YHE COWARD. ——— Davé was a coward and every one Kuew it, and Lord! how we went for him, And made him the butt of our brutal fun, Till his face would blanch and his blue eyes brim Into pools of tears !—buf he murmured not— He would just skulk off to his tent and sit tour after hour ia the self-same spot, With his elbow crook’d and his face In ft. There was something about this same boy Dave Something we never could understand ; He eame to the war on the first wild wave That billowed the bluecaps over the land. He was an orphan, and whether he had Brother or sister we never knew, Nor whence he came to us—he was a lad | That was hard to fathom, and talked with fow. Did I say Dave was a coward?—Well, It looked that way for a while, but when We saw him flash through the breath ef hell At Stone River, laughing among the men— When we caught the gleam of his yellow hair Fhrough the battery's smoke, and heard his voice Bing out through the roar of the earnage there, ‘With the troops of Turchin from Illinois; When we saw, In the front of the awful fray, The bravest reel, and the old flag fall, Clutched in the hand of the lad that lay Riddled with shot, and beyond them sll When we saw at the close of that fearful fight, Two blue eyes and a shock of curls, Clotted with blood, and a face all white And calm, in death, as a sleeping girs; We turned away—and we spoke no word; We turned, with a feeling of shame o'er powered ; And, we noticed that each man's eyes were blurred, As they fell on the face of that fallen coward. I tell you the army was full of men Like Dave, who, timid and half afraid, Patiently bided their time, and then Died, like Christs, on the barricade. ~James N. Matthews. A YOUNG PICKPOCKET. It was a bright, clear, Sunday morn- ing that I stood lingering on the Pont des Invalides, looking at the interest- ing view that lay to the eastward. Towering above the green and turbid waters of the Seine, the walls of the Louvre stretched in gray perspective, while beyond was seen the dome of the Institute, the pointed turrets of that famous prison the Conciergerie, the bu ky towers of Notre Dame, the deme of the Sorbonne, and the sharp, serrated spire of St. Chapelle, each and sll historical. Memory was very busy with the scene and the thoughts which it suggested, when, suddenly, 1 felt a hand at my pocket, and turning suddenly I grasped the hand of a lad at my side. He struggled for a mo- ment to escape from me, but when he found this impossible he stood silent snd sulky. I know not why, but as I regarded the little rogue I did not feel the least anger at his audacity, but watched him with not # little interest. He wore the inevitable blouse coming half down to his knees, the type of the humble class of artisans, with a slouched hat much the worse for wear. The fel- low might have beem good looking, though it was difficult to judge upon this point, so thick was the coating of dirt upon his face. As I looked at his hands, his wrist being grasped firmly in my right, 1 observed that they were small and weil formed ; not one of those accustomed to labor, though, in the matter of want of cleanliness, they rivalled his face. He was rather tall, quite slim, and 1 should have judged not over seventeen or eighteen years of age. Neither of us had spoken sa word while I was making these observations: and IL was rather surprised that the fellow did not show fight, or at least struggle to get away. Bat he saw that I was more than a match for him, and I kept & firm grip upon his wrist, de- termined not to let him go. “You are hurting my wrist,” he said, at last. “Very likely,” I replied. “You put it where you bad no right to just now.” “I didn’t take anything.” “No; I was too quick for you.” “What are you going to do with me?” “Hand you over to the police.” “Don’t do that,” said he, drawing closer to my side. “You are not a hard man—I can see that.” “You deserve punishment.” “Ah, but you will also punish those at home: they are not to blame, poor things.” the lad I would like to see his home. not to run away, I would let go his wrist and not hand him over to the Paige, He looked at me with a search- Ing glance snd thought for 8 moment betofe he answered, then said: “You have & right to make terms, I don't see what good it will do, but 1 promise, and you can follow me. I relesoil his wrist, and followed him aci-« «+ bridge to the other side af the Atier crossing the Boulevard St. Michael we struck into a labyrinth of streets that lie in this part of the city, tho famous St. Giles of Paris, and finally stopped before a tumble-down house, into which my guide entered ; and I followed him up a narrow flight of stairs to the garret. Here, taking a key from his pocket, he unlocked a door, and we entered a low room, in the middle of which, upon the floor, were a little girl and a boy a* play with some toys. My guide disappeared at once through a side door into what appear- ed to be an ante-room; and I turned towards the children, both of whom had left their play to regard me with curious eyes. The oldest could not have. been more than four years of age, a bright and pretty-faced boy, while his sister was perhaps a year younger, and extremely beautiful. They were coarsely dressed, but were clean and neat in appearance. The apartment, which contained _lit- tle or no furniture beyond a bedstead and two chairs, with a sort of bureau, surmounted by a looking-glass, show- ed unmistakable evidences of poverty; but yet no want of neatness outraged the eye, I had hardly made these observations when the door opened again, and there entered the room a young woman, scarcely more than twenty years of age. She was rather delicate in ap- pearance, and quite pretty, not to say handsome; and as she sat down upon one of the chairs, after placing the other for me, the two children ran to her knees with the instinct and affec- tion of offspring of their tender years. I had looked at her but 8 moment be- fore I discovered that the pickpocket of the Pont des Invalides was a wo man | “Did you not sus~ect my sex?” she asked, after a moment. «] certainly did not.” “Jt is my one resort,” she said, sad- ly, and never ado ted until I am driver to it to fill those little mouths!” “Dangerous business — you might have fallen into very different hands, as you must be aware.” “True, but I work by instinct. 1 saw your face, and I said: ‘I must have money. He is nota hard man; if detected, I may, perhaps, appeal to his mercy.” “Why do you not ask for aid in place of being thus a thief?” “That is a hard word, but it is mer ited. Do you net know that beggars are treated in Paris like thieves? The Iaw punishes both nearly alike.” “1 fear that you speak truly, these your children?” “Yes;” and she kissed them both tenderly. “Are you married?” “Monsieur” “] mean no reproach.” “I am a» widow.” “How did you lose your husband?” “He was one of the Commune, was tried, condemned, and fell by the mus- kets of the soldiery on the jlains of Satory.” “Alas, for these civil wars!” “Ah, but he was right,” said she, with all the obstinacy of conviction snd loyalty to his memory. I then listened to her story. Her nusband had been an engraver, with good wages, and had been able to sup- port his little family comfortably until the war, which was followed by the in- Are with the Communists, and suffered the punishment of death. Since then she had lived and supported her children by selling off everything that would bring money. Had got some work to do with her needle occasionally, but at last all seemed to fall her, and by means of disguising her sex, she had successfully consummated several small robberies of money, and once or twice had made attempts similar to that which had failed in my instance. She reasoned with me very cooly, and said, ¢If it were not for these dear children, I should cease to suffer very soon; for,” said she, ‘the Seine is al ways there with open arms!” I found that her sense of morality, or conscientiousness, could not be aroused, except in the matters of per. sonal purity—there she was immacn. ia‘e. She said, tenderly: “My hus band still, and I shall live and die faithful to him.” Notwithstanding ber noble sense ot punctions as to stealing. “The world owes me and my child. ren bread. 1 take nothing from the poor, only from such as can wallalford to lose It.” Honesty, as a matter of principle; she could not recognize. “Have you no friends?” “None here.” “Have you any elsewhere? “I have a sister at Rouen, the wife of a farmer. If I could get there, she would give me a home for myself and children, in Yeturn for the work 1 gould do for her. «You shall go there,” said I. “Monsieur!” «I say you shall go to your sister.” “It will cost fifty francs.” “Just about.” «You wiil pay this for me, who would have robbed you half an how since?” “1 will. promise,” She looked at me suspiciously for » moment. «What is it?” “That you will learn to be as honest and true in relation to the rights and property of others as you are with re gard to your honor.” «| believe I understand you,” she said, thoughtfully; ‘and I will pro- mise to try and do as you have said.” “That is all I can ask,” She came towards me now, leading the children, and said, “Monsieur, let them kiss you. I believe, after all, that there is disinterested benevolence in the world. I have been more than once offered assistance, but it has been coupled with conditions so hateful that I bave felt insulted, Kiss him, Marie; kiss him, Gustave; he is good—good, like your papal” I had been surprised at tho excellem manner in which she had expressed herself, while as she stood there now, her cheeks suffused with a slight color and her eyes lighted up by animation and a feeling of trust and gratitude, I thought that she was extremely beanti- ful. “] am going to Havre to-morrow, by : the way of Rouen,” said 1; ‘can you be ready so soon with your children?” +] can be ready in one hour.” But I exact from you one “Pack up whatever is necessary fou yon to carry. Here is money to get you a good-sized trunk. Be recdy to- morrow at noon, and I will come for you.” She attempted to thank me, but he: tips quivered, and she turned away to hide the tears that coursed down her cheeks. As I passed toward the door she followed, and, taking my hand be- tween her own, pressed it earnestly as she said: “There is a reward some- where for such kindness.” As I looked upon her now it seemed impossible that this was the pickpocket of the Pont des Invalides—the dirty Iad in a blouse, whom 1 had detained by force. Stopping over for a few hours ai Rouen enabled me to witness the moet- ing of the young mother with her sis- ter at a very comfortable Norman farm-house, as she described. FPress- ing a purse of 50 francs upon her, 1 , left the sisters together, both happy at { the reunion which should make them share the same home together, even as they bad done in childhood. “Keep your resolve and the secret of the past,” I said to her in a low voice, “With heaven's help, I will,” she replied. Five to One, It is said to be a prevailing delusion among English tourists that the natives of foreign countries are guilty of pe. culiar stupidity in not understanding the English language. Sometimes, however, even those who were not bora “bold Britons” attain a linguis tic advantage. Two English travellers in the Eas, one day entered the shop of a Jew who, thongh be spoke several other languages, had but a slight acquaint. ance with English. On his failure fo make the Jew understand what he wanted, one of the travellers said caré- lessly to the other: «The old foo) doesn’t speak English.” Unfortunately, this remark came within the radias of the Jew's com- prehension, and drew from him the following questions: “Do you apik Italian?” “No,” answered both, “Do you spik Grik?” +No.” “Do you spik Tark? “Ne.” “Do you spik Spanish so.” “Do you spik French oe, ’ hen, after a pause for proparstion, a old man ejaculated, energetioally” “Me one time fool; you five tue fool.” : Patt! Likes Billiards, A Chinese dispatch states that Signo Nicolini has presented Jacob Schaefer with a fino gold watch. Mme, Patti | bas a table in her apartments at the Richelicn, and Schaefer goes there every day to give lessons to Nicolini and his charming wife. Patti's love for the noble game is one of ber chief and brightest characteristics, and she honors the game by her patronage and interest in its many beauties. With Bell Panches, I asked Benator Stanford, says the Chicago News Waskington man, if his wife was correctly reported in a pub. tic interview the other day when the said that he had college gradustes | San Francisco. “No,” hot quite accurate. what Mrs. Sonford said to the reporter | Whose interview you mention, but it is # fact that at one time in San Francisco I had five college graduates and three young preachers in my employ as con- ductors on the street railway, and I must say they made very good con- ductors.” “How did they happen to coms there?” “Well, you know that I have a very wide acquaintance throughout the country, and there is a popular im- pre: sion that any anyone can get work | in San Francisco. My friends, know- thousand men, assume, of course, that comes, and therefore they send out to | me from the East all sorts of people with letters of introduction. ile it is tue that I employ a great many men, . make ita rule never to put a man into a position he is not | qualified to Mf. I have no work for share towards supporting the church to which I belong and in assisting other ment. So when these people come out I have nothing for them to do. “Afterwards, when their me ns are exhausted and they come to me again, I say to them that cerfain positions are vacant, and let themn select for them- | selves, as conductors on the street-car lines to manual labor, and are, of course, bei- ter qualified for them, and so it hap- pened that atone time I had five cole lege graduates and the young preachers that I mentioned in my employ. They did not remain long, however, be cause, all of them having good mah- ners and more than ordinary iutelli- gence, they were able to make ac- quaintances rapidly, and soon found other and more a propriate positions.” A Fortune Just Missed. Quincy Robison related an imcident of the early history of the oil regions recently which may give the children of the present generation a vague idea of the magnitude of the transactions which took place when oil was $8 and $9 a barrel, and poor people gained a competency by scooping it off the sur- face of creeks or gathered it from pools around the tanks which had overflowed. The story as told by Mr. Robison was as foiiows: «Within a month after Col. Drake nad struck the first petroleum ever brought to the surface in America by means of drilling, my father and the father of my relatives hers bought a tract of land, comprising 1,280 acres, adjoining the farm on which the Drake well was located, for $350,000. Not long afterwards [ waa sitting in their office one day—I remember it ss dis tinctly as though it happened only yes- terday—when an agent for an Eastern syndicate walked in and offered $500,. 000 for the 1,280 mcres. The owners looked at him rather incredulously for a moment, but before they conld speak be had counted out on the table $500, 000 in cash and drafts, which he offered for a deed of the tract. I was appalled by the sight of the pile; but my father and the father of these gentlemen re- tired for consultation, and decided that if the property was worth $500,000 it was worth $1,000,000, and the offer was refused. Their heirs still own the land and now it is valued st about $20,000. Where they could have got dollars we could scarcely get nickels. Thus you can see what seemingly fairy stories could be told of those days. They are almost incomprehensibe to the present generation, out they were red-hot facts.” And «sigh of regret that the offer had not been accepted : vung Bere. mere, The secretary of the navy does hono to the memory of one of the bravest of the brave in bestowing the name of “JATED BY EVER YBODY | + MAN WHO ABUSED IIIs LOW MEN. FEL- Tobody Darcd Attend His Wife's Fu- | neral, was known fo gree with anybody was just buried by A man who never tired monrners at Greenwood, New York lenry J. Irving, and he lived for years i n social ostracism upon a farm which {1e owned about two miles from Engle- yood, N. J. He was nearly 70, but because it was | Ppsaibie for any to abide in wace under the same roof with him. | 1e died as he had lived, neglected and tone, his dead body being found by a last Friday upon the back | toop of his house, where he had ex- | yred probably about fifteen hours be- Baye Sun. His name was one Heighbor { lore. { In his early manhood Henry J. Irv York. sareer beyond the fact that he was at i suceessful and popular and that {3 was at one time a member of the |Lagisluture, representing one of the sity Assembly districts. Something led im to abandon his profession and jwoured his whole life. No one among is neighbors of the past thirty or {forty years knows what drove { trom the city to the obscurity of farm | ife, but certain it is that never within { heir memory has this eccentric man his fellowmen, | quarrels were of his persistent seeking {with all with whom be came in con- | act, antil he was avoid.d as carefuily | 3y the people around about as though | 36 were afilicted with a plague. About five years his wife, b+ good woman, died suddenly. She | was much respe ted by her neighbors, {yet such was the dread of Irving's | Juarrelsome temper that mo cne st- |tended the funeral, for fear the old | man might take it into his head to {drive them out with a pitchfork. He jhad been known to do such thiags on more than one occasion. The husband was compe led to hire pall bearers to wsist in the obsequies, and to go with him to his wife's grave. His spirit was in no degree softened by his wife's death. He seemed rather to grow more bitter and violent in his last years. Every man he Jooked upon a8 his personal enemy; every man was 8 thief and a robber in his eyes, He was not a miser; but be was grasping in money affairs. He never paid a bill of any description without first heaping a torrent of abuse upon bis creditor. Naturally everybody svoided doing business with him. He assumed a peculiar and some- what ostentatious piety. He some- times prayed in public in a conspicuous fashion. One of his neighbors did hie teaming for lim, but he hadn't the gourage to present a bill for the work oftener than once a year. On one oc easion he called with his bill just a Irving sat down to supper. The old man paid no attention to his caller until be had said grace, a ceremony that consumed nearly a half hour. Then be asked what was wanted, and the bill was handed to him. Irving jumped to his feet and cursed the man with a | him {deen at peace with Bgo could come from a man’s lips. He, raved until he was out of breath, © winding up with a profane declarstion that he would never pay the bill, The neighbor taraed to go. “Hold on, you good-for-nothing thief, what are you going for? shout~ ed Irving. replied the man. “Yes, I will pay it, and then don't you ever let me see your face again,” and the old man handed over the money, while his creditor again started to go. «Come back, you dirty Dutch thief,” thundered Irving. “Did you think youwere going to got away without giving me a receipt?” «] didn’t know you thought it neces sary,” suggested the long-suffering caller. “Do ‘you suppose I'd trust you » y else? All men are thieves,” not long before he applied to the sane man to do some more work for him. Irving's last public exploit was his violent opposition some time ago to the use of a schoolhouse in bis neighbor ticy hoses ! of the auhoY ance which his denunci ation causes Heart Aisinen cause of [4s death. the piazza was a basin of waler, anc { the old man found with hb sleeves rolled np, as though he wa | about after doing his ehores about the stable. He legves consider was probably ths In the corner of was to wash able property, though nobody know: how much. Besides his farm of thirt) or forty acres, he owned other real es tate in Englewsod and neighboring towns worth nearly $50,000. Th funeral took place Monday at Rich field. None of the neighbors stiended and, as in the case of his wife's burial, it became necessary to hire pall bear- ers to go with the body to the grave, He was buried by the side of his wife at Greenwood. [Ile leaves no children. Two or three sisters survive him, One of them, now living in New York Trieste 1 Grove Irom Nis house In & nm of anger many years ago, attended the funeral on Monday. —— Georgla’s Debt to Grady. But Grady gave Georgia new Im pulses, He took up the ideas of keer people and advocated them so strongly and so strenucusly and so seductively in the columns of the Constitution tha he forced people to adopt them. The mere enumeration of the things he has sccomplished in this way for the bene fit of Georgia would consume mone time than either you or 1 could spare Let me, however, cite a few exmnples He urged the people of Georgia to cul tivate watermelons on a large seale. A trifle, you say. Bo much of a trifle that to-day the melon Georgia represents nearly ten millior of dollars. Some people were ruinec by their watermelon schemes, and they blame Grady for the dissster, but majority of those who followed his published advice rise up and call him blessed. He called attention to the success that had followed the efforts of s man named Mitchell at Thomasville to grow the Leconts pear, and now that juscious fruit is found throughow the State. He wrote ravishing lines about th beauty of the soft-eyed Jersey eatth and glowing words shout the Angors goat, exemplifying his remarks with facts concerning the venture of Richard Peters with both these animals. To day the value of the graded Jersey cattle of Georgia is exceeded only 4 the herds of New York State. Throug his instrumentality there was intro duced into Georgia the Japancse per simmon, the beagle dog, the Guines cow, which is so well adapted to » profitable existence upon the pine bar. rens, and his arguments led to the introduction in Atlanta of broon factories, match factories and sosaj | factories. Georgia marble and Georgis railroads found in him an enthusiastic eulogizer. And before 1 forget it ) tmust say & word about his cotton-seed achievement. The Georgia planter hrew away their cotton seed as refuse material. Grady, in a series of his convincing articles, showed bow » valuable oil could be expressed from the seed, and the material that remaine( could be utilized as a desirable food forcattle. To-day one of the grestes sources of Georgia's wealth is its co ton seed. Philadelphia News. | Flight of Birds, It has been remarked that sailing vessels do mot lay down their cours upon the arc of a great circle, Shey would if distance were the only to be considered. The prevailing nde | the currents in the ocean, and many product of have to be taken into sccount. It is of interest to find that migratory birds are equally sensible of the ad vantages of different routes, This i perfectly noticeable in their crossing of mountain ranges. A Russian trav. "eller in Central Asia writes of thu habit ot the wild fowl: “The observations on the spring fight at Lob-nor afforded new proofs that birds of passage do not take (he ' shortest meridional course, but prefo a more favorable, though more ecirer itons route. “All the flocks, without exception which appeared at Lob-nor, came fron west-southwest, occasionally from ‘southwest and west. Not a bird flew direct from the south, over the Altin. countries, but pass over this difficur _sountry at its narrowest point.” De i, , ed The Naugatuck in Conneo a who held
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers