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% .... \V ft v t , _ ' . L * * '* ' 1 ? 1 ?>? U'ft It/ ' * The Beaufort Tribune. : s . . . t ?*?? ? .. . ? VOL. II.?NO. 51. - BEAUFORT, S. C., NOVEMBER. 8, 1876. - >, $1.50-PER ANNUM. ? Ungathered Love. Whou the antaran winds go waiting Through branohes yellow and brown, When the gray ?*i light ie failing, , And the day ie going down? \ - I hear tlie desolate evening eing Of a love that bloomed in the early spring, And whioh no heart had for gathering. I and my lover do dwell apart, Wo twain may never be one? / We shall never stand heart to heart, Then what can be said or done, When winds, and waters, and song birds sing Of a love that bloomed in the early spring, And which no heatt hal for gathering ? When day is over and night descends. And dank mista cirole and rise, I fall asleep, and slumber befriends. * For I dream of April skies. Bat I wake to hear the silenoe sing Of s love thst bloomed in the early spring, . And which noheart had "for gathering. When the dawn comas in with wind and rain And birds awake in the oaves, And rain drops smite the window pane, Atid drenoh the eddying leaves? I hear the voioe of the daybreak sing Of a love that bloomed in the early spring, And which no heart had for gathering. A NARROW ESCAPE. 1 ' ' Story oT Circumstantial Evidence. Many citizens of the State of New York will remember the exoitement created during the summer of 1856 by what was generally called the "Weatherwax Murder." The arrest, the legal controversy concerning jurisdiction, the flual trial, and the howl of dissatisfaction which followed the partial ac qoittal, are matters not easily forgotten uy vuoao wuo men resided near the scene of the tragedy. The circumstances of the case were substantially as follows : Captain John G. Wcatherwax resided in 1856 near the village of Plattsburg, New York. He -) was a man cf good character, one of a numerous family of the same name, the settlement being known for miles around as the Weatberwax settlement. Captain Weatberwax was, at the time of which we write, about thirty years of age, and the owner of a small craft which pliod on Lake Champluin, trading with New York, Vermont and Canada towns along the shore of the lake. The crew of this vessel consisted of himself, his cousin, Andrew Weatherwax, and a man named Walter Brown. In the latter part of June, 1856, he left Plattsburg with a oargo for Cinada, and on the way back stopped at Pike Biver landing, on the Canada shore, where he was to take on a cargo of wood for Plattsburg. During the day, while the wood was being taken on board, a sharp quarrel arose between Captain Weatherwax and his oonsin Andrew, and mutual threats were indnlged in. It was soon over, however, but as Andrew had beoome intoxicated, he was rather morose dnring the entire day. So f r, everything is plain and easily understood ; but here the mystery begins, and what follows is larirelv based upon the statements of the third party, Walter Brown. He states that after dark (tho night was very cloudy and starless) he was standing on the rear of the boat, and heard the captain and his oousin (who were at the bow) resume the quarrel of tho day. It steadily in creased in violenco, threats were exchanged, and though he could see neither of the parties, he oould hear distinctly all that passed. The wordy war waxed hotter, an-1 suddenly he beard a crash as of a blow crushing through skull and brain, succeeded by a heavy fall, and as suddenly oil was still. The man listened with bated breath and trembled; his first impulse was to rush forward and offer assistance to the wounded man, but fear restrained bim, and he waited the result. In a few minutes the captain came aft, but he was alone. Brown noticed, or thought he did, that he was pale and excited. Nothing was said about the quarrel, 41 4 * ' * uu mo iwu uit'u Boon reuroa. - urown, however, eonld not banish from his mind the impression that a serious crime had been oommitted. He arose early and visited tho spot wher the altercation took plaoe, and found Andrew's hat, and near it marks of blood. Still ha. did not mention his suspicions to any one, nor make any inquiries concerning the missing man. It seems that he was by nature exceedingly timid, and shrunk from the responsibility of dharg ing a man with so serious a crime, and from the publicity which the position of a prosecutor would compel him to Mm me. The boat proceeded to Plattsburgk, and when Andrew's relatives made inquiries for him, the captain professed total ignorance of bis whereabouts, saying that he had left him at Pike River, without notification, and gone, he knew not whither. Matters rested in this oondition until eight or ten days after the occurrence, when a body was taken from the river at the identical dIma where fianuin Weatherwax'a boat had been moored on the fatal night. The body gave ample evidenoe of having met death by violence, as the aknll wae crashed as by a terrible blow from some heavy instrument. An investigation was held, and a captain of a vessel lying near to Gap tain Weatherwax's, on the night in qnestion, reoog nised the body as that of a man he had Saaa employed on Waatherwax's boat. He farther testified to having heard a quarrel on that night, ending with a scuffle and a blow, after which all was silent. The altercation, ho thought, proceeded from Weather wax's boat, and he distinctly heard Woatherwax's voice in the quarrel. Of course suspicion was at onoe directed to Weather wax, and as he could | give no satisfactory explanation of his cousin's disappearance, he was arrested. The preliminary examination lasted for nine days, and produced great excitement, but resulted in his being remanded to jail to take his trial at the next term of court for the crime of murder. The Weatherwaxes then became alarm| ed. Few of them doubted his guilt ; irdeed nothing seemed more certain;' but thev were not willing that the name should be disgraced by one of them dy| ing at the hands of the hangman, so they contributed funds, employed able oouusel, and made the best defense possible. Mr. MoMasters, then and now, we believe, a leading lawyer of that oountv, was engaged to defend him. Mr. MoMasters examined the case, and though he had no doubt of his guilt, he. like a true lawver. did bin Koof. fn? him. Not daring to take his trial on the merits of the case, he Ruooeeded in establishing the non-jurisdiction of the oonrt, and locating the crime in Canada. The criminal, for snch everybody now believed him to be, was therefore set at liberty, when he was threatened with violence if he did not leave the country. He refused, saying that he was innocent and would not stir until he was vindicated. While a movement was being organized to put i he threats into execution, an officer arrived from Canada with a requisition, and he was taken across the line for trial. The trial was among the most remarkable ever held in Oauada. The ablest oounsel both of Canada and New York were engaged for the prisoner, and by postponing the trial for nearly a year, spiriting away some of the most important witnesses of the prosecution, and other ingenious but questionable devices, they sucoeeded in producing a disagreement in one jury, and finally brought about an acqmttal, after eighteen months of imprisonment. The community felt greatly outraged by the result, and the press teemed with denunciations of those who thus conA. 1 f?if D]>u>tu tu cuuub jubiico. nis own counsel, wishing to repair as much as possi- < bh the wrong they supposed they had ' doue society by resauinga criminal from 1 a jiinfc fate, advised him to flee the ooun- ' > try, and under another name strive by a * be tor life to repay society for its toler- 1 ance. iu suffering him to live. Ail such advioe the wretched man un heeded and returned to his old home, declaring his purpose to remain there ' until the cloud was lifted from his for- 1 mor good name. But though saved from < the gallows, ho did not escape punishment. The brand of Gain was npon 1 him. Everybody believed him guilty, < his old friend 3 and neighbors avoided 1 him, he was pointed out as a murJerer, < and bit supposed crime was even hooted t in his ears many times as he parsed < through the crowds in the public ' streets. < ' Thus the unhappy man passed eleven < years of his life, submitting quietly and 1 meekly to the aspersions cast npon him, and waiting patiently for his vindication. His loss of character had brought with it loss of property; business men shunned him, the better avennes of trade and enterprise were closed against him, and he became reduced almost to beggary. But amid all these misfortunes he was still hopeful. Thus matters stood till the early part of Ootober, 1867, when s man clothed in tho garb of a sailor made his appearanoe in the village of Pla'.tsburg, and inquired for Captain John Weatherwax. The latter was just then entering the post-office, where a considerable crowd c nu l aaIIaa^a/1 ? AU* *' ? ?- VUUIK1H.U ' namuj(j U|D UlflfcriUUUOn L of the mail, and was pointed ont to the e inquiring stranger. He made his way ( toward him, laid his hand familiarly F npon his shonlder, and exclaimed : c " How are yon, John f" t John looked at him a moment in be- E wiiderment, gave a suppressed scream, 1 and replied : i " Great Heaven! has it oome at a last ?" s Turning to the crowd in the postoffioe, which bad byjthis time become interested, he said : " Gentlemen, my vindication has at last come. For eleven years I have | borne your reproaches in silence, hop- f ing and praying for this boor. This .is < my oousin Andrew, for whose murder I f have suffered a punishment many times j worse than death." ( The men stared at eaoh other and at ? the sailor, stupefied with wonder. An- i drew was equally perplexed, for the ao- < tions of both parties were to him inoom- j prohensible. For a short time there was a disposi- 1 tion to regard the new-comer as an lm: \ postor who had been brought forward to ] relieve Captain Weatherwax of the dis i orraoA fhaii'Ka/1 VI? i MMU w??nvuou wr UI1U | UUV iUO 1 iv I entity was soon established beyond ] qneetion, and the interest in the ease < deepened, thousands coming from all i parts of the Stats to see the man who < had apparently risen from the dead. I The account which Andrew gave of < himself was that ho left the boat on that I eventful evening, after the quarrel, wan* ] dered into a rum shop a short distance i from the landing, became engaged in a i fight and was arrestod. In the morning I he was brought before a magistrate and ; fined, bat having no money, and being < still augrv with his oonsui, he would ' not go to him for aid, and was on the point of being taken to jail, when a i stranger in the andienoe came forward i and offered to pay his fine if ha would engage to sail with him, his vessel then 1 lying at Montreal. He o onsen ted, and tne next day they sailed for China; and \ for eleven years he had followed the sea and never onoe communicated with his relatives. He now heard for the , first time what one of them had suffered j on his aocount. t The matter of the blood, and his hat, ] which, it will be remembered, was j found on the deck, he explained by ^ stating that he had had the nosebleed r during the day, and that some of the j blood had probably fallen on the deok; , the hat he tossed upon the deck when ( ho deoided to go out in the evening, , t.V.V 1 It J- ' mixing u ucvwu UUU 1U IH) btCUU. The identification of the body found, { the quarrel, the blow, and the voice of , Weather wax heard during the alterca- j tion, are mysteries never explained, j Perjury can hardly be alleged, but there < was certainly criminal looseness in judg- j ment wliioh imbittered the beet years of \ an innooent man's life, and nearly sent ( him to an untimely and dishonored grave. , It is hardly necessary to say that there ( was a complete revolution in feeling to- | ward Mr. Weatherwax. Every one ] seemed anxious to compensate by kind- c ness and patronage for the wrongs so j innocently inflioted before. This was ( not unappreciated. Business prospered, } and threo years ago both Andrew and ( John G. Weatherwax were among the , most contented oitizens of Olinton ooun- , ty, New York. j Brides at the Exhibition. i Of all the people who live at the Cen- 1 tennial hotels, says a letter writer, I < think the newly married couples? i Philadelphia is full of them, by the way i ?are the only ones who are thoroughly t contented and happy. It makes no dif- 1 ference to them whether the potatoes < are watery, the meats dry, or the soup \ thiu; and they don't care a pin whether t people talk to them or not. They live j in a littlo world of their own, and for a c time?what a pity that it's so short a z time?they need no conversation but f their own, have no thought but for each oitur. Wo have all sorts of newly mar- x riod conples hero now, but notwith- ] standing the many various stations in t life which they occupy, and thu differ- e ent parts of tho country from which 1 they come, they all act wonderfully c alike. They all havo certain marks c abont them which can be immediately 1 detected by even an unpractioed eye. t [n the llrst place, it is noticeable that t they all try to aot as if being married t was an old story to them, and still for tho life of them they can't help taking c each other's hands every five minutes, e Among other things it is remarkable j that the young men, on the old piiuci- c pie that " a fellow can't wed every day," g are very extravagant with their money, c They are so evidently against the wishes ? of the prudent little helpmates. An- g other thing which I have noticed is that c the brides nearly all wear now watch- f ahaius, the young husbands, especially t those from the West, are very particular t ibout their gloves, and even upon the e warmest and most oppressive day they r sarry a heavy shawl, in case snch a cov- j sriug should be needed by the dear g woman they have sworn to protect, j rho patronizing air of ownership which c ;he young men assume is truly remark- <3 ible, while their attempts to answer c die many questions asked by their t wives are sometimes very amusing. One t ucident will illustrate this? A few days c igo in the Main bnilding a bright look- fc ng young Western farmerjand an inno- c sent faced little woman who had evi- t lently jusUbecome his wife, approached d he music At the same moment v he band beg^un to play the opening pas- t age of " The Wakincr of the Tjion." ? Che little bride listened to the mnaio ii or a moment, and then looking oonfl- t lently np into the face of her lord and a naster, she pressed his arm and whisper- s d: "What piece are they playing, Charley?" For a moment Charley was o mzzled, bnt he had jnst beoome a hns- t and, and evidently seeing the impor- t anco of maintaining the dignity of the ? osition, he qnietly drew that confiding ii ittle woman away from the stand, say- I g: " Ob, it's not a piece at all; they n re jnst toning np like." And of oonrse ii he believed him. b : ' t The Remains of Tecumseh. " d Professor Daniel Wilson has reported 8 o the Ontario goverment that the bones v ound at Moravian town were not those >f Tecumseh. He gives several reasons s or the decision he has oome to, the 1' >rincipal being that the great Shawnee d shief's " skeleton" as submitted for s examination contains the bonee of two h nen, a woman, a childof abont seven, a s leer and a dog! An Indian writes to the 1< lOoalpress a long letter in whieh he says: 1 "When Tecumseh fell three of his Shaw- p aeo warriors were by his side, and he a told them that he was done, then ex- t aired, and they carried him away im- * mediately farther back in the woods n irom wnere tney were lighting, and hid 1; his body until next day. When the t anemy had passed on those three Shew- p nees went back and buried bim quite a v distanoe from the battleground, tfhoro f bheie was no other Indian present. One I of those Sh^wnees d?ed lately, and I of t ken heard him talk about Tecumseh, but c he would never tell where he was buried t and often refused money. Those Shaw- t nees made a vow that they never would r tell, and they kept their promise like 1 men. The reason of this secret was be- a sause the Americans tried hard after- c ward to find the body, and even offered t money for it, so as to take it with them c as a trophy of their victory, but failed, c and I am glad of it, and I am sure it f never shall be found." z ME CONSUMPTION OF WHISKY, t \ [ntrrmllDg Facta Kegnrdln* Bars aad Bnrliarpe-i? Enermons Profits. 1 Baltimore city, says a local paper, is ? remarkable in many wayB, and portion- ' arly in possessing more places where ;he thirsty can stop aside and take a ittlo spirits for the stomaoh's sake, ;han any other oity of the same sizo in ;lie Union, or probably in the world. . rhiR is rather a startling assertion, bnt t is borne ont by figures that are even . noro startling, and wliioh show that with t population of 300,000 it has 2,000 talooiis, or a drinking place for every 150 of its inhabitants. This number of taloons .includes the grocery stores where liquor is sold in quantities of not ? ess than one pint, and common grocer- 11 es may be olassed under the head of f Irinkiug places with rrore propriety, J because in the comparison "carried out ? selow such Btores are included in the E itatistics of other cities. ; Now York, with a population approxi- * natdng 1,000,000, has 6,700 saloons, or >ne to every 175 of its inhabitants, f Chicago,with nearlv 500,000 population, 1 ias about 2,000 saloons, or one to every E 150 inhabitants. Boston, with 300,000 e nhabitants, has only 1,200 saloons, or 11 >no to every 291 inhabitants. Oincin- 8 lati, with about 325,000 inhabitants, c md its large German beer drinking ele- ? nent, comes pretty olose to Baltimore. * with 2,100 ealoons, or one to every 165 j nhabitants, and Philadelphia shows, J with a population of about 600,000, * 1,700 saloons, or one to every 220 of its ? nhabitants. These comparisons might * jo carried out indefinitely, and with E utuu uuw comparison wouiq come lip noro reasons for Baltimore to blash for T ts intemperance. The figures given of I ho number of drinking places, or where * iquor can be purchased, is for in excess * >f tlie report furnished by the Women's ~ temperance Association, but they are ' aken from the reoord of the license de- * mrtment of the clerk of the court of Minmon pleas, and are attested by the T eceipt of 890,000 annually by the city J3 or licenses. * To go a little farther into figures and ? nake an estimate of the number of each 1 .60 who drink, might exhibit the in- a emperato habits of our people to a still ? itronger light, but this would necessari- * y be a mere speculation. It may be 0 soncluded that either a few persons 11 Irink immense quantities of intoxicating ? iquors, or else the tippling habit must c >o exceedingly common, to support the a wo thousand saloons annually licensed ? >y the city. ? Saloon keepers make immense profits F in their sales. To be charitable to the ? laloon keeper, it may be said, for the ' >urpose of getting a data, that he pays a >n an average eighty-eight oents per ? jallon for whisky which he sells without a lilution. Eighty-eight cents for one a gallon is eleven cents for one pint. The 6 glasses generally used in barrooms are " tailed third pints, and will hold that a raction of a pint. For any reasonable * oper to fill his glass more than one- " hird full would be a breach of barroom ? itiquette not to be passed by without , ( mark. So it mav Vw? aai/l tl>ot ? >ler, as a role, takes one-third of a n ;lasa, that is, one-third of one-third of a tint, which cost the seller eleven cents, A ir one and two-ninth cents for the J? [rink for which the imbiber pays fifteen ? ents for one, or twenty-five cents for * wo; or if he pats down half a dollar for J-1 wo ho will probably get but twenty f1 ents back. So that the barkeeper gets p tack, on a basis of twelve and one half f( ents selling price, the price paid 10 5 22 51 imes. Out of this profit most be de- w looted rent, bad debts, interest on incstment, license, and possibly sotne- " hing for a higher priced whisky, bnt he an moke all that by dilation. It i& the mmenso profits that tempt so many men o follow the business, bnt they do not 11 get rich for the simple reason that n aloon keeping is overdone. p Hotel bars aro, as a rale,, the most lu- u rative. A great many drinks are sent p o rooms, and chargtd at the rate of p wenty or twenty-five oente a drink, in ^ rhich case the profits are immoderately , ( nereaeed. Taylor's barroom, at the. ^ 'onnsylvania depot at Jersey City, is p inderstood to have made fortunes for c bs several owners, and is considered the p test paying institution of tne kind in p ho country. It of course draws largely 0 ipon the railroad custom for its divi- p lends, and frequently it sells as high as n 00 pint bottles of whisky to travelers, a] /ho pay therefor $1. II there were only a few first-class a] aloons the injury done would be great- j y onrtailed. Like seeks like, and the ^ irankard, as he descends the scale of re- ^ peotability,changes his associates at the iigli priced saloon to one of lees preten- w ions, and he gradnally sinks lower and ^ 3Wer, until he finally reaohes the gutter ft. rom the door of a low den in a disre- 0 ratable street. Barkeepers, as a genar- f( 1 rule, are exceedingly polite, more tj ban well dressed, and appear to those a ?ho are not acquainted with the gnild f( aodels of good manners and gentlemanf behavior. The beet way for any one o disabuse his mind of any such impression is to take a drink and then rith a start say : " By Qeorge, that's fi unny; left it on the piano, by Jove I U tanff that tit> fiillv " T* i? ? ? ?x3 -r> ??J' ?* j??vu?uro r? bat no person has a better opportunity h if studying human nature. His duty is C o wait en drunken men, and he hears h he conversation of judges, doctors, d norohants, politicians and statesmen, tl rhen the wine being in " the wit is out," s! s the old adage hath it. He can judge n >f a man's wealth by the number of * imes he gets trusted and the infrequen- n 7 with which he settles. He can judge s if the treatment a man extends his o amily by the hours he stays out at o light, and oan make a shrewd guess as r o how long the clerk on the next street rill hold his place. lone at midnight the stranger oomea n and drinks, and then tells a long tory, which is not at all interesting to he barkeeper, bnt he most listen to it ,ud oonoeal the fact that he is bored. Said a gentleman the other day : "If nen would only restrain their whisky ,ppetites to tho same extent that whisky lealers restrain what at times must be a eeling of disgust for their trade, how aany of these blooks of barrooms would to seen in Baltimore in less than three nonths ?" Touching Story. A private letter from Augusta, Ga.. lontains a touching narrative of herosm iu fever stricken Savannah, which >ught to have a wide publication as an oppressive illustration of the noblest attributes of human nature. The writer s explaining that some business delay s caused by the grievous family afflioiou of an assistant, and goes on to say : The death of a young brother, in tavannah, has thrown his whole family nto the deepest grief?a young fellow, lot much more than a boy, who martyrid himself for the good of the people offering with the yellow fever, and himell fell a victim. He was prescription ilerk in Lippman's drug store there, ,nd when the fever broke out the whole orce left but the bookkeeper and him. L little later the bookkeeper left, and lharley ran the whole thing himself, ill Lippman ordered him, by letter, to lose the store. Then, instead of comDg homo, as his people kept begging dm to do, he replied no. He felt it raa his duty to stay, and he went to rork in Clay's drug store, putting up prescriptions, hundreds per day, no ime to rest, no time for dinner. Clay ook the fever and Charley nursed him, >ut he died. Charley still ran the store, lis cook took the fever; ho nursed her, nd she reoovered. Then a young friend, lymons; he nursed him and got him up, unning the store all the time, day and light. He wrote his mother : " I have o get something to eat the best way I an. My cook is down. I have no ime for myself, putting up prescriptions 11 day. When' night comes I am so iicd I can hardly put one foot before he other. I have not had my clothes ff in a week, and I have not brushed ay .Hair in four days." This although rdinarily he was extremely neat and artful of his person. It sounds like old rmy times. At last, when Symons was p, Charley took sick. He wrote that e had taken the fever, but was feeling iretty strong and was oonfident of soon leinc 11 r) knd ftt wnrt nornin Taln/??imo bon began to pass ten or twenty times day. "Charley improving, with good are he will come through all right," nd everything looked hopeful, when all t once Charley is worse," and he bean to sink, Symons nursing him in his am and keeping up constant correpondenoe with Augusta by telegraph, 'inally telegrams ooald be passed with ifficulty, the telegraph boys refusing to arry the messages in Savannah. It was lie worst quarter in the whole city. The ist two teleg.-ams received from 8yions were : 111 will stick to him to the ist." "I shall not sleep to-night." .nd the brave young fellow kept his -ord; they both died the same night, ymops had never fully recovered and ore himself out waiting on his friend. Iharley was a brave soul. I could not '( elp mourning his death; she ought not > regret that he stayed; and my-esteem >r him is so great that my little boy, ow four years old, whose name before as only Arthur, is now Charles Arthur; ad didn't I do right? Hie is a name lat ought never to die, and it will live : >revor somewhere. (low to Find a Person's Name. 1 Let the person whose A B D H Q ! aino you wish to know CCE I B i >11 you in which of the E F F J 8 pright columns the first QGO E8 itter of his name is found. I J L LT ' f it be found in but one KKUMU :>lumn, it is the top let- M N N N V >r ; if it occurs in moro O O O O W 1 lanono column it isfound Q R T X X y adding the alpliabeti- H B V Z Y 1 .InnrnkannOUt l~t TT TT TT *T rw . - MMUAWto XJM. luu Irup XCJ'y- \J V V I /J * irs of these columns and WWW < le sum will be the number Y Z < f the letter sought. Bj taking one I itter at a time, in this way tho whole < umber can be ascertained. For exmple, take the word Jane. J is found < i the two columns oommencing with B t ad H, which are the eeoond and eight j liters down the alphabet; their sum is < in, and the tenth letter down the alpha- 1 et is J, the letter sought. The next j itter. A, appears in but one column, here it stands at the top. N is seen in ( ie columns headed B, D and H ; these , re the seoond, fourth and eight letters j f the alphabet, which added gives the mrteeuth or N, and so on. The ubo of ] lis table will excite no little ouriosity , tnong those unacquainted with the iregoing explanation. The Telegraph's Usefulness. A visitor to tho Centennial relates a (i anny incident of the usefulness of the 1 alegraph, which came under her per- < anal notice. At the same boarding < ouse with the relator was a lady from 1 >hio, who, after her arrival, left the i ouae to \rtew the groat show. This i one, she started to return home, and i do usual fsot foroed itself upon her? 1 be had forgotten to note either the < umber or street of her new home, and < 'hat made matters worse memory could ot recall either. A happy thought tiuok her; stepping into a telegraph ffioo she informs her husband in Ohio i f her dilemma, and in a few moments eoeived the much ooveted intalligenoe. Brother Tom. "Brother Tom is dead 1" Not my brother Tom, but the brother Tom of a ragged boy 'who sat on the curbstone on the corner the other day, and seemed looking into the dim past, while big tears trickled down his cheeks. His father was dead, his mother poor, and ho had known hunger and want over since he could remember. Yet he sobbed out: "How can we spare Tom?what will I do?" Hunger makes no difference with the heart?death is the same in the cabin or in the palace. When I sat down beside him he looked u;> through his tears and sobbed : "I never called him names, nor fought him, nor stole his things, nor took more'n half the bed." My brother Tom died years ago. He was older than I, and he made my bows and arrows, my bird traps, my ball bats, and he learned me to swim and to skate, and he was more than a father to me. Bat I couldn't say what the ragged boy on the curbstone said. I fought my brother Ton, and I grieved his big heait, and I put burdens on his young shoulders when I might have filled his soul with eunsliine. All those things came np when I found his crushed and lifeless body under a tree, and again when I stood by the coffiu and looked upon his white face. I would havo given worlds to have asked his forgiveness for every harsh word ever spoken, but it was too late. Only one hour before his death I hail made bis heart ache, and my words might havo been in the poor boy's mind when he lost his hold of the chestnut tree. " Yes, I was alius good to him 1" repeated the ragged mourner beside me, and his words opened my old sorrow an d twinged my heart worse than I can tell. I went home to open on old cupboard and look at a pair of skates, and an old knife, and a crossgun, and other relics which I treasure up in memory of my big brother. When I look them ovt-r I ask his forgiveness, though I know that the dead cannot hear. Oould I recall those days?could I live my young years over again, having brother Tom with me?but the past is past. I am sorry I found the grieving lad on the curbstone?sorry, and yet glad, for all my heartaches cannot bring brother Tom back, and, I must go oftoLer to tho cupboard. Thoughts for Saturday Night. The deeper the sorrow the less tongue hath it. As if you could kill time without injuring eternity. It is a miserable state of mind to have few to desire and many things to fear. He shall be immortal who liveth till he be stoned by one without fault. Modesty is to merit as "shades to figures in a picture, giving it strength and beauty. As words can never be recalled, speak only such words as yon never wish to recall. Signs are small measurable things, but interpretations are illimitable. Learning without thought is labor lout; thought without learning is perilous. All gaming, einoe it implies a desire to profit at another'% expense, involves a breach of the tenth commandment. Distrust is the death of the soul, belief is its life. The just shall live by faith. Infidelity is the abandonment of life, a suicide of the spirit. Energy will do anything that can be done in this world; and no talents, no oircumstances, no opportunities, will make a two-legged animal a man without it. Limit your wants; the must is hard, tad yet solely by this must can wo show how it is with us in our inner man. To livo according to caprioe requires no pesaliar powers. Children must have love inside the tiouse and fresh air and good play, and jome good companionship outside? otherwise young life runs the greatest danger in the world of withering, or growing stunted, or, at best, prematurely aid and turned inward on itself. The habit of exaggeration, like dram drinking, becomes a slavish necessity, ind thev who cractioe it doss their lives in a kind of mental teloeoope, through tvhoee magnifying medium they jlook iipon themselves and everything around them. A childhood passed with a due mixture }f rational indulgence, under fond and (rise parents, diffuses over the whole of life a feeling of calm pleasure and, in Ktremo old age, is the very last rememance whioh time can erase from the mind of riaan. js~_ A California Story. Joaquin Miller tells a. curious California story, which recalls that of the oat tie in Carte's "Gabriel Conroy." He ueHcnneH an immigrant train panning over the prairie and meeting a herd of buffalo at fall speed and moved by one of the apparently insane impulses which poraetimes seize these animals. In on instant the immeme herd bad passed? fh< re was no wagon, there were no men, oxen, hon es left; even their bodies were obliterated. The one survivor was a woman, who was carried out of tho horrible struggle on the baok of ono of the herd?how she never knew; her first conroionsness was that sho stood in safety upon a little hilloek and tho whirlwind bad gono by.