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VOL V. BENTON ON ANA FRDAY, APRIL 2, 1880.
mi e n a il t I---- I I mp'ia IN i N l I K il i i m .. . . II~iIKIP.NNHH Ul mm i~l~ m . i l l ONl m nai / i . tN I PIp,'nI : i ' i , ·a
Poetry.
A FAHEW VELL..
Thou goest, andi I abide. Like ,imne gray tower
Crunbling to ruin on on desolate mountain height,
lteat.ctilent, save the strteatting eagle's flight.
My patient day waits T'ime'scotrroding power.
Whilt thoe,. with wings of flame, through Love'
vast spaice.
Like ilne great planett. Ir e.er'ed all sphlleres,
t, all in v:ain, tit lonely fount of tears,
3|ast strive to quent h tlt y i soul's. thirtt for thy face.
lut, 'mi thy varied splendolrs somtetime.O t)pause,
A.*Od -tay omelltetimes thy sweep of radiant wing,
And hid thy voice old songs to mllellOry sing,
For dirgeC on my broken life's lost cause,
wthiLht thou hast sung, while I stood by thyv ide,
It ot'..C long-buriled hlours b.efore Love died.
1t. WITIIERTON'S ROMANCE'.
What ti pr'tty, very pretty girl she seem
ed. ac 1 looked at her, seated in front of me
over on the right side of the car, with her
fac. t urtedul at an angle which gave tme the
iconttr of her delicilte oval chini and re g
ulat; brtow. Ilow clear and piure her tetl
ipel, were, attd, how very neatly the hair
gretw hack from them '
A long time tldid I watchii her, that very
cold tidy nealr (ChriIstmas; whlttt we travel- i
el the whole way on the samtlte road, andl I
fountd so much to attract itn the changes of
her face that I ntoticed niothintg else with
out, or within. Sile was alolne, and appear- i
edl to be keeping a sharp look-out upon all
her fellow-travelers, iore froml timidity, I
think, than from any curiosity as regarded
them. Every manti who rose to go to the
enlt of thi ca.r 't get a Iriltk of water, or
toleave it fo; the I~lasurte of "a little
tsmoke," or lotunge ulp to the stove from
puIre rostlessnesis, imttmedliately influenced
her expression of cotntetlallce. At the
first inoveent lie woultl make she would 1
start, look apprehelsive as hie rose, alarm- 1
tel as he advantled toward her seat, terri
fietd as he came close, anti relieved in pro
portion as he lengthened the distance be
tween tihelt. I noticed, as time passed oln,
with increasing interest, every iew alariim,
and the expression each elicited depicted
upon her speaking colltelnaclle, and was t
almost lost in conjecture as to where could I
he her destination, what her position illn
life, and antecetlents, when I was suddenly
startled at my wife's voice at lmy side, say
inlg:
"The'iodor e, what in the world do you see
in that girl's face, that you have been d
watching her so intently for the last h]our ?"' a
"My dear,"' I aniswered, "she is very ft
pretty. ;She reminds tme most forcibly of n
n-oi nwiletl I first llleot vou at-a-a-New- -
port!" ' h
"I nevwer went to Newport until t hatd s
been anttiost tell years married," said Mtrs. o
Withertont. (My name is Theodore W)ith- P
,rtoll.) It
"Well," I said, "I mean at that time.'" ti
"Then why tdid yout not say 'ten years
fiter our tmarriage?' I don't think that
peitple can be too particular in their state- n1)
mentl," said Mrs. W. "If every one o- b
served this rule, fewer quarrels would oc- r
tur in families, and society also, and less to
inisehief be made." ci
"Yes, my dear, I was only thinking at Y
lie IImoment of the likeneas.' w
"Likeness ?" she said sharplly. "What
likeness coult any one possibly see between
ildark girl with brown hair and eyes, and st
the long, thin face that she has, anti a ,i
round fair otne, with blue 4'es and light :n
hair, like mine--at least," i ansiswer to my iail
glance, "like what mine toas. However, d(i
if you are amused or interested in what I,
you have been gazing at, I am quite satis- ill
fled." t1
She was so well satisfied that she turned u
squarely around, with her face to the win- St
rlow, anld four blocks of black and red w
plaid shawl alone given me for prospect; at
for my wife was of comfortable dimen- 01
lions, antd quite filled up three-quarters ofi h:
the seat we mutally occupied, ant the ilh
whole of the window besides.
Mrs. Witherton hadtl married me many lin
years ago, through the suggestion of tnn
tual friends, and to the great gratification w
of my parents. There had been so much thi
lifllen.ty in finding anything in the way of tn
mbuiness that I could manage, that the ef- I a'
fsrt at last hadl to be abantditied. I think
hat, as is often the case in large families, o
ny ctipacity has been untder-riatcd. Until
Imarrieid Mis. Withlerton I had been utn
tier my nmotheir's care, andt thein my wife
laid assumed the charge of Inse, alid we e '
hrvec been as halppy, I think, as people getn
erally are. Mtrs. Withertom was inot hanid
omeo, but my miothier said tlhat beauty was at
igreat sllare: anmi she was, perthaps, nlot0
ery clever, but I preferred Iher not being
;ofor many reasonsthat I would rather i it
ht t'll. She had :a nice little fortune she ti
lad inheritel, and when miy mtotlcher told
tnO ill our tdalys of courtship to exitress cer- I
tain corre.t views to her toluchling mar- asi
ilags settleiments, she had interrutpted nte '
titickly with a Ieautiful sentiiment: L"Do it
you think, Theodore, that I should be i '
fraldi to trust mty nloney to a man to whomit to
I ant not afraidtl to trust myself?" Mother I iqul
0olh mse nlot to say anythinlg inore on tile
tibject, and wie foundt after thie marriatge I
hat everythintg had been tie t ie p as tightly crt.
la COttldt tieU it. I att coitelled to el'
you all thit, to make ytot undertsttand liy i itas
ttory. Mrs. Withertona, thoughi, alwn-ys n iO
Iaid my bills, lwhen shite thought tthem taL
stonatlle, and also allowed me some fel
psocket mtoney antd it was niattral that I i
Ishould be tdeferetttial to her, for she was atI
great deal older ltha I wtas. tel
oow, I had oftenl heard the mnen atround
lie talk of romances and adventures, and
all that sort of thing, and though I envied
them, still I knew that I was married, and
therefore never could have any such ex
perience: but those recitals were of in
tense interest to ile, and as long as tlhey
Would recount thmn, I would listen, until
there happlened to be the adventure that Ij
atn going to tell you. Since that day I have
thought that I have more inl me than peo
ple imagine. But to go on with my story.
We were due at New York at 8 o'clock
that night, and the short winter day closed
in earlier than usual as we sped on, breast
ng the most terrible snow storm ever en
Couetered. I was afraid to look again at
tht solitary girl; but, when picking up my
Wife's tunff, I took adtvantage of my posi
tion to steal a glance at her, I saw that her
face was pressed closely against the win
dow-pane, and that she had timidly stop
ed the conductor and askeid some jques
tion, Which, one being answered, seemed to
aL ri her still further, for she cowered
down deeper in her seat. I wanted to fol
lo0t himi out to question him, but I dared
ht leave Mrs. W. on the plea of a small
(toek, for she never allowed smoking
T5he traveling--indeed very sehlom at
it' other timen; but alter some cogitation
SuItt~ered something concerning her
trunk Strap having been loosened by the
OrtersR. Mrs. W. is very strong-minded
ol 5OtiRe points, but she could never attain
-r influence over baggage-men, and was
threfore peculiarly alive to their delin
I qusacies.
"iGo, Theodore," she instantlysaid,"tond
ahoat ny trunk. My opinion is thiat
thse Porters throw the triunk deliberate
' abut, in the hope that some of them
liabreak, and so give them a chtance of
I rose quickly, and sought neither bag
thmaoter noair trunk, but the conductor,
k1 hait a short conversation with him.
: at youn,. g lady who is traveling alone
very nervous and timid," I remark
ý poliltely as I could, for conductors
lnr Oetrnes of a contrary temperament,.
tfel quite anxious about her."
aOb those kind get on very well," he.
Ofed carelessly. "They have a ay
ti that will soon indtoe aany si
di-sengaged ,chap to take care of them, anid
no harll dolne, either.'
- "But is she ntlirel.y lone ?"
'Yes. I believe so. Lots of them run
all around the country at this season on
r their own hook. Tell you, sir, the Ameri
I nt, a can femalll i some.'
I erushed my disgust at the fellow's vul
e's !gar slang.
"IDo youl know to where she is hound ?
Is her ticket further than New York?"
. lie eyed Inme very unpleasantly.
"You just let that girl alone," he said.
', f "What have you to do with her? You look
as if you could hardly take care of your
, self."
"My wife is with me," I said with dig
nity; "and I thought that if the young
Slady was alone, and in need of protection,
we could offer it to her when we arrived at
. New York."
e l "All right, sir," he said more civilly,
r i "I guess she will need some one to see af
te i ter her, for she is hound for Baldon, in
_ Maine, tnd we shall miss the connection
to-night. There's an awful storm blow
I went back to my wife, with many use
less plaits chasing each other in my brain
for the accomp'ishment of my ipurpose. I
Swas compelled, in returning, to pass the
if place where the poor girl was seated. She
looked up, and the terrified expression that
had settled upon her face changed to ain
appealing glance, so appealing that I hesi
tated; but just then my wife turned to
Swardl me with a question.
"Did yol see that the strap was properly
Sfastenedt ?'' she asked; "and what was the
e reason that you did not attend to its being
n correctly done before starting?"
d "'It is :ll right," I said. "My dear, the
i conductor tells me that we shall be very
I late in arriving. How terrible for those
ladies who are alone t) get to the city in
_ this storm and darkness !-so long, too, af
ter the train has been due."
She turined a: suspicious-a very suspici
ouss-eye upon lle.
n "I -nn so very glad," I hastened to say,
1 "that I did not allow you to leave me, sand
travel alone to New York. I am alwaysi
in ore comnfortable inl my mini(d when I am
ne'ar to pIrotect you inl time of need." And
I really fhlt so.
S"Mr. Witherton," she said, concisely,!
I1 dislike platitutles."
We sped on in silence, the snow was so'
deep; and at each station that we stopped i
at we dropped a passenger or two, till but
few were left, for we were oil an accont
modation train. At last we passed thro'
Newark; :nd tlhen the poor girl, who had
hesitatingly risen once or twice, and then
sat down agaill, as if a:fr'aid of carrying I
out her intentions, at last spranlg up des
perately, and madte her way to itus. She
looked once in Mrs. W.'s face, and then t
turned to mie.
S When I left Washington this morning,"
she said, almost inaudibly, "I expected to I
go right through New York to my home, .
but the conductor tells mie we shall not t
make the connection with the Eastern s
train. I am all alone, sir, :nd much alarm- 1
ed, for I never have been before in New
York, except ontce, whenl I passed thro' I
without stopping. Will you tell ite where (
I can remain for the night?" r
I had known that there existed some
strange sympathy between that girl and 1
myself when our eyes had met in passing,
and now as she looked me in the face and
appealed to me, I felt that I could do and t
dare at great deal for her sake; but Mrs. v
Witherton's opinions have always strongly r
influenced me, and I knew that she was a
not putting the most favorable construction s
upon what was passing at that moment. o
Still, there have been epochs in my life
when I have remembered that I am a man tl
and a gentleman, and also an independent b
one in mly views, however my actions may ti
have been curbed bty circumnstances. And tl
this was one of those moments. o
"This lady and myself," said I, motion
ing toward my wife, "are going to the New e
York hIotel to-night, and if you so desire,
will take charge of you, and will also see
that you are comfortably housed, and to- Ih
morrow mornintuitg will attend you safely
getting to the Eastern train." t
"PI erhaps you may manatge to make it
contvenientt to taike hier to her hotne your
self," icily suggested hits. Witherton.
"lOh, no," criedl the girl, iinocently;
"tut if you please, sir, coult I see you a
tltomnellt alolet t?"
She sa:tw assent in my eyes, and led the
way to the rear of tihe car, and turning
saway desperately from Mrs. Witherton's
Siooks, I followed her.
"When we get to the city, can you take
r me to the hotel in the cars?" she asked,
e with great trepidation.
"Certainly I can, in either car or stage.
But do yon prefer them to a carriage?" I
asked.
e"Oh, so much!" she said, thankfully;
and after a moment's hesitaltion she added,
"I have so little money with me that I fear
Sto incur much expense;" and then she
r !quietly resumed her oldt seat.
I returned to my wife's side.
"Was her communication "t state se
cret?" said she.
S"Certainly not. She seems afraid of
hacks, or drivers, or solnmething, I really dlo
not know what; only she begged me to
take her to the hotel in a street car." I
felt an invincible repugnance to letting my
wife knlow the trie reason of the request.
We reached the city by ten o'clock, and
telling my aroteye to keep close to us, I
gave mly arm to Mrs. Witherton, and look
iedl aroundIl for a car as soon as we got out
i of the depot to carry us up to our destina
I tion. I had Ijust sigha;led one, and turned
i to my party to get them inl, when 1 caught
sight of my wife stepping into a comfort
able carriage.
"Why, mly dear," I exclaimed, "I
thought you were going with us." The
driver was waiting, so that I was natural
ly heedless of my phraseology. "Was it
not decided that we should take a car?"
"I really .un not quite certain of whom
you are speaking, Mr. Witherto:n, when
you say 'we,' " she answered; "hut I, for
one, do not care to tramp to that vulgar
conveyanceover 'y kid boots in snow and
slush. You may do as you please."
I "'migt,." certainly, any one "might"
who did not care to count the cost; but
sage experience had taught me a great
deal. HowVever, I could not and would not
even if I could, have let, that lovely young
creature alone at night in a strange city;
I so I turned away and stopped another car,
- and handed her in.
I Seen now in the full lightof the brilliant
I gas jets, ais we passed along, she certainly
was lovely, with a clearness and freshness
of coloring and a brightness iii tl her full ha
zel eyes and white even teeth. It is true
that there was a" lack of expression, and an
absence of all that would be suggestive of
intelligence or quick comprehensiveness;
but I confess I only thought of this years
afterward. I give an opinion, as I have
always considered myself a judge of fem
rnine beauty, although circumstances may
not have permitted me to prove my taste.
We reached our destination at my old
headquarters, thei New York Hotel, al
most a:s soon as my wife did, whose skirts
I saw turning the corner of the second
story staircase as iWe eutered (this was be
foire elevators betcame a necessity), and
then I turned to my companion to learn
her wishes.
She was gazing wonderingly and appre
hensively around her, 'evidently thinking
s of many things Ieould not fathom, but
she gave me no clew just then to her anx
oeties.
l'You need not -feel any uneasiness," I
said. "CThis place is almostlike i home to
met an Icaiin make any arrangements for
l you dtht you desire. Ate you afraid of
md{ being alone to-night, for if you are I will
ask i my wife-" But here my courage
failed.
run "Not at all frightened," she said, "but I
olon should like an inexpensive room some
eri- where. I would not mind where they put
me."
-ul- "I will attend to that. And now will
you have some supper? Perhaps after
Id? your cold journey-"
"No, no, I thank you," she answered,
hastily. "I would like to go at once to
lid. bed."
iok I secured her a roomu, and gallantly went
ur- up five pairs of stairs to show her the way.
At the threshold she stopped.
ig- "I am very much obliged to you," she
ng said. "You have been very kind. Can I
rn, depend upon you to arrange that I shall be
at called at seven to-morrow morning, as I
am told the train leaves at eight; and
ly, will you settle my bill and repay yourself
if- what I owe you?" Her beautiful dark
in hair had fallen downand hung around her,
on and she looked so gentle and lovely that I
w- determined to do my duty by her in spite
of-anybody !
3e- "There will be time enough for that," I
in said, putting her thin little purse back into
I her hand. "I will come up and call you 1
he myself early to-morrow morning, and ar
he range everything for you. I will also take
at you to the station, and see you started 1
in safely on your journey." She gave me a
3i- little bow and a sweet smile. "Indeed, I
o- shall be most happy to do so," I added,
with spirit, and then the door closed. i
ly And then I also remembered that I did
ie not even know where Mrs. Witherton had
ig domiciled herself, and so prowled around i
on the different floors, interviewing the I
le stray chamber-maids I met (with very un
ry satisfactory results) as to what room had
se been assigned to a tall, stout lady in an
in iron-gray Ulster, and at last I descended to c
f- the office and found her number. I
I tapped at her door, waited a moment to a
i- whisper close to the key-hole, "It is only I
me, my dear," and then walked in. Mrs. r
V Witherton was seated before a comfortable
id fire, still in her Ulster (for I had forgotten f
-R that the keys of her trunk were in my
a pocket, so she had been unable to get at
Iher dressing wrapper.) Her feet were a
thrust into a pair knitted Polish boots, s
Sgenerally used for snow-boots (for her slip- I
pers also in my overcoat at that moment.) h
0 Her front curls were "put up" for the
d night (for bangs were at that time out, and n
It corkserews in); and although she had a
1- fragrant supper of broiled oysters on toast
'and a glass of ale on a waiter before her, 1
d she did not appear happy. it
n Now, of all Mrs. W.'s moods the satiric- a
g al was the one I most abhorred. My skin c'
- is naturally soft, but it would curl up into d
e goose flesh under such infliction, and one a
is glance sufliced to show me the nature of c'
her humor at that moment. e:
"l"Why," she cried, "where is she--the
0 lovely wa-if and stray? How did you man
a /ge to tear yourself away ? I was quite sure
ýt Ithat you would so settle matters that she xI
ii should have a share of our room, and I
have been looking around to gauge its ca- i
pabilities. That was quite a clever arrange- Iu
' ment about the street car, and I only won- 11
e der that, after she got rid of me, she did N
not suggest a carriage." sI
e "My dear Maria, the poor child has per- ci
I haps never left home before. Consider tt
how you would have felt if at her age-" 01
I "How I would have felt? Do you wish hi
I to insult me, Mr. Witherton? I suppose in
yoe" are aware by this time that you mar- re
r I a lady who would hardly be found, at m
any age, roaming around the country on
snowy nights, appealing to the protection uI
Sof any chance man-" m
"Oh, my love, how could she tell that ci
1 there was a snow storm coming on? And, al
besides, thousands of women in this coun- he
try-indeed, everywhere-are compelled to to
travel alone. She did not appeal to me. I a!
offered your protection-" ju
"Then I most positively decline," sol- he
emnly said Mrs. W.; and there was no use m
contesting the point, as, according to the te
malner things had arranged themselves, m
her complicity was not needed. to
I did not dare to ring and request openly f
that the porter should be notified to rouse
me at seven o'clock; so, fearful that I le
might oversleep myself, I lay awake the
whole night, and counted thehours as tlhey fo
struck. Not even a fire broke out to- vary
the monlotollny of my vigil, and once, hav
inggiven incautiously a loud sigh, my wife
turned and sleepily asked- what was the
matter. sa
"I have not closed my eyes," I said.
"Conscience," she muttered, and was
again asleep before the words had left her i
Iowever, at six I slipped out of bed in
to the dressingtoom, luckily without ob- th
servation, anld when accoutred, toiled up so
the five pair of stairs to my destination, ea
"one of the five hundred," and knocking tim
at the door, was answered bya pleasant p
voice, which said, "Thank you; yes--all br
readly." In a TFew minutes her door oplen- ha
led, andl shle appeared, bonnleted and shawl- mi
ied, blg and purse in hand. he
"Will you be so kind as topay my bill, if
you please?" she asked, very nervously,
'"and to take out also what I owe you for ax
car fare?" let
i "1 will bring you up your account, and
i you can then see if it is all all right before
you pay," I said. "I suppose you will take
some breakfast?"
"Yes, I think so"-hesitatilgliy.
I)own the five pair of stairs 1 walked
again to the oftlice, and there had a brief
confidential talk with the sympathetic
clerk, giving him a slight sketch of my
iposition at the time.
"'You know," I said, ''that she could not
help herself, for the connection failed; so
I persuaded her to come to this hotel with
-my wife and myself, although she seem
ed rather afraid of incurring too great ex
pense. Now do, that's a good fellow, make
her bill as small as you can. You know I
shall remain at this house for some time,
and you can always make it up-fix it, you
know. Anything that Mrs. Witherton
Swon't object to-on our bill. You under
stand."
"I see, I see," he said. "All right. Let
me e ee: a night's lodging aild breakfast
lnand a hack?"
t "Oh, no," I cried hastily. "I will take
her in the street cars. They will soon be
running, I suppose?"
"Oh, yes. Well, then, a night's lodging
and a breakfast. Do you think" (he spoke
judicially) "that a dollar and a half is too
much?"
"Not at all," I answered. "Give me the
bill, and I will take it to her."
HIe handed it over, and again I made the
five-story ascent and found her seated at
the door waiting for me.
"Here it is," handing it over. "Look
over it, and if you are not satisfied, I can
have italtered. They are very obliging in
this house."
She looked long and uneasily.
"Say whatever you think," I urged.
"I think it is very, very high," she an
"Then give it to m~ ;" and again Imade
the descent to the ofice, tiptoeling carefully
past my wife's door, 'ilthough I knew the
utter impossibility of lier hearing, or, if
she heard, detecting :my footstep among
the many that passed.
SThere, just where, I left him, stood the
patient, sleepy clerk:
"She thinks it is too much," I whisper;
"ed.
"Too miuch?" with raised eyebrows.
"Yes! Take off thait dollar" (still in aa
whisper), "and make it fifty cents. All
right, you see. Fix it afterward." I tap
ped my hand on' my rather empty pocket,
and winked.
e "Oh! AhI Well!" le said- "'That willI
mJ~hi~a~'~Bn-.---f
~;··~··1'
ill be all right. Have it just as you ple~ise."
e He gave a broad dash through the oneIdol
lar, leaving the fifty cents charged; and
I again I toiled up with my diminished bill,
e- and once more put it in her hand.
Lt She simply and in good faith hande( me
a silver half dollar, and then we went in a
11 car to the depot. I loolled in her relieved,
,r satisfied, and pretty face, and really did
not regret my sleepless night anld efrly
i, ride. As for the inexorable future to be
o met upon my return, I simply ignored it.
I put her in the train and charged the don
it ductor to see to her, and then came the last
page of my only romance, ready tq be
closed. She looked into my face with her
e open, candid eyes.
I "You have been more than kind," she
e said, "and I hardly know what to say, I
I am so grateful. ,I was very much alarmied
on the cars, for my mother, who lives in
f Baldwin, in Maine, you know, did not con
sider that there might be detention on the
road, and only sent me money enoughi to
buy my ticket and leave me two dollars for
traveling expenses. I paid fifty cents to
get to the depot in Washington, and you
were kind enough to have my bill made out
as cheaply as possible at the hotel. This,
too was the reason that I asked you to take
me there in the cars; I was afraid that any
money would not last if I had to pay hack
hire. I have just a dollar left," she a
tinned, while the clear lovely color moupt
ed to the roots of her hair, "and I shall
not want anything morietil I realilihome.
It is only a very small trifle; but please
sir, won't you accept it for your trouble?"
Thunder-struck, speechless, with the
bill lying on my extended hand which I
had offered to say good-bye, and where i
she had placed it, I stood for a second,
hardly understanding what she meant,
when, with, "All bands aboard-you'll be
carried off, my good sir," the conductor
good-naturedly took me by the shoulders,
and I found myself at once standing on the f
platform-the cars half mile distant al
ready. t
Itwas some time before I recovered myI
full senses, and then I turned homeward.
Half a dozen times before I reached there ,
I took that dollar bill out of my pocket
and incredulously inspected it. Circutm
stances certainly forbade my attaching any r
very romantic associations to it, but it yet t
had a mysterious fascination for me. What
was her name? I just remembered that I
never had asked it, but had told tile clerk
at the hotel to leave a blank, and that 1 w
would inquire, and then I had forgotten to i
do so. Who was she? What a strange a
idea for her to have chosen a dollar bill as o
a remnembrance between us! and what f,
could be the value of our currency in Bal
don, that her nmother should calculate that
a couple of dollars above and beyond the (
cost of her ticket could defray her casual
expenses from Washington to Maine? My
mind was not equal to finding out the l
meaning of it all. d
I kept my secret for a week, and then .t It
weakly told it. (I hope you do not think g
we are trying to make a pin.) My wifi s1
had been a good wife to me, although she I
may not have been very attractive, so in a ft
moment of confidence I revealed it all. In
Need I say that my openness was not re- ca
spected, and that in after years the very 0.
slightest attention that I might have felt b
that I was compelled to pay to any young 0
or attractive girl would bring that dollar b
bill down on my devoted head, in many ai
ingenious ways on my wife's part, though si
resulting in exasperating annoyances to tl
me? h;
fJlow I came to confess the whole story P,
may require a few explanations-to un- w
married people particularly. That hotel P'
clerk was a bachelor, and owing to this and fr
also to an absurd and almost exploded idea p'
he seemed to entertain that he was bound at
to attend to the interests of his employer, hi
and not let him he defrauded out of his fif
just dues (oblivious of how many unjust y'
he may have extorted which would have si
more than restored the balance), had in- je
terpreted the hint I had given him, the Il
morning I had arranged the girl's bill, in- he
to a permission to him to charge the de- tr
ficit to me. Now I dare say this was all tli
fair, and I had no objection to the obliga- y(
tion, for, as you know, I had the equiva
lent in my pocket; or even without it I
would have been willing to bear the loss,
for I had my month's allowance inll my
purse at the time; so if our weekly bill p,
had borne any itemized charge such as t,
'washing," or "baths," or "idistrict mes- TI
sages," or even "oysters on the half shell" lii
t would, perhaps, have passed unnoticed, f"
or at least without comment; but the th
houghtless fellow had fixed up tile deficit hi
n this way with one fell swoop of his pen: did
15 Dec. Drinks ..........................................$ ..0.
Now, Mrs. Witherton always slept on
the outside of her cou h on Sunday night,
so that she could secure the weekly bill
early Monday morning, although ge!lerally
timid about robbers; and as her fathergand
grandfathers on both sides, her enly
brother, as well as her immediate kindred,
had been leaders in every temper nce
movement ever instituted, and had ali'ays
been teetotally teetotal men, she natuially
received asevere shock.
"Mr. Witherton," she cried, suddimlly
awakening me, "what has been youn ob
ject in treating bar-room loafers to dri fiks?
Do you intend to run for the office of Alt
derman of this city?"
I was so startled at first that I coul. not
collect my senses, but I was perfectly fcer
tain that I could positively deny withj en
tire truth this charge. (I had not yet no
ticed the bill in her hand.) "My decr,"
I solemnly said, "I have never offerld a
man a drink, or paid for one for hin., in
the vwholc course of my life."
She slowly turned toward me, and an itu
ated as I was with a plastered wall oa' one
side and no escape exceptover my wif~ on
the other, I felt the might and majes y of
of woman. "'Mr. Witherton," she afpain
said and-and she was wearing at the l.ime
her triple-frilled night-cap, and her black
rimmed spectacles to assisther eyes ii de
ciphering the docuinent she held iu her
hand--'`am I to understand that you,i nd
youl alone, imbibed one dollar and ifty
cents' worth of drinks on the 18th of De
cember? Then, if so, I thank Heaven that
there are such places as inebriate asylhuls."
I, too, then rose up from my pillo'm, as
the nature of the charge began to d.wn
upon me. I took the bill from her liand
and pretended to inspect it, althousfh I
knew but too well-allabout its nature;!antd
then what could I do but make a ilean
breast of it, and confess all? and I rdally
felt happier when that was done. My
story was rather hard to tell. You wnuld
understand how difficult if vyo knew lJrs.
Withertort personally; but still my .i.ri i
listened composelly, only breakingl the
silence once, and that was whien I came to
the part where I had insinuated to thi ho
tel clerk that I was willing to make] "up
any deficiency in his charg. on the irl's
bill with my money. Then she said sdme
thing unpleasant, condensed into two
wiords. dt is true that .1have Yorgiven teem
and never even alludedito the.. since; ,but
I suppose that to complete lmy story :hey
ought.to be scorded. I sai.not give her
emphasis, though, twhich, after all, was
the most objectionsTle part of their natiure.
" Your money ?I" she cried, with a wonder
ful prolongation of .ound,. and all ,the
force was strongly 'laid on the possedsive
But too,, hae t last story to tell
and though the fellows all laugh at it, do
not mind them, for she was just as petty
and nice as any gi" they ever saw. Ley
cannot doubt the truth of what I say be
cause I have the dollar bill ti show.
I have tried it vain sing: we part d to
learn something of my tragivling comnpan
save that she lived In Billon, and the, hub
i." jeet, also, ucing unpleasant to my wife, I
al- have libored under difficulties impossible
ad to sur ount; but one of my reasons for
11, writing this narrative is the hope of its
meeting her eve, and, as Jones says,
ne "weaving one more link in the frail chain
a that biids us." I suppose he means the
d, dollar bill.
id
ly A TOUGH STORY.
SOd erry Greening's Big Bear.
1- [Philadelphia Times.]
"Evqr heerd 'bout the scrimmage me
)e and Cane had.-i br over 'long the
'r Rattles ake Creek?" asked Old Jerry t
Greeniig as he piled the logs on the fire
ie in his cozy little cabin iear this village.
I Jerry i one of the best hunters in Pike
d County and his reminiscences are pecu
n liarly initeresting.
"- "I'll ell ye all 'bout it 'fore Case-ye
e know mly son Case an' that ere ole yaller I
o houn' o mine-he's seventeen year old
r this con in' spring-we started out after a d
0 bee tree. Wall, we was walkin' 'long ,
u kinder quiet like, all to a suddent that
t cussed loun' of mine give the allfiredest
yell eve' I hear, an' onten the brush an'
e scrub oiks come a tremenjus black b'ar. rý
7 I'll beh nged if that b'ar wasn't ten feet el
{ long. IWall, the 'bar stood still in the path it
an' looked at me an' Case, an' Case an' me
stood still an' looked at the 'bar, an' I'll h
I gosh da ged if 'twasn't so com'cal I just
sot dowi on the groun' an' laffed. Then e
Case got up on his ear 'cos we didn't have tt
no gun ior nothin' with us 'ceptin' a naxe,
an' to h4 yells to me, 'Reckon ye'd better'n to
get up a tree, 'nless ye want ter git chawed
into mini e meat,',sez he. Jest about that
time Mri B'ar made fur Case an' I shinned
up a tree.
"Wally Case he went for the b'ar with
a naxe, .nd all of a suddent the ol' concern
flew offeh the handle; so Case he started
fur to climba tree as the b'ar came fur
himi. I all, sir, to see Case a clinibin'
that ar' tree with that h'ar after him
was more'n I could stan' so I jest bust out di
laffin' agkn. Then Case he got red-hot in
mad an' lhe way be slung the profan'ty 1t:
'round Jere a caution. Jest 'bout the
time he ifegin a callin' me all sorts er n
names tlhst b'ar reached one of his paws fo
up an' ptlled off one of Case's butes. IHe
slid downl the tree with the.bute and when if
he teched the groun' he struck that ar'
bute jest like that seventeen-year-ol' dog
of mine dnud a rat. But the bute didn't
seemi to s it'sfy hinm so he clir' the tree
agin. Case saw him a comin' so he yells be
out, 'I'm a goner, dad.' I sez, 'Hold the
fort an' ive him t'other bute.' Jest then
Case sez, I'1l fix the ol' cuss.,
t W.all, ir that b'ar clim' a'most to where
" Case were settin,' when all to once't I see
l Case nmaldin' some motions with hiss fingers I
with his ingers. Sez I, 'Be you a fixin'
Shim?' S z he, 'I be'. Jest then the ol'
devil gave a terrible roar an' let go the
tree. I s pose you'll hardly b'lieve it, but
i gosh hang me 'f that b'ar didn't turn a
summerset in th' air an' light on his head.
Yes, sir, It's a solenmn' fac' thet thet b'ar
fell on hic hand so hard thet he broke -hiz
neck. ThIe whole thing were so cussed
com'cal t}let i got to laffin' and fell clean
off the lith I was straddlin' and nearly
broke may neck. When Case come down
outen the trees, sez I, 'What made the
ba'r tumlcle?' He looks at me a minnit
ald then pulls out a pepper-box. Wall,
sir, that ar boy-I allers calls him boy,
though tee's thirty-eight years old comin'
havin tine--had stole the ole woman's
pepper-box, jest to tant'lize her, and that's
what sav d his life. He sprinkled the pep
per in the bear's eyes andl nearly drove him
Ifrantic so he dropped. But the strangest
part of thi story is the dog. When me
and Case Went back after the bear with a
hoss and vagon, I'll be blasted if we didd't i
find that 41e yaller houn' iup another tree
-yellingilie sin. Truth, sir, truth. Yes,
sir, that a4 dog had been so scart that he
jest climb that tree without thinking.
Mebbe yqu thik I am lyin' when I say that
hear weighed 550 pounds. But it's the
truth, sir.I I never lied yet, and I'nm :get- I
tin' too"ol to learn, fur I'm nigh seventy
years o1'. ..
Hotw Isisi Trosu s srs Got Short
enr d.
A certa n gentlemar purchased a pair of
pants a fewv days ago, which, upon being
tried on lt home, he found to be to long.
That night he remarked to his wife that
he wvished her to take off about an inch
from each leg, which would make them
the desired length. Being fond of teasing
her husb nd, she told him she wouldn't
do anything of the kind, and he retired
without Ihaving obtained a promise from
her that 4he would attend to the matter,
Soon after he had left his room, how
ever, sthe s as m atter of course, clipped
off tlhe siperfluous inch, as she hadl been
asked to c(o. The fmunily is composed of
six female members, and each one of the
five, in adjoining rooms, heard the dis
pute beti een man and wife. After the
latter hai taken off the required inch and
retired, tie old lady,. desiring to "keep
peace in the faminily," and not knowing
what her !daughter-in-law had done, cau
tiously slipped into the room and cut off
another i ch.
In thisi way did each of the five ladies,
unknownc to the others, and all with the
praiseworjthy object of preventing any
misunderstanding between the couple,
clip an inch from the legs of the gentle
mant:, tro.users.
The following morning all unconscious I
of what had taken place during the night I
he rolleds up his pants in a piece of paper, i
and took {bem to the tailor to be shortenedi
to the d.sir'ed length. Upon a hasty
glance tlie latter ventured the opinion
that they were altready short, but the own
er iusistet .that they were fully an inch 1
too long. Thei tailor had no more to say, I
and our friend retired.
On the /ollowing Saturday he called for a
his pants and took them home, and was
supremely disgusted at finding that the i
legs reac med only a trifle below the knee. 1
He strai htway cecused the tailor, but his
wife heard him and came to the rescue, t
explainin that she htad taken an inch I
from ea.c of the legs. and her acknowl
edgement was followed by that of each of t
the other five ladies, when it was discover- c
ed that altogether the legs had been short- I
ened to the extent of seven inches.
No Very Hard to Suit.
[Detroit Free 'ress.]
Perhaps you've got just the house want
ed by an Eastern man who talks of mak
ing Detroit his future home. He has
given an agent here instructions to investi
gate and 'ind:
A Ihon,~i commandingly situated, in an
eminentl!j respectable neighborhood, with
Christain house-holders on either side.
All the frooms must be large and airy--
not too -much sun or shade, andt look out
on pleasant scenes. There must be three
pai of s S and an elevator.
The view from the front door vmust em
brace fields and a lhike, or forest anda
river, an the fishing must be good. If
possible, here must be a hill for the chil
drec to .ide down in winter.
The pah from the gate to the houtse
mii·tbe c!iding and romantic Tihe path
from. the ctckdoor to the barn neednti he
romantic, but should be fic good repair.=
:The g unds must inotlbe too shady, too
1ist, too oping. too smia nor too irsises
ws~m~illottesdured a minute.
afosummer usie nould
thrci ra iknsfshpBlrsdg
, I ARTEIUS WARD.
ble -
for Something ofthe Life of the First
Great American Humorist.
[Indianapolis IHerald.]
Anything concerning Artemus Ward is
the acceptable toalmost any one who has cheer
ed a lonely hour by the perusal of some of
his delicious fooleries.
While many people never appreciated
rc. his efforts to amuse, and many refused to
concede him any position beyond a medi
ocore one among humorists, yet many
e more thought him unquestionably the
he truest humorist of his time. What seemed
17 to crown this estimate of his abilities, was
re the notable reception which he met with
'e. in London. There was he "the rage;"
ke for weeks and months, night after night
crowding Egyptian hall, a famous and
reputable place of amusement in Picadilly,
ye the very centre of the crowded portions of
er London.' The desire to see and hear the
Id American humorist ended only with his
ai death, which happened shortly after his
ig success had become an established fact.
at The New York Clipper publishes a com
st munication under the noer de plhune of
"Vandyke Brown," which gives some -
r. reminiscences of the genial humorist nev
er before in print. After explaining how
I it was that he had the good fortune to
e spend an evening with the great humorist,
he says:
t "How did you first come to lecture ?" I
enquired~as we sat together in the office of
e the Hotei.
"Well," le :answered in that hesitating
n tone peculiar to him, "the Idea, I think,
d came to me from attending minstrel shows.
I was a reporter on the Cleveland Plaint
d dealer, and I fell into the habit of writing
up paragraphs in what I fondly believed
humorous vein. Every now and then,
when I attended minstrel performances, I
would hear one of these jokes, for which 1 0
was responsible, perpetrated by one end
man, and as a general thing the audience
was foolish enough to laugh at them, it
dawned upon me at last that i might put
my chickens into a better account. So I
strung a lot of jokes together and an
nounced myself a lecturer. And simulta
neonsly my friends announced me a
fool. !"
SHe stroked his mustache reflectively, as
if still alittle in doubt as to the possible
correctness of his friends' opinion.
"But they do not think you a fool!
now?" X1
"No," lie aniswered gravely. "I don't t
believe they do. At all events, they do
not permit their convictions to interfere tI
with their kindness. Do you know there i h
isn't one of them to-day who would refuse !
me the pleasure of lending him ten dollars I
-not one!"
lie never impressed his listeners with ii
the idea thal he was trying to be funny. s
He never strained a point to make a joke. i
Sometimes he would convulse his audience a
with some ludicrous renmark in the very
midst of a grave solemn de.scription or o
statement, which seemed entirely im- d
promptu and unpremeditated. Soon after g
the first battle of Bull Run lie lectured in
this city, and the writer remembers how
the audienca was amused in the midst of a li
description of that battle by Artemus q
when he alluded to the defeat as the mas
terly advance on WTashington by the fed- t
eral army.
The Attractions of Maids of of
Thirty. a
]New York Home Journal.]
Indeed, as one looks over the marital I
market, it is impossible not to feel more s
respece for single women, as a class than a
for those who have married to consolidate t
families and fortunes, u,. .unS ... ,.,5...
is the open gate to social independence or y
simply because they feaced to be classed fl
amlong tile most inattractive of their sex I
as the years lessened their bloom. a
Perhaps it is because of this mental tran- p
quility that the elderly girl of to-day is so
much more charmingthan the old nmaid of
the last century, or even of the last gener
ation; whatever may be the cause of her 1
present winsomness, the consequences are
that her opportunities of marying after she
is thirty are increased ten-fold beyond
what they were among women of the same
age twenty years ago. If any one doubts
this statement even a hasty glance over the
martial records where the ages of brides
are inscribed will prove its truth beyond
argument.
There is not at this moment in America
a more charming class of women than the
elderly unwedded, those single and inde- I'
pendent matrons who possess the exquisite
taste and leisure to become intellectual. h
Their sympathies are not narrowed, tfo
cused and absorbed, and they can afford to
be broad and generous in their friends'nips:
their lives are passed beyond the touch of
those infinitesimal and wrinkling cares
which, though sweetest and most import
ant of all to the married woman herself,
really narrow while they intensify, concen
trate and deepen her sympathies and in
terests. Important and never ending anx
ieties are inseparable from domestic life,
and the carrying of his precious, though
wearing and wearying, burden, is the
price which she gladly pays for the at
tainment of woman's highest and, as was c
said before, her happiest attainments.
Nnuman Thorns.
[Boston Transcript.] h
There are certain disagreeable people in a
tlhis world who seem to take a special de- it
light in annoying others by reminding g
them of things they would willingly for- f,
get. They are human thorns, forever tor- 1i
turing their fellow-nmen for the sake of tor- ti
ture. 84
:Has a man met with misfortune in his to
business, they are forever recalling the to
fact. Has a man in times that are gone,
wandered into devious paths, they are for
ever reminding hint of it, often by con
gratulating him that that is past. Has a
man blundered, they are forever telling
him what "might have been."
When the thorn is of masculine gender, e
there is one way of getting relief. He can
be knocked down and taught manners. el
When the Thorn is of the feminine gender, it
the case is different and not easily disposed
of; But Causer hears of one such scourge c
in petticaots who got her just deserts the i
other evening.
It was at a little party, where some score
of people were gathered together. The n
Thorn sat'near a young man who, in days a
gone by, had been guilty of follies that
cost him dearly. He had put them all be- a
hind him. But the Thorn took occasion
to recall them, in a subdued and confiden- y
tial tone. The victim, who had been sub- P
jected to the same torture before, spoke up ai
so all could hear. "Madam,'. he said, "for '
five years I have been trying to forget adiP
that. You have been-trying to remember
it. You have succeeded better than I. I
congratulate you." The Thorn subsided.
Take to the Long Boat, ti
Once on a time when Whitefield preach
ed in New York to the sailors he closed
with the following bold opostrophe:
-"well, my boys, we have a clear sky, and k
are making fine headway over a smooth
sea, before a light breeze, and we shall
soon lose sight of land. But what means
the lowering of the heavens, and that dark
cloud arisihngs from beneath the western 5
horizon? Hark! don't you hear the dis- S
Stat thunder ? Don't you see those flashes I
of lihthnin w? Every m to his dutyi ?
HUow the wives rise and ash h against the
ship 'The air is darkl The tempest-rag- .t
Sherbeam-ends! tWht nuext? The listen
enclaimed "Ta'- to the long boat!"
Predestination.
nt An old time Baptist preacher, who has
retired from active gospel dealing, but who
still keeps a firm eye on faith, has just had
a little experience with a colored man that
causes him to think very seriously. Meet
- ing the colored man the preacher said:
S"Dave, if you don't bring that saddle
home I'll have you put in jail."
d "What saddle is yer 'furren ter?"
S"The one you stolr from me."
"Parson, 'fore de Lord, 1 nebber stole
yer saddle."
"Yes, you did. I saw you when you
took it off of the yard fence. I believe I'll
I'll have you arrested anly way."
"Look heah, parson; you'se a old Bap
tist, ain't yer?"
"Yes; and I will have you sent to the
penitentiary."
"Well, so is I, and now ketch de pintz ez
I gin em to yer. Dar is just so many sad
dies in dis world what is to be stole, and
dar's just so many men what is ter -teal
dese saddles. Disis predesternation. Now,
if yer saddle happens to be one oh de pre
disposed saddles, and I happens ter be one
ob de predisposed men, kin I help hit?
Dar was Judas, fer instance. IIe couldn't
help 'trayin de Savior, kase he was one oh
de predisposed, so 'tended from de founda
tion ob de worl'."
"I don't want a religious discusion,
Dave. It is not the sadile now that I care
so much about. It is that you told me a
lie in saying that you didn't steal it."
"Well, den, parson, spose I takes back t
de lie and keeps de saddle?"
"A lie once told always stands. You
have lied to me, you scoundrel, and I be
lieve it is my duty to have you arrested.
"Parson, dar's just a certain amount ob
lies to be told in dis wor!', and if I is one
oh de men what is predisposed to tell one
oh dese lies hit's not my fault, and I can't
help hit.
"You go now and get that saddle or I d
will swear out a warrant for your arrest." 0
"I'll do de best I kin, parson; but dar's
jes a certain amount of stole saddles to be
returned in dis worl. If I is one oh de pre
disposed men, and believes dis, you'll fine
yersaddle hanging oni e yard fence about
sun down dis evenin'.
Ileaconsfield's 1'idus Achates.
One of the most familiar figures in the
lobby of the Itouse of Cemmons in the
busy hour from 5 to (i is that of Mr. Mon- a
tague Corry, the fidus Achates of the Prime a
Minister. Mr. Corry is a young man, a
thirty-five at most, i should say. But while d
he preserves the gay address of youth, he it
can, when need be, show the gravity of h
old age. mHe has been trained in an excel- d
lent school, has had opportunities of taking n
in wisdom at the pores, as Joey Ladle ab- It
sorbed wine. Mr. Corry knows every- u
body, and nearly everybody knows him, I'
and, I may add, likes him. He has a hap- n
pily flrank address, and the special faculty li
of extracting more information than he o
dispenses, which is among the highest
gifts of diplomacy. ti
I suppose there are few men in Europe k
who know more of what the world would o
like to know than does Mr. Corry. I am l
quite sure he wouldn't appear embarrassed sl
in answering them. Hiis inconvenient in- 1i
terlocutor might, even at the close of the it
interview, think he had got the informa- it
tion he sought, but, upon further examin- b'
ation, would find that he really knew no w
more than he did when he met Mr. Corry. H
The friendship between himsels and Lord ec
Beaconsfield is one of the pleasantest epi
sodes in political life. The two are insep- tc
arable, and no temptation of place or for- in
tune would induce the secretary to leave a
years ago, when a lucrative appointment a
fell vacant in the House of Lords, the di
President unavailingly pressed it on the hi
acceptance of Mr. Corry.--London Corres
ponuenre.
Falsely Accusing.
China, though a semi-barbarous nation,
has one law which is ahead of anything
pertaining to the same subject that we
have in this country.
Here a person may be hastily and false
ly accused of a crime, deprived of his lib
erty until the hour of trial comes, and if
e found innocent, he has no redxess what
ever. The loss of time, the shame and
disgrace of the accusation which has been
trumpeted all over the land through the
press, go for nothing. Ills accuser, who
may have been actuated by anger, or,
though honest in his suspicion, yet has
such slight grounds for it, that it is not
h:ard to prove innocence, does not suffer
for his haste or malice.
That there are numerous instances of
suffering through false accusations no one
can doubt who reads the papers with an
s eye to ascertaining the facts.
Not long since a young man in New
York was accused of stealing $50 from a
sailor, and was hauled up in court. Af
terwards the washerwoman for the sailor
found the bill among his clothes. Of
course the young man was discharged,
but he had endured the mortification of
being brought before the public in the
character of a thief, and for this there is
absolutely no redress in any form.
In China, on the contrary, the person
who brings a false charge receives the
same punishment as the accused would
have had if proven guilty. This renders
Q an individual exceedingly careful of how
- he charges crime upon another, The
I grounds of his proceeding must be care
fully examined before he goes to the
length of placing any one in the hands of
the law. Of course this caution may
sometimes operate in allowing the guilty
s to escape, but it at least prevents injury
e to the innocent. -
One of Lincoln's Parables.
A Rabbi of a Jewish Synagogue at
Baltimore, who was here often during the
war, says very correctly that it was Lin
coin's nature to argue a point, but that
when persons would come to him with
complaints he often gave them his views
in a short and comprehensive parable.
j He would often thus unravel an intri
cate and knotty question by his keen and
e incisive wit; as for instance:
Some Western gentlemen called at the
White House, and harangued Mr. Lincoln
in an excited manner about tlhe omissions
and commissions of the Administration.
t He heard them with his usual patience
and finally said :
"Gentlemen, suppose all the property
you were worth was in gold, and you had
- put it in the hands of Blondin to carry
across the Niagara Falls on a tight rope
r would you shake the rope while he was
passing over it, or keep shouting to him,
rBlondin, stoop a little more,' 'Go a little
Paster?' No, I am sure you would not.
You would hold your breath .as well as
your tongue, and keep your hands off un
til be was safely over. Now the Govern
ment is in the same condition, and is ear
rying aeross a stormy ocean a great bur
den; untold treasures are .in its hands; it
is doing the best it can; don't badger it;
keep quiet, aid it will get you safely aver."
Catching a Big Swoi4Eflsh.
On the way down- the party went out
a swordfishing, and. '.as luck wotuld haver it
Secretary- Sherman struck the. first flsh.
SIt weighed 550 pounds and measured
t twelve and a half feet. It was cooked
e arid relished by all on board. The man in
the boat who fired the lance after the
a fish had been hooked came very near
hitting the Secretary with it. and the
latter considered he had a very narrow
escape.
The Burglar Panic.
;as There is an aspect of a burglar panic
ho which is far from comic. When, after an
ad hour's peaceful sleep, one is disturbed by
at one's wife, one's trouble begin. We ask
;t- what she is doing. "Listening" is her
reply. The suggestion that she should
le lie down and go to sleep is snubbed by an
authoritative but alarming "HIush." na
ture asserts itself and we again doze, to be
immediately awakened by the words, "I
le am quite sure I heard a noise."
We offer to get up and take a walk
~ through the house to see if any thieves
11are in it. "Oh, no; for goodness sake,
don't do that," is the reply. Of course
one gets a refreshing night's rest after
this little episode.
e On another night, at 2 in the morn;ing;
one of the dogs is heasrd to bark. We look
z round, and finding all quiet, give it as our
opinion that he must have heard the game
d keeper walking round the house, or that,
if some thieves had come with burglarious
j designs, they have been certainly frighten
ed away by his barking. His furious
noise gradually subsided into occasional
melancholy "yelps" until, after a dismal
tl howl or two, he becomes silent.
At last we drop off to sleep, but in a
few minutes we are once more disturbed
with, :'My dear, there is that dog again."
On one occasion there could be no doubt t
that a noise had been really heard, and
we had been allowed to venture forth
with plenary powers. After examining
the lower part of the house we had taken
a dark lantern, and had sallied forth and
made a tour of the outside of the building.
After a fruitless search for thieves and
vagabonds, we had returned to our room,
and had just settled down again with a
satisfactory sense of our virtuous and gal- h
lant conduct, when we were aroused by c
by a violent knocking at the front door ii
and jingling of the door-bell. On going I h
down stairs-we may observe that not one i
of the servants heard the deafening noise- I
we found two officious policemen at the9
porch, who had come with the valuable
information that they had lately seen ar
mail with a dark lantern walk round the
house and enter it.
A Drunken Deer. sl
- ih
Man is reproached or commended, ae- aI
cording to taste, as the only animal that si
gets drunk. But how about the deer? It Ic
is stated by an authority that the (leer-at ol
any rate, the French deer-for all l:i.4 o
amiable qualities, "i'en ect pas moins
affecte d'un assez vilain penchant, celui
des jouissances bachiques." But only at
this time of the year. iHe then "throws ri
himself with avidity" upon certain ten- bh
der shoots containing a juice which fer- in
ments in his stomach and intoxicates him el
to such an extent that he strays from his ,
usual haunts and "follows his nose." li:
Thus it came to pass thata deer "in liquor" fi,
was discovered by a peasant, also "in h(
liquor," lying "dead drunk" in a ditch ,
on the road to the village of Queue-en-Brie. s
The peasant, delighted at the godsend,
tied the deer's legs together with a hand- at
kerchief, and, having hoisted the animal il,
on his shoulders, prepared to carry him cz
off. The deer, roused from his drunken pi
sleep by this treatment, became s6 trou- 1a
blesome that the peasant, who was of an ti
inventive turn, took off his blouse, passed
it over the deer's head, and im..wvised s.
by means of it a sort of straight-j.. t, t b
which paralyzed the beast's movemen s. a
He had just finished these intelligent pro- I m
ceedings when he perceived two gendar- lo
mes, who, without more ado, requested et
to be furnished with his name and addrest, hi
in view of legal proceedings, "car ia chasse e(
whose feet had been untied scampered off,
a little embarrassed by the blouse, to his m
doe and family, whose consternation at w
his strange appearance maybe readily im- al
agined. He probably had a bad time of hi
it when he reached his own quarters, vi
while the peasant had to reckon with the ei
legal authorities. Thus we see how a u]
deer, aswell as a man, got into trouble ir3
through drink; and the case is recommend- p
ed to the notice of Sir Wilfred Lawson.
w
John Gilpin and Ella Stanford.
John Gilpin was thin, callow and awk
ward; Ella Stanford, bonnie, buxom and
loving. They worked on neighboring 1
farms at Middletown, Conn., and last
Wednesday they went before the 'squire
and were married. The next thing on the 1
programme was the wedding tour. Neith
er had money. Both had good, stout
shoes. Keeping excellent step as both
hearts beat as one, they set out to walk to
Woodbury to visit John's old folks.
. Wednesday night found them on the road
pushing on through the snow. All day
Thursday they pressed on, and as night
fell they stopped at a little inn by the road
side. John was very much used up on
Friday because of the long walk, but Ella
lent him a shoulder, and so the wedding
tour continued. As the two approached
within four or five miles of Woodbury,
John gave out, and persons who kindly
asked what was the matter heard only
from Ella a request to borrow a wheelbar
row. At last, when a neighboring farmer
learned that the pedestrians had just been
married, he lent them a barrow, and, ten
e derly placing the groom in this, the bride
wheeled him in triumph to the old folks in
Woodbury.-N.- Y. Wbrld.
v Commercial Travelers.
e
[Ciicinnatti Saturday Night.)
If we were called upon to pick outa class
of men who seem to typify the peculiar
characteristics of the country, its alertness
, ingenuity, energy humor and adaptiveness,
we should select the commercial travelers.
These men you find everywhere. You
run across them in hotels, on railroads, in
country hacks, find them afoot in the
mountains or jogging over the plains, and
t usually you find them full of resources,
e spirit, sanguine ideas, and undaunted en
ergy. They are good companions, as they
.t abound in anecdotes and reminiscences,
h and you will hardly fail to note their keen
a perception of character. They are com
morly persons of very quick intelligence
and usually of sterling integrity. Those
I of them who represent large houses are
fully informed as to the interests they rep- l
e resent, and their judgment in regard to I
a those interests is singularly accurate.
s While the commerchd traveler is not a 1
strict moralist, he is apt to be kindly dis
e posed and charitable. He really bears the
test of scrutiny as well as any other man
r engaged in active business, and exposed to t
I a greater variety of temptations than most
F men.
Long Courtship.
A couple, after a courtship of over fif
teen pears were recently married in Ken
tncky. The wedding was to have occured
in 1861, when the war broke out, but the
conflict whichb dragged all classes of peo
pie into its whirlpool, claimed this lover
as well. JJe took one side, her father took
the other. The old man: never forgave
him. He swore that as long as he lived
his daiughter should never marry a rebel.
He kept his word. One by one his three,
sons passed over the. river and out of sight,.
His: wife, croken hearted, followxid her
t boys to the grave, and finally none of the
, once happy household was left but the
: patient girl and her stern old parent. The
I war gave back her lover uninjured, but.
l the impiaerble father stood between. He
q refused his consenu to the marriage, ad
e she would s.ot wed without iL. And so
r the many years rolled aIway-an obstinate
1 old matn--two loyal lovers. A year ago i
st be died, and this long delayed marriage
was just consumated.
Joaqiiun M1il.ler Again.
nic I don't know when I received such a
an shock as I had the other day. I had just
by dropped a letter in a lamp-post box, when
ask a man approached me from the other side
er and said "Hlow d'ye do?" I bowed my
ald head slightly, for I had no ide:: who he
an was.
aa- "You don't know ime?" said he.
be "No," I replied; "den't think I ever
"I saw you before,"
"Now, look at ise hartd," said he, tak
ik ing off his hat.
'es I looked hard and saw a man clad in a
te, cream-color suit, with a note-book and
se pencil sticking out of his breast pocket.
Or He wore a low-cut collar and loose tie.
On his hands were orange-colored kids.
g; stitched with black, and his hat was a
>k sort of a salmon-colored straw. Then my
ar eyes reached his face, and I saw a head so
e- closely cropped that it looked as though
t, it had been sandpapered. The cheeks
s and chin weRe clean shaven, but the up
a- per lip was relieved tby a long, light mass
a tache.
al "Now, don't you know te," lie in
1 quired, replacing his hat.
"No," I replied quite as mnystified as I
a was at first.
d "Htave you forgotten Joaquin Miller?"
"What! Impossible! This the poet of
tt the Sierras; the poetic 'amson of the Pa
d cific slope? Who was the Delilah that
h had shorn him of his locks ?"
1 ".I wantel a change," replied he.
n "And you've got it. Have you written
any poetry in this condition ?"
"Then pray don't."
" "I have been too ill and too much wor
ried by my domestic affairs for work. I
have just returned from Oregon and Mexi
co. They have been trying to put my
r little girl on the stage, and I had to go
I home and get her away from them. This
e is a sad world. There is nothing in it but
trouble. There is my car. Good bye!"
And he sprang aboard a green car, and
waved his salmon-colored hat from the
rear platform.
If Joaquin Miller had made his first ap
pearanct,' in Lonrton and New York thus
shaven, I don't believe that he would
have had the success that his long hair
and flowing beard have won for him. Un
I shaven, he looked like a: poet: now he
looks like those men who lounge in front
t of the Fifth-avenue Hotel, or congregate
o On street corners.
Ani Actor' sother.
I remember a whimsical incident occur
ring in a theater where the leading mem
ber of the company was celebrated for his
magnificent physique. One night he was
enacting "Virginius," and his mother,
who had never been in a theater in all her
life hanppened to be in the boxes. Fresh
from her native Yorkshire village, it will
be readily imagined that she was sonc
what bewildered with the novelty of the
scene.
When her son appeared she was amazed
at the grandeur of his presence in flesh
ings, sandals and toga, His appearance
caused a great deal of enthusiastic ap
plause. When it had subsided the proud
mtother, unable to restrain herself, and to
the astonishment of all around her, said,
"'I'm so glad you like him. He's my
son." Whereupon the mother immediately
became the center of attraction, and one
admirer exclaimed, "Well, Madame, you
may well be proud of your son, for he
looks godlike as a Roman !" "Ah," sigh
ed the poor lady in reply, "I didn't want
him to be a Roman. He would have look
ed splendid as a policeman!"
A snake once prevented a thief com
mitting something worse than thett. A
woman of Oude and her daughter once
alighted at the station at IHurdee, anti
hired a conveyance to take them to their
village. When they had gone half a doz
en miles on their way, the driver, pulling
up in a lonely spot, demanded their jewel
ry: and, upon their demurring, tied the
pair to the vehicle and seized the trinkets,
Then, bethinking himself that the dead
women could tell no tales, the ruffian
drew out his knife; but, slipping from
his grasp, it fell into a ditcth. He plunged
his hand into the water to recover his
knife, and, as he clutched it, a black snake
fixed its fangs into the would-be murder
er's hand. IHe succumbed to the poison,
and in ten minutes was past hurtinig any
body. The women were discovered by
some villagers and released, but the corpse
of the driver was left alone until the police,
coming on the scene, removed the body
to thile police station.
Nevada newspapers announce that vast
numbers of grasshopper eggs ara incubat
Y ing in Sierra Valley. A spadeful of soil
is represented to have contained hun
dreds of thousands of eggs deposited in
n clusters. The farmers have not turned a
a furrow this spring, knowing that with
g these pests in the soil their work would be
d fruitless of result. Grain crops Will only
r, foster the scourge, while to let the ground
y remain idle may starve the inscets into
y emigrating. Fears are expressed that
I they may sweep down upon the fertile
r valleys of California, but whether they
n can cross mountains of such altitude as
- the Sierras is doubtful. It is proposed to
e dig trenches before they are able to fly,
n and driving them in, to cover them up.
The plan worked successfully in Utah two
years ago.
It is freely stated in London society that
Dean Stanley, who recently visited this
r country, is about to join the Church of
Rome. Iis sister, who was converted
many years ago, has since the death of
his wife assumed great sway over his
mind, and has turned it toward the study
of Roman Catholicism, especially as enun
ciated in the works of Fenelon. The
d Dean has frequently refused a Bishopric,
and has set himself up as the supporter,
if not the actual champion, of all who
have proclaimed themselves opponents of
the Anglican Church, as Bishop Colenso,
Dr. Vaysey, and John Stuart Mill. Even
Bradlaugh has been shielded by the Dean's
e specious reasoning on his right to assert
his faith.
e The Astiatic gambler is the most reck
less; it seems to be his second nature, and
0 he will not scruple to stake his wife, chil
dren, or as a last venture, one of his own
a limbs, his life or liberty, becoming thus
the slave of his antagonist. And here I
e am reminded of a fine point in law once
n extant among the ancient Hindoos and
0 touching upon this very question. A
t warrior staking his last farthing on chance,
finally put up his liberty, upon losing
which he bethought him of his beautiful
wife. Luck being still against him she
was summoned as a slave before her hus
band's antagonist and escaped the life of
serfdom by the adroitness of her first
e query: "Did my husband lose me or him
self first? For if he played away himself
r first he could not stake me."
k A poor, ragged lad came to a ragged
e school in hreland=-a miserable little Arab
d of the" streets, with scarcely a trace of the
child in his face. One day, however, he
e appeared radiant in a new suit of clothes.
S"How is this Mike?" said the teacher;
r "o, sir," he said, siure daddy's a teetotas
e ler; and I never stopped till I brought him
e to the meetings, and he signed the pledge
e anud k at meinow, ' "
e A Hurs Th'isina
d -
a dren that one of the bardest thalgs to lears
o is that thou an that differs withiyou not
Sonly in opinions, but in prin a may
be as honest and slncere as touri(
