the grookhavrn Reader. PUBLISHED EVERT THURSDAY. BROOKHATEflfc t MISSISSIPPI. A BASE-BALL BALLAD. J. Smith Is dead. Thai One young man We ne'er shall see him more. He >u a member of our club Since IBM. HIs private virtue* were Immense, His manner free and bluff. He wore a paper collar, and Was never known to muff. He rarely took a drink more strong Than lemonade or pop; He hated drunkards, and was a Magnificent sh»rt-*top. His no«e was Roman, and his eye# Continually were peeled: He made a splendid umpire, and A beautiful left-field. His hair was red.and shingled close; Much sunburned was his face. He never showed with more effect Than on the second base. Being a man. be had his faults. As likewise have we all: He felt a preference for the New York regulation ball. Though not a matrimonial man. He dearlv loved a match. And. like hi* sisters, had but few Superiors on the catch. He had a noble mind, a* oka A very supple wrist; And when he pitched he gave the ball His own peculiar twist. Of politics and church affairs He held restricted views; His feet were usually encased In canvas, hob-nailed shoes. But he Is gone. With ins and outs Forever he is done; He broke his heart and hurt his spleen In making a home-run. His body we have planted now. His soul is in the sky; The angel* reached from Heaven dowa And took him on the tlv. —Burlington Ha\cktjt. A COMMONPLACE HERO. Morning at Erie. A faint breeze is blowing on the land, that makes only the lightest ripples on the surface of the lake and bay. A mile or two out from the shore a few sails are outlined against the horizon, and the course of a pro peller so far distant as not to be seen may still be traced by a light line of smoke. The court-house clock strikes four long, lazy strokes, according to its deliberate habit, and a little later the keeper of the Presqu’ Isle lighthouse at the entrance of the harbor puts out his light. He may well do so. for the flush in the east has deepened into a flame. The slender shaft of the water-tower is crimson at its summit, and the city spires one after another are tippt-d with fire. Upward conies the sun and down ward sinks the glow. The water-tower is a crimson pillar now, the ungainly elevators at the water’s edge look al most beautiful in the fair light, the trees on Presqu' Isle are bathed in it, and the distant sails redden as it touches them. Still upward comes the sun till the hori zon line can no longer conceal it, and it seems as if it must in a moment more come rolling in fiery splendor along t!.e blazing path it has burned across the water. A small boat from the life saving station crosses the glowing track, and red drops flash from the gleam ng oars. And now- the whole broad lake glistens as the sun climbs higher, but the red glow- has gone, the glory has faded, and another commonplace day has begun. A commonplace day to you or to me: but never yet did there dawn a day that was not ere its close consecrated by some act of loyalty to the best emotions of the human heart. You or I may have watched the splendor of the dawn ing day from Garrison Hill, and gone home thrilled with its grandeur, only to forget a few hours later the fine feelings that have sprung up within us, the vague aspirations that the sight has evokeu. For us, then, the splendor has been exchanged for the commonplace. Frank Gaskell has had no time this morning for seeing the sunrise from Garrison Hill, had he wished to do so. which is quite unlikely. A sew-er con tractor with a large force of laborers in his employ is not usually a man to whom sunrises appeal in any esthetic way, or one who indulges in vague talk about the commonplace. And, looking at Frank Gaskell, you will say he is the last man of whom anything “vague” can be predicated. A tall, well-built fellow- of thirty, only passably good looking, but with a firm mouth, and eyes whose angry flash the workmen under him do not care to encounter. When he speaks it is in short, nervous sentences that leave no doubt of his meaning. Alert, keen and energetic, he allows no idlers about him, and you would call him merely a pushing, com mon-place man, and seek to know no more of him. At present he is con ducting the excavations in Poplar street preparatory to constructing a sewer for that locality, and very busy this occu pation keeps him. Through the middle of the street for several squares the cut ing extends, its course marked by two long lines of sand and gravel. A yaw n ing chasm twenty or more feet deep it is, its walls carefully boarded at inter vals. Down there in the half darkness some of Gaskell's men are laboriously Sng, while others are hoisting ets of earth to the surface and adil ing thus to the height of the yellow piles on each side of the cutting. It is nine o’clock when Gaskell, after care ful directions to the lalwrers on the surface, descends to the bottom of the excavation to make his daily inspection of the work there. As he passes slowly along his quick glance takes in every feature of the work. Now he stops to direct some clumsy workman to u--e his spade in a less awkward way, and now he pauses to tap the boarding at various places to see if it can sustain the pres sure of the looser earth behind it. Sud denly he turns about angrily. “Didn’t I tell you last night to have this place right here boarded on both sides?” he says to oue of the men near est to mm. “ I belive you did,” stammers the man, “ but there wan’t no good boards here then, and Jim Mulligan said he would bring some the first thing this morning, but he hasn’t come yet.” Gaskell hardly hears the excuse, he is so occupied with his examination of the walls of the cutting. “This ought to be boarded for fifty feet each side,” he says, “and it’s got to be done this morning. Send Ms haffey here to me at once. He’s up above there by the Sixth street cross ing;” and the man thus bidden hastens •way. The place where Gaskell is now standing is about midway of the length of the sewer cutting, and be tween him and the northern end some thirty laborers are digging busily. Toward the southern end the excava tion is shallower, and several ladders nflar furnish the means of ascent or de scent. One of these is about sixty feet south of Gaskell. While he is waiting he surveys the distance between it ana himself with his eye. ” I doo'v l.ke ike looks ol things ulong here.” he says, half aloud. *' I believe I’ll have boards put up as far as that ladder, anjway. ' he continues, as he walks toward the south. The men at the northern end are working toward him. deepening the cutting in his direction, and while he paces back and forth a dozen or more of the workmen are rapidly extending tbeir work toward that part of the ex cavation. Be careful how you jump round there,” he calls sharply to some men on the surface who are hoisting up the earth removed by the shovels of the la borers below: “them bank* ain't none too strong, yon know. Johnson.” he says to one of the men who are peer ing down at him from above, “set some one to moving the dirt further from the edge along ttu-re: and be mighty quick about it, too.” “It is too hot to hurry.” grumble some of the m>*n at the top as Johnson tells them of Gaskell’s orders. But if it is hot up there, where the breeze is blowing, it is far worse down where Gaskell and the others an*. It is not verv light there, and the a:r is f close and heavy. Some of the younger men are complaining of the heat in no I gentle tones. “That's no good," says Gaskell to one man: “leave off your swearing and go to work. It ain’t a-going to be no cooler for all your cussing.” “ An’ you're right there. Muster Gas kell,” comments a brawny Irishman near: “it s not sweatin' that'll cool the air for Mike, and it’s like to make it a dale hotter for him in the next worruld, or else Father Casey's a liar. There is a laugh at this, and Mike’s, grumblings and curses arc silenced for a time. “ It’s time Mahaffey was back,” Gas kell is beginning, when a handful of sand anil gravel falls close to him. “Mind what you're about up then*,” he calls, but as he looks up he sees then: is no one near the ed-^e, and just then a larger handful of earth falls on the other side of him. He turns to see from whence it has fallen, and all the color in his cheek leaves it instantly, for all along on the western wall of the cutting, where he had declared boards I should be placed, pebbles are falling and the loose sand is sliding down. Gaskell well knows what all this , means. “.Matce lor the ladders, men: necaus. “And quick, too," he adds, hurriedly. Some of the men have already pushed their work beyond him, and these are between him and the nearest ladder. Almost as soon as Gaskell, they per ceive the danger, and, dropping their tools, they hurry toward the ladder, hustling and beating each other in their mad haste. These will save them selves, Gaskell thinks; but what of the others? “Hurry, men! hurry!” he calls sharp ly, and swiftly the men, their faces blanched with fear, fly past him. And now the sand is sliding down rapidly, and the cutting is shallower by a foot or more in the half minute since Gaskell gave the alarm, and still the men are running past and are crowding about the foot of the ladder nearest, too much crazed by terror to hasten to the ladders beyond, where they might be safe. From where he stands Gaskell looks at the throng. “Pretty poor chance for me,” he says to himself; and just then the sand stops sliding, and for moment the rat tling of pebbles stops. “A false alarm, may be,” Gaskell says, half aloud. The men are nearly all up the ladder by this time, and Gaskell himself is moving toward it as the last laborer comes near him. He is an old man, too old for such work, Gaskell has often said, and he did not mean to have him employed below the surface. “ 1 didn’t know vou were here, .Jim,” he says to the elder man. “Johnson should have kept you up there with him. But you must be mighty quick now to get out of this.” The other scarcely heeds what Gas kell is saving, but pushes on as fast as his rheumatic legs will let him, and Gas kell follows. When they have gone a few feet further the sand once more be gins sliding and the pebbles fall more rap'dly. Frank gives a groan as he perceives this. “Hurry, Jim,” he calls; you are older than 1, so you must go up the lad der first.” As they hasten onward over the yield ing sand now covering the bottom of the dark path an abandoned tool, which the uncertain feet of the old man have strangely missed, is stumbled upon by Gaskell, who falls heavily. “ Hurry, Jim,” he calls once more, as he rises, bruised, and with diflieulty; “you’ll get there safe.” It is but a few moments since the alarm was given, but now the sand is falling all about him, and as Frank ad vances a few paces from where he fell, part of the western wall comes down upon him in one swift, terrible rush. Bound alsmt him rises the soft yellow sand. To his knees, to his waist, then higher to his neck, and the rush is staved. ******** As Jim painfully toils lip the ladder and reaches the surface, a dozen voices call to him: “ Where's Mr. Gaskell?"’ “ Down there,” answers Jim, point ing in a bewildered way to the pit from which he has escaped. At this the others hasten to the edge, just as the western wall falls, hut a few feet to the north of them. “ It's all up with poor Mr. Gaskell,” say several voices. “ No, it isn’t; I can see him,” some one says w ho is peering cautiously over lest the treacherous earth should give wav at that point also, and then they hear Frank’s clear voice: ‘‘I’m here, boys. Sorry to give you another job, butl guess you’ll have to dig me out of this; I can’t tret out alone, you know.” “Indade, Muster Gaskell, we’ll wuiTuk to get yez out as long as we’ve got arrurns,” exclaim the men, in great relief at hearing his voice again. But how to do this is not easy to tell. The sand has stopped falling, but even a footstep on the bank near may cause it to fall. The eastern wall, however, seems iirm, and on that side the men begin their work. It will be along task. To work northward toward Gaskell from the bottom of the cutting will in evitably bring down more earth upon him, and the only available plain seems to be to make a transverse cutting from the eastern side, and endeavor to reach him in that way. The news of the dis aster has spread 'very rapidly through the city, and in a short time crowds are hurrying toward Poplar street. But only the workmen are allowed near the opening. All others, except a couple of reporters, are sternly kept back by the police. The work goes on slowly, though many willing hands are engaged. The Herald reporter, a tall, well-made fellow, goes to the edge of the opening above Gaskell. “Courage, Frank! ” he says; tender ly; “they’ll have you put of this shortly.” ••Oh. ye*, the boys will do their best,” Gaskell answers. “How did you happen to be the only 1 one left down there?'' asks the other. ••Well, you kn-*w, Strawfonl, I had to see that my men were all out. It wouldn’t hare doae for me to scramble out first.” This is said naturally enough, and as if it had not occurred to the speaker that he could have done otherwise than to see that his men were safe before try ing to save himself. “You are a noble fellow, Frank." Strawford says: and then to the com panion reporter he adds: “There aren't many fellows that would do as Gaskell , has done this morning.” The hours move on slowly, but if they 1 seem long to those alove in the free air and sunshine what must thev he to 1 Gaskell down there in the half-darkness waiting for deliverance! Strawford goes away after a time, hut returns 1 shortly with a bottle of wine, and after ; soaking a sponge with the wine lowers , it carefully to Ga«kell. *• That will do you good if you can possibly get hold of it, Frank,” he savs. This the other essays to do, and aftet one or two ineffectual attempts succeeds in getting a portion of the sponge be tween hi* teeth. “ It’s good for you,” calls out Straw ford from above, “and you shall have just as much as you want to keep up your strength.” Bv and by the noon whistles blow shrilly, and hundreds of workmen who have just heard the news of the acci dent Hock toward Poplar street, and from one to another it is told that Frank Gaskell is down there in the cut ting buried in the sand up to his neck, and that it will be hours before they can get him out. Again the whistles blow, and the men from the mills and facto ries return to their work, but the anxious, waiting crowd is still great, and to their impatient eyes but small progress is making toward Gaskell’s rescue. The court-house clock strikes two, then three, and still Strawford is kneeling by the edge speaking encour aging words to Gaskell and telling him what progress the workmen are mak ing. The long afternoon drags by. Gaskell from his prison watches the white clouds chase each other across the narrow rift ot blue sky that he can see. He says but little, and Strawford fears he is growing weaker. “More wine, Frank?” he asks: but the other says “No,” and the silence is unbroken save for the noise of the workmen's shovels as deliverance slow ly approaches. ine clock strikes tour, ana as tneiast stroke ends Gaskell says wearily: “Is it no later? It seems to me I have been here for days.” “Courage, Frank!” Strawford says cheerfully; “we shall have you tip here with us before long. The men are work ing bravely, and they are a great deal nearer you than they were an hour ago.” “I'm glad Jim got out safe,” Gaskell says, a little after this. “Poor man! I was afraid he wouldn’t be able to move quick enough.” “Frank, ’ Strawford calls to him, “Johnson tells me they hope in another hour to have you out of this if all goes right”—and here Strawford breaks off suddenly. Sand and pebbles are once more rat tlingdownfrom the treacherous western wall. “My God!” exclaims Strawford. in low tones, “I am afraid it’s all up with Frank.” Faster and faster slides the sand, and j Gaskell gives one. agonized look into Strawford's pitying face. Then once again the sand" comes down in one fierce rush, completely filling the cut ting. and Strawford, with the memory of Frank Gaskell's last look, turns away.—Oscar Fay Adams, in Christian Union. Ye Noble Savages. Twenty-eight wild men, six wilu women and four unclad children, none of whom had ever been out of the mountains, were led by Major Llewel lyn down to a station on the Santa Fe Railroad a few days ago. When a train j boomed in the band were awed, and | whispered exclamations of “ de-sa-ra j ta” (wonderful) were many times re j peated. The brawny fellows, who etnp ! ty-handed would face a grizzly, were afraid to step into the cars, and the j squaws and their children crouched [ behind their trembling lords. But they | were to board the train, and Hat on their faces between the seats this re markable band of Apaches was borne i into Santa Fe to take part in the tertio ! m llennial parade. No part of the pro | cession was so striking. Leonine heads j set on shapely, robust frames, with massive shoulders and chests full and rounded, splendidly displayed by tight fitting buckskin costumes; sinewy trunks and Hanks of shifting muscles. constituted tne pnysicai material ior an exhibition both graceful and unique. The keen, strong black eyes glistened iu a setting of red, brown and yellow, drawn across their dusky faces in lines and bands of original and striking de I signs. San Juan wore around his nejk a medal of Gartiefd. During the sec ond day of their visit a maiden of the band fell in love with a white exhibitor. As he was arranging his wares his wrist was grasped from behind and he turned to see the figure of the Apache woman vanishing in the crowd, leaving with him a silver circlet from her own arm. “That means,” he explained in the evening, as he pulled back his cuff to show the ornament, “that I must see her before either of us leave here. It would be as good as my life is worth to take off this bracelet for an hour while I stay in Santa Fe.”—Cor. Chicago Times. What a Jealous “Hubby” Found. Last Wednesday afternoon a promi nent business man, residing in the ex treme western part of the city, was seen i occunying one of the benches in Lincoln i Park", "busily engaged handling several hundred pieces of small paper. A reporter happening in the vicinity, and having the pleasure of the business man’s acquaintance, asked him what he was trying to do. “ I "found these bits of paper in the dining-room of my house, ana I am of the opinion that some fellow has ligen writing to my wife, and as I am aniii.jus to see what the letter contained, I acme to this place to put it together.” “Can I assist you?” asked th® re porter. “ Yes, if you promise not to give any. thing away.” At the expiration of four hours the work was accomplished, when the husband was astonished by the follow ing: Ciscihkati, 1S88. _ Dear Sir: Please come down and settle that shoe bill. It has been on my books (or sev eral months, and I wish It paid. It not paid by July 1st, 1 will be obliged to sue you. The husband jumped into the pond hard by, and up to date had not Deen heard qL—Cincinnati Enguirer, HOME, FARM A XT) UARDEX. —A mixture of Mack pepper and flour, in proportions of four of the former to one of the latter, dusted on cucumber Tines immediately after rains is a good protection against insects.— A'.) Post. —In Russia the finer variety of plums are raised by planting the trees at an angle of forty-five degrees or lower, and bending them down before snow falls in winter, which then covers and protects them completely. —A correspondent of the AVtc En gland Farmer thinks that a liberal dress ing of phosphoric acid, potash and lime will prevent the ravages of black knot in plum and cherry trees, saying this disease is unknown where land is new and rich in mineral elements. —Veal salad, if made with care, will actually take the place of chicken salad, and will deceive the epicure. I’se at this season of the year a little lettuce torn in small bits and plenty of celery salt. Make the dressing just the same as if the meat wore chicken.—A”. Y. Pod. —A nice filling for chocolate cake is made of five tablespoonfuls of grated chocolate, five of sugar, and the yelk of one egg: if the egg does not moisten it sufficiently wet it with a little milk: put it in a little tin pail and set it in a dish of boiling water, anti cook like custard until it begins to bubble.—Exchange. —It is common to cut grain as low down as possible. Sometimes thi3 is necessary to gather it all when felled by rains," but otherwise there is no ad vantage in low cutting. A long stubble is often an efficient protection for young clover in winter. It holds the snow, which would otherwise blow away.— Chicago Tribune —It is a practice among gardeners when re-potting plants to pack the earth very' tightly about the roots. The gardener's reason for this is the fact that a loose soil acts as a sponge to re tain too much water, while a very* com pact soil will hold little more than the plant needs. This is a wise precau tion to guard against over-watering. —The American Garden suggests that that synonym of meanness, "pusley,” may be got r.d of by raking it into heaps —the larger the better—between the rows of vegetables. The centre of the heap will soon ferment, and in a short time reduce the entire ma-s to a black blotch upon the ground. If all mean men could only be got rid of as easily! —A successful grower of quinces at tributes his success to the fact that most of the trees were set in low, mur ky ground, and with such shelter that their fallen leaves and those of an ad joining apple orchard, made a good an nual mulch. He says it is not the trunk and branches of the quince that are tender, but the roots, trees being almost invariably killed in ex] osed situations where frost penetrates deep ly. He mulches well with autumn leaves and well-rotted stable manure, saying the better the manure (with rea sonable limits ) the fairer and larger the fruit.—y. V. Utrall. An Inviting Field for the Amateur. It does not follow that because a young man is the son of a farmer, and has grown up to manhood on the farm, he is competent to become a successful amateur breeder of the better classes of ftirm stock. Taste, and precision in practice—and this latter qualification comes only to those possessing tact and judgment—are far more necessary than that it can be merely said of a young man that he has been raised on a farm, and has been accustomed to the routine of ordinary farm work. Thjs routine, in part, tits the land for grass, thus forming the foundation for the breeder to commence upon. It also puts the grain in the bin and the hay in the stack as a commencement for the man who practices the higher art, namely, that of breeding improved farm ani mals. A superficial view mav lead a man to imagine that the held of raising purely bred stock is already fully occupied, and that for any other than an expert to enter this field is simply an act of presumption: that there is great lia bility of overdoing the business, and hence good reason for caution. Now. who ever knew of a lot of good farm stock of any sort, no matter how appar ently hid away in an obscure neighbor hood, if of fair quality and ready for market, for which there were not ready buyers. This is not the case in other lines of business, as we are constantly confronted with announcements of over stocking in various lines of manufactur ing, and consequent failures, simply be cause there are not buyers. Due weight is not usually given 10 the fact that improving a breed of do m•■stie animals does not necessarily ad I to their fecundity, but rather, in certain hands, their tendency to increase is lessened, while an important item in the case of manufacturing rests in the in creased fa'-ilities for turning off work. A moment’s reflection will show anoth er point of difference in the case of meat-producing animals. The coat worn may be made in a day hut it wears a year. The carriage used may be made in a mout'i or two, but mav last a decade. A -set of furniture, made in a month, will last a lifetime, while the flesh of the mcat-produe'ng animal, which it has taken from one to three or four years to grow and prepare fo' market, is consume 1 in a day. So, upon these reasons in part, the breeding of the higher types of do mestic animals may be put forward as one of the best fields, if not the very best, for capitai: provide I always that the investments an i the management are guided by the highest order of taste, business tact and energy. It is not an insurmountable barrier for a young man with means and a taste that way, to say that he is not acquainted with the busi ness, because all lines of business abound with experts, whose knowledge can be successfully drawn from. Per haps there is no class of business men who can so well be relied upon to give opinions and advice to beginners as breeders of improved stock; and this, too, without hope of pecuniary reward. The beginner, if he wishes to master the business in all its aspects, should familiarize himself with the leading atock literature, that referring to the past as well as that relating to the pres ent. The young men at the desk, or behind the counter, having means, and a taste for out-door pursuits, with an especial liking for the business referred to, may enter the field as safely as he that has been reared with his hand upon the handle of the plow. His means, under proper advice can, as a rule, be far more safely placed than in manu facturing, or in any mercantile pursuit. If he secures the best, whether cattle, horses, sheep, or swine, he gets the ad vantages of other men’s years of suc cessful effort; whereas if he takes up with the culls, he pays good money foi other men’s mistakes and failures.—Na tional Live Stock Journal. A legend *f felegne Adelheid Rlchmodus, wife of one of the medieval senators who swayed the destinies of Cologne, died, to all appear ance, and w a« buried in the vaults of the neighboring Apostelkircbe. It was said that a valuable ring could not be removed from her hand, and was con scle, and it afford* a sure defense against malarial fever*, l«e K^sTowscH^g r;. .^."h Btf H^BQCaSrom thesys' in. For B B B BBdDialenfcDeiillri ^CHICAGO SCALE CO. T 2 TOS WAflO* SCALE, #40. 3 TO*, fiO. Ton §«•' "* BPj. W. Bucl i Thrilling Adventure! in Russia an