New York dispatch. [volume], March 13, 1887, Page 6, Image 6

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

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6
WILLIE AND LOVE ARE PLENTY.
BY L E. B,
Madame, my neighbor, is very rich;
Her mansion is large and fine,
Dainties with her are common food,
Her drink is the finest wine.
Cur house is small, our food is plain,
I’m only a girl of twenty,
But I’ve sense enough to feel and say;
•'Willie and love are plenty.”
Madame lives on her hoarded gold,
She's rich wherever you put her;
Willie’s a trade in his willing hands.
And works for our bread and butter,
In the Summer’s heat and Winter’s cold,
If weather be fine or rough;
But I often say, as he goes away:
•• Willie and love are enough I’*
Fine visitors come to Madame’s house,
They come in every season;
They dress, and dine, and dance, and ride,
And perhaps, without any reason,
1 envy them now and then an hour,
For I’m only a girl of twenty;
But only an hour, and then I say:
•' Willie and love are plenty 1”
Would I give up Willie for Madame’s gold ?
My heart has a sudden fear
At the very thought, and I softly say:
•‘Forgive me the thought, my dear !”
For I know the.worth of an honest love,
Though I’m only a girl of twenty,
And I say to myself, "I’m very suro
Willie and love are plenty 1”
Into all lives some sunshine comes;
Some have fashion and wealth,
Some have pleasure and changeable days.
Some have beauty and health.
1 have a husband, fender and true,
Though I’m only a girl of twenty;
So I look at my Hng and happily say:
"Willie and love are plenty I"
•‘TOOWIFOiIIILD.”
BY 0. M. 8,
When I rose.on the morning of my twentieth
birthday, and nodded merrily to my own re
jection in the glass, the bright young tace that
laughed back at me was that of a handsome,
happy and very fortunate girl.
•‘Good morning, Miss Lydia Searle,” I eaid.
“ And if all.goes well with us, you won t be Miss
Lydia Searle at all this time next year, but Mrs.
Harry Hatton instead.”
It wanted but three weeks ol my wedding day.
I was happy as I was busy just then, for I loved
the man whose bride I was so soon to become
with all a young girl’s warm, untried affection.
‘‘Better than any one in the world but Tom,”
I thonght. “ Aud surely nobody ever could or
ought to be dearer to me than Tom.”
fTom was my twin brother. The usual strong
affection existing between twins was exception
ally powerful in our case—from circumstances.
One of us was born strong and robust, and
the other frail and small. Notwithstanding my
•ex, 1 was the favored one by nature, while Tom
was the weakly twin.
That was the first of his misfortunes, which
naturally gave him a claim on mo, amt at the
•ame time attached him to me, and made him
cling to me as a heartier, manlier boy would not
have done. The second misfortune was that he
resembled our father.
Poor fellow 1 As if he could help that I And
Jet Uncle Elliot resented it in him just as if he
ad been to blame lor it.
•‘Not a farthing of my money shall go to this
second Tom Searle,” he used to say.
And he kept his word. He had adopted us at
poor mother’s death. Our lather had died years
before.
He gave us both a good education, and got
Tom a position in a bank; but when he died—
just a year before that twentieth birthday of
tnine—l was his solo heiress.
It grieved me terribly. I loved Tom better
far than myself, and would have shared any
thing With him; but ho was proud, poor dear,
•nd wouldn’t hear of such a thing.
So the best I could do was to spend as much
money npon him as possible, and lend him all
he wanted to use. He had no objection to that,
because, as lie would say :
" Some of these days, when I’m partner in the
bank. I’ll pay it all back again, Lyddy.”
And, of course, it was quite probable that
•ome day ho would be a partner, since I was
abput to be married to the banker s only son
and heir.
I was puzzled sometimes to know what Tom
did with so much money. He had “specula
tions on hand, ’he told me. I thought that per
haps he was rather extravagant, too—perhaps
fpmewbat inclined to be wild.
rf “Ho is so young and so handsome!” I
thought. , , . ,
■a I W always tnaklua Menses for him to my-
S81I; btlt, Of coarse, common “? nßa taught me
that if ho would be steadier, and attenu <? busi
ness better, his chances of promotion at the
bank would be improved.
As I thought of him on that birthday morning
—of course, it was his birthday, too—the face in
the glass ceased to smile, and a new anxiety
crept into my thoughts.
Tom had acted very strangely. I had lain
awake a long time thinking of it last night, and
a vague uneasiness smote me as I remembered
it now. What could have ailed him?
He had come in about ten o’clock to the little
parlor where Horry and I were sitting together,
■nd had remained with us, restless, agitated,
nervous, and showing so plainly that he wish
ed to see me alone that presently Harry, half
vexed, half-amused, took the hint and left us.
And then he asked me for money. No tri-
Sing sum, either. He implored me, almost
wildly, to “give him three hundred pounds,
then and there, for Heaven’s sake 1”
He almost took my breath away. I had no
such sum of money in the house, of course, nor
sbuld I get it on short notice. My fortune con
sisted of real estate, from which I derived a
moderate income, and a few hundreds in ready
money, which, what with Tom’s extravagance
and my own preparation for my marriage, were
nearly gone.
Quite aghast at his agitation, as well as at hie
request, I explained to him the utter impossi
bility of compliance. He said not a word, but
propped into a seat, and sat looking at me as if
■Biubefied.
Every vestige of color had gone from his fair,
handsome face, and the delicate, clear-cut fea
tures looked haggard and careworn. A pang
shot through my heart as I saw his distress. I
ceased to care or wonder what the money was
wanted for. I knelt down beside him.
“ I’ll get it for you to-morrow,” I said, “if I
have to mortgage my property. Don’t despair,
only wait till to-morrow, dear.”
And as my hand touched hie, he started, and
looked down at me. He was never very strong
or brave—never fit to battle witli trouble. It
seemed to have crushed him now; tears fell
from his eyes upon my face.
“ Never mind,” he moaned. 11 Poor Lyddy !
Poor girl I” he patted my hand fondly. “ 1
know you’d give it to me if you could. Ah, I’ve
been a bad brother to you, dear. Say you for
give me to-night.”
And, ot course, I said so—said so weeping.
His manner distressed me so, but I didn’t know
what there was to forgive.
I was wiser before that birthday was half
ever, though the knowledge seemed the greatest
ealamity of my life.
“ Something had gone wrong at the bank,”
Harry told me. He broke the bitter news to
me as gently as he could, and with a grave,
pale lace. “ Three hundred pounds, which had
been intrusted to Tom to deliver somewhere
several weeks ago, had not been accounted
for; and—there were errors, too, in his ac
counts—”
I beard no more. Insensibility snatched me
for a while from the agony of Tom’s ruin and
my own diegrace.
Bor must not his sister share his d’shonor ?
I felt that bitterly at first—l who had been so
proud of him. But, by-and-by, indignation,
shame, anger, all gave place to love and love’s
anxiety. Tom was missing.
What mattered it to me that he had sinned?
Ho was still my brother, and I loved him. My
thoughts flew back to his despair that night—
his fears, his self-reproach, bis prayer for my
forgiveness. I remembered how weak he was,
how easily led, and who could tell how greatly
tempted; and irom my soul I forgave him.
I had not waited for that, however, before
taking steps to shield him from the conse
quences ot his crime. Mr. Hatton was merci
ful. He had no wish to bring public disgrace
upon the family ot his old friend—upon the girl
whom his own son was engaged to marry. I
was permitted to make np the deficit in the
bank s accounts. In order to do so, and for
another reason, I instructed my lawyer to dis
pose of my property. And that other reason
was a letter Irom Tom, received just one week
from his departure.
A pitiful letter—the outcry of a penitent and
almost broken heart. He had not appropriated
the money, thank Heaven ! but he had been out
drinking, with the money in his possession, and
had been robbed of it.
Oh, how grateful I was ! Every other mis
fortune in the world might be borne with
patience now, since Tom was not dishonest
He confessed to me a thousand indiscretions,
lollies, sins; told me of many and serious debts
that he had left behind him. Most startling ot
all, he told me lie was married, and implored
me to seek out and protect his wifs and child.
Tom’s wife and child ! Who was she? After
the first surprise was over, I found myself
longing to see my new sister and the little one.
I went to the address Tom had sent me; went
with a carriage, prepared to bring my new rela
tions home. Disappointment met me. Mrs.
Searle and her child had gone.
“ They were behind with their rent,” said the
landlady, “and the husband went away, so 1
couldn’t keep her. She left to-day.”
I returned home discouraged. I didn’t want
to see or speak to any one just then, so it was
peculiarly annoying to find that a young
woman, whom 1 had employed to do sewing
more than a year ago, had called and was
waiting to see mo.
1 went down to her. She rose to meet me as
I entered the parlor. Little Eva Robinson ! I
remembered the girl well—a pretty, gentle,
timid creature.
I started when I saw that she had an infant
in her arms.
“ Why, what's this ?” I cried.
“My baby,” she said, timidly. "I’m married
since 1 saw you last, miss.”
1 sat down, aud badp her do the same, and
then asked her what I could do to serve her.
Eor all answer she burst into a passion ot
tears, and, rising suddenly, came and laid the
infant in my lap.
“ Have mercy on me !” she cried, falling on
her knees. “ This is your brother’s child and
and I—l am hie wile.”
BY C. M. 8.
I was a proud girl, and thia blow waa a heavy
one. My brother, bo handsome, such a favorite,
so unfit to fight for wife and child, he might
have married so advantageously, 1 thought, and
here 1 was called npon to welcome as a sister
my own sowiug-girl 1
But I did. I may have shrank from her for
an instant, perhaps, in the first surprise, but
next minute the thought of that other disgrace,
which Tom had not brought on himself and me,
returned to mo, and in my gratitude at escaping
that I could not murmur.
She waa a dear little thing, too, after all; and
the baby charming. Ah I I had reason to be
thankful for the comfort of their presence soon.
For the very next day, meeting an acquaintance
in the street, she said:
“ And bo I bear that your marriage is post
poned, dear?”
My heart sank down like lead.
“ Who informed you?” I aakod quietly.
“ You intended bridegroom, Mr. Harry Hat
ton, himself. Is it not true ?”
“ Perfectly true,” I answered.
“ And postponed until when?”
“ Indefinitely.”
I wrote the same day to Harry:
“ You desire your freedom; take it. You will
never be called upon to fulfil your engagement
with me.”
And he took me at my word.
He called, certainly, and made a pretence of
explanation and regret. The almost entire loss
of my fortune had influenced his father, not
himself, but my brother’s conduct .
I stopped him there.
“Tom was innocent.” I said; “and what he
lost I have restored. You have acknowledged
that there was nothing wrong in his accounts.
You need seek no e :cuse in his conduct, sir.”
He lost his temper.
“Do you excuse his destruction of an inno
cent girl, and abandonment of her and her
child ?” be said.
With one quick movement I threw open the
folding doors, and showed him Eva and her
son.
“ Allow me to introduce you to my brother’s
wife and child, whom he left in my protection.”
But his words had made me uneasy. That
evening, seated with the baby on my lap, I
asked Eva where she had married.
“Alas!” she cried, “if I only knew. Tom
took me to church in a carriage. It was in this
very city, but I don’t know whore. It was be
cause I had no certificate ot my marriage that I
dared not go to my brother—my dear, noble
brother—who has struggled so hard, and made
himself, unaided, an honorable position and a
name. I Know that a cruel slander concerning
me has been carried to him that must almost
have broken his heart.”
I took her hands away from her face and
kissed her.
“We’ll find the church,” I said. “There
must be no slander about my dear brother s
wife.”
And I did find it after a few days’ search.
Then I got John Robinson’s address-he was a ,
lawyer, I found—and requested him to call on
me.\
He came, a wonderfully grave, handsome
man, with something singularly manly and im
pressive about him. In my heart I thought:
‘•No wonder Eva wept at thought ot his dis
pleasure. He is worth pleasing, surely.”
I took him to the parlor.
“ I wish to reconcile you to your sister,” I
said. “ She ia my brother s wife.”
Then I left them together. After an hour or
more, Eva came for me.
“John wants to say 4 good-by’ before he
goes,” said she.
He took my hand ia his and looked into my
eyes.
“You are a good woman,” he said earnestly.
“ May Heaven bless you and make you as truly
happy as you have to-day made me I”
There was something in his mere look end
tone--a strength, a truth, a thorough reliability
—that gave one comfort somehow. I found
myself thinking:
“ If it had been my fate to love such a man as
that I should be nearer happiness than I am to
day.”
But I kept my thoughts to myself. Only frem
that hour 1 was sensible that I regretted my
lost hopes and happiness for their own sake, far
morethan 1 mourned for the false lover on whom
they had been founded.
Gno week later all my property was sold. I
had paid off Tom’s debts; and, accompanied by
his wife and child, joined him in a country
home.
There we began life anew. I had a small in
come still, and Tom obtained a lucrative po
sition. The lesson of the past was not lost upon
him. The sacrifice 1 had made was not in vain.
Dear Tom was a changed man—changed for the
better. Whatever I bad lost had been his gain.
And what had I lost ? The money I counted ,
less than nothing; and Harry Hatton’s love was
not worth a regret. What was it, then ? I ■
sighed for the trust betrayed—the glamor and
illusion gone Irom lite bo early.
“Oh!to be well and truly loved I thought.
'As* then-my thoughts never wont back to i
Harry. ’ “ (
Another filled them. Strange impression that (
man had made upon me; seen only once; never i
to be forgotten. I thought of him constantly;
and heard from his lips through Eva, now and (
then.
“ What is your brother’s wife like, Eva ?° I <
asked her once, just to try her.
“He has none,” she answered. “I know <
what I should wish her to be like, though. ’ And j
her eyes dwelt on me in away that made my
tell-tale color rise. (
A lew days afterward she came to me laugh
ing. i
“I told John ot your question, and only hear t
what he says.” She read aloud: <
“Tell Lydia my wile (that is to be, I hope) re- i
sides in your town. 1 hope to visit vou before <
very long, and introduce her to you/’ t
And he did. With the merry Christmas sea
son John came. I think that was the very hap- j
piest season of my life. Of course, you guess it t
all ended now. I smile now, looking back and i
remembering that I lanced once I loved another ]
than John. That was a dream, but this reality, f
All my sacrifices have been well repaid, and all i
my loss was gain; I realize that, every time 1 J
hear pretty Eva speak of me -as I first spoke of {
her and the baby—as “Tom’s wi'e and child.” ]
I
HUMOR OF THE HOUR. i
BYTHE DETROIT FREE PRESS FIEXD. J
SOME OTHER DAY. ‘
"Anybody lose a dollar?” ho called at the j
rear door of a street oar, as he held up a new I
bill. 1
“ Yes, sir, I did,” replied three different men
in chorus. I
“ Oh, you did ! Sorry for you, but this is a (
two-dollar bill, and I’ve had it lor a week. I
Beats all how careless some folks are of their i
dollars I”
ABOUT FIVE.
“My husband was arrested last night, sir,” 1
she said to the sergeant at the Central station. - 1
“Yes’m.” 1
“It waa for being drunk, sir.”
“Yes, I know.”
“ Well, 1 called to ask you how I’m to get him 1
off? How many witnesses must I bring down 1
to swear that he was perlectly sober ?”
NOT FOR A NICKEL.
"If I will tell you who stole Charlie Rose,
will you give me tea cents to buy my dinner ?”
queried a tramp yesterday, as he halted a pa- 1
trolman on Griswold street. i
“No, sir 1” was the decided answer.
“Very well, sir. No ten cents, no tell. Let
Charlie Ross remain stolen. You may think i
I’ll come back and offer to tell for a nickel, but <
I never will—never 1”
LEFT OUT.
" Say, Mrs. Murphy!” she called, coming up
from the market, “but I saw your husband in
the patrol wagon this morning.”
“You did?” '
“Yes; and he was riding along as grand as
you please, having a whole seat to himself.”
“That’s like Patrick, Mrs. O’Reagan. He’s
the most selfish man you ever saw. This is the
third carriage-ride the police have given him
in a month, and I haven’t bad one—not a single
one.”
CAN HIS WIFE EXPLAIN?
“I understand,” said the agent, “that you
want a burglar alarm in your house.”
“ I did talk of having one a while ago, but
I’ve given it up.”
“ They are a nice thing.”
“Yes, I suppose so, but they wouldn’t heln
my case any. lam not losing anything now.”’
“ You—you ?”
“ I simply leave my pocketbook in the barn o’
nights instead of my bedroom, and I haven’t
missed a dollar for weeks.”
HE SPOKE HASTILY.
“Dear me, how noisy the children are,” re
marked Araminta to Richelieu, as childish voices
penetrated the stillness of the front parlor.
“Ah, yes,” sighed Richelieu; “childhood is
ever joyous. It is so refreshing to muse upon
its thoughtless gayeties.”
He glanced out of the window. Heavens I A
long Germantown comforter, which he had left
in the hall a lew minutes before, was attached
to a sled loaded with youngsters, and Aramin
ta’s two brothers were tugging at it like twin
Herculeses.
A DISCREET DAUGHTER OF THE FAMILY.
One of Detroit's best known evangelical min
isters has a half interest in a four-years-old
daughter. The other day she broke over the
traces of discipline and her mother sent her
into a closet with the injunction to tell God all
about what a naughty little girl she had been.
At the expiration of her penance hour she
came forth very quietly, as ii her discipline had
had a wholesome effect
“ Well, little daughter,” said the mother, “did
you tell God all about it ?”
“ No, mamma,” was the reply, “ I des didn’t
do it, ’tause 1 fought my papa wouldn’t like to
let it det out of the family."
ONLY WAITING.
At an early hour yesterday morning a colored
man who was pacing up and down in front of
a house on Macomb street was asked by a pe
destrian if there was any trouble on his mind.
‘•I should deserve dat dere was !” he prompt
ly replied.
“What is it?”
"Well, my woman has run away from home,
an’ is in dat house.”
“ Well, why don't you go in ?”
“ ’Kase it’s dangerous. Dat’s her brother in
dar’, an’ he’s got a shot-gun nine feet long. De
minit I put my head in he’s gwine to blow it off.
Ize got a boy watchin’ de alley , gate, an’ Ize
gwine to keep watch lieah in do front, an’ de
hull family’s jist penned in.”
NEW YORK DISPATCH, MARCH 13, 1887.
“ How long do you expect to remain here ?”
, “ Until I git de ole woman.”
t “ But she may tire you out.”
I “ Will she ? White man, look heah 1 I dun
‘ come prepared fur bizneas, I did.”
And he led him to a bag in the alley which
contained four loaves of bread, a large piece
i of boiled pork and a bottle of water, and cou
, tinned:
, “ Ize dun fixed myself fur a siege of three
► weeks, an’ den Ize gwine to hang on fur an
other widowt eating nuffin’ ’tall. Some folks
I might rush in dar’ an’ git shot, but my policy
» am to wait an* watch. It’s got to fetch ’em in
de eend,”
i
T H IE
Treasure of Spaniard’s Bay.
BY BLUE JACKET.
“It tea singular yarn, Mr. Graham, and may
be there is not a word of truth in it at all; hat
I’ll tell it to you, and you can judge for your
self. Ono thing I can say; I have been on this
island, man and boy, nigh on to fifty years, and
I have yet to hear or see anything out of the
. usual way. Ah I look yonder, sir; the tide is
remarkably low this morning, and by using
your marine glass you will be able to make out
a row of slanting, irregular objects on that spur
of sand making out to the southward there. It
is not once in a lifetime that this occurs, and it
is worth your while to examine it.”
“What are they? I see nothing very re
markable beyond* what appears to me to con
sist of the timbers of some old vessel.”
“ You have hit it, Mr. Graham. They are the
stout old bones of the Spanish galleon which,
one hundred years ago, was decoyed on shore
by a false light. You see, this island has always
been very fertile, and a freebooter who had put
in to Spaniard’s Bay for water and wood, con
cluded to land some cattle they had, for the
purpose of fattening them up into some kind of
shape. A sailor, with a tent and cooking uten
sils, was left behind to keep an eye upon them,
while the craft took a stretch off shore to look
after plunder. It would have been better for
the gang if they had remained where they were,
for they never laid eyes on the fellow again,
while & rich prize slipped through their fingers.
A few days after the piratical cra't had disap
peared a furious storm arose, during which the
sailor was not idle. He had sighted the galleon
before storm and darkness had shut down o’er
land and sea, guessed her true character, and
laid his plans for her destruction. A false bea
con from the bluff, a short distance from where
the lighthouse now stands, did the business.
The treasure ship rushed blindly on to her fate,
struck a sand-bar, and that was the end of her.
If any of the crew succeeded in getting ashore,
they were probably murdered by the sailor.
Whatever became of him remains a mystery,
1 and as to the treasure, not a trace of it has ever
beon found. How the sailor got away from the
island—having no boat or means to reach the
mainland—or how much of the gold and jewels
he carried with him, no one knows, and I reckon
they never will. It is said his spirit is a-drifting
around here, though—sort of uneasy like—and
will continue to until somebo ly finds the missing
treasure, and relieves the spirit of his charge.
Wai, Mr. Graham, I must be getting back to the
light and polish things up before dark. I am
alone to-day, and the pains I have all over me
is a suro sign of a storm not far off. Indeed,
whenever tlie timbers of the galleon are un
covered by the waters of the Gulf, you may take
it for granted something out of the common
course of events is going to happen,” and,
touching his hat, and old light keeper hobbled
off to his post, but a short distanco. away.
Hugh Graham, his wife and three small chil
dren had come irom the North and taken up
their abode on one of the islands lying between ]
the Gulf of Mexico and Mississippi bound. It
was necessity, not choice, that had brought '
about the change -a succession of business re- |
verses leaving but a fragment ot their posses- (
sions upon which to subsist. They occupied a 1
small cottage overlooking Spaniard’s Bay, with ]
no one in the island lor neighbors except Mr. j
Tobbs, the light-house keeper and his assistant. f
Swinging in a hammock neath the wide- (
spreading boughs of a group of live oaks, Hugh
Graham gazed long and curiously upon the j
worm-eaten old timbers of the Spanish galleon. >
“I presume there is nothing in the legend— ,
not a particle of truth—and may be based on the f
occasional appearance of yon decayed and j
blackened timbers, which, for aught 1 or any j
one else may know to the contrary, might once j
have been a fishing smack or timber drogher. (
But if such a thing were possible, I should like (
to be the favored mortal to relieve the tortured
spirit of his long, wearisome vigil over the don’s (
ingots. The treasure can do the sailor no good, |
while I—well, just give me a chance, and, Mr. t
Jack Tar, you shall not have to offer the second j
time. lam your man.”
The words died away on his lips, while above (
his head a sound resembling the surging of a £
strong wind through the branches of the oaks J
caused him to glance quickly upward in sur- E
prise.
For a brief moment the strange commotion ,
echoed in his ears; but not a leaf stirred, all
were limp and motionless, drooping in the glare i
of the noonday sun, while the blue, sparkling i
waters of the gulf lay undulating before his ]
eyes, smooth and unrufiled as the surface of a g
mirror. <
In a few hours the entire aspect of the heav- <
ens had undergone a complete transformation, j
It was the hurricane season, and it was no un- t
usual occurrence for a violent storm to sweep
along the coast, with little or no warning of its j
coming- A heavy swell bad set in from sea- <
ward, while huge masses of black, brassy, rag- c
ged clouds were rapidly twisting and turning as r
they mounted toward the zenith. <
Seated on the piazza of the cottage, Hugh ;
and his wife watched the coming of the tempest, j
awe-struck and impressed by the awful sublim
ity of the scene A line of flashing white foam \
bounded the horizon beneath the lowering g
storm-clouds marking the approach of the tern- c
pest. c
Hugh and his wife continued to watch the c
scene until a furious gust of wind, a dash o: 1
rain, followed by a flash of lightning, warned <
them that the storm had commenced in earnest, j
A glance at the lighthouse revealed the alarm- c
ing fact that the tower was shrouded in dark- \
nees. That something bad happened, and that j
too of a serious nature, with the lightkeeper was e
at once apparent to Hugh and his wife, who, san- l
sible little lady that she was, interposed no ob
jections when her husband prepared hurriedly t
to investigate the state of affairs at the light- i
house. s
It was but a few minutes’ walk, and, entering t
the keeper’s house, Hugh found Mr. Tobbs, f
groaning with agony and apprehension, chained
to his bed by an acute attack of inflammatory c
rheumatism. In the absence of his assistant, $
who had gone on a days’ leave to the main land, t
Mr. Tobbs, when stricken down, had prayed
that Hugh would notice the absence of the light, j
and now that his mind was relieved from the \
'strain which had borne so heavily upon it, he l
cried like a child. Hugh had often witnessed j
the operation of “ lighting up,” and felt fully
competent to assume all responsibility. Seizing t
a box of matches he bounded up the narrow s
stairway, and in less than ten minutes the wel- 1
come rays from the beacon-light were sending t
their cheery warning far out over the troubled > r
waters. ]
He told Mr. Tobbs to be of good cheer, that
he would attend to the duties during the night, i
and hurrying back to the cottage, explained to i
his wile the duties he had assumed for the night, t
With a parting caress and a word ot reassuring t
comfort, he again plunged into the storm and t
darkness, followed by the anxious gaze of his t
loving helpmate. j
He had proceeded but a few steps when a flash i
of light followed by a muffled report from sea t
ward startled him. Hugh paused, listening t
keenly, as he shielded his eyes from the torrents <
of rain which drove fiercely against him. 1
Up through the intense gloom leaped the j
white-oapped breakers, which, like a pack ot i
hungry wolves, were rolling and tumbling over t
one another as they thundered and roared with i
deafening reverberations against outlying sand i
reefs—rolling in and culminating with terrible i
fury along the entire line of beach, casting f
clouds of spray ia impotent fury against the (
massive foundation and tower of the lighthouse. I
The lightning hissed, its vivid glare lighting (
up the raging seas, adding additional terrors 1
to the spectacle by intensitying the gloom which
had settled over land and sea. With resound- <
ing crashes, peal upon peal of thunder rolled i
and echoed through the vault of heaven,causing 1
the earth to shake and tremble from its intensi- |
ty. The wind, with terrific force, shrieked and
roared, tearing up clouds of sand and whirling i
it into drifts, like enow before a Winter’s gale. 1
Crouching low, Hugh listened for the signal i
gun to be repeated. One, two, three heavy re
ports came in rapid succession. There was no >
mistaking their meaning. They were signals of i
distress from some craft in danger. A flash ot
lightning revealed the outlines of a vessel with
shattered spars, torn sails and streaming cord
age, driving before the gale, apparently making
desperate efforts to gain the shelter of the har
bor.
Landsman that he was, Hugh realized, from
the glimpse afforded him, that the endangered
crait was unlike anything he had ever seen in
those waters before. She had neither the sym
metrical proportions nor graceful spars ot the
ordinary trader, but was cumbersome, mis
shapen and decidedly odd-looking. However,
it mattered but little what style of craft it
might be, provided aid of some kind could
reach her iu time. He had accomplished all
that lay in his power; thank Heaven, the lights
had been lit. But what—merciful God !—what
could it mean ? Could he believe his own eyes?
The tower was dark as the shades ot Erebus !
Not the faintest trace or gleam ot a light shot
forth from the polished lenses, while a thick,
impenetrable vail of heavy mist appeared to
have entwined itself around the summit of the
edifice.
With a groan of despair, a terrible fear tug
ging at his heart, Hugh dashed forward, anx
ious to repair what must have been some un
known negligence or grave oversight on his
partin setting the mechanism in motion; but he
could have sworn that when he last stood in the
dome the light and all its dependencies had
worked perlectly.
Groping his way through the bewildering
gloom, stumbling over fallen logs, wreckage
and debris of the beach, fighting for every inch
bt the way, with sand driving before the gale
lacerating his flesh, wet, panting with anguish,
his heart beating like a trip-hammer, Hugh
Graham strove to regain the tower in the face
of the hurricane.
Down swooped the gale, the very Island trem
bling beneath the savage onslaughts and tre
mendwie force of the toppling seas, while the
wind shrieked, raved and roared in Unre
strained fury. The lightning played incessant
ly around the struggling man, its startling
i sheen causing him to shrink back appalled.
Never in his recollection had he witnessed such
i a storm, and he trembled for the safety of his
» wife and little ones. But he had assumed to
perform a duty; he must keep on now, and that,
too, without delay, for the glowing light from
> the tower was dark, giving no warning to the
sorely distressed ship, which, as if to remind
i him of his obligations, again fired a gun, which
boomed with a mournful cadence above the
crash and roar of the warring elements.
It acted like a galvanic shock upon the well
nigh exhausted frame of Hugh, who, with a
powerful ‘effort, gathered his energies, rushed
resolutely forward, gained the bluff, where,
from its highest point, streamed forth a bright
light, which cast its scintillating rays far out
over the raging waters.
Flitting in and out of the blazing circle of
flaming light and deep shadow, was the figure
of a naan, busily engaged throwing armfuls of
wood npon the false beacon, which every mo
ment, from the force of the hurricane, became
stronger and more intensified. He was gigantic
in stature, attired in a manner strange and un
like anything Hugh had ever seen before, while
from a broad, leathern belt dangled a short,
broad-bladed knife, which glittered ominously
in the shifting gleams of the hissing pile. Never
for a moment did he pause in his labor, appa
rently unmindful of the force of the wind, which
at that elevated point, swept with resistless fury
along the bluff, with no object to ward off its
force or temper its intensity.
Rooted to the spot, fascinated by some awe
some power he could not overcome, with a
creeping sensation down his spine, and bis hair
bristling with unspeakable terror, Hugh clung
to a bending clump of half-stunted shrubbery,
bereft of power to speak or move.
A blinding flash of lightning enveloped land
and sea—followed by an appalling crash of
thunder, while above the booming breakers
echoed a wail of more than mortal agony, min
gled with wrending timbers, crashing spars and
a succession of unmistakable sounds, announc
ing the wreck and destruction of the strange
craft, lured to its ruin by the devilish glare of
the false beacon. A scream of unearthly laugh
ter rang out above the din of the tempest. At
the same instant the blazing pile, with one con
vulsive upheaval ot flame, disappeared, leaving
naught behind to mark its existence. Out
through the polished lenses of the tower burst
forth the powerful gleams of Spaniard’s Bay
light, burning with its accustomed steadfast
ness, while Hugh, recovering in a measure his
equanimity, rubbed his spray bespattered face,
gazing upward and about him in a state of un
certainty aud bewilderment, which had sup
planted to some extent the eerie sensation of
terror under which he had at first labored.
What it could all mean was more than he
could fathom, but that he was awake, in posses
sion of his senses, had not been dreaming or
deceived by an overwrought imagination, he
was well assured. The reports from the guns
had been loud enough to have been heard over
the entire extent of the island, but upon refer
ring the matter to Mr. Tobbs, who was in too
much pain to think of slumbering, ouside of his
anxiety and distress of mind, that individual
advised Hugh to lie down for an hour and take
a nap.
“ You are unused to this business, sir, and
have imagined the guns firing. Maybe the
boom ol the surf misled ye. But lam sure, had
such been the case, I should have not failed to
have heard them, and not a sound out of the
way has disturbed me. The light will not re
quire trimming until midnight, so take a snooze
in the arm-chair there, and I’ll call ye.”
Staggered, but far from convinced, that all
he had board and seen was a myth, a creation
of excited fancy; at the same time shrinking
from relating the incidents of the night’s ad
venture, which his own strong common sense
repelled as impossible and improbable. Re
moving bis wet clothing, Hugh made himself
comfortable in a huge arm-chair, enveloped in
a blanket, and as he dozed off into an uneasy
slumber, his brain was busy pondering over
the weird scene he had witnessed. Argue as
he would, the conviction grew stronger each
moment that he had viewed the wreck and de
struction of the Spanish galleon, as it had oc
curred one hundred years ago.
There was a sensation ot extreme chilliness
in the apartment when Hugh opened his eyes.
The blanket had slipped from his shoulders, the
wood fire had grown dim in the fireplace, while
the lamp was shrouded in complete darkness.
Naught was hoard but the deep, regular breath
ing of Mr. Tobbs, who had at last found refuge
from his misery m sleep, and the solemn, mon
otonous tick, tick of the regulation clock, situ
ated on the narrow mantel.
Slowly, almost imperceptibly, the darkness
of the room merged into a pale, silvery light,
through which a dim, shadowy figure gradually
assumed shape and proportions, which Hugh
had no trouble in recognizing as the one who
had fed the flames of the false beacon. He had
on the same enormous sea boots, baggy pants
and light fitting blouse which he bad witnessed
before, while the dark, scowling features,
shaded by a wide-spreading hat, wore an ex
pression at once ferocious and horrible, mingled
with malignity.
It seemed to Hugh that an iceberg was clos
ing him in on all sides, freezing his very life
blood and almost arresting the pulsations of his
heart, as be strove to cry out, to arouse Mr.
Tobbs. But the effort was futile; not a muscle
could he move, while the shadowy figure be
fore him seemed to assume more definite shape
in the ghastly gloaming by which it was sur
rounded.
Slowly, even majestically, the apparition
raised its arm, as if to claim attention from the
unhappy mortal it was torturing with its pres
ence. Its eyes appeared to glow with super
natural fire, fixed apparently upon some object
far distant, while a hollow, but distinct voice
reached Hugh’s ear with a subdued cadence, as
if coming from a great distance.
“Mortal, shrink not from the trial you have
voluntarily sought by your own choosing. You
sigh for the hidden treasure, and expressed a
desire to relieve the tortured spirit, who, for
one hundred years, has been, doomed to watch
over the scene of his crime by night and suffer
by day. You have summoned me from the
dark shades, and long have I awaited your com
ing. To absolve me irom the wickedness of my
earthly career, to free me from the vigil of
watching o’er the hidden treasure, remains
your task, and you have said you required no
second bidding. So be it, and the treasure shall
be yours. Remove my bones to solid earth;
grant me a Christian burial, and I shall cease
to haunt this earth; my spirit will at last find
rest. Falter, fail or neglect to carry out the in
structions I impsrt, an 1 death shall be your por
tion. Como, we have began bravely; follow me,
and then farewell.”
The figure beckoned, turned and glided slowly
onward, surrounded by the phosphorescent i
glow, which imparted sufficient light for Hugh
to follow his gruesome guide.
A power which Hugh could not control, im
pelled him forward and he followed, keeping
within the pale of the mysterious light, which
glowed with increased brilliancy in the open
air.
The gale had apparently subsided, although '
the condition of land and sea was a matter of i
secondary consideration to Hugh as he threaded
his way down the bluff, along the beach, and
turned his face seaward until the shadowy
guide halted on a ridge of sand far beyond the
limits of low water mark.
“ Here lies the treasure ’neath your feet,”
murmured the afar off voue. “The tide ebbs
and flows twice in twenty-four hours above it.
but mark the spot well—for you shall be enabled
to roach it. Notice yon tree iu line with the
tower, and that hillock of sand opening out by
the corner o! the wood. Forget it not, I conjure
you. '1 his was once dry land, and I constructed
a vault—wherein to deposit the treasure, but a
tidal wave surprised me ere all was completed,
the stone designed for the opening was thrown
over it—imprisoning me with the gold in that
tomb of my own construction. From year to
year, the action of the sea has encrouched upon
the sandy beach, until the treasure was beyond
the hand of man. It remains lor you to claim
it, to free the unhappy spirit who has known no
rest beyond the grave, and whose punishment
will have removed from the golden ingots all
sin that otherwise would have been the heritage
of the unhappy finder. But I must tarry no
longer, heed ye my words, and fail not, or my
doom shall assuredly be yours. Mortal, fare
well—remember.*'
“ Hugh, Mr. Graham, I say! wake np, good
gracious man, you have got the nightmare,” and
Mr. Tobbs shouted, causing the sleeper to leap
hurriedly to his leet, rubbing his eyes and
gazing timidly about him.
“ You must have been having a bad dream
sir, irom the way you were going on. But I
had to rouse you out, for its time to look alter
the light. Sorry to trouble you though.”
The hurricane was still raging, and when
daylight dawned showed but little signs of
abating. Hugh had ample time to study and
ponder over the strange revelations of the
night previous, and could not bring himself to
believe that it was all a delusion. He made a
confidant ol his wife, who at first was disposed
to ridicule the entire matter, as the result of an
overwrought brain, but was not unwilling that
Hugh should investigate the submerged sand
bar, if an opportunity should occur.
The action of the wind had so operated upon
the water that large tracts of land were exposed
to the sun, which smiled forth after the storm,
that had not been above water within the
memory of Mr. Tobbs, who was still confined to
his bed. The assistant on account of the high
sea running had been unable to return to his
post, leaving Hugh the opportunity he des red
to prosecute the search with no one to interfere
in the investigation.
No time was lost, the first favorable opportu
nity seized, and remembering well the bearings
bo vividly impressed upon him, Hugh got the
marks in line, and boldly commenced work on
the hard, irregular surface of the sandspur.
In less than half an hour his iron crowbar
struck with a clang against some hard surface.
Spurred on by excitement, he plied the shovel
with such effect that a stone, worn smooth and
polished like ivory, from the action of the sea,
was exposed to his startled gaze.
The balance ia soon related. A small vault,
lined with a rude species of cement, made irom
pulverized oyster shells, was revealed, in which
was packed a portion ot the treasure that once
had been on board the Spanish galleon.
Stretched across the shining mass of wealth
was the skeleton of what once had been a large
man, and by its side rested a rusty and notch
ed blade—of heavy and cumbersome propor
tions.
Hugh did not waste much time in wonder
ment or speculation. He was apprehensive
lest he migjjt be swallowed up by some stray ti
dal wave—and share the fate of him who had
•q long kept watch over the gold* The warning
• of what might be expected in case of failure
spurred Hugh on to fresh efforts, and with
more haste than reverence, he bundled the
. damp, mouldering bones together, put them in
i a bag, depositing them on the beach, and as the
i sun had declined in the west, the vault had
i been emptied of its contents, and all traces of
, the pirates’ treasure carefully hid away in the
i cottage.
> The succeeding day, Mr. Tobb’s assistant re
turned to his post of duty, and no little trouble
he experienced in reaching the usual landing
1 w hich lio was compelled to drag
after hiffi. But during the night'a fearful roar
ing and rushing of waters was heard, followed
by a reverberating shock felt all over the isl
and, and the next morning revealed the tide
fully up to its accustomed level.
As for Hugh, the bones of the sailor were
carefully lowered into a grave ’neath the shade
of the mighty live oaks, and the little lady read
the impressive services of the Episcopal church
over the remains—which Hugh devoutly hoped
would satisfy the old fellow. No doubt it did
-—for in the succeeding years of a long and hap
py life, neither Hugh, his wile, or children,
were ever troubled by the slightest manifesta
tions traceable to a supernatural agency.
NEATLY RONE.
BY AN EXZREBEL.
During the retreat of Lee’s army from the
field oi Gettysburg to the Potomac a great effort
was made by the officers to prevent straggling,
but it would have required an officer to a man
to have carried out the programme successfully.
We had been beaten and felt discouraged and
reckless. Wo were on short rations, the weather
was dismal, and the rank and file were in no
mood to be nagged by strict discipline.
The command to which I belonged left Gettys
burg about ten o’clock at night, and for the first
three hours the men were kept well in hand
under the impression that wo were only chang
ing positions to secure an advantage over the
Federate. As daylight broke and we realized
that we were on the way home, squads and
individuate broke away at every opportunity to
forage for a breakfast. In company with two
private soldiers belonging in my* company 1
slipped away from the column about sunrise,
and, while a black looking thunder storm
seemed close at hand, we bolted into a piece of
woods by the roadside and then struck for a
highway running at right-angles, and on which
we could make out three or four farm houses.
We selected the first or nearest, and as we
entered the gate a woman opened the door and
stood waiting for us to approach. She knew we
were Confederates and asked many questions
concerning the battle, and did not attempt to
conceal the fact that she was a thorough Union
ist and an ardent hater of Jeff. Davis.
“ Nevertheless,” she added as-she turned to
go in, “ you men are not altogether to blame,
and you shall havo a bite to eat as soon as 1 can
get it.”
We went around to the back door, laid aside
our guns and accoutrements, and had a good
wash up iu the rain barrel. Tiien we set down
on the grass to wait for breakfast, the odor of
which came out to us. But for the suggestion
of one ot my comrades everything would have
gone well. Not far from us was a stone
smoke-house, and through the partly open door
we could see pieces of meat hanging from the
ratters. He suggested that we further investi
gate, with a view ot “gobbling” some of the
meat as we left, and we got up and went straight
to the house and entered it. There were two
hams and two side pieces banging up, and at
the back end of tho building, which was about
12x12, was a barrel filled with old rag carpet,
on top ot which was a setting hen. As we came
near she began to exhibit the usual character
istics, and we were having considerable fun at
her expense, when the door was shut with a
bang and we heard the rattle of a chain and
padlock. It was a close, dark place, and it was
a minute or two before we reached the door
and understood the situation. We began to
kick and shout, and presently the woman’s
voice replied:
“ It’s no use trying to get out 1 You are my
prisoners, and kicking won’t do any good !”
How nice and soft, we talked to her, but it was
no go. Then we swore arid blustered, but she
only laughed at us. After awhile she passed us
some bread and butter through one ot the ven
tilators, followed by a cupful of water, aud
there we remained all day, all night and up to
8 o’clock next morning, when we were turned
over to tho Union cavalry.
TWO HUNDRED YE iRS AGO.
MACAULAY’S~HISIOR¥ OF ENG
LAND FOR THAT PERIOD.
(From Tid-Bits,)
The population of England 200 years ago was
about 5,000,000; at last census England and
Wales numbered 25,974,430; the whole of the
British Isles, 35,241,482; Great Britain, her
colonies and dependencies, 310,225,000. In this
connection the following extracts from Lord
Macaulay s history will be read with interest:
“ Many thousands of s juare miles, now rich
in corn land and meadows, were then moors
overgrown with furze or fens abandoned to wild
ducks. A large portion ot the country north of
the Trent, down to the eighteenth century, was
in a state of barbarism. In Northumberland
bloodhounds were kept to track robbers. The
Judges on circuit, with the sheriff and armed
retainers, had to carry their provisions with
them, for, between Newcastle and Carlisle, was
a wilderness which afforded no supplies, and
was full of danger.
The amount of money raised by taxation was
very much smaller than at present, the oppres
sive chimney tax being a chief source of income.
At Endfield, hardly out of the sight of London,
was a region of five and twenty miles in circum
ference which Contained only three houses and
scarcely any inclosed fields. Deer, as free as in
American forests, wandered there by thousands.
“Wild animate were numerous. The last
wok that roamed our island was slain in Scot
land before the close of the reign of Charles IL
In 1696, only 2,000,000 of quarters of wheat were
grown, the strongest clay soil being selected
lor the purpose, and the produce was consumed
only by persons in easy circumstances.
“ The cultivation of the turnip had been
lately introduced, but these were not used lor
animate; therefore, in seasons when grass was
ssarce, it was no easy matter to keep cattle and
sheep alive.
“They were killed and salted in great num
bers at the beginning of the cold weather,
and during several months oven the gentry
tasted scarcely any animal food except game and
river fish. The sheep and cattle at that time were
very diminutive, and our native horses, though
serviceable, were held in sm-ll esteem and
fetched low prices—about fifty shillings each.
Most of the iron used in this country at that
time was imported, and coal was used for do
mestic purposes only.
“The income of country gentlemen was hot :
more than one-fourth of what it now is, and
they seldom left their homes even to go to Lon
don. The yeomanry of the period are de
scribed as an eminently manly and true-hearted
race, about 160,000 in number, with an average
income of from £6O to £7O a year. Their num
ber was then greater than of those who farmed ,
the lands ot others.
“No canals had been dug and during a great
part of the year most of the roads were im
passable for vehicles. The judges were unani
mously of opinion that by the common law ot
England no man not authorized by the crown
had a right to publish political news.
“Four-fiiths of the common people were em
ployed in agriculture a fonrpence a day with
food—eightpence without food. Four shillings
a week was considered a fair average wage.
“ An English mechanic could exact a shilling
a day—hand-loom weavers had been reduced
to sixpence a day. Bricklayers were employed
for the most part only in Summer at half a
crown a day; plumbers, three shillings.
“The great majority of the nation lived al
most entirely on rye, barley and oats. Almost
all essential articles were dearer then than
now—sugar, salt, candles, soap, shoes and gen
erally all articles of bedding. Blankets were
unknown until 1705. The class below the la
borer and the artisan, one-fourth of the whole
population, depended upon parochial relief,
having no other means of living.
SOMETHING TO STUDY.
PROVERBS RELATING TO CLOUDS
There cen be no doubt that those who observe
the clouds can make pretty shrewd guesses as
to the weather (or the next twenty-four hours.
Proverbs relatiug to clouds are very numerous,
and we give a few oi those which are applicable
at this time ot the year.
Anvil-shaped clouds are very likely to be fol
lowed by a gale of wind.
If the sky becomes darker, without much rain
and divides into two layers ot clouds, expect
sudden gusts of wind.
Brassy-colored clouds in the west at sunset
indicate wind.
It you see clouds going cross wind, there is a
■torm in the air.
When on clear days isolated clouds drive over
the zenith from the rain-wind side, storm and
rain iollow within twenty-four hours.
If the clouds bo of different bights, the sky
being grayish or dirty blue, with hardly any
wind stirring, the wind, however, changing from
west to south, expect storm.
Black clouds in the north in Winter indicate
approaching snow.
If on a fair day in Winter a white bank of
clouds arise in the south, expect snow.
Small black clouds drifting Irom the south
west is a sign of rain.
If in Winter the clouds appear fleecy, with a
very blue sky, expect cold rain or Buow.
If clouds be dark
'Twill rain, do you hark ?
If clouds be bright,
'Twill clear to-night.
If a layer of thin clouds drive up from the
northwest, and under other clouds moving more
to the south, expect tine weather.
Clouds in the east, obscuring the sun, indicate
fair weather.
If the sky beyond the clouds is blue,
Be glad, there is a picnic for you.
If clouds at the same hight drive up with the
wind and gradually become thinner and de
scend, expect line weather.
Enough blue sky in tho northwest to make a
Scotchman a jacket, is a sign of approaching
clear weather.
When the clouds hang on the mountain side
after a rain, and the sun shines on top of the
mountains, the storm is over.
i A Physician’s Experience in Persia.
—Says the St, James’s Gazette: At last, in a re
r mote suburb, we came to the house of the Syud.
i A ragged fellow, the doorkeeper, looked at us
superciliously. I followed the guide, though
he had failed to give the usual invitation to en
ter. Through the vast house we went—bare
enough for a caravanserai, and big enough, too.
At last we reached an empty room. There was
no carpet, no sign of chair or seat. I flung my
self upon the raised window ledge, astonished
and indignant; for discourtesy is rare indeed in
Persia. The guide disappeared. There was a
dead silence, only broken by the hum of a wasp
or a bluebottle. Time passed on. At length I
became impatient, and began to shout at the
lull pitch of my vo ce. Thereupon the guide
returned precipitately. “You mustn’t do that,”
said he: “you’ll wake the lord.” “Please Heav
en I shall. Hoy ! hoy !” The servant’s man
ner changed, and he proceeded to conduct me
to the holy man’s apartment, a plain room and
almost sordid. The saint was polite enough in
his speech, but he did not rise on his visitor’s
entrance nor did he even offer a cushion to the
infidel doctor. Now, to stand would be to put
myself in the position of a servant or a suppli
ant; so I flung myself at full length upon tho
carpets. Hereupon the holy man pretended
that his want of civility had been unintentional.
Then the doctor saw his patient —that is, a
piece of her. A young lady thrust a plump arm
out from under a largo vaiL Then, taking care
that naught but her lips should be visible, she
put out her tongue. A prescription was writ
ten, and I retired, having been well laughed at
by a crowd of vailed women who formed the
hadji’s seraglio.
Arab and Persian Horses. — Says
“Blackwood’s Magazine:” The general run’of
Arabs are, no doubt, first-rate horses, as far as
they go, for military purposes, but they are too
small to mount satisfactorily any but native cav
alry. There are, of course, exceptional animals
which have size and power enough for anything,
but they are so few that they may be left out of
the general estimate which we take of the race.
For any soldier whose weight is such that ho
can be mounted on an Arab, he will be found
the hardiest, soundest and most docile of war
horses. He will do an enormous amount of
work on very little and very indifferent food,
and will always bear himself well and hand
somely. In one point only is he, more than
other horses, susceptible of disease, and that is
his oye, which is liable to cataract. His great
characteristic is his undaunted pluck, which is
never more clearly shown than when by any
chance he is ill, when all veterinary surgeons
will allow that he is a most admirable patient,
resisting and throwing off the effects of illness
or treatment in away that no horse of another
race can equal. Persian horses have always
been found among the most generally useful
remounts in India, and they take their place
both in the ranks of cavalry and in gun teams.
They have more power and size than Arabs,
with much of the same constitutional good
qualities, and—a matter of great importance to
the State—they are generally cheaper in price.
The French Vintage.—Th© story of
the last French vintage is one of terrible disas
ter, owing to that dreaded insect pest, the phyl
loxera. In the last three years, the vintages
have decreased at a greater rate than 100,000,-
000 gallons per annum; and it now appears that
a large proportion of the vintage of 1886 was
produced from dry raisins and the dregs of the
first and second press. Among the variety of
remedies that have been proposed to get rid of
this dreaded pest, one only is said to be really
effectual, and that is, inundating the plants in
the month of November, and continuing that
operation for at least forty days. For a great
many successive years this has been done at a
certain vineyard near Avignon; but here there
happens to be plenty of water available from
the Durance Canal. Other vineyards are not so
well off, and that mode of treatment is inappli
cable. Among the chemicals tried, carbon bi
sulphide seems to be the most effectual; but it
is considered that a great deal might be done
by killing the swarms of insects before they..take
the wing. It has been estimated that the loss
to the French vineyards already exceeds the cost
of the Franco-German war, and no one can say
with any certainty when the plague will cease.
It is to be hoped that the authorities will give
their serious attention to a subject of such great
importance to the country, and that a commis
sion will be appointed which will be able to
deal with it in a satisfactory manner.
Sun and Earth.—The volume of the
sun is about one million three hundred that of
the earth. To give some idea of this difference
let us make a tew comparisons of some familiar
objects. For instance, let the sun be represent
ed by a man weighing one hundred and ninety
pounds. In a pound avoirdupois there are
seven thousand grains, and this multiplied into
one hundred and ninety gives us one million
three hundred and thirty thousand. Now a
grain may be represented by the kernel of wheat
—which was, in fact, tho original of the grain
weight. So you have on the one hand the sun,
represented by a large man, and on the other
the earth by a grain of wheat. If the sun were
vain of his complexion hs might wear a little
black patch on his chin, a little larger perhaps
than the earth. Or the earth might be a very
small horse-fly, sitting on bis bald pate. The
earth would not be half large enough to make
the sun a collar-button. A man may gain three
to five pounds a week. Should the sun increase
his weight in like ratio, it would take a hundred
such bodies as our earth to make him a break
fast. It the sun were taking medicine, the earth,
sugar-coated, would be only a very small pill.
Put a mustard seed by a pumpkin, take an apple
and prick it with a needle, and you will have
further illustrations of what these figures mean.
A Drove of Cows Tobogganing. —
Says the Altoona, Pa., Tribune: A rare and
amusing incident occurred on Saturday last.
The Messrs. Everhart own a large farm on the
road leading from Newport to New Bloomfield,
Perry county, and a short distance from the
latter place. They keep a large number of cat
tle, and on the day m question the bovines were
roaming about in one of the fields in which
there are a number of high hills, and these lat
ter wore covered with ice,which rendered them
as slippery as glass. Along the top of one of
these hills the cattle were moving along slowly
when one of the cows slipped and fell,|buttobog
gan-like never stopped until she landed at Abe
bottom. Then another and another followed
suit until five or six had performed a similar
leat. It remained lor the last ot the cows to
perform the crowning feat. She sat down on
her hind legs and erecton her lore feet and
started down the incline. All went well until
near the bottom of the hill, when her front feet
caught in the ice, causing her to perform an
acrobatic feat which would make a gymnast
turn green with envy. The cattle seemed to en
joy the impromptu slide and when they brought
up at the base of the hill would gingerly get on
their feet and move off as though it was nothing
unusual. Altogether it was an amusing sight.
Co>focius’s Home Destroyed.—A re
cent conflagration in a remote Chinese village
destroyed the ancestral home of the family oi
Confucius, with all its contents, texts on stone,
commentaries, wondrous carvings in jade and
alabaster, priceless jars of porcelain, jewels and
precious metal work, in brief one of the most
remarkable literary and artistic museums in
the world, containing as it did nearly every
extant memorial ol the great teacher, in that
building, erected about COO B. C., generation
after generation, the male heirs of the Chinese
philosopher have dwelt in unbroken line for
2,500 years, bearing the title of dukes. With
every other family in China, a nobleman’s rank
must always be lower than that of his ancestors;
for no true Confucian would presume to stand
higher than bis grandfather, father, or his elder
brother. In the illustrious “ House of Con
fucius,” however, the lofty title of duke passes
unchanged, except when emperor after emperor
adds by royal decree some new phase«of honor
to the name and line of the famous philosopher.
Fishes Out of Water.—There are
several species of fish which are much more at
home out o' their natural element than any
specimens of the human race are in water. The
climbing perch (Anabas Scan dens; is a remarka
ble example, found in Asia. This singular crea
ture appears much like other perch, but is en
dowed with an extraordinary power of leaving
failing streams, climbing the banks, and pro
ceeding over dry land in quest of better filled
water-courses. Hundreds of them have been
seen at u distance of fifty or sixty yards from a
pool just abandoned, and they were still travel
ing, though the ground was so rough that this
distance must have required sufficient muscular
exertion to take them halt a mile over level
ground. Some writers even assert that this fish
is capable of climbing the rough stems of palm
trees. The fishermen of the Ganges, who subsist
largely on climbing perch, are accustomed to
keep them in dry earthern pans for five or six
days after catching, and they live this strange
life without apparent discomfort.
Nicked-Plated Cooking Vessels. — In
Australia, an order has been issued which for
bids the sale of cooking vessels plated with
nickel. It is said that vinegar and other acids
used in cooking dissolve the metal to a certain
extent, and that even so small a quantity as
one-seventh of a grain will cause vomiting and
other unpleasant and dangerous symptoms. In
deed, the salts of nicked may be looked upon as
being more poisonous than those of copper.
Fraud Somewhere. — The Bad Ax
(Mich.) Democrat says : Several months ago an
ageut ior a safe company meandered into Bad
Ax and concluded several sales. Last week the
agent for another company took in the town and
astonished the purchasers by convincing them
with jacknile and gimlet that they bad safes
with a lining of wood, a filling of a sort of mud,
and an iron covering outside as thick as a knife
blade.
A German-American Dinner. — A
Washington dinner given by a regresentative of
a Pennsylvania German constituency, consisted
of noodle soup, sauer-kraut, koodle-fletch,
sebnitts and knef, with a thirty-pound turkey
and unlimited potations. The American citizens
and rulers probably went home feeling thor
oughly Teutonic.
There is something soft and tender in
the fall of a single snow-flake, but it always re
minds us to look after our bottle of Dr. Bull’s
Cough Syrup—our old stand-by m the days of
coughs and colds—lor we have always found it
reliable.
A New Process of Tempering Steel.
—The Louisville Courier-Journal publishes a
report of tests made in presence oi one of its
staff of a new process for hardening and tem
' pering steel, by which hardness and elasticity
i are carried forward in combination. A drift
I madeot the new steel penetrated in forty min
ules a steel safe-plate warranted to resist any
| burglar drill for twelve hours. A pen-knife
tempered by the process cut the stem of a steel
key,readily, and with the same blade tho in
ventor shaved the hairs on his arm, and a num
ber of other interesting and successful teste
were made. The Inventor is a young black
smith, who has been experimenting with the
process ior years, and claims that the temper
ing is conducted without expense or skilled la
bor. He has also a now process for converting
iron into steel at sm til expense. He claims to
be able to make steel plate so elastic and hard
as to turn a ball fired from the heaviest guu
ever constructed. The invention is a secret,
not having been patented, and a company has
been incorporated to push it, with the Hon.
Charles Godshaw as general manager. It ia
intended to call the at’ention of the Navy De
partment to the discovery, and ask for lacil.ties
to test steel made by the process.
Queer Method of Settling a Dis
pute.—Says the Houston (Toxas) Post: A man
by the name of Gibson, who lives in Falls
county, went to Marlin and got full. He was
arrested lor drunkenness, and the usual fine
imposed by the Mayor. The man told tho
Mayor that he had only a few dollars, and his
family needed it very badly. He wanted to
know if he could not submit to a whipping and
be allowed to keep his money. The Mavor told
Mr. Gibson that his costs were *3.7o,and he would
take that amount “out of bis hide.”
“How many will you strike mo?” said Mr.
The Mayor said ten. This was agreed upon,
bnt Mr. Gibson re used to strip. His Honor
took a board, and, bending Gibson over a chair,
proceeded to take out his costs. The City Mar
shal then offered to take out his costs the same
way, but Mr. Gibson said no. and paid up and
wont home.
Being Excavated.—The great Egyp
tian Sphinx is being gradually excavated,'the
work having been going on for the past twelve
months. At present the entire front of the great
stone monster has been bared, together with its
chest and the space between Its pawe. In addi
tion to this, the altar in frontof the Sphinx, with
the platform upon which it rests, is once more
open to the eky. A fine flight of steps about
lorty feet in width lies between the Sphinx and
the largo pyramid plateau. These steps were
described by Pliny, and wore uncovered in 1817,
but have been hidden for the past seventy years.
It is believed by many that this remarkable
monument of antiquity stands in the midst of a
huge and artificial amphitheatre hewn out of
the solid rock; and it is considered to be, if not
actually prehistoric, at all events the most an
cient monument in the land of Egypt.
A Town Held in Pawn. —lt may not
be generally known that the little seaport town
of Wismar, in the Baltic, is virtually in the same
position as Montagne Tigg’s shirt—namely, at
the pawnbroker s. It was ia 1803 that Sweden
pawned the town to the Duchy of Mecklenberg
for a round sum of money. It waa then stipu
lated that the town should be restored to Swe
den at the end of a century, provided the sum
lent, together with interest, were paid back to
Mecklenberg. Tho sum is now said to amount
to several bandied million marks, and appa
rently there is little chance of Wismar being
able to pay it at the date fixed.
treaty has lain dormant in the archives of th©
municipality ever since it was made, up to the
other day, when, apropos of the concession of
some land to the custom authorities, it was ex
humed for legal purposes. *
To Behove Warts.—Savs the Medical
Pecord: It is now fairly established that the
common wart, which is so unsightly and often
proliferous on the hands and face, can be easily
removed by small doses of sulphate magnesia
taken internally. M. Colrat, of Lyons, has
drawn attention to this extraordinary fact.
Several children treated with three-grain doses
ot Epsom salts, morning and evening, were
promptly cured. M. Aubers ekes the case of a
woman whose free was disfigured by these ex
crescences, and who was cured in a month by a
dram and a half of magnesia taken daily. ■ An
other medical man reports a case of very large
warts, which disappeared in a fortnight from
the daily administration of Un grains ol the
salts.
Tobacco in South Carolina.—A year
ago the Agricultural Depar ment of South Caro
lina, impressed by the fact that constant fail
ures of cotton, the only money were re
ducing many farmers to poverty, determined to
experiment with tobacco. Farmers were ap
pointed in every county, and paid to make ex
periments, a premium being offered for the best
sample. The samples were sent in, and a to
bacco expert has just examined them and award
ed the prizes. Darlingion, Richland and Lan
caster Counties won the first, second and
third prizes. The expert says the best tobao c
is as fine as he ever saw, and cannot be sur
passed, and that the average is better than
usual experiments produce.
Meteoric Thunder.—The mo.st rapid
cannon-shots, according to M. Hirn, scarcely
reach a speed of 2*600 feet per second, while
meteorites penetrate the air at the rate of twen
ty-five or thirty miles, and even more, per sec
ond. With this velocity, tho air is at once raised
to a temperature ot 7,000 to 10,000 degrees, and
the meteorite’s surface is torn away by atmos
pheric friction and vaporized by the heat. The
sounds produced from the whistling of a
bullet to the crash and roll of thunder. They
are explained by th s author as resulting from
tho rush of air to fill the gap in the rear rather
than from actual explosion, being analogous to
thunder after lightning.
Sleeping in the Snow.—A Nevada
newspaper says that a citizen recently saw two
Piute bucks dig a hole in a snow bank, get into
it, and wrap themselves in a single blanket,
preparatory to a night’s rest. In tho morning
he saw no signs of tho Indians, but a mound of
snow marked the spot where they wont.to bed.
He was sure that they had frozen during, tho
cold night, and prep rod to dig out tho bodies;
but the first thrust of the shovel brought the
bucks to their feet, with grunts of disgust. In
stead of being frozen they were moist with per
spiration.
An Archjeologtcal Discovery.—ln
clearing away behind the Templo of Hadrian at
Athens, the foundations of a templo to Pluto
have been discovered in tho rock of the Acropo
lis. Three natural caves have been found, and
in them three fine sculptures. One is a statue
of a draped man with bare breast and long flow
ing hair. Another, about three feet long, con
sists of two reliefs, one compartment showing
Pluto and his wife m Hades seated at a table.
The third piece is a fragment containing well
carved heads of tho same deities.
An Astronomical Puzzle.—The. euririi
ous “canals” on the surface of Mars are like
nothing else known, and still remain .unex
filained. They are seen as nearly straight
ines, and appear like cuttings, with parallel
sides, extending from sea to Bea cress 'the plan
et's continents. They are about fifieen miles
wide. They were discovered a few years ago
by Schiaparelli, an Italian astronomer, and
their existence has since been confirmed by sev
eral other observers.
A French Panacea for Griff. —A
Frenchman advises any one whe is unhappy
about anything to go into his room and comfort
himself with a good cry. He says tbat.groaning
and crying will serve more than anything else
to allay grief, and tolls of a man who "once* re
duced his pulse from 126 to 60 in the course of a
few hours by giving lull vent to his emotions.
It Was the Rats.—When a farmer of
Washington county, Illinois, the other day went
into a smoke-house which had not been opened
for six months, he was surprised to find about
fifteen bushels o wheat piled iu one corner. It
had been brought there by rats, from the bin of
a neighboring farmer, whose wheat was fifteen
bushels short.
aaana—a—aKfegsßi mwii’i'w rnansaa
It is Absurd
For people to expect a cure for Indiges
tion, unless they refrain from eating
what is unwholesome ; hut if anything
will sharpen the appetite and give tone
to the digestive organs, it is Ayer’s Sar
saparilla. Thousands all over the land
testify to the merits of this medicine.
Mrs. Sarah Burroughs, of 248 Eighth
street, South Boston, writes : “My hus
band has taken Ayer’s Sarsaparilla, for
Dyspepsia and torpid liver, and has
been greatly benefited.”
A Confirmed Dyspeptic.
C. Canterbury, of 141 Franklin st.,
Boston, Mass., writes, that, suffering
for years from Indigestion, he was at
last induced to try Ayer’s Sarsaparilla
and, by its use, was entirely cured. satsß
Mrs. Joseph Aubin, of High street,
Holyoke, Mass., suffered for over a year
from Dyspepsia, so that she could not.
eat substantial food, became very weak,
and was unable to care for her family.
Neither the medicines prescribed by
physicians, nor any of the remedies
advertised for the cure of Dyspepsia,
helped her, until she commenced the
use of Ayer’s Sarsaparilla. “Three
bottles of this medicine,” she writes,
” cured me.”
Ayer’s Sarsaparilla,
PREPARED BY
Dr. J. C. Ayer 8c Co., Lowell, Mass.
Price $1; eix bottle®, $5. Worth $6 a botUo.
PREPARED BY