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__ V ????- . . , ? , . . i .-" I ? - . . _ " ~ -- JffiSEVILLE PRESS & BANM& ;: ;. v i ;/<> } . ; >' -. - ' 1 ^ -J 1 : -;; -.7 '' ^ ' '"'" 'iH ; Uxj iv * , - .......... . . ... . , _ ... _ >(1 -.1; ' '" ' ' ?i? -'..i it** K9y. 4<al0 | ^ v ; * - - - * ' ; r ' i ' ' ,."' * ,7;' * > t* hJI ?j| *J H *0 i}' J 0T7 ^ - ? - ? ^^ *. V W * W Wr ' ' '" -L.- li " 'iltf lI/J'j ' ' '': BY HUGH WILSON. ABBEVILLE, S. C., WEDNESDAY, OCTOBER 24, 18,77.;- - NO. 20., VOLUME ' S" r^*c ? * '' *"" f 11 J . i'j;- .1.;,,, f i i ! -i. ..v> .< i',-'.. " i' '"r UK brm r.y, ,.. *' i j. -!u y*.' "Two's Company." Miea Jenny B-? -was born for me, v An<| I was bora for Jenny ; "For any other miss I Bee I h?M!y cire a penny. Two turtle-doves yon never saw ... > So fond of ono another, And yet my rapture hath a flaw? My Jenny hath a brother! A child of eight, or under that; Of inaimerfl inoffensive. Ymi rardlv find ko vouncr a brat With knowledge so extensive. For him two syllables are naught, Ho laqgha at long division Ho says his lessons, as he ought, With loadable precision. ? TM' J :01 Due reverence for me he shows; He greets me as a "mister," The clever boy !?I know he knows I love his pretty sister. It may be chance?and yet I see . a . Tint more than chanoe is in it; | never leaves Miss B?? and me 11 jf Together for a minute. IJ ' f 5 1? i? ti * .* 9 * I can not hear? the tender sigh '? *-* With any satisfaction While such as incubus is by. ^ . i To mark my every action. . I can not bend the supple knee, -^Aud !'pop%" tho Under question} The ycty thought of Number Three Forbibs the soft suggestion. fn & Mat Ome two eyes espy us; We never strive to steal a' walk f Jiut Number ^tiree is niqh us. I" aucb ? nntl sorry plight Perhaps it would be better To plead my suit black and white, And register the letter. A GOOD LITTLE SAMARITAN. off . *;? ?;: ttf : r ' > , . Miss Betty Van Dyke had curled hereelf up in the corner of the capacious w-iiuJoV-*ni l in her mother's kitchen to witch Piftne flute the flounces of her Incfia muSIiii. Miss Betty was as pretty and fresh as a rose; her eyes were of heaven's own bine, her hair like threads of gold, her cheeks "like a Catherine pear, the side that's next the but)." Fifine was nothing more thau a bundle of old b > ics wrapped in a piece o{ parchment she,-was a native of Lorraine, an'dhitd lately married ?tn Englishman familiarly known as " George," whom she had loved for many a year. Miss Betty was romantic, and it so delighted her when George at last yielded to the idolatry of poor Fifine, that she coaxed her father into leasing a bit of scrubby woodland with a tumble-down house upon it, to Georgo, so that he could have a garden and potato patch. on/1 raiao siimn Jinil tjikft nicp care of poor Fitino. Dliss Betty even eondeioeuiled to go to (hem during the honse-finishiDg and the hozey-moon, and assist Fifine in her little domestic furnishing and adorning, and advise George in relation to his garden, his potato patch, his chickens and wood i Bni/ trath to say, George had so studied the character and attributes of the noble Indian that he modeled his life upon it, so J*r as resigning all domestic duties to poor Fifhie.J ' He gave over to his spouse the entire supervision of the garden, potato patch, chicken-raising and erea the wood-splitting. He was of a dreamy nature, and would sit for , hours on a rude bench he had placed near the water, and there he would smoke and meditate uutil Fifine had tidied up the house, and fed the chickens and hoed the potatoes, and washed a oonple of dozen pieoes for one of her patrons, and sp'it some wood, and got dinner upon the table, and then George would come in and eat dinner with Fifine, and tell her of all bo had been ' thinking about while sitting there upon the bench under the trees. Fifine was very happy. She knew that George was superior to her in mind, but he had told her time and again that it was right he should be her superior, and he loved her all the better for it. But Miss Betty fc*d her misgivings, ttiiu uuc uuV| wueu e?uo \>a? uiiticu up like a lovely lcitten upon the window-sill", Bhe said to Fifine : " What does George do, Fifine, toward the support of lut, tfOnsftftOftf f"'It-seems to me that yon are always slaving nnd toiling. What does George do T[ . ^iThen Fifine shrugged her shoulders, which had become somewhat crooked and bulgy from the heavy burdens they had borne all these years, and elevated hie* eyebrows, which were rather scraggy and gray, and said, with a world of feeUug4n. her voice : " What does he do, ny angel ? He gives to me the happiness which is my all; he gives to me the conversation which is beautiful ;~he tells me of what is going on in the big busy world; he pities, he consoles?ah, my little one, he loves me!" Betty blushed auil was silent, and thought, foolish child, that, after all, this was every thing. She left Fifine ^'fo ferm the tucks and furbelows with which Mrs. Van Dyke delighted to adorn her daughter Betty, and weat out under AV - ! J 1U.J 4? 1 t * me grapevine, anu wtuneu w aim iru, and thought that if somebody?and here she trembled an ! blushed at the thought of his name?if he would read to her ... again, would talk to her again, would tell her of the big beautiful world once ? more, if he would love her?ah, what would she not be glad to give in return ! 8he would work for him?ay, she would vj work her slim fingers to the bone, only, of oonrse, he wouldn't let her ; lie was too noble and generous ^nd thoughtful. aecpssity- should arise, how glad she would be to do even like poor Fifine, if only ho would love her in return ! _ But, alas I the superiority of mankind was here also pre-eminent. He was the new minister, the Rev. Reginald Roake. The consistory had thought it best to ~ get a young man, bo that he could board . around among the parishioners, and thus save the rent of a parsonage. Capr tain Van Dyke, Hiss Betty's father, had thought it best to economize in every way that they could, and had even taken the yonng man to board at first. He told his wife they'd scarcely miss what the parson ate, and the church must be heluedt along .as much as was prudent and ix?8ible. But the captain, after a few months, Suddenly changed biqmiod. Thejonng minister was very fertile in imagination and quick in thought; and his sermons were speedily ^repaired, and the long summer dava had ao many sweet, rich ndmVtrrfill!1 Misa Betty''b chiiies were . aleo light; her mother was still active find robust; there were two sturdy young women in the kitchen, besides the occasional artistic work of Fifine. The captain sight was keen and strong irlirn bp was out sailing in the bav h( C'lUsef 11 c >iipie of figures bencling Ov?r some book ra tho cnramer-honse I or -wandering among the rocks or along the sands upon the shore. The captair | would come home hot and vexed, and ! take his wife to task for this misdoing. "I don't want any Deggarly parsonf ! hanging around my daughter," said the I captain. ! The good lady would look very much ! shocked, and really tremble in her heart at the captain's temerity, for she thought -it was almost tempting Providence tc cast a contemptuous word upon the clergy; ,but she had that wholsome feai of the captain that she never ventured to remonstrate with him. She sighed in secret -with her daughter when the capi lain managed to transfer the preacher tc I the care of a wealthy and comely widow > in the neighborhood, | "He can poach all he pleases on that ; domain," said the captain; and fehortlj ; after, he was delighted to see the rever| end gentleman riding out with the fair I widow, and gathering grasses and ferns j in the pretty woodland haunts about Granville. " We can't keep a parson single," chuckled the captain at his dinner table: "the women won't let him alone, do what we may. But the widow Benson owns her own house, and that will save rent for a parsonage." The morsel upon Mi6s Betty's fork remained untasted, and the captain in this way spoiled many a meal for his daughter. And so the summer waned, and Sepi tember was at hand?September with her soft blue haze and rich warm sunshine ; and though the widow had a brilliant garden of her own, she was fond of the wanton wild flowers that prrew so l luxuriously in the woods of Granville. ! She and the young miuister filled the j house with great clusters of golden-rods i and asters and big purple poke-berries. One day thepony-phajton stopped before | the door of Captain Yhu Dyke, aud the i widow was led into tho sitting-room, j where she found Miss Betty almost i hidden by a mosquito netting which she | was busily patching. " Come, child," said the widow, "put away that rag, and run get a pretty dress on. I've promised myself this many a day we should take this drive together, and I declare to you it shall be the rarest j one you ever hod in your life. The day i is inado richly to order for it; the [ balmiest air, the goldenest sunshine? j not a cloud in the sky ! Run away, and j make yourself look os pretty as you can. "You are very kind," said Mies Betty, with a little trip of cold jealousy on her tougue; " but I must mend this nettiug for poor Fitine. She is sick with a fever, and the mosquitoes are dreadfnl down there in the Nvood! Mamma says I may have this netting if I cau make it do; it is so badly torn," said poor Betty, "and so perplexing ! But I could not sleep, Mrs. Benson," she added, with an air of gentlo dignity, in which there was also a slight sniff ef reproach?"I could not sleep in my own bod of luxury, and know that poor Fifine was languishing there, a prey to fever and mosquitoes." If the widow had thereupon offered to drive to town with Miss Betty and buy for Fifine a brand-new canopy, Miss Betty would have put the old netting aside ; but she was at heart very glad j that the fine lady offered no such sacrifice to charity, for she could not bear to find her altogether perfect. "Ten chances to one, my dear," said i the widow, "you'll have your labor for I your pains. These poor creatures are very superstitions and queer, and don't know what is best for them. I've no doubt, in" any case, she has pretended to be sick to get rid of some cl ear-starch iug for your goou mothar. Fifine would rather work at home, so that she can be with that lubberlv lout of a husband of hers. She is the finest and best of laundresses, and sorry should I be to have any thinsr befall her : but you must not believ i nil that these wily i Frenchwomen say." The color mantled high in Mies I Betty's cheeks as these slanders fell ! upon her ears, and she steadily refused to put her work aside. 'You are a little goose," said the widow at length. " Must I tell you, then, that we shall have some charming company with us ? We are to stop at my house for Mr. Roake?there, now, Miss ! Betty, run away and dress. The color fled from Miss Beatty's cheeks, and the needle trembled in her fingers. As 6he raised her blue eyes to the fine black ones of the widow, a tear or two trembled within them. _ "You are welcome to your charming company," she said. "I will go on with my work for poor Fifine." The widow laughed lightly and went away, leaving poor Miss Betty to struggle on with her troublesome task, which was more and more irksome n jw that she * ' -ii? ?i ~ ~^ : Kuew I1UW W'JLLIU UtUCl WCIO spending their afternoon. Ah rent after rent yawned before her, and her weary little fingers grew less and less nimble, more than once the question arose within her whether it was better to go on. Since nobody caret! for her, why should she care for any body ? But her generous heart conquered all these bitter temptations, and nearly at night-fall she ran up stairs to slip on the pretty muslin robe, all smoothed and crimped by the art and industry of poor Fifine. The netting was not a very heavy burden, , but she carried also a kettle of ico with i her and a pot of jelly. She took the road through the woods, and though it was growing darker, and her heart beat rapidly, and she could not brush the mosquitoes away because her hands were so full, yet she was upheld by the thought of rescuing poor Fifine. Since she could not save her from the stings of slander and reproach, she should at least be free from those of mosquitoes. At last through the trees she could see the chicken-coops of Fifine, and soon she was at the poor woman's bedside. The heart of Miss Betty was fired with indignation when she remembered the cruel words of the widow. Fifine laj upon a rude bed in the corner. Always thin and brown, she might now hav< been taken for an exhumed queen o] i nuti -Miss iseiiy oouiu uoi imagint how all these mosquitoes could find it ii | their anatomy to prey upon poor Fifine i when the fat and unctions substance o: , | George was temptingly at hand upon th< i bench outside, where he was enjoyinj i his evening pipe. Miss Betty stoopec J over the sick woman, and said, softly I " I have brought you some ice, dear Fi : fine." " Ah, my angel! my angel of light!' i said Fifine, "thou hast of hearts tin most merciful ; but, alas, I cannot hav< 11 the ioe, I am too cold already, my littl< rm 1.1 1 .3 I Olie. XUOTO it> h. w:u uuuu uxj u?ui i No, no ; I cannot, have the ice." << yery well, Fiiine," said Miss Betty i putting down the kettle which had beei such a uuisauce to her, "you shall no ; be troubled with the ice, but here i > some jelly." ; " Ah. my blessed one !" cried Fiflne , " thou art Hke a saint from heaven ; bu f talk not to me of jelly. They have i given me of jelly many years ago, after I some bitter medicine, and I have since n< that time no hunger for jelly. Ah, my j rose of the wild wood I it makes me sick > to think of it." be '' Then do not think of it, Fifine," gr i said Miss Betty, putting aside the jar, fel ; that had grown heavier and heavier at vo ; every Btep of the journey. " But theBe mi > dreadful mosquitoes, they are devouring m< ? you." ' foi "Ah, yes, my adored one, tney are gr L demons without mercy ; they have drawn fe1 : all the blood from my body, and their th dreadful song is madness to my brain, ha i But rest tranquil; death will soon put Ni an end to my misery." fr< " But see here, my poor Fifine," cried stt . r? li.* 1? 11* 1 i Miss ueisy, exuumgiy uimmmg xier u^j precious net; "now yon can sleep in peace. We will spread this over you, sp George and I, and not one of the monsters ag can reach you. See, my poor Fifine, we scl will draw this over you?so and suit- mi ing the action to the word, Miss Betty on pulled the net over the high post of the tin bedstead, when suddenly a terrified look pe upon the sick woman's face stayed her lai hands, and she cried out to Fifine, in a e dismay : "Don't you wont the net over stc you, Fifine ?" coi " Ah, life of my life I" said Fifine, "it m? is sad. it is terrible ! I know not how on to deny thee, after all thou hast done for bu me ; but, oh, my little one, I can not cir have it over me. I havo tried, for thy an dear sake, to bear it. I told myself that lik I would say no word against it?at least ne: till thou were gone, when George could re< pull it away?but I can not even for one 1 little moment-. Ah, my angel, wait until I am dead, and then they can draw over ere me the pall, and put candles at my heaT He - . 11 -O il Ml. I il.. and leet, ana ao wjlui wuui iuvy wiuj mi but while I am yet nlire I can not be zlj treated like a (load body." " " -* int - Miss Betty said no further words of ag; entreaty or remonstrance, but let the I miserable, flimsy thing fall out of her wh hands upon the floor; and having sh< smoothed Fifine's pillow, and held some wil milk to her lips, and promised to come wa again in the morning, Miss Betty took us< the woodland road home again. , we It was now quite dark, and big liii shadows seemed to threaten every step stn of her way. Her heart was heavy within an her, and her poor little feet seemed coj scarcely able to carry eveii her light ba weight along. What a wretched, abor- on tive attempt had boen her6 to alleviate ed the misery of poor Fifine? It was as lar the beautiful widow had said, she had th< had her labor for her pains?tho beauti- ev< ful, mocking widow, who was no doubt He riding homo throngh the gloaming with hu the Rev. Reginald Koake. Aj At that very moment Miss Betty heard or the tramping of hoofs behind her, and So stepped aside to let the light-limbed tifl pony of the widow pass by. The basket tlx sides of the phaeton were filled with do wild flowers, and the white hands of saf the minister held a bunch of shy, sweet tht forget-me-nots as blue as Miss Betty's ' eyes. th< The .widow drew up her pony, and me bade Miss Betty get in by her side, lest to the hobg >blins of the wood should wli devour her ; but the young girl stoutly bri refused, nor would she be coaxed from Pr i f?t iirx UCVXOIUU* r i u?.i " I am uofc afraid of hobgoblins," she tin said, thinking in her heart there could jut be none so greedy and rapacious as the \va beautiful widow herself. da; "Now what is to be done with this coi obstinate child ?" said the widow. The wa miuister had long since leaped from the go wagon and approached Miss Betty; but ag she turned her back upon him, perhaps ses to hide the tears of wretchedness which an were falling out of her eyes. I: "Pick her up and put her in here bis by me," said the widow. "I am myself Tli a little afraid of the satyrs of the wood, ng Come, child; do not be a goose and get stu jealous of your grandmother. The gen- on tleman there has gathered a pretty nose* co] gay of forget-me-nots for you that were do left over from spring. We have been do looking for you far and wide, and he has a 1 done nothing but talk to me of. his love bo for you till I am sick of the refrain." an Betty turned a swift, melting glance go behind her: In. a twinkling the minister b'i had lifted her .to the widow's side, and cai forgot to take, his arm away. It was on rjarte dark, and the only star that shone th in tho sky was that of Venus. They th drove rapidly on, Miss Betty's heart wi thumping in unison with the hoofs of the mi pony. nu " I told you," said the widow, "youjd th have your labor for your pains. We or stopped at Fiflne'e. ThepoOr creature was full of adoration for you. She au called upon every saint in the calendar pr to shower blessings upon your head, ty Slio snid that you had brought her some to beautiful ice and some delicious jelly, oh and a net that was moat wonderful." no ' But she refused them all," said Miss gu Betty. pu "Ali, yes," replied the widow ; " but wo George did not refuse them. He had an chopped up the ice in his milk, and had to spread all the jelly upon his bread, and ye had wrapped himself up in tho mos- wi quito netting, and lay upon the lounge bn when we entered, 'snoring, as Fifine do said, like an angel. Fifine was parched l0j with fever and devoured with mos- an quitoes, but she declared to me that she plj was quite comfortable and happy. I do ft not understand it." an But Miss Betty did. She nestled we closer to the arm about her, and lifted Mi her flushed and radiant face to the one tin above her owu. G< * * TVTtt onronf liff.1 a flamorlfon !" Via I pered ; and although the widow could in ! not understand the happiness of Fifine, gtc j it was clear to the heart of Miss Betty, pa ?Harper'ft Weekly. liU ? ^ ha Drowned in a Crock of Water. bii ! A most singular fatal accident occurred up at the town of Croton, near New Castle, in1 ! Pennsylvania, the other day. Ann Eliza th | Weisner, a young miss of eleven years, j started to go to the spring-house at her tr< I mother's residence, for butter and milk bi j for Bupper. She did not return as soon all > as expected, and her mother followed to ei{ I: I see what detained her. Arriving near fo: 3! the spring-house, Mrs. Weisner was snr- bo l prised to find her daughter lying flat on s;v . j the ground, with her face buried in a fr< f crock of water, and was terribly shocked pn si i when, on iaising her up, the young girl of l \ was found to be dead. Miss Weisner was go 1 j in perfect health, never had a falling fit do , ! of any kind, and the only manner in lei - which the sad accident can be accounted to for is that she stumbled and fell, her ge ' head striking the crock with such force th 3 that the blow rendered her insensible and gi' 9 powerless, and that her face being buried CI 9 j in the water she was drowned. The wc . wound, or mark of violence was a bruise pc on the nose, which, while not sufficient co , to cause her death, might have stunned an I her so that she was unable to help her- to II self. The crock in which Miss Weisner fo 8 was drowned was an ordinitry flat two- gi gallon crock, and had beeu set uuder the O: , gave of the spriog-house roof to catoh m t noft watert B A MOUNTAINEER'S EXPLOIT. jw a Rocky mountain Stnitc Robber the Old-Fashloned Kind Met His Match. " Bah ! oil these third-class stage ro :rs!" contemptuously exclaimed t izzly-headed old mountaineer, as ! it around to his hip to see if his i lver was still there. '' Folks try ake out that this Black Hills oxcil 3nt is the equal to the rush to Ca my, but it's all bosh. There's lots eenhonis, heaps o' gamblers, and sv footpads and stage stoppers, b ey ar' all third-class. Ye ought ve lived on the Slope when the o lgget State was panning out the du sm them thousand diggings, an' whi igo robbing an' throat cattm* was d i in first-class style, day or night." Being invite 1 to relate something, J read out his big feet, braced his ba< ainst the hind wheel of a praii looner, and said: "Waal, it jti ikes me sick to hear these recruits ta] an' see 'em wow pale over repoi at some of the stages has been sto d, an' the folks robbed of a few dc s. Why, sir, I've seen the time wh( tingle man, an' not a big man at the >od in the center of - thq trail, halted ich full o' men, each one armed, a ide 'em hop down and hand over du ough to set anybody up in the banki sness, an' plenty left over to start ens on ! That was bizness, that wa ' the victims couldn't help but fe e pattin' the feller on the back for h rve. Ye've heard o' Hank Monk, ikon, "Yes."" 1 ' c " Waal, there's fifty just as good dri i aa he wasf and fifty braver men, bi ink got into the newspapers, and foil jught him a preacher, a driver, a gri r, a buffalo an' A rattlesnake all roll< er one. Mind ye, I ain't sayin' a woi in him, but I was just thinkin' of ho was a passenger in his coach on ien it cost me a bullet through tl mlder to do what he could have doi thout even stopping the coach. Th a a chap calTed Prince Charlie, wl ad to imagine that Fargo's coach re put on the line on purpose to brii n dust. He was a fine lookin' cba ,ndin' about sis feet high, half Texr ' half Mexican, an' he had eyes lil lis o' fire. That chap bung along tl 1 spots in the Rocky Mountains f< e hull summer, an' I guess he collec hard on to a hundred thousand dc s. He didn't have any partners 3 bizness, but piayea a lone nai 3ry time, au' alius* rnked in the stake i didn't stop every Btage?oh, no. He It aii' rob ouo to-day or to-night: pie Blossom Canyon, then, two, thn four weeks arter he'd turn up < ott's Hill, or Betsy Jane Gulch, < ty miles from the other spot. Foil )ught he had just about time to d wn into Mexico, put his dust int b hands, an' then return, an* p'ra] ?t waa the game.. "I reckon ye'vo read about dozens jse chaps, and therefore ye don't r smber this one; but I teu ye he g be a terror. As nobody could si ien ho'd cry ' Halt!' to a stage, ev< we men hated to travel in that fashio: ince Charlie was a dead shot?wouldr io a word o' chin music; an' som les he shot down a passenger or tw it to increase the respect of the rest, s kinder speculatin' around in thoi ys, an' it was a poor moruiu' when lldn't show up the half of $10,000. ,s gittin' ready to leave the country a back to Illinoy, when one o' Fargc ents dropped iu on me one day, ai s he: ' Jim, why don't ye go to woi ' lay out that Prince Charlie ?' Sa; 4 I'll bet ye fifty to one I kin fix h siness for him in less'n a montl iat kinder brought us to termR, an' tl ent showed up color strong. Ti iges were most desarted by travele account o' this one road agent, an' tl mpauy felt that sumtliin' had got to 1 ne. The agent offers me a thoiisat liars in dust, and a pound nugget f jreastpin, n l coma give tnis cuaj nes to the wolves. I wasn't 't ? xious, ye understand. Wlien a fell es out to hunt a grizzly he may tree ir or a b'ar may tree him. In th ae, if I didn't get the dead sure thii Prince Charlie at a second's notic e top o' my head would go flying ov o rocks an' the ole woman would be dder. I thought it over for about foi inutes, an' then says I: ' Mister Gra ike it fifteen hundred, an' I'll increa is feller's weight by a pound o' lea chaw red sand till spring opens.' "He raised me the extra mighty quic ' I began to stiffen my backbone. T1 inoe had robbed a stage about twe days before, an' it was then aboi ne for Him to make another wwessme the shareholders. It was agreed th thin' should be said about our be in, and that I was to be booked a t through as a regular passenger. i8 leit to majte my own prepiuuiriuu ' I kept shadv till the stage was rea< pull out for the long trip. P'ra; imagine that I loaded myself dov th guns, revolvers, knives and sic t I didn't. All I had -was a goc uble-bar'led shot gun, each ba tded with sings?no dust, no baggag ' lookin' kinder down in the month a lyed ont, 'zif I hadn't made a cer lot war seyen other fellers in the stag ' Hank Monk was the driver. V int out o' Marpsville on the whoo jnk havin' a riiie an' two revolvers < 3 Beat, an' lookin' as brave as o m. Scott. It wasn't my game to si ythin' to anybody, an' so I didn't m a great deal with the others. They we mt'lookin' chaps, all well armed, a rt o' the crowd said they'd gin a clei mdred dollars to have Prince Charl It the coach. They planned to pe m in about a second in case he sbow< >, an' fore long I got blue from thin ' I was to be left ont in the cold wh< e fun commenced. " Wall, my boy, one arternoon we w >ttin' along as smart as ye please on t c' leyel road in the Rockies, whi [ to once the climax showed up. T jht of us were wide awake nn' reai r bizness, when all of a sudden som >dy yelled out: ' Halt!' and th me Prince Charlie jumped on thetn )m behind a big rock. Hank Moi died in the horses to once, but instei giv in' the robber some o' his bullets,! it white around the mouth an' hopp< wn from his box an' held one o' t id horsee till the chap could come ba the stage and say : ' Now then, y< i .1 1 ?4. ? nee Ciimu uowu ntue nu ducu uuu, it e first moil who even winks his eye w t a bullet over it!' That was Prin larlie's-style to a dot, just like y( mid walk into a store an' ask for t uinds o' sugar. I don't believe I'm ward, but when I heard him sing o i* realized that the chap I had swo kill was right near thnr, all filled t r bizneBs, my heart jumped inter r illet an' my knees wobbled all ove uly for a minute, though. Says I yself: ' Jim, old man, brace up eaty Jane will put on mournin' I' and braced. Prince Charlie stood at tin door, a revolver in either hand, an' th of passengers got down one arter anothe aa meek aa could be. Not a one o' then b- spoke a loud word, let alone pintii he their pistols at the chap. he '/Waal, I war the last one out,,'cor e- din* to the plnnB I had laid. Princ to Charlie had the hull crowd to seo to, an ;e- he didn't have but two eyes. As I go li- down I drawed the shotgun arter me o' havin' hold o' the butt. The seven mei a were in line, their guns in the stage, am ut the robber was callin' out, 'Up witl to your arms?hold 'em up,' an' for the lif Id o'ye don't even speak to me!' Aslli st on hard ground I yelled out like a pan ?n to throw the feller off his Guard id an' then sprang around the stage, Thei the real bizness began. [ yelled out t( be the others to go for the robber, an' be ck ttoen watchin' them an' firm' at me, tin ie prince had his hands full. I guess hi st shot at me four or five times under thi ke stage, but I wur canterin' up an' down ts an' he didn't hit me. * I was workin' fa p- ^it him confused an' mixed up, you see >1- au'I war right. 'In a minute or two In an slammed the Stage door shut to keep th< it, men from their arms, called out fc then a not to move, an' the blasted coyotesstooc n' "right tliar in line, an' never moved* foo st while the robber came for me I I Tva: n' lookin' for him to come around the lea( a hprses, but he took the other way, an a, gin me a bullet in the shoulder from ova el the hind wheel. Lord! but wasn't tha is lead hot! An', sir, as big as I jam, i I knocked me flat down, thougli p'raps tn< . fall eay^d. my li/e, as the Prince wai firin* from both revolvers <aai sfa&y w v- tbo turn of a coffee-mill. I rolled un at dor the stage, riz up on-,t'other side, an is as true as ye ar' a sinner I had to laugl z- right out to see them seven men standin ;d in a row, arms up and mouths wide open rd I felt the blood tricklin' down, and iw kinder got riled. It takes a heap to sti 36 me up from way down, stranger, bu ie when I get riled for good, I don't mint ie nothin'. "That hot blood blisterin'down mi 10 side riz my hair fur me, an' I wanted t( es see Prince Charlie wuss nor he cored t< see me. He hftd begun firing agin P> ahootin' right inter the crowd, when J m started fur him. As I went arbund the {e wheel he fired slap-dab into my face; an 10 never touched a/ whisker. J The range jr was too short for good shootin', anc thar's men livin' to-day Who will tell y< ?1- T lot. rrn t.tiA (run TRflnhfld ont lm Vl1"" Dv O J ~ -?/ m naked paws, an1 tlie fust thing that rob ber knew he was beiu' shaken by i y earth quake. He had let his empty re ,'d volvers fall an' drawed his bowie knife, 'n an' he gin mo these ere trifles on th< ee arms while I was sinkin' mv olaws intei )n him. When I got settled an' ready, ] c'r lifted him clean from his pins, big as h< was, jammed him agin the wheel . 4< ig soften his hide, an' then flopped hin e* down on the silfi an' choked the life ou Ps o' him then an' tliar! Yes, sir, I did an' it took the hull seven meri.tg} tear'jn* 0 loose from him, 'cause I was nled an e* wanted pay for my injuries. -That's wha ?t. I did to JPrinct- Charlie, Btranger, an lJ Tight down here"ft the-nugget Mistei }n Gray gin me, an' here's the scars to bacl it! Fargo wanted to hire me to <lriv< 11 stage on that Hne at big pay, lots o' mei e" naiped camps arter me, the newspaper) ?? gin me puffs, an' rations didnVcost m< 1 a cent all winter."" 8e The old man shoved his hat over 01 I liis left ear a little more and guided I "Therefore, stranger, whan I hea*.abou these third-class hencoop thieves stop ) B pin' stages an' makin' folks fork over, ' kiuder feel sick?kinder feel that th< boss days are gone forever."?New Tor) Sun, v? is '"Si; i.- <- ' The Unbidden Guest. A?' ie ^ woa lanninCt nrPf -*w vyuttuoj- nwo luuutu^ y . W. W rs counter of tlio Thorndyke House, gazinj out of doors at the sunlight, and wishing 36 he had four million dollars and a year'i id vacation. A tall, cadaverous-lookinj ?r man, with red whiskers, and a carpet >'h bag in hand thinner than an argumen in favor of rum-drinking, ambled in a er -stlio door, meaudered up to the counter a and slapped the carpet-bag down wit! is emphasis. ' - ' * t j ig "The register, please," he said c? haughtily, as one who was accustomec er to hotel ways. i a The polite clerk turned the bool nr around, proffered the stranger a pen y, and waited for him to inscribe with ? se flourish the name of " Alonzo Montague d, New York.,' "Please handle my baggage care k, fully," he remarked, as he handed up ne the shadowy article. "It containi n- much of value. How'b business?" it " JFnir?only fair," replied the clerk, nt " As 1 supposed," said the cadaverouj at man, frowning. "How's granite?" " Hard?very much depressed ; bu n' prospects good," replied the clerk. I . " H?m" muttered the thin man re flectively; "thin, then, is my time Jy I have visited your city, young man, fo: ps the express purpose of investing largeb m in this business, knowing, from the gen h, eral depression that I could do so to ad >d vantage. I tall you this in secret," anc r'l here Ms voice sank to a hoarse whisper c, " I have in that satchel documents tha n' will compel the granite ring to admit m< it. to their midst, and absolutely get dowi e, on their knees to me?yea, sir," fiercely fe "on their kneeB," and he elapped th< p, counter spitefully. ^ >n The clerk didn't look as tnough ht Id was much impressed by this information iy and he continued : is "There has been at work in you: re midst an influence that had tended t< n* this great depression, but, by the greai m hoop snakes, I'll show them that the} ie have not only capital to oppose them ifil but an iron will and an inflexible naturi ed that but laughs at obstacles. Where ii k- the banquet hall ?" ho exclaimed an abruptly. " This way," replied the clerk point as ing. a "I will proceed to appease mynatura en wants, and then?" and the cadaver lie ous man nodded his head gloomily, ant ]y started for the dining-room. e- " Beg pardon, sir," said the clerk, po at litely. ril "Sir?" exclaimed the lank man, stop lk ping. id ."We always require pay in advanci lie from strangers," continued the clerk, ed i "Pay in advance?" almost screamet lie | the thin mnn, " why, I'll buy your little ck insignificant hotel 1" au " It isn't for sale," replied the clerk /i?(( /lortld vviaooa '' ILL illLLLl.Yf JLAXUjr vvTJiJUO ill "Give me that satchel," said the tal ce man, in a voice of condensed rage. " Le >u me get out of this one horse tavern; I'v< en traveled from Maine to California, anc a this is the first time au upstart of a liote ut clerk ever said pay in advance. Let m< rn out?the air stifles me." lp 1 He grabbed his satchel and strodi ay j rapidly and fiercely out of the office *r. } Soon after he was seen beggiug a dinnei to from a house in Middle street. And tin or j granite ring is petting ready to tremble 11 ?Rockland (Me.) Courier, e THE MAN IN THE MOON. e f r tt Curious Superstitions and Legends Concerninn the IMoon?German and other Traditions. Amongst the superstitions yet lingering ? in the minds of mankind, none, perhaps, 1 is more universal than that of the man in the moon. In England he is chiefly '? immortalized by the old nursery rhyme, J but no further details are given of his * proceedings. German legends are, how1 ever, more communicative, and sundry ? traditions relate his history, varying in fc different parts of the country. A Swabian mother at Derendingen ? tells her child that a man was once work1 ing in his vineyard on Sunday, and after } having prunedrall his vines, he made a bundle of the shoots he had jiiBt cut off, laid at iff his baskdr and went home. 8 According to one 'version the vines were 0 stolen from a neighbor's' 'vineyard. ' When taxed either with Sabbath-break3 ing, or with'the'theft, the culpirit dtoutly > protested his innocence, and finally ex8 claimed: // if I have committed such a 3 crime, may I ' go to the moofr P.1 "-"After 1 U-Ia rln<*+V? fhia fflffl rlnlv lipfpJl liim nn/1 | there lie remains to this day, condemned fc to eat molten lerfd as a punishment. The [ Black Forest peasantry say that .the, dark * spots visible in the moon are caused by a man' being spell-bound there.: He j: stole a bundle <Sl ' wdod on' Sunday, beJ cause he thoughjt on that day he should t be unmolested by the foresters. But he 3 had not gone far with it when he met a 5 stranger, who was none other than the 3 Almighty himself. After reproving the j thief for not keeping the Sabbath day holy; God said he must -be- punished.; \ but he might choose whether he would ( be banished to' the sun or the moon. Thejnan chose the latter, declaring he 1 would rather freeze in the moon than j; burn in the sun, and thus the " BesenJ mannle" or Broom-man" came into 1 the moon with his faggot on his back. Different versions are related in Lim1 burg, where the man in the moon is be> lieved to have stolen wood on Easter > morning ; while at Hemer, in Weot, pbtilia, people say he was engaged in t fencing his field on Cbood Friday, and ; had just poised a bunch of thorns on his fork, when he was at once transported to the moen. Some of the Hemer peasl ants declare that the moon is not only 5 inhabited by a man with his thornbush r and pitch-fork, but likewise by a woman churning. They are husband and wife, 1 and both broke the Sabbath, the man by fencing his field, and the woman by . churning her butter, during the hours 5 of divine service. r All nations seem to have a curious t desire to account for the spots in the 5; moon. > According to the Hindoos, Chandras, 1 the god of the moon bears a hare in his t . arms. . The Mongolians also believo the spots y. represent a hare. One of their deities transformed himself into a hare in order t'to feed a starving wayfarer; and in honor of this act of virtue the figure of r a hare was thenceforth visible in the c moon. 3 The natives of Ceylon have a sornei what similar legend. "When Buddha * sojourned as a hermit on earth, he one 3 day lost his way in a forest, and after long wanderings he met a hare, who 1 thus addressed him : "I can help thee. : Do thou take the right hand. ^path, t and I will guide thee out of the wilder ness." [ "I thank thee," returned Buddha, 9 ' but I am poor and -starving, and am unable to require -thy kindness." "If thou art hUogry," replied the hare, "light a fire, )dll and eat me." Buddha lighted a fire as desired, and the bare immediately leaped in; but 3 Buddha now displayed his supernatural ? powers, and, tearing the hare from the J flames, he placed it in the moon, where 3 he still abides." This story is related by ? a French traveler in Ceylon, and he adds ~ tiiat his telescope-was often borrowed b by the natives, in oruer tnat tney mignt ' inspect the hare in the moon. ? Mullenhoff. saya that the people of 1 Rantum, in tlieSchleswig island of Sylt, declare that the man in the moon is a i giant, who bfends down at full tide to 1 scoop up the water aud pour it on the earth. At low tide ho stands upright, 1 resting from his labors, so that the water ? may subside. 1 We now come to the superntitions at? tached to tjie power of the moon, and prominent among them is the idea that " no work may be undertaken in moon shine. The Swabian people consider it a 3 great sin to spin or knit by moonlight, as though one could not do enough by day. That is the reason -why the moon 3 does not give sufficient light for any work. Whoever ventures to spin, for t example, weaves a rope for the -neok of some relation. There are several stories " illustrating the danger of transgressing this rule. r A poor woman at Breckenhelm, in f Swabia, gained her livelihood by spin ning, and her diligence wns so great that she spent whole nights at her distaff; in 1 order to save the expense of oil she never lighted her lamp when there was t a full moon. As she thus sat spinning 5 in the moonshine, and the church clock i was tollincr the hour of miduieht, the I ? door opened and a strange man entered. ^ He had his arm full of diBtaffs, and said : "If thou doBtnot spin all these full this > night, it will be all over with thee." , With these words he vanished, leaving the poor woman in a terrible fright, r Luckily she bethought herself of merely > spinning the distaffs once over, and in t this way Bhe accomplished her task be1 fore daybreak. The stranger, who was t the evil one himself, reappeared at the 3 appointed time nnd silently took the 3 spindles away with him. But never i again did the woman spin by moonlight. Sclionv erth says that the peasants of the Upper Palantinate never leave their 1 carts or agricultural implements out of - doors when the moon is shining, as its 1 beams would break them. For the same reason, linen must not be left hanging in * the moonshine, and superstitious folks always warn their friends against slecp ing in the moonlight, nnd bathiug or drinking from any fountain or well, on. 3 which the rays of the moon fnll. It is * i \? ?u.% I ftlRO Ulisaio K) utiuuu ny uc1 cause the surface of the earth is then as > thin as a cobweb, and the spirts underground are lured upward by the music. ? The moon is likewise said to blacken the complexion, to promote the decay of fish 1 j and meat, and even to blunt the edge of t; razors. J A "gentleman" at a leading hotel in j Hamilton, Ontario, spoke disparagingly of one of the lady guests. She heard of it, invited him into the parlor, pre! sented a pistol at his breast, and asked ' I him to apologize. He acquiesced. 3 ? A New York paper says that the best way to kill snakes is to giv* up drinking. THE BOBBERS' RIDE* Pnylnr 8600 for a Ride?How Two Re bera Foiled their Pursuers. The writer sat in a well-known eati saloon at noon eating a delicious sal and sweltering over a cup of hot t< when the proprietor stepped up. " The boys have a nice day for th< excursion to Kingston," said he. " They have, indeed. Ever be< there ?" " Yes; I took a couple of bank ro bers down there twenty-five or thii years ago. Never told you about tL affair, did I? Well, I will. It was, 1 me see, in 1840. I was working at tl Old Eagle tavern ; had a couple of ni horses, and, for a young man, was doii a fine business. Those days there w neither railroads or telegraph. T] stage Coach was the only mode of pub] travel, and it was the event of the di to see the'coaches from the west at New York bustle into the tavern. We one cold morning in the middle of D cember, I was just stepping out from t] office to the long wooden veranda, wb< I noticed two well dressed gentleme each carrying a good sized travelii satchel, hurrying toward the hoteL Oj of them, addressing me, said: " ' Stage for New York gone yet ?' "?Yes, sir.' ' "How long?' " 'More'n two hours ago." "They were much excited over tl news and asked what they could do get to New York speedily. I told the I didn't know. - The boats , had stopp* running a month, although one of the still ran to Kingston, the river beix open that far up. She would leave th evening for New York, and the staj coach" Which left Albany a couple hours before would transfer her passe gers irnd mails to- the steamer 'at King ton Point. Then the gentlemen sa they must get that boat, and asked if knew of a couple of fast horses in tl city, and if they could hire or get a ca riage to beat the stage in. It was a ma ter of life and death, they said, and the would pay any .price. I asked wh price they would pay, and they told n $600 to beat the 6tage to Kingston, was a big sum, and I whistled, but to! them I'd take them, and off I ran. found a friend of mine, Hank Lewis ; 1 hitched up the horses to a four-seat< sleigh, and away we went' helter ekelte for Kingston. How we did go I T* hours behind the stage, and yet befo: we reached Athens we passed it. Ne Catskill the horses gave out complete and we had to hire a new team. X didr want to go any further on account of tl horses, but. one of the gentlemen aske ' What is that team of yours worth ' Three hundred dollars,' I said. Dri on,'he answered, 'I'll pay for then Once we tipped over, and half an hoi was spent in getting to rights. Then went it again, and at half-past four t drove up to Kingston Point, where t] steamer lay, all loaded, but waiting f the Albany mail. " The two gentlemen went on boa and asked for Captain Dean. He car aft, and they told him what they hi told Lewis and me coming down ; he they resided in Canada, but were tl sons of an English noblemao, who hi recently died, leaving a valuable estat Their presence was needed immediate in London if they would Bave the esta from a designing relative. The pack sailed from New York from Liverpo on the first tide the next morning. Thi must get it or wait thirty days for t next ship, and so lose -their fortuu They offered she captain ?2,000 if ] wonld leave then and there and ma] certain of catching the ship. " 'Would like to make that 82,0C gentlemen,' said Captain Dean, 1 but e orders are not to leave till I get the 1 bany mail, and I cannot accept.' "Thev seemed much disappointe but said ' it couldn't be. expected,' ai they made themselves agreeable to eve: one abont. The paid me the 8600proi ised, gave me 8300 for tho lost horse and gave my driver and men over $1 each. We waited until the stage cat in, the mails and passengers were trar ferred, and away went the boat in a hr ry; then we rode leisurely back to Alb ?** rt V?nf Kflfnrn t 11 J, It UClUg lb UUU XlAglAVy UUU WVJ.VAV . got there we met the mounted police f riously coming after our passengers, t] dead nobleman's bogus sons. They we bank robbers, and those tajp satcht they held contained over $200,000 in go Rnd Bank of England notes, the procee of a big Montreal robbery." " Did they catch them ?" " Catch 'em! No. When the boat sta; ed that night they talked with the ca tain ami offered him ?500 if he won put them on board of the outward boui ship before he landed, as she would 1 lying in the channel. Captain Dean n cepted, and just at daylight the steal boat lay alongside the vessel, and by tl time Captain Dean got to his pier ai the passengers awoke, the ship was sa ing through the Narrows and away England." "And the robbera were never heai of." "Never. Why they had a start thirty days, aud, being young men the: they are perhaps living in clover in son European country on their ill-gott< wealth. They were smart enough take us in by their smooth talk and gen lnmnnlv address." Just then the salad was finished, ai so was the story. The writer picked x his check and Mr. Yeazie walked another part of the dining room to si that his waiters were paying proper a tention to other hungry customers. The story has the merit of being lite ally true.?Albany Express. Dead wood Death. As I was resting in a camp on the ou skirts of Deadwood, writes a Blai Hills correspondent, a jolly-faced mr came along and asked for a job. He wi told that every man was working fi himself, and making mighty poor wagi at that, when he replied : " Gentlemen, I haven't had one goc meal in three weeks; I haven't bet able to get a day's work - I'm det broke, and the curtain is going to rii: down on this tragedy right here ar right now l* He stepped around the fire, pulled revolver from a miner's belt, and the retreating back a pace or two, he said : "Gentlemen, I'm going to die ! .I'i starved around the Black Hills for thr< months, and if there's a worse pla< than this I'm envious to see it! Excui me for wasting ammunition, but here go?crack !" He .put the muzzle of the revolver i his forehead, and never kicked after tl report. No man rose up to restrai mm. Alter a tew minutes tne owner < the revolver walked over ami secured i and, as lie wiped a spot of blood off tl barrel, he growled out: " Why didn't lie jump over some clil or go out and Jet the Indians tickle hi] to death I" a The Farmer's Day* BT HASBI ALDKC.^ ,b" Up, when the larks to tabor call, Just as the ran's first glances (all } ! Lovingly on the breeding soil, ja Cheerful the fanner gow to toil j ' Sober and honest, hearty and hale, , ;jr Thrift and industry sever fail; Working, still working, till set of eunf' ;n And rest at last when the toil is dobe. Contented he looks at the work of the day, b- Then happily homeward takes his way ; ty A light in his window shinee before? at Brighter the light at bit open door: et The star of his home sullies welcome there; ie "Thanks be to heaven the world's so fair !" , ce Heart speaks to hesr^-and husband and wife *8 Merit the Joy of their humble life. |? Words of WiKdimT Be deaf to the quarrelsome, and dumb Qf Character ia the diamond which * el scratches every other.ataft*. - ?> '<> jr.,;t tie Laziness travels bo slowly that poverty ' an soon overtakes her: t <.? u> At all times conftiienge ana trntn 4 *8 better preventives of jealousy than conae cealmenK : """'"oil won ;?*?-,/x They who least shrink flt the storms of fortune are always most virtuous and victorious in the end. We would gain; more ifc we left ourie selves to appear such as we are, than by to attempting to appear what w? ?i;nct. m He is happy whose cmmtngtancee suit 3d his temper; but he is mbj-e excellent m who can suit his temper to any circunrur stanoes. . > . Q BWU.POO, , .OOWlUttHi ftt He that waits for repentance- wntaio*; that which cannot be nod as long as it is. ?' waited for. Jt is obsurd far a.man'to Q'\ wait for that which/he himsejf has to da id Tho moat politic, because the most I effectual, way ofgoverning in ;jiiamil?' ie is for the husband occasionally to lsjrj r_ aside his supremacy ;.s6 ^in; public as fr. well as in private life, that long will be \y ) most popular who doed hot at all times, at ^xercise his full prerogative.' ' ie It would appear that there is a great It sympathy between the mind of m$n and Id falsehood; when we havC * truth to tell,. I it takes better if convened in' a fable; ie and the rage for novels shows that wo. 3d may not only divert extremely without a r' syllable of truth, but truth is even comro pelled to borrow the habit of falsehood re to seoure itself an agreeable reception.'-'; ar ? ft. j;i ly The Uses of the i Lemon. As a writer in the London Lancet remarks:, few people know the value of d, lemon juice. A piece of lemon bovqid ? upon a corn will cure it in a few days ; it should be renewed night and morning*, A free use of lemon juice and sugar will 111 always relieve a cough. Most people Te feel boorlvin the spring, but if they *e would eat a lemon before breakfast "e everj day for a week?with or without or sugar, as they like?they would find it . better than any imedicine. !.' Lemon ~3 -- ru juice used according to nuiuc, n>u _ . Q? sometimes cure ,consumption't ?ttt a w dozen lemons into oold w&ter and slowly >w bring to a boil; boil Blowly until t&e he lemons are soft, then squeeze until all W the juice is extracted; add sugar^to ? your taste and driak. In this way use 'v one dozen lemons a day. If they ,te cause pain, lessen the quantity and only :e* use five or six a day until you are better, and then begin again with a dozen a By day. After using five or .six dozen the "e patient will begin to gain flesh and en'e joy food. Hold on to the lemons, and h0 still use them verv freely for several weeks more. Another use for lemons is for a refreshing drink in summer, or ^ in sickness at any time. Prepare as diay rected above and add water and sugar. U- But in order to have this keep well, after boiling the lemons, squeeze and d, strain carefully; then to everyhalf pint Q" of juice add one pound of loaf or crusned l7 sugar, boil and stir a few minutes, more n" until the sugar is dissolved, skim carei8> fully and bottle. > You will . get more 00 juice from the lemons by boiling them, 0e and the preparation keeps better, is- . Lr* A School for Thieves. ; v. l8r James Ward, a mnn -of middle age, ve was tried at the Middlesex (England^ J1" session for having'stolen a jacket. Tno o-r-rwmH nnn nf thfl rl&rk features Ol J criminal life in London. The prisoner, J ? who had been several times previously i convicted of petty thefts, and was already . under police supervision, said the police had unmercifully hounded him out of all chance of obtaining honest employment, having gone to the places?one of which Pj he named ?whereat he was employed, j and informed the employer that ne had ? a thief at work for him. "And that," said the prisoner, "isn't the worst on't, ,c" one officer, he offers me more money ,n" than another to help in his thief-catch? ing, and then, when I couldn't servo him ?. the ninety-ninth turn, after bcin* all ' over London with him at night after thieves, he turns round on me, and he , says, says he; 'Now I'll lag ye,'" At ra the same time the prif oner solemnly de. nied that he had taken the jacket here in question. The jnry convicted him, and Q? then the detective said the man had long *e been a systematic trainer of thieves, there being now several boys in criminal 0 reformatories who had been brought there by him. Only since he had come , out of prison, he hail got into his power a lad of respectable parentage, but IP I ntnolr mi'nrJ Trlinm >lfl hftd TlftarlV lUUUCl n vuu ~ ? rained. The assistant judge sentenced ?e him to seven years' penal servitude, with seven years' police surveillanco to follow. X A Qnalnt Legend of the Rainbow. The Lithuanians (a people of Russia) have a quaint legend respecting the raint bow. When their chief god*Prainzimaa ;k was looking out of the window aud betn held the whole earth full of wars and !i8 wickedness, he despatched two giants, jr named Wandu and Wejas (Water and 9s Wind), to the sinful world, who destroyed everything for twenty days )d and twenty nights. While engaged sn in eating heavenly nuts, Pramzimas id gazed on tho scene of desolation below, ig and he threw down a nut Riieii, wmcn id fell on the summit of the highest mountain, where a few men and women and a some animals had fled for refuge. All jn got into the nutshell, which floated on the waves of the now universal floodr70 The god then looked on the earth for a ?e third time. He allayed the tempest and :o bade the waters subside. The human ie beings who had been saved all dispersed, I excepting a few couples who remained in that part, and became the ancestors of to the Lithuanians in the following macie ' ner. As old ago crept upon them, they in i sorrowed greatly at their probable ex d{ : tinclion, so in order to comfort them t, | Pramzimas sent the rainbow, who adle i vised them to leap over the bones of the ! earth. Nine times did they perform this r, foat, and thence sprang n;ne couples, m males and females, from whom the nine Lithuanian tribes afo descended. t y