Yorkville enquirer. [volume] (Yorkville, S.C.) 1855-2006, September 06, 1895, Image 1
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^ issued twioe-a-week?wednesday a3xt33 friday.
I. m. grist & sons, Publishers. } % Jfamitir Jfleicspaper: Jlfor the promotion of the (political, facial, Agricultural and Commercial Interests of the South. ckst*18"
VOLUME 41. YORKVILLK, S. C., FRIDAY, SKVTKU BKR 6, 1805. XUMBKR4iO.
k A DESERT CLAIM.
By MABY E. 8TI0EUEY.
[Copyright 1834, by J. B. Lippinoott Company.]
L CHAPTER XIV.
W His face turned impatiently toward
that quarter whence presently the headlight
of a locomotive would rise as a
t star against the soft darkness of the
summer night, Paul Brown loitered at
the remote eastern end of that long
platform extending out from the railway
station at Cheyenne. The great
Stone building looked grim and repelr.
lent as a prison in the white flood of
'* the eleotrio light Few were there to
welcome the coming at this hour of
half past 1 in the morning, while bono
were oalled to speed the parting guest,
sinoe the expected train was the local
from Denver, which here would be at
the end of its route. An empty baggage
truck rumbled noisily across the wooden
flooring to a position beside the ont^
er track, the fellow supplying the propelling
forqe as though wholly worn out
with the effort, properly adjusting himself
to a seat on its gridiron surface,
his legs drawn up to an angle of which
the apex fairly met his chin, his hands
clasped sustainingly around the knees.
A couple of hotel porters leaned lazily
against a oornerof the building "swapx
ping lies," as they would have expressed
it in the slang which served them
for wit A man perhaps not overhappy
in anticipation of the arrival which had
robbed him of good sleepj perhaps, like
Paul Brown, too mnch absorbed in his
- own thoughts to encourage sociability,
walked by himself in the shadows at
the far end of the platform, while by
the door of the women's room an ex\
press agent, his canvas covered book
olasped tightly under one arm, discussed
a question of local politics with a
burly officer of the law, whose silver
star of offloe shone in conspicuous warning
to all evil doers.
"Expectin oomp'ny, Brown?" the
follnw nn fKo V?a crcro era trunk"
&VMV n V/** V?v ""(3I5"8V ? ?.v.?
oalled out, with sleepy interest, after a
little. Bat the one addressed never heard
% him.
"She 1b coming 1 She is coming!" he
was 6aying over and over in passionate
recitative to the aocompaniment of his
pulsing heart, keeping his joy alive.
Even with his hand fast closed upon
her telegram in his pocket he could yet
soaroe behtove that jie was so Boqn to see
her face again, fee fell that he could
I almost murmur blessings now on that
' newspaper thunderbolt, erstwhile so accursed,
which had won for him a promise
he oould never have dared to pray
for.
And so when Edith Ellery stepped
from the sleeper that night it was Paul
Brown's face which looked at her over
the porter's shoulder; it was his hands
which were reached out to clasp hers
^ in voioeless welcoma
"Tf 4a wati MQITTT wrvn9'* ct>A onuntwl
MV MO J VU| AVIIUT J VU. ouu guw^/vv*!
incredulously touching his sleevo with
her finger tips. "Then it was not true?
You are not"?
"Decidedly not," he laughed, taking
the bag from her nerveless hands with
an air of proprietorship* ' 'Will you take
my arm? It is scarce more than a dozen
steps to the hotel, but I am obliged to
take it rather slowly on account of my
v ankle, which is not yet altogether recovered
from its wrench the other day.
I hope you don't mind?"
"But I don't understand," she faltered
bewilderedly. "I thought"?
"You thought that you might perhaps
find me hanging from a lamppost."
He laughed in boyish delight.
"I am sorry that you had such a fright,
hnt von mrmt Tint fixnent rne to be alto
- get her sorry, since it has brought you
here "
"Then it was not true what the paper
said?"
"It was, and it wasn't. Artalissa
did give me away to the best of her
ability. She evidently did see me from
the window that night, and she embroid^
ered the tale with envy, hatred, malice
and all unoharitableness. She was loaded
down with circumstantial evidence.
She had heard the jingling of ray spurs
as I passed the house, the subdued
trampling of horses and the opening of
the corral gate a moment later. I was
even twisting my quirt in my hands
when I returned, fully throe hours later
?time enough, you will see, to have
s run the stock off to a confederate, as
she cleverly suggested. There was almost
nothing to do but to arrest me after
that, though to Tregent it was all a
joke, while your brother understood it
perfectly. I encouraged the fun, partly
to see how far the girl would go with
v her soheme of vengeance, partly beBf
cause I was going back to town and
F| planned to ride down with Tregent
anyway, and. somewhat with tho idea
that were anybody on the place in communication
with tho thief?one never
knows what systems of underground
telegraphy they have, these fellows?
it might put him somewhat off his
> guard. It was all a great bluff so far
as we were oonoerned, nothing more.
But the fellow who drove us in from
the ranch improved the opportunity by
getting himself boiling drunk that
ToVion Ko want, f^llincr tho Rfnrv
?16UI,? ^ ? ? ^
around the saloons, with all Borts of
boozy embellishments, while that little
? carrion crow of a reporter got hold of
him, and?well, the joke had rather
lost its point when the papers came in
from Denver this afternoon. But I have
seen the reporter since," laughing grimly,
"and he will have the fullest passible
retraction in tomorrow's paper. But
you?were you very muoh frightened?"
\ daringly pressing the small hand more
closely to his side.
"It was unspeakably horrible," she
said, with a shudder. "To think that
you would not prove your innocence by
telling that I was with you that night!"
"As if I could possibly have done
such a thing! I would have died first,"
he protested warmly.
"I kn9W you would, " sighing wearily,
"and so I came."
"And you would have stood up and
given such testimony for me; have owned
before judge and jury, reporters and
the whole gossiping world that you had
met your brother's hired man alone at
dead of night; that you remained with
him of your own accord for half an
hour or more? Indeed Artalissa sworo
the time was fully three hours, but that
was one of her amiable exaggerations,
I am 6ure. It could not have been sc
long."
' 'Whatever might have been the time,
I should have sworn that I was with
you every minute," she returned simply.
"What else could I havo done?"
"Oh, you heroine!" he exclaimed,
such passionate tenderness in his voice
that the girl half withdrew her hand,
trembling with shy apprehension. ' 'And
to think what such an admission might
have cost you!"
They had reached the hotel, and he
ied the way up stairs to the dimly
lighted parlor, while the sleepy porter
followed obsequiously. "The lady will
go to her room presently. We will ring
when we want you," ho said to the fellow,
standing in the door until the intruder
was 6afely committed to the
stairs. "I ought to have let you go at
once," he added then, turning to look
at the girl's pale face with compunotious
tenderness, "but I wanted to
thank you, and for that other time?for
that ride to Cameron's?brave little
TT j. ^ 1 ? iL.l
woman i xou must let me speitK. ut mao.
It meant so much to me."
"Ah, it was sc little to do. You had
saved my life."
"And if I had, though that is putting
it rather Btrongly perhaps, you took a
thousand times as much pains to save
mine. And now again"?
"Again I am confronted with a record
of wasted effort You did not need me
now any more than you did the doctor
whom I brought you that other time,'
she declared, with a certain bitterness.
"The question now is, At what time
does the next train leave for Denver?"
"You do not mean the very next
train?" he faltered appealiugly.
"Most certainly I do?the very next.
Why not? You must see that the sooner
I am away now tiie better."
"There is a train that loaves at
8:50, "he reluctantly admitted. "But
you are so tired."
"But I shall go by that train just the
same," with a decisiveness which left
npthing to be said. "That will be in
about Two hours."
"A little less than two hours." His
nror wifh frail !r riicftn.
pointment as he looked at his watch.
She noted now for the first time, her
eyes shyly approving, that he was
dressed in light summer clothes fashioned
after the 6tyle of other men's
business wear. Ho had been a fine looking
fellow in the old corduroys which
had grown so familiar, but now he looked
every inch the gentleman her heart
had held him to be. "If you are going
sosoon, "he added wistfully, "I must
not detain you longer. You will want
to go to your room and rest. And I ordered
a little lunch sent up for you,
thinking you might need it "
"It was kind of you, but I am not
nungry. i suppea iuu oi uurrurs,
smiling up at him with something of
her old brightness, from an easy chair
into which she had dropped restfully.
"And I am so comfortable here. It is
hardly worth while to lie down?if
you do not mind stopping a little longer."
"Well, na I do not mind certainly,"
smiling broadly at the idea. Was
she not conscious of tho exquisite absurdity
of such words to him?
"There are 60 many things I want
to have explained to me. About Artalissa,
for instance. I cannot understand
how she came to turn against you
so."
"Oh, that," smiling embarrassedly.
"As Kipling says, 'That is another
story.' We had a few words. I was in
a bad temper the morning you went
away, giving me no opportunity for a
word of thanks or farewell. It was
rather unkind of you, don't you think?"
"Oh, if you say so, perhaps." Her
eyes dropped upon the handkerchief
which she was industriously drawing
through one gloved hand after the other.
"But I am waiting now to discuss Artalissa's
conduct, not mine."
"Well, I was in an ugly frame of
mind, as I said, and it became fairly
maddening, the sense of obligation toward
tho girl, with tho obvious misunderstanding
on her part, tho expectation
that?oh, a man feels liko a fool telling
such tilings!" breaking off miserably, a
deep flush staining his sunburned face.
"Don't ask me to go into details. It is
enough to say that I felt I ought to exvil'iin
mwunlf QAtttnti'liof T m,1/k (1
bungling job of it, and she hates like
an Indian."
"But she has wiped off the score of
all obligation by this," her eyos flashing
indignantly, her cheeks aflame.
"Surely you owe her nothing now?"
"I don't know. It grinds a little
yet," his glance moodily following the
pattern of the cari>et.
"And the horses?have you any olew
to them?"
"Jim Kittery was arrested with my
Black Prinoo at Laramie this morning.
He had ventured into the town for
whisky, like the fool he is. Ho had sold
the filly at a place over in my country,
and I have already sent a man to fetch
her back, so in all probability she will
be yours yet." His smile seemed rather
6trained. "You know perhaps that your
brother planned to give her to yon, a
wedding present?"
"He spoke of it," her eyos falling
embarrassedly. "But now"?
"Well?" as she paused.
"Oh, nothing, only my engagement,
so far as it was an engagement, is
broken."
"Broken I'' fixe in his eyes as he sprang
impulsively toward her, but after a step
he seemed to bethink himself and moved
on to the window, parting the lace curtain
to stare down into the street.
"What ought one to say on such an occasion?"
he asked presently in an odd,
muffled voice. "Congratulations seem
hardly in order."
"I don't know tnat tflere is oall tor
any remark at all," Bhe replied rather
tartly, and after a moment, as though
she would change the subject, she asked,
"And when do you go back toK6?"
"Never. I am going to leave the
ocuntry." He came moodily back from
the window and resumed the place near
her chair. "I am sick of cattle, siok
of the life, sick of the whole business.
It is like dropping buckets into empty
wells and growing old with drawing
nothing up. And I want a change. I
must have it. I have been offered the
management of an outfit in New Mexico,
and I am going there as soon as I
can get awav."
"To New Mexico!" Edith gasped. It
was as if he had said he would go to
the other end of the world. "Ah, why
will you? Why will you not go back to
your father if you are tired of this life?
I have thought of it so much, so wished
you would go," flashing an appealing
glance full in his eyes.
"Have you, dear little girl?" his
heart speaking in the glance he gave
uaiiA iu JICJ..
"My friend, Mrs. Hallet, with whom
I have been staying in Denver,''she
went on hurriedly, her color rising,
"was talking the other day about her
brother who died. He was killed, but
it seems that his poor old father will
never admit that he is dead; that he
will not some day come back to them.
He has his room always ready for him.
Every day he prays for him. I could
not but think of you as I heard it, and
with tears in my heart for tho poor old
fathor who somewhere must be mourning
in just that way for you. Ah, can
you not 6ee that your hard, unyielding
obstinacy is cruel to him; that you have
punished him more than he deserved in
all these years? Can you not guess how
his heart must bo eaten out with sorrow,
waiting for the opportunity to atone?
waiting, like that poor father of tho Paul
who died, for the son who will not return
to him?"
He had buried his face in his hands
as she went on, and when he looked up
his eyes were flashing with unshed
tears. "You do not know, oh, you cannot
guess what you have been telling
me!" he cried brokenly. "It is my father
you are telling me about?my father!
I could not have believed it; that
ho cared for me liko that! But it is
true. Barbara says so. Dear little
Bab!" the last in eager questioning, as
though he could not even now believe
what lie had heard.
"You are her brother?you!" her face
paling. "You?Paul Brown?"
"My name is Paul Brown ITu::tington,
at your service," he explained, with
boyish delight in her amazement.
"And you have been living under a
falso name all these years?"
"Not exactly. Brown was my middle
nama It was my mother's, and I
flinnffKt. T a ricrlit tn it. T cimnlv
vuvugim * "v.v. .? --ft - v. - c.j
dropped the other after tho railroad
accident when I was supposod to have
been killed on my way west. I had intended
to take that train, and my berth
was engaged, which was how they carno
to have iny name in tho list of passeu
gers in the sleeper. But I happened to
miss it by a hair on account of running
against one of my fraternity men and
stopping too long talking with him, and
the next day when tho accident was reported
I don't know whether I was glad
or sorry that soino ouo had blundered so
far as I was concerned. At all events, it
appeared that to all intents and purposes
I was dead, and I decided to remain
so."
"And you have lived near your sister
all these years and never let her know?
How could you buso hard?"
"I was dead. Why should I risk embarrassing
my friends by rising from
thogravewhen I had not the smallest reason
to suppose that I was wanted? I kept
run of my sister in a way through the
society items in tho Denver papers,
from which it appeared that eho had
not tho smallest need of me. She was in
tho swiin, floating on tho top wave,
while I had all I could do barely to
keep my head above water. Had she
been in want of any help which I could
hnvo given, had there even l>ecn any
timo in all the long years when I could
have gone to her without my attitude
4m
lie had burled hi* face in hi# hand# as
she wait on.
seeming a tacit appeal for help, it might
havo been diffcreut, but in iuy shabby
old corduroys and cowboy hat, with the
record of failure written upon mo so
that he who ran might read, was I the
guest to appear properly at the door of
that grand house on Capitol hill?"
"But you will go to her now?"
"If you tell mo to."
"And you will go back with me tonight?"
"May I? You know what it would be
to me to go with you if you permitted
it, even if nothing were beyond. Yet
when I think of seeing Barbara so soon
?dear little Bab I She always had such
hopes for mo, poor little girl! Sho believed
that I would do great things.
My record will be a sorry surprise for
her."
"How can you say such things? How
can you think of anything but tho glad
surprise it will bo to her to see you
again? Can you not guess how she loves
you, her only brother, for whom her
only boy is named? And do you think
lovo will stop to weigh and measure
what you have done or left undone? She
will be proud of you that you have done
so well and only love you the better for
the failures."
"Will she?" he whispered huskily.
Sho had taken off her gloves, and one
bare hand lay tempting him on the velvet
covered arm of her ohair. He
reached over hesitatingly, covering its
rose leaf daintiness with a tremulous
pressure. "Ah, how you always comfort
me, charm me, make me glad in
spite of myself! Yon make me forget :
everything but the joy I have in yon.
Yon make me forget what I am and
what you are. Did yon guess that
night when wo were sitting by the
burnt out bonfire? It was at just about
this time, by the way. Did you dream how
hard it was for mo to hold myself '
back from snatching you to my heart
and telling you that I could never let
you go? You looked so sweet, so lovely, 1
with the moonlight shining on your
face. I wonder now that I had strength 1
to be silent It was only the knowledge of 1
tho uselessness of it, tho pain it might '
bo to you, that sealed my lips. Even if ]
I had not known that you belonged to
another I think I could not have spoken.
I had sworn I would never speak. But
now if I go homo to my father I shall
at least have the name of a good old :
family to offer the woman I lovo. I may |
not have much more, for, as I told you i
that night, I cannot go back begging." i
A touch of the old stubborn pride was
in the slight upward movement of his
handsome head. "But youspokoof tak- i
ing up a desert claim, you know." He s
tried to turn it off with a joking laugh, 1
but halted, with something like a sob,
as he bent his head to cover the small <
hand with passionate kisses. "Oh, dar- 1
ling, darling, what would you do if I
were to offer you one?" I
"I think,"she said, pausing judi- '
oially, a mischievous smile curving her j
lips, although the brightness of glad i
tears shono in her tender eyes, "all |
things considered, I think I should oc- ]
cept it, dear." i
THE END. I
WOMEN'S RIGHTS IN BURMAH.
According to H. Fielding, a writer '
in Blackwood's Magazine, the paradise
of women is in Bnrmali. There, says 1
Mr. Fielding, woman and man are on .
the same footing. There is not a single
law which does not bear equally on
man and woman. Men have never '
tried to say what is fitting and what
is not fitting for them. *'No artificial
ideals from long past ages have been 1
held up to them us eternal copies. It
has been left to their own good sense 1
and to the eternal fitness of things to
determine what is womanly and what .
!. . >i AT? ti..t I
IS IJUl. iUr. Pluming >uy111 <lt in/ ,
women possess in greater strength all
the nameless attractions of a woman.
The members of either sex are left to '
choose their own occupations, and the
men sew and embroider# as well as the
women. He further says:
The retail trade of the country is in :
the hands of the women, and they
nearly all trade on their own account. '
Just as the. men farm their own laud,
the women own their own businesses.
They are not saleswomen for others ;
but traders on their own account, and,
with the exception of the silk and
cloth branches of the trade, it does not
interfere with home life. The bazaar
lasts but three hours, and the woman
has ample lime for her home duties 1
when her daily visit to the bazaar is
over. She is never kept away all day '
in shops and factories. Her home life
is always the centre of her life. She
could not neglect it for any other. It
broadens her views. It would seem
to her a losing of the greater in '
the less. But the effect of this 1
custom of nearly every woman hav- :
ing a little business of her own
has a great influence on her life. It !
teaches her things she could not learu
in the narrow circle of home duties.
It gives her that tolerance and understanding
which so forcibly strike every
v.~.. Tf toonlme !
UUV MilV IYllu??r, u?, xv iv..v,.v? iv
know her own strength and weakness,
and how to make the best of each. 1
I
fihiT They say : That?he amateur pes- i
si mist usually starts with his wife's i
cooking; that a cent makes more i
noise iu it contribution box than a $5 <
note; that you cannot tell the price i
of a straw hat by the loudness of its
baud; that the man whose own childhood
is entirely forgotten is apt to i
make n hard father; that some women <
are so kind that they marry men j
merely because they sympathize with I
them; that wise men have said many
foolish things, and foolish men have
uttered many wise sayings; that many i
people have finer garments to clothe '<
their bodies than they have words to
clothe their thoughts; that at some '
parties you spend half the evening in I
coaxing people to sing, anil the other
half in wishing you hadn't; that no i
matter whether a man's life results 1
in absolute failure or complete success, 1
plenty of people who predicted it can 1
always be found. <
ittiwllancoits ilcailing.
HIS DEATIUYAHIIAST.
A prominent New Jersey lawyer
tells the Cincinnati Enquirer a story
that possesses more than local interest.
It is a true narrative of how one man
constituted himself a Lexow committee
of one, and in a simple hut nevertheless
ingenious manner practically eradicated
an evil in one New York court
wnicn nun grown to proportions mm
seemed alarming. It was the court of
Judge J. T. Irving. It was the rule
that every time the judges signed a
paper they should receive a fee of one
dollar. It meant that it cost one dollar
to have the judge write his autograph.
One day two prominent New York
lawyers were in Judge Irving's court
when he was busily engaged in signing
papers. There was a long lino of lawyers
filing slowly in front of his desk,
and as each passed up his papers he at
the same time laid down a corresponding
number of dollars. The judge
would glance at the papers, make a
scrawl on each, and take up the next
package, the pile of greenbacks growing
steadily as the line of lawyers thinned
out. One of the two lawyers looking
on said to his companion :
"I have the highest respect for the
judge's integrity, hut I am satisfied he
does not know half the time what he
is signing."
With that he strode out of the room,
and presently returned with a legal
form signed by the sheriff, and which
set forth that on such and such a day,
at a certain hour and in a certain
place, Judge Irving was to be hanged
by the neck until he would be dead.
The lawyer then took his place in the
line filing before the judge's desk.
When it came his turn lie held up the
paper folded between the fingers, in a
nonchalant manner, and laid down his
one dollar wun tne omer nana, waicning
the judge narrowly out of the corner
of his eyes.
His honor unfolded the the paper,
and hurriedly plunged his pen in the
ink. There was a splutter and a
icrawl, and Judge Irving had signed
his own deathwarrant.
Without a word the lawyer took the
document and put it away carefully in
his pocket. His companion, who had
watched the performance with bated
breath, could scarcely believe his eyes.
That night the lawyer went to a social
gathering, which Judge Irving was to
attend, with the deathwarrant in his
pocket. Late in the eveving he fcnund
himself in a corner with the judge, and
realized that his opportunity had
come to serve bis warrant.
"Judge" he began, "I was watching
you signing papers today, and I
couldn't for the life, of me understand
how you can read them all. Do you really
read tbera ?"
"Why, certainly. It's a matter of
habit you know. I have acquired it by
years of practice. I can at a glance
detect the really important sentences or
words."
"Don't you think that rather a dangerous
practice? Mightn't you put
your name to something you ought
not to?"
"Oh, my, no!"
"You dou't think the dollar fee is an
incentive to the man to do the work a
little more hurriedly than he ought?"
"I can't answer for other men, but I
urn sure in mv own case the mouey
makes no difference."
;'\Yrell," said the lawyer, producing
the death warrant, and holding it in
>uch 'a manner that the name of Judge
Irving only was visible, "is that your
signature ?"
"It looks like it."
"Examine it closely, and tell me if
it is your handwriting."
The judge put on his glasses, stared
at the paper, and then declared it was
his signature. The lawyer then unfolded
the paper, and handed it to the
judge. The latter read it, and turned
crimson.
"When did you get that paper ?" he
gasped.
"I gave it to you this morning, and
you signed it. It told Lawyer Bland
you would sign it, and you did."
After that the signing of papers in
Judge Irviug's court was as long and
tedious a process as it had been rapid
a.ud careless before. It was said of
him that he was much slower and
more painstaking than he need have
been.
UUEER MARRIAGE CEREMONY.
Corean girls, according to Mr. H.
Saundersou, after enjoying freedom
until they are 8 years out, are consigned
to the women's quarters, where
Lhey live in seclusion till they are
married, at 10 or 17 years. After
marriage the woman is allowed to see
uo man but her husband. The boys,
on the other hand are taught that it is
undignified for them to enter the
women's part of the house. They
never see their brides till the wedding
day, all having been arranged for them,
often when both bride and bridegroom
were infants. The bride and
bridegroom invite their most intimate
friends to assist them in dressing their
hair in the manner befitting their new
estate. Then the bridegroom mounts
iv white pony, which is led by two servants,
while two others on either sidesupport
the rider in his saddle. Thus
he proceeds to the bride's house in
which the bride and her relatives are
awaiting their arrival. A goose (the
C'orean symbol of fidelity), which the
bridegroom brings with him is then
produced. The bride (who hus to
eover her face with her long sleeves),
and the bridegroom then bow to each
other until their heads almost touch
the ground. This they do three or
four times and are then man and wife.
A loving cup is passed around and then
the bride is taken off to the women's
apartments of her husband's home,
where she is looked after by her mother-in-law
while the groom entertains
his friends. The husband must maintain
his wife properly and treat her
with respect. Marriage is the great
event in a Corean's life, for, he then
attains man's estate. Before marriage,
no matter how old he may be, he is
treated as a boy, and has to maintain
a deferential attitude toward the married
men, even though they be only
half his age.?Popular Science Monthly.
GENERAL LEE'S LAST YEARS.
"General Lee never left Lexington
after he assumed the presidency of the
college," said S. D. McCormick recently.
"He had distinguished visitors from
North and South, and from Europe,
and they still come to visit his tomb.
Hundreds of invitations came to him
to attend army reunions and the like,
hut he always courteously declined
them. But every evening he would
mount his horse and take an hour's
ride. I have oAen met him at these
times. He would always give the
military salute. Sometimes he would
rein in his horse and talk.
"His demeanor was always dignified
and serious; indeed, sad. I never saw
him smile. One could feel the very
personality of Lee pervading the atmosphere
around old Washington and
Lee University. Every student was
on his honor. Not one of them would
lie. You have some idea of what college
boys are and what many of them
will do. They will stop at nothing in
their pranks. Yet students in that
university have convicted themselves
of pranks that caused their expulsion
because they could not lie when
brought face to face with General Lee.
He was absolutely a pure man, if ever
oue lived. He neither drank, chewed
nor smoked, nor ever used vulgar
language. He was a clean man.
"Washington was his idol. He patterned
his life after that illustrious
patriot. In his very bearing and personality
he reminded one of Washington.
You know how closely he was
allied to the family of Washington.
The name of Washington University
was changed Dy the \ lrginia legislature
to that of Washington and Lee
University. General Lee's wife, Mary
Curtis, sleeps by his side in the tomb
under tbe chapel platform of the university.
"Directly opposite the crypt where
Lee lies, and on the same floor, is his
private office, with everything just as
he left it?his chair, his pen, everything
just as he had it in life. Above the
crypt rises the monument, and upon it
the reclining figure of the general in
military trappings, executed in the
finest marble by Valentine. Curtis
Lee, his son, is now president of the
university."?Cincinnati Times-Star.
MOTHER'S OF GREAT MEN.
The mother of Auber, the composer
of French opera, Lad excellent taste
in both tnnsic aud the fine arts.
Bach's mother had a marvelous ear
for music. He said she was a better
judge of music than his father.
The mother of Peter the Great was a
woman of intrepid courage and great
personal strength, both of body and *
mind.
Van Dyke's mother was quite an
art critic, with a very correct appreciation
of excellence in drawing and
painting.
Daniel Webster once said : ''The
man who would be disrespectful to
his mother would spit on her grave
when she was dead."
The mother of the famous Constable
Bourbon learned to fence in order
IU assist ill iur unuiui \ uaiuiug vi uv*
son.
Handel's mother was a woman of
unusual strength of character. He resembled
her more than he did his father.
The mother of Greene, the Revolutionary
general, was a woman of great
personal piety, very grave and sedate.
Lamartine had an exceptionally
clever mother, and several times in
his writings mentions her with admiration.
Massillon, the great French preacher,
had a singularly taleuted mother,
whose influence over his life was unbounded.
Thackery adored the memory of his
mother. He said: ''Mother is the
name of God on the lips of little children."
Luther had a most exalted opinion
of mothers and motherhood, and repeatedly
eulogizes both in his writ
RfSP The more light admitted to
apartments the better for those who
occupy them. Light is as necessary
to sound health as, it is to vegetable
life. Exclude it from plants, and the
consequences are disastrous. They
cannot be perfect without its vivifying
influence. It is a fearful mistake to
curtain and blind windows so closely,
for fear of injuring the furniture by
exposure to the sun's rays; such rooms
positively gather elements in darkness
which engender disease. Let in the
light often, and fresh air, too, or suffer
the penalty of aches and pains and
long doctor's bills which might have
been avoided.
86T Men thank themselves for success,
but curse fortune for failure.