New York dispatch. [volume], December 26, 1886, Page 7, Image 7

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

Image provided by: Library of Congress, Washington, DC

                
A BABY'S FAIT*-’,
. ; a-
B1 MBS. CITKa ?• B'j- 53 -
* t 'O:i’y a handbill I Preside I"
And the lady’s fingers sligat,
'Took from the waiting servant s hand
Thu tiny missive white.
'One careless glance at its contents.
And she tossed it in the air;
It slipped through the open casement,
Without her thoilght or care.
'Circling, floating, fluttering down,
It sought the dua;y street.
And dropped, as so.t as a snowflako
At a baby's pattering feet.
'The little one caught the pap< r,
With a cry of glad surprise,
And lilted to the blue of heaven
A pair of heavenly eyes.
’Tis a letter from my mamma,
I know,” the baby said,
■*» God has sent it down from heaven
Where she went when she was dead.
Bead it nurse,'* the baby commanded,
But the nurse’s eyes were dim,
Ixot for her to read the message
That his mother sent to him.
But the baby kissed h!s treasure;
He could “ read between the lines,”
And the coarse and common paper
Bore a word from fairer climes.
So the lady’s careless fingers
Tossed a message io his heart.
Which, in all the years of childhood
Bora a not forgctten part.
THE TMLOFTimPm
BY AN ENGLISH EX-DETECTIVE.
I havo had experiences of different kinds. If
[ were to tell only half ot them, I should have
to say as much as would fill a book. That is
too great a task to undertake, but I will tell a
little story, the particulars ol which came to my
knowledge a few years ago, when I was only
occasionally employed as a private detective in
Liverpool.
Mr. Stepton was a rich man, who did not
think it necessary to take any very active part
in his business alter he had lived for half a cen
tury. Ho was a merchant on a large scale. He
had come into a great business on the death of
bis father, and that business had constantly
grown under his own careful management dur
ing five-aud-twenty years. He owned a splen
did mansion, with spacious grounds attached
to it, and the house and grounds were about
five miles from liverpool, on the road to
Knowsley.
A son had been born to Mr. Stepton, but the
prospective heir to the wealth of the Steptons
had died in infancy. Four years later a baby
daughter appeared. She survived all the dan
gers incident to’ babyhood and girlhood, and
was now the beautiful, accomplished, and gen
tle young lady on whom the perpetuation of
that branch of the Stepton family depended.
Her name was Clara. She was in her nine
teenth year, and though she was yet as docile
as any child, she was actually the empress of
the house.
Another young lady lived in the house, who
differed from Miss Stepton in many points of
character. That other was her cousin Lydia,
orphan daughter ot an elder brother ot the Mr.
Stepton already mentioned.
Lydia Stepton attracted more notice in socie
ty than her cousin Clara. She was more viva
cious, and the accomplishments she had gained
were displayed without ostentation, it is true,
but also without any diffidence.
Ralph Golding had been known to Mr. Step
ton from early boyhood. Ralph's father and
Mr. Stepton had been bosom friends for many
years, and the two old gentlemen had long re
garded the alliance of their families in the per
sons ot their children as an event that was
probable and much to be commended. So very
intimate had Ralph become with the Steptons,
and so constant were his attentions to Clara,
tha't he was held to be engaged to the young
lady, though no formal engagement had been
spoken.
Soon after Lydia Stepton became a resident
at Stepton House, Ralph was not only attracted
but fascinated by her dark beauty, her viva
city, and her disposition, which was showy and
sparkling beside the quiet, pure beauty ot her
cousin Clara.
Hot and impetuous, Ralph was soon desper
ately in love. He nursed his passion in secret
until he thought it not possible to do so any
longer. He saw Lydia Stepton sitting on a
rustic bench in the grounds one afternoon, and
resolving to know his fate on the instant, be
hastened toward her. He sat beside her a few
moments, uttering loving compliments, until
at length his words became too warm to admit
Of any doubt as to their full meaning. Then
Lydia rose from the seat, looking stern and
angry.
“ You have sought me here to insult me, Mr.
Golding. How dare you speak to me, when I
know you are engaged to my cousin ? lam not
rich, as she is, but I am not so poor that I need
endure insult in my uncle’s house,” she said
with a deep earnestness that was new to her.
“ You are unjust, Lydia. Ido not insult you
—I love you. I did not know anything of this
Strong passionate love before I saw you. I have
no engagement with your cousin. It I had it
Should be broken, for I love you, and I will try
to deserve your love. I am not a slave to the
opinions ot others. I have wealth enough for
us two—say you will be mine.”
Ralph Golding took her hand and tried to
place his arm around her as he finished this
passionate pleading, bnt he failed.
“ Do not touch me, sir I” said Lydia, turning
away and extending one arm to repel his ad
vance. “ 1 cannot listen to such words, and
the wealth you boast of is not yet yours.”
After this parting shot she recovered her hat,
and went toward the house hastily, but without
appearing very much discomposed.
Mr. Ralph Golding’s sensations at the end of
thia interview cannot be easily described. Ho
Stood there without a tremor in his stalwart
frame, and with no other expression in his face
than that of the most bewildering astonish
ment. He looked after the receding figure,
hnd as it became more distant, the love which
had inflamed him a few minutes before seemed
to cool down in proportion. When Lydia dis
appeared behind an arbor near the house, the
last spark ot his passion seemed to expire, and
then only he stepped back a pace and sank
gj)wu on the seat, on which he had so recently
Sat with a companion to whom he passionately
made love.
“Well,” he said, after inhaling a long, deep
breath, “if this does not surpass all that ever
happened to me. I must be a fool. This is a
pretty set down. Insult, indeed 1 What an in
fernal ass I am when I give way to these cursed
whims and humors 1 By Jove, Lydia Stepton,
I hope what you've taught me may be a lesson
to last for some limo. I feel as if I had received
a slap in the face. By George, what would
Clara think is she knew—beautiful Clara ? She’s
a creature of a different stamp. There’s some
thing so gentle, so loving, and so true. Ay,
that's where my heart really turns, after all.
But what weald she think it the knew what I’ve
been doing to-day ?”
Ralph Golding s rebuff at the hands of Lydia
.Stepton appeared to exercise a beneficial effect
on that young gentleman’s character. He be-
Bime niol'o staid than many of his friends
thought such a mercurial fellow could ever be
come. It was noted, too, that he now, for the
first time, seemed to have a fixed purpose in
life, and those who knew him best had no diffi
culty in discovering that his purpose was to win
the love of Clara Stepten, and to make her his
wife. ....
But the task of winning the maiden s heart
was an easy one. Its happiness had been placed
in his keeping long before he earnestly under
took to besiege it; and when he put the import
ant question one evening, with some of his old
impetuosity, the surrender was spoken, and a
kiss sealed the announcement on the ruby lips
that had uttered it.
Mr. Golding, senior, and the Steptons, father
and mother, were about equally delighted by
the step Ralph had taken; and when he pressed
for an early marriage, all the objections that
could be raised were easily overcome.
Lydia Stepson had not spoken of the protesta
tions of love Ralph had made to her, nor had
Ralph found it necessary to mention that inci
dent. Lydia, indeed, appeared to be as deeply
interested in the approaching wedding as she
who was to be the bride. She rejoiced in the
prospective happiness of her cousin Clara; and
while she spoke pretty things of the bride-elect,
ohe did not hesitate to say that no bride in Lan
cashire eould wish a comelier groom.
The wedding morning came at last. I cannot
describe all the gorgeousnesa of dress that was
lavishly displayed, but it was long said in the
neighborhood 'of Stepton House, and for a
couple ot milea around, that such a magnifi
cent wedding bad not been witnessed there for
jyears be ore.
When the party returned from church, and
while some ot the guests were proceeding along
a broad corridor toward the room in which the
wedding breaktaat was laid, a little incident oc
curred which disturbed the happiness of the
bridegroom in some degree.
The bride was still wearing her bridal vail
and wreath. She was retiring to another room
with her father, when she left his side for a
moment and went a few steps to meet her hus
band, who was approaching. Laying her hand
caressingly on his breast, she said:
“I forgot until this moment, Ralph dear.
Lydia spoke to me so strangely this morning.
I did not heed her much, but she mentioned
you, and she may want to see you.”
Ralph started back as if alarmed when his
wife said “ she mentioned you.” An expres
sion of annoyance flashed across his face, and
as instantly disappeared when he regained his
composure.
“ 1 started, darling, because I thought you
had some painful news—and I could not bear
ill news to-day,” he said softly, clasping the
band that lay on his breast. “If Lydia wishes
to speak to me, she will have opportunities be
fore we leave.”
“ Oh, certainly—plenty of opportunity,” she
replied; and, after a fond glance into the eyes
that were gazing down upon her, she rejoine'd
her father.
Mr. Stepton noticed the start Ralph made. It
surprised and puzzled him somewhat. He had
also heard the name of Lydia spoken, but as
there was nothing unusual in that, he did not
question his daughter on the subject of her
speech.
Two hours later the carriage was at the door
ready to convey the newly-married pair into
Liverpool, whence they were to start on the
prolonged wedding tour they had arranged.
For some minutes Ralph had been missed
from the room, and Mr. Stepton himself went
about to look for his truant son-in-law. At
length he and Mrs. Stepton together discovered
the laggard. Ho was standing on a balcony
which ran along oue side of the house and over
looked a portion of the garden. Lydia Stepton
was there, too. but with her back turned to
Ralph, her baud raised to her chiu and her fig
ure posed as if she were passionate and angry.
Ralph held his hat in his hand, and a light dust
coat thrown over his arm.
“I must bid you good-by, Lydia. I cannot
understand your behavior this morning. You
may be angry or you may bo sorry, but oven it
you act from malice you may kuow I am hap
py."
As soon as ho bad spoken he turned away,
and confronted Mr. and Mrs. Stepton.
“Pardon me, I beg you. I kuow you have
come to look for me,” he said. “ I have said
good-by to Lydia, and now I am ready for the
coach.”
Both the persons he addressed were puzzled
and somewhat pained by what they had seen,
but the flying moments forbade inquiries or
explanations, which should be made at some
more fitting time. Ralph was soon in the car
riage beside bis lovely bride, and theu they
rattled away rapidly to inaugurate their honey
moon.
Do what he might to get up a state of feeling
proper to the day and the occasion, Mr. Step
ton found it impossible to divest himselt whol
ly of a sense of uncomfortable disquiet. It was
not so much due to the fact that lie had that
morning consigned to the care of another his
only and darling child, as to his consciousness
that there was something affecting her and her
husband which ho had not been permitted to
know.
That night, after all the visitors had depart
ed, ho mentioned the matter that was upper
most in his mind.
“Lydia, dear,” he said, “I am sure you must
be fatigued after the bustle of this happy day,
but I am sure you will spare me a few serious
words before you retire.”
“ A few, uncle I I can give you a thousand
and one words if you wish,” she responded with
her customary vivacity, as she came and stood
beside his chair. “ Bnt why must they be seri
ous on such a night as this ?” she continued
questioningly.
“ Well, only because I would learn something
more than I now know about Mr. Golding,” he
replied. “Immediately after the marriage one
or two little incidents occurred that I could not
but notice, and they havo given me uneasiness
ever since. In the first place, I saw Mr. Gold
ing start visibly at some words Clara spoke to
him immediately after the return from church.
I do not know all she said, but I distinctly heard
her mention your name. Thon I was witness to
the unaccountable scene on the balcony in which
you and Mr. Golding took part just before they
drove away. Now, can you give me any expla
nation of that scene, for it has tilled me with
curiosity at least ?”
Lydia bent her head a little, and she also now
looked grave.
“ I must explain, since you have asked the
question, uncle; but I should not have spoken
of the matter if you had not introduced it. The
subject is painful to me, and it is because I felt
it would be unpleasant to you I have kept silent.
You may have noticed that I was angry, and
that Mr. Golding spoke sharply to me. He said
I might be angry, or I might be sorry, but he.
was happy, as if that made the anger or the sor
row of another not deserving of a thought. I
will tell you why he said that.”
Lydia then told how Ralph had proffered his
hand to her, how she had spurned the offer
with indignation, and how the coldness which
then sprung up between them had continued
ever since.
“ But why did you not tell me of this before ?”
groaned Mr. Stepton, horrified and enraged be
yond measure at the startling tale.
“Because I would not disturb your peace,
dear uncle. Mr. Golding at once became more
marked than ever in his atleutious to Clara.
His proposal to me was only the result of a
passing whim, I suppose, for soon after I had
rejected his suit ho won Clara’s consent to be
his wife, and your agreement to the marriage
which has taken place to-day.”
“True, Lydia, true. I can understand your
generous motive in keeping the outrageous pro
ceedings Irom my knowledge, yet I wish I
had known this earlier. I could not have
thought this of Ralph Golding. Great Heaven I
It makes me wild to know that my darling—my
gentle, fond and confiding child—should have
fallen into the hands of such a man. He is dis
honorable ; he has outraged my confidence, in
so long and so artfully concealing his real sen
timents. I cannot save my child, but I can
spoil what I suppose to be Ralph Golding’s de
sign in this unfortunate marriage. The heiress
shall be dowerless. The wealth we have gained
through generations shall not pass into the
possession ot the man who has done me an in
jury that nothing can atone. Ay, and 1 will see
to it at once. Leave me now, Lvdia. Good
night.”
The pain Mr. Stepton suffered was made ap
parent by his utterly dejected manner, and by
the anguish that sounded in every tone of his
voice. Lydia bent down and kissed him ten
derly on the .orehead, alter which she silently
loft the room.
The two months following Ralph Golding’s
marriage witnessed palpanle and painful
changes in Stepton House. ’The discovery of a
new phase in Mr. Golding’s character, of the
deception he had practised, and the probable
unhappiness the marriage entailed on his only
child, so preyed on Mr. Stepton’s mind that his
health rapidly sunk under his multiplied trou
bles and anxieties.
In a fortnight bi-weekly visits to the Ex
change in Liverpool were discontinued. In an
other fortnight he was confined to his room,
suffering Irom a slow intermittent fever, com
pletely prostrate and descending. The doe
tor’s treatment was powerless to restore the
lost buoyancy of his spirit or the strength of
his frame, and he became apparently a con
firmed invalid.
During all this trying time Lydia proved to
be a devoted nurse, whose untiring watchful
ness and care Mrs. Stepton and the-doctor com
mended in the highest terms ot praise. She
had become necessary to the invalid’s comfort,-
or such little comtort as he could derive from
anything in a world which had become so sud
denly and so completely changed to him. She
appeared to have taken a place in his- heart
which only his daughter had formerly filled,
while she was more unremitting in her atten
tions by day and night than his daughter's
physical strength would permit her to be.
At the end of the second month Mr. Golding
and his wife returned from their wedding tour.
Mr. Stepton’s indisposition had been mentioned
in a few letters they had received during their
wanderings, but in such terms as to prepare
them for the serious nature ot his ailment, and
only vaguely to convey a hint ot its cause.
Mr. Stepton had become so weak, and talked
bo angrily of Ralph Golding in his frequent fite
of delirium, that the doctor expressly forbade
the admission ot Mr. Golding or his wife to the
sick man’s room. He plainly stated that the
consequence of any unusual agitation would
very probably be death, and desired that no
mention of theijf return should be made until
he gave permission. His directions were fol
lowed in every particular.
Mr. Golding and his wife spent a couple of
hours with Mrs. Stepton. During that time
Ralph learned all about the cause ot Mr. Step
ton’s illness. He also learned that Mr. Stepton
had made a new will a few days alter the wed
ding, and he heard of Lydia Stepson’s self-sac
rificing devotion to the invalid.
“Stop there, mother. I have already told
you all that passed between Lydia and myself
in that moment of headstrong folly. I will not
see her if I can avoid doing so. A terrible
thought has suddenly flashed on my mind and
taken shape there. Permit me Jo send another
doctor to see Mr. Stepton. Say’you will admit
him to the sick-room whenever he comes and
presents my card. Promise me this, and let us
hope for the beet results from an interchange ot
views between the men.”
Ralph spoke with terrible earnestness, and
Mrs. Stepton gave the desired promise. He
learned the times at which the family doctor
usually made his visits, and then departed with
his wife.
The next day, about four o’clock in the after
noon, two gentlemen appeared at the door and
desired to see Mrs. Stepton. The lady camo,
when one of the men presented a card, the
significance of which she understood. After a
tew words she desired them to follow, and led
the way to the room in which the sick man was
lying.
Lydia Stepton was in the room at the time
attending to the invalid before retiring to dress
for dinner. Hearing the sound of men’s foot
steps along the passage, she was startled, and
with one hand on the sick man’s arm, looked
toward the door with every appearance of ap
prehension.
When the door opened and two strangers
entered with Mrs. Stepton, Lydia flushed visi
bly, and that circumstance was keenly noted by
one of the visitors.
“ Another physician and his assistant,
Lydia,” whispered Mrs. Stepton. “ Dr. Vane
wishes to examine Mr. Stepton in private.”
“ Did uncle wish to see another doctor ?”
Lydia asked, hesitatingly.
“ No, dear, but I have been persuaded to call
iu another, as there may be some advantage
derived from a comparison of opinion. We
must retire for a few minutes.”
Lydia did not reply to this, but the flush
faded out of her face, and a troubled, uneasy
look appeared in her eyes. She put out her
hand to pick up the cup from which she had
been giving the patient a few spoonfuls ot beef
tea a short time before, but one of the gentle
men, who appeared to be the assistant, pre
vented her from taking it.
“ Tardon, miss,” he said. “Dr. Vane will re
quire to know what the patient has been taking,
to assist him in deciding on the nature of the
complaint. What medicine has Dr. Merritt
prescribed ?”
“Yon will find the bottles there,” she replied,
pointing to a small cupboard at one end of the
room, and moving toward the door with Mrs.
Stepton as she did so.
Soon as the door closed, Mr. Stepton roused
somewhat from the stupor-like rest into which
he had fallen. He was surprised and annoyed
to sea strangers in the room, but the doctor
explained the purpose of the visit in a few
words. Mr. Stepton answered all the doctor’s
questions freely, while the assistant was quietly,
but busily and minutely, examining every little
crevice in the room, and had laid all the con
tents of the cupboard on the mantelpiece.
There were bottles, and small boxes, and
paper packets, such as you may see in any
chemist’s shop, and he noted everyone very
particularly.
When the doctor turned to him he appeared
to be somewhat puzzled and very serious. He
looked into the several boxes and packets that
were prepared for his inspection, and also ex
amined the prescriptions that were found on a
hie in the cupboard.
NEW YORK DISPATCH. DECEMBER 26, 1886.
■ “ Take that cup,” ho aaid, “ and bo very care-
! ful of its contents. I must examine that liquid,
and I must also consult with Dr. Merritt on the
case.”
Soon after that we left the house.
The contents of the cup were analyzed by Dr.
Vane and Dr. Merritt together. Arsenic, to
Dr. Merritt’s horror, was found in minute
quantity.
“ This,” he aaid, “ accounts for the symptoms
that have bailed me so long—and I never sus
pected slow poisoning by arsonic. The young
lady who prepared thia potion must be arrested
at once.”
Dr. Vane’s assistant was waiting in another
room to learn the result of the analysis. It was
immediately communicated to him by Dr. Vane,
and the assistant hastened as fast as a hansom
cab could carry him to convey to Mr. Ralph
Golding the report that would confirm hia worst
suspicions.
Ralph Golding and the assistant were then
whirled rapidly away to Mr. Stepton's house.
They asked to be shown to a room to which Ly
dia Stepton should be sent on any pretense as
soon as possible. She came. The assistant
stepped forward, and said Mr. Golding had
some remarks to make about the nourishment
she had given Mr. Stepton. He, as a detect
ive, had seized a cup containing some beof-tea,
and analysis had proved that there was poison
in the cup.
“ Ay, you deep, dark-hearted woman I”
broke in Ralph. “You tried to poison Mr.
Stepton without exciting suspicion—and to se
cure all the advantages from the altered will.
But your victim has* escaped. You have not
wholly committed the murder you intended,
but even attempts to murder must be pun
ished.
1 cannot describe the effect which this speech
produced on Lydia stepton. Suddenly, and
with overwhelming force, she realized that the
crime she had so carefully planned, and her mo
tive in committing it, were as clearly known as
it she herself had made the fullest confession in
every particular. She was defeated at the mo
ment when the success ot her criminal s home
seemed assured. She could not conceal from
herself that she had been discovered in the very
act ot administering the the poisoned draught.
She would have pleaded tor an opportunity to
avoid the disgrace of a trial and the consequent
punishment; but my presence, and the knowl
edge the physicians had gained, deprived Mr.
Golding of the power to liberate her, if he
should be so disposed, for any consideration.
1 need not describe minutely the despair and
the terror that seized upon the dark-eyed young
beauty who had formerly been so bold. It is
enough to say she was formally arrested and
charged.
- She was committed fortrial at the next assize,
but when her case was called the accused could
not appear. Her reason had become impaired
by her mental sufferings, and she was declared
unable to plead. The judge directed that she
should be confined in the Criminal Lunatic Asy
lum during her majesty’s pleasure, and she is
still a maniac, with only brief intervals of seem
ing sanity.
You have already concluded that I played a
leading part in the plan by which the Lydia
Stepton’s crime was detected. When Mr. Gold
ing sought my services 1 suggested that I should
provide a doctor duly qualified, and that I
should enter the room as the doctor’s assistant.
I never played the medical man before nor since
in my career as a detective. The working ot my
plan on that occasion saved a life and secured a
criminal, while it also secured for mo tho larg
est reward I ever received.
FOR SMOKERS.
GOOD CIGARS AND BAD ONES—AN
IDEA ABOUT TOBACCO.
(From the Philadelphia North American.)
“ Gimme a three-cent cigar—strong.”
That’s what a tough-looking customer said
the other evening to the proprietor of one of the
most Hour.shing cigar stores in the centre of
the city. After he had set fire to his cheroot
and passed out, a reporter who had been talk
ing to the dealer expressed surprise that he
sold cigars of that grade.
“ Why, bless your innocent soul,” said the
mau behind the counter, “ we sell cigars two
for five cents.”
“ I can’t see how they can be made and sold
at that figure.”
“ But they are, all the same. We buy ’em for
sls a thousand, and sometimes less. Many of
the up town and down town stores shoot ’em off
at a nickel apiece.”
“ What kind o’ tobacco is used ?”
“ Pennsylvania seed tobacco, and it’s mighty
cheap, too, or else it couldn’t be done. Then
the cigars are ground out in a mold.”
“ What do you mean by seed tobacco ?”
“ Why, seed tobacco is grown from the seed
of the Havana plant,” and the man behind the
counter grinned at the innocent newsman, as he
went on. “It is not indigenous American tol
- The native American plant is not fit to
make up into cigars. It couldn’t be smoked,
it’s too rank, and it would break you all up.
It’s only used for smoking or chewing.”
“ Are these cheap things packed in boxes ?”
“ Why, certainly. The Government says all
cigars must be sold from the boxes, and that
settles it, you know. Did you ever notice how
these rank-a-pees were packed ? No ? Well,
they’re packed with the heads away irom the
lid.”
“ What’s that done for ?”
“ That’s done in order not to bring the shape
of the cigar into prominence. Of course they’re
not beautifully made, and folks who sell them
have an idea that their defects would show
more if packed the usual way.”
“To change the subject somewhat, tell me
what difference the color makes in a cigar. Is
the dark-colored cigar any stronger than the
light-colored one ?”
“ Oh, it’s mostly fancy. As a matter of fact
there’s not much difference between the two.
You can see that very readily yourself. The
color of the cigar is no deeper* than the wrap
per, and the wrapper is a very small part of it.”
“How about the genuine Havana?”
“ The natural Havana cigar is a dark-colored
cigar. As it is also a very strong tobacco, peo
ple who smoke Havana cigars try to get them as
light in color as they can. On the other hand,
people who smoke domestic cigars think the
dark tobacco better, and they ask for them
ninety-nine cases out ol a hundred. The mak
ers, therefore, try to get Havana cigars light
and domestic ones dark. Indeed, some of these
cheap grades of domestic cigars are actually
painted to make ’em look dark.”
“ How are the different grades of Havana ci
gars known, so far as color is concerned ?”
“The strongest and darkest are ‘ oscuro,’ but
they are rarely made now. Then comas ‘ ma
duro,’ the ‘ Colorado maduro,’ then 4 Colorado,’
then‘Colorado claro,’and finally ‘claro.’ The
claro is the lightest cigar made.”
“Do the manufacturers ever use cabbage
leaves?”
“No, certainlv not. It couldn’t be worked, to
begin with, and then you couldn't smoke it. No,
they use tobacco in the worst of ’em. Of course,
that tobacco wouldn’t take a premium.” And
the man behind the counter winked just a little
to-let the reporter know ha had worked off quite
a good point, while he pulled two or three times
ou> his Havana.
“•What about smoking tobaccos ? Are not the
old granulated tobaccos, such as Lone Jack and
Virginia’s Choice, going out ?’’
“•Well, yes, to a certain extent. Some of those
old brands are not smoked so much as they
used to be. The coarser kind of smoker, like
the Irishman, for instance, wants a strong to
bacco. He gets plug tobacco and cuts it up in
his pipe as he wants to use it. The more deli
cate tasted smoker buys a finer kind of goods,
such as long-cut, which is used in England so
much. There’s a Bird’s Eye tobacco now being
made, which is good. It is similar to the English
brand of that name. It is left to the middle
class, those who neither care for a very mild or
a very coarse tobacco, to use the granulated,
and they call lor that kind. ’
“ To get to cigars again, how is it that the do
mestic ones can be sold so cheaply ?”
“ Why, easy enough. Pennsylvania seed to
bacco can be bought as low as nine cents a
pound, and Havana tobacco ranges at about
ninety cents a pound. Moat of th? fine domes
tic goods are wrapped with Sumatra leaf, which,
although it costs more than Havana, ia valua
ble, because it goes very much further. Three
times as many cigars can be wrapped with it.
It’s all on account of the sterna in the Havana.
Ta ’ ta 1”
COOKING GAME.
BY MARIA PARLOA.
Some folk have nonsensical ideas in regard to
game ; having eaten it only when it has become
high, has not been washed before cooking and
has been heated only slightly, they imagine that
there is no other .light way of serving it, and so
they either do without it at all, or eat without
an appetite, and solely because they feel that it
is fashionable to have a taste for such food.
Now, game, like all other meat, should be kept
long enough to get properly ripened, and no
longer. As a substitute lor washing birds,
when there is objection to washing, draw and
wipe them carefully. Venison should only be
wiped.
In cooking game, use common sense, and do
as you are accustomed to do with beef and mut
ton. There is no question that these meats
have a better taste and are more d gestible
when rare than when well done, but there are
hosts of people wh:) cannot eat either kind of
meat when rare, and so they have all kinds well
done. Now, game is better when rare, but if
one cannot eat it rare, why not have it well
done ?
Rabbits, squirrels, grouse and venison are
tho cheapest and most common game in the
market now, and as there is but little waste in
cooking them, they will average as low in cost
as mutton or beef. Ducks are always expen
sive, whatever the price, because there is but
little available meat. When it comes to choice
ducks, only the rich can have them.
The time lor roasting a duck is from ten to
thirty minutes, and the heat must be intense.
Even half an hour’s cooking will leave the duck
moderately rare; therefore, one can imagine
the condition in which the bird will be after
only ten minutes’ cooking. Except for lovers
of rare game, venison may be cooked in the
same way and in the same time as beef or mut
ton. Venison, grouse, quail and partridges
always should be served with some kind of
sauce, as they are rather dry meats. When
larding is not objectionable, it makes these
meats richer. Ducks are so rich as to require
no sauce. Occasionally, to be sure, a sauce is
served with them; usually|>u orange or olive
sauce.
SOM E FAG IS A BOUT COFFEE.
WHERE IT GROWS AND WHO
USE MOST OF IT.
(From the Phi'ade'phia Times.)
Coffee, which with tea and cocoa contests for
the supremacy of the civilized world as a do
mestic beverage, and the chemical virtues of
which are practically the same as those of its
two rivals, appears to be making decided head
way, judged by its constantly increasing popu
larity. This is to be accounted for partly from
the steady increase in its production and subse
quent cheapness from this cause. It is to be
presumed, however, that the chief reason for its
increasing popularity, is the perfection that has
been attained in preparing it for use. For
many years after coffee began to be a popular
beverage, the householder purchased it in the
green state, roasted or burned it, more proper
ly, in the old-fashioned frying or dripping-pan,
and either pounded it in a mortar or ground it
in a hand-mill. This involved hard work, tried
tempers and an aroma of scorched coffee all
through the house without producing a uni
formly satisfactory drink. One housewife roast
ed it too little and another too much, while in
still other households no two roastings would
be alike.
There was no means of determining when the
process of roasting had reached the stage of
greatest perfection, and the general result was
haphazard and without any fixed standard.
Within the past twenty years, however, leading
coffee dealers have employed chemists and re
duced the process of roasting to an exact
science. The coflee is now sold either in bulk
or pound packages all ready for tho mill, and
the retail grocer generally does the grinding,
so that all tho housewile has to do is to study
the art of preparing the delicious aromatic bev
erage for the table. All the guesswork, burned
fingers, scorched faces, tried tempers and tired'
arms attendant on the old process of roasting
and grinding are done away with. From this
more than any other cause the use of coffee is
constantly on the increase.
Coffee, which is a native of Abyssinia and
other equatorial districts of Africa, first came
into public notice in the fifteenth century. The
earliest written accounts of its use are by Ara
bian writers of that period. In the City of Aden
it became in the latter part of that century a
very popular drink, first with lawyers and oth
er studious persons whose occupations made
wakefulness desirable, and soon after with all
classes. From here its use extended gradually to
the cities on the eastern shores of the Mediter
ranean and from thence into Europe. It was
publicly sold in Constantinople in 1554, and
reached Venice, tho groat trade mart of Europe,
in 1615.
Burton, in his “ Anatomy of Melancholy ”
(1621), is supposed to be the first European
writer to mention it. “The Turks,” ho says,
“ have a drink called coffee (for they uso no
wine), so named of a berry as black as soot and
as bitter, which they sip up as warm as they
can suffer, because they find by experience that
that kind of drink so used helpeth digestion
and procureth alacrity.” The first coffee house
was opened in London in 1652 by the Greek ser
vant ot a Turkey merchant, a Jew by the name
of Jacob having opened one at Oxford the year
previous. By the end of the century tho Eng
lish consumption ot coffeo had reached 100 tons.
The first cultivation of coffee began in tho pro
vince of Yemen, Arabia, from which the little
real Mocha coffee that finds its way to market
at the present day is derived. The Dutch trans
planted it from Arabia to Java about tho year
1680, from which its culture soon extended
through the entire East Indies. It was from
some plants sent from Java to Amsterdam about
1712 that the seed was procured from which the
entire West Indian and South American pro
duct, which now amounts to four-filths ot all
the coffee grown in the world, originated.
The finest flavored coffee is undoubtedly the
Mocha, grown in Yemen. Arabia. The Mocha
berry is small, round and ot a dark-brown
color, the richness ot the color arising from its
being allowed to remain on the trees until so
ripe that it can be shaken off. There is very
little, if any, of this delicious coffee that ever
roaches the English or American markets, the
entire crop of the district of Yemen being con
sumed east and southward of Constantinople.
The ordinary Mocha coffee of commerce is the
selected berries of the Java and Braziljpro
duct. which resemble the Moiha in size and
shape, the higher price which it commands pay
ing for the trouble of picking it out from the
mass of ordinary berries. In flavor it is really
no better than the ordindry coffee from which
it is selected. Java coflee stands next on the
list in point ot flavor, and as the Java product
is considerable and the size and color of the
berries show a marked difference from the
American coffees, there is no groat danger of
an ordinarily good judge of coffee being cheated
in this article. The berry is larger than that of
the American coffees, ami of color raring from
pale yellow to brown, while the smaller berry
of the Rio coffee has a bluish or gray tinge.
The Java coffee is chiefly exported to Holland
«nd the United States, England drawing its sup
plies from Ceylon and Brazil principally.
Although coffee is widely distributed and its
use common in all civilized countries, the ex
tent to which it is consumed varies greatly.
The total production of coffee for the year 1885
was estimated by reliable authorities at 1,645,-
730,000 pounds, or a trifle over one pound per
capita tor the entire population of the world.
In China and Japan, where tea is the common
beverage, the use of coffee is practically un
known, and it is probable that among the mil
lions constituting" the population of European
and Asiatic Russia the consumption is merely
nominal. The same may be said of Equatorial
and Southern Africa, where tho plant originat
ed and where it now grows m its wild state, the
natives neither knowing or caring anything
about its delicious qualities. This practically
confines its general use to Eastern and South
ern Europe, Egypt, Arabia, Persia, Asia Minor,
India and America. The per capita consump
tion of Holland is the highest ot any country,
being twenty-one pounds. Denmark and Bel
gium follow next in order, with thirteen and a
halt pounds. The United States come third in
the list, with a per capita consumption of nine
and a halt lor 1885, and a steady increase ot
about five per cent, annually. Germany comes
next in order, closely followed by France, as
coffee-consuming countries, while the coffee
consumption of England falls below that of any
ot the chief European countries, and is on the
decline.
This is said to be clue to the prefer
ence for tea among the English middle and up
per classes, and for beer and ale among the
working people. It is probable that English
pride in sustaining the tea trade, in which the
English people are largely engaged, has more
to do with the light consumption of coffee than
anything else.
It- will be seen by the subjoined estimates of
the world’s crop of coffee for the present year
that American "coffee practically monopolizes
the trade, and its cultivation in South and Cen
tral America is capaple of indefinite expansion.
The quantities have been reduced to the equiva
lent of Rio bags of 160 pounds each:
Rio 4 350.000
Santos. 2,250,000
Baliia 110,000
Java 529,000
Padang and c-ther East India coffees 300,000
Venezuela (Laguayra, Porto Cabello and
Maracaibo) 800,000
British East India 102,000
Costa Rica 200,000
Porto Rico 425,000
Hayti 600,000
African, Now Grenada. Jamaica and Ma-
nila 800,000
Guatemala 120 000
Mexican 100.000
Ceylon 200,000
Total 10,586 000
The average price for Rio coffee by the cargo
was P.Ol cents per pound for the year 1885, the
lowest point reached since 1852, when the aver
age was 8.84.
CHARACTER IN MEN’S WALK.
People’s Feet an Indication of Their
Temperament and Business.
(From the Chicago News.)
“ Palmistry is the new art, I understand, for
delineating character,” remarked a smart young
detective yesterday, “or rather, it is a very old
one revived; but lor oar business the hands
don't show half so much character as tho feet.
In foot-gear, if the subject be properly studied,
there will be found more to indicate the charac
ter of the wearer than most people have any
idea of. It’s quite an easy matter for a man to
disguise his facial appearance; it may be done
by dyeing the hair or board, or by cutting off
the hair close, or shaving the beard, or by wear
ing it in a different style; but a man old enough
to wear a beard can never disguise his walk, he
can’t destroy the conformation of his feet, and
if he have a tendency to run his shoes down in
the heel, it’s an invaluable piece of information
to the detective who wants him. Just to illus
trate how this works, I’ll tell you a story.
“ Not a great while ago I received a tin-type
picture of a young man who was wanted in the
East, It was a very bad picture; part of the
face was blurred, and only the eyes and nose
were visible with distinctness and character
enough to make it a comparatively easy matter
to pick out our man should we ever meet him.
His clothing was well pictured,’ and its style,
: cut and finish gave us an idea as to where we
' might run across such a fellow. The clothing
was nothing if not flashy, and wc concluded it
would be the style of dress a small-fry gambler
would hanker after. We went to a gamb 1
forgot there ar© no gambling houses open in
Chicago, but we went to a place, and pretty
' soon we met a young man who looked exactly
I like the party we wanted. We were just about
to take hold of him when his double, a man
having his features, the color of his hair and
eye’s, turned up, and for an instant we didn’t
know what to do.
“Either one of those two men might have
been taken for the orginal of the tin-type, and
we didn’t know which was which. From their
shoulders up the resemblance was astonishing,
but it ended there. The utmost differenco in
their appearance was noted when the men com
moncod to stir about. Our man was a waiter
by occupation, and we observed that ono of the
men while walking strode on bodly, putting out
one loot in front of the other in almost two
straight lines, while the other fellow toed out,
and when he walked it was, apparently, as
much as he could do to keep his heels from
striking together. Mv partner Looked at him
a moment and said : ‘That is the waiter.’
B ‘ 4 How do you know? - I asked.
“ ‘ See how he walks,’ was the reply. ‘He
puts out ©ack foot as if ho foarod ho
i was going to get tripped up on account of hie
long apron. Nearly all waiters toe out because
of their long aprons. He’s got the walk, and
that’s our man.’
“ Well, it turned out to be true. He was ottr
man, and it was the simple matter of his style
of walk, due to the deformation of his feet, that
led to his arrest. We got him just in time, as
ho had made a big winning—l mean he had con
siderable money with him, and he had decided
to leave town at once. Now, that was a clear
case in proof of the character that is manifested
in feet and in foot-gear, both shoes and boots.
He walked with his toes turned out—far out—
and we knew that a man with an apron in front
of him reaching to the bottom of hie trousers
naturally walks so that he strikes each foot
against the farthest side of the apron, thus to
prevent its tripping him up. Teamsters, or
those of them who wear long rubber coats, do
the same thing. Sometimes the character of a
man’s thoughts can be pretty nearly determined
by the way in which he walks when his mind is
busy. Thieves and loxy people in general walk
very much like a cat. I know a well-known
chattel-mortgage fiend down town. The fellow
is a regular shark. He is absolutely merciless
in his dealings with unfortunate people, but he
is one of the most suave rogues that ever es
oaped the Penitentiary.
“ But there is just as much character in boots
and shoes as there is in the feet that wear them.
It’s a common belief that a big foot is a sure
sign of good nature. My observation goes to
show it’s a sure sign ot a very coarse nature.
Then there is the long, slender shoe of the
nervous crank, and the short, wide boot of tho
pig-headed individual who is just as much a
crank. Look at the sandal worn by the Chinese;
don’t they suggest feeble intellect ? Then think
of the old wooden shoes worn by the old-coun
try peasants; ain’t they perfectly well adapted
to the rough work out-of-doors? And see, too,
the moccasin of the Indian; what better would
suit his peculiar needs ?
“ Oh, yes, there is a good deal fof character
in boots and shoes, especially if they are old
ones.’*
HOW TO READ FOLKS.
Some Street-Car Testa Applied—Facts
from a Physiognomist.
(From the Pittsburg Dispatch,)
“ Did you notice that old man who just went
past?” asked a young doctor, tho other day.
“ Well, he will ait with the right leg crossing
the left.”
“ Why, what do you mean ?”
“ Nothing muoh. Only that any observer can
tell what leg a man will cross by the way he
wears his clothing.”
“ You don’t moan to say that you know from
the appearance of a person how they cross their
feet?” I inquired.
“ Yes, that’s it. You don’t believe It ? Well,
come with me. We’ll take a short ride on a
street-car, and I’ll prove my assertion to bo
true.”
A few moments later saw us aboard a car, the
sole occupant being a German woman with a
basket.
“ She don’t count ?” I suggested, inquiringly.
“ Oh, yes. You can tell the women just as
well as men. She will put the leit foot over the
right.”
Almost before he had finished, as if to prove
the truth of his statement, the le t broad shoe
was slowly put over tho right.
“There’s a subject for us,” he continued, as
a thin young man with an immense walking
cane, entered the door. “Look how neatly his
coat fits; see how his hat shines; observe his
polished boots. You will notice the hight of
his collar and his spotless linen. All right,
now. That man will pull his pantaloons gently
at the knee, and then, with care, cross the right
leg over the left.”
And he did so. Right again. The youth fol
lowed out tho statement as nicely as though it
had been mutually arranged beforehand.
It was getting rather interesting, and it was
with delight I welcomed another passenger.
He was fair and fat, but more than forty. His
ruddy, overhanging cheeks rivaled his scanty
locks iu the fashionable tint, “ town red.” His
weight was something remarkable, judged from
the space he occupied, but, despite this fact, he
dropped but one fare in the box.
“A cherub, eh?” said the physiognomist.
“ Now, that man is lazy. See how limp his col
lar is, and how unclean his cuffs. Even the age
of slobbering is not passed, which is responsible
for those marks on his coat. Now, one glance
is sufficient to show that he will use great work
to get the left leg over the right. See him ?
It’s a difficult task, but he imagines that it is
as nicely crossed as any man’s can be.
“ You will find the majority of people are not
overly neat about their appearance. While they
may be cleanly enough, they haven't much
pride in tho fit of their clothing, consequently
most people give the pro'erenco to the left foot.
It is even noticeable by the hands. See our fat
man, how snugly he crosses the right hand
with the left, it’s the most interesting study
one can havo, the study of human nature. I
practice at it continually. I have taught myself
to read other people’s thoughts. Even with
you,” he continued, much to my consternation,
“ you have made remarks to me and I have fol
lowed your thoughts back until 1 knew what
prompted the remark. You are rather hard to
road, I must say, but I have asked questions
until I found that I was correct. What is true
of you, is true of everybody else.”
The car by this timo was comfortably filled.
Along tho opposite side, with the exception of
one man, the leit leg was crossing the right.
One woman out of the four female passengers
crossed right, and if appearance counts for
aught, I could have told it would be so.
“ Another thing I have studied,” continued
this student of human nature, “ and that is the
movement of the eyelids. If I want to toll a
woman’s temper 1 watch her eyelids. You can
read a man in tho same way, but not so readily.
A woman with a fiery temper will move her eye
lids with a snap, and that snap betrays her.
Another who is easy going and hard to arouse,
moves her eyelids languidly. One with a quick
brain and a temper furious when aroused just
ly, winks steadily, but neither quickly nor
slowly until engaged in interesting conversa
tion. Even bright thoughts will cause her eye
lids to move with rapidity and show the state of
the brain as well as her temper.
“ Why do I study these human points, you
ask ? In the first place, because it is interest
ing to-me, and next, because it is useful to a
man in public life to havo an insight into hu
man nature. When we have learned just such
little things as these we can more quickly tell
the men or women we come in contact with,
which is always an advantage. Clothing, hats,
seal sacques, even a place where a button
should be, partakes of the character ot the
weaker and tells a student as plainly as print,
with'whom he has to deal.”
FOOD.
THE FAVORITE DISHES OF SOME
NOTED MEN.
fJYom the London Pall Mall Gazette,)
The meals of Charlemagne consisted never of
more than four courses, and his favorite dishes
were eggs and roast meat, particularly venison,
which was served on long ’spits by his forrest
ers. Luther preferred Torgau beer and hock
to all other beverages. As a young man,
Me-sancthon was very fond of barely soup, and
he would often exchange a diet of meat* for a
bowl of it. Small fish, vegetables, and all kinds
of farinaceous food he liked, but large fish and
meat he disliked, and he hated all public meals
or drinking bouts. Torquato Tasso was very
fond of preserved fruits and all kinds of fancy
sweets.
Henry IV. was often ill from eating too many
oysters or melons. His favorite drink was vin
d'Arboia. Peter the Great liked nothing better
than Limburg cheese. Charles NIL, King of
Sweden, preferred a piece of bread and butter
to anything else. Voltaire, like Frederick the
Great and Napoleon L, was very fond of coffee.
His favorite food was oat cakes, but he pre
ferred oranges to any other kind of food. The
Dutch lady scholar. A. M. Schurmann, ate
spiders as a delicacy. Lessing preferred len
tils. and Klopetock, who was a real gourmand,
fed on salmon, mushrooms, pastry and smoked
meat. Of vegetables he liked peas best, and
grapes as dessert, together with a good bottle
of claret or ho. k. Kant retained till his old age
a preference for pork, all kinds of pulse and
stewed fruit. He devoted three hours a day to
his dinner. Schiller was in his youthful days
very fond of ham. An old note book belonging
to a Stuttgart restaurant contains some items
about “Meals for Dr. Schiller in 1782,” from
which it apoears that, beside a bottle of wine,
ham was every day among the dishes on
Schiller’s table. Matthison confessed a prefer
ence for peas, beans and pork; Lord Byron for
Chester cheese, with ale on porter; Pope was
“greatly interested” in venison. Jonathan
Swift in turbot and Sir Walter Scott in roast
goose.
Railroading Under the Sea.
The First Train Goes. Through the Sev
ern Tunnel, Two and One-Quarter
Miles Under the Ocean.
(From the Cardiff Weekly Mail.)
The first passenger wain passed through the
gigantic tube linking the shores of Monmouth
shire and Gloucestershire on Wednesday morn
ing. Before those on board quite knew where
they were, a shrill whistle, a sudden darkening
—for it was now nearly broad daylight—and
"We were in!” told them they were “in”-and
rushing down a clearly perceptible decline
toward a point 100 feet below the bed of the
broad estuary. In a trice watches were out and
windows down, the first to keep time, the other
to teat ventilation. The inrush of the icy cold
air, as clear and pure as it the trip across, was
being made in the old way—over instead of
under the channel—showed the latter was all;
right. The submarine jonrney-it such it may
be called—proved to be more like arun through,
a pretty deep cutting than through, a tunnel four
and a. quarter miles long. For about three min
utes and a halt alter entering there was no mis- I
taking the fact that a sharp gradient waa being da» I
scended, theu a momentary tumble as. the train
passed over the curves ol tjie arc—lor the tuba !
dips m the center—and then the locomotive, at \
an ever-decreasing speed,, climbed the opposite I
gradient, to emerge once more into daylight |
in eight minutes and forty-nine seconds.
As before remarked, the ventilation ot the
tunnel is short of perfect During tho,
construction fit the work a.fan ,eighteen fee' jti
dimeter, discharging GO.QUS oHbis feet 01,
per minuto, was ÜB9d. Xhiß has now been re
placed by a fan forty feet In diameter and twelve
feet wide, made on the same principle as those
used at the Mersey and a portion of the Metro
politan tunnels. The tunnel is twenty-six feet
wide and twenty feet high from the double line
of rails to the crown of the arch inside the
brickwork. The rails are laid on longitudinal
Bleepers. The tunnel has been lined through
out with vitrified bricks set in cement, and no
loss than 75,000,000 bricks have been used in
this work. This vitrified brick wall has a thick
ness of three feet in the crown of the arch
beneath the “shoots,” bnt as the tunnel rises
from this lowest point on a gradient one in
ninety one way and one in 100 toward the
Gloucestershire side, this thickness is gradually
reduced to two feet and three inches.
The total length of the Severn Tunnel is four
miles 624 yards. The St. Gothard Tunnel is
nine and one-half miles; Mont Cenis Tunnel
seven and one-half miles; AribergTunnel (Aus
tria) six and one-half miles; there is a tunnel in
Massachusetts four and three-fourth miles;
the Standege Tunnel, on the London and North
western, is three miles long, and the Box Tun
nel rather less. But the special feature of the
Severn Tunnel lies in the fact that two and one
fourth miles of it have been constructed from
forty-five to 100 feet below the bod of a rapid
flowing tidal estuary, offering engineering dif
ficulties which make it the most remarkable
tunnel in the world.
The Washington Star thus toasta
THE LADY WHO TAKES OFF HER HAT.
Not to the queen of fashion;
Not to the jeweled breast;
Not to the slave of fashion;
Not to the royal crest.
Not to the brow that's fairest;
Not to the eye most bright;
Not to the genius rarest.
The toast I give to-night.
Not to the rich, almsgiving;
Not to the lips most red;
Not to the great ones living;.
Not to the sacred dead.
My toast is far more cheery
To every man with eyes.
Who hears the drama, weary
Behind a hat of »ize.
I lift my goblet foaming,
To that sweet girl, so sago.
Who takes off her hat,
8o polite and pat,
To let us seo the stage.
To her I lift the beaker,
Brimming with,sparkling wine;
And quaff full measure.
To each new pleasure.
Her bare head gives mine.
Sometimes people are greatly misunderstood
by the grovelling people ot this world. Such
was the oase with
A HOLY TERROR.
A burly and somewhat inebriated individual en
tered a saloon, removed his coat and laid it care
fully on a table, threw his hat in the middle of the
floor and remarked:
*• I’m a holy terror and I can liok any man in
h—l.”
No one paying any attention to this declaration,
be repeated it in a louder tone, which induced the
bartender to remark:
•■Better you pig pup dot hat. Some vellermight
shtep on it.”
Disregarding this advice the man stood defiantly
in his place, glaring about him to discover the most
desirable object of attack. He at last settled upon
a quiet, slender young man who was dipping sliced
onions in salt and eating them with apparent rel
ish, and approaching him, inquired:
’•Did you hear wot I said ?”
The man finished his onion, wiped his mouth on
the bar towel and answered:
“ No; what was it ?”
“You didn’t, hey? I said I could lick any man
in h—l, big or little, and I’ll begin right ”
At that moment the small man s loot soared heav
enward and caressed the champion about four
inches abaft the wishbone, with such force that it
would surely have sent him to grass if the owner
had not anticipated that result by hitting him un
der the le t ear with his right and on the nosi with
his left at the same instant.
Anyone familiar with the simple laws as to the
correlation of forces, will see that the inevitable re
sult of the simultaneous application of these dis
tinct impulses was to cause the object impinged
upon to spin lor an instant with great velocity and
then to shoot lorward and fall with its head under
the ice-box. After lying in this position for a few
seconds, the bad man crawled out and found his
antagonist bending over him, ready for any further
attentions that might be necessary.
‘•Don’t hit me no more,” he said; “I’ve got
enough. You hadn’t ought to be so hasty. I didn’t
mean no offense, an’ if you’d told me you was goin’
to jump on me, I’d have explained.”
“Explained! How could you explain going
round insulting people like that ?”
“Thera it is! You don’t catch the point, an’
I’ve been working it for a year an* never got licked
be.'ore. Ever since the annexation I’ve been sayin’
round these corners that I could lick any man in
Springwells, an’ when I got beyond Liveruois street
I just allowed I could bust the jaw of any man in
the Sixteenth Ward. You hadn’t no business to
jump on me. What is it to you 'f Ido say I’m the
cock o’ Springwells ? The scheme’s busted, though.
I can’t run the risk of bein' misunderstood that
way, s'long's I’ve got a wife an’family to look out
for.”
The old man probably gave his boy some
points, and then the boy showed the old man
that
ALL POINTS WERE NOT CONFINED TO ONE.
“Pa,” said the speculator’s son, “I want some
money fora little speculation.”
“ 1 am pleased, my boy,” returned the father, as
he fished a $5 bill from his pocket, “to see that you
are taking an interest in the business affairs of life.
Now, I won t ask you what this speculation is, but
I will go halves with you on it. I will furnish the
money and you engineer the business, and we will
go halves on the profits. Of course, if there is none
1 lose my money and you your time.”
“ All right, pa. I’ll make the investment to-day
and report progress to-morrow.”
The next evening when the father returned home
he inquired about tho “ deal.”
“ Swamped 1” was the remark of the youth.
“ Swamped!” exclaimed the old gentleman in
surprise.
“ Yes, swamped !” replied the boy. “ Never saw
such a decline in stocks in my life. Shrunk clear
out of sight. It was a good investment yesterday
goods worth their face value then, but to-day you
couldn’t give them away.”
•• But, Georgie, what did you invest in ?”
“ Theatre tickets for last night’s performance.”
Our old friend Carl Dunder has been mixed
up again. This time it was with
TWO BUNDLES.
“ Vhas I arrested ?” softly inquired Mr. Dunder,
as he leaned over Sergeant 's desk yesterday.
Haven’t heard of any such thing. What’s the
matter now ?”
•* Vhell, a few days ago a man mit a pundle comes
in my place. Vhas I carl Dunder ? I vhas. Dot
vhas all right. He prlngs dot package by express,
und der sharge vhas forty cents—sign your name
here, und der express company vhas not liable if
goods be left more ash six monts. Sergeant
“Well ?”
“ Vhat you s’pose vhas in dot pundle?”
“Greenbacks.”
Humph ! It vhas a cobble-shtone, und’dot fel
low shwindlos me ! I vhas so madt I shump oafer
der pool table. I like to come und see you aboudt
it, but |if Ido you< tells dot nuzepepper man, und
he makes fun of me. Sergeant 1”
“Yes,”
“Maype I vhas some lunatic, but I doan* belief
him. In two days anoder man vhalks in mid a
pundle. Vhas I Carl Dunder ? I vhas. Dot vhas
all right. He prings me dot package und der
shange for fife dollar.”
“But you didn’t pay ?’*
“ Sergeant, I shump on dot man like a cow shump
on a leedle sparrow, und in two minutes he vhas
sooch a licked feller dot his own mother doan’ tell
who he vhas. He leafs dot pundle und crawls
avhay, und vhen my wife comes home she says it
vhas some shirts for me dot she puys at Metcalf’s!”
“ No!”
“Dot vhas it. Sergeant. I send Shake to settle
mit der feller for $25, but maype he haf me arrested
peside.”
“Singular,” remarked the Sergeant after a painful
silence.
“Vhell, it shtrikes me like dot, too. Dis vhas a
shtrange country. Nopody vhas two times alike,
und if you kick somepody it vhas der man who
doan’ deserve him. Good-by, Sergeant. If some
warrant cornea , oudt for me und I vhas arrested, I
like you to be aroundt und say to me dot 1 vhas all
o. k. und doan’ go to Shtate Prison for life.”
The beautiful love which some men hold for
their wives and. the respect and veneration
which they throw around them are delightfully
exemplified in this
STORY OF AN ARKANSAW HUSBAND.
A man who was traveling along a country road in
Arkansas was- overtaken by a gaunt fellow who.
asked: -«
“ How fur yer goin’ on this road ?”
“ About two miles.”
“ Wail, I tell yer what I wish yer’d do. When
yer get ter Doctor. Gillum’s—big white house on
the right—stop an’ tell him that Bill Henley's .wife
is sick an’ wants him right now.”
“I’ll do so. Are youiMr. Henley?”
“Yes, sir.”
“ It’s fortunate that you saw me, for instead of
going all the way to tke doctor’s you can now go
back and stay with year wife.”
“ Yes, but yorn see I wanter to go to the circus.
That’s the reason. I can’t go all the. way to the
dock’s. They tell mo that they’ve got ten monkeys
an’ er b’ar. Wall, here’s whar I turn off. Don't
lurgit ter tell the-dock.”
The Caraoa is responsible for this in
cident of
JIM McSNIFTER AND THE CORONER.
Jim McSnjfter. of the Calaveras, Cany on, was
cently. arrested in Austin for tho-murder of a prom
inent citizen.
“You say that you did not kill the deceased#”
said the coroner.
“ No, I didn’t say anything of the kind,” aapUod;
Jim.
“ Well, what did you say ?”
“ I said if I killed him L.don’t remembea it.”
“ That’s very singular,remarked the coroner.
“ Heavens !’’ Jim. “ Jedge% do yon. ex
pect a man to make a memorandum of every little
trifling circumstance that occurs during the day.”
This is an instance in which, t&e dootc>3 was
! aaistaken and
THS. FATHER WAS RIGHT.
I “ The boy right,” said the doctor, “but you
I want to t©sF to him and arouse hia ambition.
, Promise that you will take him somewhere
I when Recovers sufficiently to go out; talk to hira
about playing tag with the boys. There are lots, ©J
1 in which you can interest him."
Then the doctor addressed tho boy, who just
Recovering from a fever, saying:
1 “Com'', Mickey, cheer up, my boy. Wouldn’t
1 you like to go out and pUy tag your play-
I’U-’-tui?”
A faint smile etole over the bo’<>' face, but that
was all.
"Stop, sir.” said the father, “I'll /ohse him.
See here, Mickoy.” he asked, addressing fchb boy,
“wouldn't yez like to go out an' t'row S rocM
through a Chineyman’s windy?”
The boy immediately sat up in bed and asked for
bl 3 pants.
“I thought that 'nd fetch him,” said the father,
with a proud smile. “ He’s all right, doctor, dear.”
Our young man had a good reason for becom
ing enthused ovor
LOVE’S INSPIRATION.
I love her, and she asks me why I
Now, tell me what to say,
Her charms all reasoning .defy.
Her merry glance, her laughing eye
Drivo all my wits away.
It is not that she is so fair,
Far lovelier girls I know.
But none who 1 have such soft brown hair,
Whose bright eyes drive mo to despair.
Or who bewitch me so.
It’s not because she’s learned, wise.
Or skilled in Wisdom's ways;
There’s much in her to criticize.
She’s much inclined to tyrannize;
And coquetry displays.
And still I love her I Tell her why T
Ob.no! I’m not so-rash.
Wo shall be wedded by-and-by.
And then we'll live on cake and pie—.
Her pa has loads of cash.
SCINTILLATIONS.
The “right side of the market ” seems
to be tho outside, as usual.
“Phantom hops” are fashionable in
the South. Find 'cm in the bier, probably.
A new book ia out called “ A Gtel’e
Room.” It is not so good as her company.
The life of the book agent is full of
wormwood and gall. The wormwood'ls barely per
ceptible.
All things not dreamed of in Horatio'*
philosophy are kindly considered in the river and’
harbor jobs.
In England a politician “stands” for
office, but in this country he “ runs;” and hofias tor
hump himself, too.
“ Whatever you do, my boy, begin at
the bottom and work up.” “But, father, suppose*
I were going to dig a well?”
Yankee Doodle is the national air of ;
Americans in the United States, but of Americanr
in Canada it is Yankee Boodle.
The man who published a- book en*
titled “The Art of Living a Hundred Years,” 4s
dead at the age of thirty-eight.
A fashion journal says thero is a knack
in putting on gloves. Come to think of It, that's-’
so. You have to get your hand in, as it were.
Barber—“ Pretty short, sir ?” Cus
tomer—“ Well, yes, I am. Just put it down on the '
slate, will you ? Much obliged to you for speakintf
of it.”
“ So much depends upon the money of
a country,” said a traveler. “In India a lao of ru- ’
pees is a fortune, while in America a lack of dollar* *
is poverty.”
Passenger— tl That’s all the money I
have.” Conductor (examining a trado dollar)—“I
can't take that piece.” Passenger—“ Ah, well, give
it to the company, then.”
A nap in church is not the thing
To be indulged in twice;
Yet of a nap we have to say.
It’s noddy, but it's nice.
It is said that a man who won’t take a'
paper because he can barrow one, has invented a
machine with which he can cook his dinner by thtt
smoko of his neighbor’s chimney.
“Must wo bo glutted with gold ?”
a*ks the Courier-Journal, There is no necessity for
such a dread alternative: your surplus can be easily
worked off by staking it on a weak hand.
A book has recently made its appear
ance in Boston with the title of “ Zobar.” it makes
a clerk look real angry to have a lady rush in and
remark: “Young man, do you keep ‘Zobar?’”
“Pa,” said Johnny, looking up from
his l ook, “ what does it mean to pile Ossa on Pfr.
lion ?” “There, don’t bother me now,” replied pi;
“ask your ma; she understands all about milling
ery.”
u Why do the heathen rage ?” asked a e
religious paper. If they got a larger per-centage of
the money collected for them perhaps they
wouldn’t rage so much. We merely offer this as a
-
Anxious Passenger (just as gate has •
been shut)—•'Can’t I got aboard?” Brakeman—
“ Naw !” Passenger—“My wife is dying at home 1“
Brakeman—“ Yer didn’t hev no business ter go an’
git married.”
The poets that sing of the beautiful
snow
Have heads that are made of unbaked dough,
Had they shoveled their walks a couple of times.
They’d never have written their slushy rhymes.
“ I see,” said Brown, “ that they now
say that beef tea is worthless as an article of food.
But, for all that, it was the only thing that saved
my life when I had the fever.” Fogg—“Yes; but
how does that prove that beef tea is not worthless ? •
Mrs. Jones—l am told that your hus
band is worth a great deal of money in the old
country. Mrs. Macnamara. Mrs.
an’ he Is, ma'am. The government over there will
pay $5 000 for Mac any day they can lay thdir han>
on him.
Peckham (meeting an old friend) —
“ Why, Dingley, is that you? I haven’t seen yon
for ten years. How are you, anyhow?” Dingley—
‘•Oh, I'm just like I used to be. By the way. Peck*
ham, how is your wife ? You used to say you had
the boss girl when you were single.” Peckhank
(sadly)—•• She’s still boss.”
Nobody outside of the profession has
any idea how difficult it is for an editor to pleasa
some of his patrons. For instance, a Western pa
per announces as follows: “Mr. Maguire will wash
himself .before he assumes the office of sheriff.’"
This made Maguire mad, and ho demanded a re
traction, which the paper, made thus: “Mr. Ma
guire requests us to deny that he will wash himself
before he assumes the office of sheriff.” Oddly
enough, this only enraged Maguire the more. Boms
people are so hard to please.
© HUMPHREYS
lomeopathic Veterinary
Specifics for
HORSES, CATTLE, SHEEP.
DOGS, HOGS, POULTRY.
Used by U.S. Govemm’t..
Chart on Rollers,
and Book Sent
Humphreys’ Med. Co., 109 Fulton St., N. Y«
SH HUMPHREYS’'
HOMEOPATHIC flff -
ESHS specific no. da
In use 30 years. The only successful remedy for
Nervous Debility, Vital Weakness,
end Prostration, from over-work or other causes.
Si per vial, or 5 vials and large vial powder, for $5.
Sold by Druggists, or sent postpaid on receipt ot
price,—■Humphreys’ Ce., IVO kultea lit., Bi. _
NERVOUS DEBILITY.
WEAKNESS* Ac., and all disorders brought on by
indiscretions, excesses, overwork of the Brain and Ner
vous System, speedily and radically cured by
Winchester’s Specific Pill,
a purely vegetable preparation, the most successful rem
edy known. Send ff>r circular. Price, $1 per Box; Six
Boxes, $5, by mail. WINCHESTER & .CO.*
Chemists, 16‘4 William St., New York.
AN ABSOLUTE CURE
For KIDNEY DISEASE, WEAK BACK
NERVOUSNESS, RHEUMATISM, dys
gagffiMßPEPSlA. CONSTIPATION, SLEEPLESS.
'WISSWj NKSS, MALARIA. PILES, EPILEPSY.
PARALYSIS, MALE AND FEMALK
Ji WEAKNESS. It overcomes that tired,
1 weary .reeling when not sick, not well,
v rirT v, -- fc _ when the system for the want of
Galvanic Electricity, needs TONE,
W _ I, STRENGTH and VIGOR. The cht
If ■ MJ shows rhe HOWARD GALVANIC
|1 . El /I SHlELD'resti ng over the small, ot
I A ; the back, it can be placed on any
I WtaSofehMuia ■’ P art 01 body and its ACTION
I 1; Wra - a ,ld CURATIVE EFFECTS: ARE
r 1 FELT AT ONCE. The results at.
I tained by this appliance are uu-
i iKAfuwAffijSgl precedented in Medical or Electric .
science. We furnish sworn proof
I ’I ot ’ all we claim in our illustrated
*' r > » » ’ pampMet sent free.
aS- THE HOWARD SHIELD AND SUS
PEiVSORY COMBINED, for men only, have no .
equal on. ; earth in restoring the LOST VIGOR..ANDi
STRENGTH OF MEN and curing all cases ol Weakness,
VARICOCELE AND SEXUAL EXHAUSTION. This ap-,
pllance a want heretofore never attained.
SpeciaLpamnhlets senton receipt of postage.
AMERICAN GALVANIC C 0...
OHNTERESTtoMEN
Vigor, Weakness or Loss of Memory pen
manently restored by the use of an entirely, new r
remedy, 'The Yerba Santa from Spain. Spanish ..
Trochees never fail. Our illustrated ,32page book and >
testimonials,(sent sealed). Every m&nshould read it .
VON GRAEF TROCHEK. CO M DDPT 1
59 Park New ’ t
DR. YOUNG’S ELECTRIC
BEJITS, as they arctwcm round,the
• a j ire cure lor Nervous’ Delkliry. Weak--,
Body and Mind, Youthful
/•Tl Ij iT> Loss of Manhood, Weak Bick, Kidney’
■ \ i ’ / b \ APd Spinal Ji.sjases, Rlieuntatism. Tjierey
/A\ ' 7 \i? nothing likQDr. Young’i Electric Befi}
' A \ 'I / / > 'a.Ud Suspensory combined in thq.worlct
i 7■ for restoring?lost m mnoed.,an<l impact
\ A/TiTWl'A'' ling renewed'energy and vitality to,
\ , most shattered constitution,' Bapds (o.?
' / Female Weakness: Write, for hb/k oo
R Manly Mror. free. DR. \V. YOUNG,
kjJ a V' Hudson f lreet. npar Can'll.
New YofeXCitv. l.ours from, 10 A. M. till 7 P. M.
and by appointment Cajl and beffiro purchas
ing elsewhere.
ralWwOais .
ENGLISH."
1 Th© Original and Ouly Genuine.
Rato and always Reliable. worthleoa Imitations.
Bar-, ana ai ,y AniPS. Ask yowr Druggist tor
in? 6 !FrrnJh»»®ud take ua other, or inclose 40.
‘ Sffa7TaliSlars in by return mak
'211 Alfri eoAp FR. Chichester Chemical Co.,
NAME RSMvltecn Square, Phllada-, Pa.
hv nruFfiteta everywhere, Ask for “Chlehean
PennyF9OUW. Take m
7