* 1
rniwuwi—
F~
Bpeoial H«aa«sto
1. Is writing to thia offloe on bnaioMt
alway* giro yoor 'name and Ptotofflo*
addiMi
S. SaaincM lottora and oonmnnioa-
Uona to bo pabliahed abonld bo written
on separate ahoota, and tbo object of each
dearly indicated by nocoaaary note wken
required. —_—Z
S. Artidoa for pabHoation abonld bo
writton in a dear, legible hand, and on
only one aide of the page.
4, All cnangee in adTertiaemenU must
<ach ua on Friady.
“NOT LOST, BUT 00UK BEFORE.”
TT~~7~
r.
Rates el Adrerttatas*
Quarterly,
tractomadeen
VOL. VII. NO. 33.
BARNWELL C- H., S. C., THURSDAY, APRIL 17, 1884.
My little child, with clustering hair,
Btrewu «>r thy dew, dead brow,
Though in the past divinely fair.
More lovely art thou now.
God bade thy gentle soul depart,
On brightly ehiinmeriug wings y ^
Yet near thy clay, thy mother’s heart
• —r All weakly, fondly clings. —
My beauteous child, with lids of snqw
Closed o’er thy dim blue eyes,
Should it not soothe my grief to know
They shine beyond the skies ?
Above thy silent cot I kneel,
Wjth heart all crushed and acre.
While through the gloom these sweet words
steal:
“ Not lost, but gone before.”
My darling child, these flowers I lay
On locks too fair, too bright,
For the damp grave mut, cold and gray,
To dim their sunny light,
Soft baby tresses, bathed in tears,
Your gold was all mine own !
Ah, weary months ! ah, weary years !
That I must dwell alone!
My only child I hold thee still,
-— Clasped in my fond embrace!
My love, my sweet! how fixed, how chill,
This smile u]>on thy face!
• The grave is cold, my clasp is warm,
Yet give thee up I must;
And birds will sing when thy loved form
Lies moidcriug in the dust
My angel child, thy tiny feet
— Dance through my broken dreams)
Ah me, how joyous, quaint and sweet
m Their baby pattering seems!
I bush my breath, to hear thee speak ;
I see thy red lipa part;
But wake to feel thy cold, cold cheek
Close to my breaking heart!
Boon, soon my burning tears shall fall
Upon thy coffin lid ;
Nor may those tears my soul recall
To ewtb—nay, Ood forbid !
Be happy in His love, for I
Resigned, though wounded sore,
Can hew His angels whispering nigh:
“Not lost, but gone be fort.”
Fajoct Fobbester.
Old Joe Pollard.
BY MRS. DENISON,
How slowly he walked I Poor old
old man 1 Joe Pollard; ex-Presideut o
the Statesman's Bank of opolis.
His coat was faded, his boots were
seamed and gray, his hat greasy ai^l
quaint-patterned.
Only three years ago, and no more
stately, vigorous, hale gentleman walked
the streets than Joseph Pqllard, Esq.;
now he was "old Joe,’’and sometimes
"poor old Joe.”
When he failed he was living in great
splendor. People to this day i>omt ont
the Pollard mansion and tell you of its
former greatness. Happily there whs
no dishonor attached to his name. He
had given up all; home, horses, car
riages, everything that could be dis
pensed with.
His only daughter—her name was
Josephine, but all her friends called her
Jeddy—gave a birthnight party only a
week before the trouble came, on her
eighteenth birthnight. •
Never a happier or lovelier girl than
she. Universally admired and re-
epeoted, bright as a sunbeam, witty,
merry, generous.
In all that throng of beauty, amid the
flowers and the feasting that man would
have been bold indeed who could have
presaged coming ill fortune. ^
—Onfy one week later, and the dreadful
hews came. Joseph Pollard was bank
rupt. The cashier had been dishonest,
several large firms had gone down, and
the run on the bank had completed the
mjn. * _. ^
The father found a place as an assist
ant bookkeeper, but he had formed the
habit of drinking at his own table. Lit
tle by little he sank at last into what
seemed an utterly hopeless state, lost his
business, his pride and almost hip wits.
"My dear,” wrote Aunt Proa, when
she heard of this misfortune, "put your*
father away. There are plenty of places:
and come and live with me. Enough for
one is enongh for two.”
"Aunt Prue,” wrote Jeddy, indig
nantly, "I am ashamed of you. What!
counsel me to put my own dear father in
the poor-house, for what other place is
open to him? No. I will share his
misfortunes if I have to work my fin
gers to the bone. ”
“Jeddy, I’m useless. Fm broken
down and good for nothing,” whined
poor Joe, day after day, as Jeddy sat and
stitched her life into the work ahe had
undertaken.
"Father, you are only fifty-eight years
old,” was the answer. "Many a mail
has begun life anew at your age.”
"Ah ! if I only could 1” he would make
reply, and drink again to drown his
misery.
Jeddy hi4 carried much of her fine
wardrobe with her into the poverty ot
” her surroundings. Of course she made
over and toned down the material, but
"the look of tbs lady,” as one of the
coarser neighbors said, was upon her
"and couldn't be mistook.”
Everybody pitied her when old Joe
came rolling home, but few saw or knew
how patiently she put up with his in
firmity, how she soothed and coaxed
him, with what tenderness she anticipated
his wants, and even when it would seem
that he was soaroely entitled to her re
spect, honored him.
To her, under all his wretched dis
guises, he was still father.
But her constant duties wore heavily
^ upon her. She grew pale and thin, that
feverish and hectic; but still ahe worked
on. ,
Three tfabes s hmrtrfn— carriage and
pair were seen before the door of her
plain little home.
The first time a rich aunt came to re
monstrate with her and offer her a home.
She found her preparing her poor meal
over the tiny oook stove.
“Jeddy, you are the best girl In the
world, but you must go back with me,
if only for a while, and leave that man to
take care of himself. ”
This was after a most affectionate
greeting, for Jeddy was her favorite
niece.
“I couldn’t leave father,” was the re
sponse.
“But I can’t see you killing yourself
by inches. What does he care ? One
person is ns good as another to one who
has lost all the finer sensibilities, as he
has.”
“Oh, no; at times father is his old
self—even—even at the worst,” she
faltered. “Ho don’t forget that he is a
gentleman. He never was unkind to
me.
“Fiddlesticks ! Your ideas of dnty
are exaggerated. Come, now—don’t dis
appoint me—take a little rest. I have
come way from L ou purpose to
carry you back, and the last words your
Cousin Killy said, as I left her, were:
“ ’Mother, don’t fail to bring Jeddy
back; I want to see her.’ ”
Tears came to Jeddy's brown eyes,
but she reiterated:
“I cannot leave father.”
“And here you are, losing all your
beauty—all your advantages, and even
your health—I can see it! For your
father's sake, you ought to go. It would
make a new creature of you to see old
sights and old faces, and to live a while
like a Christian. Why, child, the walls
are damp; how do you live ?”
"It isn’t living, aunt, it’s only stay
ing,” raid Jeddy, trying bravely to
smile, "but that I can’t help while father
lives. There’s nobody in all this wide
world to care for him but me. I know I
might live-in ease and comfort if I went
with you, and oh, somatimee my heart
does long so for a little of that old-time
joy. It would be lik» 'ooking into Par
adis®—but—I can’t leave father.”
There sounded a heavy sigh. Loth
women turned round to see the old,
gaunt man in the doorway, the tenrs
streaming down his cheeks as he held
forth his trembling hands as if in bene
diction.
"Go, Jeddy, go angel—don’t stay for
me—I’m not worth your care,” ho said
pitifully.
But Jeddy thought otherwise. Long
after the splendid carriage had gone she
sat there holding the gray head against
her shoulder^ boo tiding and potting him
and lending a willing ear to his promisee
of amendnMBL. —
The second carriage brought a stylish
young genuemanfwith whom her friends
had often coupled her name. He came
with an offer of marriage, but Jeddy
gave him the same soft but determined
answer: "I couldn’t leave father,” and
he, too, went away disconsolate.
The third carriage contained one who
had always been a friend, also a young
gentleman, who bad lately returned
from a foreign tour.
He asked no questions and expressed
no surprise, though the change he saw
affected him painfully. But like a true
friend, he resolved to aid both father
and daughter.
To this purpose he followed the former,
and quietly tried to hinder him from the
abuse of his appetite, and gradually
gained bis confidence.
Then he told him how sadly the
change in his daughter had troubled
him. " '
"Changed" exclaimed old Joe, “how
is she changed ?”
"Is it possible you do not see that she
is at death’s dofir ?”
"What do you mean? At death’s
door—my child—my angel ? You would
kill me ! What have I but her ?”
"Yon have God, and He will help you
to redeem yourself. If you do that,,
your daughter will live; if you do not,
she will die. ”
That night old Joe went home full of
doubts and fears*. He watched his child,
aick at heart from the news he heard.
"I can make her live—and I will!”
he said, resolutely, to himself. "I am
not an old man, yet” -lifting his bowed
head—“with God’s help, I will be a new
one!”
He went to th® curb, outside, and
oroke his pocket-flask in a hundred
pieces. The next day he came home
sober; the next, he found a place
—a small one, it was true, but in the old
bank where be had once reigned mas
ter. Everybody saw the change. Old
Joe had new clothes, he was respectable
to outward seeming. Once’more he be
came a man among men. His knowledge
of the business, his integrity, gained
him a better petition. Day by day he
took steps upward—day by day the color
and brightness came into his dsughtor’s
face, and her steps grew light and her
tones joyful
It seems like a miracle, bat is not,
that old Joe rides in his own carriage
agtnr.
of the bank, and a power among his fel
lows. Jt was just trusting in God and
God helping him as he helped himself.
Bat the best of all is, his glorioos daugh
ter, by sacrificing herself, by her noble
fortitude, by her patient cave, has won
a place in his heart, and in the hearts of
•11 who know her, prouder and mare en
during than the throne of I queen.—
Companion. ' - .
Hie Growth of a Child’*
Prof. Straight, of Oswego, ia an ad
dress before the school teachers of Oon-
ueotiout says: “If we can think of the
little child, just born into the world, its
senses just opening to the world—the
eye, the ear and the touch—of the im-
preseions from the external world
showering down upon those senses—
there is the beginning. The waves of
ether from the bright light beat upon
the eye and the child at once distin
guishes the bright light from darkness.
Soon bright colors attract the attention;
and so it begins at the outset to study
optics, discovering light and shade.
Form next comes into its consciousness.
Thereby it learns to distinguish its
mother or nurse from other people. I
was told of an experiment tried lately by
a teacher at the kindergarten. A very
young child had been accustomed to see
a bright dress upon its mother, and knew
her only by color. A young lady friend
put ou the mother’s dress and came into
the room where the baby was and .was
immediately taken for the mother. The :
child had not progressed *far enongh to
distinguish between them by form.
Other children ware similarly experi
mented upon, but they had been edu
cated in form and color so as not to be
mistaken. After discovering optics and
forms the child begins to study sound,
and soon distinguishes the mother’s
voice from auy other voice. It also
Jtwrns to distinguish striking sounds
from sounds produced otherwise. Next
follows the .knowledge of number. As
soon as a child has one pain and one
pleasure it begins to learn number;
when it realizes two pains and two pleas
ures it has learned numbef. It is just
ns easy for the child to learn number by
using cubes and triangles as by illus
trating with oranges and apples. And so
soon as the little child can locate a pain
within Its body—in one of its limbs or
ita head—there is the locality, the be
ginning of geography. IU striking,
kicking and wriggling enables it to dis
cover the smoothness and roughness of
bodies. The child next begins to study
its own form—its hands and feet. I
never shall forgot the pleasure and sur
prise that ray own little boy showed
when he discovered that he had ears.
When he put his hand on the side of his
head and found something that be had
not known of before there was a thrill of
discovery. This joy of discovery is like
that which thrills every true discoverer.
We can see these powers of discovery in
the first few weeks or months of the
child’s life.”
The Hop Situation.
Country shippers are liable to be raia-
lead by the regular hop quotations, un
less they clearly understand the situa
tion. Fancy Now York are quoted^ as
high as 28 cents per pound and fancy
Eastern at 24 to 2o cents, but so far as
our market is concerned, very few hops
go over 20 cents, because most of the re
ceipts are of a medium grade. The
higher grades are now almost wholly in
the hands of a few holders, who peddle
them about to the brewers at the extreme
prices. Some lots of Eastern hops were
consigned to parties here a few weeks ago
as prime quality, but when offered for
sale they were in every case found to
bo quite inferior, and did notrealizeover
15 to 18 cents. The shipper felt ag
grieved, but no blame could be attached
to the consignee, who did all he could
to get a higher price. There has been
a good demand for export this season,
but it has been confined mainly to the
medium grades. From Boston the ship
ments foot up 1740 bales, against 174
bales for the same time last year, an in-
crea*e of 1000 bales. « From New York
the shipments for the season aggregate
57,500 bales, against 35,600 bales for the
.corresponding time last year, an increase
of 21,000 bales. Nobody expects any
boom in hops this year, but the strong
tone of the English market warrants the
belief that the prices will be no lower.
The Cooperstown (N. Y.) Journal says:
“Some of the New York dealers who
are heavy shippers on their own account,
and who have several thousand bales in
the London market, are holding np for
the preaent,, and probably wisely for all
concerned. So the shipments for the
next few weeks may be comparatively
light, American brewers may depend
upon one thing—and so may city dealers
who have sold hope short—hops are not
going any lower, with even a very mod
erate foreign demand ^o aid the market.
Holders are not inclined to press their
hope upon the market at the ruling
prices, for they verjr generally enteitaw
the confident belief that all will- be
needed before the close ot the season.—
Button Journal,
NOTES AKDOOMMENTS.
“Giza upon tondxb xvKNiNU star
and swear to be true while its light shall
shine! Swear, my love! Swear by
Venus 1” exclaimed a youth in impas
sioned accents to one of the Vassar
girls. “How stupid you are,” she an
swered. “That is not Venus. The right
ascension of Venns this month is ISh.
9m.; her declination is 17 degrees 25m.
south, and her diameter is 10.2."
Rev. Dr. Fulton, of Brooklyn, does
not like theatres. He says: “Place me
upon a polar iceberg, where no verdure
greets the eye, where naught but the
white bear’s growl can l>e heard; let me
live where no friend shall cheer mo with
a smile; bar me in prison; but do not,
oh, do not compel me to mingle with
the ungodly crowd of a theatre.”
"Eu Perkins” says he did not per
sonally know Colonel Hunt, of Michi
gan, who l>cqueathed him, “Josh Bil
lings” and the mother of “Artemus
Ward’’ 85,000 each. “A year ago, how
ever,” he says, “I received a letter from
him requesting me to send him two of
my humorous works. I did so, and ad
ded a copy of ‘Josh Billings’ and a bi
ography of ‘Artemus Ward.’ ”
Mrs. Myra Clark Gaines, a very
old woman, after whining one-half or
thereabouts of New Orleans after fifty
years’litigation to get her property, ia
living iu Washington in almost strait
ened circumstances. She lives in
furnished rooms and supports herself,
her daughter-in-law -and two grand
children on the 869 a month pension she
receives as widow of Gen. Gaines
Dr. Julius Ree. a Jewish banker of
Hamburg, who accumulated a large for
tune in Rio Janeiro, but losing all of his
children there by sickness, returned to
Germany, has died, leaving a will which
bequeathed four million marks for the
erection * of dwellings to bo occupied
free of rent by deserving poor families,
and by aged persons without means.
Senator Plumb said in the United
States Senate that the United States
army of 25,000 men, costa within a half
a million of dollars of the sum spent
ujion the German army of 400,000 men,
so that what the United States army
lacks in numbers it makes up in pay.
“Ours," ho said, “is Uie best-paid army
in the world.”
The rubrer industry in the United
States has no rival in foreign countries.
There is something like 875,000,000 in
vested in the business of msirafscturiag
rubber goods, 830,000*000 of which is
confined to the rubber boot and shoe in
dustry. The total number of employees
is placed at 15,000, and the total number
t factories at 120. ~
An Iowa v Congressman who is
divorced from his wife, called on
BLUSHING AND LYING.
TV * Fspstar Brsar Tiuu lA« Om
of Ike WiSar.
Is M Is.
- “Louis friend who invited him
Pension*.
Ths bill of Mr. Watson before the U.
S. House for increasing by fifty percent,
the pensions now paid to the relatives of
deceased soldiers, will, even according
to the ealcnlations of its anthor, affect
Hri»M]vPeltar4agaM,4aalu*r| .xieazly 125,000 pensions* existing or
prospective. As they now carry eight
dollars a month, and as they would
receive twelve dollars under this bill,
forty-eight dollars a year additional
wonld bo put upon each of them, or
about six millions every year in the aa-
geegate.
• ' . 7^— *
A London lady has jost died, leaving
(he pope a fortune of nearly $2,500,000.
aHl.
to dine
with him. He consented to do io, when
the man continued : “By the way, there
is to be a marriage at our church to
night and we expect to attend.” The
Congressman inquired the name of the
bride, and found that it was his wife
abont to marry again, so the invitation
was declined.
One Klein induced McCue to drink 3
pints of whisky on a wager, at San An
tonio, Texas, The feat proved fatal.
McCue’s widow sued Klein for damages,
and got a verdict for 83,000. On appeal,
the Supreme Court confirms the jury’s
conclusion. The ruling was that, as the
drinker was so intoxicated as to be in
capable of consent at the time of swal
lowing the third and killing pint, the
man who made him do it was respon
sible.
A most unforttunatk man is Wil
liam King. Upon being converted in a
revival meeting in Caldwell, Ky., he
arose and confessed that he had robbed
a store in 1863 of $300 worth of goods.
He went to the proprietor the next day
and paid the amount, with 20 years’ in
terest, bnt was immediately arrested for
the theft, and now languishes in jail
The luckiest man on board the
ill-fated City of Colnmbus was the one
rescued by the tug Speedwell. He had
a baggage check in his pocket, and when
the tug picked up a floating trunk he
coolly produced his cheek and claimed
his baggage. As there was a correspond
ing check on the trunk his claim was in
disputable.
Henry Ward Beecher, who has a
nabit of giving good advice incidentally
in his sermons, made a remark Sunday
which certain unhappy Christians might
well lay to heart. He declared Ahat it is
better to bum down s church than to
quarrel m it; and that nailing a council
will not settle the difficulty.
“The silent Von Moltke,” it is said,
was once seated in a railroad carriage
with his aid de-camp, when another offi
cer, crowding past him to get out, said:
“Pardon me,” and a few moments later,
coming in and passing his chief again,
said: “Pardon me;” whereupon the field
marshal, annoyed at snch prodigal waste
of verbiage, turned to his aide and
growled: “That chatterer 1”
Itm EsrritATfl® that the UnitedStates
Senate is the wealthiest deliberative body
in the world, the seventy-six members of
that body representing $180,000,000.
In the United Stars to-day, accord
ing to the last census,there are 106 sewing
machine establishments, with an invested
capital of $12,501,830, employing 9,283
persons, to whom are ntnually paid in
wages $4,636,099. -
$2.00 a Year.
THE CZAR’S LIFE.
OntaMt
days after first
wi« stipulated.
No
jrabUeation, Imt asa guonsatpof |
Aldrea, THE PEOPLE
Banwsfl CL 1L & CL
TBS HUM0R0CS PAPERS.
“Bat didn't yoa see him blush ?"
“Well, what of that ?”
“Don’t you think he waa lying?”
“No, I don't. I know he waa telling
me the square truth.”
“Do you know the circumstanoee ?”
“Yes, and I know he told them just
as they were.”
“It sounded like a lie, anyway,”
"That is why he blushed," said Mr.
Denison, a well-known Chicago lawyer,
for this talk was taking place in his of
fice just after the departure of a young
man who had been sued and was seek
ing telvioe from his attorney.'
“I venture to say no man has had
more trouble than I with bluahea, and I
think I know some of the causes behind
them. You may have noticed that I
blush on every conceivable occasion. II
n question is put to me quickly, I blush.
If I meet a friend slap on the street—
unless I see him some time before I
reach him—I blush. If anybody speaks
my name from behind or from some un
expected quarter, I blush. As much as
I have been before juries, I blush every
time an opposing advocate refers to me
as ‘the learned counsel for the defense.'
Hang it 1 I blush on all sorts of ooca-
•ions, and yet I don’t believe that any
body would say I am an especially
modest or bashful man. —
"No, air," continued the old attorney,
“I have blushed and blushed all my
life, and the more 1 blush the more I
try not to, and the more i try not to the
more I blush. Above all, the meanest
blush is just such a one as you saw on
that young man’s face just now. I know
just how he felt. He knew he was tell
ing a pretty hard ■tory, and he could
see in your face that you didn’t believe
him. That’s why he blushed. If he
had been talking to me alone be wonld
not have binshed, because he knows I
am familiar with the circumstances he
related; but yon looked doubtingly at
him, and be felt your mistrust so keenly
that it brought the blood to his face. ”
After a little pause Mr. Denison con
tinued:
“I never pay the least attention to
blashes when examining a witness. The
blush is not, as is too often believed, the
evidence of s lie. Nor is it s tone sig
nal of embarrassment. I know that, for
I have been told that I was blushing
purple when I was as calm and unem
barrassed as I am at this moment
There are many causes for my blushes;
some of them purely physical, I think;
but often when I am telling something
—some little personal recollection, per
haps, that amounts to nothing—I get it
in my head that somebody doubts some
part of it Then I blush. Then I feel
that I am blushing, and I say to my
self, ‘Now he will see me blush and will
be sore to think I am lying,’ and that
makes me blush all the more, nntil
finally I can feel my face burn and glow
like a coal, and I say to myself, ‘Now he
is sore I am lying, and he thinks I know
he is sure of it,’ and ao I stand and
blush because I think he doubts me on-
til, perhaps, I really make him doubt me
because of my bluahea.”
OAVHD
ALMOUT BT A WKAOLS—A
MYSTUUOO TIMITOK.
A Nihilist Attempts aa Iupsrsssatlss •! Iks
K aulas Cklef st Fsllce.
WE FIND IN
OVER TfIM Wi
About Cribbing News.
An influential Western member of the
U. 8. House, referring to the Wattersott
bill, spoke ae follows concerning it
“The proposition on its face seems fair,
but it is deceptive. The value of news
is not in holding; it, but in giving it; not
in storing it aWa^, bnt iu disseminating
it How can one expect to retain a prop
erty right in that which has no v&lqe
unless it is given away ? What is new*?
The statemeat of facts; the story of oc
currences. If one gets the first account
of a thing, should ho be permitted to
patent it, and secure exolqsive right of
publishing it? The newbpapers have
ample protection in the first use of their
own special news. The first use is abont
all the value there is in it to the first
newspaper. The country press can get
some benefit by reprinting the news, bnt
this is. no injury to the city prees; in
fact, it is often a benefit, for it is nsually
credited. The country press would be
injured by the passage of the bill. It is
a scheme of the Metropolitan and Asso
ciated Press to confine the printing of
news to their journals. ”
The Deadly Hair-Dye.
A Washington correspondent writes
as follows: Senator Farley, of California,
has returned to Washington, but is the
shadow of his former self. He is said to
be the victim of hair-dye. Brought to
the verge of the grave, he abandoned its
use. His gray hair and beard are in
curious contrast to what they were last
session. But for the excessive loss of
flesh and the painful effects of s long ill-
uess he would be improved in appear
ance by allowing nature to have her
way. I hope that he will recover his
health. Not long ago the moat prom
inent pawnbroker in Baltimore died a
horrible death from the effects of hair-
dye. His dreadful fate has alarmed not
a few elderly persons who had resorted
the same practice, ta$ich i» one of
Among the “forbidden literature” now
circulating in Russia ia the story of one of
the meet daring and dramatic plots ever
recorded in the history of political as
sassination. The narrative is founded
on events which are said to have taken
place in BL Petersburg shortly after
General Gourko had been called from
Odessa to act as quasi-military governor
of tge Russian capital One bright May
morning, when the excitement was at its
height, the Watchful eye of a policeman
posted at the top of the Nevsky Prospect
caught sight of an equipage coming np
the thoroughfare at a trot. It bore
armorial devices well known in the Rus
sian capital; the coachman was there, who
persisted in being wigged in defiance of
his master's order*, to the great merri
ment of 81- Petersburg Jehus. On each
sid0 rode the regular escort of six
mounted Cossacks, each holding hia
lance in rest and wearing his ball of
forage slung over his shoulder more as
it he was campaigning on the Don than
upon civil sewwee in the streets, ot the
capital. General Gourko and his escort
—the gnardlan of the peace had'easily
recognized and hastily saluted his chief,
the new Prefect of Police—turned into
the Cavalry parade, at the top of the
Nevsky Prospect, and at once made their
way into the Alexander square, ou the
Neva side of which rose the massive and
somewhat fantastic outlines of the
Winter Palaoe. The equipage having
drawn up at the aide eutranoe of the
building the general alighted and rang.
On the doorkeeper presenting himself—
an officer of the Emperor's private guard
—the Prefect briefly stated the Object of
his visit.
He desired an immediate conference
with the Czar. The honr was early,
true, day having only just dawned. At
the same time his business brooked no
delay—it concerned the safety of the
Emperor himself. The janitor waa at
tint inexorable, expostulating that hia
imperial master had been already in
bed an hour. Tet st last he yielded.
Up the broad staircase they went to
gether. They trod on gorgeous carpets,
brushed past the wealth of the winter
palace in malachite and lapis lazuli, onhr
pausing in their aeoeat when they hafi
reached a landing giving aoceae- to one
of the capacious saloons. At this point
General Gourko waa instructed to wait.
At ibis point, too, the Osar’s officer seems
to have repented of his decision. The
narrative represents him as closely scru
tinizing the Prefect of Police in the
growing light, and of subsequently pro
ceeding in the direction of the Em
peror’s sleeping apartments, in no great
haste to arouse royalty from ita first
slumber. The man did not arouse the
Osar at all. What he did was to de
scend to the guardroom and dispatch a
messenger. The man left the palaoe on
the Neva side. He there took a droefeky,
and drove pest the side entrqpee into
the Nevsky. During his absence the
Czar calmly slept on; General GoOrkq
impatiently paced the saloon, and the
military gaurdian of the imperial bed
chamber went abont giving some orders
to the palaoe goards.
In a quarter « an hour the messenger
returned. He had been sent to General
Gonrko’s residence, in the Nevsky Pros
pect, and he brought back the informa
tion that the Prefeet of Police was at
that moment in bed. The early visitor
was thus an imposter. He waa some
thing more; (or from hia pockets, after
he had been seized and pinioned, they
drew forth a six-banWWd rentier and a
two-edged hunting kniiet The Czar’s
life had been saved, yet it had hong for a
few momenta in the baJaafee. The made-
up Gourko—the Prefect of Potioe, Imi
tated down to the minutest details of
hair, complexion and wig—might have
deceived even the Emperor himself. Not
a whit less perfect was the art which
had reprodnoed the Gourko coach and
escort. Only the sham Prefect was
secured, and not his confederates.
Simultaneously with the arrest guards
had rushed from the palaoe to seize' the
latter. But the equipege had gone, the
Cossacks were gone, the coachman waa
gone. A policeman afterward told how
he had seen the cavalcade pafa over one
of the Neva bridges and disappeared in
a thoroughfare of Basil Island. The
carriage was nev$r found, and, for all
that could be ascertained concerninp
them or their steeds, the six Cossacks
may be mounted and riding, lance is
rest, to this dsy. As for the chief actor
in the plot, the conspirator who only
failed in his impersonation of General
Gourko because of hia inability to be
in two places at one and the same time
hia personality has never been disclosed.
He is the one mystery which the nihi
lists themselves have never been able to
WHAT
A NEW YEB8I0*.
There k a tittle hoy in this dty whose
mother baa been reading to him lately
Charles Pollen Adams’s poem entitled
“Leedle Yawoob Strauss,” the eonstad-
ing lines of which are:
“ I pray* der Lord date aaydiaiss
Mat hare dot Yawoob Straus*.’’
The other night while saying Ms
prayers the little boy rendered t|ma as
follows: ^
“ Now I lay bm down to deep;
I pray the Lord ay soul to keep;
If I abonld die before I wnte—
I pray der Lord date anydinjra,
Out leave dot Yawoob Strmnea.” ~
—Somerville Journal,
A LARGS LOT OF LIVELY AUETS.
Fond Mamma—“Now, Willie, you
must be a real good boy to-day; here's
all your aunts come to see you.”
Willie—“Has Aunt Sarah come ?"
Fond Mamma—"Yea, Aunt Barak,
Aunt Dolly, Aunt Maty, Aunt Laura,
Aunt Elizabeth, Aunt Cynthia, Aunt—"
Willie—“That’s plenty, mamma, for
me. It’s the biggest neet of aunts I
ever iknusk,*'^-Chicago Sim.
to
imminent deadly peril
AN INTEBT HANOI OF OOMPLOOnm.
“You, Samuel I eoma right in
now, and stop playin'with that bad
Smith boy,” said Mia. Janes; "the' first
thing yoa know hell have you In Jail”
“You, Alexander I come right along
in the house I” yelled the other front
door neighbor. “The first thing you
know you’ll be in the penitentiary haspin'
that Jones boy company. ”—ATenfuo%
State Journal
MM LEFT IK ,
“Did yoa ever find anything of vulna, -
Uncle Sy ?” I asked, after telling him
about finding a pearl ring that morning.
"Yeh, ash; I foun’ a pus ones, mid
ton dollars In it”
"Did you? Well, what did you do
with it—you didn’t hasp it, of coons?”
“Yeh, ash; I did dot berry ting. I’s
strictly honest; I wouldn't taka ao atom's
pus. I lef it where ho ocnld git it; but
I took de money out fust. You ass, ho
done loo' de money—twun’t hk'aao
mo’. I done fin’ it; it was my messy
den. But de pus was kis'a, V long as
I live I ain't gwine to take ao atom's
pus.”—Harper's Drawer.
languished fob love.
There is a clerk in an Austin dry*
goods store who is vary susceptible, sad
deeply in love with Mias Efporuldn
Longooffin, who, however, fails end re
fuse* to reciprocate. She wee buying
gome goods from him last Tuesday, sad
ahe complained of the high
“We bay ail our goods at your store,
end yet you charge us mors than you do
others. I find you doom thou nay oao
else.” she observed. *
The clerk sighed, shook his head, and
said: ^
“I oaif Wish it were so."
. “That what were ae?”
“That I was dearer to you than any
body else. ”— Textu S'iftingt.
Kissing.—It ia recalled in Honeojo,
N. Y., where the bride of Frederick
Douglass lived in childhood, that she'
liaj to be whipped by her father, an ac
tive abolitionist, to make her kiss Doug
lass when he visited the family.
penetrate. His secret remains with Mm,
and be keeps it to the present moment,
fjp be is still a prisoner in the island
fartmee of Peter and Paul.
i Cannot Talk. —Lieutenant Rhodes,
tee Gay Head disaster hero, says he
would rather do his work over again
t>»*n mnko n nuonh shout il
'' a —
GENUINE AUROOBAOY.
Miss Shoddyito was introduced to a
real live young Englishman at a dinner
party the other night, i
noon ahe wafl extolling Ms i
noting wOea and- gnwes to an
ooterie of female meads.
“And then, girls, he not only
divinely, but he's n gnat poHtkton,
too.” ’
"Otij my, ain’t that sweet T tiuMmai
a spiritnelle girl “Is he ia the Bourn
of Commons?”
“Gominoa%todeed r said Mias Bhod-
dyito, soorufuny. “I should my not
He weald hath nothing to do with my
House of Commons. Why, he is a real
aristocrat, ha h."
And the other girls nhrrmed old,
“My, he must be grand.”— WaeMmffkm
Hatchet.
HE didn’t take all db lsbvax.
A government agent, who woo mat to
Wisconsin last fall to look up trespass
eases on government lands, was out on
bis'travels one day when hefouadamaa
■holing away at some ebetee timheg ou
one of Uncle Sam's sections.
“Any land for sole mound
queried the agent
“Wall, tear' might be,*
reply.
“I’d like to buy n ’
1 'Have ya the cook to pay T*
"I have.”
“I mooght sell you tefc."
"Can you give mo a clear deed?”
“Clear m a whittle, i
$800 cash, and I’ll
afore sundown.” s*/ -
Tbs agent coolly unrolled u map,
spread it out ou n log aid said:
"You will see by this map that Unele
Sam owns this eootioau How, than, am
you gfa me a deed for it T
“See hy'ar, stranger,” said tee shop
per, after a long psusi, “maybe yoa ti !
one of these dags si
UneteSma fcn bigger
bom rftima Wtoomte I jn
jist
was tbs
! iStrssf .Mm*