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| VOL. XLIX. CAMDEN, S. C., THURSDAY, AUGUST 21, 1890. NO. 8. L FAST AND I.OOSF, O bird, that lov'st tho trea All on a summer day, i When the warm breeze flits free That makes tby nest to be On its green branch as way? f Bird, when tho sunbeams flee, 1 And green leaves from the tree, "What dost thou then? Oh, say, "I fly away." O tree, that fair canst bo But on a summer day. When the bird clings to thoo In thy green lovingly, And thou and he are gay? Tree, when thy green leaves flee, And the bird flees from thee. What dost thou then? Oh, say, "Alas! I slay.'' ?Xcw Yov!: Tribune. Drama of Dunstable Farms, BY DOB A BF.ED ?O0DAI,E. Ilaving no special interests of my own, and being of a somewhat observant habit of mind, I was last summer a sympathetic spectator o: tne uttie aomcsuc experience which I have called here the drama of Dunstable Farms. I may even say that I was a humble participant in it. The heroine?but stop! the minor characters should appear first. Now Patty, it must be confessed, is a minor character. Enter Patty, then, first, with her apron on, and her hair rolled up smoothly uuder a round white cap?not pretty at cll,but wholesome and pleasant to look on, and as satisfying for a long journey as a lot of brown bread. Dunstable Farms; you may have heard of tho place, where the family has flourished and spread like a banyan grove since William Dunstable planted himself here in, 1 don't know what, year of grace. All tho land hereabout was bought of the Indian tribes,the old deeds signed with their "marks'* being still in the family archives, so that it is the Dunstable boast that their acres have never been owned by any white man bearing another name. Hither, to "recruit," ;.n a DOtable morning in May, when the roads had recovered from the prolonged state of prostration which afflicts them in early spring, came I?a spinster, reader, but not too old a one to liud young people congenial. Patty met me at the station. Patty drove me home and unharnessed the horse, and afterward set the table aud brought out the sweetmeats for supper. Then she superintended the carryiug of my trunks up a flight of back stairs which seemed desigucd for the shaft of an elevator. Patty was the active, tho serviceable, the delightful; there were live iu tho family now, sho said?her father, her mother, herself, North the cook, and Stephen the hired man. I was to be the only boarder. This Stcpheu I immediately seized upon as the villain of my piece, chiefly because of his rough, shaggy head and his solemn, inscrutable visage, whic1 looked as if he were revolving the darkest designs,although I could hear of none worse than c. great thirst for learning, [t was a democratic household, and Stephen had lib seat at the lower end of the table. He and Mr. Dunstable often paused to discuss the care of the live stock and methods of tilling. But I soon learned that there was another daughter, Eunice, the sixteen-year-1 old, and the clever one of the family, j There was always one head-piece among ;he Duustablo kin, said Patty, ingeuuously, and she further informed me that it was odd that Eunice should have come into this family inheritance, because their own father was not the bright one of his generation; but Eunice took after her Uncle Erastus, she s'pose.l, who studied at Middleficld College and went into the ministry. It was an understood thing that the most intelligent one, boy or girl, should have good advantages, and when Eunice carried oil the prize at a spelling-match, while still a small crea'ure in pinafores, and in the district school outstripped all tho cousins growing up at Dunstable Farms, a family couclave was held. One uncle contributed a beifer, another a sheep,?they were land-poor, these Dunstables, aud saw very few present dollars . % _e 1 _:..i la tne course 01 a year,?anu ius gin was sent fifty miles nwny to the Young Ladies' Seminary. This was two years ago, and next year she would graduate. I must own that my feelings received a shock on first sceiug this bright one, this Eunice, come three weeks Inter, when Stephen lifted her and her trunks from the ample farm-wagon. Whatover the original material might be, the veneer of boarding-school life was displayed to perfection. She wore a white hat with some "stylo" about it, indeed, but a very objectionable style, as it seemed to me, and a pair of kid gloves at least two sites too small. She coukl not have handled a fork in those gloves, nor have held up her skirt, much less her umbrella. Now Patty's best gloves were of gray cotton, with lncc-work wrists, and sometimes, I ought to add, she wore them when sho saddled the horse. It was hard to understand how any girl could bo at ouce so keen and so contradictory as Miss Eunice. She did not seem to despise the farm, but professid an ignorance of things pertaining to it which, it seemed to me, coald uot be genuine. Sh? would dislike Stephen, I supposed, as a common farm laborer, and he would tind her fine-lady uirs ridiculous. Alas, that oven at thirty our wisdom is bafiled by these young folks at every turn! Miss Eunice treated Stephen with good-natured indifference, while he, like tho the perverse fellow he was, chose to treat her from the first as a kind of divinity. She was given to studying geometry, and biology, too; she spent whole forenoons over the microscope, dissectiug not only plants but fishes and mice, although Patty on no account would have permitted her to joint up the chickens for dinner. She was not an idle girl, but full of activities rather, anil yet she did nothing at all to help in the house, except to trim over all Patty's hats uud remodel most of her dresses. Stephen spent liis evenings, nlone and remorse, in the kitchen, for Norali usual ly sat in the porch; he was working at his books, they said, though how he could study after from ten to fourteen hours in the tield was a mystery to me. Ouc evening, when the lamps had been lighted, Norah came 111, a sheet, of brown paper, covered with diagrams, in her baud, to say that Stephen was "wantiu' to know if Mics Eunice wouldn't just cast an eye over that, for. he couldu't mek out the throublo at all, at all." Patty looked up, apprehensively, I thought, for Stephen's requests somc1 times verged 011 the audacious, except that the}* were made with so much solemn unconsciousness; but Eunice took the paper obligingly. When she saw what it was, her face lighted up. She bit her lip over it a few moments in silence, and then rushed out I - v... to iae Kiicufu. "When I followed a little later?to get a glass of new milk?they were sitting at the well-scrubbed tabic, with a battered ! geometry between them, bDtli heads : bent, both faces shining with eagerness, i and both tongues murmuring something 1 about tho maximum of isopcrimctrical polygons. I That was the beginning of Eunice's i interest in Stephen. The girl thought so i highly of intellectual force that all her f good will was gained when sho found < some one who had, alone and unaided, ] almost overtaken her in her favorite study. Every night afterward she in- I sistcd on helping him, and did it with 1 only a trace in her air of the beautiful 1 patroness. Certainly a tcacbcr like Eunice must I havo put a now moaning into tho dogeared volumes. Sho fouud a place for 1 Stephen now at our picnic.s and other ' frolics, plannlngs things so gracefully i that her father never seemed to miss tho i time of his foreman, and leading Stephen | to talk of himself with tho kindest maternal sympathy; ho was only two years 1 nlrtor flmn she! Nor wns this all. Early and lato, in i season and out of season, Eunico urged on us all that the boy should liavo better ; opportunities. Howes ten times as clovor as she, she declared, though nobody be- 1 licvcd it; it was a pity and a shame that J ho did not go to school, and something' < ought to bo dono about it. Mr. Dun- ] stable told her that Stephen's father had ! been the skipper of a sailing vessel, and 1 was lost, I believe, on the high seas somo- j where between here and China. I "Haven't you ever seen thoso outland- 1 ish knives of Stephen's, with tho queer figgers on 'em? That's about all ho left 1 him, I reckon," said good Mr. Duustablc. i The next time Stephen passed, ho was 1 called up to display these wonderful 1 weapons, which lie brought forth directly f from an inside pocket, thereby roviving 1 my theory as to his dangerous character, 1 which was beginning to waver. We were sitting at the time out under ' the copper-leaved birches with a young * heiress, who was bcardiog down iu the f village. She was a collector of curios, 1 and took a great fancy to these knives, 1 which were beautiful little toys of Indian ' or Chinese workmanship. The delicately-curved two-edged blades were thrust ' into short leather sheaths, and the round handles of ivory carved over with drag- ' ons. Afterward, and certainly not with- 1 out a mental reservation for the owner's 1 own benefit, she offered Stephen twenty- 1 five dollars apiece for the two; but1 Stephen, to our surprise, refused to sell 1 them, sayiug that bis father had given ( them to him and he would never part J with them. Eunice was at no pains to ' conceal her vexation. Meanwhile I began to suspect that all 1 was uot right with Mr. Dunstable's own 1 financial affairs. He had always been the ( unthrifty one of his family, with an un- J fortunate tendency toward "spekilation." J He was an old man now, and somewhat i J l broken down, so that the management of i the place was left more and more in the 1 hands of Patty nnd Stephen. Patty, in- s deed, was quite competent to assume the 1 whole charge; but her father looked so ( anxious and worried that I guessed, as I fancy she did. that some bad news was j 4 coming. At last the blow fell. Of the purse i * which the brothers had made up to pay I for Eunice's schooling, one hundred dolI lars had becu reserved to cover the tuition fees in the coming September. This Mr. Dunstable had risked?invested, or what you will, and lost it. Now to go in debt is to go branded, in the eye of u Dunstable. One resource, however, remained for Eunice. Mr. Dun- | stable had a colt, raised on the farm, and dear as the apple of his eye becauso of a ; fond belief which he entertained that it ( was destined one day to develop 4 4speed." i It was in truth a fine colt, though a little 1 ! long in the legs and lean in the neck, j j and given to sundry very lively tricks ( j and diversions. ? \ This colt Mr. Dunstable determined to j sell. He was young, recently broken, ] and useless for heavy farm labor. Having raised by the sale of this nnimal the I j formidable sum, Eunice's other expenses j : would doubtless be gradually forthcom- ; ing. When Eunice protested, her father i | sternly silenced her, declaring that the i money lie had lost was given in trust for her schooling. . Presently Mr. Chichester, a farmer from under the mountain who had longhad a covetous eye upon the colt, caino up to Dunstable Farms oue bright after noon. lie looked the auitnal over, go': Stephen to show ofE his paces?how pretty and docile he was that day to be sure!?examined his teeth and his hoofs, and partly concluded a bargain. lie was i to take him home for a week, at the end of which time, if the animal proved sound and steady, he would pay down the 8100. Houest Mr. Dunstable made no objection to such au arrangement. lie was as blind where the faults of his favorite ! were concerned as the most partial of parents. Exit Mr. Chichester?exit the colt, quite sedate, at the tail of his wagon. We all lived that week in a vague atmosphere of suspense. I could not but think it ill-judged when, at the expira tion of the time, Mr. Dunstable announced his iuteution of sending Stephen after the money, especially as I hjard him say, as the lad was preparing to set off: ".Now, if he should think we was asktn' a leetlc too much, if the colt's bc'n up his games and he wants yc should knock a bit off from the price, I wouldn't stick out for a few dollars?not for a few dollars, Stephen. We could make it up somehow?so sec ye don't bring back tho creator* " This was putting too much responsibility on such a young lad. I, for ouc, was greatly relieved when Stephen returned at dusk, a id much to his own satisfaction and the general rejoicing unrolled from his wallet and placed in his employer's hands one lmudred dollars. Mr. Chichester, he said, was satisfied with his bargain; he thought the colt a line fellow, although fractious at mill's* blatters now seemed to settle back into the old grooves, and Eunice Dcgan to make preparations for school. But several days later sho came in from a round of calls looking flushed and disturbed, and asked if her father could leud a horse the next day. After much wrinkling of eyebrows and counting of fingers the farmer concluded that the sorrel marc could be spared, and Eunice invited me to accompany her, ou some sort o#a drive, the purposo of which sho 3id not announce. I accopted, because [ was quito willing to study tho girl. Our drive took us through a part of tho region unknown to me hitherto, and brought us at last to tho gate of a farmhouse of prosperous appearance wheu Runico drew up and asked mo to hold the reins whilo sho went in A fow momonts later sho camo down the gravel walk In a somewhat agitated way aud with oyes sparkling. As sooa is wo were fairly started sho turned to mc, saying abruptly, "Mr. Chichostor p;avc only fifty dollars for that colt!" "Only fifty dollars}" I ochoed, astonished. "Yes. And Stephen sold his knives to mako it up to a hundred." "What? Oh, I sco I But how did you know?" "Why,when I called on Miss Willouglii? .1?. .1 tj I jy ycsieruuy, ?uu smu u^uuu i licr good fortuno iu securing those Chinese daggers. A sort of suspicion passed over inc. I askod her when Stephen had sold them, and she said It tvas Tuesday, sho believed. lie camo in just at dark, looking 'pale and odd,'and :old her ho had reconsidered. She gave aim tho money." "Yes, but about tho colt? Did sho enow about that?" "Of courso not. I camo hero to sco tfr. Chichester. I lookod him straight u tho cyo and asked what he paid for it. !Io said 'Fifty dollars' boforo he thought, incl thcu clapped his hand upon his nouth. ?nold onl' ho said; 'I promised ;ho young fellow not to mention the jrico.' It is not so strange that Stephen lad to como down. Mr. Chichester says ;lio colt can jump any fence on the place, md made kindling wood of his best phaeton the first time he drove him. lie vill have to be put in tho hands of a regular trainer." "But I think it was very unwarrantable in Stephen," I protested. "It was certainly unwarrantable in iim tn nut -no under such obligations. I ;hink," said Eunice. The tears which an down her pretty checks were tears of nortificd pride. I was not surprised that the girl should ;akc it in this way, knowing that it >ften requires a more generous nature to iccept a favor than to render one. Eunice lad played the part of the fair benefac;res? so well that her self-love wns natu ally wounded. Therefore. I was scarcely ess astonished than was Stephen when, >n reaching home, she walked straight lp to him in the yard, with both hands leld out, and said, simply, "O Stephen, [ know all about it." The school-books rested that night vhile the boy and girl sat ou the door;tep outside, and snatches of their conversation came in through my open winlow. "But I wanted to do it," I heard Stephen say iu his serious way. "Why, iliss^Euuicc, what did I care about ;hcra?" Afterward came Eunice's fresh, uanistakablc voice, "Yc3, Stephen, I will iccept it?that is, for the present." This seemed to be satisfactory, and concluded the interview. Last week I received tho following characteristic letter from Patty: "Dunstable Farms, January 12th. "My Dear Miss Fulton: You asked rao to write to you after the holidays wero over. IVo all spent Christmas Day at the homostead and had a real family party. Eunice was at home, of course, ana what do you think? She had actually been teaching In the night schools and brought back that fifty iollars that Stephen lent her. Stephen is going to take it and go in the high school this term. Eunico like;! teaching so much, and says she intends to devote her life to it?but she may change her mind. I think it wonderful, though, how much good sho did Stephen. I never saw any one improve as ho has. "By tho way, wo hear now that tho colt is going to bo a great troter. [Patty's orthography was not alv.-ays faultless.] However, pornaps it is just as well that we've got hi in off from our minds. And you know ho did act awfully. "Father and mothor send their respects. Wo hopo you will como hero next summer. "Affectionately yours, "Patty Dunstable." So ends the drum. Patty is not yet promoted from the fann-housc kitchen. The heroine was not miraculously cured of her folKcs; an I the villain turned out to be the hero.? Companion. A Lnnatlc Swims Twenty-Two Miles. A marvelous feat was accomplished by Williani Blackett, of Chickasaw County, au incurable inmate of tho insano hospital at Independence, Iowa. Gaining entrance to the sewer he followed its course to the river a mile and a half. Here he divested himself of all clothing and started to swim to St. Louis. lie was discovered when going over the dam at Quasqueton, and as all efforts to induce him to land were futile lie was captured by force after he had swum a distance of twenty-two miles. Except a bruised shoulder he was all right.?Pittslurg Dispatch. i COWBOY TRICKS. WAYS IN WHICH A HOUSE AND A STEEK CAN BE MANAGED. How to Pick up a Jack Rabbit "On the Fly"?The Many Uses of a Broncho?Fancy Horse? inanship. .. - Over in South San Francisco, beyond the smells of Butchertown, there is a little wild west show in ses'"'on nearly every afternoon in the year. Anywhere from 3 to 6 o'clock p. m. the cowboys drive the city's daily beef in on the hoof from the corrals on the hills where toe steers recuperate from their long ride in RESCUING A COMRADE, the not over luxurious cattle cars provided by the railroads. California soil ha9 become too valuable to grow beef on of late years, and Arizona, Texas and the few remaining Territories now furnish its standard meat. From the foot of Second street, where the live steers land1, they are taken in hand by the centaurs in the employ of the wholesale butchers and driven to the big feed corrals on the hills just west of the road to Uucle Tom's cabiu. Here they are baited and rested and cooled off for a few days before going to execution, dissection, the oven, pot or broiler, and the table. From the corrals to the slaughter houses the distance is a couple of miles, mainly through the main business artery of South San Francisco, which said artery is much broken by vacant lots that allow frisky steers to escape to the surrounding hills. The boys who conduct the transportation are nearly all Americans, says a writer in the San Francisco Examiner, and their pride in their horsemanship prompts many an antic and daring feat to delight the audience that daily assembles to witness the bovines' funeral march to the shambles. Without money and without price the on-lookers witness feats of riding that would make splendid extras on Buffalo Bill's prcgramrae. Some of their dare-devil gal ops over the broken hills in chase of a stray bullock are exciting in the extreme, beside affording opportunity for feats with the riata and a display of hurling powers on the part of the horses. When the drove is orderly the boys lose their hats, and pick them up from the saddle while their horses are on the run, and resort to scores of other tricks that tend to 6how their cleverness. The dark-hued native Californian no longer shines pre-eminent in cattle handling, throwing the lasso and riding the trustworthy mm tang; young California, the son of the 49-er, has learned his business and beats him at his own game. The commonly accepted reason for this is the preponderance of nerve, coolness, strength and dare-devil recklessness in i:he American stock, and certain it is that the past fifteen years has seen the Mexican, and Spaniard displaced by the sons of the present holders of the country. An Examiner reporter and a camera snap-shot expert toured South San Francisco yesterday and viewed some of the work of the more notable of the south f0T5" A CONFIRMED "BUCKER." end vaqueros. Billy Roche, Frank Itanlctt, Billy Smith, the quartet of Day Brothers, "Bloke" Harney, George Jinks, Grant Pyle, Frank Pate, Tom O'Day, Jack Lillard and a hundred other experts were out, but all were too busy with their everyday duties to stop to talk or illustrate their tricks of rope and saddle. Fred. Baaser, a smooth faced lad, who was born here a score of years ago and ha3 been in the saddle ever since, had an oil day, however, and consented to show oil a little for the benefit of the Examiner s commissioners. He had just completed the education of a handsome three-year-old filly with teaching her to stand aud keep a riata taut while he dismounted and removed the rope from the horns of an Imaginary steer. "It is handy to know how to get ori a horse quick," he began, when the camera was in focus. "Most of the boys do it this way." His bft hand touched the pommel and the bridle reins at the same time; the right reached for the canofnrfnrl fftrwn rfl CCI. JJIVIUJT, bU<J UllJ) Dv I?kv?sv? .. I., v., and with her fii-st jump Baascr made a spring resembling the flight of a bird. He landed with his right leg well across the saddle, and by the time Biddy had gathered herself for the second jump tho rider was in his seat, both feet in the ctirrups and prepared to rope a cow, stop a runaway or head oil an unruly steer. "Some of the boys jump on from behind," said Baascr, "but they are well acquainted with their horses and know that they will submit to it. The majority of them take the side jump, though, even when they are behind their horses, for they are ready for business sooner, and jumping with the horse is less hindrance to his getting under way than plumping solidly down on his back when he is not looking or expecting it. Throwing a rope comes next after learn ing to ride. After becoming n fair marksman, with plenty of room to swing in and the horns of a steer for a target, there are the underhand casts and the throws with the rope ou a trail (without a swing), to master, besides two or three others that a vaquero finds use for in various emergencies. The cast with the rope on a trail is especially useful in a corral picking up a horse who might, if alarmed by a swing, give a man on Toot a tiresome chase." Baaser illustrated the cast from a trail by walking Biddy slowly in the direction ot a browsing cow with the loop of his riata trailing behind him. Suddenly his right arm shot forward from its backward extension, and the rawhide thong whizzed through the air until it settled its snaky coil about the neclc of the astonished old cow, twenty feet away. After bringing her to a halt Baaser dropped his riata, and let the cow start off with it at a trail. "I dropped that on purpose," he said, "but a man often loses his rope through i accident, and then it becomes necessary to be able to recover it without dismounting. If a man got of! to pick it up it would never be within his reach on account of the movements of the animal to which it is attached. This is the way to pick up a rope." Baaser started Biddy after the fast disappearing cow, turned her and headed her back for the focus of the camera. "Now!" he yelled as he dashed by on a hard run, and with a wild swoop he reached with his left hand for the trailing riata. His only hold it seemed was by the compression of his right heel against the face of the saddle cantel and a light grip on a wisp of Biddy's main. Almost before he was down he was up again, taking a turn around the horn and checking Biddy. She braced herself, the rope tautened, and the galloping cow came to a halt with an unpleasant suddenness that would have thrown her FJf nis dorse is nis fort. down but for Baascr's letting out a little slack at the critical moment. "Now, if this was a tough old steer with a disposition to be ugly, I should probably want help in throwing him down and getting the rope off, but with a cow Biddy's aid will prove sufficient." The intelligent little filly braced herself, bend onto the cow, and followed her every movement without allowing the rope to slacken an inch while Baascr jumped off and walked up to the cow's head and slipped off the noose. "The pickup is very useful," said the young vaqucro, "and in more ways than one. If I lose my hat I can recover it without loss of timo. See!" and he tossed his sombrero to the ground, rode off a little way and recovered it on the run with the same marvelous swoop a3 hefnrn. "They say that some of the boys catch jackrabbits out on the plains, but I never saw them do it, for my work has been mainly confined to Butchertown, and we don't have jackrabbits over here. There is a dog that I'll practice on, though,and you can get an idea of how it is done." A small kiyi was chasing down the road at the time, and Baaser took after him. The teirier was elusive for a time, , ItEOOVEMNQ A DROPPED HAT. but finally kept on in a straight line, and in an instant Baaser was alongside. Ho had to make a wide reach this time and na n fnnt. fJdvlinrht between his ? ?j--a? body and Biddy's side when he clutched doggy by the cars and nape of the neck and swuug him into the saddle. The next exhibition was of the horse's intelligence in keeping a taut rope on a steer that turned ugly and pursued the horse and his rider. The bracing was perfect and the manipulation of the rope in keeping the steer's head turned toward the rest of the herd in spite of her plunging excited much admiration for Biddy. A similar exhibition was given I of towing a sulky steer that refused to be driven or prodded in the right direction. Baascr confessed that he had never been in au Indian country, and had not had experience infighting on the run,but he was familiar with the tricks of some of the boys who hud, and illustrated them. The commonest piece of work in this line is shooting under the horse's neck while lying extended in such a manner as to have the body almost entirely protected from bullets of an enemy in front or on the side. Either rifle or pistol can be cflectively handled by a clever rider in this manner. PickAFTER TflE CAST. ing up a wounded or dismounted comrade at full gallop is an easy matter when the rider knows how to do it. The favorite grip is over tho back and under the arms, and with horse and rider in accord a rescue of this kind is effected without slackening of pace for au instant. The tricks of the Butchcrtown boys with wild cattle and broncho horses arc countless, and au hour's wild west entertainment ca.i be secured by a trip to the southern hills any afternoon. A Clo3e Shave. her?^ 1'Did n't I tell you I would ivhip j*ou if I caught you iu the water again?" Son?"Yes, sir; and that's the reason I hurried out when I saw you coming." ?Puck. A Japanese Pillow. The head-dress is a most elaborate affair, built on a foundation of cardboard, which is blackened; the hair being passed over it, is then smoothed down r.nd well oiled, and into it they put flowers, combs, fancy pins and other small articles intended to heighten their personal attractions. The result is frequently an artistic triumph. It is a tedious process and perhaps for this reason habit has I aught them to sleep without 6oft pillows; instead of which they use a round piece j of wood, like a rolling-pin, about eight ! inches long, supported on two wooden I feet, and with a hollow for the neck to ' lie in; so by these means the ladies ar e able to leave their hair untouched for several days, as at night it does not become at all disarranged; and for that consideration, of course, they can reconcile themselves to its use.?Illustrated American. _ Bismarck Got the Bell. When Bismarck was Prussian delegate to the federal diet at Frankfort he took apartments in the house of a patrician of that free city, who held the ! Prussians in great repugnance; and when Bismarck applied to him to have the bell fixed up iu his servant's rooms he answered that that was not in the agreement, and that if Bismarck wanted a bell he must get it fixed himself, and at his own ex?nnca A fntrr /I ova Infnr n lmifl rpnnrf", |/bUOW? 41. IVU \At9J a IUVV4 M 4VMV* 4V|#w>? firearms was heard to proceed from the | delegate's room. The landlord, frightened to death, rushed up to his lodger's apartments, and bursting, ad out of breath, into Bismaick's study, found him seated at his desk before a great pile of documents and calmy smoking his i pipe. There was a pistol lying on the table, still smoking at the barrel. "For the love of heaven, what has happened?" asked the frightened landlord, moro dead than alive. "Nothing, nothing," answered Bismarck, quietly. "Don't disturb yourself; I was only calling my servant. It is a very harmless signal to which you will have to accustom yourself, f(^ no doubt I shall want oftentimes to use it again." The bell was fixed up next day.?Chicago Post. TYliipping an Elephant. ^ An illustration of an elephant's violence and contrition is given by General George Bell, in his "Rough Notes of an Old Sailor," written while lie was serving in India. While the party was in camp a maliout went with his elephant to cut forage. The mahout punished the elephant for disobedience by a blow on the shins, which so enraged the elephant that he 6CIZCU II1C IllitU nnu ins biuuu, . him to the ground, and trampled him to death. No sooner had he killed his keeper than he repented, roared, and bolted for | the jungle to hide himself. Six other | elephants, guided by their mahou+s, fol- ! lowed him. On being drivcu into a corner, lie surrendered, and was led into i camp a prisoner, and chains were placed | on his legs. Then came his punishment. I An elephant was placed on either side, ench holding a heavy iron chaiu. As the dead body of the mahout was laid on the grass before him,the elephant roared loudly, being perfectly aware of what he had done. A mahout ordered the two elephants to punish the murderer. Lifting the two heavy chains high in the air with their trunks, they whipped him with these iron whips until lie made the camp echo with his roars of pain. He was then picketed by himself aud an iron chain attached to his hind leg, which he dragged after him ou the march. An Oriental Floating Hotel. There is an interesting scheme for establishing floating hotel at Hong Kong, Chiua. Tlie vessel is to nave imw the lower being arranged for dining, billiard, smoking and card rooms. The main deck will contain a drawing-room, twenty-one bed-rooms, each willi a fnllsized bath and dressing room, while the upper, or spar deck has been arranged as a promenade.?Chicago Herald. I QUESTIONINGS. Who can set to a word Tho least scng of } bird? Or can chain with a thought Tho faint ray wo have caught Of tho truth that's above us, beside us, and under? T^at breathes through tho calm and speaks through tho thundor? Who can 6ay why tho roso Should have thorns? Or who knows How tho birds can havo wings And still bo mortal things? Why tho world is so fair and so free in Its giving To beings who think life is hardly worth " living? Who can say with tho sun That his day's work is done? Or can hold back his breath, And fancy that death Is but a suspension of heart-beats, and quickly "Will end all tho ills that havo gathered so thickly? * * * * # Ah, would wo not rather Tho Master should gather His own when Ho chooses? And cover tho bruises We make on ourselves, and to Providence lay, With whatever balm wo may find on our way? ?Mary A. Mason, in Frank Leslie's. PITH AND_P0INT. A great composer?Morphine.?Boston Bulletin. If brevity is the sole of wit, levity is the upper. Fly-time?When a mad dog if after you.?Texas Si/tings. Most people eat to fill, but the dentist tills to eat.?Texas Siftings. "Miss Pacethal goes around a good deal." "Yes. She's a regular spinster." "You seem to think I'm an idiot." "What a mind-reader you are!"-?2?a?wv The tea-kettle sings because it is always able to keep itself outside of hot water.?Puck, ; "Which is the best way to get fat, doctor?" "Order from your butcher a piece of lean beef."?Boston Courier. "My son, define ambition." "Well, it's always feeling that you want to do something that you know you can't."? Life. "We belong to the human race, my brethren." "Sir," said the Englishman, proudly, "I belong to the English race." ?Puck. ? i consolatio:.'. Although I love her ranch, I fear I don't rogret I missed her; For now I find I hold mora dear Her voumr an J pettv sister. ?Bazar. Farmer Harrows?"What's that noise out in the barn?" Smarty Harrows (who aspires to be a wit)?"I don't know, pa; but I think the corn is 0:1 its car."? Light. "Is this Mr. Mize?' "Yes, madame.", "The paiuter of miniatures?" "Yes, madame." "What will you charge to paint a life-size miniature of my daughter?"?New York Sun. "Hay fever," said a moderator at the influenza convention, "may bo likeued to a tie vote." "Hear, hear!" cried the audience. "The eyes and nose both appear to have it."?Brooklyn Life. an artist's sad end. A brilliant young artist name! Junius Began sketching tho hippopotamus; But the animal s smile Absorbed him the while, . ? 1- 1 I _.l T.mil. /1DU natamg B UOUL1 ueam sujw ui uaiuiu. ?Harper's Bazar. A Chicago wag advertised for agents to peddle artesian wells, and he go twenty replies in the first mail. One wanted to know how many he could carry along jn a one-horse lumber wagon.? Texas Siftings. 'You may say what you will, but Bismarck is the greatest man of this century." "Il-u-s-hl Don't speak so loud. The Mayor's sitting at the next table, and you might hurt his feelings."? Fliegende Blaetler. " "So Mr. Lutnmix has returned from Europe,has lie?" remarked Mrs. Tomdik. "On which deck was his state room?" "From what I've heard him say," replied Mr. Tomdik, "I think it was on the poker deck."?Chicago Inter-Ocean. She had sent off a telegram and was waiting for nu answer. Suddenly the peculiar halting click of the receiving machine sounded in the office, and she said to her companion: "That's from George, I know. I cau tell his stutter." ?Philadelphia Times. -ITT.-J ?<?rl T l 1??4. n..nl. >Y 1UOW "" IY UCU A ?iW i u i^b ?*v;v;?v., Mr. Chisel, I told you to put ou the tombstone 'My Only Love.' " Mnrble Dealer ?"Yes, ma'am; but one of my workmen has been sick, and I haven't begun the job yet." Widow?"Well, in view of subsequent events, I guess you may substitute the words: 'My First Husband.' A pleasant morning, Mr. Chisel."? Brooklyn Life. An Anthor's Pay. One of the most widely known of American authors, in a recent conversation, has given some inside facts worthy of consideration: "To-day I am what tire world calls a successful author. I am told by my publishers that the royalties paid to me are higher than is paid to the majority of other writers. I have the pleasure of hearing my books and name hawked on the trains when I am traveling; the newspapers g?vc mo from a i.~- ~c ? A^lnmn f < * ft rnlnmn nnr? n quuriui ui a uuiuiiui m/ ? vV.w...? ??. ^ half reviews. But what has literature brought me in money? Let me open my vest poeket to you. Here is my actual revenue for 1SS9, and includes, as you see, royalties of six of my novels, magazine articles, etc., and everything is collected. Total, $2270.40. Compare the actual figures to the paragraph recently circulated in which I am reputed to earn $10,000 from my pen. Is it any wonder that the unsophisticated enter literature with false hopes? Yes, print these facts if you wish; only of course, withhold ray name and identity."?Detroit Free Prut.