New York dispatch. [volume], September 05, 1886, Page 7, Image 7

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

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NO PERFECT WORK EUT GOO’S.
BY ROSE HUH WICK THORPE.
«’I will build,” said the architect, ‘mansions more
fair,,
Marble-columned, and stately and grand,
Mammoth-domed, perfection base, turret and
stairs,
And the winds the fam ■ of the builder shall bear
To the uttermost parts of the land. ’’
"I wdl paint,” said t.. artist, “ a pi< tnre sublime.
Rainbow-tinted and wonderfully quaint ;
The world shall bow down to this picture of mine.
For I’ll dip my brush in iue river of time,
And the lights of eternity paint.”
I wii-t wr.te,” auid th- poet, “a beautiful song
In the glory and strength of my might.
I will liberate truth. Ti.e shackles ol wrong
Shall be broken, and sin, red-handed and strong,
Shall bo slam by the words 1 shall write.”
’Neath the broad dome of Heaven’s encircling blue.
Sculptured columns reared stately and vast,
And the architect smiled as the palace grow,
But the finger of time pierced those columns
through,
While the mountain’, God’s buildings, stood fast.
The picture lacked something which glowed on the
breast
Of the sea when the sunset unrolled ;
The best of the poem was never expressed ;
Man’s grandest achievement is dross at the best.
Compared with God’s labor of gold.
lady Frederick’s Diamonds.
What Was Bidden Under the
Tombstone.
(From Chambers's Journal)
I, Arnold Blake, have had a queer, up-and
down, checkered sort of life, and until 1 was
rearing my fortieth year was most persistently
down in my luck, l irst, it was m Mexico that
I tried my fortune, and failed. Then, tempted
by an enthusiastic friend, I went to Genoa and
3et up there in partnership with him as a mer
chant. The life was a very healthy and happy
one, but not what any one could call pro Stable,
from a pecuniary point of view—m fact, quite
the reverse. 1 After a few years, finding it im
possible, with both ends stretched to the utter
most, to make them meet, we gave that up, and
1 moved on to Nice, wnere i had two or three
substantial friends. There things took a turn
tor the better, and 1 gradually formal a niche
for myself, in time ecoming quite an authority
in my own small circle. Then, acting on good
advice, I started a branch bank in connection
with a well-known one in Loudon. This an
swered fairly well; I had just as much work as
I cared to do, was able to pay my expenses, and
had even begun to lay by a little hoard against
the proverbial “rainy day.’ 1
Nice was a gay, bright town to live in, and I
constantly met old riends and made many new
•ones, who were passing through to the South
or spending two or three months there or at
Monte Carlo, for the fascinating pleasure of
either losing their own money or making a tidy
little fortune out o: somebody else s pocket.
One afternoon 1 was sitting in my small
counting-house, writing for the English mail,
when the door opeixed, and in came an old ac
quaintance, Sir Frederick O’Connor, with a
parcel in his hand.
“How dye do, Blake?” said he, cheerily.
“ I’ve come to you to get me out of a di.uculty.
These are my wi e’s jewels. Why she has
brought them with her, family diamonds and
all, parses my understanding. I call it insane.
Fact is, I don’t ie?s!i the idea of waking up
some fine morning to find my throat cut. 1
want to know ii y<.u will be so good as to keep
them in your saio while we are here. When
ever Lady O’Connor wishes to dazzle her
friends with them, f can easily come round and
ask you for what she wants.”
Naturally, I w inugiy consented to find a cor
ner lor the jewels , and alter 1 had taken an in
ventory ol them, Sir Frederick himself placed
them in an inner compartment, and I locked
the door. I little thought what a dance those
confounded diamonds should lead me !
A few days a ter this, at a large garden-party
I met Lady O’Connor, young, pretty and nappy
looking. bhe sho k hands cordially, expressed
pleasure at meeting again, and asked it I
thought the season would be a gay one.
“By-the-by,” she said, “it is very kind of
you, Mr. Blake, to take care of my valuables.
Sir Frederick was quite in despair about them,
until a happy th ught suggested you as their
protect r. lam going to trouble you for some
of them to-morrow. Fred will call for them,
and do not be surprised if you see him bristling
with bowie-knives and revolvers, for he has a
fixed idea that the Nice ruffian has a keener
nose for other people’s property than any other
ruffian in the world.”
I answered that her lovely jewels were wor
thy of an escort armed to the teeth, and that 1
was very glad indeed to be of use to Sir Fred
erick and herself <n any way.
The morning a ter this garden-party—it must
have been about half-past four or five—my
sleepy senses were completely scattered by my
door being thru an violently open and Foscoe,
my combined valet and commissionaire, a quiet
and respectful treasure, landing beside me as if
shot out of a catapult. I knew at once that
something very dreadful must have happened.
Roscoe’s face ■»! horror and despair would have
made a valuable study for an artist.
“ Get up, sir, at once, and come down to the
office. The sa e h>s been broken open and
cleaned out, sir, quite empty 1” gasped Itoscoe
breathlessly, paie with excitement.
I cannot recollect what followed during the
few minutes in which I hurriedly dressed, and
Roscoe is far too considerate to have ever re
minded me of that short scene. The first thing
I do remember is, finding myseli in my office,
clothed in a sketchy and uncomfortable man
ner, the victim of one of the most audacious
burglaries that had taken place in Nice for a
very long time. I stood gazing at my ransacked
safe and rummaged drawers, and at the floor,
strewn with papers,among which hei ea id there
I noticed a few gold pieces, which seemed as
if the robbers had been interrupted or startled
in some way or other. I was a'raid to move
from the spot on which I stood until the de
tective, whom I had sent Roscoe off in a fiacre
to fetch, should arri e, lest I might unwittingly
destroy some small but important piece of e I
dence, which his experienced eyes would dis
cover at a glance. In a very short time he ap
peared, and after a friendly word or two, com
menced his investigations. He carefully exam
ined the safe, the window, and the door. Noth
ing seemed to escape him. He took volumi
nous n tea; measured a footmark which he dis
covered on the floor, but the footmark on fur
ther inquiry was found to be his own, which
rather put him out.
I told him of the jewels which had been
placed in my care so lately.
“ Your man informed me, monsieur, as wo
came, that you had diamonds of great value in
your iroaaafe.”
A clammy dew broke out suddenly on my
forehead, as I remembered that Lady O’Connor
was counting on appearing in those same jewels
at the prefecture ball that night.
“ On the strength of what your servant told
me, monsieur, ’ continued the detective, “ 1
have already telegraphed to Marsei les.. Genoa,
and Turin, and have directed some of my most
trustworthy men to be on the alert at the rail
way sta-tion and the port. I will send and let
monsieur know the moment we get any trace of
the stolen property.”
I made out a care'ul list of all I had lost,
gave it to the detective, and then returned to
inv rooms to dress in a rather less superficial
manner. The awiul business of breaking the
loss of the jewels to Sir Frederick and Lady
O Connor was now staring me in the face, and
as I walked to their hotel I became a nrey to
the most paralysing nervousness I hope'it will
ever be my lot to endure. I was shown into a
charming sitting-room, facing the sea, and
though 1 did not look at anything round me,
except tho two people 1 had come to see, I re
membered afterward every detail of the scene.
They were at breakfast. The refreshing,
sun-warmed morning air breathed softly in
through the open window, scented by the
mignonette, which grew thickly in boxes on the
balcony outside. Lady O’Connor looked very
gracolul and pretty in a long loose gown of some
soft T ndian silk, trimmed with lace. Sir Fred
erick, also in comfortable unconventional gar
ments, was reading aloud a letter, over which
they were both laughing merrily as I was an
nounced.
They welcomed me warmly, looking as if
early and unexpected visitors were quite a
common occurrence, and between them carried
on the usual preliminary chit-chat about the
lovely weather, the delight of being able to
breakfast wi.h the window open in the month
of November, the view, Ac., as long as the serv
ant remained in the room, while I stood look
ing from one to the other, solemnly bowing my
head in silent answer to their cheerful re
marks.
It is not necessary to relate what passed; suf
fice it to say that both Sir Frederick and Lady
O’Connor possessed an unusual share of kind
ness of heart and of sympathy with other peo
ple’s misfortunes, and they endeavored to
make my unpleasant position as easy for me as
Then followed a week of restless activity. I
haunted the police bureau; if I was cot there
two or three times a day myself, I sent Roscoe
to find out for me it any telegrams had arrived
on the all-important subject, any clew been
found to throw the smallest light upon it.
One lovely alternoon I was walking down the
Promenade des Anglais, in anyt.iing but a
cheerful frame of m nd—indeed,T do not think
I ever felt so utterly depressed before. Noth
ing whatever had been heard oi the missing
jewels, and during a long consultation that
morning with Aigunez, the detective,* he had
told me that he firmly believed that the rob
bery was the work of one man, and that the
jewels were still in Nice. I had been calling
at one of the pretty villas beyond the Var,
and was now making my way down the side of
the promenade next the house,, to the Hotel de
la Mediterranee, to talk over Aigunez’s last
suggestion with Sir Frederick O’Connor. As 1
was passing the high solid walls ot the now
quite unused cemetery, I noticed that the door
was ajar; and expecting to find there old Baroni
the care-taker, whom 1 knew, 1 pushed open
the door and entered. Nobody was there; all
was silent and solitary. Here and there were
untidy heaps of rubbish; tangled, overgrown
bushes; and propped against the walls were two
or three gravestones that had covered graves
from which the remains had been removed to
some family vault elsewhere. I could not help
wondering how ii u 'h Baroni received for the
amount of care and labor he bestowed on the
old English burial-ground. When my eyes
which were uncommonly sharp ones, had be-
l coni' 1 accustomed to the dark shadows thrown
| by the wails, and the brilliant glare where the
I bhadowline ended, i noticed that a gravestone
i lying in rather a ret red spot appeared, by the
i tresh-iooking footmarks round it, to have been
i lately moved. Ido not think that this circum
i stance would have roused my curiosity in the
then preoccupied st;te of iny mind, bad it not
been that close beside it a large branch of a
neighboring tree had been bent down and
fastened firmly to the ground by means of a
stone. This arrested my attention, it was so
evidently intended to mark the spot. Exerting
all my strength, 1 pushed the heavy stone suffi
ciently one side to enable me to see that it con
cealed a small pit, recently dug, by the look of
the mold round it. It was empty ! 1 managed
to replace the gravestone, and leftthe cemetery,
carefully closing the door behind me, and
gian ing round to see if my actions had been
observed.
I hurried on to the hotel, wondering and con
jecturing as to the possible meaning of lhe cu
rious little mystery I had just discovered. That
small oblong pit—for what purpose could it
have been prepared ? My first idea was that a
murder had been or was about to be commit
ted, and in this way it was intended to get rid
oi the victim’s body; but the hole was certainly
not large enough for a grown person. Was it
possible that it was to be the unblessed, una
dorned tomb of some little one, done to death
by pitiless eartlilyguardians,who found its frail,
helpless life a burden to them ? That was too
hideous a fancy.
Suddenly the thought struck me that it might
be a hid ng-place lor property. By Jove, the
diamonds !
At that moment I reached the Mediterranee,
and going up the broad stairs three at a time in
my excitement, I knocked at the door ol the
O’Connors’ sitting-room.
Sir Frederick was alone, smoking, with a pa
per in his hand.
“ I felt sure that you would come in this af
ternoon,” he said, as he pushed his cigar-case
toward me, “so I put off going to the club.
What is the In test intelligence ?”
I first told him oi Aigunez’s opinion, that the
jewels were still in Nice—an opinion which had
now gained for me a double significance. Then
I unfolded my own budget, and told him of all
I had seen in the old cemetery which had been
closed for so many years.
1 This put Sir Frederick into the wildest spir
its.
“ We’ve got them now, Blake !” he exclaimed,
“and no mistake about it. They've run them
selves into a nice trap. Of course, these are the
rascals we're after. What do you say? Don't
set my heart upon it, in case of disappointment.
Nonsense I my dear fellow. Don’t you see they
cannot get rid of diamonds like those in a hur
ry, and not being able to leave the town puts
them in a regular fix ? It is very dangerous for
them to keep such valuable things about them,
and n 'W, they flatter themselves that they have
found an uncommonly safe hiding-place. Why,
Fate must have led you by the very nose to that
door this afternoon I”
I laughed.
“It is as well lor us, perhaps, that I did not
feel her fingers, or things might have turned
out differently. We had better settle our plan
of action for to-night, as it won’t do to let this
chance slip. How fortunate there is no mom.
It will be as black as Erebus inside those high
walls.”
“Our best plan,” said Sir Frederick, “is, I
think, to hide ourselves there as soon as it is
dark. We may have a long time to wait, but
then, again, we* may not, and we are much less
likely to be observed if we slip in early in the
evening.”
“Then I will call for you, Sir Frederick, as
soon as it is dark enough,” I answered. “And
allow me to suggest that we do not take Aigunez
into our confidence, for it will be a triumph in
deed to cut out the far-famed French detective
in bis own line of business.”
I leit the hotel w.th a lighter heart than I had
carried about with me for some time. Though
I bad cautioned Sir Frederick not to be too san
guine, 1 was myself convinced that we should
have the diamonds in our p ssession before
morning. I went back to my rooms, write
some letters, dined, and then tried to quiet my
excited mind by pacing up and down the sit
ting-r om, smoking my usual post-prandial ci
gar, till I thought it was sufficiently dark to
venture forth. The church clocks were strking
ten as I arrived at the Mediterranee Hotel, and
I found Sir Frederick performing the same rest
less quarter-deck constitutional on the pave
ment outside.
“So glad y u’ e come, Blake; I’m anxious to
be off now. What is that in your hand ?’’
“ A small lantern,” I answered. “We shall
find it useful.”
“ Got a revolver ?” inquired Sir Frederick in
a solemn whisper.
“No,” said I, in an enually sepulchral voice,
“fists are my weapons.’'
“Poch!” returned be. “Oi what use are
English fists when you ha e an Italian knife in
your ribs ? Here we are !”
The door was exactly as I had left it. There
was not a sign of anybody near us, so we went
quickly through, closing it again behind us.
We stood for a minute silent and still, until
our eyes had become more accustomed
to the intense darkness round us; then we
groped our way, with two or three stumbles
against tombst nes and over mounds o
earth, to the spot where I fancied the marked
stone must be, and in a few seconds I discov
ered it without doubt, by falling over it.
As I was collecting myself and my scattered
senses together again, after this sudden and
unpleasant downfall, 1 heard close beside me a
volley of muttered execrations from Sir Fred
erick, who declared, in an agitated whisper,
that he was sure he had caught a ghost or some
thing very like it. At the risk of discovery, 1
opened the lantern, and for one second threw
the light on the object he held in his bands. It
was an unusually large bat, which, disturbed
by our intrusion on its own domaid, must have
flown or dropped (-a to Sir Frederick from the
tree under which he was standing. He quickly
shook it off, and without further adventure we
concealed ourselves in some thick bushes near
the grave. It would have required the eyes of
a lynx to discover us, hidden as we were in the
midst of a mass of evergreens, overgrown with
a network of tangled creepers, and the high
black wall behind. There we waited, keenly
watchful. Not a leaf stirred. A perfectly dead
silence lay over everything, as if the fairy of the
Sleeping Beauty story of our childhood held
nature bound under her spell. A moldy, damp,
earthy vapor rose from the ground at my feet
and seemed to weigh me down as if it were
something solid.
The clock of Notre Dame struck eleven. An
other long weary hour went slowly by, and then
the clock struck midnight. I believe I had
sunk into a sort of doze, when every faculty
was suddenly roused by bearing a soft move
ment at the door, which was very gently
opened. There was a pause, as if the new
comers were listening ; the door was shut, and
a lantern ehed its narrow streak ol light over
the graves at their feet. One, two, three dark
forms, two of whom carried between them what
seemed to be a box. Sir Frederick gently
nudged me—of course that contained the jew
els. They came quietly to the side of the mys
terious tombst ne, and setting their burden
down on another one close by, they set to work
an 1 quickly moved it to one side. I then dis
covered, to my surprise, that the one that held
the lantern was a woman. Their faces were
deep in shad »w ; I did not once get a glimpse
of their features. All their movements wore
quiet and iree from haste ; they evidently had
not the smallest notion that discovery was pos
sible. The two men carefully laid the box in
the hole prepared for it, covered it with mold,
and, after replacing the stone, stretched them
selves and held the lantern aloft, the better to
survey their handiwork. It seemed very satis
factory to their female companion, for I dis
tinctly heard her breathe a sigh of unmistak
able relief. They left the place as quietly as
they had come to it, not having, as far as we
Knew, spoken a word to each other the whole
time.
ft was our turn now. As soon as we were
quite sure that we again had this dismal soli
tude to ourselves, we emerged from our damp
hiding-place and shook ourselves into shape,
for naturally wc both felt very stiff and numb
after our long, weird vigil. I opened my lan
tern and we began eagerly to undo the work we
had Just seen so neatly accomplished. It did
not take long to remove the stone and scatter
the thin layer of mold. In a lew minutes we
had the box—a boy’s oblong deal play-box,
clamped with h*on—lying on a tombstone before
us.
“ Open it, Blake,” said Sir Frederick.
“ Locked,” I answered as I shook the lid.
“Take my knife,” continued the baronet, as
he drew from his pocket one of the formidable
weapons at which his wife had laughed.
It was a common lock and easily forced. As
1 threw back the lid Sir Frederick held up the
lantern. “Take them out, Blake, and see it
they are all there .; it will be a wonderful thing
if none are missing. What on earth is that ?
“it looks to me like a dog-collar,” 1 an
swered, as I shook out a black cashmere shawl
in which was wrapped a silver curb chain with
a small silver bell attached to it.
“Stolen from somebody else,” cried Sir
Frederick. “Get on with the rest.”
“ This beats everything,” said I, and drew
forth a small, pale-blue garment, fashioned like
a horse's body-cloth, with a monogram in gold
thread at one side. “It is a dog’s coat. And
what the deuce is this ?”
“ A dog I” we exclaimed simultaneously.
Carefully folded in a piece of soft linen lay
the body of a small, silky-white, long-haired
terrier—to judge by all its surroundings, a
lady s cherished pet. For a lew seconds, dis
gust and disappointment kept us silent; then
.Sir Frederick broke out into a series of execra
tions more amusing than effective.
We had been beiooled by our own enthusiasm
as amateur detectives, and at first were angry,
but by and by came to see the situation in its
more grotesque aspect. After giving vent to
our feelings in a burst of suppressed laughter,
we put the little pet back into his play-box
coffin, being careful to see that everything was
just as we had found it, and quickly shoveling
the mold and pushing the tombstone over it, we
crept out of the old cemetery. Our feelings
were very different from those with which we
had entered it. We were greatly cheered, how
ever, on reaching the hotel to find a line from
Aigunez, which had come during Sir Frederick’s
absence :
“ I am on lhe right track.”
We heard no more for two days, when the de
tective reappeared with a captive, a valet whom
ir Frederick had dismissed before leaving
England, who, knowing the great value of the
ewels which Lady O’Connor was taking with
her, had thought it worth his while to follow
them, and t e ng a clever hand that sort ol
work, had succeeded as wo have seen.
NEW YORK DISPATCH, SEPTEMBER 5, 1886.
LIGE PEAKE’S BOMB.
DIDN’T MIX" THE~INCtREDIENTS
’ RIGHT THIS TIME.
(From, the Atlanta Constitution.)
During our civil war many attempts were
made on both sides of the line to invent a de
structive and death-dealing bomb of extraor
dinary power. Some of the inventions were
tolerably successful,-but they did not come up
to the popular ideal. What was wanted was a
machine that would exterminate men by regi
ments and at the same time spread a conflagra
tion that could not be extinguished by ordinary
means. One of these bombs created quite a
sensation in its day, but the experiment with it
did not prove altogether satisfactory. It was
invented by a private in the Georgia militia.
His company was stationed on the Chattahoo
chee to intercept Sherman’s march to the sea.
To vary the monotony of camp life, Lige Peake
sent to Atlanta and obtained a lot of chemicals,
with which he proceeded to manufacture an ex
plosive of great power. Lige was an adven
turous character. He had been engaged in gold
mining in Mexico, and one of bis tales was that
while in that country he had seen a mountain
split in two, from top to bottom, with a small
tube containing an explosive manufactured by
a German scientist. The secret had been re
vealed to him and he was satisfied that he could
get up a bomb that would wipe out the Yankees,
hundreds at a time.
Capt. Tump Limberley took a wonderful in
terest in Lige’s pet hobby, and soon became a
firm believer in it. The other officers in the
company had their doubts, but kept them to
themselves. One day Lige tried an experiment
with his Greek fire. It was quite successful,
burning so fiercely that water seemed to add to
the flame instead of putting it out. He ex
plained that the materials used were only a part
of those contained in his proposed bomb. After
the explosion of his missile the Greek fire part
of the business would put in its work. Gradu
ally Capt. Tump Limberley grew more and
more interested. He detailed Lige to perfect
his invention and assigned him a little log hut
near the river. In this quiet laboratory Private
Peake spent nearly all his time at work. Sev
eral premature mishaps occurred, and at the
end of a week the experimenter had all the hair
on one side of his head singed off and both eye
brows were missing. At last the day arrived
when a public test was to bo made of the new
weapon ot warfare. Capt Tump Limberley was
the biggest and the happiest looking man pres
ent. He had invited several officers to be on
hand, and altogether there were about a dozen
spectators. The place selected for the trial was
a deep hollow near the river bank. The officers
stood on the water’s edge and viewed Lige and
his machine rather suspiciously.
Lige bore himself with the dignity and
solemnity of a man who was about to be blown
into fame or eternity, be hardly knew which.
He stood down in the hollow by a giant oak,
one ot the monarchs ot the forest. A hole had
been drilled through the base of the tree, and
in this had been inserted the iron tube con
tuining the mysterious explosive. A long fuse
was attached to the tube, and Lige carried the
loose end toward the river, where the officers
were.
“ I say, Lige,” yelled Capt. Tump Limberley.
“ All right,” Cap.”
“ But it may not be all right. Are you cer
tain about that blamed thing ?”
“ Ob, yes,” replied Lige; “it will work. It
will tear that tree to flinders.”
At this some of the crowd became a little
nervous, and a major asked:
“ Are you sure there is no danger ?”
“ I don’t tnink there is,” said Lige. “ When
touch off the fuse I’ll join you and we’ll all
squat down behind that ridge until the explo
sion is over. It is all right unless I have made
a miscalculation. In that event it wouldn’t
surprise me to see a hole blown clean down to
the bowels of the earth.”
His hearers shuddered, but it was too late to
get away, and they all dropped down on their
knees on the river side of the ridge. In a mo
ment Lige was among them looking very pale.
He exclaimed:
“ I’ve fired the fuse !”
“ Whishity—whish—fizz—whisbity—whish I”
“ Great powers 1” grunted Capt. Tump Lim
berly, who was then lying fiat on his stomach.
“ Whishity—whish—zizz—whish—zip !”
“ Great Goddlemighty !” groaned Capt. Tump
Limberly.
“ Whizzer—whish—zizz—zip—whisity—r-r-r
--r!”
“Kerohug!”
It was Captain Tump Limberley who had
plunged into the river, and was exhibiting
nothing above the water but a bald head and a
pair of big eyes.
“ Zip—whish—sizz !”
“ Kerchug !”
This time it was the colonel of the regiment
who had tumbled into the water. Then there
was a succession of precipitous “ kerchugs,”
and the entire crowd, including Private Peake,
threw themselves into the water.
“ Whisbity—whish—whiz I”
For fully ten minutes this dismal and alarm
ing noise kept up, and then all was silent. Five
minutes more passed, and Capt. Tump Limber
ley scrambled out of the water, swearing and
spluttering. He was quickly followed by the
other officers, also swear ng and spluttering.
“ I say, Lige Peake,” roared the captain,
“ what’s the mattor with your durned old ma
chine ?”
“ Well, cap., I busted this time,” answered
Lige. “ I didn’t mix the ingredients right.”
A hoarse murmur of dissatisfaction stirred
the air.
“ It’s my opinion,” said Capt. Tump Limber
ley, “thatLige Peake is an infernal, good-for
nothing rascal. ’
There was a general chorus of indorsement,
and the drenched and disgruntled officers
inarched back to camp. Lige begged for one
more trial, but they were all against him, and
the poor fellow was put to work digging
trenches.
Perhaps Capt. Tump Limberley was too im
patient, too hasty. With a fair showing Lige
Peake might have produced an explosive that
would have scattered Sherman’s army and
changed the whole course of the war.
ex-gueeillTmosby.
His Reception of a Correspondent in
Hong Kong—Going Into the Lecture
Field.
(From the Cincinnati Times-Star.}
In an interview with Joseph Arthur, one of
the managers of the Matt Morgan Diorama
Company, which opened at Heuck’son Monday,
August 30th, he said :
“ By the way, many of the old war characters
are coming to the front this season in the char
acter of showiolk; prominent among them is
ex-guerilla John Mosby, who goes upon the lec
ture stage this Winter. ‘Mosby’s debut,’ said
Mr. Arthur, ‘ reminds me of a call I made upon
him while he was United States Consul-General
at Hong Kong, China.’”
“ Your visit to old China was very interest
ing ?”
“Very. Old China always is. You know
that Mosby, ‘the hero of the bush,’ was of late
years our Consul-General there. I called upon
him at the Consulate, and before ascending the
stairway I discovered evidences ot malignant
hatred of Mosby in detached words, sentences
and earioatures written on the walls and door.
The most expressive of these read thus :
“ ‘ John Singleton Mosby, you are a
>
“The deposition from office of consular
•thieves and tricksters by Mosby explained why
they should thus pour out their vials of wrath.
I rang the bell. A compradore came and took
my card up stairs to the colonel. He returned
almost immediately, and said : ‘ His Highness
says bring your own card up.’ I did so. On
entering his office I looked about in vain lor a
man which my fancy had painted as a semi
giant with ‘ grim-visaged war and wrinkled
.rontispiece,’ a six-footer with a draw-can-sir
air and bearing of a bombastic swashbuckler.
But imagine my astonishment on seeing a bul
let-beaded little runt, with close-cropped gray
hair and smooth-shaven face. He sat with his
heels upon a desk, his thumbs in his arm-pits,
trying to spit tobacco-juice upon a lizard on the
ceiling. He missed the lizard and struck my
boot.
“ What was my first impression? ‘Why,’ I
mentally exclaimed, ‘ this lellow is not so terri
ble, a.ter all.’
“ ‘ Who the h—l are you ?’ he said with a
roar.
“ ‘Nobody much,’ said I, with an I-want-to
go-out sort of a tremble in my voice; ‘an Amer
ican like yourself, in China.’
“ ‘ You are one of those d—d newspaper cor
respondents, ain’t you ?’
“ I lied like the deuce at first to convince him
I wasn’t, but when he bellowed, ‘ Yes, you are,’
I exclaimed incontinently:
“ ‘Yes, I guess I am,’and sat down feeling
rather faint.
“ You see, the little runt made up in voice
and positiveness what he lacked in physical at
tributes.
“ ‘ Where are you from?’
“ ‘ From Indianapolis,’ said I, with a magnifi
cently ghastly attempt at a smile. Just then he
squirted a stream of (nigger head) tobacco
juice out of the window on a passing Chinaman.
I felt easier, determined to get out before he
wanted to again.
“ ‘ Indianapolis, eh ?’
“ ‘ Y’es, in that city where would-be vice
presidents most do vegetate as prolific as
mistletoes and other parasites on trees.’
“I hoped that my joke would convulse him
with laughter, but it didn’t. He frowned and I
began to wish 1 hadn’t come. He rose to his
feet and assumed a kindlier tone, which made
my heart glad, and I begun of course to get
fresh.
“ ‘Do you know General George H. Chap
man, of indianapolis?’ he asked. When I in
formed him I did, he looked straight at me—
not at me—through me, and in measured tone
said, ‘Describe him.’
“ I did minutely, even to Chapman’s gold
rimmed specs and mannerisms. He seemed
convinced, and from that time until I left he
treated me with much consideration.
“ ‘ chapman wanted me to surrender to him
in the Shenandoah Valley,’ said Mosby, ‘ but 1
sent him word I wouldn't, and Chapman got
mad. Subsequently, however, I met Chapman
and a bond of great friendship existed between
us until his death. 1 would have surrendered
long before I did, but r leaied the late of Mar
shal > ey.'
“ ‘ Heiw do you like China, colonel ?’
“ ‘ i don’t like it quite as well as Napoleon did
the island of St. Helena; nor as well as Robin
son C rusoe the island ot Juan Fernandez.’
“ ‘How does China like you?’
“ ‘ You may judge by what you see written on
the walls below.’
“ 1 told him I had read some unpolished
things on the door.
“‘ I caught a lellow at it the other day and
stuck a spear in his back after chasing him a
quarter of a mile.’
[This spear was a Zulu assegai, presented by
a merchantman who brought it kom South At s
rioa, and there presented it to Mosby.]
“ Mosby was arraigned before a British mag
istrate, pleaded his own case and got off. The
other lellow got out of China at once.
“ ‘Are you a Republican or a Democrat, col
onel ?' ” I asked.
“ ‘I am a Republican,’ said he, with warmth,
‘and will always be.’
“These outspoken words from a veritable
modern Ingomar disarmed my prejudice. I
told him so.
“ ‘Il all Americans would go abroad,’ said he,
‘they would return with a higher appreciation
of their country and less desire to disrupt it.’
“ Mosby was a good sort of fellow, alter all,
as was his dinner next day. How he will ‘catch
on’ in the lecture field deponent sayeth not.”
A AVONDERFU£ VISION.
The Haunted Ship that Was Bun
Down by a Phantom Craft.
(From the San Francisco Call,)
“ Just clap your eye on that, mate.”
The speaker was a seaman of the old school,
who had, with ejaculations of wonder and sur
prise, been hauled up the incline at Telegraph
Hill in the same car with the writer, and bad
for several moments been gazing through the
big telescope of the tower.
“ Say, sonny,” continued the old man, ad
dressing the boy in attendance, as I took my
place at the glass, “ how many foot o’ cable
nave you got out?”
“ None,” retorted the youth, sullenly.
“ What!” exclaimed the old mariner, looking
around, as the building shook and creaked
under the strong east wind.
“It always creaks and groans,” said the
boy.
“ Oh, it do, do it?” responded the sailor.
“ Well, you keep clear o’ that hatch., ’cause in
case anything gives, I may want to make a
break for it. What do you see, mate ?” turning
tome.
1 saw nothing and said so.
“ Don t ye see a kinder dim outline across the
bay ?”
I shifted the glass slightly, and made out a
faint something that might have been in the
deepening mist a large ship beating out of the
Golden Gate.
“ Ye see her?” asked the old man again.
“ I see something,” I answered.
“Well,” he said, looking around suspiciously,
then drawing near and speaking in a sepulchral
tone, “ it’s - notin’.”
“ Nothing I” I repeated; “ what do you mean,
man ?’
“ What I mean is this : You reckon you clap
ped your eyes on a full-rigged ship ; but it was
nothin’ but a ghost—a ghost of the old clipper
ship ‘Tennessee.’ You think I’m a hocuspoc
usih’,” he added, “ but I ain’t. Drop in here
and I’ll tell ye how 1 came to think so. Ye see,”
he continued, as we took seats near a window,
“s me years ago I slipped from a port in the
Malay peninsula for the china coast, and so on
to ’Frisco. Cn the way up the China b'ea we
had bad luck, got caught in a typhoon and near
ly foundered, and in the gale the skipper got
ugly and laid out a man with a belayin’pin. The
man died, and from that day all luck left us. I
didn’t say nothin’, but I knew we was in for it;
but the old man owed me a pile, so I bad to
keep to her, and stick I did.
“ We left the China coast with a load of tea,
bound for ’Frisco, and it was my watch. I was
a-standin’ on the lo’castle, right near the
weather cathead, jest as sober as I am now,
when what I’m going to spin you took place,
it was blowin’ a good ten-knot breeze, and
everything except the royals was drawin’, and
we were makin f for home, so that I’d a-swore
my old woman had holt of the painter. It was
as fine a night as you want to see, when all to
once I clapped my eye on a big clipper ship
headin’ right for us. She wa'n’t one hundred
yards away, and as God’s my witness, she was
c imin' with everything a-drawin’, dead agin the
wind. I see her jest as plain as I see you set
tin’ there, mate. I heard the reefpoints* on her
fo’sail singing; I see the foam a-bilin’ an’
slashin’under her ent water, and her sails was
that white and bright that they shone out like
fire.
“ I took all this in in a second, and then 1
sings out : * Hard a-port ! Up with her, lad.’
The watch came a-tumblin’ up the hatch, the
ship fell away and then, like a shot, she was on
us. ‘ Ship ahoy !’ I sings out ; * ship ahoy !’ I
was hangin’ in the shrouds then. ‘ Port your
helm, for God's sake, ship ahoy !’ On she
came, and I turned to sing out to the men, and
I was ready to take her chains. I see her flyin’
jibboom over my head, I heard the roar, and
just then I felt a grip on my shoulder, and turn
in’, 1 see the skipper. ‘ What’s the matter with
ye ?’ he said. I could not speak, so help me !
for the ship was gone, and there we were a
bowlin’ along just as if nothin’ had happened.
‘ We was about run down by a ship,’ says 1,
finally. ‘ You’re drunk,’ says the the skipper.
1 began to think I was, mate, and didn't say
nothin’. I s’pose you've heard of folks gettin
drunk from bein’ thirsty ? Well, I thought
mebby I had that, for as true as sailin’, I hadn't
had a drop o’ rum for a month. But when 1
came to talk it over, the hull watch see her ;
every man of ’em, and you’ve seen her to-day.
That’s her ye just clapped your eyes on through
the glass; the same identical old craft, and
nothin’ but the double of the ship. Short,
that’s what she were, and when the mate let on
to the skipper that he see her, tho old man
swore that he’d clap him in irons the next time
he mentioned it. But it wan’t no use fighting
solid facts. Four nights afterward it was my
trick at the wheel, and the skipper was walkin
up and down the quarter deck cussin’ and
swearin’ about the wind that was a-Sailing oft
and on, and kept a-taeking us back. All to
once 1 see a sail astern and singa out, ‘Sail ho!’
‘ What d’ye mean, you old swab ?’ saya the
skipper. ‘ Swab or no swab, there she is,’ says
1, and ahe was haulin’ up on us that fast that
in a second she was almost aboard. The skip
per made a jump for the rail, and sings out,
‘ Ship ahoy ! bear away 1’
“ You could a-beard him halfway to the Sand
wich islands, but on she come, and when she
boarded us, he fell back in a dead fit-like, and I
saw his eyes sot in the light of the binnacle just
like a m idman’s.”
“And the ship?” I asked.
“ Well, I see ahe went right over ua, or we
right through her like a cloud like, and that
was the last we see ot her for a week; then ahe
sailed abreast on ua for an hour or so; that fixed
the old man; he went ravin’ mad, and tried to
heave himself overboard, so we laahed him in
the cabin, and the mate took charge, and that
was the last of her.
“ What do I think of it? Well, I ain’t no phil
osopher,” answered the old sailor, “but, mates,
the hands, from the galley up, thought that that
ere craft was the old Tennessee’s double, and
her skipper was the man our mad skipper killed
by rappin’ him over the head.
“ What is she doin’ here ? Well, the skipper
came ashore here and went East by rail and got
cured, and I hear he’s back now, lookin’ for an
other ship. If you see a man short and thick,
with a red face and billycock eye and wearin’ a
glazed hat, a man what is always dodgin’ your
eye and lookin’ ’round a-watchin’ and spyin’ tor
something that ain’t never found, if you see
such a chap along the docks some mornin’,
that’s him; and what’s more, this ’ere double is
a-lyin’ oft and on the Golden Gate to chase him
out, and she'll toiler him, mate, till he goes on
board. Perhaps you’ll think I’m oft' my sound
in’s, but I ain’t, ’ and the old man looked
around as a terrific gust struck the tower, and
macle for the hatch that led down the building,
;<nd a few moments later was sliding d*own tho
incline.
The story might have been told by a crank,
and would pass very well as a yarn of the Fly
ing Dutchman stamp, but curiously enough, I (
had heard a similar story from several persons,
and once from a gentleman of some reputation,
who, however, being a spiritual st, gave some
supernatural s gnificance to what he saw, which
was, in point of fact, a very common phenome
non, if whalers are to be believed. Whenever
these huge animals are found, or extraordinary
large schools of fish, what are called “ Izcka ”
are seen, exudations of various kinds that col
lect upon the surface, and under certain condi
tions produce a gas, which becomes luminous
and glides over the water, assuming various
fantastic forms to suit the imagination of the
observer. Thus the luminous cloud or mist
takes the shape of craft of various kinds and
performs impossible feats in the water of the
Atlantic and Pacific coasts.
“If a person was inclined to be supersti
tious,” said a gentleman recently, “ the sights 1
observed between here and the Sandwich Is
lands would afford him abundant material with
which to exercise his fancy. As soon as night
set in the water seemed to ignite and turn to
fire. The bows were covered withit, and every
drop that fell upon the deck appeared like mol
ten gold, and the sails assumed a ghostly hue.
I took up some of the water in a bucket, but
there was nothing there, and it was a mystery.”
The phosphorescence of the Pacific is very sim
ilar to that of the Atlantic, and is owing to the
presence of innumerable minute animals that
in some strange way—as yet a secret—give out
a strangely brilliant light. These luminous
forms can be found by careful search, and con
sist of worms, jelly-fish and crustaceans of va
rious kinds. One of the most interesting is a
little animal called the salpa, which has a fac
ulty at times of joining with others and forming
chains, often several hundred feet in length,
and when viewed from the topmast of a vessel
present the appearance of fiery sea serpents
winding their way over the sea. The jelly
fishes are equally brilliant, and large ones pre
sent a magnificent spectacle, especially on the
eastern coast, in the Fall, when they are
ground up and beat upon the rocks, converting
the entire shore into a scene of splendor diffi
cult to describe.
Another animal, sometimes met with by ves
sels plying between the Sandwich '.Biands and
San Francisco is columnar in form, and is
known to 8 ilors as the “fire-barrel;” in fact,
they resemble long, narrow, red hot fire-bar
reis. One vessel, further to the south, met a
school ot them several miles in extent, and
when she sailed into them a light was produced
that was said to be appalling m its effect. The
light of the stars was almost completely dim
med; a wave of fire seemed to gather about the
bow, and every rope and halyard cast a shadow
. upon deck, as the limbs of trees do under the
electric light.
With ail this seeming fire it is a light without
heat, a seeming combustion without loss of
matter, a phenomenon that occurs in the ani
mal, vegetable and mineral kingdoms, in li'e
and death, in growth and in decay. Dead fish
es often gleam with a pale light. Living ones
from the deep sea are provided with luminous
organs upon their head and sides to illuminate
the deep caverns they inhabit. The dead fibre
of wood gleams with a soft glow,while near Salt
Lake a limestone can not be touched without
giving out a soft light, much to the astonish
ment oi the workers in it. Star fishes and sea
urchins are often luminous. The marigold of
the garden, the oriental poppy, various toad
stools, and ferns emit light; m fact, this curious
phenomena is found everywhere, and even the
worm is said to be phosphorescent by some.
THE NEWPORT GIRL.
A Compound of Energy, Beauty and
Grace Critically Considered.
(From the Boston Transcript.)
The girl seats herself comfortably in the ham
mock, and, swinging gently to and fro the
while, proceeds to give us the latest news and
the social surmises of the day. She keeps us
all amused tor hall an hour, and then, pleading
an engagement to play tennis, drives away in
her smart mail phaeton, smiling farewell from
beneath her astonishing hat, whose shape and
size surpass any effort in modern millinery that
I have ever met.
We saw her at the beach this morning. She
stayed in the water fully halt an hour, and most
of that time she was swimming a race with my
dude, who had set aside his prejudices against
surf bathing for the nonce in order to accept
her challenge to swim a race. She has told ua
that sho rode nine miles before eight o’clock to
day, and that she plays a tennis match this
afternoon, goes to a dinner to-night and a little
dance afterward.
She is nineteen years old, and is possessed of
a strong, straight figure, well developed and
muscular, but graceful in every curve and
movement ; a comely enough face, with large
eyes, too heavy features, a clear-tanned skin
and small white teeth. She looks men in the
eyes squarely, a little too hardily perhaps, and
can handle a catboat and a crochet needle with
equal skill.
She tells you frankly that she has no accom
plishments, and it is easy to soe that when she
talks on any subjects save those of people,
horses, dogs or tennis, she has got up her con
versation out of the Century, that salvation oi
dull male diners out and bright women who
have no time to read books. She is as strong
as a young Amazon, and comes of a race of
women who have always ruled in their social
circle. Her mother and grandmother were
great belles before her. They are both here,
and one sometimes meets the three driving to
gether. The two elder women, each of whom
married at eighteen, have the air of command
that a woman who has ruled by her birthright
of beauty never quite loses, but it is a gentle
and gracious imperiousness that one reads in
their delicate face?, wonderfully alike in their
setting of iron-gray and silver-white hair.
Will this scion of the rising generation, with
her athletics and her knowledge of horses, her
robust health, and her splendid appetite, carry
on tho traditions of her house ? A year will
show. She is “ very different,” and in her phy
sique shows a great advantage over the deli
cate mother and more fragile bonne maman,
intellectually and spiritually. I fear there is a
distinct retrogression, and this is, I take it,
quite in accordance with Darwinian science.
Vww w •
We pity the lawyer who has. to undertake the
miserable work of
EXAMINING A DEAF WITNESS.
Several years ago, whi’e Antrim county, Mich.,
was in a primitive state of civilization, a breach of
promise suit came before the Circuit Court at Elk
Rapids. The plaintiff, one Eliza J. Spooner, al
leged that William Smith had trifled with her young
affections seriously much. He had, by promise to
marry, induced her to give up one Samuel Jones,
who was also an admirer of hers, and who, under
the smart of her refusal, had since joined himself
in the bonds of holy matrimony to Lucy Skinner,
and, in consequence, was now out of market, which
the suing party claimed had blighted her fondest
hopes, and cast about $125 worth of gloom over her
future.
The plaintiff’s principal witness was “Uncle”
Dave Baglay. He was over seventy and very deaf.
One of his peculiarities was to always answer a
question, and it made no difference whether be un
derstood it or not, his reply was ready.
The lawyer for the defense was a little,asthmatic,
choleric man named Somers, and this was his cross
examination of Uncle Bagley:
“ Mr. Bagley, you have taken a solemn oath to
tell the truth, the whole truth, aud nothing but the
truth. You say that upon a certain night you saw
said Eliza J. Spooner and William Smith—the man
now before you—together. You also said that they
were seated upon Mr. John Spooner’s back porch.
Now you will please state to the jury the exact date
of this occurrence.”
•’ Lizy Jane Spooner was a sittin’ on Bill Smith’s
lap, an’ he
‘•No, no. Hold on !” interrupted Somers, sharply.
“Answer my question directly and unequivocally.”
“Bill had his arras around her a huggiu’her,”
pursued the old man complacently.
The defense glared angrily at the witness, and
then glanced around the court room. Every one
wore a look of supreme felicity that was little cal
culated to sooth his ruffled tamper. Turning to
the witness again be said emphatically:
“ You do not seem to catch my meaning. I
simply asked the date of this occurrence.”
“ Yaas, that’s w'at I said. Kissed her forty-seven
times in less’n twenty minutes, an’ then
Somers pawed the atmosphere excitedly and
howled:
“ When did this occur ?”
“Oh! W’y d dn’t’© say so afore, young man?”
Then, reflectively; “Waal, bein’ *s't I’m under oath
Ish d jedge't might a b’en a leetle arter 11 o’clock
’t night.”
The lawyer nearly choked, but seeing that he was
fast losing ground with the jury, he partially ral
lied aud said quite slowly:
“ I mean the date. What was the date of this ?*’
“ Oh ! I sh'd jedge she sot on his lap half an hour,
’n then they changed off’n he sot on—”
This was too much. The jurymen were all con
vulsed with laughter. The judge’s solemn face
wideced into a grin., Somers jumped up aud began
peaking excitedly.
Uncle Dave watched him for two or three min
utes, and then, thinking that he was ta:king about
Miss Spooner, he squeaked out:
“Now you look a here, young feller, don’t 'e
never say nothin' agin 'Lizy Jane. ’Lizy Jane’s es
flqe er gal’s ever trod shoe leather. ’Taint nothin’
agin her it Bill Smith coddled her up to think he’d
splice up with her.”
But the old man was removed from the box, and
as he walked down the room he growled out:
“'E young fly trap ! 'E may fool a young gal
out’en her teller, but 'e can’t cod a nold man like
Uncle Dave Bagley. No sir eel”
The following is a brief relation of
A CONNECTICUT TRANSACTION.
They tell a story, said to be a true one, of a farm
hand in Ellington years ago who was so mashed by
the rosy cheeks and bright eyes of a schoolma'am
boarding with his employer that he one day re
marked with a sigh to the latter:
“I would give a dollar to kiss her.”
“All right!” said the complacent employer, “you
may.”
When settling time came the man found his cash
$1 short.
Why did you take out that dollar ?” was asked.
“Oh ! that was for kissing the schoolma'am, ” was
replied.
“But I didn’t kiss her,” protested the man.
“Well, if you didn’t it was your own fault. I
gave you leave.”
It is said that the father of Benjamin Frank
lin was very prosy and long-winded in the
blessings which he asked on the food of which
he and his family were about to partake. One
day he was salting down a barrel of pork, when
the young philosopher said to him, “ Father,
couldn’t you say grace over all the pork now ?”
The doctor, of whom the following incident is
related, was no doubt
AN ADMIRER OF BEN. FRANKLIN.
Among the many laughable stories told of the
late Dr. Kemper, of Nashota, Wis., is the following :
On his way home to dinner, one day, meeting
one of the divinity students, he cordially invited
the young man to accompany him, adding that be
did not know as there would be much to eat. The
invitation was accepted, and immediately upon
being seated at table the doctor commenced carving
a boded bam that was doing duty for the second or
third time.
“ Why, my dear,” exclaimed his wife, in sur
prise, “ you have forgotten something. You have
not asked the blessing.”
“ Yes, I have, too,” bluffly responded the doctor.
“ I’ve asked the Lord to bless this old ham all I’m
a-going to.”
The Dakota farmer’s head was very level
when he announced that
WOMEN NEVER HAD BUSINESS TACT.
“John,” said the wife of a Dakota settler when
he came home irom a trip to town, “old Bill is
dead at last.”
••Well, that’s good—l Towed when I turned him
out in the pasture the other day, that if he didn’t
die 'fore Winter I’d have to shoot him. It don’t
pay to keep a hose when it gits as old and feeble as
he was. He 'peared extra weak this mornin'.”
“Oh, be didn’t die that way—some Chicago hunt
ers came along and shot him by mistake.”
“Shot him, hey ? Well, that’s blame smart. How
much did you get for him ?”
“ Why, 1 told ’em it was all right, that we wanted
him to die.”
“Great thunder, woman ! Don’t you know noth
in’? Why in blazes didn’t you tell 'em he was our
lamily buggy hose, and worth one hundred and
filty dollars ? Great snakes I It seems as if women
never had no bus ness ’bout ’em, anyhow. You
might just as well have told ’em that he was a
blooded boss, and that yer husband was county
sheriff, and got one hunffred dollars of good honest
money.”
This scholar hadn't as much desire to see a
horse race as his schoolmaster, or the Estelline
(Dakota) Bell is mistaken. The master whipped
him because
THE BOY DIDN’T ADVERTISE THE RACE.
One morning last week, the son of a prominent
Estelline man arrived at school about a half hour
Jate.
“See here,” said the teacher, with considerable
e npbasis’, “ you’re tardy just ..thirty minutes.
Htve yon an excuse ?”
“ Why, yes. sir; you-er-you know some fellers
was ba\ing a little boss race down at the track, and
1 w mt down, and ’
“Been to a horse race, have yon? Come here
sir !” aud he grasped me boy by the collar.
" W-w-w’-y, I-I t-thought you wouldn’t care,”
blubbered the youngster, “if I only ataid just a
few minutes I”
” Thought I wouldn’t care—well, I'll show you.
Why didn’t you come up and let me know about
tho race, and I would have dismissed school so we
all could have seen it ? I’ll teach you to remember
next time when there is a chance for the scholars
to improve their minds I” and he reached fora
two-foot rule.
In most arguments there are two sides io the
question. It proved so in this case. Though
the parson was away ahead in the beginning of
the intellectual contest
HE •• TOOK WATER ” TOWARD THE CLOSE.
The Rev. Dr. Bulleworth, one of the best known
and also one of the best men in Arkansaw, is a great
believer in personal liberty. In his home the doctor
allows his children to govern their own actions,
and when any question involving the comfort of the
family arises he submits a proposition which the
children discuss. “I try,” says the doctor, “to rule
my household pretty much as the great Gladstone
rules his, and in my family a quotation from Glad
stone always has its effect.’’ •
The other day, while the doctor and his family
were in the dining-room, where after dinner they
usually sit and pass upon matters of importance,
Henry, the elder son, said:
“ Father, 1 see that the Gladstones are still argu
ing. The last subject under discussion was a wasp-
It appears that while they were talking about some
thing, one of the boys got up to kill a wasp which
was buzzing at the window. Mr. Gladstone argued
that the wasp bad aright to live, while his eon de
clared that it should be killed. The old gentleman’s
side won and the wasp was set at liberty.”
“I am very glad to hear it,” replied the doctor—
■glad to know that the great man will argue in fa
vor of anything’s life.”
“Yes; but, father, I think that we waste all the
sympathy we bestow upon wasps.”
“ I can convince you that you are wrong, my son.
Ab, there is a wasp at the window ! Now, my chil
dren, let ns determine whether it must die.”
The doctor took the side of mercy, Henry ar
rayed himself on the side of immediate extermina
tion, and, with the doctor’s wife and the children
as a jury, the mill of justice began.
The minister quoted many passages of Scripture,
and his bald head glowed with a benevolent
warmth. Henry did his best, but it wa& plain that
the old gentleman had the best of the argument,
and the jury, without retiring from the sofa, grant
ed the wasp a right to live. .
“ Now, Henry,” said the preacher, “ take a stick,
conduct the wasp to the door, and let it fly away.
This should be a lesson to you, my son. That wasp
has as much right to live as you have.”
Henry did as directed, but just as he was passing
his father, the wasp flew from the stick and alight
ed on the top of the minister's bald head.
“He'll not sting me.”
The wasp raised his wings and “tucked” his
tail.
The minister yelled and his eyes bulged out. Un
able to longer endure the pain, which the wasp con
tinued to inflict, he exclaimed;
“Come here, Henry, and kill that infernal thing !
There,” he added, when the wasp had been killed,
“I am done. If a man ever catches me defending a
wasp any more, I’ll grant him the privilege of kick
ing me down stairs.”
The Arkansaw Traveller gives an old negro’s
witty reason
WHY HE WAS SLOW.
“ Helloa, Uncle Boggy,” said a young negro,
speaking to an old negro whom he overtook in the
street, “ W’yn't yer walk faster an’ not let me pass
yer dis way ?"
“ Hole on er minit,” the old man requested.
“Yer’ve seen er man totin’ er sack o’ co’n, hain’t
yer ?”
“Oh, yas, sah.”
“ An’ yer s seed er man totin’ er empty sack, I
spoze ?”
“ I sho has.”
“ Ah, hah; an' didn’ yer alius notice dat de man
whut ain’ god nothin’ in his sack walks faster den
de one dat’s got a full sack ?”
“ Yas. sah.”
“ Wall, yerseTs one o’dem men wider empty
sack. Run er long, son, fur yer ain’t got weight er
uuff on yer shoulders to hoi’ yer on de groun’.”
The young ladies of our day are not to bo re
lied upon. They are flirts, they are fickle, and
they are guilty of the enormous crime ot
FOOLING THE DUDES.
Monti Montgomery is a young min with a heart,
and the other morning he aj peared at the club
greatly dejected.
” What’s the matter, old man ?” asked Roberts, a
man without a heart.
“ I am bwoken-hearted,” he said, mournfully,
*• No ? You don’t say ? How did the fracture oc
cur ?”
“Well, don’t you know, I have been devoting my
self some time to Miss Richesse, and lawst night 1
pwoposed, don’t you know.”
“ Ah, indeed ?”
“Yes; I took her hand in mine, that pwetty
white hand, don’t you know ; 1 looked into her
iovely bwown eyes ; I told her I loved her moah
than tongue could uttah ; that she was beautiful
and good and all tho wowld to me, and I awsked
her to maiwy me, don’t you know.”
“ And what did she say ?*’
“Not a deucid word, don’t you know j she just
wung one of those hawwid chestnut bells on me
and walked away with that w&soally and fwesh lieu
tenant who has been pwowling awound the lawst
month, don’t you know.”
This tramp was not one of the usual sort. If
he took no delight in work,
HE HAD ESTHETIC TASTES.
“ But why don’t you go to work ?” asked the lady
of the bouse.
“ Ah, madam I” exclaimed the tramp, “ how
gladly would I do so. but unfortunately there is
nothing to do in my line now.”
“ Poor man,” said the lady pityingly, pouring out
another bowl of coffee and piling up his plate
afresh, “and what was your business ?”
“ Madam,” replied the fellow, after having dis
posed of the victuals, “I am a professor of roller
skating, but there is nothing doing now, nothing &t
all.”
■■ But did you make money while the business
was good ?”
“ Ah, that’s just it, madam ; my usual luck ; I
didn’t enter the profession until all the rinks had
closed. Some men are always a day too late. Good
morning, madam ; if you’ll be good enough to bold
the dog for a few minutes I'll tear myself away and
go to some shady spot where I can forget my sor
row in slumber.”
SCINTILLATIONS.
The morning cocktail is an early rye
sir.
The apothecary is a vial and pestle-nt
fellow.
Practical jokes are like lung troubles,
there is a pain in the jest.
Mr. Peel, Speaker of the House of
Commons, being a Liberal, is not an Orange Peel.
Why is the author the queerest of
animate? Because his tale comes out of his head.
A Frenchman has at last fallen in a
duel. It is thought he slipped on a piece of banana
peel.
A watering-place young lady is a good
deal like a brewer. She cannot get along without
the hops.
The fat woman at a dime museum may
not be “all wool," but she is generally “a yard
wide”—or more.
Barkeepers say they find by observing
their customers that “ a man may smile and smile
and stiH be willing.”
When a Narragansett Pier bathing
dress gets out of fashion, its fair owner can always
sell it for a doll’s dolman.
Sunday School Teacher —'* Methuse
lah lived nine hundred years.” Boy—“ That was
pretty tough on his sons-in-law.”
A Philadelphia paper says that “bath
ing is not fashionable among the best people now.”
We trust that the assertion refers only to Philadel
phia.
Prohibition—A law compelling a man
to eater the back door when ho wants a beverage
for bis •• oft infirmities,” and so forth—especially
the latter.
Bookbinder— “ Will you have it bound
in Turkey or Morocco?” Purchaser—“Oh, mercy,
no! What is the use of sending it away ofl’ there’
Have it bound in New York.”
Full many a man, both young and old,
Is sent to his sarcophagus
By pouring water, icy cold,
Adown his warm ffisophagus.
“ Why are two buttons put on the
back of a man’s coat?” asks a writer. Don’t know:
but they come in mighty handy sometimes, when
there is one missing in the front.
“ Oh, if my creditors were only like
my sins 1” exclaimed Mr. Brown to his wife. “ Be
cause my creditors call and catch me every day
but my sins always find me out.”
Policemen are very impartial
When arrests they are making;
They put men in jail for safe-keeping,
And also for safe-breaking.
“I thought, Miss 8., that you hated
that flirty minx ; yet you went up and kissed her.”
“So Ido hate her, and that’s why I did it. Look at
the freckles on her chin where I kissed the powder
off.”
“ Well, Herr Yager, how do you like
the new postmaster ?” “I dun know ouf he vas
petter as dot odder feller, der vomans bostmaster.
I dond any more letters got now as before, und der
brice vas schoost der same.”
Miss Lowneck—“Dear me, I’m so
sorry I can’t go to the hop to-night." Sympathiz
ing friend—•• Why ? What’s the matter ?” Miss L.
—“ W’hy, my dear, I fell against the chair this
morning and bruised myself right in the small of
the back.”
“ Emma Abbott has purchased two
young Florida alligators," writes a Philadelphia
editor; “but if she succeeds in teaching them to
open their mouths as wide as she opens hers when
she sings, she’ll have to put corsets on them to
keep them from splitting wide open.”
A little four-year-old miss while at the
seashore chanced to get a mouthful of sea water.
After thinking some minutes she said, “Mamma, do
’e fishes live in 'at water all ’e time ?” “ Yes, dear;
what makes you ask ?" “ Why, I was jus finking ’at
they must get awful firsty,” was the reply.
Maud —“ Mr. Allround is a sort of
universal genius, isn’t he?” Mabel—“ Yes he is
exceedingly clever.” Maud—“ He isj something of
a lawyer and something of a musician. What is his
profession?” Mabel —“Well, the lawyers call him
a musician, and the musicians call him a lawyer.”
A Reasonable Supposition : Visitor—
“ Well, Jones has paid the debt of nature.” Mer
chant- “Why, when was'he hung?” Visitor—
‘Hung? What do you mean,? He died a natural
dea h “ Men h nt **(»h > supposed that nature
must ha .»• j orteir-her debt -s the rest of us always
“You sit on your horse like a butcher,”
said a pert young officer, who happened to be of
royal blood, to a veteran general who was somewhat
bent with age. “It is highly probable,” responded
the old warrior, with a grim smile; “it is because
all my life I’ve been leading calves to the slaughter.”
“Bailiff,” said an Arkansas Judge one
day last week to the officer in charge of the jury,
“ will you please inform the jury that there will be
a horse race in Merrick’s pasture at three o’clock ?”
The jury had been out for forty-eight hours, but in
less than thirty minutes they came into court with
a verdict.
It was Summer. And Long Branch. Ho
came there. We met.
He was handsome and hasty; and I a coquette.
He proposed. I refused him. I loved him. But
then,
I thought—don’t you see ?—he would ask me again:
But he didn’t.
Clara writes from the seashore': “There
are only a few young men here, and they are so in
tensely and wonderfully fresh that even the mighty
Atlantic, in which they bathe frequently, has no
effect on them. I try to treat them coldly, but tho
weather is so warm and their hides so thick that
my efforts are wasted; beside, they are liable to
transfer their attentions to the Boodle girls, and I
could not endure that. I long for the end of the
season.”
I have a philosophic friend
Who is a shrewd observer.
And prompt to see the way things tend,
And speak his mind with fervor.
The other day I ate some bread
My boy had just rejected,
And seeing this, my good friend said,
“ Yes, that't to be expected.”
“ The crusts of life, our children give
To us—nor tax their powers;
We take their leavings while we live;
They, when we die—take ours I”
’TWAS EVER THUS.
AN INDUSTRY THAT 18 NEVER
SUSPENDED.
(From the Boston Record.)
There is one industry that is never suspend
ed even in the deadest part of the season, and
though it is carried on to an enormous extent
at the seaside, it flourishes right straight along
in the city. It is practiced chiefly through the
air, and irom window to window, and strangers
from abroad say that Boston seems to have a
great specialty in this line. No doubt the su
perior narrowness of our streets is one of the
stimulating causes, and yet it is practiced as
much at the South End, where the streets are
fairly broad, as it is at the West End, where
they are of various degrees of narrowness.
The business is organized in this way: A
young woman sits at an open upper window
during certain hours of a day and fans herself,
or sews or paints or plays on a guitar, or sim
ply holds her bands and looks out. A young
man sits at an open Jupper window across the
street day that the young woman sees the young
man looking at her she pays no attention to him.
and Ipokf a.| the young woman. On the first
The next day she appears conscious of him.
The thirA day she looks sideways at him, gets
up and gees away, comes back and sits down
again, looks up at him, and then looks straight
down.
The next day the young man waves a hand
kerchief, whereupon the young woman gets up
and goes away, but comes back with a handker
chief in her hand, which she does not wave.
The next day the young man starts a smile, and
the young woman half starts one. The next day
the young man’s smile has become fully devel
oped, and the young woman’s is where his was
the day before. The next day the young man
wears a tremendous grin, and the young woman
a grinlet. Then handkerchiefs are waved, and
divers accidental signals exchanged. The busi
ness is now well under way.
In the meantime each party has been dying of
curiosity to know about the other. There have
been mysterious questionings of people in the
house, and all sorts of surmises and guesses,
the majority of which are upset by some unfore
seen behavior on the part of the person across
the way. Finally, the young woman, who is
going out on a little shopping errand, happens
to sit down on the window-sill for an instant,
quite thoughtlessly, with her hat in her hand.
I’he young man instantly appears at the oppo
site window with his hat and cane in his hand.
Thump, thump I There is a heart beating on
the part of somebody. But she goes out just
the same, and on the next corner she is over
taken by him, who acts a trifle sheepish as he
takes off his hat when he comes Up; but he con
ducts the thing briskly enough after all, and
there is a very fascinating promenade, and after
that the window department of the business is
intensified beyond what either grinning party
dreamed of in the first place.
THE PIOUS OLiTFELLOW.
HOW HE DOESN’T LET HIS BOAT
ON SUNDAY.
(From the Boston Record.)
On the bank of a pretty lake, in one of out
suburban towns, there lives a thrifty and pious
old fellow, who has a boat which he lets tor 25
cents a “ let.” Ou week days the two oars are
in a ehed near the bank of the lake; on Sundays
the boat is pulled up on the bank, and the oars
taken out and put in the basement of the house.
The old man doesn’t let the boat on Sunday,
and this is the way he doesn’t let it:
One Sunday lately a couple of young men
came to the old man’s residence. He was mov
ing about the yard with his hands behind his
hack, looking vacantly out on the water. The
young men went to the basement of the house,
got out the oars, proceeded to the shore,
launched the boat and rowed away, while the
old man still stood in full view with his hands
behind his back. Atter they had rowed as long
as they liked they oame’back, drew up the
boat, returned the oars to the basement of tho
house without a word and went away. The old
man was still moving about aud gazing out on
the river.
Next day one of the young men called at the
house and gave the owner of tho boat a quar
ter.
“That’s for the boat yesterday,” he said.
The old man took the quarter, deposited it in
his trousers pocket with great deliberation, and
then said with equal deliberation:
“ Waal, I don’t let my boat Sundays I”
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