolution to try and be there at the
same time with that officer. He might injure
his cause by too much importunity, but he
would take the risk.
At an early hour the next day he walked upto
the Executive Mansion, and lingered at the door
until he saw Colonel B , true to his promise,
enter it. Inquiring of the usher the condition
of the President’s health, he was told that it
was better, and that he was receiving a few
visitors. He sent in his card with mingled
emotions of hope and despair. The President
might refuse to see him at all, and it he did, his
only expectation of success would rest upon Col.
B , who was then probably in conference
upon the subject. The five minutes Fred had
to wait for the return of the usher seemed a
great deal longer, but he did not complain, as
at the end of that time he was invited to take a
seat in the ante-room until Mr. Lincoln was dis
engaged. Once more the heart of our youthful
friend bounded with hope. He felt assured
that though the President bad refused recog
nition of his father’s claims upon Executive
clemency, he was not prejudiced against him,
and that he was willing to give him one more
hearing. And he was right. Col. B had
£ leaded so strongly for his father that Mr.
incoln had been visibly agitated, though he
•till adhered to tho resolution, as preyiouslv
stated, not to issue any more furloughs to sol
diers capable of duty in the field.
No persons save the President and Col. B
were in the audience-chamber when Fred was
ushered in, and he noticed that the first named,
though pale from illness, wore a more smiling
countenance than on his last visit. He had just
received news of some substantial Union vic
tories in the West, and that recruiting for th©
army was more rapid than for a long time pre
viously. It he now granted furloughs he could
do so without harm to the public weal. Fred,
of course, did not know the* cause of the Presi
dent’s smiles, but he was encouraged to make
his last appeal as touching and forcible as it was
in his power to make it, and as he referred to
his mother’s serious illness, and the probability
that it would be his father’s last chance to see
his wife alive, he could discern signs of relent
ing on the part of his distinguished hearer. As
soon as he closed his remarks, and before the
President could say a word, Col. B followed
up the good impression Fred had made, and
spoke with such effect that it seemed impossible
to combat his arguments.
But Mr. Lincoln was eminently a just man,
and he tried to be consistent in all his public
acts. He admired the youth before him, and he
knew Col. B to be a good officer; one not
easily swerved from a soldiers duty; still he
hesitated to grant the favor asked him; and it is
probable that Lieut. Walton would never have
seen his wife alive again had not Secretary
Stanton made his appearance at that particular
juncture. He had hastened from his office to
read io the President a dispatch he had just
received regarding some very successful move
ments of the army and navy on the Southern
coast, and being in a jubilant mood himself he
communicated his spirits to the President, who
suddenly said:
“ Stanton, these successes should be cele
brated, don’t you think so?”
Before the Secretary could reply, Col. B
exclaimed:
“ Mr. Secretary, I know you have now no
Objections to seeing Lieut. Walton furloughed.
Suppose you suggest to the President that he
celebrate in part, our recent victories by grant
ing the prayer now’ under consideration.”
“ With all my heart,” eaid Stanton. “ What
do you say, Mr, President ?”
Mr. Lincoln hesitated a moment; then a smile
stole over his wonted sad face, as he responded:
“Have your own way, gentlemen. I yield
for this once.”
Half an hour later the furlough was sent to
its destination, and Fred hastened to New York
where he found that his mother had rallied a
little, and that she might live a few weeks
longer. We have only to say that her long
absent husband arrived in time to soothe her
last moments, and that to the day of his death
he never forgot the efforts made by his idolized
son-now a prosperous man-to procure him
bis first and last furlough during the war.
THE
A PLEASANT LOVE STORY.
“ My dear old fellow,” said Bartley, “you can
no more afford such a wife than you can afford
a steam yacht or an ivory-mounted billiard ta
ble.”
“There’s no occasion to tell me that,” mourn
fully replied Dr. Dale. “I’m quite aware of it
already. If I were rich I’d marry Miss Clarke
to-morrow—always providing that she thought
me worthy of acceptance—but I am only a strug
gling young doctor. I’ll do my best to keep
away from her fascinations in the future.”
“A sensible decision,” observed Bartley.
“But she so is pretty 1” yearningly remarked
Dr. Dale.
“Stick to your colors, man !” cried Bartley.
“Clieey Clarke is nothing on earth but a society
belle. What you want is a helpful, willing,
working bee for a wile—one that can aid you
with heart and hand to climb life’s hill. You
saw Miss Clarke at the Winfield masquerade
last night m white satin and pearls ?”
“And very beautiful she looked,” cried the
voung physician, firing suddenly up at the recol
lection of Miss Clarke’s auburn hair, all twisted
with ropes of seed pearl, violet blue eyes,
sparkling with a girlish animation.
“Did she look like a poor man’s wife?”
“ No,” hesitatingly.
He recollected,..now, that he had said some
thing to Clissy about going to the Clarke cot
tage that day.
“It won’t do,” he said to himself’ “I had
better keep away.”
And so, instead of following the dearest incli
nation o: his heart, he betook himself with Spar
tan resolve to the public library,
“ I’ll read up that case on the investigation of
cholera microbes,” he thought. “If a man ex
pects to make any mark in his profession he
must keep posted up in these modern discover
ies of science.”
So he disappeared in one of the alcoves of the
library with the medical quarto and his memo
randum-book, and set to work in good earnest.
But he had not fairly entered into the microbe
question when the twitter of sweet girl voices
from the adjoining alcove struck upon his ear.
“Oh, Clissy Clarke 1” said one. “I called for
her and she wouldn’t came. It was baking-day,
and there was Clissy, up to her elbows in flour
and spices.”
“ Well, I never I” said the other, with a gig
gle.
“ Oh, she does all the housework I” said the
first speaker, scornfully, “ like any hired serv
ant. Even the fine washing—they only keep
one little bound girl—and Mr. Clarke doesn’t
wear a shirt unless Clissy has ironed it.”
“ How does she find time for her music and
oil painting ?” asked a second.
“Uh, she rises at dawn. She says the best
time of the working day is before breakfast.
She finishes the housework, sews for the fami
ly ”
“ Makes all her own dresses, don’t she ?”
“ Yes, and her mother’s too! That satin
dress she wore at the party last night was her
grandmother's bridal gown made over, and the
pearls were borrowed from Miss Layton. It
doesn’t cost her anything to dress. She’ll take
the horridest old affair, remodel it with a scrap
of ribbon or a panel of velvet until you’d think
it was made by a French dressmaker. I de
clare I wish I had her knack. Papa is always
grumbling about my bills. But that ain’t all.
Do you know she gives Bessie Layton music
lessons apd earns quite a nice little income for
herself? And she writes book reviews and
things for the newspapers, and keeps Mr. Clarke
in books that way.
“Dear me!” said the other, with a yawn,
“ who at the party last night would think of
it?”.
“ Humph !” remarked the other, “ she’ll live
and die an old maid, see if she don't. Such
girls always do. Come, here are our novels at
last. Let’s go.”
Tfie perfumed silken flounces rustled out of
the library ; the sound of chattering voices died
away, and still Dr. Dale sat with his pencil in
hand, staring down at. his memorandum book.
It seemed that the gloomy vail which bad drop
ped between him and his future life was lifted.
In his heart he could have blessed the angel
tongues of those idle, gossiping girls.
Clissy, then, whs no mere butterfly, but a
true, noble-hearted working girl!
He carried back the ponderous medical tome
to the assistant librarian.
“Much obliged,” be remarked, succinctly.
“Got through with it pretty quick, haven’t
you?” said the assistant librarian.
“ Yes, I have had very good luck this morn
ing,” said the doctor, cheerfully.
He went straightway to the cottage on the
outskirts of the village where Clarissa Clarke
lived. An apple-cheeked little brother came to
the door to answer the knock.
“Yes, Clissy’s at home,” said he. “But
she’s fixing a chicken for papa’s dinner. And
then she’s got my trousers to mend. Clissy
can’t come up stairs.”
But Dr. Dale laughingly pushed his way
across the threshold.
“ I’ll come in and wait,” said he.
In five minutes Clissy came in, looking even
prettier, if it were a possible thing, in her calico
morning dress than she had in the white satin
and pearls the evening before.
How he happened to speak out the dearest
wish of his heart Dr. Dale never quite knew.
He had prepared a form of words on the way,
but they bad vanished utterly out of his mind
when the eventful moment came. He could
only remember that she stood before him in all
her fresh young beauty, like a human apple
blossom, and that be loved her.
But after be had her hand in his, one arm
thrown caressingly around her waist, he told
her of the morning occurrence.
“Until then, dearest,” he said. “I looked
upon you as a sort of unattainable luxury—a
star to be worshiped afar off only. I knew I
was only a village doctor, with more ambition
than practice—for the present at least. But
now I feel that I may venture to hope. Will
you run the risk of sharing my scanty fortunes,
Clissy ?”
“ Willingly,” she said, looking up into bis
face with her frank, blue eyes. “ And, to tell
the truth,” she added, smiling a little shyly, “1
am almost glad that you are not a rich man.
Because, dear, I shall be so glad, so proud to
help you in my humble way.”
a pockeFbatFtub.
The Mischief Wrought by a Patent in
a Once Happy Family.
((From, the Washington Critic.')
Closely following the printed instructions the
young lather rested the rim of the tub on two
chairs, filled the aldermanic bulge of rubber
cloth with tepid water and in the pretty little
lake be placed the baby. So far all was lovely.
Tho baby crowed just like the one in the picture,
and the tub—like the colored troops in the
war—behaved nobly. The mother was called to
the pretty parlor, and the delighted father de
cided to join the revels of his bov and thus
thoroughly test the endurance of the tub. The
sounds ot aqueous revelry were at their bight.
The mother below was telling of the new tub,
and father and boy were as happy as pollywoge
in a country pool, laughing together and freely
splashing the rubber cloth that was spread .
over the floor. ' \
Even the centre of gravity belonging to the
two chairs was disturbed by the gayety of the |
bathers. These useful bits of furniture finally
took an active part in the proceedings, and,
gently bowing forward, laid down on the porta!
ble bath-tub. They were intelligent chairs and
probably wanted to bathe their eight legs.
Then the happy home seemed to be given up to
the damp caresses of a water-spout. In the
nursery there was a mingling ot chair-leu-s,
bare-lcgs, rubber, soap, sponges, towels, yells
NEW YORK DISPATCH, JULY 18, 1886.
in • high key and swears in the bass clef, while
the water stood two inches deep. In the parlor
there was first heard a “dull tb<id,” then the
trickling of water from the prettily papered
ceiling and subsequently the crash ot a hundred
weight of plaster upon a five-hundred-dollar
piano.
It is a good place to draw the vail. That
portable bath-tub (patented) will not accom
pany the family to the country. The family
will not go. The baby has the croup, the father
a sprained back, the mother a full set of disor
dered nerves, and the bill for repairs to family
and home has taken nearly all the money saved
for the Summer’s pleasure. The closest friend
of the young lawyer would not dare to mention
in the latter’s hearing the baleful words,
“Portable bath-tub.”
HALF-MAD MONARCHS.
Benefits Which Subjects Derive From
That Kind of King.
{Paris Letter to the London Truth.)
I had a talk a few evenings since with Cle
menceau, Dr. Ball, the Forbes-Winslow of
Paris, and some other physiologists about your
theory, that a mad king is the best kind of a
monarch for his subjects. They agreed with
you. But they said it is not often a nation could
get a monarch whom it is possible to class as a
lunatic from the first hour of his reign, like
Otho, the present King of Bavaria. What is
dangerous is a gradual run down from weak
ness of mind to madness. In a descent of that
kind George 111. lost America, and committed
England to her long war against revolutionary
Franco, and to the Irish policy which the Grand
Uld Man is now trying to undo.
Philip 11,, it is now shown, was in a state of
semi-lunacy when he became the gritnd chm
pion Ql orthodoxy against heresy, and fitted out
tne Armada. Mary Tudor’s sanguinary policy
toward her heretical subjects is now explained
by a condition of neurosis, the germs of which
came to her from Catherine of Amagon, sister of
Joanna the Insane. It Mary had lived a little
longer she would probably have been locked up
by Philip, as her aunt had been, and died in a
state of dementia. The Emperor Paul's semi
insanity was prevented by the courtiers who
murdered him from developing into full-blown
madness. But he contrived, in the short period
during which he was on the throne, to do a lot
of mischief
Charles XII. found Sweden a strong State,
but, owing to the bee that was in his bounet, he
left it incurably crippled, and, so far as its
Livoniau and Finland provinces went, at the
mercy of Russia. He unquestionably had mili
tary genius, but he was as indubitably a
“crank” (as the Americans say) in everything
else. What saved Bavaria from utter ruin un
der Ludwig 11., was the aversion in which he
held politics and administrative business, and
his passion for art. He never troubled himself
about government so long as he was able to pay
for his artistic freaks. Spain, through semi
lunacy of her Hapsburg kings—from Philip 11.
to Charles il.—descended from the rank of a
first-class nation to the miserable condition in
which she was in the time o‘ Louis Quatorze.
Had they been whole-daft, like Joanna, men ot
ability might have governed in their name.
I have a theory that no human being is good
enough to be allowed impunity, and that wealth
and power with irresponsibility, tend to make
men mad. There are certainly few monarchs
now who, politically speaking, are all-powerful,
but courtiers treat them as if they were, and
their palaces remove all checks from the exor
cise of their will, however irrational or evil it
may be. The late King of Prussia became in
sane in 1848, but he was permitted to govern for
eleven years after. The naturally affecti nate
disposition of Queen Isabella being allowed to
run riot by the impunity her situation gave her,
led her to invert certain texts of the Koran, and
then live according to them. It is impossible
to read all the correspondences about Caroline
of Naples and her numerous paramours with
out regarding her as a semi-lunatic, much more
dangerous than if she were wholly demented.
The semi-mad in private lite should be left
alone.' Tho chances are that they will never
stand in need ot the strait waistcoat, and will be
able to manage their own little affairs fairly
well.
Poor Ludwig was not all bis life insensible to
feminine beauty. He once (it was in 1866) fell
in love with a princess who was one ot six
sisters. She had the untamed air of a wood
nymph, was passionately fond of sylvan sports,
of dogs, horses, and the excitement of hunting.
As she lived on the edge of a romantic sheet of
water, on which she often shot out in a iigh t
skiff, he called her ‘The Lady of the Lake.” It
pleased him to come and woo her in secret, and
if he bad a fault to find with her it was that she
was too coy. An offer of marriage was made
and accepted. When preparations were being
carried on for the wedding, Ludwig, who was
fond of coming unawares on those he loved, to
afford them agreeable surprises, came with a
band of wandering musicians, disguised as a
minstrel, to serenade his betrothed. He ap
proached through a wild wood her father’s cas
tle a little in advance of hrs musical comrades.
What did he see in a glade ? His betrothed
toying with the locks of the groom who had
been attending her on an equestrian excursion.
He was sitting on a rock and she was standing
beside him, with her waist encircled by one of
his arms. The king rushed to kill both, and,
as he was tall and muscular, he might have
done so had not the other minstrels come to
save them. He denounced her to her father, a
bluff German. She denied the evidence of his
eyes, and said that, being subject to hallucina
tions, he fancied he saw what never happened.
This caused him to relapse into the misogynous
state, from which he never recovered, and he
got to hate even his own mother. As the
musicians never gave their evidence, perhaps,
after all, the king only fancied he saw the
princess toying with the’groom’s locks.
KlmTto bipHANS.
SOME GENEROUS PEOPLE OF
THIS WORLD.
(Prom the San Francisco Chronicle.)
“ The people who apply to us for children
are not few,” said Mr. Dooley, of the Boys’
and Girls' Home, “and many are the instances
when people of wealth seek to obtain a servant
under the pretext of offering a home to some
unfortunate child. For instance, a lady came
to mo in quest ot a child whom she could love
and have for company. Selecting a little urchin
that I con-idered suitable for her wants, I
brought him before her, believing that a child
of nine or ten years of age would answer, as
being at that age when his life was really at its
beginning, and when his disposition was most
pliable and plastic.
“‘Ob, he’s too young,” she instantly ex
claimed. ‘ And of what use do you think he
could be to me? I thought you wanted com
fortable homes for your children.”
“ I assured her I did, but wanted the right
home for the right child, and inquired what she
wished the child to do.
“‘There isn’t much,’ she answered. ‘We
have a small place of thirty acres ; four cows
to milk, a couple of horses and some young
stock to see to just a little, some wood to chop,
some water to bring, and he will, of course,
help me about the house. That’s all.’
“She said it would be quite impossible to
send the boy to school and seemed a little an
noyed when I told her we always sought to bet
ter the condition of our children, and insisted
that they should receive either school or home
instruction, or else they are to receive all the
wages they are worth. I called in a stout boy
of 15, for whom we had been looking for em
ployment, and, directing her attention to his
many good qualities, said he had received .$lO
a month at his last place. In a state of indigna
tion she said, rather haughtily, that she could
get all the boys she wanted in her own town for $3
a month if she wanted to hire them, and repeat
ing that she had expected we wanted to find
good comfortable homes for our children, she
abruptly left the room, leaving us to meditate
upon the strange things of this world.
“ A man one day accosted me on the street
and said he would like to have a good boy
whom be could take into his house and care for.
I told him I had just such a boy, and accord
ingly sent him a blank application. Hearing
nothing from him I went to his office and asked
him if he was ready to take the child.
“ ‘ No,’ he replied, ‘ I think not. My wife has
hired a Chinaman that will answer every pur
pose.’ ”
TIT FOR TAT.
It Doesn’t Always Do to Play the
Curmudgeon.
Our readers will recall the story of how John
Randolph was once baffled by a common man’s
little revenge. When about driving away from
a tavern in hia traveling carriage, the friendly
landlord asked him, “ Which way do you go?”
“Do I owe you anything 1” said Randolph.
“No.”
“Well, then I suppose I can go which way I
please."
He started soon after, but coming to a fork in
the road which puzzled him, he sent back his ]
footman to ask directions. The landlord accom- !
panied the man, till coming in sight of the car
riage he shouted out:
“You don’t owe me anything, Mr, Randolph;
you can go which way you please.”
Under all circumstances, it is in human
nature to retaliate when snubbed, though many
times the revenge is quite out of proportion to
the provocation.
Forty-one years ago John Smith was the
driver and chief proprietor of a line ot
coaches running to the mountains. Whether
this was John Smith the first or the one thou
sandth, we can not say. It was said that he had
but one eye, and that he was keen and on the
main chance. On his down trip one time a Bos
ton gentleman took a seat by John’s side, and
being of an inquisitive turn of mind, asked nu
merous questions concerning different moun
tains and views, till at length John’s patience
was exhausted, and in answer to one question
he tartly said:
“ Stranger, if you will attend to your busi
ness, I will to mine."
As might readily be imagined, there was a
very quiet time after this. After a drive of a
iew miles John drove up to a country store and
post-office, where the mail bag was thrown off.
While the mail was being changed, Mr. Smith
swapped horses with a man who came for that
purpose, and the new horse was “hitched in,”
and the driver was so intent on the trade and
so desirous of trying the mettle ot his new
horse that lie started off without taking the mail
bag. After a drive ot some ten miles he drew
up at another office, and on reaching lor the
bag and not finding it, be said:
“I’ll be whipped if I didn’t leave that bag at
the other office 1”
“ Yes, said the Boston man, “ I observed that
you did.”
“ Why in blazes didn’t you tell me ?”
“ Because you said you would attend to your
own business, and I thought I would let you.”
HE KEPT HIS OATH.
CARRIED HIS DEAD WIFE’S BODY
HOME IN TWO SATCHELS.
(From the Omaha Bee.)
“ I never think of the Preller-Maxwell mur
der case but that I recall almost shudderingly
an incident in my career which occurred twenty
years ago.”
The speaker was an Omaha physician, and
his auditors were a small party of fellow medi
cine men and an Omaha Bee writer. At their
request he continued the recital ot his tale.
“ The affair I am about to relate happened in
the Fall ot 1866, it I recollect rightly. I was just
out of college, and had come West to travel,
partly for my health and partly with the idea of
seeking a location. In October I found myself
in Colorado enjoying a trip through that mag
nificent newly opened country. I was alone,
save for the company of my horse—for railroads
were not as numerous in the West then as they
are now. One night 1 found darkness coming -
on apace before I bad gained a place of shelter.
1 knocked at the door of a house near the foot
of a large mountain, resolved to ask lodging for
the night. The door of the cottage opened and
I was admitted by a man. He was evidently a
miner, and when I told him what! wanted he
greeted me with rough cordiality, and told me
that I was welcome to anything he had. I
noticed that bis appearance and actions were
rather peculiar—indeed, in more than one way
suggesting that he was demented. However,
when he escorted me to the little garret in the
house, or more properly hut, I thanked him
and bade him good-night, and laid down with
the determination of having a good night’s
sleep.
“ It must have been about four o’clock the
next morning that I was awakened out of a
sound daybreak slumber by a tugging at my
elbow. I awoke and found my strange host at
mv side. There was a savage glitter in his eyes
as he quietly commanded:
“ ‘ Dress yourself and come d >wn stairs.’
“Not knowing what the matter was, and al
most too frightened to think, I obeyed instant
er. He led me into the-rear one ot two rooms
on the lower floor. There, on a rough bed, all
c tvered except the face, lay the dead body of a
woman—his wife. He surveyed the corpse
calmly for a moment, and then turning to me,
said:
“ ‘ This is my wife. She has been dead for two
days, kwant y. uto cut her up. You say you
are a doctor.’
“ I stared at him in speechless amazement.
“ ‘ Come,’ be continued, ‘ don’t lose any time.
I mean what I s «y.*
“‘ But, I gasped, partially recovering myself,
‘ what is the use of cutting her up ?’
“ ‘ Take this knife and do as I tell you,’ said
the lunatic, for such 1 had to my own satisfac
tion determined that he was.
“I hesitated lor a moment, but when he
br ught the shining barrel <-f a Colt’s rev fiver
within range of my head I held back no longer.
He brought out two old leather satchels,
and as 1 went on with ray revolting work, dis
secting the body, joint Irom joint, be made an
explanation. Two years ago he had come to
Colorado with his wife to bunt for gold. She
had suddenly taken ill and died, but before ex
piring had made him take a solemn oath that
she should be buried beside her parents in a lit
tle town in New York State. ‘ I have no money,’
he concluded, ‘ but I shall not break my oath.
I will carry her body to New York in these two
satchels.’ All this time he had the pistol within
convenient range of my head, and you may De
sure I worked rapidly. In less than an hour
my task was finished. By this time it was broad
daylight and I started off, bidding my host good
morning.
“To cut my story short, I afterward wrote to
the postmaster of the little town of N , in
New York State, and found that, two months
after my strange experience, that the miner had
appeared there with his ghastly burden. The
remains were given a decent interment, and the
husband's oath was fulfilled. A month after
ward he was placed in an insane asylum a rav
ing maniac. His mental collapse had undoubt
edly been caused by the sudden death of his
wile.”
A S2OOjdoTicKER.
BUT THE PROPOSER WOULDN’T
STICK.
(Trom the St. Louis Republican.
A rather remarkable little episode occurred
in a broker’s office in St. Louis the other day,
going to show that sometimes even very acute
gentlemen do not know how well they are off.
Ex-Judge L. and ex-Judge M. were discuss
ing the bad times and the general retrogression
of civilization, Mr. L. making the point that the
legal business in St. Louis was going to the
demnition bow-wows, when the discussion took
such a shape that Judge L. declared with much
asperity that if anybody would give him $200,000
in cash the unfortunate purchaser could have
everything he owned in the world.
“ I’ll just take you on that proposition,” said
Judge M. “ Mr. Campbell, would you mind
stepping out and getting me a certified check
for $200,000, while Judge L. and I settle this
little affair.’’
“ Certainly, - ’ said Mr. Campbell.
A couple of sheets of foolscap were produced,
and in entire earnestness the two gentlemen
began noting the goods to be transferred.
There were United States bonds, State and
county securities and private claims so long
that three pages of foolscap were consumed in
enumerating them. At the middle of the third
page the $200,0G0 limit had been passed, and
still the old cross-examiner kept discovering
new property of Judge L., who began to be
acutely unhappy as the process continued.
“ Any real estate in the country ?”
“ Yes, a farm up the river.”
“ How many acres ?”
“ Four hundred, worth about S4O an acre.”
“That adds $l' : ,000. Well?”
“ Hold up, judge, I don’t know that 1 can in
clude that farm. You see there is a sort of a
claim on it
“Oh, never mind that, I just buy your in
terest.”
“ Come to think of it, I don’t believe you
will. It wouldn’t be fair to load you up with all
this unsalable property and I guess I’ll pull out
of the trade and compromise by setting up
champagne for the party.”
Which accounts for the good humor, which
has recently been so marked in St. Louis Gas
light circles.
THMOBILERIFLES.
A PLEASING AND TOUCHING IN
CIDENT.
The following little incident, touchingly sig
nificant of the better feeling existing between
the military people of the North and South,
occurred recently at Mobile, Ala. A general
of the United States army was on his way
from Arizona to New York, where he purposed
entering a surgical college to have a difficult
operation performed. As the train with the
sick soldier approached Mobile, his aide saw
that he was rapidly becoming very ill, and
telegraphed ahead for assistance to convey
him to a hospital. Dr. Hutton, the medical
superintendent of the Marine Hospital, was
at the depot with attendants and a carriage.
The invalid was comfortably placed in it with
the gentlest and most assiduous attention, but
he died within sight of the building, a stranger
in a strange land.
The next day Dr. Hutton telegraphed to the
family of the dead officer in Arizona for in
structions as to the disposal ot the remains,
and received in reply:
“Bury him wbero he died.”
As soon as the Mobile Rifles had heard that,
" A soldier of the legion
Lay dying in Algiers,”
they hastened to his help. But he was already
dead, and it only remained for them to do
honor to his memory. This they did by taking
upon themselves the performance of the last
rites as though the dead stranger had been one
ot their own comrades, they carried him
draped witli flags to the National Cemetery and
gave him all the honors of military burial. In
the afternoon of one of tho hottest days of the
Southern Summer they marched in procession
over the two miles of dusty road, and as the
sun went down fired a farewell shot over the
stranger’s grave. Then covering it with flow
ers, they left him in the peaceful bivouac of the
dead.
The deceased soldier was a Philadelphian,
and when the Mayor of Philadelphia heard of
the “brotherly love” of the Mobile Rifles he
sent them an autograph letter of thanks, ac
companied by a beautiful floral tribute.
Surely this little incident is an earnest ot
united interests, and a proof that ever and
always
The bravest are the tenderest,
The loving are the daring."
THEOIFa fi~ClfAlß.
AN INTERESTING DISCOVERY.
The following story appeared in the Paris Ga
zette des Trtbunaux in 1858 :
A man, nearly eighty years of age, who was
formerly an upholsterer, had been residing in
Paris for many years in a garret, where he saw
no other persons than his two nephews, both
nearly sixty years old, and poor, but who, nev
ertheless, contrived to give him the means of
subsistence. A short time before his death he
addressed them as follows :
“My children, be sure that God will rewar(^ ,,
you lor what you have done for me ; thanks to
you, I am able to live in this house, irom which
I perceive that which was founded by the Abbe
de I’Epee, who was once my protector. I shall
soon die, and have very little to leave, but I en
treat you not to sell the old arm chair in which
I am seated, and which has been with me these
fifty years. It is an old friend, and I owe to it
the preservation of my life on the 10th of Au
gust, 1792. I had then the honor of working for
the king's upholsterer, and had just finished
some hangings for the cabinet ot Marie Antoin
ette, when the rebels from Marseilles and those
of the Faubourg St. Antoine had their conflict
with the Swiss. The palace being taken, I should
have been massacred, it my sense of danger
had not inspired me with the idea of tearing off
the skirts of my coat, and blackening my face
with some soot from the chimney, so that I
looked like one of the assailants. When the
pillage commenced, I took up this arm chair,
placed it on my head, and in this way traversed
the half of Paris. If you have any regard for
me, keep this old royal arm chair, and it will
bring you good luck. ”
A fortnight ago the old man died and was
decently interred by his nephews. When they
came to share the poor effects that he had left,
they would have disputed as to who should
have the old arm-chair if they had not both felt
a respect lor his injunctions. While they were
discussing as to whose property it should be,
one of them laid hold of it to remove it from its
place, and was astonished at its weight.
“It is as heavy,” said he, “ as if there were
pigs of lead among the horse-hair.”
The other then laid hold of it, and made the
same remark.
The two nephews now looked at each other
and resolved to ascertain what was the cause of
its weight. They removed the old covering,
and, cutting open the velvet, found, to their
great joy, forty-three rouleaux of gold coin, of
different reigns, from Louis XV. to Louis Phil
ippe, with a bank annuity of 1,000 francs and
other papers.
Being honest men, they mentioned the fact to
the authorities, by whom it was declared that
there could be no doubt of their rightful pos
session, and that even if the property had been
in the chair when it was taken from the palace,
the theft was of such old date as to have the
benefit of prescription, but that the property
evidently belonged to the uncle, most ot the
gold being of more recent date than that of his
first possession of the chair, and the bank an
nuity being also recent.
QU E FITCHAR LEY’FWIFE.
BY A SECRET SERVICE DETECTIVE.
One of the most successful counterfeiters in
this country up to the Spring of 1864, when he
was nabbed and placed behind the bars for a
long time, was a former employee of the Bureau
of Engraving and Printing named Charles At
sell. While still an emplovee of tho Bureau he
married a girl named Williams, of Providence,
R. I. She had been brought up to regard her
self as an heiress, educated abroad and was one
of the proudest young ladies in the land. In
1862 her possessions were swept away by fire
and embezzlement, and in December of that
year she married Atsell. The match, 1 believe,
grew out of some romantic incident. People
who knew her best doubted if she had any love
in her heart. Her pride did not go with her
money. Notwithstanding the fact that she had
married a man earning a moderate salary, she
came to Washington with her nose high in tho
air, and her arrogant manner and style of dress
was generally remarked. It was, indeed, her
extravagance which led her husband into crime.
Twice in the Spring ot 1863 sums ot money
were lost in Atsell's department, and while he
was both times the object of suspicion there
were no proofs to convict him. One sum
amounted to $175, and the other to S3OO. After
the last affair he resigned his position, and, as
was afterward learned, allied himself with a
gang of counterfeiters who had their headquar
ters in New York. Two or three treasury notes
were put out by them which circulated exten
sively, and for months the whole Secret Service
force was working in vain to turn up the crimi
nals. Atsell was not suspected of being a coun
terfeiter. He left Washington for New York,
and through the influence of relatives, it was
said, secured certain profitable army contracts.
He could have been found any day had we
wanted him.
Along in June, 1864, having at length satisfied
ourselves that the gang was located in New York,
the circle began to narrow down. One night a
stranger from Missouri was arrested m a drunk
en condition, and on his person were found two
or three letters implicating him as a sbover of
the queer and famishing straight clews to work
the gang. Aided by local detectives, we raided
a residence on Twenty-second street and cap
tured Atsell, a man named Coffin, a shover
named Green, and the entire outfit of press,
tools and plates.
We made the raid about 3 o’clock in the after
noon, and Mrs. Atsell was driving in Central
Park. I was left to await her return and take
her into custody. She returned about 5 o clock,
dressed in the richest attire and as arrogant as
a queen. I broke the news as gently as possible,
but she was not a bit agitated. Without the
least sign of embarrassment she replied to me:
“ Very well, sir. You will allow me to change
my attire?”
“ Certainly.”
She passed up stairs and I followed. She en
tered her bed-room, locked the door, and I sat
down to await her reappearance. At the end of
twenty minutes 1 rapped on the door. No an
swer. I waited five minutes and rapped again.
As she did not respond 1 felt it my duty to make
a move, and after one more effort to induce her
to open the door I burst it open. She was lying
on a lounge, dead for the last quarter of an hour,
having, as a doctor afterward testified, imbibed
some swift poison. She whs not too proud to be
a counterfeiter’s wife, but too proud to be tried
as a counterfeiter’s accomplice. When I carried
the news to her husband he was for a moment
stunned, then he rallied, and carelessly said:
“Well, she’d have died in prison inside of a
month. She is better off.”
gUsrdlaueouis ghtto.
Variety in Food.—Says the American
Agriculturist : Often a sickly, waning appetite
can be stimulated by some exceedingly simple
change in the commonest articles of daily food.
Slices of dry bread are uninviting, bufrthe same
bread, lightly browned, with a delicately
poached egg resting on the crisp toast, becomes
altogether another item in the bill of fare. Cold
beef or mutton have .become standard dishes
for washday or other slim dinners ; but an ac
companiment of pickles for the one and jelly for
the other, makes all the difference in tho world
between tasteful and bald utilitarian house
keeping. Oatmeal porridge is a most excellent
breaklast dish, yet it is well to occasionally sub
stitute in its pl ace berries or other fruit, or
even a change to pearl hominy, or cracked'
wheat, or corn meal mush. I know there are
forty different ways in which to prepare pota
toes, and should not be surprised to learn that
there may be fifty, yet how few are the tables,
especially in the country, where one sees this
vegetable except in the stereotyped foiled
whole, mashed Or fried. A great variety of de
lightful dishes can be made with apples at all
seasons of the year, whether one has fre h or
danned fruit. Breakfast, dinner, or tea need
not lack a healthful relish if one has a dozen or
so of apples within reach. Ido not enumerate
the host of what are known as “ made dishes,”
which can be so quickly and easily concocted
out of remnants. I know it is worth the trouble
to set on the family table, not courses of elabor
ate dishes, but a wholesome, agreeable and yet
economical diversity of food.
How to Get Rid of Rats.—An at
tempt to catch rats by traps, or by poisoning
them suddenly, will-fail. Old rats know too
much, and can be caught only by kindness. To
destroy them, give them a good meal every
day. Do not put any poison in the food, but
simply prepare a dish for them daily, as a free
lunch, composed of corn-meal moistened with
milk, into which an egg and a little salt (to sea
son) has been beaten. At first they may not
touch it; but keep it before them, making it
fresh daily, They will soon try a little, an ci, if
not injurious, their suspicions will be allayed.
In a week or ten days they will expect it, and
every rat will be at the appointed place for the
treat. Give them plenty of it, so as to induce
all the rats in the neighborhood to join in. Do
not be in a hurry to poson them. If they eat
all the food, give them a larger quantity next
time. As soon as they have thrown off all sus
picion, go to your druggist, get some phos
phorus paste, or other rat poison, mix it with
the food, and be sure you give them enough
and something to spare, so as to induce all to
eat. They will either be killed or become so
suspicious of all other food as to leave, and not
a rat will remain. Hence, to destroy rata, take
plenty of time, gain their confidence, and finish
them when they least expect it.
Doctoring an African King.—This is
from the correspondence of the “ Scottish Geo
graphical Magazine :” It is no joke to be a doc
tor to the King of Uganda, for whenever I took
him a new supply of medicine I had always to
take a dose myself, and, to administer one to
seven of the persons who might happen to be
present. Should one of these seven unfor
tunates die within a week, it would be con
sidered that 1 had attempted to poison the king.
If the king had to take a pill, I had always to
hold two in my hand ; he chose one, and 1 had
to swallow the other, unless I had a friend with
me who kindly undertook the office. I soon
noticed, however, that Mtesa also chose the
smallest, so I arranged accordingly. One day
Mtesa played me a nice trick. 1 had been to
the palace to take him a lotion, and had warned
him particularly not to drink it. After I had
left he sent a page after me .with a gourd of
mwengi, asking me to taste it, and say if he
might have some. I did so, and said “Yes.”
It being a very hot afternoon, my friend drank
the remainder ; but it soon became evident that
the king had doctored the wine, for my friend
became violently sick. It turned out afterward
that Mtesa wished to see what effect the lotion
would have upon me.
Law and Living in Turkey.— A pro
fessor in Roberts College, Constantinople, is
our authority for the following fresh illustra
tion ot the travesty of justice which passes un
der the name of law in Turkey, where an ac
cused man is obliged to prove his innocence, or
else he is declared guilty. A native convert to
Christianity came to Dr. Lord, a well-known
missionary, and tasked it it was ever right to
tell a lie. This was a staggerer for the doctor,
and he said he would have to know the case
before he could decide, although on general
principles, he did not think it was. “ The case
is this,” replied the seeker after truth, “ a
Turk, a stranger to me, living in Rusichuk, ac
cused me ot buying and receiving irom him
1,000 sheep. I, knowing of no way of prov
ing that I did not buy and receive these
sheep, the case must certainly go against
me. It came up for trial to-day, and after the
charge had been made, I admitted that I had
bought and received the sheep (which was a
lie , and had at the s me time paid for them in
full. He could not Drove that I had not, so the
case was dismissed.” The good doct >r thought
ii e era lie was justifiable, this was certainly
the time. I
How Beer Brewers Drink.—Says the
Milwaukee Sentinel: “We have one man who
drinks 100 glasses per day.” This answer was
in reply to a question as to how much beer the
employees in the Milwaukee breweries con
sumed. The speaker was a gentleman engaged
in the office of an extensive brewing company.
“ What is the average consumption per man ?”
About one and one-fourth gallons, or forty
glasses, daily.* As a rule, our employees drink
fifty one-quarter barrels a day—nearly SIOO
worth. During warm days this number is in
creased to sixty quarters and more. Each man
generally takes two glasses at one time, which
would make the number of visits to the bar
about twenty during the day. Allowing three
minutes only for each time he knocks off work
there is one hour which he loses in this way.
Some of the men have to walk a block and
further, and it often takes about five minutes.”
“ Where is the bar generally located ?” “ Ours
is in a corner of the wash-house. We pay a
man S6O a month to draw beer for the men; and
he earns his money, too. He does nothing
else.” “Do your employees get as much beer
as they can hold since the late strike ?” “They
receive all they want.”
[A gallon contains sixteen glasses, consequently
the men drink but twenty glasses a duy. Anybody
can test the accuracy of our statement with a gallon
of water.—Ed. Dispatch.
How a Girl Got Rid of Suitors.—
Says the Boston Record: A curious story
comes from Moscow. A clever and beautiful
girl had an immense fortune left her to be paid
into her hands on the occasion ot her marriage.
Her friends tried to oblige her to marry a man
whom she could not endure, and she had no
money to take herself out of the reach of his at-,
tentions. So she sent for an old beggar man,
to whom she had occasionally given a few
cents, and offered him three hundred roubles if
he would stand up for the marriage ceremony
with her and straightway leave the town and
never let her hear irom him again till the news
should be sent of his death. He consented very
cheerfullly and the marriage took place, all the
beggars in Moscow coming to see the strange
pair wedded. In a few years, the girl who is
only twenty-two years old now, will doubtless
be legally a widow, with the right to give her
hand to the obscure lover for whose sake she
went through the extraordinary ceremony. In
the meantime she is rich and free from suitors.
An Astonished Policeman. — The
Chicago Mail tells this story: Two well-dressed
ladies were rounding the cane of the Ashland
block when a banana peel that lay in ambush
there brought one of them prone. The officer
who came to her aid was startled nearly out of
his boots when she said:
“Pull my leg, will you, please? Pull my
leg.”
Affecting to misunderstand, he took the lady
by the arm, with the remark:
“ Will you let me help you, madam ?”
“No, don’t I Pull my leg, I say! Tull my
leg, can’t you ?”
The officer let the arm drop instantly. He
was thunderstruck. He backed off and wiped
great beads of perspiration from his reeking
brow. At this moment the second lady came
to his assistance. She seized one of the pedal
extremities of her prostrate companion and
gave it a vigorous pull. It was a cork leg. The
fall had disarranged the knee adjustment, and
a pull was needed to sot it right.
Retired from Literary Labors.—
Mrs. Harriet Beecher Stowe has announced to
her intimate friends her permanent retirement
from the literary world. “The author of
‘ Uncle Tom’s Cabin’ is no longer the strong
woman of a few years ago,” says the Boston
Transcript, “ her constant watching by the bed
side of her dying husband having practically
shattered her health, as it has reduced the ro
bust physical frame to merely a skeleton. For
more than eighteen months, with scarcely an
interruption, has the affectionate wife remained
at her busband’s side, reading and singing to
him as he lingers through the days and nights
waiting for the end that is not far off. Mrs.
Stowe is seventy-five years of age, and although
she retains a lively interest in current events in
order that she may gratify the desires of her
invalid husband, the famous writer is content
that her work is done. The returns from her
work have fortunately placed her in comfortable
circumstances.”
Ladies Carried Across Wet Streets.
—Says a Mexican letter to the Boston Trans
cript : “ When the streets become flooded by
the heavy Summer showers, multitudes of “car
gadores’’—standing upon either pavement,
with their trousers rolled to the thighs—ply a
lively business carrying pedestrians across
upon their backs. They make nothing of hoist
ing a lady, as though she were a sack of pota
toes, with her reticule, fan, parasol and other
paraphernalia, and trotting away with her,
while her little feet dangle and generally beat
a tattoo upon his back, and her fingers clutch
him nervously amid a series of shrieks, and
dump her, dry shod, upon the other side, all
for six cents I When a family party comes
along—mother,maids and children—it is a funny
sight to see them transported, one by one, over
a tbree-foot-wide, six-inch-deep torrent, with
more fuss than Barnum’s menagerie, white ele
phant and all, would make in crossing the
Mississippi.
Rice for Hot Weather.—Some of
the caterers who supply cheap meals to the
community and keep what are known as coflee
and cake houses, have discovered the expe
diency of providing something else during the
heated term. They supply a slab of cold boiled
rice and a bowl of milk tor ten cents, and their
customers are duly grateful. But those who
come from the Southern States, South Carolina
and Louisiana, where rice is freely used, say
that the rice is not as it should be. It is in a
thick, sticky, close-pressed slab, and these ex
perts declare that it should be in distinct grams,
any one of which could be removed from the
others. They say, moreover, that milk makes
many people bilious and that the best thing to
make rice palatable is old-fashioned molasses.
Still it is as a Summer food an enormous im
provement upon the hot cakes and boiling cof
fee and the corned beef which have hitherto
been the staples in the cheap eating-houses.
Statistics of Mad Dogs in London.—
Says the London Daily News: Sir Charles War
ren, the Chief Commissioner of Police, has just
issued some statistics in regard to mad dogs
and deaths from hydrophobia which have oomo
under the uotiee of the metropolitan police
from January, 1885, to May, 1886. During this
period the total number of mad dogs was 495.
The lowest number was in January, 1885, when
there were only 8. From this date the number
of cases varied for each month, as follows: Feb
ruary, 10; March, 22; April, 20; May, 34; June,
38; July, 47; August, 28; September, 31; Cctober,
31; November, 58; December, 40; January, 1886,
27; February, 14; March and April, 29, and May,
23. The deaths irom hydrophobia, which are
taken from the Register-General’s returns,
numbered 26 up to December, 1885, the great
est number being in October and November,
when there were five in each month. Between
January and May, 1886, theye were 7 deaths.
Why the Irish Prefer Green.—The
early Celts worshiped the dawn and the sun
rise. It is more than probable that the Irish
preference of the color green for their flag and
their sashes arose from a mistake among those
who bad lost a thorough knowledge of the old
Irish language. The sun, in Irish, is called by
a word pronounced like our word “green,” and
it is likely that the Irish fondness for that color
arose from the word’s exact likeness in sound
to their word ior sun. In the same way, when
we talk about green-houses, we think they are
called so because the plants are kept green in
them during Winter, let it is far more proba
ble that “green” here is the Irish word mean
ing, not the color but the sun, because green
houses are built so as to catch the sun’s rays
and store them up while it is hidden by clouds,
as happens more than half the time in showery
Ireland.
Diet of Strong Men.—The Roman
soldiers, who built such wonderful roads and
carried a weight ot armor and luggage that
would crush the average farm hand, lived on
coarse brown bread and sour wine. They were
temperate in diet, and regular and constant in.
exercise. The Spanish peasant works every
day and dances half the night, yet eats only his
black bread, onion and watermelon. The
Smyrna porter eats only a little fruit and some
olives. He eats no beef, pork or mutton, yet
he walks off with his load of 800 pounds. The
coolie, fed on rice, is more active and can en
dure more than the negro fed on fat meat. The
heavy work of the world is not done by men
who eat the greatest quantity. The fastest or
longest-winded horse is not the biggest eater.
Moderation in diet seems to be the prerequisite
of endurance.
Increase the Appetite
By taking Ayer’s Cathartic Pilis. This remedy is thorough In its action, imparts tone
and strength to the Stomach, Liver, and Bowels, and enables them to perform all
their functions properly. **l have used Ayer’s Pills, for a number of years, and
have never found anything equal to them for stimulating the appetite, and imparting
energy or strength to the system. I always keep them in the house. —R. D. Jackson,
Wilmington, Del. **For over two years I was afflicted with torpidity of the Liver.
I had no appetite, suffered from Constipation, Indigestion, Headache, Pain in the Side
and Back, and General Debility. Ayer’s Pills were the first medicine to give me
relief. I took three boxes of them, and was cured. This remedy never fails to
Stimulate-the Liver
and quicken the appetite. Ayer’s Pills promptly relieve Headache, and are the
best cathartic I know of.— George 0. Williams, West Meriden, Conn.
During the spring of 1877 a disagreeable
taste in my mouth entirely destroyed mv
appetite. My tongue was thickly coated,
and what little food I ate distressed me.
Believing my trouble to originate in a dis
ordered liver, I commenced taking Ayer’s
Cathartic Pills. I felt an improvement
after the operation of the first dose. I
continued their use in diminished quan
tities, for a short time, and am satisfied ■
that these Pills have completely cured me. '
— Sophie Harmon, Biddeford,‘Me.
AYER’S PILLS,
Prepared by Dr. J. C. Aver & Co.. Lowell, Maas. Sold by all Druggists.,
What the Hindoo Lives On.—Says
the Contemporary Review: Human life ia sup
ported in India upon the barest minimul of ne
cessaries; the village population feed upsn the
commonest grains, never eating animal food
(which is contrary to their religion', and rarely
tasting the finer grains, such as wheat and bar
ley. The clothing worn is of the scantiest, and
I was distressed to see many of the people in
the Northwest provinces’ shivering, ana half
naked in weather so cold that I was glad to
wear two top-coats. The houses are built of
clay, and almost destitute of furniture, and I
understand that a large portion of the popula
ti n only eat one meal h day. Of course this in
an eastern country does not signify what ii
does in Europe—life can be sustained on less
food and less nutritions diet than in Northern
climes; the labor power of the Hindoos i®
small; there is far less taken out of the human
machine than in our labori us Western life; ir
consumes less and produces less; beside, the
Asiatic has the power of digesting a greater
quantity of food at one meal than is possible to
Europeans, but when due allowance is mad®
for all this, it is not to be denied that the pov
erty of a great part of the people of India is ex
treme and more acute than what we witness iR
Europe. It may be said with truth of a great part
of the rural population that it is never far re
moved from famine. A scanty harvest any year
brings thate calamity within measurable dis
tance; a failure of crops means death to a large
part of the population unless fed by govern
ment.
He Has Found It Out.—Says the El
mira Gazette : “ I am a man sixty years of age,
and I have been until now discovering a very
simple thing,” remarked a well-known artisan,,,
the other evening.
“ And that is ?”
“Just this. I have always drank beer and:
smoked cigars. I like 'em both. I never over
indulge; but two, three or four glasses of beer a
day seem to agree with me. Now, my boy®
have lately began keeping a horse for pleasure--
driving. They neither smoke nor drink. I
have purchased the feed for that horse of late,
and have several times thought they were rather
extravagant. Now, here comes the discovery—
it actually costs less to keep that stepper than
it does to buy my beer and cigars. Yes, sir, ifc
does.”
“ And so you are going to quit ?”
“ Well—ah—l am thinking of it,” and he de«
parted, meditating.
Champion Kiss of the Country. —A.
Springfield belle was vis ting Bloomington, 11l. t>
not long ago, and received a large share of re
spectlul homage from the leading society
gentlemen. She commands attention not only'
tor her personal charms and graces, but for her
mental culture and vivacious conversation,,
Before leaving the Union depot for the State
capital, the young lady was describing to &
friend with whom she had visited the “ Bloom
ington kiss,” as she was pleased to term the*
salutations which some fortunate but bold ad
mirer was permitted to give. She said “th®
first time she was kissed by a Bloomingtonian
she felt like a big tub of roses swimming in
honey, cologne, nutmegs and cranberries. Sh®r
also felt as it something was running through:
her nerves on feet ot diamonds, escorted by an
gels, shaded by honeysuckles, and the whole*
spread with melted rainbows.”
French Sentiment and Rings. s—ln an
article on engagement rings, a French writer
says : “Do not choose the ruby, it is too showy,,
loud and indiscreet. Good taste inclines to
ward the sapphire and the diamond, of which
the one does not go well without the other. Do
not choose a large sapphire surrounded by
diamonds, but ask your jeweler artist to inter
lace in happy combination the sapphire and th®;
diamond. The turquoise is also a tasteful
stone, but when it is constantly worn it has th®*
immense disadvantage to change color, and to
this change most women attach a sad and sen
timental superstition. It should not. there'ore,
be chosen for the first present, which is to be
worn and cherished while life lasts, and which
remains from the days of youth while every--
thing else changes.”
Making Sea Weed Useful.—An Eng
lish chemist has found away for turning to ace
count the practically illimitable quantity of sea
weed that the ocean supplies, or at least a®
much of it as may be desired. He boils th®
weed with carbonate of soda and treats the fil
tered solution with sulphuric acid, obtaining
from it in this manner a substance that ha®
more viscosity than starch, or even gum-arabic 0
and that can employed in stiffen
ing various textile fabrics. It is also said to be
excellently adapted lor the making of sirup®,
and for certain culinary uses. From the cellu
lar and fibrous matter left after the extraction
of that material—to which he has given th®-
name of “ a-lguma a very good quality ofc
writing paper can be cheaply made.
A Bit of Real Due.—Says the King--
ston Freeman : One of the many rainy days this
week, and at an hour when it was pouring the
hardest, one of Roudouts absent-minded cler
gymen met a parishioner on Wurts street, Hon
dout, and the following amusing conversation
ensued : Said the clergyman : “ Good morning.
Mr. lovely day, isn't it?” “Yes,” eaid',
the other, “ it’s charming.” The two then went:
on their different ways, but Mr. had only
proceeded a few steps when he turned hastily,
and looking after the minister, said : “B’gosn,
the minister is taking leave of his senses if he
calle this a lovely day, and by the Lord Harry t
I’m as big a whopper myself, for I said it was 8>
charming day, and here is the rain coming down
in bucketsful.”
A Fickle Fortune.—What is to coms'
of the poor Russian gentleman who was left »•
fortune by bis uncle on the condition that he
never smoked, never played at cards and mar
ried within six months? Should he fail to ob
serve the conditions, the fortune is to go to ths
children of the three executors, who have
formed themselves into a vigilance committee.
Rumor says strange things of the temptations
thrown in this hapless legatee’s way—how rub
bers at whist are got up in railway carriages for
his benefit; how complete strangers are con
stantly offering him the most delightful cigars,
and how the course of true love is never aL
{owed to run smooth. ,
‘T ’ •- l— —’ *1
Surprised by a Sturgeon.—Captain
John Haley, of the Fort Popham Life Saving
Station, was quietly pulling home from Bath,
Me., the other evening in the dark, when he wa«>
struck violently on the head and knocked to the
bottom of the boat. The captain, who thought
that he was alone on the water, was not only
surprised, but, he confesses, terribly scared.
He was greatly relieved when he found that »■
fifteen pound sturgeon in his evening gambol
ings had leaped from the water and in his flight
through the air whacked the captain as afore
said, and lay gasping in the bottom of the boat.
Divorce, in Franou —Tf numbers count
for anything, the French Divorce Actio working:
well. During the first five months 1,773 peti
t one for divorce and S.'t'tti petitions for judicial!
separation were applied or, ot which 1,657 ot
the former and 2,8'J1 of the latter were granted.
The only direct opinion on the subject comes
from the French actress, Mme. Rose Caron. Ik
having been recently reported that she would,
take advantage of her divorce to marry again,,
she wrote to the papers to say she “ was per
fectly satisfied with her first trial of that inter
esting institution.”
He Wouldn’t Rob the Poob Devil.—
A lawyer in California was called to defend
Mexican for some serious crime, and he got him
off. “ What fees did you get ?” somebody asked
him. “Well, the fellow was very grateful—very
grateful. After the trial he came to me and
emptied his pockets. He had twenty dollars,
and a watch and jack-knife.” And you
“I took the twenty dollars and the watch. I
gave him back the jack knife. Darn it, yott
didn’t expect me to rob the poor devil ?”
The Usual Result.—Two children of
Farmer Agnew, of Tara, Canada, a boy of ten
and a girl of four, while playing in the barn,,
found a gun, which their father kept loaded for
rats. “ Stan’ off there a piece,” said the boy,
“ an’ let me see if I can’t shoot you.” The little
girl obeyed cheerfully, and the young Cannels
filled her face and shoulder with fine shot.
A Pleasant Companion.—A colored
woman, who is telling fortunes in Houma, La.,
save that while a slave in Cuba, she cut open
the calf of her leg and inserted a large snake.
The wound healed up and the snake now lies
coiled there, except when making daily visits to
the woman's stomach when he feels hungry.
For a number of years 1 was troubled
with Biliousness, which almost destroyed
my health. This ailment commenced
in Costiveness. Indigestion, Headache,
and Dizziness soon followed. I became
weak, emaciated, and totally unfitted for
work of any kind. I tried various reme
dies, but nothing afforded me any relief
until I began taking Ayer’s Pills. They
cured me, speedily, and I now believe
them to be the most reliable cathartic in.
use. — G. S. Wanderlich, Scranton, Pa.