THE CAMBRIA FREEMAN
' Pntlltie1 AVffUlj- nt
3 EXSH VUG, Cambria Co., ra
HY II. A. MoPIKK.
-tVtlviitiintr ItatvN.
The larcc nl reliable circulation of the C
nei a Fkkkv commends 1 tofhifnT'rn?f rrrri
si.icrntnn o a,! vert t"t, h" farorf will he In
serted it t:.e f'liuinit liw ri'f? :
1 Inch, i time.
1 R
2 60
X 3
00
o
1 .'
0
IS 10
I a mt
Ju )
Jll. 00
4i 'in
. 2 W
1 ' 3 mont h
1 " nv.nt h..
1 " 1 year
2 6 lliotit hs .
2 " 1 Vfr
S e niiint hs..
S " 1 T-r
C, uui nt n tred Circulation
l,OCS.
si ns nipnox ihtf.n.
rut'ior- nne year.
rash in advance tl.so
I not p el within d rmw. "t
I col'n S mont hs...
is
nvrit I
if tint p'd within 6 mo. 2.UO
if not p'd within year.. 2.2.1
1 year
C months
1 vmr
4
l
l
rjyTo persons resiiinir outside the county
10 frts additional per car will be charged in
- t ,itnire.
j. fin no event will the nhnrc forma bo de-
i from, nnil those who don't consult their
c i Interests by naylnir it: r.dvanee muM not
r c( to ho p'nee 1 on the sam? f..oeinir as those
I iji. Lot this fact ho distinctly understood
r. -t this time torwnr.1.
-Pay I m- your paper before yon stop it, jf
"'; It y"'l rnn-t. None but Foabiwiurs do oth
Jrw.s. Hunt be a Healawa Iile'8 loo short.
Admin;
rr and Kxrcut'r Notices
Aud:nr N t !"-s
2 or
Stray and :milar Ntic l y-
Hns:ne?f itoin.. tirt in.er'l'n 1 'c. per line ; eaih
ub?oju'iit triTtun Sc. cr line.
l""'"' Krrhttltn Or prnrrciimrj of cfiu cn'pm-atil
or if irt . cTirf f omtnunn aitnnw tU wtli''fi to emit mitn
fmn ttf flr.v matter of Itmttrrt nt 7nt!iruijal tnf.frif,
nal br fait Jnr o& a(irrrtiir:nnT.
.Ion rniNTCNn of all kmd ni-atiy up.: eped tt
ously executed at Ixwtst pri'M-?. lon't yi.u I'Tuet
It.
H. A. McPIKE, Editor and Publisher.
'HE is a freeman whom the truth makes tree, and all are slaves beside.
SI.50 and postage per year, In advance.
VOLUME XV.
E HENS BURG, PA.. FRIDAY, AUGUST 19, 1SS1.
NUMBER 30.
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--I Chicago & Norlh-Weslern
KAII.WAV
Is the OLl'K.ST! i:l I tNSTIi t " TKI) : lif-ST
l:it'll TKI' ! nnd hetn-e the
LEADING RAILWAY
1 r THE
WEST AND NORTHWEST!
It ll thesh.irt :ind bi--r r."it.- between ( "hicng-o n nd !
' - ; p..int. in
; ' JIoHlifra IIMnoi". inwa. Kaknta, Hyomine, .
1 brxtl. ali nmi.i. Oreiron. Inlnrmln, I'tah,
. Alison, l lano . .Inntaua, Nevada, ami for i
! COUNCIL BLUFFS. OMAHA,
III.M IIS. I I IDIII.I.l:.
SALT I ,A Hll.SAX in AS CISCO,
' Denilnond. .Sioux City.
". Ctdar mn.''. ! V'liirt. I'l.htn'.ui. cnti nlr fm-.tt i
. . in the Tet nt.TU inn! in tnr H ist. Mm. for Milirtrti-
" kn;lirttn I n-hkn-h, M.i;;;;n. lrr,nrtte. rand
du Lac. P !n'-n. 1 t-uiu'ito n. .i rnnlt, Mena-;litl. St.
PvhI, Min :-(';i i. Il'n u'i. I o!:u. t-'iiraiK Ui'nt'rrk,
,i Winona, I : ' ' o-"rtn t. an'! nil tints it Min
, next a. Do ''''. " " " in st.
i ' At Con:. : i Mind- Iho Ti.nn--.il the Chienai.
r. . Niirth-We-'i r:i :ui. the 1 . r. K'yy ilepurt ItdIii,
arriTe at :ui ! n-'-'li' -ime wiiit I ni-m Ki pot.
AtChte.ii; . ! ' e..ime i.:,-; nre m.Tle w it h the
fcke Shore. M . min l'entr:i!. ll.iltininre ,v i i,jn,
it. WftTTr-1 :ir.'l l'enn-ylv:un:i. t'ln-'fti;.! t trmnd
- '" Trunk H i -, ar. I the Kunkakee an. I I'.in Handle
K!'e.
. . Hloe connection made at Junction Point.
It l tlie OSI.V I.I.M. rminin;-
V;i FCLLMAMIOTELI)IM(;CAi:S
' HKTW EES-
CHirAHO and COUNCIL BLUFFS.
Pulimnii Mfcptrs on all yitzUt Trains.
i In.at up'-n Tieket Aent. selling v.mi Tieke!
j Tta'thU r.'.id K:i:n(ne v,.ur I'lekew" nnd rtue
to bar i! thev d-. n.d r. ;id .. . r the :hie:iu N
N'rth-V '! tii b.nHv iv. '
Ifyo w!i h" ft- i' ravel insr A.Tomir.-vl.it'ona
yoi !il 1 1 v M.nr Tii ket-i bv tl.i.- r'.nte and will
-T K I-: Ni N i : i l H 1 l ."
-AJi 1'ieket Aifert- It Ti-'.-t f!.N Line
mi it i ni.niir.
:t l . I'-on-l tuna I,. .!,! I tin itin.
4-I5.J
Vi;sl'V.!!l).
F'y
.1
THE CREAT
J ltUllLTXGTOX IiOVTi:.
t'rT'N'o dhfr line runs Three Through Tniv.
!ejifer Train Daily boty.en t'hirniro, Des
Jl'ime, ( .inneil Ibnfl-i, ijinatia. I.incoln. St.
Joeph, At', his. nt, T p kn ami KuiiPii City.
I'n i-t 'tinf -t ioih for all point in K.innp,
N'd rasko. 'dortvlo. Wycnilnir. Montana, Ne-
,T l:i, New Mexico, Arizona, Idaho, Oregon orut
H ' fornia.
fhe Shortest , Spnr-dirt nnd JT st Comfort
I' Uotite vi:i ll iiinibt.i to Fort Seott, Tienioon,
lt. II. , n, An-tin. San Antonio, Galvc-
t! ind r;i p.iiot-f in Teim.
T;i" u n j '.i -t!.-d inducement"! offered by this
I 'K' to i riivci, r nnd Tourist", are as follows:
Tne t r:iti .1 I'lillinau (lO-wheel) I'olaeo
fteentntr t':ir. run only on this l.lnc. C, II. 4
t). I'niac. lr.iwinK-IC-u'm t ars, with t!ortfti's
KiTiinirc hairs. No extra rhnrirc for Sents
It l(-eip t'l- hairs. The fnmoits C. U. k Q.
Pntnoe I.iiir.L: ars. orreous Smok iri 'ard
' fltteil wrii Levant Hiirh-Iiarkeil luitrnil Ilc-
!siit h;urs f r the exclusive ue of f.rst-
cl-'-s p; -.-.i,.rs.
Steel "ir.ii fe and Surrrlor Equipment, rom-
taned w t!i their (treat Thromrh ( r A rrnnwe-
""r!. in ..1- t his, above all nt hors, t he favorite
lb Mite t" the South, touth-Wet.t, and iho Fur
Wet. :
Try it,-.--! vnu will fln l iravtlinr a luxury
In"t -!id ,i diecmfort.
'lhr nig', in kers vt:i this Celetiraterl Line
f'r . ii i,t :i: i iTi. es in the Tinted States aud
Cantdav
Ail inf rrn'ition nhout Hates of Fare, Sleep
I" ? Car .. . inmncliitioni. Time Taldes, fcj.,
wi;i he cl erfuhy irtvcii by applying to
J. Q. A. Ii;:.W. r;en-l F.a?Tern Atrent,
,i. .-, v l-hlML'to'l St., ffcisfon, M iss.
, iit d .17 Hroiidw.iv, New York
."AMESr-.. ;. i.i n. '!lys. Airt..4hieniro.
X. J. Ti n i;f. Oen. Mamncr, t'hM Hfc-o-
TO CARD ( OliMTORS!
Int. Il,,,, srrrn hot s ItOltltlXS
liCC'J 11 IV SfA ' your dro
ll er.
:,. 2d. riifii to tirr voir ti hill
rtt.
.. . -1,
' j 3d. Mail .s his hill nnl your
11 full iHhlres.
Jf trill moil you l'liCi:
CP
icii i beautif ni iitifl t lt ffif ctirtls,
e v-" in t; r futlofs iitnl fitilil. n iiiv iii'ii
r j.,
i
, . - ,.! ;,x--p it re s '.Srvrn Afrs of Jtlitn.'
: I. L. CRAGIN & CO,,
f tlO Houtlt I ,,,i, h JSt.,
1 i niu.Ani.i.riiiA. I'A.
,V a' - lr-JfHHlNs- ki.i.,-,
a '' Jcri'i'i it t iin...
OiIL'aIjIj I.VItl r I'M Iv
...t. I
'v:.r i
a i if i:.
i: i; than t i
bv -
. i Li
.5.- r-K
Il'J'"" i
r-: !
i i n i.i. si.i. )
Mirr l'.iit.u.l ( I,f TJJX
i ' IS in r Holt
;,l!fi i ,"'i,l'inH aia(lP, .s1.11, I roe.
'no
infe5 --I aiiuiiuiiicnt
U A i:t M i -k i, w-r .. . .
JH.ll'i A II, HKSf Aienne,
! l i i i i . i i . . . . ...
nrl -ri(ItlniM: Habit
-- .ii i" ii. ji.ii.-iy.. i en years..-
lAh.-flr lid e.tra.t W .i, ..!.
niCA&,' It.- XT . , ., o..:... Uf: .L.
D DDnrnnyno o titttt t inn
NEW ADVERTISEMENTS.
UNDI-R OATH.
A Startling Revelation of
SufteriDg.
"Oil, 3I.y God, IIoav
"I Earnestly Prayed to Die."
T hare been nMlieted for twenty years with nn
m obstinate Fkin disease, ealled by some I.'s
r.oria-ds, and by others Iepropy. eomtneneins on
my sealp. nnd. in spite of all I could do. with the
I help of the mot fkillfnl doetors, it slowly but sure
ly extended, until a year ao this winter it covered
my entire pfrwn in Torm of dry scales. For the
la?t three years 1 have been unable to do any la
hor, and suftcrinir Intensely all the time. I'.very
UK.rninit there coul.'. be nearly a dnstpanful o
scales taken front the phcet on my bed. some o
them half rs i arse as the envelupe containing the
letter. In the latter part or winter my skin com
menced eraekinsopen. I tried everything, almost,
that could be thought of, without any relief. The
I-'th of .Tuns I started West. In hopes I could reach
the Hot Springs. I reached Detroit, and was so
low I tho'inht I shonbl have to go to the hospital
but finally irnt as f;ir as I.ansinsr. Mieh . where I
ha.l a sifter livinir. One Dr. treated me about
two weeks, but dul me no irood. All thought I had
but a short time to live. I oarneatlv prnved to die.
( "racked thronah the kin all over mv back, across
my rib, arms, hands, limbs, feet badlv swollen,
toe-nails came otl. finirer-nn ils dead and hard as
I on", hair dead, dry and li Mess as old straw. (),
my (fod ! how I did suffer.
"My ?i'er. Mrs. K. II. Davis, had a small part
of a box of (Tiiticnra in the house. She wouldn't
aive nil : said ' We will try Ciiticnra.' Some was
applied toone hand and arm. Kureka ! there was
re'icf: stopped the terrible horning sensation from
tl word to. Thev Immediately trot the Resolv
! ent. ( 'lit icura and Soap. I commence.! bv takinir
. one table'piKinful of the Kesolvent three'times a
day, after meals: had a bath once a dav. water
I about bl.M.d heat ; ii-od Ciiticnra Soap freelv : ap
plied ( 'nticura morninir and eveninir. Henlt. re
turned to my home in jnsTix week-from tirrie I
lett. with my skin n smooth as thi sheet of paper
"HIHAM K. CAKI'KXTKH.
"Henderson. JefTerson Co., N. Y."
Sworn to before me this pth dav of January.
lsx- A. .M. i.EmxawF.i.L.
Justice of the Peace.
io 1 1 limit ii .A.-orc-
t'an so sprei lily, permanently- and eeonomicallv
eleanse the Hlood. clear the ( 'timplexion and Skin.
1 restore the Hair, and cure everv species of Itchinsr.
I S.-aly and Serdiilous Ilnmors'ef the Skin. Scslp
. a n.l lil.iod a-- the ( 'tit icura Itemed ics, consist itisi nf
' Cithtiu Hksoi.vkmt, the new Hlood I'nriner. and
( t rutnv and t'tTiiiiiA Soau. the (Jreat Skin
Cures. Ak your rtrnur-ist nh.oit them. Kiirht
here in this town yon may hnd evidences of their
. wonderful healing powers.
. K..r Sunburn. Tan ami ( rcav Skin n-e ffTtof
n Soat. a e.piis,te toilet, bath and mir'erv san
at'vc, r,-:..rit't with ipdicinus flower odors and
lieabn-r balsams.
Cut:, nra Kerned ;0 are (or sale bv all drni!r;st s.
I 'rice of Cctii ii:a. a Medieinnl Jellv. small boxes
i ;".o-. : larsre boxes. $ . Ci tu i ha l( v.sovrnt. the
new Hlood l'uritier. 1 per bottle. Ci TiovnA Mv
ni in-a i. Ton. kt So . r. j:.c. fx ti. nn Mchkinm.
SinviMiSiur.1',.: in bars Tor barbers an. I larire
cc.n.-iimers, r.oc Hrineipal ilepot,
W-pl4s .V Potior, lioston. Masisi.
AI1 mailed tree on receipt of price.
C0ULFJVS
One of COLMN'S' A'oltaic
F.t.rrTRU Pt.ASTKits. eostinir
cents, is far superior to
every other electric appli
ance before the nuMie Thev
instantly rc.ieve 1 y pepsin. I.iver Complaint.
1 laria. Fever and Airne.and ki.lnevand T'rinarv
DKfi -nlries. and mav be worn over the pit ol the
. ft, much, over the k id neyp. or an v af ccted part.
; I'rieo. '." ee. S-d-i evervn here. Weeks A lot
j ler, Itoslon, la'iH. S-S.-ltn.j
IT.'ilt1i AA'onltli!
Dt. F.. C. WrsT'f N'rrtvtsiK xt Hntx Jttr.u.
mi nt a .peelfle for Ilviterin. lezine.-n.'c.in-.
vul-lono. Nervous Headache. Mental Depression.
! I.o-sof Memory. Spi rniatorrlma. Dnpotencv. In
i voluntary lanissions. I'ren ature ( )ld Aire, caused
, by over exertion, self-abuse, or over indulgence,
which leads to misery, decay and death. One box
will cure recent cases. Kach box contains 1 month's
treatment. ( ne dollar per box. or six boxes for live
' dollars; sent by mail prepaid on receipt of price.
"We iruar:intee six boxes to cure any ease. W ith
. each order received by us for six boxes, accompa
nied by five dollars, we will s(.n. the purchaser
our written iruarantee to return the money if the
! treatment does not effect a cure. Oiiarantcc ts
! sued onlv when treatment is ordered direct Irotn
ll. Address .( 111 X ('. KS T i CO.. Sole Propri
etors. 1M IS.-. W. aladiscii St.. Chicago. Til. Sold
. by a II druirisss. Smith. Ki.isr fc Co.. Wholesale
Aifcnts. I'hilndelphla. S-ft,'81.-ly.
sroo jm:avai m :
"T'l'TT ivill f r, y t!r rtftnvo for nrv rnso f
M Ii vor Vfn i in t, I ypi; i. Sick TljnlriPhn,
I ii-! it: i,c' ii v-sr ' t ;tt f on or ( 'o-t i Qnr wo n r.nf t
ruro with Wont's A ". 'j-ofaMe Tjiver I'ills, w hen the
i (lin-rtion nrc strifily cim1il with. Tlioy nrc
t-iirrly vrir''tnMo. nnd never to a-i vp nt ifn.-t'i'n.
Siiifir ( ".itc. J-aiirf Hxs. pc ntninina" ro I Mils,
pf. K'r nlp !y nil Irniriiti'. liownre f roiin-
tvrfi'itprs nnl hnitnrs. 'I'Iip ironninp tmnnuf-i--)
turo.l (,nl v l-v .T HIV V KST & ' "The Pill
."Makers." 1M .V lsr. W. TtlndifMn St.. ChiPairo. Kroe
, trinl (inrkno sont hy mail jircpaid n roccipt of a
3 cent sitamp. IH-.Ssi.-iy. j
I It A YARD TAYLOR, Vovt ami Trnrcllor,
' Saiil : ' I take creat pleasure in recommending to
t arent the Academv of Mr. Swithin C Short
lidae." II.u. l l ltAM)(t tVOOD. M. ..
' Sahl fl8H')' "I cheerri'Hy consent to thouseof my
. name as reference. Mv boys will return to you
i (l.-r fourth vcir) after their vacation.'
For pew I llustrated Circular address S WITH.
l . MIOII I I IDl;!. A. ti.. Harvarrl I ni
erity (iradnate, Hedia, Pa. la miles from I'hila.
IS20.00 SAVED! $20.00
?T R2O.0O SAVIII bv purchas
ing a SI.WINt J1AC11IM: from
the undersiirned. whose office is at
14 I;ieventh Avenue, between
18th and 17th Sts.. Ai.toosa. Pa..
and who errors the Fditor of the
('asiukia Fhkemam as reference.
I. McOltA'l II.
Alloona, April 1.1, lM.-tf.
IXFX T TOirs NOTICE.
F.state ol ATonaoa Ior-L ass. dee'd.
Ketfers testatneutary lmvimr been issued to the
t undersigned on the estate of Monnea 'KrtiKlass,
l ite of Allegheny township. Icceased. all eions
; Indebted to said estate are hereby notified that
I immediate payment must he made "and those hav
, ini! rlaims neain't the same will present them le
j i lly authenticated for sett lement.
W. A. H. I.iTTI.K, Kxecutor.
Allegheny Twp., Ann. 0, lssi.-et.
j Desirable Property for Sale.
fPHK undersigned wi.,c to.oll his M1T.I. I'KO
J PKKTY. I.jcated at Millwood, Westmoreland
! Coiintv. on the Hue of the l H. H. ; suitable lor a
j merchant mill. Is In an excellent Krnin countrv,
i near to rood markets, ha three run of stones (one
not in repair), a copious stream of water, and an
I excellent engine. WM. IKJ.ViNKI.l.Y
I Millwood, July '."S, s.sl.-2m.
JANT) FOi; SAIJ:. TIk? undpisijrn
J ed has i Arrostof land lylnji betwoen I.e-
retro and Chest Si.rlnirs which ho will sell very
I cheap and on easv terms. There are about foi:ty
A ' hfs cb ired. the balance hcinit well covered with
saw timber, principally hemlock. For further In
i t .rmath.n -h1I on or vl'drcs? F. A. STOKM,
j July 1.'.. -tr. Iirctto. Pa.
imh IdlklT.I'ME, .. V.
Kill Till I IBIK tl. FltlTATIOSOF WO-KS. Kx-
niiiinrilM.iis f. .r .... .... .. .
aiiiinntiotid f..r entran
sent on applieatoin t.j
Aux. 6. 11. -2ui.
..ei,i, i4Tii. i arazottilcs
W. I,. HKA, Keg-ihtrar.
Rl:iirtillf (I'a.) I.ndics' Soinfnarj.
Heautllul grounds. eomino.iiou bmldinBS
llp.lrhiul location, THoRI,rin i nstrVi tiost
Thirty first year bemns Spteniber 14 1I Ap
ply lor Catalogue, to Hkv. T. K. hVlN' j
July i:., ll.-Oin. Principal
$2
W.fi-t!... Sfrmwin1.
I .. I -i. (tM ti..
$. Wh-T. m.f l Ftnntinf r...
f'.r ye.-r rtwn -i . Rn.r.ii.i.,( r ' p" V.I n.i.l t-
lecucfr.. 1IIOHIMl A HI., 112 asa. V. lork.
want F a sent in every town to sell a valua
l ie article. No money re.tilred until iroods are
cold. Addrc8 P. O. ibinr :.',9, New York City
HK AT TY'SOItliAS, IS useful stop.. 5 sets reeds,
rww i only f C,:,. Pianos $12,1 up. A-I!lus.
maiv, t Et. AtiareiibeMtty.ttaeli.ijgt Bi.ps .J.
A ("II APTKK IS RK VL LIFE.
A summer seldom passes tliat the cry of
"mad dog .'" is not heard in some direction
or another : and many and stringent arc the
poliee recti lations put in force to guard
acainst the perils of hydrophobia. More
than one unhappy doc:, innocent of anything
except friuht or thrist, panic at heins hunted
or havinr; lost his way or his master, has fal-
i ion a victim to mistaken zeal. One day dur
I inp; last summer a peddler womin walking
j alone; the road observed a dog belonging to
the neighborhood, trotting calmly before her.
J She knew who was his owner and also that
the animal was not far from home. A grassy
j bank was beside the footpath, and in this
! bank was a wasps' nest. The dog in pass
i ing it must have disturbed the insects, which
flew out upon him, clustering around his
head and stinging h'm about the eyes, ears,
and nostrils. The poor animal, frightened
and in pain, sprang forward, rushing on with
wild contortions of agony, A policeman
coming up at the moment saw him fly past,
his tongue hanging out, his eyes protruding.
"Mad dog !" he cried, and the poor beast was
shot dead before the screaming woman, run
ning breathless to the rescue, could explain
what she had seen.
"And a sore pity it was," she said. "As
honest and faithful and as handsome a dog
as ever stepped before its own tail. Not so
mad, indeed, as the man that was in such a
hurry to shoot him."
Of all the changes which modern and more
enlightened times have brought about, there
is none happier than that affecting the treat
ment of sufferers attacked with hydrophobia.
The writer of this is old enough to remem
ber by-gone tragedies connected with those
victims t'lat make one shudder. There was
no hope for the unfortunates. Death was
the doom ; and at the first symptoms, the
hapless victims were ruthlessly destroyed ;
suffocation between feather-beds being the
usual mode ! An occurrence in humble Irish
i life, remembered still in the parish where it
l took place, and for the truth of which many
j can vouch, will illustrate painfully the above,
j The narrative will be best given in the words
! of one of the family who was present at the
j time.
! Myself was in the house where it all hap
i pened, being first cousin to Mrs. Ityan, the
' mistress. A comfortable farm it was, and
; she well-to-do : with cows und other stock
in plenty, and good land. Ityan had been
j dead some years, and she mannered it all : a
j clever, brisk, stirring woman. She'd be up
; anii out in her dairy at .T o'clock in the sum
: mcr mornings, to get the butter off the churn
' in the cool of the day and then away with
her across the fields to visit the cattle and
1 oversee the laborers at their work. Many a
smart young fellow would have been proud
to help her, and right glad to step into Ryan's
shoes if he was let. For she was pleasant
to look nt, as comely as she was industrious:
j tiny and trim, and wonderful at making and
laying by money. But though she had a gay
, word for them all, and was blithe and cheery
; as the day, they soon found that coming
i courting to the winsome young widow was
i only wasting their time. She wouldn't listen
j to man or mortal. Her whole heart and life
were bound up in her one child a lovely
jboj. Ii was easy to see by the look that
' would come into her face, and the light and
the love in her eyes as they followed him
j wherever he went, that she hadn'ta thought
; to give to any beside. lie was the entire
j world to her. Every penny she could make
I or save was for him ; ami late and early she
worked to keep all things about the farm in
the best order until he was old enough to
! take it up.
A fine, handsome child he was, merry as a
bird, full of spirits and fun. lie doted on
his mother, and maybe she wasn't pround of
him ! Kvery one loved him, even the ("umb
animals, he was so good-natured and kindly
j joyous and bright, like sunshine in the
; house. There's something in the young and
I their ways that the heart warms to, naturally.
As time wore on, young Ryan grew to be
: handy and helpful about, the place, and
knowledgeable concerning farm business.
lie was rii-ing sixteen years old, a good
; scholar, and a fine, well-grown, active lad,
' when there came a wonderful hot summer,
' and rumors were rife about mad dogs seen
' going through the country, and of the terri
; hie mischief they did. Cows were bitten,
; and pigs ; Christians were attacked, and a
: neighboring fanner lost two valuable hoi ses,
i that went mad after being bitten, and had
i to be destroyed. FeOD'c were everywhere
in dread and on the watch.
One morning just after the hay was gath
ered in and safe, herself and the boy were
together in the yard, working away as busy
; as bees. They were seldom asunder now ;
; for he had done with schooling, and they
.always kept one another company just like
I a pair of comrades. There were only nine
' teen years' difference between the ages of
. the two. Talking merrily they went over
their work, and laughing he was full of his
i i
loKes wnen a man came tearing mho ine
3-ard. crying out that a mad dog was in the
place, and was making straight for the field
the cows were in. Quick as lightning the
boy caught up a pitchfork and away with it
like a shot to the field. His mother flew
after him, shrieking out to him to stop, and
shouting to the men to follow. But he was
as light of foot and nimble as a deer ; and
before ever a one could overtake him, he
came up with the dog. The great animal
faced savagely round npon the lad when lie
made at h;m w ith the pitchfork, and bit and
tore with fury- Rut the brave boy grappled
with hiin and had him pinned to the ground
before the men came up and gave the finish
ing stroke.
"Now, mother dear," be cried in glee "the
cows are safe ! Another minute and the brute
would have been into them !"
Rut the poor mother wasn't heeding the
cows, when her darling son, for whom she'd
have given all she was worth in the wide
world, was there before her eyes all bloody
and covered withfoamfrom the beast's mouth.
She washed and bathed the bites, the boy
laughing at her the while, and saying they
were nothing. And nothing tnere was for a
time. But what all dreaded and were look
ing out for in trembling, came at lat. lie
knew it himself, the poor fellow t It was
pitiful to see how he strove and fought man
fully against it, and forced himself to drink,
when the sight of water or any liquid was
unltearable. He'd try and try to swallow,
though it strangled him. No use ! he could
not get down a drop ; and the convulsions
were dreadful. At length he grew violent,
and went raving mad altogether ; and hand
and foot they had to tie him, to prevent his
doing himself orjothers a mischief.
The doctor came ; but what could he do?
He was a good-natural man, and gave many I
a sixpence and shilling to those lie knew
needed nourishment more than drugs, but no
one thought much of his physicing. Teople
said he had but the one medicine, and that
he gave it to all alike, no matter what ailed
them. Not that there was any harm in that,
for it stands to reason that what would do
good to one Christian couldn't be bad for an
other. When any of the quality were sick,
they sent right away off to the city for the
grand doctor there ; but our parish man was
good enough for the poor.
Anyhow, not al! the doctors in creation
could bo of any use to the dear young mas
ter. There was but the one thing for him
his doom was sealed. And now the question
was, how it was to be done. Three ways
were spoken of. To smother him between
two feather beds, or else carry him down to
the river and drown him, or to open a vein
and let him bleed to death. The mother
wouldn't hear of the smothering, When it
was proposed to her you'd think she'd go
out of her senses. Indeed, for the matter of
that, it was much the same whatever plan
they talked of : they couldn't drag consent
out of her to any of them. God help her !
'twas a cruel strait to be in. At long last,
and after much debate, it was settled that a
vein should be opened, and when it was done
the poor fellow laid upon a bed of straw in
an outhouse in the yard was left to die !
Oh, but that was the day of woe ! The
misery of it and the despair of a distracted
mother, if I was talking till doomsday I
couldn't describe. Her neighbors and cous
ins and the lad's uncles flocked in, and were
all gathered around her in the best parlor,
striving to comfort her. They made strong
tea, in hopes to get her to swallow some.
They tried to raise her heart, telling her of
the grand funeral he'd have hundreds and
hundreds coming to it from far and near
the handsomest coffin money could buy, real
oak, with brass ornaments, and such a wake
as was never seen in the country before ; no
expense spared ! Rut you might as well talk
to the dead in the clay. She didn't hear a
i word, but sat there without tear or moan
j only her mouth working with the agony
within just a frozen up, stony image of
j Despair ! And j on 'd hardly know her, she
j was so changed. The bright, smooth, eome-
ly face all drawn and wrinkled like an old
crone's and ghastly pale. Sure it was no
j wonder, when all she loved upon eaith was
! dripping out his young life within a stone's
j throw of her.
j When they saw it was of no use, they let
i the poor woman alone. A glxmy silence
fell upon the sorrowful company as they sat
i there waiting waiting for the end. The
! minutes seemed like hours. There was no
j stir, except when now and then somebody
j would whisper under his bteath about the
dying boy ; how pleasant he VNns, and gay ;
how generous and open-handed he'd been.
Rut no matter how sorrowful the house,
ot what woe and misery are within the
walls, the business of life must co on. So
when milking-time came, Kitty McCabe, the
dairy woman though the. heart in her body
was breaking slipped out to call the milk
girls and see the cows. Coming back thro'
the yard when the milking was done, she
had to pass by the out?iouse where they had
laid the boy, and for the life of her she
couldn't help stopping to try and listen how
it was with him, and whether he was in
heaven yet. There was no sound. Strict
orders had been given that no one was to go
in ; but the door was not locked, and she
thought she'd j.ist give it a small shove and
take one look. It was an old crazy door,
contrary, and ill-fitting, and at the first push
it gave a great squeak and made so sharp
noise that she was frightened, and tried to
pull it back again. The sight, too, of the
blood trickling upon the floor made her gid
dy and sick.
"Is that you, Kitty McCabe ?" came in a
weak, faint whisper from the far end.
Her heart leaped up at the voice she never
thought to hear again.
"Aye, is it, my life ! my darling! jewel o'
the world ! and she pushed in, never heeding
the orders against it, or the trouble and dis-
I grace she was bringing on herself.
j "Oh, Kilty, I'm lost with the thirst ! Have
you any milk ?"
"To be sure I have, darling lashins !"
and she ran and rilled a jug full. He drain-
ed it every drop, and then called for more,
j "I'm better new, but weak as water. I'n-
tie me, Kitty, and I'll try sit up. Don't bo
! afraid. Some more milk now ; it is doing
me good."
He struggled up, and leaned the poor
white face against her shoulder while she
put the jug to his lips. They were pale as a
corpse's as if every drop of his blood had run
out. The milk seemed to revive hin. She
thought he'd never stop drinking. After
awhile he said : "Go now, Kitty, and tell my
mother I'm well quite well. Something
has cured me. Or stop ! I'll try and go my
self if I'm able. She won't be frightened,
will. she, and think it's my ghost?"
"Heart's darling I 'tis clear wild with the
joy she'll be ! Rut stay, jewel, till I've
bound me handkerchief tight over acainst
the cruel cut. There now, master dear."
"Reach me orer that big stick in t'.ie cor
ner, and I'll lean down upon you, Kitty, and
make shift, somehow to creep along and
supported by the woman, he began with fee
ble footsteps to totter across the yard.
Housed by a cry from one of the company
his mother looked up, and caught sight of
the boy helped past the window. Staggering
blindly in, he fell into her outstretched
arms; and as they closed convulsively round
his half-fainting form, and she held him
folded to her breast fast locked and strain
ed to her all who were present and looked
on knew that she would never part with hiin
more.
And she never did. Krom that day out,
sign or symptoms of the madness never ap
peared, though he was long in recovering
his strength, and had to be nursed and tend
ed like an infant. He had, you see, bled
such a power that it was the world's work
to bring him to. When the doctor fixed up
the cut he was almost gone. A minute
more and it would have been too late. The
doctor said that all the poison of the dog's
bite had flown out of him with the blood ;
but what dii he know? Anyhow, there
wasn't a healthier, or a handsomer, or a
finer man than himself in the whole barony
when he came to his full age ; over six feet
in his stocking vamps, and broad-shouldered
in proportion. But it was remarked by eve
ry one that his mother was never the same
after the terrible day when he was tied in
the outhouse to die.
The trail of the serpent is over all human
ity. Man comes naked into the world, is
snaked through life, and goes naked out of It.
DREAM OR TRANCE.
The lurid, deceptive gleams of the setting
sun faded away ; the grey fog slowly drifted
baek again, and soon settled into a pitiless
drizzle, worse even than anything that had i
come before. i
For a whole week seven days and nights i
we at Bar Harbor had watched the sky, at j
least we had watched it whenver the shifting j
fogs permitted us a glimpse of heaven above. !
The weatherwise now shook their heads j
and Captain Rodick himself no longer ven- j
tured to enliven us with, a cheerful promise '
of a 'sunny day to-morrow, and a sky, miss, j
every bit ai blue as your eye.' !
By far the greater number of girls and the j
men were still unoccupied, when suddenly
some one of course a woman had a bright
thought, and the words "Stories ghoststor
ies !" were passed about.
Finally, the small parlor was taken violent
possession of, and all persons who would
give no promise of personal exertion for the
entertainment of the evening, were politely
informed that a good fire and bright lights
were burning elsewhere.
At last, every body was ready to listen ;
but who should begin ? The drawing of lots
was suggested, and the first story was told
by a saturnine individual, who made us all
shiver by a very clever talc in which skele
tons and skulls played no mean part.
"Fanny," saidja wanly voice from the fur
ther corner of the room, "yon remember that
pretty girl who used to visit at Aunt Cora's
in Beacon street when you were a child ?
She certainly has an air of being gifted with
second sight ; and yet I can tell you of some
thing connected with her that is inexplica
ble by any known laws that govern the uni
verse. Some years ago I went into Aunt
Dora's one winter's night, just before din-:
ner, and found aunty in great distress. Old '
John, her coachman, had gone off suddenly I
on one of his periodical sprees, and she had
no one to send to the station to meet Miss S., i
who was going to pay a long-talked of visit, j
"Aunty," I said, "don't fret; I will go ;
with pleasure. I easily set asi.le her objec- !
tions that I had never seen the expected
guest and, after asking her to describe
Miss S., I hurried off, reaching the station j
just in time to see the long passenger train i
come in. I walked quickly through the cars, i
and had little or no difficulty in finding Miss j
S. rrotnpt, however, as I had been in my j
successful efforts, some one was before nie,
and as I reached the young lady I found her i
greeting, with no little agitation, my old
friend, I'hil Andrews. I waited for a mo
ment before either of them noticed me, and :
then, going forward, introduced myself to
tho lady, and was kindly received.
"I saw enough, however, in the brief mo- !
ments we three stood together to convince '
me that neither of them would have com
plained of Aunt Dora had she neglected to
send for her guest. I was afterwards told '
that MissS. and Thil were engaged, and only j
waited until prudence permitted them to
marry. All these facts were, however, at
that lime, only guessed at by me, and had I
known them I certainly could not have found
therein any explanation of the state of pain
ful agitation into which Miss S. was evident- j
ly plunged." '
"What is it, sweetheart," I heard Phil j
whisper. "Are you ill?" i
I "No, no," she answered huskily. "I ara 1
J foolish and nervous."
j "Has any one dared to insult you?" ask- j
I ed Phil with a ferocious air.
I "Indeed, no," said MissS. ; "it is the same
! old story."
! Phil looked troubled and annoyed, but
I said no more, and Miss S. turned away si
lently, struggling for composure. The lug
gage was at last found, and we all soon
stood in my aunt's wanned, well-lighted and
flower-scented rooms.
Aunty received Miss S. with loving arms,
and I heard her say, "Well, dearie, has all
gone well with you to-day ?"
That something definite was intended by
the question was certain from the earnest
ness of the girl's tone as she answered "A tint
Dora" all younc people called her aunt
"I could never have summoned courage to
travel by rail to-day, had it not been to visit
you."
Phil took his leave, and Miss S., accom
panied by her hostess, soon went to her own
apartment, my aunt becging me to remain
until she came down again, which, however,
was not until I hail grown veiy tired wait
ing for her.
Auntie came in with a worried expression
on her gentle face.
"Were I in the least superstitious," she
said, as she took the easy chair I had drawn
toward the fire for her, "I should implore
MissS.never to put her foot in a railway car
again. I must tell you the strancest story, j
I don't know whether to call it a dream or a
trance. You will doubtless put it down as j
mere imagination ; it is nevertheless true
that. Miss S. has never traveled by train with-
out having a most singular dream. The !
dream in itself is most singular because of j
its vividness ; but more, singular from tho I
fact in its many repetitions the details never
vaiy." i
But, I exclaimed, with, I admit, lament- I
1 . . . i ! . . i, . i . e I
auie liu h oi c.. in. iiiii , niiyui ine name in
wonder is Miss S. so stupid as to go to sleep
in the cars if their motion or noise gives her
bad dreams?
"She does nut really sleep," cried my aunt
energetically ; "she is, I think, in a mesmer
ic trance." J
"Pshaw !" I answered, "that is all non- i
sense. Iet us have the dream, however." j
And my aunt, prefacing her story with the j
entreaty that Miss S. should never know that j
the subject had been mentioned to me, went
on to say that Miss S. could only be induced '
to Rive a vague description of the noise, hur
ry and confusion, of pain and anguish, not
as endured by herself, but as going on about
her. From all this confusion, however, soon
emerged one central figure, and that a wo
man's head, crowned Dy a braid of blonde
hair fastened by knots of black velvet. This
head seemed to be elevated above a surging
crowd, and to be borne slowly past the win
dows of the car.
"Of course," said my aunt, "I had told
her that she had fallen asleep, and that she
had dreamed of some tragic event in the
French revolution of the Princess Lam
belle, perhaps."
"But aunt-," I questioned, "is the head
seen but onee in each dream? And whose
are the features of the face ?"
"The head," answered my aunt gravely,
'is carried on a pike, as it were, many times
to and fro. Or, as Miss S. describes the
scene, a procession of heads all alike and
giving the impression of being one and the
same, are being borne past the windows of
the car in the glare of tlie torches. The poor
child has never seen the features, for the
face is always covered by a delicate, half
transparent handkerchief, in the corner of
which is a coronet and cipher of delicate em
broidery. Miss S. says she is conscious of a
vivid curiosity at each re-occurrence of that
dream only as to the cipher on the hand
kerchief ; she never thinks whose features it
veils."
"I dare not," continued my aunt, "coun
sel her never to travel by rail, lest I should
inspiro her with fears, which hithcito she
has never felt. For alas ! I feel absolutely j a bake-pan for the Saturday loaf of raisin
certain that some accident will happen her." I cake.
"Some fearful accident will happen to
me," I said, laughing, "if I sit loncer by this
too tempting fire. I must be off and to bed,
for I have a long journey before me to-morrow."
The next morning I went South and was
detained there week after week. Spring in
fact leached Roston befoie I did. Of course
I at once went to call on Aunt Dora, whom
I found rather out of spirits and lonely, as
Miss S. had left her a day or two before,
having been summoned to the far West by
an invalid sister.
While we sat talking in the soft dusky twi
light the servant entered with the evening
paper. I took it from his hand and careless
ly opening it, my eyes fell upon the heading,
Fearful Railroad Accident.
First on the list of killed was the name of
Miss S. My aunt saw my agitation and in
sisted upon being told Its cause. Thankful
enough was I that she was not alone when
the intelligence reached her.
"And Phil," I said, hurriedly reading on,
only to find his name among the injured.
Weeks passed before Phil was sufficiently
recovered to be brought to his mother's
house, and a still longer time elapsed before
the name of Miss S. passed his lips.
''You remember," he said to me one night,
breaking a long and sad silence, "you remem
ber the strange and persistent warning re
ceived by Christine warnings to which she
paid little or no heed, to which we were so
shamefully indifferent but do you know,"
he continued, "all the details of thetragedy.
I must unseal my lips to you now, for if I lie
here brooding over the mystery in solitude
and horror of it all, I shall go mad."
In vain did I beg my poor friend to wait
until he was stronger.
I shall never be stronger," he exclaimed,
"until I have spoken. You know, " he mur
mured, as a convulsive shudder shook the
bench on which lie lay, "that Christine was
killed instantly but do you know that I was
not at her side at the moment of the acci
dent ; I was in the smoking car. and was not
myself hurt at the time. My injuries were
received afterward, from the fall cf a bnrn
inc beam in the station house. When Miss
S. was found the body was decapitated, the
guillotine itself might have done the dread- j
ful deed. In my anguish no thought of her i
dreams came to me. But when a pity-
ing woman's hand, veiled with tender rever- j
ence the grave tranquil features of my dead
love, and I saw the masses of har all undis
turbed, there came a flash of memory." j
Phil was silent. At last he spoke. "Give ;
me the desk, dear friend."
Reluctantly and with some fears I gave it
to him. ne took from it with trembling, ema
ciated fingers, a small package. Ueverent
Iy opening it, be unfolded a delicate hand
kerchief. In the corenet, under it the ciph
er all as had been forshadowed to Miss S.
"Yes," said Phil's trembling voice, "here
it is. That day we noticed a French wo
man, evidently of rank, w hose seat was near
ours, and she it was who completed the
dream's fu!fillm"nt.
As Phil uttered these words, his sister en-
tered the room with temporary injunctions
to silence.
"I was permitted to clasp his hand in warm
sympathy and to say good night to him as
I now do to you all." And the speaker hast
ily left the room.
A Rir OF ROMANCE.
In IStli, when people's thoughts were bent
on war, Captain Yick raised a company of
volunteers in the parish of Lafourche for ser
vice in the Confederate States army known
as the Lafourche Guards. Among t lie in was
a young man residing near Lafourche Cross
inc, named Hilda Bourceois. In the vicissi
tudes of the rebellion Bourgeois was ma le a
prisoner of war by the Federal troops at the
bloody battle of Franklin, Tennessee, lie
was taken to the Northern prisons, in which
many a Confederate soldier passed long and
lonesome days ruminating over the ups and
downs of a soldier's life. This restraint did
not suit young Bourgeois, and in order to is
sue beyond the prison walls he agreed to
take the oath of allegiance and join the Fed
eral army' with the stipulation that he was
not to be sent against the Confederates. He
was assigned to some company of the Feder
al army that was on duty in the AVestern
plains or Rockv Mountains, watching the
arTo, C "Lo tlrmigU'pwhr
around, infringing on the forbidden grounds
in search of prairie docs and human scalps.
News ot Bourgeois, after leaving his prison,
never reached his friends, who liad ci ven up
all hopes of ever seeing him again, suppos-
ing that his scalp was adorning the trophies
of some brave of the "Lo" trine in the far
est.
Some months ago, to his own and everv
one else's surprise, his brother, residing near
Raceland, received a letter from him stating
that he had a home in California and was
wealthy ; that he had ships upon the seas
earrying rich argosies to different lands;!
that from the bowels of the ear th gold and j
silver treasures were in his reach, and that lie i
was anxious to see aud hear of the friends !
of his youth and the relatives he left behind
in the cane-fields and orange groves of Louis
iana. He tendered a pressinci'mvilationlto
his brothers to come to him in his Western
home, where he would give them employ,
ment to support themselves easily and com
fortably. The contents of this letter appear
ed more like a vision than a reality to those
to whom it was written. One of his broth
ers replied to him that he was willing to go ;
that he was a widower and had four children
under his charge, for whom he would have
to provide homes before leaving Lafourche.
Another warm invitation was sent for him to
come to 1ns home with his childien ; to leave
none behind : that all would be provided
for. The brother wrote that he was anxious
to go, and that be had a younc friend who
was desirous to accompany him, but that
neither had nor could raise the money to
make the trip. This letter was answered by
a check on the bank in California for ?70i,
with a request to hasten and bring his friend
with him. The check was presented to a
bank in New Orleans, which telegraphed to
the bank in California upon which the check
was drawn, inquiring if it was good. The
answer came back over the wires: "Ronr
geois's check is good ; pay it." With this
money the brother left for the California
home, taking his four children with him.
Accompanying liim was Felix Le Rlano, son
of the late Etierne Le Rlanc, a very worthy
young Creole of Lafourche. They have been
at their Western destination for a month or
more. Ronrgeois received them in priucely
style and hospitality, and had positions for
them at once, with gitod salaries attached.
Tbibodnux (Louisiana) Sentinel.
"now are you to day ?" "Not very well.
"Go for a bottle of Reruna and be well."
INCLE M ALAC'III'S MONEY.
It was the third of May, a brilliant spring
day, witli the jonquils and daffodils all in
blossom, the great white peonies, bursting
like balls of snow through their green calyx
es, and the grass on the upland pastures as
soft and delicately-tinted as velvet ; and
even poor Mrs. Crofton, wearied and over
worked though she was, felt somewhat of
the
sweet spring influences pass into her I
soul, as she stood on the door-sill, buttering
"It s a loveiy day !" said Mrs. Crofton.
"And somehow the smell o' them daffy- 1
dow nd d'ies reminds me of when I was a j
girl. Dear.'dear ! how time flies, to be sure !
Rut there's a touch of chill in the air, all the
same ; and I doubt if it's safe for Uncle
Malachi to sit out much longer." '
And she went, bake-pan and all, around '
the corner of the l.ouse, to the paved space
in front of the south wing, where in a wood
en arm-chair, sat a little old man, yellow
faced and wrinkled, with a one-sided wig
pulled over his left eye, a patch-woik-covpr-ed
pillow at his back, and a woolen blanket
wrapped around him.
"You'd better let'me wheel you in, I'ncle
Malachi," said she, listlessly. "It's getting
sort o' chilly, as the sun shifts round to the
other side of the house ; and you've been
out here a good hour."
"I won't go in !" said I'ncle Malachi. pet
tishly. "It's pleasant here, and I'm peace
able and content. It's the strangest thing I
ever saw that people can't be satisfied to let
me alone. Miles I.arkens' son was by here
not ten minutes ago, chattering and cackling
about the weather. What business of his is
the weather? And why the old rat can't he
let me alone ? Does he s'pose I don't know
he's after the little bit of money I may leave ?
Bah !" with a movement of disgust. "I can
tell 'em all they wont get a cent of it :"
Mrs. Crofton's dim eyes lighted up with a
gleam of excitement.
"Uncle Malachi," said she, "how much
money have you got, anyhow?"
The old man screwed up his withered
features, like an attenuated monkey.
"Ah-h-h !" said he : "don't you wish you
knew? But you don't know. No.norjou
won't : P'raps its fifty cents p'raps it's
fifty dollars. Anjh.iw, it's nobody's busi
ness but mine. Nettie will have it. 1 shall
tell Nettie where it is, e.r.ie day. But i.ot
yet no, no, not yet '."
"Won't you let me wheel your chair in,
I'ncle Malachi ?" persisted Mrs. Crofton.
"No," snarled the old man, "1 won't :"
Mrs. Crofton was quite Used to this si-it of j
rebuff, and to.-k no notice of it ; she only
t went back to her kitchen, with a sigh.
Ten years ago, she ai d her l.-d-baiul had
given up their homestead to come and take
care of Unole Malachi Miller, who was sup
posed, then, to be dvirg of old age.
"Whatever I have will be yours when I'm
gone," said the old man ; "and it won't be
long it won't be long 1"
But Uncle Maluchi's words proved Incor
rect. Ten years passed by. Mrs. Crofton
wore herself out in taking care of him : Mr.
i Crofton grew bent and old trying to grind a
living out of the stony fields and melancholy
swamps of the Miller farm : and Nettie, the
tall, blooming dauchter, attempted to eke
out the family funds by her slender salary as
a school teacher; and Uncle Malachi sat on
the old stone pavement In the sunshine, mut
tering to himself, and seeming to take no
heed of the outer world.
When Mr. Crofton came in to get his din
ner he went fo- I'ncle Malaciii.
"He's been settin' out there long enough,"
' said be : "he's a dreadful trial, but we ruusn't
j let him get the rheumatiz."
; Rt when they went together to the sunny.
stone-paved yard, the old man sat there,
quite dead, with his glazed eyes staring
straight before him and his jaw dropped on
his breast.
"Dead, eh?" the neighbors commented in
chorus. "Well, I s'pose you'll come iu for
the property now, Mrs, Crofton ?"
"1 suppose we should," said Mrs. Crofton.
feebly : "only nobody knows where it is."
It was true. The wrinkled, little, old hu
man magpie had kept his secret to the last,
and his niece and her daughter were as poor
as ever.
"Never mind, mother," said Nettie, brave
ly. "We've done our duty, and that's all
that can be expected of anj of us."
In Uncle Malachi's old leather-strapped
memorandum-book there was only a yellow
bit of paper, on which was marked the figure
."."
"Couldn't we mako some sort of a clue out
of that?" said young Doctor Drew, the vil
lage Esculapius, who was to marry pretty
Nettie, when they had scraped together
I enough to keep them out of the poor-
"ouse.
1 "No," said Mrs. Crofton, shaking her
i lleaf1. "Three was always Uncle Malachi's i
, , . - , .
, favorite number. He put off all business;
' until the third day of the month if he wanted
' especial good luck : he was born on the 3d of i
,januarv and " I
!
i At11 nc ',1,,l on the 3d of May," said
Doctor Drew. "Well, it is rather a curious '
( eoineidenee However x-n.i i,a,i itt.-
this old memorandum, Mrs. Crofton ; it can !
do no barm ; and now we'll go to business."
It was the day after Uncle Malachi's fune
ral, and Doctor Diew had com" to prescribe
for Mrs. Crofton's periodical attack of ague.
"It's very strange," said the young nicdi-
i cal man. "There must be bad drainage
! somewhere. We can't attribute ito;? to the
old swamp in the meadow."
"There's no fault about the drainage that
I know of," said Mrs. Croftori, in the drawl
ing, listless tone that had become habitual to
her of late.
"Mother,'' said Nettie, "perhaps it'sl'he
sunken well."
Doctor Drew pricked up his ears.
"What sunken well ?" said he.
"There was an old well close to the house,"
said Mrs. Crofton. "It never was much
used, and it was diy most of the year. So,
when they built on the south wing, they just
paved It over and dug a new one by the gar
den wall. That's the very stone pavement
w here Uncle Malachi used to take so much
comfort in the sunshine, poor old man !"
"Ah !" said the doctor. "It's very possi
ble, then, that we may be able to account
for this malarial affection. Have you a
crowbar about the premises ?"
"You ain't goingtouncoverthe old well?"
said Zebedce Crofton, who, wrapped in
blankets, was enduring his regular "chill."
"Yes, I am," said Doctor Drew.
Out they all three went Doctor Drew,
Mrs. Crofto.i and Nettie. Neighbor Larkins
w as summoned to assist with the crowbar.
I declare '." said Mrs. Crofton : it does
'most seem as if I'ncle Mahn hi would rise
out T his grave to prevent us. H, wa?
dreadful partial to this spot :"
"Well, it i-ap't be of any nude u-c to him
now," said Nettie.
"Hello!" said IWtor Drew: "thciettro
nine paving-stones, aren't there '"
"Three each way," said neighbor I.aikins;
"and the old well was directly underneath
the centre stun. Land ' Go-lnti' 1 re-
rn!kH.k r)V,.rin' it im as well as if it were
ycslenlay V
"Three times three,"' said Doctor Drew.
'Perhaps that accounts f.,r the old got. tie
man's paitiaiity to it."
Nett ie started.
"I never thought of f.' ."' she s:'.ul.
"Heave o sang ncighhi-r Uai kins.'v ho
had sailed on a Greenland whaler once ; and
impelled by the strong anus of the two men,
the central stone came tip, revealing the
black and hollow mouth of the disused well.
"Pah !" said Doctor Drew : there's enough
bad air and foul gas there to infect a regi
ment !"
"There's something else here," quietly
added Nettie, who had stooped to look down.
"A leather bag, suspended from a spike
driven in between the stones."
Neighbor I.aikir.s, who was long in the
arm, made a dive at it.
"Land o' liberty:" tried he: it's lull o'
cold pieces eagles, by George ! Miss Nettie,
I declare for't, you've Ome into year for
tune 1"
It was only five thousand dollars ; but to
Nettie Crofton it represented a foi'.une in
deed. Here, upon the ccntial stone of 'he
diverging thrrt, old I'ncle Malachi had kept
guard until it was too late to give any one
the clue to his secret.
The old well w as well filled up and proper
ly drained. Farmer Crofton got rid of his
ague, Nettie and her lover vi-ie married,
and although Doctor Diew is not a supersti
tious man, he has ever since owned to a par
tiality for the figure ":l."
1 HE MAN ON THE MELI'l.E.
WHAT A I.IMOl f I I IMl'.Kl: s IV- I'Fl HK 1'1-K-
i:.s ok his in sim: a.
The hundreds of people who have watvh
ed the operations of the man upon the tow
ering steeple of the Third street Baptist
church painting the woo len spire and rear
ranging the weather v.ine, have expressed
wonder as to the means used to reach this
lofty position. A reporter yes!, iday went
up into the belfry and interviewed the mos;
I experienced steeple clim'.xT in the world.
lames hergusoti. "Y hy, my dear loy,
said he, with an honesty of expression that
struck home at once, "I've spent the greater
part of my life up among those rolling
clouds. For eighteen years I sailed the sea
between the East Indies and China before
the ma.-t. and afterward occupied every sta-
tion except that of captain. When 1 was
sixteen years of age 1 clim!ed a steeple in
Glasgow three hundred feet high in half an
hour. The same feat it took the noted
Scotchman, 'Steeple .lack,' three days to
perform. I've been mount :uc steeples fT
the past seven year as a business. The last
one 1 went up previous to this was the Chapel-street
Presbyterian in Albany, which js
three hundred feet in height. I txk down
the weather vane in the shape of a fish,
which weighs thice hundred and twenty
seven pounds, being of copper and loaded
with lead. It w as the first time any one had
been up the steeple in thirty years. The
highest steeple I ever climbed went up three
hundred and seventy feet. This was in Ayr
shire, Scotland. The general impie-sion is
that w hen on a steeple it is e a-ier to look up
than down. This is all a mistake. When
looking up an almost irresistible feeling
conies over you to jump from your sent. I
had experience of this kind while on the
steeple ol Dr. Darling's church in Albany.
I gazed steadily up for a moment into space,
when, without any feeling of dizziness or
anything of that soit, 1 became alnue-t be
side myself and a kind of delirium came over
ine. 1 had to quite right then and there, for
a moment later 1 would have sprung from
my seat. I can look steadily down and it
does not affect me. I seldom c'imb steepies
in cold weather- It's too confounded dan
gerous, the sides being icy and s!ipjery. I
was up on a Hudson steeple last January,
and theu vowed I'd swear off climbing iu
winter, as I nearly fell.
"They tell me this hire steeple shakes
when the wind blows. Do you know it's all
the better for that? It gives the i:on rods
on the inside play. Look out for these taut
and apparently solid steeples. They go
some times with a sudden crash. And, lie
sides, I enjoy a ride on a swaying steeple.
It reminds me of the days when I was at
sea. Troy looks immense from the top of
that spire. The eopi' appear like mites,
while the sky bears the same aiect as from
the streets. I never rememlH-r of having
felt dizzy when on te pie. I feel just as
niu h at honii? away up th-re where God's
handiwork can ie viewed in rtil its beauty
as on the ground. I've got to, in fact, for if
I didn't you'd never catch me hundreds of
feet from good walking, That arrow on the
spire of the church I took down, gilded it
and replaced it. It is ten feet in length and
; weighs all of two hundred pounds. When
j putting it back I held it in position with one
, band and tightened the bolts with the other
j no easy task, I tell you. A man at this
j business can earn from S57 to ?10 a day. As
i to the manner in which I ascend that must
remain a secret. I never allow an outsider
' to handle or examine my ropes. I attend
strictly to business when on high, and if I
! saw even my wife on the sidewalk would re
i fuse to recognize her. I just glory in being
; as high as ever 1 can get. It's my home up
j there, and I think if 1 go below when I die
! it will be a terrible piece of bad judgment
! on somebody's part probably my own."
i Troy Times.
i Would Take a Rkt. The trustees of art
Illinois university, not abov? a thousand
! miles north of Chicago, were recently hoid
i ing an informal meeting at the house of one
I of their number. The lady of the house was
of society fuss, and her husband despised all
I such show. Under this trilling incompati
i biiity of taste she tecame a little notorious
j for keepine- herself in a "stew" and her hus
! band in "hot water." Conversation turned
i on a recent marriage, between an old man
i and a young woman, some of the centlemen
j pKh-poohingthe niaU-li. But the lady stout
ly championed the frost-bitten Benedict.
I ""Why," she said "every man ought to
i keep himself married as long as he lives,
i Now, here's mv husband ! W hat would be
be good for without a w ife ? If I should die
! to-night be would ct another wife to-mor-;
row, 1 hope-. Wouldn't u J.isiah ."
Josiah breathed heavily, ami sceuieu ui
sum up the connubial torments of a lifetime
in his calm response : "No ; my dear : I tf: Ink.
I should take a rest." 1-C:r Amr,:a,
jfb'i.'V'y.