The Abbeville press and banner. (Abbeville, S.C.) 1869-1924, September 28, 1887, Image 6
?*r
:v*
. V,
keep t:tk upper hand.
Pear your burdens manfully,
Whatsoe'er they be;
Never let them over you
Grain ascendency.
Never let them master you,
Never for them wait:
Hands of labor strong to bear,
Ring the Bell of Fate.
?Texas Siftings.
ON SILVER MOUNTAIN.
bt f. l. ste.vt.ey.
Heavy snows had fallen that season,
adding to the never-melted accumulations
in the gulches that gashed the
northern slope of Silver Mountain. Huge,
undulating drifts too, projected along
tne lolty cresr, tnrcaieiuug iu urea*
and start the annihilating avalanche.
From the dingy log-dens below, the
miners re?.d these snow-signs with expe- j
rienced eyes. Stout hearts had those
seekers for silver, but apprehension of
the snow-slide could shake even them, j
But from two log-shanties, placed one
above the other in a clump of giant
pines well up on the mountain side, 1
smoke still arose at the morning and
evening, and from the ranged mouths of
two tunnels that were being driven in
the slope above, there still came daily
the silvery clink of hammer striking
drill, intermitted by a muffled roar, as
fiant powder shattered the mountain's j
reast.
Iu the upper of these shanties lived
"Uncle Jimmy" Trout, with his son,
young Jimmy; in the lower, "old mau" (
Trail, with his son Sam.
These were rival claimants to the same
lead, to which old man Trail gave the
significant name of "The Last Chance,"
and which Uncle Jimmy, in more cheer-;
ful spirit, called "The Blue Bird," as a 1
harbinger of the spring of hope in the
winter of his life.
Many were the complications involving
intricate points of miuers' law about this
disputed claim, and which claimant had
the right thereof no man could tell. The
listener to Uncle Jimmy's wrongs would
be lirmly convinced that he must be
right, until he heard old man Trail exrmtintp
nn t.hft ponifv of "first, diskivfirv."
r 1?j -- j i
marking each "pint" with a hard forefinger
in a horny palm, to the utter confusion
of all previous convictions.
Each indignantly rejected all attempts
at arbitration; and as, fortunately for
themselves, both were too poor for the
expensive luxury of litigation, it only
remained, as Uncle Jimmy declared, "to
lit right thar until they'd sot it out, refynraless
of expenses." And though
nele Jimmy, with his rotund body and
red face set in a casing of close-cut gray
whisker, was one of the easiest-going of
men, the energetic and determined air
with which he made this declaration was
indicative of a protracted "set" on the
part of the Blue Bird.
As for old man Trail, one iook in niscavernou6
eves, ns he ran his hand slowly
over the tangles of his unkempt beard,
would suffice to show that there was as ,
little yield about him as about one of the
granite crags that guarded the entrance
to the Last Chance Tunnel.
Jimmy, who was, to use his father's
own expression, "light complectcd,"
tood a clear ten inches above the head '
of his house; strong, too, of arm and 1
ihoulder from swing of hammer, and
very whit as stout of heart.
That stalwart son of the Sierras, Sam
Trail, though of leaner build than Jimmy,
was in size and strength his m.itcb,
"dark complected," and in oth*r respects
like the sombre and self-contained
christener of the Last Chance.
Often when at sundown the two boys,
tin buckets in hand, met at the little
?pring that served for the use of both
cabins, brows bent in wrath were re- j
fleeted in that crystal basin. For the
feud went loyally down from father to
son.
Even the two "jacks"?one of these
Mexican donkeys being owned by each !
claimant, and used for packing up sup- ,
plies from the camp blow?became iru- !
oued with partisan animosity. Each '
grazed aloof on the bunch-grass growing
nn the hrepzv slnnps and. meetinff bv i
the cabin doors, they bit and kicked over 1
the bacon rinds flung therefrom with a
heartiness that partook of the spirit of
their respective masters.
It had been "skiftiug" snow on the '
mountain for a day or two. But the
morning was clear, and the sun, hanging
on the pines that crested the opposing
slope, shot his rays through glittering
particles of flyiug frost into the open
door of the upper cabin. Within, the
two Trouts sat at their slab table before
a Spartan breakfast of slap-jacks and
salt pork.
ii. ^ ?iii j ?:/i i
"jimmy, uiat uuiui uuwu tuai, :wu i
the elder Trout, indicating the cabin below
with his hand as he spoke?uthey j
sunt to camp yesterday. Suppose you ;
take the jack and go down to-day, fur I
our grub pile is gettin' low, and git the j
drills sharpened. I'll rustle rouud and
wash up some clothcs while you're i
gone."
The air of the early morning was keen, |
and Jimmy waited until the sun was
weil up before he put the pack-saddle on
the jack, and started down. Uncle
Jimmy, meantime, set the camp-kettle j
on the coals in the rough fireplace, and i
prepared for washing.
Daily the two old men passed each :
other on the deep-worn paths leading
frnm poliina fn tunnels hut. withnnt. a
word or look of recognition. But, rigid
as was the silence maintained between
them, it could be broken by one thing?
want of tobacco. After a few hours' unsatisfied
craving for this universal solace
of the miner, either would yield and apply
to the other, never to oe refused.
IV!. :
\Jn Lllis muruiuy uiu uinu mui,
had 6ent Sam to camp the previous day,
had resisted this craving a whole day,
but at last he succumb d, and slowly
sauntered up to the Trout cabin.
"Kin you spar' me a piece of terl &::ki-r
till my boy gits back?'' lie asked in his
deliberate speech, disdaining politer
forms of salutatioD, as he paused on the
doorstep.
I'ncle Jimmy, in overalls and rod
shirt with rolled up sleeves, was vigorously
soaping flannels. He pointed with
one suds-dripping hand to the rough
mantel.
"It s ou the shelf. Come in and help
yourself," he said, endeavoring vainly to
throw a hospitable heartiness iuto bis
tone.
'I'hc old man stepped in, drew his
shcath-knife, and was about to part the
COVc!Crl plug. wncn mc ;un:im m o; ro-ii ;
was caught by a sound, loud and strange
among the many noises of the mountain,
coming from above.
"Theslide!" cried the old man.
Almost as he spoke the topmost of the
pines snapped before the avalanche, and
then it struck the cabin. Stout as this
was it shivered to the shock, the logs on
the upper side were driven party in, and
the centre roof-logs, already burdened by
the weight of the dirt-roof, were sprung
down and splintered with an ominous
cracking.
15ut the spruce timbers were green and
tough, and thecabinliungtogether. The
slide.bein^j partially broken by the rfMa,
tore over it, closed the stout slab-door,
and passed on down with a roar. Then
followed darkness and silence.
All their tools were in the tunnels;
they had nothing wherewith to effect au
nvnn wprf> esrnne possible. For
W.UJ.V, 4 4
tunately the fire had gone out, so there
was no smoke to add to their torture.
But hidden thus from all the world, suddenly
shut away from all its hopes,
hatreds and fears, those two were to
| await, together, the inevitable.
For a time the suddennes? of the
c itastrophe stunned both in silence. It
| was broken at length by the old man
: Trail, whose gruff tones were hardly
recognizable in this softened whisper:
! "Uncle Jimmy, I'm mighty glad the
1 boys is both safe."
I 'Tiu with you thar, old "man," Uncle
Jimmy replied, in a voice equally subdued.
| The minutes, as they passed, might
"??? "> fnint. sinrl fur flwav
I iiu > U l/UUi JVUIO, UV ^ |
seemed their dispute over the lead.
I 'Tin sorry, old man. We mought 'a'
settled this here business 'twixt me and
you long 'go; but now, I reckon it's
goin' fur to settle us," and Uncle Jimmy's
voice gave faltering indications of breaking
dowu.
" Brace up, Uncle Jimmy ! The boys
is l.-oth pnfe, and me and you wasa-gittin'
old, and couldn't iu natitr' 'a' helt on
much longer. And arter all, Uncle
Jimmy, this here aint a plum' playout ;
it's jest a slip in the paystreak, and we'll
strike it agin 'aerostthe range.'"
The old man's voice was wonderfully ,
clear, as he paused and seated himself J
composedly on the bunk. Uncle Jimmy
1 fonrl L'nrplinrr !
gropeu 1113 ?< 1J IV/ UilU, ?uu .M.vv....n, ,
rested his head and shoulders on the !
blankets. Then the hands of those an
cient enemies met, and clung in a firm-,
locked clasp, reassuring ea ii to each as ,
they waited for the e.:d.
To Jimmy, a visit to the camp was a j
welcome break in the monotony of life on !
Silver Mountain, and his step was accordingly
light as he prodded the jack !
down the drifted trail with the pointed '
end of the scrub-oak stick that served him
alike for stall and goad.
As he progressed downward, frosty
clouds passed between him and the sun,
giving the air a sudden chill as their I
shadows darkened the sparkling surface J
of the snow. The summit was lost to
view, and, driven by the wind, snow began
to fly, coming partly from the clouds
and partly from the drifts above. Jimmy,
however, was used to theic mountain j
"squalls," and knew that, as long as the j
nimble-footed jack could keep the trail,
he was safe to follow. ,
A mile or less from the cabin the trail
made an abrupt bend around a granite j
crag. Firm-bedded in the mountain, 11
this thrust its tapering pinnacle to the | ;
tops of the surrounding pines. Where , 3
the trail hugged its base there had been |
a "catch" of soft sand conglomerate
which, worn away by action of frost and
air, had gradually dropped out and been
washed down the slope, leaving a shelv-.
ing recess.
Just as Jimmy reached this recess he
encounteged Sam Trail, coming upward. J
The two inimical jacks, brought sud- ;
denly face to face, alike laid long ear3 ;
back and breathed forth defiance in
trumpet notes that woke the echoes of,
the mountain defiles. Behind each p:ig- J
nacious little beast his equally pugnacious 1
driver halted squarely in the middle of
the narrow trail. j
"Turn out!" cried Sam Trail, in such a :
tone that Jimmy would have shot both,
jacks head-first down the slope rather
than have complied. "Turn out, and ,
!/** ***** ioolr Vxiify fliA rn^lr " I l
1W UIJ JUV^ 11 uug vuw * v w
"Turn out yo'self!" retorted Jimmy. '
"My jack's got as good a right to the inside
as yourn. Everybody turns to the
right, and I'm a-goin' to."
"The pack '11 tip my jack over the
slo^c ef I take the outside," replied Sum, j
"and I aint a-goin1 to do it." i
Both boys and beasts were by this
time half-blinded by the snow, which '
was being sucked around the crag and
whirled in their faces by the rising wind.
Their passions kept pace with its fury, j
Each jack stood ready to rush open- j
mouthed; each driver got a firmer ^rasp
on his oak stick and made a forward
stride.
Just then, half-broken by the wind,
came the sound of muffled thunder from i
the direction of the shanties. Following j
it, from immediately above them, came a j'
crunching noise that caused the uplifted j ^
sticks to be held in air. j J
The snow-caps above had given way, ' J
and gathering momentum with increns- i 1
ing bulk and velocity, the slide, to which j
the one at the cabin was but a plaything, !'
came tearing down, carrying along the 1
granite boulders scattered in its path, ! Before
its rush, the giant pines, with sap \
hard-frozen, snapped lil<e reeds, each 1
makiDg a sharp report above the duller :
rumble of the mass.
Counted by the "beating of their hearts,
- 1 ? 1-?i * ihiaTt nronr !
It was UUIU1C lb du u^a luv viu{j.
Huge as was this, it trembled: but noth- j ]
ing less than an earthquake could have 1
tumbled that mighty cone from its im* j
bedded base, and the slide broke over it ^
and pasied on.
Cowering in the recess, the boys were j J
covered with snow as the great avalanche i
thundered past, swept the pines from the ' '
-i i?!?? ovirl i?,\ nn tVio nnnrwifp '
5iU|J ' UCIV?j auu oiiwk vij/ vi? %uv
side of the gulch, whereat last it settled i .
with a sound and a shock that seemed to |
shake the mountain. j
"0 Sam, my pa and yourn!" cried j j
Jimmy, in a voice quite different from |!
his former one. "That first one sounded !
like it was at the shanties."
As he spoke, with one accord they drew jj
nearer together. No longer they seemed j
to be the two who had so lately met on j;
the trail. And the slide had wrought ,
other changes. Even the wind, no more
soughing through the broken pine3, '
whistled in altered cadencc about the '
naked pinnacle of their bulwark.
' We nuist git out and git to the
shanties somehow. Let's take the shovel ;
and cut steps in the snow-bank," said
Sam, pointing to a new shovel with its
handle slipped through the many turns .
~C * !??*. U,?l?3 *!?? r.Vr rvrt til A Cnrlfllp
ui iujju inut iiv;iu tuc pava wu MMMv,.v
of his jack.
Both brightened at the prospect of j
action. S,na, cutting the steps, was out ,
first, and Jimmy clambering after, they
stood looking nround.
The dark green trees were gone. Some,
torn up by the roots, had been carried
bodily down; while here and there the
stump of some broken giant stuck up its
yellow splinters from the snow.
Both looked above, but the view was
lim'tcl by the snow, driven by the furious
wind, which, as they stepped from the
crag, struck them with full power and
i.'....-..J il Kn?l.
i'JIl't'U lill'lll
"Wc can't go up agin it," said Sam
"It'll fall 'fore long, I reckon. It didn't
look like more'n a squall as I came up the
trail. And maybe, Jimmy, the slide
didn't strike the shanties; and ef it did,
our pa's might 'a' been in the tunnels."
"My pa wasn't," said Jimmy, shaking
his head. "He was just going to wash
our clothes when I left."
"Them shanties was both put there to
stay, and yourn was the stoutest built?
even pa always 'lowed that." For Sam,
' -*- ---1^ '-..y;.> . . .
tSfcowgri ahcnt enough generally, could
speak out on occasion.
"Now, Jimmy, I was bringing up i
coffee pot. 'Taint no use standin' doin' I
J 111 1* o?,1
UUlIIlii , iiliu W U 11 mcib OUU1U ouwti uuv*
have some coffee. I've got some already
ground in the pot."
"I'll make the tire," said Jimmy, starting
up as Sam unhooked the coffee pot
from the crosses of the pack saddle.
"There's a big mountain rat's nest under
this rock. I've noticed it every time I
passed, and the sticks are good and dry."
The tire was qnickly made, and coffee i
was boiled. Then, cups being wanting, 1
the pot was set away in the snow to cool i
sufficiently to permit of drinking from
it. Sam, meantime, cut slices of salt ;
pork from the piece in his pack, and
these, having been singed in the fire, the
two ate, and drank alternately from the
same spout in loving fellowship. I
In the background the jacks hung
nnoffKo fnacf ivifh r>lf>!?dirif7 fiVCS. Each
was rewarded now and then by a tid-bit
of rind from his master's hand. And
when the pork was finished Sam got out
a small sack of oatmeal, and pouring a
little into his hollowed hand, the two
jacks lic-kcd it up by brotherly turns.
Soon after the meal the wind began to
fall, and the clouds, breaking away, the
sun, how declining, struck into the
gulch. Then they widened the steps
sufficiently to permit of the jacks clambering
up, and set out for the shanties.
The trail was obliterated, but the
snow was packed hard and they had little
difficulty in gaining the site of the
cabins. Then their fears were confirmed.
Both had disappeared, and no human
sound broke the solemn stilluess. They
had some difficulty, too, in locating the
exact spots where the cabins had stood.
This they at length did, however, by
the aid of the torn and twisted trees.
These, they saw, had broken the force of
the slide, and deflected it as well, so that
the main shoot had turned and passed
directly over the lower cabin. The upper
one, inhabited by the Trouts, had been
covered out a iew ieet irorn uie grtau
side-pressure ot the muss.
After they had determined the location,
Sam paused, and leaning on the
shovel which he had brought up, said,
with generous self-restraint, 44 Now,
Jimmy, we aint got but one shovel.
Which shanty shall we go at first?"
4,Let'3draw straws," replied Jimmy,
after a moment's indecision.
4'All right; you fix 'em'."
Jimmy stooped, and taking two needles
from a broken pine bough at his
feet, turned his back.
44Short is our shanty, long is yourn.
Draw, Sam," he said, as he faccd about.
Each knew the minutes now were
fraught with life or death to their imprisoned
fathers. Jimmy's big hand
trembled as he held the fateful needles j
pressed between thumb and linger. Sam's
J? i ? : a
icaii, uruwn uuc uuvur ijuivurcui as hm
reached and drew?the short one.
"Your shanty," he said, with a long
breath, and flung off his coat. "I'll take (
first shift. We'd better run in an in- ,
jline, so as to strike the door, ef it's still ,
thar."
Taking short runs, after a couple of ,
hours' rapid work, they heard a muffled j
;ry from within. Then the door was {
ioon reached, forced open, and there, to j
their great joy, each saw his father.
To the anxious boys the faces of the ,
fathers looked white and ghastly from ]
their confinement in the stifling place, |
)ut the fresh airsoon revived thein. The
)ld man Trail, struggling to his feet, was ?
:he first to speak.
"We might er knowcd,Uncle Jimmy," ?
ic said, "that the boys was bound to git j
jsout." t
"Old man," Uncle Jimmy replied, too
nuch impressed by rccent events to think
of aucrht else, "this slide has settled it fur
me. ?S'pose we cut the clnim in the mid- .
ile and you take fust choice ?"
"I was jest thinkin'," said the old
nan, with due deliberation, "this here .
:hing of driviu' in two tunnels side 1
ind side is kinder foolishness. If we'd i
consolidate on one we'd strike pay rock
ill the quicker." c
"That's a fact, pardner, and we can
:nll it the Last Chance." Uncle Jimmy !
csponded with self-denying alacrity, for 1
;he christening of his find is a matter of
noment to the prospector's heart, and
;hat of the Blue Bird had been evolved
jnly after long and labored thought. ^
"I was thinkin'," the old man replied,
tvith the same thoughtful slowness?"ef
it's all the same to you, pardner?of con- '
iolidatin' the names likewise into 'The .
Blue Bird's Last Chance,' and soa-lettin'
>f Silver Mountin know this here thing ?
betwixt me and you and Jimmy and Sam 1
3 done settled, now and fur good."
As the old man concluded he extended
lis hand to Uncle Jimmy. The "shake"
hat sealed the compact "then went round. 1
\. nd so. despite the torn trees and drifted !
Icvastation, the sun set in pcace on Silver
Mountain.?Youth's Companion.
A Strategic Crow.
I must not stop speaking of crows 1
without telling how one of them freed
its young from a cage in which I had I
placed them. The cage was a latticed
summer-house and the two young crows
svere turned loose in this. The crow 1
evidently noticed that I wcut to feed
these and some -abbita whenever the big *
dinner bell rang. This was suspended s
jver the kitchen and was erected to call "
the hands to dinner, from any part of
the place. One day I was in my office, a
little room in the front yard, when I
heard the bell ring. I at once arose and 1
started for the kitchen to get food for <
my crows and rabbits. I found the cook I
in high indignation, being unable to s
rliscovcr what rapscallion had rung de s
bell er half hour 'fore dinner. I very ?
shortly discovered the crow ringing it. 1
raking the food out, I went to the rab- c
1 TU.~ t
t)it or summer-nuust;. mu
ijuitt near me. I opened the door. At J
jnce it made a sarige attack on me.
rhrowing down the food, I looked about z
For a stick to defend myself. In doing c
this I left the door open. The two
youngsters hopped out. Seeing these *
the old one flew into a tree and called I
them to join her. I made a furious rush,
but it was too late. Both were in the t
nr. They escaped. To this day I can
11 flvnltrtfinn tvTi i r-li 1
ruunii tuc umvu
illuminated the face of that crow when
she saw my chagrin.?Memphis Aca'.anche,
Wanted. I
A hat for the head of a fountain,
A glove for the hand of fate.
A shoe for tho foot of a mountain, c
A link from tho chain of debate. i
C
A spoke from tho wheel of fortune, ^
A chip from the "pole" of the South, ^
A drink from thy fountain of knowledge, f
A word from the river's mouth. 1
A drop from the cup of sorrow, 1
A look from the face of the storm,
A stroke irora trie arm or justice,
A ring for the finger of scorn. I ,
i
A knock at the door of repentance,
A throb from the ocean's heart. I 1
A glance from the eye of a needle,
From Cupid's bow a dart. c
A piece of the Rock of Ages, s
A plume from the wings of Time,
Some tniik of human kindness, !t
And I have done my rhyme. j ?
jJliin il. Nave, t'n Boston Herald. '
BUDGET OF FUN.
HUMOROUS SKETCHES FROM
VARIOUS SOURCES.
An Early Riser?The Clergyman's
Dinner Out?Not Cured in English-He
Had Known
Sorrow, Etc.
Mrs. Van Coover (to caller)?"I have
3uch a splendid cook, and she is such an
loi.l'AB fVlO iVp
cax ij USUI. lUC luaii icavcii
at five o'clock and she is always there to
bring it in. She is a perfect treasure. I
don't know what I should do without
her."
Splendid Cook (opening the door)?
"Plaze. mum, it's a wake's notice oim
given yez. Oim to marry Dennis, the ice
man, in a month come Thoorsdav."?New
York Sun.
The Clergyman's Dinner Out.
"That's what I call a good dinner,''
remarked Hobby, as he leaned back in
his chair with an air of repletion.
''Bobby," said his mother, "I am
ashamed or you.T' The minister 01 tnc
chapel, who was diuiug with the family,
laughed heartily.
"Hobby appreciates the good things of
life," he said, "like the rest of us."
"Don't you thiuk it was a good dinner?"
Bobby asked of the minister.
"Yes, indeed," he 3aid, "I enjoyed it
very much."
".Ma said she thought you would, because
she didn't suppose you got very
much at home," remarked Bobby.?
Toronto Trulh.
Not Cured in English.
There is a youug man in Minneapolis
who stutters so badly that a space of
about three years has escaped from him
during the years that he has talked. He
went to Germany some time ago to receive
treatment for the affliction. He
? ' J f-.il..
wrote nome tnai ne was curcu, peneuuj
cured, of the stuttering. In consequence
there was great rejoicing among his
friends. When he arrived he was greeted
at the depot by a party of friends.
"How did you get along?" they inquired.
"P-p-pretty well," he replied.
"How did you like it?*'
"F-f-first rate. Nice c-c-country."
"How did you get along with the
treatment?"
"Sp-p-splcndidly."
"Wc thought that you were cured?"
"S-s-so I am."
"But you do not talk any better than
when you went away."
"TV-w-well, you s-s-see I was only cured
in G-g-german. I wasn't t-t-treated in
English."?Minneapolis Journal.
He Had Known Sorrow.
Tlmrr irnra follrinnr nan ai v#?l v nnr? rftTlfi.
* l"-J "VIV Ml l'?" -V
ilentially in the dimly-lighted parlor, and
>he looked at him with ineffable sweetness
and said:
"I have so often noticed an expression
}f the most intense melancholy on your
'ace. Mr. Sad eye, tell me truly?does
some secret sorrow prey upon your
acart {"
" Matilda,'' he answered hoarsely, " I
jvould not intrude my griefs upon you.
Better to bear them alone, even though
;hey desolate and corrode the heart."
" Tell me, Ernest, tell me all! Let me
ihare your sorrow with you !"
"If you must kaow, my dear, I spilled
i bottle of ink on those light pants I
jought a month ago.?Nebraska State
Tournal.
Willing to Let Mr. Jobson In.
tl William," said the old gentleman at.
;hc breakfast table.
" Sir ! "
"lam not pleased to see you so mucn
11 the company of young Jobson. He is
i dissipated young mau aud he gambles.
! should prefer that you avoid his so:iety."
" He gambles, father, I suppose. He
:an afford to. He has just made $100,00U
n the wheat corner."
" Well? still?you better be careful."
After a little while William rises from :
he table. 1
" William ! " <
"Sir !"
"If Mr. Jobsou is disengaged this j
ivening you can bring him up to dinner,
'erhaps a little good example may save 1
lim?and, William, you can just tell him
iomething about the new mining com>any
I am floating."
Rapid Transit. 1
A man came to tne nouse 01 a promilent
New York gentleman, who was 1
enowned for not paying his debts, and j
uiocking at the door, asked the boy '
.vho appeared if his father was in.
4,No, sir, lie has left town to be gone j
i month. He is in Chicago right now.''
"I am sorry, for I wanted to pay a Utile
bill I was owing him."
"0, you want to pay him money, do 1
pou?" '
"Yes, certainly. Here it is."
"Well, then, I'll run in and ask him if .
le hasn't got back."
The man had got back from Chicago, !
)ut the visitor, who was a deputy sheriff, |
terved a citation on him for house rent. ,
? 7W* SUrHnat. .
* ~v ?J ?
How Brl<jnoIi Apologized.
The following incident is told of Signor
3rignoli, the tenor: He was singing in
joncert for a charitable object, when the
>rima donna was suddenly attacked with
lingers' sore throat, aud it became ueces
ary for some one to apologize to the
mdience. The manager declared that he
vas suffering from nervousness and
iould not do it; and he begged Bignoli
o make the explanation. The teuor,
joing forward, said:
''Ladies an' gentlemen, I regret to zay
at Mme. W eez a leetle horse diz
ivenin'."
Peals of laughter greeted this announcenent,
and the tenor supposed he had
>een misunderstood.
lie advanced once more and, with
hundering voice, roared out: ^
"I?7.ay?zat?Mnic.?W cez ? a j
eetle?horse?dis?evenin'!"
Can't Doctgo 'Km. . j
A Wayne County farmer, who had a t
ittle time to spare during the drought, j
vent at it and created seven artificial t
nounds to resemble graves, in a field
lose to the roa;l. Signboards were put
ip and labeled: "Tramp No. 1,"
'Tramp No. 2," and so on through, and
vhen the work was finished the granger t
vent up to the house with a grin on his t
ace and said to his wife: i
"That 'ere dodge will beat all the i
aws in Michigan to keep tramps away.1' i
Breakfast was not yet over next morn- i
ng when there was a knock on the f
ritchen door, and tne iarmer openea it i
o find five gaunt tramps standing iu a t
lalf circle. i
"You licre!" lie yelled as soon as he r
ould credit his sense*. "Didn't you 1
ce those graves down by the road?" f
"We did, sir," answered the oldest t
ramp for all. "That's just why wo s
topped, We wanted to know *f they
. - ......
ome to their death by over-eating?"?
Detroit Free Press.
His Master's Sober Request.
The policeman had given his testimony,
which was unqualifiedly to the fact of
the old gentleman's intoxication. Then
the old servant was called to the stand.
There was a mingled expresion of indignation
and determination on his
countenance. He testified flatly, to the
suprise of the court room, that the old
man was sober when he came home. The
Prosecuting Attorney proceeded to question:
"You say that Mr. was sober
when he came home?"
"Yes, sir."
"Did he get to bed alone?"
"No, sir."
' Did you put him to bed?"
"Yes, sir.*'
"And was he perfectly sober?"
"Yes. sir."
"What did he say when you put him
to bed ?"
"He said 'Good night.'"
"Anything else?'1
"He said as how I was to call him
early."
"Anything else?"
"Yes, sir."
"What was it? Tell us exactly what
he said, every word."
"He said as how I was to wake and i
call him early, for he was to be the Queen
of the May!"
The old man was fined.?Boston Transcript.
The Annual Effects of a Snake's Bite.
On August 29. 1383, a five-year-old
son of George Putnam, who lives at
Stony Ford, Penn., was returning home
from driving the cows to pasture and
stopped by the roadside to pick some
berries. He was barefooted, and sudr
dnnlv felt a shari) stine on the instep of
" ~J 4 , - .
his left foot. He ran crying home and '
told his mother that he hud scratched his
foot on a brier The foot had begun to
swell, and his mother picked from the
flesh what she at first supposed to be a
brier, but as the foot continued to swell
and the boy's sufferings were intense,
the alarming fact was apparent that he
had been bitten by some poisonous i
snake, and that the supposed brier was
one of its fangs that had buried itself in
the wound and been pulled from the
snake's jaw.
Mrs. Putnam called her husband, who
was at work near the house, and alarmed
other members of the family. A live
chicken was cut iu two and the warm
flesh applied to the wound. "Whisky was
given to the boy in large quantities, and
a messenger dispatched for a doctor. A
member of the family went to the spot
where the boy said he had felt the sharp
sting and found a rattlesnake coiled near
the roadside. The snake was killed, and
one of its fangs was found to be missing,
which left no doubt of the nature of the
boy's injury. The snake was cut open
und laid on the wound in the boy's foot,
which had swollen to more than double
its natural size. The sufferings of the
boy were so great that he could scarcely
be held down in the bed by two men.
The doctor arrived and cauterized the
wound, but said it was too late aud that
the boy would die.
The swelling had extended up the leg
to his waist, and the .'egbecame spotted.
Antidotes prescribed by the doctor were
administered, but the whisky tre itment
was also adhered to. The bey's body
turned black, but after three days of the
most terrible agony the swelling began
to go down, and in a week the victim
was able to get about. In a month's
time all the effects of the poison seemed
to have disappeared, and the boy was as 1
well as ever.
Un AUgUSC ay, 1004-, ue was scucu
with a sharp pain in his foot, which be ,'an
to swell, and in a short time his leg
mid foot were swollen to double their
size, and became spotted as they had on
the day the boy was bitten by the snake. '
He experienced the same symptoms, and 1
suffered for three days almost as much 1
iigony as he had the year before. When
the swelling again went dowa the pain
subsided and the symptoms disappeared.
Regularly on August 29 every year I
since the same symptoms have appeared, j
on the authority of a well-known citizen
of Tioga County, and their recurrence this
year was marked by more than usual pain
find swelling, the spots on the leg and
body strikingly resembling that of a rat- ,
tlcsnake.?New Yovk Times. .
The "Toddy Palm."
41TtrV?_ T I n Wo O Vl In Off At> fVl P
TY LLCLl x was uunu *u h uouiu^kvu vUV ,
Dther day," remarked a Western politi- J
:iun at the St. James, "they showed rae
i wonderful Indian palm in the botanical ;
garden. They call it the caryota ureus,
and it cuts a bigger figure in the world as
in intoxicant than all the distilleries of j
the United States. Just in proportion as
rlir> followers of Brahma and Buddha in
[ndiaare far more numerous than the J
Christian population of the United ,
States, in the same proportion does that J
palm tree surpass all our appliances for ^
making an intoxicant. It is a beautiful
tree, with a trunk something over afoot
in diameter, grows to the height of about j
sixty feet, and is surmounted by an ele- ,
*ant crown of gracefully curved leaves, i
The flower spikes are ten or twelve feet
long, and issue from the trunk at the
[>ase of the leaves, hanging down like a
iiorse's tail. They are not produced till
the tree has arrived at its full period of
growth, and the manner in which the t
nnnerous spikes succeed each other is t
ather singular. Tfie first spike issues i
irom the top of the tree, and after it has f
lone flowering another comes out below <
t, and so ou, a flower spike being pro- t
luced from the angle of each leaf stalk, ]
)r from the circular scar left by leaves ]
hat have fallen away from the trunk, , r
-- - - ?* -i _ : i I
intil the processor uowenug rcncnesiqu i i
(round, wken the tree is exhausted and s
lies. I t
"The English in India gave it the i
lame of Toddy Palm, because they traced j a
l kinsliip between their old home toddy t
md the juice of the tree. The natives }
vork it in this fashion: When the spikes ' c
ire in the bud they cut them oJf, and the t
ap that would have flowed into the bud s
s caught by them in a gourd and used as _
t liquor. It's very powerful, and pro- j
luces a fine crop of delirium tremens in j
ndia. They expcct this Oriental disillery
to flow sonic time this fall. Yes,
t's the only Toddy Palm iu this coun- c
ry.-'?Jfeio York Sun.
? t
The Otter as a Fisher. s
Otters will frequently help themselves ^
o trout, which they catch with some dcx- 0
i ti
eritv unaor ttic rocK-sucivcs, auu m- .
rariably bring out of the water to a favor- l!
te spot where they can be eaten at lew- l1
ire. A Scotch story tells of a shepherd's
vifc who used day by day to visit a certain
avorite position of this kind where the
>tterwas wont to land with its prey, y
ake a bite of its shoulder, and leave tlic v
est. These relics the old wife gathered J
norning by morning, feeding herself and (
lousehold from an excellent and never- j|
ailing supply. One day the laird shot ?
he otter, "puir beastie," and much did u
ihe lament the loss of her fish maoges. o
?Fxw Trwle Ret\&us j
' VA
QUEER ALBUM. \
WRITING AUTOGRAPHS ON A
HUMAN SKULL. c
t
A. Texan Lady's Uda fancy?some
of the Conceits of the Contributors
to the
Collection.
An El Passo (Texas) letter to the San
Francisco Chronicle describes a young
lady's queer autograph album. The
album in question is a human skull. It
was originally the property of a Mexican,
who died on the Kio Grande without
the benefit of a benediction or a boot
jack, and probably, in its time, wore a
jaunty sombrero and held an unnumbered
quantity of cigarettes between its
glistening jaws. At present it is simply
a polished white dome of bone, with a \
brass standard screwcd into its medulla t
oblongata attaching it to a slab of black 1
marble. The pieces are held in place by
wire pins at ine suiures. ui.nueriuiai i
fixed it up for $3, or some such trifle. 1
So much for the album. The ghastly j
trinket is regularly sprung upon the
young lady's friends, with the request 1
that they write something appropriate 1
upon it. The surface is smooth as glass, t
and a little manipulation of an India-ink
bottle and a lithographic pen does the 1
work. The frontal regions are pretty t
well covered now and the rear expanse is i
left for the back counties not yet heard <
from. Some of the inscriptions are j
worthy of chroniclc. Between the eyes >
is this verse:
Where is the patter? .
Where is the clatter? .
Where the ^ray matter,
The vitalized spark? 1
Science erratic, f
Religion dogmatic j
Are both quite emphatic
Aud both in the dark.
Behind this a disgruntled observer ol , 1
human nature has penned: . ?
You mind me of Macchiavelli?
A great head and no backbone.
A sentimentalist leaves his tribute in a ?
line above the ear, or rather where tho <
ear was: \
A shell from which
The pearl is gone.
Something in the same vein is anothei \
inscription not far away: <
Empty scabbard: where's
Thy sword. i
Directly beneath th's another hand has *
penned the terse rejoinder:
It has soared. j
On the broad, level space on top, as
free from bumps, vicious or intellectual,
as a billiard ball, arc these two stanzas:
Do the thoughts fond, foolish, wise,
That ran wild once in your brain,
Ever come in spectral guise,
And hold re vol there again?
Do they whisper, soft and low,
Through the empty chamber here,
Songs you loved long, long ago,
Names you once held very dear?
Away over at one side somebody who
had evidently taken in the contour of the
skull expressed himself in the following
unkind proposition:
I'll wager there is more on the outside ol
your head than there ever was on the inside.
A famous oarsman who passed through ]
Texas not long ago on his way to the ]
Pacific coast, was led unwillingly up to
the depository and finally expressed himself
thus:
>
I have a weakness for sculls.
An old gentleman, who declared thai
the skull never belonged to a man, but ;
was once part of the effects of a senorita j
lud had worn a mantilla many a time,
placed this line above his autograph:
A chatter-box, minus the chatter.
A studious friend to whom the nuto- i
raph album was suggestive of Yorrick, 1
irew on the bard of Avon for his sentinent
and wrote:
Sans hair, sans eyes,
Sans teeth, sans everything.
It will be observed that he quoted aa t
'ib. Near this effort is a reflection thai t
it probably suggested:
I believe now that 1
beauty is only skin
deep. J
The last one is in a cavity that marks *
tvherc a line bump of veneration is turned I
inside out, and is brief and 10 the point
A bone of contention.
"I have lots of fun with my skull,'
3aid the fair collcctor of signatures, foi y
the Mexican has to her mind lost all pro j
prietorship in it, "and I use it to get ri<5 i
of silly people who always write suet .
foolish things." j (
"How do you do that?" asked one ol ]
her victims. | ~
"Easy enough. You see I have as *
autograph album also, and I produci ^
them both. A bright person prefers th? j.
skull, because there is a subject righi c
iway. But, on the other hand, one ol j
the sort who write: 'Last but not least, ! j,
md 'When this you see remember me, J s
*et frightened and turn to the book witfc ^
in absolute sigh of relief. So in thai ^
ivay I keep the skull tolerably select. c
Would you like to look at the book?" j
"Spare me," said the unhapppy man. f
_ a
Dakota Uncc a Haste. i u
One day I met an old traveler, win j 4
;hirtv years or more ago had traveled/ n
hrough Dakota extensively. This i*! T
vhat he told me: 44 Dakota's wonderful ?
ertilitv now is due solely to the coming [ '
>f the rain. Thirty years ago, going up |
he Missouri and near what is now Fort |
?ierret I met an old trapper and asked '
lim if it had ever rained there. He re- 0
)lied: "Forty-sis years ago.' He had:
ived in the Territory that length of time, j *
ind while his remarks was not literal!}
rue, it indicated the scarcity of moistire.
There was no such thing as dew,
md the alkali beds were so heavy in 3
heir deposits that in lieu of saleratus 1
iave broken cakes of it off and made bisuits
from it. The sand storms were J
errific. and the Territory a waste that
eemingly nothing could ever reclaim.'' ?'
?Pi >neer Press.
rr
A Prccious Stone Indeed. j
One of the greatest sapphires of the
forld is the property of the Polytechnic
lociety of Merlin, Prussia. It weighs o
ittle more than six ounces. The jury oJ ^
he Polytechnic Society on tne grounus, rp
tated in full at their discussion, would
iave settled its value at the frightful sum [ ti
f 04,000,000 marks, or $10,01)0,000. It
cud hardly be said that such a treasure tj
3 not likely to find a purchaser at such a tj
rice.?Memphis Avalanche.
The First Banjo Player.
The first man who ever played a banjo b
ras Joe Sweeney, and his instrument oi
ras an excavated gourd with four strings, le
? ftlnno in rvnI%ltA in a rti
OC gavu Ilia mow n??iuw m |/uvatv iu u *"
ircus tent. He was a deck hand, work-! fl
ig on a canal going from Richmond to i
(Vnchburg. Ho afterward was with!
cgro minstrel companies, and was a ' e,
reat feature, both in this country had Jt
Europe. ?Baltimore 4mmca?. ! jr
'"v- i-*' - -K.WJ c.
f-m
HOUSEHOLDMATTEES.
Tomato Catsup.
, , xZ
Take half bushel tomatoes, peel an?
...* r ^4. o K?;i nth thrmicrh
'Ui, ucb iv c* uvii| * uv v? ? ?q?. .
he"sieve, add one pound salt, quarter
)ound ground black pepper, quarter
>ound of whole allspice, one ounce
:lovcs,two pounds brown sugar, six large
mions, twenty bulbs garlic, one handful
>f green peach leaves. If desired very
lot, add as much cayenne pepper as you
:an lay on the point of a case-knife. '?
Boil to the thickness required, and just
)efore removing from the stove add threejuarters
pound ground mustard, one
juart good cider vinegar, wetting the
nusjard with the vinegar. Rub through
Vio eiovo nor-iin Rnfflfi Wnxhillflton
Star. ? \
The Laundry.
A little borax put in the water in *
ivhich scarlet napkins and red bordered
:owels are to be washed will prevent
;hem from fading.
When removed from the person, ."sSS
ilothing, if damp, should be dried be:ore
putting into the clothes-basket to v
irevent mildew, m
A handful of borax added to water
lelps to whiten the clothes. It is used
jy the Germans, who are famous for
;heir snowy linen.
Very pretty curtains, which can be
aundriea and look as well as new ones,
ire made of white muslin, with large
ound dots the size of a silver half- '?j
lollar.?Detroit Tribune.
Receipcs.
Egg Cork Bread.?Take a quart of
;vater, boil and stir in a teacup of meal;
?? on/^ o*?r. ofl/1 ft fAdfun of butter:
:ake off the fire and let cool; then add
:wo eggs and a little salt; pour in a but:ered
dish.
Wheaten* Gems.?Stir into ice-cold
crater enough coarse Graham flour, unlifted,
to make rather a stiff batter, two
>arts water to three of flour are the cor- : *'
ect proportions; beat vigorously and dip . >
nto hot gem pans. Set them on top the
itove until weli heated, and fill them not . ^
juite even full; bake in a very hot oven JV
;roin thirty to forty minutes.
Chocolate Ccstard. ? One quart
nilk,three levelteaspoonfuls cornstarch,- %
'our level teaspoonfuls grated chocolate. 1
Stir the chocolate into the milk, heat to |
soiling, then add the corn starch dissolved ,
n a little milk. Let it cook a minute, i
;hen take from the fire, add salt, sugar
"i^ voniUo frt tnsfp Sweeten and flavor ' .1
>ne cup of cream, beat with an egg ?\
)eater, and put in the custard cold.
Chicken Salad.?The beat meat of
;wo chickens dressed fine, twice as much
ninced celery, five hard boiled eggs, four ^
ablespoons of melted butter, rubbed
vith the yolks, and the whites minced
3ne; mix thoroughly with one and ft
lalf teaspoons of mustard; salt and pepper
to taste; moisten the whole with Vy
iihicken broth and a little vinegar. Ia *
ibsence of celery use cabbage.
Lyonaise Potatoes. ? Put one pint of '
milk in a frying p in, add a piece of but- .
ter the size of a walnut, some salt and .
pepper; let it boil, take a heated tea- '
spoonful of corn-flour, mix with a little ^
pold milk and add to the milk in a fry- l
ing pan. Keep stirring all the time; hava \4
ready six or seven good sized potatoes, ' ?
peeled and cut into thin slices; put them
into the pan with a little parsley and an .
jnion chopped small; cover them with ;.j
i plate and let them stew gradually for d
afteen minutes. Send to table in a cor- *
.'red dish.
^ oninrtA nri/ll
HIS LIS JCLLI.?nuy liiv vjuiuvu ** i?t? ~"mf
i cloth until perfectly smooth, cut in
small pieces, pack tight in a kettle, pour
>n cold water until Tevel with the fruit.
x>il very soft; make a three-cornered
knnel bag, pour in fruit And hang up to
Irain, occasionally pressing on top and
.ides to make the juice run more freely,
;aking care not to press hard ;
mough to expel the pulp. There
s not so much need of pressing a bag
nade in this shape, as the weight of the
Tuit in the larger part causes the juice
:o flow freely at the point. To a pint
)f juice add a pint of sugar and boil fifpnn
minutes, or until it is ielly; pour
nto tumblers, or bowls, and finish ac- I
:ording to general directions. If quinces
ire scarce, the parings and cores of jJ
juinces with good tart apples, boiled and I
trained as above, make excellent jelly, I
ind the quinces are saved for preserves. I
A Tramp's Bundle. |
For many years I have been devoured I
>y an intense and abiding curiosity to 9
;now what a tramp carries in his bundle. Q
ifou may have noticed that no mattei fl
vhere you meet a tramp or under what I
:ircumstancc9, he has a bundle with him. fl
t may be done compactly up in a news
>aper or tightly wrapped in old and dirty I
ags; it may be two feet square or no -fl
rigger than your tist, but it is always a H
mndle of some sort, ana one towmcnne
lings with the tenacity of death itself.
have heard a number of conjecture*
lazarded as to its possible contents,
kimc critics have maintained that it con?
ains food and others that it is a mere
[uramy, contrived to impose upon a '1
redulous landlord at a half-dime lodging
louse. I have read newspaper stories of
ortuues concealed in the tramp's bundle,
nd been told of occasions when the
undle found in the possession of a dead
ramp contained family papers and documents
to prove that the late unlamented
ras a person 01 uigu umu suu caohcu
onnections. But of my awn knowledge I jflE
avc never been able to satisfy myself as 9
o its actual character, so that when I was H
ccosted the other day by a tramp with
he usual bundle and a plea for tne price BB
f a night's lodgings,. I said to him: 99
"Tell me what is in your bundle and H
'11 give you a dollar."
"Honest?" said the tramp.
I assured him of it.
"You won't give me away to a living
"I pledge you my word."
"Well,then," said the tramp,in a voice
ill of alcohol and mystery, "I don't |H
lind teliing you. It's my full-dresa Q
lit. You .see a feller in my position has
> move in society a good deal, and ho H|
inst have his dress suit ready, for he KM
on't know when he may need it.?Neu
"ork News. S9
Training Carrier Pigeons. HI
The training of carrier pigeons begina BH
i soon as they are strong enough to fly. SgM
he young birds are taken in a covered
iskct to a place about half n mile from HH
leir home and set free. Those which
o not go home arc considered worthless; |M
lose which do so at once are tried again, H
ic distance being increased each time, [J|
ntil it is found that they will go back,
o matter how far away they may be car- Bl
ed. The messages conveyed by these H
irds are usually written or photographed M|
ti very thin paper, and tied around the HB
<* r>r nnn of the tail feathers in such a
an nor that they do not impede the
i??bt of the birds.
The value of permanent school prop-ty
in Dakota is not far from $3,000, OGu.
; has increased from U>?a than KQ.QQQ KB
i is?T.