The Abbeville press and banner. (Abbeville, S.C.) 1869-1924, June 16, 1886, Image 6
'
p.. >.
FAITH AND WORK!
>XG answer comes to those who pray,
And idly stand
And wait for stones to roll away
At God's command.
He will not break the binding cords
Upon us laid
If we dejieud on pleading words,
And do not aid.
When hands are idle, words are vain
To move the stone;
An aiding augt-1 would disdain
To work alone
Eut he who prayeth. and is strong
In faith and deed,
And toileth earnestly, ere long
He will succeed.
?J1 0. Rockwell.
??
/M A TT-n PTI/N TTTT\
UUJNIS'lWS UUUitTSHJUf.
John Gordon Anncsley, Earl of - 'o:iiston,
sat in the cabin of the Brigh.'H
boat, reading his evening paper, lie
had just folded and put in his pocket a
long letter from his Jriend and partner,
Sir Campbell Fruzcr. in which that gentleniau
announced that affairs at the
Ranch of San Kosalie ttc:c going on perfectly,
but that he must beg his "deaf
old ja k ' to put off his sailing date just
a fortnight, as he now found that he
could not be in New York possibly before
the closj of the month (October; or
later.
Coniston was in the midst of a frown
over this piece of intelligence as he
glanced over the paper, lie hated
America and the Americans; he longed
to put the sea between himself and this
<HonlA.?L-iniY vnortiA/1 f/\r
lit I I. IV.'U ? UV JVUIHW4 ?Wi
"shoo'inir"' ami the Highlands; lie
scorned the gayeiies of all the American
watering places, and stopped at the Pavilion?solely,
as lie openly avowed, because
Brighton was an English name for
a place, and f >r the other rea.-on that !
here he was within an hour of Pier 08 j
North Kiver, ami could step 011 bo:!id a |
Guiun boat at almost a moment's warn-1
ing. ( oni^ton. therefore, chafed under
the infliction of an additional fortnight
in the laud of his loathing. Albeit the
R;ncli of San lJosaiic was adding a considerable
number of thousands to his in- .
come, he still?just at this particular moment?wished
it at the bottom of the
RtdSea.
Perhaps, too, he mingled with the af- '
fiiction>of the exile some memories of
Lad.? Cicely Howard, and the strange
penchant he had had tor her during the
last London season.
However this may he. Common's vacant 1
eves at this juncture took in a very neat
little figure as it advanced inthecabiu:
it was followed by another?a plump,
middle-aged lady's figure, much burdened
with shawls and wraps, and evidently
in deadly peril of n|urau?ht. for
before seating itself, both the neat littlefigure
and the plump duenna examined
carefully the fastenings of all adjacent !
windows.
"This one seems tightly closed, Aunt
Doriiida," the girl said, iu her clear,
light voice. i
"II >rrible American tone, calculate d to
lacerate a fog!" mentally commented his (
lordship.
'\No. Tolly, no; I am sure "
'Tolly 1 ve gods!" soliloquized the 1
earl. ''Suggestive only of comic opera, |
milkmaids and parrots. And she lias \
shi'rt hair!?he never could abide a shorthaired
woman. And she was small.
Small women had always, from youth
up, constituted his pet aversion! Dressed
in brown; brown as a color was distressing,
in fact it was no color at all!"
C'oaistoii hail al! his nation's prejudice in
favor of brilliant hues.
She is alert, bright, vivacious; all that
a wuman should not be; what a contrast
to Cicely, who was the perfection of
* n ? _ -1 _ _i J
languor, dreaminess auu repose:?aim
yet Cicely was sometimes rather of a
bore.
He wond red if this you;ig person was
a bore? Now that he in>pected her. lie j
observed th;itshe had a certain reticence i
of face and manner that was wholly unAmerican.
She had see !>im looking at ,
her, of course. By Jove! wlie.e was his
paper? on the floor! and yet for some inscrutable
reason she did not return his
gaze s.juaiely out of tho-e large eyes ol
hers. It was strange! It struck Conis- j
ton as a remarkable fact, worth record- J
ing, ti.at he had encountered one American
girl who declined to reciprocate the
delicate attentions of his eyes. I
"Why! there c.ime Bradford! such aj
cauitai fellow for an American.
Bradford knew her.
She smiled at Bradford, and allowed ;
him to sit beside her, aud gave him her j
wrap to hold.
To be sure, Coniston remembered that .
he had always thought Bradford very 1
much of a cad, and not a nice fellow by
any means.
And Bradford held her wr.tp.and they \
all went off the boat together in the :
friendliest sort of fashion, with the maid '
trotting after ihein with the satchels and
dogs.
No. he had always had a special aversion
for that Bradford! And as for small :
women, with short hair,dressed in brown j
?well, his disgust for them was not to '
be measured by any language.
Neverthlcss, as Coniston wilily argued .
with himself, "a man must till up h;s ;
time;*' so, in an off-hand way he just in- 1
timated to Bradford that he didn't care? j
if the opportunity offered?if he did in- j
troduce him to Mrs. Waddle and her
niece, Miss (Jrey.
Bradford was apparently magnanimous; !
besides, he had never presented an earl j
to Miss Grey before?and he did the
deed with satisfaction to himself at
least.
Aliee C.rr>v V>nu-f>d slnwlr tn Pnni>;tnn
and then she turned her attention to a
group of lady friends sitting near, leav- i
ing Coni-iton to the agreeable knowledge
that he was at liberty to salute her the
next t in:: he met her on the piazza or the
corri lor.
It didn't satisfy hitn.
He went off and smoked a cigar, and
conjured up Cicely in the fragrance of
the II ivana.
liven Cicely did not seem to b >as complete
a boon as he had fancied she ought
to be.
For five days he wandered up and
down, and round and round the hotel,
"lounging" he called it; but the more
correct term t<> describe these peregrination;
would be?politely chasing I'olly
Grey.
Filially he beheld her alone. .Neither
aurt nor Bradford n?>r friend*?heaven
be jiiai-ed?were anywhere about.
lie drew near the big rocker, where she
sat with a book in her lap, and suddenly
Coniston remembered that he should
have to say something beyond "goodmorning,"
and for the tirst time in fortyone
years he actually wondered what it
should be.
She spared him the attempt, however,
and Rlaneingup, said:
;Ah! good-morning; you have been
up in town, I suppose, ever since the
day Mr. Bradford presented you?"
'Up in town?" This was too much,
when he had followed her like a detective
the entire time.
Coniston looked feebly at her, and
then he laughed, :ind his "fair face flushed
as lie ventured to sit down on the piazzastep
at her feet. Polly glanced down inquiringly
with steady, demure eyes.
"No," he cried. "Miss Grey, I've
been most of the time about a yard and a
quarter away from you; but you never
seemed to see me!"
"IIow strange!" Polly says, wonderingly.
"Most people would have seen
you, now, wouldn't they?"
"Women always have before," he assents,
with a sigh.
"Then you must have rejoiced in a
change, didn't you? Variety is so pleasant
to an appetite jaded by sameness!"
"No," he answers; "I didn't enjoy it
at all. I'll tell you," he says, looking up
at her with wide, clear eyes; "to be
l'rank, I liati American women, and
you're the only one who ever inspired me I
with the slightest "
Coniston stops short; there is some-!
thiny in his "listener's face that marks an j
-
unerring period in his reckless spccch.
' Well.' 'she a>ks. sweetly and clearly,
" '?the slightest'?"
The English language is Coniston's
native tongue, but it fails liira now; he
feels the warm blood suffusing his face
as his mind runs after an elusive woman.
"Ah. I see; there are some things so j
much better implied than expressed, j
lint I am so matter-of-fact that I must
translate your mute eloquence, Lord j
Coniston " At this instant Coniston .
, is lost in calculating how many nriuu'es j
i he can stand this present temperature of j
his head and face?"into words, or a j
word? curios'ty, eh? Come, be twice i
frank?is it not so.''
"You miy chris'cn it curiosity, and
i call it so, pro tan., if you choose, Miss '
: Grev, buc " j
! The earl again falt.rs,
l4Oh!*' crie* the girl, with a little impatient
wave of her hand, and throwing j
bfir>lr linr nrnt+ir l.lnnilo llMfl ! "how I ! 1
abhor Englishmen! Thcv are so in j!
terror of even their m nor emotions. A | ]
Frenchman, a Geimaa, an Italian, any *
other na'ionality in the world is ready,
eager to put his flirtatious propensities
into the most delicious language; but an
Englishman!''--she shudders?''he stops
to wonder what h^ is about to feel, j,
and lo! the emotion vanishes! ha! ha! I
ha!" j
Miss Grey laughs a long, musical, <
ringing laugh. ,
Collision lo.'bs at her, and he won- j,
dcrs if he has ever really se n her until ]
this morning? She looks like the bright- j (
est part of the sunshine as she sits there 11
in it. mocking him. > ,
' Perhaps we do avoid putting what! .
you call our 'flirtatious propensities' j ,
into words; but if you will permit','
m to say so. an Englishman is only too j j
ready to speak out that which he really ]
lecls 1" j j
"Do they ever 'feel' auything outside i <
the hunting-Held and the House of Com- ,
mous?" she asks provokingly. ,
He sni.les as he looks at her. ,
"1 will tell you some day." ! ?
Not long alter Coa:ston rides with j
Miss Grey?a long afternoon ride on the ,
road l>y the bay and through the woo .Is i,
and past the farms busy with their Au- j {
tumu fruit-gathering. j (
They chat of commonplace things? i t
the flowers, the birds, the clouds, the ,
blue of sea and sky. and they come home ' (
soberly enough, too soberly, he th'nks. 1 r
There is a ball that night, the lust of f
"the season." Couiston is not a dancing ^
man, so he has the satisfaction of watch- j ?
itig Miss Giey floating about the ballroom i {
principally with Bradford. He stalks s
out on the piazza, on inant wun lanterns, | ?
:md then saunters to the other cud, where | j
it is comparatively quiet. ' j
Polly sits there, and Bradford?Brad- j
fo.id!?is bending above her; he even
lias her hand; and now he goes in and I a
leaves her. J f
Conistou is a madman a* he rushes inti j r
the other mail's place, and leans trem- c
blinc: over her chair. She 1-. quiet, si- ]
lent. j t
"It is I." he whispers, brokenly. | a
' I know," she replies, softly. i
"Oh. child!"cries he, ''you must listen t
to me; I am a good-for-nothing sort of a c
fellow; I hive had no religion, no any- :i
thing, until I have known you, and now s
you are my shrine. It seems to me at t
your feet I should lay rare spices, per- t
fumes, flowers, jewels?and all I dare lay (
there to-night is a human heart?a )
human life, Polly," he says, lowly, stoop- i
ing his blonde head to hers. "Will you c
have mef" ! t
He sees her face as she upturns it in the
flare of the last lantern; it is as ne nas ,
never seen it?pale, stricken, awful, '
calm. i
"Well!" she says, at last, with that c
clear, bright voice of hers, a trifle hard, ' c
a trifle matter-of-fact. j \
' Oh, I love you, my soul! mv* queen! i ?
I love you and need you,"' crie^he, over- i r
cime i>y the sight of her pallor. t
"I know,'' she answers quietly. ,lI ap- ^
preciate. value your love; I would not j
have it otherwise; I should have been I
disappointed always if you had not loved j
me. Ah?" burying lier white face in her {
hands, ''I revel in it!" c
And lie had once thought this woman j ,
cold, superficial, unlikabie. ]
My darling!" Coniston says, reaching ' (
out his hand for hers. I \
"But," whispers the girl, drawing!]
away into her silken wrap, "I?I?am j ?
engaged to be married to Eugene Brad- ; t
ford. I have bi-en for two years!" j
i
^ r. , .11 T-t l._.l !...J r 1
Mr ^ ainpocu rra/.er uau iiirivuu iruui i
the West. The Arizona was to sail Tucs
day, and both he and the Karl of Con-1
iston were booked on her passenger list. |
It was Monday night?"midsummer!
come again," people said. lounging about!
the piazzas of the big Intel?warm, sul- j
try, with great banks of blue-black'
clouds hovering above the golden rim of
! the west.
Bradford was up in town, detained by
business as i'?>ni<ton had discovered. 1
I Miss (?rey was sitting at the corner of]'
the piazza, llew -nt up to her for the 1
j first time since the ni jht of the ball
".May I sit down?"
1 She looked asseutinsrlv.
''I am going to-morrow in the' 1
Arizona."
I W km?w." she answers, whitening. 1
! He wonders why. and. Heaven help j
iiim! he gets up and gofcs away, when i
he would rather far have taken the frail, j1
! vivacious, alert little woman to his heart. 1
j Presently he saunters back.
' Would yo't take a ride with me to- j1
; night! You know we shall never on '
| earth see cadi other again. Would !
'you?"
Her eyes flash, her lips quiver; she t
turns the ring on her linger back and |
forth.
"Yes," she says, quietly, '*1 will. I
will get on my hubit and be down presently."
They ride off?off into the green and
silent country lanes, where the dew
i damps the air, and where the scent of
I the homestead flower gardens mingles
j with the breath of the sea as it comes to
l them.
They do not talk very much, nor yet
ride fa-t. The twilight is gathering and
the horses have their way.
Suddenly it grows dark?the blue
black clouds have crept over all the
brightness of the heavens and hidden the
harvest moon from sight.
A flash?an instantaneous report, and fj
Polly sees her lover stagger in his seat;
his left arm falls powerless, struck forever
useless at his side.
She has her horse beside him in an in- ^
stant; she comes close to his side, while
the great rain drops fall plashing down
upon them. She takes up the stricken
arm in her soft hands, and presses her
young lips upon it.
"Polly!" cries Coniston, wildly, "do ja
you love Bradford?" iai
"Oh. no!" she says. jn
"Will you marry me?" 8jr
"Yes," she whispers.
"Now?to-night?this very hour?" ^ jj,
"Yes, this very hour if you wish it. j
Oh!" cries the girl, wildly, "Jack, I'll i a?
be so good to you. I must be. don't I 3jE
you see? This?this!" She touches his |
arm as he tries to guide his horse and j
VinM linr fA V* 1 rr? K/\fVi rtoMn't. I
need me like that, and you do; and it is
my fault?I ought not to h:ivc come out 87
to-night with you!" *1
"Thank God you did!"
"And," she says, slowly, as they turn l'1(
their horses' heads, "besides, I?I love Pr'
you; is it not strange?"
"Very. And you will not regret own- '*
ing a fellow as?as helpless as I am, "a
polly?"
">fo," she answers, thoughtfully, and fas
looking at her by the lightning's frequent ta.r
tla^h. he see; the strength, and warmth,
ar.d tenderness, and love, that he has
need of.
4 Polly," Coniston says, through the boi
pelting rain, as they ride buck to
Brighton, "it seems to me as if my whole
life had been an interrogation point. I
and as if you were the blessed answer to sat
it." I his
And so it fell out that the reverend j Br
pastor of St. Mary's wfts called upon to ' voi
marry two drenched people that Novem- ; ne:
ber night, and that the Earl of Coniston dis
put off his sailing date another month, .sir,
- Fannie Aymcr Matthews. "n
? it.
A Snow-White Ibex. the
' Spfl
In the Owl Mountains, Wvom'ng Tcr- ! me
ritory, is seen at long intervals a snow or ^
svhitc ibex. One of these rare animals
svas recently killed by an old trapper and
tiunter known as Shoshone Jack. The wa
snow ibex attains the size of the big-horn .
3r mountain sheep,has a coat of dazzling g'c(
white and is of the true ibex breed. It is ^jn
joth active and powerful, and when
iriven to bay is a most dangerous aaver
>ary. Its massive horns, with the back- ,
ward sweep of two feet, are formidable
weapons and are formidably used. Some a'
years since Tom Anten, then a mountain ? ?
prospector and hunter, now half owner j
in the noted Bonanza oil spring, Big
Florn Basin, came near losing his life in
in encounter with a snow ibex in the
Jwl Mountains. Tom was in pursuit of Ioa
i band of blacktail deer, when he espied J
ihead of him what he at first took for a
noving snow heap. Soon, however, he I
;aw it was an animal, and a moment later Cle
cnew that it must be the famed mountain an
ara avis, a snow ibex. The ibex, an old 1 *l:
am, was within fair range, and Anten wh
it once pulled down upon him. At tbe
?rack of the rifle the animal fell in its s9n
mr.lra Hnsfoninnr un to secure the rare
n r -
)rize, Antcn suddenly found himself co1'
onfronted by the infuriated animal. A sb"
nost tremendous ''butt" sent the hunter serl
lying into the air, and when he struck ! '
he ground the ram was on top of him. ' "tl
\.nd now the heavy, curved horns a p
)f the furious brute were dashed j (
igain and again against the
tnatomy of the hunter. Every bone and me
oint felt the fearful punishment. Finally ; the
Vnten succeeded in grasping one of the he
icavy horns, and dragging himself to finj
lis knees, confronted his furious assail- at '
mt. He held on desperately, and was ch.i
breed to the brink of a rough and steep ; latl
nountain wash-out. Here Antcn sue- i '
:eed'd in drawing his hunting-kuife.
Ie m ide several ineffectual passes with ti# '
his weapon, and the closely clasped foes , abl
vent down the wash-out together. The i T
bex struck the bottom undernrath, and pos
he keen and ready blade of the hunter tiar
Irank deep of it-; life-blood. Again and h'U:
gain did the knife strike home, and the bur
' A l?nn A pncco/^ Will
XlOW juu.\ il? (i i'l/lf/ac. ?1 lli.il uiujvu
he carcnss weigh'.'d 125 pounds, and
he flesh proved excellent eaiing. The
)wl Mountains seem to be the only J
V joining district in which the snow ibex the
s lound. There are said to be a few in jcui
ercaiu localities of the Montana Moun- froi
ains. dri
~~ and
Stock Exchanges. gui
It costs $25,000 or more to become a nig
nembcr of our Stock Exchange, but the , was
harge for entrance to the first stock ex- so i
hangc ever started?that in London? lice
vas only sixpence. This was in the frie
Stock Exchange Coffcs House in Thread- the
medic street, where the brokers met, as call
hey do to-day, to drink and talk about cou
alues. Hulls and bears were not then nue
n existence. Mention is mr.de of a Stock ! dro
Sxchange inJLondou before the American j hit<
devolution, but 1798 appears to have I rod
>een the date of the origin of the present whi
me. The first meeting place for brokers whi
vas the Rotunda of the Bank of bee
England. At the beginning of this can
:entury $100,030 was raised and a build- '
ng put up and members eh-ctcd by bal- one
ot at a subscription of ab >ut $55. When 4
i new member is now proposed for elec- '
ion he must be recommended by thre? aga
nembers of not less fha:i four years'
standing, who engage to pay $2,500 each anc
to his creditors in case he should he de- 1
:lared a defaulter within four years from bu;
the date of hi<admission, but if the can- fee
Jidate has been a clerk in the Stock the
Exchange he requires two sureties doc
>nly for $1,500 each. In the first case he
the entrance fee is $525, and in the latter wil
$:U5, with a subscription fee of $112. A He
notable leature of the London Board is frit
that there -is no official tariff for com- hac
missions, and competition is allowed lull in I
play among the brokers, to the great pro
benefit of the speculating and investing
public. Each broker must h ive a license
from the city, the same as a peddler, j
which costs $25, but this carries with it mc
no ri^ht of admission to the .Stock Exchange.
Members arc forbidden to advertise,
which deprives the newspapers |1V(
of some profit. Dcfaultc-s must have for
1 aid at 1< ast one-third of their debts be- vcr
fore they can be readmitted. The Ex
nnti^nonni'O
laiuu^u uuiuiaiij tu tut iiu ?> >? pm
the names of defaulters. There arc about j.<0
2.000 members and about 1.100 clerks.
Only SG0 of these members are brokers. xyr(
the remainder being jobbers. The wjj
brokers can only buy and sell for clients. j1(,
but the jobbers can speculate. Thcreve- (jjtuue
of the London Stock Exchange is jK);
$350,000, which leaves a net balance of .m
$200,000. The building debt has al!
been paid off. The Exchange is always a
in executive session, a3 none but mem- nQ,
bersand clerks are admitted.?New York t.j
Graphic. ?q
The Heated Term.
yei
When spring-time skies are glowing, J ,
And cooling breezes blowing.
The city man reflects on where he'll spend ok
his next vacation;
He thinks of divers places, sot
And finally embraces rQ.
A chance to pay a visit to his countrified
relation.
?TidBits. ag
BUDGET OF FUN.
UMOROUS SKETCHES FROM
VARIOUS SO URCES.
Peaceable Time?No "Vice Versa"?
"Killing" a Salmon?He Tipped
the Waiter?An Old Tartar?
The Doctor's Etorse. Etc.
Lodger to chambermaid?"Mary, this
the stillest house I ever was in. The
ldlord and his wife must live likeangels
heaven together; I haren't heard one
i?le sound since I've beeu here."
Mary?"That's all very nice just now,
\ Smith, but wait till they make friends
ain. They quarreled a fortnight ago,
d they haven't spoke to each other
LV^V. ? kPl&IO J' i "Urt(/WMC WW
No "Vice Versa."
"Let mc see some of your black kid
jves," said Mrs. Snaggs to a clerk at a
fth avenue store.
"These are not tha latest style, are
jy?" she asked when the gloves were
oduccd.
"Yes, madam." replied the clerk.
Ve have had them in stock only two
ys.'"
"I didn't think they were, because the
hion paper says that black kids have
i stitches and vice tersa. I see the tan
tches, but not the vice versa."
The clcrk explained that vice versa was
snch for seven buttons, and Mrs. Snaggs
ught the gloves.?Boston Globe.
a Salmon.
3ne evening W. J. Florence, the actor,
, in a New York club room, telling of
i exploits on a sajmon river in New
unswick. "How many salmon did
n catch f'' a visitor inquired. Florence
irly fell from his chair at the ignorance
played in the question. "Fishermen,
sa'd he with freezing hauteur,
ever use the word catch as you apply
They kill salmon. They never catch j
>m." The rebuked listener turned
rlet, but made no response. A moot
afterward Laurence Jerome, the I
her of Lady Rando lph Churchill, and
excellent story teller, began to talk of
adventures on a sal mon stream. He
s describing himself as standing on s.
lk at daybreak whipping a "Jack
jtt" over the water, when he hooked u
; salmon. '-I was so excited," he said.,
lat I dropped my slungshot in tho
ter and lost the fish." "Dropped
at?" Florence asked, in open-eyed
onishmont. "My 3!ung.?hot," Jeromu
lied. "Why, wh;.t could you do with
lungshot at such a time?" Florence in
red. "iiest thing m tne wonci to Kill
ilmon with," Jerome said, going right
with his story, while everybody
red. ?Philadelphia Press.
He Tipped the Waiter.
j.ite in the afternoon we stopped at
vcland. Tenn., for dinner, and there
incident happened the like of which
ad never seen or heard. At the table
ere I sat were live persons, one of
om I guessed to be the drummer of
ie wholesale establishment. The spread
i not suit him, and he demanded some
d meat of the waiter. The waiter
it into the kitchen and reappeared, as
ting mere was none mere.
'Oh, yes,'1 interrupted the drummer,
leremustbe; hunt around; bring me
iece of cold chicken."
)ut again went the waiter and returned
;h just what he wanted. The drumr
was satisfied and began slashing int:o
chicken with renewed appetite; thon
paused, dropped his knife, ran lii.s
jers in his vest pocket, looked around
:he smiling waiter, and then, witho it
mging his countenauce, handed the
er a?match.
'You see what it is?"
'Yas, sar."
won, wnen you get a cigai:, you 11 ds
e to light it."
"hen he resumed iais eating. It was
itivcly the meanest return for aChrisl-like
act that I ever saw, but I had to
^h in spite of myself. It was such a
iesque on the habit of feeing hotel
ters.?San Francisco Chronicle.
The Doctor's Horse.
,ast winter a Detroit doctor went to
police with the complaint that some
mp had taken bis horse and buggy
n in front of a patient's house and
vcw it around town for several hours
. then left the rig in the suburbs. The
lty p.i:ty was no: discovered, and one
iit about a month ago the same thing
j repeated. This time the doctor was
nad that he not only went to the po(,
but gave the information to all his
nds and offered $25 for the arrest of
scamp. Sunday last the doctor was
ed to see i. sick man in the
ntry. lie went out Woodward av2
i three miles and then turned off and
ve a mile and a half further, lie
;hcd his horse under a tree about te n
s from the gate, and the animal wis
isking away at :he first summer flies
[in a couple of Detroiters who ht.d
n out to see a relative on that road
ic along.
'Say, isn't that Dr. 's rig?" queried
!, as they drew near.
'Why, of course."
'Some one has been running it off
tin."
'That's so, and we'll take it in tew
I return it to him."
Niey hitched the horse behind their
f<ry and jogged into the city, with a
ling that a lellow human being owed
m a debt of gratitude. When the
:tor came out and found his rig gone
indulged in such language that the
/I i\lnm +rf>r>a ahprl thpir Klnssoms.
stiirtcd for the woods, and his two
nds. who were interviewed afte:: he
1 limped back to town, are said to bj
>ed and dangerously ill of nervous
stration.?Detroit Free lJrcss.
An Old Tartar.
L prominent Maine journalist, forrly
editor of a Portland paper, once
cti; ed law in Foxcroft, and at :hat
le a quaint old man named G mires
jd in the neighboring town of G uild.
He had a little property, but was
y slow about paving his bills. lie
aine indebted J'or small amounts to a
nber of store-keepers in Dover and
xcroft. and they gave their claims to
s journalistic lawyer to collect. He
Dto several leitirs to the old man,
ich produced no effect, till one day
threatened tc attach his farm .f he
I not call : nd settle within forty-tight
irs. This thr.at made the old man
II out his stocking, and on the next
rning after receiving the lette- he
ncared at the lawyer's office and anlnced
that he was prepared to pay.
low much does it all arnounl; to,
uirc?" he asked.
Twenty-eight dollars," said the law;'How's
that, Squire?" demanded the
I man.
"You owe Ferguson $6 and Snicker1
$!> and 'uggwson $8, and my charge
collect! g is $5."
"I did -lot know you had any bill
aiust niu, Squire."
"I must have my pay for writirg thoM f
letters to you."
"Well, I declare, Squire, I wasn't calcu
latin' on that. I'm a pretty old man,
most eighty-two, and it was hard for me
to get this money together to pay these
bill*. I'm not prepared to pay you."
mu- ~ J iL~ 1 ~ 1
AUG uiu UJUU ucggcu cuc Jiw ycr tu icb
him off, and after considerable talk the
lawyer said: "Look here, Mr. Graves,
you have made coisiderable mischievous
talk about me. You have gone through
the country calling me a big liar and
other hard names. Now, if you will go
around and see everybody to whom you
have made this talk and tell them that .
what you've said about me is false, I'll
knock of! the five dollars."
After rubbing his old grey head the
old man answered: "Mr. Pullen, I'm
almost eighty-two years old, and too 1
near eternity to tell such a 'tamal lie as i
that.
The Hon. A. 0. Lebroke, of Foxcroft,
once swapped an old wagon with Graves
for four cords of wood. Graves signed
a contract written bv I.ebroke. to the
effect that Graves should deliver Lebroke
four cords of merchantable wood. Where i
the wood should be delivered was not
stated.
Many months went by and Lebroke
received no wood. Happening in Guilford,
he asked the old man about it.
"Oh, yes," said Graves, "I've cut your
wood and it's as nice a lot of wood as
ever you saw. You just come and look
at it."
He took Lebroke into fhe woo Is and
showed him four cords of excellent cord i
wood, piled up in the forest. i
"There. Squire Lebroke,,' said he, "I 1
deliver that wood to you." Turning to
a neighbor who had accompanied them i
he added: "And I want you to witness 1
that I deliver this wood to Mr. Lebroke."
The Senator had to hire a teamster to
haul the wood to Foxcroft. He says it 1
4-Ury ? 4- ? ? A ~ ~ 1 ~ A Ua owa. Ti-na
LLLU UiSt UliU UlilV U111U ilC V?Cl *> UO
beaten on a contract that he wrote himself.?Lewiston
{Me.) Journal. ;
' Rise and Fall of a Steamship Line.
Anxious to reap the golden fruits de
rived from the carrying of the mails, and <
to also show to the world that the United i
States was as well able to build and or- 1
ganize a fleet of swift steamers as Great
Britain, Mr. E. K. Collius launched his '
company, the end of which was a tragic ]
one. He was to receive a subsidy of
$10,250 per voyage to home built steam- \
ers carrying the mails of the United ]
States to and from Europe, and he began i
nobly by constructing four magnificent
steamers, the Arctic, the Baltic, the At- i
lantic and the Pacific. These vessels
were built of live oak planked with pitch i
pine, the hull being extremely solid, and
divided into compartments, so that, in 1
the opinion of their builders, thev were i
all bat proof against being sunk by a
collision or by touching the ground.
These steamers began to carry the mails
and passengers in 1850, and very soon
Congress raised Mr. Collins' subsidy to
$33,000 per voyage, and fixing the minimum
at $*358,000 per annum.
The Collins steamers, superbly furnished,
performed such runs across the
Atlantic as had never before been made;
and one of them, the Arctic, after doing
the voyage from west to east in a little
over nine days, was proudly christened
by our hurrahing countrymen "the clipper
of the seas." Alas! the s:id end
came only too soon. The captains took
to racing, and there was no personal
mon?irrr.mnnf tn cfnn tliom On flip 9.1 Qf
of September, 1854, "the clipper of the i
seas" left Liverpool for New York with <
23:} passengers and a crew of 135, nearly <
all of thein Americans. When within 1
sixty miles of Cape I'ace the Arctic col- ]
lided with the French steamer Vesta; j
but deeming his ship not much injured, i
the American captain made for the Cape. 1
and before he had got far the water <
rushed in and almost immediately the <
splendid steamer was engulfed in the <
waves. Only fourteen passengers were
saved, and among those who perished 1
were the wife, son and daughter of Mr. ]
Collins. Sixteen months later came the i
still more appalling disaster to the Pa- i
cific. She quitte.l Liverpool on the 23d 3
nf .Tannnrv with fnrtv-five nas- I ?
senders, a crew of 141 persons, the mails
and a cargo insured for over $2,000,000.
The Pacific was timed to reach New
York the 2d of February, but she never
reached that port, nor any port on earth.
The loss sealed the doom of the Collins
Line.?Boston Hrald.
Statistics of the Infirm.
Professor P. M. Smith gives the following
interesting facts and figures in an
article on the "Statistics of Population,"
printed in the Independent:
Out o? 100,000 inhabitants there are:
Deaf
In Blind. Mates. Idiots. Insane. Total
Italy 105 74 05 99 343
Germany.... 87 96 139 ' 88 410
CTr'atBritain 98 57 129 178 4ti2
Norway 136 92 119 185 532
Sweden SO 102 39 176 407
Belgium.... 81 43 50 92 266
Frame 83 62 114 146 405
Un'ed States 96 66 152 182 496
The general result of this table is
startling, in civmzea countries ncany i
one-h:ilf of one per cent of the popula- T
tion is thus confessedly unfitted for the ,
duties and burdens of life. Outside of
these there must be a large number who f
either escape official observation or who f
are only partly incapacitated in these re- i
spects. The comparison between differ- (
cnt countries is also startling, but {
conclusions must be accepted guaidedlv j
on account of the in uHcicniry of the (
statistics. Iiaiv snows an e-\iruuiuiii;u y ?
number of blind: Gcnnnny, of idiots, j
probably due to that curse of South Germany
and Switzerland, cretini-m. In g
Great Britain and the United States in- t
sanity appears to be very prevalent, f
which accords, I believe, with medical j
experience. Some of the numbers are ^
inexplicable, such as the relative pnsi- {
tion of Norway and Belgium in the to- r
tals, and arc probably due to differences j
in the methods of gathering the statistics.
Knew It All. *
There once lived in the town of Nor- n
way a man named Palmer, who was noted s
for his homely looks, his mechanical ingenuity,
and his witty sayings. He was c
a jack-at-all-trades, and, unlike most of L
his kind, a master of all. lie operated a |
grist mill, filed saws.and mended watches t
with equal dexterity. One day a fussy s
old citizen,wh > knew too much, engaged
Palmer to file liis saw ana srayru ov
while the job was done. He volnntcn d
so much advice that he wearied Palmer,
who said to him: '"Mr. Blank, what you
and I know about liling a saw I know!"?
Lewiaton (Me.) Jouriial.
Odd Names of Illinois Towns.
Frog Pond is in Fayette county.
Log City is in Knox county.
Bonus is in Boone county.
Mooushiuo and "Windyville are in
Clarke county.
Hog Lake and Mosquito arc in Christian
county.
Sixteen and Goose Neck are in McDonough
county.?Chicago News. I
ADELIGHTFUL DlTEL.|
SPORT WHICH THRILLS A MAN
TO HIS FINGER-TIPS.
The FirstTront Caught by an Enthusiastic
Angler?A Vivid Description
of the Struggle Between
Man and Fish.
In a breezy article on trout-fishing in
the Outing the writer relates the experience
of a novice at the sport. He savs:
And now the neophyte is to test his
prowess and his newly purchased tackle.
Secretly trembling at the enforced com
.'iL - i. _ i. 1 *.!_
jjunauu vvitu mc cosu* 01 veteran ureiuren
of the gentle craft, conscious that
his guide wait3 to assign him his rank as
angler, he takes his rod in the right
band, holding the leader, already wet,
for an instant in the left, until the hackward
sweep of the rod straightens the
Line, for he wisely makes but short casts
at first.
There is nothing close to the shore,
save, perhaps, a:i intrusive chub. The
reel yields more line, and the cast grows
longer. How easy it looks, that slisht
motion of the rod which sends the line
flying backward until it straightens out
well up into the air, returning obedient
to the ea>y forward movement of the rod,
and uncoiling above the water, until
leader and flics drop gently on the surface.
The current sweeps the flies a little
downward. Theu the leader straightens
itself, and the fiiea, drawn easily
across tempting eddies and patches of
dark water, leave a tiny wake behind.
Then suddenly the tension of suspense
is broken by a splash and a glimpse of a
dark form just behind the stretcher fly.
The neopythe strik'.-s somewhat nervouslv.
do clmiht hn( nnd lonrlor
come dancing back alone into his very
face. His speech is plain and emphatic.
His excitement is not soothed by the
guide's "Thar's no fool of a trout."
But the guide does not confine himself
to words. He straightens out line
and loader, marks down the exact spot of
the rise and says: "Cast over him again,
sir. You've stirred him up." Once
more the line is gradually lengthened un
tn me nies stum me water over me very
place. One cast 13 perhnps fruitless.
The angler bitterly curses his failure to
took his fish on the first rise. #
Meantime the trout, agitated by the
appearance of these morsels just above
his head, piqued perhaps by his own failure
to comfort his gluttonous appetite
with a dainty tid-bit. is balancing himself
over a hard, sandy, bottom, his fins
slowly fanning the water, his keen eyes
turned expectantly upward. Once more
these luring flies dance across the water.
There is v sudden movement of the broad
tail, a quick rush upon the prey, which
gives an instant's glimpse of dark mottled
black and gleaming vermillion spots at
the surface, and then the cheat betrays
itself.
The angler, every sense on the alert,
strikes quick and hard, and a heavy resistance
to the bendinsr. quivering rod
hallo fKof flifl IiaaIt /I i?! tran V? i-\m n TKfl
1.0..0 H.U,., UH, IWUIV 1>3 W.l.Cll UUU1V. A"Vpalate
of the trout is tickled by no choice .
morsel, but instead there is n sting of
Qiortal agony. Downward through the j
clear water darts the fish, carrying that
burning pain, while, on the shore, the
mgler's reel sin^s cheerily as in derision.
"You've hnoked him well, sir. Now
buckle yer rod to him!" exclaims the
guide.
A fair and honorable duel has begun.
On one side an eight-ounce rod, a thread
Df silk, an almost invisible strand of gut,
directed by b human brain; on the other,
the strength and cunning of a powerful
maddened trout. A littie below are dan
gerous rapids. If the fish bolts into the
strong current and down the rapids,
there is a chance that he may free himself,
and at best the neophyte must leap
jver the rocks or flounder through the
shallows in hot pursuit.
There is reason in the guide's advice.
i;Buckle yer rod to him." The rod is
fcept up well that all the strain of its
mrin r? mow Kn folf Kw f fioli A DO ^V?
liiajl MV A blV VJJ VUW UOI1. XJLV vwuu
ivild rush there is heard the music of the
reel,but the line is reeled back whenever
i chance offers, and the trout kept to the
stiller water as persistently as lhe angler
lares. And now there is silence.
The fish is sulking at the bottom,
shaking his head from time to time in
iricious bull-dog fashion,seeking to shake
jut the wounding hook, or to rub it out
igainst a stone. A turn or two of the
aoI l\i*i nrra o Kowlof afrnin fA lionr flnfl
:here comes a rush which nothing seems
;o check. The lengthening line cuts into
;he white water, and is swept downward
is the fish is hurried away by the current.
"Snub him!" shouts the guide, "and
:aking in all the line he dares, th; neoihyte
brings all possible strain to bear,
jntil the rod bends perilously and every;hing
is taut. A critical moment, this,
:or if you "snub" your fish too suddenly
>r too hard, in a strong current, his loss
nay not be the greatest of your disasters.
Rather coax him firmly, yet with moderition,relaxing
your severest strain when
;he weight of water begins to tell.
Now, aided by a friendly back set, the
;rout has emerged from the fonm ng
vater, and the angler's suspense becomes
nore tolerable.
Who can explain the exquisite fascina
ion of such a struggle? It is almost nf'ection
that the true fisherman feels for
lis gallant victim, and yet the escape of
;hat victim from death would well nigh
jreak the aneler's h( art. The two are
n close, fairly electric communion
hrough this delicate tackle. The moods
>f the fish are clearly read by the brain
>ehind the rod.
mi 1. j : u
?T UCU KttUU SUCUCCUIU',' I u-)ll m 'tna
horter and feebler, when now and then
here comes a glimpse of white, as a side
lecked with gold is turned up now, that
>rain begins to compose a piean of vicory.
The plucky trout is nearly done
or. His strength has turned to woakless,
and his free, wild life in the clear
tangeley waters is drawing to an end.
Fainter and fainter grow his struggles,
is the line, steadiiy reeled in. draws liim. .
waving from side to side, toward the
hallow water where th? guide awaits him,
ind the meshes of the "landing net cut
;hort his last convulsive tight for life.
Out pocket-sealc; now! Is it a thre?
>r four or five pound trout, this rarely !
>eautif'il prize? Let us give our neo>hyte
the benefit of every doubt, and
iius fore-tall him when he tells this lish- \
torv in after days.
The Amateur Gardener.
When rising Sol with brightening rays
The landscape is ailorning.
And woodland warblers with their lays (
Salute the golden morning,
Th. man who owns a patch of ground
Is not in slumber snoring; 3
He then is in his garden fonnd, <
The beds for weeds exploring.
He plants and sows and rakes and ho 3, 1
And waters the tomatoes,
And dijrs and sets in hills and rowa
The Earty Rose potatoes. I
He labors for a couple of hours,
Then into breakast passes,
And what a pyramid devours
Of flapjacks and molasses!
His toil may never bring him wealth,
But 'tis a source of pleasure, 1
Bestowing on him robust health, .
The greatest earthly treasure.
v- :-m
FACTS FOB THE CCBIOUS.
It is itated that oysters tea inches
long are found in New Guinea.
It takes eight hundred full-blown roaes
to make a teaspoonful of perfume.
Without the express consent of his
wife, no married Austrian subject can
procure a passport for journeying beyond
the frontier.
. One of the most interesting objects at
the Nice exhibition is a Chinese clock
which is said to date back 800 years before
the birth of Christ.
There is on the plantation of Captain
John L. Martin, nrar Washington, Ga.,
a pine tree that bears acorns and pine
wi'tK rrr*o? linnarfiftl if.v -\
6- f
Some "West Indian negroes carry
inake's poison under their linger nail*.
A single scratch from a poisoned nait
will cause death in a few hours.
The Oxford bible is said to be the moet
perfectly printed book in existence. It
is stated that only three errors have been
found in all the Oxford editions of the
new veraion.
Thousands of Britons in times of
famine during the fi st century after the
Norman conquest so!d themselves into
thralldom. Children were even sold by
their parents to escape extreme poverty.
Hawks in old times were usually
trained by being kept from sleep, it having
bean customary tor the falconers to
sit up by turns and watch the hawk and
keep it from sleeping, sometimes for
three successive nights.
In a cannon foundry at Eourges.
France, electricity has been successfully
applied to mechanical purposes for more
than five years, two large movable
cranes, each weighing over twenty tons,
having been worked by electric motors
without difficulty.
The Hungarian government deters
emigration by inducing migration to the
colonization of State lands, on which
free schools and churches are given
gratis: the payment for land is spread
over fifteen years, and immunity from
taxation granted for a similar period.
David Bell, of Pelleter's Mills, N. C.,
found a very small pearl in an oyster
seven years ago. lie wrapped in paper
?r./7 in?*} if in n frimV nnH thp. New Berne
OUU ittiu iv AAA W V* v*?.. ... T
Journal says that it has grown from the
size of a BB shot to the size of a small
marble. During the seven years it has
not been wet.
Ab
Before the reign of King Alfred slave*
in England could own nothing; under
his legislation they were permitted to
dispose by will of what was given them
or-what they couid earn in their free
hours. He forbade, also, any masters
who have incurred a fiue or amend from
buying off by the s lie of man as well aa
beast.
?? ":: lis
Character, as Shown by Footwear.
A Spanish shoemaker of a philosophic
turn of mind affirms that men's characters
and dispositions are more accurately
read in the way they wear their boots and
shoes than in their pnvsiognomy, or even
their handwriting. lie says: "'Showma
the shoes of a man after he has -worn
them two months and I will analyze for
you his character. In your shoes, for
instance, I see lack of energy, levity,
negligence, and a disposition to evade
the fulfilling of djsngreeable duties and
obligations. The even wearing away of
the heels and sole? of a pair of shoes
shows that the weacr. if a man, is one of
good business habit*, energetic, prudent,
of good head, and faithful in the discharge
of his duties. If a woman's shoes.
are so worn, they indicate that she is, or ,
is capable of being, a good wile and an
excellent mother of a family. If the
outer ed<je of the soles are worn away'
much more than the inner ones, the
?? m?P*.?K1O oViarnofpr
wearer uoo uu uu.nni/n., uvuiv
prone to ingratitude. If the inneredges
are the most worn, it indicates irresolution
and weakness in a man and mcdesty
in a woman. A few months ago a ' ,
stranger entered my store wearing a pah
of shoes that were very much worn on
the outside edges :>nd at the toes, the
latter so badly that they were quite
broken through, while the other parts of
the shoes were almost new. I took
care to watch that mnn while he was
near my goods, and when he was gone, '
said to my wife: ''That man is a thief."The
very next day he was arrested by
the police for a robbery.
Messenger Boys and "Overs."
A bright and ruddy-faced messenger
boy swung himself on to a Seventh avenue
car at Park Place yesterday,plumped
himself in the best corner and began to '
watch proceeding* around him with
much interest. A Tribune reporter questioned
him about his work.
"I like it pretty well," he said. "Tha
pay is not big, but the "overs' are immense.
Don't you know what overs are!
"Why, it's when a man gives you half a
on/1 fiio pJinnri! for liia rnesta<?e is
only twenty-five. Oh, my. that's noth- 4
ing. I had a man give me a dollar the
other day for a thirty-live cent message.
You see, it was to his girl, and he told
me particular not to give it to anybody
but her, and he told me she was expecting
me, and would wear a blue ribboo
on her neck,and if anybody came for tha
message who didn't have a blue ribbon I
was not to give it. Say, that was funny,
though. "When I got up to the girl'i
house she came to the door. My, but she
was a stunner, all silk and lace, but nary
blue ribbon. I asked her name, and she
said that was her, and I looked right
sharp at her neck and said there mu^t be
some mistake. She put her had up to
her neck and flushed. Then she said:
Excuse me a moment,' and away she
went. She came baik presently with a
blue ribbon on. and a quarter in hei
hand. We make about $"> to $7 on the
straight. My 'overs' last week were $11.
It's only 11 o'clock now. I guess, and I've
made ninety cents to-day.''?Xew York
Imitation Butter and Tubs.
Imitation butter must bo put up in elliptical
tubs in Denmark. This is a singular
sort of rule, and one which probably
would not commend it-elf vei v highly to
manufacturers of this kind of butter here.
Butter itself having been imitated, it
seems logical enough to imitate butter ?
tubs also, and all the little cloths and
papers and scheme' of packing which set
off butter so well. He-ides, imitation
butter, which is s> perfect in all its dedetails
that it cannot be told from real
butter, can be sold mu:h more profitably
than it could if it were parked in a tub
whose peculiar shape would amount to an
open a vowel of the imitation. But there
ire some deeply rooted notions in Denmark.
and one of them is that im:tation
Dught not to be carried too far.?liarver'i
Weekly.
A Truckee, (Cal..-) dog shuts the doot
after him when he enters a house. This
habit served him handsomely when he
was chased by a mad dog one day. He
was in his master's store and up at the
window looking at the mad dog before
the latter had recovered from his surprise
at having the door slammed in his
ace. ,
? i $
i rvr*