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THE BOX TUNNEL.
By Chas. Reede. The 10:15 train glided from Paddington May 7, 1847. Iu the left compartment of a certain first-class carriage were four i>aspon gers ; of these, two were worth description. The lady had a smooth, white, delicate brow, strongly marked eyebrows, long lashes, syes that seemed to changed colors, and a good-sized, delicious mouth, with teeth as white as milk. A man could not see her noso for her eyes and mouth; her own sex could and would h ive told us some nonsense about it. She wore an unpretendin ; grayish dress, buttoned to the throat, with lozenge-shaped buttons, and a Scottish shawl that agreeably evaded color. She was like a duck, so tight her plain feathers fitted her, and there she sat, smooth, snug, and delicious, with her book in her hand and a soupcon of her wrist just visible as she held it. Her opposim neighbor was what I call a good style of a man—the more to his credit, since he belonged to a corporation that fre quently turns out the worst imaginable style of young men. He was a cavalry officer, aged 25. He had a mustache, but not a very repulsive one; not one of those subuasal pig tails on which soup is suspended like dew on a shrub; it was short, thick and black as coal. His teeth had not yet, beeu turned by tobacco smoke to the color of juice, his clothes did not stick to nor hang on him; he had an engagiug smile, and what I liked the dog for, his vanity, which was inordinate, was in the proper place, his heart, not in his face, jostling mine and other people’s who have none—in one word, ho was what one oftener hears of than meets—a vouncr srentle man. He was conversing in an animated whisper with a companion, a fellow officer; they were talking about what it is far better not to—woman Our friend, clearly, did not wish to be overheard; for he cast ever and anon a furtive glance at bis fair vis-a-vis and lowered his voice. She seemed com pletely absorbed in her book aud that reas sured him. At last the two soldiers came down to a whisper (the truth must be told), the man who got down at Slough aud was lost to posterity bet £10 to £3 that he who was go mg down with us to Bath, and immortality, would not kiss either of the ladies opposite upon the road. “Done, done!” Now, I am sorry a man I have hitherto praised should have lent himself, even in a whisper, to such a speculation; “but nobody is wise at all hours," not even when the clock is striking five and twenty; aud you are to consider his profession, his good looks, and the temptation—ten to three. After Slough the party was reduced to three; at Twyford one lady dropped her handkerchief; Capt. Dolignan fell on it like a lamb. Two or three words were interchanged on this occasion. At Reading the Marlborough of our tale made one of the safe investments cf that day —he bought a Times and Punch, the laiter full of steel pen thrusts and wood cuts. Valor and beauty deigned to laugh at some in flamed humbug or other punctured by Puck. Now, laughing thaws our human ice; long before Swindon it was a talking match—at. Swindon who so devoted as Capt Dolignan! —he handed them out—he souped them—ho tough-chickened them—he brandied and coehinealed one, and he brandied and burnt sugared the other. On their return to the carriage one lady passed into the inner com partment to inspect a certain gentleman’s seat on that side of the line. Reader, had it been you or I, the beauty would have been tho deserter; the average one would have stayed with us till all was blue, ourselves included. Not more surely does our slice of bread and butter, when it escapes from our hand, revolve it ever so often, alight face downward upon the carpet. But this was a bit of fop, Adonis-dragon—so Venus remained in tete-a-tete with him. You --n --- «.»*» u.muo.Ml I'-ILUXIU of his species, how handsome, how empres.se, how expressive he becomes; such was Dolig nau after Swindon, and, to do the dog jus tice, he got handsomer and handsomer. And you have seen a cat conscious of approaching cream—such was Miss Haythorn; she be came demurer and demurer. Presently our captain looked out of the window and laughed. This elicited an inquiring look from Miss Haythorn. “We are only a mile from the box tunnel.” “Do you always laugh a mile from the box tunnel?” said the lady. “Invariably.” “What for?” “Why—hem!—it is a gentleman’s joke.” Capt. Dolignan then recounted to Miss Haythorn the following: “A lady friend and her husband sat to gether going through the box tunnel; there was one gentleman opposite; it was pitch dark. Alter the tunnel the lady said: ‘George, how absurd of you to salute me going through the tuunel.’ 'I did no such thing. You didn’t?1 *Ho;why?’ ‘Because, somehow, I thought you did. ’ ” Here Capt. Dolignan laughed and en deavored to lead his companions to laugh, but it was not to be done. The train entered the tunnel. Miss Haythorn—Ah! Dolignan—What is the matter? Miss Haythorn—I am frightened. Dolignan (moving to her side)—Pray, do not be alarmed; I am near you. Miss Haythorn—You are near me—very near me, indeed—Capt. Dolignan. Dolignan—You know my name! \fioc T 1....... 1 . .. .. _ - - -JVU luciibiua lb. 1 wish we were out of this dark place. Dolignan - I could be content to spend hours here reassuring you, my dear lady. Do!ignan—Pweep! (Grave reader, do not put your lips to the next pretty creature you meet, or you will understand what this means). Miss Haythorn—Ee! Ee! Friend—What is the matter? Miss Hay thorn—Open the door! Open the door! There was a sound of hurried whispers the door shut, and the blinds pulled down with hostile sharpness. If any critic falls on me for putting inar ticulate sound in a dialogue as above, I an swer, with all the insolence I can commaud at present, "hit boys as big as yourself,” big ger, perhaps, such as Sophocles, Euripides, and Aristophanes. They began it, and I learned it of them, sore against my will. Miss Haythorn’s scream lost much of its ef fect because the engine whistled 40,000 mur ders at the same moment, and fictitious grief makes itself heard wdien real cannot. Between the tunnel and Bath our young friend had time to ask himself whether his conduct had been marked by that delicate reserve which is supposed to distinguish the perfect gentleman. With a long face, real or feigned, he held open the door; his late friends attempted to escape on the other side—impossible. They must pass him. She whom he had insulted (Latin for kissed) deposited somewhere at his feet a look of gentle, blushing reproach: the other, whom ho had not insulted, darted red hot daggers at him from her eyes, and so they parted. It was, perhaps, fortunate for Dolignau that he had the grace to be a friend to Mai Hoskyns, of liis regiment, a veteran laugher] at by the youngsters, for the major was too apt to look cold upon billiard balls and cigars. He had seen cannon balls and lin stocks He had also, to tell the truth, swal lowed a good bit of the mess-room poker, which made it as impossible for Maj. Hos ivns to descend to an ungentlemanlike word or action as to brush his own trousers below (he knee. Capt. Dolignan told this gentleman his story in gleeful accents; but Maj. Hoskyns heard him coldly, and as coldly answered that he had known a man to lose his life for tlm same thing. “That’s nothing,” continued the major; “but, unfortunately, he deserved to lose it." At this blood mounted to the young man’s temples, and his senior added; “I mean to say he was 35; you, I presume, ■ are 21!” “Twenty-five.” “That is much the same thing. Will you bo advised by me?” “If you will advise me.” “Speak to no one of this, and send White the £3. that he may think you have lost the bet.” “That is hard, when I won it.” “Do it, for all that, sir.” Let tho disbelievers in human perfecti bility know that this dragoon, capable of a blush, did this virtuous action, albeit with a violent reluctance; and this was his . him u;im(.»n, A week after these events he was at a ball. He was in a state of factitious discontent which belongs to us amiable English. He was looking in vain for a lady equal in per sonal attraction to the idea he had formed of Dolignan as a man, when suddenly there i glided past him a most delightful vision, a lady whose beauty and symmetry took him by l the eyes—another look. “It cannot bo! Yes i it is!” Miss Haythorn! (not that he knew her name) but what an apotheosis! The duck had become a peahen—radiant, dazzling, she looked twice as beautiful and almost twice as large as before He lost ! sight of her. He loved her again. She was so lovely she made him ill—and he alone i must not dance with her, speak to her. If he had been content to commence her acquaint* j ance in the usual way it might have euded in kissing; it must end witn nothing. As she danced sparks of beauty fell from her on all j around but him—one gentleman was par | ticularly assiduous; she smiled on his assi i duity; he was ugly but she smiled on him. Dolignan was surprised at his success, his ! ill-taste, liis ugliness, his impertinence. Dolig- i I nan at last found himself injured. “Who was j this man and what right had he to goon so? j ; He never kissed her I suppose,” said Dolle. | Dolignan could not prove it, but he felt that j somehow the rights of property were invalid. Ho went homo and dreamed of Miss Hay i thorn, and hated all the ugly successful. Ho spent a fortnight trying to find out who his beauty was—he never could encounter her again. At last he heard of her in this way: A law yer's clerk paid him a visit and commenced a little action against him in the name of Miss Haythorn for insulting her in it railway I train. The young gentleman was shocked; en ! deavoring to soften the lawyer’s clerk; that , 1 machine did not thoroughly comprehend the 1 j meaning of that term. The lady’s name, however, was at last revealed by this awk ward incident; from her name to her address was but a short step, and the same day our crestfallen hero lay in wait at her door, and many a succeeding day without effect. But one fine afternoon she issued forth naturally, as if she did it every day, and walking briskly on the parade. Dolignan did the same, met and passed her many times on the parade and searched for pity in her eyes, but found neither look nor recognition, nor any other sentiment; for all this she walked and walked, till all the other promeuaders were retired and gone—then her culprit summoned reso lution, and, talking off his hat, with a voice for the first time tremulous, besought per mission to address her. She stopped, blushed, and neither acknowl edged nor disowned his acquaintance. He blushed, stammered out how ashamed he was, how he deserved to bo punished, how he was punished, how little she knew how un happy he was, and concluded by begging her not to let all the world know the disgrace of a man who was already mortified by the loss of her acquaintance. She asked an explana tion. He told of the action that had been commenced in her name. She gently shrugged her shoulders, and said: “How stupid they are 1” Emboldened by this, he begged to know whether or not a life of dis tant, unpretended devotion would, after a lapse of years, erase the memory of his mad ness—his crime 1 “She did not know! She must now bid I him adieu, as she had some preparations to make for a ball in the Crescent, where every body was to be.” They parted, and Dolignan determined to be at the ball, where everybody was to be. He was there, and after some time he ob tained an introduction to Miss Haythorn, and he danced with her. Her manner was gracious. With the wonderful tact of her ' sex, she seemed to have commenced the ac quaintance that evening. That night, for the first time, Dolignan was iu love. I will spare the reader all the lover’s arts, by which he succeeded in dining where she dined, in dancing where she danced, in over taking her by accident when she rode. His devotion followed her to church, where the dragon was rewarded by learning there is a world where they neither polk nor smoke— the two capital abominations of this one. He made an acquaintance with her uncle, who liked him, and he saw at last with joy that her eye loved to dwell upon him, when she thought he did not observe her. It was three months after the box tunnel that Capt. Dolignan called one day upon Capt. Haythorn, It. N., whom lie had met twice in his life, and slightly propitiated by violently listening to a eutting-out expedition; he called and in the usual way asked permission to pay his ad dresses to his daughter. The worthy captain straightway began doing quarter deck, when suddenly he was summoned from the apart ments by a mysterious message. On his re turn he announced, with a total change of voice, that “it was all right, and his visitor might run alongside as soon as he chose. ” My reader has divined the truth; this nau tical commander, terrible to the foe, was in complete and happy subjection to his daugh ter, our heroine. As he was taking leave, Dolignan saw his divinity glide into the drawing-room. He followed her, observed a sweet consciousness deepen into confusiou—she tried to laugh, and cried instead, and then she smiled again; when he kissed her hand at the door it was “George” and “Marian,” instead of “Captain” this and “Miss” the other. A reasonable time after this (for my tale is merciful, and skips formalities and torturing delays), these two were very happy. They were once more upon the railroad going to enjoy the honeymoon all by themselves. Marian Dolignan was dressed just as before -duck-like and delicious, all bright except her clothes; but George sat beside her this time, instead of opposite, and she drank him in gently from her long eyelashes. “Marian,” said George, “married people should tell each other all. Will you ever for give me if I own to you; uo-” “Yesi yes!” “Well, then, you remember the box tunnel. (This was the first allusion he had ventured to it.) I am ashamed to say that I had £3 to £10 with White I would kiss one of you two ladies,” and George, pathetic externally, chuckled withiu. “I know that, George, I overheard you, ’ was the demure reply. “Oh f you overheard me! Impossible!” “And did you not hear me whisper to my companion? I made a bet with her.” “You made a bet? How singular. Whufc was it?” “Only a pair of gloves, George.” “Yes, 1 know; but what about it?” “That if you did you should be my hus band, dearest.” “Oh, but stay; then you could not have been so angry with me. love. Why, dearest, then you brought that action against me?” Mrs. Dolignan looked down. “1 was afraid you were forgetting me. George, you will never lo.g. /e me.” “Sweet angel? why, here is the box tun nel.” Now, dear reader—no! uo! no such thing: you can’t expect to be indulged in this way every time we come to a dark place. Be sides, it is not the thing. Cousider two sensi ble married peoplo. No such phenomenon, i assure you, took place. No scream of hope less rivalry of the engine—this time. A QUIET MORNING. Why Hr. Dlougli Concluded He Didn't Want to Stay at Home and Nurse Him Cold. “My dear,” said Mr. Blough, “I am not go ing out this morning. 1 have a cold and it rains, so 1 think I will in tlm hmiCU on.i finish examining those pa tiers that-” “Oh! I’m so glad,’’said Mrs. Blough. “Now I shall have somebody to talk to. You have no idea how lonesome it is here after you are gone Aud f have wanted to get a chance to run out for a morning’s shopping for some time, so I will go to-day and you will see to things, won’t you ’ I expect the grocer’s boy pretty soon. Tell bimto bring some matches r.nd bread and some boned codfish, and half a pound of butter and a little dried beef, and j don't forget to say that the last coffee he ; brought was not the right kind. Then when the ashman comes round be sure you watch ] for him and tell him he mustn’t spill any | more ashes on our sidewalk. And the dress maker will be in before noon. Tell her I I can’t be fitted for that waist till I get some new ruehing for the bottom of my yellow skirt, and for her to call Thursday j afternoon. Oh! and don’t forget’to tell i the condensed-milk man to leave two glasses instead of one. Tell him I’m going to make a pudding to-morrow. Aud the ice man’ll want to be paid. Give him 43 cents, and tell him that piece ho left last Friday was not good ice, so I won’t pay him full price for it. And give him one of your cigars, won’t you ? I always do every Saturday. Aud the upholsterer is coming to see about doing over that chair iu the back parlor, and say to him that I will come j around and pick out the color I want in the | plush. And you might sweep the snow off | the roof this morning. You say you haven’t i got anything to do. Aud now I’ll run out. | You can have a nice, quiet day, with nothing to disturb you; and you won’t mind going out for lunch, will you, if I don’t get back* Good-bye, dear. Oh! aud if the butcher’s boy happens to go by will you call to him and tell him to bring me seven pounds and a half of a roasting piece day after to-morrow; and pay the newsman when he comes for his money, will you? Good-bye.'’ And Mrs. Blough went out. Mr. Blough whistled softly. Then ho said to himself; “I guess it won’t rain much.” A nd he went down to his office. How a Little Girl Got Gen. Scott's Autograph. [Washington Cor. Philadelphia Record.] A lady passing the season here was very anxious to get Gen. Scott’s autograph. He K/uojf cm la suu iuuuu uur tasK verV difficult. One day the happy thought struck her that her pretty little 10-year-old daughter might be able in this case to do what she her self could not. So she sent the charming lit tle girl to the general’s office with the auto graph album. The orderly told her that she could not see the busy general. Sho would not be denied. Sho would wait, she said. At the end of half an hour the orderly took her request to the adjutant. The latter admitted her, but told her she could not possibly see the general. She said she must. At last the adjutant showed her the door leading to Gen. Scott's office, and told her she could go in if she dared. Taking him at, his word, she marched right in. This is her description of the call, given at the time: “I was afraid at first when he looked up; but as soon as be saw it was only me, lie said right pleasantly: ‘Well, little girl, what do you want?’ And I told him my ma wanted him to write his name in her book; and ho | looked sharp at mo and then smiled a little bit, and shook hands with me and asked me who my ma was, and I told him; I told him my pa was in the army, and ma was all alone with me, and then he just kissed my cheek and wrote iu ma’s hook, and said ‘Good morning’ to me, and I came out, and nobody didn’t hurt me at all." This is what he wrote: “Treason is the greatest crime—Winfield Scott." Too Short to lie Convenient. Edward Trowbridge Dana, a brother of the poet Richard H. Dana, was the person who acted as a coat-holder to a bulky Eng lish friend while the latter polished off 'a London street rough. The incident was re lated by Dr. Holmes on the occasion of in troducing Matthew Arnold to his first Boston nntl rtifnllc a t-.,*l. i crat’s brother on a certain occasion. Homo one, in the presence of tho latter, had been dilating on the fact of the shrinking of the human body, sayiug: “Just think, if one should live to he a couple of thousand years old ho would shrink down to say, five inches iu height." John Holmes objected strongly to this result, “for,” said he, “if I should shrink to such a height it would be very in convenient, since my shoestrings would be continually flapping in my face.” Wendell Phil ips’ Idltencsn. [Chicago Tribune.] John Boyle O’Reilly says that the best like ness of Wendell Phillips was painted 4(J0 years ago by Leonardo da Vinci iu his cele brated “Last Supper,” in the face of Simon Peter. Says Mr. O’Reilly: In painting Peter the great master meant to delineate character. There it is, brow eyes, nose, jaw, every feature settled iuto firmness and equanimity. A face with a mindful of principles bohind it. A faithful face and head, to trust aud be trusted. That is an admiral likeness of Wendell Phillips. Ho has just such a mouth, with lips closed iu just that determined but not bitter or ob turate way; and tho strong nose under the set brow are marvelously alike. Life in Italy. “Ouida” writes of life in Italy: “Here one wants so little; tho air and the light, and a little red wine, and the warmth of wind, and a handful of maize or of grapes, and an old guitar, and a niche to sleep in near a fountain that murmurs and sings to the mosses and marbles—these are enough in Italy.” AN ANECDOTE SHOP. A Firm Which Makes Jokes and Writes Obituaries to Order. Candidates Itoouncd with “One Alice* dote per Day ”.--A Care for the * “Might llnve Been”— Foreign Letters. Passing down Vandewater street yesterday a curious sign attracted my eye: *.* :Anecdotal & Biographical Bureau.: ; Foreign Correspondence Supplied. : : J. P. Marteau, Manager. : What is an “Anecdotal” agency? A small printed sign directed visitors to the third floor. Going up, 1 knocked and asked for Mr. Marteau. “That is my name,” answered a quick, wiry, rutber bald little man who opened the door. “Cau I do anything for you?” “Your sign excited my curiosity—but, pardon me, I soe I interrupt you.” “Not at all,” he answered pleasantly, clos ing a volume of the “Encyclopaedia Britan mca” that lay before him. “I see you wish to know what my anecdote and biographical of several men busily writing at different tables, surrounded by encyclopedias and biographies, “Mr. Smith, hunt up a few more medical terms and points in regard to cancerous affections and get down the records containing Mr. Hill’s course in the senate. You will find them on the second shelf, third and fourth volumes to the left. You find us pretty busy,” agaiu addressing himself to me. “Our business is constantly increasing, particularly at this time, when probable presidential candidates loom up every day or two.” “What have presidential candidates to do with your business?” I asked, not exactly comprehending. “Everything in the world, sir. It is one of the most important factors in our business. Why here, for six weeks, we had from The Sun a standing order for an auecdote per day on Bill Holman. Holman retires and the order is changed to his successor and so on. When a man is nominated, business is, of course good, but nothing to compare with the months immediately preced ing the nomination. Before the Juno conventions each of the leading papers will have put forward at least a dozen candidates and we will get large anecdote contracts for every one of them.” “Your business, then, is simply to sit down and grind out jokes of any kind and any body ?” “By no mean3. We always observe the uicest discrimination. I will try to give you an idea of the laws that govern the selection of anecdotes. Take, for instance, The Sun’s late candidate, Holman. We had a contract to supply so many anecdotes illustrating his frugality and economic habits. By look ing through old files of Indiauapolis pa pers we learned where Holman was at a given time, and then constructed an anecdote of him at that place. Of course, you know it wouldn’t do to have an anecdote of him at a certain nlaee at a certain time, when lie was not there at that time. Oh! yes, we never get up an article without first knowing that, if it was not, it at least might have been true.” “Do your anecdotes pay well?” “Only tolerable; not as well as biographies and obituaries. A good biographical sketch ; sometimes brings as much as $50. This one I’m engaged on now of the late Senator Ben jamin Hill, for a Georgia paper, will bring $45. It comes high because of the trouble of preparing the details of his sickness and the cancer that caused his death. An aver ago biography you might put down a $10. On the death of any prominent man our orders in this department are al- j ways very brisk. Business took quite a boom when Jerry Black died. The greatest boom in our line, though, was the election of Car lisle. We have been fairly flooded with or ders in both our departments, and anecdotes and sketches of the new speaker have been made by the dozen almost every day since his election.” “Does not this supplying of several papers with the same sketch cause trouble?” “No. No one would dream they were written in the same office. True, the same 1 substance material is used in all, but the I style of no two sketches is alike. Look, for ! instance, at this batch of ‘Carlisle Anecdotes’ I am constructing. The first one, I compose, j then Mr. Smith uses the same frame but ! clothes it in his style; another assistant j takes Mr. Smith’s copy and thus again forms another style, and so on, with each new j dressing a new style is conveyed, and the ! same anecdote goes out to half a dozen papers j as original with each. But besides presidential elections and similar events of current in terest, there is always a considerable stock of standiug matter on hand—I mean anecdotes i of such men as Andrew Jackson, Washing ton, etc., for which there is a quiet but steady demand. We frequently receive j orders for new duels by Androw Jackson, and stories of Stonewall Jacksou praying in the heat of battle, used at one time to be very popular. Who patronizes us? Why, the newspapers, of course. A paper wishes a certain man written up; they have but to give us his name and we anecdote him in any “What of your foreign correspondentsi Are they abroad}" “Yes,” answered Mr. Marteau, with a twinkle in his eye, “we have a largo corps o( correspondents abroad, some os far aa Eighteenth street and Central park. Ono of my men hero now is writing u Paris letter for a Cincinpati paper. Bat I must ask you to excuse me, as this biography of Senator Hill is pressing. Mr. Smith, have you found all the points on encephaloid and epithelial cancel’s?” Waiting to hear no more, I descended into Vandewater street, wondering how many of tho bright anecdotes and sketches one iinds in the papers as original come from this New York Anecdotal and Biographical bureau. _ A Terrible Slicker. “Please, sir,” said tho bell-boy to a Texas hotel clerk, “No. 40 says there uin't no towels in his room.” “Tell him to use ono of the window-cur iaitis.” “He says, too, there aint no pillers.” “Tell him to put his coat and vest under his head.” “And he wants a pitcher of water.” “Suffering Cyrus! But he’s tho worst kicker I ever struck in my life. Carry him up the horse pail." “He wants to know if ho can have a light.” “Here, confound him! Give him this lan tern anil ask him if he wants the earth, and if he’ll have it fried on only ono side or turned over.” _ Little Johnny: The ca.imlo is called a ship of the dessert, and Jack Billy, the sailor, he says them wich has got two hunches is doubble-deckers. LONG AGO. [A. A. Dayton in The Atlantic.] O ringlet, with the golden gleam, What memories are clustered here) The shadow of a passing dream, The silent falling of a tear. A breath of summers long ago, Drifting across the moment’s space; A long-forgotten sunset glow Upon a long-remembored face. YOUNG ENGLAND OUT WEST. Types of Freshly Arrived Voting Englishmen Who Come to brow up with the Country. [San Francisco Chronicle.] Among the familiar objects on tho streets of San Francisco is a young man with a short sack-coat of a dull gray tweed, litting loosely over broad but sloping shoulders, but so abbreviated in tho rear that it exposes a good deal of a baggy and ill-cut pair of pantaloons of tho same material and non descript color. His feet are shod with stout, low-heeled, broad-toed, laced-up shoas, gen erally guiltless of blacking, while his head is covered with a soft, narrow-brimmed, ribbed hat, also made of tweed cloth. Tho head on which this hat sits is usually long in tho nape, which is sunburnt and red, well supplied with close-cropped hair. The face has features that are molded on the generous scale; a little scrap of fluffy whisker is grown on either cheek, aud a struggling mustache partly covers the upper lip. He walks with a long, swingiug stride, as though he were starting on a twenty-mile “constitutional.” In one hand he carries an umbrella, in the other a transcontinental guide-book, and in his mouth there rests a briar-wood pipe, in which there smolders a closely packed “load” of the strongest shag tobacco. It must not be understood that this is the portrait of an individual; it is simply the pen-picturo of a type. That type is the young Englishman newly landed in this “blawsted” country. He is unmistakable, and is growing as numerous as the showers of his own April mornings. Another type of the freshly arrived and fresh young Englishman is he who comes with a wagon-load of portmanteaux, who “puts up” at the Palace hotel, who is in a great flurry over his “brawsses,” as ho calls his baggage checks, who dresses in the ultra dudesque school, who is armed with a sachel full of letters of introduction, and who makes such a splurge into society that it is scarcely a wonder the spray soon returns heavily upon him aud hides him out of sight. The first is in all probability a farmer’s son from the midland counties of England, or a young engineer from Yorkshire; the latter, most likely, is the nephew of a Liverpool banker, or the younger son of a London barrister with a large family. The first has come here with the crude idea that San Francisco is a place where bears are still shot from back doors aud where one may be as free-and-easy as in his neighboring village on the weekly market day. The latter has had better information upon what he intends shall be his new home, but cannot get rid of his fancied superiority and feels a mild thrill of pleasure as he thinks of the sensation he will make among those western folk. Both young men soon find their level, aud being at the bottom shrewd, sensible fellows, with brain as well as brawn, settle down into use ful members of society and are satisfied to be come an unrecognized and ordinary fraction of the English colony. Now suppose that the crime of “taking the law into his own hands,” or avenging a criminal injury by a private hand, but to no greater or severer extent than the law would have avenged it, except in the case of rape and other crimes against women, were made indictable simply as “usurpations of judicial functions,” or, more briefly, homicide in private revenge. The punishment might range at from two years’ imprisonment to ten years, or life. Two great advantages would instantly be gained. It won! 1 not bo necessary for a jury to find an 'v false verdict, i. e., that the prisoner “guilty of murder,” in order to find him guilty as charged. As the crime for which he is in dicted accurately defines his crime, it does not involve the turpitude of murder, and the legislature having prescribed the punish ment the jury or court would more readily award it. Again, on such a prosecution but two ques tions would be pertinent, viz., did the ac cused lull the deceased, and was the killing induced by the belief in the mind of the ac cused that the deceased had done him an in famous injury, or committed against him a great public crime. We feel quite sure that under such a statute convictions of those who take the law into their own hands to the ex tent of committing homicidal acts could be punished by a term of years in the peni tentiary. So long as they must be punished as murder or not at all, they will not be pun ished at all. Yellowstone Park. [“Casper" in Detroit Freo Press. ] Uncle Rufus Hatch, who is also a truly good man, with more statistics in his head than the whole United States census has, is indignant at the statement that he has played four aoes agnir.st a bob-tail flush in his Yellowstono park game. These are not the exact torms of the allegation, but they indicate its character, anyway. It appears that the Yellowstono Park company that Uncle Rufus organized is in a bad way for money, turn, mu lauorurs out mere can t get their pay, and that Uncle Rufus has failed to chip in a little trifle of $000,000 which ho had promised to make up the pot. Some of his “coparcen ers” insinuate that he has not played fair and are making a row. But Uncle Rufus re mains serene—except the little indignation just mentioned. He denies tho allegation and calmly defies the alligators. If the coparceners ever imagined, though, that Uncle Rufus would play a game in winch their chance was as good as his, they made a mighty queer mistake. That isn’t how things are done in Wall street, where mild Mr. Hatch has made all his money. A man with such a head for figures as he has is not likely to hire it out without being pretty sure that No. 1 is all right. Something lie I'niildn’t Stand. A gawky boy and a “gangling” girl were married by an Arkansaw magistrate the other day, and shortly afterwards the boy reappeared and said: “Squire, gimme back them license.” “I have sent them to the county clerk’s office where they properly be long,” tho justice replied. “I’m mighty sorry, fur I want ’em back.” “What's the matter?” “Why, I don’t intend to livo with that gal. I never seed sich a creetur, jedgo. You see, her daddy give her a cow, an’ this moruin’ when I went to milk tho blatne thing, she kicked me heels over head. I wouldn’ter minded this, but ray wife stood tbar an’ laughed fit ter kill herself. 1 thought l was goin’ter settle down in a life of love an’ ’lasses an’ all that, but tho kick o’ that cow opened my eyes. Tho county clerk ken keep the papers if he wants to, but I wusli you’d tell him the next time yer see him that I'll be dad blamed if I’m goin’ to live with that gal.” UNCANNY WONDERS. Bill Arp Writes Conner’ '"ar Mes merism, Somnam' md Clairvoya.i [Atlanta Constitution.] It is just 100 years since Mesmer astonished France with his discoveries, and France ap pointed a commission of five illustrious men to examine into it and report to the govern ment, and our own Benjamin Franklin was one of them, and they reported in favor of all the facts, but against all of the theories After that the science found new friends ant] made converts of such famous men as Cuvier and La Place and Agassiz and Sir William Hamilton and Professor Hitchcock. They declared that there was a newly discovered force or principle connected with our being, and they named it Od, and included animal magnetism, and sonambulism and clairvoy ance und exaltation of the senses. They de clared that some people were constitutionally * susceptible to this influence and others were unt. mwl tlmf It- L___ i ' -- uiki iic^auivi? qualities like th© polos of au electric battery, and may be accummulated in the system to a wonderful degree. T ho experiments made by men of science were so astonishing that a new commission of five learned men were appointed in 1825, and they declared unanimously in favor of this mysterious power of man over man. Since that time there has hardly been an interval of twenty years that the world has not been exercised by more discoveries on this line. ■* About forty years ago there were experi ments in most every town, and wo used to put persons to sleep and mesmerize them to our absolute control. I remember a little darkey named Tobe that was a daily victim to Dr Alexander and Dr. Gordon, of Law renceville, and most any of us could make a machine of him in two minutes and stiffen his limbs into iron and make him insensible to his own pain and sensible to ours. He had no taste or smell or feeling or sight but that of the person who magnetized him. We have seen these things too often to doubt but they are still as mj’sterious as ever. I have seen persons who could not write at all, write a good letter while blin dfolded and follow the lines and cross t’s with educated * accuracy. Dr. Braid picked up an ignorant girl in New York, a girl who knew nothing of the Swedish language and nothing of music, and she was made to sing a Swedish song in public with Jenny Lind, and she sang it well and gave the correct tune and accent to the words. These things are hard to be lieve, but they are not more wonderful than the sad experience of Governor Hampton, of South Carolina, who told his own story in The Charleston Press, and said that while h3 was in Tallahassee, Fla., he saw in a vision of the night his dwelling was on fire and saw the effort made to save his children from the upper wmaows ana was conscious of every particular, and hurried homo to find it all true, even to the exact time and minutest incidents. Not long ago there was a man in Liver pool who, The London Times saj's, sat blind folded in a darkened room surrounded by men of science and in his mind followed one of them around several blocks and saw him hide a pin under a window-blind, and he told where it was hidden while sitting in his chair. You see ho went double with that man. He got his identity. He swallowed him, as it were, and absorbed his will and his mental being. , With all that has gone before we have no right to sport with these things as we sport with frauds and tricks of legerdemain. If V we cannot explain we can wonder and wait. Haklns Hope from Asbestos. The manufacture of fire-proof rope from asbestos is likely to become an industry of considerable importance iu England, the strength of the article being estimated at about one-fourth that of ordinary hemp rope of the same diameter. Hope of this material of one and a half inches in diameter is stated to have a breaking strength of one ton, and twenty feet of it is calculated to represent a if weight of thirteen and ono-fourth pounds. Some of the purposes, as enumerated, to which this kind of rope is especially adapted are theatres, .fire brigades, and means of es cape from dwellings and public buildings, its advantage being that it will not break and drop its burden if the flame bears upon it. It is made like ordinary rope, and is spun from Italian asbestos thread. Flowers for Perfume. [Chicago Herald.] ■*. Some idea of the magnitude of the business of raising sweet-scented flowers for their per fume alone may bo gathered from the fact * that Europe and Bi’itish India consume about 150,000 gallons of handkerchief per fumes yearly; that the English revenue from eau de cologne is $40,000 annually, and the total revenue of other perfumes is estimated at $200,000 annually. There is one great per fume distillery at Cannes in France which uses yearly 100,000 pounds of acacia flowers, 140,000 pounds of rure Bovver leaves, 82,000 pounds of jasmine blossoms, 20,000 of tube rose blossoms, and an immense quantity of other material. A Kovel Cane. [La Belle Star.] One of the greatest novelties we have seen 4 is a cane just made by Mr. Ohnesorg. It is *i composed of 220 “washers,” cut from sole leather and driven on a steel rod bent in the form of a cane. The “washers” were driven on Ihn ri ,1 mi., Kv I ..11. .1.1.1 t.,,.1-,,,1 *.,,,,,41.,,., firmly; then tho cnuo was planed, polished and varnished, making a handsome walking stick that reflects great credit on Mr. O. One More Unfortunate. [Exchange.] „ Mamma (a widow of considerable personal attractions)—“1 want to tell you something, Tommy. You saw that gentleman talking to grandmamma in tho other room. Well, *■ he is going to be your new papa. Mamma’s going to marry him.” Tommy (who recol- ,» lects something of tho lifo his old papa used to load) —“D-d-does ho know it vet, mamma?” That Depends. “Was early man a savage!” asks a maga zine writer. That depends. If the early man was dressed to catch tho 4. a. m. train, and his collar button fell behind the bureau, tho probabilities are that he was about as savage as they make ’em. The Many-Titled. The duke of Abercou has thirteen titles, each of which represents a separate peerage; the marquis of Bute has fifteen; the dukes of Argyle and Buccleugk have each sixteon; the duke of Hamilton seventeen, and the duke of Athol, with twenty-three, stands top of the tree. A WhiMtlins Acacia. [Chicago Journal.] In the part of Africa known as Nubis there grows an acacia that whistles so loudly as to make its?lf heard for miles away. The * stem is hollow, and tho action of the wind * produces a sound similar to that emitted by a flute. __ Bret Harte claims to have German, Eng^ , ? lish aud Hebrew blood iu his veins.