Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

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TRI-WEEKLY EDITION. WINNSBORO, S. C., NOVEMBER 6, 1879. VOL. 111.-NO. 120. A DOUBTING HEART. Where are the swallows fled ? Frozen and dead, Porchanco upon some bleak and stormy shore. 0 doubting heart I Far ovor purple seas, They wait in sunny ease, The balmy southern breozo, To bring them to their northern homes onco more. Why must the flowers dio ? Prison'd they lie In the cold tomb, headless of tears or rain. 0 doubting heart I They only *loep below The soft whito ermine snow, While winter winds shall blow, To breatho and smile upon you soon again. The sun has hid its rays Those many days Will dreary hours never leave the earth ? 0 doubting heart ? The stormy clouds on high Voil the same sunny sky, That soon (for spring is nigh) hall wake the summer into golden mirth. Fair hope is ,aIal, and light IB quenoh'd in night. What sound can break the silence of dospair ? 0 doubting heart I The sky Is overcast, Yet stars shall rise at last, lrightor for darkness past, And angels' silver voices stir the air. THE HEAVY BURDEN. "Ra111ther a heavy burden, isn't it, my boy ? Clarence Spencer, to whomn the words had been addressed, turned fromt the ledgor, and looked towards the speaker. Clarence was a young nian--not more than five and t wenty-and ho was book-keeper to Mr. Solomon Wardle, a pleasant-face, keen eyed muan of fifty, who had spoken. "A heavy burden, isn't Clarence ?" tho. nerchant repeated. And still the young man was silent. Ilis looks indicated that he (lid not conpre hend. Ile had been for sonie time hending over the ledger, with his thoughts far away; and that his thoughts wero not pleastant ones, was evident enough from the glooi on his handsome face. "IMy dear boy, the burden is not only heavy now, but it will grow heavier and heavier the longer you carry it." ''Mr. Wardle, I do not coinprohond you." "Ali, Clarence I" "I certainly no not." . "Didn't I call at your house for you this morning?" Clarence nodded assent. "And didn't I see and hear enough to re veal to nle the burden that you took with you when you left? You niust remember, my boy, that I am older than you are, and that I have been through the mill. You find your burdun heavy; and I've no doubt that Sarah's heart is as heavily laden as your own." And then .Clarence Spencer understood; and the morning's scene was present with him, as it had been present with him since leaving home. On that morning he had a dispute with his wife. It had occurred at the breakfast table. There is no need of reproducing the scene. Suffico it to say that it had como of a mere nothing, and had grown a causo of anger. The first had been a look and a tone; then a flash of un patience; then a rising of the voice ; then another look ; the voice grew higher; the reason was unhinged ; passion gained sway and the twain lost sight of the wvarmn, en (luring love that lay smitten and aching down deep in their hearts, and felt for the tine only the passihig tornmado. And Clar cnce remembered that Mr. Wardlo had en tered the house and caught a sight of t.he storm. And Clarence Spencer thought of one thmng more; he thought how milserably un happy lie had beeni all the morning ; and lie knew not how long his burden of uinhap piness was to 1)e borne. "Honestly, Clarence, Isn't It a heavy and thankless burdeni ?" Thelm book-keeper knew that his employer was his friend, and that lie was a true-heart edi Christian man ; and1, aftei pause, lie an swered: "Yes. Mr. Wardle, it is a heavy burden," "My boy, I am going to venture upon a hit of fatherly counsel. I hope I shall not offend." "Not at all," said Olarenco. iIe winced a little, as though the probing gave him new pain. "Ini the first place," pursued the 01(d man, with a quiver of emotion in his voice, "yeou lo,ve your wvife?" "Love her?9 Yes, passionately.". "And do you think she loves you in re turn?" "I dlon't think anything about it-I know I" "You know she loves you?" "Yes.' "Then you must admnit that the trouble of this morning came from no Ill-feeling at heart 1" *"Of course not." "It was but a suirfaco-squall, which~ yeou, at least, are very sorry?" A moment's liesitation, and then-"'Yes, yes; I am hieartIly sdrry." "Now mark me, Clarence, andI snower *honestly :M-Don't you think your wife is as *sorry as you are I" "I cannot doUhbt It." - "Andl don't you think she Is suffering all this time ? " "Very well. Let that pass. You know she la bearing her part of the burden t'" "Yes, I finow that." whee he eales prtof this burden Is wl:oqedtu hdo intcomegou "If the storm had ali blown over, and you knew that the sun woulId shinle when, you n1ext entered your homle, you would no. feel 80 unhappy ?" Clarence asented. "But," continued Mr. Wardle, "your fear that ther will be gloom, In your home whenl you retirn ?" The young man bowed his lewl aq hie re piled in the a1ratve "Because," the mnerchamt added, with aI touch of parental sternIness in his tone, "you are resolved to carry it there " Clarence looked ill) in surprise. "1-i carry it ?" "Aye; you have the burdeon in your heart, and you nean to carry it home. Re membaer, my boy, I have been there, and I know aill about It. I have been very foolish in my lifetime, and I have suffered. I suf fered until 1 discovered my folly, and then I resolved that I would sulrer no more. Upon looking the mal t(, squarely and honestly in the face, I found that the bur dens which had so galled mne had been self imposed. Of course such burdens can be thrown off. Now you have resolved that you will go home to dinner with a heavy heart and a (lark face. You have no hope that your wife will meet you with a smile. And why I Because you know that she has no particular cause for smiling. You know that her heart is burdened with the afiliction which gives you so much unrest. And you are fully assured that you are to find your honc shrouded in gloom. And, furthermore, you don't know when that gloom will depart and when the blessed sun-shine of love will burst in again. And why don't you know? Because It is not now in your hoart to sweep the cloud away. You say to yourself, 'I can bear it as long as she can I" Am I not right ?" Clarence did not answer in words. "I know I an right," pursued the ner chant; "and very likely your wife is saying to herself tile salne thing. So you hope of sunshine does not rest upon the willingness to forgive, but upon the inability to bear the burden. By-and-by it will happen, as It has haDpened before, that one of the twain will surrender from exhaustion; and it, will be likely to be the weakei party. Then there will be a collapse, and a recon ciliation. Generally the wife fails first be neath the galling burden, because her love is keenest and most sensitive. The hus band, in such case, acts the part of a cow ard. Wheni he might, with a breath, blow the cloud away, the cringes and cowers unl til his wife is sorced to let the sun-light in through her breaking heart." Clarence listenea, ana was troubled. Ile saw the truth, felt its weight. iIe was not a fool, nor was lie a liar. During the silence that followed lie reflected upon the past, andl he called to his mind scenes Just as Mr. Wardle had depicted. And this brought him to the remembrance of how lie had seen his wife weep when she had failed and sank beneath the heavy burden, how often she had sobbed upon his bosom in grief for the error. The nerchant read the young man's thoughts, and after a time lo rose and touched him upon the arm. "Clarence, suppose you were to put on your hat and go home now. Suppose you should think, on your way, only of the love and blessing that mnight he; with this thouaght, you should enter your abode with a smile upon your face ; and you should put your arms around your wvife's neck, and kiss her, and softly say to her, "My darling, I have come home to throw downi thme bur den I took away with mec this morning. It is greater than I can bear." Suppose you were to (10 this, would your wife repulse you ?" "Repulse mne?" "Alh, any boy, you echo mny wordls with an amazement which shows that you un derstand me. Now, sIr, have you the cour ago to try the experiment I" D)are you to be so mnuch of a anul Or dlo you fear to let your dear wife knowv how much you love lier? D)o you fear she would respect and1 esteem you less for the deed?i Tell mne --do you think the cloud of unhappinmess might thus be banished ? Oh, Clarence, if you would but try it I" - tSarah 80cncer had finished her work mi the kitchen, and in the bed-chamilgr, and sat down with her work In her lap. lBut she could not ply her needle. 11er heart was heavy and sadl, andi tears were In her eyes. Presently she heard the front door Opeln, and a step in the -passage. Certalily she knew that step I Yes-her hausbanad enter ed and a smile upon his face. She saw it through her gathering tears, andh her heavy heart leaped up. He caine and put his armis around hli' neck, and kissed her ; and lie said to her, In broken accents, "Darling, I have come home to throw down the hbur den I took away with me this morning. It is greater than I cani bear." And she, trying to speak, pillowed her head upon~ his bosom and sobbed and wept hike a child. Olaf could lie forgivo her?9 NIls comnlg wIth the blessed offering had thrown the burden of reproach back upon himself. She saw him noble and generous, and shte worshiped him. But Clarence would not allow her to take all the blame. lie must ehiare that.' "We will share' it so evenly," said lhe, '9hat its weight shahl be felt nio more. And now any darling we will be happy!I" "Always I" Mr. Wardle had no need, when Clarence retm'nedi to,the counting-house, to ask the 'esult. Hie ceould read it in the yetmng man's brimming eyes, -.ad in ~4 np red face. y It was yer attdr t400 2ben h to the events of that gloomy morining. 'Ah I" said Clarence, with a swelling ho SOM) "that WAs thU most blessedR lesson I ever received. My wife knows who gave it to me." "'And it serves you yet, my boy?" "Aye, and it will serve us while we live. We have none of those old burdens of an ger to bear now. They cannot find lodg: ment with us. The lash and jar may comlie as i the other days-for we are human, you know-but the heart, which has firmly resolved not to give an abidng place to the ill feeling, will not be called upon to enter tait it. Sometimes we are foolish; but we laugh at our folly when we see it, and throw it off ; we do not nurse It till it be comes a burden. First Look fi st Mirror. The effeet which the sudden1 seeing of themselves as other. sue then had upon several Siamese women is nar rated by a lady: A few weeks ago, a couple of SIamese women came to see and to look at my house. They con Hider It a great treat to look at imy house. They consider it a greater treat if I invite them them through my rooms, and let them look at my bed, my table, my chairs, my pictures and my nick-nacks, and espeelally If they can get a look at themselves in the mirror on my bureau. One or two of those who came had been there before, and they were telling of how they looked in the glass till the others were all anxious to see too, so they gathered In a crowd and stood before the lirror. One quick look, and then a surprised, startled cry, and some of them hild their faces, others jumped away, and some looked about to see who was really there.' They had never seen themselves before, and did not know how miserably they looked with their black teeth and naked bodies. They drew their scarfe over their breasts and tried to hide fromn the sight of them selves. One turned and said to me: "We are very hateful looking, don't you think so?" I did not tell them I had always thought so, but I said: "Now, sinco you know how you look, Is it any wonder that we tell you to wear more clothes and to quit chewing betel?" Some of them woul(l not be induced to look the second tIme, while others stood and looked. Schmidt's Musings. "Frederick Schmindt," said the Jus tice to a sj.eepy looking fellow,."you are lined $10 for intoxication. But what's the matter my friend, you ap pear to be on the point of crying?'' "Nodings, 8hudge, I was only dink Ing." "Thinking? of what?" "Vell, I'll spoke of it, If you told me so." "Then I do tell you." "I vas dinking, Shuilgo, dot you vas me und I vas you. Dot ish you know, mitout no change. You vas der poor Dutchman. I saw you come In mitout friends und sorrowful, und I say, "Schmidt, vat vas dose trubbles?" und you spoke out, "Sbudge I to'ok me some leetle peer." Und I say mit a look on your face, "Schmidt, you vas marrIed ?" You say, "Yah," "Und got some childer ?" "Yahi," "Und you don't yas so trunk as you can't valk ?" "Nein." "Vell, Schmidt you go right avay home.'' Und dot yas my dinkin." "T1hose are very pleasant thoughts," said the magistrate in good humor. "I thmnk we'll make the fine $3, but I can't let you off altogether." "D)reo dollar I Veil I paid it und vas dankful; but you vas not so good a Shudge mit mec as I vas mit you." And rousing himself lhe waddled out of court. Not a Bad floy. A bright-looking boy, twelve years old, who saidl his name was Tommy McEvoy, wvent alone into the Jeffersoin Market Po lice Court, New York, recently, and saidi to Justice Morgan: '.Judge, your HIonor, I want to give my melf up." "Why, my boy ?" asked the Court. "Because,'' said the lad, I hain't got no home and dlon't want to live In the street and become a bad boy." "Why don't you stay at home ?" askod thme Justice. "I ain't got no homno. Father has been dead1( nine years, and mother died before that." "But where have you been living since?7" "With my aunt. She lives on Forty first street. But she gets drunk, anid won't let me stay in dloors. Tre-day she chased mne,and said if I over came back sheo would (10 something awful wIth mne. I'mi afraid of lier, and so I've got no0 home. Nobody will take nme in because I hiain't got good clothes amid don't look nice. I can't get anlything to eat unless I beg or steal it. I don't want to steal or be a bad boy. Won't you please send mo somewhere wheore I can learn something and get to be a man t" Trho Justice told the boy there were such places, for good boys, and taking the lIttle follow under his protection, p)romised to find h11i hiome ini some good instItution. A Slia:ht Mistake. A man ordered a most elaborate dinner at a restaurant which lhe enjoyed and praised much-after which lie lIghted a cigar, and sauntering up to the landlord, declared his inabIlity to pay' for it. "But I don't know you," said Bonifaco. "Of course, ryuwudnthv ie mec a dinner.' ryuwudnthv ie The enraged man seized the pIstol, col.. lared the~ offender,- and taking aIm at his firm sa ihot paig for that uiner" 'WI~j~Iatlin yur hiand?"i gasped th~ f~euift cat tn drawing back. s Ta~ ii is a ~'h hta a pso,is it X doni carq, ise;I tho ight it wua,) atoem The Wrlters of tho fable. Mo4es wrote (1enmsis, ilXodls, 1e(Vit ius, Nuimbers and i)euteronom1y. Joshua, Phiineahas or Eleazer wrote tle book o' Joshua. Samuel i the penan of the books of .1tidges and Ruth. lie also wrote the first acts of )avld aml probably, Natihan and Gald wrote his last, acts; and the whole was foriled in1to two books, which were naned after Samuel as the most, eulmient person, called the first and second books o' Saimuel. Jeremiah probably complied the two books of the Kings. Ezra coilied the two books of the Chronilcles. lie is also author of the book henrimg his nmie. Nehemiah wrote Nehemniah. The author o' the book o1' J'tler ia uiknown. EIlihu was most probably the neinan of the book of Job. Moses may have written tihe flirst, two chapters and tihe last. Some think Job wrote them hiim self. David wrote moit of the book of the Pslitis. Asaph Ienned a few of them. Solomon wrote Proverbs, Teclesiast us, and tihe Songs of Solomon. Isaiah Is the aiuthor of tihe Irophecy of Isaiah. Jeremiah wrote the book bearing his name, and the Lamentations of Fere miah. Ezeki 1, Daniel, losea, Joel, Amos Obadiah, probably Jonah, Micai, Na hium. Ilabakuk, Zephaniah, Haggal, Zachariah, wrote the books of the prophesies, bearing their respective lialmes. Matthew, Mark, Luke and John wrote the Gospels named after them. Luke wrote the Acts of tile A postles. Paul Is the author of the Epistles to the Romans, Corinthians, Galatians, Ephesians, Phillipplans, Colossians, Thessalonians, Timothy, Titts, Phille mion and iHebrews. James the son of Alphets, who was cousn-Geriman to Christ, and one of the apostles, wrote the Epistle of James. Peter wrote the Epistle bearing his name. The apostle John wrote the three Epistles of John. Jude, the Apostle, the brother of James, also called Lebbems, whose surname was Thaddeus, near relative of our Lord, wrote tile Epistle of Jude. St. John, the Diyine wrote Revela tions. The Late Queen of Holland, Sidney Hyde gives the following ac co0nt of his first visit to the late Queen of H1olland. Upon our fir at formal audience we were received in one of the State Departments, a fine salon, lung with rose-colored satin and gay with gilded furniture and wax candles; but when we were asked "to tea," it was in her own. private parlor that tile Queen entertained us, a charmIng great room, with tropical plants grow Ing in the windows, and a grand piano at one end. Books and ornaments were scattered about, and cabinets of curiosi ties stood againat the wall; easy-chairs aikd little tables went wandering com fortably about the floor; and a general air of homn-likeness perivadecl the spa cIous apartment, whose walls were hung with interesting pictures, 11110ed with associatOons to tile studentL of his tory. One evening, when we arrived, we found the Queen ireading Kinglako's "Invasion of tile Crinica," in which she was greatly initerested. His dIra matic characterizationis pleased her particularly, and above all the hits at her late unelo, Nicholas of Russia, whio as the writeir observes, tried hard to be a genitlemanl; but underneath all his superficial polish still lay the "gypsy Instinct," which prompted him on occasion to do some mean act. Iiispired by our interest,theQueen drif t ed into various personal recollections of her visit to Napoleon III., and re latedh a little anecdote of the Prince imperial when lie was about six years old. It seems that the Emperor hiad a troop of boys of the Pirince's age uii(er drill, and the Prince himself wvas one of the regiment; and one dlay, when the Queen was quesloning him lightly as to what lie meanit to do its the. world, he replied bravely, in true Napoleonic fashion, "Madame, I shall be a sot (ier." "1uta you are so littl~e," said hler Majesty, "they cannot make you an of fleer ; you will have to be a private al ways." "Pardon, madame," eak(i tile little follow, making a military salute, "Je suile deja caporal." T1he Empress of the Fronoh IIer Majesty thought a wromani of excellent parts, but over whelmed with all sorts ot frivolties out,side of herself. "There ls so mueh to -do," said the Queen naively, "I wonder how she ever gets through is all. It was one tumult from morning till night. I could not have endtered it." At Osborne, whlere she visited Queen Victoria, she was oppressed by the dullness and formality. She thought the Queen of England a per son of extraordinary informiation, but the slavery of etiquette w'hleh sur rouinded her was unendurable. FJrom tIse very slavery it 'was the desire of the Queen of Courcaniale to deliver her self, and her ownl life was one of vig orouui action and intelligent effort. She rose daily at seven ; walked, wrote, and read at fixed hours, corrosponding with baitf the savants of Europe on matters of lIterary and sciontiflo inter4st.: 8110 drew aroutnd her~ all the intllectual people' of her court, accostinig 'thiom with4ut formality or preted4tn, nr4r z otighoie ojoylng their different frankly to expresr,. She was a warm friend of th e jnglish ; her best. friends were English wome. She st)oke the language with absolute perfection and VitlIout aecen t, and was the iIIstress of six other tongues. Our American war was a serious puzzlo to her. Site was as kind as possible in her sympathy, but still 1a4hn1itted Openly liat the breaking II) of otir Republic would ble no cause of grief to tite royal families in 1turope. "You are so strong," sie said ruefully, and she shared tie com 11on1 Eurovean dolusion that the cause of the South was the cause of aristoc Tit 01d Famidoned Girl. She llourished tbirty or forty years ago. She was a little girl until she was fifteen. Site used to help her mother waihl the dishes and keep tite kitchen tidy, and site had an ambition to mak pies slo nicely that papa could not toll tile dillerence between them and mmmIIIIa's, ankd yet sh1e could try grindle cakes at tenl years of age, and darn her own stockings before sh was twelve, to say nothing of knitting themi herself. Sh11 had her hours of play and en joyed horsolf to the fullest extent. She had no very costly toys to be sure, but hter rag doll and little bureau and chair that Uncle Tom Made were inst as valuable to her 11a tile $20 wax doll and elegant doll furniture the children have now-a-days. She never said "1 can't," and "I don't want to," to her mother, when asked to leave ier play, and run up stairs or down or onl an errand, be cause she had not been brought II) in that way. Obedience was a cardinal virtue In the old fashioned little girl. Sile rose in tihe mornmig when she was called, and went out Into tile gar den anMd saw the dew on the grass, and If sie lived in the country site fed the chickens an(] hunted up the eggs for breakfast. We do not suppose she hadI her hair iII curl papers or crimplug-pins, or had it "banged" over her 'orehead and her flounces were no trouble to her. She learned to sew by making patch work, and we dare say site could do nit "'over-and-over" scan as well as nine tenths of the grown-up women now-a days.. The old-fashioned litle girl did not grow into a young lady and talk about beaux before sile was in i-r teens, and site did not read dime novels, and was not fancying a lero In every plow-boy she1 met. Site learned the solid accomplish nients as sihe grew up. Site was taught the arts of cooking and housekeeping. When site got a husband she knew how to cook him a dinner. Sie wias not learned iII French verbs or Latin declensions, and her near neighbors were spared tile agony of hearing her pound out "Tihe Mal.len's Prayer" and "SIlver Threads among tihe Gold" twenty tines a (lay on the pilano, but we have no doubt she made her company quite as comfortable as the modern young lady does hers. It may be a vulger assertion, and we su1ppose thtat we are not exactly upi with thte times, but we honestly be lIeve andl our op1n)o 30)Is based on con siderable experIence, andI no sm)al opp)ortnnity for observation, and whienl it comes to keeping a famIly hlappy, a good cook and( housekeerer Is to be greatly p)referred above an accomplish ed scholar. When both sets of qual.ties are f ound together, as they sometimes are, tihen Is tihe hlouseholdb over which sumcih a womlan has control blessed. The old-fashlioned lIttle girl wvas mvodest In her dlemeantor, and site never talked slang or used by-words. Sihe did not laugih at 0old people or make fun of cripples, as wo sawv somte mtoderni little girls doIng the other day. She hmad resp)ect for elders and was not above lIstening to wordls of counsel from thtose oldeOr thian hterself. She did not thtink ilhe knewv as much01 as mother, and thtat hter judgement was as good as grand mothler's. Sihe (lid not go to parties by the tite shle was ten, and stay till after mid.. nighzt playintg elucitor and dancIng wlih any chance young mtan who htappenled to be present. Size went to bed in season and doubt less saId her prayers before she went, and slept the sleep of Innocence, andl rose up ini the morninig happy antd capable of givIng htappiness. And If there be an,oild fasioned lIttle girl In thte wvorld to-day, may heaven bless hter anld keep lhen, and raise uip others like her. A Dutiful husband. There is at Moscow, a blacksmith, named Jordar, who marrIed a Russian woman. After Bite had livedl 8som1 time with her husband, site one day thlus loyingly addressed him: "Why Is it my dearest hutsband, that you do not love me ?" Tihe husband replied : "I do love fou passionately." "I have as yet," said site, "received no proof of your love." Tihe husband .tquired what proofs site desired. Her reply was, "You have never beaten meoI" "Really," said tile husband, "I did net know that blows weore proofs of love; however, I wvill noet even fail In this respept." And so not lonk after Ihe beat her mnost cruelly, and confessed to-me that after tha'~t process his wife sh*wed himn much greater af'ection3. No 4.e repeated tile e%ercise frequtently ; And fAlly, while I was still at Mos. ow out og her head adri her le~e 111uentisg for a 1old. A i aecdot- of Moore, the Irish poet, shows how much pains a writer who does good work will take to put the right word in the right place. Aloore was on a visit to a literary friend in France, and while there wrote a short poe)). One day W1bile the guest was engaged n his literary labor, the two took a stroll inl the adjacent wood, and the host soon perceived that, his companion was given up to his own. thoughts; he was silent and abstracted, noticing neither his friend and entertainor norl the surrounding beauties of the land seape. By-and-by hie began to gnaw the til ger-tips of his glove, pulling and twitch Ing spasmodically, and when this had gone on for a long time, his friend ven tured to ask him what was tile trouble. "I'll tell you," said Moore. "I havO left. at home upon miy table a poemn inl which Is a word I do' not like. The line Is perfect save that one word, and that word is perfect save Its lullcution. Thus it is," and lie repeated tile line and asked his triend if ito could help him. it wais a delicate point. ie friend saw the need, saw where and how the present word jarred just, the sliglhesi possible bit upon the exquisite hIaurmony of the cadence; but lie could not stip ply the walt... The twaiin cudgeled their bralns unll til they reached the house on their re turn without avall. The rest of the daly was spent. ats usuiall as was the evening, save that over anon Moore would sink into silent tits in pursuIt ol the absent word. And so Came oil tle a1ght, and tie poet wont to bed in a deep study. Tile following morning was brIght and beautiful, and Moore cattne down from his chamber witht a bouiig step with a scraip of paper ill Ills hand, and a glorious light iII his geitil counte The word had come to him I ile was awakened during the mlight, and the kind genius of inspiration lad visited his pillo.w, and he0 had got up aniHd torn a scrap from Ills note-book, and at the wiadow, by the light of the mnoon, had made the thought scoure. "There," lie said,when lie had Incor porated it Into the text; "there it is only a simple, single word, a word as common as a. b. o., and yet it cost mue twelve hours of itunlagging labor to 111ind It and put It where it is. W ho could bellove it?" That Awf71t Satcholl. As the Charlotte train sleamed Into the depot, a lady ran out I n tht, crowd Ill all excited manner inquthlng for an offleor. From her anxiety IL would scom as If the whole police force was Indispensable Just at that tine and at that precise part of the world. Detcc tive Kavanagh was by the lady's side In a mloment, but it was a lo'Ig tie be fore lie could glean from her wild ex.. presslons Just uhat was the matter. At last lie leaured that shte had come Ip on the hiarlotte train, anid had takean her satchel and gonec into the Falls tralin. She left It onl the seat and1( stepped f romi the cars to get some luincha. When she ret.urned to the ears hr r ownl satchel was misisinmg anad anm "o0l( nauasty'' valIse left Instead. Kay aniagh Immediately went to work to set matter's aighut, and enteriing the car the laidy p)oiut.ed out to him the place where she had left her satchel and the one0 that hlad been sulbstliuted for it. Then KCavanagh looked in the niext seat andt there saw aniothmer satchel. "'Madam," said he to the lady, "per hiaps tils Is the ark that COntalius the worldly nleessities of your-railroad journey through life,'' and1 lie held It up between the~ thumilb amnd forefinger of his tiny right hand. (Kavanagh can wvear P'erinot's number :1.) TihenJ the laidy 's faco became aplerfect rainbow of colors ; she blushed like a summer rose, and)1 lammedlately grew white as sniow; her eyes opened wilde In astonilshmment; she tried1 to spea1k but couldn't; at last she said: "i-I.--I-be--be-Ileve, 1 (10 (Ic-do -elaw ti-at weally is 1m1ne1." Then Kavanagh politely took oftf his centennIal straw hat and bowed him selt OLt. Theli truth was as obtainied by one of our repor ters In a subsequen t intervie w that tile lady wvent to thle wrong seat oin re-enterIng the car, and wishing to procure a hand kerchief from the satch el-she thouighs was lhers-op)enedl It anid there a sight met her bewildered gaze that would scare a phalanx of the weaker sex. Th'ie first thhIg that met hler eye 'was the general Conlfusion of the contents, whlech was proof posItive that t,he owner was not of the feminine gender. Then there appeared to view a shavIng cup, a piece of soap, an old clay pipe and a pair of bifurcated gar ments wrapped around a paper box. No further investigation was necessary to conlulce the feminIne mind that the "hawred contents dId not belong to her." No wonder she sought the pro tection of the police, No wvondler Kay anlagh bluashed for the first time in his life, and would have been run over by the second Atlrantic express If the Ves, uvlous had not lifted him ten feet in tihe air with an~ octagonal basso pro' fundo of "L-o-o-k-e.e- out thiar I" Timber continually Oe pse( 1to 1110 tul'o is foud to rqai Vorryjg period its orAgin *roaith. with hnoisuro Is exttspielJu u~;~ Ferrets. lerI-ts are the great resort of aililet ed farmers in England. Some men make a regular 'business going round with them and giving rat infested htouses a "run" in conal-leration of the payment of a ten dollar bill. The fer rets are rather expensive creatures, costing about thirty dollars a pair. They aire so long and 1im1n and supple that they can almost tie their own bod les in a knot and be crawling out of it again at one end before the knot at the other end Im completed. A medium sized anger hole can be utilized by them with case, the only trouble being that the auger hole is apt to be stralgt and the ferrets used to doubling up and arching their backs and going through all sorts of strange convulsions with their bodies-as though to show off their gracetul curves-would feel quite lost in having to keep their straight natural position, even though for .the spice of one secfand. They are never still a minute, except, perhaps, when they sleep, and then, like their nearest cousin the weasel, they are apt to sleep with their eyes open. Their life Is one of continuous and constant activity. When they are not crawling into rat holes at the bidding of an inexorable master, they are at home in- cages, where they run to and fro like penned up lions. Often the ferret is seon with scratches on his nose or lacerations on the neck. These are the little remei bratices of his encounters with his natural enemy, the rat. The rat will not fight a ferret when lie can get away. The largest rat. will run fron them. They can smell theR long be fore they can see them, and that Is the signal for thou to fly or remaIn and (lie a subterranean and ignoble death. Young rats In nests are at the ferrets mercy, and the ferrets are not slow to show them such mercy as their oraving stomachs af'ord. They do not eat the lesh. They Insert their teeth and, weazle-likes suck all the blood out of tchir bodies, then leave them. This Is tihe great point ferret men imake over the modern style of getting rid of rats by poison. They cry down the poison system and declare that by killing rats in that manner, life in a house about which the r'ats perish is rendered al most intolerable by the stmich their do caying carcasses create. By killing them with ferrets this is avoided, they claivi, foi the latter take all the blood from them and the carcasses, insteadof decaying, dry up. After-all, the ferrets are doing more than is generally expected of them when they~kIll grown rats. Their principal tiso is to drive the vorminlt from their holee up to the light of day, where Scotch terriers and nets and clubs in the hand. of the for rets' masters do the rest. Through a Trap Door. The proprietor of a store on W street was looking out upon the rain be-drizzled streets and figuring that lie wouldn't make a cent during the wholo afternoon, when a hard-up look ing stranger wet to the hide, walked softly in and took a seat ii a chalr. "Anything to duy?" asked the mer chan111t. Th'ie answver was a Ionecsomie shaake of the head. "Bad weather to day." Another weary shake replIed. After flve minutes of silence, the straniger got tup and1( begani walking the store. TIhe trap door leadinig to the basement was tup, and in one of Ils turns lie wvent dlowni out of sight like a bag of shot. The merchant called out when it was too late and he ran to the traip and peered down the dark stairs with the expootion of seeing a corpse on the cellar bottom. Instead of that the strange man appeared on the stairs and ascended wilthout help. -iIe was covered with dust fromn hied to foot and his coat split up the back, and the merchant hastened to say: "I am very sorry, Indeed. f forgot the trap-are you much hurt?" "My frIend," replied the stranger as he turned around and extended his hand, "you have -been the means of - saving me I Shake hands with meo!" Th'ie merchant thought the tall. had made a lunatic, but lie shook and the man went on: "Five minutes ago I was half drunk and desperate. I had about made up my mind to murder some one and then jump into the river. That fall hias glvent me newv and better ideas. From this hour I am a new man, with a better life before me! - Shake ngain I" "Ah--ycs-vory strange," 4tam,inr. od the merchant as he shook, and tlie stranger said as he stood in the do6r~ "J thank you from the bottom of i heart for leaving that trap open! Wife -2 and children shall bless your name and I can never forget yoti!- Good--bye, oir -ten thousand blessIngs--Ieaven keep you i n its carer'u Th'fe merchant puzzled over tihe s for a long time and then wentNoewk the cellar and-found evidences-iti stranger had ecoolly jumiped db*n' rolled in tihe dtust, add duWii th~ moment secured abme t 1114 p dozen pooket kulyes ami 4 apg o~ of gloves, Then~ there aws'tq "shake," - Aaasr is -r'etidered 6"QU,Y ru)bbinlg or ibarshing It of crying oils and'ahft.tt (1 -ein e 4. Ma