University of South Carolina Libraries
.k ^ - *;? * r r" *-'0-" rr^n rrr? ? \)f\ '/ > .v L ?f < -' . t . V < ' '"" V1 * " '' ' . - < ; : ,j9!ii.;? f :;, !=<' <? S//J! ABBEVILLE PRESS & BANNER / fl ''Ml ' v ' i , ' j T'mJV , 'i "111 >1 K ! / . !i|f? : ? '1 ** ^?!i / :i/^i' ^=1^===^^^====^==^?^, . ' , * -/.?!& ? BY HUGH WILSON AND W. C. BENET. s ABBEVILLE, S. C., WEDNESDAY, DECEMBER 19, 1877. ' NO. 28. VOLUME XXV. # s- ' ' '"' ' *? _'- '--' 'i' - " r' $25,000! T1IE uhcrt in cntnsr 1immuuiia ulfll wuvui hw* STOCK OF Goods v fw' ** :v ' ever brotx.ht to GREENVILLE! Twenty - five thousand dollars worth of goods which h? intends to j dispone of OH BELOW | NEW YORK Retail Prices! Not is lie T me for. Bargains. COME AND SEE FOR YOURSELF. CAPT. W R. WHITE I* with mo and would be glad to meet with hi* old Fri? ds and Cuntomers, *nd will 8 lYE THEM SOME MONEY. A No. 1, Wagon Yard ID BEAR OF STORE, FREE TO ALL. T. W, DAVIS, ' | MAIN STKEET, GREENVILLE, S. C. Cct 17, 1877.?3ei<h HIADQUARTERS FOR ~ CHEAP GOODS, M0R6AN & BRO. HAVE RECEIVED THE Largest General Stock ? OF ? Goods In Greenville.. TXrE OCCUPY OUR NEW STORE AT OUB YV Old Stand on BtTNCOMB STREET, and with oar facilities for doing bneines* wo claim to be second to none. We make BOOTS, SHOES, DOMESTIC AND FANCI DRY GOODS, A. 8PEOI AXjT And. in them can Offer Great Inducements. We were at the mannlaotories m ptraon, and had oar Boots and Shoes made to order, and will guarantee both quality ind p^ice Buying from firet hands nave the profit of the middle man, which will be a saving to the oonsumer who buys from up. Our Dry Goods Were selected with great care, and embrace all the Novelties of the season, and in this Department we make POPULAR PRICES. Our Grocery Denartment _ ?11 -11 rix urv 18 won OUppilCU Al? Hi* fcuuoo " GOODS, which will bo ?old at HARD PAN PRICES. Com? and see for vonrselve". No charge showing goods. We give a free exhibition. JAMES H. MORGAN & BBO, Buncomb Street, OREENVJLME, S. C. Mr. W. A. LATIMER, Prom HO^EA. PATFT, is with us, and will bo pleaded to have all hi* friends call and see him. Wo alio have in connection with our store, The Largest Wagort Yard in the City, fitted np with Trough*, Sleeping Home, etc., for the accommodation of our Jriends and customer*, free of oharge. October 3 1377.?3m | C.T.WILLIS, I I* e 11 d 1 e t o n Street. TIT "C en /I T) T? TT* XT TT T T T T TfXlOX UXV^Xill WILL PAY THE Highest Market Price I FOR COTTON, AND SELL 1 ! GROCERIES, DRY GOODS, CLOTHING, Boots, Shoes, Hats, Caps, etc., ! At the Very-Bottom Figures. | Oct 3, 1877.?tf _ J. C. Aljx.ooku. Josi.ru ALLtV, Vakukv mcBee. ! ALEXANDER,ALLEN &McBEE, Manufacturers of and Wholesale and Itetail Dealers in I UPPER & HARNESS LEATHER, Kip and Calf Skins, GREENVILLE, S. C. ?iT Highest cash price paid for Hides. Sept. 26, 1877.-12m GREENVILLE Machine Works AND IRON FOUNDRY, Redmond, Macdonald & Co., proprietors. SiTEAM ENGINES. Boilera, Saw and Grist , Mills, Cotton Gin*, Presses, etc., prompt], repaired. Wehnvo recently :<ddcd to onr ent&b 'ishment an IRON FOUNDRY !-nd are prepared to furnish all kinds of CASTINGS, < qnal to the ' est furnished by any foundry ju the country, it short notice, and oa reasonable term8. Caisb ;iaid for Old Iron delivered at our foundry. Worko on River Street, rear of Cagle'b Planing Mill. October 3, 1877. -12m T. C. GOWER & CO., CREENVILLE, S. C., DEALERS IN \ EMM UTIIIIU Of Every T>o?orli>tion. THEIR STOCK is the largest and cheapest ii the State, and Builders and others in Abbe ville will find it greatly to their interest to consult our Agent, Mr. C. V. HAMMOND, or send their orders direct to us when in need of anv goods in our line. We make a specialty of DOORS, SASH, BLINDS, tSHINGLES NEWELS, BALUSTERS, HANDRAILS, Etc. Wo lwve a very large stock of the best PUMPS now ia use, to which they invite special attention. Lime and Cement Of the best quality can be furnished to the people of Abbeville County cheaper from Greenville than from any other point. Our stock of these goods in always large. T. C. GOWES & CO. October 10, 1877.-12m THEPALMETTO COTTON GIN, MANUFACTURED BY J.M.MATTHEWS, NINETY-SIX, S. C. DEALER IN 1/iURNirURE, Coffins, Belting and Gin 1/ Material generally, and Agent for Steam Eugines, Threshers, Reapers and Mowers, Cotton Presses, etc. Condensers, Feeders and Seed Crnshert attached to Gins when desired. n A.11.. nopaning vaioiunj UUIIU. All communications receive prompt attention, j Purchasers should call or correspond with I him before purchasing elsewhere. June 15, 1877.?tf O. A. TRAYLOR, WITH j WILLIAM MULHERIN, dealer in I Boots and Shoes, HATS AID TRUNKS, 298 Broad Street, Half Block below Planters' Hotel, ' AUGUSTA, OA. Durable Boots and Shoes a Specialty. September 19, 1877.?3m E. J. White. E. M. Huubes. : Fashionable Hat Emporium. WHITE & HUGHES, dealers in I Hals, Cans, Furs, Oirellas, ETC., 269 KING STREET, 0?P. HASEL, CHARLESTON. S. C. Umbrellas M&da and Repaired to Order. October 3, 1877.?3m ' * STEAM Planing Mill, COLUMBIA, S. C.\ F. W. WING, Proprietor! Af ANTTACTUItER of Saeb, Blinds, Doors, .t J. Window end Doo* Frames, Inside Pivot lm-1-t r.ud Bin tera, Pilasters, Mantelpieoes, tildi.v.H. Brickots, Handrails, Newels, Balu* r?, Scroll V.'ork of all description. Ml Work Guaranteed A No. 1,1 Feb. -is. is7?;.?tf I Would Jiot, If I Could! I would not dig my past Up from its grave of weakness aftd regret; Up from its hopes ? which glimmered but to set, Its dreams that could not laBt. Yet I can look before. And profit by the lesson sadly learned; As children, playing with the fire, are burned, ' And tempt its glow no more. *, I would not; If I sould, Live o'er again this dark, uncertain life? Thii slipping backward in this daily strife Of reaching after good. And yet I can know how weak Are all below, and so sweet cnaruy Will cling and glow about each form I see, / And thus to me will Bpeak: I would not open out < .? The half healed wounds of other years, long fled; Twere better thoy were numbered with the dead; . Better than fear or doubt. Yet I can truly say, Let the dead past bury its dead. We go So swiftly onward to life's sunset glow? And then, there is no day ! Life is too short to waste In vain repinings or in weak regrets ; The strongest heart endures and never frets O'er joys it may not taste. . And he who can go on Bravely and firmly in the allotted way, Gaining new strength with every darkened ray, Shall surely reach the dawn. And so I would not lift Up from the grave the shadows of my past; The clouds that all my sky once overcast Into the night may drift. For there's enough to fill Each hour and moment' of the days to come ; Then wherefore woo the shadows to our home The valleys to our hill ? SfTOTre. SEflOlSm TTTOTTfi-FT. ? I i " I must have it, Charles,", fluid the j handsome little wife of Mr. Whitman, j " tio don't put on that sober face." " Did I put on a sober face?" asked j the husband, with an attempt to smile j that was anything but a Buccess. ' Yes, sober as a man on trial for his : life. Why, it's as long as the moral law. j There, dear, clear it up, and look aa if you had at least one friend in the world. What money lovers you men are!" "How much will it cost?" inquired Mr. Whitman. There was another effort to look cheerful amd acquiescent. " About forty dollars," was answered, with just a little faltering in the lady's voice, for she knew the. sum would , jound extravagant. 4? P 1^, TOI.tt A/?o ,ln rnii I A.' I/X UJ UUUdiai T? UJ| U.UM, VIW IWU think I am made of money?" Air. ! Whitman's countenance underwent a remarkable change of expression. "I declare, Charles," said his wife, a little impatiently, "you look at me as if [ were an object of fear instead of affec- 1 tion. I don't think this is kind"of you. I've only had three silk dresses since we j( were married, while Amy Blight has had \1 six or seven during the same peri( d, j' and every one of hers cost more than 1 mine. I know you think me extrava- j ?ant, but I wish you hod a wi 'e like j1 some women I could name. I rather ;1 think you'd find out the difference be- ; fore long." "There, there, pet, don't talk to me j 1 ifter this fashion ! I'll bring you the | money at dinner time ; that is, if "? ; " No 4 ifs ' nor ' buta,' if you please. | i The sentence is complete without them, j Thank you, dear 1 I'll go this after- < noon and buy the silk. So don't fail to bring the money. I was in at Silkskins i yesterday, and saw one of the sweetest < patterns I ever laid my eyes on. Just j suits my style and complexion. I shall ^ be inoonsolable if it's gone. You won't : j disappoint me ?" Ana Mrs. Whitman laid her soft, j white hand on the arm of her husband, rod smiled with sweet persuasion in his ( face. " Oh, no. You shall have the money," said Mr. Whitman, turning from his wife, as she thought, a little abrubtly, 1 ind hurrying from her presence. In his 1 precipitation, he had forgotten the usual parting kiss. ??Thnf.'n frViA wnv it is filwftVR !" Raid I Mrs. Whitman,her whole manner changing, as the sound of the closing street J loors came jarring upon her ears. " JuRt ' nay money to Charles, and at once there is a cloud in the sky." She sat down pouting and half angry. ; "Forty dollars for a new dress 1" j mentally ejaculated the husband of vain, 1 pretty, thoughtless Mrs. Whitman, as he 1 shut the door after him. " I promised ' to settle Thompson's coal bill to-day? ] thirty-three dollars?but don't know *here the money is to come from. The 1 oal is burnt up, and more must be or- 1 lered. Oh, dear ! I'm discouraged. Every year I fall behindhand. This ' vinter I did hope to get a little in ad- ] vanoe, but if forty-dollar silk dresses I are in order, there's an end to that devoutly to be wished-for circumstanoe. : Debt, debt! How I have always shrunk from it: but steadily, now, it is closing i its Briserian arms around me, and my j: restricted chest labors in respiration, j i Oh, if I oould but disentangle myself j qow, while I have the strength of early j manhood, and the bonds that hold me j' ure weak. If Ada could see as I see?if i l-'ouldonly make her understand my I, position rightly. Alas t that is hopeless, { I fear." And Mr. Whitman hurried his steps, j because his heart beat quicker and his j rtinncrM. war nnrlnlv PTcited. Not a long time after Mr. Whitman ! left his house, the postman delivered a ' letter to his address. His wife examined the writing on the envelope, which was : n a bold, masculine hand, and said to ; herself, as she did so: "I wonder who this can be from ?" Something, more than a curiosity , moved .her. " There intruded on her mind a vague feeling of disquiet, as if ' the missive bore unpleasant news for 1 hgr husband. The stamp showed it to 1 qe a city letter. A few times, of late, such letters had come to his address, 1 and she had noticed that he had read | them hurriedly, thrust them without remark into his pocket, and beoome silent and sober-faced. Mrs, Whitman turned the letter over and over again in her hand, in a thoughtful way, and as she did so, the image of her husband, Bober-faced and silent as he-had beoome for the most of the time, of late, presented himself with unusual vividness. Sympathy stole into her heart. " Poor Charles!" she said, as the feeling increased; "I'm afraid something ib going wrong with him." Placing the letter on the mantel-pieoe, , where he could see it when he came in, ' Mrs. Whitman entered upon some house- i hold duties ; but a strange impression, I as of a weight, lay upon Iter heart?a sense of impending evil ? a vague, troubled disturbance of her usual inward self-satisfaction. If the thought of Mrs. Whitman recurred, as was natural, to the elegant silk dr?ss of which she was to become the owner on that day, she did not feel the proud satisfaction her vain heart experienced a little while before. Something of its beauty had faded. *' If I only knew what that letter con- R tained," she said, half an hour after it pa had oome in, her mind still feeling the wf pressure which hod come down npon it so Btrangely, as it seemed to her. Bhe went to the mantei-pieoe, took up ha the letter, and examined the superscrip- ho tion. It gave her no light Steadily it qt kept growing upon her that its contents Is: were of a nature to trouble her husband. "He's been a little mysterious of th late," she said to herself, This idea af- tic foe ted her vejy unpleasantly. 4,He lii grows more silent and reserved," she ur added, as thought, under a kind of sil feverish excitement, became active in a th new direction. "More indrawn, as it were, and less interested in what g?es on around him. His coldness chills me at times, and his irritation hurts me." She drew a long, deep sigh. Then, ,n with an almost startling vividness, came f- 1 before her mind, in contrast, her tender, loving, cheerful husband of three years q before, and her quiet, sober-faced "hus- ga band of to-4ay. ^ "Something has gone wrong with a liim," she said aloud, as feeling grew m stronger. " What can it be ?" g( The letter was in her hand. m( "This may give me light." And with fln careful fingers she opened the envelope, ^ not breaking the paper, so that she ye oould seal it again if she desired so to do. There was a bill for sixty dollars, g and a communication from the person m* sending the bill. He was a jeweler. on "If this is not settled at once," he na wrote, " I shall put the account ig suit. <je It has been standing for over a year, e<j and I am tired of getting excuses instead UI] of my money." foi The bill was for a lady's watch, which (jfl Mrs. Whitman had almoet compelled her inj husband to purchase. Ai " Not paid for! Is it possible ?" ex- W claimed the little woman, in blank as- wa tonishment, while the blood mounted an to her forehead. gjg Then she sat down to think. Light yjt began to come into her mind. As she ^ sat thus thinking, a second letter came 0t] in for her husband from the postman. 6vi /-inonArl it -o-itlinnf VipnitAtrinn aV. Another bill and another dnnning letter! 0f " Not paid! Is it possible ?". She re- bo peated the ejaculation. It was a bill of ]ar twenty-five dollars for gaitnrs and slip- gjjj pers, which had been standing for three jnt or four months. ge "This will never do 1" said the awak- mt ening wife?"never?no, never!" And he: she thrust the two letters into her pocket otl in a resolute way. From that hour until in the return of her husband atdinner time, erf Mrs. Whitman did an unusual amount ] of thinking, fcr her little brain. She pri saw, the moment he entered, that the rui morning cloud had not passed from his ha< brow. att " Here is the money for that new )nJ drees," he said, taking a small roll of an| bills from his vest pocket, and handing dfi them to Ada, as he came in. He did hi? not kiss her, nor smile in the old bright way. But his voice was calm, if not bai oheerfuL A kiss and a smile would have oul been ipore precious to the young wife "i? than a hundred silk dresses. She took the money, saying : ?? "Thank you, dear ! It is kind of you to regard my wishes." r Something in Ada's "voice and manner c?jc caused Mr. Whitman to lift his eyes, with a look of inquiry, to her face. But ^ she turned aside, so that he could not read its expression. no.] He was graver and more silent than usual, and ate with scarcely an appearince of appetite. ? "Come liome early, dear," said Mrs. eg-( Whitman, as she walked to the door with an{ tier husband, after dinner. k>]( " Are you impatient to have me admire your new silk dreBs ?" he replied, with a an Faint effort to smile. ma "Yob. It will be something splenlid," she answered. apj He turned off from her quickly, and the left the houBe. A few moments she the stood, with a thoughtful face, her mind act indrawn, and her whole manner com- all pletely changed. Then she went to her am room, and commenced tirasBing to go out. del Two hours later, and we find her in a int jewelry store. Ab " Can I say a word to you ?" She ad- km iressed herself to the owner of the store, W1 who knew her very well. we "Certainly," he replied, and they boi moved to the lower end of the long show:ases. ,, Mrs. "Whitman drew from her pocket snt i lady's watch and chain, aud laying At them on the show-case, said, at the same time holding out the bill she had taken from the envelope addressed to liar hugband: " I cannot afford to wear this watch; my husband's circumstances are too limited. I.tell you bo frankly. It should v never have been purchased ; but a too , indulgent husband yielded to the impor- . tunitifrB of a foolish young wife. I say , this to take blame from him. Now, sir, , meet the case, if you can do so in fair- " aess to yourself. Take back the watch, ,r ind say how much I shall pay you besides.' ' dei The jeweler dropped hiB eyes to think, ble rhe case took him a little by surprise, boi He stood for nearly a minute; then ha] taking the b|ll and watch, he said: agj " Wait a moment," aid went to a desk tai ear by. * chi lit _ 1 1. All TT. 1 J1 # J WHlinaiao r no uaacomBiurwaru aa( again, and now presented ber with the fojr receipted bill. His face wore a pleased an( expression. * we " How much shall I pay you ?" asked chj Mrs. Whitman, drawing out her pocketbook. thf "Nothing. The watoh is not de- ter faced." ing " You have done a kind act, sir," said cor Mrs. Whitman, with feeling trembling thfl along her voice. "I hope you will not hel think unfavorably of my husband. It's all no fault of his that the bill has not been sui paid. Good-morning, sir." nal Mrs. Whitman drew her veil over her ec*> face, and went, with liprbt steps and a bo< light heart, from the store. The pleas- be are she had experienced on receiving wa ber watch was not to be compared with wo that now felt in parting with it. From the jeweler's she went to the bootmaker's and paid the bill of twenty-five 1 dollar^; from thence to the milliner's, and settled for her last bonnet ?.v< nlo 4*T \rrtr\TTT irntlVfl /ItTITlfT f/\ RAP TTiV nAW dress," said Mrs. "hitman, gaily, as Bhe drew her arm within that of her has- ? ' band, on his appearance that evening. " Come over to our bedroom, and let me jie] Bhow it CJome along! Don't hang back, OharleB, as if you were afraid." j Charles Whitman went with his wife am passively, looking more like a man on art his way to receive sentenoe, than in ei- ma pectation of a pleasant sight. His no| thoughts were bitter. wa 4' Shall my Ada beoome lost to me ?" o0 he said in his heart?"lost to me in a hei world of folly, fashion and extravaganoe ?" yet "Sit down, Charles." She led him nej to a large, cushioned chair. Her man- mo ner had undergone a change. The As brightness of her countenance had de- tht parted. She took something, in a hnr- ??( ried way, frofi a drawer, and catching ig up a footstool, placed it on the floor wa - ? . ? - a i j near nun, ana Bitting aown, leanea upon him, and looked tenderly and lovingly 0r into hi 3 face. Then she handed him the tro eweler's bill. imi "It is reoeipted, you we." Her roioe flattered & little. "Ada! how is this? What does it ' mean ?" He flushed and grew eager. hai "I returned the watoh, and Mr. wa ?7. ? receipted the bill. I would ha-v id for damage, bnt be said is uninjured, and asked nothing." "Oh, Ada!"oo,?? " And this is receipted also; and this; ading him theocther bills which st 0. paid. -*ukn*4iok, dear," she adde lickly. "how dp you like my dress n't it beautiful r ' ' We leave the ^explanations and seer at followed to the reader's imagini in. If any fair lady, however, wh< :e Ada, has been drawing too heavil >on her huebaiid's slender income, fc kfl and jewels, is at a loss to realii e soene, let her try Ada's experimer A WHALES HIP'S ESCAPE. dlan Pirate* Attempt to Seize aWhalla BrlR and to Mnrder the Captain an Crew?A Htind-to-Hond Conflict. A correspondent of the San Francisc ironicle, writing from Honolulu in tb ndwich Islands, has the following & ant of an attack by Indian pirates o whaling brig in the Arctic Sea le William H. Allen sailed froi snolulu on the 19 th of April, an ide ioe on the 18th of May. This we rface ice, and proved to be a ver ngerous enemy. The weather w? ry foggy, and for days at a time Behi ? Sea was as dark as the darkest night r the greatest watchfulness and goo inagement, however, the brig escapec ly to fall into greater perils from th tives, who had resolved upon he struction. The vessel sailed and drif about, according to winds and tidei til the 5th of July, when the captai md himself about fifteen miles o ipe Prince of Wales, a point commanc ; the entrance to the Arctic on th nerican side. Tlae officers ana ere1 ire in good spirits, as a large herd ( ilrus -was in sight.' There was also, i opposite direction, something else i fht, which, at first, was not chstinctl lible, but upon near approach a larg aoe was seen, apparently followed b iers. About eight o'clock in th ening the canoe in the lead reache 3 brig, and, without asking permissio the captain, the Indians sprang o ard the vessel. The canoe was ver ge, containing *o less than fifty red ins, headed by a chief who was jut oxicated enough to be ugly and dan rous. This chief was a very powerfc in, standing over six feet six inches i ight, and was accompanied by tw ler chiefs, evidently one grade lowe rank. The latter were also tall, pcK 'ul men. [mmediately on boarding the Allen th incipal ohief asked the captain fo m, and the latter answered that h 3 no liquor ou board. The chief tliei empted to bribe Capt. Qilley by offei \ to trade some valuable skins for rum 1 again being refused intoxicatinj nk, the high chiffl wished to trad i skills for cartrii%eH. The captaii ered the chief what lie thought a fai rgain, which the Indian contemptn aly refused. It must be rememberet it at this time, at< eight o'clock a fht, it was as light as day?there beini fogs?during the months of Julyan< gust. Events had reached the poin eady described when the other twi toes readied the1 bsi?, ntid^mstantJ; the Indians jumped ou board withou ring a word to the captain. The lead ; chief, who arrived in the first canoe y grew more insolent, and finally hi zed Oapt. (Jilley by the throat, an< >ok him as if he' were a straw, de nding rum, and threatening to go intx i cabin. The captain by a desperati jrt escaped from the clutches of hi agonist, and, drawing his revolver 3 the chief to leave the vessel. Ii i meantime, another chief had madassault upon W. H. Murphy, the firs te, but the latter escaped unhurt. Hie chiefs being so far worsted, no\ parently determined to take charge o > vessel, run her ashore, and murde ) officers and crew. Preparatory t< ion, the leading chief ordere* the old men, the young boye 1 the three Indian women, evi ltly wives of the chief, to ge o one of the canoes and go ashore soon as Capt. Gilley saw this h ew the Indians meant bloody work ien tbe Indians left in the canoe ther re about seventy five warriors o ird the Allen, while the crew all toll mbered only twenty-four men, and c sse there were only four white me? s remainder being Sandwich Islanderf flu'a ^t*afar?+ flwnrt n?oa 1>aow1 fatt?o ifUXQ miu^ IT?O uc<uu iun?i > forecastle, and the captain and Mi irphy saw that a Sandwich Islande murdered on the deck. " It's life o ith with us, Murphy ; are you read; action ?' ' said Capt. Gillev. "Al idy, sir," answered the mate. Quid a flash Mnrphy had a Henry rifle ii i hand; passed to him by the oook 0 was at the cabin door. As Murph ned about he saw an Indian in th . of plunging a knife into the heart c Kanaka. A chief standing near th ,te attempted to seize the rifle, bu irphy took aim, and before the India lid murder the Kanaka, shot hit id. Then followed a rougli-aud-tum 1 fight, in whioh the chief fell over ird. Capt. Qilley all this timo had hi ids full. The leading chief again an lin tried,to throttle him, but the cap n escaped unhurt every time. Th ef, thus foiled, stepped "back a little 1 aq Via fVin /*nr\foir* of mm" Jk UQ AAV l*^^?iVUVUUU| WUU li*4U UVI l?V< a -with the butt-end of his revolve! 1 the towering Indian fell to the dec! Itering in gore. Soon afterward th ef was seen to go overboard, but ii at manner nobody knows. Many c > other Indians followed him in a my? ious manner. The redskins, now ; that they hod the worst of the fighi nmenced to j amp overboard, and thos it were too lazy in so doing wer ped to get over in a hurry. Whft: had disappeared the captain took :vey of the deck, and found one Ka ia dead, another dangerously wound and a third with several stabs on hi ly. There were no dead Indians t seen. The dead Sandwich Islande s appropriately buried, and the tw unded Kanakas were taken care of. A. Great Scientific Problem Solved. larlem was much excited last winte ;r a young colored woman who de red that she had snakes in he mach. To the many reporters am ysicians who visited her, she gav nilnnr fiinlanationa of her snfflarincfl j felt tbe stirrings of a reptile withii r, and at times heard terrible rum g and hissing sounds. The myster is tenant was fastidious in its taste 1 protested strongly against oertaii ides of food. Several physician de an examination of the woman, bn thing oould be learned save that sh b the victim of great internal strife nstant anxiety at last wore out he ilth, and she died at her home, No J One Hundred and Twentieth street iterday morning. At five p. m., Core r Woltman and Deputy Coroner Cash n held a post-mortem examination the medical men were grouped abou s oorpse, said Dr. Demarest solemnly )ne of the greatest scientific problem about to be solved." The momen s big with expectation. The skeptics wever, triumphed. No traoe of snak animal was found in the stomach. Th man's sufferings had been caused b; agination and indigestion I?New Yor, ibum, rhe president of an Illinois oolleg s been indicted for Retting Are to toh fsctorv. e CONCERNING LONGEVITY. it ?. The Chaace* ? Child T?n Year* Old I of Attaining Old Axe?An Interest ,u Table. [e Our modern life insurance tables a <j tain very accurate approximations to 1 ? average age attained by civilized m. kind, and being founded upon the b ie attainable statistical information, can i. relied upon. It would appear that 1 j chances of the ohild who reaches the i y of ten years in fair health for arriving )r the "three-soore-and-ten," designa ;e by the psalmist as the reasonable lii .f of life, are four ont of ten: that is eay, there are 40,000 men and won alive at seventy years of age ont of ev< 100,000 who reach the age of ten yea Only one in that 100,000 may expf is however, to ronnd ont a full oentu d although ten may live to see ninety-f and 100 up to about ninety-three. ** One man in every 100 reaches the t 16 of ninety. No less than 60,000 att 3" sixty-five, while more than 25,( n will pass their seventy-fifth year. k: eighty-three there are but 10,000 lc ^ nine out of every ten having dropi d out of the ranks. Fully 76,000 bo a alive at ten years of age will see for 7 four. 18 The fewest deaths occur between \ ages of twenty-five and twenty-eight: * elusive, at which period men a d women should be in the very prime '? their lives. Of the hundred thousai 6 750 will die the first year; then the i r nual number of deaths gradually i clines to 718 between the ages of twen J? five and-twenty-eight, after which tt again increase until at fifty-one tl " reach 1,000 per annum; at sixty tl l* number over 1,500, at sixty-aix m< 6 than 2,000, and between the ages w seventy-three and seventy-four tl ? reach their maxiimlm at 2,500 each ye 11 At seventy-five, there being but 20, ( D of the original hundred thousand 7 maining altogether, they commence 6 decline again. At eighty the number 7 deaths annually u about 2,000; ? eighty-seven it is lees than a thousai d For the benefit of those curious n such matters, the following table may D of interest, the estimates being baf 7 | upon 100,000 children, o? either s< who have reached the age of ten yeai ' I 90,000 will live to attain the age of L~ 80,000 will live to attain the age of il ! 70,000 will live to attain the age of n I GO,000 will live to attain the age of 0 | 50,000 will live to attain the age of _ 40,000 will live to attain the age of 30,000 will live to attain the age of I 20,000 wiil live to attain the age of j 10,000 will live to attain the age of........ ei 5,000 will live to attain the age of.\;..,.. ,, 2,000 will live to attain the age ot.j...... 1 j 1,600 wUl live to attain the age of. 6 500 will live to attain the age of .v...... a : 350 will live to attain the ?ge of..... v. '- i 100 willlive to attain the age of.'. 25 will Uve to attain the age of ? 10 will live to attain the age of j* , 1 will live to attain the age of ; tt'i The deaths average less than one i r cent, per annum of the whole numl . | up to the age of fifty-one, althou ^ amounting to upwards of ten per cei t of the number surviving after the a v i of forty-one. Of course, thenoeforwa j ! the annual percentage of deaths increaj t j very rapidly until at ninety-three 3 j amounts to nearly the entire number j survivors. Tq earn .up, modern, atatist i i wnnTfT vrTrift "the aVSraffe" hitman 1 . j into throe portions 'of" twenly-flte jei ! each, which may be entitled youth, n i j turity and old age.?New Haven Jit 1 ' iit r * g One Bride's Outfit. a ! Speaking of the marriage of a duuj , i ter of William H. Vanaerbilt to 3 i ; Twombley, of Boston, a New York paj 0 ! says that the bride's outfit is undoubti 11 iy the most elaborate and costly c j ever given to an American bride, v ' The wedding dress is of white sa f! brocade, trimmed with three kipds r | lace?round point, point Venice, and i c> i plique?with pearl trimmings and orar 1 j blossoms. It is in the Princesse sty i, ! with the neck out low a la Pompadoi l* i and the bosom filled with laoe fichu a itj pearl trimmings. The oorsage is she ). ; and finished with a belt. at the wai e The front- of the dress is trimmed wi u festoons of laoe, Supported by three to. e of satin drapery, ooming. to the fn u and caught up with bouquets of orac [1 blossoms. The pattern of the laoe if exquisite. Each festoon is a quarter i, 1 a yard deep, and bears a beautifully ). | terwoven design in flowers representi [1 roses, lilies and baskets overflowing w '. floral treasures of all sorts. Each altera r feBtoon is of point Venice and point i r plique,. and the intermediate ones are V round point and point Venioe. The li II is the finest that the ateliers of the Pa k modistes could furnish, and eclipi u anything heretofore seen in this count , The bottom of the skirt in front y trimmed with sectional shirrings of wh e satin, filled in between with bonqnete if orange blqssoms. At the sides the tri e I ming is deep, and grows gradually n it I rower toward the front. An elegj a I court train of whitesatin brocade exter n three and a half yards back from 1 i- j body of the dress. The brocade m into points at the bottom, with seve s rows of white satin pelisses laid urn d the points, making a very stylish effe - A choice trimming of round point, po e appHque, and point Venioe embelusl i, the tn^p, whioh is also adorned w k pearl trimmings of great beauty. 1 ', sleeved are entirely of lace, set off w k orange blossoms. The ooet of the whi e dr^p is known to be greater than that a Nellie Grant's, or of the one worn i : Miss Lizzie Tweed' at her wedding, a i- | which represented over $5,000, exoius; ) jof diamonds. i, 4 Among the other elegant costumes e the trousseau are the following r A s e phur-colored silk, oomposed ol' sulpb a tod white brocade. The waist is cut a a Pompadour id points; with Valenciem i- and pearl trimmings laid under. Otl 1- portions of the trimming are of Valt s ciennes lace, with chenille. There i o two pairs of sleeyes, one of Valencienr r and the other of white chenille net, o meshes one-quarter of an inch squa each corner being caught up with pearl bead. This is a costume of rf beauty. A magnificent black silk, trimmed wi r chenille lace and amber beads, very ric ' ' A maroon velvet shirred on a s r foundation, trimmed with coke feath< 2 of the same oolor aa the velvet. Th( 0 is an almost endless variety of summ< 'J reception, evening, traveling and moi r? -1 ~11 -t At. ^ J lng tui ui me uunuieui; uhu uii * elaborate description, and cnt and tri: * med in the highest style of the dre 8 makers' art a ' 8 " * t Monkeys' Tricks at an Aqoariom. (0 The other day, after the visitors h j retired from the New York Aquarium , sportive monkey known by the name " Sullivan " was allowed the freedom * building, the when, after duly inspe ing the fishes in the various tanks, sought a higher field of operations. ] wm Tin nno nf tha nillttro ftnrl ftmnf himself by hanging head downwa] g This did not seem to satisfy his dee t for fun, as with a sadden spring , bounded upon a statue of Venus whi g stood upon a shelf above the seal tar e when his weight toppled it over, a " Sullivan " and Venus arrived in t \ seal tank together. Venus, unforl nately, fell upon Ned, one of the trail seals, fracturing his skull and seali e his fate for all time. "Sullivan" v a captured and returned to his cage i hurt. TOUGH TO THE LAST. Im Jumping from a Train and Running, Swim* I ln? rains and Flirhtlnc While Wounded. i Deputy Sheriff Edsall, of Chemung county, N. Y., was on his way to Koch- hj Uie ester, on an Erie railway train, with P1 "r Mike Murphy, a criminal who had been sentenced to the penitentiary. When re two miles west of Kanonah, and while th tbe the train was running at the rate of lei thirty miles an hour, Murphy jumped fa from the oar. The train was stopped ^ as soon as possible. The officer went & 1"t back, expecting to find the mangled pi 10 body of his prisoner. He found the in ^ ground torn up for twenty-five feet along ni "J the track where Murpny naa lumDiea *? and ploughed through it. There was a* *ct? blood on the gronnd, but Murphy was JT? nowhere to be seen. Some men work-, ?P lve ing near said they saw Murphy jump ia off, and that he had picked himself up and told them the oonduotor put him hr ^ off. He had started across the fields on ?u a run. He was sighted by the officers nearly a mile away. The sheriff started trj in pursuit. Murphy plunged into Five j Mile creek and swam across, and ran up oe along the stream. The sheriff crossed ?a the stream in the same way, and gained , rapidly on the fugitive. When within H . 6 pistol shot he fired at Murphy, who th m" then jumped into the watea a second en j time and orossed back again, and oon- np tinned up the stream. The officer swam he ld> the creek again. After running half a ?1" mile Murphy again swam the creek, fol- bi lowed bv the sheriff. uf v* Murphy then struck off into the fields pe iey and took th? Hammondsport road, which he l6y he finally left and made for a thick piece wi l0y of woods. In crossing a rough piece of >r? ground Murphy fell. He made two II 01 efforts before he could get up. The l07 sheriff was then so nearly exhausted th that he was unable to go muoh faster than a walk. Murphy reached the an rf" woods followed by pistol balls. The ~ sheriff had noticed blood at intervals on ft ?* the trail When the officer got into the ' 1: woods Murphy was nowhere to be seen. ^** The sheriff walked in, wnen ne was soon ve *n almost stunned by a blow acroea his wi b? neck from a olnb, and, before be oould 16d turn, be waa siezed by Morpby, who mi Bx? began to shower blows on the officer's 'I re: head. The latter managed to free him- an 23 self, and made an effort to use his revol- th ^ ver, but Murphy knocked it out of his th 53 hand, and tried to get the weapon him- sp 65 self. A straggle then began between pi 70 the two men for possession of the pistol, pa '3 By a lucky chance the officer got the su 32 dub Murphy had dropped, and, spring- ex 33 ing back, he struck iiim a blow that 86 felUd him to the ground. He then te: 90 choked Murphy until the latter was ly S forced to beg for mercy. Edsall secured sh 33 the pistol and marched Murphy in front 94 of him to Kanonah station, threatening jn 95 to shoot him if he turned or ran. Mur- <je 100 phy's wwunds were in his legs, pieces ar >er of flesh having been torn out when he >er jumped from the train. How he mangh aged to run four tailes, Bwimming a swift1 at. stream three times, and then offer resis- 1 e ige tance to his pursuer, is wonderful. ! t . 'M *' - in ^ A Tattooed Ambassador. i jc ^ M. Mamea, secretary of state of the ; t'o island of Samoa, recently arrived in San jjg Francisco on his way to Washington as j of 'a? ambassador for his country. His ap-; ,?m pearance is described by a reporter, \ wl who says. Mr. Mamea is a magnificent; specimen of physical manhood, straight ci ' as an arrow, and about six feet six inches j w] ! in hight. A massive head, surrounded > to by a shock of woolly hair, sits gracefully | m jh- upon a pair of broad shoulders. He j Jr. has a pleasant and smiling face, beam- or jer ing with intelligence and adorned with a yc sd- email coarse mustache of the darkest | wi hne. He converses fluently in English | in soft dulcet tones, and has a thorough d tiu knowledge of the events of the day. On re of the vessel, up to the time of his landing *P* on our shores/he clung to the native M 'g0 and primitive garb of his island home. yC le. A colorless shirt descending to the waiflt, ir, with a Drimitive cloth attachment, were nd the only articles of dress save an extra j D 'rt, breast-pin or two, with whioh he clothed j wi at. his collossal form while journeying a ith across the ocean. This garb, however, I co Id* has been discarded for a black broad- pi cloth suit that sets of hie stalwart frame j oo 'ge and is in fine contrast with his bronze j ro ; is countenance, His body, from the waist j m ;?f to the knees, is a gem of the tattooing j In art It is completely covered with the J ch distinctive signs and figures common to ith the chiefs and members of the royal b ate family in the Navigator islands. He iB so lP* a devout Christian, being a oonvert, and th ?f a Bible is his constant oompanion. It! is, he says, the unanimous wish of the ! la ris natives that this country will guarantee j bj 368 some protection to them, so that the in-1 H <7' creasing and profitable trade between i pi i0 Samoa and Europe may be turned this j oh ite way. ?* : in m- of ar- Business is Business. j m ^ A reporter on the local edition of the ba Danbury News went to see the young gr ady he is keeping oompany with Sunday he | evening. She met him at the door with ab p a colorless iace. " Oh, Tom!" she cried in an agitated j . voice, "we have had such a scare ! Ma ] wl was coming down stairs and she canght fo: her foot in the carpet and went the whole he ,? length " gi ^ "Sold on!" shouted the exoited h* 0]Q youth, diving nervously into his- pocket 0j for his notebook, while he whipped out j w' wj a pencil from another recess. " Now ! ^ go on ! pro on, Matildia! go on, but be j 86 ;-a calm. For heaven's sake be calm ! Kill j r(* her?" fca of "Gracious, no!" ?* " Break her back ? OruHh her skull? *?- ?i?- i aaVo nf finirtnne lie I in| tjyixjeuuimi ? , la calm 1" I W1 ieB i " Why, Tom," gasped the girl, fright- J P11 ,ei. ened by his impetuosity, "It wasn't i ^r< Jn. serious. It was " ?e "Wasn't serious?" he gasped, in mi ieB turn. " Do you mean to say she didn't J P? jn break anything after all that fuss ?" ! f? re "Why, certainly not She never)"11 a hurt herself a bit." j ire "Well," ejaculated the young man j Pe j with an expression of disgust on his ^ ith j face, a- he sadly restored the book and j . ?h. pencil to their places, " that's all a \1111 ilk ' woman knows about business."?Bur-' :;-8 I lington Hawkeye. sre j M m- Short Shrift in France. jst m_ In France the unfortunate criminals no g8* under sentence of death never know the in time fixed for their execution until the moment arrives ; indeed, as a prisoner sai capitally condemned usually appeals as 1 a matter of course to the Cour de Cassa-: ab tion against his sentence,, they must I lot ad often be uncertain to the list whether j . a the sentence will be carried out The I mi J >a nnltr annf f/> ! A1 vx oruer iui uuo oacvuwuu \su*j w . ? of the prison the evening before it is to take ct- place, and the criminal is not informed i we he of it till the fatal morning arrives. At! wa 3e the time of onr visit to this prison, a | rm ted correspondent writes, there happened to , cai rd. be two nnfortunate inmates of the con- i ire demned cells. Tbe next evening bat at he one an order came down from the minisioh try of the interior respiting the one and ga ik, directing the execution of the other. At su od daybreak on the following morning the h( he wretched man was roused from sleep | in- and informed that hiH appeal had been | he ted rejected, and he must prepare for death, j Li ng and in eighteen minntes, as we were in- j th ras formed, from the moment he awoke i in- his head had fallen beneath the guillo- j " THEODORA. : . Mr. Lisle was thought to be a wealthy an, but in settling up his affairs, after s death, there was found to be a mere ttance left for his widow and iamily. Mrs. Lisle was a lady of culture and flnement, and had never before had to ink of supplying her own wants, much 38 to provide for the neoessities of a mily. Poverty is a stern teacher, but it often ivelops a power of fringing out some lsuspected talent, which shines forth diamond like brightness, even as the icut gem only shows its splendor after has been subjeoted to the lapidary's t. So it was with Mrs. LiBle. She hid ent years upon the continent, and now this time of need she drew upon the JJTO U1 JLUDiiiUiJ, uuu uo|/ivw\* m W??v it vigorous language some of the rious and ofttimes touching, incidents lioh had attraoted her notice in her ivels. Her efforts were rewarded with suc88, but wants were many, and her | rnings fell short of the sum whioh ; raid nave supported them in oomfcrt | er eldest daughter, Theodora, watohed e lines of care as they gradually deeped on her mother's forehead, and made > her mind that she could and would. >lp her. ' So, one morning, while Mrs. Lisle was isilv engaged in oopying a manuscript >on" which depended their living ex inses for the week, Theodora stole to r side and Baid, prefacing her words ith a kiss: " Mamma, can yon listen a moment? liave a plan." " Yes, dear, but tell me quiokly, for is article mast go to-day without fail" Theodora knelt by her mother's side, d took her hand caressingly. "Now, mamma, you mustn't say no. ^member, whatever I may do, the >lue blood' still runs in my veins." " You must be thinking of something ry serious, Theodora, you prepare the ly so carefully." "It is just this, mamma. You reamber I have been a member of the latre Nous* society for several winters, d I propose to be a useful one now? at is, to myself?instead of one of 08e who ' toil not, neither do they in.' In plain English, I want to apy for the position of pianist. They y ten shillings an evening, and that m would be a great help to the Lisle chequer." Her manner was playful, but an inuse earnestness was evidently underingit Her sister Clara's expression owed evident disapproval of the plan.* " Theodora," she exclaimed, "are you earnest ? What would Clifford Marsnsay? You know he is expected to nVfl tinmfl d&v." A faint blush stole over Theodora's ! se at her sister's words, but she said : j "It must not make me do differently, en if my best friend should disapprove. Feel guilty to lead suoh an idle life, id see our mother wearing herself out this weary struggle for bread. I can > it, and I shall, unless I am positively rbidden by you, mamma." " But think of it, Theodora, the girls 4 our set' would, maybe, cut you." Theodora replied with a dignity liich silenced Olara. "My mother's comfort is more preou8 to me than the loss of friendship liich makes no sacrifices. May I write the managers of the sociable, mama?" "Act aa you think best, my dear, Lly take time to think well of it before >u decide. I know that you ^will aliys endeavor do what is right" The mother^ eyes had a wistful tenirness in their expression, as they sled upon Theodora s face. " Thanks, mamma," was the cheerful is wer. '' I only feared to speak of it lest ?u would disapprove." It was the evening of the first sociable, r. Arnold's drawing-room was fragrant ith flowers and brilliant with light. In deep alcove stood the piano, almost ncealed from view by tall tropical ants which had been broaght from the nservatory for that purpose. The oms were filling rapidlv, when the nsic oommenced in a soft, weird prede, which soon held the gay throng in larmed attention. After a time it merged into Strauss' tautiful introduction to the German, and on a group of young people were .reading its graceful mazes. Clifford Marsden had arrived in the st steamer, and had taken his friends j r surprise by appearing among them, j e excused himself from dancing on the ea of fatigue, and stood watching the tanging scene. He had taken his station by the aloove a position where, through the leaves a blossoming azalea, he could see the osician seated at the piano, with her .ck towards the guests. The slight, aceful figure, the proud poise of her | tad upon the small, round neck, the mndant hair wound simply about her tad, all formed an attractive picture. For some time he had watched'her lite fingers fly over the keys, but bere he had caught a glimpse o,f her face i was surrounded by a merry circle of rls, who commenced to rally him upon b abstraction. So he did not disoover at Theodora was the young musician 10 had so strangely interested him. ; After a while the guests, or rather j veral of them, adjourned to the music j om ; and, when Clifford Marsden en-1 red, he was still surrounded by a bevy ! young ladies, and, though he listened I r\4 ft lo^v tpRn vflfl Rinff- I bUO OKJX V TUIW U4 ? ??aaw 0 , ? a plaintiff ballad, and was enchanted j th the brilliant playing of the young ! mist, he still failed to wrest himself j >m those .who surrounded him or even t a glimpse of the features of the fair isician, whose face seemed to be turned rsistently from him as her fingers j [led over the keys of the superior-toped j atrument. Later in the evening a group of young j ople were assembled in the dressingam to put on their wraps. They were ! uttering about the events of the eve- | ag. "Is not Clifford Marsden improved?" j Id Susan Dinsmore. " He always was i ye, but now he is perfectly splendid." . " I give you fair warning, Mamie Liv-1 jstoue; I shall contest the supremacy j th you next time. You had the mo- i poly of him this evening. ' All's fair j love,' you know." Mamie tossed her pretty head, and d, disdainfully? "You are welcome to him. Such an sent-minded escort never fell to my ; before." "Where were you at supper? I ? <-*" tmm /Jin?rifr_rru->m " ftsfefvl no cm ) V/U xivm MUV ^ lie Durant. " Mr. Mursden brought me an ioe, and i made believe that that giant acacia a a rural bower, but even that did not ike him thaw, though I did my best to i ptivate him." "I wonder if he knew wko presided the piano. Did he glanoe that way ?" "No, not he ; he stood like a statue, zing into futurity. It's a shame that ch a handsome specimen of the * genus )mo' should be so stupid." " He must have changed, then. Maybe i was disappointed at not meeting Miss isle. Report says he was hard hit in at direction before he went abroad." "Hard hit?" said Allie Durant. Susan, I'm ashamed of you! Of liom do yon take lessons ?" i Susan.was AHie's oousin and took the i reproof good naturedly. Making a deep i curtsy to Allie, she answered ; "1 have learned that purely classical phrase from my respected cousin, Mr. I Minturn Durant. He acquired it most j probably in the fastidious society of his J club." ' At this moment Theodora appeared at | the door, and her friends clustered I around her. . . " Ton dear, brave darling I" "You naughty little girl, to keep yourself so completely out of sight." " Are those, tender fingers completely worn out ?" and other similar exclamations saluted the ears of the few strangers i present as they viewed the scene. , Theodora was white as Parian marble, and a suppressed quiver aoout ner Ben* sitive lips told of mental suffering. She had left her position at the piano, thinking the parlors deserted* but as she oame forth into the glow of light she found herself face to faoe with him whose t J whispered words had once made her I heart's sweetest music. Instead of hastening to meet her he had stood like one in a dream. Theodora understood the pause to mean re- s nunciation of the past, and, without glancing at him again, drew her slight figure to its utmost height, and with more of the dignity of her proudest days swept by him and disappeared up the broad stairway. This was their meeting. And it was for her sweet sake that Clifford Marsden had thrown off the fatigue of travel, thinking that one pleasure of her Little hand would bring ' him rest, even in the midst of the fashionable throng. But a trifle light as air had already separated them. A word of explanation ttnuttered, and a veil of doubt and mis- * * '* f\a im_ iruai was woven uut ui mnKuuu ?impalpable as the mist, yet perhaps as en-. during as time itself. The understanding between them in the old time had not been ratified by an engagement, so they had not corresponded, and Clifford had received but meagre news from home.' So he was still to hear of the Lisle's reverses. After this disastrous ending to the first evening of Theodora's experiment, her life went on, shaded by this new shadow, but made endurable by a cycle of faithfully performed duties. * * ? ' * * It was Sunday. The soft rustle of dresses and the sound of entering feet had ceased. The last note of the organ voluntary was trembling upon the air, when a voice of marvelous sweetness took up the strain, "I know that my Redeemer liveth." v With one impulse the congregation rose and stood spell-bound, while the pure, young voice rendered this wonder- ' ful solo. After the services were over, and the crowd of worshippers emerged into the open air, there were many inquiries as to the identity of the newly-engaged soprano. One member of the church had no need to inquire. He well knew the voice as ono whose rich tones had charmed his heart from his keeping in by-gone days, and each note as it rung out in that sacred plaoe, seemed to i awaken hope's sweet music in his soul as he resolved to make another effort to break through the barrier that had arisen between Theodora and himself. He had found one her place of resi; dence, and had called several times withI out being able to gain admittance. I This occurred so many times that he had | at last concluded Theodora did not wish i to see him, and chose this method of J showing her indifference. He had tried , I to banish her from his thoughts, but not in vain. Since his return poor Theodora had i fought a hard battle with her wayward ! heart The mere mention of his name I would send the blood tingling through I her veins tumultously. She knew j that she loved him, but she had suc, ceeded in keeping her mother and sister in ignorance of her weakness. One day she was seated at the piano, ostensibly practicing; but the listless manner in which she touched the keys betrayed a mine pre-occupied. She startled as Clara entered the room suddenly with a note for her. Its direction was in a familiar hand, which in former days uhe had often seen on cards attached to baskets of flowers. Her heart throbbed violently as she | broke the seal and read? "Theodora:?Will yon grant me an ! interview, that I may learn why I am denied yonr friendship ? If any mison1 derstanding has arisen between ns, it is ; my dne that I may explain it away. If, j on the contrary, you have lost all interest in one whose future will be made or marred by his place in ycur esteem', it is bnt just to let me know the truth at once. *1 will call at eleven o'clock tomorrow (Tuesday) morning, and if you do not see me, I shall know the worst, and will spare you the pain of ever again meeting Clifford Marsden. " If the young lover could have seen the kisses lavished upon his note, he would have been spared the long hours of doubt tnat intervened dbiwwju iu> rway tion and the time of the appointed interview. The next morning Theodora was awaiting her lover. As she heard his Approaching footsteps the alternate flushing and paling or her face betrayed . her emotion. She arose as Clifford entered. One * moment her fingers trembled in his clasp as eye met eye in a long, heartrevealing gaze?the next she was folded to his heart " My own darling Theodora!" he murmured. The talisman of silence, for a few brief, sacred moments, consecrated the room ; then mutual explanations, sweet to the long divided lovers, took place. After a time Clifford drew Theodora to the piano, saying: - "It was hearing your voice in fhat glorious anthem which gave me courage tn makfl rsne more attempt to see von. A voice eaid to me as I listened?* Theodora loves you I' It was my good angel; don't yon think so, dearest ?" Theodora answered by seating herself at the p'ano and singing a little Scotch song?1' i will marry my ain love," as spiriteciv as a maiden should who sees sorrow rrnd mistrust fade away, and joy and faith take their place in her happy heart Living ou Water Forty-two Days. Dr. Tanner, of Minneapolis, Minn, has lived on water for forty-two days. He states that he was anxious to prove thathuman life oould be prolonged without the use of any nourishment whatever,'and began his fast under the ey<v? of an associate physician, who examined him fre-. quently and kept a record of all the symptoms. For forty-two days he re *?J L 5 tnHnn a wnllr Avprv 1iih llltju wluluut llasllj uuaiuc^ m ? day in the open air anil a swallow of water whenever inclination prompted. On the fortieth day he walked out to Lake Cedar and drunk too much coM j water, in consequence of which the action I of hi? heart wob weakened so that not . the faintest tnuse of pnlsatiou could bo discovered at the wrist. These symptoms soon disappeared, and ou the last day of his fast, although he had lost, eighteen pounds in weight, he felt strong ar d well that he was confident that ne -wuld hold out for two weeks irmcAr. On returning to his food he ate I sparingly at first, bnt soon had to oIun^^^| the edge rf nn enormona appetite.