Newspaper Page Text
AVANNAB OUEIER ' Dovotod to the Zxitox-eait of H.rciin. County And XTor Feoplei , VOLUME. XVI. SAVANNAH, TENNESSEE, FRIDAY, JULY 27, 1900. NUMBER 20. I '1 1i I it 1 J An Old-Time Adventure Ey Frod Myron Colby. ON ONE of the last days of May, 1756, two boys, Charles Flanders and William Wheeler, were sent out from the block-house, at Charlestown, N. II., on the Connecticut, to look for two horses that had strayed Into the woods. The missing animals were a gray horse and a black mare, respectively. The mare had her young colt with her. They both belonged to William's fa ther, and the settler had promised the boy that If he would find the horses, and bring them safely home, he would give him the colt for his labor. The lads started off about six o'clock In the morning, taking their way down the river. William had his father's gun; but Charley, who was younger, had not been allowed to take one. Guns and ammunition were too scarce at the fort to be Intrusted to a boy 11 years old. It was really dangerous to go out un armed a great distance from the block-house, for wildcats and wolves were numerous In that region, and oc casionally a bear was seen. The boys themselves thought little of the peril, but it was not without misgivings that their mothers had seen them depart. Charley was the happy possessor of a jack-knife, and he busied himself in rnakingabowand arrows as he trudged along. The bow he fashioned from an ash limb, and the arrows were of oak, headed with sharp tacks that the boy happened to have in his pocket. The bowstring was of stout twine. When completed, it was hardly equal to an llnglish long-bow, nor was Charley a Itobin Hood; but it was nevertheless quite a dangerous weapon in his hands. He amused himself shooting at squir rels and birds, and was in high spirits when he hit one. The only traces of the animals they were hunting after that they had yet eeen were their tracks, which they ever and anon came across in the "opens," or imbedded in the banks of the streams. They listened and listened for the friendly clinking of the bells, but could not hear them. Yet they felt assured that they were on the right course. They had proceeded about three miles when William's quick ear caught the familiar ling-a-ling of a bell. But it was a great ways off, and seemed to be growing more Indistinct. "It's in the next 'open,' " said Wil linm. "That is Sukey's. They can't be far off. Good luck! Now I'll have my colt and no trouble." The boys were then In the thick forest. The last "open" was half a mile behind them; the next might be as far in front of them. They hast ened forward eagerly, following the sound of the bell that came tinkling at intervals through the woods. They came to the "open," a square like area of nearly four acres, lying 'low and level on the banks of the Connecticut. All at once the bells ceased tinkling. fThnt is singular. Perhaps they nave gone down to the river to drink," remarked William, looking in that di rection. "Oh, no, there's the horses over by that clump of birches!" cried Charley. "Can't you see the old gray's side?" "That's strange, anyhow," declared William. "The last time I heard the bell, I could swear It was on the other 6ide of the 'open.' " The bell commenced tinkling again. It most assuredly was on the opposite side, near the stream. "Sukey and her colt must be over there," sa'id Charley, "but it's strange, ns you say, that they shouldn't be to gether." "Well, you go that way and I will go this. If we crin catch them, we can rido home. I do hope the colt is not lost or hurt." William started in the direction to ward the river, and of course Charley walked off in a course just opposite. When the latter was about half-way across the clearing, he turned around to look at William. To his surprise, his companion was not to be seen. While he was gazing in that direc tion, he saw two Indians rise tip from behind a clump ot alders and look toward the river. At that in stant William reappeared around bend of the stream, where he had been hidden from the sight of his friend. As soon as William saw the savages, Tib i nrned to run. One of the Indians at this fired after the fleeing boy and shot him through the wrist. The shot whirled him violently round. The savages then seized him, and binding him with a deerskin thong, carried him to their canoe, which was in the river not lor distant. Meanwhile, Charley, seeing the plight of Ms companion, was moving slowly away irom uie unugciuuo npiirhborhood. He honed the Indians had not seen him. Alone and without any suitable weapon, he knew that he could do nothing toward rescuing poor William. His plan was to return to the settlement n ijuiuivijr no i Bible, inform his father of the clrcum stance, and have a party start at once to the rescue. Tn order to reach there at the short est notice, ho had made up his mind in catch the gray horse. He could see the animnl still standing half within the grove of poplars, and had no suspicion that anything was wrong. Directinff his steps toward the pop' lars, Charley crept up near and near er, looking warily around for fear of Indians. He walked up to within five feet of the clump of poplars, and was on the point Pf placing his hind on the gry horse's neck when an Indian warrloi leaped out. It is no disparagement to Charley to soy that when he found himself suddenly face to face with the red man his mouth opened as wide as did his eyes, that the color fled from bir cheeks, that his heart fluttered like a bird in a cage, and that for a mo ment he could not stir. "Ugh!" grunted the savuge, "white boy walk the woods with red broth er," meaning he would go with him to Canada. But Charley was not quite ready to do that. Stepping back quickly, he fitted one of his tack-headed arrows to the string of his bow and dis charged it full at the Indian. . The warrior sprang aside; but he was not quick enough, for the shaft had been well aimed. It passed through his neck, between the skin and the flesh. Uttering a cry of anger, he leaped on the boy and caught him by the throat. He hastily felt for his tom ahawk, and in the heat of his rage would undoubtedly have ended the poor boy's career then and there; but, missing the handle at the first grasp, he suddenly changed his mind, and, lifting tho boy to the back of the gray horse, tied him securely and led the animal toward the party that was with the canoe. Tho two boys exchanged a sorrow ful smilo as their captors brought them together. William had been placed in the canoe, where there were two hogs, which the savages had plundered from a settlement lower down the river. These hogs belonged to a man named Sargent, who lived in Wolpole, and he and several of his neighbors had gone out that very morning in search of the marauders. They hnd tracked the thieves to the river, and suspecting they might be Indians, had embarked in a boat and. rowed up stream, hoping to come upon them unaware and recover their stolen property. A little cove shot into the river at the point where the two boys hnd been captured, and the stream thus made a bend around this point of land. The Indians, their canoe and their horses were on one side of the bend, and the armed white men in their boat werj approaching the other. Just before they turned the bend, one of the white men heard the snort of a horse. Surprised at this, they rested on their oars a moment, and then rowed on more cautiously. Passing around a low, wooded bnnk, they saw a sight that made them halt again. A canoe with three Indians in it was pushing nwny from the shore. They coukl see that it was heavily laden, for it sunk deep into the water. Only one Indian was paddling, and the canoe very slowly advanced into the middle of the stream. A fourth Indian had just entered the river with two horses, on the back of one ot which was a white boy, with his arms pinioned behind him. In the canoe, by the tvo dend lings,' was a prostrate figure, which they had no doubt was nnother captive. Snrgcnt instantly ordered his party to fiat. They did so, and two of the Indians in the canoe fell dead or futal ly wounded. Tlie Indian who was paddling threw down his paddle, and plunged into the river. A shot was fired at him, iich either killed or disabled him, for he sank, and was seen no more. The Indian on horseback did not lift his gun, but very quietly urged his horses across the river. Two of the settlers fired at him, but the only result wn the splashing of his naked skin by the disturbed water. "Those horses are stolen, and the red imps mustn't get away with them," said Sargent; "but don't fire again. We may Injure the boy." The settlers bent to their onrs, and in a few moments swept up alongside of the struggling horses. The savage did not wait for them to come up, but leaped into the water, and deliberately swam to the aban doned canoe, which was floating ten or a dozen rods from the New Hamp shire side. This be clambered into, seized the paddle, nnd began to steer it toward the Vermont shore. . After they had seized the horses, the white men turned their attention to this bold warrior, who seemed de termined to escape with the canoe. Two of them, who had reloaded, shot at him, but, though both expert marksmen, they failed to harm him. The clone proximity of their bullets, however, forced him to relinquish the canoe. Holding his rifle above his head, the undaunted savage swam to the Ver mont shore, and, landing unharmed, disappeared in the forest. Tho white men now rowed up to the canoe, which was drifting aim lessly round and round. "Don't shoot! I'm a white boy!" cried a voice, os they approached. It was poor William, who, with his Hmb9 bound with deerskin, was just able to sit up in the canoe. "Well, you've saved the horses any how; but the colt's gone, sure," he exclaimed, as he glanced around, and saw that the horses were secure. One of Sargent's men jumped aboard the canoe, nnd paddled it ashore, where William nnd Charley were both released from their bonds, Then the bove mounted their horses bid their rescuers adieu, nnd returned to the block-house, which they reached just before sundown. William's wound was not a serious one. and he soon. recovered from it; but he was accustomed to relate, as he told the story in after years, that he never felt so oueer in his life as he did while lying curled down by the dead hogs, when the settieis wer firing and the Indians were tumbling out of the canQc. lioiuen ways. CURE FOR ANXIETY. Dr. Talmage Prescribes for Those in Trouble. AdvUe Them to Follow (he Example t the llnelile, Who Went Ad Told Je.im" Comfort (or the Bereaved, Copyright, 1900, by Louis Klopsch.1 Washington, Dr. Talmage, who has finished his tour of England and Scotland, where thousands thronged to hear him wheresoever he preached, is now on his way to Norway and' Kussia, in which countries, he is already well known through the publication of translations of his sermons. Iu the following discourse, which he has sent for publication this week, he gives a prescription for all anxiety and worrinicnt and illustrates the Di vine sympathy for all who are in any kind1 of struggle. The text is Mat thew 14, 12: "And His disciples went and told Jesus." . An outrageous assassination had just taken place. To oppease a re vengeful woman King Herod' ordered the death of that noble, self sacrific ing prophet, John the Bnptist. The group of the disciples were thrown into grief and dismay. They felt themselves utterly defenseless. There was no authority to which they could appeal, and yet grief must aJwoys find expression. If there be no human ear to hear ff, then the agonized soul will cry it aloud to the winds and the woods and the waters. But there was an ear that was willing to listen. There is a tender pathos and at the same time a most admirable picture in the words of my text: "They went and told Jesus." lie could understand all their grief, and He " immediately soothed' it. Our burdens are not more thon half so heavy to carry if another shoulder is put under the other end of thein. Here we find Christ, His brow shadowed with grief, standing amid the group of disciples, ho, with tears and violent gesticula tions and wringing of hands and out cry of bereavement, are expressing their woe. Raphael, with his skilled brush (putting upon the wall of a pal ace some scene of sacred story, gave not so skillful a stroke as when the plain hand of the evangelist writes: "They went and told Jesps." The old Goths and Vandals once came down upon Italy from the north of Europe, and they upset the gai dens, and they tn-o'te down the statues and swept away everything that was good and beautiful. So there is ever and anon in the history of all the sons and daughters of our race an in cursion of rough-handed troubles that come to plunder and ransack and put to the torch all that men highly prite. There is no cave so deeply cleft into the mountains aB to afford us shelter, and the foot of fleetest courser cannot bear us beyond pur suit. Th orrows they put to the string fly with unerring dart until we fall pierced and stunned. I feci that I bring to you a most appropriate message. I mean to bind tip all your griefs into a bundle and set them on fire with a spark from God's altar. . The prescription that cured the sorrow of the disciples will cure all your heartaches. I have read that when Godfrey and his army marched out to capture Jerusalem, as they came over the hills, nt the first flash of the pinnacles of that beauti ful city, the army that had marched in silence lifted a shout that made the earth tremble. Oh, you soldiers of Jesus Christ, marching on toward Heaven, I would that to-day, by some gleam from the palace of God's mercy and God's strength, you might be lifted into great rejoicing, and that as the prospect of its peace breaks on your enraptured gaze you might raise one glad hosanna to the Lord! In the first place, I commend the behavior of these disciples to oil bur dened souls who nre unpardoned. There comes a time in almost every man's history when he feels from some source that he has an erring nature. The thought may not have such heft as to fell him. It may be only like the flash in an evening cloud Just after a very hot summer day. One man to get rid of that Impression will go to prayer, while another will stim ulate himself by ardent spirits, and another man will dive deeper in sec- ularities. But sometimes a man can not get rid of these impressions. The fact is, when a man finds out that his eternity is poised upon a perfect tin. certainty and that the next moment his foot may slip, he must do some thing violent to make himself forget where he stands or else fly for refuge, Some of you crouch under a yoke, and you bite the dust, when this mo ment you might rise up a crowned conqueror. Driven and perplexed as you have been by sin, go and tell Jesus. To relax the grip of death from your soul and plant your" un shackled feet upon the golden throne, Christ let the tortures of the bloody mount transfix Him. With the beam of His own cross ne will break down the door of your dungeon. From the thorns of His own crown He will pick enough gems to make your brow blaze with eternal victory. In every tear on His wet cheek, in every gash of His side, in every long, blackening mark of laceration from shoulder to shoul der, in the grave-shattering, Heaven' shattering death groan, I hear Him say: "Him that cometh unto me I will in nowise cast out." "Oh," but you say, "instead of cur ing my wound, you want to make an other wound namely, that of conyic--tion!" Have you never known a sur geon to come and find a chronio dis ease and then with sharp caustic bur a it all out? So the grace of God comi s U the old sore of un a has long been rankling ther, but by Divine grace it is burred out through these fires of convicW'on, "the flesh coining again as the flesh of n little child," "where siu abounded grace much more nboundeth." With the 10,000 unpardoned sins of your life, go and tell Jesus. You will never get rid of your sins in any other way. And remember that the broad invitation which I ex tend to you will not always be ex tended. King Alfred, before modern timepieces were invented, used to di vide the day into three parts, eight hours each, and then had three wax candles. By the time the first candle had burned to the socket eight hours had gone, and when the second cau dle hud burned to the socket nnother eight hours hnd gone, and when nil the three candles were gone out then the day had passed. Oh, that some of us, instead of calculating our days and nights and years by any earthly timepiece, might calculate them by the numbers of opportunities and mer cies which are burning down and burning out, never to bo relighted, lest at last we be amid' the foolish virgins who cried: "Our lamps have gone out!" Again I commend the behnvior of the disciples to all who are tempted. I have heard men in midlife say they had never been led into temptation. If you have not felt temptation,, it is because you have not tried to do right. A man hoppled and handcuffed, as long as he lies quietly, does not test the power of tho chain, but when he rises up and with determination re solves to snap the handculTs or break the hopple, then he finds the power of the iron.. And there are men who have been for ten and twenty and thirty years bound hand and foot by evil habits who have never felt the power of the chain because they have never tried to break it. It is very easy to go on down with the stream and1 with the wind lying on your oars, but just turn around and try to go against the wind and the tide, and you will find it is a different matter. As long as we go down the current of our evil habit we seem to get along quite smoothly, but if after awhile we turn around and head the other way, toward Christ and pardon and Heaven, oh, then how we have to lay to the oars! You will have your temptation. Y'ou have one kind, you another, you another, not one person escaping. It is ail folly for you to say to some one: "I could1 not be tempted as you are." The lion thinks it is so strange that the fish should be caught with a hook. The fish thinks it is so ntrtu;ge that le lio should be caugM with a trop. You see some man with a cold, phlegmatic temperament, and you say: "I suppose that man has not any temptation, les, as much nsyou have. In his phlegmatic nature he has a temptation to Indolence and censoriousness and overeating and drinking, a temptation to ignore the great work of life, a temptation to lay down an obstacle in the way of all good enterprises. The temperament decides the styles of temptation, but sanguine or lymphatic, you will have temptation. Satan has a grappling hook just fitted for your soul. A man never lives beyond the reach of temp tation. You say when a man gets to be 70 or 80 years of age he is safe from satanic assault. You are very much mistaken. A man at 85 years of age has as many temptations ns a man of 23. They are only different styles of tcmptution. Ask the aged Christian whether he is never assault ed of the powers of darkness. If you think you have conquered the power of temptation, you are very much mis taken. No man gets through life without having a pommeling. Some slander comes after you, horned nud husked and hoofed, to gore and trample you. And what are you to do? I tell you plainly that all who serve Christ must suffer persecution. It is the -worst sign in the world for you to be able to say: "I have not an enemy in the world." A woe is pronounced in the Bible against the one of whom every body speaks well. If you are at peace with all the world and everybody likes you and approves your work, it is be' cause you are an idler in the Lord's vineyard and arc not doing your duty. All those who have served Christ, however eminent, all have been mal treated at some stage of their" expe rience. You know it was so in the time of George Whitefield, when he stood and invited mce, into the king' dom of God. What did the learned Dr. Johnson say of him? He pro nounced him a miserable mountebank How was it when Robert Hall stood and spoke as scarcely any unin spired man ever did speak of the glories of Heaven? And aS he stood Sabbath after Subbnth preaching on these themes his face kindled with glory. John Foster, a Christian man, said of this man: "Kobert Hall is only acting, and the smile on his face is a reflection of his own vanity, John Wesley turned all England up side down with Christian reform, and yet the punsters were after him, and the meanest jokes in England were perpetrated about John Wesley What is true of the pulpit is true of the pew; it is true of the street; it ia true of the shop and the store. All who will live godly in Christ Jesus must suffer persecution. And I set it down as the very worst sign in all your Christian experience if you are, any of you, at peace with all the world. The religion of Christ is war, It is a challenge to "the world, the flesh and the devil," and if you will buckle on the whole armor of God you will find' a great host disputing your path between this and Heaven. But what are you to do when you are assaulted and slandered and abused, as I suppose nearly all of you have been in your life? Go out and hunt up the slanderer? Oh, no, silly man! While you are explaining away a falsehood in one place 50 people will just have heard of ft In other places I counsel you to another course. While you are not to omit any oppor tunity of setting yourselves right, I want to tell you of one who had the hardest things said about him, whose sobriety was disputed, whose mission was scouted, whose companionship was denounced, who was pursued as a babe and spit upon as a man, who was howled at after he was dead. I will have you go unto Him with your humble child prayer, saying: "I see Thy wounds wounds of head, wounds of feet, wounds of heart Now, look at my wounds and see what I have suffered and through what battles I am going, anu I entreat Thee by those wounds of Thine to sympathize with me." And He will sympathize, and He will help. Go and' tell Jesus. Again, I commend the behavior of the disciples to all the bereaved. How many in garb of mourning? How many emblems of sorrow you behold every where? God has His own way of tak ing apart a fumily. We must get out of the way for coming generations. We must get oil the stage that others may come on, and for this reason there !b a long procession reaching down all the time into the valley of shadows. This emigration from time into eternity is so vast an enterprise that we cannot understand it. Every hour we hear the clang of the sepulchral gate. The sod must be broken. The ground must be plowed for resurrection harvest. Eter-' nity must be peopled. The dust must press our eyelids. "It is appointed unto nil men once to die." This emi gration from time into eternity keeps three-fourths of the families of the earth in desolation. The air is rent with farewells, and the black taseled vehicles of death rumble through every 6treet. The body of the child that was folded so closely to the mother's heart is put away in the cold and the dark ness. The lnughter freezes to the girl's lip, and the rose scatters. J." he boy in the harvest field of Shunem snys: "My head! My head!" And they carry him home to die on the lap of his mother. Widowhood stands with tragedies of woe struck into the pallor of the cheek. Orphanage cries in vain for father and mother. Oh, the grave is cruel! With teeth of stone it clutches for its prey. Between the closing gntes of thesepul- cher our hearts are mangled and crushed'. , Is there any earthly solace? None. We come to the obsequies, we sit with the grief stricken, we talk pathetically to their soul; but soon the obsequies have passed, the carriages have left us at the door, the friends who staid for a few days are gone, and the heart sits in desolation liotciiing 'or the little feet that will never nguin patter through the hall, or looking for the en trance-of those who will never come again sighing into the darkness ever and anon coming across some book or garment or little shoe or picture that arouses former association, almost kill ing the heart. Long days and nights of suffering that wear out the spirit and expunge the bright lines of life and give huggardness to the face and draw the flesh tight down over the cheek bone and draw dark lines under the sunken eye, and the hand is tremulous, nnd the voice is husky and uncertain. nnd the grief is wenring, grindin?, no- cumulating, exhausting. Now, what are such to do? Arethey merely to look up into a brazen and un pitying sky ? Are they to w alk a blast ed heath unfed of stream, unsheltered by overarching trees? Has God turned us out on the barren common to die? Oh, no! no! no! lie has not. He comes with sympnthy and kindness and love, He understands nil our grief. He sees the height und depth and the length and the breadth of it. He is the only one that can fully sympathize. Go and tell Jesus. Sometimes when we hnve trouble we go to our friends and we explain it, and they try to sympathize; but they do not understand it. Tliey cannot understand it. But Christ sees all over it and all through it. He not only counts the tears and records) the groans, but before the tenrs stnrtcd, before the groans began Christ saw the inmost hiding place of your sorrow, and He takes it, and He weighs it, and He measures it, and He pities it with an all absorbing pity. Bone of our bone. Flesh of our flesh. Heart of our heart. Sorrow of our sorrow. As long as He remembers Lazarus' grave He will stand by you in the cemetery. As long ns He remembers His own heartbreak He will 6tand by you in the laceration of your affections. When lie forgets the footsore way, the sleepless nights, the weary body, the exhausted mind, the awful cross, the solemn grave, then He will forget you, but not until then. Often when we were in trouble we sent for our friends, but they were far away; they could not get to lis. We wrote to them: "Come right away," or telegraphed: "Take the next train." They came at last, yet were a great while in coming or perhaps -were too late. But Christ is always near before you, behind you, within you. No moth er ever threw her arms around her child with such warmth and ecstasy of affection as Christ has shown toward you. Close at hand nearer than the staff upon which you lean, nearer than the cup you put to your lip, nearer than the handkerchief with which you wipe nway your tears I preach Him an ever present, nil sympathizing, compassion ale Jesus. How can you stay away one moment from Him with your griefs? Go now. Go nnd tell Jesus. It is often that our friends have no power to relieve us. They would very much like to do it, but they cannot dis entangle our finances, they cannot cure our sickness and raise our dead, but glory be to God that He to whom the disciples went has all the power- in Heaven and on earth, and at our call He will balk our calamities and at just the right time in the presence of an applauding earth and a resounding Heaven will raise our dead. He is niisrhtler than Herod. He is swifter than the storm. He is grander man the wa. He ia vaeter than eternity. SOME LAWYERS' CARDS. TUe Striving; for NoTeltr Seems to gal Luralnarlea. The striving for novelty in lawyers' cards seeina to be on the increase. From all over the country specimen have c6me to us, many of which we have not space to notice, says Law Notts. A Colorado attorney contents himself with this terse aphorism: "The flace la to the Swift, tho Devil Take the Hindmost." A legal giant of Detroit, Ia., announces that he holds the best diploma ever- issued by the Crawford county normal institute," and, while he is fully equipped to handle anything pertaining to the law, feels that insurance is his "fort." Ue also represents a "New York nursery company." An eminent law yer of Denver, Col., has this legend on the back ot his cardi "Bohemian Salve For the justly celebrated, pure Bohemian salve, that has cured some of the most obstinate cases of erysipelas, blood poisoning, sore eyes, lumbago, etc., call on the sole manufacturer, William Wise, at his oflice or residence." The finest thing of the sort from a literary standpoint, that hns come un der our observation, is the following which is taken from the card of a law yer of St. Johns, Mich.: "My creed: "Do not keep the ala baster boxes of your love and tender ness sealed up until your friends nre dead. Filr their lhcs with sweetness. Speak approving, cheering words, while their ears can hear them and while their hearts can be thrilled and made happier by them; the kind things you mean to say when they nre gone say before they go. The flowers you mean to send for their cofilns send to brighten and sweeten their homes before they leave them. If my friends have alabaster boxes laid away, full of fragrant perfumes of sympathy and affection, which they intend to break over my dead liody, I wou.d rather they would bring them out in my weary and troubled hours and open them, that I may be refreshed and cheered by them when I need them. I would rather have a plain coffin without a flower, a funeral without a eulogy, than a life without the sweet ness ond love of sympathy. Tost-mor- tem kindness does not cheer the troubled spirit. Flowers on the cof fin cast no fragrance backward over life's weary way." MEN OF THE MAINE COAST. tni torn, of the Farmers nnd the Skipper Who Go "Chancing"' for Wealth. They are right at the f iot of "March hill" 'long coast. Up in the interior the farmers will now commence to say that it'a between hay and grass. But the coast dwellers refer soulfully to "March hill." This, snys the Lewiston Journal, i the time when the funds for the work of last season are nearly exhausted and be fore the regular fishing season has commenced. The flour barrel is low. In some houses the good wife is already playing a tattoo on the bottom of the barrel trying to pound another setting of dough out of the cracks and the seams. From now on flour will come into the household in paper bags until the treasury shall become replenished. The man of the house is most likely "goin' chnncin' " at this season. He takes his little dory and rows from point and harbor to harbor and point where fishing boats ure owned, trying to "git a chance to go to the Banks." That is goin' chancin'. Sometimes it is mighty discouraging work. , Some skippers are cross and don't want to make much of a divvy many have their crews all picked out. There is one thing about chancin' that isn't half bad. Most of the skip pers, even if they do not hire, will ask the chancer to haul up and have a snack, if said chancer happens along about meal time and if the chancer doesn't arrange his visits in that way he isn't "onto his job," that's all. The skipper's wife may not like it first rate, and may make audible com ments on the "poor mis'able critters that come for grub." But the poor crit ters are not at all abashed by little setbacks from the housewife's tongue. They shovel down all the food they can stow and look regretfully nt the rest of it, evidently longing to take it away in a handkerchief for the folks at home. His Home Rnrronndingii. "Y'ou see," snid the Arizona man who had been asked why he didn't come east to live, "it's all in being acquaint ed with the people around you. I was hauled up before a justice of the peace for cuffing a Mexican, and, know ing me, he let me off with p. three-dol lar fine. Then I west at it and called him 52 of the hardest names I could think of, and ended up by throwing him through a window. How much d'ye thiuk he fined me for that?" "He probably sent you to jail," was the reply. "Not much. He knew my ways, and had had a lot of fun out of it. He only tucked on five dollars more. I admit that you can get a better drink in the east and that it's nice to ride on street cars, and eat off of tablecloths, but how would I come out cuffing Mexicans and toying with the law and having Satur day holidays?" Washington Post. Comparative Weights of Hat. The average silk hat, size 7, weighs five ounces; the average stiff derby hat of the same size weighs four and one half ounces; the aver ige straw hat of the game size weighs two and one-quarter ounces. Balti more American. Women and the Law. Women ought to succeed in the legal profession. Nearly all married men are aware of the fact that a woman's word it law.--Chicago Daily News. A RED DIAMOND. Oat la the Hoyal nMf of That I Valued at 75,000. ' Onlr five years ago the largest stono'known to the history o! jewels was found in "washing" the "blue ground" taken from the Jagersfontelrt mine in the Orange Free State, late ly visited by the brigade of guards in the line of their advance It wan blue-white in color, nnd weighed iu the rough 000 carats, but it had to be cut into two separate stones for tho market. The wonderful processes of nature had crystallize it into two oval figures, connected by a narrow band. Ai yet, it is said that no pur chaser has been found for so costly a curiosity. The biggest mounted di amond iu the world is the Orlof, set in the scepter of the czar of Russia. It is shaped like half of a pigeon'a egg. It weighs 194 carats, while tho Koh-i-Nur, of her majesty, goes but to 100. One of the finest diamonds in Asia, that taken, by Abbas Mirza at Khorassan in 18H2, is of 132 carats, and whs long used by a Persian peas ant as a flint with which to strike fire on his tinder box. Tho Per sian name for the diamond is l nifiR." Blue, vellow and black dia monds aro fairly common, but a red stone is very rare, lliat or ten car ats in the Uusslnn regalia cost $75,- 000. Don't drop your diamonds, wom en, on a hard place simply because they are called in Greek "unbreak able." They will split with tragic certainty if struck at the angle .of their natural cleavage, says the Lou don Telegraph. The largest ruby possessed by nny owner is that which Gtistavun of Sweden pave to the empress of Rus sia. It is as big as a bantam's egg. Australia is greotest in t lie way oi jewels with her opals, to-day outdo ing even Hungary ana Mexico in those lovely stones. If you make a ruby hot it become preen, but goes back again presently to its own color. HE WAS GOING. Bat the Smart Crowd Wna Sure If Knew Jmt What Was the Matter. It was- a one-horse wagon loaded with boxes and barrels, and the driver suddenly turned in to the curb and got down and stood off a few feet and looked earnestly ot the horse, says the Boston Globe. Four or five pedestrians came to a halt, and one of them prompt ly called out: "That horse has got n chill, and you ought to unhitch him!" "It's a case of the bots!" added a set ond. "He's got the blind staggers or 1 don't know anything about horses," put in a third. The four or five pedestrians grew t five or ten and ten to twenty or thirtyt "He's balky, eh?" queried a fat man as he forced his way into the crowd. "Holler in his ear!" shouted a boy who wjis up on balky horses. "All you fellers git hold and push the wagon!" commanded. a citizen, who appeared to be a born leader of men. The crowd grew to 50, 80, 100, and the street was blocked. Men examined the wheels on the wagon, the feet of the horse and the harness. The drivei stood there with lines and whip in hand, but said nothing nnd made no move until a policeman forced his way into the crowd and excitedly lisked: "Now, then, what's nil this nboutl What'B the matter here?" "Xuthin'," was the calm reply. "Horse sick?" "Naw." "Is he bulky?" "Now." "Then why don't you goon?" "I'm goin'." And he put his foot on the hub of i front wheel nnd pprnnk to his sent nnd drove off nt a sharp trot, nnd all the wondering crowd said as It looked a Eter him was: "I thought so all the time." Arnblan ;pnlr In Rnanla. The women, lightly tattooed upon faces and minds, had gold coins plait ed into their wild locks, necklaces of amber nnd rings of turquois, buttons of beaten silver fastening their rngi together, writes Mrs. Burton Harri son, in the Kuinrt Set. The men, mor vagabonds than knaves in expression, wore felt hats and c'.othen made up of patches. But., despite this degrada tion of attire, they bore themselves with a stately grace I have never seen surpassed. There wns one, girl, a pantherlike creature with glorious dark eyes, who hud her right nostril split through with a knife. Her free walk might have given a lesson to Sarah Bernhardt in "Izeyl." Her gar ments were draperies of tattered silk en stuff. She was trying to cajole a Circassian officer into buying some thing from her. Ho, in his new uni form of brown nnd silver, the. breast covered with silver cartridge holders, bis pistols in embroidered holsters, might have stepped out of n bandbox. At a guard, who pushed her aside, she glared like a wildcat; then, turn ing, moved magnificently back among her mates. Msmhall'M rillar. One of the striking natural curiosi ties of America is that known as Mar shall's Pillar, located in Fayette coun ty, Va. It Is an impressive mass oi rock rising in columnar form to a height of 1,000 feet, and Is an object of great interest to tourists. Detroit Free Press. How He Had Cuanjred. "Since he has become weaftby 1 understand he has given up activt business, and just loafs." "Yes; he's a man of contrasts, Ha ing done everybody, he now doe,' nothing." Chicago Post. it 'A '-'i if, I k t I, - ,