New York dispatch. [volume], September 05, 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
TWO.
BY GEORGE ELIOT.
Two lovers by a moss-grown spring;
They leaned soft cheeks together there,
Mingled the dark and sunny hair
And heard the wooing thrushes Bing.
Oh budding time !
Oh love’s best prime I
Two wedded from the portal step;
The bells made happy carolings,
The air was soft as fanning wings,
White petals on the pathway slept.
Oh pure-eyed bride 1
Oh tender pride I
Two faces o’er a cradl • bent;
Two hands above the head were locked;
They pressed each other while they rocked,
Those watched a life that love had sent.
Oh solemn hour!
Oh hidden power I
Two p.ir’uts by the even ng fire;
The red light lell about their knees
on heads that rose by slow degrees
Like buds upon the lily spire.
Oh patient life !
On tender strife I
'J be two sat still together there,
'lTv r d light shone about tbeir knees;
But al! the heads by slow degrees
Had gone and left that lonely pair.
Oh voyage fast!
Oh van shed past!
The red light shone upon the floor
And made the sp ice between them wide;
They drew tbeir chairs up side by side,
Their pale cheeks joined and said •• Once more I”
Oh memories !
Oh past that is !
cam w.
BY FLORENCE REVERE PENDAR.
“ I don’t care ’ I don’t believe I like him a >
very much after all,” rather pettishly exclaimed
a young girl, mechanically tracing with the
point oi her parasol the name of Laurence upon
ibe yellow sands before her. Then as. she
jumped up from her seat, a huge bowlder, and
settled her sailor hat, that had been tilted over
the sauciest of noses, unto decorum again, if
there had been any one to see, which there was
not, they would have had the pleasure ot gaz
ing upon one of the prettiest girls and the rich
est heiress Summering at Ocean Bar that sea
eon. And those who knew the fascinating little
lady would have been surprised to discover two
unmistakable tears clinging to that winsome
beauty’s long lashes, as she gazed wistfully sea
ward, a tremulous quiver parting her pretty
lips.
“ I don’t care 1 He’s—-he’s horrid 1”
After which outburst the young girl with sev
eral stamps of her daintily clad feet, erased the
name that she had but a moment before im
printed upon the sands’ smooth surface; then
slowly bent her steps toward the hotel where
they were stopping- They consisting ot Mr.
Bilverton, a round-faced, genial gentleman,
who had failed to gr >w old, despite bis Sixty
odd years and bald pate; Mrs. Silverton, an
ultra fashionable lady, a victim to nerves and
titles; Master Archibald Silverton, their only
son, a procoelous youngster of six Summers,
and Miss May.Silvert her father’s special ad
miration.
As May neared the apartments appertaining
to her tamilv, a small avalanche of white pi
quet, scarlet legs and sash bore down upon her
from the end ot their corridor, exclaiming:
“ I say, May ! Colonel Edgcomb’s gone and
he ain't coming back. J asked him and he told
mo he wasn’t. Ain’t you sorry—l am. He was
the boss for candy,” c ntinuea the young hope
ful, trying to swing on his sister’s arm. Put
with rather a petulent motion for her, May
loosened the tiny fingers answering:
“ There, run along, Archie. I have lots to do
and cannot be bothered this morning.”
Opening his eyes rather wide at this new
phase of things, for May was not usually given
to industry, and perhaps a trifle irritated at her
cool reception of his news, the little fellow
sheered off with the parting fling of:
“ You’ve been crying. Your nose is awlul
red.”
The first thing May did on reaching her own
room was to walk straight to the mirror and
attentively examine the maligned part of her
physiognomy. There was no gainsaying its
saucy tilt but, red—no, not even the faintest
pink*tinge marred its accustomed whiteness.
“Little monkey!” she half laughingly exclaim
ed: thus admonishing her small brother, then
with a sigh she seated herself in a low chair and
buried her dimpled elbows in the padded win
d w-seat, thinking:
“ I wonder if he really never means to come
back. He—he had no need to have been so
spiteful. But I don’t believe he can stay away
—long. Oh, 1!” and the fair head was bowed
low and May’s secret was sobbingly whispered
to her two"pink palms and their ten little
fingers held it tightly, for not a breath of it
escaped to warn May’s many admirers that their
cases were hopeless. That night, arrayed in a
filmy, loamlike robe, May adorned the ball
room and reigned the bright, peculiar star.
Mrs. Silverton was also present, having ob
served to her daughter:
“My dear, 1 feel it my duty to make an effort,
or his lord ship may take it as a personal slight,
and really May, Ido not think you are as
courteous to him as his station demands, and
any one can see that he is decidedly epris with
you.”
“ Idiot,” echoed from May’s corner.
“ J wish, May, you would speak more dis
tinctly, my nerves are in such a weak state
that a whisper grates upon them.”
“ She said he ->—here interposed Archie,
when a look from his sister stayed the words
upon his lips, but nothing daunted, he boldly
substituted as his mother bent her 'eyes upon
jiim; “ she wishes Colonel Edgcomb would
some back.”
“Oh ! Archie I” from May.
“Really, May, I should think you would show
more discretion, and before that child, too ! Of
oourse the colonel is nice. 1 got quite to like
him, but he is not a party for you with a title at
your feet. Why I don’t suppose he has a cent
over his pay. ’
“ Yes he has, he’s lots ot dollars. I’ve seen
’em, and he’s ever-an-ever so much nicer than
old Barboil 1” wrathfully burst forth Archie in
vindication of his absent friend. And at even
ing when his sister stole to his bed-side bearing
a plate of ice cream and a supply of bon-bons,
he somehow in his dreams connected her extra
thoughtfulness with Colonel Edgcomb.
Notwithstanding the frequent snubs Miss
Silverton felt called upon to administer to my
Lord Garbole, he still made suit to “the charm
ing American,” as he designated May. Mrs.
Silverton beamed approval, while her better
half generally managed to edge off from an en
counter with his lordship. One evening the
conversation turned upon Lord Garbole, and
Papa Silverton, who paid very little heed to his
daughter’s many admirers, it sufficing for him
that his “little girl” was always blithe and
happy: slowly ejaculated:
“ Well, I guess he’s a pretty decent sort of a
chap, but give me a fellowjwith a backbone and
some grip to him. Now there’s the colonel—
bless me ! if there isn’t more character in his
little finger than in that foreigner’s whole
body.”
At this junction two white arms stole around
Mr. Silverton’s neck, while his bald pate was
most lovingly kissed by May’s pretty lips. All
unsuspicious he patted his daughter’s little
hands and prepared with a low chuckle to be
coaxed, but to his astonishment no favor was
begged of him. Instead, May began most
diligently the attempt to train her father’s scant
locks into curl, as there came with an odd little
jerk from between her teeth:
u Did you—that is—have you heard from
Colonel Edgcomb since he left?”
“ No,” was the reply, followed by, “ and I’m
sorry for it, for I’d taken quite a fancy to him. 1
don’t suppose he was much in your line, chicken
—a trifle too sober and quiet eh ? But to an
elderly codger like me he was main attractive,
and I’d give a good deal to know if I’ll run
across him again.”
“ I hope so, papa, dear—for your sake,” was
Miss Silverton’s dutiful reply.
It was the Winter before the Silvertons’ ad
vent at Ocean Bar that Colonel Edgcomb had
become known to them through a mutual friend.
and somehow it grew to be an established thing
to find the colonel quite frequently at the Sil
vertons’ handsome mansion. Perhaps he en
joyed those evenings best spent with the family.
Maybe owing to their rarity, but undoubtedly
more to the fact that at such times May shone
at her very brightest, at least in the colonel’s
eyes, which had acquired a trick of following
May’s every movement. And quite well aware
ot it was that young lady; being just a little
bit elated over this her conquest of one of the
North's bravest officers—a man so superior to
the general flutterera that singed their wings at
the light of her attractive eyes. Of course he
was altogether too old for her ; she tjaen argued,
mentally figuring how many years there lay be
tween nineteen and thirty-two; but he was"nice
to talk to when he didn't tell dreadful, unpleas
ant truths. Perhaps Laurence Edgcomb never
quite realized how much his future life de
pended upon thia petted child of fortune, until
that night at Ocean Bar, when be had seen one
the numerous moths hovering in Mav’s train
imprint a kiss upon her little, white hand, as
she, with a saucy, half-laughing gesture, tossed
him a rose from her bouquet. “ Presumptuous
puppy I’’ the colonel had exclaimed under his
breath, and as fate would have it, May bent her
steps toward where he stood at the opposite
end of the conservatory. The air May was
humming died from her lips as she paused in
astonishment at the dark look upon Colonel
Edgcomb’s lace. Then with her most winning
smile she said :
“ Why ! what has come over the spirit of
your dream, colonel, that you glare so darkly
upon me ?”
Stung by her smile, that he believed she be
stowed as readily upon any one else and forget
ting in his jealousy that he had no right to
criticise her actions, he exclaimed, hotly :
“Could you not find a better pastime, Mies
Silverton, than seeking to captivate that bov ?
My God ! I presume if I should ask a rose you
would toss it to me with the same bedeviling
smile, and yet—oh, May ! 1 had hoped to win
you for my wife. I see my folly now. A flirt—
there could be no happiness with such.” Once
May bad interrupted angrily:
“H<> 1 dare you?” her color coming and go
ing ra, , then exasperated by bis last words
she dr. - her slight figure to its fullest bight
Husweritig, haughtily :
“By wnatright, Colonel Edgcomb, do you ad
dress me in such language ?” and with the part
ing thrust of: “Al any rate, you can never ac-
cuse me of flirting or showing any great partial
ity for you,” she turned to leave, him, as he,
bowing, said :
“ Pardon me, Miss Silverton, I have erred,
but as I shall leave Ocean Bar to-morrow morn
ing, you will never have further cause to com
plain of my incivility,” and this was what bad
called forth May’s indignant protest at the open
ing of our story.
The weeks went by, and May rode and drove,
and danced and made merry, to her great en
joyment. At least, that is what she strove to
make herself believe, but deep in her heart
there was a longing for the sight of one face that
she grew to miss more and more as the days
passed. Much to her mamma’s chagrin May
had refused “my Lord Garbole,” and he had
departed a sadder and wiser man. Mr. Silver
ton merely pinched his daughter’s ear and re
marked “ he guessed her head was level.”
September had already come, when one night
such a gale as in years had not visited the coast
bore down upon Ocean Bar, and her golden
sands in the next morning’s sunshine were
strewn with broken spars, upturned keels, and
fragments upheaved from the deep. A hushed
stillness enveloped the Grand Hotel, where the
Silvertons stopped, owing to the fact of a gen
tleman, who had been rescued from a yacht,
having been brought there in a very precarious
condition. May had heard the tale of how the
gentleman’s companion on board the yacht had
fought and struggled with the waves, and near
ly lost his own life in saving that of his friend’s.
She was sitting thinking of the nobleness of the
deed, when, like a small whirlwind, Archie
bounded into the room, utterly ignoring his
mamma’s nerves as he exclaimed, excitedly:
“Oh ! I say it was Colonel Edgcomb, and I
saw them bring him up on aboard. I peeked,
too, in the door, when a man opened it, and he
looks as white as - as that stuff you put on your
face. Sam says he’s the bossest swimmer ’
“Archie!” came with almost a wail from
May's white lips; then, with a strong effort, she
asked: “ Who did you see brought to the house
on on a board, Archie?”
Fixing his bright eyes unon his sister’s pale
face, the child answered, surprisedly:
“Why, the man, of course. Sam says he’s a
friend of the colonel’s, and they was out in the
man's yacht together, and the storm knocked it
higher than a kite, and if it badn t been for the
colonel the man would have gone to Davy
Jones’s locker.”
“But, Archie, Colonel Edgcomb isn’t—isn’t
hurt, is he?”
“ Hurt!” repeated the child scornfully.
“No-o; he’s a-smoking on the piazza. I’ll go
tell him you want him.”
And before May could protest young hopeful’s
flaxen curls had disappeared down the corridor.
With returning color and demure smile May
stepped through the open French window and
made ter a flight of steps that led to the water.
At the same moment that May was fleeing to the
beach a childish treble was exclaiming to Col
onel Edgcomb:
“ I guess she’s run away. You ought to have
*een how scared she looked when I was telling
her about the upset. Girls are so silly. I'd
have knowed you wouldn’t be drowned. You
bet, I mean to learn to swim right straight oft.”
It was not easy to get rid of the little shaver,
he having developed an extravagant liking tor
the colonel. Truth to tell, it was not often that
( olonel Edgcomb found the child’s company one
too many, for he was fond of the boy; but this
morning he .used a little stratagem, aud at last
found himself alone.
Some half hour later as he rounded a bend
that shut in a tiny cove he came upon what he
had been diligently seeking—a slight little fig
ure seated upon a boat’s upturned keel, the
warm sun kissing the soft little rings of golden
hair at the back of her neck. Not until he stood
beside her did May glance up from under her
tilted hat with:
“ Why, good morning, Colonel Edgcomb,” al
though she had seen him coming some minutes
before. Then, as she caught a glunpse of his
slightly paler cheeks and exaggerated their pal
lor forthwith, she exclaimed impulsively :
“You’re—you’re not hurt in any way, are
you, colonel ?”
“Not at all. I assure you I ”
“And your friend?” interrupted May hur
riedly.
“I)oing well, thank God 1” answered the colo
nel reverently.
“Oh, how grand and noble and everything
like that you must feel,” continued May rather
nervously.
“I—well, to tell the truth I don’t think I ever
felt so—quite so stupid before,” faltered the
colonel.
Coloring slightly, while the shadow of a smile
flitted across her lips, May remarked :
“ Not very flattering to me.”
“ May I—oh, my darling, cannot you see. I
thought I could give you up, but here I am
back again when I know that there is not even a
ghost of a chance for me. If I knew that you
were heart whole I would compete for you at all
hazards. May,” and in his earnestness he
grasped her rather roughly by the arm, “tell
me honestly is there any one you care ter ?”
“ Yes,” murmured May rather faintly, as she
averted her face.
“That boy, 1 suppose, on whom you lavished
flowers,” he exclaimed rather sharply in bis
despair.
“ That bov, as you call him, on whom I lav
ished one poor little rose, is a very nice fellow,
and 1 like him, and in a letter I receivedfrom
him yesterday he told me that he loved”—
here she paused with rather a mischievous
glance at her companion as she added—“a very
dear friend of mine, and it all goes well they are
to be married shortly.”
“It is some one else, then?” asked the colo
nel.
“ Yes,” answered May, nodding her head, as
with a wee sigh she Added : “Like you he pro
tests he hasn’t a ghost oi a chance, and I don t
see how I am to tell him, so I expect we shall go
down to our graves as bachelor and old maid.”
“May! You are not jesting—you mean.—oh 1
my darling! don’t torture me!” and with an
imploring gesture Colonel Edgcomb held out
his arms. Perhaps May’s eyes answered quicker
than her lips, lor before she could exclaim,
“Oh, Laurence! can a woman speak plainer?’
she was clasped to his heart.
Then from somewhere in the region of his
breast pocket came a little voice saying, “ Am I
really such a dreadful flirt?”
“ Forgive me, May. I was mad at the thought
of losing you and knew not what I said,” was
bis answer, as he gathered her closer in his
arms.
“And you don’t really think I am a flirt, be
cause, you see, how can I help being nice and
pleasant to folks, now can I?” and as May at
this juncture raised her head, thus bringing her
lips in dangerous proximity to the colonel’s,
and as he did nothing to avert it, why there
naturally occurred a collision; but as neither
party seemed any the worse, but rather the bet
ter for it, we may safely conclude that such ac
cidents are not very dreadful.
Mr. Silverton’s jovial face fairly beamed when
he heard of his “little girl’s” happy choice, while
Mrs. Silverton graciously consented to receive
her future son-in-law when she learned that he
possessed quite a snug little fortune beside his
pay, and was, ii only remotely, still, related to
an earl, “and one never knew what might hap
pen,’ soliloquized the worthy lady. Archie
pronounced himself satisfied with the arrange
ment of matters and sought to persuade May
that it would be to her advantage to allow him
to accompany them on their wedding tour. He
failed, however, to gain his will, out in the
years that came after he was always a petted
and welcome guest in May’s home, for, said she
to her husband,
“Archie helped to bring you back to me.”
“Y’es,” was Laurence’s laughing reply, “but
I doubt if I could have stayed away much
longer, little wife.”
OLD ZACH? TAYLOR.
HE ORDERED THEM TO VAMOS.
(Ben. Perley Poore in Boston Budget.)
Gen. Taylor, of the American army, when he
won his victories in Mexico, did not look much
like a hero. He was somewhat below medium
bight, was short and stout, in fact, was what
one would call dumpy. He wore a straw hat,
an old linen duster that looked as if it might
not have been washed since he fought the battle
of Palo Alto. His pants were large and loose,
and he wore coarse soldier shoes. Gen. Shields
used to narrate an interesting incident that oc
curred one day when he was a guest of “ Old
Rough and Ready’s ” table at dinner, with Col.
Bliss and a son of Henry Clay. Just as they
were finishing dinner, a guard filed in with two
prisoners that had just been arrested. The men
had bean for two days peddling oranges through
the camp, and by accident one of the soldiers
had discovered that under their coarse gar
ments they wore the finest linen. So the two
were arrested, and carefully concealed about
their persons had been fouud papers contain
ing very valuable information concerning the
American camp, the number of men in arms
and the best points for attack. These papers
were handed oyer Jo Gen, Taylor, and alter
reading them be passed them to the rest of us.
They were unmistakable evidences that the two
men were spies. “ Call my interpreter 1” de
manded Gen. Taylor. The general could not
speak Spanish. The only Spanish word he
knew was “ vamos,” and he used it on all occa
sions. Whenever he invited the Mexicans into
camp, lie said “ vamos,” and whenever he or
dered them out of camp, he said “vamos.”
The interpreter having arrived, Gen. Taylor
said to him, “Ask them who they are!” The
prisoners replied that they were Mexican sol
diers. “Humph! Thought so. Now ask them
what their rank is.” They looked at each other
a moment, as much as to say, “We might as
well tell the truth,” and answered that they
were colonels, one of them Chiel of the Engineer
Corps at Monterey. “Aha!” said Gen. Taylor,
“so much the worse. And now ask them who
sent them here.” They replied that they had
come in obedience to the orders of Gen. Apudia.
“Gen. Apudia sent you, did he?” roared old
“Rough and Ready.” “Well, I say Gen. Apu
dia is no gentleman, or he would not have sent
you here upon this sneaking errand, to spy
about our camp. I say he is no gentleman!’’
The prisoners had just begun to understand
that the naan whom they were before was the
American general, and when he uttered this
hasty opinion ol their chief they bowed very
low. Gen. Taylor asked them if they knew the
penalty of their crime; it they knew that, as
spies, they ought to be shot. At once tiie pris
oners drew themselves up proudly and said
they knew the penalty, but if they were to die
they trusted they would meet their late like
brave men. Tbeir bravery pleased the bluff old
soldier, and a ter a moment s thought he said :
“ Well, I’ll let you go this time, but il I ever
catch you spying here again I’ll have you shot,
shot like Mexican doge I Now. vamos ! vamos !
NEW YORK DISPATCH, SEPTEMBER 5, 1886.
And tell Gen. Apudia that when he wants to find
out about our army, ho may eend a delegation
of his officers here and I will escort them about
myself and order a review of the troops ter their
especial benefit. ’ The liberated men scampered
off briskly. Shortly after that Gen. Taylor, at
the head of his victorious legions, marched in
and took possession of Monterey.
CELESTINE.
FROM TH! FRENCH IF JEAN RAMEAU.
The sun was warm that day. It was pleasant
to sit for hours idly resting in the shadow of the
arbor.
Bernadon, a little old man, bowed and
wrinkled, with a back so rounded and a head
so low that he might be taken for a vague,
human interrogation point, sat doing nothing in
the garden, by the side of the house, in which
the dwelled alone.
The house was a strange one. A miserably
constructed building, flanked with cross struc
tures and towers like a chateau, quite isolated
in the middle of a plot of ground with uncer
tain boundaries, it stood in one of the richest
quarters of the city.
Bernadon arose suddenly, and, speaking into
the hollow of his hand, he said:
“ With this repair, Celestine will do.”
Celestine was the name the old man had
given his house. He loved this old shed, which
ho had erected at different times with his own
hands. He loved it much, this immense ru n
that had cost him twenty thousand francs and
was not worth four sous. With the tenderness
of a bachelor deprived of the presence of
women, he had called it Celestine in his old
age.
And Celestine was all his joy—filled his whole
life.
This parody of a manor house had the ap
pearance of a squat old woman, and the large
tower represented lor Bernadon the head of
his dear idol. Hq had made round openings
high un on the facade, and he mentally called
them Celestine’s eyes. He had recently given
the dwelling a roofing ot red tiles—that was
Celestine’s headdress. Finally his sleeping
room, the central apartment and poorly lighted,
constituted Celestine’s heart. The poor thing
was not solid. It settled a little, day by day,
notwithstanding its youthful age. It had lost
one or two little turrets as one loses his teeth.
And Bernadon, overwhelmed by taxes and de
prived of income, bad found himself so poor
that he had been unable to reconstruct them.
Ah ! ho need only have spoken the word to be
rich. All that would have been necessary would
be to sell the shed and the plot of ground on
which it stood. They Would have been worth
several thousand, perhaps. But abandonCe
lest ne—see her demolished ? Never:! :
The old man left the arbor and approached
the dwelling.
“ Yes,” he said again, “ with this repair
everything will do.”
He" spoke ot a largo iron brace that he had
placed in the interior of the principal tower at
the bottom, an ingenious, firm brace that had
cost him his very life-blood, but that would
prevent Celestine from tumbling down ter many
a day.
Aud half closing his eyes and inclining Lis
head, like a painter examining his work, he
looked lovingly at Celestine, as if seeing her for
the first time.
Suddenly he trembled. Some one had laid a
hand on his shoulder.
“At how much do you value your property,
my friend ?”
Bernadon straightened himself, as if he would
have broken his back, and, with a ringing voice,
looking the man in the face, he said, “It is not
for sale, sir ; look elsewhere.”
And he terrified the would-be purchaser with
an injured look, as oi a husband whose wife it
had been proposed to buy. The gentleman
bowed.
“If you should ever decide to sell,” he said,
“I am stopping at the little hotel on the left.”
And he went his way.
Bernadon turned at once toward his house.
“Then, fear not!” he said, as if addressing a
person. With short steps, his hands behind
him, and his eyes half closed by the sun, Ber
nadon returned to his arbor.
But all at once an exclamation escaped him :
“It can’t be possible!”
And his eyes opened wide. A child in that
arbor? A very small, red child, wrapped in a
shawl? A child, abandoned there, was placed
beside the wall.
The old man bent over and looked down.
“It is impossible !’
But then a sharp cry struck his ears, the cry
of the child, frightened by sight of him.
Bernadon stood amazed. What was to be
done with this package ? He looked up and
down the street, under the wall. He saw no
one. It took him a long time to decide what to
do.
The little one continued crying. He took it
up, and, hesitating a moment, passed it into
the street.
“ Yes, I will leave it out here somewhere,” ite
said to himself.
But people came along and he dared not
leave it. The child, calmed now, looked up at
him with dull gravity. It might be ten months
old, perhaps six, possibly twelve ; the old man
was no connoisseur of young children.
He laid the little one down near the end oi
the wall, but a carriage came rolling along.
“Ha !” he exclaimed, “ suppose that vehicle
should pass over it.”
He growled a little and then took the child
up in his arms again.
He noticed its hair, beautiful blonde hair,
just beginning to curl. How very soft this
hair 1 It is a pleasure tor an old man to stroke
it.
“ I will carry it to the police station,” he de
cided.
But suddenly, during the journey, the little
one said something. Yes, something very
strange indeed.
“ Papa.”
It said this with such a strange voice, Berna
don began to consider. And Its heart, yes, his
heart, which he had not felt beat for eL many
years .
But these reflections were arrested by his ar
rival at the police station. He entered me
chanically. He was questioned, but he heard
nothing. His ears were filled with music—very
sweet music—whose only word was “ Papa.”
“ 1 want to know,” "demanded one of the
guardians of the peace, “what you wish us to
do with that child. If you have found it and
wish to leave it with us, do so and go your
way.”
“ Hey ? Leave it wish you demanded Ber
nadon.
And the music rang continually in his
“No, indeed,” he said.
And he departed, pressing the infant to his
breast.
Thus it was that Bernadon found an aban
doned child, loved it almost in spite of himself,
raised it, aud thus committed, to his shame, to
his joy, as he termed it, an act of infidelity
against Celestine.
Now, several years a r ter these occurrences,
Bernadon suffered severely one Spring morn
ing.
Ah ! it was terrible. Bernadon was loaded
down with debts contracted for the mainten
ance of the little one. He had vainlv sought,
invented, reflected, but no means had been
found to keep both Celestine and the child—one
or the other must be sa rificed.
Then, with his eyes full of tears, he compared
them for a long time this Spring morning. The
terrible moment had come. He must choose
between a levy on his house aud sending the
little one to the home for foundlings.
It was a lugubrious business. He looked
successively at the eyes of the child and the
windows oi his pet Celestine, the child’s hair
and the headgear of the old house. He found
them all charming, all adorable, indispensable
to his old age. He wavered between the two,
unable to conclude which was preferable,
equally happy with either. All at once the
little one threw her arms about his neck and
murmured something in his ear.
“ What did you say?” demanded Bernadon.
“ I said you are my papa.”
Ah! he hesitated no longer. NOj indeed.
Houses cannot speak. Suddenly turning his
back on Celestine, not daring to look at her for
fear she might suspect his treason, he crossed
the street and directed his steps toward the
little hotel on the left; with his heart on fire, he
went to seek the man who wished to purchase
his house and land.
Six thousand francs he was offered for them,
and three thousand in addition to take charge
of the demolition of the old structure.
“ Come, come,” said the old man when he
was back with the little one, “ I shall buy you
a beautiful wooden horse.”
And he jingled the coins in his pocket with a
feeling of contentment.
Weeks passed and passed. Bernadon grew
lean. He had been unable to prevail upon him
self to demolish Celestine. He had hired lodg
ings opposite his former home and spent his
days in looking at it frpm afgj, He h&J three
months according to the written contract, in
which to raze Celestine to the fground. Three
mouths I Bernadon counted the days in an
guish.
One morning it was absolutely necessarv to
resolve upon doing it. He hired two laborers
and showed them the house.
“There,” he said, with a dull voice, “go to
work.” Feeling a curious vise clutching about
his heart, he cried: “ Not there !”
They wanted to begin with the great tower,
which, to him, was Celestine’s head. But be had
them tear down a few insignificant walls at the
sides, then a corner of the roof, then a ruined
little observatory, starting with each stroke of
the piokax as if the laborers were working on
his flesh.
All this time he held the little one on his
knees to console himself. Occasionally his eyes
wandered from the house to the child, and from
the child to the house, regarding them, in turn
as if he bad repented of his choice. ’
“ No, never !” he cried to the workmen, who
were abo.ut to attack the tower. “ Nevqr !”
So he discharged them, threatening to break
the bead of him who dared do evil to Celestine.
He became frantic.
But on the morrow the new proprietor came'
with a troop of men, armed with'long iron tools
that made Bernadon tremble.
“Don’t, don’t,” he clamored.
But, seeing that the die was cast, that this
dreadful thing must happen, that nothing in
the world could save his beloved house, he
himself took a pickaxe, and, motioning the’ la
borers away with a gesture of his hand, he ap
proached Celestine.
“ There, you shall not suffer long,” he eaid
in a high-pitched tone of excitement.
He seemed to be groping tor a nlace at the
bottom of the tower; then he struck a terrible
blow, with a power no one suspected in his old
arms.
The iron brace that upheld the whole struc
ture was laid bare. A second blow severed it
The house trembled and a crackling sound was
heard.
“ Heavens ! the whole thing is falling ! Save
yourself, Bernadon 1” cried the workmen.
But Bernadon moved not.
He turned toward the child that was playing
at a distance, and, with a strange voice that was
no longer human, he exclaimed:
“You will come sometimes and play upon my
grave, little one 1”
Staggering, Celestine fell upon him with a
horrible crash, and her timbers, her tiles, her
stones and rubbish fell upon him eagerly, cov
ered him, killed him fiercely, as if they loved
to murder him.
IN A CJNFEDERAIE CAMP.
HOW THE NEWS OF LEE’S SUR
RENDER WAS RECEIVED.
(General Duke t in Southern Bivouac.)
We reached Christiansburg'late in the even
ing of April iCtb. The command had halted
for the night, and the troops were about to go
into camp, but the column was still closing up,
and the larger part of it was still on the road.
1 remember that General Echols and I were
dismounted and standing upon the turnpike
surrounded by the soldiers. We were talking
about some ordinary matter to which I had
called his attention. Just then Lieutenant Clay
galloped up and asked where he could find the
general. General Echols indicated his pres
ence, and Clay approached and silently handed
him a dispatch. General Echols opened it and
read it. I instantly perceived that it contained
momentous and disastrous news. His face be
came intensely flushed, and then grew deathly
pale. He quietly requested me to follow him
out of the throng. I did so, and when we were
a few paces away he read me the dispatch,
which was from General Lomax, and in these
words :
“ General Lee surrendered this morning at
or near Appomattox Court House. lam trying
with my own division and the remnants of Fitz
Lee’s and Cosser’s divisions to arrange to make
a junction you.”
Although prepared to hear of disaster, I had
not expected anything so dread ul as this, and
the announcement almost stunned me. I can
never forget the feeling of utter dismay and
despair with which 1 heard it, or the impression
it produced upon the troops when the informa
tion reached them.
Gen. Echols had not intended to immediately
divulge it. After a brief conference we agreed
that the news should be concealed, if possible,
from the men until the next day, and commu
nicated that night only to the brigade and regi
mental commanders. We had hoped that some
plan might be devised which would enable us
to hold the troops together until we could learn
what policy would be pursued by Mr. Davis,
and whether it would be our duty to endeavor
to join Gen. Johnst n. But to conceal such a
fact when even one mm was aware of. it was
impossible. Before we had c ncluded our brief
conversation we knew from the hum and stir in
the anxious, dark-browed crowds nearest to us,
the restless oscillation of the long column as a
whisper flew along it, the excitement which
soon"grow alm st to tumult, that the terrible
tiding.had gotten abroad. That night no man
slept. Strangely as the declaration may now
sound, there was not one of the six or seven
thousand then gathered at Christiansburg who
had entertained the slightest thought that such
an event could happen, and doubtless that feel
ing pervaded the ranks of the Confederacy.
We knew that Richmond had fallen. We knew
that the heroic army which had so long defend
ed Richmond was in retreat. We knew that it
would be nomadic ; that its operations could no
longer be conducted upon the methods which
support regular warfare, and that everything
necessary to maintain its efficiency was lost.
'.Ve could hazard no conjecture as to what
would be done ; yet, that the Army of Northern
Virginia, with Lee at its head, would ever sur
render, had never entered our minds. There
fore, the indescribable consternation and
amazement which spread like a conflagration
through the ranks when the thing was told can
scarcely be imagined by one who has not had a
similar experience.
For four years the people of the Southern
States had lived under a separate government
of their own, and had looked upon themselves
as constituting a distinct nationality.
The very fact that those four years had been
years of struggle, danger and sacrifice only the
more intensified their aspirations for political
separation and independent governmental ex
istence.
What at first may have been with the mass of
the population mere prejudice, as some have
claimed, or at best but an ideal love of the free
dom which, in its widest sense, means the right
of the people of every sovereign community to
control without interference or restriction tbeir
own affairs, had grown into an ardent wish for
the maintenance ot the Confederacy and a devo
tion to their Southern land which was limitless.
Previous attachment to their native soil, all the
ideas and traditions they had been reared to
believe and cherish, all that contributes to make
up what is wise and good, as well as what, in ex
cess, may be wrong in patriotism, was connected
in their minds with the contest in which they
were engaged and the effort they were making.
They were almost ready to believe that all future
hope and life itself depended upon success.
To all who read this - save those who shared
the sentiment—it may seem incredible that the
Southern people and soldiery can have really
felt the blow sb keenly. I will ask such skeptics
to imagine the impression that would be pro
duced upon them by the conviction that this
country had been suddenly subjugated by some
foreign power, aud was about to be overrun and
permanently occupied by its armies and gov
erned by its agents. The South expected, in de
feat, to be reduced to just such a condition.
General Lee and his army had been so identi
fied in our minds with the Confederate cause
that to lose them was like taking the heart from
the body.
During all that night officers and men were
congregated in groups and crowds discussing
the news, and it was curious to observe how
the training and discipline of veteran soldiers
were manifested even amid all this deep feeling
and wild excitement. There was not one act o.
violence, not a harsh or insulting word spoken;
the officers were treated with the same respect
which they had previously received, and al
though many of the infantrymen who lived in
that part of Virginia went off that night with
out leave and returned to their homes, none
who remained wore insubordinate or failed to
obey orders with alacrity.
Great fires, large aud* more numerous than
ordinary camp-fires, were lighted and kept
burning. Every group had its orators, who,
succeeding each other, spoke continuously.
The men rushed from one crowd to another,
hundreds sometimes collecting about a peculiar
ly fervid speaker. Every conceivable sugges
tion was offered. Some advocated a guerrilla
warfare: some proposed marching to the trans-
Mississippi and thence to Mexico. The more
practical and reasonable, of course, proposed
that an effort to join Gen. Johnston should
immediately be made. Many, doubtless,
I thought of surrender, but I do not remember
to have heard it mentioned.
THE STORY OF A HYACINTH.
BY WILL M. CLEMENS.
An unfortunate flower was this poor little hy
acinth. Mother Nature had failed to nurse this
tiny floral waif, and so it was not a pretty flower,
but a pale pink blossom that had forced its fee
ble way, after many struggles, up through the
hard, stone-covered eartb, and it stood there in
the field all alone. Not so much as a dandelion
bade it welcome, and in all the field about only
thistles grew—and weeds, for weeds grow ev
erywhere.
A gentle Summer breeze came floating by,
bringing upon its wings a leaf, a simple wither
ed rose-leaf, that had fallen from its parent stalk
in the garden not far away. The wind hastened
in its flight, and by some curious accident the
withered leaf fluttered to the ground and fell
upon the sickly flower. The little pink hyacinth
sighed heavily, and bent its back as it bore the
heavy burden, but uttered no complaint. Hope
came to the lonely flower, and it murmured
sotly:
“Who knows? Perhaps if I bear this leaf
awhile, some 9! tjje fragrance of the rose may
be mine.”
Then there came another breeze and another
leaf, bnt not from the rose.
“ I come from the pure, white hyacinth stand
ing in the corner of the garden, whispered the
leaf, and the pale, pink flower whispered in re
ply:
“Ab! that is better. With your own beauty
and the shade from the withered rose-leaf, whs
knows but I may develop into a lovelier aud a
brighter !"’ -
And Uie wiuds brought many dead leaves and
brought also white threads from over the way
where the milkweed had burst its pods, and the
hyacinth laughed and said:
“I am not alone. Even the 'Milkweeds love
me. They, too, send tbeir tokens to Sift, and I
can bear tbeir light filaments that would destroy
the beauty of the proud flowers in the garden.”
And still the wind brought dead leaves, and
the poor little hyacinth withered under the
weight 0! its burden. The leaves murmured to
the passing winds :
“ Oh, it is nothing. The morning sun will
revive her. She was always pale and sickly,
but every morning she has revived—of course
not as pretty and as fragrant as a hyacinth
should bo, but as beautiful as when she first
blossomed.”
And the night came and darkness covered
the field and the garden wherein each pretty
flower closed its bright eyes with hopes that
the warm morning’sun of the morrow would
bring a new flush of pink to the cheeks of the
withered flower. But in the night another leaf
fell upon the hyacinth. A little leaf, but its
weight was too much for the little pink blos
som. In their midnight dreams the garden
flowers beard a strange noise come from the
field, and when they shook the dew from their
fragile bodies aud emerged into the bright sun
shine of another day, they bowed their beads
in grief and mingled their tears with the dew
upon the. ground.
Over in the field the poor little hyacinth was
ly ng cold and prostrate with the dead leaves
of the other plants all about her. And the flow
ers said ■
“ Ob, it is sad, indeed. Who will bear our
dead leaves now ?”
The morning winds sighed as they chased
each other across the field, and the milkweeds
nodded to each other, and the thistles mourned.
Nature’s children, each and every one, sang
silent songs of pity for the poor, pink flower
that bore her burden bravely to the end. And
the sun kissed the cold and faded leaves with
love and tenderness, and the grand old world
continues moving as before. *
God pity those who bear their burdens to the
grave.
HUMOBOF THE HOUR.
BY THE DETROIT FREE PRESS FIEND.
WHAT HE WANTED OF IT.
Send me a thousand pounds of oleomar
garine.”
“ Ah I going to start a boarding house ?”
“ No, I'm going to run a dairy out here in the
country.”
ART IN CHICAGO.
Two gaudily attired ladies were observed,
recently, inspecting the colossal statue ot
Schiller, of which Chicago is pardonably proud.
“ What a remarkably large man he jmust
have been,” said one, craning her neck and gaz
ing up at the flowing locks and prominent nose
of the figure.
“ Yes,” replied the other, with the conde
scending air of one imparting knowledge. “The
Scotch are always large men.”
SAME HERE.
“So you won’t take dot coat for seven dol
lar ? ’
“ No, I guess not.”
“ V’hell. we shall call it six, though I lose by
it.”
“ No, I guess not.”
“ Say five und a half ?”
“ No; I’ll look around a little.”
“ Vhat peesness vhas you in, my frendt?”
“ 1 sell grindstones.”
“ Oh, you do?”
“ Why ?”
“ Oh, nothing, oxceptdot vhen I like a grind
stone I look aroundt a leedle, too !”
SOLVED AT LAST.
He st >cd for a long time looking into the dis
play window of a gents’ furnishing store, and
by-and-by he gave himself a sort of a kick and
exclaimed:
“ Humph ! Just like me I”
“ What is it?” asked a boy who came up.
“ I’m a fule 1”
“ For why ?”
“ For because I’ve been wonderin’ for two
years how a feller got into one of these buttou
behind shirts, and I’ve just diskivered that he
don’t have to turn around in it to bring the bu
sum to the front! Bub, you may kick me a
nickel’s wuth 1”
“ BEEN THERE.”
He was walking to and tro in the depot, as
waiting passengers will, and his face wore an
expression of peace and contentment. All of a
sudden a wave of anxiety and fear swept cr er
it, and he began Searching his pockets. His
anxiety was so marked that several men ap
proached him, and as he continued to turn his
pockets wrong-side out one of the group in
quired:
“ Have you lost your wallet ?”
“ Wallet ? No I I changed my coat an hour
ago, and 1 left a letter in the pocket, and—
and ”
“ And by this time your wife has got it?”
“ Y—yes !”
And every man in the group spoke up in cho
rus and advised him to take the one chance in
a hundred—hire a hack and drive back home
as fast as the horses could gallop.
A Plea for Alcohol. —The “Revue
Scientifique ” publishes a paper on alcohol and
alcoholism which presents statistics and con
clusions of a starting nature. The author, M.
Fournier de Flaix, affirms that the outcry
against alcohol is utterly unmerited, as it does
far more good than harm. To demonstrate this
M. de Flaix furnishes tabular statements to
show that not only in the French departments,
but in all other countries the birth rate is lower
and the death rate higher wherever the con
sumption of alcohol is small. It is further
argued irom these figures that neither crim
inality nor suicide is in proportion to alcoholic
consumption. In the Seine et Oise the con
sumption of alcohol is just about half what it is
in the Seine Inferieure, yet the suicide rate is
double in the former. In England, again, more
alcohol is consumed than in France, and yet in
France, the writer points out, the birth rate, the
death rate, the statistics of crime and suicide,
are less favorable than in England. The com
parisons for Italy, Spain, Sweden, Norway, Den
mark, Russia, Austria and Germany show
analagous results. M. de Flaix s conclusion is
that it is the nations with the most vital powers,
the greatest wealth and the best morals who
consume the most alcohol. Alcohol he main
tains to be an elimentary element, whose con
sumption should depend directly upon the re
quirements of the climate. Our late Prime
Minister, among others, is cited by M. de Flaix
in support of his thesis. He says: “ Mr. Glad
stone takes every day two glasses of claret at
lunch and two at dinner, with a glass of port
wine. His alcoholic consumption has been
estimated by his son at seven gallons a year,
which would be three and a half times the
average consumption per head in England, and
four and a halt times the average in Europe.”
Soubise and His Sauce.—Alexandre
Dumas used to tell his guests with great gusto
the history ot a pheasant ala Soubise. Soubise
was a famous French general who was worsted
in one of Louis XV.’s campaigns. He fled from
the battlefield and took reluge m a peasant s
cottage, where dinner was being cooked for the
family. The dinner was a oheasant, and the
cookery was peculiar. Wearied and hungry,
the marshal thought he had never tasted any
thing so good ; and, having dined, he got paper
and pen and ink, cross-examined the peasant’s
wife, and committed the recipe to writing. At
that moment two of his aides-de-camp entered
the cottage. They too were fugitives from the
battlefield, which was now a scene of hopeless
rout. “See,” said one to the other, “how great
a man he is, that even in the hour of disaster he
should be organizing a route lor his army and
planning a fresh campaign!” They had not
then heard of a pheasant a la Soubise. The
marshal returned to Pans dishonored and dis
graced. He would not be received at court,
and became the object of a thousand malicious
epigrams. Some friends were staunch to him
and one great lady, who was also a favorite of
the king, he still numbered among his friends.
She tasted at his house a pheasant cooked after
the memorable recipe. It was excellent. The
fame of it went through the city. Every one
was talking of this Soubise sauce; but the secret
was kept. Jealousy and malice were strong
with Freneh courtiers; but the desire to taste
the new sauce was stronger still. Various over
tures were made; but the marshal was reso
lute, or, at least, was reticent. Ultimately it got
to be understood that, if polite society wanted
the sauce, it must accept with it the soldier.
The dish was too alluring, and the marshal was
restored to favor.
Why Calico Has Goke Out of Popu
larity.—The calices made years ago would
wear twice aS long without washing as the
modern calico. More substance in actual fibre
is what is wanted to regain popularity. An
other reason is the low price that wool has
ruled at for several years past, enabling our
manufacturers to make woolen dress aoods at a
very low figure, and these goods do not re
quire washing. Some may think they absorb
just as much dirt without showing it, but they
do not. Cotton warp goods with combed wool
filling can now be sold just as cheap as calico
used to be sold tor. But let clean wool again
run up to $1 and over and calico would again
be more in demand. It might be in its new
form and under the more fascinating name of
sateen, which is but the same fabric with the
same material and process ot printing, only it
is woven eu three, tour or five harness, which
enables the manufacturer to make what we call
a warp or satin face. Sateen is, in weaving
parlance, “ quarter satin”—both these fabrics
take their name from the method or manner of
weaving. Satin is wove on sixteen harness,
with fifteen threads up every time a filling pick
is thrown in; while a sateen is wove on four
harness, usually with four warp threads up
every time a filling pick goes in. All observers
will have noticed that satin will not hold duet,
and will repel all kinds of dirt, although silk in
other weaves, such as gros-grains, will catch
and hold not only dust, but any foreign sub
stance. Cotton does not have the repelling
power of silk, because it is not bo dense or lus
trous, but is a quick absorber of moisture and
has an equal affinity tor dirt.
gLECTBICAL — Says the
London Engineering.- The acetate ot soda foot
warmers now used for laijway carriages gradu
ally become cool by radiation, but M. Tommasi,
the French electrician, proposes to keep them
up to a certain temperature by moans of the
heat due to an eleetrio current traversing a high
resistance. Only the heat lost by radiation is
thus compensated tor, so that the original high
temperature is obtained on ths cheaper plan of
heating by a fire, or rather by plunging the
warmers in boiling water. The current em
ployed to maintain their heat is to be supplied
by a dynamo driven off an axle of the train, and
the circuit passes through all the warmers. A
simple device allows ot the foot warmer being
thrown out of circuit should it become unbeara
bly hot The plan will require fewer foot
warmers than are now used, since it will be un
necessary to change them during a lengthy
journey. This combination of fire and electric
heating is perhaps more likely to be successful
for the present than a purely electrical arrange
ment. Most of the latter which have been de
vised are of feeble power.
Eucalyptus Doesn’t Affect Malaria.
—The banishment of malaria from the Roman
Campasna by means ot the eucalyptus tree has
been so often announced as a tact that it may
be a surprise to many people to learn that, ac
cording to the recent demonstration of a scien
tific commission, whatever improvement has
been effected in the sanitary condition ot Italy
in this particular is the result simply of drain
age and exposure ot the humid soil to the direct
rays of the sun, through the cutting away of
forests. There is absolutely no prod! that the
eucalyptus trees deserve any credit at all. It is
indee*d affirmed, on the authority of Professor
Loversidge, of the University ot Sydney, that
there are in Australia large forests of eucalyp
tus in which' malaria is very prevalent. (
Niovel Method of Preserving Fish.
—A rather novel method of preserving fresh
fish, the London Echo tells us, has been recent
ly introduced to those interested in the trade,
and will probably be adopted so far as the bet
ter qualities of. that excellent food are con
cerned. Mr. Roosen, of Hamburg, puts the
fresh fish, as caught, into steel barrels, fits in
the head, and then pumps the barrel full ot a
solution which contains boracio acid, salt and
some other antiseptics, until a pressure of
about sixty pounds is reached. The internal
pressure prevents any access of air, and the
antiseptic solution preserves the fish in a per
fectly fresh condition. The tise of this antisep
tic solution will probably be regarded as an ob
jection by some people—those, for instance,
who do not know that the greater portion of
the milk delivered in London is dosed with
boracic acid or a boro-glycaride, but it is really
per ectly harmless in this connection, and,
combined with the system of packing the fish
in barrels under pressure, should enable mer
chants to deliver the delicate sole or the lordly
salmon in a really fresh condition at a cheaper
rate than obtained at present, for it will be no
longer necessary to hurry fish to London by
train, at a cost of five to seven times the ex
pense of water carriage. There is, however,
this drawback—that just as the preservative
process will enable the dealers to choose the
slower and least expensive means of transit, so
it will enable them to keep the fish and
sell at their prices; for so long as th*e pressure
is maintained in the steel barrels the fish will
be, to ail intents and purposes, fresh.
Quinine. —It is derived from Peruvian
or Jesuits’ bark, obtained from various species
of cinchona which grow in the Colombian,
Ecuador, Bolivian and Peruvian forests of
South America. The Countess de la Cinohon,
wife of a Peruvian viceroy, was cured of a fever
by its use, and when she returned to Europe
introduced the medicine there about the middle
of the seventeenth century. It derived the
name cinchona from her. This bark used to be
gathered by the Cascarillas Indians chiefly, who
obtained it by cutting down the trees that pro
duce it. This, ot course, soon thinned out the
more valuable trees, and such was the reckless
stupidity of the Peruvian government that,
though it put every obstacle in the way of the
tree being planted elsewhere, it never attempted
by a system of forestry to renew the riches thus
improvidently wasted. The result was that
quinine became scarcer and scarcer every year;
the price of it went up to an extravagant figure,
and at one time it seemed as if this most im
portant drug was likely to become unobtain
able. It was at this time that the East Indian
government determined to try to naturalize the
cinchona tree in India. To obtain seeds and
young plants was a difficult task, but Professor
Clements R. Markham, Dr. Spruce and others
accomplished it, and in a short time a flourish
ing plantation was yielding large quantities of
quinine on the Neilgherry Hills of Southern
India. The tree has since become naturalized
in Java, the mountainous regions of Jamaica
and many other places, so that we are almost,
it not entirely, independent ox the Peruvian
forests for this great febrifuge.
A Japanese Juggler.—The follow
ing account of the performance of a Japan
ese juggler at Yokohama is taken from “The
Cruise of Her Majesty’s Ship Bacchante:” A
man lay down on his back on a mattress spread
on the ground, put his legs up in the air, and
on the soles of his feet was placed a massive
empty bronze water-jar four feet deep, into the
mouth of which climbed a small boy. The man
spun this with his feet, tossed it up in the air,
caught it on the soles of his feet again, some
times causing the jar to stand with its mouth
uppermost white he spun it round and round,
then tossed it up again, and caught it on its
side, the boy the whole time sitting unconcern
edly inside. His assistants then inserted, one
alter the other, between the jar and his feet, a
series of spitkins or wooden pans about a foot
each in depth and decreasing in diameter, so
that when the seventh or eighth was in position
the jar was at least seven feet above the soles
of his feet and standing on the top of this pile of
smaller tubs. The boy now crawled out from
the neck of the jar, and proceeded to clamber
about on the outside for a while, the man all
the time balancing the pile on his feet, until
the boy got back into the jar, when, by a sud
den kick of the legs, he sent the spitkins flying
in all directions, and caught the jar and' the
boy as they descended seven or eight feet
through the air on to his feet again. It took
two men to lift the empty jar on to his feet to
begin with, and the most extraordinary thing
is the great weight he thus pedipulated.
The Philosophy of Vaccination.—
Professor Tyndall explains the philosophy of
vaccination as follows : “ When a tree or a bun
dle of wheat or barley straw is burned, a cer
tain amount of mineral matter remains in the
ashes—extremely small in comparison with the
bulk of the tree or'of the straw, but absolutely
essential to its growth. In a soil lacking, or ex
hausted of, the necessary constituents, the tree
cannot live, the crop cannot grow. Now conta
gia are living things, which demand certain el
ements of lite, just as inexorably as trees, or
wheat, or barley; and it is not diffioult to see
that a crop of a given parasite may so far use
up a constituent existing in small quantities in
the body, but essential in the growth of the par
asite, as to render the body unfit for the pro
duction of a second crop. The soil is exhausted;
and, until the lost constituent is restored, the
body is protected from any further attack from
the same disorder. Such an explanation of
non-recurrent diseases naturally presents itself
to a thorough believer in the germ theory; and
such was the solution which, in reply to a ques
tion, I ventured to offer nearly fifteen years ago
to an eminent physician. To exhaust a soil,
however, a parasite less vigorous and destruc
tive than the really virulent one may suffice;
and, if, after having, by means of a feebler or
ganism, exhausted the soil without fatal result,
the most highly virulent parasite be introduced
into the system, it will prove powerless. This,
in the language of the germ theory, is the
whole secret of vaccination.”
Carrier Pigeon Races. —A number of
.interesting experiments have recently been
made in Austria with carrier pigeons. Thirty
one pigeons left Salzburg tor Linz, a distance of
nearly eighty English miles, which was accom
plished by all the pigeons within three hours
and three-quarters. In another race which
lately came off between Trieste and Vienna, the
distance of over 370 English miles was trav
ersed by the slowest bird in thirty hours.
In Germany the War Department has 6,000
pigeons. There are about 100 associations
that bare about 15,000 birds. Independently
ot business messages, there are trequeut
flying matches, and it has been ascer
tained that every year some thousands of
pigeons are lost in these matches, or at least
never arrive at their destination or return to
their homes. There is an erroneous impres
sion generally prevalent that carrier pigeons al
ways find their way, but German experience at
least is quite against this. It has been found
that birds frequently fly, not straight from point
to point, but making a detour by some place
with which they are familiar.
Medical Practice in Russsia.—'l h >
practice of medicine in Russia is exceedingly
onerous and unremunerative. A physician who
fails to respond to the summons of a patient is
punished by a fine ot from five to 100 roubles.
If the case was a dangerous one, and the physi
cian knew it, he may be imprisoned in the jail
for three months. The legal fee for an ordinary
i visit is from seven and a half to fifteen cents;
' for an accouchement, seventy-five cents. These
1 laws are strictly enforced. An elderly German
physician, an invalid, was called, on a stormy
Winter night, to attend a case seven miles dis
tant. He objected to go unless he was reason
ably remunerated, naming his fee. The mes
senger left to ascertain whether this amount
would be paid, but did not return. The physi
cian was subsequently arrested, tried, and con
demned to eight days’ imprisonment. Beside,
he had to pay his lawyer $250 in advance.
A Happy Thought.—A neat little sto
ry is told of the way Herr Cohn, the private
banker of the Empercr of Germany, gained the
imperial favor. Years ago, when the present
empress was still a Princess of Prussia, she
made a railway journey to Dessau. On the
way her feet got cold, so' at the next station she
sent an attendant to procure a flask of hot
water. Unfortunately the cook at the railway
staton had just used up every drop of hot
water in making fresh coffee for those who had
just arrived en the train. The restaurateur
was in despair, when one of the guests sud
denly got up, seized the pot of fresh coffee and
poured it into the imperial flask. The attend
ant hastened away with it, but soon returned,
as the princess wished to know the name of the
man who had had the happy thought of util
izing the coffee, and she did not forget him.
Stomach
Troubles are caused by Improper diet,
hasty eating and drinking, late suppers,
the excessive use of stimulants, and a
scrofulous condition of the blood. Ayer’s
Sarsaparilla is the most efficacious remedy
for all such disorders. **l am convinced
that the worst cases of Dyspepsia
Can be
cured by taking Ayer’s Sarsaparilla. I
suffered greatly from this complaint, for
years, and never took any medicine that
did me any good until I commenced
using Ayer’s Sarsaparilla. I took four
bottles of this preparation last spring,
and my appetite, health, and strength
were completely restored. —Richard M.
Norton, Danbury, Conn. ■
My wife was long subject to severe
Headaches, the result of stomach and
liver disorders. After trying various
remedies, without relief, she used Ayer’s
Sarsaparilla, and was spee'dily cured.—
S. Page, 21 Austin st., Lowell, 'Mass.
As a remedy for Debility, Faintness,
Loss of Appetite, and Indigestion, I took
one bottle of
Ayer’s Sar
saparilla, and was cured. —H. Mansfield,
Chelmsford, Mass.
Prepared by Dr. J. C. Ayer & Co., Lowell, Mass.
Advantages of Low Ceilings.—-
Rooms with low ceilings, or with ceilings even
With the Window-tops, says the ‘‘Popular
Science Monthly,” are more readily and com
pletely ventilated than those with high ceilings.
The leakage of air which is always going on
keeps all parts of the air in motion in such
rooms; whereas, if the ceiling is higher, only
the lower part of the air is moved and an in
verted lake of loul and hot air is left floating in
the space above the window tops. To have the
currents of fresh air circulating only in the
lower parte of the room, while the upper por
tion of the air is left unaffected, is really the
worst way of ventilating, for the stagnant at
mospheric lake under the ceiling—although mo
tionless- keeps actively at work under the law
of diffusion of gases, fouling the fresh currents
circnlating beneath it. With low- ceilings and
high windows no such accumulation of air is
possible, for the whole bight of the room Is
swept by the currents, as the dust of the floor
is swept with a broom. Low ceilings have also
the advantage ot enabling the room to be
warmed with less expenditure of heat and lees
cost for fuel. The above does not agree with
the generally accepted idea of the hight of
rooms in dwellings, but the authority is good
and well worthy of consideration by persons
about to build.
Crime in Europe. — The London
Daily Xeics says: From the new volume pub
lished by the Italian General Director of Statis
tics, which contains data from 1873 to 1884, the
following figures are taken respecting murder
and manslaughter in the following countries.
The proportion of individuals condemned is for
every 103,000 persons. In Italy, 8.12; France,
1.56; Belgium, 1.78; Germany, 1.11; Great Brit
ain, 0.60; Austria, 2.24; Hungary, 6.09; Spain.
7.84. Thus Italy, Spain and Hungary have the
unenviable precedence in murder. In offenses
against morality Italy shows more favorably.
The proportion of persons condemned for such
offenses is: In Belgium, 15.11 in every 100,000
inhabitants; Germany, 14.03; France, 9.77 t
Austria, 9.18; Hungary, 6.52; Italy, 3.77; Eng
land, 1.74; Spain, 0.95. Germany occupies the
first place in robbery, the proportions being in
round numbers: .Germany, 222; Italy, 154;
Great Britain, 147; Belgium, 128; France, 112;
Hungary, 77; Austria, 60; Spain, 66. Taking
all crimes together, Germany is at the top of the
scale and England at the bottom. The volume,
which is compiled with care, shows that crimes
in Italy have sensibly diminished since 1880.
The total number of condemnations has de
creased in the ten years from 1873 to 1884 from
69,023 to 60,543, and the proportion for every
10,000 inhabitants is reduced from 25.40 to 20.62-
Singular Use for Instantaneous
Photography. —According to the Court Jburna’,
a wealthy ironmaster in the north of England,
whose house and works are dazzlingly illumin
ated by the electric light, has adopted an inge
nious contrivance, by which he may glean some
information as to what goes on during his not'
unfrequent absences from home. In several of
his rooms and in his offices there is a concealed
apparatus in the walls, consisting of a roll of
prepared photographic paper and a train of
clockwork. Every hour a shutter is silently
opened by the machinery and an instantaneous
photograph is taken ot all that is going on in
the room. On the great man’s return he de
lights to develop these pictures, and it is said
that they have furnished some very strange in
formation indeed. One clerk, who received his
dismissal somewhat unexpectedly, and boldly
wanted to know the reason why, was horrified
when shown a photograph in which he was de
picted lolling in an easy-chair, with his feet
upon the office desk, while the clock on the
mantelpiece pointed to an hour at which be
ought to have been at his busiest. The serv
ants’ party in the Best dining-room furnished
another thrilling scene.
Military Fearlessness of Death. —
Many of the devices by which military indiffer
ence to life has been matured and sustained are
curious. In ancient Athens the piiblic temples
were closed to those who refused military ser
vice. who deserted their ranks, or lost their
bucklers; while a law of Charondas of Catans
constrained such offenders to sit for three days
in the public forum dressed in the garments of
women. Many a Spartan mother would stab her
son who came back alive from a defeat; and
such a man, it he escaped hie mother, was de
barred not only from public offices, but from
marriage, exposed to the blows of all who chose
to strike him, compelled to dress in mean cloth
ing, and to wear his beard negligently trimmed.
<n the same way a Norse soldier who fled, or
lost his shield, or received a wound in any save
the front part of his body, was by law prevented
from ever afterward appearing in public.
Ducks and Fish Ponds.—A curious
fact about fish ponds, recorded by Frank Buck
land, is that the presence of ducks on a pond is
an immense advantage to the fish, which he ex
plains by the fact that the habit which ducks
have of “ rootling” with their bills in the mud
enables the fish to get at a quantity of minute
insects, while the loosenng of the mud gives
facilities to the water croiftures to breed. So
distinct is the improvement of the fish in these
circumstances, that Mr. Pori, who had charge
of the experimental ponds at Receiver, told Mr.
Bucklaud that, when handling eels, even in the
dark, he could tell from their size whether
they oame from a stream of which ducks and
geese had the run. 01 course, both ducks and
geese must be kept away from ponds when the
fish are spawning, as they will, if allowed, de
vour immense quantities ot the fish eggs.
A Big Collection of Death War
rants.—The city of Paris has become lately the
possessor of a remarkable collection of docu
ments, which will have great interest in years
to come for historical investigators. This was
the series of death warrants, extending from
the 7th ot April, 1808, to the Bth of December,
1882, belonging to Samson, the notorious heads
man of the Revolution. The collection was
bound up in nineteen volumes, and Samson has
prefixed to each volume a summary of the con
tents. It appears that during twenty-five years
be executed 7,143 capital sentences, being an
average of 217 executions in each year-rather.
a busy life, •,.«»
<• . . ’
AReal Tragedy on the Stage.—A
real tragedy of the theatre has occurred at
Casale, a town ot Piedmont, in Northern Italy.
An actor, who was playing a leading part, failed
to please the audience, who displayed their dis
approval by prolonged hissing. The actor stop
ped suddenly in his lines, and, advancing to the
lootlights, drew a revolver and shot himself
dead. His wife, who was seated in a box,
witnessed the tragedy, and in a frenzy attempted
to leap to the floor beneath, wfiicn Wft; quite a
distance. She was restrained by sOVefal friends
who were in her company, and was finally
carried from the theatre unconscious.
The Seven Stabs. — An interesting
test of visual power may be found in the Pleia
des, commonly called “ the seven stars,” Or
dinarily only six stars are visible to the naked
eye, although the telescope shows a large num
ber oi smaller ones in the group. But nearly
thiry years before the d acovery of the tel
escope, Mocstliu mapped eleven stars, and may
have observed fourteen, while Professor W. F.
Denning, the well-known English astronomer,
claims that he can usually discern thirteen oi
the stars with the naked eye, and on one occa
sion was able to see the fourteenth.
Being Removed.— The huge deposit
of oyster shells at Damariscotta, Me., is being
removed. The Portland Transcript speaking of
the removal says but tew relics have been found
thus far, but stone tools and human bones have
been discovered. Shells have been found four
teen inches long, and those twelve inches long
are common. One pair twelve inches long and
six inches wide has been found, and it is esti
mated that the oyster which they contained
would have nearly filled a pint measure.
A New Thief Catcher.—Thefts of
money from garments hanging in the clotbes
room of a Meriden factory led the electrician of
the establishment to try to catch tho hitherto
undetected thief. He connected a pocketbook
in the pocket of a pair ot trousers with wires
that terminated at a gong in a distant room, and
so arranged the wires that the gong would ring
when the pocketbook was mo-ed. The pocket
book was moved, the gong sounded, and tha
thief was caught.
Upon the Plan of Secresy.—Every
Persian house is constructed upon a plan of
secresy. No windows are visible from tha
streets, but the interior is constructed around
several courts, with lovely gardens, tanks,
shrubbery and even luxuriant groves of fruit
and shade trees, of all of which one obtains not
the slightest hint from the street.
Troubl es
Never come alone. If the Liver, Kidneys,
or Bowels are disordered, other parts of
the body become affected. Ayer’s Sar
saparilla restores the vigor required
for the healthy action of these organs
more speedily than any other medicine.
**A few bottles of Ayer’s Sarsaparilla
Cured
me of Kidney Disease, when all other
medicines failed. It* is the most reliable
and best remedy for this complaint known
to me. —Eli Dodd, Xenia, 111.
I was afflicted with a severe bowel diffi
culty; my vitality seemed to be rapidly
diminishing, my appetite failed, my
tongue Was badly coated, and my strength
was gone. In this enfeebled condition I
began taking Ayer’s Sarsaparilla. I had
not taken many doses before I noticed
a decided change for the better. My
appetite and strength returned, and my
whole system manifested renewed vigor.
— E. B. Simonds, Glover, Vt.
I have used Ayer’s Medicines in my
family, with satisfaction, for years, and
always have a bottle of Ayer’s Sar
saparilla
in the house: it is so good for the blood. —
Mrs. E. Thruvegen, Perth Amboy, N. J.
Sold by Druggists. Price $1 ; six bottles, $5.