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» ID*HO. John L. Bfhkjya* ate hit Thanks glv<og turkey ai. Leeds, England. Af ter dinner he amused the major of that city by performing eome mind iding tricks he baa learned from Fat pheedy. Boston Is prouder than ever her son. todko man in Boston fonnd him ob the death of his father and fier, in unrestricted possession of 1000. When tho period of mourn expired he bought a small cir sind traveled about with it in the Epaeity of chief showman until the •ntlre fortune was squandered. Then the show was sold at auction. J ones met Smith one evening ro oently and romarked that he was about to build a house. "Good idea," laid Smith; bow much money hare fou?" "About $3,000." 'Three thous and dollars; well, that will build a very neat $2,000 house with economy." The point of this is visible only to those who have tried house-building A jSiRHiK author, saying that rom'en in some departments of literature have entirely supplanted men. gives as a reason that women are carried away with the current of the day. "In art, as in life, they always follow the latest fashion, are realists to-day. idealists to-morrow, and there fore always sure to appeal to the taste of the moment" A Quitman, Gl , policeman had a '«frange experience oné evening recent ly. A negro whom he arrested gave him so muoh trouble that he had to use his club to quiet him. He hit the "arfest" on the head two or three rimes, when he was startled by the sudden blazing up of the negro's wool. After the novel fire was put out the negro explained that he had been using his hair as a match-safe. A t the Nashville raoe-course the other day a man stood near a book making stand undecided how to bet his money. While he was trying to make up his mind m to what to do a red headed girl suddenly passed by him. He saw her, wheeled around, bet his money on the only gray horse in the race and lost it This is not the usual way of ending such stories, but the ««"th must be told once in a while. Don ^l Dickinson is about 45 years old, is iVj flue health, and ktroug in mind and bwdy. He is a law\ er, and at the head or^ v very prosperous firm in Detroit ThetV ftre three or four partners in the fl rR1| an d they are noted in the west for tdieir ability as collectors of bad debts. Fifty thousand dollars is Riven as the iN, t income of the firm, of which Mr. Dic ^ erH QQ takes $30,000. He is not only a ha ,.j worker, but he finds time for politic»^ an j go . I n San Francsco there are j onr jals regularly published in Cht„ e9e characters. These appear weekly, have a circulation of 2,500 copies. Ac day. Five days' work are requVféd to get out an adition of one thousand copies. The journals are prluted with ink upon single sheets of while paper, except on the Chinese new year, when the printing is done with red ink or upon red paper. In nothern Alaska, says a traveler the sun ràines twenty-two hours out of the twenty-four during midsummer, and on (he high mountain peaks for a per lid of several days in June it is not en tirely out of sight during the twenty four hours. In July and August the weather becomes wery warm. After this time the days gradually shorten until the sun shines but four hours out of the twenty .four, but at this period vJ^il.e aurora is exceedingly intense and help« very mnterially in dispelling the darkness. cording to the Chinese method a good printer can print four hundred sheejfc-tf - - r - A Crank called on Secretary Lamar last week and demanded a million acres of land in the West to establish a new "Land of Canaan," where the fol lowers of the "Unborn Lamb" could worship in peaoe far from civilization's vices. He said he was the high priest of the new order. Mr. Lamar inform *£ ihe unreliable Indian is •till a feature**»' the far West, and that the vices of civilization are preferable to the cutting elects of the tomakawk and scalping-kni^c F armer S talling », of Mineral oouuty, West Virginia, saw a wild turkey run across the road closely punued by two big eagles, which caught it an iustant later. Stallings ran to the birds, and. with a oluU beat off the eagles and captured the turkey, which was alive, but almost entirely stripped of feathers. The eagles doned .theic prey with great anoe, and flying a few yards, led on a tree and watched Mr. ings go away with the turkey, ntly debating whether or not to k him. he oft-asked question, "Wbere do birds obtain fresh water to slake ir thirstP" is probably oorreetly awered by an old skipper, who says that he has frequently seen these birds far from any land that could furnish them water, hovering around and un ^dpr a storm -cloud, clattering like d icks on a hot day at a pond, and d 'inking in the drops of rain as they fJll. They will smell a rain squall a hundred miles or even farther, and •outi for it with aimost inconceivable swiftness. They can probably go a long time without water. Toilet articles should now be made of silver to be fashionable. The pin cushion is set in silver, with enameled, repousse, or etched designs. Some times it is set with rongh pearls; some of antique silver, or silver with raised work in gold. It has an upholstered satin top, and it opens like » box, acting, in fact in the double »^apsolty of pinonshiou^Mi jewel-case. ]t costs from $13 to All oombs. brushes, and handmirrjWg are set in silver ätfw. All one's manioure sets and cologne bottles^nd toilet makeups ojjsteriM of^li descriptions go in oaves. given in otsr house for revenge; they are not give» for spite nor even in anger: they are given partly for punishment, bat main ly by way of impressive reminder, and a protector against a repetition of the offense. The interval between the promise of a whipping and its inflic tion is usually an hour or two. By that time both parties are calm, and the one is judicial, the other receptive. The child never goes from the scene of punishment until it has been loved back into happy-heartedness and a joyful spirit. The spanking is never cruel, but it is always an honest one. It hurts. It hurts the child, imagine how it must hurt the mother. Her spirit is serene, tranquil. She has not the support which is afforded by anger. Every blow she strikes the child bruis hes her own heart. The mother of my children adores them—there is no milder term for it; and they wor ship her; they even worship any thing which the touch of her hand has made sacred. They know her for the best and truest friend they have ever had, or ever shali have; they know her one who never did them a wrong, and cannot do them a wrong; who never told them a lie nor the shadow of one; who never deceived them by even an ambiguous gesture; who never gave them an unreasonable command, nor ever contented herself with anything short of a perfect obedience; who has always treated them as politely and considerately as she would the best and oldest in the land, and has al ways required of them gentle speech and courteous conduct tow ard all of whatsoever degree, with whom they chanced to come in contact; they know her for one whose promise, whether of reward or punishment, is gold, and always worth its face, to the uttermost farthing. In a word, they know her, and I know her, for the best and dearest mother that lives— and by a long, long way the wisest. < You perceive that I have never got down to where the mother in the tale really asks the question. Forthe rea son that I cannot realize the situation. The spectacle of that treacherously reared boy, and that wordy, namby "pamby father, and that weak, namby pamby mother, is enough to make one ashamed of bis species. And, if I could cry, I would cry for the fate of that poor little boy—a fate which has cruelly placed him in the hands and at the mercy of a pair of grown-up children, to have his disposition ruined, to come up ungovernea, and be a nui sance to himself and everybody about him, in the process ; instead ofbeingthe solacer of care,the disseminator of hap piness, the glory and honor and joy of the house, the welcomest face in all the world to them that gave him being—as he ought to be, was sent to be, and would be, but for the hard fortune that flung him into the clutches of the paltering incapables. In all my life I have never made a single reference to my wife in print be fore, as far I can remember, except in the dedication of a book; and so after these fifteeen years of silence, perhaps, I may unseal my lips this one time without impropriety or indelicacy. I will institute one other noyelty: I will send this manuscript to the press without her knowledge, and witnout asking her to edit it. This will .save it getting edited into the stove.— Mark Twain in the Christian Union. Bismarck on Eloquence. uark is no orator. His speech \ simple and plain. He thinks that gift of eloquence has done a great deàft mischief in parliamentary life. It trieà^Vy appealing to the feelings to settle questions which should be settled by common sens«. When the Fedral Council began its ^Mrk a few of the members made eloquent speeches. 'Gentlemen, said Bishnarck, "there is nothing to be achieved here by elo quence, because everyone of yOtrbjings his convictions along with him in ma pocket—that is, his instructions?" Oratory is only a waste of time. Let us limit ourselves to a statement c>f facts." Herr Lasker, whose death in this country was the occasion of a little unpleasantness, once delivered an elo quent speech in the reichstag. "These eloquent gentlemen," said Bismarck, commenting upon the speech, "are like a good many ladies with small feet, who always wear shoes too small for them and stick out their feet to be looked at. When a man has the mis fortune to be eloquent, he makes speeches too often and too long." On another occasion, Radowitz, a great orator, made a speech in the North German parliament, which so swayed the members that they were ready to vote as he had urged them to. One of Bismarck's colleagues, sitting near him, was strongly moved by the eloquence, and he shed tears. "What are you crying about?" cool ly asked Bismarck. "You are heartless," answered the colleague indignantly. The next day, when a copy of the printed speech was placed in Bismarck's hand, he hand ed it to the same gentlemam, saying: "Please point out to me the part of the speech I ought to have cried over if Ipossessed such a thing as a heart." The gentleman looked it over and then said: "I don't know how it is, but the speech does not make the same im pression upon me in print " The ora tor's voice, expression of face, and his magnectic personality had carried the colleague away. Bismarck used to tell a humorous story to illustrate the distracting ef fect of eloquence. Frederick William I. ,the despot king who publicly whipped his son, subsequently Frederick the Great once listened to the pleadings of two lawyers. After the first one had finished his speech the king, moved by the advocate s eloquence, exclaimed: "This fellow is in the right!" The second lawyer then spoke, and with such effect that the king said: "This man has the right of it!" Then recalling that he had contra dicted himself he fell into afurious pas sion and sent both orators to prison. Good Washing Fluid. To make a good washing fluid, take 1-3 oz. gum camphor dissolved in 1-2 pint of alcohol; also 1-3 lb. borax and 1-2 lb. of sal soda dissolved in one gallon of hot rain water, and the fluid is ready; after stirring all the ingredi ents together add 1 gal. cold rain water before adding the gum camphor and alcohol. In using, add about 4 table spoonfuls to a pint of soft soap, apply to the parts of clothing most soiled, and soak in warm water half an hour; then proceed with your washing as usual, not boiling over five minutes. I have used this for a year, and know it is good and does not rot the clothes; they wash with half the labor and come out white.—Germantown Telegraph. The total number of Catholic mis sionaries, according to a German the ological review, is 0,700. The Capu chins have 1,000; Franciscans, 2,200; Oblates, 300; Jesuits, 1,500; Lazar ets, 200; Dominicans, 500, and the balance belong to various congrega tions or seculars. The Salvation Army In England. Dr. Theodor« Culex is venting » is nervous activity in an Etsgîish tour and, by way of relax ation, preaching for Newman Hall and Spurgeon in London. He also attended a recent Meeting of the Salvatiôn Armv and thbç records his impressions in a letter to the-Xew York Evangelist: Havinga great desire to see Gen. Booth —the Napoleon of the slums—and his gifted wife, I gladly accepted a ticket, and was kindly shown to a seat on the platform close to the president's chair. The main body of the hall was packed with a most respectable class of people; the large platform (rising nearly to the ceiling) was packed with the leading officers, members, and "Hallelujah lassies" of the Salvation Army. M^py of these latter were not coarse girls from the street, but bright, intelligent looking young ladies. One of them who sat talking to a member of Par liament had one of the handsomest faces I have ever seen in England, dose behind me sat the "Converted Burglar" in a good suit of clothes, and he joined in the singing with great unc tion. It was evident that I was seeing the Salvation Army at its very best. Presently, amid a great round of applause, Gen. Booth and his wife mounted the platform. The general is apparently a man of 60, tall and slender, and looks more iike a Ken tuckian than a Britisher; his profile resembles Stonewall Jackson's. Mrs. Booth, who is the brain power of this wonderful movement, has a fine in tellectual couutenance with a superb eye. Her speech was keen, logical, and often truly eloquent, and would have done credit to a member of Parliament. The meeting opened with singing one of the Salvationist hymns, to the ac companiment of a stupendous brass band of nearlv 100 pieces. The audi ence joined in the cnorus with a tre mendouseffect. It reminded me of one of our earlier "Warmeetings;" and the rousing roar of the hymns, with brass instruments and drums,surpassed any thing I ever heard at Mr. Moody's mass-meetings. Gen. Booth gave a run ning exposition of the hymn between the verses; he has ready tact and a fine control of an audience. He called on a young uninformed soldier of his "Army" to pray, and lie offered a prayer of remarkable fervor and origi nality, addressing the Almighty as "You" and not as "Thou," but with no seeming irreverence. Then came a solo hymn by a "Hallelujah lassie," with an immense volume of vocal and instrumental chorus. Thanai- -' enough to raise the roof. A Black Inventor A recent issue of the Montgomery (Va.) Messenger contains the following: Minnis Haden, a worthy colored blacksmith of this place, has lately in vented one of the most ingenious and valuable devices we have ever seen. Being a poor man and unable to em ploy a hand as striker, he cast about now he might do by machinery what heretofore conld be done only by the hand of man. The result of his cogita tions is a piece of very simple machin ery by which the striking hammer is easily and effectively worked by his foot, while he has both hands free to hold his iron and use the small ham mer. To a listener the blows come as naturally and as rapidly as if there were two men handling the hammers in the old-fashioned way, but there is a difference. The machine, by an easy motion of the foot on the treadle, strikes a harder blow than any man can strike, and can be made at will to strike as light a blow as maybe needed. But the use of this simple and cheap de vice in the blacksmith's shop is not half. It can be just as easily used,and will find a large field of usefulness, in driving a drill for blasting rock. In its present form, without any change, one man can drive a drill perpendicu larly as easily as three men now do the same work. By a very simple and easy plan hammers can be provided and attached, which will make it just as easy to drive a hole horizontally or at any required angle, and the whole work can be done by one man. The machine is portable and need not be very heavy. Mr. D. W. Frizzell has Jbecome a part owner of this invention, A èa.veat has been secured, and Mr. Frizzerkia expecting to receive a patent as soon as^ * v he pikers are mada out. The Heaviest Locomotive in Den ver. From the Tribune-Republican. Probably the heaviest engine run through this city (ninety tons) laid over yesterday in the Denver and Rio Grande lower yards, waiting for last night's 9:55 train to take her to Santa Fe, where she is to run on the 200-feet-to-the-mile, 24-müe-long grade between Trinidad, in Colorado, and Raton, in New Mexico. There is a 2,800-feet tunnel on this line, and on this grade are run the heaviest locomo tives in the country. Two sixty-ton engines are required to take a passen ger train of six coaches up the big grade, one before and the other be hind, because if the engines were dou bled up should a coupling break, the cars might get beyond control and be dashed to pieces down the grade. It requires two hours and forty minutes for the ascent; but descending, how they do fly sometimes! making flying switches that would sink the hearts of the switch-house men at the New York Grand Central Depot clear into their boots. No. 833 of the Philadelphia and Reading Railroad, the locomotive in question, came from Laramie City, where she has been hauling freight over the heavy grade between Laramie and Green River during the last sixty days to demonstrate the virtues of the Wootten patent fire box, which is specially arranged for burning waste coal. Engineer E. J. Rauch says the trial is so satisfactory that the Union Pacific road will adopt the device, and the Santa Fe road will try this éngine with the same end in view. The en gine is rented out to roads wishing to try her at $50 per day and ex penses, but the patent is o wned by the Wootten Railroad Switch Company. She came in from Cheyenne Tuesday with a train, but the Denver and Rio Grande folks preferred to disconnect and tow her over their line on which she left last night. A Woman in Love. Did you ever see a woman who could reason when she is in love? Such an individual would be an excellent in vestment for a dime museum, and would run any number of months with out change of programme. She would surpass the "Witch of Wall Street," ana even distance "The living skele ton." But you may calculate on one thing: She is not.to be found. 1 If she makes up her mind that she has discovered the one man in all the world, she will speedily divest him of vices and invest nim with virtues. If he is addicted to drink, she will dream of the reformation in store for him through the magic of her affection. No matter if you point ouc to her that bleary old bloat that hangs around the cheap grogshop; no consequence 'that you show her that pale, deter mined woman who drags out her life in a shop, sewing-room or school-room, her lines will fall in different places. It is a marvelous, incredible thing, this love portion which blinded Titania 's es to the donkey's head on the trunk of Bottom, the weaver. # From the New Yol "Do I believe iai clairvoyants?" said a well known rifizen of Rahway, for merly a medicalfetudent, recently. "I cannot say th^t I do, but I was once almost ready to believe in them. In the year 1845 the building at the southeast corner of Barclay and Church streets, New York, which is now a factory, was occupied as a pri vate boarding house. As the location suited my convenience, I engaged a room there, and took possession of it one Saturday about the middle of January. Among my fellow-boarders was Dr. Hathaway, a surgeon of the United States army, who had been on duty at the hospital on Stat en Island. During my first evening at the house a young lady visitor was present, who was introduced to me simply as Mary. She was blind. I had listened but a short time to the conversation of those people before I learned that they were almost monomaniacs on the subject of mesmerism, and I afterward learned that the bling girl Mary was a clairvoy ant subject of Dr. Le Grand, a well known French physician,who professed to cure diseases by mesmerism. "Before retiring that night I went out to a restaurant in Park Row for a plate of oysters. When I returned to the boarding house, having been gone a little over half an hour, the front door, which I had carefully fastened, was wide open, lights were glancing about, and there were sounds of con fusion in the upper part of the house. I was told that Dr. Hathaway had had a fit, and that Dr. Van Düren, Dr. Par ker and another physician whose name I can not recall, had been sent for and were in attendance. Finding I could be of no service, I went to bed, and next morning the landlady informed me that the Doctor's fit was a slight attack of apoplexy, unaccompanied with paralysis, and that he would probably be all right in a few days. He was not all right, however, either in a few days or a few weeks. "Before the end of the month I mov ed uptown, but about the latter part of March, having business down-town, I called at my old boarding place. I found Dr. Hathaway seated in his room in an invalid chair, not quite cheerful, but apparently not ailing much, although he complained of a slight pain in the right side of his head. As I was leaving the house the land lady drew me into her room and ask ad me what I thought of Dr. Hatha way's case. My reply was: 'TheDoc ter is doing well. If he will get out and take moderate exercise he will soon be entirely well.' "She shook her head mournfully, and said: 'He will neverget out again. He will never leave that room alive.' " 'What reason have you for such a melancholy supposition?' I asked. " 'Mary says so.' "'What! Has Mary been frighten ing you with her flummery?" I asked. " 'No; Mary has not been in the house since the night you met her here, " she replied. 'At Dr. Hathaway's re quest i went to consult her at Dr. Le Grand's office. She went into a trance and examined Dr. Hathaway. She says that the inside of the skull, on the right side, is all sore and ulcerated, and that there are three lumps on the right side of his brain as large as hick ory nuts; that he will neverget over it; that it will all be over with nimby the 1st of May, and that you will be pres ent at the post mortem examination.' " 'Me?' "'Vou.' " 'What suggested such an idea as that?" "I don't know. She sometimes takes great interest in strangers she casually meets. She knows a great deal about your future.' "The fortune telling charlatan." I thougnt. Of course I was a trifle too polite to express my opinion aloud, and after a few commonplace remarks took my leave. "During the next month my mind was otherwise so much occupied that I al most entirely forgot the afflicted phy sician; but on the last day of April, when I sat down to my dinner, I was startled to find on my plate a note an nouncing Dr. Hathaway's death, and inviting me to be present at a post mortem examination at 10 o'clock next morning. When I entered the death chamber at the appointed hour I found several eminent physicians and surgeons assembled there. Dr. Moses, who was then demonstrator of anat ojny at the university of New York, was conducting the autopsy: When the top of the cranium was removed from the brain, andhanded around for inspection what was nty^grprise to see that the lining membrane On the right side had been extensively inflamed, exactly as the blind clairvoyant had described, and lurther, upon cutting into the substance of the brain on the right side, three large tubercles were found, a rare and remarkable patho logical condition. "That was very remarkable." "Yes, but at the funeral I chanced to ride in the same carriage with a rel ative of the deceased, who told me that a sister of Dr. Hathaway had died some years before, after suffer about the same length of time with similar symptoms, and that the same pathological conditions had been found on post mortem examinations." Gen. Putnam's Neglected Grave. From the Norwich (Conn.) Bulletin. Probably the one thing which is most prominently associated with the name of Israel Putnam in the popular mind is his celebrated feat of daring up in the beautiful town of Pomfret, where, a century ago, he killed in her den a Bhe wolf which had been depredating upon the surrounding country. But this Revolutionary hero's fame does not depend upon this single and abnor mally magnified incident of his career, and there is considerable ground for the indignant complaints which are publicly made about the neglect of his frave in the old cemetery in the neigh oring town of Brooklyn. The spot of his burial is marked by a marble slab lying flat on a heap of stones and badly chipped by relic hunters. It seems strange that in these days of monuments a suitable one has not bfc.m erected to commemorate the vir tues of him who distinguished himself in the French war; who was captured and nearly roasted alive by Indians in 1758, who was conspicuous for hu bravery in the cause of liberty at the Battle of Bunker Hill, who became a Major-General in 1775, who was ap pointed commander of che Army of the Highlands in New York in 1777, who superintended the erection of the fortifications at West Point, and who, while the command in Connecticut, displayed his bravery and intrepidity in various perils of his time. In Alaska in midsummer, according to an interesting letter, the almost continuous light of day shines upon bright green slopes, shaded here and there with dark timber belts, rising up from the deep blue waters. An end less variety of bright hued flowers, the hum of inseöts and melodius song of birds, together with a degree of heat dispensed by the solor orb, which to our thickened blood appears oppres sive, would cause astfanger suddenly transplanted there so think himself in any country but JSTRAUr.\ >f Water Which ord (Ct.) Times. It is not easy for anybody to ixe, or even to correctly imagine. vast amount of, water which is pour ed out of the sky in a great August rain, like this one which during the first three or four days of the present month has deluged so many and so widely-separated parts of ourcountrv. It is not easy to understand in the 1 "realizing" sense, however fully we may comprehend the fact intellect ually, how so much solid water can be «upended in the form of invisible, va por in the air. True, it is no longer invisible, when it has been condensed in the form of heavy rain clouds, but it was all there, invisibly—somewhere in the wide realm of air—before it be came thus condensed. Take the ending part of that great storm for an example—what must have been the actual amount of water that was poured down, from Chicago to Maine, from Maryland and the Ohio to the White Mountains? It rained seemingly as never before, in all those regions. Throughout the greater part of the Middle States it made destructive river floods. In the region about Chicago it amounted to a precipitation of about five and one half inches. In Maryland it was not much less, and New York State re ceived its share ot the general drench ing. Here in Southern N ew England the downpour was such as was never ex ceeded—if indeed it was ever equaled. In this immediate region the rainfall in one continuous rain, from Monday after noon to 3 o'clock Tuesday morning, amounted almost to 6 inches. The great October rain, of the 1st and 2d of October, 1869, which such ruinous work throughout Connecticut (chiefly by the immense precipitation on the second day), did not exhibit such a steady and tremendous downpour as that of Tuesday, August 4, 1885, be tween the hours of 1 and 3 o'clock in the morning. The volume of this August rain is shown in the flooded streams, which everywhere continue to be flooded long after the usual time for rain floods to disappear. The Connecticut rives itself has kept rising for a day and a half after the storm, the rain having added about six feet to its height. It was a heavy rain in the White mountains, the gauge at the Signal Service station on the summit showing four and one-half inches. This great rain came inland from the Gulf of Mexico. Following the Mis sissippi valley northward, the storm was central at Detroit. It extended eastward all the way from the Missis sippi river to the Atlantic seaboard— pouring as huge a flood upou New England as upon most of the great in termediate breadth of country. It is impossible to estimate any such quantity of water. Even of the amount tnat was poured out upon our own little State, it is impossible to get any adequate idea. If we were to imagine the area of Connecticut to be a perfect ly flat, level surface, and the average amount of rain for that one storm to be not five, but not quite three inches —what, then, would be the aggregate quantity of water that was emptied from the clouds upon our area of not quite 5,000 square miles? Who can fet any adequate conception of it? Emptied in the same time into the world's greatest river, it would affect the volume of the Amazon. And this for only one little spot in the area of the actual downpour. Connecticut, compared with the area, covers less re lative space than a dinner-plate on a big dinnor-table. It was almost as if the great lakes had burst their bounds and simultaneously emptied them selves upon the country on this side. Glimpse of an Attractive Mur S derer. Naw York Correspondence Albany Evening Journal. Jere Dunn is one of the bad men of Now York city. He is a man of invin cible courage, and gamblers and fight ers of every degree are in absolute fear of him. It is not only because he killed Elliott and Hughes, but because he is known to be always armed, quick as a flash, and utterly ignorant of the meaning of the word fear. If Dunn happened to be a little more refined in manner, he would be a double of the fambler John Oakhurst, whom Brete larte introduced in so many of his early sketches. He is usually called a handsome man. He h as a square face, a well-trimmed dark beard, parted in the middle, and he always wears a perfectly-fitting frock coat and a high hat. The expression of his face is stern, alert and fixed. Ha is ac tranquil as a wooden Indian. The first time the writer ever saw him -was immediately after the killing of Elliott in Chicago. A party was going to a prîïe fight in Flushing, and among fifty or sixty persons present there were about forty of ffiè toughest citizens of New York. On the W3y down to the grounds on the boat the one subject of conversation was the death of Elliott, and vengeance loud and deep on Dunn was pronounced everywhere. It was said that he would never dare to come to New York again. While the crowd was waiting for the principals to appear, there was a rustle, a whisper and a move ment among the toughs as their eyes turned on Jere Dunn, who suddenly walked in among them as calm, col lected and unmoved as ever. He was correctly dressed, evidently in admir able health, and he looked around at the scowling faces without a _ trace of embarrassment or apprehension. Street Temptations. There are parents who were shocked by the recent revelation of v ices in Lon don, and yet who are unconsious of the fact that they are permitting their own children to be exposed to the same temptations that brought the youth of London to ruin. In every city in this country it is usual to find the streets crowded in the evening with young people—boys andgiris—who are treadiug dangerous paths. Any even ing you will find boys at the corners or lounging by the doors of saloons listening to the ribald talk of those in side. These boys are in the nursery of crime. The ranks of criminals are be ing constantly recruited from this class. They grow with marvelous rapidity. Girls in their teens are also found on the streets. You see them going up and down or loitering on the corners by twos or threes; girls of respectable parentage, who perhaps have their mothers'consent to walk out awhile, not knowingthat frequent ly by their actions these young daugh ters are encouraging the familiar at tentions of those scavengers of the devil, the male flirts, whose notice has so often been the forerunner of moral degradation. Whenever a girl chafes at the love guard which a mother's anxiety throws about her she has started on the downward course, the end of which is a blasted home, a mother's heart broken and a father's head bowed in shame. If fathers and mothers wish to save their children they must make their homes happy for the boys and girls within them, and thus keep them out of the street. An agent has just purchased a large tract of land in Dallas county, in the Northeastern part of Texas, for a col ony of 156 families from Connecticut, who will take possession next fall. A KraUIMMM »fth« Wasw Grand Army Gaaatt*. I enlisted in the year 1862, !a » small western town,under the lamented Gilbert Hathaway, who later in the war, while we served in the famous "Provisional Brigade," sealed his de votion to the Union and the old flag with his life's blood. While the subse quent years brought us new and meri torious commanders, and the years themselves were so pregnant with events, with battleç lost and won, with capture and prison life upon Belle Isle, his memory was ever held sacred by the men, who served under him, for they knew and loved him as a brave Christian soldier. It was in the yard surrounding tke coOhty court house, where the muster ing officer had his quarters, and where men were eagerly enlisting to serve their country. Crowds of people were thronging that day to listen to the speaking from the steps of the build ing. I had concluded the oath my ad vanced years entitled me to take, and as I stepped back my place was filled by a slight, boyish form with smooth face that did not seem nearly so good a passport to the oath without ques tion. I was struck by the clear-cut features, and the honest, vigorous ex pression of the boy's eyes; eyes that were of a calm, determined blue. He was expostulated with by the officers, and told that he was too young, to stand back, &c. The boy insisted that notwithstanding his youth there was no one to dispute his right to serve his country in her hour of need. After some questioning and ascer taining that the boy was an orphan, with no one to interpose objections, he was duly sworn in as "Richard Moss," and assigned to Co. "H." I walked beside him to the rendez vous, and laying my hand upon his shoulder said to him, "Richard, we are destined to be comrades-in-arms, and I trust you fully understand the step you have taken." He expressed grat itude that we were to be comrades, said he only understood that his coun try needed his services, and that he was willing to accord them, and that there never could be a moment's re gret for the course he had taken. Although the disparity in our ages would imply that we were illy-mated, we thus became mess-mates, and an affection sprang up between us that only ended with the going out of that young, devoted life upon the field oi carnage. We were ordered "front," and in the Buel-Bragg campaign we were duly ini tiated into the details of a soldier's life, and into the terrible sequence of an internecine war. Around the bivouac, and upon lone ly watches I learned the history of my boy's early life. He was born in Ten nessee, and at 12 years old his parents had died and were buried near Nash ville, leaving only himself and an old er brother, who still lived, at the be ginning of the war in east Tennessee. At the death of his parents he had been confided to the care of a maiden aunt who lived in New Hampshire,and with her he had lived and been educa ted up to her death, which occurred simultaneously with the breaking out of the war. Our campaign lay in the once beauti ful Tennessee Valley, so familiar with his early life, before the devastating hand of war, that subsequently laia ■waste this fair land, before the dread ful civil strife with its hot breath swept over it like the blighting simoon, leaving this beantiful valley a dreary wilderness with great blackened chim neys standing out here and there against the war bronzed sky, like grim sentinels guarding the ashes of once happy homes. The army had camped for the night, and as we stood in the fast receding sunlight, and looked out over the val ley, athwart which the shadows were deepening, he pointed away to where two large chimneys were visible against the twilight sky, and while the' shad ows that had crept up over the valley seemed to have entered hi3 soul, he said, "That was once our home," and the look of unutterable anguish that came over the sweet, blue eyes, I can not forget. I said, "Come away, Richard, you see the hour of regr et you once so confidently thought should never come, is now here." "No, no," he said, "Ido not mean that, you wrong me| but, oh, it is so desolate, so desolate." I said no more, but as we still sât therein the deeper and darker shadows of night, I remembered that ;"a sorrow's crown of sorrow is remem bering happier things," and as I watched the stars, one by one, assume their sphere allotted them in space, I found myself questioning the wisdom, mercy and omnipotence of the God who had spoken them into being, and spec ulating as to whether in caring-for all cursf5thepas8ion and prejudices of bad and ambitious men, who through sectional hate and damnable heresies had brought about the disintegration of our happy country, and sorrow and desolation to thousands of happy homes. ,these worlds he had not forgotten oitrtp and I found it in my heart, too, to The campaign, after some months of weary marching and some fighting, cul minated at last in the battle of "Stone River," or Murfreesboro, abattleboth lost and won upon that memorable last day of the year, a batt le that left us victors, so far as the objective point attained could make it, but at a sac rifice that would scarcely entitle us to the name of victory. With the going out of the old year, amidst the smoke and fire of battle, came sorrow and bitter desolation to many hearth stones, to many households, whose loved ones had laid down their lives in defense of the old flag. Company H numbered more dead than living that night. Less than a score of us gathered around our little fire with sad hearts and subdued voices, for out upon the field in our front lay our comrades who had an swered to their last roll-call upon earth, and while the pitiless rain fell tirelessly upon the upturned face ot the tenantless clay, their souls had gone to await the final roll-call before the great white throne in Heaven. Our regiment was assigned here to the Independent Provisional Brigade, and early in the spring of that year we left the army still quartered at Murfree boro, and started upon a raid through the interior of Alabama and Georgia to the rear of the rebel army. We were captured near Rome, Ga., upon the 3d of May, by Brigadier Gen eral Forrest's cavalry, and were soon upon our way to Richmond and Belle Isle. We were taken by way of East Tennessee, and as we approached Strawberry Plains, Richard told me he had reason to believe he might hear something of his brother, as he lived in that vicinity before the breaking out of the war. 1 It was a beautiful morning, and we stood in the door of the box car as I the train stopped at a small station [called Mossyside. Richard clutched my arm convulsively, and I can never forget the look of joy, mingled with Borrow, cub he cried in a broken voice, !"My brother! Oh! my brother!" In the vast crowd gathered there to ■M the Yankee prisoners there was a •prbÄnaj'or of commanding that I knew intuitively musf be Rich ard's brother. Calling a small boy and pointing the major out I asked to have him come to the car. As lie came toward the car, uncon scious of whom he was to meet, I could not but admire his handsome and dashing appearance. He came close up without recognizing Richard, who, pale as death, seemed unable to speak, but reaching forth his hand seemed the signal of recognition, and the ma jor stopped short as though a bullet had entered his heart. "No," he said, "you are no longer a brother of mine. I do not know you." Poor Richard could not speak for tears and choking sobs. "Major," I said, "you will break the boys heart by your cruelty. It would be the part of humanity, at least, to ffllro ltidhariii." "What Yankee hireling are you who presume to dictate to me? I tell you. No! I would not pollute myself by the touch of a hand, though it be a brother's that brings devastation and death to a land where our dead father and mother lie buried." What more he said was lost amid the noise of the moving train. I sought our corner of the car and tried to soothe the poor boy by tell ing him it would all be right, our war would soon bo over, and then all differences could be righted. But my task was 'no easy one, and it was late at night before he fell asleep in my arms. Our prison life, fortunately, was of short duration. We were exchanged that same summer, and gladly bid adieu to Belle Isle and its horrors. We were sent to the front that same fall, and in the winter of 1864 found the remnant of our regiment collected in Nashville, where Gen. Thomas was organizing an army to oppose Hood's advancing forces. The battle of Nashville and the grand and glorious victory "Pap" Thomas achieved over Hood is a matter of his tory. The brigade to which we had been assigned fought upon the left the first day, and night found us in terri bly decimated ranks. I had been dis abled in the afternoon and taken from the field, but my wounds proved to be of no serious nature, and I rejoined the regimentrjust at dark; and learned with grief that Richard, who had fought like a hero all day, was missing. The following day witnessed the ut ter rout and defeat of the rebel army, and our next duty was to care for our suffering wounded and the dead. It was up over the hill, on the siteof the old cemetery, where the dead of both armies lay in the thicket, that we found poor Richard, his bridle-arm shot off at the shoulder. He lay be side a horse with a rebel soldier be neath, or partly under it, and not un til we raised him up did we notice that their hands were clasped and stiffened in death, and not until then did recognize in the pallid features of the dead rebel the brother of Richard. Nearly twenty years have passed Bince then, and the then grizzled hair has grown whiter than snow, but that hour comes back to me to-night with a reality that unmans me. There are bright pictures upon my walls, of landscape, history and flowers, but there is a picture ever present with me upon the walls of memory. The dead boy—my boy, for I loved him as my own—and his rebel brother, with the dead horse and bro ken ammunition wagon as a back ground, upon the field of death and carnage. We buried them in one gravé w'.i they fell; and upon the little slab we put at the grave is inscribed, "George and Richard Moss, united in death, 1864." A Tale of the Sea. The Ceylon Gazette of the 13th of June gives the following narrative of the only survivor of the steamer Speks Hall, which recently foundered: "When I came to the surface after being washed off the bridge, I and Quartermaster Usher were clinging to the same life-buoy, and I saw the fun nel of the Speke Hall going under water. Boats and everything had been smashed to pieces and washed away; and, indeed, if the boats had been available, they could not have lived m such water. Catching a spar, I aban doned the life-buoy to Uener. It was dark at the time, and I could not see him, and I saw nothing more of him or any one else. At daylight I managed to se cure another spar. I lashed the two spars together with my belt, crosswise, so that I was able to sit on the center. I could not have held on much longer to the single spar, because every now and then the spar would fall above me and my head would go under water. When daylight set in the sea and the wind had gone down, it came on rain. I had a sou'-wester on, luckily, and I held it up till I caught about a cupful of water. I believe that saved my life for I had swallowed a good deal of salt water, and my mouth was parch ed. I saw nothing that day except pieces -Of wreck flo at ing ab out. On the morfrtn^-tTfTTfif^TttcOnd 'Afny—l»*.w th" smoke of a steamer a long distance off. She passed on without seeing me. I saw one or two others during the day, but they were still too far off. About the middle of the second day a shark came rushing along at great speed. It was not a very large one— about nine feet long. I was sitting on the cross piece with my feet under neath. The shark rushed over one piece of wood, and I fancy he got the other arm of the raft in his teeth, be cause he stopped suddenly. I had a piece of stick about three feet long which I picked up, thinking it might be useful for hoisting my cap on as a signal. I poked him with this stick and he cleared off at once and I never saw anything more of him. That night a steamer passed quite close to me. I could see all her lights, but, the night being dark, she did not observe me. I hailed her, but she was too far off to hear me. I dozed off once or twice, but whenever I dozed I fell into the water. I didn't feel much incon venience from the sun. My hat saved me. On the morning of the tiiird day I saw a steamer and a sail. I took my coat off and hoisted it on the stick, and tried to attract her attention. She altered her course, and came straight toward me, and I fancied she had seen me; but presently she altered her course, and steered away from me. I had almost given up hope then. "Later in the same day another and much larger shark visited me, but did not come within the circle of the raf'_. He waB a tremendous fellow, twenty feet long at least, and I gave myself up as lost when I saw him. Nothing more occurred until evening. The sun began to get low, and I could not see anything all round the horizon, and I made up my mind for another night. I must have gone off into a longer doze than usual, for I fell of the raft on my face; and when I got up again the French steamer Peiho seemed close on me, as if it had sprung out of the wat er. I had nothing to signal with but my hat. I held it up as high as I could, and one of the soldiers on board saw me. A boat was lowered and an officer and four men came over to me, and took me on board, where they treated me very kindly." The Miller cheese îact'iry at Dale, ten tfKSS «ÄS was insand lor $1,300. H»w Ou of Lincoln'* lay««» by a Braak H» From tHo Kttabnn? Diap*** •Th. most impresal? 6 "* t saw, I think, was at ■ . c. w iMc '65," said Detactive recently. The ÎJetectiv« i 3 of Perkins' Agency, time Sheriff of OswàfO The conversation was jà-ought a by a remark upon Vaf 'ta&preasiv of the funeral servicesoverGen .Gj "The sight of a man going to hi funeral, with the band playing march, is calculated to impress he continued. "That is the know, with a man condemned by court-martial The case I spoke happened in Janaa and the wonderful escape of demned parties is goiu^thii never forget. Two Iri Shea and Michael Do. sentenced to be shot There was considerable of the men. It was in big bounties, and the men had enlisted for so; $1,000 a piece. In a few da; both missing, and were not three or four weeks. They v and their money was abdut truth of the matter was tha" no case of willful desertion had got on a drunk, and h sobered up enough to real position. They were badly and were attended by two pi can remember the place w were marched up on a little h: level plateau, and the soldi into three sides of a hollow The two men, accompaiiv priests, and preceded by playing the dead maroir around tha inside of this stopped nearly in the centei side of their open coffins were in earnest conversa* them, and the minutes roll they grew into an hour. Twel came, and Gen. Stevenson ga for the priests to leave themei reluctantly they did bo , p: their leave-taking upon one and mother as long as they Everything was at last liado and it was only a matter of between the men and eternity, the General's orderly rode up, ing his hat and yelling at the t! his voice. It was a reprive Lincoln. "It seems that the priesta ha< graphed the President the night b asking for a reprieve, and stating there were mitigating circumstai Lincoln, who was always looking an excuse to save a man's life, rep edthem. Gen. Stevenson's headq ters were nearly a mile from whei were, and the telegraph office wa> his headquarters. He had leftj mounted orderly there with instr, tion to pu8h through any dispati that come. Nothing came until a f< ( minutes before 12 and the order' dashed away. He had to go up steep hill, nearly half a When he reached the top his .badly winded, and could He met a citizen on a go#tfl horse, ai without any ceremoij#p U i] e (i the tleman down and mfeinted the fn animal. Half auflfnute's delay wo have been tWlast of Messrs. Dou and Silt... - - Y "A strange toart of the story .is y to come. Soine wfee years afterwai I met an old telegraph operator is Oj wego. He waii in Washington in tn winter ol '64 and '6ÎK We^ot to talf ing over war matters, and I • foun that he remembered thecals I told yol about. He was in charge, of the wii leading to Harper's fertK. He ha. heard of the two men to b^executed tnere, through the operafüi They I had discussed the matter ov«; A the wires. Consequently he rent the case well. Upon the niti the execution, at 10 o'clock^ Eatch reprieving the men^ im to send out. He desk, and what was i that he couldn't work «« storm was in progress ost else was the matter. At ay wire would not work. Then other way of reaching Harpr'^ The dispatch he didn't gtr < just before 12, but, as it ne jç good time; but he told me It experience he would never fori though it was a pretty close shl the two Irishmen, and I don't [ they ever forgot the accide Neither a Fright N«r a From the San Francisco^Cal.) Exaij Mrs. Belva Lockwo/i' s neith tered nor disparagi wood-cut repre8en appeared during There is really nOj the person an what might woman, but he; y the num^ étions ofherj e late c a emblancd^^ he picture. 13 called a ha»d»omo ® uncertain age is the decliningbeauty She might ör 'fibjr -bg fifty. Heryfe.tures • " tfTG are of the clear-6uT GreÖTSiv» re ^ - type; equiline nose, straight fore lie»*» 1 overhanging a pair of sharp, P en ® ing eyes, a glance into whiff convinces one that the ladyisendowe with more than ordinary brain powe Mantled over her forehead is a roll handsome wavy, gray hair that much to the natural beauty of |»*| face Sbe was attired in a plain £ I modest traveling dress of black r There is nothing in her outward] pearance or expression that w< fead a casual observer to guess she belonged to that nwe^; class of women denominated "strori£?| minded." In conversation however, she reveals a phenomen aff orce of char acter, expressing herseli in conc§» lawyer-like language, and With a calia that-settles-it air which amply j that she is "a woman with a tyfegflj ] of her own." But yet, withal,she isar I earth-earthy woman. The reporfejt 1 ! first glance at her features recenil* discovered the tell-tale traces of pou ] der. At Lake George. While stopping in front of an | wigwam to look at some art ici might serve as souvenirs of tl rondacks, a girl of 10 year stepped out with the papoose* house in her arms. "IIow old is_ baby?" asked a young iääj gazed into the infant's were so black that they lo? couple of licorice drops. The\ ed and screeched at her mothr inka kinka choligog!" And the i ar replied: "Hari kari mushawaT! 1 Then che girl said: "Four months." Then the old brave got up and laid down his pipe, and said to his daugh ter: "You don't want to be too fresh, standing out there too much, oryou'll give the snap dead away. You must. recollect we're Crow Indians now. There are some people down the road who buy newspapers at.our stand in Forty-seventh 3treet, and you must notbe recognized; so you'd better stain your face up a little more, keep in tue shade and let the mulatto attend to the Indian part. Now come and ih.d me the ink; I want to writedown ! New York and order some IndiiVtT ! »am«?«,-., th. Block is 6e .t,„ g tolî | -Puck.