VOL. LIII. REVENUE The fairest action of our human life, la ecom ug to revenge an injury ; For who forgives without a further strife. His adversary's heart doth to him tie : And 'tis a tinner conquest truly said, To win the heart, than overthrow the head. If we a worthy enemy do find To yield to worth, it must be uobly dono ; But if of baser metal be his mind. In base revenge there is no honor won. Who would a worthless courage overthrow. And who would wrestle with a worth ess foe ? We sav our hearts are great, aud cannot yield; Because they cauuot yield, it proves them poor ; Great hearts aro lashed beyoud their power but seld ; The weakest liou will the loudest roar. Tnith's school for certain doth this same allow. High heartcduess doth sometime teach to bow. A nobler h< art doth teach a virtuous scorn ; T • eooru to owe a duty over long ; To sooru to lie for benefits forborne ; To soorn to lie ; to scorn to do a wrong : To scorn to bear an injury iu mind ; To eooru a free born heart, slave like to bind. But if for wrongs we needs redress must have. Theu be our vengeance of the noblest kiud ; Do we his body from our vengeance save. And let our hate prevail against his mind. What cau 'gainst him a greater veugeauce bo Than make his more worthy far than he Her Love or her Life. The road that let! from the small railway station to the business part of the pleasant town wound for nearly a mile along the banks of a picturesque stream, across a wooden bridge, aud up a broad avenue fianked by handsome villas. .lust aon>ss that bridge, at the close of a dark, sunless day, I stopped before the tall gate of a plain black iron fence, and scruti nized interestedly the grounds and house within the rather grim enclosure. The place attracted me irres : s'ably,although the building was decidedly- not a miracle of architectural art, nor were the great shiver ing pines liehind it suggestive of anything particularly cheery. The low polygonal st met ure was of brick, red as jasper, heavy crimson curtains shaded the quaint win dows, ami the only door visible was broad and solid, and paneled in curiously carved oak, black with age. Weeping willows and mountain ashes liordered the wide gras sy walk, anil the scent of hidden violets filled the air. Back under the pines I saw a tali, me lancholy figure moving to and fro, his dark, handsome head bowed, ami bis white shapely hands looked behind him. The clash of the mm latch startled him; he lK>ked up, smiled, and at once hurried to wards me. "You have come," he observed laconi cally, but affably. "How do you like the place ?" "I can scarcely decide that as yet," 1 re turned smiliug at his eagerness; "but it looks to me something like the nest of a wild bird who by mistake builded in a garden of roses. It is very unlike the gay. modern mansion on the other side of the avenue." "I hope you do not regret having lnrnght it, Philip?" he commenced un easily. "Not at all, Horace," I assured him promptly; "my business keeps me in this town at least seven months of each year, and I am heartily tired of the noisy hotel over yonder. I like the quiet of a retired home, aud I shall employ a housekeeper and make a bachelor Paradise of the house you are leaving." "I have some fine old wine you must taste before you go," he remarked as, after conducting me through the open door and spacious hall, he led me into a large, dim room. "Thanks for the wine, if it will help ex pedite our slight task of business," I said lightly; "I must catch the next train, you •mow." He acknowledged my hint with a smile, and left me alone. I drew back the crimson curtains of a broad west window, and gazed curiously about the apartment. The ceiling was de licately frescoed, and the walls exqui- sitely painted in some pale-pink tint. The velvet carpet was like a vast bed of moss scattered over with dainty red rosebuds. A table of rosewood and marble stood in the centre of the room, and as I sat down be side it a golden beam from the setting sun flashed through the parted curtains of the window and lighted a large picture on the wall before me. It was the life-size paint ing of a woman—a young creature whose form was all queenliness and grace, whose yellow hair was wound in great snaky coils about a haughty but must lovely head, whose laughing, mocking lips were as red as rubies, whose skin was as daintly white as the leaf of a lily, whose eyes and brows and lashes were dark as night. She wore some old Venetian costume of purple vel vet, draped with cloudly lace and sown with moony pearls. With a shudder I turned away from that pictured vision of wicked, smiling beauty. "It is the portrait of Horace Chichester's renegade wife," i thought. I knew very little about the domestic sorrow of my friend. 1 knew that he had married ©ne whom he had loved passionate ly, that she had deserted him, and his trouble had made him a misanthrope and a wanderer; but I knew nothihg more. Al though we had been confidential associates in our college days, we had been for sever al years almost strangers, and now I did not care to question bim of a trouble that he evidently did not wish to discuss. But I had no kindness or mercy for the wife who, I believed, had made him the wreck he had become, and whom I had never seen. That day he spoke to me'of her for the Nr MMM Auurnul. first time. We lmd finished our business and our wine, and he had accompanied me to the gate through the gathering dusk of the Spring evening. "I shall travel," he said. <4 I intend to find my wife wherever she has hidden from me. 1 sinned to win her, and if 1 Cannot have her love I shall have her life." 1 could not l>oar to look upon his agon ized countenance expressive of misery akin to madness, and as 1 turned my eyes away, a line of cabs came rattling down the slope. From the window of one nearest, a Wautiful young face shown for a moment like a star through the twilight. 1 saw the jaunty hat with its sweeping white feather, the dazzling blue eyes, and then the cab rolled on. "A traveling operatic troupe,"explained my companion, observing, but not rightly understanding my evident sudden interest. "It is billed for a concert at the Academy to-night. 4 'And I have lost my train ami must wait for the next," I answered rather ir ritably. t4 Oood night. Chichester. I shall take the weird old road around the eeme try to the station. It will lie a glorious walk in this unexpected moonlight." The full, unclouded moon was rising as I loitered on, now around a curve where the stream wide net! like a sheet of silver, ami now under a dim arch of budding trees that shook their scented dews upon me as I passed. As I reached the bridge, a tall, slender woman, wrapped in a black cloak, hurried out of the avenue As she saw me, she uttered a sharp, startled cry, and shrank as if in fright. At the same moment her hood fell back, and in the splendor of the moon light 1 saw the white face of the stranger, who had passed me an hour before. She was trembling nervously, and seemed so helpless and bewildered, that I stopped in stantly. 44 1 am sorry I startled you, "I apologize J kindly; and then noting her doubtful, crit ical glance, I supplemented: "Or |>erhaps you tiave lost your way?" "Not at all," she disavowed quickly; "I am going to the station. When I saw you I thought—" cShe paused, glanced backward appre hensively and shuddered. "Can I help you in any way?" I asked, puzzled. 44 1 think not." She smiled sis if my voice had calmed her, "I only wish to catch the train, that I may meet the New Y'ork express at the next stali*n." "Are you not afraid of the long walk along the river?" I inquired wondenngly. "Yes," she answered, frankly, "1 am. lint nevertheless i must u. t was t sing in the concert to-night," she went on nur riedly ; "but there are reasons, imperative reasons, why I must goto New Y'ork at once. The manager was angry—quite furious, indeed—so, to avoid a scene, I quietly ran away." She said this with such charming nairt ft that I laughed, and that laugh made us friends then and there. She seemed inno cently pleased when I informed her that I, too, was on my way to New Y'ork, and should tie glad to care for her comfort on the journey. But not until we were whirl ing away through the moonlight on the midnight express did the shadows vanish altogether from her most beauteous face. But that wild rush through the delicious air seemed to inspire her, and often she would laugh like a happy child. I parted from her at last at the house of an elderly lady with whom she resided when not traveling. "Y'ou have been very good to me," she s aid, as I was leaving her. "Have I commended myself to your friendship ?" I queried. llcr answer was satisfactory, and for weeks I saw her every day. I knew she loved me, and I knew, too, that I had loved her from the first. But always when I spoke of marriage she seemed troubled and undecided. "We are just as happy now as we can be, Phillip," she would say sweetly. "No, we are not, Edith," I would pro test ; I want you for my wife, and I mean to have you." But at length she yielded, and we were quietly married. I was very proud of my wife —proud of the admiration that followed her everywhere—of the honor and rever ence she won from all who knew her. She was a being made for love and for a husband to adore. No ignoble human passion or emotion ever disturbed her sweet soul; anger and hate and all petty feelings were things her nature could not know. After three months of content and happi ness, I took Edith to my home, in the town where I first met her. It was early in May. The scent of wild violets was in the air, the trees were budding and the grassy hills were golden with dandelions. My grim old house, set among its pines and weeping willows pleased her. "I shall have that picture taken down," I said to her one day. "I cannot bear to have even the portrait of poor Chichester's wicked wife in the same house with you, Edith." "Chichester!" she repeated, her blue eyes fixed on my face with a look I could not understand. "Yes, dear," I resumed. "Horace fitted up this place for that woman before she de serted him and ruined him—body, brain and soul, I fear." "But that is not the picture of the girl who was his bride, but never his wffe," averred Edith, who had grown strangely pale. I looked at her in mute wonder. "I know the whole sad, shameful story," pursued my wife steadily. "Horace Chich ester conceived a inad passion for a girl who MI 1,1 JI KIM, PA., THURSDAY, AUGUST 28, 1879. had not the slightest feeling of friendship for him. lie came to her one night with a pitiful, false tale of her father's dishonor. •Marry me now, this hour, and 1 shall save your parent from a felon's fate. Kef use me, and he will he in prison before another day,' said her cruel suitor. She was scarce ly more than a child, and she 1 telleved him, and in her terror consented. An hour after her marriage her father was brought home dying, and his last words were a protest against Horace Chichester's disgraceful act and unwarrantable accusation. She be lieved her vows to be no longer binding, ami refused to sec or speak to her husband over again. Though he never held her in his arms or kissed her lips, though she has steadfastly resisted his claims, he has pur sued and hunted her t>- " 44 T0 death!" thundered an awful voice at the open door. For one moment 1 stood motionless be fore that savage apparition, and then I tlung my arms around my poor Edith. But I was too late. Then 1 was a sharp re port, a smoking pistol was dashed down at my feet, and, with a wild shriek, the crazed Chichester rushed out of the house, through the moaning pines, on towards the river. Edith locked her sweet arms around my neck. 44 He has killed me, Philip," she sighed faintly, and with her lips against my cheek she died. That was the end. My love-life was over forever. I understood now why my poor girl had so abruptly left the operatic troupe that night 1 first saw her—she had seen Chich ester !ia she drove past the gate where we were standing together, and it was from him she was fleeing. The picture in the dim old parlor was an ideal piece, and was in the house when he bought it. Chichester's body was found in a shallow of the stream, with the white water-lilliea drifting over his upturned face. It was well for me that he was found thus, for I know not what rash thing I might have done in the first agonies of my grief, with poor Edith's young life calling upon my love for vengeance. ItvAit '1 his, Girl*. Learn to darn stockings neatly, and then always see that your own are in order. Do not let a button be oil'your shoes a minute longer than needful. It takes just about a minute to sew one on, and oh, how much better a foot looks in a trimly button boot than it does in a lopsided affair with all the buttons off. Every girl should learn to make simple articles of clothing. We know a little Miss of seven who eon hi .1" • • ' - • the whole of a blue calico dress lor her self, and pieced a large bed quilt. She was not an over-taxed child, either, but a merry, romping , indulged, only daughter. But she was "smart," and she did not die young, either. Indeed we have seldom known children "too stnari to live." Very few die of that complaint, whatever their grandmoth ers may think. So never be afraid a bit of overdoing the business. Help all you can and study over the business daily. Once get into the habit of look ing over your things, and you will like it wonderfully. You will have the in dependent feeling that you need not wait for any one's convenience in re pairing and making, but that you can be beforehand with all such matters- The relief to your weary mother wil* be more than you can ever estimate. Strong Tea General John Beatty, on one occasion when on a long march regaled himself with.what he supposed to be tea, but was in reality, tobacco juice, and had been coneoeted from a paper of chew ing tobacco which the General had handed to the servant by mistake. The General thought once or twice that the "tea" seemed slightly impregnated with flavor of tobacco, but attributed it to the fact that he iiad been smoking more than usual for some time before, and that the tobaeeo taste was there fore not in the liquid but in his mouth. When the General returned from his march, he happened to mention to his servant that the tea tasted like tobaeto juice, and was astounded at receiving the reply, "it is terbacker juice, sir!" "Why, you must be an infernal fooL Jolin," said the somewhat horrified General, "to give me tobaeeo juice to drink!" "G'an't help that, sir: you gave me paper o' terbacker and tole me to make tea of it. I>id jest as you tole me sir." The reasoning was conclu sive, and the General was obliged to content himself with pouring the rest of the "lea" out of his canteen. Something That'* Foolluli, To think the more a man eats the fat ter and stronger he becomes. To conclude that if exercise is good, the more violent it is, the more good is done. To imagine that every hour taken from sleep Is an hour gained, To act on the presumption that the smallest room in the house is large enough to sleep in. To argue that whatever remedy causes one to feel immediately better,is good for the system, without regard to ulterior effects. To eat without an appetite, or to con tinue to eat after it has been satisfied, merely to gratify the taste. To eat a hearty supper for the pleas ure experienced during the brief time it is passing down the throat, at the expeuse of a whole night of disturbed sleep, and a weary.waking in the morn ing. What Ilia Wir Wanted. At the farmhouse gate the other morning, Mrs. Whitehall said to Joseph as he was ready to drive into town : "Remember, now, what 1 told you. I want u spool of thread, No. GO, ten yards of calico with a dot in it, aud a yard and a half of brown drilling to line the waist." Joseph drove into the city as straight us a bee line and as happy us an old gi raffe when the circus is out. lie sold his butter and eggs, was on his way to a dry goods store when he met a man who once came very near marrying his sister. This was reason enough why they should drink together, and they drank. When a man meets u fellow who might have been his brother-in-law if a mule hadn't kicked the prospective bride across the dark river, he can't tell when to stop drinking. Farmer Whitehall couldn't remember whether he imbibed seven or seventeen glasses, but the result was the same. When he finally got reaily to do his trading he entered a store and said : "Shir, 1 want shixty spools of dots wiz a waist in 'ein!" That was as plain as hecoHld make it iu any of the half dozen stores he en tered, and by and by he suddenly dis covered that he Wasn't in the right mood lor trading. He found another saloon and more beer, and it was even ing when he entered a jewelry store and said : "Shir, I want a yarilan' a half of dots wiz shixty in 'em !" lie was turned out, and late in the evening he fell down on the street, too tired to go further. As the officer rais ed him up he murmured: "Shir, 1 want ten yard drillin' to line 'er shpool thread wiz." He was quite sober when walked out for trial, and, moreover, a little anx ious to know what had become of all his vest buttons and one coat-tail. 44 D0 you feel better ?" kindly asked his honor, as he looked down at the prisoner. "No, sir—l feel worse," was the an swer. "Nice time you had rolling round in the street last night." "Squar' '* began the man, as Le faced around, "this is the lust time I ever made a fool o' tuysell with both eyes open! I've got 'leven dollars down here iu my vest, and you kin take it all if you'll let me go. I'll bet a cucuinoer the ole woman didn't sleep a wink last night, and she'll put one o' the boys on a boss and send him up the road after me this "Tbeuyon plea ' . . y w and an idiot to boot!" "Do you want to dust right out for home ?" "l>o I? Why 1 can't hardly stand still. I want to meet the bo} as fur out as 1 kin, and I'll tell him I got upsot." "Can you remember what your wife told you to get?" 44 1 kin. .She wanted sixty yards of waist lining, a yard and a half of dots, and ten spools of calico, and I'll get 'em as I go out." "Well, you may go." "Thankee! Whar's my hat—good bye." Woman'H Escape from Wolves In the year 1849 died in the town of Greene, Me., an old man aaiued Thom as, who had a thrilling wolf story of his own to tell, though the experience was too early for his memory, he being at the time a baby in arms. Mr. George J. Verney relates the adventure in the Lewistown Journal. Mrs. Thomas was a fisherman's wife who lived in the town of Brunswick, Me., where Bow doin College now stands. At one time when her husband was in port, but could not come home, she started 011 foot to Ilarpswell, a distance of ten iniles, to see him, carrying her young est child in her arms. Returning with a load of fish 011 her back as well as the burden of her babe, she heard a wolf howl in the foiest, and teror quickened her pace, although she was already fain to sink with fatigue. She was midway of the five miles of unbroken woods when the howl of the wolf again smote her ear, and this time other voiees, one after another, joined in. The pack had gathered 011 her trail! She must climb a tree, one would say ; but she d'.d not. She did not even throw away her fish. The wolves gained upon her moment by moment, the great gray wolves of the North, that stand as high as a man when they rear. It was a mile and a half to the nearest house when she first caught a glimpse of the approach of the demons She had for the last two iniles walk ed at her utmost speed : it was now time to run. Yet still held firmly her babe and her fish. A quarter of a mile more, and swift ly as sho had passed it, the wolves were within a few yards. She could see their white teeth and hear their laboring breath above her own. She loosened and threw down a single fish, and ran. The pack diseoveied rare game, and fought together for its pos session. By the time it was eaten the brave woman had got a quarter ofamllein ad vance; but the paek were soon at her heels again. Another fi-h checked them and their snarls and yells,as they again fought each other for a bite of the sav ory fresh codfish, hurried the labor ious (light of the weary woman. Her baby, annoyed by the shaking it had received from the rapid pace, at length cried lustily, culling the wolves to renewed pursuit. In vain the poor mother tried to soothe her infant, but another fish was followed by a fresh (light and precious delay of the pack. Again and again the action was re pealed, until at length the barking of two huge dogs alarmed the wolves, while the almost exhausted mother ran past the friendly brutes to the door of the farmhouse, thrown open to receive her. The great dogs are trained to their duty, and no sooner was the fugitive in the house than they also retired iu good order to the same safe stronghold, leav ing the foiled wolves to rage outside, and fall before the guns that were speedily brought to hear upon them. The weary mother touiul safety and rest, but whether she saved any of her fish tradition does not relate. The Locuit. The Hebrews had several sorts of ocusts which are not known to us. The old historians aud modern trav elers remark that locusts are very nu merous iu Africa, and in many places of Asia—that sometimes they fall like a cloud upon the country, and eat up everything they meet with. Moses describes four sorts of locusts. Since there was a prohibition against using locusts, it is not to be questioned that these insects were commonly eaten in Palestine and the neighboring coun tries. Dr. Shaw, Niebuhr, Russell ami many other travelers iu the eastern countries, represent their taste as agreeable, and inform us that they are frequently used for food. Dr. Shaw observes that when they are sprinkled with salt, and fried, they are not un like, lu taste, to our fresh-water cray fish. Russell says the Arabs salt them and eat them as a delicacy. Niebuhr also says that they are gathered by the Arabs 1 u great abundance, dried, and kept for winter provisions; The rav ages of the migratory locust have been at particular times, so extensive as to lay waste the vegetation of whole dis tricts, ami even kingdoms. Iu the year 553 of the Christian era, these in sects appeared In such vast numbers as to cause a famine in many countries. Syria aud Mesopotamia were overrun by them in 537. In 852 immense swarms took their flight from the east ern regions into the west, ard destroy ed all vegetables not even sparing the bark of the trees nor the thatch of houses, after devouring the crops of corn, grass, Ac. Their daily marches sicTr;limlTtTs saiil that their progress was directed with so much order that there were regular leaders among them who flew first and settled on the spot which was to he visited at the same hour next day by the whole legion. Their marches were always undertaken at sunrise. In 1111. incredible hosts afflicted Poland, tVallacliia, aud all the unjoining territories, darkening the sun with their numbers, and ravaging all the fruits of the earth. The years 1717 and 1718, afforded a memorable instance of the ravages of these insects in Germany and other parts of Europe as far north as England. Antwerp from a Church Spire. After wandering through the cathedral and its chapels we ascended the epire to have a view of the city. Five hundred and fourteen stone steps lead to the top, and the view repays the climbing. You look down on the narrow winding streets and the houses with their small courts, the people look like children, the parks and gardens stretch out as fair as you can see to the blue sea-like horizon of Flanders and Holland. The Scheldt looks yellow and the vessels asleep on its breast, the spin's of the churches rise up below you, the old houses by the quay lean down to the water and the guide shows the house of diaries the fifth, the old Spanish houses and the tower near the water of the days of the In quisition—and uo one knows how old it is —and the bells and chimes are all ringing for the Fete Dieu, and you go down to find the crowds in holiday attire, pouring from house and church. The houses are hung with garlands of paper roses and lighted candles and images of the Madonna and saints. Old women with long cloaks and broad Happing lace caps count their beads as they stand waiting with candles in their hands, and through the streets where the procession passes thej* are sprinkling white sand, and over that daisies and green leaves. The crowds line the narrow sidewalks, the police clear the streets, not a horse or wagon to be seen, and amid the chiming of a thousand bells the procession leaves the cathedral and comes slowly down the streets. A band plays a solemn grand march, a chorus of male voices follow, then j come the officials and dignitaries of the city in black suits, bared heads, white gloves aud carrying huge lighted candles; then the altar boys in scarlet and white swinging incense, a procession of priests iq, full rolxis, bearing banners and crucifixes, and then a golden canopy upheld by four priests and under it t lie archbishop carrying the host, children dressed in white throw flowers before it and the people all kneel as it passes. Wonderful Tenacity or I.lfe. Thirty-three years ago, an Egyptian desert snail was received at the British Museum. The animal was known to be alive, as it had withdrawn into its shell, and the specimen was accordingly gummed, mouth downward, on to a tablet, duly la beled and dated, and left to its fate. In stead of starving, this contented gastropod simply went to sleep, in a quiet way, and never woke up again for four years. The tablet was then placed in tepid water, and the shell loosened, when the dormant snail suddenly resuscitated himself, began walk ing about the basin, aud finally sat for bis portrait. Now, during these four years, the snail had never eaten a mouthful of any food, yet lie was quite as well and flourishing at the end of the period as he had been at its beginning. Jack Flneliart. Jack Finebart had a noted name in Texas, in Arizona, in Kansas, in New Mexleo; not a gambler from Tex as to the Black llills but respected the name. An expert gambler, an uner ring shot, unequaled us a companion on a spree, he was. nevertheless, scrupu lously honest, tender-hearted, sensitive aud easily provoked to tears. He had one love affair, and it was the romance in his life. 1 don't know the history of it. Nobody does but Jack, aud he was not communicative abcut it. It seems that his brother was equally in volved about the girl, and, after tnuch bitter feeling and exchanges bail been indulged iu between them respecting tiie lady, they came to an understand ing thoroughly typical ol the bard, un compromising nulure of western quar rels The understanding was to the effect that the men pledged themselves never again to speak to the girl, the penalty for an infraction of this rule being that one brother should kill the other. This was the compact. To any one familiar with the history of the West there is nothing strange, unnat ural or startling about it. The broth ers separated, and each went his way. Tliis was some years ago. This sum mer Jack sought out his brother, and found him in Denver. He told him briefly that he had bioken his oath,and that he wanted the compact kept. There was nothing shout Jack's de meanor that indicated fear, he war. melancholy anil quiet. This indeed was his habitual manner. He was firm in his determination to die by his broth er's hand. The witness of the com pact was in Denver. He was found by Jack, aud the fact was narrated to him. He offered remonstrance, of course; Jack was as firm as iron. His influence over the witnesg, aud the desire of the latter to sec it out and put In as man}' obstacles as possible induced him to ac company his friend. The brother was waiting, and tney walked out on the Platte river bank. It was late in the afternoon. The sun was making count less beautiful siiapes and colors over the mountains. The air was cool and dry, and the'earth looked very fresh and green. It was a singularly invit ing aspect, and the world never ap peared more tempting as a place of res idence. The men spoke not a word, hut strode steudily along, Jack in front. The witness was alarmed and horrified, lie knew not what to do. It was im possible to influence these feacllelLa quiet spot in a shady valley. The Platte ran beside them, and would oarry the bod}' of Jack along with it in a few moments. They paused. Jack drew a Derringer and examined it care fully. Apparently satisfied with his inspection, he cocked it and handed it to his brother. Then walking a few rods he turned a two-thirds profile to ward him, presenting his heart as the mark to shoot at. There the Texan stood, with his arms folded and an ex pression of quiet melancholy on his face. "1 am ready," lie said, casting a sin gle glance at his brother, with whom lie had previously shaken hands, and then tnrning his gaze toward the river. The brother took deliberate aim, and pulled the trigger. The cartridge did not explode. Jack flung a quick look at it, and seeing his brother about to try again, once more gazed at the river. After another long aim the brother suddenly threw the pistol into the riv er and wheeled about. Jack advane.d in anger. "You're a pejurcr," he said. "I would have killed you." The brother did not reply, but turn ed and walked toward home. Jack followed with the greatly re lieved witness. He did not utter a word until they parted in Denver. He made repeated efforts to induce his brother to carry out the compact, aud seemed more anxious to die the more he reflected upon his escape. He ap peared to court death with moody anx iety, and long after this art'air had ceas ed to torment hiui, this strange, rest less desire to meet death by violence seemed to haunt him. At three o'clock on the morning of his death (he re mained up because he was tilled with the suffocating sense that death was coming), he walked down Sixteenth street with a friend, and said : "It's coming, coming, 1 feel it in the air; but I don't know how, and I'd like to know, I've got the 'sand' to die game, and I'll die in my boots, but I'd like to know how it's coining." "You ought to go some where, Jack," said his friend. "There is not a spot in this western country where Jack Finehart is not in danger," he replied. At ten o'clock he was attending to his duties as yard-master. A switch engine was going down the yard be hind a passenger train, and Jack,know ing the engineer to be a Denver & Rio Grande man, and being distr sttul of him, jumped 011 the step and rode along with him. The rleketty engine was going very fast. It went oil'the rails and fell over, and Yard-master Fine hart was crushed to death and badly mutilated. The engineer was also killed. To think that a man who was cover ed from head to foot with knife and pis tol fears • a man whose death was many times due, perhaps, from the hands of other men, should meet it at last by a railroad accident. His funeral was at tended by great numbers, and as he lies in the cemetery, one sees over his frave the simple inscription, '"Jack "inehart." Anecdotes of Napoleon. One day the Emperor was riding by a window,through it he saw a tailor at work. Being inclined to have some sport, the Emperor stopped opposite the window which was open, and cried out — "What is your employment, my fine fellow ?" "I am a tailor, sir," said the man. The reply was so appropriate that the Emperor took the Cross of the Le gion of Honor front his own breast,aad made him a Topographical Engineer on the spot. In the earlier part of spring, Napo leon was in the habit of rising early and walking in plain dress by the side of the Seine. One morning in the course of his perambulations, lie encountered one of the fraternity of washerwomen commonly known as laundresses. See ing her drinking something, the Em peror said: "What is that you are drinking, madatne?" "Water," said she. "Water?" said the Einperor. "Yes; one must needs drink water when one can get nothing else." The Emperor said nothing at the mo ment, but the next day the old woman was surprised upon being informed that his Majesty had been so pleased with her exhibition of contentment, that he had assigned her a pension of a hundred thousand francs per year. A farm laborer was walking with his shoes in his hand along the road, when it happened that the Emperor was passing. "Why do you not put your shoes upon your feet, my good fellow?" he said. "Ah! I may Injure them on the peb bles of the road," said the peasant. "Why, then, by avoiding that, you may injure your toes," said the Em peror. "True, sir, but they will get well of their own accord again, while a shoe out of repair, will cost something to mend." * Napoleon admired his economical philosophy so much, that he immedi appointed him Minister of Finance to the Empire, with the title of the Due de Sabot. Immediately after the battle of Aus terlitz, Napoleon was riding over the Held of battle, giving directions as to the wounded and dead. In his pro gress he saw a camp follower, who .appeared to have been, in rb "You appear to having been doing a soldier's duty," said Napoleon. "Ok ! a pitch piaster will make it al' well in a day or two." The Einperor, struck with the intre pidity of the man and the originality of the reuly, made him a Marshal of the Empire on the Held, and ever after held him in the highest respect. Reptllea in the Stomach. Dr, England, of Newark, New Jer sey, lately took five lizards from the stomach of a colored woman in that place. When called upon the doctor exhibited two of the lizards, preserved in alcohol. One is four inches in length and the other about two and one-half inches. They are of a light mud color, and are perfectly formed. The larger one is half an iueh in diameter at the thickest part, near the shoulders and head. Dr. England said that when he drew the large one from Lucy Davis's throat she screamed so loudly that a seore of colored people flocked into the room. When they saw the lizard crawling on the floor they stood with mouths agape and eyes starting from the sockets. He never saw such a ter rified set of people in his life. Lucy Davis's case, Dr England added, was an unusual one, although lizards had before existed in the stomachs of hu man beings. He tempted the largest lizard up in Lucy's throat by putting a decoction on her tongue. When the head of the lizard appeared, he seized it with an instrument and quickly pulled it out. "When 1 was a student with the late Dr. E. P. Whetmore of Brook lyn," said Dr. England, "lassisted in a somewhat similar and very peculiar case. Dr. Whetmore was summoned to attend a lady living r.ear Flatbush. He took me with him. We arrived at the farm in the afternoon, and saw the pa tient. Dr. Whetmore told her not to eat anything that evening, and he would attend to her the next day ? Early the next morning the old doctor. without saying anything to me or the lady, procured a pan of fresh, warm milk from the barn. He carried the milk into the house, and told the lady to sit in a chair near the window. He then bandaged her eyes, and made me hold the pan of milk close to her mouth and nostrils. In a few minutes the lady began to breathe as though she was being smothered. Dr. Whet more, who had been anxiously looking down her throat, suddenly inserted an instrument, and in a few seconds pulled out a milk snake. The lady went into convulsions, but soon recovered. The snake was as beautiful a specimen of a milk snake I ever saw. It was nearly two feet in length, and half an inch In circumterence. It was of a blue-water color, with cream-brown spots. Tin lady recovered her health rapidly. Dr. Whetmore liad not said what was the eause of her illness until he pulled out the snake." llow TO spend a holiday : First, get your holiday. NO, 34.
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