New York dispatch. [volume], December 26, 1886, Page 6, Image 6

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

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6
THE CITY AND THE STAR.
I sat at my casement window,
And gazed on the flaring town;
Men rushed here, and men rushed there,
And the stare looked coldly down.
I sat at my casement window,
And gazed at the starlit sky;
Silent their flight through the noiseless night,
And a train dashed screaming by.
Oh, din of a world too near me !
Oh, peace of a life too far !
As in vision I seem to hear ye,
Thou city, and thou lone star.
From the city a roar ascending,
It stunned as it hurtled by,
Wild grief and wild laughter blending.
The widow’s, the worlding’s cry.
With the passionate sob of sorrow,
And the passionate shriek for gold;
When the first low wail of the infant Wreath,
And the last faint sigh of the old.
And the Star! Oh, the Star ! Whfiit said it ?
I listened and caught the chime
That they sing as they move in their constant
groove
From beginning to end of time;
Of a law, and a course foreordered;
Not freedom, but God’s control;
And nothing they know of the lawless woe.
Ortho weight of a burdened soul.
But as messengers bearing tidings,
They post on their pathway sure;
With speed never hasting, and fire never wasting.
Forever serene and pure.
Then I turned from my casement window.
And I prayed for the peace Divine;
For the city is rife with jars and strife.
But the way of the star.be mine 1
For the good here on earth too short is;
We dream, and it will not stay;
But somehow the dream is more than a drcam,
Yet, oh I it is far away.
1 foUTH JIpilCA.
BY MATTHIAS BARR.
Five-and-twenty to thirty years ago I wag an
assistant in a musical instrument estab
lishment in London, and while acting
in that capacity, was called upon one
Christmas Eve to attend a customer whose
wants assumed no higher form than that
of a simple mouth harmonica—an instrument
well known to the youth of the present day, and
one upon which the late 11 err Van Joel had
years before peformed so bewitchingly.
My intending purchaser I soon perceived to
be a German. He was an under-sized, deli
cate-looking young man, apparently about
thirty, with a low, soft voice, and—what is a
novelty in the majority of his countrymen—an
unassuming manner. A mass of flaxen-colored
hair set off a not ill-looking face, provided with
* short mustache, closely-shaven cheeks, and
a pair of mild biue eyes/ His almost boyish
appearance, and the extreme "implicity of his
conversation, were matters of surprise, and
made it somewhat difficult to repress a smile
at bis expense. It was not long, however, be
fore he made us ail aware that in one respect,
at least, ho was not a person to be sneered at.
A musician he was, with a perfect mastery over
the tiny instrument with which he now held us
enthralled. With the toy at his lips he seemed
to become inspired. No style of music came
amiss to him. Operatic airs, songs of the Fath
erland, English, Scotch, Irish, and other na
tional melodies, he threw off in rapid succes
fiion, with an ease and grace perfectly aston
ishing. He had away, too, of closing and open
ing his hands upon the instrument, thereby
causing a kind of crescendo or dirninuend) at
particular passages, the effect of which was
singularly pleasing.
Having selected an instrument to his liking,
and being allowed a discount, for which, as a
professional man, he had stipulated before com
mencing negotiations, he at length took his de
parture, but not before he had expressed him
self highly satisfied with his purchase, and
promised to pay us another visit at no distant
date.
Some time elapsed before the little German
and bis playing were forgotten. In fact, he had
so captivated us with his performance—espe
cially his rendering of the “Carnival of Ven- ,
Ice,” with variations—that for several weeks ,
after his appearance he continued to furnish
our leisure moments with a theme for conver- ,
eatic a, and it was only upon receipt from home
of th j startling intelligence that my father had ■
bees seriously injured in a midnight encounter ,
yyith a burglar that he was finally driven from .
tlie to® being, at all events. J
-My Resided at M , where I was ,
born, a village distant fifteen miles from j
the town of C • Their stood in j
rather a lonely situation, approached from i
high road by a pathway skirting a piece of j
ground, the resort occasionally of gypsies; but (
they had never, on that account, been in any
way apprehensive, nor had they ever suffered i
anj r inconvenience from the class 1 have named. ♦
From my mother I learned that the house had ,
been broken into, and that my father, in bis at- i
tempt to secure the robber, had been struck to .
the ground with a life-preserver, and rendered
senseless for hours. Luckily, the police were 1
at band, and an alarm being given, the thief, !
after a sharp chase and desperate resistance, ;
was secured and lodged in the station house. ,
My father’s wounds, though terribly severe, ♦
were, fortunately, not of a character to exclude j
jibe hope of his recovery, yet were sufficiently
Aivnig to makg the greatHßt and atten
-4 hi« to bed for
lion necessary, i "
paanv months almost a certainty. <pe examina- E
iion of his eeee.ilant before the magistrate re- r
W®- 3 -sfasSs 5fasSs fclJoWn '. i
And rOßhlWi m uiJ oemg remanded to C t
Jail for a fortnight; a proceeding that would be f
Repeated until such time as his victim should c
be in a condition to appear against him. T
While I was in an agony of fear on my father’s r
account—not knowing what might happen—and |
speculating in my wrath upon the ultimate re- x
tvard likely to be meted out to the offender, 5
came the information that the ruffian had sue- t
ceeded in effecting his escape from the custody j
of those charged with his conveyance by rail to 5
C . The manner in which this was accom- g
pushed I was not to know for some time.
In spite of the most vigilant search, and a
minute description of his person, circulated
far and wide, the criminal continued at large; f
and weeks and months went by without any J
olue to his whereabouts being discovered. So
In time the man and his doings began to fade 1
from recollection, and were at last forgotten, 5
save by the sufferer, and those interested in the (
reward still offered for his capture.
Half a year passed away before my father had J
so far recovered as to be able to get about in a 2
feeble way. He would never be himself again, J
that was clear. The old vigor was gone; and 1
but that he was possessed of means sufficient to
place him above want, it would have fared hard ’
with him, for I was not then—being only in my ’
twentieth year—in a position to have been of 1
much service from a pecuniary point of view. '
Now, although the encounter between him
and his would-be assassin had taken place in 3
the dark, and nothing beyond the uplifted
arm had been made out in the blackness, the 1
form and features of the man, from some 3
unaccountable reason, were as visibly and dis- 1
tinctly impressed upon my father’s mind as if ]
he had been familiar with them from his child- J
hood. Since that dreadful night he had never
ceased to dream of his antagonist, with whom, j
strange to say, I was always, in a certain dim i I
and shadowy way, mixed up. Sometimes,while
in the very act of seizing his adversary by the
throat, the latter would suddenly collapse, and
give place to a figure in the likeness of myself.
At other times he would see us side by side—
|oined together, as it were, after the manner of
the Siamese Twins—my fellow-twin making
every effort to tear himself apart, and glaring
at me, or through me, whenever my shadow in
terposed itself between him and the gazer, with
looks of the most abject dread. And through
ii out all this—and let it be repeated as often ws
' it would—my father retained the same keen
and unwavering recognition of his attempted
destroyer.
It might have been twelve months after the
escape of the prisoner, when an elderly gentle
man entered the warehouse and desired to be
shown some of our best mouth harmonicas. I
took the stranger in hand, and while expatiat
ing to him upon the advantages of a certain
make over all others, he asked me if I remem
bered a little German purchasing such an in
ati ument some time before.
Of course I did, and having said so, was loud
in my praise of the gifted but effeminate-look
ing artist.
A “ And so he recommended you, sir?” I said,
in a business kind of tone.
“ Well, not exactly,” returned the gentleman,
with a mysterious smile—“not exactly.”
Seeing that my curiosity was aroused, he fur
ther said:
“It is rather a remarkable circumstance,
young man, that you should have been instru
mental in letting loose upon society one of the
most consummate scoundrels in the universe.”
I must have opened my eyes to an unusual
extent at this, for the old gentleman regarded
me with an amused smile, and seemed to enjoy
my confusion immensely.
He handed me his card, from which I saw
with astonishment that he was none other than
Sir. G——, from M , the magistrate before
whom my father’s assailant had been charged,
and who had been but recently appointed, so
though his name was familiar to me, I was yet
unacquainted with his person. I did not per
mit my astonishment, however, to give itself
vent in words, but waited to hear what the old
gentleman had to say before making myself
known to him, and that he had something of
more than usual interest to disclose I felt con
vinced. ,
“ I think you will be surprised,” he began,
“ when I give you a few particulars relating
to our mutual fr.end Mr. Klbyeer, as he
called himself, and his harmonica. You will
then see the important part the insignificant
looking instrument played in the little drama,
and hew *»3U were unconsciously the means,
as I ntve said, of unlocking the gentle
man’s fetters, and giving the world once
more the advantages of his artistic and
other services. Let me, then, state at once
that a robbery had been committed down in my
part of the country, or, I should rather say,
that an attempt had been made to commit one,
for the rascal, owing to the stout resistance of
fered, was unable to carryout his design. He
was, fortunately, caught in the act, and on be
ing searched at the station-house, among other
articles found upon him was one of these. This,
of course, was supposed by the inspector on
duty to have been stolen, and on being asked to
account for its noesession, the fellow insisted
£hat he had cqjdo by it hooeatly— bought
it, ia fact, and produced a receipt for it from
somewhere under the lining of hia hat, I be
, Hove.
*• He was a professor of he awd
having lost his way, had gone to the houtre
which he had entered, believing it to be an out
building, with the intention of sleeping there,
when he was attacked by the owner and he used
his life-preserver, which ho always carried for
his protection, simply in self-defense. To prove
that be was a musician and that what he stated
was correct, he volunteered to show bis skill
upon the musical instrument taken from him.
I need- not tell you—4or you have heard him —
how be electrified the inspector and other offi
cers present. He saw bis advantage and was
not slow in making use of it, for he entreated
to be allowed the retention of his beloved
harmonica to cheer him in his solitude. This
he was good-naturedly permitted to do, and
amused himself in his cell by playing a variety
of compositions of a light and airy character.
He knew, the cunning rogue, how to take his
audience, as you will presently hear.
“Next day a report of the marvelous player
1 reached me through the medium of my clerk,
and, being musical, I determined to hear the
performer and judge for myself. Accordingly,
I arranged with the inspector that after examina
tion the genius should be taken to a room ad
joining the court and that I would there come
at the conclusion of the day’s proceedings and
hear him. When before me, his quiet and inof
fensive demeanor, subdued voice and juvenile
appearance impressed me strongly in bis favor
and lent a shade of truth to his tale, especially
as nothing of an incriminating kind had been
found upon his person—that the whole affair
was entirely a mistake. It afterward transpired,
when he was safely beyond our grasp, that he
had recently undergone a term of imprison
ment for robbery with violence and had given
considerable trouble during his confinement. I
remanded him to C Jail to await the result
of the injuries he had inflicted upon the person
-into whose house he had broken. At length I
paid him a visit and must candidly confess that
I never before was so charmed with any sounds
emitted by what at best can only be regarded as
a plaything. The man was an artist, there
could be no doubt of it, and it seems incredible
that one possessed of so much talent, who
could easily have earned a decent living, should
have preferred leading the life he had been do
■ ing for years. There is little doubt that by
means of his silvery tongue and the aid of his
harmonica he had succeeded in swindling a
number of persons.
“ He told me he had procured hie instrument
here—and the receipt he showed bore this
out—and begged, with tears in his eyes, that I
would not then deprive him of it. I yielded
to his repeated solicitations, little thinking what
my foolish indulgence was speedily to bring
about.
“Now comes the curious part of my story,
as showing the cunning of the scoundrel, and
how innocently we became his dupes, lie was
taken to the railway station, safely secured, and
placed in a train starting for C , accompanied
by two officers, who chose an empty compart
ment, at the request of the prisoner, who
seemed to feel his position deeply. All went
well until such time as Mr. Kleyser, bemoaning
his fate, gave the constables to understand that
his greatest griet consisted in his not being able
to make use of his harmonica. The men in
charge—two to one—having no misgivings, and
seeing their prisoner so utterly cast down,
agreed to humor him, and, I fear, themselves
at the same time. The handcuffs were re
moved and the despondent Herr invited to re- 1
gale them with a tune. This he was nothing
loth to do, and did so well, that while the
officers were congratulating themselves upon 1
their humanity or their shrewdness in beguiling
the monotony of their journey with sweet sounds,
their captive suddenly leaped to his feet and 1
without a moment’s hesitation sprang through
the carriage window, and, curling himself up j
like a ball, rolled down the embankment, and 3
disappeared in a neighboring wood before the
defrauded officers had recovered from their ’
surprise. I have only to say further,” added 1
the old gentleman, “ that from that hour to this
he has not been heard of.”
I was fairly astounded by the news. That £
the mild-looking young man, the inspired art- (
ist, as we had named him, who seemed so
plausible, so simple and child-like, should }
prove to be a common house breaker, and al- {
most a murderer, was bej’ond my comprehen- 3
sion. From other lips, and without the evi
dence of the mouth harmonica to make the 1
thing certain, I should have doubted the whole *
story.
When I had got over my amazement and *
made Mr. G acquainted with my name and '
parentage, he was almost as much taken aback c
as I had been myself. Of my parents he had f
some knowledge, and expressed h mself very
pleased to have met me, insisting, be .'ore leav
ing, that I should pay him a visit at his hotel J
in Covent Garden —an invitation I accepted, *
and did not regret, for I found the old gentle- 3
man xG J® a very cheerful and entertaining 1
companion. x ' t .r
Like my father, from that period until the end ‘
was reached, the German was to haunt my
thougts by night and day. He had promised to *
return, and should he keep his word, I now
knew what to do; he should trouble mankind J
no more—for some tipie t I jelt certain—with his 1
2Eolian strains and seductive ways. £o person B
entered the premises bearing the slightest re- T
semblance to him but 1 was on the spot on tnd ?
instant. In the streets I looked for him; in ev- *'
ery assembly I entered I sought the owner of
the mild blue eyes and flaxen-colored head, and e
I had a presentiment that 1 should meet him c
again. All night long my dreams were busy
with him, no matter what began them. His eyes
—fid lodmC/ but filled with a strange, un- 8
natural lighf-followeu a nd I saw his J
right arm anu hie Laud giae'ping tn. ,
murderous weapon be had known eo well how u
to use. Yet I did not eeem afraid. On the con
trary, I appeared always to be endeavoring to “
come up with him, close—held back, as it ,
were, by some invisible power—endeavoring to
grapple with him and hurl him headlong into ?
the abyss which 1 fancied lay beyond, and from 1
whence issued continuously the dulcet notes Ot I
a harmonica—always giving forth the same tune, 1
the “Carnival of Venice.” If I awoke suddenly 0
in the night, as sometimes I did, the melody 0
would linger in my ears until I dropped off to *
slumber again. Only during the busy hours of v
the day was I entirely free from its influence. S
A third Christmas Eve had come round, and t
a concert in aid of a charity, in which a friend of i
mine was interested, was to ba given that night, j
Though I had had nothing to do with the getting
up of the affair, I bad been the means of pro
viding for the occasion a grand pianoforte free c
of expense, and had, in addition, busied myself x
with the sale of tickets, a large number of which j
I had succeeded in disposing of. Many gifted f
amateurs had volunteered their services, and
altogether the charity was likely to profit by the
exertions of its friends. (
As had been anticipated, the hall was filled to
overflowing. Passing over the well-intentioned f
endeavors of the ladies and gentlemen who con
tributed to the evening’s amusement, I come to *
the most remarkable event in this short history. '
The second part of the entertainment, accord- (
ing to the programme, was to open with the 1
“ unique performances of Mons. Albert Trom- L
pette, but whether these were to be of a vocal,
instrumental or aerobatical nature the pro- ,
gramme did not state. Presently a short gen- ’
tieman, with a bushy black beard and enormous ’
head of hair of the same hue, stepped lightly ‘
upon the platform. There was something about j
the foreigner that riveted my attention at a 1
I glance. What it was I could not tell. I remem
bered no human being 1 had ever known or seen 1
with such a head and beard as those before me. ‘
Perhaps I had seen Mons. Trompette’s por- J
trait somewhere. Yes—that must be it, I
thought. I looked at him more searchingly !
still, as I saw him take from the pocket of his
fashiouably-cut dress coat a small leathern case;
but when be produced therefrom a—mouth bar- !
monica, I sank back in iny seat, overpowered 1
with a sense of something about to happen. A
choking sensation took possession of me; the ’
.place swam round and round and, but 1
lor a desperate effort, I believe I should
have fallen to the ground. I heard nothing of 1
the music beyond a confused hum, and was
brought back to myself by the plaudits ot the 1
audience, when, turning my eyes toward the '
platform, I saw. that it was empty. The ap- ‘
Slause was again and again renewed, and
tons. Albert Trompette once more appeared,
and with many bows and smiles acknowledged
the tribute to his musical powers. As I gazed,
half stupefied between doubt and hope, the
performer raised his instrument to his lips. At
the same moment I became conscious of some
thing in front of me, as if conjured up by the
lifted arm of the musician—something felt rather
than perceived, and yet suggestive of the misty
outline of a human form pointing in the direction
of the stage. Then I saw'the bearded face
grow as pale as death, the eyes fill with terror,
and the instrument quiver in the hand that held
it. A glance sufficed to show me what I have
described. I waited no longer, but sped from
the place, and as I reached the door the notes
of the “ Carnival of Venice” were floating on the
air.
A cab was standing at the side entrance to
the hall, and my friend was telling the driver that
his fare would be out in a tew minutes. I could
hear the variations of the tune going on; and,
drawing my friend’s attention thereto, put a few
questions to him concerning the black-bearded
gentleman. There was little to tell. The kindly
ioreigner had seen the concert announced, and
had offered his services gratuitously, which
were accepted, and that was all. My mind was
made up. Asking my friend to send me one of
the attendants whose services were no longer
required, I hailed a passing vehicle; and giving
instructions to the driver to follow the cab at
the door—which my friend had hinted was in
waiting lor Mons. Trompette—and pull up the
instant it stopped, I waited in the shadow of a
neighboring doorway ior what was to come. As
the attendant made his appearance a fresh
( burst of approbation announced that the soloist
had finished; and I had barely explained the
object I had in view, which was that he—the at
tendant-should accompany mein the second
cab, when the Frenchman issued hurriedly
forth, and, whispering a word to the cabman,
> was driven away as rapidly as the horse could
I carry him.
i After half an hour’s ride the first cab deposit
■ ed its fare at the corner of Oxford Circus; and
cautiously following, we traced the black-beard
i to a shabby house in one of the shabbiest streets
- in Soho. Leaving the attendant to watch the
s premises, with instructions not to lose sight of
its occupant should he leave before my return,
f I hurried away for Scotland Yard.
Mons. Albert Trompette was arrested that
1 night; and, in spite ol bis dyed locks aiid faeh
> ionable attire, proved to be Herr Kleyser him
l self, the little German to whom I had sold the
I mouth harmonica throe Christmas Eves before.
NEW YORK DISPATCH, DECEMBER 26, 1886.
n On hia rooms being searched, a large amount
>- of stolen property was discovered. Nor had the
gi ted amateurs escaped, tor he bad taken ad
d vantage of their absence from the retiring-rocm,
6 fcnd while attention 'waa directed to the plat
b- form, to abstract frem the ladies’ reticules, and
>, the pockets of the gentlemen’s overcoats, what
d ever heeould lay <his hands upon.
r He was taken back to M ■, and was no
e sooner confronted with my father thin he was
d recognized as the man who had so long mo
ll nopolized his fireams.
i. Eventually he was committed for trial, and
- hia antecedents being arrayed against him, re-
- ceived a sentence that would deprive his
s adopted country of his presence for a period of
d ten years.
1 I have only to say in conclusion, that if the
s murderous little German nearly lost me a
d father, his harmonica was 4he means ot provid
y ing me with a wife, for in time I married Miss
•. Emily G , the youngest daughter of the
s worthy magistrate.
; AmSTLYWEiIWGUEST.
■ BY H. C. W.
1 In that beautiful and retired locality of Auteuil
_ situated near the northern end of the Bois de
0 Boulogne, near Paris, Henri Pilot first saw the
r light of day. His early life had been spent, as
Y was customary with the children of well-to-do
, people, in the quiet routine of country exist
r ence.
} When still a mere boy in years he bad formed
3 a mad infatuation for the daughter of a widow
_ whose husband had been of excellent connec
k tions, socially and financially, in the gay capital,
[ but who, overtaken by misiortune, had retired
t to Auteuil to find himself deserted alike by his
j former financial and social friends. His pecu
[ niary embarrassment, together with his sudden
retirement from active pursuits, had proved too
j much for his apparently excellent physique, and
, he soon broke down under the strain and con-
> slant brooding, and Madame Vaupil found her
, self a widow and Mademoiselle Julie an or
, phan.
[ Madame Vaupil was then thrown upon the
care of a wealthy uncle in Paris, who continued
to provide for her and educated Julie.
The attachment between mother and daugh
ter was touching. They seemed never so happy
as when in each others’ company.
, Chance had thrown Henri and Julie together
and in their youthful wanderings through fields
and by-ways, they had seen much of each
other.
The, fondness which at first characterized
Henri’s feeling toward Julie, soon, by their con
stant associations, ripened into love, and Henri,
at the age of twenty, found himself madly in
fatuated with the charming Julie.
This feeling of love was returned by the
young girl, and Madame Vaupil seemed over
joyed at the happiness of her child.
The young lovers never tired of relating to
each other bright dreams for the future and
building grand castles wherein they should take
their abode when they should become one.
From these dreams came a harsh awakening.
One day Julie came to her lover shaken with
grief, to tell him that they must part.
Her good uncle, who had so kindly provided
for her mother and herself, had died”
Madame Vaupil, as his only heiress, must
leave at once for Paris to take charge of hia
effects and receive the large fortune that his
death had entailed.
Sad was their parting, yet their grief was
somewhat assuaged by a mutual promise that
they would correspond each day.
Soon the mother and daughter were ensconced
in the house of the late uncle.
Splendor reigned on every side and the hopes
and ambitions of former days were awakened
from their slumber in the” heart of Madame
Vaupil. Then, her ambition was for the ad- i
vancement of her husband. Now, her daugh
ter was the object of her constant thought. 1
Gradually the letters from Henri, which she
had awaited with almost the same impatience i
as her daughter, were received by her with in
difference. ;
By degrees his name, which was always on «
her child’s lips, would cause the smile on her <
face to disappear and a cloud to cross the sur
face of her maternal brow. <
The laying child, in the ecstacy of her love for
Henri, did not notice the change that f
jyaa being wrought in the mind of her mother. £
The period of mourning being passed,
Madame Vaupil began to give thought as to £
when her charming daughter should make her 1
entrance in that society in which she had <
moved in the financial downfall of her bus- <
band.
It came, and although mademoiselle’s debut I
was a success, she received the oft-repeated
flatteries with indifference, her whole soul be- j
ing wrapt in the lo.e that went out to her early '
life over which was spread the soft and in
gratiating perfume of country fields and <
flowers. 1
Among the hosts of friends that paid homage £
to Madame Vaupil and her daughter was one -
who received special and affectionate welcomes c
from madame. Monsieur Boutegat, a wealthy t
banker, was the individual. About forty, hand- t
some in person and polished in manner, he
would be likely to cause a throb in any mater- I
nal heart at the prospect of having such a man 1
for a son-in-law. J
In the innocent heart of Julie not the slight
est glimmer of her mother s growing deter- *
mination cast its shadow. She etjU continued li
to write to Henri, and in proportion td the i
length of time that elapsed since she had been c
separated from her lover, so her tender heart
yearned to have him near her. t
The inevitable rupture between mother and a
dangu* Ar 800 n came< c
One m’ornlna upon Julie v
as she sat in her room venly defOUniJg a !£|L er 1
which ehe held in her hand. On being asked
by her mother from whom it was, she an- r
ewered from Henri. This, togetjier with the
intentness with which Julie had been reading
th? epittlg JJl'l the ’U'JjfferMce she displayed
toward Monsieur Boutegat, seemed to roflee the
slumbering ire oi madame. In excited tones
she asked her daughter why she wasted her
thoughts with such an uncouth country lad
when she could have her choice from the ranks ,
of wealth and society. Was not Monsieur y
Boutegat an excellent gentleman ? Why did she
treat his attentions with such indifference'! At
last light dawned upon the mind of the con
fiding girl.' I
The worst was yet to come, however.
Upon Julie telling her mother that nothing
could sever the love that she bore for Henri,
madame, to the utter horror of the girl, flew >
into a towering passion and forbade her daugh
ter writing further to the youth at Auteuil.
Although it almost broke her heart, Julie '
obeyed the command of her mother. ,
Months rolled on and Henris letters, a 1
greater interval elapsing between each, ceased. '
Monsieur Boutegat continued to press his
suit and proved himself an ardent lover. Being
wealthy, his advances seemed all the more hon- i
orable.’as he surely could have no designs on >
the bait million francs dowry that Mademoiselle
Julie would receive on hen marriage.
In the meantime, Henri Pilot, maddened at
the seeming heartiessness of Julie, supposing
that she, on finding herself surrounded by <
wealth and luxury, had cast him off ior some 1
noble and wealthy suitor, determined to go to
Paris and endeavor to have an interview with
the idol ot his heart.
With the intention of carrying out this design .
Henri arrived in the great city, and forthwith
secured modest apartments in the Hue du (
Fouarre.
The next afternoon he presented himself at
the house of Madame Vaupil, in the Place des
Vosges. :
Being ushered into the reception room, he (
anxiously awaited the return of the servant who '
had gone to announce his presence.
The lootman soon appeared with the message
that mademoiselle was indisposed and could
not see him.
With a heavy heart the young man withdrew
and retraced bis steps to his cheerless abode.
Life had no beauty for him and the future
stretched out before him a heavy path of blank
darkness. Not once only did the waters of the
Seine seem his only reluge irom the miseries o!
the present and the hopelessness oi the future.
Unable to sleep, he arose that night and wan
dered aimlessly through the streets. Five
o’clock struck in the gloomy towers, but ho still
strode on. It was Sunday morning, and the
stream of people wending their way to mass,
turned to look at the lonely youth, who trudged
on, wrapped in the mantle of his agonizing
grief.
As ho neared a church into which the people
were entering, he thought he heard his name
called.
Supposing it was but his thoughts that mocked
him, he did not check his steps. Again there
was the calling of his name, followed by a
shriek, and, before he could look about him, he
felt his neck encircled by a pair of tender arms.
Looking up, he was both dazed and overjoyed
at beholding Julie clinging to hie neck, her head
nestled upon hie breast. He feared to move,
lest he should be dreaming, and should awake
to the horrible reality of his loneliness and
misery. Her voice, when she spoke, reassured
him.
“ Henri, you in Paris, and never came to see
me. For shame I Hadi gone to our old home
at Auteuil, you would be the first one I should
have flown to see.”
Noticing that they were attracting the atten
tion of the early churchgoers, Henri led Julie
into a side street and beckoned her maid to fol
low, who bad been staring at the unwonted
proceeding with open-mouthed amazement.
As they walked, Henri told Julie of hia visit
to her bouse, and the servant’s etatement that
she could not see him. Julie protested that she
bad not known ot his presence in Paris, let
alone that he had called upon her. Her mother
must have instructed the servant to make the
statement.
Then came the whole story of Madame Vau
pil’s determination that she should cast off
Henri, and wed the rich Mr. Boutegat.
“But,” said Henri, “if you do not love him,
how can you marry him?”
“Henri,” she answered, “if I did not love
• you I could marry M. Boutegat, and at least
I make a dutiful, if not a loving wife. But it
i would be unholy, un-Godly to marry a man
i when one's whole soul and life went out to an-
> other. Yet, my mother, whom I bo dearly
f love, although she has sorely tried my afiec
, tion, is sick, completely prostrated, and the
doctor tells me that unless her mind is relieved
t of a great burden from which it evidently suffers
-a severe strain, that she must surely succumb.
. That means my poor love, that I must marry M.
1 Boutegat, or my mother, who shares my whole
lite with yon, must die. Ob, Henri, it’s horrible I
t • Mon Dieu," exclaimed the now half-distraet
o ed young man, “it has come to this I My love
- is a curse to you then. Do what yon think is
i, for the best. Your mother, who has greatly
j wronged me, must not die. Save her life, for
1 she is your mother, and I could not bear to see
you grieve over hen loss.”
“Should I marry M. Boutegat,” Baid the
e heart-broken girl, “ will you promise me one
» thing? Ills more than I ought to expect, I
- know, but will you grant it?”
“ Anything that can prove my love, no matter
a how hopeless it may be,” responded Henri.
" “Will you—will you ’-the young girl heei
e tated, then mustering up courage, she looked
if straight into his face with her tear-bedimmed
eyes, and asked: "Will you oome to my wed'
e ding?”
a The young man started back, and stood as
- one petrified. The two stood looking fixedly at
b each other for some moments, but neither ven
e tured to speak. Then with the air of one en
dowed with courage born of sheer hopeless
ness, Henri reached forth hie hand, and
gently taking the limp hand of Julie in hie own,
tenderly kissed it and answered:
’ “I will attend your wedding.”
The two lovers now turned their steps toward
Julio’s home, as mass was over, and Madame
Vaupil would expect her daughter home.
The maid was cautioned not to mention the
1 scene of which she had been a witness, although
0 what it was all about, she had not the slightest
3 comprehension.
3 When they had neared the Place des Vosges
-> they separated with saddened hearts and hopes
crushed, Julie to bear the -news to her sick
mother that she would wed M. Boutegat, and
i Henri to hasten to his modest apartments to
r p nder over and try to realize the horrible
events of the chance meeting.
i Tbo day of the wedding bad been fixed, M.
1 Boutejat having formally proposed for the hand
3 of Mademoiselle Julie, and had been accepted.
The dowry had been arranged, and all things
i augured a brilliant affair.
> As the time set for the nuptials drew near,
I Madame Vaupil’s health improved and indeed
she seemed to find ample strength to direct the
preparations for tlie great event.
In the meantime Julie had met Henri clan
destinely, and as Madame Vaupil grew better
she had sought the family physician as to the
result of breaking off tbo marriage with M.Bou
tegat. To her dismay she was told that such a
step would throw madame into a relapse and
certain death would ensue. Nothing was left
to the unfortunate girl but to fulfill the ill-sort
ed contract.
Three days before the day that was to make
Mademoiselle Julie and M. Boutegat one, she
met Henri ere she should be irretrievably lost
to him.
The parting had sorely tried the courage ot
both. Although Henri sought to break irom
his promise to attend the nuptials, Julie firmly
held him to hia word.
There was nothing left for Henri but to yield.
The preparations were all completed and the
final ceremony was all that remained to be per
formed.
On the afternoon preceding the notable day,
Henn addressed a note to M. Boutegat, re
questing him to call on the former at his apart
ments in the Rue du Fouarre.
From subsequent developments it trans
pired that M. Boutegat had called as requested.
The morning of the wedding day dawned,
and all was in readiness. The guests bad as
sembled and all the indications pointed to com
plete success of the nuptial ceremonies.
The priest arrived, and M. Boutegat and ;
Madame Vaupil seemed anxious to have the
performance of the ceremonies begun at once. (
Mademoiselle Julie alone appeared nervous
at the awaited arrival ot Henri.
At this point the lower door bell rang, and
on its being opened a commissionaire presented ■
himself, stating that he had a chest to deliver.
W itli the assistance of the footman the box was
placed in the dining-room. The commission- :
aire, receiving his pay, retired.
In her anxiety—Mademoiselle Julie had
heard the ringing of the bell and had asked
what or who it was. She was informed of the
arrival of the chest.
>Slie insisted upon its being opened at once. *
Madame Vaupil objected, stating that it was •
some wedding present and that it would be !
opened in due time.
The mother was anxious that nothing should
delay or mar the festivities.
Mademoiselle, however, insisted and as the ‘
guests gathered about, the footman was in- <
structed to open the box.
As the servant advanced he noticed that a
spring lock kept the lid down, and was about •
to state that it could not be opened, when his <
eye fell upon the key hanging at the aide of the t
chest. Placing the key in the lock he opened it. s
The servant started back shrieking as though a »
bomb had fallen in their midst. £
As the lid was raised the dead remains of a ,
young man were disclosed arrayed in full even- ,
sfig oSsiume.
Making her way toward the ehest, Julie cast a [
quick glance at the contents, and exclaimed in a /
heartrending shriek, “Henri.” The misery of ,
a blasted life was conveyed in that one word. 8
They carried her limp form away and the physi- 'j
cian who hastened to her bed-side administered £
to her relief and stated that should she recover j
the shock might dethrone her reason.
The marriage, being ?t least for a time post- -
poned, it in the meantime came out that M. t
Boutegat was a bankrupt and had'eounted upon <
Julie’s dowry to save him from ruin.
Henri had sent to M. Boutegat that he might c
request that gentleman to treat Julie with c
kindness and consideration, explaining that e
iiiey l>ad been children together, and with that j
claim lie spoke.' c
Henri had kept his promise to be present at ,•
the wedding, but not having the courage to J
attend alive, had instructed on the night pre- c
ceeding the coiumissionarie to call for a chest t
which he described and deliver it to the Vaupil ;
mansion. y
Juiie recovered and taking the vail spent her t
remaing days Cjlti: seclusion of a convent. 1:
HUMOR oFtHEIiQUR. > t
BY THE DETROIT FREE PRESS FIEND. '
IT ALTERED THE CASE. i
“ How much for two grains of sulphate Of 1
zinc ?” queried the boy of the druggist. 3
“ Twenty-five cents.”
“But my father is a doctor.” !
“Oh ! well, I must make a hundred per cent. {
profit on such things anyway. Give me two j
cents.” ‘
THE STEP-MOTHER. J
“Expect anything in your Christmas stock- ;
ing ?” i
“Yep.” i
" What ? You’ve got a step-mother, and j
tain’t likely she’ll give you anything.” (
“ Ob, yes, she will. She’H give me a pack of
fire-crackers, and make me save ’em for Fourth
of July I”
OF COURSE NOT.
Two hard-looking cases were standing in
front of a butcher’s shop-window filled with
meat and poultry, when the first asked :
“ How much of that could we eat, Jim ?”
“ The hull of it!” j
“ Without stopping?” ... i
“No, of course not. We a nave to stop to f
drink about a gallon of champagne and com- ,
plain how cold-hearted the world has become.” ,
HAD BEEN THERE. ,
“Bub, what’s the day of the month?” he i
queried, as he stopped short at the corner of '
Griswold and Larned streets.
The lad crossed the street without replying, I
and stood on the curb and looked back. ‘
“What’s the matter?”
“ I know your racket. Soon as I tell you
you’ll say you’ve got a note due to-day, and
want to borrow thirty-seven dollars to help you i
out. I’ve got through being financially ruined ;
try the newsboy over there.”
ONLY WAITING.
“Have you a waiter?” asked the landlady of
the house as she stopped to inspect a tableful of
disconsolate, depressed looking boarders.
“ Wo are all waiting,” answered the end man
in a voice thick with unshed emotion.
“I move that we amend Milton,” remarked
the literary boarder:
“ They also serve who only sit and wait.”
“ And 1 will amend Shakespeare,” supple
mented the landlady:
“ Sit not upon the order of your going, but go
at once.”
And the silence that ensued was only broken
by the falling of a tray full of dishes down the
dining-room steps.
NO TRADE.
“ How much’!! you gimme to kerry up that
coal?” asked the bey as he opened the door at
the head of the stairs.
“ Boy, come in here a minute. Now, then,
why don’t you speak correct English ? You
should say: ‘ How much will you give me to
carry up that coal ?’ There is everything in
using good language, my boy. I’ll give you
twenty-five cents.”
“ Is that for carrying it up in good Eng
lish ?”
“ Yes.”
“ Then I won’t do it! I got thirty-five cents
across the street for a email ton, and the feller
let me chaw teroacker and swear beside 1”
IT WAS OLD-FASHIONED.
“I wish you’d make me an old-fashioned cup
of cofi’ee,” he said as he eat down in a restau
rant the other day.
“I will, sir. Want it after the fashion of
about thirty years ago, I suppose ?”
44 Yes’’
In a few minutes a cup was placed before
him and be surveyed it, sniffed at it and turned
up his nose and asked :
“ What do you call it
“An old-fashioned enp of coffee, air, such as
our mothers used to make. 1 got some Bio,
burned it on the shovel, pounded it in a rag,
and it is sweetened with molasses and dosed
with ekimmed milk. Those good old times are
. gone, sir, but the good old-fashioned coffee can
be made yet.”
HE’LL KEEP AWAY.
“Maria,” said the mistress of a Cass avenue
residence as she entered the kitchen in a hurry
: the other day, “ there’s a man going out of the
alley with a basket on bis arm.”
“Yes’m.”
“ I think he has stolen something from the
’ basement.”
“Oh, no, ma’am, I was watching him all the
> time.”
I “ But he had a basket of victuals.”
s “Yes’m, but he’s a poor man and I sym
pathized with him.”
. “ Haven’t I told you not to feed tramps
j “ Yes’m, but he pleaded so bard.”
I “ Ob, they can all tell a pitiful story. Don’t
> you never give this man anything again. Ho
o looks to me like a State Prison bird.”
s “Very well, ma’iim, I’ll tell him to keep
y away.”
r “ Then yen know him ?”
e •' Yes, he’s my husband, and he’s such a
sweet talker, and he’s so good-hearted!”
e-
- CHAMPAGNE.
r Scenes in the Caverns of Epern ay—
How Champagne is Made.
I (Ifrom the London Pall Mall Gazette.}
d Here is a vast subterranean city of cham-
> pagno. For miles and miles there are streets
hewn out of the solid chalk, flanked with piles
3 of bottles filled with champagne of all blends
■t and qualities. There are rows of casks lull of
- the sparkling, foaming nectar. Bottles are stack-
- ed about in every attitude—some lying horizon-
- tally, others stuck in racks, diagonally or vorti
-1 cally.
, There is no light in this labyrinth of streets,
crossings and turnings except what the splut
tering candles afford. All is dark, dhiik and
1 damp, with the temperature away down about
0 zero. Workmen are about in hundreds, clatter
ing with bottles, packing cases, and making
3 champagne ready lor the market. Wo are in
i the caves of Mercier & w Co., the largest cham
t pagno manufacturers in Epernay, whoso under
ground cellars cover forty-five acres, and con-
3 tain 5,000,000 bottles of wine. There is a whole
J street in Epernay lined with line chateaus, the
c proprietors of which possess similar establish
ments. The whole town is honeycombed with
> these underground galleries and cellars ior the
• manufacture and storage of champagne.
M. Mercier begins to explain the different
processes through which the sparkling wine
I has to pass between the grape and the bottle.
The grapes having been gathered by the “gam-
> ins” of Paris and wayside wanderers, they have
first to be pressed. The press is a mighty ma
chine. It is first let down gently on the grapes
stacked on the floor beneath it. The first touch
' produces the cream of the juice, which makes
the very finest “ cuvees.” The juice runs oft'
into casks. Six different squeezes are given,
each more powerful than the preceding, and
each producing an inferior quality of juice.
The last quality is very coarse, and is consid
ered to be fit only for the working people to
drink.
In making claret, the skins are distilled with
the juice, to color the wine, but are kept back
in making champagne and light-colored wines.
Out ot the crushed grapes a very bad quality of
brandy is distilled. When the wino has at
tained its proper flavor and bouquet, another
delicate operation has to be gone through. It
has to be made effervescent. The quantity of
carbonic gas put in must be regulated to a
nicety. Too little will make the wine flat, and
too much burst the bottles. Any deficiency in
saccharine matter is made up at this point.
Then comes the bottling.
As yet there has been no attempt to clear the
wine of its impurities and foreign matter, but
after remaining several years in bottle it clears
itself. At first the bottles are laid down hori
zontally, turned round and shaken every day,
and gradually raised up until they stand on
end neck downward, by which time all the sedi
ment in the wine is gathered in a solid lump on
the cork. Then takes place the “ disgorge
ment,” for which and the remaining operation
several machines are employed. “Disgorge
ment ” means that the cork, sediment and all,
is all blown out. To fill up the bottle again—
for a certain quantify of wine goes with the
cork—liqueur, consisting of the purest sugar
candy, best chamnagne and old brandy is put i
in. ‘ <
“On the quantity of liqueur,” explains M. «
Merceir, “ depends the blend and distinctive {
character of the wine. We make it sweet, dry i
or very dry, to suit our customers, by regulat- 1
ing the proportions of the liqueur. In England,
for instance, dry wines are most drunk, while
Frenchmen must have their wines sweet.” <
After this process the bottles are corked by 1
machinery, wired and labeled, and a.ter lying f
several months, for the amalgamation of the ;
wino and the liqueur, ths wine is lit for drink- <
ing. These are the principal operations through {
which champagne passes. t
I
A REM ARK ABL E 0 PERATIO N. i
CINCINNATI SURGEONS REMOVE i
THE BACKBONE OF A MAN.
A special dispatch from Cincinnati says : One t
of the rarest and most dangerous operations in 1
the shape of surgery, has lately been performed £
at the Cincinnati Hospital. It consisted in re- g
moving about three inches of the backbone and ]
exposing the spinal cord. The patient was a c
young colored man, about twenty-one years of g
age. When first admitted to the hospital he ]
was suffering from a terrible disease, which had
broken out over his head, neck and back, in the 1
form of large abscesses, the chief one of which,
was about the middle of the back, and had eaten c
away the backbone to a considerable extent. I
The poor fellow could not lie on his back or a
side in consequence of the extreme pain attend- c
ing such positions, and was compelled to lie all t
the while on his face. Slowly he had lost his t
power of motion, of sensation in his legs, so c
that he was completely paralyzed from his body i
down. It was decided that his only chance o! q
life Uy in an operation foy the removal of a part
of th§ backbo&d, so as to stop the process of de
cay. He was then turned on his face and the L
surgeon made an incision down the spine. A f
large quantity of pus was revealed, and the t
cavity was sponged ont carefully in order to see t
just where the knife was going. v
In this region, where one elip of the knife or j
one false move would have been fatal to the c
patient, the surgeon, with a chisel and hammer, c
went down in the bone until he cut out all that e
which was in any way affected, never touching r
the spinal cord. All causes of suppuration and c
paralysis were removed, and the surgeon felt j
assured power would return to the paralyzed i
legs and that time would accomplish the filling r
up oi the place where the bone had been form- r
erly. The patient recovered irom the ether and I
was placed in bed, on his lace. In three days y
motion returned to his legs, and he was able to a
Pl© first time in nearly a year, r
About tno same time sensation began to return t
in the limbs. In about three weeks he could r
boar some weight on his leg, and at the same r
time he assumed the position on his breast and s
knees, which he has kept ever since. He at 1
length became strong enough to stand with as- j
sistance and take a step or two. He is now able c
to walk to the end of the ward and sit down on t
a chair with comfort. Of course his back is yet
weak and probably never will regain its former
power, but he will be a useful man. The wound 1
has gradually closed up, leaving only a slight (
scar, and causes him little or no pain.
i
—' >
A Gigantic Fossil.—Says the Gal- ;
veeton Afeios.- Part of the jaw of a mastodon, .
weighing about fifty pounds, was brought into
the city yesterday and then brought to the JVe«w
office by Mr. T. J. Dick, of Edwards’ Point,
across tha bay. It was discovered fifteen feet
under the ground, having been washed out by
the last great storm, and a spring was subse
quently found to be running near the place. In ,
its present shape this relic of a past epoch is
completely fossilized, is white and grained like
pumice-stone, and has upon one side a row of .
gigantic and formidable-looking teeth, each .
tooth being three inches in breadth and one in
thickness. It is impossible to determine '
whether it is the remains of an inhabitant of the '
water or some animal on shore. From the po- 1
sition of the teeth it appears that a portion of 1
the head or jaw has been worn away or other
wise displaced, leaving it clear to see that the
part immediately next the teeth is the roof of ■
the mouth, whatever it was. Judging from the
size of its teeth, the proportions of the monster
must have been colossal. As there is no known
animal in this country possessing such pro
pensities, the present fossil must have belonged
to an animal that existed ages past, as even by
natural process it would require thousands of
years for it to have developed into its thorough
ly fossilized state. Fossils' are continually be
ing discovered all over the world and give evi
dence that at one time there existed upon the
earth’s surface creatures of wonderfully gigantic
structure.
Mobphiomania in Fbance.—Says the
London PdH MaU Gazette: In the course of
the fast few years the disease which the doctors
call morphiom&nia has made formidable head
way all over France. In the capital its victims
almost rival those of alcoholism. At Bellevue
a great hospital has been opened for the care,
and, if possible, for the cure, of these 1 patients.
Here at least all the symptoms of the disease
may be studied, and curious statistics of its
course and of the character of its victims have
been collected. The disease in its present form
is necessarily but of recent origin. Morphia
itself was only discovered in the year 181(’. The
cure of it is very rare. It is found that both the
use and deprivation of the drug lead the vic
tims almost inevitably to suicide, and at Belle
vue there are cushioned rooms for some of the
patients, and a constant watch kept on all. One
is not surprised to hear that the chief sufferers
are women. After women come doctors. One
can see the reason of this. A few years ago the
injection of morphia was almost a surgical
operation. Doctors would have most oppor
tunity and least tear of the results. Now, un
fortunately, the instruments have been made so
perfectly that the use of them has ceased to be
either painful or formidable.
Gow prom Millstones. —A curious,
trial has just terminated in Paris. M. Popp
the inventor of the pneumatic clocks, thought
he could extract gold from millstones, which he
contended contained from two to three thou
sand francs per ton of the precious metal. A
' certain number of capitalists were credulous
enough to believe that M. Popp could really
extract sufficient gold from millstones to make
the operation a profitable affair. They, there-
> fore, advanced him large sums of money to
’ work his invention, but the results proved
» most unsatisfactory. At last, tired ot the con
tinual calls made on their purses by M. Popp,
they brought an action against him for having
j obtained money from them under false pre
tenses. Judgment was given in the case a few
> days ago. It had not, however, been proved on
the trial that M. Popp had intentionally misled
those who had advanced him the capital to
- work his pretended process for extracting the
gold, which, it appears, is really contained in
millstones, though in less proportions than the
inventor seems to have believed. So M. l opp
t was acquitted.
6 Brain Mutilation in Fish. —Says
Science : M. Vulpian recently communicated to
P the French Academy the interesting results of
an experiment on Drain mutilation in a fish.
The cerebral lobes were removed from a carp
a on March 18th last, and the fish was under
daily observation up to September 29th, when
it died from causes believed by the author to
be wholly unconnected with the brain injury.
During nil this time its movements and respira
_ tions were normal, not differing from those of
its uninjured fellows. In fact, two months after
the operation, M. Vulpian could not perceive
any difference in its movements and behavior
from those of healthy fishes. Its sight was in
no wise impaired. It saw and avoided obsta-
3 cles, and readily recognized the yellow and
3 white fragments of boiled egg on the bottom of
s the aqarium. It struggled actively with its fel
‘ lows to obtain the small particles of food thrown
into the water, seeing them from a distance and
following as they fell. At the approach of the
one feeding the fishes it would swim from the
opposite side of the aquarium, manifest ng no
» impairment of intelligence. Its sense of taste
■ was preserved, as shown by its rejecting non-
J alimentary substances accidentally taken into
t its mouth. The sense of smell only was de
stroyed, owing to the section of the olfactory
» processes ; otherwise it seemed to retain all the
i senses, and the intellectual and instinctive
faculties of the normal, healthy fish. Upon ex
amination the cerebral lobes and pineal gland
were found to be entirely wanting, but the rest
> of the brain was intact. Although nearly six
’ months had elapsed since the operation, there
was no indication of the regeneration of the
lobes. The opening in the cranium closed up
• in about two months, and had the fish lived a
month or two longer, the author was certain
’ that the walls would have been wholly ossified.
The experiment shows that the instinct and the
will-faculties which all higher animals seem
to have located in the cerebrum —are capable of
their full manifestation in the fish after its com
plete ablation.
Beaten at His Own Game. —Says the
Boston Herald: Recently a young physician of
the Harvard Medical School conceived the idea
of nlaying a joke on Miss Annie Copeland, one
of the lady students at the College of Physicians
and Surgeons, and at the same time rubbingout
an old score ho had laid up against her. His
plans were carefully mapped out, and every
thing being in readiness, the lady was called
tipon to attend a case of fracture of the leg.
Somewhat astonished, she promptly answered
the summons of suffering humanity, confident
in her ability to sustain the dignity of the pro
ossion she had adopted. On arriving at the
residence indicated, she was surprised to find
her patient to be a man about 40 years old, ap
parently suffering the most excruciating pains.
Moving the covering, she discovered the frac
ture to be that of a wooden leg. Nothing daunt
ed, and without showing any evidence of her
discovery, she quietly replaced the covering,
said she must go for some splints and band
ages, and would return immediately. She did
so, bringing with her some small pieces of brass
and brads, with which she at once proceeded to
repair the fractured limb. The surgical opera
tion was performed in a remarkably short space
of time, and the injury left to the healing pro
cess of nature. She quietly gave the necessary
directions, informed the man that he would be
all right in a day or two, and that her bill was
*25. It is scarcely necessary to sav that the fee
was not forthcoming, the matter being treated
as a good joke. Next morning, however, Miss
Copeland appeared on the scene with a consta
ble, and, much to the chagrin of the son of
Aesculapius, collected her fee. It would seem
that, if the young graduates of Harvard Medi
cal School wish to get ahead of the lady stu
dents of the College of Physicians and Sur
geons, they will have to rise very early and use
more brass than Miss Copeland did in reducing
the fracture of the wooden leg.
About Bats. —Says a writer in the
Chicago Evening Journal: My wife tells me
that the hired girl tells her that she saw a rat
stick its tail in a bottle of Cali.'ornia cherries
preserved in heavy syrup. After the tail came
out several rats licked it. The Kalamazoo story
goes that the rats got the eggs up a long pair of
stairs in the following way: A small rat hugged
the egg with all fours. The expedition then
took hold of his tail and he was pulled up the
stair-csse. The Chicago Fall and Winter fashion
is to suck the egg down-stairs and wear the
shell up to bed for a night-cap. Will any one
tell me why a rat that could get into my house
through an inch auger-hole will bite off from
the side of my house a hole the size of a wash- !
boiler ? I tried tar the other day. I heard,
some ten years ago, that tar was good for the •
scalp. Next I heard it was good for rate. It is. ■
It appears to make them happier. They will uot J
enter a wooden trap. As the store clerk would ■
say, the wooden trap is not popular with them. (
But the wire “ fixing” that goes through their
gills as they come through the hole, seems to 1
bo an invention of considerable danger to rats. J
The real way to catch them, though, is in the
cage. I have seen seven in one cage, all caught 1
between midnight and morning. Nine years 1
ago I poisoned all the rats in my block. They 1
died under my back parlor floor. This regret- 1
table episode has caused me to join the Cruelty
to Animals Society, and I take a far more mer
ciful view of the rat question. The life of a rat i
is a sacred thing to me, so far as poison is con- 1
cerned. i
i
Fasting Liquids.— Savage tribes are t
known to use “fasting” liquids. There is a t
fluid extract of cocoa, a little of which will ena- ]
ble a man, not merely to exist, but to endure t
the fatigues of days, and it is even said, ol <
weeks. The Indians of Brazil can perform long <
journeys, with nothing to live upon but a small i
quantity of a preparation of tobacco juice. But <
even plain water, as it is called, may have its 1
solid nutritive ingredients. This is the expla- .
nation of tho instances, by far too numerous for t
detailed mention, in which “snowed up” peo
ple have lived for astonishingly long periods
upon nothing but snow water, and in which f
miners, imprisoned down below, have survived, g
not only for days, but even for weeks, until the t
hour of their deliverance. The lime in the water t
which oozed through the rock, and upon which
alone the workers in a well-known mine in
north-eastern France lived for three weeks or (
more, accounted for the escape ol the unfortu- (
nates. By simply lying still, and not moving a j
muscle, by keeping oneself as warm as possible, j
and sleeping as nearly as possible twenty-four j
hours in the day, one may live a long time on <
plain water, the very plainest of which contains j
one or more of the solid ingredients necessary (
to the building up of the human frame.— Echo, i
Why We Have Two Ears. — Dr. Wil- ,
liams, of St. Louis, thus explains the necessity j
of having two ears : “Sound travels by waves .
radiating from a central point of disturbance,
like the wavelets caused by dropping a pebble
into still water. So far as the hearing of each
individual is concerned, these waves move in
a direct line from the cause of sound to bis ear,
the impact being greatest in the ear that is near
est to the source. The effect, in this respect, of
the total lose of hearing in one ear, was forcibly
illustrated by the statement of a patient who
consulted me recently. He lived in a wild por
tion of Tennessee and spent a good deal of his
spare time in the woods hunting squirrels, ac
companied only by his dog. An explosion sud- ;
denly destroyed the hearing in one ear. After :
this accident’ while in the woods, he found that
he could hear his dog bark, but for the life of
him he could not locate the direction of the
sound, even when quite close to him, and he
was compelled to take his little boy along with
him to find the dog. Alter a time persons learn
to correct, to a limited extent, the errors in esti
mating distances after the loss of vision, but the
effect of the loss of an ear upon the estimation
of the direction of sound is never corrected.”
An Anecdote of Lincoln. —“ Late one
night, when President Lincoln was at my
home.” says Gen. McClellan in his recently pub
lished book, “ I received a telegram from an
officer commanding a regiment on the Upper
Potomac. The dispatch related some very des
perate fighting that had been done during the
day, describing in magnificent terms the severe
nature of the contest, fierce bayonet charges,
etc., and terminated with a very small list of
killed and wounded, quite out of proportion
with his description of the struggle.
“The President quietly listened to the read
ing of the telegram, and then said it reminded
him of a notorious liar, who attained such a
reputation as an exaggerator that he finally in
structed his servant to stop him, when his
tongue was running too rapidly, by pulling his
coat or touching his feet. One day the master
was relating wonders he had seen in Europe,-
and described a building which was about a
mile long and a half mile high. Just then the
servant’s heel came down on the narrator’s toes
and he stopped abruptly. One of the listeners
asked how broad this remarkable building
might be; the narrator modestly replied, ‘About
a loot.’ ”
Boils and
Carbuncles result from a debilitated, im
poverished, or impure condition of the
blood. They are a source of great suffer
ing, and are liable to appear in large
numbers, unless overcome by the use of
some powerful alterative. Ayer’s Sarsa
parila cures these painful tumors, and also
prevents them, by removing their cause.
One year ago I suffered from Boils and
Carbuncles, and for nearly two months
was unable to work. I was entirely
Cured By
taking two bottles of Ayer’s Sarsaparilla.
— Leander J. McDonald, Soley street,
Charlestown, Mass.
For some time past, until recently, my
blood was in a disordered condition. I
was covered from head to foot with small,
and very irritating, blotches. After using
three bottles of Ayer’s Sarsaparilla, I am
entirely cured. — C. Ogden, Camden, N. J-
I suffered with Boils every spring, for
years, until I began taking
Ayer’s Sar
saparilla. A few bottles of this medicine
effected a permanent cure.— L. r. Luna,
Portsmouth, Va.
Prepared by Dr. J. C. Ayer St Co-, Lowell, Maw.
i The Latest Annihilator. —The con
) ditions of modern war become fiercer witbt
f every fresh invention. The mere catalogue o£
. recent “improvements” in rifles and guns is a
) horrible study. And now comes a new French
r shell, the Ferminy, which may well make thd
i owners of the stoutest iron-clads tremble. Thd
) latest experiment of the Woolwich (Eng.) au
. thorities with a 12-inch Ferminy was made up-
- on a compound plate of six inches of steel, with
f twelve inches of iron backing. Although thia
r target was placed at an angle of thirty-five de
) grees, the shell passed through tho steel,
r smashing the whole compound plato complete-*
i ly and “ destroyed and penetrated for a con-
- siderable distance the wooden and iron framing
I behind it.” Yet armaments and establishments
f increase and the men who are to be the victims
-of these horrid instruments of destruction ar&
i enrolled in greater numbers than ever.
J A Combat Between a Cow and a Gan
( DEB.—-A combat between a cow and a gander i&
j described by a newspaper ot Albany, Ga. The
cow made a violent attack on tho gander,when,.
> with much deliberation and coolness, the bird,
as the cow rushed upon him, caught a strong
■ hold with his beak on the hair and hide be
j tween the horns and flapped his wings Jurious
, ly. The aston shed cow was glad to shake her
antagonist off. But after retreating a few feet
I and looking upon the proud neck and msignifi
t cant form of the haughty bird, she concluded
■ to try him another round, and again (lashed at
‘ the gander, who was a little more deliberate it
( possible in taking his bold, and with swift and
( strong wings ho showered his blows on the
eyes ot the foe. The cow had evidently miscal
culated the prowess of her diminutive enemy,
and after considerable effort shook the pugna
cious bird off and teat a retreat.
There Was A Rat.— A citizen of Buf
falo suffering from an ulcerated tooth sought
relief in the flowing bowl, much to his wi'e’s
alarm. One night he came home about ten
■ and as he entered the house he saw a
big rat. To seize the poker and go for it wag
the work ot an instant, and in the chase that
followed the rat rushed into the bedroom
where the man's wife was about going to bed.
ohe didn t see the rat, and was naturally agi
tated at seeing her husband, in Loots, overcoat
and cap, banging away with the poker and
yelling: “ i’ll have that rat if I die for it.”
‘O, dear, there’s no rat here,” she said ; but
he kept right on, hammered on some of her
clothing that lay on the lounge, and then tri
umpbantly held up the dead body ot the rat.
Ihewife looked at it a moment, and then, in
tones of inexpressible relief, said: “Thank
heaven, there was a rat after all.”
Held by a Goat. —Says tho Haralson
(Ga.) Banner: Tho editor of‘this paper received
a very unpleasant introduction to a boisterous
billy goat one evening this week. On entering a
stable to feed some cattle we found that said
goat had taken possession, and he seemed to ba
“ monarch of all he surveyed.” He raised his
head, shook himself, and commenced walking
backward. It seemed that he was trying to get
out of the way, but it was soon plain that the
deceitful animal was making ready for battle. It
would seem unreasonable to tell how much
power and force a billy goat has got when he
gets mad. They stop so suddenly, and the
charge is so forcible, that a fellow would im
agine he was struck by a locomotive. But alter
being entertained something less than an hour
with this unfriendly visitor, and having a regu
lar hand-to-hand fight, we retreated and ret red
m good order.
A Cat Fishing for Oysters —Say g
the Meadville (Pa.) Tribune: The following
novel scone was witnessed a short time ago in
front of an establishment, the principal busi
ness of which is dealing in oysters. A measure,
in the bottom of which were a few oysters, sat
on a bench. A cat with an evident taste for bi
vales, sat art stically balanced on the top of the
measure, while with his right fore-paw he reach
ed down among the oysters, occasionally bring
ing a nice large one to the surface. The cat
was doubtlassly an old-timer, and had fished for
oysters before, and whenever he succeeded in
making a good catch he would quietly jump
down, take tho bivalve in his jaws and walk
back of and probably under the building, after
a few moments reappearing and watching his
opportunity to steal another oyster.
A Cure for Laziness. —The following
singular treatment was formerly applied in
Dutch workhouses to indolent and apathetic
individuals: The patient was placed in a sort of
large tub, into which water was kept constant
ly flowing through a pipe, so that in order to
keep himself from drowning he had to turn a
crank which pumped the water out again. The
water supply and the hours of working were
nicely adjusted to his strength and endurance,
and the amount gradually increased everyday.
In cnereport it says: “The inactive limbs are
soon brought to the required degree of supple
ness, and the men very soon began to ask for
some less irksome labor, which they afterward
perform in a most satisfactory manner.
A Magnetic Probe. —During the Brit
ish Association meeting at Birmingham, Eng. o
Mr. W. H. Treece, F. 8.8., read a note on the
use of a magnetic needle in localizing a frag
ment of steel in the hand. One of his daugh*
ters had the misfortune to have her hand pene
trated by a needle, which broke into
pieces. Two of these were extracted, but Hia
third piece defied localization even by the in
duction balance of Professor Hughes. A deli
cate magnetized needle was then suspended on
a light paper stirrup or hook from a single fibre
of cocoon silk, and when the injured hand was
brought near it, invariably pointed to one spot.
An incision was made here by a surgeon, and
the missing fragment found.
No man knows what a ministering
angel his wife is until he conies home one day,
suffering with a dreadful cold and she happens
to have a bottle oi Dr. Bull’s Cough Syrup in
the house.
Three Times Near Deatft. —Dr. Lin
coln, the regular medical attendant of Presi
dent Arthur during his residence at Wash
ington, is quoted as making the statement that
three times during that time Mr. Arthur lay at
the point of death. Tho first attack was at
Senator Jones’house during his visit to Wash
ington as Vice-President, directly alter the
shooting of Garfield; the second was on board
the “Tallapoosa” during the Florida trip, and
the third just alter his return from the Yellow
stone. Knowledge oi the first attack was con
fined to the doctor and Senator Jones. Not ft
member oi Garfield’s cabinet was ever told.
An Old Lady’s Philosophy.— Says
the Boston Post: And old lady ot New Hamp
shire who recently celebrated her eightieth
birthday by giving an elaborate supper, at
which every article, including the cheese and
butter, was’made with her own hands, thus
explained the secret of her vigor and health:
“Inever fret over things I cannot help; I take
a nap, and sometimes two, every day of my
life; I never take my work to bed with me, and
I oil the many wheels of a busy life by an im
plicit faith that there is a brain and a heart to
this great universe, and that I can trust them
both.”
Marine Wool. —A raw material called
bisso, or golden wool, obtained from the Pinna
nobi is, a mollusca or shell-fish which attaches
itself to the sea bottom by a tuft of fibrous hair,
is utilized on the coast oi Sardinia and especial
ly the island of Madalena for making cravats,
shawls and so on. The fibre is of a yellow
brown color and is collected by a kind of iron
rake. The tuft is washed, dried, combed and
spun, then woven into cloth. The dark rich
“old gold” variety is most prized and, beside
being pretty, is said to be durable.
A Peculiar Hallucination. —Stone-
wall Jackson had a number of strange idosyn
crasies. Among these was an idea he persisted
in entertaining, notwithstanding his phys cian’s
declaration to the contrary, that one side oi hia
body was heavier than the other. This was hia
right side, and ho used to carry weights in the
pockets on the opposite side to. preserve hia
equilibrium. He consulted many doctors in
regard to this tanciful malady, but was never
rid of the delusion to his dying day. cago
Neics. .
Caught in His Own Trap. — A young
man of twenty, one of a party ot hunters in
Colorado, left camp to go out and’ set a bear
trap. He did not return in due time, and
search was made for him. It was six days be
fore he was found, and then it was-seen that, in
setting the trap, both hands had been caught
in it, and thus be had been held until he wae
frozen to death.
Carbuncles
For years I was afflicted with Car
buncles on the back of my neck. They
were a source of much suffering. I com—
menced taking Ayer’s Sarsaparilla, which;
cured the Carbuncles, and has since kept
me entirely free from them; my appetite
has improved, and I am in better health'
than ever before. — O. Snell, Lowell, Mass-.
I was troubled, for a long time, with a.
humor which appeared on my face in ugly
Pimples and Blotches. By
Taking
Aver's Sarsaparilla I was cured. I con
sider this medicine the best blood purifier
in the world. — Charles H. Smith. North
Craftsbury, Vt.
I had numbers of Carbuncles on my
neck and back, with swellings in my arm
pits, and suffered greatly. Nothing re
lieved me until I began taking Ayer’s
Sarsaparilla. This medicine restored me
to health. — Selby Carter, Nashville, Tenn.
By taking a few bottles of Ayer’s Sar
saparilla
1 I have been cured of a troublesome
I disease, caused by impuie blood. — Win.
• O. Vanever, Battle Creek, Mich.
1 Sold by all druggists. Price sl, *l*