The news and herald. (Winnsboro, S.C.) 1877-1900, August 05, 1879, Image 1
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) -,