VOL. LIII.
THE ALL OF THE TEAR.
O! tl • aims are yellow.
The apph a are mellow.
The eoru is ripe in the ear;
The birds leave off nesting.
The earth begiaa resting.
Because 'tia the fall 'o the year.
The crickets are calling.
The red leaves are falling.
In the field the stubble is sere;
The day ef the clover
wild bee is over,
1 e -au-s Us the fall o' the year.
Since Summer is flitting,
fraud it is fitting.
Tt s heart aheald make douMe cheer;
So Jet ns go smiling
With lov® life beguiling.
Be ause 'tis the fall o' the year.
How It Was Cleared Up.
It was nearly three o'olock when Mr.
Gwinnett, who was hardly ever known to
be in a hurry, bustled into the front office
with a* check in his hand.
"Here Kendall." calling me from my
desk. "1 must have the money on this be
fore the bank closes and there isn't a mo
ment to lose."
I dapped on my hat and took the check
and was off.
The paying teller, as I entered the bank,
already had his thumb on the spring which
held up ths small sash with its pane of
ground glass which was accustomed to drop
every day so exactly at the instant the
hand of the bank clock pointed to three,
that one might have supposed the same
naohifiery governed both.
"You're just in time," said the punctual
official.
"And that only after s sharp run on
you," I answered.
The bed joke was either unnoticed or
treated with contempt. The money was
counted out in silence, the spring touched,
and the sash fell.
Within half a block I encountered El
nathan Ganche. a fellow-clerk, hastening
to meet me.
"Mr. Ginnett was obliged to take the
first train to B said Elnathan. "and
couldn't wait your return. Another leaves
half au hour later, and he wishes you to
follow on that, with the money."
"Where will he stop in B ?"
*K)h! I had nearly forgotten to tell you
that. At—at the House."
A glance at my watch proved that I had
no time to sjiare. A smart walk brought
me to the depot, whence the train started
a minute after I had taken my scat.
It was night when I stepped from the
train . A touch on the ahoulder
made me turn quickly.
"Your name is Kendall?" said a sharp
viaaged, keen-eyed man, in a mixed tone of
question and assertion.
"It is," I answered.
"George Kendall?"
I bowed sliffiy, thinking the stranger a
little inquisitive.
He held up his finger and a couple of ,
policemen approached.
"You must accompany these gentlemen
and myself," said the sharp-visaged man. j
"May I ask why?" I returned.
"You shall learn in good time," replied
the other. "You might find it embaraas
ing to receive the explanation here."
A hack was called, which all four of us
antered without further parley, which I saw
was useless.
After a rapid drive of several minutes we
alighted before a building with a bright
light over the door. The sharp-featured
man immediately entered, followed by the
two policemen and myself.
A man in uniform, behind a desk, took
down my name, age and such other partic
ulars, as 1 suppose, it is usual to note on
•uch occasions. Next I was put through
a rigid search. Among other effects found
upon me was. of course, the roll of bills I
had drawn from the bank.
"Perhaps you can'explain how you came
by these," remarked the sharp-featured j
man dryly.
"Certainly," I answered. "I drew them
from the Bank to-day. on my employ
er, Mr, Gwinnett's check with which he
sent me to bank for that purpose."
"Isn't it a little singular." continued my
questioner, "that after getting the money
instead of carrying it to Mr. Gwinnett, you j
took the next train to B ?"
"Not at all," I replied, quickly. "1
came with the money here at Mr. Gwin
nett's request."
"How do you account, then, for his tel
egraphing a description of you far and
wide, and offering a reward for your ar
rest?"
1 was thunderstruck at the announce
ment, and my manifest confusion was inter
preted as an additional evidence of guilt.
i was locked up over night at the station
house, and aext day was taken back as a
prisoner to confront my employer and an
swer the charge of embezzlement.
I had. as yet, entertained no suspicion of
Elnathan Gauche. I felt sure he had fal
len into some mistake, not yet cleared up,
in communicating to me Mr. Gwinnett's
message, and was confident that Ganche's
testimony would put everything to rights.
Judge of my surprise and indignation
when on the witness stand, the villian de
nied having given me any instructions from
Mr. Gwinnett, or even having seen meafter
1 left the counting house with the check.
I told my own story, but it was heard
with incredulity. The evidence of the pay
ing teller, Mr. Gwinne t and Elnathan
Ganche —every word of it true except the
infamous suppression of a single fact by the
latter —left the examining magistrate no
room for doubt, and I was fully committed
for trial. I was not long in divining El
nathan Ganche's motive. We had been
rival suitors of Martha Hale, and my love
had been preferred to his. Elnathan yield
ed with a good grace, seemingly, and even
professed to be my friend —a profession I
accepted the more readily, because I felt a
secret pity for his disappointment.
His perfidy was new apparent. His plan
•was to fix upon me the brand of a felon,
thus rendering my union with Martha im
possible, and opening the way to a renewal
of his own hopes. The nefarious plot was
contrived with such infernal skill that its
success seemed well nigh certain.
One evening, not long before the day
fixed for trial, when the garrulous old jailer
brought in my supper, he seemed more
talkative than usual. Instead of thrusting
the dishes through the cell door, as former
ly, he entered and sat down for a chat.
The con venation soon turned on tke ap-
Ne MMem HUUxUNZ,
- .
preaching trial, of the result of which I
sj>oke despondingly.
"1 wonder at your staying here to wait
for it so patiently," said the jailer.
"It's hardly a matter of choice." 1 an
swered.
"Well, a strong, active young fellow
like you might find Ins way out, one would
think."
There was a curious twinkle in the cun
ning old eyes which excited my attention.
"I'm but old and feeble," he continued;
"what's t* hinder you, now for instance,
from biuding me hand und foot, and after
changing clothes with me, taking these
keys and departing at your leisure?"
%% ril do it!" I cried, springing to my
feet; au innocent man owes no submission
to the law's injustice!"
"Come, don't get excited," whined the
jailer in a tone of mock alarm. "I'll not
drive yos to the use of force, which it
would be useless to resist."
And to see the cheerfulness with which
he submitted to the substitution of his gar
ments for mine, one would have supposed
it to have been a friendly exchange.
"With strips torn from my sheet, I bound
the docile keeper hand aud foot, placed him
in an easy posture on the U'd, gagged his
mouth comfortably, took his bunch of keys,
locked him in, pulled his hat over my eyes
and soon was a tree man.
Before morning I was miles away, and at
the next seaport town shipped as a com-
mon sailor.
In a foreign land I began life anew, and
in a few years succeeded in gaining a com
petence. But of what value was it, or even
life itself, when not shared by her whose
absence made all else worthless?
At times I was tempted to write to
Martha. "But no." 1 said, doubtless she
too believes me guilty, llow can she do
otherwise in the face of the evidence and
my own flight?"
One day I was met and recognized by an
old friend traveling abroad. Instead of
shunning, he met me cordinllv.
"Why have you never returned to visit
your old home," lie asked, "or at least
communicated with your friendsf"
"A strange question," I replied. "You
cannot have forgotten the cruel suspicion."
"Surely you have heard how all that was
cleared up "
"Cleared up!" I exclaimed with that
tremor of the heart oue experiences at a
sudden gleam of hope which he dreads to
see extinguished the next moment.
"Quite cleared up," replied my friend.
"Elnathan Ganclie fell a victim to the epi
demic last summer, and on his death-bed ho
acknowledged all."
"And Martha Hale?"
"Is still single and as l>cnutiful as ever,
though a trifle melancholy at times. Her
friends say there is a certain person whose
presence, they think, would cheer her up
mightily."
The next steamer carried me home,
where everybody bade me welcome, and
Martha not the least warmly. She has
quite explained the mystery of the jailor's
conduct. lie had lived as n domestic in
the family of Martha's father when he was
a child, and was devotedly attached to her.
llow ho and she plotted together anent my
escape, it would be a breach of confidence to
tell.
Various combination of ammonia and
borax hare been suggested in Paris for
rendering textile fabrics uninflammable.
' Here is one, applicable to all kinds of
goods: Selphate of ammonia (pure), 8
kilos; carbonate of ammonia, 2.5 kilos;
boracic acid, 3 kih>s; borax (pure(, 1.7 ;
starck, 7 kilos; water, 100 kilos. It is
simply necessary to steep the fabrics in a
hot solution composed as above until they
have become thoroughly impregnated,
after which they are drained and dried
sulliciently to enable them to ironed or
pressed like starched goods.' A second
composition to be used for theatrical scene
; ry (or the mounted but unpainted canvas
to l>e used for this purpose), and also wood
i work, furniture, door and window frames,
etc., it is to be applied hot with a brush like
ordinary paint. " ft is composed of boracic
i acid, 5 kilos; bydrochlorate of ammonia
or sal ammoniac, 1-5 kilos; potassic feld
| spar, 5 kilos; gelntfue, 1.5 kilos; size, 50
kilos; water, 100 kilos; to which is added
a sufficient quantity of a suitable calcareous
substanee to give the composition sufficient
body or consistency. Another composition,
applicable to all kinds of paper, whether j
: printed or not, including securities, books, i
etc., is formed of sulphate of ammonia '
•(pure), 8 kilos; boracic acid. 3 kilos; bo-J
rax, 17 kilos; water, 100 kilos. Thesolu-l
tion is heated to 122 degrees Fahrenheit, i
If the paper be in sheets or printed, it is
simple immersed in the solution, spread out
to dry, and afterward pressed to restore the
glaze destroyed by the moisture. The
above composition insure a high degree of
incombustibility. The proportions of the
several ingredients are giveu as examples
only, and may be varied as found necessary
in practice.
Loirs In Tiockee.
A shute is laid from the river's brink up
the steep mountain to the railroad, and
while we are teliing it the monster logs are
rushing, thundering, flying, leaping down
the declivity. They come with the speed
of a thunderbolt, and somewhat of its roar.
A track of fire and smoke follow them—
fire struck by their friction with the shute |
logs. They descend the 1,700 feet of the
shute in fourteen seconds. In doing so
they drop seven hundred feet perpendicu
larly. They strike the deep water of the
pond with a report that can be heard a
mile distant. Logs fired from a cannon
could scarcely have greater velocity than
they have at the foot of the shute. Their j
average velocity is over one hundred feet
in a second throughout the entire distance, I
and at the instant they leap from the
mouth their speed must be fully two hun- !
dred feet per second. One log, having
spent its force by its mad plunge into the |
deep waters, has floated so as to be at right
angles with the path of the descending
monsters. A huge log hurled- from, the j
chute cleaves the air and alights on the
floating log. You know how a bullet
glances, but can you imagine a saw-log
glancing ? The end strikes with a heavy ,
shock, but glides quickly past for a short
distance, then a crash like a reverberation
of artillery, the falling log springs one;
hundred and fifty feet vertically into the
air, and with a curve like a rocket falls,
into the pond seventy yards from the log it,
truck.
Fire-proof Composition*.
MILLIIEIM, PA., THURSDAY, DECEMBER 18, 1879.
I'IIOIO John ON the Advrnt of WINTEJ
The last rose ot summer has faded and
gone. Fans and parasols have been laid
away, and dusters have become an abomi
nation. The summer of 1879 has taken its
place on the shelf, and its joys and pleas
ures, along with its dust, perspiration and
heated misery, now exists only in memory.
No more summer night strolls in the
moonlight; no more delightful plunges in
the water; no more mosquito music, and no
moretlics in the butter.
Well, let it go. There are some pleasant
features about summer, but give me the
crisp and bracing air of winter—the iuvig
oration which comes from exercise IU the
frosty air.
I never like the languor and laziness that
seem to attach to warm weather. When
the mercury is fooling around the 100 de
grees mark on the thermometer, people
seem to move and breathe as if thry were
maintaining life under protest. You rise
in the morning as if it was a great exert inn
to get out of bed, and even the operation
of eating is performed as if it were a pen
alty inflicted for some kind of crime.
There is nothing like cold weather to stir
up a man's energy. It brightens the eye,
hasteqs the pace and stimulates the ambi
tion. Even the averoge trump, on a sharp
and frosty morning, enlivens his gait so
that you can see him movo without taking
sight by a telegraph jxile.
Winter is not looked forward too with
lodging by the very poor; who dread the
necessity of coal and*clothing; but for
tunately there are not many people in the
United States, proportionately, who are
in danger of suffering from want. The
"hard time" exist no longer. Business of
all kinds is booming, and everybody feels
confident and happy because of the sus
picious outlook. All who arc ready ahle
and willing can get remunerative employ
ment, and hence nobody need quake when
the whistle of w inter is heard.
Winter in the country is the jo'liest of
the seasons. Farmers don't havejhe benefit
of the theatres and kindred amusements
such as we have In the city; but they liave
glorious sleigh rides, joyous social gather
ings and many [accessories of pleasure that
city folks never experience.
City folks don't kuow what winter fun
is, unless there lifts been a mighty change
since. 1 was a boy, some fifty years ago.
It ? lakes the blood in the old man's veins
jump and thump even now to think of the
sleigHng parties wc used to have in the
couutiy. None of your starched affairs,
with a driver perched up on a box in frout
and the aleighers sitting liked staiclied
mummies in the seats. Nono of your dress
parade sleigh-riding through streets, pass
ing hundreds of other sleighers, all starch
ed and stiff and conscious of leiug on ex
hibition. No dragging through chocolate
colored snow, no bumpiug on stone jyive
menta, no twenty-five dollars to pay to tlio
liveryman the next day for your alleged
fun.
Such is nity riillng.
But the country variety, when 1 was a boy,
I was a very different thing.
The old two horse sled, with the box full
ot clean straw. No seats, no starch, no
dress-parade. Adozcu boys and girls squat
ted miscellaneously in the straw, with
enough buffalo robes to keep the party
warm. The whip crocks and away wo go.
Over the country roads, through the spot
less snow, and nobody looking at us but
the man in the moon, who seems to roug
ishly wink his left eye. Everyono is talk
. Eyes sparkle like the moonbeams
in the snow, checks glow like carnation
roses, and happiness reigns supreme.
But the sleigh-rides are not the only at
tractions of country life in the winter time.
There are the singing-schools, the spelling
liees and social parties.
Ah, yee, the spelling bees, how I used to
enjoy them! Two rows of boys and girls,
' hard-spelling words fired at them by the
local school teacher, and the havoc made
,in the ranks by misspelling! Well I re
; member once when all was spelled down
j but myself and Matilda .lane Tompkins.
Matilda was a sweet little girl and I was
sweet on Matilda. We were on opposite
J sides, of course, and as the hard words
were given 1 trembled for fear she would
■ miss first. At last I spelled Cincinnati
j with two 'lt's,".and the look of pain she
i gave me showed that she would rather
j have riiissed herself. I saw Matilda Jane
j about a year ago. She has grandchildren
j oider than she and I were at the time Of the
spelling-match, and she has got into the
j habit of wearing her teeth in a glass of
wate.r at night. *
form of Lightning.
A flash of lightning is a very large spark
of electricity; just the same thing that one
sees given by au electric machine in a lec
ture on natural philosophy, the only differ
ence being that the best machine will not
give a spark more than a yard long, while
sonic flashes of lightning have been estimated
to be several miles iu length. According to
their appearance, various names have beeu
given to these sparks in the sky, though in
reality all the several kinds are one and the
same thing. On a warm summer evening,
one often sees the cloulds on the horizon lit
up with brilliant glows of lightning unac
companied by any sound of thunder. To
tiiiaAppearahcetlie name of heat lightning
has been given, and the warm weather is
often assigned as its cause. In point of
fact, the heat lightning is only that of a
thunder shower so far off that, while the
observer can see the flash, no sound of
thunder reaches him, and the intervening
clouds veil and reflect the flash until it be
comes a glow instead of the sharp streak
amally seen. Where the flash, starting from
one point, branches out and divides into
several parts, it has received the name of
"forked lightning." This is usually seen
when the discharge is near the observer.
Single flashes bearing a zigzag or crinkled
aspect are denominated "chain lightning,"
probably from their resemblance to a chain
thrown loosely on the ground. Again,
when several discharges occur from about
the same place at the same ti{n. and are
screened by rain or clouds so as to light up
the heavens with a broad, bright glow, the
title of "sheet lightning," is applied. Thero
four comprise all the common forms. These
is, however, one rare manifestation, called
"ball lightning." In this phenomenon, a
small globe or ball of apparent fire rolls
slowly along the ground, and after a time
suddenly explodes, scattering destruction
around. There are hut few instances of
this on record, and no very satisfactory ex
planation has ever accounted for this curious
appearance.
FPWIIIIB Snakes.
. ' Asn feeder the snake is mighty irregu
. Inr, niul his appetite is always about four
times t<K large for his organs of digestion.
They have long since found this out at tlie
8 Philadelphia "Zoo," and the superintend-
J out is just now in a dilemma to know how
he will be able to find the proper food for
the serpent family under his care. The
5 small species of land snakes feed on toads,
1 lizards, grasshoppers and other members of
* the imect and reptile world, and at times it
is very difficult to supply tho demand of
t these insatiate "varmints." The king and
? calico snakes belong to this same class, but
- if famine should occur these two species
: are cannibalistically inclined, and would
weather the hard times by swallowing each
; other. In the big case in the snake house
i are twenty-six lams, the largest of which is
II feet in length and 2<i inches in circum
> fere nee. The business of the boa is sim-
1 ply to load his stomach to repletion, and
then to tie himself up in a graceful knot
i and doze calmly for several weeks, while
! the spectators gaze on him and speculate
on his easy job, and what they would do
were they to encounter him alone in a jun
, gle with nothing but a Barlow knife as a
weapon of defense. Though not particular
to a shade as to what their diet shall be,
yet your zoological boa is something of an
epicure m his way. Nature has provided
! him and other members of the reptile fam
ily with an accommodating head, the roof
of which in a manner lifts otl and allows
the introduction of toothsome morsels that
would crowd a quarter peek measure to
hold. Tp to the present time these mon
ster boas have been fed upon rabbits ami
rats, and just now rabbits and ruts are l>e
couiing scarce. Fhey have been tempted
with sportive and innocent little kittens,and
an occasional pup has been placed at their
disposal, and at times spring chickens and
pigeons ; but the lx>a cannot stomach a cat
has little appetite for the dog, and goes
square back on the feather}' tribe. Hence it
is that his diet is reduced right down to
I rats, with now and tlien a rabbit to rcgu
late his liver. Every zoological garden
grows immense crops of rats, and rabbits
are popped into the world in astonishing
numbers. But the appetites of the snakes
at the Zoo have been telling on both fam
ilies, and the prospect is that shortly the
supply will have to be obtained from the
outside. Each of the twenty-six boas con
sumes from three to four a month, and in
the course of a year they manage to con
sume about four tons of these little animals.
Not long since a prairie dog was forced
into the cage, but the big snake only wink
ed ut him and allowed hini the liberty of
the cage witiiout molestation. Having
coiled its body about its little victim, and
squeezed the life out of it, the snake pro
ceeds to swallow it leisurely. Having got
it Irnck of its jaws, it ooils up gracefuliv,
drops into a torpid state, and remains ob
livious to the peanut munchers and nervous
old ladies who peep at it through the glass
from day to day.
Xupu'vou z.i Aiuueici. —
A8 men learn more of Napoleon, smaller
and smaller docs he grow. Perspective was
needed to bring out his real stature. Mine,
de Kcmusat's "Memoirs'' promises to do
something to set the world right—especially
In regard to the murder of I)uc d'Enghein.
She relates that on the evening before it oc
curred she noticed that Josephine was un
usually sad, and remarked it while driving
with her. The reason for it she learned, was
that Bonaparte had sent an officer to the
frontier to arrest the duke, and that Joscpli
! ine's entreaties that the duke's life should
| be spared had been in vain. Bonaparte had
answered: "Women must not interfere in
! such matters." On the following day at
dinner Bonaparte remarked that Mme* de
Kemusat looked very pale, and asked her
why she had not on rouge. "There arc
two things," he said, "which are becoming
to a woman, rouge and tears."* He seemed
in very good spirits and joked with his wife
"with more freedom than propriety."
Next morning the news reached Josephine
that all was over with the duke. Ho had
behaved with great courage, and refi;sed to
have his eyes bandaged, only begging the
soldiers not to miss him. Gen. Ilullen,
who played the principal part iu the arrest
and execution, was richly rewarded by Na
poleon, who, however, always mistrusted
him afterward, and once said: "Hispres.
ence disturbs me; Ido not like the recol
lections he awakens in me." On the day
after the execution Napolcou was silent
during dinner, but when the repast was
over he said, as if answering himself, "At
any rate, they know now what I am capa
ble of, and it is to be hoped that they will
leave mc alone." He spoke about various
French kings. "Henry 1V.," he said,
was not a great man, for he wanted digni
ty. A soverign must avoid being good na
tured. It is foolish to remind people that
oue is a man like themselves. Alexander
the Great showed true political instinct in
tracing his descent from a god."
She Knows 'Em.
Mrs. Duniwav, of the New Northwest,
at a literary reunion at Balem, Oregon, ,
"toasted" the gentlemen as follows: "God ,
bless 'em I They share our joys, they dou
ble our sorrow, they treble our expenses, ,
they quadruple our cares, they excite our j
magnanimity, they increase our self respect, ,
they awake our enthusiasm, they arouse {
our affections, they control our pioperty ,
and oul-nianceuvre us in everything. This t
would be a dreary world without 'em. In
fact, I may say, without prospect of success- ,
ful contradiction, that without 'em it would t
not be much of a world anyhow. We love l
'em, and the dear beings can't help it; we j
control 'em and the precious fellows don't ]
know it. As husbands they are always
convenient, though not always on hand; (
as beaux they are by no means 'matchless.' e
They are most agreeable visitors; they are j
handy at Stato fairs, and indispensable at t
oyster saloons. They* are splendid as es
corts for some other fellow's wife or sister, c
and as friends they are better than women, j
As our fathers they are inexpressly grand.
A man may be a failure in business, a wreck j
in constitution, not enough to boast of as a t
I eauty, nothing, as a wit, less than nothing c
as a legislator for woman's rights, and eyen ]
not very brilliant as a member of the press;
but if he is our own father we overlook his fi
shortcomings and cover his peccadilloes g
with the divine mantle of charity. Then,
as our husbands, how we love to parade r
them as paragons! f
Never wipe your fingers on the table
cloth nor them in your mouth. Use
the napkin.
The Art of NtsMllug.
Although in Paris, and perhaps all over
the Continent, our country is popularly
supposed to be the traiping school for the
ablest thieves; and the headquarters of the
pique poquettea , there arc evidences that
the French capital can produce In abundance
a hardly inferior article. Glancing at ran
dom over the columns of a serious anil
well-informed Paris paper, we find three
paragraphs close together, each containing
an account of robberies effected in a mas
terly style which would do credit to the
East end of London.
An individual arriving at the Orleans ter
minus fell in with a man who represented
himself to be a boot-maker from Bordeaux.
They walked into the town together, and
were presently met by a Pole, carrying a
heavy hand-bag, full, he said, of gold and
banknotes. The latter soon found an ex
cuse to leave the precious bag iu charge of
his new friend, exacting at the Bame lime
the deposit of liis purse "as a guarantee of
good faith." It is unnecessary to add that
he never returned, and that the bag, on be
ing opened wi.s found to contain lead and
rubbish.
On the same day, in u cafe in the Boule
vard St. Michel, three or four persons sat
down und partook of some refreshments,
after which one of them went up to the
counter und asked for change for a 100
franc note. The five gold pieces were duly
counted out to him. and he duly took them
up, holding the note in his hand all the
time. The moment he had safe hold of
them, however, he rushed out suddenly by
the door, and was quickly in a cab which
his companions bad brought to a convenient
place outside This is said to be the fourth
time that the same trick has been success
fully played quite lately in this one
boulevard.
The last of the oases reported, and, per
haps, the most ingenious, is that of a mes
senger sent out to deliver a valuable packet
from oue of the ladies' shops to a customer
at Vinccnues. He was oppressed with the
licat of the day, and sat down on a bench,
when an individual accosted him with the
question "whether he would like to be
mesmerised." The obliging offer was de
clined, but the mesmerist would not take
any refusal, and begau to "make passes"
over the face of the victim, wlio.soon suc
cumbed to the charm. When he awoke he
found himself deprived not only of liis
bag of merchandise, but also his gold
watch and chain, his hat, and even his
boots. The charmer must be a magician
worthy of a place in the "Arabian
Nights."
An Amnteur MexineriH.
At a small party up in the Western Divi
sion, one nigbt last week, a highly comic
young man said early in the evening that
he had a bully idea for having some fun at
the expense of a quiet and inoffensive guest
who was expected later.
•Tell you what we'll do,' said he, bub
bling over Wjtli mirth as he spoke; 'l'll
iiiiniißi IXU .TUBM j nil 111 lilm rtuii'l mi 'tiM
head, and think he's a tea-ket'le, and so on.
It'll be awfully funny. I've been having a
little experience in mesmerism lately, and
I can do it just as easy as borrowing five
dollars.' They all said it would be a great
joke and too funny, and so on and when
soon after the unsuspecting Jones said he
didn't think there was much in it,
'O, you don't, eh?' said the highly comic
young man. who, for the purpose of argu
ment, we shall call Smith; 'now, I have
been experimenting a little in these things,
and there is a good deal in it. Now, 1
think 1 could mesmerize you if you'd let
me try.
'O, dear Mr. Jones,' cried all the young (
ladies with one accord, 'please do let him
mesmerize you: it will add so greatly to 1
the eclat of the evening,' and so Mr. Jones
consented to be mesmerized if it would af
ford them any pleasure. Kather tohisown and
and greatly to everyone else's surprise, after a
few passes Mr. Smith saw his viotim pass into
the magnetic slumber, and then the fun
began. The unfortunate Jones was made
to believe he was a terrier backed to kill
100 rats in ten minutes, and so to engage !
in a fearful combat with his teeth with a
pile of ottomans and sofa-cushions; and 1
then was turned into a locomotive-engine, i
and went up and down the room blowing
off stsam and tooting danger sigrals ; and
then became convinced that he was a sen
sational lecturer, and split his coat clear up ,
the back while trying to illustrate the op- j
pressive calm which broods upon the Dead
Sea; and compelled to recite poetry and
play the flute on a ruler, and perform many
other interesting and unusual feats to the
delectation of the audience, so that every
one laughed till his or her sides were sore, j
and one tender hearted damsel remarked
that it was a shame. Finally, they left \
the unfortunate young man possessed of
the hallucination that he was a cat, keep
ing patient watch over the register, from
which he expected a mouse to issue, while
they discussed what to make him do next.
'I guess we've had fun enough out of the
poor CUSP,' said Smith, magnanimously;
•'spose I take him out of his magnetic
slumber?' So he called, 'Puss! Puss!'and
Jones came obediently to him on all fours,
and rubbed against Smith's legs and purred
contentedly.
•Now,' said Smith, 'observe that I will
make a few passes in the reverse way, and
thus release him from the controling influ- i
ence of my mind and dispel the magnetic j <
slumber in which he has been the uncon- j
scious agent to minister to our mirth and i
amusement.'
So lie made a few passes, but Joues did
not come out of his trance; on the con
trary he glared wildly around the room,
ran his fingers through his hair, and, tear
ing off his coat, howled, 'Thim Chinese
must go,' etc.
4 Why, he thinks he's Dennis Kearney !'
exclaimed everyone, and they looked in
surprise at Smith, who, however, retained
his presence of mind, and, though badly
surprised, said:
4 You see 1 stimulated his bumps of elo
quence and causation, as I may say; now,
however, I will dismagnetize him for
good.' So he made a few more passes, and
Jones set off walking at breakneck pace
down the room, yelling, 4 This is the 2697tk
quarter —bet a bonanza mine to a banana
1 win.'
Smith looked s:mewhat more serious,
and everybody said, 4 Why, how singular!'
and some of the guests remajked, 'Smith,
why don't you take him out of the mag
netic slumber at once ? He'll upset the
furniture.'
4 I will,' exclaimed Smith, and made
several more assorted passes, finally seizing
Jones and shaking him violently, with the
exclamation, 4 Hi 1 there! I say, you know
time's up ! Wake up I Be yourself! Com
| out of this trance!'
r Jones gazed at .him pleasantly for an iu
V stout, then a rapturous suiile broke ou
3 upon his countenance, and, crying. 'Hence
8 Achmet/draw thy cimetar and keep faith
t ful watch ut the outer gate of the seraaglii
5 —the garden of delights—while the Sultan
- the magnificent, the Lord of the earth, re
1 joic-es his heart in the smiles of his oda
3 lisqucs ;' before they had any idea of his in
£ tention he hugged and kissed every womai
- iu the room, calling them all 'Fatima.'
3 'Perhaps he's going mad,' said somebody
and tbe lady of the house, turning pale
- exclaimed, 'Mr. Smith, 1 insist that yot
1 restore that uuha]>py young man to U'u
senses this very moment.'
I 'Great Heavens! said Smith, who hac
i burst into a profuse perspiration, 'that'i
I what I am trying to do as hard as I can,
- but he won't come out of bis trauce. J
I must have forgotten something about th<
s process.'
Well, try and remember it, then, prettj
■ quick,' said the ladv, 'or he may be a rav
: ing maniac, and his blood—and orjg,
which is worse and more to the purpose—
will be upon yonr head.'
Here Jones took up a tumbler of lemon
' ado witb much solemnity, and, advancing
across the room with a majestic step, halted
before Smith and exclaimed: 'Saul, sou ol
' Ivisli, I, the Prophet Samuel, D. D., anoint
thee King over tlie people of Israel,' poured
t he refreshing beverage upon Smith's bead ;
' then yelling 'Hurry up another wbeelbar
rowfull of them bricks!' he jerked Smith's
legs from under him, and, seizing him by
the feet, ran him on his nose across the
room like a barrow, and jammed his head
against the opposite wall; then, dropping
the unlucky amateur mesmerist, he ad
vanced with a stealthy step, and hissed in
a hlood-curdling tone.
'Give me the dagger, and I will these
brawny hands of mine incarnadine in the
villain's heart's blood; send him down,
down, down to the deepest depths of per
dition, and join him there, my dreadful
mission of vengeance being accomplished
up to the handle.'
At this one woman fainted, three got out
of the room, and the mistress of the house
turned on the burglar alarm for a police
man, and adjured Smith to run for a doc
tor and take the man out of his trance
with a stomach-pump or an electric em
brocation, or something, before there had
lioen done a deed of dreadful note. Smith
did not wait to be told twice, but dashed
out of the house like a runaway flash of
lightning, not stopping to put on his hat or
overcoat, and, as he was going through
the gate, ran plump into the officer who
was answering the call.
'You scoundrel,' cried the officer, as they
rolled over each other, 'surrender, :or Til
blow your brains out with my dub,' and
he tuuk bold of Smith with so determined
a grip tluit he tore every button off of liis
shirt and waistcoat.
'I was going for the a
raging maniac in the house,' gasped
euitiu ; Teimuc gu.' - ■.■ — r -5—C
'O, that's too thin,' contemptuously re
plied the policeman ; 'what are you giving
me ? Come along into the house, "ftnd let's
see how many spoons you have about you.'
So he draggetl bis captive in, giving him
a hearty shake at every third stop, apd
when the door was opened, he found Jones
seated, clothed In his ri&ht mintf, convers
ing ou the weather. Explanations were
made to the officer, and then Smith bor
rowed a new collar and some pvns, repaired
liis damages, and went home, after vainly
endeavoring to leave an impression upon
the company that it was a put-up job be
tween him and Jbncs o contribute to the
evening's amusement. Jones it not looked
upou at present as quite as green as tliey
took him to l>e, and is decidedly the social
lion of ike neighborhood.
The Cowboy of Colorado.
He was a young man of striking appear
ance. lie wore a greasy suit of miners*
overalls, a heavy flannel shirt, and a white
felt hat with no end of a brim. His pants
| were turned up at the bottom, revealing
large but not ungainly feet. There was a
J careless look in his face and a hickory nut
in his hand as he stepped out of the Times
elevator at the fifth story. He was not long
in declaring himself the Whistling Cowboy
of Colorado, and it was but a short time
, before he Convinced everyone that his name
was well applied. He whistled on landing.
He whistled on introducing himself, lie
whistled while the other fellow was talking,
lie was a perpetual whistler. He told his
storyb y means of a whistle in a miner key.
It was not a bad whistle, by any means. 1
What it lacked in musical pathos was made j
up in shrill force. The rhythmical swell of '
, his themes was not altogether according to 1
theoretic principles, but the abundance of
1 trills and cadences made up for my trivial j
| defect of that character. It was a great J
; whistle, and in some respects a diabolical 1
whistle. It was a whistle which, would at-
tract attention under all and any circum
stances. c
His story, as whistled, was brief, but <
pointed and interesting. His name was Dan 1
W. Reed, and he had traveled all over these 1
United States. He had sailed the briny
ocean, soared among the little stars in abal- 1
loon, tramped the broad prairie, and stood 1
off the train-conductors in the most approv- <
ed manner. Twenty years were all that he (
could boast of, but during those years he
had compressed into his own life the his-
torv and experience of twenty adventurers. {
He walked once from Galveston to Boston, (
whistling all the way, and was a newspaper t
hero for a brief period. During this trip he
was chased by wolves, bitten by rattle
snakes, frozen to death, an put in divers <]
bridewells as a vagrant. In 1876 he went
to Washington to interest himself in the g
pardon of a friend in jail for some offense
or other. He bearded Grant in his den.
He whistled for him. Ulysses was captur- !'
ed at one. lie deducted six months from 1
the time of the whistler's friend, gave the (
whistler a Ave doller bill, and advised him v
to visit and whistle to Gen. Butler. But
the whistling cowboy didn't take the bait. J
He engaged himself with some Brooklyn 1
people and whistled seconds to Arbuckle's '
cornet at concerts, for a while. Talmage
wanted to capture him, but the boy want
ed to eome west. He came, and was cap- i
tured by come ranchmen at Hugo, Col. His I
visit to Chicago is easily explained. The t
boss of the ranch sent some cattle here in is
charge of the whistler and another fellow, s
The other fellow was the financial man. He
carried the return tickets and had general t
charge of the spondulicks. He has been c
missing since the cattle were sold, and the t
whistler is busy devising means for a speedy 8
return to the western wilds. e
le FOOD FOR THOUGHT.
J- Words are to notions only the sawdust
nt of the club of Hercules.
It is only for innocence that solitude
1_ can have any charms.
10 Creditors and poor relations never
,l call at the Wglit moment.
e " No mm ever'yet looked on the dark
side of life without finding It.
' Manr.er is one of the greaest engines
of Influence ever given to mm.
_ v lat-tery la a false coin which has elr
, culation only through our vatiflty.
u Conscience is the voice of the soul;
• m the passious are the voice of tho bvdy.
The longer I live the rrtort assured f
d ain that mosfmen live la mortal tfrror
( g j of themseWps,
1, j In the pursuit of virtue exercise "gives <•
I strength. The move we advance the
e! less fatigued we are. A
She that has no one to love or trust, r
y has little to hope. She wants the radi-
I cal principal of happiness.
Lift not a foot until you have pre
- viously learned the nature of the ground ;
on which you are to tread.
1- Every saint is* God's temple, and he
1 r who carries his temple about him may
d go to prayer when he pleapeth.
>f If 1 might control the literature of
t the household, I would guarantee the
i well being of the church and state.
; Gentility is said to be eating meat
- with a silver fork when the butcher is
s not paid.
f Hidden virtues are often despised,
e inasmuch as nothing extols it In our
i ryes.
S Bodily enjoyment depends upon good
- health, and health depends upon tern*
a perance.
The man who studies to be revenged
e only manages to keep hi* own wounds
j green.
1 No evil is insupportable but that
- which Is accompanied with couscious
-1 ness of wrong.
* When people's feelings have get a
deadly wouud they can't be cured by
1 favors.
' Knowledge will always predominate
over ignorance, as man governs the
" other animals.
There are few doors .through which
. liberality, joined with goo<3 fiumorj
cannot fiud its way.
A cross word ft a tittle thlfig. but it
, has made many a man's destiny for
good or for evil.
Do ttry best to honor God in the use
of this world's currency, but make it
not tby wealth*
It is 110. doctrine, however scriptural, •
or views of truth, however enlightened,
that saves us, but 6ur Lord Jeans*
Christ. . ■ • * t .
Show me the man who would not go
to heaven aloue ifthe could, and I will
show you one who will never be ad
mitted there. *•
T(iu i, —r*- *-,li)r 1- *
most impressive prayer is silent; and
the most solemn preacher at a funeral
is the silent oue whose lips are cold.
A legalist hears the command, and
'looks to himself for strength to obey it.
An obedient believer looks at the com
mand by filth, and to God for strength.
No man, or body of meu, can look
slightingly ou culture; and no Chris
tian Church can be healthy if its first
thoughts are not for the abandoned and
the poor.
Men may live amidst enmities, but
will not escape the enmity and pursuit
of their own sin. This shadow at their
heels will not leave them, wnich means
.destruction. ' -
.... If you will calmly consider the ac
tions of some men, you wilt be persu
aded they af6 tnorally insane, so dtter
ly unconscious do they appear that they,
are doing wrong. # ,
Our passions act as the winds, which
propel the vessel; our reasou Is the pi
lot t hat steers her. Without the winds,
she would not move, without the pilot,
she would be lost.
They who are ignorautly devoted to
the mere ceremonies of religion are fal
len into thick darkness; but they ara
in still thicker gloom- who are solely
attached to fruitless speculations.
II the mind, which rules the body,
ever so far forgets itself as to trample
upon its slave, the slave never forgets
or forgives the injury, but at some time,
will rise aud smite its oppressor.
Such as are still observing upon oth
ers are like those whe are always '
abroad at other men's houses, reform
ing everything there, while his own
runs to ruins.
All animals, when in health, derive
gratification frem the food.and drink
agreeable to them. But' the man's
highest enjovmepts are intellectual
and spiritual.
Men's native dispositions are most
distinctly perceived whilst they are
children and when ihey ate dying—as
the sun is best seen at his rising and
his setting.
Men ot great are often unfor
tunate in the management of public
business, because they are apt to go out
ol the common road by the quickness
of their imagination.
It is a duty to contend earnestly for
"the faith." It is, however, very far
from beings duty to fight every scare
crow and bombard every spectral error
that chances to appear.'
The voice of Paganism Is the plaintive
or the passionate outcry of the prisoner.
The voice of Christianity isifce assur
ance of the Deliverer or the triumphant
song of fhe delivered.
Kindness seems to Know of some se
cret fountain of joy in the soul which
it can touch without revealing its lo
cality and cause to.send,its waters up-v
ward arid i "
•.*, ' .vV .
Such is the state of life that ndne are "/
happy but by the aniicipatiop'of change. '
The cbange itself is nothing; when we
have made it the next Wtsh is to change
again. The world is not yet exhausted.
—Keep to your calling; let nomin
induce you to abandon that w.hich you
have studied for years in the vain at
tempt to learn a new trade hi a month.
Success springs from industry and per
severance.
There is no despair so absolute as
that which come 3 in the hrst moments
of our first great sorrow—when we
have not yet known what it is to have
suffered and be healed, to have despair
ed and have recovered hope.
NO.rSQ,