a
A Modern Unding
I fear to say if, be it but a breath,
Lest I should see those swiftly startled eyes
Glanes fearfully, as those eyes will I know,
When in love's dawn thy ochildhood’s
sweeliness dies.
1 fear to speak, to see thoge blushes burn
With new sweet meaning in thy womans
hood;
I fear to give the touch which will dispel
Thy inmocence, be it for woe or good.
Perhaps those steadfast eyes will coyly
droop,
And curling lashes lie on blooming cheek,
When through thy heart love's words will
pierce foraye.
And through thy life another's life will
break.
I fear—Oh! Love, I love so tenderly—
Yhy childish, girlish visions to dispel;
If those pure eyes would look less calm
amd deep,
How sweet the story my fond lips would
tell,
1 fear to mar the tenor of thy life
By hands whose tender, unfamiliar touch
Might frighten thee, or my sweet tale were
told,
Of how I'd die, in loving thee so much.
“Sweetheart,” I cannot wait; my heart
she carried in the pot last night?,
Roses blossomed on the altar; bou-
quets of white carnations flung spicy
sweetness on the alr; slender ropes of
smilax were festooned along the rails,
with here and there a knot of violets
fastened in; a vase of cut callas stood
on the reading-desk. Out of all the
Easter lilies that Tibbie had watched
grow and expand to their pearly perfec-
tion, not one remained.
She thought the time never would
come when she could see her uncle
come down the steps, with his sermon-
case under bis arm, and his old-fash-
1oned soft hat pulled over his brow.
In the breezy church-yard the willow
boughs swayed to and fro, the short
grass was starred with dandelions, and
the bland spring sunshine folded every-
thing in a veil of gold; but a cloud
seemed to descend over all these things
when Tibbie caught the grave, re-
proachful look on her uncle's face.
Harold Vennecker stood beside Mr,
Kress; he lifted his hat to Tibbie; but
the girl scarcely noticed his presence.
“Uncle, you are vexed with mel’ she
cried. “What is it? Is it the bonnet?
must tell
The secret that has brightened all my past;
Ah! Leve, how sweet upon this tale to |
dwell |
When in thy radiant eyes love beams at |
inst
PRIZE LILIES.
of
“Five them, Uncle Kress,’ said |
Tibbie, triumphantly. **Great, rich
scrolls, as whate as cream, each with a |
golden spear rising out of its heart, |
and surrounded by rank, green leaves, |
crouching over the edge of Grandma
Dallas’ old majolica pot.”
“Heyday, heyday!” said Uncle |
Aress, who sat among his manuscripts
tu the latticed library, with one quill
pen back of his earand one in his hand.
“*Our nLttle Tibbie is getting poetical. |
Golden spears, eh?
So I shall have to hand over the prize |
to you, shall 1?” |
“(Circumstances point in that direc- |
tion, Uncle Kress,” said Tibbie, with
a gleeful sparkle to her eyes. “Ten |
dollars in gold. Don’t you wish you |
had been less rash in registering pro-
mises?’
“What will Isabel say?”
questioned Mr. Kress, as he began to
cut a new quill-pen, with a keen-bladed
fe.
White as cream? |
shrewdly |
yr Isabel, she is so vexed about |
id Tibbie. *‘I really think, Un- |
s, that if she could have done
her glances, she would have
hted every one of those calla-lily
y
it will
blig
buds of mine.’
“*Tut, tat, tut!” sald Mr.
ligently away at the «
Uncle, I only say
ut where are you
On the reading-desk, or
the font?”
yt made up my mind yet,”
id Uncle Kress, **Take them around
to the church Saturday afternoon, and
3 de at the eleventh hour where
stand.”
» Kress (“her given name,”
as : oid ladies phrase it, was Eliza-
beth} went merrily bome, thinking
what she should do with the precious
golt-eagle, which was to be the prize
for the pot of calla-lilies; and in the
midst of her exultation there came a
pang of pity for Isabel, whose lilies had
all gone to leaf, and produced never a
bud at all.
“A new bonnet is what
most.”’ said Tibbie, as she surveyed |
er limited wardrobe—*‘a bonnet
straw, with Nile-green ribbons,
a cluster of daisies and mignonnette
—a rea! springy spring bonnet.”
Which was an entirely feminine de-
cision, especially when was taken
into account that Tibbie had not had a
new bonnet in a yéar, and that Harold
Vannecker always came down to the
Little Westburgh church on Easter
Sunday.
isabal and Tibbie were sisters in
blood, Mentally and morally they were
as unlike as if, they had been born on |
different coutinents. |
Isabel was a dark-browed, rich-lipped
girl, who bore a grudge against fate for
having made a school teacher of her in- |
stead of an heiress. Tibble was a |
plump, smiling young damsel, who ac-
cepted circumstances as they came,
and made the best of them.
And Mrs. Duckworth, the matroaly
old lady with whom they boarded, ex-
pressed her opinion very plainly, *‘that i
Miss Tibbie was worth a dozen of Miss
Izabel, and so Mr. Vannecker thought, |
too, or she was off her calculations!” |
“Well,” said Isabel, contemptuously, |
as Tibbie came into the sitting-room, |
which the two girls shared in common,
“I suppose you have been to the par- |
sonage, to crow over me.”
“Don’t be vexed, Bell,” said Tibbie, |
depreciatingly. **Of course, I had to |
tell Uncle Kress that the lilies were
ready for him,”
“And to demand the prize?”
“I had a right to claim his promise,
Bella.”
Isabel bit her lip.
“I shall never try to bloom lilies
again for Easter,’ said she. “It's all
nonsensel”
Tibbie did not answer.
Had Isabel's lilies bloomed, and hers
failed, she told herself, she should not |
have withheld sympathy and congratu- |
lation from her more fortunate rivall
That new bounet—the first new bon-
net that Tibbie had ever bought out
and out from a milliner in New York— |
what a marvel of richness and freshness
and beauty it was!
How had she ever been satisfied with
the commonplace creations of her own
fingers, made out of sponged silk, dyed
ribbons, and flowers which were so ut-
terly unflower-like? These were the
merest apologies; this was a bonnet!
Tibbie could not help feeling pleas.
antly conscious of it as she passed up
the church aisle that morning, wonder-
ing if it became her--secretly glad to
think that Harold Vannecker would be
there to see her wear it.
But as she settled herself into her
own cosy little corner of the church-
pew, she chanced to glance up, and to
her surprise there was the painted ma-
: jolica pot ana the rich, arrow-shaped
ves seeming to overflow its brim
with greenery on either side; but not a
solitary lily was to be seen,
Was she dreaming? Where were the
fiva roval ace lls of whiteusss which
4)
wr . .
DTOSS,
"1
iu
what I
.
ies?
t of
deci
I need |
3 ”
i of
ayi}is
spli
and
210
it
iv
34 il
Did you think it was too gay? And oh,
Uncle Kress looked gravely at her,
“1 scarcely expected such a tricky
siif
had wanted the ten dollars so
PERILOUS SPINSTERS.
Flirt so Dangerous as a Single
Woman at 55.
*{ don't like it,” he said, bad tem-
peredly. “That's the 10th old lady
who's fallen 1 love with me.”
«I think that’s complimentary to
you.”
“Ig it? Oh, yes. That’s all right,
[ go to a party, and the old lady takes
me mto a corner and begins to talk to
me, and she has a pretty daughter, and
there’s an ocean of pretty girls, and 1
see somebody I want to dance with,
and the old lady says:
“syou don’t want to dance, BS
here and talk to me.” ”’
“well, why don’t you get out and
dapce?”’
“I can’t. A nice old lady, who
flatters you by asking your opinion of
her daughter’s beaux, and tickles your
vanity with all sorts of pretty little
touches—I tell you, my boy, you may
talk as you like about young women
and widows, and spinsters and flirts,
but there isn’t any flirt in creation so
dangerous as a single woman at 55,
whose hair 18 just sprinkled with silver.
it
spoony on an old lady of 60, who was
too old to dream of disguising her age.”
“You laugh! All right. Some day
out? But deceit—even practical jok- |
ing—God’s altar is not the place for
that!”
Tibbie had grown very pale,
“Uncle,” she gasped, “*I don’t un-
derstand you!"
“We will not discuss it further,”
said Mr. Kress, waving his band. **Yot
will find your lilies lying out there |
Take them |
turning vaguely in the |
to which her uncle pointed,
Vannecker was before her, |
1 up a hand
ful of coarse paper scrolls with gaudily
painted yellow pistils In their centres
“Paper Lilies!” gasped Tibbie—*‘ar- |
tificial ones! But I don’t understand
What does it all mean? Where
are my lilies?”
“These are the
Tibbie was
lilies that I found |
said Mr. Kress, |
“It was a poor jest to play, a |
deception which was self-evident In
itself. Not you, Elizabeth—no, |
not like you!” !
Tibbie looked from her uncle to 2
Vannecker without a word. Fo
moment it seemed as if
frozen upon her lips, but all at
broke into a piteous cry, i
“Who has been tampering with my |
lil she wailed—**my white, beauti-
Liles,
1:1 513
iiilesy
like
ful
‘1 think 1 have a clew to this puzzle,’
said Mr. Vanunecker, calmly. “I was
in the back of Dunvage’s book-store,
yesterday, looki
ng at an old black-letter
edition of Chaucer, i
of that he had lal
aside for me, when a lady came into
the front department and asked tl
price of some paper lilies that
the counter. Instinctively I looked up,
for they were the very things I had
wughed at, asking Durivage jeeringly
he supposed that any one would
insane enough to purchase sucl
strosities as that; and
that t!
sort of
{6
lay on
be
replied
ere was more imitation in t
thing than I had any idea
To my astonishment the lady was Miss
Isabel Kress, and she bought the lilies
and went out. We came down from
New York in the same train, but I was
prevented from going and speaking
her by a man who button-holed me on
business matters, and I do not think |
she knew of my being near. When I
strolled past church 1ast night, 1
saw Isabel Kress herself going
}
f
ie
: to
the
In. 1
stopped and asked the old sexton if the |
church was open. |
“Noa, not reg’lar spen,”” be an-
“but there's a young lady |
a-puttin’ flowers in."”’
“Naturally I thought of Tibbie,
here, and went in. But it was not
Tibbie that I saw in the far end of the |
church, stealthily breaking off the |
white blossoms in the great majolica |
pot and inserting the odious paper imi-
tations in their place—it was Isabel. |
I stood still and watched her as she |
transferred the real lilies to a basket
her shawl around her and glided out
face, quite unaware of me standing in
the shadow of the gallery. i
“It was a strange pantomine, I did |
under-
Kress bore
and sought to
stand it now. Miss lsabel
her sister some grud
TE
avy
“Yes,” sald a quick, excited voice
“it is all true, every word of it!
There's my confession--inake what you
will of it!”
And with a short, shrill laugh, she
ously.
“My dear,” said Mr. Kress, drawing
judged too suddenly; but I didn’t think
it was in Bell's nature to ba so vindic-
tive.”
“Let me walk home with Tibbie,
“You are
in a hurry, and she does not seem able
to walk fast.”
They did not make great haste back
to Mrs. Duckworth’s cottage—not by
any means. They walked around by
the river, where the leal buds were
swelling out and there was a fant,
sweet smell of growing grass; they lin-
gered under the alders, and stopped to
rest by the moss-grown shurehyard
wall; and when at last they the
cottage, and Vannecker parted from
her atthe door, old Mrs, Duckworth
Hodden her head and looked wondrously
wise,
“I don’t a bit mind my pudding
being over now,” sald she,
“Bless mel don’t I know what it all
means? There's a ring on her finger
that wasn’t there this time yesterday;
there’s a look in her that warms
my heart, Well, well, is a lucky
day to get engaged upon!”
And Mrs, Duckworth was not far
wrong 1n her conjsclures,
1 it, perhaps,
mad and let you alone. But, no, they
a snub quietly and wait
| the next chance.”
“1 don’t think that’s everybody’s ex-
perience.”
“May benot, That makes it all the
worse, You see, an old lady is pri
eged to talk out, even about love, and
talks of love, you think
Vi
you find out it’s just the
kind of love as anybody elses,
ou've kind of encouraged it and
epted it, especially if she has money,
I knew an
id widow lady of 65, who was passion-
ately attached to me, and when
died she left all her money {
gation. I tell you I'm not going to
any more, The next old lady
who falls in love with me will get |]
’
sane
and
y ac»
eo
}
sie
met ——
CIGARS ARE MADE
HOW
the Process
Them
A Brief Description of of
Manufacturing
fF olor
f cigar
i ¥
i
exact
ihe extreme,
i women are Jargely
cigars,
rien 18
nen is
uia “ture Of
gen-
TL ~
£ thy
the
86.
£1
you
ged In
does not
wer does the
The re-
cigars in
might
» han
making
Denver hands
well have been the envy of the [i :
lady in the land, Those with long,
taper fingers seemed to be the most suc-
and rolled
the most exact
ie soft fingers of some
lamp-light-
tobacco is,
SAW women I
recently whose
a
cessful manipulalors, the
pliant tobacco
shapes, ouch as
aristocratic lady roll fancy
ers for a church affair.
The finest grade of tobacco comes
from Havana and is used for what
called filling. The wrapper used mostly
throughout the Union, is the Sumatra
leaf, and is the bandsomest and best In
use,
In the first place all tobacco is mois-
tened with water, and left standing be-
tween twenty-four and forty-eight
hours, according to the texture of the
int
LEAD
tha
iit
stem is taken out,and the leaf opened
and spread between two boards for the
ing it a flat surface. In this stage, the
fillers, The greatest precaution is al.
ways taken, that the filler be perfectly
dry, or it cannot be smoked, and there-
fore the cigar would not fulfill its pur.
pose 1n the least.
deft motion quite indescribable to those
who have not seen it.
but the work of an instant; the tobacco
is laid on the stone, the practiced fin.
which is rapidly passed along to the
next man, who snips off the pointed
for the purpose, after which it is passed
to another man who ties it up into a
bundle with many others of
As a rule the inside wrapper, called the
binder of a cigar, is composed of either
Connecticut or Wisconsin tobacco,
which, on account of its being very
does not in the least mar the taste of
the Havana filler. Although there are
a great many cigars made without bind-
ers; still as a rule, the cigars supposed
to be made without them are nearly all
binders, After the filler is enclosed in
the binder it is termed in the trade a
“bunch;” the outside binder is then
cut, rolled and finished, which com-
pletes the process of making what are
known as ‘hand-made cigars,’’
Cigars are also made in moulds in
blocks of twenty forms, or shapes of
cigars, These blocks are grooved in
the exact shape of the cigar when fin-
ished. ‘Bunches’ are made by hand
and placed in these grooves,after which
a cover fitting the mold exactly is placed
over It, like a cover, and is heavy
enough to act as a press upon the cigar
under it.
In cheap work 300 bunches are pre.
pared at once, inferior cigars being
made this way for the reason that they
can be made so much cheaper and
faster. These are naturally not as good
as the hand-made cigars, as machine-
making somehow spoils the flavor of
the to They are more shapely
than the nand-made cigars and look
belie , but it is said, do not taste so
w
The secret of the tobacco trade is to
make cigars even, and well filled
out, The tobacco must be worked in
condition, and 1t takes an ex-
man always to determine
animism si ARIMA
Marry in your own religion.
upon what that condition Is. Afte
the cigars are made they are assorted
in as many colors as the tobacco will
run, some varieties running many more
than others. It 1s generally selected in
five colors, after which each color 1s
selected into five, six, seven, or even a
dozen shades, the bundles running into
fives, tens, fifties or hundreds. Loose
cigars are also packed in boxes fifty in
number,
Fine cigars nowadays run entirely in
light shades, and inferior ones in dark.
Fashions in cigars change just as they
do in everythiug ¢lse, and are no more
like they were ten years ago, than is a
lady’s bonnet of the present time, like
one made a dozem years since, The
principal method of obtaining dark to-
bacco is by steaming it in a closed
sweating.
At the larger Denver factories
the reporter found many Spaniards and
Bohemians employed, most of whom
are very skillful workmen. Women
are seen everywhere, and numbers of
children earn from $5 to §7 per week
making cigars, The workmen are paid
by the thousand, the best of them earn-
ing from $18 to $20 per week.
heved it had
least.
All classes of men smoked, he sald
men, business men,
scientists, authors,
one seemed to enjoy it
never hurt him in
as much as an-
of deciding
what class smoked most. Phy-
smokers, 1
men from all
As a rule, he
bacco or a
will not
upon
he repeated, were
walks in
fe,
at rest. was a
and,
it
Smoking
enjoyment,
promoted digestion,
great
he thought,
never made
him able to think better,
Men, on an average, smoked about four
cigars per day. at an expendiiure of
50 cents. Cuban and South
SINOKErs,
mt he
had
women smoke
seldom seen
‘
in this country.
—--
Elizabeth Barrett Browning.
I
She had
little change
L every
1g remet
17" asked the
sp
wi
beautiful; but she
ter. 1 can
there on the sofa,
sitting up. Sl
Lo
while
with
wrapped around
brown hair
all
face used
already not earth —it
pure, and with great
gleamed like stars,
Was sweet you
her to stop speaking, but it
was also so low you ly hear
it by listening carefully.
“Was Mr, Browning there?”
“Oh, yes, and he used
her as one watches who has the most
¢ whole world to
keep guard over. He looked out for
her comfort as tenderly as a woman,
“1 think 1 never was another
that: a marriage that
two poet souls one
you notice how Browning ai-
ways speaks of finding ajain the ‘soul
of his soul'? It was easy enough
see that that was just what she was,
And the boy was there, too, a little
fellow, with long golden hair, and I
Se
& 8 | al sad
dahil ADOUL
* : *
VW Seen
¢
Of
the
pale, 50
eyes that
her vol
wanted
Ti en
en £0 never
could only
vo
re
here
made
how careful he was not to disturb lus
mother. Sometimes he used to stand
for a long time beside her, with her
‘spirit-small hand,’ as her husband
“Sometimes 1 have thought he feit
some premonition of it, he was so quiet
but perhaps it was only because his
father had taught him, above all things,
“The end came soon after that?”
“Yes, very soon.
son 18a bluff, hearty-looking English-
man now, painting pictures and carv-
ing statues, and the husband’s hair has
grown white as snow, and no other
woman has ever taken the place she
left vacant. Well, I'm glad I saw her
when she was only almost but not yet
quite an angel.”’
ER
The Remedies of Oar Ancestors:
Before the diffusion of a knowledge
of the circulation of the blood by Har-
vey, in 1619, the theories of medicine
were based almost entirely upon the
writings of Galen, a physician of Per-
gamus, who lived under the writings of
the Roman Emperors Hadrian, the
Antonines, Commodus and Severus, in
the second century of our era. The
practice of the healing art was mostly
made up of the use of simples—nerbs or
minerals—-toe form or source of which
gave an idea of their use. Blood-let-
ting, burning the skin with the hot
iron, the application to it of balsams
and various drugs having a pleasing or
disgusting odor, horrible farragoes or
sometimes hundreds of heterogeneous
materials, blistering, frictions, bathing
in certain springs or rivers supposed to
have some wondrous power over oer-
tain ailments, applications to the skin
or taking into the stomach of oils com-
ing from all sorts of sources—such
were the remedies of our ancestors,
Emetics and catharties held bigh
HE OVERSIZED HIM.
An Amusing Scene which Occurred
in a Paris Theatre.
Pay-Director Murray, of the United
States Navy, 18 very tall, and is endowed
with a physique in full proportion to
his height, When sitting, he holds
himself very erect, and a ordinary-sized
person, if seated behind the genial naval
officer, would experience considerable
difficulty in obtaining a view of what
was passing in front,
Beveral years ago;
while in Paris,
quietly, when his
directly behind him,
man in perfect rage over something
which was unintelligible to him. Rais
view of one of the performers, his as-
felt his arm pushed down and a voice
trembling with anger hissed into lis
BAT:
“swill
please?”
The request not only
you seet down, sair, iv you
his eyes, he then turned around,
sur-
without uttering a
gust with which the little
his hated neighbor, as
d
Vv Aan
tall, caused a most decided la
gil
id, being a sensitive litt
plant, he could not stand the awkward
position in whi he had unwitlingiy
, with a desperate at-
apology, he hurriedly left
the theatre,
1 this morning!
wih
‘It looks as if we were going t
some frost, th
118 season oO
is is pecul
f the year.
wWihio
meet another
down town ar
race for first
good i race course,’
“*What time do vou go to bed?”
“Abou ‘clock at night; this gives
18 plenty of sleep. The horses can rest
just as well ding in the street as in
must seem strange to you
to see me down so early in the morn-
ing, but it is necessary for me to come
I have so much There
trucks in the city than there
are business for, and I have to work
hard to make a living."
While the ex SMan was prooeed-
ing to tell of his hardships a laborer
came along with
way to work and engaged the truck to
remove his household effec A bar-
gain was speedily made and the truck
owner said as he lighted lus clay pipe:
“I did not come down for nothing.
The job will keep me busy until noon,
but I mieht not get another load dur-
have stood here
without earning a cent,
as
“an
r =
: O
wha
“aki
opposit 101.
+
wh,
day
I, especially the new
iness for years have regular customers.
as you give satisfaction.”
Another expressman drove up a
——— A ——
The Most Beautiful Womag
here. A water-color
of Justice Miller, of the
Court, now exhibited in an art store,
has been highly praised, and portraits
in oil of Senator Palmer and Mrs,
Joseph McDonald are now on his easel.
The wife of ex-Senator McDonald is
one of the most strikingly handsome
women of her day, and every one has
felt that Becker had a chance to distin-
guish himself with such a model to
work from. It was after seeing Mrs,
McDonald that Matthew Arnold cried:
“Wife! wifel come here! I have seen
the most beautiful woman in the
world.” Scores of people agree with
Mr. Arnold in that extravagant praise,
and every one acknowledges her great
beauty. Becker has made a rather
conventional portrait of the charming
woman, giving only the head and
shoulders, and allowing her to wear the
velvet dress so long dear to portrait
artists, Otherwise it is a most success-
ful effort, and besides catching the
sweetness of expression, with which
Mrs. McDonald first wins and fascinates
every one, he has shown the strength
and character that there really isin
that beautiful face. Mrs. McDonald's
smile and her lovely eyes give so much
when speaking,
portrait
ing im daily sittings now, as
pects to return to Indiana next
very visit that the Indiana
now is taken as a
he ex
er. A
Vate of Great Mine Discoverers.
The superstitious belief is an old one
that unless the discoverer of a camy
meets an untimely or bloody end his find
will never amount to anything; and
this seems borne out by facts, since
nearly all the discoverers of the great
gold mines of the United States, with
but few exceptions, have, the
saying goes, ‘died with their boots
on.” Of thirty-eight booming towns
of early days, the locators of twelve
were killed by bullet, three were buried
in their creations by cave-ins and the
“an
rest drifted away with the tide of 1m
migration, have become lost in oblivion
or died and were buried In paupers
graves, George H. Fryer, from who
the celebrated ‘Fryer Hill,” of Lead
ville, derived its name, died at Denve:
not long ago from an overdose of Ror
phipe admin!stered by his own hand
a millon or but he died £
pauper and almost without a friend.
Old Virginny, after whom the “Con
80,
who sold
ttle
whi
ns claim for §25, a pony anc
of whisky, came to his deatl
by an overdose from a bucking mule
a bo
Bill Bodie, the discoverer of the grea
n Mono county, Cal
storm
mine 1
life away In
a
the
ENOW
whi z mines,
Colonel Storey,
le making Lis way to
¢
gave his name tc
who
the Com
battle
4
VOC
5 k 1s situated, was killed in
Thomas Page Comstock
gar in a strange land,
I wn in
icide at
| on September 27th, 1870,
i himself, He was
Big Hq
' by Nevada capitalist
1 st «
somewhere ¢
was kn«
| committed su
the mining camps
Jozem Mont.,
by shooting
leader of the
yrn expedition that was sent oul
the
the
in search of
mii
hem
ho **struck’
8 re
he leading hospital
“haw by the
pioneers and
sing and repassing hie
a victim
Meadow L
morse
4
of ted
an
&vsieit
BEMIS
:
sluded
Prospecuors
dying bed.” he locator of the famous
Homestake, ip the Black Hills, is said
to have afterward turned road agent.
Times going hard with him, 1 ate
ypted to stop a stage loaded and pre
for just such cles, and
je was planted alongside the road by
he tender-hearted express agents whom
tried to rob and kill, Homer, of
Homer distniet, followed the
tradks Comstock. After
| squandering a small fortune he shot
| his brains out om streets of Sas
Francisco. Doughnut Bill, “Old Eu
| reka,?’ Kelse Austin, Lioyd Magruder,
“XN inemile Clark,” George Hankinson,
| Henry Plummer and scores of others
| died violent deaths in one way or
another, and reaped nothing from the
rich finds each had made in his day.
Doughnut Bill was planted in the Lone
| Mountain cemetery, in Utab, in 1868
| a lone grave under a white pine tree in
| a frontier miming town of Californis
tells where poor “Olid Eureka’ sleep:
| hus last sleep; Kelse Austin was Killed
| and buried in Elko county, Nevada,
| fifteen years ago.
Lioyd Magruder, while conducting a
| number of wagons loaded with treasure
from Virginia City to the nearest rail
| road, was murdered and robbed by his
| teamsters, who were Plummer’s out-
| laws in disguise; George Hankinson
and Henry Plummer was hauled up by
| vigilantes and strung up without the
delay and formality of a trial. In the
early days of the mining camps of
Montana, Plummer was elected sheriff
of the camp about Virginia City. He
was the first locator of the rich ground
about Virginia City, but thought he
could make more money, and quicker,
too, by taking what was already mined,
than by laboring in the gulch day after
day and getting it by hard honest toil.
But he was tripped up at last, and died
a cringing, miserable coward on a gals
lows of his own construction.
pe
emerge
in
tial »
suiciaad Oi
45
te
Bat They Wrote No Fish Stories.
Many of the apostles were lishermen,
my son, but you can read the Bible
through and never find where one of