Who is the Hero? “All honor to him whoshall win the prize,” The world she bas cried for a thousand Years; But to him who tries, and who fails and dies, I give great honor and glory and tears. Give glory and honor and pitiful tears To all who fail in their deeds sublime, Their ghosts are many in the van of years, They were born with Time in advance of Time, Oh, great 1s the hero who wins a name, But greater many and many a time Some pale-faced fellow who dies in shame, And lets God finiah the thought sublime. And great is the man with a sword un- drawn, And good is the man who refrains from wine; But the man who fails and yet still fights Gn, Lo! he i3 the twin-born brother of mine. AI AOL ST HOW SHE SAVED THE CAPTAIN. It certainly was very provoking, as John Bathust said, “for an honest man to chop wood for weeks in the cold, and to give his own and his hired man’s and his team’s time to haul it up to the house, just to have it stolen by some sneak of a fellow, who was probably too lazy to work.” at the postoffice where he went for his papers, taking care to let it be under- stood that he’d show the thief no mercy if he caught him, When the neighbors dispersed on one of these evenings, and took their several ways home from the postoffice, one or two passed by a little cottage, at the gate of which stood a tall, soldierly- looking man. They nodded to him, as is the custom in the country, although they were not acquainted, Sometime before, he had come to the | neighborhood and taken uphis residence in the cottage, which, with a few acres of land, had been left to him by an old | uncle of his. At that time they had learned that he was an Englishman, who had formerly been a captain in the army. His wife and a little daughter | had come with lum, but neither’ the | farmers nor their families had ever had | any save the most formal intercourse | with him, Squire Saunders and two or three of | the leading men had shown a disposition | to be friendly with him, but although he had received their advances with civility, this was of such a cold nature | that he was left severely alone by the | independent little community, which had no wish to be “looked down upon by any man, even if he had been a cap- tain in the English army.” John Bathust, especially, who had gone into the war a corporal and had | come out a captain, felt aggrieved at the haughty bearing of the Englishman, who had once actually addressed him as “my good man,’’ soon after his arrival at the cottage. What Captain Gerald lived upon was a mystery which puzzled the neighbors, He seemed to have no connéction with the outside world, with the exception of me correspondent, from whom came monthly letters with such regularity that it been decided by foungers at the postoffice that the cor- respondent swas a lawyer, and that the letter contained a remit ance. But for the last two months no letter had come, Evidently the captain had not expected any, for he had not to the postoffice, and, indeed, save for eing him with his wife and little girl out for a daily walk, his neighbors | would have forgotten him. ing the nutting season the new- comers always carried well-filled baskets home from the woods, the nuts peeping from under the red and yellow leaves | with which the baskets were fancifully | heaped. An irregular kind of thrift | seemed to prevail at the cottage, for the | apples in the little orchard had every one been picked with the elaborate care | which betokens both inexperience and | plenty of time. Tue neighbors, who in passiog had | noticed the harvesting, had been greatly | amused thereat. The potatoes, planted | in the early spring by the old uncle, now months dead, were lifted tenderly from | the earth and transported to the cellar | with the concern of the miser for kis gold. The corn was husked and stored away with the same solicitude, and the few vegetables which the well-tilled garden provided received the same ten- | der care, gone ot y uy in Bloomington for a two days’ visit to her daughter, came home just at night- fall about a fortnight after the first ex- «citement of the wood-stealing. *“*And you didn’t meet John at the Corners?’ her daughter-in-law had asked after greeting her. “No; and I thought it very strange that Johnnie would not be ready to meet his mother, after, she had been away for three days and two nights, 1 felt so certain that he'd be at the Cor- ners that I made Montezuma go twice into the postoflice to make sure that he wasn’t there,” And the old lady sat before the fire, still warmly wrapped in her heavy cloak and her serviceable, though unfashion- able, furs, looking as if a trifle doubtful whether she had better remove them at all, after this slight upon the importance of her home-coming. She had always been accustomed to being treated with the utmost deference by her children, «especially by *‘Johnnie,”” whom she most Joved, but from whom she de- manded unlimited homage. “1 don’t see how John could have missed you, mother, unless he was over at Jacob Parsons’. They've found out who has been stealing the wood, and John and a lot of them have set a trap and are going to wait for hum to-ftight. It must be that they're still talking it over, and that’s the ay John came to miss yom,” Mrs, Bathust explained, with soothing manner. “Humph! and who might the thief y?'’ her mother asked, —inter- but not quite appsased, “Who wou you Supbos¢ mother?" “Real , I cannot nk of any in the meighb either so poor or so mean to steal. ‘Who is it?" a “Captain Gerald, the Englishman “Yes, my , I reckon 1 know who Gerald is. And do Jo say him?” John’s mother, and she said, frankly,— “I don’t like that at all. I think John- nie might take a more manly course, I don’t like traps.” Then after a pause, during which she had looked meditatingly into the glow- ing hickory fire, she said, ‘Emily, if you have anything to do, don’t wait any longer with me, When I am ready to lay aside my wrappings, I can do so in my own room.”’ “Very well, mother; I’ve had a fire made there for you, so I'll go and finish my pies before tea.’ Once alone, the elder Mrs, Bathurst thought a while, then nodded with great determination and said to herself, “Yes, I willdo it» She rose and left the room, but in- out of the house, and turned in the direction of Captain Gerald’s She walked briskly and mdependently across the snowy fields, —an old lady who felt her resolution to be right, and who was going to put her foot down firmly upon traps of all kinds. Although her heart was filled with kindness and generosity, her manner was severe when the English captain ‘(rood evening, Captain Gerald.” “Good evening,’ résponded the cap- darkness, quite ignorant as to who his visitor was, and mystified as to what she could possibly want at such an un- seasonable hour, “Will you come in, madam?” “No. I say all I think I'll have to not goin, 1 can say right wood, and are too poor to buy it, I'll give you all you choose to cut off that wood-lot over yonder, And not come to my son’s wood pile to-night, for he and alot of the neighbors are watching for you, and you'll certainly be caught. I don’t approve of traps, so I came to warn you.” “What do you mean?’ cried the cap- tain, angrily, ** What do mean by com- ing here and insulting me?”’ “I mean only to do a friendly act, Don’t come out to-night.” *How dare you say I stole your son’s wood? and what do those—those cads me? she moved quietly ring the g meagre supper. the door, and asked, uneasily, the matter, Henry?" “Nothing—nothi i at once; you will get cold.” about prepa- She came “What is ng, my dear; go in But Mrs. Gerald was not so easily dis. posed of, “You must not stand here, Henry, with vour bare head. If this pel as anything to say to you, let her come into the house, Come!’ and she held the door wide open, “Have you anvthing more to madam?’ Captain Gerald asked, “If you have, you may as well enter,” And he stood aside for his visitor to pass, Although from the army, he was ¢ man who submitted at to enlamity rather than fight against it. That had always been soldierly weakness: but thi ime in his weak- NAY, once iis The three went in. ““*What is it, Henry.” OTT: v 1 1 1: a $ This—wom lady, I believe she is chance to cut wood upon some of land-—qs she seems to think we are in need of fuel. She is very kind.” His wife's face brighlened up, “You are indeed very kind, Bathust. bly worried to know how we should keep warm this winter. We had idea the cold would be so intense or we Mrs, befgre the winter set in. often feel sadly alone and friendless, without friends, “Will you sit down?” drawing a chair before the fire, which tried to throw out the much-needed warmth, but owing to its scanty supply of mate. rial, failed most sadly. ‘“‘Henry,” she continued, “how could kindly made?" “I hope Mrs. Bathust will pardon me if I have been rude,” the captain has. at his caller, which she understood and answered with a nod; then retiring into the background, he left the conversa. tion to his wife and their new acquaint- ance, Between the two there seemed estab. lished a bond of friendship. To the younger woman it had been a day of unusual loneliness and discouragement, and the elder had come just at the mo- ment when a simple act of kindness was very much to her, She recognized, too, through the un- conventional covering, such a sterling character that all reserve on her part soon vanished, and she gave way toan im- pulse to rest upon the self-reliant nature which seemed strong enough to support the troubles of others as well as her own, And before she realized it, she was un- burdening her heart of many of the per- plexities wluch had weighed it down, and basking in the warm sympatny which flowed over her. “Tell me whatever you wish to; I am an old woman, and I can, perhaps, ad- vise and help you; anyhow I can syme- pathize with you.” Mrs. Gerald tin ned toward the speaker, wiped her eyes and said, with a smile which showed how t and sunuy her face could be, **Yes I begin to feel that we have made a mistake, and have lived too much within ourselves, But we were strangers, and felt that we had no claim upon any of you, and-and’’— now how you felt!” inter, rupted 3 ng to tell, Of course we are not English, and are not like the people you have been used to, still we feel ourselves. but never mind about that. Tell dear,” with an affec- phi Jo Sou, en ein at Allee, woman very strongly, as hands often do, in their revelation of character, “Well, my husband decided to leave the army and come to America to live, I had some money invested very well, as we thought, which brought us enough to live upon very economically; but about three months ago the house which had it failed, and we are now without a pound in the world, except we look up- on our little home here as a small for- tune, “Most fortunately for us our winter's supply was provided by our good old re- lative who left us this place, We shall got through the winter without suffer- ing—though we 80 miss our mutton and beef-—and in the spring my husband will be able to plant again, and provide for another year. “From our poultry we have an occa~ sional meal and plenty of eggs, and re- ally we should be very happy and com- fortable if it were not for the cold. We have only such light fragments of wood as we can pick up about the place, and unfortunately for us, our uncle must have been a very orderly man.”’ ‘And you have been cold? Itis a shame, with plenty going to waste all { around you!” exclaimed the old lady, “Oh! we did not mind for ourselves, but when our little Edna complained, it went to our hearts.” “Well, there'll be no further need of that, your husband will cut off my land. 1 live with my son but I still control my hadn’t a cent in the world, still itis a very foolish thing to give up one’s rights, But, returning to her “remember, my dear, you have at least one friend in this country, who will power for must go now, but to-morrow Iam to see vou again. Good night.” “Goodnight. But Mrs, Bathust, you are not going alone. Henry you going tain Gerald, who had been a silent list- ener to the conversation, He felt ths tion of his callers as did his wife, and he felt. too. that once alone with her, he himself, which might be rather embar- rassing. Still he could not shirk the tt who one serve him. ie was not wrong in } verry “i 12 Hd ICIHRIONS, tis ¢ wife very much, Captain Gerald, You ought to be a very good man, with such woman. I'm glad she didn't suspect the real object of my visit.” “I can never thank you enough for saving her that blow. Poor thing! she has had enough to bear. She told you I threw up my eommission and left the army, | 37 that was because I was su ywardly fool ould not kes p from henever I got with fellows, until 11 ut loose from them entirely. was the reason And 7, in spite of the good step and reso- sometimes feel that I am a jure here, and th is nothing for me gambling o There, you ] confide in ries good t if i) 4 8 * 1 Y but i not tell you o¥ sha t she ¢ is } a certain istened to her, WW even lutions, 1 ore r Sn SC You insp 0 vou." Mrs. Bathust tered bv this second oc s $s s » touched a nd flat fidence, Was £1 During the evening, one neighbor after another dropped in at John Ba- thust’s, and sat talking around the fire in rather fragmentary style. Evidently their interest did not lie within-doors, They would break off in the midst of a to listen or glance out of the window, and finally they all filed out about in the pine grove, which made Mother Bathust looked from her win- About eleven she heard them re-enter house, and she descended to the sitting- room. “Why, mother, asked her son, “No; I wanted to see you after your evening's work,” she replied, with a twinkle in her bright, black eyes. “Well, there was no work done, un- less you call it work to stand around in the cold and snow for a couple of hours,” sald he, rather sheepishly. not in bed yet Weil, John, 1 caught your thief." asked her son, rising from the hearth. “I went over to Captain Gerald's and told him that if he needed wood he could cut all he wanted to on my wood lot by the swamp, but that he'd better not come to your wood-plle to-night, as you were waiting for him. While you eat your apples and nuts, boys, I'm go- ing to tell you about my visit to the captain. ’’ Mrs. Bathust told her story so elo quently that the company was a very quiet one when she had finished. After a pause, her son said; “Well, it's a pretty hard case. Of course I can’t understand why a man should be too proud to come and ask a neighbor for the privilege of cutting his winter's wood--it's done every day-—or why he didn’t hunt up work, “*One thing,” as he picked the last fragment of hickory nut from its shell, “we musn’t let him get discouraged and go back to his old habits or worse. I've Jreuty of light wood I can give him, and LI suppose the rest of you have, too. But after this I expect he'll be pretty sensi. tive; so I guess we'd better let mother manage the business for us, You know, mother, you must make him feel that we are his friends, Anyhow we must see him along.”’ Then he sat thinking, and after look. ing around at his companions, said with a smile, *“And since mother’s wood isn’t seasoned, su , boys, we contribute a few dry logs from my pile to-night?" And once more Mother ust ti hed passed ha Ho Ls me ou grove each with a generous log on his shoulder, and stole silently over the snow towards Captain Gerald's house, *‘It 18 better to t than to NAILED. A Counterfeiter's Predicament Fa. tally Prolonged by His Wife. A secret service detective relates the following: In the summer of 1864 com- plaints were made to our bureau that some one was ‘‘shoving’’ bogus shin- plasters in the neighborhood of Green Bay. A good many hundred dollars worth of the currency was let loose all at once, and I was detailed to proceed to Wisconsin and work up the case. It was settled before I started that the ‘stuff’ had been printed from plates made by an engraver known to us as “Slick Sam,” His right name was, 1 believe, George Disston, and that he was then in state prison on a long sen- tence, It was pretty certain that the plates had fallen into the hands of some of lus pals, and were being made use of in a lively manner. 1t was probable that the printing was being done in Chicago, and that an ‘“‘agent’’ had struck Green Bay to unload, Upon reaching the place mentioned 1 found that almost every branch of trade week, sales and remember buyers, and it was settled that the ‘‘shover’’ was an old | gray-haired man named Newell, { lived on a farm a few miles away. hardware, drugs and almost everything paying in shin-plasters w peared almost new. It was plai after getting thus far, that bought his bogus money outright of | some agent, or had sent to parties in in some city for it, Had it been other- vise he would have sought to i into good money. I swore out a { the cars within 1 else, Lo me, he turn it ir him, took miles of warrant i« 10 four way on foot, | cleared, Evidence of poverty and shift. lessness could be found on every hand. I was quite certain that I saw him about the door of the house while I was the door was shut and was in | sight, no “he rapping, a muscular woman about thirty my business, 1 replied that I was an { agent from Chicago and desired to see her husband, She ing, as I meant her to jeve, that 1 had come as the agent of the ¢ fe She stated t wis off hun 1 bel ters, Ling. ut After we had talked for half the woman's demeanor changed, What aroused he I can’t say, but I on me with distrust, plain who I was and my errand “So you are a my husband!” loud voice, I sought to calin her and had instant She settied down in her chalr and said she had been expecting it for weeks, and that her husband must make the She shed tears and seemed much affected, and passed and I wanted to go out and hunt Newell excused his continued absence and kept me seated on the plea that he must show up. 1 had been there two hours when we heard a | voice shouting for help. While I ran out of doors she rushed into the other room. 1 passed a half- { way around the man hanging head downward, hands on the ground and feet in a small window four or five feet up. After I leased him and taken him into custody I { found that he had run into the house way was the | tdetactive arress 4 LUI CORSS best of the situation, as time ah up SOON house When the wife raised her voice it to warn him who I was and brought me there, He climbed out of the window | escape, but In hus descent his trousers | wife was detaining me in order to give | was only prolonging his sufferings. | stood it until he could bear it no more, {and then called out, The case against years, THE GRAVE OF sUTTER. Burying-Ground at LitizDis- covery of Gold in California. — In a corner of the old Moravian bury- Tho Lancaster, there is a stone which is always the first to cateh the eye of the visitor. All the other graves are ex- actly like each other, grams of earth about two feet by four and raised about eight inches above the general surface mark the resting-places of the dead. There are no winding walks nor open bits of lawn to soften the look of prime precision and economy of space which pervades the place. The graves are arranged in straight lines with painful securacy and they are so close together that the dead can touch fraternal elbows at the resurrection. The graves are precisely the same size, whether of man or woman, elder or infant, and on each lies a flat square slab of marble, about the size of a family Bible. One stone is just like another, except in the inscriptions and the dis- tinctions time and weather and the moss have made. On many the names and pions texts and dates running far back toward the beginning of the last century can still be traced, On many others the inscriptions are as illegible and formless as the features of the dead beneath, There is no difficulty, however, in Mdentitying the soli grave in the corner, e mound e it is twice as big as any of the others and a large also covers it entirely. The in that has flowed from California. Once in possession of land now worth $100,- 000,000 he lived the last sixteen years of his life dependent on dn allowance from the state of California, He made mil- lionaires and died a pensioner, He was always a wanderer, Born in Baden in 1803, he graduated from the military college at Berne at the age of 20 and en’'isted in the Swiss Guard of the French army, the successors of that famous band of mecenaries who were #0 faithfully butchered in the marble The Shoes of Briton. Shoes, from the ornamental rather than the useful point of view, are a part of that mode of dressing which now demands to be considered as a fine art, This art is one in which the Paris. ian excels, and of which the English are ignorant and incapable. Perhaps some two or three of our great milliners produce original ideas; the rest actually copy and reproduce Paris model after balls of Verseilles thirty years before, After seven years’ service he changed | his colors and entered the Swiss army, | where he served four vears, put off his uniform and shortly after came to this country. In 1838 with six companions, he went across the plains to Oregon and down the Colum- bia river to Vancouver, whence he sailed to the Sandwich islands, Then he got an interest in a trading vessel, with which he sailed to Sitka and the Seal islands up toward Behring’s sea. Turn- ing southward after some profitable trading he arrived in the bay of San Francisco July 2, 1839, The appear- He made a settlement some distance up the Sacramento river, built a grist a tannery and a fort, founded a called it, for the sake of having an Alpine murmur in his ears, His restiess energy was ill unsatisfied, He took a commission afterward served as a magistrate under He took no act. ive part in the war against this country, after the annexation he was Al- and mem. COn~ i $34 Aine vie very that en- In 1848 came the discovery that en Marshall, a laborer digging out a new lump of something yellow, which Sutter at once recognized as gold. The mill never finished, The laborer turned his pick to a more ambitious purpose and set out to dig himself a for- tune, The miller bought himself a shovel and went forth to take toll of the yellow sand, The stream that was was sequel is well known, The New Helvetia and washed away Sutter's imperfect title to his land, He made a brave fi ght and a long one, laid claim to thirty-three square leagues of land, incloding that on which After long delay the o | missioner of public lands allowed claim and afser more delay the supreme court of the United States reversed the { d Then Gen, Sutter carried his {| QOCISION, ’ 2 3 yerky ONE ress, go through now stand, me © } $4 il 10 f most He when he bap- to drink the ing. The place and the Pra efual life the restless old iit to get tired of claim before ( the | who prosecuting tedious experience « opie take claims there, it in 1871, to come to Lititz we waters of quiet of the of its people appealed to man, who was beginning his long battle, and he made h } “until 1 get my claim through, was still pened mn ’ Whoieson is spr is home there ; he said. He was at his elaim t} him, in 1880, Washington, still when death ove His Moravian neighbors ugh. burving-ground, he was | not a member of their congregation, he could got be buried with the U wnbone, When a Moravian whatever hour of the day or night, a man mounts the tower of the quaint, squat church and blows a doleful signal on the trom- bone. The trombone player marches at the head of the funeral pro- | cession, playing solemn music, 1 § se} although, as dies, also _- “ — Men Who Live in Trees Dr. Louis Wolf, who made the sensa- | tional discovery recently that the Sakurn | River afforded a more direct and more | easily navigated route to Central Africa { than the Congo, made another discovery in the course of the same journey which | was quite as remarkable if not so im- | portant. On the banks of the Lonami River, far toward the centre of the Con- tinent, he says he found whole villages | tives, partly to protect themselves from | the river when in flood, and partly to | make it more difficult for their enemies | to surprise them, build their huis on the | limbs of the trees where the thick foli- | age almost completely hides the struc- tures from view. The inmates possess | almost the agility of monkeys, and they | houses with astonishing ease. It Is be- lieved they are the only Africans yet known who live in trees, In Borneo some of the natives are said to live in trees, and Mr, Chalmers, [in his book on New Guinea, tells of a | number of tree houses that he visited { on that island, These huts, which are { built near the tops of very high trees, | are used for loskout purposes, or asa | place of refuge for woman and children {in case of attack, They are perfect little huts with sloping roofs a plat. forms in front, to which extends the long ladder, by means of which the natives reach the huts. Mr. Gill describes one of these houses which was used as a residence. He says it was well built, but that it rocked uncom- fortably in the wind, AP An interesting statement has recently been worked out, showing the distance a trotting horse goes at sach second at various rates of speed. Maud 8., when she covered a mile in 2:058, Paris model. But the English shoe this, He does not know how to begin to make a pretty shoe even with the | model before him. His whole training | lands in his way; he would have to be | untaught and then taught again. This, | to concede all that 1s due Lo him, may { be simply because the demand on him { In this respect 1s not large. Everybody {| wanls pretty dresses, and dressmakers {all over the kingdom have to study | Paris models more or less, But the | mass of English women want boots and | shoes to walk in; while that is so, their | bootmakers will contine to be capable {only of making the thick soled, low | heeled boot, which is absolutely neces- | sary for country wear, His time is | pasted almost entirely in making these, { It is impossible that the same worker can produce a prelly shoe, The twee things are separate branches of work: and in this trade there arc no Parisian premieres to take charge of the pret. tier parts of the work, as there are for all forms of millinery or dressmaking. Hitherto, in fact, it has not beep { worth while for the bootmakers to im:. { tate the Paris-made shoe, and hire workmen to carry out the imitation. | know there are one or two houses that claim to have dope this, but their pro- { ductions are still distinctively English, and it is evident that they have not | thoroughly carried out the idea, now | 50 commonly adopted with regard to millinery, of taking the French model and modifying it for English use, At i present we have no choice; we must wear either the solid sjuare boot of the | English bootmaker or the smart boot | brought direct from Paris. ssn lI Ac A Big Coun try for Horses. | The number of horses in New South | Wales 18 large in proportion to the | number of inhabitants. At the close of 1885 the number was 344 O3¥, being | an increase of between 7.000 aud 8,000 on the previous year. The number of | horses returned as being fit for market during the present year is 18,930 draught 16,827 light harness and 20 816 saddle. Of the number it was estimated that 6.804 were suited for the India and China markets. There were sent from five districts 787 horses, to be shipped from Sydney, and from five districts 630 horses to Melbourne for foreign countries, In forty-one districts, the horses are said to he improving, the principal reasons given being intsoduc- tion of superior stud horses, breeding from good mares, more attention to the ru'es breeding and betler prices obtainable, in thirteen districts horses is, so far as regards improve- ment, reported as stationary, and in five districts deteriorating, the reasons given being 100 ch hight blood in- troduced, breeding from weedy mares for racing purposes, and drought. In thirty-nine districts the Lorses are re- ported as being entirely free from dis- ease. The losses 1n horses from drought starvation, wire in chaff and other ac- jeidents, as reported; amounts to 5.102 The number of wild horses in the coi- ony is estimated at 9,522, a decrease cn the previous year of 472 s——II of » of the breed The Comet, Professor Young observes that the comets are the most impressive and at the same time the least significant of the heavenly bodies. Since the beginning of the Christian era G60 comets have been recorded, those antedating the telescope being such as were visible to the naked eye. From three to six are usually discovered each year, Some of them are best known by the names of their discoverers, as Donasi’s comet or Encke's comet; but science knows them also by numbers and letters, as comet No. 1 of 1886, or comet A of 18588, The letter refers to the comet first discover. ted in the particular year, while the numeral refers to that which was first to go around the sun, so that comet No. 1 | and comet A may not be the same. The bright or large comets do not appear | with equal frequency in the different | centuries. In the sixteenth century there were twenty-three such; in the | seventeenth, twelve; in the eighteenth | six; in the nineteenth, thus far, twenty The orbits of many of the comets are ia the form of a hyperbola, showing thay they will never return. There are twen- ty-fiveor thirty whose orbits are elliptical, and the returns of which may be predictec {and there are besides fifteen to twenty ! which are probably, but not certainly eliptical. The planet Jupiter is believe Pr been the cause of the most of these eliptical orbits, there being twelve or fourteen comets whose initial motion would have carried them indefinitely into space had they passed at sufficient distance from this great planet in going forth, but which cannot now escapa from his attraction and must continua as attendants on the solar
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