The Helm or lee.
Honied from the chill of • frozen deep.
The toe-king spoke with corse* deep,
And bade the bittereit north wind blow
Down from the realm of eternal mow.
Down from the home of the ioe end froet,
Where eilenoe reigni and life ii loet,
The north wind came at the king'* command,
With ipeed. and bate and a crnel hand.
He farrowed the MM with froeen foam.
And mocked the mariner'* dream of home.
Of wife and child and eweet raroeaee
From strife and storm In a port of peace.
On slippery deck, with stitTnlng sail.
The teamen saw the gathering gale.
And, freeaing, stood by the toy mast.
• Palsied and dead in the spell of the blast.
Down from the realm of the frigid sea,
Belentlens, and oold, and cruel came he,
To oast his corse o'er the land of rest.
Where hearts are warm and home* are blest.
The traveler, tracking his homeless way.
Begging for bread In the storm that day,
fell frozen and dead in the toy air,
km the mocking wind denied hi* prayer.
The widow shrank with shivsriug dread
Prom his icy couch, in her chilly bed,
And her heart stood still in the oold embrace
Of that speotral fiend with the fatal face.
His enrse was fierce at the homes Of the poor;
Bat the rich in their pelaoee bolted the door,
And laughed him to scorn, as he hastened
sway
To visit the wretched ones over the way.
The woes of the wretched were carried back
To the bitter north on the wtnd s wild track,
And the ice-king, touched with the old desire
Of power supreme over best and fire.
Prophetic spoke in the frigid blest:
" The human race most end at last,
Dsapita their pride and their faithteas prayers,
Their selfish schemes and worldly cares.
11l crush their hope* with eudlea* death ;
I'll chill their hearts, congeal their breath
I'll freeze for aye this wicked earth
Prom central fire to outer girth ;
Their farms shall be bat frozen land;
Their ships be locked in toy strand;
Their cities, filled with woo and ice,
Shall lifeless stand in lifelaae toe ,
The long-complaining waves shall he
Peaceful and still on the frozen sea ;
The ocean, chained from shore to shore.
Shall boast his mighty strength no more
The reign of Justice I'll renew,
And baniih all the selfish crew,
Whose sin, and shame, and quick, desire
Find food and life in beat and fire."
At war with life, and scorning prayer
His corse is now in the bitter air.
The ground is clad for the grava to-day
And, should no power the toe-king stay.
A wail of woe and wild despair
Would strike the unrelenting air ;
Voiceless and oold. the earth would roll,
A lifeless orb, with frozen soul.
OF COURSE!
" Gwendolen I " from Mr*. Olivia
Glemnoreland's sanctum.
" Jessie I" from Mr. Gerald Glen
more-land's studio.
" Yea, ma'am—yea, air,** from the
pretty little maid coming np the stair*.
She stops a moment when she reaches
the landing, aa thongh considering which
aammona to auawer first, and an ahe
pauses, a handsome young man leans
over the balnster and looks down npon
her, and aa he looka he think < he never
gamed upon a prettier picture.
A alight, graceful young girl, with
serious, dark eyes, delicately-cut features,
clear pale face, and light wavy brown
hair, showing little apecka of gold aa the
sunlight falls through the hall window
upon it, parted simply on the low, broad
brow and rippling away behind the
lovely ears until lost in the heavy Ore
cian coil at the back of the small round
head; in a closely-clinging dress of
soma soft, dark material, with a knot of
Krnet ribbon at the throat, and a sister
fit on each lace trimmed pocket of the
dainty white apron.
"Ob! I say, Brown eves," he calls
out, cheerily, as the girl, becoming con
scious of hia presence, looks np with a
smile, " will yon pose for me 1"
"As soon as I can, Mr. Denys," she
replies, in a voice aofter and sweeter,
but as frank and cheery as his own.
"Yonr father and mother have both
called me. I mnst attend to them first"
And as the handsome head is withdrawn,
she enters the room on the right, which
one can see at a glance ia the den of a
sculptor; and a cculptor who, if it be
true that "good order la the foundation
of all good things," can never hope to
attend any wondrous height in his pro
fession. Half-finished statuettes ami
busts, dilapidated arms, legs, and torsos
in clay, plaster and marble, are standing
and lying abont in the greatest oonfn
■ion. Over Sbakspeare's dome-like fore
head droops a brood-brimmed hat; from
the throat of a dancing fann stream the
long ends of a silken neck-tie; and a
flower girl offers with her flowers a pair
of crumpled kid gloves sod a soiled col
lar. The sculptor himself—an odd-look
ing man with wildisb black eyes, and a
massive head oovered with a tangled
mass of the darkest cnrls, a gray thread
gleaming here and there—attired in a
blouse, the back of which alone given a
hint of its original color, is regarding
with critical gase a half-modeled bust
on the table before him, wbioh in turn
regards him with the blank stare pecu
liar to its kind.
"Ah ! there yor. are," he says, ap
provingly, as Jeasie comes quietly in.
"It is well. I want yonr nose, my
child. Tit just the nose for Elaine.
Couldn't find a better if I searched the
wide world o'er. Stand over there by
Hercules—that's a dear—and look sit
Mepbintopheles." Ami be commences
to sing in a strong if not altogether mu
sical voice the "Gold Hong" from
" Faust," aa the voice from the oppo
site room calls again, " Gwendolen.
" Can yon spare my nose a little
while, sir ?" asks the model, still look
ing steadily at the pinning tempter in
the eorncr, bat with a gleam of mischief
in her bonme brown eyas. " Mrs.
(Henmoreland is calling."
"Oh I ah, yes. Gwendolen work
ing away. "How long have yon baen
Gwendolen t"
" For two weeks past, sir. Ever si nee
my mistress began * The Priame* and
the Dairy Maid.' May I go, sir r* still,
best of models, with her ayes fixed on
EM fiend.
"You may; bntoome beak soon; for
kings may die and emperors lose their
crowns, but art to deathless and forever
nigna,"
" Y, sir," assenta Jennie, demurely,
and tripe away.
Mra. Qleomoreland, sitting before
her desk, on whioh is piled many aheete
of paper oorered with eye-exasperating
olnrography, her right nandl nervously
waving her pen about, her left graapiug
her fluffy fair hair, to its great derange
ment, allows the wrinkle of perplexed
thought on her brow to melt away as
the pretty girl appears.
"Gwendolen, my dear, "she exclaims,
turning suddenly toward her, and there
by soattering the pile of manuscript in
every direction, '* I want your ear. She
has the moet correct ear "—this to an
elderly lady who is sewing indnatrious
ly by a small work-table in the center of
the room. " Now my prose is excel lent
and my poetry not Bad—so lam told ;
but sometimoe my rhymes don't rhyme
exactly, but that sort of thing is only
allowed to the very greatest of poets.
I'm introducing a battle-song in the last
chapter of my novelette, and I'm in
doubt about ' hurrah' and ' war '—
' rah ' and ' war.' Are they twins, or
are they not, Gwendolen ?"
Hut before Gwendolen, who is on her
knees picking up the scattered papers,
can reply, somebody comes down the
staifs with a rush and bolts into the
sanctum.
" Mother, I kiss your little ink-stained
Angers," he says. " Hnt all the same 1
must have Brownevcs; I want her arm.
My grape gatherer is waiting for thrf
wherewithal to gather the grapes."
"It is—l mean ore they ?" asks Mrs.
Glenmoreland, as Jessie puts the manu
script on the desk again, and places a
paperweight upon it. And then she
smiles at her son, ho, after tenderly
milling the ruffled hair still mor\ kisses
the brow beneath it.
" I don't think they are," modestly
nnswers Jessie.
"Thank*, dear I" And Uie pen ia
dipped into the ink again.
" And now, Browueyee, yonr arm
yonr arm I" cries Deny*, striking a
"melodramatic attitude.
" I'm afraid yon can't have it just yet-
Mr. Deny*. I have promised yonr fa
ther my nose for an honr or so," saya
Browneyea, dropping a cunning little
courtesy.
"By Jove ! ia the goveruor at work
again ? Ten to one he never finishes it
111 look in on him for a moment or two;
he'll turn me out at the end of that
time. Bv-by mamma."
"I really don't know what we would
do without her," says Mr*. Olenmore
land, musingly, letting her pen fall and
blotting the sheet before her aa the
young people vanish.
"Meaning Gwendolen, Browneyea,
Jessie, or whatever her name ia?" in
quire* the elderly lady (whoby-the-bye,
is an aunt of the author's, on a visit to
her niece for the first time in fifteen
years).
" Known as Jersir to her sponsors in
baptism,' explains Mrs. Glenmorehuul,
" but Deny* ha* always called her
Rrowneyes, and I have a habit of giving
her the name of my heroine for the time
l>eing ; it helps to keep my story in my
thoughts. Dear, dear, bow many names
the little girl has answered to since she
came here four years ago ! And she
never objected but to two— * Phantom of
Fellow Hill,' and ' flag of Murder
Greek.' And I don't much wonder at
her not liking them."
" Neither do I," says the aunt, with a
grim am lie. " But yon have never told
me anything alront her. Who ia she ? "
" Haven't I ? Well, as I can't take
np the thread of my poem—that horrid
Deny* f—l'll take up the cat "—lifting a
pretty white and black kitten from the
floor—"and narrate for yonr eapeeial
benefit. Yon know when Gerald and I
were first married we were very unprac
tical"—
"I should think no," interrupt* the
elderly lady, with a decisive nod.
"One a scribbler of sixteen, the other a
sculptor of nineteen."
"But dear mamma, with whom we
lived," her niece goes on, "mnde life
easy for us until nine years ago, when
she died. Then for Ore years all was
experiment and oonfnaion. At first we
tried boarding: but the people with
whom we boarded objected to our break
fasting at odd moments between eight
and twelve, and thought it unreasonable
that we ahould expect little suppers at
midnight. And, besides, they also
complained that Denys—then only
twelve, but already developing the ar
tistic—used their best saucers, plates,
and other things to mix paints on; and
when the dear boy borrowed the marble
slab of the parlor table for the same
meritorious purpose, they became an
very violent we were obliged to leaTe.
Then we tried furnished rooms; made
coffee over the gas in the morning, and
dined at the reatanreut in the evening.
Bat we were soon obliged to give up
this mode of life; the principal rea- on
being that the bill of fare proved such a
temptation; and to our shame be it said
—having the most uncertain of incomes
—that when our ventures were suooeaa
fnl we weakly succumbed to the tempt
er, and ate birds on toast, and broiled
chiaken, ami omelette-souffle, and terra
pin, and all aorta of expensive good
things, aa long as our money lasted, and
in consequence were restricted to bread
and cheese and dried beef in the priva
3' of oar apartments for a week or more
ter. At last, after having dined aurop
tnon-lv one day, with a few invited
gaests. off a medallion and a three-col
umned story, and then beiog obliged to
live for two weeks on one short column,
we oonoluded to try boarding once more,
renting a room at the same time in the
Bsphac! building, where Oe*ald could
fling hia day and plaster about to bis
heart'* content, ami Denys, who would
not go to school, and would paint, might
be out of the way of the landlady's china.
But, my dear aunt* the other fellows
were in that stadio from morn till night;
■indeed, several of the most impecunious
spent their nights there, and very little
work was done."
"Then fortunately—that is, not for
buddy, but providentially—no, I don't
mean that either, but I won't wade time
seeking for the proper expression— Ger
ald's old nnde died, and left bin this
house. 'Let's go to housekeeping,'
said I, and we went, Heaven save the
mark I 1 never could make change;
neither oouldOerdd ; and as few Deny*,
be and the arithmetic are and always
have been perfect strangers. The re
mit of this ignorance could not fail to
be an extensive one. Everybody cheat
ed us. The servant girls wore my beat
dresses to wakes and parties, and one of
than had two of her friend* oonoealed in
the bonce for three months, waxing
strong and stoat on my provisions, and
when at last they were discovered, de
clared that she never knew they wore
there at all at all.
" And we were forever in debt, and
fast losing onr senses, when my dress
maker, a dear, good-hearted English
woman, who used to give me advioe,
housekeeping advice, in a motherly sort
of way, wbioL I would have taken if I
oonld have remembered it, died, after a
long illneea, leaving a fifteen-year-old
daughter. The child looked np at me
with those wonderfnl brown eyes when I
asked her, after her mothers funeral,
* And what will yon do, my dear ?' ana
said, ' I don't know ma'am ; I have no
relation bnt a grandfather ont West,
and he has jnst married again, and I
don't think he wants me.' I gave her a
kiss, and told her to oome home with
me. And she came, and since then life
has been more than endurable. Hha
proved to be the cleverest little thing
that ever lived, intimately aeqnainted
with the arithmetic and heaven's first
law, and has learned to manage every
thing and everybody in the house with
marvelous tact and skill. And the man
ner in which she understands my absent
minded ways and contrary orders is ab
solutely wonderful. Who else, for in
stance, would know that often when I
say 'shorn' I mean' hat,' and] vice
vrraat and who else oonld translate
' both dark and white meat and the
Chinese, yon know, my dear,' into
' chicken i-?ad and rice padding?' She's
a treasure—rhymes like a bird, poses
like an angel, and "
" Has she no lovers ?" asks the elder
ly lady, looking aolemnly over her
spectacles.
" Lovsrn 1 Bless yon, no. Never
the slightest sign of one. Her mother
wan an old maid; thst is, she wasn't
when—l mean she was before she was
married. Lovers! Good gracious I
don't speak of such a thing. I should
murder them. And I'm quite sure
Alicia—the name of my next heroine,"
she explains, in answer to a questioning
look from her aunt "lias never
dreamed— Wan that a knock at the
door ? If it be Alicia, enter; anybody
else, depart immediately."
The door opens in obedience to this
command, delivered in alond voice with
mnch emphaais, and " Alicia " enters
with downcast eyes and a black-edged
letter in her hand.
" I don't want it 1 I won't have it I"
almost screams ber mistress. " I hate
black letters. Take it away."
"It is not for yon, ma'am. It is
mine; and—and " (with faltering voice)
" I fear I mnst leave yon."
" Leave met" shouted Mrs. Glen
moreland, starting to ber feet snd
dropping the cat, and in ber excitement
she seizes the worn garment the elder
ly lady has been carefully patching snd
darning for the last hoar from that
worthy person's hands and rends it from
top to bottom. "Leave us 1 What ear
yon—what do yon mean ?"
" My grandfather has sent for me,
ma'am. ILs wife is dead, and he says
it is my dnty to come snd live with
him, as I have no other relativo in the
world."
"And you are going?" demands Mrs.
Glenmoreland, in tragic tones.
" I do not know how to refnae."
" Gerald ! Denys I" calls Mrs. Glen
moreland, loudly*, running serosa bet
room and flinging the door wide open.
"Come here instantly."
In flies ber husband, a lamp of clay
in his hand, and down rushes Deny*,
palette on thnmh.
" My darling, what's np ?" asks Ger
ald.
"By Jove I mother, hoe? yon fright
ened me I Thought the house was on
fire," says her son.
" Gwendolen—Jessie Brown eyes
Alicia—sua," pointing at the weeping
girl, " ia going away, never to return."
" Going away 1" repeats her hnsband,
striking his head with his right hand,
and then stalking wildly abont the room,
totally nnconacions that he has left the
lump of clay among his raven curls.
" Brown eyes leaving us forever," re
proachfully cries Deny*.
" After I've loved ber all these yearn."
sobs Mrs. Glenmoreland.
" And I've loved bar all these yearn,"
say* Mr. Ole.nmoreland.
" And I've " begin* Deny*,and then
stop* with a blonh that ia reflected in
the girl'e sweet face,
"Going to her grandfather—horrid
old hnnkn ! —who never thought of her
before he killed her step- grand mamma,
and who only want* her now to sate
the expense of hiring a honnakeeper and
n trae, which be ia well able to do, the
venerable wretch ! And ahe think* it
her dnty to go, becanae he'* her ' only
relative.' And I'vealwaya felt a* though
I were her mother;" and overcome with
emotion, Mr*. Olenmorelaod drop* into
her chair again.
" And I aa though I were her father,"
aaeerta the aculptor.
" And I aa though I were her broth—"
aaya the painter, and atop* in oonfuaion
a* before.
Jea*ic turn* from one to the other
with claaped hand* and atreaming eye*.
" I shall never, never be aa happy any
where aa I have been here. I would
have been content to have aerved you all
my life. But how oould I reconcile it
to my consoienoe if, without aufflciont
reason, I diaregarded the appeal of my
only relative, and that relative my
mother'* father 7"
" Rut he needn't be your ' only rela
tive '" aaya Deny*, earneatly, flinging
hia palette, paint aide down, on hi*
mother'* ailken lap, and apringing with
one bound to the young girl'* aide.
" There oan be other and nearer rela
tive* than grandfather*, Browneyea. I
never knew how dearly I loved yon till
tliia moment. I cannot bear the thought
of loaing yon. I want your hand and
heart. Take me for your husband,
dearest, and them your duty will be to
share my fortune* for evermore,"
Jeaaie, the innooeut child, bold* up
her pretty mouth for hia ktaa before
them all—the eel ia playing with her
grandfather'* letter—and * wonderful
smile turn* to diamond* bear team.
"The vary thingl" proclaim* Mr.
Olenmoraland.
"Of oouraa," aaya hia wife. 'Why
didn't you think of it before, you thrw
acme itoy, and aave all this bother f
And now go away, all of you. I have an
(ilea for a story."
The oouvici'* serenade to the warden:
" Bow oan I leave thee?"
The WMewer aad the WM.
When Mr. Thomas Thompson was
oonrting the widow who became his
sixth wife, said he, taking a pinch of
snuff and looking wise, " I will tell yon
what I expect of yon, my dear. Ton are
aware that I have had a good deal of
matrimonial experience. Ho-hnm I It
makes me sad to think of it, and I may
truly say that my cup of miaery wonld
be rnnning over at this moment if it
were not for yon. lint to business. I
was about to remark that Jane, my first,
oonld make better coffee than any other
woman in the world. I trust you will
adopt her recipe for the preparation of
that beverage.''
"My first husband frequently re
marked " began the widow.
" And there was Hnsan," interrupted
Mr. Thompson, " she was the best
mender that probably ever lived. It
was her delight to find a button off; and
as for rents in ooats snd things, I have
seen her shed tears of joy when she saw
them, she was so desirous of nsing her
needle for their repair. Oh, what s
woman Hasan was!"
" Many is the time," began the wid
ow, " that my first husband "
"With regard to Anna, who was mv
third," said Mr. Thompson, "I think
her forte, above all others, was in the
accomplishment of the cake known as
slapjack. I have very pleasant visions
at this moment of my angelic Anna as
she appeared in the kitchen of a frrnty
morning, enveloped in smoke snd the
morning snnshine that stole through
the window, or bearing to my plate a
particularly nice article of slapjack with
he remark, 'That's the ntoeet one yet,
Thomas; eat it while it's hot.' Home
times, 1 assure yon, my dear, these re
collections are quite overpowering."
He applied bis handkerchief to his
eyes, snd the widow said, "Oh, yes; I
know how it is myself, sir. Many is
the time that 1 see in my lonely hours
my dear first bus"—
"The pride and joy of Julia, my
fourth, and I may aav, too, of Clara, mv
fifth," interrupted Mr. Thompson, with
some spparent accidental violence of
tone, "lay in the art of making over
their spring bonnets. If yon will be
lieve it, mv dear, one bonnet lasted
those two blessed women through all the
happy years they lived with me—they
wonld turn them and make them over so
many times ! Dear, dear, what a change
fnl world- what an nnhsppy, changeful
world I"
" I say to myself a hundred times a
day, sir," said the widow, with a sigh;
"I frequently remarked to my first
hna"—
" Madam," said Mr. Thompson, sud
denly, and with great earnestness,
"oblige me by never mentioning that
chap again. Are yon not aware that he
must be out of the question forever
more ? Can yon not see that your con
tinual references to him sicken my sonl ?
Li t ns have peace, madam—let me have
peace 1"
" Very well, sir," said the widow,
meekly. " I beg yonr pardon, and
promise not to do it again,'
And they were married, and their
lives were as bright and peaceful sa they
oonld wish.
About Dags,
Modern breeders of dogs are not the
only people who pnt a high price on
them. In Guiana, the Tumura Indians
take great care with their dogs, and they
are extensively bought and cold. A
price of a good one is equal to that of a
wife. In South Africa, the Damaras
will give two oxen for a good dog. The
Pnsgians will, when famished, kill their
old women for food rather than their
doge—" old women no nae; dogs catch
otters." Ho that dogs may be oaid to
bring according to what tbey oan fetch.
Climate modifies the character of dog*
as well as of men. The English bnll
dog on its arrival in India can pin down
an elephant by its trunk, bnt in two or
three generations will fall off, loae his
plnck snd ferocity, the form of his lower
jaws will change, and he will have a
finer mnxzle and lighter body.
Dogs have been taught to speak. A
French dog oonld call in Intelligible
words for tea. coffee, chocolate, etc.; and
the dog of a young peasant boy in Bax
ony was taught to repeat thirty words.
Two famons Italian uogs, Fidelio and
Blanche, were tanght to spell 300 words
by means of a printed alphabet on cards,
to do snma in arithmetic, and to play a
game of cards together. Monsignore
Capcl, of England, it is said, has a dog
which will salute the portrait of the
pope and turn bis back on Bismarck;
while a dog in New England was tanght
daring the war to bowl and gnash his
teeth at the word rebellion, and jump
and wag his tail when the Union was
mentioned.
Dogs have given so many proofs of
their ability to reason and to show signs
of remorse, shame and sensitiveness to
ridicule, that no one longer disputes
their capacity, A dog in Pari*, being
frequently sent with a nate by hia mas
ter to get meat at the butcher *, one day
conceived the idea of obtaining Home on
his own account. Be therefore picked
up a piece of paper and camel it to the
butcher, and wa* apparently ao ashamed
at the failnre of hi* ruse that he would
never go near the shop again. Another
Pari* dog, perceiving that the visitor*
at a benevolent soup-house merely rang
a bell and had a dish of food set out for
(hem, without their being seen, sprang
up, rang the bell with hia fore pew*, re
oeived hia dish, and net down to devour
it at his leisure. Thia waa such a suc
cess that be repeated it several times
before be waa discovered, as he always
look care to go when no one was there;
after which they gave him a ticket, and
he went regularly for hia dinner with
the other beggar*.
Ceiuage ef the Dulled State* Mint,
The first silver ooined In the United
BUte* waa in 1793.
Up to 1877 there bud been ooined, in
different denominations, aa follows:
Dollar*.. g 8,044.ra* 00
Half -dollar* 119, *l9 MO fiO
Qaartar-dollare 94,774.181 60
gttwe. 14.14 V 7*B 90
Half-dim** 4,994,944 90
Three-mat pieces t,941,840 99
9994,979 99140
During 1878, coined:
Standard dollars 9 9.6T1W0 04
•motional seta 8,949,816 80
Tetel 9994.746,1<MT94
THAT BEA HERPENT t
This Tins l Is Wssa hr ths Vsrawtsss Cen
tals afths SIMSJ u Kllsa," Is l^aa
Isia as MaaaS.
A guileless New York reporter was
told the following sea serpent yarn by
Captain Danisl Dal ton, of the good ship
Jane Eliza:
" Now, put it dftwn just as I tell yon,"
the captain mid. "The Jane Eliza
started from the foot of Harrison street,
Brooklyn, on Jan. 3, 1879, loaded with
1,300 bushels of salt, consigned by J. P.
AO. O. Bobinson to B. E. Merwin A
Hon, New Haven. Yon will remember
it was the time when the big New Year
storm was blowing along the ooeat.
When we sot along as fsr in the sonnd
as Greenwich point, near where Tweed's
clnb house need to be, sailing nmler
close reefs (I was on deck, my son Prank
was at the helm, and my son William
was walking along the side, which left
Joe down below doing the cooking),
William snng ont to me and.says:
" ' Pop, any thing stink here?'
"'No,'says I; 'bnt we're in deep
water here, and yon wont tonch it if
there is.'
"' By Oeorge !' ssys he, ' there's the
sea serpent'
" That's jnst as it wsa said. We were
beading east-southeast at the time, and
he (the serpent) was beading west
southwest, toward Captain's island. We '
had approached each other at an angle, i
and onr bow most have paased over hit- :
tail."
" Did yon feel any shock ?"
"No, I don't think there was any
shock. The first I noticed WIUI when 1
heard William sing out, • By George !'
Then I saw ten feet of a big snake out
of water. He mnst have been not lees
than fifty feet away at the time. It was
abont a minnte, I jndge, that Prank
snd William and I had to take observa
tions of him. We called Joe, bnt he
oonldn't leave his oooking in time to
get a sight. Now, if you'll take down
the description. His head was jnst like
that of a snake. It was fiat on top, and
a foot and a half broad. In oolor
it wav black, with green Bpota. The left
eye, which was the only one we oonld
see, stuck out of its head like a frog's
eye."
" How large was it?"
" About as big a* a decent-sized tan
cor. As he went along, he kind of
turned his heal and kept his eye on ns.
! This was in broad day-light, at two
I o'clock in the afternoon. The eye
shorn d angry, bnt he never turned on
.us or showed fight. I could have put
j s ballet through the eye as well ss not,
' or I could have thrown s harpoon into
j his body, bnt I never carry fire-arms,
| ard I'm not s whaler, as I need to be.
; The bead was abont three feet long.
At least it began to taper down a bruit
j that distance from the tip of the nose.
: This smaller part continued for abont
ten feet, and was held up entirely ont
of watar. After that it (>egan to swell
all at once until it was as large as a
barrel. We could see that about two
i thirds of this part was under water ai
j he kind of foiled in the waves, and one
! third was out of water. We oonldn't see
! any of the rest of him."
" How long to yon think the serp;nt
was ?"
" Well, now, you guess, and I'll
I guess, and I'll gneas that be oonldn't
i have been less than thirty feet."
The reporter guessed twenty feet
more, jndging from the size of the head
i and body, and Capt. Dalton thought
that the serpent might well be fifty feet
! 'ect long. He hail put the leng'tb at
i the smallest figure he could conacien
! tiouily.
"In what way did he disappear?"
was next asked.
" Well, after he had kept his eye on
ns for abont a quarter of a minnte. he
, dipped his head into the water and went
. down (Capt. Dalton wriggled his nam!
alowly toward the floor) with a kind of
easy, waving motion."
"And didn't his tail rise ont of water
when bis bead went down ?"
" No, because be was a snake."
" Why not, because he was a snake ?"
" Mnakea, yon mnst understand, have
no fins. They have to move themselves
I with their tails, so that if their tails get
ont of water they are lost. He had to
; keep his tail nnder. If it had been a
j shark or a porpoise, it wonld have
showed its tail for certain. This is a
j demonstration. I've seen lots of sharks
! and porpoises and all kinds of sea crea
tures in my travels all over the globe,
snd I know that this was a snake. And
then them's another thing. I've read
in the Sun that on Friday, August 24,
j 1877, a serpent rose np ont of the Sonnd
abont twenty feet, and was bigger round
than a barrel, at this very spot that is
j near Captain's island lighthouse. It
hissed and roared. A few clays afterward
'■ Capt. Wicka, the two men at the wheel,
sod others oa the steamer Bridgeport
felt her bit something on bar star board
quarter. It shook the whole boat.
William Gamble, the deck watchman,
heard something like a bias and a bark,
and then something black rose up as
high as the flagpole and went down
again. That was jnst off of Captain's
island, too; and last summer, jnst about
the same place, it was seen again by
somebody else."
Ospt. Dalton drew a picture of the
animal he had seen with the reporter's
pencil. In constructing the eye be first
drew a large round cipher and aoonred
it all black with the point of toe pencil.
Ilia two stalwart son*, who constitute
his two mates ami the crew, corroborate
every word of their father's story.
Chinese Canals,
The Egyptians oat many annals ; ana
this simple method of promoting in
ternal communication is of unknown an
tiquity. In China oan Is appear* to
have been one of the earliest evidence*
of eiviliaattao. The " Great Canal "in
that conntiy is a memorable example of
this clam of engineering exploits. It in
said to have occupied a hundred and
twenty years in its construction, and to
have given employment to thirty thou
sand men, occupying the entire four
teenth century. It la about on# thou
sand miles in length ; and in supplied
by a great number of streams from the
flat conn try through which it flows.
Hlrong dykes, formed of alternate layera
of earth and straw, and sometimes eased
with stems, prevent the water from over
flowing the flat oountry. In same ports
the canal in carried oa an embankment
twenty feet high, while on others it
teasst— a cutting a hundred Cant deep.
(MpiiK ■ Mary.
If by a diary h intended a collection
of vapid or flat verbiage, supposed to
be reflections or "sentiments,* 1 or the
record of fancied feelings, or morbid
imaginings. or vain attompta to imitoto
the reputed journal* of voting women in
novels, it were, indeed, better left alone.
Bat if aa a guide to memory a person
makea a habit of preserving (latea, even
of ooourrenoea apparently of little oonse
qtienoe, the record at the end of the
year may be discovered to be quite a
useful guide to memory, and the aouree
of a good fund of interesting conversa
tion. Association will connect with the
eutriea so made many occurrences not
among those written at the time, but
which afterward grew into more oonae
qnence ; and also with many thoughts
and impression* of real aerviee which,
when recalled by association, may as
sume a new and prominent interest.
Doubts and inquiries about dates and
facta can be settled by some such pro
cess aa this : " I know Uiat it was be
{ (ore Much or anch a thing that I wrote or
did." The simplest notes and bars
dates in the diary may thus become
| series of landmarks - stokes planted in
the survey of the past. The reoeipt of
i letters aud the daks on which letters
[ arc written ; calls, lonfereocea, engage
ments, visits, journeys and a thousand
I other things, sncb aa booka read, books
; bound, booka borrowed or bought,
I stories begun or ended, pleasant even
ings at home or abroad, parties attend
ed, amusements, sermon* beard, all
I make material for entries, which, if
! nothing better presents, will constitute
a capital aid to " mnemonics," aa the
1 science of memory used to be called.
That science, as taught in formal
treatises, included a paraphernalia of
words and things which are harder to
recollect than the matters which they
are apposed to preserve. In the diary
thi* machinery of memory, being writ
ten out in order, does its work without
the formidable labor imposed by " arti
ficial memory," as it was .railed. It
works by mental photographs upon tha
memory of " what is writ"
ID bu*ina* matter* the necessary
purely mercantile record* greatly aid in
the recollection* of other thing* quite
apart from them. Among the beet and
clearest wilnewtes in court are men of
bnemeaa. Their head* are kept clear
by the record* of the date* of their
transaction*. The private diary extends
this convenience, and creates a sort of
aocial bookkeeping. Under the date
rated and printed aomething for every
day mar be put down, no matter how
bn flv. It may be a mere record of the
Mate of the weather. It i* not neoea
*ary, or even desirable, that each day
should record a wonder; for thia, be
coming common, wonder* would cease ;
vet any day'a entry may furnish a useful
hint when least expected ; and all of
them together will certainly constitute
an interesting fund of topics for borne
con venation and review, no matter how
plain the recorded events may be.—
Phitad> iphia Isdy r.
Hew te I/oad a ban.
The aatbor of " Shooting on the
Wiug'saysof loading the gun: Un
der this bead we have to consider not
only the best quantities and proportion*
of powder and shot, but the proper
mode of inserting the charge in the
faun. If the weapon be a breech-loeder,
lull directions in regard to the point
will be giTen by the manufacturer; but
where a ran ale-loader is used, there is
a certain routine to be both . .
for the sake of securing rapidity and
certainty, and of avoiding danger.
Both barrels of the gun being un
loaded, the following is the system that
we always follow: Qrasping the bar
rel with the left hand a few inches be
low the mnutle, the hammer* being at
lialf-ooek and the gun in such a position
directly in front that the trigger guard
i* toward the persou, we measure out
the primer quantity of powder for a
load, and pour it into each barrel in
succession; and, after returning the
flask to the pocket, insert a cut wad in
each barrel, draw the ramrod, and press
it gently to the bottom. For doing
this, Frank Forrester gives some very
exoellent advice aa follows: "Bemem
ber not to grasp the rod, much lesa
cover the tip of it with the palm of your
hand in ramming down, but to bold it
only l>etween the tips of your fingers
and thumb. In case of an explosion,
this difference in the mode of holding it
will just make the difference of lacerat
ed finger-tips, or a hand blown to
shroda."
The rod may now be held in the same
band that support* the barrels, while
t be shot is oarefnllv measured sod pour
ed into them; wad* are again inserted
and pressed home, and the ramrod re
turned to its proper place. All that
now remains is to cap the piece, and
see that the hammers are at half-cock.
The First Coaches.
Coaches were introduced into Eng
land by Fit* Allen, Earl of Arundel, A.
I)., 1580; before which time Queen
Elisabeth, on public occasions, rooe be
hind ber chamberlain, and the, in ber
old age, according to Wilson, used re
luctantly snob an effeminate conveyance.
They were at first drawn by two horses;
" but," ssys the same aatbor, " the rest
crept in by degrees, aa men at first ven
tured to sea. It waa Buckingham, the
favorite, who, about 1618, began to have
a " team " of sis horses; which, as an
other historian says, " waa wondered
at aa a novelty, and imputed to him aa a
master pride. Before that time ladies
chiefly rode on horseback, either single,
on their palfreys, or double, behind
some person on a pillion. In the year
1678, at which period throughout the
kingdom there ware only six stage
coache* constantly running, s pamphlet
wa* written sad published by Mr. John
Cresset, of the Charterhouse, urging
their suppression; and.among the grave
reasons given against their continuance,
the author say* •• These stage coaches
make gentlemen come to London on
very small occasion, which otherwise
they would not do but upon urgent ne
cessity; the eouvsufamee of this passage
makes their wives often come up, who,
rather tlmn oome such a long journey
on horseback, would stay st home.
Then, when they come to town, they
must presently be in the mode, gut fine
clothes, go to plays and treats, and, by
thesa, get rath a habit of idleness and
love of plea—re as makes them uneasy