Life's Karl; Day.
A SONU.
Oh, who lm not welcomed in lilo'n duly day
The flrxt glcem ot *| ring-lime, tlio morning; oi
Mi\v,
When lift! mtiii nil Miiimliiuo, ami gladness, ami
gIOO,
Ami storms were hot zcpliors |u*t wing'd lrom
the -in,
Which, stealing along over pcrfuin'd parterres
Awoke every feeling nave sadness ami tears.
Then the Ireshneas of life was all wnrni on the
cheek,
No object seemetl eohl, ami no prospect look'il
hits A,
No fear ol the future to saihlon the heart,
Or sorrow, uukimloess, or grief to itn|rt—
While the newness ol lilu t" each tuomeut gave
wist— t
Oh, 'tis pity we cannot be always so blest.
Hut youth, like the ilroum that our fancy bo
guile*,
Ne'er liood* the illusion lain hid in it* wiles,
Till time comes to tell its it* beauty is flown,
lut tinting, its perfume, its brilliancy gone—
And the glow ot the past hut adds gloom to the
scene,
Kcmler'd dark by the tnem'ry ol what it has
been,
—C. I). Stuart.
TWEED S STRANGE LIFE ON A SCHOONER.
A STOKY OF Ills ESCAPE.
The escape of William M. Tweed front
Ludlow street jail, the mystery of his
long and successful concealment from
the sleuth hounds of justice who were
put upon his search, hisyicusitudinous
wanderings and his final recapture and
restoration to his old orison, which he
never left again until lie took the last,
long journey which puts all human be
ings out of the reach of holts and liars, is
a romance rarely paralleled, never sur
passed. A portion of it has been told
with average correctness. There litis
been a missing chapter, though, whoso
absence li ft the tale unfinished ami the
plot incomplete. The SuntUiy Xcu'x now
presents the bust link for the first time to
the public.
Win. M. Tweed escaped froin the cus
tody of the sheriff of tne county of New
York on the evening of December 5,
1H75. lie was at the time in chargu of
two deputies of Sheriff Conner. Accord
ing to their statements, as em bodied in
the published reports, his evasion of
their watchfulness oceurml in his own
house, where lie was visiting his wife.
It was thought impossible that so well
known a man could effectually conceal
himself from the search which followed
with a rigur never equaled in the crim
inal annals of the country. Hut days
grew into weeks and weeks melted into
months, and ttie whereabouts of the fugi
tive remained still unknown. Wm. M.
Tweed had vanished as completely front
official eyes as if tin- earth had devoured
him. No definite information of his hid
ing place was obtained until, after many
months the excitement of his escape
was revived by the news of his capture
at Vigo. Spajn, on hoard of a merchant
shin which was bringing Itim from
Cuba.
What followed is well known, llis
rm vious adventures in the Kver-Faith
u'i Isle are also part of history. Hut
there remains a blank netween his escape
and his landing on Cuban soil. That
blank the Suwl'ty New now fills from
information afforded by the man in
whose care the dethroned and flying
magnate left this country and the perils
which menaced him here Itehind him.
The schooner Frank At wood was. a
couple of years ago. the l>cst known ves
sel engaged in the West India fruit trade
from the part of New York. She had
been built by Donald McKay, the famous
Boston builder of clipper ships, for his
son. The old shipwright had expended
all his knowledge and -kill on her to ren
der her a marvel of symmetry and speed.
He had succeeded. The Frank Atwood.
for nusleland sailing qualities. Was more
a yacht that a common-place trader.
Her voyages were called the best on
record.
Young McKay, after a voyage or two,
fell into extravagance and sold his
schooner. She Iks -nine the nfoperty of
Mike Murray, the gambler of Ann street
and Clinton place, and the partner of
Senator Mike Norton.
Murray placed in command of the
Frank Atww>d a New bury port, Mass.,
skipper, named Bryant, under whom the
vessel wns sailed regularly in the fruit
trade with the West Indies. Captain
Bryant was n poor man, devoted to the
interests of his employer, who, on his
part, was a good paymaster and an easy
chief. What follows is Captain Bryant s
story, as told to a Sutulny Sew* re
porter :
"In the middle of April, IHTfi, the
Frank Atworxl lav at the foot of Dover
street, loaded with a general cargo and
cleared for Port Maria. Jamaica. A
messenger from Mr. Murray brought me
a note asking me to see him at ones. I
went with the messenger to 11 Ann
street, where I found him in the private
room.
"'Captain,'he said, 'I want to send
two passengers out to Cubq with you.
They will lie on Ixiard to-night. You
will want some fancy stores to vary your
ordinary sea fare. Here are f.jO.
in your stock at once. You are ready
for sea now ?'
" ' Yes, sir."
'"Oneof the passengers will assume
charge of the schooner. You will do
whatever he desires, as if he was myself.
Bv-the-by. I will send down to" the
schooner this afternoon, (live my ntcs
senger some token or other that the mes
sengers ran bring to you as proof that
they are the proper parties; and you
needn't put yourself out to tell any one
a!>out this either.'
"A messenger came that afternoon. I
didn't know what to givehim forAtoken.
My wife, who was in the cabin sewing,
took a sail-needle, the eye ol which was
broken off and which she had been using
'to make crochet-holes with, out of her
work-basket, and said laughingly: ' Hive
him this; it is not good for much clue.'
I put the needle in a blank envelope and
sent it.
"It was getting toward dusk that even
ing, and I was all ready for sailing.
Borne friends of mine were talking to me
on the quarter-deck when a man came
down the wharf. He was an ordinary
looking, medium-sized man. dressed irija
common dark suit. He strolled along as
if he had nothing particular to do and
plenty of time to do it in. He passed
down the wharf toward the soh<Kn<"r'
how. He stopped at the fore-rigging,
stepped 011 to the bulwark, and jumped
down on the deck.
" He didn't come aA. though, but fool
ed round forward, chatting with the
rook, who was getting supper ready, till
my friends went ashore. Then, just as
I was going down the cabin stairs, he
walked briskly aA and called :
"'Captain Bryant!'
" 'That's my name,' I said.
" 'Then you know what this means;'
and lie took the broken needle from the
lappel of his coat. 1 told him I recog
nized it and asked him what I could do.
He said:
"'lf you have no objection, I wish you
would get clear of this dock at once.
The sooner New York '' s our heels
the better I'll like it.'
'"Very well,' I said; 'hut I'd like to
know some name to call you by. I
suppose you have one.'
" ' My name is William Hunt.'
"I had the watch called up and we
east off from the wharf. I stagnated a
tug and was towed out of the dock and
down to Governor's Island. There the
tug east loose and we made sail_ There
was a brisk breeze going and wemowled
along at a good rate till we were nlKiut
midway between Fort Hamilton and
Murray A* Norton's Coney Island wharf.
There Hunt told mc to run as close into
thchcach sis 1 could and anchor.
"I obeyed. Hunt was perfectly cool
and collected, as if lie had the whole pro
gramme clearly made out. But he
watched every movement on the
schooner keenly. When the anchor
touched ground ! asked him if we should
furl 'lie sails, lie said
" ' ' much. I'nless you want the
trim if setting them agnin to-night.'
"Th:i time it was as dark as pitch.
The men went to supper, and I took a
snack on deck, jus llunt had said he
might want meany minute. He sat on the
taffrail, smoking one cigar aAer another,
humming a tune, and looking toward
the shore, without ever turning hi-head,
even when lie occasionally spoke to me.
My mate, who was eating-upper in the
cabin,came on deck as soon as lie finis lied,
and said it was eight I>ell*(ntao o'clock).
_ " He had hardly spoken when a bright
light hashed out ashore. It looked like
one of the (hush lights made by burning
resin, which we use to signal ships with
at night. It only dared out once. Hunt
jumped to the peck and threw his cigar
overt mard. I noticed that his voice
trembled with excitement when he said,
hurriedly: " Isiwer a lx>at. captain.
You ami me will pull ashore by our
selves.'
"I got a boat into the water at once.
Hunt and myself got in. 1 noticed that
he rowed nervously, hut like a man who
knew his business. We | ulied straight
for where the light had -bowed, and
beached the boat just liclow Murray &
Norton's wharf. There w .<■ three peo
ple there. One was Murray himself, an
other, young McKay, the former owner
of the Atwood. He had a lantern, keep
ing it part ially under the wharf, as if to
keep the light from Isdng si-en.
"The third party was a big, portly,
middle-aged man. with a eleap. shaved
fare. He wore a slouched hat. pulled
down over his eyes, a rough blue woolen
shirt, and dark pantaloons. He had no
coat on. There were three handsome
silver or nickel-mounted valises on the
beach at hi* feet.
" Hunt landed and said something I
rould not hear, sitting in the l>at.
Murray and McKay shook hands with
the middle-aged man and with Hunt,
and wished tliem good-bye and a pleas
ant voyage. There was no other con
versation. hut such as would pass bo.
tween parting friends. McKay put the
valise* in the boat, and Hunt and the
other man got in. He sat in the stern,
and wa so heavy that he almost
swamped the gig. When we pushed off
Murray called to me:
"' You know your orders, captain.
Don't make any mistake.'
'"He won't if I know myself." said
Hunt, and we rowed off. leaving tie m
watching us. The man in the stern
never moved or said a word aAer we
started.
" As soon as we got on hoard Hunt
and the other passenger went into the
cabin. I ordered the anchor to lie liotj'
short and followed them. The middle,
aged man was sitting on the sofa, witti
ins hat on yet, mopping his face with a
blue silk handkerchief. Hunt said. 'Cap
tain, let me introduce you to Uncle John
Seeor.'
"We shrsik hands, l'ncle John say
ing. without rising. 'Glad to meet you.
captain.'and taking his hat off. I knew
him at a glance, from his pictures in the
papers. It was Bill Tweed.
"Hi* face was thinner than the pic
tures made it, and his leard was -haved
close off. hut there was no mistaking
liinf The sight sort of flabbergast'*!
me, and I kept staring like a boohy. He
noticed me usiktag so intently at him
and stooped down, so as to hide his fare
while pretending to tie his siloes. He
was visibly nervous and his hand trem
bled very much.
"' I hope you'll make yourself com
fortable, t nele John. Anyhow you're
safe,' I said, hardly knowing what I was
saying anyhow.
"Then I went on deck. The anchor
wasn't apeak yet, and I set some of the
crew to swaying up the sail, while I
walked up and down, wondering what
would happen next. They were at it
when Hunt came out of the cabin, lie
was quite calm now. and smoking a
fresh cigar. ' What's the matter, now?'
he asked. 'I might as well tell yon.
Hunt.' I said, 'that I know who I nele
John Secor Is. Don't you think I ought
to have a stake out of this?'
"'Never fear.' lie said, quite gnyly,
putting his hand on my shoulder. ' | lie
old man hasn't got much. He'* been
pretty well cleaned out, hut we won't
forget yon. lie's not one of that sort.
Now get to sea as <iuick as you can.'
We were well out to sea by daylight.
Tweed began to be seasick the minute
we struck rough water. He was about
tlie sickest man I ever saw. awl was as
helpless as a baby. There was some
thing pitiable in the sight of him. He
would lie in his berth with Hunt, who
was as good a sailor as he was an oars
man, holding I.l* head over aw isli-hasin,
and retell and vomit for hours, till you'd
think he was goiiijf to turn inside out.
The Atwood'* cabin is so small that the
air soon became close and fetid enough
to give a whale the colic, hut the sick
man would not come on deck. He lay
there three days, sweltering and being
sick, drinking brandy, by wny of medi
cine. Then lie got well enough to sit up.
and was soon nil right. Even when he
was \gor*t sick he had a oheerftil. cliir
rupywny about him. As soon as he got
over it bo- was as jolly company as you
would want to find.
" I always called him Uncle John, but
I soon saw that Hunt must have told
him what I had said. I saw it by the.
way he spoke to me. There was some
thing free and familiar alaiut it n* much
a* to say, Well, you know the worst;
and if you want to hurt me, I can't help
it," But I didn't want to hurt him, as
he soon found out.
" He waa very nervou* in the presence
of the mate and crew. If he could he
would contrive to be in hi* stateroom
whenever they came into the ealdn.
Now of tli-'ni recognized him, though,
nml he lost hi* uneasiness. He wim ho I
big that I M to knock two IMTIIIH into |
one to give him room in hie etihin. and !
lie could hardly turn even then. Itut lie j
took it cheerfully enough. Once I made '
(ionte renuirk nliout the closeness of bin'
Quarter*, and lie said: 'There's tighter
| places than this in the world, captain.' |
"Tweed went on deck for the first 1
time on tic morning of hit fourth day j
' on hoard. He had eaten a hearty break- |
| fast and was very jolly. About noon we
sighted the schooner Commerce, from
hariuoa to host on, with fruit, and lie:
became uneasy at once. The Commerce j
ran down toward us and signaled us to
compare longitudes. This seemed to set i
poor ' I 'nelc John' wild.
'"What do they want?' he asked
anxiously.
" 'To exchange longitudes,' I replied.
" ' Are you sure of flint?"
'"Ofcourse I am.'
"ll' walked away muttering to him
self. When we parted company with the
Commerce, I noticed that Tweed was not
|on deck. Neither was he in his cabin, j
' I called him and he walked out of a ]
| closet, a little sweat-box scarcely big
' enough for a man to cram himself in ;
j edgeways. He was bathed in pcrspira- j
I tion and as shaky as a baby. It took a
big drink to steady his nerves. When I
i explained that the Commerce was not j
I from New York he had a good laugh at (
his own expense.
"lie and Hunt managed between
: them to kill time very comfortably.
1 They had heap- of paters and some
I Isioks in the valises, wfiich tin-v read
! and talked over. They talked polities a
i great deal, too, but 1 never was much of
a list at that, so I didp't very clearly
understand what they were at. Tweed
spoke to me sometimes on the same
j .subject, and even mentioned the names:
I of Sweeny, < 'onnolly and the others, tell
ing stories about them. 1 knew of them,
j of course, but most of the other names
he mentioned were strange to me. 1 have
heard tie in since in connection with the
, "ring" business, but i hadn't tie n.
"Tweed took great interest in navi-!
gat ion, nnd followed me when I took my
■ observation* with iiiw h attention. 1
j explained the instrument to him and the
; figures on which my calculations were
: based, but he said laughingly that they
were "as clear as mud' to him. One
thing he could do, though—that was,
mark the time on the chronometer when
I took the longitude. He did it regular
ly, and called it ' working his passage.'
"He would patter around the deck,
too, and once tore half the s<-at of his
pantaloons off on a barrel boon. 1 had
| noticed that lie had r.ot changed them
since coming aboard. Tien I found that
they were the only pair he had. 1 lent
hint a pair of mine, which lie managed
to squeeze into while his own were l>e
ing neridcd When he gave them hack
to me h<- lrej left a handsome penknife
in the pocket for a keepsake. I've got
that knife yet. 1 wondered at the time
at his Is-ing so hnrt of clothes. After
ward it -tru-k me tlint he was a hard
man to tit. He couldn't get his clothes
ready-made, and while lie was in hiding
lie was afraid to have a tailor make
any.
"Tweed took great interest in the sea
and everything about it. We generally
bad lines put over the stern, and when
ever we hooked a fish lie examined it
before it was turned over to the rook.
A little shark we caught kept him busy
for a couple of hours. Then, when we
got among the drifts of Gulf weed, the
HMB li-"l to ti-li Bp whole bttsbeb of it
for him. He would pick out the crabs
and sen spiders from the wrack and
hunt up the descriptions of tliem in a
couple of old liook* I had in the cabin.
He and Hunt eolle, ted a wliolejar full
of the Ugly things, but tlicy ), ft them
behind when tiny land"!.
" Flying-Ash were another hobby with
him. A wheste school of them (few on
hoard one night, attracted by the gleam
of the it" k lanterns on our big white
sails. Old Sam. otir cook, took tie bn< k
lsinc out of a lot of them and fried them
for our breakfast. I thought Tweed
would nevtr get through that morning.
He said the flying-tisli made one of the
Ix-st dishes lie ever ate in his life. It
struck me that was paying tliem a big
compliment.
'• lie took a great fancy to dolphin,
too, when Sam gave it to u one day in
a curry. As an eater, however, Tweed
was by no means out of the way.
Aft>r be got over liis sickness be had a
good appetite, but nothing extraor
dinary; and lie would eat snip's fare,
and leave the extra dishes I had provided
for Hunt and me to linih off In drink
ing lie was "|itally temperate. A
of brandy now and then a lien his stom
ach wanted toning was about the worst
lie did. My supply ol liquor was hardly
touched during the voyage.
" I soon found that neither Twe, d nor
Hunt knew where they were going.
They wanted to land in Cuba, but had
no id'-a at what point. All the satisfac
tion I got from Hunt when I asked him
where to steer, was ' Make for the cast
end of Cuba.' So I shaped our course
for Cape Mavsl, the extreme eastern
point of the island.
"When we got clear of the Bahamas,
Hunt told nie they had concluded to
land at Santiago de Culm. They pad
settled on that place from a hook they
had brought on ls,ard. It was the nar
rative oi a winter voyage in a yacht,
among the West Indies, written bv some
yacht club man and published in N< w
York. It was called • West India
Pick lea.'
" Among the places described in 'West
India Pickles' was Santiago de Cuba.
Tweed had taken a fancy to it from the
description, hut when ho found another
of Matanzas, he did not know which to
choose. Hunt favored Santiago. So
I tlicy made a toss up of It. with the head
of a twenty-dollar piece for Santiago nnd
the tail tor Matanzas. Head won.
Tweed's nervousness had nil disappeared
by this time, and lie was as gay as a
schooll>oy out for n lark, except when lie
suid Hunt were talking privately, when
lie was very grave. He was a great fa
vorite with t lie men. and scenuxlto epjoy
his popularity heartily,
i "One of the crew was a young Cuban
named M:\jen. He was working his pas
sage to Baraeon. Mqjcn had ix-en pretty
much all over the island,and when Hunt
learned It he asked permission to have
him into the cabin. Though ho com
manded every movement of mine with the
vessel, he nver Interfered with the dis
cipline of the ship.
" Tliev had Mqjen in tlic cabin every
day, ann between them laid out a per
fect network of routes on a map of C ulm
they had, They marked tliem in diffid
ent colors—red, blue and black. I sup
posed they meant in some way good,
better ami best, or i 'ire versa. Mqjen
gave them names of people, places nnd
the like, all of which they carefully
noted down. Ho got a double-eagle for
his pains.
" I was naturally curious to know how
they were Axed for money, hut I got
very little satisfaction on that score.
The three valises were Ailed with linen
and a few old suits of clothes of Hunt's;
hut in one was a Russia leather satchel,
with strapstosling it over the shoulders,
and it was lull of something. There was
also a leather writing-ease, similarly
Axed for carrying. Hunt had a money
belt around his waist,. The only weapon
I saw was at (Remington revolver,
which Hunt carried.
"On tue J tjo April, sixteen days
out, we weat..iTed ( 'ape Maysi, and be
gan to think of the end of the voyage. I
had never been to Santiago de t'ulia, so
I overhauled in v hook of sailing direc
tions and we lielif a council of war.
" We found from the hook and chart
that there was a little river emptying
inttlie sea, about four miles from San
tiago harlior. It is a lovely place, only
visited for fresh water by occasional
ships. There Tweed determined to go
ashore, so we ran for that point. We
had lieiul winds and an ugly sea, and did
not raise tiieeoaat until after dark on the
first of May. I ran in as close as I dared,
and cleared the boat which had been
housed on deck for lowering. We were
laying to at the time, and the night wns
very thick and black indeed. Tweed
ami Hunt were below packing the few
tilings they intended to take ashore into
one valise.
" Suddenly the seaman who was hail
ing the lat out of sonic water she had
shipped iii launching, called to m that
lie could hear the noise of paddles legat
ing the water. Tweed must have had
-harp cars, for lie was on deck at once.
At tfie same time a light showed on our
lee how on the seaward side of us, and
we heard the splashing of the paddles
distinctly, it eame nearer nnd nearer,
and other dimmer lights Ih came visible
in aline lower down toward the water.
It was not long In-fore I made them out
to he the port Arcs of a mnn-of-wai. I
afterward found that the vessel was the
sloop-of-war Conquistador, which was
patrolling the roast to cut off an c\ pec ted
landing of revolutionary Cubans who
were corning across in a sloop from
Jamaica.
"We lay quiet as mice. The etui SIT
slid by us, as it seemed to us like the
slowest sort of a snail. She did not per
ceive us. though, and we saw her lights
fade out and heard tlieHoisc of her pad
die-die away.
" It was midnight by that time. Hunt
had brought the valise on deck Tweed
had the satchel slung to him. Hunt
carried the writing-case. Tlicy s|Nikc
togetluT ill low Voices on the opposite
side of the deck from me. Then Hunt
went into the cnldn and called medown.
He had a roll of something in his
right hand. He nut his hand out and
grasped mine. I felt the hank notes
pressed into my palm and he said, " Stuff
them into your pocket, captain, and
say no more about it. I- the Uiat ready?'
'' ' It is.'
"'Here's fifty dollars. The old man
wants you to share if among the crew.
You e:in have those two valisis. They
are of no use to us."
"This money wa in gold five dollar
pieces. He laid it on the cabin table
and I left it there. We got into the boat
with two men at the oars and pulled for
the shore.
"The schooner was laid to within a
mile of the shore, but though we could
hear the sea breaking we could not see
the land. A sort of fog was drifting out
from the mangrove swamps ashore, and
Is'twi-m it and the wind it was so chilly
that it made us shiver. Tweed now had
a coal on which I gave him. Otherwise
he was dressed as he had Ix-cn when tie
left Coney Island. He was very quffit.
hut uneasy and anxious. Hunt, on the
contrary, seemed to be a* r<*il as ever.
He spoke now and then to his compan
ion in a whisper.
"Guided by the sound nl the breakers,
we pulled down the ■ <a*t till I found a
rum nt settling steadily to seaward. It
was the little rii it we were in scan h of,
and turning t lie boat's nose into it. we
rowed in. There was a suit of sand at
tie mouth of the stream, on the Santiago
-ide. The stream wa> a mere creek,
not fifty feet wide, but deep, and with ft
strong current of ice cold, fr<-sh w atcr.
"We land"! our passengers on (lie
sand spit with tle-ir valise. Tweed
stumbled in ip Wing ov r the gunwale
and caught a (tucking. Honnlylaughed
at it. though. All his good spirits
seemod to return the minute he felt the
land under Ids feet.
" Hunt shook hands with me. when I
stepped ashore after tliem. 'Clood-hv.'
lie said.
'"I hone you will hare a fortunate
stay h<re. I remark"!. 'l>o you know
how long you will In- here ?'
"' That depends. We hope for a long
time. | believe.'
" ' Ihi you intend to settle, then?'
" * I don't know. Everything depends
on our reception.'
"Here Tweed Interposed as if to cut
us short, and shook hands with me. • I
ain obliged to you. Captain Bryant.' he
said. 'l'm sorry our vovage wasn't a
longer one; hut you'll he hack here, and
you may meet Cnejc John Socor again.
(iood-by!'
"One of the men called, '(Iood-by,
sir.' and lie said. 'Good-hy, boys, gnna
by.' He walk"! up the bench, then,
and wc pttsli"! off. The darkness hid
them in an instant, hut I onuld hear the
grinding of the sand as if some one was
walking up and down.
"It was now nearly four o'clock. I
got sail on the schooner at soon as I got
on board. When day broke the iand was
a mere loom on the sky.
"I had seen my last of Bill Tweed.
What happened to him after that 1 only
know from hearsay and the papers. It
had lieen arranged between us that he
xvas not to show himself to any one
ashore till we were out of sight, as our
presence on the Cuban coast while our
clearance was for Port Maria, nt the east
•nd'of Jamaica, was irregular and might
get n into trouble. I suppose, therefore,
that they spent the night on the (reach.
The hank-notes Hunt had given me were
twenty Afty-dollar greenbacks.
" I went through the valises care
fully. They only contained a lot of
dirtv linen and underclothing, of many
different patterns, as if they had been
bought at different times. There had
ireen a name of four letters painted on
one valise with white paint. This was
scratched off. The Irook ' West India
Pickles' was in Hunt's berth. It had
been a new copy, but tlicy had been at
it so often Hint it was nearly thumb"!
to pieces. It laid around the KbooM
for a couple of voyages and then some
one froze to It, or the cook Used it to
kind lea Are with, we don't know which.
"We entered Port Maria liarhor next
afternoon, discharged, loaded, and re
turned to New Yorfc. I kept my ears open
for news of my passenger, hut heard none.
Murray never asked me anything nleuit
the pawuwe when I got hack',from which
I concluded that he had already hear I all
about it from Hunt. I never heard direct
ly from cither him or Tweed again."—
New York Newt,
FOB TilK FAIR SEX.
Ctiliirse It. null, .
A C'intoii (China) letter-writer says:
I never could lind out precisely what is
the great joy of a Chinese woman's life,
hut 1 think it must he tic dressing of her
hair; and, truly, this is done with an
elaborate, artistic science, curious to
see. This hair-dressing is the one nc
rom|ilis|im< nt of the Chin, .-<• holies, oc
cupying the wmic place that music and
drawing 1 v in the education of our
own wi.,:i „. Their'hair is invariably
black and very long. It is drawn hack
tightly from tlie face and stiffened with
a gum iitade front some kind of wood.
It is piled up in a wonderful pyramid
of hows, loops, wings, haves, flowers,
rolls, all so stiff that they stand alone
without the aid of pads, roulettes, pull's
or hair-pins. Not a single hair is astfay,
tin whole being highly polished, or, I
should say, veneered, which keeps it
smooth for nearly a week, when the
fabric is taken (town and remodeled.
" How do they sleep?" asks a curious
reader. They have a small leather pil
low, which fits underneath the hack of
the neck and keeps the head in a settled
position. Others liavc a case or box in
which they put the whole head comfort
ably, and which protects the coiffure
from Icing disordered. It is, beyond
question, the most intricate structure
that could he reared with hair, and
adorned with flowers and gems is both
an elegant and imposing head-dress.
Few women are taught to read or
write, whereas every loy is instructed by
the monks in reading and handling the
naint brush, with which their writing
i- effected. 1 was surprised to tod in
this so-called le-nightcd cotunrv that
even the cnolicehaiii-bcnrcrs could read.
It must !• remembered, however, that
this much education is insisted ut>on !>v
the government merely to tit men for
th" proper discharge of their respective
callings, nnd not from any abstract idea
of disseminating knowledge or "cul
ture" among the masses. If a hoy dis
plays quickness at his lesson he does
not necessarily aspire to In come a clerk
instead <if a eisilii—a mode of progres
sion which, if universally carried out,
would leave the world without any
manual workers at all.
There are no spinsters in China except
the nuns, who dedicatethejr virginity to
Buddha. These ladies shave tlt' ir heads
like the Buddhist priest* and thus de
prive themselves of the only sign of gen
der —the hair is dressed n ?/i teapot. I
paid them a visit in an old tumble-down
convent, more intricate of navigation
than evn the mandarins' labyrinthine
palaces. They visit the i. k anil [STform
ceremonies over them which arc consid
ered alike Is ficAi ia! for this world and
the next. 'lii'-' women arc reared for
their '.ailing, like the vestal virgins of
tlie Romans.
I AahloM \ole.
Jet is more worn in i'aris than ever.
Hat and Is-nnet brirni grow larger and
larger.
Gingham dres-e- find favor with ladies
of ail ages.
Brims of bonnet* may suit the fancy of
the wearer.
Parasols match the bonnet and dress
this season.
The Fani lion anil the Maria Stuart are
the raps for young widows.
Caps grow more and more dressy, and
are more fashionable than ever.
Very small white muslin twiws only
should used for morning wear.
lATgejahots, win t h< r of lace or muslin,
should he worn only in tlie evening.
White muslin hat*, with fichus to
nuUeh, are shown for garden parties.
Ijaec and muslin scarfs are worn
around the no k. inside the linen collar.
Wedding gowns are trimmed with
small hunches of flowers, set at intervals
down the front.
Shirred muslin anil Swiss embroidery
are niadc into Large collars, to he worn
with summer gowns.
Isuig white S' .arf-, folded douhl< and
edged witli plait"! Br--ton lace, are worn
witli summer gowns.
The bridal veil is worn over tlie side*
and hack of the head, instead of covering
tlie face French fashion.
Byzantine point is a new, showy cot
ton imitation that washes well and imi
t-'ito> antique lace to perfection.
I/fghorn and Tuscan straw hat* are
tlie most popular a* well as the most ele
gant of all tlie new productions.
Seal brown, dark blue, crimson and
black are the colors tlint are combined
witli white in the strip") parasol*.
Throat lwiws of China crape, trimmed
with thread lace, are worn by woimn
who are sick of the everlasting Breton.
Common flowers. sn-h a* hollyhocks,
exltus, cowslips, dandelions, parade* and
daisies are becoming very popular both
in nature and art.
Short bunclied-up Marquise polonaise*
of Victoria lawn and otiti r white sheer
fabrics are worn with short, black or
colored silk skirt*.
A foreign fashion is to wear white,
paie pink or blue satin dresses, hand
painted in artistic designs hv great mas
ters or sometimes by tlie wearer herself.
New breakfast caps have long tulle or
lace strings that cross in tlie back and
are brought loosely around the neck to
form a loop or how in front on tlie
basotn.
The Boat Hermit of Tulare.
Among the weeds and tiles of Tulare
lake, in ( alifoniin. may be found a man
who has cut himself'•(! front all but
wildlife. He is known as tlie "Boat
Hermit of Tulare." His name is James
Mac. Whether when lie made one of
the throng the Mac wa* followed by
Adams, lhtffy, Cullougb or anyone of
the hundred other name* that usually go
with the prefix he cannot he lead to say.
He calls himself James Mac. He
spends night and day in Ills boat, an
ordinary take craft, without sail or
rudder. In Ashing and trapping lie is so
expert that those who know him under
stand the hy-phrnsc " a* lucky a* Mae."
This mid character served in the navy
during the Mexican war. and in '49
joined the exodus for the gold fields of
the Pacific coast. He helj>ed to survey
San Francisco when It contained lesis
than a score of shanties. He joined
several bands of pioneers and marched
through the mountains and forest* for
years, returning to San Francisco to find
ihat it had become a large city. Tulare
lake, in tlie distance, wa* the only
natural leatureof the country, a part of
which had la-en claimed and staked off
by hini; so lie built a lwial and vowed to
|in*a liis life among the bulrushes.
Nearly two million men have been sao
rifleed in war since the Crimean war,
twenty-five years ago, and the number
is hourly increased.
A Pig's Long Fa*t.
At the new mine, Little May. writ' - a
Newfoundland correspondent of the
Montreal (itusrUe, a pig had crept in un
der the floor of a house built on sloping
ground, and when the foundation wru
finally closed in, piggy must have been
wrapped in a profound slumber, in a
comfortable Led of shaving- which filled
up partially the empty space. The house
wax not finished nn<l remain'*! unoccu
pied during the winter, hence the noi*e
made hy the prisons on hi* awakening
and his struggles to get out were un
heard.
Finding himself in durance vile, the
pig, like a true philosopher, accommo
dated himself to circumstances, and
wisely determined not to fight against
the Inevitable, He himself in
the shaving* and went to sleep for the
winter. Hi* mysterious disappearance
was commented on, hut it was supix***!
lie had lost his way in the woods, fieing
>f a roving disposition. He was a plump
animal nnd a credit to his ow.,er, who
intended to turn him into baeon aUjut
Christmas, and it was fortunate for him
self tiialhe carried a vintirurn in liis own
fat, on wliieh he subsisted 'luring the
winter. The house was closed in on the
iMd of Novemts r, IH7H, and on that day
" piggy was lost to sight."" All through
the following four months he slept
peacefully, perfectly indifferent regard
ing the Afghanistan eanrpaign and the
Isandula disaster.
Hut witli the warmth of April sun
his ■ if rgi< - returned, lie ruble' bis eyes
and turned over, managing to utter some
feeble (mints. Hy this time the house
was occupied, and the inhabitants were
amazed at hearing those mysterious
noises underneutli the floor of their
kitchen, Piggy 1h gan to feel the pangs
of hunger after his long fast, and his
grunts for release liecaine more impera
tive. An opening was made and (>oc>r
piggy at length staggered forth, tin
"ghost of his former -<;f"—-a walking
skeleton. His eonilitibn drew tears from
the eyes of the wornau who owned him.
who only knew him by the peculiar turn
in his tail, which surrlveo the destruc
tion of Ids tissues. Her joy over the r-s
-urrection 'if the lost pet was touching.
The news spread rapidly. The miners
gathered from all quarters to view the
wonderful pig who had lived for 142
days without meat or drink.
On*' of tli'in more IsKik-Jeamed tlian
the rest remarked that it reminded
hiin of the seven sleepers of Epiiesus,"
but. his obMnrattan was profanely
scoffed at by Uie others, as it was felt to
Is- an unwarrantable attempt to dispar
age the performance of tic ir wonderful
pig, of which they had all reason to be
croud, l'iggy'* fortune was made.
Presents flowed in upon him. I>< liracics
unheard of in tic- di> tary of nighood
were lib'rally supplied to'noun-b liim
•luring liis invalid condition. Warm
compounds of oatmeal and biscuit, fla
vored with delicious -craps and tip-bits
from kindly house wives, soon le-gan to
tell on hi* condition and swell out hi*
lean flanks. Hi- story went the rounds
of the mine*, and everywhere awoke
sympathy and enthusiasm. Whether lie
will be s- nt on for exhibition in St.
John's I eann"t say, but there can b< no
doubt that an ent'Tprising showman
would fidd it a paying sjs-eulation. The
filets, however, .HP- as 1 have stated them,
and the account I '-an guarantee as tsr
fcctly reliable. Whether hibernating,
in the case of a pig. is a new fact in
natural history 1 am unable to deter
mine.
t'aln and the Weather.
It is a familiar experience that certain
bodilv pains vary in their phases accord
ing to the weather, but probably f< W
have made EXACT scientific observation*
of this to any considerable extent. A
W ri'-s of ucli observations, made with
MUCH ability and perseverance, HAS lately
been r< I*IRTED to the American Acad'-my
of Science BV Prof. Mitchell. They arc
by ("apt. C'atiin, >f tlie L/nit'-d States
Army, who lost a leg during the war.
and since that time ha* suffered a good
deal FOIM tniumatic neuralgia. He
carefully noted, during live years, tlm
effects PRODUCED on him hy changes of
tip- weather. For the first quarters of
these five year* then- wreg.4Tl hours
of pain; for the second quarters, 2.102
hours; for the thirl quart'-rs, 2.05R
iiouis; and for the last quarters. 2,221
hours. The best "yield >f pain" is in
January. February and March, and the
poorest in the third quarter — July. Au
gust and September. During these five
years, while tlie *un was south of the
equator, tli'Tt win- 4.F1'.12 HOURS of pain,
lurainst 4.15b Ll<>urs while it was north of
the equator. Tlie average duration of
Uie attacks for tlie first quarters was
Iwent) -TWW hours, and for the third
quarter* only 1T.9 hours. Now, taking
the four years 'tiding January I, I*C9. it
is found that oftbe 5.0 storms cliartctvd
by the Signal Hun-au. 29H TW-iong to the
two winter quarters, against 2,'FLT for the
summer quarters. Tlie average distance
of the storm-center at the IS-ginning of
the neuralgic attacks was BHO miles.
Storms from the Pacific coast an- felt
ftirthcst off vrv SOON after, or as they
arc missing thflloeky mountain*, while
storms along the Atlantic coast arc as
sociated with milder (orm* of neuralgia,
which ar< not felt till the storm -center is
nearer. Itain is not essential in the pro
duction of neuralgia. The severest n<-u
-ralgic attacks of the year were those ac
companying the first snows of Novem
ber and LBS-CM her. One nt he r interest
ing oliservation is as follows: Every
storm sweeping across t (incontinent con
sists ol a vast rain area, at Uie center of
which is a moving space of greatest
barometric depression. Th'- rain usu
ally precedes tliis storm center by 550 to
fiori miles, but before and around the
rain lies a belt, which may lie railed th*
neuralgic margin of the storm, and
which precede* the rain by 150 miles.
Tlie fact is very deceptive, because the
snff'-rcrmay be or thciar odgeof a storm
basin of barometric pressure, and seeing
nothing of the rain, yet have pain duo to
the storm. __
A Sitka Komance.
It is rumored that a very romantic
marriage will soon be solemnised at
Sitka. A well-known and highly re
spected sergeant of the Marine Corp* is
anont to lead to tin hymenial niter the
lovely and accomplished daughter of the
Indian chief. " Sitka Jack." .Ve under
stand that this is a ease of love at first
sight. The bride elect having paddled
alongside the " Alaska with her light
eiutoe loaded with fish, Uie gallant ser
geant was immediately smitten and fas
cinated. The marriage ceremony will
!e perform I'd by the Rev. W. J. Bent.
Hishop-eleet to tlie Sitka Indians. The
marine guard are invited to attend in
full uniform, nnd the steam launch has
loen fitted up to take the happy pair on
a bridal trip to the North Pole to cool
Uie ardor or their love. Tlie bride will
of course wear Uie inevitable black silk
headdress common to the higher class ol
Sitkin ladies. No cards. No pie.—
tklka (Maria) Herald.