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lewis m. grist, proprietor, J gin Jndfpfitdpnt .Jamils Dtotispaptr: <Jfoi[ flic |3roiiiofion ojf the political, Social, Ipriinittural and (gommqciat Jntcrcafs of tint jsouth. |TERMS?$2.00 A YEAR IN ADVANCE. ; VOL 38. YOBKVILLE, S. C., ?El)y KSDAY, JIHSTE 8, 1892. NO. 23. ' " "" m T 1 1 I milof til Am tA Ar , - I CHAPTER XII. "Because it was John's, and I am not his wife.'' . Royal waited a week before starting east to give his letter time to reach his wife and be somewhat digested ere she fl/v/vUim on/1 qIua in ornlflt mtilfA UIUUIU OK7%J UUU, MUU INOV w V.V. the business arrangements necessary for an absence of uncertain duration. The time now appointed for the settlement of Miss Royal's estate was the October term of circuit court for the district wherein was situated her landed property. It was now nearing the end of September, and Royal wished a short time to himself for consultation with his wife. He had determined to be guided entirely by her wishes in the matter, feeling that she had been drawn into a false position, and that choice of a mode of extrication was her right. If she should decide on divorcing the living man far the sake of the dead man he would place no impediments in her way. But, while he formed this resolution with all stoutness, Royal was conscious -of an ache at his heart which was earnest of what the wrench would be should: Phyllis decide to break the bond between fchpm. "You'll be bringing a wife home with you. Hart, perhaps," his sister suggested with a smile, as he kissed her good-by. .. "I'm not so sure about that as Td like lo be, Madge," Royal responded ruefully.. "The balance is about even. I shall try ?o, at all events." "YouH succeed, too, if yon try in the' right way, sir knight of the sorrowful' sountenanoe. One of the first principles of suooess is to believe in yonr own ability to succeed. That's an axiom, but it's a good one. Say -I will and then do. If you love her truly and want her, tell her . so as strongly as 5'0Q can, and don't listen vo a word against it. That's the way to manage women. Be masterful through earnest loving." ~rrfrhat -sounds forcible," Royal admitted. "Let me in, my love, or I'll poll the place about yonr ears, is as good a screed of doctrine as any other in ordinary cases. In this, however, I am at-a disadvantage and can't exactly avail myself of trenchant methods." "How at a disadvantage?" Her tone was one of eager interest. 1 Ml nnn, "11? VUU lUllg a BWi* W ivii uvn, Madge. I made a fool of myself last December?as usual. Wait until I come home with my arms borne before me or trailing a broken pennon. You shall have the story in either event, 1 promise you." "You must bring it to me on the point of a victorious lance," she smiled; "any , other method will rob it of all charm. There is a time won proverb anent faint hearts and fair ladies 1 might quote, but will spare you. Hart!"?with a swift change of expression?"1 am consumed with terror lest you forget to notify me in time about the young woman's taste in wedding gifts. If you do I shall get something perfectly atrocious!" Royal made a jesting reply and went on his wnv insenribly cheered. His sister's coal. Laco i.i his prowess and good fortune inspirited him and caused his natural buoyancy to reassert itself. So thoroughly did self confidence return, indeed, that during a few hours' detention in St. Louis he provided himself with a pretty moss agate pin for Mrs. Hart and a diamond ring and bracelet for Phyllis. . During the journey eastward Royal conoeived, elaborated and discarded so many interviews with his wife, and of such diverse forms and endings, that his Imagination developed rapidly under the! exercise. Had he been called on at any moment he could have furnished a dozen thrilling and impossible situations and still have had power remaining to evolve others?brand new and infinitely more complicated. And, as events in this life rarely justify anticipations, not a single one of the predicted situations at all titted the reality. An hour after his arrival in Alexandria Royal left the hotel and proceeded to Mrs. Hart's house with the avowed in-' tention of demanding an interview with that genial lady and, from her, ascertaining how the land lay. So filled was he with this scheme?which appeared to him neat?that when the servant, in response to his inquiry, informed him that Mrs. Hart had gone over to Washington and would not return until the afternoon he felt as nonplussed as though he had led an ace and had it trumped in the first round. "Was Mrs. Royal ip?" The servant thought not, but would go and see. Then she ushered him into the parlor and retired with a grinning countenance. She had had substantial canst' to regard Dr. Royal with favor during , his former visit. . Royal moved restlessly about the room It was full of signs of feminine occupancy ?pretty bric-a-brac, dainty embroideries, an open piano with a lace handkerchief on the keys, a fancy work basket heaped, with scraps of silk and ribbon, and dolls j of all sizes in various stages of preparation for a church fair, an open copy of "Hypatia"ona little table, and books here, there and everywhere. The street door opened and closed, quick footsteps advanced along the half, a word or two was exchanged with somen one outside the parlor door, and Royal faced around in time to see his wife enter the room. Could that be Phyllis? He had never pictured her thus, and could scarcely credit his eyes or believe that they re- j ported a living verity. Slender, radian t, j clad still in black from crown to instep, i but worn, somehow, differently from his recollection of it, with clear gray eyes alight with pleasure, soft rings of hair clustering about a white forehead avid cheeks aglow with health and exerci.-e, she seemed to Royal a totally new creature. She advanced at once with outstretcaed hand and manner totally devoid of embarrassment. It was all very differ- ' ent from that which he had expected, but by the time he had taken her hand in his Royal had become conscious that whatever she might decide in regard to their future relations there would bo no danger of petty misunderstanding or narrow judgment with this woman. Ho lifted his head and squared his shoulders as though a load had been removed from them. "When did_jou come?" she was saying; 1 [JlES IWELVE GJKLELtftNB t by American Press Association.] "this morning? And you came at once to us. That was charming of you. I only wish Nina had been at home to receive and help to welcome you." Royal, who for the last second had been perilously near taking her into his arms, recovered himself sufficiently to take idie chair she indicated. It was not only that the situation was unexpected, i but that she, as she now appeared, was equally unexpected. He sat regarding her helplessly. | "You received my letter?" His tone \ was experimental. Phyllis did not answer mm uirecuy. She ~ad laid a pair of bine spectacles on the table, and was busily removing her glov<:i. "I have to wear glasses still out of doors," she informed him cheerfully. "Bu^ in the house I am quite independent of them." Royal's eyes were on her hands. She had taken off the right glove and was unbuttoning the left. The trimming of i her sleeve had caught in a button and j was giving her trouble. "Let me help you," Royal said, and : lear ed eagerly forward. She surrendered her hand at once, and he extricated the fastening from its en- I tan;.dement, and then, in response to an i acquiescent glance, drew off the glove. ! As lie did so his eyes instinctively sought her third finger, and he drew his breath hard?she had taken off her wedding ' ring. His hopes fell below freezing point I in an instant. To him it appeared a portent "Why did you take it off?' The words broke from him involuntarily and with a thrill of pain. ''Because it was John's, and 1 am not | his wife." Then when he would have si>okeu she I checked him by a gesture and turned her truthful eyes full on him: "Your letter came some days ago, Dr. : RoyaL I know why you did not write 1 be'ore?that consideration for me held you back from telling me the story months ago. You would not imperil my chance of sight I am grateful for your kindness. But I could not discuss thi matter with you until you should ha ve spoken of it yourself. I wanted to talk with you about it, so I showed you that you might speak at last." Royal looked bewildered.. "You knew of the affair before my reaohed vou?' he hazarded. 'Yea. .rve known the story for months past, Dr. Royal?ever since a week or two after you went away last December. When I saw you that last morning you scorned so unlike John that 1 could scarcely realize how you could have changed so much. I said nothing to Nina at first and put the thought aside, but it kept returning. When I spoke to her about it first she made fun of me, laughed at the idea of your being cimnged, more than the years would account for, and thought 1 couldn't &: ? that she was evading and slipping away from the subject. When my eyes got stronger I got out the package of photographs of himself my cousin had sent me from time to time, and only the first of which I had ever seen. None of them was in the least like you, and no stretch of imagination would make them so. You seemed a totally different man. 7hen 1 remembered blunders that you had made, and which I did not notice at tie time?blunders John couldn't have made. It troubled me, for it was all incomprehensible." She paused a moment, and Royal in a dim way realized that it had been hard on her. His conscience smote him. "One day," Phyllis went on, "N^na left a letter of yours on the table when tihe had finished reading it aloud. She did not usually leave them around. I slipped the bandage up and looked at ;he handwriting. It was not a bit like John's. He wrote a delicate, student's hand, almost like a woman's, and you use a stub and write with large letters and a heavy stroke. I couldn't endure it any longer then and made Nina tell me. "Was that the reason you would not ; let me come in the spring?" Royal qties- ! tioned, a light breaking in on him. "Yes. I wanted to get used to it all, j and to learn to separate you from John j in my mind. And 1 wanted to be my | very self when we should meet again, j besides?not helpless and dependent any i more, but a woman who could take her life into her own hands if need were. Do you understand?" Royal bent his head. His brain was in a whirl, but it held fast to one jc-yful , fact; she -had known the whole story j when she had written that note. His ! heart leaped, but he held himself in check. "When I learned that John was dead i it seemed at first as though half my life j had been broken off and buried with him," the soft voice proceeded. "And I , dared not weep for him, even when my heart was aching. That was hard, for there was never a time in my life with- ; ont the thought of John. It seems strange that he should have continued to care for me so much through all those years?that he Bhould have shortened his life through trying to provide for : me. It makes me feel so guilty, so selfish, that after my 6ight began to fail I should have been more taken up with my own hopes and fears than with thoughts of him?that I never should have loved him as he deserved to be loved." The voice was wistful and very ; tender, but the sweet gray eyes were tearless. Royal rose and came to her, unable j any longer to master his emotions. Bend- i ing down he took her hands and raised I her to her feet: "You knew it all when you wrote that note?knew that you were not, and never had been, John Royal's wife, but were mine? And you asked me to come to youl Phyllis, do you know what you are doing? Do you know that you are giving me hope of more than forgiveness?" Her sweet eyes met his in all simplic- j ity, and her hands were not withdrawn 1 from his clasp. She was without the catlike impulse which leads women 10 play with men in moments of strong emotion. And in her unworldliness, her lack of 6elf consciousness, it seemed to her that so far from having aught to forgive, no woman had been so loved, so honored. "You have done so much?suffered so much?for me, both you and John. It I hardly seems credible that men should so sacrifice themselves to the helplessness of a woman. But"?with a proud uplifting of her head?"you must not let | me hamper your life?must not feel obliged to hold to the marriage. Nina told me what you said. I am so grateful to you that to have you feel yourself , bound in any way"? She faltered and broke down, for his eyes were on j her eyes, and she could not fail to read \ their meaning. With a quick, almost passionate gesture Royal's arms closed round her and drew her to his breast. "My own?my own, at last!" ho murmured, bending his face and seeking her rps with his lips. "Do you think I will let you go??that I can let you go? Never,' until death shall part us, my love! my wife!" And for a space there was silence. t ? * * * t After a while, when they had talked the affair over from beginning to end, and canvassed it exhaustively, Phyllis, twisting and turning around her finger j a diamond ring new to the place, said in a low voice: j "That marriage with you .was legal, I j know, and would stand in court, and all that: but, Dr. Royal, you were not in ' my thoughts during the ceremony, nor afterward, as yourself. I thought of John. Perhaps it is a woman's fancy, | but I wish"? She hesitated. "You wish what?" Royal questioned, j possessing himself of her hand, and ! merging rapidly into that state of mind ! in which anything short of half his ! kingdom appears to a man too paltry to I offer the woman of his love. "To marry you, and think of you while I'm doing it." She smiled, and then the j blood mounted to her forehead; she turned from him petulantly: "Why did you raake'me say it? You should have asked me yourself." "Forgive me, # my darling, I should indeed," Royal admitted penitently. "A man's a blundering simpleton at best, and when he's in love and very happy he's like a creature dazzled. I ask you now a hundred times! I'll get the preacher anil the ring thin very evening." But Phyllis slirank from such precipitation. They must consult with Nina aud see what she thought best. And she did not want another ring. John had faithfully loved her, and had been, moreover, the means of their union; it would be^ heartless and ungrateful to shut him out altogether. She would marry Dr. Royal with her cousin's ring or none at all. And so it was arranged. CHAPTER XIII. This she opened and took from It a thick envelope. "Miss Phyllis, Dr. Royal say how youmus' git ready right quick, kase he gone arter a buggy fur to drive you out to Arlin'ton dis arternoon." The maid stood with the door knob in her hand, and smiled with the joyousness peculiar to the colored countenance. She addressed Mrs. Royal familiarly by her Christian name, as is still the habit with southern domestics, and her gaze rested upon the young lady with approval. "Lord! Miss Phyllis, dat cert'n'y is one pretty dress you got on! Arter you git done wid it you mus' save it for me, please'm." Phyllis laughed and promised. She was used?as what southern woman is not??to having her clothes bespoken before the dressmaker's folds were out of them. She glanced down at the admired garment. It was a tea gown of soft India silk, white, with a tiny black figure, in deference to her mourning; the collar and cuffs were also black, and the puff of silk in front was caught against her waist with a knot of black and white ribbons. A pretty gown, indeed, and it set off the charms of the wearer. Phyllis smoothed it with her hand and touched the ribbons caressingly. And why not? ?had not her husband praised the dress, and in it found her fair, and told her so with kisses? The remarriage had taken place a fortnight before very privately at the house of a clergyman over in the district. No one had been present save Mrs. Hart, and there had been no public mention of the affair. None was necessary, for the first marriage filled all legal requirements, and the second had taken place simply to gratify Phyllis. After the ceremony the pair had gone away together for a little wedding journey, agreeing to return to Alexandria in a couple of weeks to join Mrs. Hart, when all three would proceed to Virginia for the meeting with the executors. Phyllis also wished to remain a few days in Matoacca, iu order to superintend the erection of a monument to her cousin. As she made her preparations for the drive Phyllis hummed to herself in a tender undertone. tl?e liappiuess within her finding vent in music us naturally as nrAA/llon^ nVnl/1 r^ri uvea luab ui uuiuiv o ^wukiuu v*?t4v*? vi*} for the girl was almost as much a product of field and forest as are mocking birds and thrushes. Her bonn<' was on and her fingers busy with the strings when sho suddenly ceased from motion and gazed deep into the eyes which regarded her from the mirror. How clear they looked, how sentient and strong! A wave of thankfulness swept over her, and she murmured reverently, "And for the sight of our eyes, O Lord, accept ye praise!" Then her husband's voice from the hall called up to her to hasten, and she caught up handkerchief and gloves. At the chamber door, however, sho bethought herself and turned back to a desk on a small table near the bed, wherein were John Royal's letters, his photographs, and her most treasured souvenirs of her aunt. This 6lie opened and took from it a thick envelope, which she slip|>ed in her pocket as she sped down stairs. "I forgot something and had to go nek," she explained, as she joined her husband and Mrs. Hart, the latter having come out to the door step to see them off. "Did you make a cross in the path?" the lady questioned, gayly. "Poor, dear old mammy! What a point she always made about 'backin' de luck with a cross mark! No; I forgot it. I'll do it now!" And she daintily traced ll. _ .1 i. .MU1. 4-lwt ..P a cross Oil me uuorsiey nun nio iuo 01 her little boot. "Come along, you superstitious young woman," called Royal from the pavement. "I've turned back scores of times after starting and nothing ever happened to me." "Fortune's favorite!?just hear till him!" quoted Mrs. Hart mockingly, its they drove away. The pleasant country road led away from the city six or seven miles to the ancient home of the Lees. The air was balmy, yet bracing with uutumnal vigor and a suggestion of the frost to come; the road was fairly good, for a Virginia road, and the pair chatted gayly as they bowled along. Phyllis enjoyed it all with the zest of a child, and seemed never weary of the delight of the eyes. The tangles of vines on the roadside,' the mosses and ferns around the springs they passed, the festoons of wild grape vine pendent from the trees and rich with the shadings of dark fruit and yellow foliage, the marvelous blending of crimson, gold, green and tawny bronze showed by the leaves, even the waving broom sedge and stiff little firs, like Dutch toys, dotting the worn out fields, all appeared to her beautiful. Presently they ascended a long, st<*ep hill and drove along its crest a hundred yards, and Royal turned the buggy and called on his wife to behold the world and the wonder thereof. And Phyllis, after a rapturous cry, uttered low down in her throat, like the note of a wood pigeon, folded her hands together and was 8{>eechless, si>ellbound at the loveliness of the scene la-fore her. Washington, with its countless l?-auties of architecture, its monuments, st?-e1 pies, roof trees and dominating dome? I Washington in slumbrous autumnal graeiousness was spread before them, | strangely beautified by distance, and ! bucked by the tender purplish blue of I the far horizon. Nearer?almost at the I foot of the hill?rolled the gleaming [ waters of the Potomac, "all quiet aloug" I its banks now, for many a year quiet, ! restful and infinitely beautiful?thunj der of cannon and rattle of musketry, i sounds of battle and bivouac, hushed i forever, and the river flowing tranquilly, | taking its share in the labor of the presI ent, with hardly a suggestion left of its | participation in the sorrow and wrong i doing of the past. Away in the distance the stream seemed fettered by the links of an iron bridge, over which, as they gazed, a train passed slowly, overshadowed by a canopy of bluish gray smoke. To the left, bathed in afternoon sunlight, Bleepy old Alexandria, steeped to the eaves in the joy of calm, showed picturesquely against the background of the Virginia I hills, and over the heights of GeorgeI town the shadow of a cloud passed ' dreamily. Then they drove on, talking of things ! that had been in the nation's history; j but as they neared the gateway of Ar j lington silence fell aguin. It was disI rnpted in a moment, and all sientiment J and solemnity dispelled by a party of j little negroes who swarmed QUt from the i archway, like flies, tumbling, grinning, ! and dancing around the buggy with shouts of "Please, sar, gimme j>enny! please, ma'am, gimme penny! Look at j me, lady! Dis a-way! I ain't no daid ! folks! I kin stan' on my haid fur penny, ! I kin!" | Royal meuaced the laughing cohort j with his whip, hut his face was too good ! humored for his gesture to make much | impression, and the hilarious scraps of ; ebony held th?ir ground until Phyllis j had distributed among them all the I small change in their possession. "It spoils the solemnity of the apI proach," she admitted when Royal smili ingly suggested that they might be en; couraging a nuisance. "But they looked , so jolly I couldn't help giving them something. I haven't seen a lot of little ( negroes jumping about for years. It : does my eyes good." Insida the gates there was no lack of solemnity, and Royal pulled his horse up to a walk and slowly followed the road winding under mugnificent trees, j through stretches of velvety verdure, Dast plots of exquisite blooming plants, I rockeries, and tall vases filled with flowers, vines and ferns, untouched as yet by frost. Now they caught glimpses of shady dingles and clear streams rippling purely, and again of level meadows, sug! gestive of old homesteads, lowing kine, milkmaids?anything, everything, except a graveyard. Gradually the road ascended, and a ' thrill passed through Phyllis' sensitive I nerves as her eyes rested for the first i time on the home of the south's great chieftain. She wished to go there at once, but Royal turned aside to the cemetery which surrounds the home of Lee. There it lay, stretching almost as far as eye could reach, line on line, in close, compact ranks; in companies, in regiments, in battalions?so many! so many! There seemed miles on miles of them, the tiny, plain, pitiful white stones, neat, precise and infinitely pathetic; sole mementoes of thousands of gallant hearts that struggled and bled and broke for a politicians' quarrel. Later, as they sat on the portico, with the spell of the place upon them, and watched the flow of the. river, the passing of craft of various kinds, and the lazy flapping of the great flag against its staff. Phyllis began talking of her old home beyond the mountains and of the woman who had reared her. "She was very good to me always," ! the girl said. "But after my sight be! gan to fail she was tenderness itself? ! eyes to the blind and strength and couri age to the weary and hopeless. No one : but myself can realize her goodness, i She was an imperious woman, and liked her own way, and people often misunderstood her. Poor Aunt Anne!" mo/la rn mmmpnt. heinc far ? ? o too happy to cherish resentment against I the living or the dead. As for that inconsequent will, he was more than recj onciled to it; he actually blessed the I testatory vagaries which had opened the ; way to his happiness. Still, he could not but wonder over it as he hearkened to his wife's encomiums. "Next to me, her heart was set on : John," Phyllis proceeded. "It wasn't only that'he was her nephew, and good and clever?that was a source of pride, of course?but I think her love went out to him specially because of his bearing ; her lover's name. She used to fancy she saw a resemblance between my cousin and John Hart. It was beautiful, the ! way Aunt Anne clung to the old romance." "Very beautiful," Royal assented; his eyes were on a steam tug fussing in the j stream below, and he was only half attending. | "Doesn't it seem strange that I should have married John Hart's nephew instead of ,Aunt Anne's? And bearing his | name, too. Just like a fairy story. Aunt Anne would have liked it, I am sure. She wanted to knit her past to my fuj ture, poor dear, and she has done so by ways she never dreamed of. I wish she ! were liere to see: J Royal could not find it in his heart to echo the wish. The return of a spirit from the beyond, even on an amicable errand, seemed to him subversive of order. He kept his reflection to himself, however. "Here is more fairy story," Phyllis laughed, and took from her pocket the envelope there hidden. "You are going to have to cast ashes on your bead and ubuse yourself generally. You have been judging Aunt Anno ? yes, you have, all of you!?the people at home and Nina and everybody?saying that she did not love me, nor care what should become of me if her plan for marrying j me to Johu should fall through, and all sorts of horrid things. All because of i that ridiculous will she.made so long ago. Of course she wanted us to have the property! She had quarreled with | our parents about it, and this would be .. ....... o/imini till, without sac a, naj w - rifice of her own pride. And then she liked the property itself, ami wanted to keep it together." Royal laughed. "My dear wife, don't excite yourself or go into a fury of defense. I'm not complaining. That will, to me, is most satisfactory. It's given mo the desire of my heart, and will eventually put a jienny or two in my pocket besides. You forget that I'm a residuary legatee in the second degree." "You'll notget a penny piece!" laughed Phyllis?"neither you nor any of the rest of the clan; so don't count your chickens before they are hatched." She thrust the envelope into his hand. "What's this?" demanded Royal. "Read for yourself," she gleefully answered, "and prepare to make obeisance unto me. I am a very important personage." Royal drew the pajier from its envelope and slowly unfolded it. As lie caught its import he gave vent to a whistle of astonishment. It bore date of a few months previous to Miss Royal's death, and was very concise and simple, it was a codicil to the former will, and provided that in event of the death of her nephew John Hart Royal previous to his marriage with his cousin Phyllis Royal the property should p;iss to the girl entire, and further provided that, should Phyllis' blindness continue, the projierty. duly placed in the hands of trustees, should be charged with her maintenance during the term of her natural life; after which it was to bo distributed according to the terms of the original will. Royal drew a long breath as ho put the pajKT back into its envelope. "How long have you had this?" "Sinco before Aunt Anne died. She j gave it to me one day and tohl me to ' keep it in iny desk until after my wed ding day. If anything unforeseen 'should | happen, I was to give ifcto Mr. Brandon ! or Nina." Royal pondered. "I wonder what could have suggested the idea that John Royal might die?" he observed thoughtfully. "Aunt Anue was very nervous for more than a year bafore her death,'- j Phyllis explained. 'That paper was i drawn up the spring we/vere here first j about my eyea. There had been a terrible epidemic in Vienna, where John was | ?a sort of plague; the papers were full of it, and John, being a physician, was j of course all the time exposed to the in- | fection. Aunt Anne was terribly uneasy | about him." "And you have known the contents of ; this paper?bow long<" _ j "Ever since Nina told me of John ^ | death. I never thonght of it at all be- j i'ore. There was no reason why I should. Nina and I opened it tben? but 1 : wouldn't let her say anything about it to you, nor would I'tfiU you myself. This question of money had been so large, so disastrous ft factor in the plans for my marriage to John, that I wanted our decision to be uninfluenced by it in any wav. Of coaae MMW about itmore than glad. It proves to the world that which I knew so well, that Aunt Anne really cared about my future, j And"?her face softened, and broke into shy smiles as she slipped her hand into his?"I am glad to bring something more than just myself to the man who sacrificed himself for me." Royal's answer may bo left to the , imagination of those similarly situated, j i * ? # * * * And so it came to pass that there was a suit after all, and. the lawyers had a i hand in the matter. Not that it amounted to much, being only the necessary legal incantation without which no property in the common wealth may change hands. The only print to bo established | was the time of John Royal's death, and i this the evidence of the young physician j and the colored nuise sufficed to do. The j negro deposed to having stopped the dead man's watch ut ten minutes to 13? j "soon as href had done lef him good. There might have been room for argument here, as the marriage was over at j precisely that lame; but the young doctor declared that when he, not caring to j bear the who'ie responsibility, had left j the room in search of the hotel proprie- i tor, it had been a good half hour earlier, i and the patient was then in articulo mortis. The little story went abroad and . caused much local interest. Phyllis was , feted and made much of among her old friends and neighbors, and treated as though she wen; a very extraordinary young woman indeed. And no wonder; , for in this prosaic age it is but seldom j that a w.Oihan can lay slaiin to the honor ; of having inspired knightly devoir. tee end. nio was a terror.?The best hawk 1 scarer and fighter we ever had on the j farm was a tame crow that we called i Nig, says the New York Sun. bather . had taught the crow to light with the ; roosters, and he sent to the city and j got a pair of steel gaffs for him. Nig j was always on the alert for hawks, and if he saw one hovering over the farm buildings he made for it and knocked it about in the air until he steered for the peak, when Nig would come sailing home with a song of triumph. After father had got Nig well trained in the use of the steel spurs, he left them on the crow in the daytime while the chickens and turkeys were small. While the family were at dinner one day we heard a screaming out in the meudow. \Y e all rushed out, aud there was Nig and a mammoth hawk in a lively conflict. The crow was jabbing bis steel spurs j into the hawk's head like a gamecock, j and he was making it so hot for the i hawk that it didn't rise three feet from the stubble before Nig hit it a clip on the head and downed it again. Nig I killed the hawk in a short time, and a few davs afterward he drove another one into the top of an apple tree and spurred it to death. At another Nig tackled a hawk just after it had j caught a chicken, and he used his 1 spurs so scientifically that the hawk quickly tumbled into a fence corner, , where Nig punched its head full ot holes and left it to die. One afternoon a hawk got high up over the bam with a young fowl before Nig caught sight I i_r? ,.?:i/.A U nml tho linu'k <Ji il. jic miivu ituci iv ?>? ... , gave a scream and made for the peak j in a bee line. Nig headed it off and he fought it in midair till the hawk was so badly blinded by the spurs that it I flew against the barn and was killed. J Companionship is Health fii..? ! i There is a wise old German saying that "Only a god or a brute can dwell in solitude." Men and women need i congenial companionship, both for j the sake of health and happiness. ] Just as your lungs, after using up all I the oxygen in a close room, need to be filled with fresh, out of door air, so < your mind needs contact with other ; minds to get new ideas. There is such a thing as mental as well as physi'sical hunger Herders on the lurge I cattle ranches of the West frequently { become mad from the isolation they I are forced to endure. Women on lonely farms and in small villages grow morbid and mildly insane, and people do not guess that the cause is want of companionship. It is for this reason that a woman's j work at home is always more trying than that of hei husband, who goes to his oflice, sees new faces, and has the friction that is produced by meeting other people. Even the farmer has more intercourse with his neighbors at the market, or at the village grocery than his wife, who may not see anyone outside of her own family for weeks. It is a great mistake for young married people to isolate themselves. Even if i their tastes lead them to a quiet life, they should make it a point to cultivate a few agreeable friends. EoNCi Won us.?"Hob," said Tom to his friend, "which is tho most dangerous word in all the English language to pronounce?" "Don't know," said Hob. t.\v,.ii ? Tnin. "it is stumbled : " *-"1 - J -- - because you are sure to get a tumble between the first and last letter." "JIa, ha," said Kob, "that'snot bad. Now I've one for you. 1 saw it one day when reading 1 he paper. Which is t he longest word in all the Knglish language ?" "Valetudinarianism," said Tom promptly. "No, sir : it's smiles, because there's a whole mile between the first and hist ' letter." "Ho, ho!" cried Tom, "that's nothing. I know of a word that has over three miles between its beginning and ending." "Now, what's that?" asked Kob, faintly. "Beleaguered !" cried Tom, triumphantly. The historic old locomotive, "The (Jeneral," at Big Shanty, on the Western and Atlantic road, famous as the engine used to overtake an engine . stolen by I'nion soldiers, is to be a part of Georgia's exhibit at the World's Fair. The locomotive is now being overhauled and repainted, as it has been badly used up of recent years in its bumble service as a switch-engine. The chase after the Federal soldiers who ran away with "The (Jeneral," their subsequent capture and execution, form one of the most exciting i episodes of war time. lUiscclkttecus fading. BILL ARP. Ho Tells About Old Time Political Ex- 1 el lenient?"Whiffs and Democrats. Politics are pretty hot. but no hot- j ter than they were forty-five years ago between the Whigs and Democrats. I i remember when Dr. Miller, the Demosthenes of the mountains, used to fol- j low Judge Lumpkin on the grand rounds and whip him in everything but gettin' votes; when the Democrat- , ic school boy couldn't nigh kiss a Whig girl, nor buck up to her with honor- | able intentions. ^ Party spirit ran high in them days shore. There were par- j ty lawyers and doctors, and party j clients and patients. If a Democrat got sick he was afearcd a Whig doctor j would pizen him, and vice versa, j There were party stores and blacksmith ' shops and gristmills. The line was i drawn tite between 'em in almost j everything, and they hated one anoth er. ' I I remember tbejjreat Harrison jubi- : lee, tfhch ther of our town fixed ' up for a big torchlight procession and hifalutin' speechifyin', and sent down to Decatur and borrowed a cannon, and hauled it with four yoke of oxen, and was to fire it all day to make the 1 Democrats feel just as bad as possible, and that right it poured down rain in great sluices, and ten of the Democrat ! boys stole the cannon out of a back -j yard and dragged it off about two j miles and hid it in a swamp, and the ; rain put out all the tracks before day. I I've seen a heap of mad critters in my ( life an hearn tell of some, but nothin' j was ever more madder than them I Whig boys the next raornin'.. They ripped and raved, and snorted, and cavorted, and tore 'round like wild cats and hunted everywhere, and sent ' off after some track dogs, but that can non wasent found. It dident come to | light until the next Democratic victory, when one dark night it went off right j in the middle of the town and liked to | have skeered everybody to death, but i nobody knowed how it got there or who fired-it Well, I tell you, them Whigs did hate powerfully to haul that gun back to Decatur, shore. It did'nt matter much in them days whether a man was a Methodist or a Baptist, honest or tricky; whether he was* smart or sorter thickheaded, but j it did matter a good deal whether he i was a Whig or a Democrat. When Polk was nominated everybody was , waitin' for the news, and as soon as ' inc pu-siuiusivr jerivcu uic ?i u|ijn:i the newspaper and read it out to the , crowd, Xic Omberg threw up his hat j and said lie was the very best man they could have nominated, and then | leaned over and asked the postmaster what he said his name was. Omberg was a fair sample of all of 'em. He was a good man and a devoted Democrat, and it would have heen all the j same to him if they had nominated j Sam Patch. I don't suppose there 1 was one in a thousand could have told the difference between Whig princi- : pies and Democratic principles. The ! fact is there wasent very much?none j to speak of, except the spoils of office, j They were like folks are about their ! religion. Mighty few men can tell the difference between one church and another church. Most of 'em are just what their fathers were, and that's reason enough without botherin' their brains with any other. SWALLOWED ALIVE. "Did I ever see an elephant die ?" said the keeper, repeating a New York Tribune reporter's question. "Well, I i did and I didn't." "How was that?" asked the report- j cr, feeling for his note-book. "I did not see him actually die," re- ! plied the keeper, without the vestige , of a srnile. "He was living when I j lost sight of him. He was swallowed alive." "This is going to be a pretty stiff j yarn, keeper," remarked the reporter, ; as a shade of disappointment crossed his face. "I guess I won't need the ; note-book. You saw him swallowed alive, eh? I always thought you were an antiquity; I never suspected you to be an antediluvian. What did it, a j megalosaurus ?" "Never heard of such a thing," said i the keeper gruffly. "This was a quick- , sand." "Oh, a quicksand! Go on, old i man." responded the reporter as he ; pulled out a pencil or two. "Tell us all about it." "It was in India" said the old keep- j er, "where I learned a good deal about elephants, never thinking that it would i coine useful to me in Barnum's rnenag- J erie in after yours. Elephants are common beasts of burden there, and 011 this day a heavily loaded one was crossing a shallow but broad stream by wading. The sagacious brute had refused to step on the badly constructed bridge | whieli the natives had erected; but aim wiMiiw iw nut r threw first, and I called 'tails.' It came 'heads.' It made me shiver. Then I threw 'heads' and he called 'tails,' and we were even. I don't know how I felt as lie picked up the dollar, and I looked at those flittering gems, for I don't know anytliing clearly, though I had a vague idea that somebody would he ruined forever on the next throw. Frank tossed the dollar to the ceiling, and I called 'heads.' It struck the lloor and rolled over toward the register. All four of us made a rush for it. and Frank fell headlong. The dollar had dropped through the grating, and was lying on the closed shutters of the register, just below. " 'Get a match,' I almost shrieked. I ''I stepped hack, and my foot struck almost human. So was the old fellow's , death cry. The end was close at hand. His loug trunk still waved wildly above the water, hut nothing else of j him was visible. Its length grew less and less, and finally the water poured over the top of it. One more bubbling, choked, gasping scream threw the wa: ter out again into a high jet, but that j effort was the last. The stream quick- j ly filled up his only channel to the air ! above, and the old elephant was buried before he was .dead. I could have j watched a dozfen natives swallowed up i in the same way without feeling half j as bad about it. . A SHARP YANKEE. Uncle Jerry Munger is an old farmer who is celebrated-in our part of the country for his stinginess and miserly habits, and guile: No one ever gets the better of him in a bargain, and he has a crafty way of evading alike the laws of man and nature. For instance, the other day the miller saw him soakgin his shelled corn in water. "What do you do that for?" asked tiA mil 1 * t ? - " ^ ' uic imiibi "Saves grinding," said Uncle Jerry? "Ain't you afraid the good of the corn '11 go off in the water?" said the miller, angry at being defrauded of his grist. "I calk'late to make the critters drink the water drawled Uncle Jerry. But the time came when every one thought he had met his mate. Hiram Pickett owed Jerry $20, and Hiram, was a lazy, poverty-stricken 'longshore fisherman who never paid his debts. "Hiram," whined Jeremiah, almost bursing into tears, "that 'ere $20 is all I'\e got to look to to pay my taxes and insurance and ull my winter expenses. Why, Hiram, I re'lly don't know which way to turn. Ain't there anything you could sell so's to pay me?" "No, there ain't," said Hiram. "You've got a pig?" "Yes, 'n' I mean to keep him, too." "I'm bound to have that 'erg money or its equivalent," said Jerry, and he took the sheriff to Hiram's hut. There was nothing inside or out of the little cottage where Hiram lived that could he seized by law except the pig. The large and noble form of this animal was reposing in company with one of Hiram's ragged children on u heap of seaweed in an outer apartment of the house. It was the finest pig that Jerry had ever seen, of shortnosed Yorkshire breed, fed on the crumbs that had fallen from the tables of the rich. It had led a wild, greenwood life, roaming in orchards and cabbage-gardens, till it was as desirable a pig as any that had ever grown fat on mast and acorns in Virginia forests. "Take the pig!" cried Jerry. "You can't" said Hiram ; "the law allows the poor man one swine which nobody can't attach." "If he'd had twopjgs," said the sheriff, "you could have attached one of them." A few days later Hiram was going home with an eel-spear and a crab-net over his shoulder. He passed Jeremiah's house upd saw the old man leaning over the gate. "You needn't slink out of my way like that, Hiram," said Uncle Jerry meekly. "I haven't nothin' ag'in you, his instinct did not warn him of a dangerous quicksand which the water concealed, near the farther hank. "I was attracted to the scene hy the ' shouts of his owners, five Indian iner- j chants, whose wares he carried from one bazaar to another. They did not ! know of the quicksand and could not j understand why their elephant did not nnine nut <?f tile strCUlll wllicll llC luitl almost crossed. When they learned the predicament lie was in, their howls of grief and despair were ear-splitting. 1 I suggested that bundles of turf and branches be thrown to the elephant, | and this was done. The old fellow seemingly aware of his danger, took I each bundle with his trunk and thrust it under water. Then with a mighty effort, drugging up one foot out of the ! sucking sand, he would put it on the bundle of fagots and press it down. He got a lot of them under him in this way with more skill and precision j than you would think possible; but i the soft sand took them all in, and j still let him farther into its depths. "His master procured a small boat, and poled it out to him. Then they took all his load of goods oil', put them ! in the boat, and brought them ashore. This lessened .his weight a good deal, but the sand was by this time up above j his shoulders, and soon his entire back was covered by the water. Only his head showed now, and still the old fellow was the only calm and collected individual in the crowd. I cannot help thinking of an elephant as a person. No one can who has been with them and witnessed their intelligence as much as I have. "Collecting some flouting boards which had been thrown out to him, he made a sort of raft of them with his trunk, and rested his big bead on them. It was no use, however. He was doomed, and we knew it. Before long the water covered his mouth. Then he lifted his trunk and curled it back over his forehead. The water tilled his ears and lie flapped them vigorously for a time. Soon it reached his eyelashes, and then his big burning i eyes took on a pitiable expression. They seemed to beseech aid and suc, cor from those be bad served so long and so faithfully, and his masters fairly grovelled in the dust as they yelled to their gods and frothed at the mouth ; in their frantic Indian way of expressing sorrow. The tears came into my eyes as I looked at the old fellow and : knew there was no help for him. 1 "As the water covered his eyes, his courage gave way at last, and he uttered a piercing scream of fright through his trunk, and repeated it several times. It made my blood curdle j 1 tell you. Have you heard horses I scream in a burning building? It is Hiram, nor don't bear no umbrage on account of that bill, Hiram. Pay me when you've a mind. I know you've a good many mouths to feed and a hard time to git along with that family of your'n. You be a poor man." "That's a fact," said Hiram. "I have been wondering how I could help you. I know fishing is poor now, and eels is skurce, and clams don't dig as they used to, and, Hiram, I've changed my mind about that bill. Let it stand over till spring." "All right," said Hiram. "And I'm a going to make you a present. I've got a lot of little pigs. I can't sell 'em and I can't afford to keep 'em. Now, Hirain, I'm going make you a present of a little pig." Hiram hesitated. Were not the gifts of Jerry dangerous gifts? Do men gather grapes of thorns, or figs of thistles ? "I dunno ez I kin du justice tcr tu pigs, he sjyd. Jerry brought the pig out and showed it to Hiram. It was a very small P?B. "Lordy mossy !" said Hiram to himself, "Jerry's getting sort o' old '11' childish, giving Christmas presents this time 0' year." He took it home. ">Yy!" said his wife scornfully ; "'tain't wuth six 'h' quarter cents. Better look out, Hi. Jerry's up to some mischief. They put it in the pen with the big pig, and the little one looked smaller than ever. I need not go 011 with my tale. Hiram was then the owner of two pigs, and the law allowed the creditor to attach one of them. That same night the sheriff came to Hiram's hut with a warrant, and seized the large pig. WHY HE SWORE OFF. "No," said the old drummer, fiercely, to a Free Press reporter, "I play 110 games of chance any more, not even the simplest kind, for money." "Won't you pitch pennies?" persisthis companion. "That least of all," he said, visibly affected. "Why not?" asked the other. "Do you see this dollar?" he said, taking a cart wheel from his pocket. "Well, thereby hangs a tale. Listen : Ten years ago I was, and had been for years, traveling for a big diamond imDortimr house in New York, and as usual I carried with me a large number of gems, often having as much as fifty thousuml dollars' worth. One day four of us, all in the same line, met in Denver, and that evening we were drinking and matching dollars in my room. It was a hobby of mine, as it was one of the other men, Frank If., who was as inveterate a matcher as ever the late John T. Raymond was. Well, we drank and matched, and kept at it until we began to toss up at five dollars a toss, and the other two soon hacked out and watched us. I guess we were both pretty drunk, for before I knew it we had made a pot of a hundred dollars, and were tossing best two in three for it. I lost, and lost again, and having no more money, I put up a diamond against his pile. 1 lost that too, and put up two against his money and what had been my diamond, and that time I won. "I think we were both haU' crazy now, for Frank pulled out one of the pocket-hooks from the inside of his vest and laid it open on the table, and asked me angrily if I dared to match it. Of course I dared, and I dared more. I put down beside it all mine, valued at wholesale rates at $ ">(),000, and he emptied his other vest pocket to an equal amount. Our two friends tried to stop us, but we were wild. 1 twOliimr Krilllk Frank. He did not move, i ueiit down and shook him. He was still. I tried to cry out, but could not. The other two men caught hold of him then, and turned him over. His face was blue, and the blood was gushing from his mouth. He had died in an instant. The three were sober men in a second and at once alarmed the landlord and sent for a physician, but he might as well not have com?. He told us death had been instantaneous. I put my diamonds back into my pockets, and took care of Frank's; and the balance of the stakes I divided, taking what I had put up and setting his aside, and the next morning we started home with poor Frank's body." 1 "How about the dollar in the register ?" asked the listener. "Who won ?" "Oh," said the old drummer, with a start, "I almost forgot that part of it. T npvpr thoucht of that dollar till just ? ? "O m before we left, and going. back I i fished it out and put it in my pocket, : and this is it. It was 'heads.'" ' ] "No.wonder you don't gamble rfny more," exclaimed the listener, with a *' sigh of relief. "Let's go and take a drink as a forgetter.", "AndT don*t ^8Wnk any ihorb^itfii r* er," said the old drummer, quietly. MAKING GOLD LEAF. The rhythmic sound of hammer blows i&suing from a cellar attracts attention of many a passer-by. The most curious stop, and through the windows see a row of men vigorously pounding square packages, turning them about at every blow. On a sign at the door of the store overhead there is a golden leaf with the word "gold" on it. The row of men are goldbeaters, and the packages they pound so incessantly contain gold in its transition into gold leaf. To begin with, a bar of gold is purchased at the mint. It is not absolutely pure, but it is finer than coin. The bar is, say, six inches long, two inches wide, and a quarter or half an j inch thick. Its weight is somewhere around twenty-three ounces, and it j costs $500. The bar is submitted to I the pressure of rolls in a machine, and is gradually rolled to a strip of tough gold ribbon, an inch wide and 150 or 175 feet long. This ribbon is from two to three one-thousandths of an inch thick. Three pieces are usually made of the strip, and as they come from the machine they are rolled up and put away until wanted, j Then begins the manual labor, by j i far the most important, and work that j ; requires no little skill. The ribbon is j cut into pieces an inch long. There . is a square inch in each piece. One j hundred and eighty pieces are put beI tween layers of "cutch" paper, four inches square, the whole forming a I block about an inch and a half thick. "Cutch" paper is a grade about as I heavy as parchment, having very j strong, hard and tough qualities which ! are capable of standing the merciless. J pounding it is subjected to. Parchj ment bands are put around the packI age of gold and paper, and it is ready j for the beater. He places it on a j marble or iron block, firmly and solidly set in a table of wood, and proceeds to beat it with an iron mallet. He has several of these of different weights, running from eight to sixteen pounds. They are round, with a convex face, so that but an eighth of an inch or little more forms the striking surface. He begins with the heaviest mallet, and as he beats he turns the package around and over so that the metal within will be spread evenly. It takes an hour to beat the inch squares of gold out to the edge of the package. When it is done there are 180 pieces nearly four inches square. The gold is then taken out, and each piece is divided into four. The 720 pieces thus formed are put between layers of gold-beater's skin, which is made of i I bladder, and is very tough, into an- i other package four inches square, and J once more given over to the beater. It takes two hours or longer to beat i the gold out to the edges of this 1 package. When it is done, the package is opened, aiid each sheet of gold, which by this time is pretty thin, is cut into four pieces. They are filled into three packages or moulds, five and a j quarter inches square, holding 900 pieces each, and for the third time the I beater begins his work. From five to ; seven hours are consumed this time i i in the work. On account of the heat j ; which is generated by the blows of the j mallet, the workman can beat but fif- I I teen minutes on each mould, which is | | then set aside to cool. This finishes j ; the beating process. Girls take the I , leaves of gold and cut them into pieces ] three and three-eighths inches square. | Twenty-live sheets are packed in a j , "book" between sheets and thin paper, j A "pack" is 500 leaves, and is the 1 saleable shape of the material. The I waste which is trimmed from the edges , of the leaves is melted down, rolled out, and beaten over again, i There is probably nothing made by ; ' man that is as thin as a sheet of gold- ' | leaf. Some say that the thinnest have j ; a thickness of but one-two-hundred and I fifty-thousandth of an inch. So thin j is the film of metal in the leaves that they are transparent. But instead of j the beautiful golden-yellow color which : gold is believed to possess, when held : to the light they appear to he of a deep j i rich green. Every one of the thin | square inches of gold leaf that the beat- ! : crs begin on makes sixteen pieces of i gold leaf. Including the waste, each | inch is beaten out into leaves sufficient I to cover an area of 400 square inches, j 1 which is larger than a good-sized genI tleman's handkerchief. A gold bar, . : when beaten out, will carpet a room j seventy-five feet long by sixty-six feet wide. An impression is given, from seeing i the men swing the heavy mallets, that i gold-beaters, as a class, are particularly strong and healthy. This is not so. ' Their work is confining, and whilst ! their arms are strong and muscular, they are not more healthy than any other class of men whose work keeps : them indoors. Their work is steady and they earn from #12 to #1<> a week, j 1 Some of the work of trimming and i preparing the moulds for the heater is i . done by the wives and daughters of several of the men at their homes. A term of four years is not considered too long a time in which to learn ^ the trade. Much skill is required in i ; heating, so as to spread the metal t evenly and keep the skins in good order. It is a trade that men seem to stick to. Some have remained in one place for twenty-live years, and in over half a dozen factories in Philadelphia the present foreman has been in charge for forty years.?Public Ledger. ? A WINTRY WITIllUT KKN'CKS. South Carolina is a country without ! fences, writes a correspondent, and it is a vast improvement in the landscape, as well as a great saving in j ! money, it looks odd at first, on the i big. level plain on which Aiken stands J to see a great stretch of country unbroken by a single fence, and here and there a house or barn without any protecting walls or fences. The legislature has abolished fences by declar- ' j ing that every man is entitled to enjoy his own land, without interfence or damage from his neighbor's cattle. That is, if I own two scrubby and hun! gry pigs and you have a thousand ; acre farm next door. 1 must keep my ' pigs at home and not compel you to spend half your substance in building i a fence around your farm. Life, liberty and the keeping of pigs and mules ! are all sacred under the constitution, j I but the man who owns the pigs or any t uu1ci uiiiiiiuio uiuov 4vuvv vmviu am v* otherwise confine them. If they run loose or break loose and do any damage their owner must pay for it. This is the most sensible solution of the fence problem that I have ever seen or heard of. It is entirely new to me, so I enjoy it all the more, and the more I think of it the more sensible it seems. It goes right down to the root of justice. Here you have in New York State or in New Jersey a thousand acres of land or a hundred acres, or any other quantity, and you are entitled to reap and enjoy the fruits of your labor on the capital invested in that land without let or hindrance. But one of your neighbors may wish to keep a dozen sheep, and and another a cow, and a third a handful of chickens that probably will not lay eggs (I speak from experience here,) and for that reason you must put a fence of certain legalized neigm and pattern around your whole place, or else yon cannot make your neighifeis pay for damage their cattle -may do your crops. It would be just as reasonable to say that no man shall be convicted of burglary unless the house lm frfelui lal All wHHa^mauy feet " thick. South Carolina is fifty years in advance of the North in the handling of this fence problem.?N. Y. Farmer. KILLING TIME. ''Spare a copper, sir; I'm starving," said a poor, half-clad man to a gentleman who was hastening homeward through the streets. in the great city one bitter cold night?"Spare a copper, and God will bless you." Struck with the poor fellow's man-' ner and appearance, the gentleman replied : "You look as if you had seen better days. If you tell me candidly what has been your greatest failing through life, I'll give you money enough to pay for your lodging." "I'm afraid I could hardly do that," the beggar answered with a mournful smile. "Try, man, try," added the gentleman. "Here's a shilling to sharpen your memory, only be sure to speak the truth." The man pressed the coin tightly in his hand, and, after thinking for nearly a minute, said : "To be honest with you, then, I believe my greatest fault has been in learning to 'kill time.' When I was a youngster, I had kind, loving parents, who let me do pretty much as I liked; so I became idle and careless, and never once thought of the change that was in store for me. In the hope t oknnifi nno dav malrp mv mark Vliav X OMVUIU VMW ^ in the world, I was sent to college ; but there I wasted my time in.idle dreaming and expensive amusements. If I had been a poor boy, with necessity staring me in the face, I tlfink * I should have- done better. But somehow I fell into the notion that life was one continued round of pleasure. I gradually became fond of wine and company. In a few years my parents botb died; and you can guess the rest. I soon wasted what little they left me; and now it is too late to combat my old habits. Yes, sir, idleness ruined me." "I believe the story," replied the gentleman, "and when I get home I will tell it to my own boys as a warning. I am sorry for you ; indeed I am. But it is never too late to reform. Come to my office tomorrow, and let me inspire you with new courage." And giving the man another piece of money und indicating where he could be found, he hurried away. Heroic Courtesy.?A recent French writer on "The Revolution, the Empire and the Restoration," cites an amusing instance of what he calls heroic courtesy. Percy, Lord Beverly, invited to dine with him a marquis who was one of the most valiant soldiers of the army of Conde. Wishing to honor his guest and the cause which he served, that of the French king, the English peer ordered his butler to bring him a bottle of fine wine 100 years old, "a ray of sunshine in crystal." He opened it carefully and offered a glass to the marquis, saying: "If you deem it worthy the honor, will you drink in this wine the health of the king?" .The marquis tasted the wine. "How do you like it ?" asked the host. "Exquisite," replied tne marquis. "Then," said Lord Beverly, "tinish the glass; only in a full glass can one drink the health of so great and so unfortunate a king." Without hesitation the marquis did as he was bidden. Only when the Englishman tasted the wine did he learn that what he had forced on his guest was castor oil; and henceforth he held the politeness of the French toward the English in the highest esteem. SuiT A distinguished military looking gentleman entered one of the cathe.drals at Syracuse, N. Y., last Sunday, and disdaining the courtesy of the usher, marched alone down the aisle. He selected the best vacant seat in sight and planted himself on the uisle end of the cushion. Scarcely had he settled down to enjoy the services when the lessee of the pew entered, accompanied by his' wife and daughter. The stranger was obliged to move, but instead of sliding along he stepped into the aisle and permitted the church member and family to enter ahead of him, after which he resumed his seat. A minute later the rightful owner of the pew scribbled something on the back of a missionary envelope and banded it to the stranger. The note read : "Are you aware, sir, that I pay $l,.r)00 a year rental for this seat?" The military gentleman calmly replied in pencil: "If you do, I'm sure it's none too much. This is a splendid seat." Ways of Cakuyinc Money.?A Western man says that men have various ways of carrying money. Butchers, grocers and bakers carry it in a big crumpled wad. Bankers carry it in nice clean bills, laid at full length in a morocco pocketbqpk. No banker ever folds a bill. Brokers always fold their bills twice. The young business mini carries his money in his vest pock et, while the sporting man carries it in his trousers pocket. Farmers and drovers carry their money on their inside vest pocket; and whenever you see a man carry a lot of* loose change in his overcoat pocket, you may know that he has at some time been a car conductor or a curbstone merchant. Newspaper men carry their money in some good bank; and poets??well, poets don't trouble themselves about such a trivial thing as money. Wkrk Missini;.? A newspaper called the "Rocky Mountain Cyclone" has just appeared, with the following editorial explanation: "We begin the publication of the 'Rocky Mountain Cyclone' with some phew diphiculties in the way. The type phounder from whom we bought the outphit phor this printing orphis phailed to supply any ephs or cays, and it will be phour or phive weex bephore we can get any. We have ordered the missing letters, and will have to wait until they come. We don't lique the idea ov this variety ov spelling any better than our renders, but mistax will happen in the best ov regulated plmmilics, and iph the es and exes and qus hold out we shall ccep (sound the c hard) 'The Cyclone' whirling after a phashion till the sorts arrive. It is no joque to us; it is a serious aphair.