The Cook County herald. [volume], November 11, 1893, Image 1

About The Cook County herald. [volume] (Grand Marais, Minn.) 1893-1909

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VOLUME III.
-tTJSE
NCESTOR.
DEN the bigotry
of the last James
compelled sub­
jects to take up
arms against him
Sir John Coch­
rane was one of
the most form­
idable enemies to
his dangerous
usurpations.and one ef the most prom­
inent actors in Ajgyle's rebellion. For
•ages a destructive 'doom seemed to
'have hung over the house of Camp­
bell, uniting in a common ruin all
'who joined their fortunes to the cause
•of its chief. Sir John Cochrane was
no exception. He was surrounded
by the king's troops, and, after a long
and desperate resistance,he was taken
prisoner, and was tried and condemned
to die upon the scaffold. He had but
few days to live, and his jailer
awaited only the arrival of the death-
Warrant to lead him to execution.
His friends had visited him and ex
Changed the last farewells—all but
one his daughter Gi'izel, the pride of
his house, his dearest treasure, she
tilQJie had not come to receive his last
blessing.
Nignt had fallen on the prison, and
the father sat with his head pressed
against the cold, damp walls of his
cell, longing for a last look of his
favorite child, when the door opened,
and the keeper entered, followed by a
young and beautiful girl. Her person
was tall^ and commanding, her eyes
dark, bright, and tearless with a sor­
row too deep to be went away. The
unhappy prisoner raised his head.
"My child! my own Grizel!" he ex^
claimed, as he Dressed her to his heart.
"My father! my dear father!"
sobbed the miserable maiden.
"Your interview must be short, very
short," said the jailer as he elosed the
door, and left them together.
"Heaven help and comfort
thee, my precious child!" said
Sir John. "I had feared that I
should die without bestowing iny
blessing on the head of my daughter,
and that stung me more than death
but thou art come, my love—thou art
come!—and the last blessing of thy
wretched father
''Nay, father, forbear!" she ex­
claimed "not thy last blessing! not
thy last! My father shall not die!"
"Be calm, be calm, my child," he
said. "Would to heaven that I could
comfort thee, my own! But there is
no hope within three days tbou and
all my little ones will be- Father­
less, he would have said, but the
'^wi?ds''diect'tf|oir'his"lip'B:
"Three days," she repeated, raising
her head from his breast, but eagerly
pressing his hand "three days! then
there is hope—my father shall live.
Is not my grandfather the friend of
Father Petre, the confessor and mas­
ter of the king? From him he shall
"beg the life of his son, and mv father
shall not die."
"dismount!" cbied the stranger.
"Nay, nay, my Grizel," he returned,
"be not deoieved there is no hope.
Already my doom is sealed. Already
the king has signed the order for my
sxecution, and the messenger of
death is now on his way."
"Yet my father shall not—shall not
die!" she repeated emphatically, and
clasping her hands, "Heaven speed a
daughter's purpose!" she exclaimed
and turning to her father, said calmly,
"We part now, but we shall meet
again."
"What do you mean, my child?" he
inquired eagerly, gazing anxiously
on her face.
"Ask not now," she replied, "my
father, ask not now. Pray for me,
and bless me, but not with thy last
blessing."
He again pressed her to his heart,
and wept upon her neck. In a few
moments the jailer entered, and the
door was closed between the father
and daughter.
On the evening of the second day
after this interview, a wayfaring man
crossed the drawbridge at Berwick
from the north, and, proceeding along
Mary gate, sat down to rest upon a
bench, by the door of an inn on
the south side of the street,
nearly fronting the spot where
what was called the "main guard"
then stood. He did not enter the inn,
for it was above his apparent ^con­
dition, being that which Oliver Crom­
well had made his headquarters* a few
years before, and where, at a some­
what earlier period, James VI. of
Scotland had taken up his residence,
when oi) his way to England. The
traveler wore a coarse jerkin, fastened
round the waist by a leathern girdle,
and over it a short cloak of plain
material. He was evidently a young
man, *but his beaver was drawn down
so as almost to conceal his features.
In one hand he carried a small bundle,
and in the other a staff. Having called
'for a glass of wine, he took a crust of
^read from his bundle, and after rest­
ing a short time, rose to depart. Night
was coming on, and a storm was
threatening. The heavens grew black
the clouds rushed from the sea sud­
den gusts of wind moaned through
the streets, accompanied by heavy
drops of rain, and the face of the
Tweed was troubled.
"Heaven help thee if thou intendest
to travel tar in such a night as this!"
said the sentinel at the English gate,
as the traveler passed him to cross the
bridge.
In a few minutes he was upon the
wide and desolate moor of Tweed
mouth which for. miles presented a
desert of furze, fern, and stunned
heath, with here and there a copse of
thick brushwood. He slowly toiled
over the steep hill, braving the storm,
which now raged with the wildest
fury. The rain fell in toi rents, and
the wind howled like a legion of fam­
ished wolves, hurling its doleful echoes
over the heath. Still the stranger
pushed onward, untiL two or three
miles from Berwick, when, as if una­
ble to longer brave the storm, he
sought shelter amidst some bushes by
the wayside. Nearly an hour had
passed since he sought this imperfect
refuge, and the darkness of the night
and the storm had increased together,
when the sound of a horse's feet was
heard hurriedly plashing along the
road. The rider bent his. head to the
blast. Suddenly his horse was
grasped by the bridle the rider raised
his head, and the stranger stood be­
fore him holding a pistol to his
breast. "Dismount!"* cried the
Stranger sternly.
The horseman, benumbed and fear
stricken, made an effort to reach his
arms but instantly the hand of the
robber, quitting the bridle, grasped
the breast of the rider and dragged
him to the ground. He fell heavily
on his face, and for several minutes
was senseless. The stranger seized
the leather bag which contained the
maiL for the north, and flingiiig it
across his shoulder, rushed across the
heath.
Early on the following morning the
inhabitants of Berwick were seen
hurrying in groups to the spot where
the robbery had been committed, but
no trace of the robber could be ob­
tained.
Three days had passed and Sir John
Cochrane still lived. The mail which
contained his death-warrant had been
robbed, and before another order for
his execution could be given, the in­
tercession of his father, the earl of
Duiidonald, with the king's con­
fessor, might be successful.
Grizel now became the almost
constant companion of her father.
Nearly. a fortnight had passed'
since the robbery of the mail, and
protracted hope in the bosom of the
prisoner became more bitter than his
first despair. But., even that hopev
bitiefr as it 'was, perished. The in­
tercession of his father had been
unsuccessful and a second King James
signed the death-warrant. Within
little more than another day that
warrant would reach the prison.
"The will of Heaven be done!"
groaned the captive.
"Amen!" responded Grizel with wild
vehemence, "yet my father shall not
die."
Again the rider with the mail had
reached the moor of Tweedmouth,
and a second time he bore with'him
the doom of Sir John Cochrane. He
spurred his horse to its utmost speed
he looked cautiously before, behind,
and around, and in his right hand he
carried a pistol ready to defend him­
self. The moon shed a ghostly light
across the heath. He turned the
angle of a straggling corpse when his
horse reared at the report of a pistol,
the fire of which seemed to flash in its
very eyes. At the same moment
his own pistol went off, and,
his horse again rearing, he
was thrown from the saddle
In a moment the robber, with his foot
upon the breast of the messenger, was
bending over him and brandishing a
short dagger, saying:
"Give me thine arms, or die!"
The heart of the king's servant
failed him, and, without venturing a
reply, he did as he was commanded.
"Now go thy way," said the robber
sternly, "but leave me thy horse and
the mail, lest a worse thing come upon
thee."
The man arose, and returned to
Berwick, and the jobber, mounting
the horse, rode rapidly across the
heath.
Preparations were making for the
execution of Sir John Cochrane, and
the officers of the law waited only for
the arrival of the mail with the sec­
ond death-warrant, when the news
arrived that the mail had again been
robbed. For yet fourteen days the
prisoner's life would be prolonged.
Putting his arms about his daughter,
he said, "It is good. The hand of
Heaven is in this!"
"Said I not," replied his child, and
for the first time she wept, "said I not
that my father should not die?"
The fourteen days were not past
when the prison-door flew open, and
the earl of Dundonald rushed to the
arms of his son. His intercession with
the confessor had been successful, and,
after twice signing the warrant for
the execution of Sir John, the king
had sealed his pardon.
He hurried with his father to his
own house his family were clinging
around him, shedding tears of joy.
Grizel only was absent. They were
marveling with gratitude at the mys­
terious providence that had twice in­
tercepted the mail, and saved his life,
when a stranger craved an audience.
Sir John desired him to be admitted,
and the robber entered he was dressed
in a coarse cloak, and coarser jerkin,
but his bearing seemed beyond his
condition. On entering, he slightly
touched his beaver, but did not re­
move it.
"When you have read these," said
he, taking two papers from his bosom,
"cast them into the fire."
Sir John glanced them over—
7
started, and became p^le. They were
his death warrants.
"My deliverer!" he exclaimed "how
—how shall Ithank thee—how repay
the saviour of my life? My father-
my children—thank him for met"
The old earl* grasped the hand of
the strangers—
the children embraced
his knees. He pressed his hand to his
face, and burst into tears.
"By what name," eagerly inquired
Sir John, "shall I thank my deliv­
erer."
She stranger wept aloud, and rais­
ing his beaver, the raven tresses of
Grizel Cochrane fell over thp coarse
cloak.
"Gracious heavens!" exclaimed the
astonished and enraptured father,
"my own child—my own Grizel!"
It is unnecessary to add more. The
reader can supply the rest, and we
may only add that Grizel Cochrane,
whose heroism we have briefly
sketched, was the grandmother of the
grandmother of the late Sir John
Stewart of Allendank in Berwickshire
and great-grandmother of Mr. Coutts,
the celebrated banker. Consequently
she was the great-great-great-grand­
mother of Baroness Burdett-Coutts.
A 3 SHORT-LIVED EXOTIC.
Summer Men Sized Up by One Who
Knows Them Well.
The man who poses as a summer
beau par excellence is generally far
more silly than his feminine op­
posite. In many instances he is off
on a vacation of but two weeks, and
has saved up all his odd pennies
toward the acquirement of a varied
wardrobe with which he intends to
dazzle the eyes of the girls with
whom he comes in contact. He
changes his clothes three or four
times a day, and is as particular
about having every article up to the
top notch of fashion as a woman is
regarding the fit of her gown.
As an excuse for his personal van­
ity it must be 6aid that he is very
young, says the Washington Supper
Table. Sense comes with years, and
he has no desire later on to pose as a
summer man. Even though his con­
cern over his various suits of clothes
is his only weakness, when he ar­
rives at a hotel he will undoubtedly
acquire another one before he has
been long under the roof, for the
scarcity of men who are willing to
dance attendance upon the caprices
of the summer girl makes him popu­
lar at once, even though he may not
have a grain of sense in his head or
more than his two weeks' salary in
his pocket.
This consideration at once causes,
him-t« thit^-that^he-is^^verjrfastji-*
nating creature, and he acts on. this
principle until an influx of mascu­
lines on Saturday night opens his
eyes to the fact he was all right it
there were no others around, but
when there are several to be com­
manded he is not so important a
personage as he imagined.
Sometimes it is pitiful to see the
way a summer man is snubbed when
others more worthy to be angled for
appear upon the scene, and yet from
season to season he, bobs up serene­
ly, and is content to be the great "I
am" during the week and take sec­
ond place over Sunday. As a parcel
carrier, a candy buyer and an excel­
lent target for flirtation practice the
summer man is all right, but as a
husband who can be depended on in
sickness and in health, for better or
for worse, he is not to be recom­
mended as yet.
A Dwelling-House in India.
Fancy an enormous house rambling
out into a series of immense rooms,
all- on one floor, piazzas twenty feet
deep, immense chambers (in the
middle of which stand the beds),
doors and windows wide open, the
grounds filled with palms, bananas,
and all sorts of tropical trees, the
song of birds, the chirp of insects
everywhere and a dazzling sun blaz­
ing down on the Indian ocean in
iront. A dozen or more dusky Hindu
servants, barefooted, dressed in
white, with bright sashes around
their waists, and bright turbans on
their heads, are moving about every­
where, as still as cats, and with no
end of devotion to their little duties.
One of them seems to have nothing
to do but to look after mo he has
worked over my limited wardrobe
till he knows every shirt and collar
better than I do myself. He is now
brushing my hat for the twelfth time
this morning. The life is luxurious.
Quantities of delightful fruit, cool
lounging-places with luxurious
chairs, a sumptuous breakfast, (or
«'tiffin," as we call it here) and din­
ner-table, and no end of l^ind atten­
tion. I am writing in my room on
the day before Christmas, as if it
were rather a hot August morning at
home.—Phillips Brooks' Letters in
Century.
One That Wasn't.
Mr. Howell, of the firm of Gettup
& Howell—Are the bank statements
more favorable to-day, Mr. AddemupP
Book-keeper—Why—aw—not ex­
actly. Here's one to the effect that
you've overdrawn your account at
the Fourteenth National.
The Coal Question.
Coal Dealer—You see the price of
coal fluctuates. It goes up and down.
Purchaser—Y©Si but the weight
remains stationary at seventeen hun­
dred pounds to the ton.—Texas Sitt­
ings.
GRAND MARAIS. MINN., SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 11, 1893.
|lUpj)EROHS APACHES.
.fCH&8 PROM CERONIMO'S
1AID ON THE PLAINS, 3
t.
How aGreaser Owed His rife to a
Wretched Old Muzzle-Loading Musket
-A White Woman Went Back to gave
Her Chickens and Narrowly Escaped.
If'
There*is something in the nature
of a, shpbk to the mind of an Eastern
man wh|m he hears the stories told
Newiplexican cow boys and sheep
herders about5 the Apaches. One
reads Ipian stories in the East, but
tjiey arefstories afar off, or of people
yfho liy4| long ago. Here the story
is told by the side of a fresh grave,
to- iaeak, and "So-and-So, who
lives rigat over there," was one Of
the principal characters.
While driving down the valley of
Tulerosa creek, Blunt Armstrong,
the stage, driver, said, pointing to
the steep side of a flat-topped moun­
tain on the right:
"During the last raid of the
Apaches avband of them came across
the top of the mountain on their
way to destroy the improvements
bjs ow here. It happened that a
couple of Mexicans were herding a
flock of sheep right up there that
^yv.and neither herders nor Indians
"knew of the approach of the other.
Weil, as the Indians camo to the brow
of that little precipice they saw the
herders and popped over the nigh
one at the first shot. The other one
started to' run, and the Indians, a
dozen strot^f, clambered down the
bluff and took after him, and made
three jumps to his two. As soon as
they began to get close in, say with­
in twenty rods or so, the Mexican
turned round and tried to shoot at
them with ail old-fashioned, muzzle
loading musket he had carried to
shoot coyotes and panthers. But
something was wrong with the
blamed thing, and it wouldn't go off.
"That made the Apaches laugh,
and with much noise they determined
to take him alive and torture him.
But the Mexican was game, and kept
running and Working away with his
old musket until at last bang she
went and over went the war chief of
the band with a bullet in his head.
As luck would have it, the, chief had
stopped chasing the Mexican—the
capture of a single fugitive was too
sfliaU a gameifor him, maybe, and
although he was. hit by chance, the
Indians concluded that all the mo­
tions and monkeyshines the Mexican
had been making with the gun were
but preliminary to the magical de­
struction of their chief. With many
cries and exclamations they at once
stopped the chase, and with the body
of their dead chief made b.r,ste to
leave the valley.
"As this incident was enlivening
the upper part of the valley another
party of Apaches was hurrying down
Apache canyon on their way to the
Tulerosa. The white people had
good warning of their coming, and
all escaped, though eleven Mexicans
were caught in one bunch and shot
down. One white woman with her
husband had a close call, however,
owing to her regard for her chickens.
She had recently come from the
East, and was so much of a tender­
foot as not to understand the real
danger.
"The Indians were reported to be
in a place that seemed to her to be a
long way off. On hearing the report
she, with her husband, started for
the rendezvous of Pat Higgins' ranch,
but when well on her way she
thought of her chickens that/ had
been left at home. Nothing would
do but to return and get them: The
husband said the danger was rapidly
increasing, but she was determined
the Apaches should not have the
chickens, and back the couple drove
and got them. Then they drove up
the trail again.
"They had just passed the mouth
of Apache canyon when Geronimo's
band came out and started in chase.
It was about three miles from the
canyon to the Higgins ranch. The
ranchman heard them coming, but
he had a farm wagon and less than a
milo the start. Of all the scones in
the Tulerosa valley few were ever
more thrilling than that, when a
turn in the road revealed to the poo
ple at the Higgins ranch the ranch­
man leaning out over the front of
his wagon plying a blacksnake whip
to the galloping team while the
wagon leaped and swayed from side
to side, a long cloud of dust rolled
smoking into the air, and a scattered
gang of ill-favored savages came gal­
loping behind, shooting their rifles
and gaining at every jump. It was a
hard race, but the ranchman won,his
foolish wife lying in a dead faint in
the bottom of the wagon box beside
the ooop of chickens."
A grave is pointed out as that of
an unknown white man, says the.
New York Sun. After the raid was
over a skeleton was found across a
big red aunt hill. A man had been
captured and then, by means of
stakes and cords, bound alive across
the home of a colony of red ants.
There he lay helpless while the asjts
by slow degree stripped away his
living, flesh.
lA
T^e
'i
ranch oyer the way has twc
iron hooks on the shady wall of the
house. These are pointed out to the
stranger. The ranchman put them
there, that he might hang up a deer,
an elk or the carcass of a steer a3
fresh meet was needed by the family.
The Apaches came along and sur­
prised the woman at home alon&
Slitting open her ankles just above
the heels they hung her up alive
with those hooks through the slits
and left her there. Her husband,
with a party of plainsmen, returned
in time to save her life.
AN OLD LONDON HOUSE.
Beneath the Grouud Floor There Flowed
the Clerken Well.
An old-fashioned, two-storied tene­
ment in Farringdon road (No. 18)
was built in 1794. It served until
1822, as a parish watch house. Be­
neath the ground floor, as also under
No. 16, flows the Fons Clericorum—
the Clerken well cited by Fritz
Stephen, the Canterbury monk, in
the account that he prefixed to his
life of his master, Thomas a Becket,
says the London Daily News. In one
of the little realistic touches intro­
duced by Ralph Aggas into his map
of circa 1560 we see the water pour­
ing forth into an open cistern
"curbed about square with hard
stone," placed against an outer wall
of St. Mary's Benedictine nunnery,
which Jordan Briset fouhded nearly
800 years ago, endowing it with four­
teen acres of land, and whose
pleasaunce lay on the slope which
inclined westward down to the Fleet's
left bank. The well itself formed one
of the several feeders which here
gave to that stream its style of the
river of Wells, as it flowed through
a valley whose once rural character
is yet .marked by the street names
around. It became known as the
Clerk's well from the meeting there
of the fraternity of parish clerks to
enact mysteries and scriptural plays.
Strype, writing in 1720, describes
the approach to the weil as being
"through a little house which was
the watch house you go down a
good many steps to it." In 1800
they set up a pump, distant four feet
from the spring, in Ray street, since
thrown into Farringdon road, next to
the steps that led up to Fox terrace,
and opposite to Mutton hill. St.
James' parish church replaces the
nunnery, the railway has abolished
Mutton hill, Coppice row and Vine
"ya'rd gardens are altogether changed,
and for the pump's site we must now
look to No. 16 in Farringdon road.
PERT PLEASANTRIES.
First Stranger—It seems to me 1
have seen your face before. Second
Stranger—Quite likely. That's where
I carry it.
She—I suppose you would have been
happier if you had not married me?
He—Yes, darling but I wouldn't have
have known it.
"Perry Graffer won't be able to
write any more jokes for a good
while now." "Why?" "He fell and
broke his humerus."
Customer—How is this? You have
charged me twice the usual price for
shaving. Barber—My razor was dull,
and it took me twice as long.
Jones—I think my wife would make
a first-rate member of congress.
Jones' Friend Why? Jones—Be­
cause she talks so early and so long
on the money question.
The last time I ordered spring
chicken here they brought m.e a
thoroughly matured hen. How do you
suppose I can get a real spring
chicken?" "Order a fresh egg."
Grumbling Guest—When you charge
ten cents for a cup of coffee it ought
to be better than this stuff! Stately
Waiter—Perhaps, sah, you are not ac­
customed to ten cent coffee, sah.
Tenor—Sir, this music is a trifle too
high for me. Manager—Let us take
it a note lower. Tenor—Oh, half a
note would do. Manager, solemnly—
Here, sir, we never do things by
halves!
"I can't see why bread should re­
main at the same price when wheat
and flour have come down so." "My
dear boy, the main things in bread
aro water and air. Neither one is a
cent cheaper than it was at the close
of the war."
Miss Antique, taking seat politely
proffered—Thank you, my little man.
You have been taught to be polite, I
am glad to see. Did your mother tell
you to always give up, your seat to
ladies? Polite Boy—No'm, not all
ladies only old ladies.
A beggar, ragged, pitiful, loaded
with a tale of woe and the: usual
"large
family," stopped, and implored alms
of a lady passing. "How many chil­
dren did you say you have,poor man?"
questioned the lady, commiseratingly,
responding generously. "Only one,
madam, but—I haxre three wives.
Two ladies were out driving, when
suddenly the horse shied into a hedge,
pitching both ladies out, A farmer
who was passing, assisted the groom
in carrying the ladies to a lodge close
by.
1
'Oh, dear," said the lodge-keeper's
wife, when she saw what had happen­
ed, "you mutt really excuse me, ladies,
being in this state but if I'd only
a knowed it I'd have put my washing
off till to-morrowJl
NUMBER 23.
MORE BURIED TREASURE.
This Time Located in Argentine Bepab.
11c—Its Lengthy History.
There is a fortune buried near the
town of La Plata, in the Argentina
Republic, and the people down there
are going crazy over it. The money
is all in bank of England notes, and
there is £350,000 for the man who is
fortunate enough to find it.
When the civil war broke out in
Chili President Balmaceda, realizing
the importance of a navy in such a
conflict, commissioned Colonel Pinto
one of his most trusted friends, to
proceed to England and purchase or
build a couple of fast cruisers, which
were to be. manned by picked crews
and sent out to Valparaiso as. fast as
steam could carry them. Pinto was
given bills of exchange on several
London banks to pay for the cruisers
and he lost no time in starting on
his mission, says the San Francisco
Chronicle.
The only possible way he could
get to England was by taking pass­
age on one of the steamers running
between Valparaiso and Liverpool
and, as he had to go via Magellan's
straits and up the Atlantic, the voy­
age took considerable time, especial­
ly as the steamer had to call at.
Montevideo, Bueno3 Ayres and Rio
de Janeiro.
Before Colonel Pinto could reach
England and secure the cruisers he
needed, Balmaceda saw how things
were going, and realizing that lota
of ready cash would be a good thing
to assist him out of the country in
case he was forced to leave, he tele­
graphed Pinto to let the cruisers go
and hurry back to Valparaiso with
the money as fast as he could.
Pinto took the precaution of
changing the bills of exchange into
Bank of England notes, and with the
£350,000 safely stowed away in a
steel box in his big trunk, he started
on his trip back.
When the steamer reached Monte­
video the news of Balmaceda's down­
fall reached him and he concluded
that the Argentine Republic would
be a more pleasant place to reside in
for a while at least, as he was known
to be a personal friend of the de­
throned dictator. Pinto took up his
residence in La Plata, and during his
residence there formed the acquaint­
ance of a gentleman named Parry.
After the excitement caused by
the war had died down Pinto con­
cluded to revisit Chili, but he did not
want the money to fall into the hands
of his enemies He was afraid to
place it in any of the banks for fear
the victorious insurgents would put
in a claim for it, so one night when
everything was quiet he took the
precious box out and buried it.
This done he went back to Chili
with a light heart, but no sooner had
he set foot in Valparaiso than he
was arrested and thrown into a dun­
geon and told that when he got
ready to turn the money over to the
government he would be released
and not before. Some of Pinto's
friends, however, told him that so
long as he kept the money out of the
hands of his enemies he was safe, but
as soon as he turned it over to the
government he would be taken out
and shot as a traitor.
Pinto is a native of Buenos Ayres,
and he concluded to use part of the
money in effecting his release if pos­
sible. With this object in view he
wrote to Mr. Paray tolling him how
matters stood and offering him one
fourth if he would induce the Argen­
tine government to take up his case
and demand his release. The loca­
tion of the buried treasure was not
given in the letter, but would be
sent to Mr. Parry if he concluded to
accept the proposition.
Mr. Parry by accident lost the let­
ter, and the finder soon made known
the fact that the big fortune in Bank
of England notes was buried some
where near the town, and the result
is that about every man that can se
oure a spade is now out digging for
the treasure and leaving everything
else to take care of itself.
To Cross the Atlantic With Freah Flowers.
"I can tell you how to cross the
Atlantic with a fresh carnation in
your buttonhole," said an experienced
traveler the other day. His recipe
was to start the voyage with two
carnations and a raw potato. The
carnations are to be worn on alter­
nate days, and each, when not orna­
menting the buttonhole, is to be
thrust into a hole in the potato. At
the end of a week at least one of them
will be fresh enough to excite the
surprise of fellow passengers.
A Hardy Little Animal.
Extensive drought will cause the
snail to close its doors to prevent
the evaporation of its bodily moist­
ure and dry up. These little ani­
mals are possessed of astonishing vi­
tality,, regarding activity after hav­
ing been frozen in solid blocks of
ice, a»d enduring a^ degree ox heat
for weeks which. daily crisps vogi
tation.
Burials In Borneo
The Dakajese of Borneo never bury
a dead member of their tribe until a
slave can be procured, who is be­
headed at the interment or crema­
tion, to attend the deceased in th&
next world.
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