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THE WINDING OF THE SKElhi. I held the skein for her one night, When the shadowy glint of the fire-light Danced fitfully on the opposite wall. Polly and I, and that was all, Were there to see the ghostly ball; Tongs and Bcuttle, hearth-dogs and cat, Venus de Milo and mandarin fat, Table and lamp, and chairs whore we sat, In rytbmio measure went round and round, In rythmio measure with never a sound, While Polly's arms as she wound and wound, Looked like a fiddler drawing his bow Across liiB fiddle to and fro; The strings were those of the skoin, you kuow I held the skoin. I held the skein. Fd known her long, And my heart had learned the sumo old song That hearts have Bung eincc lioa-ta were made, Trilled in the Bunlight or sobbed iu the shade. But my lips were mute, for I was ufraid To speak my thoughts. 801 hold my peace And borrowed hope, and took new loaso Of a friendship I hated yet dreaded might ceaso For Polly was oddish and queer in her ways, Her yeas were nays and her nays wore yeas, And it often took mo days and days To find out if she was vexed or pleased, Or if I'd been wounded or only teased; But her ladyship was this night appeaBed; I held the Bkoin. I hold the skein, the last few strands; And as they escaped, my outatretche l hands Were stretched ou* further and further still (You see, the yarn might have dropped), until Somehow?well, Polly wasn't ill, Only a little b t tired, she said, v And, perhaps, a suspicion of ache in the head That nestled close under a beard that was red, But is auburn now. And slio ca'.ls me Ned, And Bays it was really very ill-bred To kiBs her and hold her waist iustead Of the skeiu, and she'll never t-unt m? again But she haB, years have flown since then I held the skein. ?Oakland Week. BLUE BELL'S; ' I or. The Moot-I*lnck'? Story. BY M. MOHltE-Ii. One fine morning, as I was leisurely walking down Main street, with no particular object in view, my attention was I attracted to a little bootblack. Some one in passing had dropped, or carelessly thrown away a small bunch of blue ^ bells. My attention was first attracted to the little fellow by his stooping to ? pick tliem up, but what was my amuseIinent. to see him tenderly kiss them and f then carefully fasten them in the button hole of his faded jacket. My curiosity was aroused. I made up my 'mind to i quiz the boy, so I walked up to him and ' asked him for a shine. I looked at the boy carefully, he was very small and very poorly dressed, he was pale and thin, and the large blue eyes looked as if they were full of unshed tears. "Half-a-dime," he said, when he had put a final polish on my shoes. I took out a quarter, and said, as I balanced it on my fore-finger. "Ilcrc is ten cents for the shine and fifteen cents, for the flowers," pointing to the bells in his button hole. i He put his small hand over the flowers quickly, and gave a quick gasp. ' "No, sir; I can't sell them; if I wa? ^ starving I wouldn't sell a blue-bell." "And why not, my little man?" I inquired. He looked at me so piteously that I was almost sorry I hud asked him. I put my hand on his head and said: *'Excuse me for asking, you need not i tell me unless you wish to, and you can ,i keep the quarter besides." 1| He looked up at me a moment and W then said: "I like you, and if you care to listen I'll tell you." s "Of course I am anxious to hear why you love the bluebells." t4I will commence at the first and tell it all to you, but lirst let us go down there and sit down," pointing to some dry goods boxes not far from where we stood. We went, and after seating ourselves on a small box behind some larger ones where we would not be observed, he took the blue bell bouquet and holding it in his hand, began by saying: I i Jf Tiiuf <1 irmi * nr?A ? ? M.%, AO juob C* j V.U1 t?gv/ LH13 1111/11 L11 ^ UUU it has been such a long year I thought the blue bells never would come," and then he stopped and put his hands over * his pycs as if trying to shut out some horrid sight*, I did not interrupt his reverie. Presently he took down his hand, and said abruptly: "My father was a drunkard. We once owned some fine property, I've heard mother say, but that was before I was born, for we have always been poor as far back as I can. remember. Mother ;says that father drank up the farm, the A VPri hnrcoe clw?nn MV?MVWJ UHVVJ/; \/V l? Oj 1 Ui 111" ture and everything else. We got so poor mother hud to go out and wash by the day to get food for Bess and me to eat. We lived in a little log house, a quarter of a mile from any one; it was about half a mile to towr. Mother used to walk to town every day, except Saturday, to wash for somebody. On Saturday she washed for ourselves and ironed on Sunday. "Sunday is the Lord's day. Your mother certainly didn't work on the Sabbath!" "Yes, sir; she had to. Mother said the Lord made six days for the saloonkeeper and one for Himself, but He forgot to make a day for the drunkard's wife. She said the saloon keepers had confiscated the Lord's day, but she lv\d hoped the Lord would consider her cirmimatjinona nnrl fnrnrivo l>nr for wnrtin#. - ? f,- - " vinutg on the Sabbath. She said if there were 110 saloons she would not have to work on Sunday. There were just four of us, father, mother, Baby Bess and Willie, that is me." ? "So your name is Willie, is it ? but go on with your story." "Well, as I said, mother was away all day, and sometimes she would not get home until after dark; she was not very strong, and 'sometimes she had big washings, and sometimes we didn't have much to cat, because the ladies mother washed for, didn't have the right change, or they would forget to ask their husbands for it. Mother always hated to a*k for money after she had earned it, the naid it did seem as if -they ought to know that *he needed the -money or ?hs wo-jld not wash for it, >a?d it generally^ happened that when I one didn't have the changc none of them did, so sometimes we got awful hungry while we wero wuiting for folks to pay us." "Why didn't your mother ask for licr money; it was hcr's after she earned it?" "Slio was afraid to, for sometimes they would get mad and say she didn't half wash their clothes, and then they would hunt up a new wash woman. It was one of those weeks when nobody had any change, it was Friday morning, we had very little to eat on Thursday, aud on Friday morning there was only a pint of corn-meal and about two spoonfuls of molasses. Mother baked tho mcui into bread, and told me to feed the baby when she woke, and to keep a sharp lookout for father; he was in town on a big spree; he was awful cross when he was drinking; it was not safe for him to get his hands 011 us, so we always hid when we saw him coming, if mother was not at home. Little Bess would nearly go into fits when she saw him coming home drunk. 'Don't let Hess cry if you can help it, Willie; I am afraid I won't get home until after dark to-night, Mrs. Gray always has such large washings, but I will come as soon as I can. and will bring home some provisions, for I must have some money to-night, or we starve.' She kissed Baby Bess, a8 she lay asleep and then kissed me at the door. 'Be a good boy, Willie, and take care of little sister.' Bessie slept a long time that morning, and I passed the time in sitting by her and going to the door to watch for father. When she woke up she said the first thing, 'Baby is so hungry, Willie, get something to eat.' 'Get up, Bessie, and let me dress you, and then we will have breakfast.' I had not eaten a mouthful, nor had mother tasted food before leaving home, and T wsis n.wfnl Vmnirrv ?nvcnlf She got up, and I dressed, washed and combed her; but when we sat down to the table, Bessie looked at the food and then she just dropped her curly head right down on the table, and sobbed out : 'Oh, "Willie, I am so tired of corn bread and molasses, I can't cat it. I want some meat and butter.' j Don't cry, Baby,' I said, stroking her curls, 'mother will bring home something tonight.' 'But it is so long to wait?this is Mrs. Gray's day and mother is always late when she washes for her.' 'Try to cat,' I said, and I put a rpoonful of molasses on her plate, and she did try; but she only swallowed a few inouthfuls, and then she left the table. I ate a small piece of dry bread, I thought maybe she woidd cat the molasses, so I did not touch it. All day she kept saying she was hungry, but refused to cat what we had. li was a long day to both of us. Father had not com' home, and it was ncHrly dark; we were oth sining on tne cioor step, Jiessic laid lier head against ray arm, and began to cry, 'I'm so hungry, Willie, mother stays so late to-night." 'Don't cry, Baby, mother will soon be home.' 'Of course she will,' exclaimed George Anderson: he lived a mile beyond up, and as he spoke he tossed a bunch of blue bells into Bessie's lap. 'Oh, how pretty!'she exclaimed, while the tears dropped from her sweet blue eyes down on the pretty blue bells. 'Come, Bessie,' I said, 'let me fasten them among your curls.' ?hc got up and stood on the door step with lier face towards the house. I stood behind lier and tied the blue-bellsin her golden curls. I had just fastened the last one when some one jerked nic oil the bottom step. It was father: he was drunk, and 1 knew by his looks that he was almost crazy with drink. lie pushed me aside and stood between little Bessie and me. Bessie turned to run, but he caught her and said, 'You have been crying; what did Willie do to you?' She was so white and scared that I. thought she would faint. 'Willie didn't do anything,' she gasped out. Father let her go and grasped me; he commenced to shake me awful. 'You rascal, what did you do to Bessie? Tell me, or I will shake the breath out of you.' lie shook me so I could not answer. Then little Bessie caught him by the arm, 'Please, father, don't hurt, Willie; I was so hungry it made me cry.' He looked in at table and saw the bread and molasses. 'You little white-faced liar, you are not hungry; look at that table, there is plenty to eat and good enough, too, for such a brat as you,' and he shook her roughly. She began to cry and I tried to put my arm around her, but my father pushed me away. 'If you can't cat anything, I will give you something to drink,' and he caught her up in his arms and started down the path that led to the pond whe?c we got wash-water. It was not a frog hole, the water was as clear as a lake, and it was surrounded by green grass and several large trees grew near the bank. It was a lovely place in summer and a glorious place for skating in the winter. It was only a short distance from the house. Bessie hushed crying but she looked so awful scared. I followed close behind father. Til give you something to drink,' he exclaimed, wllpn Vll> /I/1 .. ..V wxwuvv* vnv Ul tliu VY (UU1 } and he walked right into the water, and I followed, scarcely knowing what I was doing, I was so frightened. He waded in about knee deep, then he took Bessie and putting her feet under one arm, he put her little curly head down under the water, she threw up her little white hands and cried out, 'Oh, Willie, take baby,' just as the curly head went down. I waded around father and tried with p11 my strongth to raise her head out of the water, but fatLcrheld it down. I begged father to take her out, but he did not listen to me: She threw up her hands wildly, there was a gurgling aound, and then all was still.' I begged father to take her out, I prayed God to save Bessie's life, but All in vain, God was far away and did not hear me cry, at least it seemed so to me. It seemed hours to me, but father at last lifted up Bessio's white dripping face. I called her name frantically, madly, wildly, but her bluo lip. didn't move; she was dead. Father carried her and laid her down on the green grass. 'I guess she won't be hungry for awhile,' he said, as he laid her down. I was so 3tunncd that I neither moved or spoke, until I suw the blue bells that I had twined in? Bessie's hair 6oating out on the water. I could not bear to see them drift away; it fleemed as if it was dear little Bessie1* sweet, dead face drifting away ; I could not bear the thought, so I waded ouK after them \ the water was deep, and on ' * ' ' \ ' ' > ./ ' HnMnBHMUHK'. . I went; It was up to my arm-pits, now over my shoulders, still the blue bells were just beyond my reach, but I must have them; the water touched my chin, i\nother step and I caught them, and just as I did, I heard mother call : 'Willie! ohj Willie! where are you ?' 1 looked for father, he wns seated on the ground by Bessie. 'Willie! oh, Willie! came mother's voice again. I was out of the water now, but so weak I could scarcely stand. 'Bessie! oh, Bessie!1 I called. 'Here mother, at the pond.1 Father gave one mad leap into the water, he plunged in face down. I was so terrified I did not know what to do. 1 heard mother coming. I trembled so ] could not walk, so I crawled up to Bessie, and taking father's old straw hat, put it over Bessie's dead face to keep mother from seeing it. In a moment she came in sight. She saw I was dripping with water. '"Willie, Willie, what is the matter?" I could not speak. She lifted the hat off of Bessie's face. She stood for a moment as if turned to stone. 'Tell me how it happened, Willie; tell me quick.' Then I found voice and told licr everything. She heard me through without a word, but when I had finished, shriek after shriek rent the air. She stood with elasped hands over Bessie, and shrieked such unearthly cries that soon the neighborhood flocked to the spot. Father had drowned himself; his bod}* was taken from under the beautiful wat<;r and buried in the cemetery along side of Bessie. Mother was a ravintr maniac from the moment she uttered the tirst heart-rending cry over her dead baby Bess. I put the blue bells in a little box. and hung them around my neck, but after the funeral I lay in the hospital, sick for weeks with brain fever, but when I came to myself, the box was still around my neck; here it is.'' and he dnw from his bosom a small box, which upon opening, revealed a fewwithered leaves. "They speak of sweet little baby Bessie," lie said, as he closed the box and slipped it back under his shirt bosom. Then he looked at nij straight in the eyes and said: JL'iense, mister, iton't ever vote for whisky. It killed my father and dear little babv Bessie, my only sister, and it locked mother up in a mad-house. Please don't vote for rum." And I, man that I was, drew the bootblack down and kissed him, and said: "God helping me, I never will vote for license or whisky men again." THE LATE WAR. Armed Force* That Took Part in thf* L'onilirt-Carunt lliittir*. In the four years teat followed the uprising of the South the people of the North furnished to the arn.ics of the Union nearly 5J,000,000 of men. and the South gave to the armies of the Confederacy over 1,000,000 more. t< rom le.*s than 22,000,000 of inhabitants, and within the space of four years, 4,000.000 of men were under arms in that terrible conflict. Contemplate the fad that one in every eight of our entire population, or one in every four of our main population, was actually engaged in the contest, and you get some idea of the terrible drain that the war was on the i'esh and blood of our countrymen'. In the entire military history of the world there is nothing to be compared to that martial enthusiasm of our nation. The celebrated uprising of the French people in 179?, and that of nearly a century later in their war with Germany, sink into insignificance when compared with the tide that moved southward and northward to join the armies of the Union and Confederacy. It is the boast of Germany, the greatest military nation of modern times that with a population of4l, 000,000 she can in time of war furnish an army of 1,250,000 men; but in the war of the Rebellion the North, with a population of only 23,000,000, had in actual service at the close of that contest more than 1.000,000. The hero of Appomattox, during the campaign of 180-1 and '03, commanded more soldiers than any other general since the fall of the Roman Empire. We ,are accustomed to think of Waterloo as the greatest battle of modern times, but in six engagements of the war of the rebellion the loss upon one side or the other was greater than that of Wellington and the allied forces at Waterloo. The loss of the Union army in the battle of the Wilderness nearly equalled the entire losi of both armies on the field of Waterloo. No battle has ever been fought on the continent of Europe with greater determination or with as much loss as that of Gettysburg. But the sacrifice of blood kept pace with that of trensure. Our war expenses during the last year of the Rebellion cxunit nnn oa/i Tim ni-nnnum! yw<?w?* <|>*|vvuj vvv^vuvi M ItV VA|FV<IOVC of the great war between France and England during the career of Napoleon and the French Revolution bore no comparison to that of our war. The greatest sum of money expended during a single year was by Great Britain in 1815, when it amounted to $ 1511,000,000, or less than two-thirds of the expenditure of the North during the year ending 1865. * * * For half a century "Waterloo hns stood in history, song, and story without a parallel. It was reserved to the descendants of the men who fought undfer the Dukf* in that famous engagement to convince the world ihat courage and tenacity had not degenerated since the days of Waterloo. riftffmiktr -Tnioln o.?wl 4/v *1w? lllil J IMli 1J UU OUl'l IU UU llii; greatest battle of modern times. The numbers engaged exceeded those of Waterloo; the duration of the battle longer, and the loss greater. More than one-third of the Union army, and nearly one-half of the Confederates, were killed, wounded, or missing in that engagement. The famous charge by Pickett on the third day, and its subsequent re{)ulsc, will live for all time in military listory. The famous "Old Guard," veterans in me service ot r ranee, victors on many a hard fought field, possessing the courage and spirit peculiar to theii nation and race, wavered before the first volley from the English batteries at Waterloo, and at the second fell back ir confusion. But Pickett's division at Gettysburg, with less men than composed the "Old Guard,'' advanced a mile under the galling fire of our batteries, its lines unbroken, the living stepping into the places of the dead, and engaged our forces in a hand-to-hand fight for th< possession of Cemetery Ridge. *4 V \ ' ;rV s .> '''< ' '' ' * . ' .; * . ' Tthe mysteries^ a lay" i .STRANGE. CURIOUS AND 8TARTMNO [ THINGS OCCURRING ABOUT US. ~ Tlic Ronmnrr of n Wedding?Had no Drcfta, Cont?A Woman on Trial? Hog Cholera* Etc.* Etc. ' A California letter says: Judge ' David S. Terry, senior counsel in the divorce suit of Sarah Althea Hill agaiust LI I t A * oiiuron, ana to wnom sue was lately married, bccamc associated with Sarah's original counsel at a time when solid backing for that side of the case was greatly needed. Early in his connec? tion with the case it was generally re; marked that Terry took more than an attorney's interest in the fair plaintiff. , As the case progressed Sarah and Judge i Terry entered and lett the court-room i together. They were seen at the theatres together, and otherwise comported themselves rather as lovers than counsel and client. These relations caused unpleasant remarks, the source of which was traced to Sharon's attorney and' caused Judge Terry to endeavor to pro; voke a quarrel and duel with Sharon's principal attorney, Gen. Barnes. Since the end of the trial in the Superior Court Terry's wife has died. Then his attentions to Miss Hill became more marked than ever. Lately Sarah Althea removed to Stockton, where Terry resides. It was only a few days ago that rumors of a marriage reached San Francisco. The romance of the marriage is this: In 1856 Judge Terry, then Justice of the Supreme Court of California, was imprisoned by a vigilance committee for wounding an oftice. of the committee who was trying to arrest Judge Terry's friend. The Judge appealed to Wm. Sharon to secure his release from the vigilance committee prison. Sharon retused. Judge Terry vowed vengeance on Sharon, and the first opportunity he had of wreaking it occurred when Sarah sued for a divorce from Sharon. Judire Torrv nntcred t.hn suit to get even with Sharon, but was captured by his client's charms and now marries his'old enemy's alleged widow, with a chance of recovering $2,500 a month back alimony and $5,000,000 or $'5,000,000 in money from Sharon's estate. At a meeting of the Pathological Society of Philadelphia, Dr. Formal presented an analysis of 250 antopsies on drunkards. He found that the most prominent troubles caused by chronic alcoholism were cyanotic induration of the kidneys, fatty infiltration of the liver, and mammillated stoma'eh. lie thought that the exposure, irregularities of diet, etc., incident to drunkenness have as much to do with the maladies as alcohol itself. The prevalent idea that drunkards are apt to have "hobnail" livers was not confirmed; in the whole number of cases he found only six of cirrhosis with contraction. In 220 cases the liver was enlarged owing to fatty infiltration. The Doctor said he had once "testified in court that a certain person was not likely to have been a hard drinker, because at the autopsy no cirrhosis was found." But this was before he had made the recent 220 autopsies. Dr. Musser thought that cirrhosis* was caused not so much by heavy drinking as by persistent drink- j ing of spirits on an empty stomach. The method pursued in removing obstructions from the pneumatic tubes in Paris is that of simply firing a pistol into the tube. The resulting wave of compressed air, traversing the tube at the rate of 1,000 feet a second, strikes the impediment, and is then deflected I back to its origin, where it strikes I ! i - J-11 x. 1 i * ii^iuusi u uciiciiiu uiapnragm, its arrival being recorded clcctrically upon a very sensitive chronograph, on which, also, the instant of firing the pistol has been recorded previously. The -wave of sound on reaching the diaphragm is re: corded, and thence reflected back a second time striking the obstacle, and returning to the diaphragm. This operation being several times repeated, several successive measurements arc thus made of the time required by the sound wave to traverse to and fro within the ! mieumatic tube. Other means have j been resorted to for the accomplishment of the purpose in question, but none has proved equal to this. In New York six black horses dragging a snow-melting machine started toward Broadway, and aroused great enthusiasm on their way through the Seventh and Fourth wards. After trying three or four hydrants, the machine filled up with water at a hydrant that was notrfro/.en. Then it knocked off its smoke funnel against a couple of electric light wires, which stretched across Broadway between Cortlandt and Dey streets. The funnel was hitched on again and steam was got up in the big tubular boiler. Then snow was shovelled into the hot water and melted. One machine, it is suid, will melt snojv as fast as fifteen men can shovel snow in. The President of the Snow Melting Company says that two machines driven along Broadway from the Battery to Chamber street would clear off the snow between daybreak and 9 a. m. To clear the snow from tho whole of Broadway eight machines would be required. Illioitimacy is something wonderful to contemplate in several of the Continental nations of Europe. The proportion's often one-fourth, and sometimes even more, of the entire number of births, as shown by the official record of births, which are strictly kept and tell the tale with infallable accuracy, under a system of records which makes marriages, births and deaths a matter of civil record. The cause o^this social . laxity is largely to be foi^Bun the severe restrictions which Afflrrol the mar riage contract and prevent marriages 1 against parental content, and in the fact i that a property qualification is often ; necessary in order to become a. candi date for matrimony. : A vkry noticeable change has taken place in the grass growth of the open \ sheep plains of Australia since its civili* zation. The grass originally grew in large tussocks some distance apart, but i now has assumed the appearance of a 1 sward, owing to its having stooled out [ when fed upon by sheep and cattle, and Trom the seed having been trampled in5 to the ground, where, in the absence of bush fires, it germinated. A woman was recently put on her trial in France for strangling her baby, and at the preliminary examination sh<j confessed ner crime". At the trial medical evidence was heard, and the doctor told the Judge that he did not believe the woman was the culprit. The finger marks were fresh on the victim's throat when he made the examination, and the marks were singular. He examined the woman's hands, and found her fingers long, slender and wellshaped, but the marks were of a short-' lingered hand, stumpy and misshapen, and one of the fingers, the first, was abnormally short. On this the prisoner hllPfif. infn fonro ooi/1 oV? n wo a f v??wv au w wot u, UltiU OUV/ *?UO IVIIU VL till' child, and had not destroyed it. and mentioned in her excitement the real culprit. He was a man of a better class of life, with whom she had lived as a domestic servant. His arrest followed, and the doctor pointed out that the prisoner's hands were formed as he had described, and, moreover, that the first finder was without a nail and almost deficient of a joint. The jury convicted. Mas. Fannie Garijison Vim,ard, the wife of Henry Villard, was recently asked by the Crown Princess of Germany to take the part of an English barmaid at a fancy fair in which that lady was deeply interested. The Princess and Mrs. Villard are on intimate terms, and the former meant to offer her friend a compliment by the invitation, not knowing that the daughter of William Lloyd Garrison, like her father and brothers, is a total abstainer.' Mrs. Villard, although conscious that requests from the royal family arc considered commands, declined the intended honor. She expressed her cheerful willingness to aid the fair, which was a charitable object, but not in that way. The Princess, on learning the American lady's feelings,' apologised. Total abstinence in Berlin, or any part of Germany, is so rare that nobody is ever suspected of being its advocate. Hoa cholera was carefully studied last summer by several pork raisers in Kansas, where the disease raged part of the time. One of them resorted to "home treatment," asJic called it, and he says it succeeded in bringing every member of his infected herd around all right. The mode of treatment he thus describes: "As soon as the animals were taken sick I turned them out of the pens and began to drive them to warm up their blood. The first day I drove them three miles and the second day two mileq. They would vomit freely while being driven. After the | second day they showed signs of improvement, which continued, and finally all the hogs recovered." An Abbyville county (S. C.) farmer, whose hogs have never been attacked by the dis: case, attributes their immunity to a quart of turpentine slops which he gave them weekly. Some interesting facts concerning the relative vitality of males and females arc shown in the forty-sixth annual report of the English Registrar-General. In each 1,000 living persons there are 4S7 males and 513 females; but .for 100 females 103..5 males were born. At every age of life the death rate was IrtWAr ill tho f*oirta 1 ou onrl fVin i^iflTA?n?AA is greater in early years. In both sexes a diminished death rate is taking place. This is more marked in females Jthan in males, at all ages. The improvement is especially notable in women up to 45, and in men to So. The mean expectation of life of a male at birth is 41.85, and of a female 44.02 years. The annual expectation of illness is, counted by days, nearly the same in both sexes. And now comes a story about Mr. Buck, the Iventucky man who was sent to Peru as American Minister. One of the naval officers on the west coast writes home that he has been guilty of appearing at an official dinner in a business suit. The dinner was given in his honor, and he was the only one of the guvts who did not appear in evening dress. It was afterwards disclosed that i?ir. jduck uia noi nave sucn a mmg in his wardrobe as a dress suit, and the officer writes that he and others of the Minister's friends have since succeeded in finding one for him, so that further criticism wiH be avoided. Sixteen penetentiary convicts employed in the mines at Cole Hill, in Arkansas, affected their escape. They tunnelled for a distance of thirty-five' feet. The work was commenced at the time of the strike, which occurrad three weeks ago, and continued until the tunnel was completed without the officials discovering it. A search was made through the mines for the purpose of finding the passage, but it proved unsuccessful, the convicts having so effectually closed it behind them that not a trace of it is left. Two of the men have been recaptured. Bloodhounds and a posse are in pursuit of the others. Annie Watson, once a noted character among the dissolute women of Philadelphia, was buried* in Wilmington, Del., whore she had lived in obscurity for the past ten years. When she left Philadelphia she was said to have been possessed of over $50,000, but her estate now is worth not more than $20,000. Both in Philadelphia and in Wilmington she became noted for her acts of charity, dispensing her money with a liberal hand among the deserving poor. The woman had no relatives and was followed to her grave by a single carriage. Two boys, named Wise and Coon, captured the son of one of the directors of Miss Deppinp:'fl school, wect of Fond du i t.? ,1 ,i : ?: ui? !_i. iv. uaw) tt to. j nuu, uia^^ul^ lllUI 1uiu luc entry, fastened a strong ropo around his neck, threw the rope over an iron peg, and pulled him up. The timely appearance of the schoolma'am saved the boy from serious injury, although his neck plainly showed where the rope had choked him. Tite value of the general friangulation of the country conducted by the Coast Survey, in order , to afford accurate base lines, may be estimated by the fact that when the best maps of Kentucky, Ohio, Indiana, Illinois, and Missouri are plotted together 4he Mississippi and Ohio Rivers become a series of irregular lakes, without any connection, the local outlines being too inaccurate to coincide. v ' The quality of divination is the lbUllecUu* element of altruistic faith. 1 " * v*"':"'' " ">: ,f\ .. ' V ' V ' i i ? .. 7 A JULES VERNE TALE. j WILLIAM DOIIEKTY'H WUIT AHAINAT A MTKAMHIIIl* COMPANY FOlt ! s.io.ooo. i - t? Hp Hnyn that T?to Men Tried to Kill Him, When He Jumped Overboard, iSwain Fight and Wulfceit Two Ilun< dred miles* Only to Find thut His Wife had Mnrrled Atfnln. [From the N. Y. World.] The Superior Court, of New York city, will soon be called upon to listen to a story of. the most pronounced Jules Verne order,, and when the ease of William Doherty against the Pacific Mail Steamship Com party is called the plaintiff will astonish the Court by a wonderful tale of hairbreadth escape and nar- ?. row victory with life after mauv close chances with death. The story as told by "William Doherty in- tho affidavits already put on file is, that on May 5, of last year, the plaintiff, who was in Panama, asked for and was appointed to the position ' of assistant engineer on the Pacific Mail Steamship Company's steamer Honduras, bound from that port for various stopping places down the western South American coast. The crew was a mixed one of Spaniards, Mexicans and Ruch. Among the company was a Portuguese, known as Ramon, who, as an oiler, regarded himself as the heir to the position taken by Doherty, and hated the new-comer as an * interloper. The steamer had been only five days from port when Dohertv savs 1... 1 l * uu u%u!iiua'i ti i;u'.>ui9?iiviii ut'iniruu mil* Ramon and a Spanish passenger, in which it was determined that the Northerner should be dirked and then throwh overboard. From' that time Doherty dared not sleep in his berth at night, lest the treacherous Portuguese thrust the "dagger into his breast. He caught sleep Vis he could standing at his post, and several times he thought he detected his ? foe crawling upon him in the darkness. He says he was compelled to literally dodge for his life every time his enemy or enemies came near, for both Ramon and the Spanish passenger were watching him. When he could endure it 110 longer Doherty appealed to Alfred Pardee, the chief engineer, and was greeted with a round of laughter, and he was advised to jump into the water if he did not care to remain aboard ship. He made such provisions as lie could to die fighting, wrote several letters to wife and friends, which he directed and left aboard ship, only to learn subsequently that they had been thrown over- ' board, and thfen waited with such fortitude as he could summon for the attack ? of the assassins. It came on the night of May 21, when the ship lay eight miles off the port of San Jose de Guatemala and Doherty was on the deck watch. The night was densely black and the hunted engineer felt that the occasion fitted for'the bloody work bis foes had determined upon. He saj's he heard a light tread near him as he stood watching and then came the rush of the two murderers. Doherty drew his own knife and fought with desperation for his life, ' but the odds were enormously against him, and when he was forced to the vessel's side he suddenly turned and plunged overboard, to take the faint flicker of a chance by swimming to the shore. The water there is crowded with sharks, and the faint engineer was in no condition for such a long swim. What gave him nerve and vigor was the thought of wife and babies away off in New York waiting and praying for his return. He slipped out of much of his clothes^as he drifted by the vessel's side UUU II1UKI HIU11UU 1M1U1CWU1U9. All night long he alternately breasted the long swell and floated resting and panting on his back. Daylight .came and. he was still in the water, but the shore a little over a mile away gave him encouragement, and he soon was able to stagger, half unconscious up the sandy beacn, only to drop in a faint above / high-water mark. It was not until noon that he awoke and looked for aid. He took employment with farmers, and when a measure of his strength had returned struck out for a long tramp of nearly two hundred miles across the republic to a small seaport named Livingstone, whence he worked his way homeward, and then when, in March lost, he reached New York, it was only to find that his ?ife, reiving upon the reports that he had jumped Overboard, had married again. He asked for some sort of recompense from the Pacific Mail Steamship *COmSany, but was confronted with his own oath certificate as proof that he had no claim, and then, brokefl down in health by his sufferings, he listened to the advice of friends and instituted a suit for $30,000, claiming that when he entered the service of the company he was, entitled to protection, which,#when he applied to the chief engineer, was not giyen him. Two Telltale Fences in Maine. , The ruins of a fence'running across a * graveyard arC the relics of a fierce theological controversy in an Androscoggin town. The war was waged 40 or '50 years ago, and every ablebodicd man in town was drawn into it. It gave rise to feuds between old friends and neighbors, and stirred up strife in families. Tbo ' bitterness not only invaded the ^homc, the shop, the store, the lawyer's office, the doctor's den, tho church, and the parsonage, but actually got into the , -Jl cemetery. A fonce was built across it to separate the graves of one denomination from those of members of othor churches, as if the dead folks wcro na much interested in the fight as anybody and their might be serious trouble if their bones ana ashes were not divided. ' Another singular fence waa observed by a party of us driving through a town in SagadnliocJ County a short time ago. This fence divided the walk leading (6 the front door of a neat houso.' The fence run plump up to<the door fever tho steps, vine man who omit mat fence \ "g; owns half of the house and a woman owns the other half/' said a friend, | "He wishes to,buy her half and she will ! not sell it. He Is mad about it and has cut the property in two a* literally M h$ can. He hoa .extended the fence' idea by building a wnU in the front "siury, , which cuts his h?lf %>e women's half."