£
£
Bowral
“The Lord bless thee and keep thee, the
Lord make his face to shine upon thee, and
be gracious unto thee '’
1 seek in prayerful words, dear friend,
‘The heart's true wish to send you,
That you may know that, far or near,
My loving thoughts attend you.
1 cannot find a truer word,
Nor fonder to caress you,
Nor song nor poem | have heard,
Is sweeter than God bless you!
God bless you! So I've wished you all
Of brightness life possesses,
For joy cannot be thine or mine
Unless God loves and blesses.
God bless you! So [ breathe a charm
Lest grief’s dark night oppress you,
For how can sorrow bring you harm
When God waits here to bless you ?
And so through all thy days and years
May shadows touch thee never,
Keep this always, ‘God bless thee, dear!"
Then art thou safe forever.
IN DEEP WATERS.
The strange silence which lay about the
schooner by its very oddity brought Belden,
sleeping restlessly in bis berth, to bis full
senses. For a space he lay quiet, listen-
. Except for the straining of the tim-
bers as the vessel wallowed in the heavy
seas, there was no sound. Filled with
alarm, he jumped from his berth,and dress-
ing hastily made bis way through the cabin,
up the companion-way to the deck. It
wae still dark, bat in the gloom he could
manage to see the black waters against the
boat's side. The schooner had settled far
deeper than when be had lain down a few
hours before. Undoubtedly the leak was
gaining fast.
He saw all this at a glance, and then the
great silence thrust itself again upon his
consciousness. Once more the feeling of
alarm him. He turned and
glanced at the wheel. There was no one
standing by it. It was not even lashed,
but whirled this way and that as the rest-
less waves tossed the rudder about. Hard-
ly able to believe his sight he groped his
way to it and caught it in his bands, brac-
ing his feet as he steadied it.
He held it so only for a moment. Then
he made his way swiftly forward. The
deck was ahsolutely deserted. With a
panic that increased with every step he
took, he went farther forward and peered
into the forecastle. The rattiing lantern
fastened by a hook to the foremast was still
lit, and he could dimly discern the berths.
They were all empty.
He sprang down the stairs and tore the
lantern from its fastening. Carrying it
over his arm, he went back to the deck.
He crept along to the main hatohway of
the hold, and lowering the lantern peered
into its dark, stinking depths. Fora mo-
ment he could see nothing. Only the
sound of moving water—water in the hold
—came to him. While he waited for his
eyes to become accustomed to the faint
light, he called out. But only silence an-
swered him after the sound of his own
voice had died away.
Presently in the far depths he made out
a glimmer. He as besaw it. It
was the reflection in the water of the lan-
tern he held in his hand. The meanivg of
the sight was plain to him. The leak bad
gains until water now covered the cargo.
able now to peer through the dark-
ness, he turned his eyes to the pump. It
was standing in its place, solitary,abandon-
The sight told him all. But it did nos |"
shook him greatly. It seemed as if he bad
known the truth from the moment of his
sudden awakening. The captain and the
crew had deserted. While he slept they
had left the schooner to sink--and left him
to sink with her--and besides himself there
were the man and his wife-—the passengers
—who at that very moment were sleeping
peacefully below in their cabin. The orew
whom he bad trosted bad left them—the
three of them alone—in a sinking ship that
was heedlessly drifting about at the weroy
of the bitter sea.
He rose to his fees and made his way to
the side, where he leaned again«t the rig-
giug and gazed into the black waters. He
thought they were closer up even than
when he bad come upon deck. Surely the
vessel was going down with incredible
swiftness.
The knowledge of the ship's peril had
come to him only in flashes of conscioune-
ness and had brought him no throb of ter-
ror nor any plan for relief. He knew the
facts and understood them, bus that they
applied to himself he could not realize. It
was ae thongh he were a shadowy figure in
a dream.
While he was thinking the morning
came. Not slowly, but in a flash, as it
always comes in the southern seas—like a
curtain torn asunder. A ray of gray light
sprang over the sea, whitening its tips and
nging its somber black to vivid bine.
The gray light obanged to silver, flushed
to rose, deepened into purple and then
transformed itself into a blue sky flecked
with clonds of spotless white as the san
leaped from behind the waste of waters.
The brightness of its giory seemed to fill
the world with life and joy. Ouly the face
of the man who leaned against the vessel's
side remained gray and hopeless, For the
coming of the day and its light had given
him a knowledge which left him stunned.
The deserting crew bad taken with them
every lifeboat !
They had, it was true, left behind them
the dingey. This was a tiny craft—almost
a canoe. It could hold but two people—
and three bad been left behind upon the
sinking sbip. Three, and one of them
Helen Taggart, the woman he loved, the
woman who had married his best friend.
The force with which this last blow
struck brought to his numbed senses a sud-
den appreciation of the peril that faced
him. The gray fled from his face, leaving
it doll, colorless. He canght hold of the
rigging to save himsell from falling. For
some moments he stood there, swayiog
hale: 20 Sorth with the motion of the ves-
sel, ere came u, him a t
resolution. He would re to Re
of the small boat ! Up to this moment he
had lived his lonely life without the wom-
av be loved, and now that he must die—
and no other course was open to him—she
would die beside him. There was a fierce
Arne hh Ber pled
e ereot,
biave, sellreliant, a
Taggart came out of the companionway
he the deck, and for a moment he stood
inking in the morning sunlight. Sod-
denly his expression changed. His eyes,
the dull, unseeing eyes of the landsman,
« | simply; “‘the leak thas
4
bad discovered that there was something
rong. He] and reeled bis way to
Belden's sid vessel was rol heavi-
ly—and peered at him question y.
“What is it, Dick ?’’ he
“We are sinking,”
has got the better
crew realized this before I
night, while I was getting a lit]
deserted. Every ove of them desert-
ed,” he added with calm bitterness; “every
one of them, damn them !”’
Taggart’s face went white as be heard
the news.
“How long will she keep afloat?’ he
asked gravely.
*“I'wo hours, perhaps,’’ was the answer,
“bus . . . no more.”
*“Then we will bave to take to the boats
at once,’ said Taggart.
Belden turned bis haggard face from the
other and out across the rolling
waves, all green now and glistening in the
bright sunlight.
“They took all of the boats with them,”
he said in a low voice. He did not speak
of the dingey. There was listle chance of
the other noticing it where it lay hidden
beneath its canvas cover.
“My God !”’ cried Taggart, as he clutch-
ed the rail to steady bimsell. ‘‘Helen !"”
The name ht a paler shade to Bel.
den’s cheek, but he did not turn his bead.
He kept his gaze on the sea.
It was Taggart, at length, who broke the
silence. He had uered his weakness
and his voice came calm and even.
“We never thought it would end like
this, Dick, did we?’ he said gently.
“When we were hoys at New Haven and
used to plan our futures together summer
evenings ander the shadows of the elms—"’
Belden turned quickly aod looked at
him with an odd listle twisted smile.
“No,” he answered ; ‘‘no, we never
thought so then—and yet, somehow, now
it seems that I bave always known that the
end would be—this.”
There was a depth of melancholy in his
voice—a ring of that utter loneliness which
in, perhaps, the greatest of all tragedies.
Bat it fell upon unheeding ears. A sud-
den gust of impotent rage had swept over
aguart.
“I wonder,” he said bitterly, raising his
face to the sky above him, ‘“‘why God per-
mits such suffering ?"’
“We shall know soon enough,’ said
Belden almost lightly.
her eyes steadily on Belden's
averted "
“And you?” she asked ina queer,
breathless voice, as she put her busband’s
band from ber arm.
Though he did not tarn to look at her,
Belden knew she was speaking to him.
For a moment he did not answer, bot when
finally be did he still looked seaward.
“I will stay here,”’ he said.
The woman stood silent while a light
dawned on her face. Then suddenly, as
though swept by some terrific force, she
went toward bim with outstrecthed arms.
“Thank God !"’ she cried, and through
her voice there surged and sang a ferce
and wonderful joy.
As he heard, Belden tarned toward her.
“Thank God !"” she repeated ; *‘for now
I know that you love me as [ love you—at
last. Bat say it--say it ! Tell me, tell
me with your lips close to mine and your
breath bot in my face—tell me."
Her hands were upon his shoulders now ;
her eyes were close to his. Just for an
instant he watched her quietly. Suddenly
the man’s iron self- possession fled from him
snd be strained her close to his heart.
“I love you hetter than my life,” be
muttered thickly. ‘‘Yes, and God knows
—more—more !"’
Then their lips met in a long kiss. Even
while they still stood so Tageart, who had
been watching them, dazedly silent,
sprang forward with a bitter ery like that
a» wonnded beast. With a fierce oath he
tore the two apart and struck Belden a
cruel blow. The latter staggered back bhe-
neath is, his face red with blood. A sud-
den pitch of the vessel steadied him, and
he started toward Taggert with glowing
eyes. The latter sprang to meet him and
in a moment they were clasped together,
fighting for their lives.
The woman stood by silent, her hands
clasped, her bosom heaving. Had danger
pever assailed them, had their voyage
ended in safety, sbe would have kept her
secret always locked in her breast. But
now the presence of death bad made her
primitive. The two men were fighting for
her—fighting to die with her—and she
gloried in the struggle. She did not shrink
at the sight of the blood that covered them;
she did not tremble as she heard their
cries of rage, their quick gasps of pain.
And when she saw that the man she loved
must win, she gave a loud, fierce ory.
They were equally matched so far as
strength was concerned, although Belden,
“Yes,” answered the other simply, his | because of his long, active life upon the
anger passing, ‘there will soon be no yes- | trading schooner, was better fitted to en:
terday for us.”
Saddenly Taggart’s eyes gleamed.
“Look I"” lie whispered hoarsely.
‘What is it ?"’ asked Belden, although
he knew what the other's eyes had found.
“It's a boat!’ screamed Taggart.
“Thank God !”
Tears glistened on his cheek. Hope bad
made him give way to emotion.
Belden shrugged bis shoulders. It was
the shrog of the gambler who bad staked
all pon the toroing of a card—and had
lost. Not a muscle of his face moved. It
wae fate, and loog ago in the early years
of his lonely life he had learned not to
quarrel with that.
“It’s the dingey,”’ he said quietly. ‘‘I
had means to speak to you of is before. It
will hold—oenly two.”
Taggart did not at once grasp the sig-
nificance of the statement, bus slowly the
fact dawned upon his brain and his face
contracted. With the sob of a woman he
sank down by the rail.
“Merciful God !'’ he breathed.
Belden looked at him, a faint smile on
his lips.
“It's a slight skiff,” be said presently in
his lifeless voice, ‘‘but with you and—"’
He hesitated for a moment. ‘‘With yon
and your wile it will keep afloat fora
time. There is a chance that yon may be
picked ap by a passing ship but . . . itis
only . . . a chance.”
Taggart rose and stared into Belden’s
es.
*‘And you ?" he asked quietly.
Belden shrugged his shoulders and
glanced about the deck.
“I will stay with ship,”’ he replied.
“No—no !"" cried Taggart. ‘‘You must
come with ns—surely the boat will hold
three.”
Belden shook his head.
“With the three of us aboard she
wonld founder in five minutes’ he said.
“Then,” said Taggart quickly, ‘‘we
will all stay here and meet it togetber.”’
For av instant there was a glow in Bel-
den’s eyes and a flush came to his cheeks.
“‘You must not forget your wife,’’ he
said with finality. ‘She must have every
chance.”
‘Bus youn ?'’ broke in the other.
“It does not matter abont me,’ said
Belden. *‘I have been alone always—and
it will not be hard to meet it—alone. At
first,” he went on, ‘‘I was afraid. That
is why I did not speak of the dingey. But
pow it is different. You muss go in it,
Harry,” he went on, calling the other by
bis familiar name, ‘‘and you must take her
with you. Think what life means to her,
It is not I who make the sacrifice by re-
maining here ;it is you whodo it by going.
Yours is the braver part.’’
As he finished, Tageart put oat his hand
and she other grasped it.
“God hless you, Dick!" he said.
“Then you will go?" asked Belden.
!
dure. Fora time they struggled abont
the deck. Then suddenly they fell togeth-
er, squirming and straining, their hot
breath striking each other in the face,
their hot eyes blazing with hatred. Bel-
den felt bis opponent yield and laughed
with trinmph. And while the laugh still
rang out, with a mighty effort he drew him-
cell loose from the other’s failing hold,
and with a quick torn threw Taggart on
his back, dexterously pinioning his arms
beneath him. Then, with his knee on the
other’s chest, he drew from its sheath a
long knife and held it glittering in the sun-
light, high above bis head, ready to plunge
it into the other’s hears.
Just as the knife began to descend on its
mission of death, Belden looked up and his
gaze ewept the horizon. His arm became
rigid, bis eyes wide and staring, and his
nerveless hand ioosed its hold upon the
knife, which fell with a clatter on the
deck.
“Look !"’ he cried.
As he spoke the woman raised her head
and saw a great steamer bearing down upon
them. Its crew had scen the signal of dis-
tress flying at the mast-bead and had an-
swered it. They were saved.
Belden rose slowly, and, stooping, lifted
the prostrate Taggart to his feet, The
latter thaoked him simply. Once more
they were men living heneath the restraint
of ages.
Silently the tiree gathered at the rail of
the sinking schooner and watched the
small boat which the steamer had sent for
their rescue as it breasted the waves.
Swiltly and steadily it came toward them,
its oars flashing in the sunlight, and as it
came within hail a ringing cheer went up
from the men who manned it.
Bat it brought no answering cheer from
those to whom it brought safety, and in
their eyes there was no bope.—By Walter
Hackett, in the Smart Set.
The blow which knocked ont Corbett
was a revelation to the prize fighters.
From the earliest days of the ring the
knock-out blow was aimed for the jaw, the
temple or the jugular vein. Stomach
punches were thrown into worry and
weary the fighter, bat if a scientific man
had toid one of the old fighters that the
most vulnerable spot was the region of the
stomach, he'd have laughed at him for an
ignoramus. Dr. Pierce is bringing home
to the public a parallel fact ; that the stom-
ach is the most vulnerable organ out of the
prize ring as well as in it. We protect our
heads, throats, feet and lungs. but the
stomach we are utterly indifferent to,
until disease finds the solar plexus and
knocks us out. Make your stomach sound
and strong hy the use of Dr. Pierce's
Golden Medical Discovery, aud you pro-
tect yourself in your most vulnerable spot.
{ “Golden Medical Discovery’’ cures ‘‘weak
stomach,’’ indigestion, and other diseases
“Yes,” answered Taggart ; but how | of the organs of digestion and nutrition.
+how shall we tell her?”
As he spoke he turned toward the com-
pasionway, and, almost as though she bad
en answering a summons, hie wife ap-
peared. She was a tall, lithe woman of
thirty, graciously beautiful ; a woman
whose heanty lay mainly in the sweet
strength of her face.
For a moment she stood breathing the
fresh, salty air. Thenshe turned, and
seeing the two men, nooded to them
brightly and waved them a gay greening.
Bot her second glance showed her the
gravity of their expressions, and she went
quickly toward them.
“What is the matter ?"’ she asked as she
reached them. ‘‘What is wrong?"
Neither moan for a moment answered her,
and neither met her questioning eyes—
beautiful eyes they were, blue and deep
like the sea itself.
“Well 2’ she said impatiently.
“The schooner is sinking, Mrs. Tag-
wart,” replied Belden, carefully averting
his eyes under her steady scrutiny,
“and the crew have deserted.”
She paled a little as Le spoke, but she
neither moved nor cried ont, and when at
last she spoke her voice was unexpectedly
steady.
“I suppose weshall have to take the
boats,”” she eaid Her manner was
entirely matter-of-fact. It was as if she
were stating some commonplace.
“The orew took all the lifeboats,”
answered Belden, ‘‘all except the dingey—
and thas will hold but two.”
Her husband stepped forward and laid
his band upon her arm.
“Youand I are to take our chance in
that,” he eaid, quietly attempting to draw
her away. “Come.”
She did not turn as be spoke, but in.
It is a temperance medicine, entirely free
from alcohol and narcotics.
The Spirit of Winter.
The Spirit of Winter is with us, making
its presence known in many different ways
—sometimes by cheery sunshine and glis-
tening snows, and sometimes by driving
winds and blinding storms. To many peo-
ple it seems to take a delight in making
bad things woree, for rheumatism twists
barder, Site Shacpet, catarrh becomes
more annoying, an e many symptoms
of scrofula are developed and vated.
There is not much poetry in this, but there
is truth, and it is a wonder that more peo-
ple don’t get rid of these ailments. The
medicine that cures them—Hood’s Sarsa-
parilia—is easily obtained and there is
abundant proof that its cures are radical
and permanent.
Re-action is the thing to fear in the use
of the common cathartic medicines. One
of the features of Dr. Pierce's Pleasant
Pellets, is that they do not re-act upon the
system. Fvery dose leaves the system
stronger, instead ‘of weaker, and tends to
establish a healthy regnlarity which can
entirely dispense with medicine. The
reliew are ary So in ia ko small
n the dose . e uces a
laxative, two a catbartio effect.
—Lawyer—Do I understand you to
say that you are acquainted with both par-
ties in this case?
Witness — Why—er—I don’t know
whether you do or not. Do I hear you ask
me the question?
1
Custer and His Last Battie,
GEORGE A. CUSTER, born Harrison coun-
ty, Ohio, December 5th, 1839. Graduated,
West Point 1861. Began service at first
battle of Ball Ran as aide on staff of Gen.
Kearney. Fought with great bravery in
several battles, and particular! distidguish-
ed himself at Gettysburg.
Io 1868 almost annibilated Black Kettle
and his warrions, in battle of Washita, |
Oklabowa. Killed in battle of Little Big |
Horn, Montana, Jane 25th, 1876. Baried |
at West Point.
Sometime ago duty called me within less
thao a hundred miles of where the Caster
Massacre occarred, and [ went to see the
battle field.
If yon wiil indulge me, I will give your
readers a condensed statement of what I
gleaned from various reliable sources, con.
cerning thas tragic affair.
The Indian war which colminated iv
what is known as the ‘‘Custer Massaore,”’
originated in a request or order from the
Indian Bureau, that certain stubborn tribes
should be compelled to settle down on their
reservations, under the control of the Io:
diau Agent.
Sitting Ball and Crazy Horse were the
leaders of these savages, which the govern
ment estimated at from 500 to 800, but
which afterwards was found to be near
3000, besides a large number of sguaws,
who were ore savage even than the men. |
They were armed with Winchesters
mostly, and well sapplied with ammuoni-
tion.
War on this savage force was ordered by |
General Sheridan from Chicago, and was |
commenced in the winter, because he |
(Sheridan) thought that would be the time
when the Indians could be easily caught. |
Small hodies of troops from various wide- |
ly separated posts were started out in a
strange, wild country, in search of a power- |
ful, raving, savage foe. Even at this early |
day public opinion has stamped that asa |
blunder.
Generals Terry and Cook were the prin- t
cipal officers, whose men aggregated about |
1500, divided into several small bodies, as |
above stated, and ecarcely any two within |
supporting distance of each other. |
1 shall confine myself more particularly
to the Seventh Cavalry, which was Caster’s |
command, consisting of about 250 men,
when they started.
Early on the morning of the 17th of
May, 1876, at Fort Abraham Lincoln, op-
posite Bismarck, North Dakota, the ‘‘gen-
eral” was sounded, and soon the wagon
train was packed and on the road, beaded
westward. An hour later the regiment,
headed hy Custer, was marching in column
of platoon aronnd the parade ground, the
band playing “Garry Owen," the regi-
ment's battle tone.
When they got outside the garrison, the
column was balted and dismounted, and
such as desired to do so, were permitted to
leave the ranks to say ‘‘good-bye’ to the
women and children who were dear to
them.
Ina few minutes the ‘‘assembly’’ wae
sounded, and the absentees joined their
commands, when the signals ‘Mount’ and
“Forward” were sounded, and the regi-
ment marched away, while the band play-
ed “The Girl I Left Behind Me."
General Terry was visibly affected by the
display of wiping away tears by the women
and children at the paiting, and he gave
orders to bave the men make as great a
showing of strength as possible, as they
crossed the hills just west of Mandan.
Those of your readers, who like myself,
bave ridden over that road, can imagine
what a pageant that regiment made there
and then.
After they bad marched quite a distance,
Terry left Custer, to go up the Yellowstone
to confer with General Gibbon, who bad
charge of asmall body of men up there
somewhere.
That left Custer chief in command of the
little regiment. Major Reno was next in
commauvd. For some reason which bas
never heen clearly made known, Custer
and Reno, each with a part of the men,
separated, and got beyond supporting dis-
tance of each other. On June 17th, tid-
ings came from Reno that he bad struck
the trail of the Indians. Very shortly
afterwards Custer struck the trail, and in-
stead of halting and calling on Reno to
gome to his assistance, he decided to fight
with what men he had with him.
When ke got to the brow of a certain
hill, he looked down into the valley, and
saw the Indian camp. He ordered the
trumpeter Martini, to sound the oharge,
which be did, and then took to his heels,
while Custer and his men plunged forward
into the death trap.
Not a living thing escaped death except
the war horse “Comanche,” which was
found the next day. At his death some
vears afterwards, he was etuffed and mount.
ed, and is now in the musenm of the Uni-
versity of Kansas.
It is mere opinion as to why Custer
fought that battle without Reno's aid.
Reno was court-martialed, and acquitted
on Martini’s testimony.
Accounts differ as to whether the bodies
of Custer and his men were mutilated. It
is known that the battle did not last more
than from thirty to forty minutes. The
Iodians knew they had met only a part of
the soldiers who were after them, and true
to their naturally cowardly instinot, hur.
ried away.
Custer was not a popular officer. He had
bravery, impetuosity, but no discretion.
His men were in mortal dread of him,
because they believed that some day he
would lead them to slaughter. One ex-
travagant writer says that he would have
ridden over Niagara Falls if he thought
there was a chance for a fight below.
Certain, bis candle was snuffed out too
soon, and he met death with a balo of
glory—fit ending to a soldier's career.
That battle field is now a National ceme-
tery, and is enclosed by a wire fence, and
a modest monument stands where Custer’s
body was found.
“Op fame's eternal camping ground,
Their silert tent= are spread,
And glory guards with hallowed round,
The bivounc of the dead.”
Respectlully,
DANIEL MoBRIDE.
Bismarck, North Dakota.
Spider Cures.
In China spiders are highly esteemed
fn the treatment of croup. You get
from an old wall the webs of seven
black spiders—two of which must have
the owners sitting in ‘he middle—and
pound them up in a mortar with a lit-
tle powdered alum. The resulting
mixture must then be set on fire, and
the ashes, when squirted into the
throat of the patient by means of a
bamboo tube, are sald to effect a cer-
taln and immediate cure.
Black spiders are evidently full of
medicinal virtue, for they are largely
employed in the treatment of ague as
well. In Somersetshire, if one is af-
flicted with the unpleasant ailment,
the way to get well is to shut up a
large black spider in a box and leave
it there {ill it dies. At the moment
of its disense the ague should disap-
pear. In Sussex the treatment is more
heroic; the patient must swallow the
spider.
Perhaps, after all, this remedy may
not be so disagreeable as it appears,
for a German lady who was in the
habit of picking out spiders from their
webs as she walked through the woods
and eating them after first depriving
them of their legs declared that they
were very nice indeed and tasted like
| nuts.—London Chronicle.
Asked Too Much.
In R. F. Johnson's book, “From Pe-
kin to Mandalay,” the author tells the
story of a poor Chinese scholar noted
for his piety, who heard the volce of
an invisible being who spoke to him
thus: “Your plety has found favor in
the sight of heaven. Ask now for
what you most long to possess, for 1
am the messenger of the gods, and
they have sworn to grant your heart's
desire.” “I ask,” said the poor scholar,
“for the coarsest clothes and food, just
enough for my daily wants, and 1 beg
that I may have freedom to wander at
my will over mountain aud fell and
woodland stream, free from all world-
ly cares, till my life's end. That is all
1 ask.” Hardly had he spoken than
the sky seemed to be filled with the
laughter of myriads of unearthly
voices. “All you ask,” cried the mes-
senger of the gods. “Know you not
that what you demanded is the high-
est happiness of the beings that dwell
in heaven? Ask for wealth or rank
or what earthly happiness you will,
but not for you are the holiest joys of
the gods.”
The Ungrateful Cuckoo.
To hear the cuckoo’s cheery note you
might think he had the clearest con-
science in the world. He can have nei-
ther memory nor moral sense or he
would not carry it off so gayly. We
say nothing of the “raptores,” who are
a race apart, but the most disreputable
of birds, as a rule, are guilty of noth-
ing worse than peccadillos. The jack-
daw will steal for the mere fun of the
thing, for he can make no possible usc
of plate or jewelry, and sometimes un-
der temptation may make a snatch at
a pheasant chick. Sparrows are, of
course, notorious thieves, but they rank |
no higher in erime than the sneaking |
pickpockets. But the cuckoo, so to
speak, is a murderer from his cradle.
He violates the sanctity of a hospitable
hearth. His first victims are his own
foster brothers, and before he tries his
wings on the first flight he is imbrued
in fraternal blood, like any Amurath
or Bazajet.—London Saturday Review.
Some Cussing.
A West Philadelphia husband had
just comfortably seated himself for
his after dinner cigar the other even-
ing when his good wife arose and took
the parrot from the room. This done,
she picked up a couple of envelopes
and approached the old man, all of
which occasioned that gent consider-
able surprise.
“Mary,” said he, “what in the world
did you take that parrot out of the
room for?”
“I was afraid that you might set
him a bad example,” answered wifey.
“What do you mean?’ demanded the
wondering busband.
“1 mean,” answered wifey, handing
father the envelope, “that I have just
received my dressmaking and millinery
bills.”"—Philadelphia Telegraph.
None Left Alive.
“An orator,” sald one of our states
men, “was addressing an assemblage
of the people. He recounted the peo
ple’s wrongs. Then he passionately
cried:
“ “Where are America’s grert men?
Why don't they take up the cudgel in
our defense? In the face of our man-
ifold wrongs why do they remain cold.
immovable, silent?
“ ‘Because they're all cast in bronze!
ghouted a cynic In the rear.”
Bucolic Humor.
“Hiram, why don’t you speak to that
city gal out there a-sittin’ on the grass
with her back up agin your ‘No Tres
passing’ sign?”
“Mandy, that young woman is be
neath my notice.”—Boston Transcript.
But Not the “One.”
Mrs. Hoyle—My husband had $100,
000 when I married him. Mrs. Doyle—
How much has he now? Mrs. Hoyle
Oh, he has most of the ciphers left!
i
!
Bohemian.
Philanthropic Misers.
In several remarkable cases real phi
lantbropy has beeu a miser’s motive
in spending and saving to a grotesque
degree. Thus when the first Pasteur
institute was suggested in Paris to
keep green the memory of the world
famous scieutist a poor wretch who
lived in utter misery came forward
with a subscription of $300. And
when the city officials called upon him
with a message of thanks they found
bim in an evil smelling slum behind
the Cathedral of Notre Dame. When
the door was opened the miser philan-
thropist was found quarreling violent-
ly with his miserable looking serv-
ant for throwing away a match that
had not been burned at both ends, A
similar case, but on a much larger
scale, was that of Jacques Gurgot of
Marseilles. Every one in the city knew
and hated him for his incredibly sor-
did life, yet when the old miser's will
was proved all France was amazed to
find be had left $250,000 to his native
city especially to furnish the poor
with a good and «heap water supply.
“I know,” the old man wrote, “that
50,000 of our citizens died of the
plague during the epidemic of 1720,
which was generated by the noxious
effluvia arising from filthy streets that
were never cleansed.” — New York
Tribune,
* The Poor Ensign.
The following story of German mili-
tary officialism is published in Lon-
don: One Ensign Flugge claimed com-
pensation for damage to kit caused by
a mouse having gnawed a hole in his
best tunic. The officer who had to de-
cide the point dismissed the claim and
ordered the ensign to be severely pun-
ished on the ground that, contrary to
orders, he had hung his best tunic on
a nail when going on guard at night
in an inferior garment instead of pack-
ing it in his knapsack, thus enabling a
mouse to gnaw a hole in it “without
having to overcome the slightest im-
pediment.” Ensign Flugge appealed,
and or further hearing it appeared
that the officer who first dealt with
the case was mistaken in the facts,
the tunic having been stowed in a
knapsack at the time when the mouse
defaced it and not hung upon a nail.
The first decision was therefore set
aside by higher authority, and Ensign
Flugge was ordered to be severely
punished for having stowed his tunic
in his knapsack instead of hanging it
on a nail, thereby giving opportunity
to the mouse to knaw a hole in it “un-
der cover of the darkness.” The senti-
ments of Ensign Flugge are not re
corded,
The Arab Mare.
The Arab is regarded as the first of
horsemen and the Arab mare as the
perfect steed. The Arab’s idea of
horse taming is of the simplest. The
colt is treated from the first as a
member of the family. It goes in and
out of the tents and is so familiarized
with the doings of that extraordinary
creature, man, that there is never any
need of breaking it in. The Bedouin
is very careful of his mare. He does
not mount her when he sets out to
play his usual tricks upon travelers.
He rides a camel to which the mare
is tethered. Not until the caravan is
in sight does he mount the mare and
give chase. There is, by the way, an
impression that the Bedouin is a
bloody minded person who would as
lef take your life as not. This is un-
fair to him. He is a thief of very
peaceful inclinations and much pre-
fers to effect any necessary transfer of
property with as little bother as pos-
sible.— London Graphic.
A Poor Bath.
A Frenchman was talking in New
York about the excellent bathing
beaches of America.
“There are no such beaches in Eu-
rope,” said he. “And the sea over
there is not so pleasant to bathe in.
Frequently, you kuow, great pipes
empty sewage into it. They who stay
late for the bathing in Nice, for in-
stance, swim about among lemon peel,
orange skins, melon rinds, soaked but
still buoyant newspapers—fearful rub-
bish. 1 once bathed in Nice. The Med-
iterranean was warm and pleasant,
but it resembled soup or something
worse. 1 heard an American after
coming out say to the bathing master:
“ ‘Look here, friend, where do stran-
gers go for a wash after bathing
here?"
How We Fall Asleep.
It is not generally known that the
| body falls asleep in sections. The mus-
cles of the legs and arms lose their
power long before those which sup-
port the head and these last sooner
than the muscles which sustain the
back. The sense of sight sleeps first,
then the sense of taste, next the sense
of smell, next that of hearing and last-
ly that of touch. These are the results
of careful and lengthy investigation by
a French scientist, M. Cabanis,
Making Practice.
“These mere vassals of the town
have the audacity to say my poems
make them sick,” said the proud bard.
“You don't object to them. do you,
sir?”
“No, indeed,” answered the stranger.
“And may I ask who you are?”
“Why, I am the town physician.”—
Chicago News,
Virtue of Hospitality.
Hospitality solves and annuls even
the mysterious antagonisms that exist
between races. This glorious and beau.
¢iful and sacred rite makes all men
brothers.—Cassell’'s Saturday Journal.
Poor Eve.
Eve (In the garden)—Adam, I've got
to have another dress. Adam—Eve,
you're the most resolute woman I've
ever knewn. You're always turning
over a new leaf.—London Tatler.