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TIEUE M"E"WS. BRUCE CHAMP, Publisher. PARIS. KENTUCKY. MY NEIGHBORS. My neighbors are honest and quiet and meek; They are in the frame houses just-over the way; Not one of my neighbors a quarrel will eek, Nor invite; and they're made of the commonest clay. They.lie not, they sigh not they care not for any Man, woman or child who inhabits this . sphere; Queer, is it not, among all of the many Who inhabit this globe, there are nooe to them dear? Their houses are all that my neighbors possess; But their houses are wooden not brown-stone, like mine; And my neighbors' expenses and incomes are less Than would pay fox a pint of the cheapest of wine I But they seem quite contented I've watched them from here (Tho watching one's neighbors is not quite the thing, And they never watch me,) year after year, Through summer and autumn and winter and spring. They are not slaves of fashion, or passion, I know; They drink not, they think not, they swear not at all; They lend not (nor borrow); they're pure as the snow; They know not the meaning of "cheek," "nerve" or "gall." They know not the meaning of envy or hate, They possess no ambitions, and harbor no spite; They rest in their houses, unmindful of fate, Prom night-time to day-time from morn until night. . Grim Death has no fears for these neighbors of mine; They're indifferent to sunshine, to snow and to rain. They care not to breakfast, to lunch or to dine Indigestion will never give my neighbors pain. You cannot call one of my neighbors a churl; Every one to a scandal will turn a deaf ear; They frown not upon the unfortunate girl Who seeks mercy and rest from the end of the pier; My neighbors will never gloat over the fall Of a weak brother fighting the battle of life; Not one of my masculine neighbors will call The plainest or fairest of sweet women wife! They often go in, and they never come out; But my neighbors are only inanimate clay, And the framed little houses I'm writing about Are in Trinity Church-yard, just over the way. Puck. t ' ZESTHA'S FORTUNE. Whiz.! whiz I whir ! whir ! puff! puff! and the Through Pacific Express, on its way to the Golden Gate, paused before the station at Fremont, Neb. The engine drew a long breath, like a boy after a race. The passengers hurried out to get some dinner at the refreshment room near by ; the train dispatcher, conductors and telegraph oper ators joked each other merrily; and every one was smiling and happy, although the day was unusually warm for June. On one s:ide of the track stood a large crain elevator, and many men were busy loading some cars with barley4destined for the New York market. The elevator platform, like that of tne station, was crowded with people. A little apart from the crowd stood a girl of twelve, with long braids of hair down her back and a sturdy baby boy in her arms. At the open window of a Pullman car a young lady and two children sat watching this girl. A strange, wistful look in her eves attracted them. "Come here, little girl," said the young lady; "come and get some candy for your little brother." "He is not my brother, and she bids me never cross the track alone," said the girl, and her large brown eyes grew more wisttul. lne pretty children in the car reached oui and tried to toss some chocolates across to her; they all fell, however, . on the track near the wheels of the grain cars. "Is 'she' your mother?" asked the young lady. "No; my mother is dead," replied the girl. "Oh, Aunt Sue, do you hear?" cried tha onrl m tne car. "Slip, hasn't any mother iust like Hal and me. I'm so sorry." "Yes. Vesta. I hear." said the voun? lady; "the poor child looks unhappy. Just then the conductor came in to say that some Chinese were engaged, in, cooking their dinner on the prairie close by, and to inquire if Miss Perkins, with her little niece and nephew, would like to visit them. Miss Perkins was delighted, and at once nodded to the little girl that she was coming out. "Can you tell me anything about that child?" she asked, as the conductor assisted the party across the track. "The one with the baby?" said he. "No; I have noticed her here frequently, sometimes when it storms hard, and ishe is always holding that heavy boy." "She looks like a picture I once saw in Rome," said Miss Perkins, "and I want to speak to her. Shall we take her with-us to see the Chinese?" "Certainly, if you wish." And, step ping up to her, the conductor took tne baby and lifted him down from the platform, and then smiled as the girl . leaped lightly to the ground. "Must you carry that big boy?" said Miss Perkins to her, as she was about to take up the baby again. "You look tired. He can walk, can he not." "Yes, Miss, but he does not like to." Miss Perkins took the little fellow's fat hand- in hers, saying: "Now baby will you walk like a Big man," and the party soon joined Hal and Vesta, who were already watching the industrious foreigners, and calling to Aunt Sue to "come quick." It was a curious sight. Groups of Chinamen were gathered around fires built upon the ground, with various queer-looking utensils lying about. Hal walked around one man, trying in vain to count his pockets, for every moment he emptied a fresh one. Miss Perkins said that the inmost recesses of his clothing must be all pockets. Hal was anxious to buy some chopsticks then and there, but his auntie told him he would see them frequently, for the servants in his father's new home at Los Angelos were all, Chinamen. The wearers of pigtails would not answer any questions save with the words: Nb talkee." The childraci soon became tired, and were glad to return to the car, taking the strange giijl with them. "What is your name,, dear?" asked .Miss Perkins, when the- child was seated by Yesta, with the baby between them. "Zintha Dierke, " she replied. "Do you live near here?" "Out on the prairie yonder." "Who takes care of you?" "Nobody but myself." " "But you live with some one?' "Yes, Miss, with Hans' mother," explained Zintha. "I mind him for my board, my father is away, and I look for him every day." "Where is your father?" said Miss Perkins. "I can not tell, Miss," was the reply. "He has gone to work, and when he has made plenty of money he will come and take me. If I could know where he was I should be so happy. If I ask Mrs. Hansen, she says: iou will hear in good time,; but the good time never comes." "I am very sorry, dear," said Miss Perkins, "but I am sure your father will come." "I come alwavs to the cars." con- tinued the girl. "I can not keep away. iie Kissea me ana saia: e orave, my Zintha, and I will come for you.' But my eyes ache with looking, and he does not come." "Brave is a grand word, little Zintha," said Miss Perkins, as she kissed the sad little face. ' 'So kind a father must have written, and some time all will be well. You should go to school, my dear, and learn to read and write." "I read now, Miss," replied Zintha. "but I can not go to school. Mrs. Hansen has a smaller baby, and she keeps me to mind Hans. My father wished me to 2:0 to school everv dav. but I can not. IT Miss Perkins looked sober for a few moments, then she said: "Zintha, I shall always remember you, and you must not forget mec Here is a card with my name upon it. I have two homes, one in Los Angelos printed here, as you see and one in New York. Jb or one year I shall be with my brother in Los Angelos, perhaps longer. Will you keep trying to write, and by and by send me a letter there?" "I will, Miss I try every day," said Zintha, eagerly. "I take Hans to the big lumber-yard over there, and make him a place between the pile of boards, and then I write. See this pencil; it was given me by the nice man who measures the lumber, and I do many lessons on the boards. I write my father's name often. I love to write that. Heinrich Dierke is his name." When the passengers came back into the cars, Miss Perkins knew that she must send her little friend away. Hal and Vseta filled a box with bonbons for her, and Miss Perkins gave her some pictorial papers and a bag full of crackers made in shapes like animals, and then the conductor lifted Zintha and the baby out upon the platform. "I think she wanted your book, Aunt Sue," said Hal; "she kept looking at it so earnestly." ' 'Poor child!' ' said Miss Perkins. ' 'If it were not my precious copy of Whit-tier's poems, with his own handwriting on the fly-leaf, I should certainly give it to her." A sudden thought came into her head. She turned over the leaves quickly, and wrote upon a scrap of paper four lines from one of the poems: "The dear God hears and. pities all; He knoweth all our wants, And what we blindly ask of Him, His love withholds or grants," Aunt Sue hurried to the door with the paper, just as the conductor cried: "All aboard!" "Do give this to that little girl," she said. "Wijbh pleasure," replied that polite official; and he immediately reached over the heads of those about, saying, "Here, little girl, the lady sends you this. May be it will prove a fortune." Some of the by-standers smiled. How could such a scrap of paper prove a fortune, and if it should, what would that sad-eyed child holding a fat German baby do with it? Again the train moved on its way, and in due time reached California. There General Perkins met his sister, and bore her away with his children to his orange groves near Los Angelos. Aunt Sue enjoyed every- moment of the restful, indolent life, and wondered if she should ever care again for the noise and bustle of her native city. Hal gloried in his freedom. As for Vesta, she was not too happy to think of Zintha, and Aunt Sue was constantly teased to tell her own fancies concerning the little maid who carried baby Hans. How was it with Zintha? Every day, when the weather was fair, she carried Hans to the lumber yard and wrote or figured upon the boards. Sometimes she had a bit of paper before her, held down by two bricks, to keep it from being blown away. "See here, little one," said the foreman one day. "what are those verses you are scribbling all over my matched boards?" "Something a kind, lady gave me, sir," she answered, timidly. "I nope it is not wrong, sir." "No harm done," said the foreman, "only some of the men spoke of it, and the boss mightn't like it, you know." The next day this kind friend brought Zintha a large blank book. "There, sis," said he, "when you've written that full you will be ready to .copy sermons for the minister." Sometimes the foreman asked Zintha to figure up a sale for him, in advance of his own reckoning. Before long, he gave her rules for measurement, and told her the names and grades of the lumber. She soon understood the difference between flooring and sheathing, joists and planks, and no one about the yard knew the best.places for piling up, or how high each pile was, better than Zintha. One day the foreman was cross. Mr. Brown, the clerk, was sick with the mumps, and the doctor said he would not be out for a fortnight. "If it had happened at any other time I shouldn't have cared," exclaimed the foreman; "but the boss is in and he's very particular about letters being answered promptly." "Couldn't I write them?" asked Zintha. "You have been so kind to me I should like to do something for you, and I write quite well now. ' ' The foreman looked at her keenly for a moment, and then said: "You're a trump, little one; perhaps you can. Trot into the office, and I'll be in there iXl (X XtW JXHJUUCXllO. Zintha was already perched on Mr. Brown's high stool when he entered, and began looking over the letters. "Tell this man," said he, putting a let- r ter before her, "that we will fill his order on the 10th inst., if we can get the cars. Put your date up there so; the printed heads will help you." "I know how to do that," said Zintha, simply. "I ,did it for Mr. Brown when he wanted to go to a party. I know it all the way down to 'Yours respectfully.' " "Upon my word, you, do!" said the foreman, when the letter was finished; "and if you can get rid of that baby of Hansen's, I can give you plenty of work until the boss comes back." Zintha's eyes sparkled. At noon she hurried home to Mrs. Hansen and told her the good news. Hans was fast asleep "May I go again this afternoon?" asked Zintha. "I care not where you are," said the tired woman, "while Hans is sleeping." "I will earn some money for you, Mrs. Hansen," said the girl, "and you shall have a new dress to wear to the church." "I can not have a gown while my man cares so much for his beer," returned Mrs. Hansen, rather grimly. "With plenty babies comes plenty trouble, and all goes wrong. But you are a good girl, Zintha, and I do wrong to speak you a cross word." . Zintha thanked Mrs. Hansen twice, and hurried away to set the table. When the dishes were washed and the house made clean and tidy, she returned to the office. Zintha had written letters for nearly two weeks when the proprietor of the yard returned. He frowned a little when he saw a young girl seated on the office stool, but the foreman whispered a few words to him and gave him some letters to read; then he smiled and said: "Equal to Brown's, anyhow." When Brown returned, Zintha was told that she need not go away, for the business was increasing, and the foreman bought a little chair for her, which he placed in the private, office. All day long Zintha wrote and wrote, and when night came she went back to the Hansen's house to sleep on her hard bed with little Hans. She often thought of the kind lady in the Pullman car, whom the children had called Aunt Sue, and she said to herself, "Now I can write her a fine long letter, if she ever writes to me." "One day, when the train came in from California, the expressman left a box in the station addressed to Zintha Dierke, and a boy in the telegraph office hurried away with it to the lumberyard. Great was the joy of Zintha. Her employer opened it himself, and seemed greatly pleased when the young girl took out two pretty dresses, made with "tucks to let down as Zintha grew" (as the accompanying letter stated), and all manner of pretty presents from Vesta, Hal, and the dear, kind lady. "Now, Zintha," said her employer that afternoon, "I have a little plan for vou. Mv foreman has a spare room in his cottage, and his wife, who is a good, motherly soul, will board you until we hear from your father. It is not a nice place for you at Hansen's, since he drinks so much, and is too far for you to go to your evening lessons. Now that your kind friends have sent you these gifts, I think you had better send them at once to your new room, and I will see Mrs. Hansen for you. 'Ah, I can never thank you," said Zintha, "and these kind friends, who do so much for me." "Never mind the thanks," he replied, briskly. 'Tve a girl of my own, and I mean to give you a chance to surprise your father when he comes." So the boxful of pretty presents went to Mr. Gordon's house that night, and, before Zintha slept, she wrote this letter to her friends in California: "Most Dear and Kind People : The ul box came to me this day, and I could cry, my heart is so happy. I am writing: now every day in the office, and every week my kind master pays me for it. I learned to write, as you told me to do, and twice every week I say lessons to a lady who teaches in one of the schools. It is very beautiful and I thank the dear God and you. The sweet words you wrote me have made my fortune. I copied them day after day on the boards, until my kind friend gave mo a book. How pleased my dear father would be ! I hear not a word from him yet. And I am tired waiting-. My master says he will 'come some day when I am not thinking' of him.' Ah, dear lady, that is never I 1 always think of him and pray for his return. I pray for you, too, dear lady, for I can not thank you. The books, the dresses and all the pretty clothing- made me too happy to sleep. Some time we may meet again, and then I may be wiser and better able to tell the beautiful thoughts I have of you and the pretty children. Zintha Dierke." Why Aunt Sue cried over that little letter no one could tell, and even General Perkins, her brother, sat very still for a long time after he had read it. Six months after the box reached Zintha. General Perkins himself walked into the office at the and there he found a tall, slender girl, bending over some writing. He chatted some time before he made himself known, and then Zintha's happy face made him ample return for "the bother of stopping over to humor Sue's whim." He tried in vain to persuade her to leave her position and go with him to Los Angelos, when he should return from the East, but she only answered: "I thank all your kind family, Gener- I al, but my dear father must find me here when he returns. Her reiusai did not prevent the General from stopping again on his way oack to the orange groves, to leave a large bundle of books and some presents from New York friends to whom he had told Zintha's story. Thus two years passed, with frequent letters between Los Angelos and Fremont, and at each Christmas a box for Zintha. Aunt Sue still lingered in California. She had grown stronger, her brother thought, and the children could not spare her. One bright May day, Aunt' Sue drove up the avenue leading to Roselawn, as General Perkins's place at Los Angelos was called. She had been . out with 1 Vesta, and was just returning with the man. "It is strange that Zintha. does not write," said she; "I positively find myself worried if the child misses one month." "Perhaps she is illor very tired," said Vesta. "But see, Aunt Sue, we have company; Papa. is talking with a young lady, and there is a gentleman in the hammock." - - . . Aunt Sue did look. There was no mistaking those brown eyes, and, as 'tho 'ponies halted, 3he sprang out and caught Zintha in her arms. "Ah, dear, dear lady, I have come at last, and here is my dear father with me!" said the girl, holding the lady s hand tightly 4n her own. "Yes, madam, I am here," said a fine-looking man, advancing, "and all mv life I shall thank you for the love you have given my little girl. ' ' What a happv partv Koselawn nela that night! What a long, long story it was which Zintha's father told how he found work at once, and afterward went into business for himself at Salt Lake City; how he had often written to Hansen, sending money and letters to his darling little girl; how Hansen wrote that the child was well, and learning fast in school. Then he was ill, very ill, for a long time. When he began to recover, his first thought was for Zintha, but no word came. One day, when he grew stronger he went down the road to build a new store-house. While the men were at work one of them picked up a board with a little verse on it. He carried it to the "boss" (who was no other than himself), who read it as a hungry man eats bread. There was his darling's name, With his own, beneath the poet's words. He laughed aloud for joy, and the men said: "Ah, his head is not quite right since the fever." But his head was right, and his heart, too. He wrote at once to his child, and heard all the long, sad story. "The words of the poet, dear friends," said he, as he concluded his long story, "proved better than the telegraph; it was a message from my own loved one when I was anxious about her. Then I made haste to get to her as soon as I could, and here we are together at last, and trying to thank you for all you have done. ' ' Here Zintha's hand rested lovingly on his arm, and Zintha s voice, quavering with love and joy, said: "When the dear father builds his house, the words which brought us together shall be carved over the door, to commemorate the happy fortune they have brought to me." "Brave little Zintha!" said the General. "It was not the words alone, but your patient, earnest work which won the good fortune. But come, Sue, let us have some music." Then Aunt Sue took down her guitar and they sang the evening hymn, which floated on and through the fragrant air. It chanced that the music fitted the verse that brought Zintha's fortune; so Miss Perkins added that stanza to the hymn. And as she noted the fervor with which they all joined in singing that verse, she could not help wishing that it might have been heard by the beloved and venerable poet in his New England home. Kate T. Woods, in St. Nicholas. Acute Anglomania. It is astonishing to observe with what slavish exactness New York society copies everything that is English. We have long grown used to having our fashionable men dressed by London tailors and hearing our fashionabl girls talk a Cockney lingo. We are also used to the single eyeglass, the extraordinary mannerisms and other physical indications of acute Anglomania. But now we have a new illustration in the matter of photograps. For some years it has been the craze in London for women who have a distinct place in the social world as beauties to allow the photographers to expose their photographs for sale in the shop windows. Among these the most famous before she became an actress was Mrs. Langtry. After her came Miss Graham, Mrs. Thompson, Lady Lonsdale, Lady Dudley, and Baroness Rothschild. The woman whose pictures had the largest sale was conceded to be the most beautiful. The rage extended throughout all classes of English society, and the pictures of the most refined and delicate girls were exposed for sale at vendors' stands and in cheap shops all over London. For a long time New York girls of what is known as the "English set" have had an itching desire to follow the English custom. They have good reasons for it, as there are certainly more beautiful women in New York society than there are in London, judging by the photographs. The first American to give in to the craze was one ol Mr. Frank Work's daughters. Some time ago she married a man who called himself Sir Burke-Roche, but had no inherent right to the use of the title, as he was the youngest of several sons of the late Lord Fermoy, and is entitled to nothing more than "Mr." before his name. He and his handsome wife were very popular in New York for a couple of seasons. When Mrs. Roche went back to England she was widely photographed, and her pictures found their way over to this side of the ocean. So far as I know she was the first American girl to adopt the English custom. It is to be sincerely hoped that the craze will spread no further. Brooklyn Eagle. Down a Mountain on a Bicycle. The talk of the White Hills to-day is all about the wonderfuld ride down Mount Washington, from the Summit House to the Glen, by E. H. Carson, of East Rochester, N. H. The feat, which is without parallel, was accomplished yesterday afternoon, and the daring rider, who is a brown, hearty fellow of twenty-five or so, was given quite a reception at the Glen on his arrival. He made the journey from this point to the Summit on his bycicle, which is of the make which has for specialty a small wheel in front of the larger. Young Carson was entreated to relinquish his purpose by the company at the Summit House, but he started at what seemed a perilous speed, racing down the incline and going around the curves" which bound the "great gulf" at lightning speed. Apparently the small wheel acted as a guard against "headers," however, and the rider used the brakes with rare judgment, never losing his head for a moment in the dangerous trip, although whizzing at a mile-a-minute pace. When the glen level was reached, Carson's machine was readily stopped. The "time" from Summit was, of course, unparalleled, as his undertaking seems likely to be. Oorham (N. E.) Special to Chicago Herald. The worst blow-out an inebriated countryman ever had was when he blew out the gas in his room. It saved him the trouble of blowing out hAs brains later in life.-J Q.. Pjcajwnfc. The Capital City. The Washington correspondent of The Cleveland Leader writes: I came across the original plan of Washington in a little stuffy back room of the basement of the capitol to-day. I do not mean the plan of Andrew Ellicott, engraved in 1792, and the one from which all copies have been made since then, but the original paper, drawn up by Maj, L'Enfant in 1790, at the instance of George Washington. Ellicott was an employe of L'Enfant, and he took L Enfant-s place after he left. His plan was that of L'Enfant's, with a few immaterial alterations, and it is that of Washington to-day. In 1792 thousands of copies of Ellicott's plan were engraved similar to the copy here, and these were sent over the country and to the various capitals of Europe for the purpose of selling lots. This was, I suppose, the origin of the paper city speculation of the frontier. Washington was a wilderness of swamp and trees at the time, but to look at the plan of Ellicott's you would suppose it rivaled Paris in its magnificence. The President's house is engraved upon the street, the capitol and other public buildings are represented, and the parks, squares, reservations, m gardens, and statues represent a city of 500,000 people. It is all laid out in lots, and this plot was put by the commissioners into the hands of agents all over the world to sell lots seven or eight years before the capital was moved from Philadelphia. L'Enfanls plan, which was never engraved, is yellow with age and worn with use. The lines marking the lots have paled until they are almost invisible. In half a dozen places it has been torn and certain colors of ink maintained on the margin have disappeared entirely. It has lately been put under glass in a closed walnut case, and the old architect who has charge of it rarely shows it except when absolutely necessary. I don't suppose a dozen men in the country know of its existence. The plot itself is elegantly gotten up, the writing is like copper-plate, and the whole work is as beautiful as that of a counterfeiter. From the marginial notes one sees that certain ideas were neid in ryu as to the national capital which were never carried into effect. One was for a national church, and the reference to the point, and where the patent office now is, says: "This church is intended to be for national purposes, such as public prayer, thanksgiving, funeral orations, etc. It is not to be assigned to the use of any particular set or denomination, but is to be equally open to all. It will be likewise a proper shelter for such monuments as were voted by the last Continental Congress for those heroes who fell in the cause of liberty, and for such others as may hereafter be decreed by the voice of a gratelul nation. A nistoric column was to be located on point B, which should be one mile from the federal house or capitol, and should form the measure of distances for the continent of America. On point C a naval column was to be erected to celebrate the founding of the American navy, and it stands there as a monument of its rise and its achievements. At another point on the plot a great cascade was to be made out of Tiber Creek, and this was to be one of the sights of the city. An avenue was to run from the capitol east to the Potomac branch, 165 feet wide and a mile in length. On each side of this arcades were to be erected, and these were to be filled with shops and fancy stores, going, as it was then supposed, through the main part of the city. The fifteen squares colored yellow were divided among each of the fifteen States of the Union, either to improve or to furnish a sum of money equal to the value of the land to be used for their improvements. Each square will admit of statues, obelisks, or any other ornaments, such as the State may select to perpetuate the memory and honor of such individuals as were conspicuous in giving this country liberty and independence, and also noted heroes of other ages and countries. Here in this same little back room are kept a number of autograph letters of the early Presidents in reference to the building of the capitol. These include writings of Washington, Madison, Jefferson, Monroe, and Adams. They are pasted in a book and are under care of an old Scotchman, who is employed as an architect for the capitol. The following is one of Washington's letters: (private.) Philadelphia, Jan. 3, 1793. Gentlemen: I have under consideration Mr. Hallctt's plans for the capitol, which undoubtedly have a great deal of merit. Dr. Thornton has also given me a view of his. These last came forward under somo very advantageous circumstances. The grandeur, simplicity, and beauty of the exterior, the propriety with which the departments are distributed, and the economy in the mass of the whole structure will, I doubt not, give it a preference in your eyes, as it has done in mine and of several others whom I have consulted, and who are deemed men of skill and taste in architecture. I have therefore thought it best to give the doctor time to finish his plan, and and for this purpose to delay a decision until the next meeting. Some difficulty arises in respect to Mr. Haliet, who was, you know, led into his plan by ideas expressed to him. This ought not induce us to prefer it to a better, but, while he is liberally rewarded for the time and labor he has expended on it, his feelings should be saved and soothed as much as possible. I leave it to yourselves how best to prepare him for the possibility that the doctor's plan may be preferred to his. Some grounds for this will be furnished you by the occasion you probably will have for recourse to him as to the interior apartments, and the taking him into service at a fixed allowance, and I understand that his necessities render it natural that he should know what his allowance is. With great esteem, I am gentleman, your most obedient servant. G. Washington. Sam is Dead. There died yesterday at the home of Mrs. George T. Pitkin, jtfo. 2328 Wabash avenue, one of Chicago's oldest residents a venerable Brazilian parrot. Sam for such was the flame by which he was known to many friends in this city had reached the ripe old age of seventy-five years, and his career was a varied and eventful one. At the time of the great Chicago fire Mrs. Pitkin was living on Indiana street, on the North Side, and when the flames swentnti tnlioriimiio cient ana loquacious pet. "Take the family Bible," said her husband, who had overlooked the parrot in his efforts to -save his infant son, but Mrs. Pitkin, according to the veracious reports of those days, dropped the book of books, and triumphantly carried her parrot to jt.i.v,a ui oiuebv. j,ne Dira tnat nao. I himself famous by this incident, and during the remainder of his life was the recipient of well earned honors. About three weeks ago there was a fire in Mrs. Pitkins' residence on Wahasi avenue, and the department was called out to quench the ilames. Mrs. Pitkin with the remarkable solicitude slnn i,.J a I shown on a former occasion, carried out Sam, and when the latter beheld his old friends the firemen he irreverenth , ejaculated: "O Lord! look at Tem." But although Sam stood his first ex. penence as well as the celebrated Kino of Troy, the second was too much of a shock, and he began to fail. It wa3 noticed that he dozed on his perch, that his head shook like that of an old man and that he dropped often into deep slumber at unseemly hours. Frequently in the midst of his snooze he would tumble from his perch, and then he would pick himself up, exclaiming weariedly, "Oh, Lord?" Yesterday Mrs. Pitkin noticed that he was feebler than ever, and she took him from his cage, saying at the same time, "Poor Sam, are you going to die?" "Oh, dear, yes," said Sam dejectedly. These were his last words, and shortly afterward he died. Sam' was formerly the -property of Mr. Samuel Myers, who obtained him from Mr. Glassner, and the worthy old bird.may be said to have witnessed tht birth and progress of the cities, with whose destinies his own life was so strangely interwoven. Many strangf stories are told of him, but, in view of his death, it is hardly proper to recall his old-time levity. One of his failings was a peremptory manner of saying "good-by" to visitors before the time of saying "good-by" arrived. Again, he never failed to arouse his beloved mistress whenever her husband had occasion to use the night latch-key. For this reason, Sam and Mr. Pitkin were never on the best of terms. On one oc casion Mrs. Pitkin's mother was mending socks, and whenever she dropped one into the basket at her side Sam would snake it 6ut and pensively chew the toe off. Finally the old lady began to sing, but this was more than the garrulous bird could stand. "Oh, cork up!" he exclaimed with every appearance of disgust, and it is said that the old lady never sang in his presence again. But Sam is dead, and it is to be hoped that he has reached the bird-world where alarms of fire are unknown. Al any rate he will not be forgotten, foi they are going to have him stuffed. Chicago Tribune. A Yentriloquist's Tricks. For some time past there have been strange doings at the jail, which have given the impression that the place hniust be haunted. Every few nights some prisoner would hear his name called by some one outside of the jail and, going to the nearest window, would in the darkness carry on a conversation with some friend or relative, who failed to materialize, however. A short time ago a man who was put in jail for assulting his brother-in-law with a razor and cutting his throat badly, heard some, one calling him at the window. He got out of his bunk and, feeling his way to the window, asked the name of the visitor. The name was given and. proved to be that of an Irish friend who had taken this way of holding a little chat with him. The voice could not be mistaken and the prisoner had no suspicion of there being anything mysterious about the matter or anything wrong. The visitor in bidding him good-bye told him that he had left some tobacco for him with the jailer. In the meantime Jailer Schontz, hearing the voices, staid outside to see who was there, and though he could hear the talk could discover no one-. The next day the prisoner insisted on the jailer giving him the tobacco which his friend had left for him, and was quite indignant when told that his friend had left none. The same sort of an occurrence was repeated with other prisoners. The colored boy who was lately imprisoned for stealing a watch was called for the other night by some one outside, and on going to the window held quite a conversation with a colored friend of his, in which he talked over his case quite freely, but Jailer Schontz could not discover any one. The colored boy the next day was equally earnest in demanding the packages of smoking tobacco his friend had left with the jailer, but of course the jailer had no such package. In none of these cases could Jailer Schontz discover that any one had been round the outside of the jail. The puzzling matter has now been straightened out and its mystery solved. The young man, Fred Hill, confined in jail on the charge of bein a confidence man, seems to be at the bottom of the whole affair and the cause of the manifestations. He is a remarkable mimic and needs only to hear a man's voice once to be able to duplicate it. He is also a good deal of a ventriloquist, and these two features of his own vocal ability, aided by the peculiar construction 01 tne jail and the location of his cell, have enabled him at night to throw his voice outside, so that it appears on the south side of the jail as if there "was some one atthe window calling them. He has used his ventriloquism for much amusement, and by learning a prisoner's name and something of his history by the prisoners mingling during the davtime has been well informed for a midnight chat with them, im- personating some friend or relative. To add to his enjoyment, he has invariably added the "tobacco" postscript at tho close of the conversation, thus causing the prisoners to bother Jailer Schonta by insisting on having what their friends have left for them. Omaha.. Bee. - Keepers of carrier-pigeons ia Germany have learned from the Chinese an ingenious method of protecting their messengers from birds of prey. They fasten to their tail feather a compact arrange of small reeds, eight or ten m number, weighing only a fraction of an ounce, which in the pigeon's swift flight emits a whistling sound shrill enough to scare pursuers. The plaintiff in a St Louis suit for the recovery of money paid for a sealskin sacque avers, in her formal complaint, that the garment "hung upor her person in a most ungainly manner destroying her peace 01 mina wni. wearing it."-. Louis Globe.