TRUST. My bark is wafted to the strand By breath divine; And on the helm there rests a hand Other than mine. One who has known in storms to sail I have on board; Above the raving of the gale, I hear ny Lord. He holds me when the billows smite— I shall not fall, If sharp, tis short; if long, "tis light— He tempers all. Safe to the land, Safe to the land— The end is this, And then with him go hand in hand Far into bliss, RT ——— MOONLIGHT AND FLOODS, The floods were out at Wendelthorpe, Boats were moving hither and thither the open conatry fleld after field was changed to a lake, From amid the waters rose a solitary farm house, black against the darkening sky. The surg- ing flow heaved and tossed and struck heavily upon it; here was no languidly spreading expanse, bunt the hurry of the swollen river rushing impatiently forward and rising in its impatience higher and even higher, At an upper window" 8iX persons were gathered, be drawing nearer by degrees. The group was made up of the farmer, his man who was the eldest daughter's lover. The hight was manifestly ap- prosching, the dark shape of a boat be- came distinct, they heard the dip and paused in the lee of the house, and their rescue was eecure. boat, and that omne.of them was a wo- man, A voice called upward to those with- in, “How many are you?” And a voice ply, “Six.” silence. Then, amid the sound of the water, came up the words, **We have only room for four.” “Shall you be able to come back for the others?” asked the farmer, Again followed a pause, brief, but sufficient to foreshadow the coming negative, and too dangerous, Within were quick questionings and denials, a hali-heard debate, caught and lost again between the ominous beating of the rising floods. break the housetop would scarely be left above water, should be strong enongh to hold out so long. mer at last, “If Jack stays so will 1,” answered ths clear voice of his daughter. Then s man rose in the boat and sald; “There is no woman who would say that for me, and so let me stay.” The others in the boat looked at him a8 Le stood leaning one hand against the wall. reached Wendelthorpe only that atter. noon, and had volunteered his services at the starting of the boat, a little and said: “I will stay, too;” and all eyes turned back to her, Her they knew. She was the new mistress of the village school, a grave young woman, and reported eccentric. from above, indeed, came protests, but faint and quickly overruled. A window was opened in a lower story; the two entered upon a landing quickly upward. in the first hour of dawn, the upper window, the two watched the embarkation of the six, heard their shouts of thanks and of farewell, then hearts a sudden blank, They stood side by side, watching the wavering progress of the departare and the way- ering reflection of the shaken light. At last, when the boat was far away and no dim echo reached them of its sounds, they turned toward each other ani tow. ard the inner room. The room had, in they turned this way they heard the flap of the water, like a step, on the staircase, “Haye you any hope of their com- ing back in time?” asked the woman. shook his head. *‘Nor have 1.” said she, _ They stood simlessly looking into the fast darkening room. They had no oe- cupation but to await the coming up of the water, and they were strangers who had never so much as beheld each other's face by full daylight, The wind and the water went sweeping by out. side, aud in the house were ghostly sounds of doors and windows stealthily tried and shaken, ; “Had we not better go up to the at tic while we can?” asked the man by snd by. Bhe assented, and thay went inward to the dark core of the house, The Sky solitude below was full of creakings and rustlivgs; above shone a square of yellow lignt, revealing a steep ladder, A lighted lantern had been left for them in the attio, together with food and Warm wrappings, | “I will fetch the lantern,” said he, sod swung himself quickly upward, stop she stood below, holding fast to sido of Die IAA: His® elick sounddfiiaflovs ber head; the light shifted ond In ; she saw his face in a quick illumination; then the the ill light viined toward and beyond her ls Li a ah aydnk of being Jatt rs comp checked, fudéed, but hearty, uttered about, two feet above ber, - “The handle of the lantern was loose,” said he, as he came to her level, “T'll go down and fetch it up.” “No, don’t! it is too dark. don’t! tet us go up,” She had found his arm in the dark- ness and held him back, In the dark- ness, which was much blacker for that brief interposition of light, they made their way into the attic, and crossing it carefully, afraid of the low roof, afraid of unseen stumbling-blocks, afraid of returning upon the yawning aperture, | made their way to the gray square of the window, Here they found a large box, upon which they sat down, They spoke but little; there were so few things left worth utterance in such an hour as this, By and by, as their eyes rew accustomed to the dimness, they ; Hi the general character of their surroundings. There was a table near them with food; there were boxes and bundles and a couple of old pictures, brought up hither apparently when the tide began to rise, In the middle lay | the black square through which they had made entrance; at the far end a rough heap of straw was dimly dis- tinguished and from this came rest less gnawing, scrapings, and rustlings, causing the woman to shrink and shud- der. “] suppose they are rats,” she said onee, when the sounds grew louder. ‘4 suppose so; do you mind yery much?” “No, if we could only see them.” Again for a while they were silent, | hearing the little sounds within and the | ever-inoreasing sounds without, At last the man stood up, and pase- | ing his hand across his face, said: “Oh, | this is very cold-blooded! They used Please | when the tide was coming up.” stood still by the table, “Could you not eat something?” “No, thank you.” { and returning to the window, ate a few mouthfuls, and leaned out. The water was rising rapidly, and was already washing on the window of the { room below, He within the room was not clearly visible, but her attitude was calm and undis- tarbed, He sighed and came back quietly to sit beside her. But his quietness was of short duration. He not like to go ont upon tae roof ? i I don’t think we should feel quite so much imprisoned,” “Oh, yes, let us go, door?” ¢ “I don’t think there Just now, is, and then I ean help you.” {and thrust his head and through the narrow opening. | yes, it is quite easy, { We had better have shawls,” | She brought them and handed them i out, watched him draw himself up, and some of those | window ledge, and, reaching her hands upward, found herself lifted safely to the summit. | terrific; her hat was blown away at once and she was blinded by her hair, | When she had freed her face and drawn up her shawl over her hemd she was able to perceive that the roof was formed of two long parallel gables, and | that between them, at each end, a stack of chimneys rose from a solid platform, They went forward to the more sheltered group and sat down on the block of | brickwork at the base. They had be fore them the wide, desolate expanse {of waters; below them torrents ran | thundering between dwelling and out | houses, and in the pauses of the can- | nonade that beat the walls and of the roshing and reading sounds within they heard a southern wind drifting with sighs betwoen the chimneys. There was no token of life, no light, no sound of hope. Yet they felt a sense of relief and freedom in being here, { whero they could see and know what was befalling, “Oh, that is better!” said she, and lifted up her face to breathe the fresher “One would say,” said he, watching ransonry, “that you had a kind ot en- joyment of all this.” “In a sense I have, There is so much space and power, And there is the feeling of having foronece put action and responsibility out of one's hands, There is nothing now which it can pos- sibly be one’s duty to do,” “You don't feel any fear of death, | then?” “I fear it physically, of course—the actual drowning and choking—ah, don't let us talk of 1t, Bat at least we shall have had this hour of freedom and rest,” *‘I sould bear it better,” he returned, "if there were any element of struggle, To sit still in a cage until death chooses to come and put an end t6 you—that's horrible!” | Bhe turned toward him and seemed to | consider his point of view until it be- | came hers, for she shuddered and said: *‘It is horrible!” There was silence again between them for a little while, Again, when her face was bent forward, he was able to wateh its outline, Barely she was younger than he had sn “What made you stay?” he gsked suddenly. Bhe hesitated a little, ‘What made yous” “I hardly know, more than what I said-—that nobody cared much whether I did or not, and that I did not eare mnoh myself. But I am older than you, and I have had about as much out of 1ife as it will ever give me,” . “I don’t think that it need be a ques. tion of ifs. bow much one's life is worth, h ia not matter to any ‘one, either; a not very easy er hopeful for mah had wanted so much, and had to learn that I must do Of course, 1% is not y happiness, but old one does care! then, all at once, hare y of escape, not selfish, but to help hap- pier people, and * * * it seemed the key to everything when you stood up in the boat and said that you wonld “Yet,” said he, *'I could uot help wondering, as we stepped out, whether what we were really giving to those oung lovers was only time to lose their ove for each other, even in remem. brance, For death can only destroy the future, but life can destroy the past, too.” ‘Are you sorry, then, that yon staid?" There was a little note of mockery in the question, or his conscience cre- ated it, ‘No, it seemed the thing to do. One can but act in the present, And even if a man could know certainly that death would keep their loye for them, and life would lose it, he could hardly bring himself to say, ‘Then let death come,’ It takes Apollo to give death when he is asked for the best gift, But yet, what | & chance for two lovers to have died to- | gother sol” made no spoken answer. Down at the far horizon the late moon was rising, vague and cloudy. A ghostly light, bringing In {ts wake mysterious shadows, spread slowly as the moon drowsily lifted herself and dropped the mists from her shoulders, The man, looking down, in this clearer light, to the water, started and said, **It is com- ing up much faster.” She stooped and looked, eyes, lifting, sought each other, Both faces were pale in the moonlight, On both sat the human shrinking from this upward crawling fate, thing to see each other. | asked, to wait, “It is just past twelve,” said he. | light,” “Perhaps,” said he, | them had any trust in the hope. He had seen in { they looked at each other that she was | indeed younger than his first supposi- tion, though hardly so young as his gecond. She might be five and twenty, It was not the face of a girl, now, leaning back against the chimney, | lifted up her face to the sky. Her eyes were closed and her lips drawn in, There was but time to look onee before | the eyes opened to a calm gaze, The man sitting by her heard the changing and deepening tone of the walter as it came up and up, “You are too young for this,” said he abruptly. Ris voice had changed and deepened like the tone of the water, **No, no,” she answered after a mo- ment. ‘“‘Don't trouble about me,” “Ido trouble about you, It's horrible! | horrible!” | She again kept silence for a little | space; then she said: “When I heard : you say-—that- in the boat, and get up to stay, I felt, suddenly, as if it was a | eruel thing not to stay with you, too | as well as to save them,” She had been obliged to speak the last words loudly: for the wind rose | suddenly and fiercely. and the shock of | the water broke noisily on the walls And as she ceased came a terrible crash; | the whole building creaked and swayed; | there were heavy splashes in the water, | and water spouted over them as they | caught and clung to each other. Long | hair was blown before his face. They held each other fast | trembling, | aside her hair, | water, running, trickling, and dropping, | The calm moon, pursuing her leisurely | pathway, passed out from behind a | cloud, and showed them that the plat- | form at the other end of the house had opposite had fallen, | “I it had been these!” said she. They crouched nearer together, each | still holding to the other, The fear in | each mind now was the fear of being i | divided, of losing all human companion- ling, as it seemed, with a malignant, | hungry joy. i “It can't be | man, “No,” said she, There were a fow more life-long mo- | ments in which they sat silent, breath. {ing hard, The wild gust of wind abated; the moon found a wide, open long now,” said the of the waters grew by comparison still again, “And so,” said he, “it was for me you staid, and even at the end I can’t RO away in peace without pulling down some one else. And you, who staid, are a stranger, and we shall die here together, strangers, Oh, the irony of of this world, All my life I have been solitary and deserted, It has been my fault—no doubt it has been my fault; and now life is over. It's all too late, and there's no time,” Bhe remained silent, and the mon- otonous pulse of the water throbbed below, ‘Bat if, by any miracle, we should be saved, at least we know each other now," said he. “Do we? Well, the depths, perhaps, of each other, but not the shallows, If we were to be saved we should feel like friends till we came to land, and then you would go your way aud I mine; and if we were to meet once a week for a twelvemonth we should speak to each other at first, and then we should nod and smile, and by and by we should and take no notice, No, what nowledge or friendshsp we have does not belong to this life!” “You believe, then, in another?” “It is hardly that I believe in another life #0 much as that I can't believe in death. We could not be eapable of so much, and desirous of so much, and nothing come. We have not half I feel so much, much more, No, I am not afraid. There's more,” He in his turn was silent. Perhaps he forebore, out of pity, to put forth a word Apatont her ; pe in his soul, n like which he had taken to be long to stir and murgur. bi A had put on, minute by sn arch of clouds, and beyond the arch lay monsureless liquid, lucid depths. Bhe looked and pointed upward, The full glow shone on her face, He saw in her dark eyes a slow meffable softening; inall the lines of her features breathed a spirit of exultant reception, “The open doorway of infinity,” said he, fitting to this radiance its apt pootie description, but without aoything of the poet's rapture or belief. Her lips moved to a recoguizing smile, “And can you look up to that and despair?” she asked, “That has no voice for me, It is too far off, too silent, too nnmoved. That glory may come back, as serene, to look down on my drowned face, But you have to die with me. What hope there is in life or death you have shown me. I den’t know that it is lasting or is, 1t comes from you.” Again the water came rushing over the fallen chimneys, and they looked out in momentary apprehension, Bnt before, He then quietly procesaded: | thinks of life as the life one has known, something that worth going on with. It may be life on | the other side of a division; 1 can’t tell, | old life, but I do want life—the life that | I nearly saw just now, when we thought | that our time was upon us, brink, We do not know each other, { you say; we are not friends, and can’t be. I don't know. I only know that I would neither go on nor go back, | alone. Her hand, which still clung to his { arm, trembled and was withdrawn, and in the next moment stole softly into his, Memories rose betore { each of them of hopes and dreams that had once been all in all, and now were | night drew on, tant. Around them, rising slways, surged the persistent walters, Now and { again gusts of wind awoke suddenly { and brought a sweep of waves over the i submerged masonry, Presently oozing creep between them. “We must go up higher,” said the wan, They quitted their sheltered nook, { and, mounting, stood upon the platform { of brick-work. The wind flung itself upon them in fury. They clunk to the chimneys and to each other, and for a few minutes stood so, battling strenous- ly to keep their foothold, drops began to the chimneys behind there were only some place for you! It is too hard a death for you, sorry for you,” And even while he spoke the water was up about their feet, snatching and dragging at them, “l am not sorry,” “And oh, mo! it is not hard; it is the best moment life has ever brought mel” Her voice was crossed her lips, they were could hear her words, { ply, the winds snatched and carried {away forever. The time of words was over. There was nothing now but hard. drawn breath, and the vain struggle of resistance, and then, a placid moon, | shining over a waste of floods, blown away as it It was only because Rallway Accidents in England. { The official report of railway accidents | in 1883, compiled by the Board of Trade, serves to show with bow marvelous a de- | gree of security to human life the enor- | mous traffic of the United Kingdom is | conducted. While millions travel, less than a score are killed, except where care- | lesaness on the part of the sufferer con- | tributes to a fatal sue. In the year be. fore last, eighteen passengers were killed by causes beyond their own control year the number fell to eleven! It is only necessary to compare these figures with the actual number of passengers carned, | 10 conclude that rmiway traveling 1s al- most the safest pursuit in which anybody can engage. In 1882 it was calculated | the fatal accidents to passengers would When we bave the full statistics of pas expect to find that we have reached the { comfortable ratio of about 80,000,000 | journeys for each fatality. It is true that | even eleven deaths, for the occurrence of which the victims were in 00 wise respon- sible, afford matter for regret; yet, under the circumstances of the case, there 1s solid ground .or saustaction. Looking back for a peniod of nearly forty years, we can trace the steady tendency to im- provement in the degree ot personal safety connected with railway traveling. In the three years which ended with 1849 the an- nual average of deallis among passengers was twelve, and this at a time when rail. way traveling was very hmited, compared with what it now is. These twelve were at the rate of one for less than five million journeys. Hence we may reckon that if the passengers on a railway will only take due care of themselves, they are now exposed to Jess than a lithe of the risk ‘vt was incurred by those who pat. ronized the rall in earlier days, A Monster losberg. Captain White, of the Newfoundland ealing fleet, says: “On April 27, in atitude 51 Aeg. 18 min, north, longitude 53 deg. 26 man, west, 1 saw an iceberg about three miles in Jen and as nearly as 1 could judge about seven feet in height. Around the sides of this huge d were many harbors and creeks, During the whele of my ex- periense I have never Suu 4 berg ap- prosch this one in size, nor h oldest sealer on board my ship, It was sursounded by drift ice and a number of Small bergs, and had 1 TO positive of the position of my y should have taken it for an island.” Smaxusreane has been * dead just Had if nok boon 1 Aion ol not aw have missed 1 | An Unpleasant Visi, | Some years ago, A. R. Bplcer, and hs partner, James Campbell, of Texas, were mining for gold on a gulch or ravine, one | of the branches of Canyon Creek, in Mi | errs county, California. Our cabin was but a few miles from the base of Pilot Peak, one of the tallest peaks of the sier- ras, This peak is covered with perpetual snow, aad from its base run six bold moun. tain streams, all very rich in gold; on its north side run Onion Valley, Hopkin’s and Poorman’s Creeks, emptying into Feather | river; on its south side run Grass Valley, | Btate and Canyon Creeks, emptying oto the Yuba river. The unsurpassed rich. | neas of the rivers and creeks mentioned 1s | & matter of history, and can be vouched | for by Napoleon Hill, now a noted mer- | chant, but who 88 years ago wae a rough | miner in a rough country, and surronnded | by rough citizens. We all koew him in those days as “Pole” Hill, but even in that | early day we all knew ham to be *‘a rough | diamond, all the same.” etc. Now, to i trees. The Masons’ cabin was about one- fourth of a mile down the ndge from ours. { waz not lomg getting there, snd soon had them up. After arming themselves with rifles, pistols and knives we returned and found that Campbell had ready for usa big pot of hot coffee and a fair hreakfast, such as the bears had lett us, Campbell was made boss. He put Burt Meson on the left and the writer on the right, he and John Mason In the centre. It was now about light, The trail of the bears was plain and easily followed, We went slow and cautiously for about a mile. The fun was coming up when, to our surprise, we came in sight of our game, They seemed to be in no hurry to get out of our way. Campbell ordered Burt Mason and me to move to the right and left about 50 yards, and not to fire until he ordered, etc. I began to think he never would hollow The old bear i Campbell, and bid defiance to them with “Now, Bob,” Camp- ravine spoken of above, ete, As we did not care to desert our rich claim, it behooved us to prepare for the {| winter by building a large, strong cabin aud laying up a good supply of provisions, which, with the help of our only neigh- | bors, we did. Our neighbors were John { Mason and his brother “Burt,” Trom Maine. Bo you see the two estremes— If you miss, you are a dead boy.” large spruce pine, took a long snd steady madam’s brain, ln an Instant Burt’s rifie boomed out and sent a ball through the heart of one of the cubs. The third one were holding back their fires We som in~-met and were friends in time of need, etc. We were all four of us solid demo crats and could not differ on politics, and | 48 we bad no Bunday service, or much of | any olher service to disturb us, we were | happy. We passed our time when not at | work in shooting at a mark (we all had {'Colt's six shooters and Mississippl rifies { carrying about an ounce ball) or playing | poker or some other innocent game, Bal | Mason and the writer, belng about the | same age, were ‘‘chums.” We were { known to be the best shots with pistol and rifle far and near, and being ol ways | together we were sot troubled with much {foolishness from sharpers or ‘‘men spoii- {ing for a fight.” We both had av oppor- ! tunity to show our nerve and skill with { our rifles, It was sbout the 20th of Octo- ber, 1852. Our winter set in; commenced in rain but ended in snow. After two ! days of rain it turned much colder, and about night commenced snowing, bul ss my partoer (Jim Campbell) and myself had an unusually large and comfortable cabin well fliled with supplies, we were | happy, and concluded to let it snow, ete, poston. Atope end was our fireplace, | about eight feet wide; door, about four feet wide and six i high. beds, one above the other, as they are on siecamboats. The other side was devoted {Wa general use for our provisions, the corner next to the door was a half barrel of mess pork; next to it, on a big peg, hung a large fat quarter of beef; feet ail buck that the writer had killed that | morping within 100 yards of our cabin; next to it, oa good-sized puncheons, was & heg of molassas and sacks of flour, pots- toes, beans, coffee and sugar, elec. After fire, smoking our pipes of peace, talking | far-off, distant States— Campbell contend- in the world, snd | trying to convinee lum that for shape, beauty, style and talent | We finally concluded to suspend our dis. bunks, blankets and sound asleep. Bow long I had been asleep | cannot say; 1 was awsk. | ened by some terrible growls and very un- comfortable noses. By the light of the fire I could see our unwelcome Vimtors—— three large grizzly bears. They had un. doubtedly scented our fresh meat, pushed open our door, which we had forgotten to selves, | dently the mother of the smaller ones; she | The large one quietly raised herself on her “hind” feet and very mcely pulled down enjoy. The cubs soon had down the deer, | and after much growling and fussing they | settled the matter by esting it up between | them with much reiish. Was unnecessary, as our bullets bad done the deed. The o'd bear struggled for half an hour before it was sate to go within her reach. The smaller one died easy, a8 Burt's ball had gone through its heart. Campbell ran up before the large one was quite dead and cut ber throat; both bled freely. About three miles from our cabins was quite a town of several hund- red lohabitants, called the Crossing, as it was on the main trail leading trom Down- ieville going It was a place of much oterest trading, ete, John kelp Wo save our prize, and he returned about noon with about 25 men, all more than anxious to gee the huge bears that Mason had told them about. “Where are the boys that did this shooting?’ sald one of the hardest : the crowd. “Ob! there you are!” looking at Burtand me. “Well, youngsters, 1'l1 bea little more "ticulsr how I talk to ye berearter. Say, men,” be crmtinued, *‘es’ drag this ‘big Har’ down 10 the Crossing, have her skinoed, I'l open up for 20 pounds at $1 per pound.” ‘They all gave a hand, and with our gun SIraps soon had them on the way. Before we gO ball way we were met by over 100 men, with yells and cheers, but what was more useful, they had ropes and four hig north and bit Brother Mule could not be coaxed nearer than 50 yards of Brother Bear. We finally armved sbout might at the own, The town builcher soon had them swung up in his shop; next morning every- body from far and near was there to see the huge beasts. The butcher soon skinned them and was bul a short time in selling. The large one nelted us a little over $800, the smaller one we di- vided with the butcher and ourselves, etc.; Burt, and I feil heir to the skins, which were sent to Sacramento city to be dressed. Burt carried hus to his home; the writer gave hig to his old, big-hearted, best friend. James Campbell, of Texas, — but few such men as be live in this fast age. a ——— New Styles In Casket«. “Now is your time to buy coffins,* says a placard before an undertaker’s establishment. “Now is the time to buy,” said the undertaker, ‘because we are closing out our old styles, Do styles change? Well, I should say they did. Thirty years ago I wouldn't have known what that was,” pointing to a small white casket, ‘Then everything Changes are not only being made in their shapes, but also in the manner of tnmming, Styles don’t change as often as they do in coats, for instance, for a man never wants more than one style in a coffin, put they do change, In a few years you won't be able to find ap old-fash- ioned tapered head and toe coffin any- graveyard. Many people are aware of act, and as they like to stick to now, [know a man living on Madison avenue who has had his coffin in the happy, with no way to escape, it was any- | thing but funny. After fnishing the hams | they went for the sscks--flour, potatoes {beans and coffee they did not admure. | But the sack of sugar they seemed to enjoy | very much; they commenced looking | around for something more that was good. One of the cubs turned over the half barrel of pork, but they did not like it after s0 many good things. Madam about tim? they were going, but before leaving she thought it but right to thank us for our Kindness, ete. Bae turned and came direct to our banks, putting her nose almost in Campbell's face. | reckon she did not like ms looks or his smell, as she gave an unearthly growl, and went marching out with many grunts aod growls, her cubs behind her. They kept up their music for awhile, snd when far enough off, quick as lhightning, Jim Campbell jumped up, ran to the door, barred it u | and we were safe. Well, to say that | felt a Ittle better is not going it strong. 1 thought a Itle fun nmught come in. “Say, Jum, 1 had such a cunous dream. 1 thought we were visited by three Texas There is another which would cost you $250, A man wouldn't blush that was buried Oh, yes; we Think of ordering yours? Give us a trial. Sure to suit you, After using one oi our rubber-cushioned caskets I am sure you will never have any other caskets or soffing on instalments,” of electric light dan- in numerous places, A scientist and expert was asked if a man's life was in’ danger when his body was exposed to necessary to feed the electric light, His Teply was the extent of the danger, or rather the extant of the in- jury that might be incurred. If a man should place his hand upon the wire before the gencrator started and keep them there uniil the machine stopped, as he might be obl to whether he wanted to or not, the muscles strongly he did that he would be
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers