Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

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THE DARUNGTON NEWS, rUBUSHBb tVBBTTBCMDAT MOBNIHO HENRY fTTHOMPSON. pkopkutoe. TKBXS—$i Per A.H«a la Adfiace. On® Ant loatrtioB $1.00 Square, eecooR iesertiofl>*»***«a«** as «S0 g^^ry suNeeQeBt ieeeTttoii.•••••••• ••••••••» *60 Coetreat edrertieements inserted upon the most rsMoanbls term*. Marriage Notices snd Obituaries, not xereding six lines, inserted free. DOWN AROUND THE RIVER. DARLINGTON T 11I TO Ij v'1 k^i ••FOR DS PRINCIPLE IS PRINCIPLE—RIGHT IS RIGHT—YESTERDAY, TO-DAY. TO MORROW, FOREVER VOL. XV. NO 22. DARLINGTON, S. 0., THURSDAY, MAY 30. 1889. WHOLE NO 750. joii imiT, Out joti <te| nrtuivnt i» -uppli- U wiih r»« r lacili'v ncoeii«.,r)' to rn-Oiie us locunpri* bo<k u> ii'j rict sikUiurUi; el*i>rk, wlib r»« r tlif'>f #l the citifs. »n«l ue runmnirt fsiOtion in rsory partiouUi ar*kaer< i.»«kii.g for our work. We nr* 1 nlwsy- pr»i'«rrtl to All onlrr* at sbnrt mtiioc fur RUiiV.-. lit IltrAila, Letter ilcudu. Card*, i.sud l<S-s Po^trr*. Cireuinrs. Pamphlrts. As. Ai’, job noik must In |'aid for G p.sli on Deliverr desrn around the ■a«« sofuraa with Uaar Ann-hot lawqrt I fer gteshert Drives m« off the ptaos, and sajra 'at aU 'at ■he's a-wisliiu', 0 lead o’ grr'rViual time'll come I'll fit enough o' IMiiu'! little Dare a-choppin' wood, never 'pears to ao Don't know where site's hid ills hat, er keerin' where his coat Ut - flparalntln’ inore'o like, ha hslnt s-goln' to mind ate, And giwadD’ where soy twelve o'clock, a faller'd Ukriy flnd me Mood time and June (line, down around the river! Clean out o’ eight o' home, and skulkin under klvver Of the Hycaoiort-s. Jaek oaks and swamp ash, and elluni- MsssaU so Jumi le,l up, you kin hardly tell 'em t— Tired, you kAovr, but loriii' it, and smilin' Just to think 'at Anysweetertimlueasyou'd fairly want todrink It Tired o'ftshiu*—tired o'fun-line out slack and slbkar— AS you want In all the world's a little more to- backer' Hungry, but a hidin' It. er J«a' a-not a keerin’— Kingfisher gittin'up and skootiog out o' bearin'; Snipes on the t'other side, where the County Ditch In. Wadin'up and down the atdge like they'd rolled their britches! Old turkle on the rots kindo sorto drappln' Intoo lb’ water like lie don't know how it happen! Worter. shades, ami all so mixed, don't know which you'd ortrr Nay. UT worter In the shadder-shudder In the ri .J*. Soa^l»oMiiotterin'—'way around the bend la CpperH%-k the k—where yer eye kin )ee' ketch 'ailin' Of the shluey a-makin' With that pceky nose o' his! Then a sniff •' ba wedge o' wake some muss rat's Otra bread aad 'dock greens and little Darn a-nbinnin', •Oast the rocks and mussel shells, a-llmpltig and a-grinnlng. With yer dinner fer ye. and n blessin' from the giver, time and June time, down around the river! —James Whitcomb Riley OLD MR. BINNEY. Miss Bright, but he bad lost bis Caste for matrimony. He remembered that be had spent forty excellent years with a wife, and, notwithstanding that he was now a widower, he could not con- ) scientiously nay that ho felt his state , to be so unhappy. Susan, the cook, respectable and staid, would, he felt sure, manage his : household pronerly, and if it proved that she should give way to extrava gance, as people seemed to say she would. Mr. Binney fancied that he could better put up with that evil than J with too much of the economy from which he had suffered already. So all the hopes that, on the death of Mrs. Binney, Joe and Sally and the i Brendons had cherished for Miss Bright, were ruthlessly dashed to the ‘ ground. Evidently Aunt Binney was not to have a successor. , “If we could but have got her there as housekeeper,” said two of those arch conspirators, “the rest would have been easy.”’ But though they returned to the at- | tack several times, no good came of it. Mr. Binney shared iu their regret at the loss of Miss Bright's pupils, wondered, as they did, what woula become of her, and, his visitors gone, to make his sympathy apparent, he sat down and wrote a kind liltle note, with a check for $50 folded within it “He’s an old atupidl” said Sally; “and now she is going away alto- ther, ever so far”—for Miss Bright ~ had another piece of news to tell An old pupil of early days had been recently left a widow; her health was as delicate as her heart was kind, and when ahe made the proposition that Miss Bright should come and spend the rest of‘her days with her, it was not entirely of her own comfort that the had been thinking. Miss Bright had readily accepted her offer, and she had written to teil Sally that the next week she should come up and see them. She could only stay a few hours with them when she came. The “I think if you take my advice you will never wear any other. ’’ “Really,” and she laughed softly; “but it is for high days and holidays, you know I" and she tiptoed to look in the chimney glass, saying that it cer tainly was a very pretty cap, and then she sat down to pour out the tea. “The best tea things!” she said, ndmir- ingly; **1 am so fond of pretty china!" And then, searching in the sugar basin, she added: “I have not forgotten that you like two lumps of sugar, you see." Mr. Binney smiled complacently; a feeling of well being and comfort took possession of him. Of a certainty it was very pleasant to have a congenial somebody to bear one company—one who could talk well, listen well, and hold her tongue well, if necessary. Experience had assured him of that Miss Bright possessed each of these good qualities. When she had stayed there, when Mrs. Binney was first ill, their evenings had passed very pleas antly, and recalling the things they bad done, he asked: “Do you often play chess now!” “No, never.” “Cribbage, backgammon?” “I’ve no one to play with. That is one thing in my going away,” and she ! swallowed a sigh—“my evenings will be less lonely. “Ah, yes; I find the time very long after dinner. 1 don’t like to go to bed before half past 10, although I often i ■ feel fhclineu to." “And the days draw in so quickly j now there is no afternoon—it is all evening, which reminds me that it is getting time for me to go, for it takes me ‘ ‘ A DOUBTING THOMAS. The Down on a Wax » TVestorn Man Sat Whalinx Captain. We had been iu New Bedford ten or twelve days, and had selected our par ticular sea captain and listened to naif a dozen of his yarns without betraying the slightest evidence of doubt of any statement, when a stranger from the far west arrived and rather forced his presence upon our coterie. We were on the back veranda of the hotel, five or six of us and the old whaler, and the latter had just started iu on a story, when the westerner came out of the smoking room and drew up a chair. “Now, go ahead, captain," ho brusquely observed, as he lighted a fresh cigar. “Well, gents," began the captain, after an uneasy look around. “I was going to tell you about a whale as”— “What species of whale?" inter rupted the stranger. “There are sev eral species, you know, and you had better designate.’’ “A right whale, sir." v “Oh! That’s all right; go ahead.” “We were lying to and drifting while trying out a fish captured the day before, and the wind was from’’— “Was this on Lake Erie or the At lantic ocean?” put in the stranger. “On the Atlantic, of course.’ “Then I am with know but you were lakes. Better locate closer, however." “It was off the coast of you. I didn’t whaling on the the spot a little e quite an hour togettothe station." ; plied the captain iuan indignant “Not in a carriage?" “That will do, but is along “No, but I’m going to walk: it is Go ahead, and never mind whic i All their friends had said, when Mrs. fiinney died: “Now what a good thing it would bo if old Mr. Binuey would Bihrry Miss Bright I” Miss Bright hud not been without her troubles, and very hard ones they had been, too, hut she liore them with a bravo heart, and carried a smiling face, and had a thankful spirit within her, striving always to remember her blessings, and how much they out- humbered any evils she was called upon to bear. Indeed, to listen to Miss Bright's showing, you would have counted her os one of the luckiest persons ever born. She had had the kindest of friends, the most comfortable of situa tions, and the girls she had taught were endowed with an amiability of dis]>osition which made it ajiositive pleasure to lie with them. The only accusation she could bring against them was that they were all in such a terrible hurry to grow up and get married, and then Miss Bright's occu pation was gone, and site had to step out into the world and find a fresh field for her labors. As years rolled on, each one adding to the score of Miss Bright's age, these hunting grounds of instruction be came more and more narrowed. Chil dren of 8 begun now where girls of 18 used to leave off, and history and geography, to say nothing of the parts of sjKTch* and grammar, were all so altered, that pcor little Miss Bright had to acknowledge that nt times she really did feel quite confused. “Very soon 1 shan't be left with anything to teach," she used to say, patnetically; and then Mr. Binney’s nephew, Joe. or some oilier good fellow who heard her, would declare she should set up a school for wives, for there never were such wives as the girls whom Miss Bright had brought up. She liad taught Joe's wife. Sally, and her sis ter, and though since then she bad had other situations, at holiday time, or whenever she was seeking employ ment, she always returned to the house of Dr. Brcndon, their father. When Mr. Binuey dropped in, ns he frequently did, to inquire after his old friends, the Brendons, he from time to time found Miss Bright there; and happening in on the occasion of one of her visits there, -to bring the news that Mrs. Binney was ill, with no one whose business it seemed to be to look after her, nothing was more natural than that Miss Bright should volun teer; and a great comfort they found her. So sprightly yet unobtrusive was the cheery little woman that Mrs. Bin* i ney herself ' was influenced in her fa vor, until, with an eye to their mutual comfort, Mr. Binney proposed that Miss Bright should stay with them altogether. “Why not?" he said. “We could well afford to pay her a salary.” But this word salary, acting like magic on Mrs. Binney ; seemed tQ bring her to her senses immediately. She would bo very glad to have Miss Bright ms a visitor as long as she liked to stay, but as to living with them altogether—no, ahe would not give her consent to that; she liad always ob jected to having in her bouse a third puru. U waa theu that Miss Bright’s irieiids pulled very long faces indeed. What woiiUl ahe oof they asked' her. “Oh. something is sure to turn up,” she would say hopefully. “Whenever I hare come to my last ebb an open ing. has always been made for me; and I am not going to despair now." And the said this all the more em phatically, beeausa, in spite of her confidence, she could not help feeling that a voice, which ahe could not still, kept repeating, “What will you do *hen you grow older? Teaching will get harder than ever." That was true enough, but what her to dot farewell visit was to be paid later. “But I think,” she said, as she going, “that I will call home, and say good-by to in case I might not have was on my way Mr. Binney, another op- Sallv and awav she go *“ U V C ' . a nian «t the masthead, where he ^ ’ | i But Mr. Binney remained firm; his . didn't belong nt the time, but perhaps migi portunity.” “Do,” said went Mr. Binney was at home. He had not been quite well lately; nothing more than a cold, but it had kept him a prisoner. Today he might have gone out, but he had not felt inclined to, and he gallantly said he was glad to be in, as he should have been sorry ‘ indeed to have missed seeing Miss Bright. “And so you are really going to leave us?” he said, and almost regret fully, too. “Well, you will be very much missed. I don’t know what the Brendons will do." , “They will not miss mo more than I shall them,” and tho brave little woman made an effort that her voice should not sound shaky; “but you know, Mr. Binney, I am not growing younger, am I?" “No," he said, “that is true. I was saving tho very same to myself of my self only to day.” “Yes, only with men it docs not seem to matter, but with women tho thought always comes with a little shudder than when wo get old and want a little quiet and rest, and a comfortable arm chair by tho fire, there is a doubt whether wo shall bo ablo to get them.” Mr. Binney did not answer, and fear ing she was saying too much about her own feelings, she altered her tone, which had been a littlo sad, and wont on in her usual chocrful way: “But theu I ought to feel so thank ful that this opening has been made for me. I told them that I knew some thing wop Id come; it has always done so; I have always been so lucky.” “It’s your hapny disposition makes my near Mis: AWf ASM* A AAA £'-'***& VV W AAAAA . AW AO quite fine and dry, and if I feel tired at the Conway road I shall wait at the corner for the omnibus passing." Miss Bright began to put on her bon net Mr. Binney walked to the win dow ; for a minute he looked out then he rang the bell. j “1 snail go with you as far as the 1 Conway road.” “O, Mr. Binney 1 No, pray don’t r think of such a thing; it might give you a cold, and there isn't the slight- | est occasion—I am so accustomed to go about alone.” Brazil," re voice, coast, which way the wind blew." “We were drifting, as I said,” con tinued the captain, as he swallowed a lump in his tnroat, “when the man at the masthead called” “Excuse me, captain,” interrupted the stranger, “but if all hands were trying out wny did you have a lookout at the masthead?” “Let him goon 1" called two or three voices. • “Oh, certainly, but he must be sure of his facts. Co on, captain, you had a man at the masthead, where he The Thins That's Cheap. This is most assuredly the age when the children have to look after the morals of the parents. I supjtose since “Little Lord Fauntleroy” we will have the kids talking to their fathers and their grandfathers and giving them the best of advice. Well, they need it; it doesn’t matter who gives it to them. It does not require any special faculty or education to give advice. Anybody can give it, everybody gives it; but nobody can take It, nobody takes it If people took advice what a bore tho world would lie. Now if you have a sore eye and somebody tells you to rub it with a gold ring, and you rub it and it cures it, what becomes of the fellow who is waiting to advise you to rub it with borax, or use cold water band ages, or apply some patent salve! Of course they will all toll you to try those various remedies even after it is cured, and I know one fellow who wanted to go over to the drug store and buy a box of salve for me a week after the eye was well. But this waa a moral point that was raised. He was going away with his mother, and his father was saying “Good-by" at tho station. •He was looking appro priately blue and his male friends were rallying him. “That’s all right. You'll see some pretty woman to-morrow and begin to flirt with her and you won t miss your wife very much.” The small boy was emphatic. “Say," he said to tho speaker, "if you see my father gettin’ stuck on anybody while mamma’s away you go right in and cut him out.’—San Francisco Chronicle. A WOMAN WITH GRIT. hat and coat were brought to him; and awav the two set off togetlier. They cfiatted pleasantly as they walked along. “I shall hope to come and see them all sometimes,” Miss Bright said. “I know as long as the you managed things that way. suddenly sighted a whale, didn’t he?” Tho captain would have retired, but we looked at him so appealingly that he decided to make one more effort. The lookout bailed the deck and BrcudobS have a home they will take gajj that a large whale was bearing down on our starboard broadside,” be said, after two or three swallows. “I at once leaped” “Say. captain," softly inquired the stranger, “was the lookout a man of veracity ?” “Of course he was!” “All right, then; but I have known lookouts who would lie like a trotting horse about whales. Go on. Yon were going to sav that you leaped overboard. What happened then?'’ “Gentlemen, I can’tstand this,” pro tested the captain, as he rose up. “What’s the matter?" asked tho stranger. “You seem to doubt my word, sir." “Lands alive 1 hut how did you get that idea? On the contrary, 1 have tlio most entire faith in what you say. By the way, captain, what year, month you sav ear Miss Bright; a - - cheerful spirit shortens the longest day. I wish I could follow your ex ample. I often feel condemned at my want of contentment—of gratitude, 1 ought to say.' But that M iss Bright would not al- there for Burney’s as i proposition had « knowledge or consem « .f i ha principal person con cerned, who, as soon as the hint was (tten, negativrd it . Hr. Binney thoroughly appreciated erigiu low. She reminded Mr. Binney of the many kind actions he liad done, and in her own quiet way thanked him for the thoughtful present he had sent to her. “No,no, no; now you must not speak of that,” Mr. Binney hastily interrupt ed her; and to give a turn to tho con versation, he said she “must have some tea,” and, ringing to older it, ho hoped she could stay. Well, yes, she thought she could snare time for that—indeed, to be plain, she was not in such a very great hurry. Tho fact had been tliat Joe had had an unexpected hol iday, and she saw that, only for her being there, ho had come home to go out some where with Sally. “So I hope that little fib I told you will be forgiven me, for when I said that I was wanted at home, although it was quite true, perhaps I need not but for that have left quite so early. But it was so nice of Joe to come home. I do love to see husbands and wives companions to each other. “Ah, indeed, yes; that is theobiect of matrimony too often, I fear, lost sight of in our day by the young and the old, too." But Miss Bridget did not agree. “No, she knew so many united couples. There were the Brendons now"— But at this moment the tea was brought in, and Miss Bright askcJ should she pour it out. Her offer was accepted. “Only," said Mr. Binney, “you must take off your cloak, or you won’t feel tho good of it when you go; and your bonnet, too —wouldn't you be more comfortable without that?” Miss Bright said “No.” she would not take her bonnet off. “Haven’t a cap with you. 1 sup pose?” said the old gentleman, slyly. “Yes, indeed 1 have—s present from Sally—and a very becoming one, too.” “But it on, then, and let me pass my opinion." Miss Bright hastened to ooey, and when she came for his inspection the smile on her face and the soft pink in her cheek made her look ten years 3r< ^5> r’.osaid, “now what do you think of iil” me in “And remember that so long as I i have a house there will be room for you in it." “That is very kind of you, Mr. Binney," she said, softly. “I am sure I do not know why ]>eoplo arc so good to tue.” Mr. Binney apparently was no l>ct- ! ter able to inform her, and the}’ walked on silently until tho Conway road was reac'.od. “Now, then,” said Miss Bright, “here we say farewell,” and she held out her hand, but Mr. Binney did not take it; lie was engaged in hailing a carriage ho saw; then ho drew out liis purse, ami Miss Bright knew that he lutended settling with the man for the fare. She shook her head at him re provingly. Mr. Binney gave the directions to the driver, and then he held out his hand, hesitated, o]>eucd the door, and said, “I don’t see why I should not go with you as far os the station.” At the railway station they had but a very short time of waiting. Miss Bright stood near the carriage which she had chosen; nothing remained but to say good-by and enter. “And you will let us hear how you get on ?” for she had not said she was coming up again. “O Ishall often write to the Breu- donsand Sally. You will hear of me through them.” "And 1 hope very much that you will bo comfortable and happy." Miss Bright tried to smile, but her jyes filled rapidly, and to hide the 1 tears she half turned away. “1 wish you were not obliged to i go away. Couldn’t anything bo man aged for yon?” Sho shook her head sadly. “No.” she said; “1 tried every tiling I could” —and here a sob would come—“but nobody seemed to want me." "I—I want you!’’ Mr. Binney wa* stammering out his words excitedly. “Miss Bright, can you—will you stay for me? Could you cousent to become Mrs. Binney?” “Mrs. Binuey 1 — I" — everything seemed toswiin around her—“but, Mr. Binney, such an idea never once oc- ;l to me." N way, captain, and day of tho week was this? What was the name of your ship? Are any of the crew willing to go before a mag istrate and make affadavit? 1 should also like’’ • But the captain had turned his back and walked away, and our pleasant old liar never returned to us. He had been smothered by the stranger, and we had to hunt up and listen to the yarns of a mate, who couldn’t tell a yarn without nis face giving him away every time he pulled a leg of truth out of joint—New York Sun. currcil to me. “I am very sure of that, my dear,* bo said, earnestly, “and it has taken some time to come to me, or I should have made the offer long ago; how ever, better late than never—that is, if you will accept me.” “O, hut I think it is so good of —and you feel sure that 1 can t you happy? What will the Brendons and Solly say?” “Say that I am more lucky than I deserve to be for not asking you be fore. Now I understand why 1 wouldn't consent to your being my housekeeper; I was wanting you for my wife, you know." Miss Bright held up her hands in dismay. “O my I" she cried, “there’s the train off—gone, 1 declare j" “What of that, if it is? Another will soon follow, and while we are waiting for it we can arrange our plans and fix the day." And if any one wishes to know how it all ended I can satisfy their curiosity by telling them that a more happy, cheer}' couple never were seen than the present Mr. and Mra Binney.— Boston True Flag. Wanted Room to Rallr. An o»d veteran relates a peculiar military dialogue be listened to in the course of one of the battles of the re bellion, I forget which. The soldier Night Air Reiter Than Foul Air. An extraordinary fallacy is the dread of night air. What air can wo breathe at night but night air? The choice is between pure night air from without and foul air from within. Most peo ple prefer the latter, an unaccountable choice. What will they say if it is proved to be true that fully one-half of all the diseases we suffer from are occasioned by people sleeping with their windows shut? An open window most nights in the year can never hurt any one. In great cities night air is often the best and purest to be bad in twenty-four hours. I could better un derstand shutting the windows in town during the day than during tho night, for the sake of the sick. The absence of smoke, tbe quiet, all tend to make night the best time for airing the pa tient One of our highest medical au thorities on consumption and climate has told me that the air of London is never so good as after 10 o’clock at night. Always air your room, then, from tho outside air, if possible. Win dows are made to open, doors qro made to shut, a truth which seems extremely difficult of apprehension. Every room must be aired from without, every pas sage from within.—Sanitary World. It Will Not Occur AgHln. There is a certain young lady in Americus, Ga., who will never eat much supper if a young man cats with her on an invitation to do so; but when she retires for the night will take a biscuit or piece of bread and munch it after lying down. One night last week she had a visitor and didn't eat On retiring she took a large number of sweet cakes, and when she ate enough fell asleep. How long she slept no one knew. She awakened tho house screaming at a heart break ing rale, and the people thought she was being murdered. In rushed a big brother and a married sister, the latter with a lamp. The young lady waa in bed yelling, “Oh, don’ll" and other articulations of terror. The brother ran and pulled off tbe covering, when out jumped two or three rats and down fell pieces of the cake. The girl fainted because of the rats scampering over her. She wa» frightened nearly Sava in the rnrtiiR. The loss of the war ships at Samoa was a terrible blow to the navy. Three gallant men-of-war sunk in a night and the navy already short of good ships 1 The situation aroused the pa triotism of the whole country at once, and tho misfortune was bewailed throughout the land. The secretary of the navy has, since the disaster, been in receipt of numerous letters of condolence, encouragement and sug gestion, referring to ways and means for retrieving the losses. But none exhibit more touching earnestness of patriotism than tho following, sent by a little maiden of Reading, Ba., where war ships are myths. It was written neatly and was straight to the point, as follows; “Mr. Tracy—My cousin was on the war ship, and sho said the sailors wast ! ed tho potatoes, and I thought if they took thinner parings you might build a ship to send where the others got lost. 1 am only eleven, but 1 can take thinner jiariugs. Mv mother does not know I am writing this.” The secretary's private secretary, Mr. Raymond, called his attention to this letter, and he directed that it be sent to the bureau of provisions and clothing. A reply was sent to the lit tlo girl, thanking her for her sugges tion. Tho letter was filed in the ar chives of tho department, bearing on its back these words, stani|K'd in red ink: “Referred to tho Bureau of Pro visions and Clothing.’’-Washington Star. She Sampled It. One very warm night hint summer I hapjieiHil to bo standing in tho hack yartl of a representative rookery in Clabber alley near an old chicken coop. The moon was shining upon the coop, and as I stood in the shallow of the house I noticed the head of a gray and grizzled rat thrust from a neighboring rathole, and concluded to watch tho movements of the veteran. After a careful survey of tho surround ings, the old rodent made a cautious exit from the home retreat and moved cautiously to a pan of water standing near. Presently five half grown young ones rushed out and raced to sec which was tho lirst to the water. The old rodent seemed much alarmed, and, with a bound, leaiied to the edge of the pan, raised hei'self on her haunches and bit and scratched at her offspring whenever they attempted to reach the pan. Presently I learned the reason of the mother rat’s actions. After she had succeeded in chasing the youujr ones back into their hole, she wet her whiskers in the water looked rather suspiciously about, and sipped the water very cautiously, as if to learn whether or not it contained poisonous or deleterious matter. Then, after a satisfied glance all round she gavea squeak, and the five young rats came running out and all (frank their fill. The noise of tho sergeant's club at the corner of tho house frightened them off and I had to go.—St. Louis Globle-Democrat. Royal Deadheads. When the Prince of Wales and his wife wish to go to the theatre notice is given to the manager, who prepares his largest box or knocks two boxes into one for tho royal party, and sets aside another box for their suite. If the boxes have already been sold tho persons puix-hasing are informed that they arc wanted for royalty and are requested to call and get their money back. Half a dozen programmes are printed on colored satin, a lot of bou quets are purchased for the ladies, and an immense amount of scarlet cloth is used in decorating the house. The manager receives the party personally. The raising of the curtain is delayed until the royal party is seated and the orchestra plays "God Save the Queen." At intervals during the performance refreshments are sent up to the royal oox. All this is at the expense of the management.—Chicago Tribune. Holding Her Cabin Agninst Frontier Ruf- Ohos with the Aid of Her Dog. “Talk about women going out to do the homestead act at OKlahoma,” said a Thespian on the Rialto, with u lower register sneer, “there goes a demure light of the drama who h;is been through more pioneer perils than half tho men who come nack cast with scalps and fairy tales." Just then the demure member walked placidly by. Large, thoughtful eyes, bearing ex tremely quiet, regular features and a a ueenly figure, and all belonged to ic actress—May Frances Stetson. And the Thespian rattled ahead with his story. You would never dream that the heroine of his tales of border perils, hairbreadth escapes and frontier mis eries could be eniDodicd iu such a dig ( nifled and gentle frame. “Tell you how it was. She hails from Maine and went out to Dakota to capture one of the homestead bargains ottered there. That was in 1880, about the beginning of summer. She had been through some preliminary train ing for the stage, hut hadn't money enough to keep on with her studies and she took n fancy to try the rapia transit road to wealth through a ‘claim’ in the west. Expericncef No. j nothing hut grit, a Russian blood- ! hound and a five barreh'd revolver. I That was her stock in trade. She lo- j catod her 100 acres about twelve miles from Fargo—rolling land, hummiided by leagues of waving prairie. “Sho began by moving a log cabin there lo live in. Then sho contracted to teach a school, the first in that be ■lighted region. It was six miles from her cabin, and thisdistancc she walked twice a day, the prairie grass for or* ^ three miles being neck high and the primeval snake acting as her only e cort. “Meanwhile, Flo—that’s the blond hound—held the fort al the enhin, and tho cabin never got far away while Flo was in command. One evening almut dusk. Miss Stetson heard one of Flo's peculiar and ominous growls. The dog never growled unless there whs business on hand. So her mistress re s|M>nded and found three villainous looking Bioux Indians at tho rear of tho cabin. They were the worse for lire water and asked for food as a bluff. This was her lirst introduction to the copper colored gentry. “As sho started for some meat and 1 a revolver the Indians drew their knives and entered. The odds were heavy and their purpose was clear. As tho leader advanced with kuifo raised, she let him have it in the heart and he dropped. Flo g >t her cue and fas tened on number two’s throat with deadly grip. Number three took to the woods. She buried the redskins , next day and kept on with her school. Flo saved her life several times after that—once when a tramp pulled a razor in return fora breakfast. Diking Miss Stetson entirely oil' her guard. He managed to make a nasty cut in her arm before Flo got her lines, but when she did it was all over for the tram;) in one act. She hud a man all | ready for the undertaker before she ; left his throat. “A third time Miss Stetson had left Flo in charge of the cabin and gone galloping over tho prairie, five miles away, for some oil. Evening bad nearly set in. She had scarcely start ed on her way back when ono of those beastly but brilliant prairie storms came on. Chain lightning spans the skies, and from its forks drop great balls of electric fire. You think it’s the bombardment of Sumter. Then follow ruin iu torrents and darkness heavy and dense os lead. She lost her way and entered a gulch. The waters rose and rose, and death seemed ccr- i tain, when Flo’s hark was heard like an angel's voice. Tho dog hud made up her mind that something was wrong, and btop|>ed playing sentinel long enough to save her mistress tho third time. ixK-atiug the voice of dis tress she soon brougnl relief from a belated party on the road. “Miss Stetson and the hound went through the entire Dakota bill o’ fare, including Indians, washouts, starva tion and prairie fires. Twice Flo was shot and her mistress nursed her back to shape again. Hut Miss Stetson made her iKjint. She hung lo it like grim death till sho made the land pay. sold out nt u pood figure and started east again with money enough to go ahead with her dramatic studies under Hudson and Emerson at Boston. “And Flo? Well, the poor hound was left Willi people in Ciiieago who didn't fancy her unconvenliomd way of running the neighborhood, and they shot her while she was fast asleep. They knew nothing could kill her if she were awake. It almost broke Miss Stetson's heart. She never forgave those Chicago cowards for TIid Cltjr ut Usrlln. Frederick tho Great worked hard to beautify this town of his choice, but it cannot lie said that, with all his ef forts and all the energy of recent years, it is a town which strikes a stran ger familiar with London or Paris us one of grandeur * r even of dignity. To begin with, there only exists one church of architectural interest—in terest, because the beauty of the Klos- torkirehc has boon destroyed by ad ditions made about tbe middle of the present century. As for the cathedral, that is a late, domed edifice, no larger than a decent parish church in tuU country. This (Hiverty is unique. Look where you will over Europe, ami you will not find a single town of capital importance so void of that crowning ornament to a ciiy. a One ecclesiastical building. The dciectcan- i not be exaggerated. Such buildings are the durable record of a city’s life; each weather beaten stone has an in terest no less human than scientific, no less romantic than artistic. ,We have our St. Paul’s and Westminster Abbey, tbe Parisians their Notre Dame, Vienna its 5jt. Stephen's, Rome its St. Peter's: but there no such ser mons in stone to be read in Berlin, no building to be admired for its beauty or revered for its age. Conceive Pan* without Notre Dame. The effect is nothing short of robbing French liter ature of Victor Hugo! Nor is Berlin much better off for secular buildings. None of them save an inconsiderable fragment of the old Schloss date cur lier than the Seventeenth century, and the bulk of tbe old Schloss is a decay tug plaster fared pile of that unfortu nate periisl The (Kilaccs of the late Emperor William and of the Kims-rur Frederick as crown prince were uuilt, the former some fifty years ago, the latter thirty, and, though l>oth insig nificant in size as coiii|airrd with llie Buckingham jicthu'o. may be admitted lo compete w ilh it in |K>inl of stylo.-* Macmillan's Magazine. Aa Rtarnsl llsllr. Asoka. ladicvcd lo la- the grnmlaon of the Indian sovereign whoso realm* were invaded by Alexander tho Great, became a convert to Buddhism, and in extending that form of religion en acted a purl analogous to that of Con stantino in establishing Christianitv. About fifteen hundred years ago he distributed morsels of the bones of the Faints to all kings with whom ho was iu alliance, and a prince iu (jiizcmt resolved tluit his relic should last while time endured. He inclosed it in a hoi tie of gold, and that in a cas ket of silver, and that iu a vessel of copper, and that iu a bowl of baked clay—a substance as durable as the earth of the world —and that in a coffer of claystonc, and tliat in a hol low square of sandstone, and that again, in a pyramid of brick more than eighty feel high, and ut the base the Ni.ine thickness; and filially, as we understand, a description only on this |M>int obscure, faced the eutiru structure with stone block*. Tho prince did not spend all that thought and labor and treasure only to honor his relic; ho meant to preserve it u* long as India or Time itself: hould lust, and so well did he plan that lie succeeded in preserving it for fifteen hundred years. His dynasty ceased and was even forgotten, his people changed their creed and ceased to worship Buddha, his clearances wore abandoned by hu man beings and the jungle spread its obliterating man lie over roads and plain and pyramid, and still tbe relic remained as safe iu its golden bullions it was when the prince placed it there. And there tho British arelimologist, Mr. Campbell, found it. tho mor sel of bono uncalcined, liio gold of the bottlo ns bright us ever, tho silver cas ket only tarnished, tho cop]>cr cover ing only rusted, tho bowl of baked clay unchanged, ns it would bo if loft there till tbe world cooled, tbo clay- stone coffer unbroken, tho sandstone cavity unviolated, tho pyramid still resisting climate and time and men-' , who had in some past ago sought : treasure in its interior.—London Tele graph. reporter rapn i quietly io hand murdering her York World. life pt jicrvcr.—New was going off tho field too hastily, and over _ _ - the provost guard cried, “Halt!" into convulsions and gave vent to her •*rwi 1" “Wmindod?" “No " “Sick?" tem Can’ll’’ “Wounded!" “No." “Sick? “Not" "What’sthe matter?" “lam scared, and want to go to the rear to— rally."—True Flag. terror in tho ear spliting scream*. She says she is always going to eat her supper at tho table hereafter, if there area dozen young men there.—Chi cago Herald. Palm Leaf Rata. Palm leaf hats are made from leaven, mostly shipped from Cuba to this country in bunches of twenty-five each. As delivered the leaves are f rom four to live feet long. They are taken to the bleaching house, and, after a J irocess of brimstone bleaching, the eaves are split into strips or a land of straw; after the straw is ready to be worked into hats, all the work is done by hand. It is light work, and a nim ble fingered girl of 10 or 1$ can earn as much in a day as an adult woman. —Ne w York Star. Hi* uiul A us were, A laughable iilic.tration of Imwan- per causes a man to make himself ri diculous is given in the following in cident from a Gcnnaji tiP\v>i:U|>er: Banker Rosenthal directed his book keeper to address a sharp letter to Buron V . who had promised bev- cral times to pay what he owed and had as often neglected to do ut. When the leiicr waa written it did not please Banker Rosenthal, who is very exeiiahle. ami ho angrily (K'Uiied the follow in;;: Desk Ramon V -— lYV."' «.ut H that pron.iwS to pay u|M>n (!:•• Isl of J.ciliary Vo:i. Bit door Barou. you aru thu mau Who «.-» II mat prom ised (h«-a lospulatm iu« 1.4 of Hire's• You, my dear ISaron Wlio »as ii tint di.lu'1 w:lie on lb* 1st of *!ar«:i’ You, my iXe-r l-mui Who Is U. then. •'Im lias l.roten I.L> sorj Inic. 1 , aad ii aa unniilV'alnl sohiuJivI • Filling • Long Fait Want, Some day or other every ; wiil carry around a phonograph and when ho interviews a mau the latter's word* will bo taken down with an ac curacy admitting of no dispute. Then 1 when the interviewed gentleman come* around in liie morning like u volcanic eruption lo explain that his language was distorted and all tluit sort of tiring the reporter can puli the phonograph with one and a gun with tue other and ask him what ho is going lo doabout it. When this scheme can bo successfully opci^ ated a long felt want will bo lilted. As it is at present when a man gets into I trouble because of his remarks Ixiing 1 faithfully printed, he at once swenre that the reporter mixed his words with an egg beater and then run them iu. In such a manner the guileless newspaper worker frequently gains a reputation for lying which he doc* deserve.—Lincoln Journal. ioc* not Aa nxtruorAlaary Story. The |>olico of Buda-Pe.stli aro inves tigating a truly marvelous ease. A j boy al the public grammar sehutti ha* ' confessed to his father that he has. for some time past, taken money (rein the till in lus shop, being ordered to Jo so by a man who had mado him lh« subject of cx|>criiiionls in hypnotism, ' The father went to tho school million- l tie*, and it wa* discovcivd that A whole cI:lvi of boy* were in a simi- ; lar plight. They acted us “mediums,'* [ and by it proves* known us “augir**- lion” wore maiL 1 to steal money ivom their parents and te'ing it to the ur l dent scicutu.1 iu question. —PaA Mali ! Gazette. '3 i many odd things, but e, 'perhaps, is a houst- nsits tit* barn twioaa Coimiitil|>l tttii A utoitj; Trtifor*. Dr. Squiii-, plns.n i.iii i«» th* North London llu.piUil for (’onsnmption. giving evidence before ilto * weal in, commission, said that one nuarter the total number of deaths troiii con sumption in l>ondon were those of tailor*. Ilo atlribupd this to want of fresh air. of oxcrei.-s* and of proper ,, . , ,, , food. Tho climate was generally aup- uudbr Ilia oow, holds hertnouih open posed to bo the cause of n grant (teal of 0 P* 110 *! ** •J 01 ** 1 consumption, but that was. nothing There are « number of people m town compared wuh the things Ite hit-i meu* would luie to get i Imug ss tioned W zT.'Uvum. e-ilv.-New Haven ffiuou. A Slick Cat. i Norwich has many odd thin; ! tho oddest ouej ^ ■ hold cat that vtiTts day and gets two meals tenm A cow which “leak* her miik." Tho call