University of South Carolina Libraries
TRI-WEEKLY EDITION. WINNSBORO, S. C., AUGUST 5, 1879. VOL. III.-NO, 80. WATOHING FOR PAPA. Up at the iindow aro three little heads. Luoy and Willie's and one year old Frod's. What are they d( 'ng all in a row, Bobbing up, bobbing down, every -way so ? Watching for papa to como home to toa, Dear is their papa to all of the three, With pair of little eyes sparkling and bright, Think you will be first to see I im to-night ? Hark I who is that now whose footstep they hoar ? Far out the heads stretch to see him draw near, Somebody's papa, perhaps, but not theirs Up at the three eager faces he stares. Back from the window bobs each little head; "Papa. make haste, now," says doar little Fred; Now they all see him just coming in sight ; Hark, how they clap hands, and scream with delight. Happy at last, not a moment to wait, Laughing and shouting they rush to the gate, Joyfully papa the little troop meets, Each little mouth with glad kisses he groets. Up in his strong arms he takes little Fred, Willie and Lucy go dancing ahead ; into the house now all four of them come, Mamma, stan Pralling her br ght welcome . home. Pulling.and tugging, they make him set down, One brings his slippers, another his gown; Round him they hover and ohatter with glee, While they are waiting the a mmons to tea. Little they know how their sweet, loving ways Comfort him after his wearisome days ; Arms full and lap full of dear little pets, All of his worries and cares he forgets. Dell Mortimer's Plan. BY MAY I. MAOKEN'AE. Dell Mortimer's face wore a bonny, hap py expression as she sped with the crowd down 14th street on a charming June day. Pew, on that thoroughfare, looked as un consciously happy as she-and it was not always that Dell could boast that beatific grace. 'Pray reveal the cause I" cries my heat worn reader, "that we may quaff of this Fountiln of Felicity sustaining itself during such tropic weather." If you are favored with Dell's disposition I simply bid you "go and do likewise." "But what has she done?" you ask. We will go home with her, and as she tells her mother, we will listen. "Saw my little lady' to-day, mamma. Went to S-'s and got that black lace for you, and there she stood fair and still as a snow-drop In her place behind the counter. I went over and spoke to ier, and she smiled so brightly and hung out a littlelan tern in each check, you know; we chatted for a few minutes, and she told me she lives in Brooklyn with her gandmother, and her name Is Irene Summers-just like herself, isn't it I This isth1 third time I have met her, and we feel quite wellacquainted. She a more lady-like than many of the clerks ire whom we meet in stores. I suppose they would not get so if people were not so often rude to them." "i16Well, my dear, you must not get so In timate with her until you know more about her. No matter what a person'sposition Is, we should have some knowledge of her be fore forming a friendship." "Well, but mamma mine, I am finding out gradually, you know, and she Is very proud, too; I have to be very caroli. Her father and mother are both dead, dud she tol me she went into a store because, al though her grondmother was willing tosup port her and h'd educated her, shofelt that th6 old lad was not able to do so longer without denjirn herself many comforts. he sai she ha endeavored to engage in teaching, but stood no chance among the many without Influence. I am so Interested in her, and I wish you would go wvith me some day Into the store. I know -you would pronounce her a perfect lady at once, and If we really became friends, I have the loveliest plan I .I shall not even tell you, mamma, till I know I can bring It -about." So you see why Dell (vas so happy to (lay. The fortune of a little store-girl had seized upon her ardent Imagination. Well, we cannot follow this Impulsive maiden through all her preliminary overtures with Miss Irene Summers. Suffice It to say, wfth mamma's consent, they did become friends. But with Dell's plan I have more to do. In his mothier's beautiful home on the Hudson river, an intelligent young man, with what wpuld be regarded as an aristo cratic mould of features, sits, or rather lolls on a wicker-work lounge, reading aloud to the fair pleasant lady near hini, who is his sole earthly gurdladi. It is veryr charming here, the eveyidng wid Is wanderingthi'ough the room., The mall Is brought in. "A letter from Frances,' remartks the mother. "She wishes me to engage board for herself and Dell, and a lady friend,; she says, In a pleasant house near us, I think MrvIs. Bl,ims will take them. ' It. .will be lively for ,yoh'no*, Hendeon, 'when you come homeo evenings. Mr. Mortimer will conme home evei'y evening too." "0, dear, it'a so quiet and pleasant with yiu and mself, I almost wish- but cou1)alfls a 'nice little thing. Only dionClet tiehw her and that friendishrieot ing and ruming duetts 'every evening. '~hs91~tl Ala think-4 fellow wants to {O~d~ th dovil-maycare apoikaa and the ' . "Mbr ou areget#nug vain. You nusth i noin evr senalbl~ girl you' Ineet, tink ony of p osing . She has l~~pfotto entertain, esies a few ot)iers *h*flyh914a niodest 1%eein her regaird. ?SetGS~'l1W o jou knew' but this f4iabAlady of fifty yrs, wha - *es~t sh Ilying duatta fpr youir dtvre II ~i traithi'e robe admade bj mother's wlckMd i one fully Aan:e herself and mother out at this lovely resort for a while. To do this she must surrender her clerkship ; but Mr. Mortimer has pro nised to get her into a school in the fall, so at last she consents. The night before their departtire, Dell remarks: "I think, on the whole, Irene, you had better say nothing abut having been In a store. You may meet those there who would be foolishly influenced in your dis favor on that account." Irene was worldly-wise enough to see that this was good counsel, and so promised to hold her tongue on the subject. Behold them then established 'in a pleasant abode near the Strathinore's. Dell means to re main all summer-Irene, for a month. She has now been here a week, and it is the or der of the day and night to be at "Aunt Strathmore's or for "Aunt Strathmore" (which means a certain important son and herself), to be at "Aunt Frances'." And it Is "Come, Henderson, come down to the point," or "Come girls, lets take a walk," at sun-rise and nioon-rise. In fact the girls are so wild to "trapes" the country o'er, and steal cherries, that Henderson can't for love nor money, get a squeak of music out of either one, though he admits to his mother, he is pining to hear "that little daisy," (as he calls Irene) sing one of the low, sweet ballads, Dell says she does so well. Henderson has been very much ad miring this friend of Dell's, but, manlike. le will not let Dell know itP "0, yes," he said, in reply to her inter rogations, "she's a neat little thing." To-night, however, as they pit looking over the water, while Irene wanders off nearer to it, he observes: "May I humbly inquire, iamsel Dell, whether it is your intention to do all the flirting with Jack and Mathews," (friends who were coming to visit him during his vacation), "or if you mean toleaveasquare inch of the field to your fair companion ?" "She don't want it, she don't flirt." - "Umph I think I'll believe that ? She's just Jack's style. He likes these little downy, feminines,-quiet and still as the lilies looking into the moonlight, there." "Why, Henderson, you're getting poeti cal over her yourself 111 "Bosh I" But for all he says it, lie blushes, lifts his head, and shoves it further down on his forehead. Verily, lie had for gtten himself. He only asked the ques tion in order to satisfy his curiosity con cerning Irene. Three weeks have passed during which time there has been a prodigious amount of gayety-the tide coming in with the advent of vacation and Henderson's chums. Dell comes hurrying puffing, perspiring, breath less into her mother's room, at half past nine o'clock P. M., startling that parent. out of a serene evenifg doze. "Dell, you wild creature of the night, where have you been ?" ''Out by the water. Oh mother I it's all just as I wanted! IIn-t it lovely ?" and she sat down plump on her father's favorite "Greely" hat, which he had un wittingly left on a chair. "Charming I now, what will papa say?" "Well, I have my opinion of folks who will sit in the dark." "And I have my opinion of folks who ate out alone at this hour." "0, but mamma, you know I told you I had a plan for Irene-well, it's all come out I Do you remember once, a year or so ago, when Ralph Sanders and Henderson were at the house, Ralph's telling Hender son that somebody whom lie admired had married a store-girl--a clerk from Macy's or some other big place, and Henderson exclaimed "Good Heavens I has he made such a fool of himself 1" 1 remember that It made you indignant, and you said she might be a lady notwithstanding; as, of course, many true ladies were forced to oc cupy su6h positions. But Henderson's English father's blood was up and he argued otherwise. Said they hadn't time or means to be cultivated ladies even when they were aturally gifted, as but few of them were. aid, (truly), they wei-e underpaid and compelled to mingle with ignorant people ; were instructed to cheat, and(, as a rule, were bold and unprincipled. In fact, lie said no woman could rough it to the extput they did, and remain gentle women. I omehow remembered the conversation, and when I miet Irene, I thought of it, and determined that Henderson and she should meet and marry, and lie hias proposed to her to-night down on the point. I heard him!i and, 0, my!I wasn't he sweet I" "You listened, Dell ?" "Only long enough, mspanuna, to find out e's just desperate. She only says she'll think about it. That means consult my alued opinion, I suppose. Alais! that I must thus early find a rival." "But you must tell him, Dell, and Irene ilso." "Of course. But it's too far gone now for him to retract. If he should lie isn't deserving of her." "But Irene is so proud." "Yes,. I expect she'll be sptnky about it. But I think he knows she is not well off n this world's goods, and she likes him, I1 lyelleve, so if he defends hhsl,good lmnd hnam'd, you know-". hips.f "TIell him, Doll, don't tell hmei'of his.. marks-it's hardly fair." "Yes, ma'am ; they shall both.- know trust me, notwithstanding, you shall hear their wedding-bells before-another year goes otnd." And they did., -A Gritty Gfi. MWt Catolirmo Aggleenin was om g~ to town the other day and saw a large rattlesnake colled up and taking a nap ~ight in her path. .NW ch'do think e agiedlSke a Qoagianceo apdi world aealit a:it t,rying to geL May froii that snake; -not a 'bit-of it. She lust athered..tioleAimy carefually .) e'I'eep, slipped up slyly, ~ejroisIoo a'pr~tIeed int4'Q ~ ( o But, Itw~t4,~~ ~ ~{~ ~sted u' atelht'o, May Queen. it was a warm sultry day in July, when every one who can, leaves the over-crowded city and seek shelter among the cool hills, or at the many watering places, that Har old St. Clair sought the cool shade and home enjoyments of a farm-house. Tired of the dusty roads, he crossed meadow af ter meadow until he came to a little hut where lie saw an old crone quite alone, sing ing some old, wild-wood song. Thinking from her costume that she belonged to a gypsy tribe, and would know the surround Ing country pretty well, lie accosted her thus: "Madam, can you direct me to any quiet house where I might have board and quietness for a few weeks?" Raising herself she lookedat him long and earnestly, tl'en .seating herself, she an swered : "Yes, yes, years of trouble, lunshine when gray; yes, you canl cross through this strip of woods, then, turning to your left, you will come to a house where 'you can have all the quiet and home - comfort y6a wish, but you will have years and years of sorrow." Thanking her and giving her a small coin lie proceeded in the directior p,Inted out by her. In a little while lie emerged from the woods and took the path on the left of the road. A few minutes later lie cane in sight of a house covered with ivy. When lie ar rived at the house a beautiful sight met his eyes. There, in the warm bright sun, lean ing her lovely head on a large, shaggy dog. laid a little girl of eight or ten summers, her hand under her check and her long golden hair falling over the dog. A wreath of wild flowers was twined through her curls and touched the ground. The little creature seemed to be In great trouble, for her cheeks showed traces of recent tears, and the hard dry sobs told hin the child knew trouble. He took his pencil and drew a rough sketch of the child, and was about to proceed to the house when the low growl of the dpg told him it would not be safe. He dared not move. The next moment the child opened her eyes and with a joyous laugh ran to him, crying: "Oh, Uncle Willie, you did come back." Ile knew then she took him for some one else and dreaded she would find out the truth. Tightening her arms around his neck, she said:. "Oh, May Queen is so lonesome when you go away. Grandma is cross. There is no one for May Queen but Rover." The dog seeing May so contented with hin thought it was all right, and'fixcd him self in the sun to sleep. Picking up his satchel lie again started for the house, May Queen showing him where to go. He was about to rap when the door was opened by an elderly lady, who seeing May Queen so comfortable in his arms half smiled. "Is this Mr. Raymond's?" lie asked. "Yes, sir, step into the library," said the hidy. As lie entered lie saw an old gentleman sitting by the window, who arose and bowed with the grace of the cavaliers of old. "You are Mr. C. C. Raymond, I pre :iume," said Harold. " I am, sir," lie replied. "I wish to procure lodging for a few weeks, and was informed by an old lady, whom I met a short distance aiwaiy. that I would find a place with you." "Yes, sir, you can, but we aire very quiet and have no boarders at present but May Queen, who, I see, will be a good friend to you," lie said. "Oh, so May Queen is at boarder." "No, sir, site is my granddaughter. Her father and mother are both dead, and so she lives with us. I perceive she calls you in clo Willie. He just left for home this morn ing, and she iniica him very much, so now I think she will be happy again." "How pleasant were the weeks that fol lowed. I rambled in the woods with ione but May Queen and Rover for any coin panions. How much I had learned to love the child : surely love begets love. Sh1e still persisted in calling mec Uncle Willie." It was a dark dreary merining and for the last two hours Harold has been thinking about returning, to the city, when the cries of a child made him hasten to the ve randa, where he beheld Mrs. Raymond with both.hands full of curls, and May Queen weeping bitterly. ."Oh, how could you be so cruel, Mrs. Raymnond,") he said. "They are too much trouble to take care of," she replied. "0, how gladly I would have relieved you, If-", But with a invitation to mind his own business, Mrf a Ramond gathered up the curls and scissors and walked into the house leaving him to comfort May by telling her she would have hair a great deal nicer when it grew out again.. The weeks passed rapidly and it was now time for Harold to return*to the cIty. So the next morning he madeknown his in.ten tion of leaving in the afternoon train. Mrs. Raymond was very indifferent when she heard It, while Mr. Raymond seemed to be sorry and gave him a kind invitation to. come again the following summer. Then came May, the parting from her .was very touching. Itow she clung to him, clasping her little hanids around his neck, the tears rolling down her cheeks, as she cried : "0, Uncle Willie, you will come back again soon. 1 won't have attybody to play with now but Rover." - Ho longed.to take her wIth him but he could not, eso bade her good-by, promis ing to come soorl again. He never imae.ined how many sumiiers would pass by before he would meet little May again. Hisbusins led him to Chicago, where he remained for some years, and thmeu he had to go South. So twelve years 'had aassedi with afl their bahanges before,he hvas again in New York. He was sorgewhat olhanged; ho was thirty -now, and hooked grave AndA troubled. *" I"wondor if May, Queen roinetabord me," lie thouaht. '"I haio'heard nothing from Sunl{g 'wer in all t9egas f Smwt.be grown up by thistme ph ~ by,eay stgsoSuV con d loarnth fing About her eoxcept that. Mr. and Mrs-R-faymond ha ben uleeli ftude th6'dhlieeb fdr tM' Og as the old gypsy ha&tae Msaooi ^I ~~ 4~1~* Wa t~ld the world was using you bad, your hair is gray. What is the matter?" "Well, I've had my troubles, but I can say with the prisoner of Chillon, Ki * My hair t8 gray, but not with year. hal Nor grew it gray In a single night cal With sudden fear, as sonio have done.' Ki '"Oh, stop you're quoting and come with cih me to see my patient," said Doctor C- . IX "I have a very interesting one at the l'ospi- haj tal. I found her by the road-side. I thought $2 she would die at first, but she Is young and lo, with proper care, may recover. I cannot Pr find out who she is. The only thing that nu would lead to her identity is a picture of a $0 child with long golden hair, sleeping with 81d her head resting on a dog, and these words $7 written underneath, iay Queen, Sunny hal Bower.' " an le was on his feet in an instant. to "For Ileaven's sake, Doctor, take mne to cr< see her, it must be my May Queen," he an, cried. la( '"Calm yourself, St. Clair. You cannot th see her if you are not calmer; you would ret undo all the good I have done for her, les and--" sta "Ohi, I will becalm. I aistrongenough W now," he replied. no "All right, come along." sal In a short time he found himself in the M third ward of the - IHospital, No. 341. an There on the little white cot lay May, pale rel and thin. Thus after eighteen long years wi he had found her. The tired eyes had no 18, recognition in them, but ever and anon she I., moaned for 1Hetty and Uncle Willie. Again 18! ana again she relates her troubles in her adi younger days, her pleasures at Sunny th< Bower. She could not be removed, so he bei determined to watch and wait on her. hal The crisis is past. The summer wanes. tio May Queen is much better and is sitting in Pr the little parlor of the. Doctor. She is tell- tifl ing Harold how she spent those years after Sul her grandma died. Pe] "The old gypsy took me, and my life in went smoothly enough until old Hletty died. " Then I left the camp. and sought employ- L ment in Philadelphia, but there my beauty tr( was too much. On every side I met with tra trouble, until heart-broken I was running he Irom the city, I knew not where, and faint- Tc ed by the way. It was then that your kind b" friend Doctor 0- found me and took me a 1 to the P- Hospital where he was then Ge employed, and where you found me.n be ii "Surely, after years of trouble the sun ac will shine. Iletty said I would be gray a1 and so I am. Ki 'Be still sad hear,t and cease repInIng, 18 Behind the clouds is the sun still sahining, Your fate is the common fate of all, dit I ito each life some rain must fall of Some days must be dark and dreary.'' W " When the merry. bells ring in the New so Year, my May Queen will be May St. Clair to instead of Raymond, and we will bid good- hi by to America and sail for sleepy Italy. II. There, under the blue sky we will forget sei our troubles and begin anew. do MARIioN KATIs. fo1 18 The Newest Jewelry. ~il $9 For bracelets the most recherche are the nu solitaire jewels set in a narrow band of CA gold, and of these several are worn upon on the arm as rings upon the fingers. Thus a 10 saphir,' ruby and diamond are often worn SV upon one wrist, and perhaps a pink, white tel and black pearl upon the other. Or if a tM single wide bracelet is worn, it may be in TI: the form of a serpentine coil, perhaps six in to eight strands, graded In size and fitted bo with strings so as to clasp the arm and re- Al tain its place whercever it may be put. For pri pendants, the most novel and curious are 18 set with fancy-colored pears, black, pink, be bronze, yellow, salmon and gray, together thl with those possessing the beautiful irrides- in "orient" so highly prized; 9r, again, with a 3 fancy-colored diaionds-for there are dia- LQ monds of all colors, and they are now ea- ani gerly sought for. For ear-rings, solitaire of diamonds continue to lead, though some 3 tastefnl devices that go wvell with tIhe new lar collarettes and diamond flowers are formed sal of a little blossom of diamond paned leaves tronm which the solitaire is pendant. Sol tair-e pearls are in high favor, and all thme rarer stones are also worn in the ears. . A new departure is to wear different jewels in tihe ears, as a saphmire in one and a ruby in y7 the other, or a ruby and a diamond, as to us have tihe two alike is but a repetition, and ac not so effective. For rings, tile solltalro to diamond is still favorable for an engage- w ment token, but sapphires, rubies and pearls li are being used more and more frequently.tI There is a variety of newv settings for rings. One pretty style is formed with a diamond of fair size, and a sapphire, ruby or emerald 10 equially large, set close to each other, thme of band or shank being set with fleur de lis, or PC other ornaments wholly formed of <small diamonds, which completely cover the ring. One . style of ten-stone hoop ring, on composed of two rows of flve stones each, Ai is arranged:.as follows: White diamends, emerald, yellow diamond, ruby and whmite t diamond in one hoop ; ruby, white dia- ns mond, sapphire, brown diampndi and emne raid in the other. The effect of this com- inj bination is highly novel and. pleasing. ed A rmaI le omit. thi - Itt Old Mother Dildine, time female herit pa who lives in thme mountains about fifteen mi ,miles northwest of Nevada, made her se- wi mi-annual visit to Sutro recently to sell a Wi few eggs, and lay in scanty. supply of gro. cih ceries and other provisions. Ini converatt- ce tion she seeme,~d quite self-osessd and in pr tidlhigent. 8he says she willde sixty years twi old next 06tgl}er; that slie has lived alone tl in the mountains now for ti1edte years, and of that she is perfectly bapp In living seclui ded from the outside world. Her only sup- iii potis tha4t which she dorlyes from-two a:1 liidr4d atnd si;ty, Angora goats ,alid eight Gii bns. She says Aho is seldom ylsited by th the whites, and,prefers nor to see one pr ab$i6fe irnuisp, tot, inf.,l iet ink t'~uE,. .~ ~s fer ab e,soeo n Uv~ng,eth'd,ip h ~worries th ~~uti a4h,r he.-likes is t ~ ioftermn athf poaniorn- et shi - . lstt dvet ye sed -her in we nee they would s npt soe rab. th b ld for ,Ioe~ f nd in -fe 0~ ~~tt e even 9 ~ -, oamth ce The ray of Kings. 01ranels Joseph, Emperor of Austria and ng of Hungary, born in August, 1830, i a civil list (as his salary is generally led) of $4,050,000 a year. Leopold 11., ng of Belgium, born in April, 1835, has a ,il list of $060,000 a year. Christian, ., King of Denmark, born in Aril, 1818, i a civil list of 500,000 rigadalers, or 27,785. Ills oldest son has an annual al vance of $38,833. MacMahon, late eadent of the French*Republic,had an an al salary of $120.000, with an extra 0,000 for housekeeping expenses. Pro ent Thiers had the same salary, with 7,600 for housekeeping. Napoleon III. I the largest civil list in the world. It iounts to $5,000,000 a year, in addition which lie received the income of the own domains, amounting to$2,400,000, I the free possession of a number of pa es, parks, forests and mansions, kept at. expense of the State. His total income Lched the sum of $7,800,000. Neverthe a, the d-bts of the Imperial civil list were ted in 1867 to amount to $16,000,000. illian I., born in March, 1797, receives salary as German Emperor. Ills annual ary as King of Prussia is $3,079,700. obt of the expenditure of the royal family I the court is defrayed out of the sove gn's immense private property. T.ud g II., King of Bavaria, born In Arpust, 15, has a civil list of $1,378,365. 1(arl King of Wurteniburg, born in iarch, 28, has a civil list of $801,085, with an litional annual grant of $1,857,355 for other members of the royal family. Al L I., King of Saxony, born April, 1823, a a civil list of $035,000, with an addi nal $127,950 a year for the Princes and incesses. This little grant may be jus able, as In 1830 the reigning monarch rendered his domains to become the pro -ty of the State. Victoria, Queen, born May, 1819, has a civil list of $1,825,000, th $3000,000 more from the Dutchy of neaster, one of the crown lands which i did not surrender, according to con ct with Parliament, to the'State. Thus r annual income is $2,225,000 a year. her children and to the Duke of rsdin rgh is a further sum of $889,C00, making .otal of $8,105,000 to Brftish royality. orge I., King of Greece, born in Decem ,, 1845, has a civil list $200,000 a year. unibert, of Italy, born in 1844, has not ,epted the large civil list (8,250,000) inted to his late father. William III., ng of the Netherlands, born in February 19, has a salary of $250,000, with an ad lon of half as much more for members the royal family. lie and the King of urtomberg are believed to be the richest rereigns of Europe. The whole grants Louis I., of Portugal, born in 1888, and i family, amount to $000,000. Alexander , of Russia, born in April, 1818, posses i the revenue from the immense crown mains, equal to $10,000,000 a year. Al iso XII., of Spain, born in November, 57, has a civil list of $2,000,000. Oscar , of Sweden, born January, 1829, has a '1l list of $888,880 from Sweden and 4,445 from Norway. lie also has a an ity of $88,830, voted many years ago to rl XIV (Bernadotte) and his successors the throne of Sweden ; the total Is $416, - 5 per annum. The President of the ries Republic, who has only a single year ,in, receives $8,000 per annum. Never fless, Switzerland Is well governed. Lre is no knowing what is the salary or .ome of Abdul Hamid, Sultan of Turkey, rn September, 1842. The civil list of idul Aziz, who was almost his Immediate idecessor, varied from $4,557,580, in 08, to $5,851,020, in 1875, but it has 3n calculated on good authority that in latter years of his reign, which closed May, 1876, Abdul Aziz sent $22,500,000 rcar. It is not near that amount just now. rd Lytton receives ?28,000 a year salary l ?12,000 for "allowances" as Viceroy India. The Duke of Marlborough gets 0,000 a year as Lord. Lieutenant of Ire id. The Earl of DufferinreceivedC10, 000 ary as Viceroy of Canada. (taetano. One (lay, In the year 1824, at Rome, a uth seventeen years of age, bearing the me of Gactano, was accused of conspir r and condemned to death. On his way the place of. execution, the young priest zo attended him was'so fully impressed by faith and courage, that he solicited on culprit's behalf a delay in the punish mnt, laid the ease before the reigning pe, and was successful in obtaining a nission of the sentence, the punishmient death being commuted to that of per tual imprisonatenmt. This young Priest was the Abbe Mastal. The culprit Gaetano was thrown into e of the dungeons of the castle of St. igelo. Twenty-two years after this occurrence 3-Abbe Mastal becameq Pigpe, under the me of Pius IX. The newly elected pontiff was exceed gly popula. It was confIdently predict that political and ecclesiastical reform )mid be the probable results of his reign. was regarded as a pioneer of progress, a friend of the people, anid the friend of Lly. Events did not justify these antich~ lions; but the pontiff for some time dntained and deserved the popularity lich lie had:won as ai simple priest. It is. said lhe never forgot those with whom 'euigstances had associated him, and it is r'taih he still remembered Gaetano, the isonor whose life lie had saved twenty 'o years before, and who was still do ned in close confinement in the dungeol. St. Angelo6 Shut out from all hope, consigned toea -lug grave, seeing no one but his gaoler, d seldom -hearing his :gaoler's voice, tetano had spents in the deepost misery, ca long years of his imprisonment. he ogress of political events was totally un Lownlto himt of- the condition of h,is owi LmedatorelatiVes ho wasoquallfignerait, * refinement of 'cruelty, the tortureo*hich applied,to' the mind and., heart,'had been erolsed on him.- The iralls of his prison reonot more deaf to his- entieaties than gaoleewho. attended hin and who to6 thfuil.dischstge4 the orders -h6 ha4te' B,it, aftera two-ahdteht teatb there roe to~ the eastl of St.A geo at A tli written order from theRqWl z~~ISO1 ots1ttiwith closed the door upon him and left hin alone with the prisoner. The prisoner was sitting on a stone bench, his head jesting on his hand. As the priest entered lie looked up and asked; " What is it you require from me ? Is the Pope merciful I Am I to die? " "I have come," the priest answered, " to brh. news of your mother." "My mother I " he demanded; " is she still alive? Speak truly; say she lives, and God bless you for the news," "She lives and Is well," the priest answered, " within a shoit time you shall see her yourself." "God has mercy on me," lie said, "and has sent me an angel of consolation." After the first burst of his emotion had subsided, Gaetano related the story of his lodg imprisoinent. Ile spoke In affection ate terms of the young priest by whose in tercession his life had been spared; "and yet," he added, "it were almost better I had died, except'for the good news you bring me now. " Have you petitioned for a further com mutatioq,of your sentence?" "Yes, many times ; but every time with the same ill-success." " Have you reason to suppose that your letters have heen interceped " "I fear so." "Write again." "Gregory XVI is not easily made aware of a prisoner's stiffering-the sighs of St. Angelo seldom reach the 'courts of the Vatican." "Gregory XVI is dead. Ills successor, Plus IX, may be more accessible." "But my letter would never reach him. "1 promise you it shall." "By whom? " "Myself. Look at me, Gaetano; have you no remembrance oY the youthful priest who saved you from the scaffold? " The prisoner looked cornestly upon him and answered: " I think I recognize the voice-I am sure I have seen your face before. Are you my old preserver? " "Yes, Gaetano, yes-come again to ren der better help than before. Write a state ment of your case fully and frankly, and I promise you it shall be In the hands of the Pope sooner than you surmise." The priest produced writing materials, and Gaetano wrote a short,touching appeal When lie had completed his letter the priest took it from himn, bade him bi of good comfort, and to hope for the best. Just at that moment the key turned in the lock, the door opened, and the gaoler angrily entered the room. .'Come," lie said, "the hour has elapsed and you be off, a fine priest, forsooth, to set the fellow scribbling in hope of what lie never will obtain." "Don't be too sure of that, my friend. "I an no f.lend of thind; come, be off; you have had your hour, anA you shall have no more." ky whose authority do you hold those keys? 'T " Tihe Pope's." "Thou, by the Pope's authority, I bid you never turn key again on the prisoner Gaetano." The gaoler laughed scornfully. "Not until I have some better assurance than your word," he said. The priest made no reply, but requested to see the Governor of St. Angelo. The Governor made his appearance, and to him the priest spoke, demanding the immediate liberation of Gaetano. "Excuse me, my honored father," the Governor answered, " but such a request is preposterous. The Pope only could grant such an indulgence." "And that indulgence is granted by the Pope." "How so?" Tihe priest took it sheet of paper and wrote: 'I hereby grant a full pardon to the prisoner Gactano- I direct the Gover nor of time Castle of St. Angelo to obey the mandate on his peril. I likewise command him immedia.tely to resign the keys of St. Angelo. "Pus, Pope." And so this romantic adventure ended, as other romantic adventures of older times have done before, Thme disguised priest was recognized as thme sovereign pontiff, the prisoner Gaetano was liberated and restorcd to his friends ; thme Governor and his myr midons were dismissed ; and never had thme Pope a more faithful and devoted subject a,s well he knew in '48-than Gactano, the prisoner. Bim Last Resort. A small, inoffensive-appearing one-armed mnan, with rather an Intelligent face, but poorly glad and with marks of pain and suffering in his countenance, wmalked slowly into the Central lice station and motion ing Lieutenant Morse, the officer in charge, to One side, where hie could not be over heard by anyone else in thme room, whispe red in a broken voice, "I amn sick and with out money or friends. I've been to all the hospitals and none of them will take me in. I,was at the infirmary, lbut there it was the same, and I am so feeble and sick that if I do not get some place to stay, I will die." "What do you think we can do for you hero if none of those p laces can help you?" quietly inquired the lieutenant. 'I've got a pair of shoe's here," answered lme in a half-scared way, taking from undor his eruih,the' articles carefully, wrapped in a newspaper, ep;d handing the9m to the offleet. I"Iyou wa$ td diepose of these and hays a right to em r adingthmis on acdount of tesuspeous looks of the nla) you essi surely find a better market than tis." The paper is mine, but the shoes are not. I stole them." This 9nfession in the 'afie quiet *ay lhe had epkn before., "From where?" asked Morse, scarcely comprehending the man. "The sign is George Angel, and the stors is on the.street that leadsjp the n)ar e . I hate to 04I0 it s hg. V a fe : stoo p~lAmmy itoofoo, u~Ioohel ~~he Lightning. To reassure the timid and nervous In this season of thunder storms, some calculations aud directions for security which from the frequent occurence and unusual severity of these storms, might be acceptable to some of our readers are given. There are 70,000 chances to one of an individual being killed in this way in the whole year. But as there are, perhaps ten of these storms in a season, the chances of being killed in any one of these storms is as 700,000 to one. At the worst, there seems to be half a million, chaaces against a timid lady's having her terror realized, ac cording to the doctrine of chances. If she lies down in her fright, as she Is likely to do, on either a feather bed or hair mattress, thesu chances In her favor are multiplied at least a million ; another consolation is that she has lit tle to apprehend from a flash of light ning which she has leisure to see. As light travels 217,260 miles in a second, and sound only 1,142 feet in the same time, you can easily compute the dis tance of the electric discharge. If 4.72 second', or six beats of the pulse elapse between the lightning and the thun der, the discharge is a mile off. To guard against possible damages, on its near approach, you may insulate, your bed or chair by putting their legs on glass. Feathers and hair a:Tord great security. There is also less dAnger af ter the rain has begun to fall copiously than before, for a moist atmosphere serves as a conductor for the electric fluid, diffusing it, and conveying it to the earth. A man who is wet, being a better conductor than a tree, which can not be thorougly wetted, ought not stand under one; and animals, on ac count of the moisture in their bodies, are always better conductors than trees. But though wrong to stand near a tree you will be very safe a little beyond the extent of its branches-a position whleh ought to be chosen, as the higher object will take the lightning first-or you might stand on dry wool or silk. The middle of a room is safer than near a partition, and this, than near the ex terior wall. A building ia better pro tection than a tree, but a barn or stable containing wet grain or hay is worse than the open field. Sitting on horse back, or In a carria'ge is dangerous. To overcome excessive alarm at lightning not only conduces to comfort, but en ables one to contemplate at easo by far the most sublime spectacle in nature. Who OwVP the IRaIlng? "We keep a confectionery, an' got a 11 conse to have a sign outilde our door," said Miss CavaLPghl, a blue eyed young lady, who deals oi.1 solidified sweetness and soda over a marblized counter, to Justice MurA rey. j "Und I got a lizenso fun my 'jtand py hoondredt und elgidy-one," answered Mr. J. Penner, a street dealer ?n suApe4ders and handkerchiefs, who Miss Cavannah alleged had torn down her sign. "IHe tore down my signs Your Honor." "Dot's nod so. I don't got nothing to do mit her zign." "Well, I got a witness that saw him do it. lie is a nuisance and he hangs suspen ders over our side of the railing.' "Dot's my railing." "It ain't. It's on our side of s the house "Cmdge, sohellup me, dot railitg vas holt on von I galgulato-yah, dot's it. Dot's usnt four inghes und a gvordor by mein side. "Why, your Honor, it's no such thing; lhe's-" "That will do now," said the Court, turning to Penner. "Will yoin replacie that sign you tore dOwvn I" "Vat, me?", "Yes, you." "VaelI I guess nod. You dink I vi' a--" "You're fined $10 then." "You call dot shuquare 9" "Vaell, dot's .all righud I gut you $5 and1 shutickc dot zign up so higl; doy vas not able to seen Id. Dot's how, I go$ shquare." A Sagaciouk Horse. A few days ago Mr. Fortwenger, liv ing near St. Paul, Minn., plaped two brood mares and colte in a. pasture near a tamarack swamp on his. farm, The pasture and swArne were separated b.y a deep ditch, and at~ one point a bridge was laid across the ditch, but this *'as raised after the inutres had been placed in the pasture. 'The son returned and joined his father--the two continuing at work In a corhfleld at some distance from the -pasture until three o'clock in- the afternoori, when he was surprised to see one of the mares, called Kate, runnimng arapidy, toward him, having leappd acrosthe wide ditch. After reachlpg Mr. Fozngenger~ In groat excitement, the mare leigh~ twvice, then wheelod labout and wgh of again in tho diregi,og of t Mr. Fortwenger replaar oit o. "There must be sothething y ng wth the eolts," and erted afterte #r followed by thei dd. tJydfi~ high ridge of pd:mrtillM edgeof theAAmphbAN 3At 'ing on-thie south'sid4 of th~d~ the othere en the aaorth 'side.~ th~oughtkhe sawtose.ofthoo Jigabout oiorQd,alit) -,