The Abbeville press and banner. (Abbeville, S.C.) 1869-1924, November 28, 1877, Image 1

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V ABBEVILLE PRESS & BANNER. * IiY HUGH WILSON. ABBEVILLE, S. C., WEDNESDAY, NOVEMBER 28, 1877. NO. 25. VOLUME XXV. $25,000 !l rr ii i: UBEIST li CBMPEST' ! s ocK of ; fj n.. A I. HIMHIS!' | F.VEl! BliOrCHT TO A GREENVILLE! \l A TVTKNTY - FIVF. THOUSAND DOLLAIiS 1 worth of GOODS which ho intend* to | dispose of D AT OR BELOW I NEW YORK Retail Prices! I , Now is the T ie for Bargains. L COME AND SEE FOR YOURSELF. ? I r? Im jj CAPT. W. R. WHITE |S V Is with me and would be glad to meet with his old Frie da and Customers, and will SvVE THEM SOME MONEY. A No. 1, Wagon Yard IN REAR OF STORE. II FREE TO ALL. 41 T, W. DAVIS, : or MAIN STREET, ?< 1) GREENVILLE. S. C. Oct IT, lMTT.?anion HEADQUARTEES FOR CHEAP GOODS, ni tii UAnmiT ft nit a luUKIiAN & MU. have received the i ^ Largest General Stock p' - OF Goods; In Greenville. I "\t 7"e occrrv our. new stoke at our. i "I T V Old Stand on j BUNCOMB STREET,!" ! at and with our facilities for doing bu.xirifss we j claim to oe neconu lu 110:19. mm mane BOOTS, SHOES, [ DOMESTIC AND FANCY DRY GOODS. |\ A 8PECI A.L.TY, ^ And in them can Offer Great j Inducements. We were at the manufactories in person, and O had our , Boots and Shoes made to order, and will guarantee both quality j and price. Buying from first hands we save the proflt of the middle man. which will be a laving to the consumer who buys frmn us. Our Dry Goods ~ Were selected with great care, and embrace all the Novelties of the season, and in this Department we make POPULAR PKICKS. Our Grocery Department |fl In well supplied at all times with ('HOICK GOODS, which will be sold at HARD PAN PRICES. Come arid see for Yourselves. No charge j showing goods. We give a free exhibition. JAMES H. MORGAN & BRO., jBuncomb Street, liREEXVILLE, S. f. Mr. W. A. LATIMEB, From HO^JE^ PATR. is with us, and will bo j pleased to have all his friends call and see him. i T We also have in connection with our store, | j The\argest Wagon Yard ? in the City, fitted up with Troughs, Sleeping ^ House, etc., for the accommodation of our , friends and customers, tree of charge. October 3 1877.?3mos 1 C.T.WILLIS, f nd le t o ii Street,! WEST GREENVILLE, WIIJ, PAY Tin: lighest Market Price FOR COTTON, AND SI.I.L ' mnnnmnn r?riT7 nnnnn mmm, jjki liuuus, CLOTHING, Joots. Shoes, Hats, Caps, etc., .t the Very Bottom Figures. Oct 3. 1ST".?tf ('. Al.KXANDrn. .loKKrtt Ai.i.en, Vabi>?y McBek. LEXANDER,ALLEN & McBEE, Manufacturers of and Wholesale ami ltetail Dealers' in i PPER & HARNESS LEATHER, | Kip and Calf Skins, GREENVILLE, S. C. fciT Higlieht cash | rice paid f<>r Hides. Sept 20, 1877.~12m ghi:j:nv uaa-: Machine Works AND IRON FOUNDRY, ,edmond, Macdonald & Co., I'KOl'KiKTOKS. 1TKAM ENGINES, I'.nilers, Saw and Grist ) Millt*. Cotton Gins. l'leases, etc., promptly paired. We have recently added to our esialtihment an IliON FOl'NI'KY and are prepared furni-h all kinds of CASTINGS, equal to the ir>t furnished by any foundry in the country, short notice, and on reasonable ti rnw. CjihIj id for Old Iron delivered at our foundry. 7ork* on River Street, renr of Cagle'h Pinning Mill. October 3. 1*77. -12m T. C. GOWER & CO., CREENVILLE, S. C., UKAl.EltS IN mil' HIS: 'Of* Every Description. i ^HEIli STOCK is the largest and cheapest in the State, and Builders and others in Abbe ile will tind it greatly to their interest to conlt our Ageut, Mr. C. V. HAMMOND, send their orders direct to us when in need ! any goods in our line. \\\> make a Hpecialty | \ 00KS, SASH, j ISLINDS, SIIINCI.ES. NEWELS. HVl.l'SrEUS, IIAM)KAILS, Etc. ! I I We have a very lar<<- stock of tho li<--t PUMPS | ?w in use, to which thev invito si?-eial utten j m. Lime and Cement r the hf-t 'i'iality can he furnished t<> tli oj<ie of \t<l>uvil]e i' >u:ity e!u- .per frotn (iivei.- I lie than from any other point. Our stock of good- i.i al>vay.- lut^e. T. C. GOWER & CO. October 1ft. H77.- 12m 'HE PALMETTO COTTON GIN, MA\TFA<"JTKi;i> liV I. M. MATTHEWS, NINETY-SIX, S. C. HEAI.KK IN T^L'liNI ri'lU". Collin*, ikliinj; and (tin1 Material generally, and Agent for Steam Ttirexlu-r*. Uchi ers and Mower.-. >tton Prtwes ( to. Condenser*. Feeders an.l Seed Crushers tached to Gins when desiivd. Repairing Carefully Done. All communication* receive ]>r- mpt attention, j Purchasers should cull <ir < <>rr?*~i>oiid with :n before purchasing elsewhere. June 15, 1H77. -tf O. A. TRAYLOR, wim VILLIAM MULHERIN, I'KAl.KH IN 3oots and Shoes, HATS AND TRUNKS, \ J) ^ > H r o ;? rl Street, Half I Jlock I it-low Planters' Hotel, AUGUSTA, CA. I'ural'U* 15'?its and Shoes a Sj inllv. September 1'.', 1^77. :iiu J. Winri:- I". M. Ilroiirs. Fashionable Hat Emporium. WHITE & HUGHES, I'K AI.KIlS IN It, Caps, Firs, Uinta, ETC., 269 KING STREET, OPP. HASEL. CHARLESTON, S. C. I'mbrellas Mailt- ami lu-jwiiml to UnUr. Octol er .1, l^TT. .'tin STI^AM Planing- Mill, COLUMBIA, S. C. F. W. WING-, Proprietor, j l ,1~ANUFA<"11'llKIt <>f SukIi, Blind*, PoorH, t1 Window and boo* Frames, Inside I'ivot iliti'lH and Shir tern, l'ilaHt*TH. ManU-lpieeeK, i [oldi.iK*. lirackotH, Hafidrail*. N'cwds, | ?rn, Scroll Work of all description. All Work Guaranteed A No. I, Feb. 28. 1376.?tf I t Between the Line*. Sing the soug of tin* singer, merrily ring the , | rhyme*. Light is the lay thev tell us, light as its echoed 1 chimes ; Sin^ the son? of the singer, nioeking a doubt ( and fear. Catch the joy of it-* meiojv, let it.-* daring beauty cheer; j Well that the mellow music may bear no hidden < signs ' Of the broken In-art of the poet, written between the lines. . ] Watch tho part of tlie player, bravely ami deftly done, See the difficult height attained, the loud applauses won ; Weep with his passionate sorrow, thrill to his passionate bliss, I Blending your joyous laughter with that happy , laugh of his; Well that his marvelous acting dazzles, wins, refines ; ' Who thinks of tho desperate effort, written between tiic lines? i Sea tho work of the painter, in coloring rare and rich. Give it its well-won homage, choose it the choicest niche ; Hang it where it may render, as an artist's best can do Companionship in its beauty, delicate, pure and true ! i Well that its silent loveliness softness and 1 thought combines : None r ad tho bitter baffling strife, written between the lines. Watch the path of the prosperous, sunny and smooth ami bright, 1 Health and wealth togive it its full of sweet- ^ news and of light ; See how the easy future is planned for the careless feet, f (iiven each slight desire, flattered each vague 1 conceit. Well that the outward surface gladness and peace enshrines; , Who knows the tale of the skeleton, written between the linesV j it the singer dies in solitude, his songs ?;gh ' on as sweetly; If the statesman has a hearth disgraced, does ( he face the world less nieteJy ? So the artist's touch is fine and sure, who heeds the hand that guide* it? < Does the jlayer feel a fading life? his miming, , masking hide it. ' H Cypress, and rose, and laurel. Fate's reckless hand entwines ; ] Life n at's the printed story?Death writes between the lines. I ?AHthe Year f'uvii<l. ! j I BAKED BEANS. ' V " Baked beans be good enough fur t tiny one, Melindy. When your father t cumo CMirtiu' me he set a store l?y Han- il nab's baked beans, and allers thought if v them hadn't b"i-n so nice, ( might never e liave been Mrs. Tibbs aft?-r all and Mrs. Tibbs smiled a broad smile at her ii little joke, which quite swept from her t: face the previous look of vexsation. h Not so with her daughter Melinda, ti who was oaring apples with a very s downcast face, as she answered gloomily : ii "That was thirty years ago, ma, and times have changed, and Mr. Fairweather isn't coming courtin'. But I do think - it's too bad to give him nothing but baked beans when lie comes here, when g you kuow how Mrs. Jones and Mrs. fi Johnson will lay themselves out." s '"'i < -.1. ct l.,- i. .urs JLIOOS cur oil il im^i'Min-iii j ii >i r., j lotting her knife come with decision e upon the hard-wood table. 11 "Ft he's going to preach to us, Mi-- fi liudy, T don't want 11 sermon of soups n and fancy cracker. Hut a ^o'i,l pl??t?.? of g baked beans will make the kind o' sermon for me." !i Mr. Fairweather, the young candidate c for the Meritou pulpit, w.is to spend the v approaching Sabbath at Deacon Tibbs's. d As Mrs. Tibbs and Melinda were dis- o cussing his next breakfast, he was seated d in the cars with his Greek Testament in his hand, but not evideutlv iu his c thoughts, He was thinking flf Meriton, li arfd contrasting it with the homo h" was p just leaving. The question in his mind e was, whether he was fitted to tak? n charge of a stroticr, powerful, but dull t! church, Evidently the people needed h wakinti up. Could he successfully do it. Judging l>v appearances, must ?!? - g cidedly no ! For Mr. Fairweather, n though quite tall, \v;is slight, with liirht v hair, grayish-blue eyes ami a complex- e ion to which any suddt-n emotion brought g i change of color. Ah you looked at <1 him more closely, you saw the thin lips | i: closw firmly together, and the eyes re- ! garded you steadily and squarely?but d not forcibly enough for Meriton, would h undoubtedly be your decision, as it was ti mine when [ first met him. v Mr. Fairweather had not gone far in his thoughts, when the cars drew up at e the station. He was met, shaken most c heartily by the hand, helped into a car- t' ringe, and, before fairly aroused from <] his reverie, was drawn easily along over h a jolting road by a strong, young, bay ? horse, who carried himself with a sturdy, ringing gait, which suggested any amount (' of unused power, and, though apparent- 1 lv slow enough, passed over a mile in a u very short tim-'. The horse was the first thing that really attracted the mill- s ister's attention. It seemed to him very < much like the people of Merit ?n, for " both horse ami people had considerable in them, but both needed further bring- ( ing out. So he broke in upon the or- <' dinarv cominonplaees, which were being exchanged, by Haying : !i "That is a very powerful horse of f yonrs, Deacon Tibbs." "Yes, sir." said the deacon, well f pleased. " He is, T might say, pretty 1 powerful for one of his breed, lie's 1 young yet, only four years, but a pretty c average good eolt lie is." " I a in wanting a good horse," added s Mr. Kairw- ather, " but this ?ne, I sup- ' p<?*e, is not for sale." 11 "Well, sir, he isn't; but to be frank f with you, *ir, I wouldn't sell him to you 1 anyway. You haven't the strength to have him at the other end of the lines, i for all lie seems to go along so easy- < like." "1 can see his easiness comes from his strength," answered Mr. Fairweather, "and I have seen so many ' horses and people, too, who seem to he going to the limit of their ability that i the sight is refreshing to me " " I am glad you like the colt," responded the deacon, doubtfully. " Hut 1 don't it show a trifle of familiarity with things of which a minister don't study ' rnn<-h ?" ' Mr. Fairweather glanced up quickly. 1 "It seems to me, Deacon l'ibbs, that a * minister has a right as well as others to enjoy all the beautiful creatures with 1 which his good master h."s tilled the ? world." "Yes, certainly," replied Deacon f (ribbs; " I only spoke of it because our t last minister used to ride considerable, i rattier more uiiiu whh hi iuumk ? iwuioter, ourMeriton folks thought." < Mr. Fairweather had no answer ready < to liis remark, which had brought him ! back to his first question. Was he fitted t to be a spiritual adviser to the Meriton f people ? On the very first, subject men- ! tioned, he had differed from one of tho 1 deacons?utid that to him an important t subject, for he owed his health in no j ^ small measure to his saddle exercise. j The steady, swiuging trot nuickened J perceptibly ?. to a J peared m-**? 1 stand-still in front of the wistaria-covered iloor. Deacon Til?l>s sprang out, oflered liis hand to Mr. Fairweather, and then, Pitching sight of a light-blue dress, he jailed out: "Hero, Melindv, come here and hike jate of the parson, while I unhitch Paul. !\.y darter, Mr. Fairweather." At the same time that Mr. Fairweather is shaking the small red hand in his thin ivhiteone, I will introduce Miss Melinda fibbs to my readers. She is a fair specimen of a smart New England girl. She has not naturally a large frame, lmt as she has never been pinched or stunted, she has grown to a nil size. Her face is plump without icing fat, her cheeks rosy, and her eyes right and full of mischief. She seems i personilieation of good nature, as the rotmg minister thought her, though had ie peeped into the kitchen window that norning, as she sat by the little cherry able paring apples, he would have nirtnm fliof mrmi linv 1 *rirrl? + tcfln jclipsed by cloude. There seemed to mo list one quality lacking in her, anil that lot unimportant?depth. Her rosy lips vere lightly pressed together, her brown jyes roved carelessly from thing to liing; she roamed from one subject to mother, nover stopping to think on any mo of them. Evidently, if Miss Meliuda had any strength of mind or haraeter, she, as well as others, had yet o find it out. It was a very quiet evening the young ninister spent, and feeling tired and emjarrassed he went early to bed, to gain vhat rest he could for the next day's luties. After he had closed his door he vas attracted by Melinda's voice, and mwillingly he was made a confidant in vhat seemed then to be her greatest rial. "It's too bad, pa, luit ma wouldn't ret anything but baked beans and joliniv-cake for breakfast, and I don't sup>ose Mr. Fairweather ever heard of mked beans before." Mrs. Tibb's voice chimed in: "It's ime he did, then, Meliuda; but I agree vith you, 1 don't b'lievo he ever did icar of 'em before ; most like lie's been mmght up on cake ami custard." " Well, I don't know, .Tennv," said )eacon Tibbs, "about tho cake and cus:iid. but it's nnthii!'' acren him if he is lot o'er strung." " Ho isn't strong," broke in Melindn. I cnnlil beat him easy in a good race, nil that's ju.st the reason why I say he lumhln't be made to eat baked beans." "Just the reason why he should, Meinda," rejoined Mrs. Tilths. " Well, that's kind," soliloquized Mr. airwoathor. "Fin glad to know what 'ni going to have for breakfast, and as have heard of baked beans, I'll do my est to prepare for them." lint tliat proved hard work,for if there 'as one article of diet he detested more huu another, it was baked beans. And he amount he ate of this New England lisli was evidently to be the standard by k'hieh his abilities as a man and a preachr were to l>e judged. Mr. Fairweather awoke in the mornug with a weight of scarcely defined rouble upon him, which for a moment e conld not assign to any event past or a come. l?;it when his breakfast, conisting entirely of baked beans, flashed a to his head?metaphorically speaking -he laughed ami said to himself: " The johnny-cake will bo a comfort -that's one good thing." As lie entered the dining-room, he lanced toward the large black pot in rout of Deacon Tibbs, hut could not ee anything beyond a generous slice of ork nicely browned. The beans were vidently baked by a good cook, a little loist to suit my taste, I should judge rom Mr. Fairwcather's description, Imt ot beyond the point to which many ood housekeepers aim to bring them. The young minister did his best, hilt e found his second piece of johnny1 e ^ A. i II f..1 ?' 4.1.':.. asu?iur lit' iouk ;i moimmu in nun i'illi every mouthful of beans ? rapiillv isappearing, while the generous supply f beans on his plate was nut perceptibly iminishcd. The worst of it was that Irs. Tibbs' eyes were fruiu time to time ust scrntiuizingly on his plate. Twice e helped himself again to vinegar and epper, but after all lie felt that, in the yes of the deacon's worthy wife, he had lade a failure. Fur, when he ruse from lie table, there wore some beans left on is plate. It was more than he could ask that a ood sermon should atone for his two lisfortuncs; of course the Tibbs family rould decide that a minister who uuldn't eat baked beans, and knew a ood horse when he saw him, must be a audvtied jockey, and not at all the milliter for Meriton. How he got through the rest of tin ay lie could not tell. He tried topreneh is best, but at night he lay down with lie feeling that some way or other the liule day had been a failure. Ft was a surprise to him when he reeived a unanimous call to the Central hureh at .Meriton. Hut after he had liuroughly looked at. all sides of the uestiona, he decided that he might be etter lilted for that placethau any other, lo lie accepted the call, was installed, nil liivllv li-tviiiir tio wife to hell) oe upy the parsonage; secondly, (here icing mi parsonage, he came to hoard at ay house. After having been in our family a hurt time, as we ate on the piazza me evening, he said to me, rather bruptly : ".foliiiHon, I wish, if it wouldn't rouble your wife too much, you wwuld mee ami a while give me baked beans." " No trouble," I answered, "for we .lways have them every week. Are you ond of them V" "No," said he, mournfully, I can't at them. Johnson, but I mean to learn low to." And then t ie whole story of lis breakfast at Dei.con Tibbs' came int. "Please don't think me so foolish," aid our minister, " as to imagine that T mist eat just what my people dictate, ind like all their favorite dishes. I don't eel that way at. nil, but these baked >eans seem an indispensable dish in kleriton households, and Mrs. Tibbs is lot the only one who would attribute to laintiness what is really ilue to taste." " And how about the race with Miss delindaV" I asked laughing. Mr. Fairweatiier shook his head. ' I'll U'arn to cat tne neans nrsc, .joiiuson, ami then who knows what I may be ililo to do." " Kvcn to driving the colt ?" speak of the cult, Johnson, [t makes me feel insulted some way to ice that beautiful animal aeommon farm Irudge. And, vet,'" lie added, thonghtully, " I don't know but good, honest .vork is more honorable than the kind of mployment 1 put my horse to." "Good, honest work might do, but Deacon Tibbs doesn't know how to treat i horse like that." " That's just the mystery of it, Johnson, how ever a horse which had been rained by him has come out as good in lisposition as that." " That is easily accounted for, as th'leaeon had but little to do with his ctrly 'dueation. But ho is rapidly sp'ding lim. Some morning lie will vake up o lock the stable door after l-*1 steed is itolen." Our new minister, I ?">on discovered >y tlie way he handle bis own fleet lit,lo saddle hor?'. was by no means mi ikillful in AorsemnnHliip. The tiwrc intimately I became ae, nxxt'd with him, the tnoro qualities I liscovered in him wliicli others did n?t eem to dream of. 9 ? "'" ' t At tli? end of tho first year of Mr. j Fairweather's pastorate, his people had ' [ very gradually undergoiio ? great 1 clmnge. There was si little of their un: used strength put into use ; ninny socie- . ties were started which were destined to prove of great good ; ami yet so quietly j I had all the work been done, that each particular enterprise was attributed to some particular person, and the minister t obtained very little credit for it. To Mr. Fairweather's satisfaction, he j had learned so far to partake of Mori- ; i ton's favorite dish, that very Sunday ! morning he ate his plateful of beans. To celebrate the anniversary of his 1 coming to Meriton, Deacon Tibbs called over in the afternoon, with Paul liar; nessed into the carryall. Mrs. Tibbs and Melinda were on tlie back seat. The deacon held the n ins, with a broad smile 1 on his gonial face, and pointed to the j seat beside him with a warm invitation i I to the minister to occupy it during a ride into the country. | It was the lirst time he had ridden ! after Paul since he eaine up that Saturday night from the station. Deacon Tibbs usually drove the old horse Pansy, 'and always seemed a little reluctant to ; have the minister see too many of tin; | colt's tine qualities. They had not ; driven far before Fairweather saw there had been a great change in Paul; there , was the same easiness of gate, but mint wifli it .i ulirrtif nil li(?. I H"'" B..? , casional quick start mul toss <if (lie head, which seemed to come from nervousness. ! He felt that in some way his spirit hud been stamped down, though by no means unsubdued, and he had been fretted and liis will so constantly crossed, so teased, I that his amiable disposition seemed ! entirely pone. " I can't imagine," said the deacon, ' " what on earth's the matter with Paul ; . he has hardly paid the time I've spent I on him, for lie's getting kind o'eross and ( restive, nnd's as set as set cm be." ! He had scarcely iinished the words before Paul reared and came to a dead i stop. The deacon chirruped. The | horse laid his ears back close to his head, : planted his feet firmly, and seemed to stiffen into stoue. Deacon Tibbs seized ( , the whip and laid it squarely and fairly^ < on his back. For n second he trembled, ' and then gave one dash forward and ! broke into a fearful run. I For the lirst time tlia deacon realized ] Paul's wonderful strength. The power | which had so long lain untried came into i ! full play. The ground was passed over with a rapidity incredible, even f<>r a i runaway. Deacon Tibb's face grew ' j white ; the pulling and jerking into 1 which he put his whole strength had j , not the slightest effect on the horse. ' His mouth seemed of the same material as the bit. I There was ouo hope?a high railway j just before them, and surely the horse | ( would draw up and become manageable ' < then ! j But with a lightness and ease scarcely < credible, he carried them up the hill. i It seemed certain death there. For at the foot of the hill the bridge was up s 1-fln.iiva oiI<1 Hm ?ir?f nvnr.Ktiint. 1 ...! ..... .. .? * "I* v I stretched acrovs the road would surely ' break like thread before his fury. Mr. Fairweather, as they nean-d the I top of the hill, took the reins from the > Deacon's fingers, and spoke as quietly ; as possible to tliw exerted horso. But i his voice and his quiet, steady pull ] seemed to have no effect on Paul. He < | dashed down the hill at a rapid rate. No, not quite ! Ho was certainly slack- i euing a little. Again, Mr. Fairweather 1 spoke in tones of authority, but calmly < ?he pulled harder on the reins. Paul drew up ; before he quite reach- j ed the rope ho came to a dead stop. ^ Fairweather sprang from the carriage [ and went to his head. He was almost 1 startled at the calmness lie met in the horse's eye, but there was a look of de- t liberate auger, which gradually wore i away as lie caressed him. ] The carriage did not prove to be ] broken at all, but Deacon Tibbs, as well 1 as his wife and daughter, decidely re- 1 fused to ride home, and, as walking < seemed to be out of the question for 1 Mrs. Tibbs?who knov-s what Miss Me- r linda might have done??it was deemed ? best.that Fairweather should ride back oil Paul, and drive mv horse and carriage out for the three. He knotted the harness into stirrups, . sprang on his back and turned toward ^ the town. Paul had bv no means lost his nervous defiance, but this gradually wore away. rairweainer s iirm tones , seemed lunch more, or ratiior pleasantly 1 less effective than the deacon's whip. And while I was helping him to hitch , ; , up Hess, he indulged in no stinted praise : of the animal he had always so highly admired. The accident ended agreeably after all. Mrs. Tibbs refused to take a back seat on the homeward route, for she wanted to be, so she said, where, she | could jump " in ease the critter run." And so tho minister anil Melinda w?a*e seat-mates on the homeward journey. I She hail but little to say, but her sweet young face gazed from the carriage window with a really thoughtful look. Mr. Fairweather watched her with curiosity. "I do believe the girl's thinkiu"," he said to himself. " There's something to her after all." ( Although mv acquaintance with our new minister dated only a year back, we had been thrown so intimately together that 1 had already found in him my most valued friend. It was long after this ride that I began to see that the interest awakenod some timo before in Melimla Tibbs was gradually deepening. Ono . nigh'. I jokingly said to liiin : " Oli, liv the way, Fairwenther, it . seems to nie it is about time for you to settle down in :i home of your own." " It will be ft long time before then, (Johnson." " Need it be?" Ianswered. "Couldn't 1 yon |>ersuude Miss Melindn?" ' Fail-wenther's faee flushed. " I don't 1 know what you are thinking about, 1 Johnson. I do feel that Melind i ?I can't ] express it to you, and T see you know 1 how it is. The first time [ saw her I wished she could bo placed in circumstances to bring out what there was in her?" i "Like Paul," ! suggested. < " If, indeed, she really had any depth i of character. Since then she has oeea- ] sionally given mo Home glimpses which | encouraged me to think that a wider ? sphere and larger knowledge?in short, I development in every direction?would make of her as noble a woman as ever I lived." ] Fairweather arose ahrubtly and ; walked to the window, mechanically ? crossed back and forth from one end of i tin* room to the ?ther for somo*tiine, and i then threw lu'mself in a chair by my I side. I " What can I do about it, Johnson?" I " I do? t know, Reuben," I answered, " unlc?* you take her in hand as you 1 have A'anl." i p>r, after the runaway, ho had hired 1 Ptul for a year, sent his saddle lmrse t i trick to his father, and henceforth de- ] voted an hour, sometimes more, every i day to his new favorite's cdneation. It i was a long time before Paul showed any i sign of abandoning his suspicious ways i and spunkiuess. Hut gradually ho found I i ho could trust his now master ; day by 1 ! day he became more willing t? do what I j was asked of him, till there sprung up i i a perfect confidence between horse and 1 ! rider. After this Paul never failed him ; | no matter how hard the task Fairwenther i required of him, there was never the 1 least sign of reluctance. But still it t was all in vain ho offered the deacon a . t high price for his horse. He woulil not i sell liiui. J gave my .'ulviee most honestly, for 1 ! A 1 believed that he could mold u character J like Melinda's into something true and j noble. But lie was wiser than I, and J uni nut sure l>ut Deacon Tibbs and his I wife were wiser than either of us, for , tin Mrs. Johnson came home from the next ?f ladies' sewing-circle with a piece of jmf news. Meliuda 'i^bs was going to j 17, spend a year with a cousin of her father < tin in New York City. tin As 1 have no means of following Mo- ( bn linda in her citv life, there is but littlo h\s to write, in .Ueriton, tilings were an ?? prosperous?a new element seemed to th< have entered into the people, and a now j ?-h< strength put forth. The question was Ar certainly decided, for all agreed that no ' f?r litter minister for the Meriton church, ' than lleuben Fairweather, could have its been found. 111 I could see he awaited Melinda's com- Khi ing with no little interest and no little ^OI fear. And when she came, she came ' very much changed from the girl who left Meriton. In the lirsl place, my i,lHF wife said she had gained "style "?that ' h'g was very good, but by no means every- ; thing. I could see many ways she was uic toned down, quieted and rendered more t!u pleasing in society. And, secondly, she had gained a more important thing, intellectual culture ; her head was full of wc ideas and thoughts, and on any subjoct ?T she could converse, with ease. And, '* ? thirdly, she came borne accomplished? vu her natural taste for music hud been en- l'a couraged, till she became a musician re}i capable of giving much pleasure to others, whilo her water-color sketches I)ftl were by no means devoid of merit. hi And yet Fairweather was disappointed. r<1i Tliere was Htill wanting that depth of hi character, of which all her sweetness ore and accomplishments could not supply of, their place : wanting, did I write ? It J were better to sav, this was still uure- fro vealed ; for a character as beautiful as esc rare was hidden under this vivacity, 11)ll] which was still to be brought into strong light. * in? Three years from the time my story j ?f opened thr church bells of Meriton rang ,a'i< nut merrily one Thursday morning. 4>d, There was to be a wedding in the church. *'xl In the groom you will easily recognize Fairweather, for he has changed but ceI little; but you would have to look many g,i: times before you became quite sure that ?u Hie bride is really Miss Melinda Tibbs. tiu You surely have not forgotten her smile, und if the brown eyes have grown full of a ' meaning, and the rounded lips beautiful by a more thoughtful expression, she P(,! is still?but not long to be?Melinda ros Tibbs. its As Mr. and Mrs. Fainvoather leave cru the church, they drive up in an old car- C1L> rvall to Deacon Tibbs's, where the wed- the ling-dinner is awaiting. In the most ulK conspicuous place on the table is a large tha |>ot of baked beans, of which both Sll(> ?room and bride partake with evident anjoymeut. the And Mr. Fairweather, amid consider- tra ible laughter, tells the story of how lie me learned to cat baked beans, while Mrs. pen Pibbs adds most heartily : SU1 "17 you hev changed, Reuben, and T f?'J believe you hev since then, you may be bai <nre 'tis all owing to the baked beans you've ate every week. For I allers will At <tick to it that a man who don't eat wit beans, isn't just the man for rale hard bie ivork." fou "Then I am ready for any thing l?z low," answered Reuben, pleasantly, dai 'judging by the quantity T liave eaten kin jf your beans." to I After dinner was over and all the to i ?ood-byes said, as the minister and his sto; vife stepjied into the carriage, Deacon tha ribbs put a note iuto his hand. It it. ead : aiu Dkah Son RKrnr.n : I found out some to f ime since that yon had considerable ?rif. At 11 vou, or I shouldn't have trusted its Vleliudy to you. You like that colt, roc I'aul, and if you\l like, you rimy Lave Up liin. I never could do anything with Ku lim, and that you may live long and jnjoy him, and be blessel abundantly? (,m )oth you and your wife?is the most sin- : &to ere and earnest wish of your obedient :l h (errant. Samuel Tiiibs. sle Co: Words of Wisdom. sl?! Outward manifestations of what we ll|K erin feeling, like most of the good ' c hings of life, base their value upon !lUl arity. Men speak of the fair as things went .)eil vith them there. 11)01 Sit in your place, and none can make wh j-ou rise. eim The more haste a man makes to un avel a skein of thread" the more he en- H'*l angles it. "Pi We should give as we would receive, Jj. heerfully, quickly and without hesitaion; for there is no grace in a beneiit f^IU :liat sticks to the fingers. . u he It is the vice of the unlearned to 'pj1( mppose that the knowledge of books is cr(, A no account, and the vice of^scholars to '< 0CD :hink there is 110 other knowledge worth sj{('J laving. <!, When the idea of pleasure strikes your , the magi nation, make a just computation C >etween the duration of tho pleasure aim ind that of tho repentance that is' likely wa; :o follow. per Affection, like spring flowers, breaks mo! through the most frozen ground at last; iw|1> md tlie heart, which seeks but for an- ; }n )ther heart to make it happy will never j jn(>' seek ill vain. 11 The poor are only those who feel poor, ; ^ri md poverty consists in feeling poor. 1 I'lie rich, as we reckon them, and ani'oug !! hem tlie very rich, in a true search I' 1 . vould be found very indigent and 1 . apr^ct'd. fnr The noblest part of a friend is an f|1(, lonest boldness in tho notifying of ]()? rrors. lie that tells me of my fault, limj liming at my good, I must tliink him j.,,., vise and faithful?wise in spying that ' a^(.( ivhich I see not, faithful in plain adtnon- ()]1 sliment not tainted will! uarrerv. ?r0i " sco] Sleep Xnrtli and South. w|,j A learned German says: "In sleep roil my position except north ami south is liun lisagreeable, lint from east to west al- taki most intolerable, at least in our hemis- dea iihere it is otherwise. The eanse of this bloi [ilienomenon can obviously be found seei ?nly in that great magnet which is Clii formed by the earth with its atmosphere littl ?that is, terrestrial magnetism. The Pm ierrestrial mftguetism exerts on certain ed persons, both hearty and otherwise, who seei ire sensitive, a peculiar influence won- less lerful enough to disturb their rest, and tra\ in the case of diseased persons disturb- n'it ing the circulation, the nervous func- rocl ions and the equilibrium of the mental whi powers. There are persons whom I din know, the head of whose b?'d is to the cloi North, and who, in order to wake early, cloi will reverse their usual position in bed, sun uut without knowing tin- reason why, Tin beyond 'that they eon It I always wake the arlfer,' the sleep being more broken, dea I have had it related to me that, at a was nilitary hospital in Russia, there wan for ;oine sick patients of highly sensitive Km latures, and who were rapidly recover- be I tig. When necessity compelled thciu frot o lie removed to another wing of the has mililing they did not get on so well; in ; ice act, prostration seemed to be setting in; so mil it was found advisable to get tin-in con mek to their former wards as quickly as lilv, xissihle, where the heads of the beds the vere to the north. 1 have heard of strc lorsen [going blind through changing to 1 heir position from north to south to cm hat of west to east.'' ' volt ASCENDING MOUNT ARARAT. told lOnKlUlimii ii'h l)nrln* anil DiiiiKcrotis i'put? I'lisliinK iIitoukIi CIoihW anil up CrARH mill Iry ClilFn KM lie Top of.Mount Arnrut? A Tlirlllln? Sn-nt- Vividly lieM'rlbodi Prom the plain of the Arnxes, where i Armenians place the lost Paradise man, rises an extinct volcano of inimsurable antiquity, its peak being 000 feet high, soaring suddenly from 3 platform, which is but two or three jusand feet above the sea ; its snow e at the elevation of 14,000 feet, treeis, 'waterless, solemn and solitary, one the sublimest objects on the face of 1 earth. It is Ararat, the mountain of ) Ark, the ancient sanctuary of the menian faith, the centre of the once nous kingdom, now* tin? corner-stout! threo groat empires. On the top of lower peak, Little Ararat, the donionsof the czar, the sultan and the lh, the territories of the three chief ms of faith that possess western and rtheru Asia, converge to a point. No nuitain save Sinai -has such sacred iociations, and Sinai itself has less of ;eutlary lore attached to it. Persians, rtars, Turks and Kurds regard thfl mutain with reverence as genuino as it of the Christian races, for its jeflty, its solitariness, and because they believe in the deluge and the patri h, "faithful found." They are all nally persuaded that " Massis" is naccessible they are not to be couiced by any testimony, not that o4" rrot, of Aftouomof. or of Abich?who pectively ascended Ararat in 1829, M and 1845?of Gen. Choazk and his rtv,aud the Englishmen who ascended 1856 ; and it now appears that they ect that of Mr. Bryce, who performed, September of last year, the extralinarv feat of ascending the mountain tho Ark alone. Mr. Bryce lnul sel out on the ascent m Aralykh, with a companion and an iort of six armeil Cossacks, accomuied by an interpreter; but the Cos;ks failed them early in the undertak\ having no notion of the importance time, no notion of carrying baggage, 1 a propensity, perfectly good humorbut ruinous to the purpose of the >edition, to sit still, smoke, and itter. Kurds and Cossacks, after a tain point, became equally useless as ides, for the former never ?o higher the mountain than the limits of pase, and the latter have no motive t<?go irly so high. When they hud reached leight of 12,000 feet, and everything below them, except Little Ararat oplite, and the stupendous cone that ;e from where the friends were sitting, glittering snows and stern black gs of lava standing up perfectly ar in a sea of cloudless blue; when ;y had noted the landmarks carefully, 1 agreed to meet about nightfall at t spot, having a notion that the Cosks, who wore now widely scattered >ut tue slope, would at least bring m safely down into the plain, the velers parted, and Mr. Bryce eotnnccd his solitary ascent of the awful ik, held by the Armenians to be irded by angels from the profaning t of man, and by the Kurds to be the int of Jinn who take vengeance on re human disturbers of their revelry, eight o'clock he started, < trying h him his ice ax, some crusts of ad, a lemon, a small flask of cold tea, r hard-boiled eggs, and a few meat I'lipcs, on the perilous journev, whose r ?l.t. 1,1., v?rn? im in*. iiiw.it K'liitcuw/i. il, tho unknown, and, climbing away ;he left along tho to]) of :i ridge, Ciime i snow-bed, lying over loose broken lies and wind, so fatiguing to cross ,t lie almost gave in on the far side of There he fouud solid rock, however, 1 the summit of Little Ararat begun iink, and that meant real progress, ten o'clock he was looking down upon small flat top, studded with lumps of k, but bearing no trace of a crater, i to this point one Cossack and one rd had accompanied him?they were ?htily amused by the iee ax. and ions as to its use?but the Kurd pped now, shivering on the verge of >ug, treacherous snow slope, in which ps had to be cut, and afterward the ssuek, who hail crossed the snow po, looked up nt the broken clirt >vo them which had to be scaled, and iok his head. Mr. Bryce made him leistand by pantomime that lie was eturn to the bivouac below, bade him suvell, and set his face to the great ik, Little Ararat now lying 1,000 feet ow the eye. He climbed the crags ieli had appalled the Cossack, and nrged on a stright. slope of volcanic lies, which rolled about so that he >ped down nearly as much as he went ; anil here the breatlilessuess and gue became extreme, owing to the 1111 ess of the air, and " the practical ;stion was whether, with knees of I 1, and gasping like a fish in a boat, I would be ablo to get any further." j .'re was uo rashness in Mr. JJryce's j at courage, lie sat down, ate an j and resolved that when three o'clock j uld conic, or he should come to a 1 ad place," lie would turn back, let ! summit be ever so near. roing 011 again, he turned aud got on | ther rock rib, working his laborious j , over toppling crags of lava, until, haps, the grandest sight of the whole 1 tiutain 1 resented itself. At his foot , : a deep, narrow, impassable gnlly, " '.""n e?,/\ur lnv v lii'Vc tile VtlKKli; iM/iu/m nm/ .? liuation was not too steep, j Beyond Hue of rocky towers, red^kim ami | ible, rau right toward t).,fl|immit, upper end lost in the clou.;!?, f/rough 1 it'll, as at intervals they'* broke or 'ted, one eon Id descry, far, tar above. 1 ilderness of snow. Ilad a Kurd over releil so far, lie might have taken tiiis | the palace of the Jinn. Then came struggle between tin* imagination, ' [jing to feast itself upon the majesty . the wonder of the scene, and the cxncies of tiie tremendous task of tinMil ; Mr. iiryee found that the strain the observing senses seemed t? ?? ? t at for fancy or emotion to have any pe. This was a race against time, in ' ch lie could only scan the dill's fur a J te, refer constantly to his watch, lms- i d his strength by morsels of food j ii at frequent intervals, and en- ' vor to conceive how a particular : k or bit of slope would look when i the other way in descending, nbing on and on, sometimes erecting ! e piles (if. tone to mark the way, like j icet without his brothers ; so absorb- > that the solemn grandeur of the i lery impressed him less than on many i , striking mountains, the solitary , eler consumed the precious hours l il he found himself at. the top of the j k rib, and on the edge of a precipice, ch stopped further progress in that | ction, but showed him, through the ! ids which floated around him?real ! ids, not generally ditbised mist?tin- j unit barely 1,000 feet above liiin. j ; hours were wearing 011 ; :i night on ! mountain would probably mean (li to a bravo man (whose clothing insuHicicnt even lor the dinfime, his overcoat had hceu stolen on a isian rail way t; the decision had to akmi ipiicklv. Ho retraced his steps r tho precipice, climbed into the in along the border of a treacherous slope, and attacked the friable rocks, rotten that neither feet nor hands Id get firm hold, floundering pitu, because bio tired for a rush. All way up this rock slope, where the ui? sulphureous smell led Mr. Bryee iope lie should find some trace of an ptive vent, if was so "delightfully *a?ie," but where lie only found lumps of minerals and a piece of gyp , sum with fine crystals, he waseonstautl; gazing at the upper end of the toilsomi road for signs of craps and snow field above, lint a soft mist curtaiti lmu; 1 there, where the snow seem to begin i and who could tell what lay beyond , The solitude must, indeed, have beei awful then, for everything like certaint; and calculation had ceased. From tin ; tremendous height, Little Ararat, lyin< he did not know how many thousand o feet beneath him, looked to the climbe like a broken obelisk. And he oouli j only imagine the plain, a misty, dream like expanse below. Only one hour wa: i before him now ; at it? end he mus turn back?if, indeed, his strength couli hold out for that other hour. He strug ' gled on up the {Tumbling rocks, now t< : the right, now to the left, as the foot , hold looked a little firmer on either side until suddenly the rock-slope came t< ] 1 l.? r.1 hu run, uuu 11^ nitrupcvi wiit Lux- ui i most level snow fit the top of it into th j clouds, into the teeth of the strong wes wind, into fold so great that an icicl | enveloped the lower half of his face a ' once, and did not melt until four hour | afterward. He tightened in his loose l light coat with a Spanish neckscarf, am J walked straight on over the snow, fol i lowing the rise, seeing only about thirt; j yards ahead of him in the thick mist I Time was flying ; if the invisible sum i mit of the mountain of the Ark were in ' deed far off now, if this gentle risi j stretched on and on, that summit urns i remain unseen by him who had dare< ! and did so great a feat that he migh look from its sacred eminence. Hi ; trailed the point of the ice-ax in tin I soft snow, to mark the backward track ! for there was no longer any landmark all was cloud on every side. Suddenly 1 he felt with amazement that the grouni was falling a way to the north, and h< stood still. A puff of the west wiiu ! drove away the mists on the opposit< I side to that by which he had come, ani 1 his eyes rested on the paradise plain a i an abysmal depth below. The solitary ' traveler stood on the top of Mount Arai rat, witli the history of the world spreat | beneath his gaze, and all around him t ! scene which reduced that history to pig| my proportions, and man himself .to in! finite littleness. i Mr. l?ryce has given to the world ? ; wonderful word-picture of that amazing o?i/1 nti.fnl OTAnnfnnln t\f flint 1nml?pnntf "."i tv, wi which is now what it was before mar 1 crept forth on the earth, the mountain* ' which stand about the valleys as tliej | stood wiien the volcanic masses thai piled them were long ago extinguished, His vision ranged over tlie vast expanse within whoso bounds are the chain oi ; the Caueassus, dimly made our, but , Kazbek, Elbruz and the mountains ol I Daghcstan visible with the line of the ; Caspian sea upon the horizon; to the j north the liugh extinct volcar.o of Ah Goz, whose three peaks encloso a f^nowj patched crater, the dim plain of Evivau, ! with the silver river winding through it westward, the Taurus ranges ; aui northwest, the upper valley of the i A raxes, to be traced as far as Ani, tin ancient capital of the Armenian kingdom ! the great Russian fortress of Alexandro j pol, and the hill where Kars stands? I peaceful enough when the brave climbei I looked out upon this wonderful specta I cle. While it was growiug upon him, i not indeed in magnificence, but in com t prehensibitity, " while the eye was stil 1 unsatistied with gazing," the mist-cur tain dropped, enfolded him, and shu him up alouo with the awful mountaii ; top. " The awe that fell upon me," In | nays, "with the sense of utter loneliness i made time pass unuoticed, and I mighi j have lingered long in a sort of dream, I had not the piercing cold that thrillei 1 through every limb recalled me to i 1 sense of the risks delay might involve.' I Only four hours of daylight remained, the thick must was an added danger, tin ! ice-ax marks were his only guide, foi j the compass was useless on a volcanii | mountain like Ararat, with iron in tin I rocks. The descent was made in safety, j but by the time Mr. Jkyce came ii ! sight of the spot, yet far off, where his | friends had halted, " the sun had goi ! l ?1.1?1 ri<lrrrt Ol J IK'UIIJU mc IUU nuiuunv^viit . ?0the mountains, ami his gigantic shadow i had fulled across the great Araxes plait J below, while the red mountains of Me din, far to the southeast, still glowei l redder than ever, then turned swiftly t<. u splendid purple iu the dying light.' j At six o'clock he reached the bivouac i and rejoined his friend, who must haw ' looked with strange feelings into tht I eyes which had looked upon such won| drons sights since sunrise. Three day? ! after, Mr. Bryce was at the Armeuiau ! monastery of Ktchmiadzin, near the i northern foot of Ararat, and was pre| sented to the Archimandrite who rules the house. "This Englishman," said the Armenian gentleman who was actinp ! as interpreter, "says ho has ascended tc the top of Massis" (Ararat). The venerable man smiled sweetly, and replied with gentle decisivness, " That cannot be. No one has ever been there. It is impossible."? London Spectator. A burning Ship Drifts Two Thousand Miles. Tho British ship Ira Iredale, while iu the South Pacific, on a voyage from Ardrossan, on the Clyde, to San Francisco, took tire and was abandoned on the loth of October, 1870. News has come to hand that her hull drifted about for nine mouths, and w:is discovered at a point 2,.T"?0 mites distant from where the disaster oeeurred. She was towed into Tahiti, mid :ui inspection of her hull was made bv the Kuglish consul and Captain Turpie, master of the London missionary vessel John Williams. Captaiu Tnrj)ie makes the following interesting report as to her condition and her long voyage without captain or crew: "The whole of the woodwork, including everything combustible, had been consumed, leaving onlv the iron work of what was once a remarkably strong and substantial vessel. The foremast has fallen over the j> ?rt side, and has entirely disappeared from the deck upward. The bowsprit, witii a portion of the jihboom, still remains, though displaced from its position. The main and miz/.en lowei masts, with all ironwork attached, remain within th?" structure, having fallen in. The bread and water tanks have evidently exploded after jjeneratiug steam. The \\ holt? frame 'tweendeck beams is siullv distorted iiii>1 twisted by the action of the tire. Many ol the beams are broken by the weight <>i deck fittings, etc. The collision bulkhead still appears intact. There still remain, I should suppose, about 10(1 tons of ashes and debris, which are still burning. No water is visible in tlu1 hold, and the irou plates of the ship outwardly appear little damaged. The bottom is eleati -kept so, I imagine, by tin intense heat. Tin* ligurc-head is miinjured. From the position where she was abandoned to San Francisco is about miles. Tin* ship has, therefore, driven that distance between Oct. 15, 1 N7(i, and June It, 1M77. The course made by tin* burning wreck 1 suppose to be about W.S.W., south of the l'aumoth groitpp; then meeting with the southeast winds wiiich prevail during April, May and June, she ii:!-.dtiv.n tc > the northward until taken in tow by the French man-ofwar. It. is a most remarkable thing that a burning ship should have driven over eight months in the Pacific without being reported, and that she should at last be brought into the port which her captain and crew had reached eight montlis provionsi\. -! Items of Interest. ' : There are eight doctors in the present u Congress. s , , It is no particular credit for a man to ilie game. Wolves ami buzzards do that j very thing. \ "Jane, it is eleven o'clock; tell that y i yonng man to shut the door from the p oil side." y j Two hundred stem-winding American f watches have been sent to India for railr way service. 1 i A grand international cattle fair is to : be held in .Switzerland at the close of H September, 1^73. , | " No, ma'am,'1 said a grocer to an applicant for credit, ,4I wouldn't even trust luv own feelings." j Franklin mint, "A p?or man must work to find meat for his stomach, a ' i-ioli niiu ftii/l vfninn/'li for niP:Lt." S< >luo boys in Woodford county, Ky., e j tried to smoke out n rabbit. Result? t 11,660 bushels of barley destroyed by tire. p j The longest railroad bridge in the t j world spans an c-stuary of the Tay river, s 1 in Scotland, and is nearly two miles in '? i length. 1 I If fill Russia and all Turkey should " | come to engage in the strife, there would P j be 87,000,000 Russians fighting 43,000,* ; 000 Turks. j Learned professors know about 30,000 ? 1 words ; children of two, from 200 to 705; l j ordinary people, 9,000; book agents, ! ; 9,980,998. t | Stonewall Jackson held that three 21 kinds of courage prevail among soldiers 3 j in battle, based respectively on insensi( i bility, pride, duty. ; j A drunken legislator said that he was 7 a self-made man. "That fact," saidMr. 1 : Grealey, "relieves the Almighty of a J great responsibility. * "Flour," says a Chicago exchange, j "has declined one dollar." Tt requires J a good deal of moral courage_to decline * i a dollar in these times. Duriug the vear just closed the I t? , i , i i i i a- Ann nnn .... ..7? j LllltCtl States SOiU JlUiJ,WU,UW Yiiuw <<i t cotton goods abroad, ton times more than was exported the year before. The telephone is being rapidly put into use at Boston. About one hundred i mercantile houses are already connected r with every express office in the city. ! A boy undertook to torture a wasp ^ t by touching ft lighted match to it body. i The wasp applied its warm side to the r boy's hand, and as it flew away it gave t i the boy these words of wisdom, " Never try to beat a man at his own game." ; R. 31. T. Hunter, of Virginia; R. C. ! Winthrop and N. P. Banks, of Massa. chusetts; Theodore M. Pomeroy, of New 1 York; Galuslia A. Grow, of Pennsylvania; Schuyler Colfax, of Indiana, ! and .Tames G. Blaine, of Maine, are the 1 living ex-Speakers of the House of " Representatives. 1 Tiie aggregate debts of the six New I England States amount to $50,831,119, and the net debts to $38,219,357. The | debt of Massachusetts is nearly two; thirds of the whole. The annual inter' est account of the six States is $2,702,568.18, of which Massachusetts pays * $1,677,523.20 in gold, and the other ^ States combined pay 1,025,014.98 in " I currency. All the loaus of Massacliu' setts are at live per cent., and all those j of the other States are at six per cent. wouldn't 00. t Will you climb to the liars with m?.\ Susie ? ! There's a little left of to-day, , See the trees, lit With fragments of sunshine. ' fix lUit, <iirnr ' The leatli-U arc glancing and dancing, t The river flow sparkling and bright. Let us climb the gray cliffs to the highland* I And list to the voice of the night! i " To the voice of (he night I will listen." ' She said?" hut your vohe is so flat. I'd rather stay in and wash dishes, ' Than eliiuh up those hills to hear that !" '{ ' At u mooting of tlie executive eoa., mittee of the American Society for the , Prevention of Cruelty to Animals, held in New York, the following report was J made by the superintendent: since May ! last, 474 cases of cruelty to animals had (. been prosecuted in New York ami Brookf Ivn, and out of that number four were . dismissed by the New York courts and I , twenty-three by the Brooklyn magistrates. During the same period, 74S I horses were found working iu a lame, sore and suffering condition, and sent to . their stables or hospital for treatment; ? 73 disabled horses were removed from j the streets in ambulances; 541 worthless ; and diseased horses humanely destroyed, ^'and over 2IK) complaints from citizens . wore investigated. | JIad from a Dog's Bite. A bareheaded girl, barking like a dog, i and frothing at the mo iill like a tired [ and chased-dowu deer, startled the r, usually quiet and unromautie section of * r,i,;,.?,T/i ldPitfpil fit Orchard street, bo I vmv "> 7 , tween Sophia and Centre streets, on the | north side; late oao Friday afternoon recently. It was at a particular hour ; when there was quiet along the thoroughfare. Suddenly this bare-headed thing, a girl with a face that had been rather prepossessing at some time, dashed arouud the corner?her hair down to her waist, her eyes glaring as if they had been forced from their sockets, her month snapping and her tongue, swollen and blackened, protruding, and startled the whole vicinity from its almost Sunday quietude. The poor creature must have been blinded, for she staggered against the pailiugs, struck herself against houses, and seemed to bo endeavoring to end her existence by forcing i herself against everything that came in her pathway. The sight was one so strange and sudden that even the men wlio happened to be hi the vicinity shrank back like scared hares and looked upon the unfortunate ana maddened girl from behind their window blinds, unwilling to stand in her way. Thus, unmolested, the snapping, frothing, maddened creature swept down the street until she was overtaken bj Officer Sean Ion. I.'e diil not dare nlaee himself in front of her, hut slipped cautiously in the roar* 1 ami quickly seized her by the arms. The etlbrts of the girl to tree herself or pounce upon her captor became painful. ITer barking eontiuued, almost startling, anil she snapped as ferociously as ever did an infuriated cur. The oliicer, stalwart and courageous as he was, was unnerved, but h.e kept the face from him and clutched the girl with all the strength he possessed. l'lill* pivsse.l, slie W;'s taken to the Webster avenue station. quite a walk for an otlicer with a maddened human. All along the route the captive kept up her heartrending bark. At the station she continued to rave. One would have thought that so young and frail a thing would by this time have been weakened down from exhaustion, j but she gave no evidence of anything or the kind. Site whs coiil-ned for an h<?tir in the station, during which 4.:.,... ..ii'. ,,,.1,1,. t,, ilis.-nViM1 who liUir rin?iir? ?>*.n i she was mid whence she came. Tin' ; otlioer learned that her name was Mary Augusta Klein, and that she was a < !?- 1 man girl. Tin1 girl was transferred t> ' St 'useph's hospital sonn after her cul ture. icing pinioned like a victim for t< seaft'uld. When she arrived at the In pitiil she was put ill a strait-jacket in1' her head was bandaged. It. ('. Paul Simon, one <>!' the medical attc:i.!.;;i|s "!' the hospital, wa.-s called mi and administered t? the pi Nil- girl. lint !iei- ravin;> w?;re >i> frantic that nun.eroi:> ethers were made before anything * " I 1 < given. and when the 1?-ii:?*<ii?*s been ^ iven they seemed (. hav-- ::< elVee{ i whatever.