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f" f!ie fairfklii iii; I WEEKLY EDITION. WINNSBOEO. S. C., WEDNESDAY, NOVEMBEB 29, 1882. ESTABLISHED Df 1844. HfjB Charity. Judge not; the workings of her brain And of her heart thou canst not see; "What looks to thy dim eyes a stain, Li God's pure light may only be A scar, brought from some well-won field, Where thou wouids't only faint and yield. ~ The look, the air, that frets thy sight May be a token that below The soul has closed in deadly fight hk.- With some infem.il fierv foe. Whose glance -would scorch thy smiling grace, And cast thee shuddering on thy face. urn The fall thou darest to despise? glgBfe May be the angel's slackened hr.nd ??& Has suffered it, that she may rise And take a firmer, surer stand; HHL Or, trusting less to earthly things, n May henceforth learn to use his wings. And judge none lost? but -wait and see, With hopeful pity, not disdain; The depth of the abyss may be w The measure of the height of pfin V And love and glory that may raise r The soul to God in after days. ?Adelaide Proctor. ROSA'S SEVENCHS. * ' " But do you really mean it, Mr. Brabazon?" Rosa Dale was standing in the illuminated archway of the autumn woods, her bright braids of hair pierced by one or two wande " sunbeams, her d' apled child-face ,~med in, as it were:..by sprays of red-veined autumn leaves, while her apron was full of the glistening brown chestnuts which she had picked up. John Brabazon leaned against the tall, smooth trunk of the birch tree and looked at her with a lazv. luxu ; , ? rious sense of artistic beauty entering j into bis mind as he gazed. " Of course I mean it," said he. " But I am only twelve years old," cried Ttosa, flinging back the sunny tendrils of hair that hung over her j forehead. " You are exactly twelve times as lovely as any of the city belles that congregate hereabouts," said Mr. Bra bazon, striving to conceal a yawn. " And if they think I am engaged? don't you see??there will be some probability of their leaving off perse- ] cuting me." "Well!" said Rosa, every dimple j coming shyly out on lip and cheek as j she stood there. " It is to be a compact, eh ?" said Mr. ! Brabazon. Rosa nodded her fair little head. " But," she questioned, rather dubi-1 ouslv, " where is the ring ?" "The?what?" " The engagement ring, Mr. Brabazon," exclaimed Rosa, reproachfully. "Don't you know there's always a ring i in the novels ? And most generally it's a diamond." " If you'll believe me," said Mr. Brabazon, tragically, " I never thought of the ring. But here's a little opal that used to be my mother's, hanging, on my watch chain. "Won't that do?" I jtor Rosa held out her brown finger Jm while he fitted it on. y i ou?you uaven't Kissed me yet r she said, when this ceremony 'vas'complete "Lovers always kiss "their fiances!" Mr. Brabazon laughed. ^seuoasTB^^eresiiS^^r^^oTeTl] the rest of the chestnut party get back. , ^ And, mind^this is to be a profound j secret betvyen you and me." j j Rosa ran back home with a vague j sensation of mvsterious delight, and ;; thought how nice Mr. Brabazon looked, j r all the time she was munching her j r roasted chestnuts ; and Mr. Brabazon ! <himself took advantage of the little j ^ joke to proclaim himself an engaged j s man. Nor is it an exaggeration to say ^ that the young ladies were genuinely c disappointed. s " It must be a recent thing," said j Kate Kennedy, tossing her head. . " Oh, quite recent," acknowledged i j Mr. Brabazon. j first sight?" asked Miss! "Day.^%:. i u X-no, not exactly," said Brabazon. j < " In fact, I may say that I have ad-! mired the young ladv since her in- i fancy." * |] " What a delightful enigma !" said ; Belle Vernon, looking anything but j ( delighted. " But of course, Mr. Brabazon, you'll tell us her name?" j " I am pledged to secrecy," said the , engaged man, solemnly. And when he left the mountain j notch in the late autumn, and forgot < all about the wild little woodland J sprite who climbed trees and pelted 1 him with chestnuts, waded with brown, dimpled feet in the foamy waters of j! the glen torrent, and conducted him so ' v mysteriously to the barn chambers to . show him her empty birds' nests, butterfly wings and diamond bright pebbles, how was he to know that she remembered the episode under the yellow- j leaved chestnut trees as a red letter day in her calendar? ?TTo nncriit. to write * to me." said Kosa, gloomily, as the weeks and I months glided by, and no epistle came. : "I do hope he isn't going to turn out j false, like the wicked cavaliers in -tory ' books." And when Mr. Brabazon bought a j huge wax doll, with its miniature; Saratoga trunk and complete outfit of : elegantly-made dresses, at Christmas,, Kosa flew into a passion. "As if I were a baby!" said she. - / "A doll, indeed, and I twelve years old -in October! I wonder if he takes me I for a child? Who ever heard of a I gentleman sending a doll to the young ! - lady he was engaged to?" "My dear Kosa." said aer mother, j half vexed, half amused, " what non-! sense you are tailing r I * "We are engaged!" said Eosa. j "See the ring!" And she slyly pulled it out from the f bosom of her dress. " It was onlv a joke," said Mrs. ' Dale. " It was sober earnest!" flashed out: Eosa. " My dear,'* said Mrs. Dale, " haven't j yon heard? Mr. Brabazon is to be -< married to Lady Helen Hartford, Mrs. 4 . Pailleton's English niece, next month, i ~ - The cards are alrea^: out." " What!" cried^ .bsa, her sapphirerj blue eyes blazin^iier rosy lips apart. W "To be married?and he engaged to r a P> r* i jxlo . / And then Rosa rushed away into the barn-chamber and hid herself for I* ^ full two hours, to sob out the current of her childish grief. ? Mrs. Dale smiled and sighed. ' "Who would think the child would have attached so much importance to a piece of nonsense like that ?" said she. ''Really I'm afraid I have made a mistake fh allowing her to read novels. But she was always an impetuous little j creature." Rosa wrote several harrowing letters to Mr. Brabazon, all of which she finally tore up, and when she saw the i . marriage proclaimed 1-ude papers she . gave the big wax doll to a mue gin -who was only eleven years and six M , months old. , " She won't have any associations IS xmeeted with it V sighed Rosa. 8j |||, about that time she was promoted a :her grade in school, began les sons on the guitar, and put her unhappy lov.' affair out of her mind. It could not have been more than eight years subsequently that the collision occurred on the grand canal at Venice, in which one of the gondolas capsized and a beautiful young American lady, niece of the United states consul, received an involuntary ducking. Perhaps the romantically dressed | gondoliers were intoxicated; perhaps I Miss Barony had, as they asserted, i risen hastily to noint out. snrm>thino> j and destroyed the balance of the moldy, ! black velvet lined old conveyance. At | all events Miss Barony was upset, directly in front of the Palazzo di Silvia, I where Mr. Brabazon occupied the first floor, a marole paved desolation of old ; pictures, broken nosed statues and I orange trees in tubs. i Of course, Mr. Brabazon sent out his | valet to offer his services. Of course, i thev carried Miss Baronv in, and laid j > ? 7 i her on a sofa (draped with tapestry I which somebody said Lucretia Borgia i had helped to embroider), and made j much of her. ! uD.,1 T J: 1 -11 r - ??? -uuo nuw nuiuuious aii uns is; J said Miss Barony, with merriment i gleaming-an -her .beautiful, dark-blue j eyes. " I am a little wet, to be sure, | but otherwise I am entirely unharmed, j Why didn't they put me in the gondo- ; la again and send me back to my uncle's palazzo*?" Mr. Brabazon, however, was far too hospitable for that. His capped and spectacled old housekeeper was ready with spiced drinks and great baskets of grapes and cake, and Lie himself was all politeness and chivalrous courtesy. Miss Barony gazed curiously around. How angelically beautiful she looked, i ? r\ a s'*Alrtf akfa4 i in. tuc > iuicb vavco edged with ermine, her cheeks flushed with softest rose, her eyes sparkling, her hair hanging a fringe of dark geld over her forehead. " Where is Lady Helen Brabazon?" she asked, abruptly. Mr. Brabazon winced. " She has been dead for a year," he said. "Iain a widower. You were acquainted with xny late wife?" "Oh, no, not at all!" said Miss I Barony. " Only, of course, all the ! world had heard of her. She was a ; famous beauty, wasn't she ?" "She was very lovely," said the widower. When Miss Barony was carried away in a newly-summoned gondola, whose picturesque oarsmen were more to be relied upon than than their predecessors, Mr. Brabazon asked permission to : t lojli at wiouiatc, lu mijuue sxu>v she was, in the course of a day or two; and Miss Barony accorded the permission as a young queen might have done. Miss Barony was young, beautiful j and piquant; Mr. Brabazon, whose life had been nearly badgered out of him by the caprices, exactions and varying temper of the late Lady Helen, was charmed by her sunny brilliance; and at a month's end he came to Mr. Barony, the United States consul, to ask permission to press his suit with his niece. Mr. Barony looked conscious. " Didn't you know ?" said he. " She is engaged." " Engaged!" Ms heart seernhftn^ r' -t5ra?azon, ice witl--T turn t0 a lunjP of ??-fe'? P]t J . . i n tofconsul "But perhaps you had m etter see my niece herself about it. o '11 give her"your message. She can il ecide to suit herself." i r Miss Barony was prettier than ever, t n her cool muslin dress and pale-blue h ibbons, as she sat among tiie jessa- ? dines and pomegranates of the con- r ulate reception-room the next day to I fc' eccive Mr. Brabazon. He had a | c peech carefully prepared, wherein all i he nominatives and subjects were r arefuUv balanced and the exact words t tationed in their exact places; but he c 'orgot it all at the fair vision of her j 1 )erfect loveliness, and could only stand j ? lelplessly before her and say: j 1 " Miss Barony, I love you !" i t " So you have been driven to con- j 1 'ess it at last," said Miss Barony, j r ' after all these years !" ' " I don't understand you," said Mr. | J Brabazon. ! i "You have forgotten me,:' said Rosa. 11 " That would be impossible," assev- j < jrated Mr. Brabazon, earnestly. j 1 " But it's the fact," said she. " I am ! j ittie itosa .uaie who >vus cugrt&cu w j > rou under the chestnut trees at Amber i '< Hill nearly nine years ago, and here is I < ;he engagement ring," holding up a h slender golden hoop with an opal glim-1; mering in its center. "Xo,I'm not at I < all surprised you didn't recognize me. j < I was a child then?I am a woman ; 1 now. And after my parent's death, ' when Uncle Barony adopted me, I took his name instead of my own. But 1 I never have quite gotten over the pang of bitter jealousy that pierced my babv heart when you were married to Lady Helen Ilartford." " But dare I hope," began Mr. Brabazon, " that you still care a li^Je for me? I know it seems like pre't.'jnption, but?" "Yes, you may nope,'" wnispereu Rosa, half-laughing, half-crying. "I do care for you?more than a little." The consul gave them his blessing. "It was she herself that told me to say she was engaged." said he. patting Rosa's head. "Little puss! she is always full of her mischief." "I wanted to be revenged," said Rosa. " But I have quite forgi'^n my false lover at last." Penn's First Voyage to America. One can picture the scene to one's self, that day in the early autumn, : wh^n the good ship "Welcome, GOO tons | Tvtmlen. Robert Green aw ay, master, ; lay at Teal, with two consorts, waiting j for its cargo of one hundred human ! beings, with all their hopes and fears,! expectations and doubts. What a' bustle ! What a running hither and ; thither! What a cPattering of pots j and pans and household utensils, all i blended in a hubbub of noises of cry-: ing children, squealing swine, lowing I cattle, bleating sheep, crowing cocks, i and shouting of petti coated sailors I stowing away the promiscuous cargo ! of the voyagers! We can imagine the loungers gathered about, gaping at the people who were about to s;ui away across the ocean, that boundless, i mysterious stretch of immensity, i wondering what manner ol land it i was toward which they were turning their faces. | And now at length the last long, j sorrowful leave-takings come; friend parts from friend, brother from brother, parent from child, each from the other, j whom they knew in all likelihood they 1 were never to see again this side of I the grave. In many a one the warm : stream of underlying human nature ; must have burst forth even through ' that stony crust of self repression that j years of stern Quaker discipline had trr* around the heart. The sfc'p, the j 05 and the ocean must have blurred together to many an eye that watched the vessel, slowly moving with the tide and wind down the broad Dover chan nei, until it lducu <x ^uv of the distance, glimmered for a space, ! and was gone. j One hundred smigranti> entered that r i good ship "Welcome at the town of i Deal; only seventy left it at Upland. I All alone on the empty ocean, where : no aid could be had. and no escape was j possible, the smallpox, that awful plague of old times, appeared among ; the crowded mass of terror-strir-ken | people- One day after another those : who escaped gathered on the decks, | stood for a time, while perhaps some noted preacher among them spake a few simple words ; then followed the ; plunge that told them that one more ; of their number was left behind as thev sailed awav to the westward. i Little is known of the horrors of that awful voyage. One of the emii grants speaks, with a simplicity that j characterizes all that the Quakers | wrote, concerning the care and so:.ici itude of the governor for their weli fare. He says : " The good conversation of William Penn was very ad; vantageous to all the company. His i singular care was manifested in conj tributing to the necessities of many who were sick with smallpox on board, of which more than thirty died. During the passage we had many good meetings on board." At last, however, on the 24th of October, the Welcome rounded the capes of Delaware bay, and sailed with even [ and gentle winds up the broad and ' beautiful waterway that must have gladdened the eyes of the mail to whom it virtually belonged. - Three days later the storm-beaten ship rounded to, dropped her anchor, and lay at rest in front of the town of Xew Castle.? Harper's Jfagazine. The Colonel's Shot. There was one Russian fellow that j had a sandpit all his own, right in : front of our trenches. 1 never saw anybody so persevering as that man was. Early in the morning he'd be popping away and there he'd stay until nightfall, taking his food with him into the pit. lis seemed to take a real pleasure in it, and as he was a verv tine shot and never let us get much of a chance at him he was not a popular character in the advanced trenches. Many a good fellow he sent to glory. It got such a nuisance that we dropped shells at him now and again, but lie minded them no more than if they had been so many oranges. One day I was down in the trenches when Colonel Mancor, of the Fortyeighth?a splendid shot and a great man for sport?came along. A party with a sergeant were at work, and just as the colonel came up one of them dropped with a ball through his head. " Deuced good shot! Who fired that?" says the colonel, putting up his eyeglass. "Man in the rifle pit to the left, sir," answers the sergeant. " Never saw a neater shot," says the colonel, j "He only showed for a moment, and ; wouldn't have shown then only that the edge of the trench is a bit worn away. Does he often shoot like that ?" "Terribly dangerous man," replies the sergeant; "kills more than all the guns in the Redan." "Now, major," says the colonel, turning to another officer who was with him, "What's the odds against my picking him off ?" "In how long?" "Within ten minutes." "Two to one, in ponies, I'll give you," says the major. - Sav three, and it's a bargain." ras the colonel, and' always emptied . ut a cartridge and then filled ; up again according to his taste, le took about half his time getting * he sergeant's gun loaded to please .im. At last he got it right, and the c ;iass screwed well into his eye. "Xow, <v ay lads," says he. "just push poor 1 imith here up over the trench. He's |c lead enough, and another wound will! J nake little difference to him." The | ^ nen began to hoist the body up, and ! he colonel stood, maybe twenty yards j , )?f, peering over the edge with eyes t ike a lynx. As soon as the top of |, Smith's shako appeared we saw the! 5' ? * -rtiif r\f i * jurrci c>i luc gun ww</ yn*j \ska.w . , ;hs sand pit, and when his poor dead ' ;'ace looks over the edge whizz comes ! ' i bullet right through his forehead, j ^ The Russian, he peeps out of the pit to ! j >ee the effect of his shot, and he 11 lever looks at anything again until;. le sees the everlasting river." The! colonel fired with a sort of chuckle, and 1. ;he rifleman sprang up in the air and ;; ran a matter of sen or twelve paces '' ;oward us, and then down on his face is dead as a door-nail. "Double or juits on the man in the pit to the right," says the colonel, loading up his jun again, but I think the major had iropped money enough for one day yver his shooting, for he wouldn't hear of another try. By the way, it was handed over to Smith's widow, for I he was a free-handed gentleman, was i the colonel, not unlike yourself, sir.? All the Year Round. Ingomar's iJoabt. "Pass the pie." Ingomar McCloskey moved uneasily ! in his rococo pants as these words fell I in soft cadences upon a medal'ion-like j ear that projected out into the starry j night from a head whose Grecian: curves would attract attention any- j where north of La l\>rte. Greyhooded j Night was getting her hood on, and I oyer in the west, where day was [ dying, there were huge banks of somber j clouds piled high in the horizon. The j day had been a beautiful one, and now j that the shadows in the glen were j lengthening and the birds were twit- j tering in a sleepy fashion amid the I boughs of the locust trees, Ingomar I and Gladys Perkins were sitting si-J lently on the back porch eating apple j pie. " Shoving the plate silently over to i her side of the little rustic table which ; separated them, the young man looked j steadily at Gladys for an instant, but I no word came from his lips. She saw the look and comprehended its njeaning in an instant. " Why do you doubt my love, darling?" she asks. ""Why is it, after I have told vou so many, many times? told you with all the passionate earnestness of a woman's lirst and only love that you are my idol, that your hopes are my hopes, your fears my fears? have told you this with my arms around your neck and my face close j pressed to yours?why is it, I ask, that ( you cannot believe ine: that a look of i doubt is ever on your face?" ; Deeper still have grown the shadows in the glen. The crickets have begun 1 to chirp in their noisy way. and the ; first rays of moonlight that come down | to earth in a silvery shower between j the leaves of tiie locust wmy ; into bold relief the haggard outlines of i a sawbuck that leans restfully against i the woodshed. i "I demand an answer."' says the girl in an imperious \vhoa:Emma way i that so well befits her. " Why do you i doubt my love V" " I do not." answers Ingomar. " It is false !*' exclaims Gladys. " I I can see the doubt in every line of your features. What else can it mean?" Leaning over the table Ingomar Mc Closky looked steadily at Gladys for s.n I instant and then, speaking in the cold, i cynical way he had learned in Kenosha, ~ - /"?4" Vv A-T+ Q i he said: "J. was aououug ?ucuwi i pie would hold out."?Chicago Tribune. | "thf: raspberry bush." | I Story of a Notorious Resort in St. Potersj Iburf?A Thieve#' Den of Historic N<>te. The "2>Ialinnick" or "Raspberry; ' Bush," v:hich was recently closed by the police, is a large saloon, situated in j tliat part of St. Petersburg known as the Havmarket, and has for years | i been the rendezvous of disreputable! ; characters. Various dates are as- i cribod to the first opening of this den,! ; but it appears to be pretty well ac-; cepted tiiat it is as old as the city in ! : which it stands, although it is ad- j 1 mitted that it was at one time a re-1 I spectacle tea palace. -Most Kussian j saloons are known as tea palaces, in I which the men. ? it at little square tables j ; with their uri:s in front of tiem, j ; brewing their own tea, of which ! beverage they ordinarily swallow from j ten to fifteen glasses at a time, many | of the peasants drinking habitually ! as many as f.fty glasses per day. j Why this particular tea palace j should be called the Raspberry Bush : nobody can tell; it certainly has | no connection with that popular fruit, j It is one of the sights of the capital, ana strangers visiting the city would i not consider their stay complete unless j they visited the notorious Raspberry j Bush. It is a large three-story build| ing, each floor 1'orming one enormous j room, divided only by supporting ! columns. The visitor, on entering, is I nearly choked by the steam from the | tea-urns and the tobacco smoke, and it | takes some time, before he can disi tinguish any objects in the room, all that lie is aware of being that an aggravating barrel-organ is grinding out wild music, apparently running a race with a similar instrument in the cellar, while two others are in operation on the floors above. These barrelorgans are great favorites with the Russian tea-drinker, and are kepi in e\ ery *><ih>uu, m uiuay ui which i.ney are worked by steam, but in the lower and more frequented tea palaces they are manipulated by women. Strangers on visiting the " Malinnick" generally apply to the lady at the counter, who orders a waiter to conduct the uninitiated through the various departments of this den, and this individual, who appears to have breathed nothing but steam andsmoke since his birth, pilots the visitor to a table, where he leaves him after taking his orders. Every inferior description of liquid and solid refreshment is to be obtained in the establishment, tea being the only beverage which can be swallowed with impunity, and in no part of thd world, not even in China itself, can a better glass of tea be ob- ' tained than in Russian tea palaces. The very best and most delicately scented tea is scrupulously served at the Raspberry Bush. AVe will suppose the stranger to be aware of this, auu. as ii/ umcs oocitu miuu'.cs uciuic the necessary materials are placed be- ; fore him, he begins to regain his fivesight. The first thing "that meets ' his glance is a solid silver repousse picture of the pat:-on 1 St. Nicholas, securely chained to the ! wall and ceiling, in one corner of the room, before which an oil lamp burns night and day, and which is trimmed ' regularly, the Russians considering it ' bad luck for a saint's lamp to become Jng eiiiiperor] underneath which hang j ] noli^T'^gulations for the "betteiN namagement of refreshment houses," lv irmted in large letters. In another ^ :ofner he will see the dreaded barrel- '; >rgan, and in the opposite one the :ounter. All the floors of the build- ^ ng contain tlxe above articles, with . >ne exception, which is that the pro>rietor dare not trust the silver saint, ? >ven solidly and securely chained, in he cellar. F, Although no regulations exist as to , ;he frequenters of the various floors, . ;here appears to be an understanding " imong them by which each story is re- ., served for various classes of criminals. rv,o collar nr mulHrfrround oart of the , premises is the haunt of thieves and u pickpockets of the poorest class; the ? ground floor is used by persons who (i have just fallen and who are too shy to enter another part of the house, ? while the second story is frequented I 0 by desperate thieves, murderers and ? receivers of stolen property, the third ! and last one being honored by the higher class of rogues, such' as forgers, f coiners, hotel thieves and the like. This is not the first time that the c " Malinnick" has been closed. Its s doors were kept shut for three months, ? shortly after the great emperor was ? crowned, on account of the ladies of c several respectable and wealthy citizens having been found buried under ? the cellar pavement, where they had 1 been concealed by the proprietor and ( two assassins, for which crime all three ' paid witli their lives. The reasons i:or which this establishment was closed I ] some eight or ten years ago were mr j more serious, the circumstances being jJ as follows: A number of crown dia- j: monds, valued at several millions of ; rubles, were stolen in the most mysterious way from the imperial treasu ry, ' and no clew to the robbers could be obtained by the police. Six months later the Amsterdam authorities informed the St. Petersburg secret police that some of the stolen diamonds wire being recut there, and. after a great deal of difficulty the Russian agents were in possession of j facts clearly proving that the robbery j had been planned by three brothers j named Yasileff, who kept a fashion- j able jewelry store in the capital, under 1 whose instructions it was carried out i by some of the frequenters of ';he I Raspberry Bush. One evening when | all the par ..js concerned in the crime | were congregated under the hospitable ; branches of this shrub, some twenty i members of the detective force en-1 tered the establishment under various j ; disguises, and waited lor a chance to ! 1 pounce upon the thieves. The chief j | of the detectives informed the proprie-' i tor of the place of what he was about j j to do, and instructed him to close the j i doors at a given sign, and thus pre-; i vent any of tlio desperadoes from : j escaping. It appears, however, that i I the proprietor himself was a party to J j the crime, although he had acted with ! i such tact that the police did not s.us- J ; pect him, and fearing that if any of j his accomplices were caught they 1 L a/I IA 1 rnignc oeiray mm ne ucimmucu iu prevent their arrest. He found means i of informing the thieves of what was i in store for them, and persuaded them . to murder their would-be captors.: Many other outlaws were let into the secret, the doors were quietly closed, j and every one of the police agents was killed. The bodies were hidden j and arrangements were made by which jio trace of the crime would be left by "morning. Among the outlaws, how-1 : ever, was a man who thought this a ! very good chance of earning an honest j penny, and slipping out he informed ; the chief of police, who in five minutes | surrounded the Raspberry i3usn vitu | soldiers, and arrested every person i found on the premises. They were all 1 convicted, and the majority of the {precious stones were recovered, the I Raspberry Bush remaining closed tt-mic tho trial lasted, a little over a i year. Since then the police have had perfeet control over the place, and encouraged it, rather- than otherwise, as when a crime of any magnitude was committed they knew where to put their hands upoB? the perpetrators. Whenever property was stolen, either from the person ?r'from houses and stores, the victims-; used to visit the notorious "Malinnick," and through the proprietor, trest^with the thieves for the return of^jie stolen articles. This seldom failed^.and was found the quickest, surest and .most economical way of recovering '-property. If, however, nothing shouM he known of the stolen objects at tfife Raspberry Bush, no doubt remained that the robbery had been committefrby hands unknown ' to the trade, and t|e police was forth- _ with informed. .f | The Emperor a^d His Sergeant. The Emperor Nicholas was in the habit of going a15out disguised and seeing for himself; how his subjects fared. lie often visited the Kaspberrv Bush, a famous r^ort, in, St. Petersburg, and on one aKtliese occasions, disguised as a no^-or^Tlssfolied officer,-took a seat ophite to an old sergeant of the guards," and-.entered into conversation ivith him. The old sergeant spoke of the battles he had fought in, and as his new {acquaintance happened to have been engaged in the same combats,they became fast fr iends, and went on drinking votka till close upon midnight, when the sergeant said he must return to quarters before the cathedral clock struck 12, but that he made a rule of always drinking one last glass to the health of- the emperor for two Veasons, first because it was the duty of every soldier, and, secondly, because by al ways remembering to do so he satisfied himself that he was not intoxicated. Ilis friend agreed with him, the health of the czar was drank, and they both approached the counter to pay their respective scores. The old sergeant's bill was heavier than he had expected, and, not having sufficient money to pay it, the barkeeper threatened to give him into custody, when the pseudosergeant offered to -make up the difference, which his friend, however, would not accept, but drawing his sword from the scabbard placed it on the counter as security, saying that he would return in the morning to redeem it, upon which he was allowed to leave, wishing his newly-made acquaintance goodnight and pleasant dreams. When he had left the emperor made himself known to tiie' bartender, who commenced trembhng, the law being quite as severe on those who accept state " property as it is on the soldiers for parting with their arms. The czar ordered him to hand him the old sergeant's sword and to hold his tongue if he wanted his maiesfv to overlook his serious of fense, and left the Raspberry Bush with the sword under his cloak. lie returned to the palace, and, rising at 5 o'clock next morning, sent word to the commander-in-chief that he would review the third regiment of guards (to which the old sergeant belonged) at 5:30 that morning,.or within one hour and a half of the (order being issued. A.t the appointed time his majesty rnfougn iis Ul-ai iiAiliieii, uiumg ? mvibr- hment, held his swordT He then | iked the colonel of the regiment if he J ished to recommend any non-com- * lissioned officers for promotion, and 1 iree officers beinsr favorably men oned, among -whom was the old ser- * eant, they were ordered to leave the ( inks and advance to the saluting oint. Here the emperor discovered iiat something was wrong with his riend's sword, and ordered that a crimlal whose ex'-~ution was to take place Iiat morning should be brought on lie field,and upon his arrival commandd the sergeant to behead him. The solier begged that he be spared the degadation of becoming a public execuioner, to which his majesty replied : 11 have said, it must be." The Serjeant, seeing that there were no means f escape, looking up to heaven, exJaimed : " Holy Virgin, I have not leard this man tried nor do I know if le be guilty or innocent, and as I dc lot want to spill an innocent man's tlood, I pray thee to turn this sword >f mine into a useless piece of wood, hould this man be not guilty, but hould he be guilty, may his head fall it the first blow," and rushing at the :ondemned and trembling wretch dealt lim a terrible blow, which caused ins iword to fly in pieces, to the astonishnent of everybody present except the miperor and himself, and to the uttei Dewilderment cf the convict. "Holy Virgin," the sergeant shouted, "thou ias shown thy miracle, and this man is innocent," to which his majesty replied: "Yes, and by miracle your 5v.*ord has left the Raspberry Bush and is now hanging in the palace guardroom. Call for it this afternoon, your commission of lieutenant will be tiec to the handle, but I should advise you in future not to drink ray health unless you have the money to pay for it." The Emotional Language of Bees. It is a well known and at the same time interesting fact, that bees express emotional variations by aid of theii humming sound. "A tired bee," says Sir John Lubbock, "hums on e, and therefore vibrates its wings only 08O times in a second/' A bee humming on a will, on the other hand, increase its vibration to 440 per second villi? difference," says Sir John, "is probabb involuntary, but the change of tone is evidently under the command of the will, and thus offers another point of similarity to a true 'voice.' A bee in pursuit of honey hums continually and contentedly on a, but if it is excited i or angry it produces a different note. I Thus, then." concludes the author, "the sounds of insects do not merely serve to bring the 3 :::es together; they are rot merely 'lovj songs,' but also seive, like any tri*c language, to ex Dress 111(3 lecim Fidelity. Xever forsake a friend. When enemies gather around, when sickness falls on the heart, when the world is dark and cheerless, is the time to try true friendship. They who turn from the scene of distress betray their hypocrisy, and prove that interest only inovesvthem. If you have a friend who loves you?who has studied your interest and happiness?be sure to sustain him in adversity. Let him feel that his former kindness is apprej dated, and that his love was not ; thrown away. Re?! fidelity may be I rare, but it exists?in the heart. They ; only deny its ^.ort'u and power who have never loved a friend or lai bored to make one happy. Perhaps the casual reader has never I sat down on a buzz saw and felt liira. self gradually fid ling away. If so, he | doesn't know what it is to form the acquaintance of a somnambulistic bulli dog in the prime of life. f ; j _ , " .Z"' ^ '* - - " ' ' ' A SINGULAR BATTLE. Deeperato acd Brittsil 2-ncounter B?ween an ludion Hunter ausl Fonr Girls. A letter from Poplar Kiver, Montana, describes a singular scenc in Indian life?the punishment by four Indian girls of a young hunter who had attacked one of their number. The. correspondent says: The tribe forms a huge ring into which the savage who provoked the animosity of the Pole-cat family is summarily thrust. He looks sullen and dogged. | He has a hard fight before him, and he I tnmrc it. hut. ho is a man of his hands i j and he means to wear those girls out if it lies in muscle and prompt and effectual work. lie may strike them anywhere above the breast, and kill them if a blow in the neck will do it, but bullets and arrow are ready for him if he strikes foul. The girls, od the other hand, must tyke oif his apron. If they accomplish that, he is disgraced to the uttermost moment of his life, driven from his tribe, left .to starve on the prairie, and all Indians cautioned against harboring, feeding, or associating with him. The injured woman is allowed to-have such squaws. as she may select to assist her. But if she chouses too many to effect her purpose it is a disgrace to her, and so she is careful to select only enough to make the battle nearly equal. The Pole-cat girls are the belles of the Yanktonais tribe. If a squaw sail be pretty, these girls arc beautiful, and by virtue of their attractions and their father's possessions in horses and other satisfactory property they are the aristocrats of the camp. Perhaps for that reason they ask no help in rrot'Mif mwllit-t-il.-fnrr nnrl fVvr that reason also, perhaps, their savage sisters giggle and exchange whispers as the i'uur girls step into the ring and approach the waiting buck. All five are in full war paint. Down the hunter's cheeks and along his neck aro alternate sepia and green and y^T'-.y stripes on a background of brilliant red, while his chest, side and back are tricked out with rude pictures of guns, bows and horses. The girls have smeared their faces with a coating of red, over which lies another of green striped with yellow. Their hair is unfastened at the back, and the front o T*r\ Vvroirln/^ n'itV* "f 11 r aiwituutw mawu v/ww. i.wi. A^MviA wears a skirt and leggings, but their blankets are laid aside and their muscular brown arms are displayed. There are no preliminaries. The girls dash at their enemy and attempt to grasp him. If all hands manage to get hold of him half the battle is accomplished. But he meets them squarely and fairly, planting a cruel blow between the eyes of the girl he had injured, knowing that if she is finished he can compel her to call off the rest. She is the general of the attacking forces and the prime object of his attack. Over she goes like a pin wheel, but she is up again, her face streaming with blood and her eyes swelling. The elder girl has contrived to secure a waist hold and locked her hands behind his back. His fists fall upon her upturned face with frightful force, but she keeps her hold. The other two girls are pressing him hard from behind, but his elbows work like S!v" hr whirls ""suadeniyV plaiill^ " rirl vl-ho, on her knees, still clings to ? lis ^;aist with a death grip. He j airly raises her from the ground as le spins, but her hold never relaxes. ? His earlier victim again dashes at him ^ md is rewarded by a crashing stroke ^ >n the mouth. She reels, but recovers ' i-? . J md darts again to receive jus nsi on ler neck with a force that whirls her ' lalf a dozen paces oil and drops her ike a log. 2s ot a word is spoken. The ' ;hug of his fists and the heavy breath- ' ng of the struggling contestants are the only sounds. The lirst rally of the prostrate girl has enabled the reai ?irl to catch the buck, and one has twined her arms around his neck, while the other hangs to his right wrist. His left hr.nd is still free, and it fairly Vw'nkies in the air as he batters the maiden at his waist. Her grasp is like iron, but her head reels and sways as his heavy hand falls on it with a noise that reaches the furtherest side of the irregular ring. Her eyes are closed and her breath comes convulsively. "Were the fourth girl there to frrncn that, arm the fight would soon end. The girl behind is choking him, and he employs new tactics. Grasping the kneeling girl hv the throat he pounds the face of the one behind him with the back of his head. Xo vanity prompts her to let go. She tightens her grip, and buries her face in* the back of his neck. The fourth girl is up, staggering and dazed. Brushing the blood from her eyes with an angry motion she approaches him, crouching as she moves, li' the blow he has in store for her reaches the mark he will have another chance, for the girl at his waist is growing faint and he can easily dispose or the other two. She comes at him like a'cougar. Theblow isdelivered full upen her broa?t, but she ' ' :?? ;< !>??! im hies grasps 111s wusu usiii ann. Xow he is beset with danger. The two on his arms anu the one at his waist pull him forward, the girl behind, ?till strangling him, throws her weight on his i-a.-k. In vain he attempts to straighten. The kneeling girl bends in her despairing strug> gle until her hair hangs on the ground. The other three show the muscles rigid in their arms -.is they press him downward upon their kneeling sister. Suddenly he springs backward with a marvelous effort of strength. The fainting girl at his waist finds her U ., , 1 f/-vrr? ?i?vi T-f Tint that triumph uaiiur* LViii UI'UII.. | was his defeat. With a crash he j comes to the ground, three girls upon i him. One plants her.-vlf on his face, ! and the other two kneel on his arms. There is a btruggi;\ and then the youngest rist-s with a wild. yell, waving theapron in her hand, iler yell is echoed by a low moan as the nn-ther of the prostrate hunt-r :tag;,vrs out of the circle, and by ; ? grant of satisfaction as I'ob'-eat rcv.?;-*ni'/es the victory of O * his gir.'s To-morrow. somewhere up the river, ; that di.-graeed luick will lie found with j a bullet in his brain. To-nigiit the j streets of the earn?> are deserted, for it . u, w.n fi;iv 11" i-vi; cineiit and the I UCtO ?*. M.Vt- V. ! people are tired. Down in Chief Polej cat's lodge four I>ru: ;- <1 n.vl weary girls ! arc mending facli ?>th<r"s wounds with | sisterly solicitude and at the outer ! edge of tii.- camp a oi-i^-Md woman looks wistfully a-.vay.jS, the north, i whre the shadows hav . ! ?\vedup ; the lorin of th" d:sgr;= ; warrior. Mr. Saniuvl L-\r;;a:i. n ;tr .\trasl>urg. ! Pa., has a clock wb] :;> owned | over half a century, (in woodj work of tiiv ca .* ar- tl:~ -igtuvs 1760 ! and on th-* wo:;-;-. indicating thai 1 the machinery Lr.s ! . i; in moti. n li?0 i years. Tie is ;i p :f - t t;m^: keeper. The yew in T-riv.-. r ;*i:urcliynrd, . Gloucestershire. m' ; ; > ria.e buck to the time of Julius C<\-ur. -v \ EGG-CAXDLEBS. A Trade ?w and Stranjre to the General j Header?Whore the Good Eggs Go?The j : IVajct and tko .tXethoda. j An odd trade is that of the egg! candler. One having been advertised j ! for a few days ago, a Tribune reporter to i ! whom the word "candler" was full of j ] mystery, took the liberty of calling j I upon the advertiser for an explanation. | "Apply at 6 Dearborn street, March & Co.," read the advertisement. Thither the reporter went, and in the shadow or a huge banlc or egg-cases on trie j sidewalk discovered a passage-! way labeled "Butter" which led j into the basement of the building designated. Entering, the reporter found himself in a small apartment, which may be truthfully said to be the fullest apartment he ever entered. The space occupied by two young men and innumerable egg cases was filled with a stench so thick that the reporter felt like cutting off a chunk of it and bearing it away as a trophy. But as nothing save " hen fruit" was visible, he was constrained to inquire if poultry cholera was prevalent just at present. One of the younji men tumbled off a pile of cases on which he was reclining, and after rolling over the floor with i^aghter two or three times, arose and said, quietly: " jSTo; I guess the hens are all well." After a few words of explanation as to the nature of the call, the young man kindly consented to give an exhibition of egg-candling, and led the way. Going up to a dirty-looking patch on the wall, he drew aside an old gray army blanket, disclosing a lighted interior beyond. He realized the effect, for he stopped long enough on the threshold to say : " Oh! %pme in. This ain't no trap ; it's the l&ndlinfr-room." The anartment was found to be about seven by three feet, and upon a bench at one end were three open egg-cases. A small metallic oil lamp was attached by a wooden fixture to the farther end of the middle box. This furnished the only light in the room. The candler walked up to the bench with a watch-me-juggle-them air, and. turning back his shirt-sleeves, plifnged both hands into the middle box and suddenly brought forth four " chicken-buds." "With the thumb and forefinger of each hand the uppermost eggs were caught up anH Violr? fnr an instant rmlv in frrmt. ! of the flame. There was a convulsive movement of the hands, and, with all the dexterity of a sleight-of-hand performer, the uppermost eggs had given place to the other two, ana were being more carefully examined before the light. " There," said the candler, designating an egg with a clear, transparent shell and a vividly rosy light showing ' through it, "that is strictly a fresh egg. I put that in the right-hand box, which is intended for the New York market. This one is not quite so fresh, but it will do. This, you see, is spotted; that's where the yolk has fastened to the shell, because the egg laid too long in one position. It is not a bad egg, however, though it may be slightly stale, and I put it into the left hand case, which is intended for the Chicago market, and is likely to be speedily , sold. Thereffe nothlug apparently^' shipped"to Xew York?" inquired the % eporter. t: " Simply because they keep longest, s: md are longest in finding their way into i ;he consumer's hands. An egg which s perfectly good in Chicago to-day a .night not be erood ten davs hence in j v, Sfew York." " | J The candler proceeded with his work j t at a truly remarkable rate of speed, i c stopping only now and then to point ^ out the peculiarity of an egg which j i had been kept in too warm, cold or ! s damp a place, or had been subjected ; j to some sort of preserving process t while yet in the hands of the farmer, i So deft was he in his business that the j eggs, as he shuflled them to and fro, { seldom or never touched each other, ( and as for breaking one, that is some- . thing a candler rarely does. Suddenly ( he paused over one which plainly showed the origin of the term < " chicken-bud." I " That is a good egg for a restaurant j. man," suggested the reporter. "Why?" " "Why, he can charge spring chicken prices for it." Again the candler went off into a iiti/rrVifor Tt. was evi COUVUiSJLUU VJL laugimu. dent that though he might know stale eggs when he saw them, he did not know equally stale old jokes when he heard tliem. This egg found a resting-place among others in a large oucket, and during the remainder of the interview the candler busied himself in pointing out monstrosities in the eggs which he had thrown aside as worthless. Yery many of these had really been laid by hens that were not well, and all sorts of i peculiarities were visible in the "fruit." The candler's pay is uniformly ten cents per case of thirty-six dozen, and ! an adept at the business can make j three dollars per day easily, and more by working overtime. Several other candling rooms along I South Water street were visited, and ' eandlers 01 various uegicw vjl pwu-, ciency were conversed with. Said; one: " Eggs are a good deal like fruit. I A damp; foul atmosphere and extremes of heat and cold affect them as quickly j and as seriously as fine fruit. The i shell of an egg is exceedingly porous, and when the place of storage is too warm and dry the albumen evaporates, and when too cold and damp the egg seems to lose its vitality and rapidly becomes stale. The porous shell also admits of absorption, and in my opinion a single rotten egg, the shell of which happens to be broken or .cracked, will contaminate whole dozens of eggs in the same case. Any experienced candler will, I think, tell you the same thing. The present system of eggcarriage, which was designed to preI vent breakage, has done a great deal to improve the market quality of eggs. They do not come into contact with each other, and after they are once packed no amount of knocking about will addle them."?Chicago Tribune. j Jioops. Twenty billion wooden hoops are used in the large packing establishments of the country for barrels alone. Now, a hoopmaker will make 150 hoops in a day of ten hours, twelve or fourteen-feet lengths. An exceptionally good hoopmaker will produce 300 eight-foot in a day of ten hours, and after this has been done these hoops ! must be a^aia linish-shaved by the | cooper before he can notch them, bevel | the ends or drive them. A couple of ! Bostonians have invented a machino the production of which, stated within | bounds, will be 20,000 eight-foot marki e!a'jle hoops in ten hours. [ It is asserted that in the three year: 1 UOft rr~nr>a n r> ffin'r T " j SU'lfll JLOOU tlicic nuv - _ i 252 theatres destroyed by fire, rrp 'Ch I so, resulting in 4,370 deaths au? a -git 8,400 injuries. ^ - 'f* .. ; i . ' An Exciting- Scene in Mid-Ocean. A passenger by the steamship Dacca, from Madras, India, bound for London, sends from Aden an interesting account of an exciting scene which he witnessed during a storm in the Indian ocean. The vessel encountered the monsoon a few days after leaving Columbo, and had a rough time of it, until the gale became so violent that canvas had to be taken in, awnings furled and things made as snug as possible. The correspondent describes what followed: I came on deck at 6 A II.; it was blowing fiercely, and the sprav coming over the sheets. There were three of us on deck when the bell struck? a Miss, a Mr. and myself. "We were holding on to our chairs, which were firmly lashed to the inner cabin skylights, under the lee of the ladies' saloon. Part of the crew were working hard to get the starboard life boat inboard, when a bister roll to the windward warned us of what was coming. "Hold on !" some one shouted. "We held on. The chairs rushed forward on their lashings. The deck stood upright. In'came the sea over the gunwale, over the taffrail, up to our waists, lifted the lifeboat out of its shackles, carried it overboard, smashing away stanchions and davits, and out to sea. Then came the horrid cry of " Man overboard !" The hehn was put down, the engine reversed, and back she went on a dubious search?all the more so as sharks had been seen round the ship earlier in the morning. The boat was presently seen some 200 yards off, keel uppermost. Soon after the two men were observed clinging to it. Then came an exciting two hours, during which we steamed after the boat, which was drifting rapidly toward the east. But turning a ship like the Dacca is a very slow business, and as she hung in the wind's eye a jib was hoisted to bring her round. By the time this was done the boat, with its pitiful-looking crew, was away two miles and more to leeward, and we were rolling heavily and unmanageable. At last the captain decided to lower a boat, and the order was given, " Stand by the boat," and soon after "lower." "Who is going in her?" he shouted. The first officer, Mr. Ingram, sprang over the side, caught hold of the davit ropes and slipped down, but J_ l_ j. 1 _ i. 17 jusx, as ne fjot near ner a great ruu ui the ship lifted him clear of the boat twenty feet in the air. As he came down again the boat had drifted forward, and he was plunged down in the boiling sea five or six seconds. Up he came again as the ship heeled over, still hanging on, and missed by an ace having his skull smashed against the small boat's side. It was really a terrible sight and we shuddered as we looked on, the boat all the while being lashed up and down by the violence of the waves. But at last his opportunity came, and he dropped into the stern. At once he was followed by the boatswain, two firemen and two European sailors, the native crew hanging shamefully back. One of the passengers, a young English officerLieutenant Wolff, of the Seventh Fusiliers. a son of Sir Drummond Wolff, ?~~~ ? *" nd in a terrible sea they set out for ( tie missing boat. Directed by the moions of a man aloft, they got along ^ ^ XT J ide her, 2.11 cl look out! me.11 wuiuu. .'lien began a hard row back. 1 We lost sight of her again and ! gain, wondering how she could live ! a such a sea. But still she held on, ,nd got at last under our lee. By ' he help of a case of oil scattered iver the waves they were com- ' >aratively stilled, a ladder was et down, and when the last man ' tepped on board such a cheer greeted lim as told him what we thought of lis pluck, and that of the gallant felows with him. Captain Burkitt was perfectly cool the whole time, and managed his ship with great skill. "When ;he first officer got a change of clothes md came down to the cabin he received all kinds of congratulations, md his health was drunk in bumpers Df champagne, un ouuua* XUluiaxu^ i ive got under the lee of Cape Guardafui, and so ended our brush with the southwest monsoon. Saying- the TrainThe usual crowd of autumn liars were gathered together in the store, occupying all the grocery seats?the only gross receipts that the proprietor took no pride in?when a little, blear-eyed, weazen-faced individual sneaked in by the back door, and slunk into a dark corner. " That's him," said the ungrammatical bummer with a green patch over his left eye. " Who "is it ?" asked several at once. " Why, the chap who saved a train from being wrecked," was tne repiy. "Come, tell us about it," they demanded, as the small man crouched in the darkness, as if unwilling that his heroic deed should be brought out under the glare of the blazire kerosene lamp. After much persuasion he began : "It was just such a night as this? bright and clear?and I was going home down the track, when, right before me, across the rails, lay a great beam. There it was. Pale and ghastly as a lifeless body, and light as it appeared, I had not the power to move it. A sudden rumble and roar told me that the night express was thundering down and soon would reach the fatal spot. Nearer and nearer it approacnea till, just as the cow-catcher was about lifting me, I sprang aside, placed myself between the obstruction and the track, and the train flew on unharmed." The silence was so dense for a moment that one might have heard a dew drop. Presently somebody said : " What did you do with the beam?" " I didn't touch it," lie replied ; "but j it touched me." " Well," persisted the questioner, "if ! you couldn't lift it, and didn't touch I it. how in the dickens did the train get i over it ?" ! " Why, don't you see?" said the sad! faced man, as he arose from his seal j and sidled toward the door. "The ob ! struction was a moonbeam, and 1 ' ' ? cfvirlnw nf rn\ I jumpeu su kuv/ .. ? ^ I body took its place, and?" | Jiang! liew a ham against the door i and if it had struck t'ae body of th< | retreating hero there would have beei j a much bigger gre.-se-spot frescoed 01 j the panel.?Traceler..y' Jfaf/azine. I He Didn't Care for Any. A story is told by the Xantucke . | Inquirer of a young married man ii : j town, which will bear repeating. Th . * young man, during his "courting l : days, was very bashful. One day h .; was invited to attend a tea-party at th house of a pious uncle of his sweel heart, and when seated at the table th 5 good hostess requested him to ask i; blessing, which so " broke up " the b< / i wiinpred vcunr? man that he unccr t: sciously stammered out: " I don't eai for any, thank you." "THE CONGRESSIONAL BECOBD." \. |j - How the Toluminocs National Dally li J Prepared. A Washington correspondent gives ! an interesting, account* of the Con gressional Record, the paper issued dur; ing the session of Congress and which ! contains the report of the daily pro; ceedings of the national legislature. i Says the writer: Since the foundation | of the government, the name of this . i publication has undergone several ! changes. From 179S to 1824 it was known as the Annals of congress; :gSK from 1824 to 1837 as Congressional .-;]|? Debates; from 1S37 to 1871 it was called the Congressional Globe; since J? the latter date it has been known as the Congressional Record. There is no daily publication in the : world so vast as the Record* Typographically it is a marvel of taste and ~ accuracy. It is printed in nonpareil type on a twelve-by-ten-inch sheet, the ; columns running in a three-inch stick; is easy to handle and of good mailing size. It contains an average of from seventy-five to 120 pages. In the House a^orps of five'stenog- \ raphers perform the "entire work of reporting the proceedings, each receiy- % ing a salary of $5,000 per annnm. The reporters alternate in what are. called "takes," each estimated to fill a column of the Record, varying in time from .' J|i ten to fifteen minutes?afterward retiring successively to a room specially | fitted for their use, in which there are t?n amanuenses in attendance, two for j j each stenographer, both taking from, his dictation at the same time. While thus employed the stenographer cor- |||| rects and trims the manuscript already ||| handed in by the amanuenses. After this careful revision it is sent at once by special messenger to the foreman of the Record at the government print- ^ ing office, who distributes the^Jnatte^^-v,^ technically called "copy," among compositors. A galley-proof is taken and sent to the proof-readers, of who% ^ there are three. It is then corrected and returned for a second proof, and, after being revised, it is-?eady for final print in th* Record, to be issued to S Congressmen and subscribers. In the Senate the "work is in charge A|? of one stenographer, who receives a 2??| salary of 125,000 a year. He usually employs two assistants and a corps of ''7*5? examiners. The mode of dictation is -'"- |9 similar to that employed in the House, save that the chief reporter is individually responsible for errors of his assistants. In the House each stenog rapher is held personally responsible for the errors he may commit. Every member and senator is allowed |g twenty-four copies of the Record, and ~ it is optional whether he takes them every day in phamphlet form^or at the j3 end of the session in their ^f&ow jack- ;?f ets, thoroughly indexed. A majority, however, prefer the latter form, dis- ' 55 tributing them among the libraries and newspapers in their districts, or sending them direct to favorite const.if.npnt.ft. That the stenographer's task is no . easy one c?n readily be imagined, owing to the complex character of - ^ public speaking. He must adapt him- ?? self to every form of articulation, from ibout two per second; but this is by ao means an unqualified rule. A steaographer is often obliged to report at J >fl She rate of 180 words per minute, and sometimes it falls as low as ninety- ; ave, which is mere play. Strange as it may seem, the latter rate is exas- ' gg perating to an expert reporter, and his fr notes are not as readily deciphered. As most of the spga&^s^^ww^ ing in both Houses is done under J9 the five-minute 'rule (which allows a member five minutes to debate . j-p ~ moocnro^ it. will readilv cilly pcuuilig J, be seen that the reporter's art is oftea r> taxed to its utmost capacity. A vast amount of matter is printed in the Record, however, which is never de- ' ")-i livered by the members .under the con- ^ venient yet elastic rule of " leave to print." Five minutes' debate often cover columns of the Record under the above license. The majority of the members are good, average talkers; |s| yet there are many who never rise in their seats, not possessing the faculty of extemporaneous speaking. Most of this class are silent workers, and what ]4 they lose in debate they gain by soliciting aid upon measures in which they are interested from their fellow members. This method of legislation has its direct compensations, and many important measures are thus legislated through Congress. ^lll It goes without saying that much must be left to the intelligence of the stenographer to make a sensible re- ~ I port-. All grammatical mistakes, er- " rors in construction and tautological expressions, which are by no means infrequent with many of the gentlemen sent to the national capitol to represent the people of their section, must be eliminated by him. The chief of the reportorial staff in : ' each House examines the Record every morning, marking the errors of the compositor, and paragraphs and punctuates it for its final appearance ' in book form. One copy in pamphlet form is placed on the desk of each Representative and Senator for the day's session. Congressional reporting is greatly facilitated by the use of arbitrary 7-'|| Tvhi>h nftim mean whole '_'i Oig-LlO, " ? sentences?as, " ifr Speaker, I rise to ^ aquestion of privilege" is represented -. ' by one character. In the House, reportorial work needs peculiar dexterity, minutest perception and excessive care. It is singularly difficult in the heat of debate to recognize one mem- ber from another ; the eye and hand . must work in unison, as in discussions the reporter is often obliged to write J|g( without looking at his paper. During 'S'.'ijM the delivery of long speeches the report, ers occupy seats adjoining or very near the member speaking. "ra~' -:'-":3?S A Strange Freak of Sat are. "gpSgj A Montana man, who is vouched for " ^ by the Helena papers as "of well " known veracityhas discovered in the K?| ' Yellowstone National park a gorge r where the atmosphere is a!>so!rteiy a gig I non-conductor of sound. The gentle- : -^1 man's first intimation of this very sin. | gular condition of things was received ;??| I | on his attempting to call out to his 'iff 1; companion, who was some distance be1! hind. Although he experienced all the ' I sensations of uttering a lustv velL not . ^ i - j u;^ j ;i suunu. v? <u> iic<uu. AAi.-j nwdb <*vI attempted to whinner, but the deep, -Ml 11 dead stillness was unbroken. While a lie was militating on the situation a * -J e panther jumped from seme bushes ? near by and crouchc! fenrawwing. e i The Helena man brought his gun to' e his shoulder and pulied the trigger. The animal was badly wounded'and e dragged itself intcr-tr^a neither the report of the gun nor ?tay^B H other sound was heard. H el Tha parlor stove is suggestive cf JM M Jfc