Foar-Leared Clover.
Once, when simplest (lowers of oetih
genroll to be ol heavenly birth;
When rnoli month was like the May
And all life a holiday,
Through the Held* we mod to go,
Wandering gnyly to and fro,
Seeking here and searching there—
Searching tireless everywhere,
Hill and vale and meadow over,
Just to And a lonr-leavod clover.
What triumphant shonts would rise
When we HAW the fairy prise'
Saw the precious, dainty thing
Which, as wo believed, could bring
Wondrous luck and boundleaa joy
To the tavored girl or boy
Who. in eeslacy of pleasure,
First espied the magic Iron wire 1
Now, with steps more sad and slow,
Through the autumns Holds we go,
And our hearts less quickly beat
To that musio at rouge and sweet
Which the dreaming pocta hear
Echoing ever, tar or ucar.
Tot e an now, if happy chance
Lores o ir meditative glance
To some green and dainty cover
Whore upspring* a tour-leaved olover.
Straight a thrill of glad surprise
Warms the heait and lighta the eyea,
And we, hall in earnest, say:
"This will be a lucky day."
Ah! the simple joys and tros
That our dreaming childhood knew!
Let ns cling, through good and ill,
To their precious memories still'
Like soft wiads, from distant bowers,
Waiting scent oiggyreetest flowers.
Float they ronnd the darker ways
All must tread in later days.
Time, that steals lull many a charm
From our lives, can do small barm
It he leaves undimmed and bright
Childhood's faith and pure delight
In the lowly things that lie
Everywhere beneath the sky.
Kmtlint Sherman Smith■
UNCLE JEAN'S STORY.
___
Louis Bertliold, witli his hoe upon his
shoulder. walked slowly down the path
toward the potato-field. His Uncle ,
Jean, who was sitting among the hop
.rines, smoking, called to him as he
passed :
" Where art thou going, Louis?"
The boy stopped and renting his hoe
Upon the ground leaned upon it.
"To hoe potatoes," he replied; " but
I don't want to."
" Don't thou?" said his uncle.
Jxniis looked at hiru mournfully. I
"But my mother said I must."
"That is another matter. Do you
Plow, I*ouis, what once happened to
me when my mother said I must?''
"No, Uncle Jean," frankly replied the ]
boy. "I know verv little of what hap
pened to you; anil f often think, when I
grow up and become a soldier, that
when I come tome again I will tell the
boys of all that happened to me."
" But I have never been a soldier,"
•aid his uncle.
"No; but yon are a sailor, and you
have been in many battles. You must
often think of them, bn you never talk
of them."
His Uncle Jean looked at him gravely.
"It is not fair, is it? There is Gustavo 1
Baliou—his grandfather lias many a tale
of his old tialtles, and thou—thou iiast
a glum and silent old uncle, who never
prates ol days gone by. Well. If thou
wilt finish thy work and come back I'll
tell thee of this time when my mother
laid her order on me."
Louis shouldered his hoe again, and
marched off. He did not hurry because
•f his uncle's promise; hut he probably
worked more steady. He did not stop
to watch the robins; and the rabbit that
ran leaping over the field was not chased
by him. He thought of the story, nnd
Loped It would be a good one, full of
gin powder and hinting ships; hut he
was not sure. His urcls was the dis- !
appointment of his life—that was the
truth; and, as Ixmitanid it to himself,
he dug hia hoe into the ground and rut
a potato in two. When lie was a little ]
riiap. lie was forever hearing of his
Uncle Jean, who had fought so bravely,
and who, it was said, was thanked hy
the queen herself. The farmers all
around the country would ask his father,
" What of Jean?" and out on the green
in the evening, when the young folks
danced and the old fo'.k* sat and talked,
there was many a t*!o told of what Jean
Bert hold Imd dune—how he had gone to
sea as a hoy of all work, and how lie had
been made n captain, end had hail a
medal given him for his bravery. He
hal fought desperate battles; he had
been a prisoner; there was no end of the
glorious tilings told of him; nnd Louis
often used to wiali that it was lie, in
stead of his younger brother who was
" named after him. for his brother eared
nothing alwut heroea.
But one day Dmi* saw from an old
stone fence where he aat wat< hitig the
•rows, noting how, as they flew, the
wife carried the burdens, that there was
a commotion of some aort at home, so lie
at once got down and ran to see what it j
meant.
In the great kitchen, surrounded by
the whole family, weeping and laughing, .
stood a very fat man with blue ryes, a
rosy, laughing fare, and dressed much as
the men in the town were.
This was Ids Unele Jean! Louis was
an surprised that lie eould not look glad.
He had often fanoied this coming home,
hut in ids visions his uncle wa< tali and
fierce. He had a long black beard, and
he wore a sword and scarlet.snd-gold !
clothes, and walked like a soldier and
aot like a duck. Whether this was a
good picture of a French sailor or not,
Louis never stopped to ask himself, hut
he knew that it was the way a hero
aught to look.
Of one thing he was certain—a hero
was never fat. Then, as time passed on.
his disappointment deepened, for this
uncle or his never talked of his deed*,
and seemed ta take more interest in
home affairs and farm talk than in scene*
•f flory.
When Iuis finished his work, he
tood and looked at it. It was very
good work. There was no saying more
common in the Rertho.d family than.
"Do it now and do your best," and
Louis had caught the spirit of it. So
theu be took up the hoe, put it in the
barn, and started for the hop v'.nes to
find Ids nncls.
"Hastthen finished?"said be,
" All finished," said I*nuls, sitting
down on the grass, "and I do hope.
Until* jean, that thy story is of war and
of hears mew"
" It certainly in oi win ; 'mt brave j
wore tlio men tlou must decide. So. to
begin: It was a down yearn ago, pretty j
nearly, when I had just oome ashore ;
from a long cruise, and was in the Krosi
est hurry to ft" home nnd see my mother,
that, just as 1 was fairly ready to go, the
captain of the Deliverance foil sick, and
1 was ordered to take Ills place and l*c
roaiiy to sail at once. 1 did not like it.
It was a compliment, hut I would rather
lave gone home —tou see I had been
,iway tor years. "'Fliou dost not wave ,
thy sworn over thy head,' said (Jount'
Ilohonstack, who was my friend. ' I
keep it for fighting. not waving,' said I,
lut in truth I had no heart for wav- j
in*. As for the Deliverance, she was a .
good little frigate oi twenty-eight guns. |
and had as a comrade, and under iny I
orders, tlie Isabelle, with twenty-four j
guns, and my old messmate, (iasper
nriss.se, for captain. What we had to [
do was to take a fleet of twenty mer- ;
chantmcn to Genoa. It was dangerous
service, tor we were at war with Kng
land, and her ships were lively enough :
it there wait lie prospect of a pri/e afloat, i
"We had to hurry our preparations,!
as the captain's illne-s had put lliitics
liaek, anil one day when 1 was at the
inn, seeing people. I was tohl some one
wanted to see me and wouldn't come in. .
When I went out, long after, there sat
my dear little mother, and near hy was
OKI 'Gray Jacques,' harnessed to the
cart, witli Jules driving. llow glad I
was too see her! She had come, she
said, to see mo before I sailed. lat once
told everylKMiy that wanted me to eonte
that night, and 1 took my mother off to
the ship and showed it to her. All, how
it pleased her to see me captain of it!]
Then, as she stood on deck, looking at
the busy rushing to and fro as the ves
sels were loaded, and as she tried to un
derstate just which belonged to my con
voy.'.die turned and said: "Jean, art
thou afraid?'" 1 No, mother. I mean to
do my best. I did not ask for it. and if
the wrong man was chosen the fault is '
not mine. 'Weil, well,' sain she, 're
member this—and thy mother it is who
says it—think of Jean Berthold last."
Louis nodded Ids head, the story was
of the right kind.
"The next day, nt noon, we sailed, j
It was all very good for a time, but off
the coast of Spain we met the Knglisli- 1
nidi —two ships. One carried forty
eight, the other forty-four gtins. It was
great odds, Isiuis! My surgeon stood
ny me at the moment. 'There's no u<f
in it,' lie said. 'No use in what?' In
making a show of light? We'll have to
surrender at last.' This was a nice way
to talk to a superior oftlccf, wasn't it?
' And give up the merchantmen?' said I.
'Of course. Tl.ey will necessarily i>e
captunsl, and we have to think of our.
selves sometimes.' 'Not first,' said I;
'we didn't come out for that .' So I just
ordered him In-low, and told him if lie
opened his mouth to the men in this
way lie would never doctor any one
again; and then we went into action. !
It was lively work, I-ouis, and enough,
as the rnhin-boy says, to make a shark j
laugh, to see how desperatelyJur guns j
fired. We had so few in comparison
witli the enemy that we had to do
double work. Fortunately we had
plenty of ammunition. There was but
one thing to do—to keep lmtli Knglisli
nien engaged and let the merchantmen
get off. If we had let one of them flee
our fleet would have Is-en kvt, so we
kept at it. When the merchantmen
were out of sight, when our docks were
slippery with blood and our masts gone,
we surrendered, but it was to the sec
ond mate of one of the vessels, fur the*
officers were all dead. There was hut a
handful of us leff, and we were liurrieil
on board the enemy, as our ship was
sinking fast. As for inc. I had a ball in
my h'g, nnd Ilriseao a cut on Ids
shoulder."
" What became of the surgeon?" asked
Louis*
His urn le smiled. " When I sent him
lelow he went to the hold; he couldn't
f;et any further down than he did, and
tore the cook found hini and routed him ,
out to attend the wounded. 1 put a man
over hini to make him dress a wound, ,
and never saw him afterward."
I*ouis nodded his head and drew closer
to his uncle.
" We," continued the old sailor, "were
taken to Portsmouth, and w|ien we
reaebed the shore we were ironed!
"Think of it, Loui*. we Frenchmen. '
taken in battle, fighting like tigers and
fighting well, put in irons! Ah. it makes
my blood boif when I remember it! I
could not walk to the prison, an.l we
were not on parole, so we were put into
a cart, and the people crowded around
us. hooting and scoffing. I told Itriar
to fancy it applati-e. nnd then the louder
they s'Tcameif tlie hotter he atouid like
It, hut lie shook bi head. IW was sick
and he was disgusted. As for me, I was
furious! Never would I so treat a Pris
oner of war! They nut us in s sort of
an inn. up in the tipper room, where the
windows were tightly barred and a
guai d pared the hall.
" For some days an English doctor
i ante to see us and dre-sed our simni s, I
hut we hnd no confidence in him; but
< ne day the guard passed in a little fel
low and said, "There, go work for thy
bread.' He was a Frenchman—a stir- j
gron; and now lie came and often talked
of our escape, for upon it we were re
solved. The surgeon had more liberty i
than we, ns he went from room to room, |
accompanied by a guai d. hut lie never
left the house. Had I been in his place
I would soon have been free, but ItC ]
could not see Hint it was possible. |
Then, one day. he came to us in great '
joy. for he had secured a file, and that
he gave to us. It made our way clear,
for if onrc the windows were open to is
we felt sure of escaping, and now. every
dav, we talked and planned, and we
railed the file 'a wound.' and France ' a
'•Ure,' and the guards 'objections.' fear
ing we would he overheard. The file
was poor, hut little by little the bars
were sundered until they were held to
gether hy almost a thread, and our pro
gress was concealed by bread crumbs
rubbed in soot.
" When the surgeon found that he
would have company in eacaning, he was
cheered, and llinugut ol new ways of
help. There was a Swiss who brought
cheese to the soldiers. He had been in
Paris; he was not unfriendly, and he
wanted money. Of this we gave him
nearly all we had. and promised much
more. Of course. If we accepted, we
would have to go to sea. but how? No
Englishman would have sold his boat,
and the Swiss would not have dared to
buy; he was known to he poor, and lie
was no sailor nor fisherman Ho the
days went on, the bars were sawn almost
through, but yet we were prisoners.
One day, however, iu a little tavern
where the Swlse used to go, there eat a
Norwegirn, who owned a sloop, lie
drank and he drank, and he went to
■deep with hie head on the table. To
him 'be Bwise went, and shook liltn.
* Aiouee,' sain ae. * you must go to your
boat:' unci sohe took him hy ttif niui
nnd i< d hint to bin own room, put him
to hi-il, took away his clothes iiml locked
the door. Then lie camo swiftly to the
surgeon nnd told him to prepare. That
nigiit we would he off! Then he bought
t bread, cheese and water, and put on the
shallop, and took her in the twilight up
a little creek.
"And wet Worried in each other's
arms Allien the surgeon told us that lib
erty was no clone at hand. France and
liberty! Never in battle had our heart*
beat HO fiercely 1 And yet I—l wan un
easy. 1 had a sense of what my part
was to be. hut I could not think of it;
and I talked and talked to Hrissnc of
whatour plans would be. The surgeon
was sure he could escape, for he was no
longer closely watched; and at midnight
a stone was to he thrown against our
window by the Swiss; and then we were
to bieak the bars, and. Upon ropes made
of our bedclothes, we were to descend.
It was near midnight when, as we sat
and watched the minutes slowly creep
ing by. that I took my courage in my
hands, and I told lirisaae he would have
to go alone! (don't like to-day, Ixiuis,
to think of what lie said, and how he
begged, l could not persuade liini that
I could not walk to the boat. Kven if I
could not, be said, there would be three
of them, and they would carry me. He
could help me out of the window, and
the others could receive me at the
ground; then he would follow ; and, be
tween them, they could get me easily to
the boat. I reminded him of my size—
that I was not a slim young fellow like
him, but heavy and almost helpless. He
would listen to nothing. The v.
it was. for me especially, tliat ali he • dd
was true, and that it could have becen
managed just as lie said, if it had not
iiecn for the fort of the danger of
detection, I could have slid down the
rope and, with their help, I could have
got to the boat, if we were unmolested ;
hut if we should have chanced to meet
any one, my presence would have been
fatal to the whole party. I could not
run. i would at once lie known ; and
Brissac, I knew, whatever the others
would do, would never desert me, and
the end would Iw* that we would be
shot. To this the faithful fellow an
swered that the night was dark, the
hour Ist", and the road led out of town ;
so the chance* were that we would meet
no one. We kept up this discussion, I
sometimes sadly, sometimes with Ileal!
and sharp words until after a stone
struck the window; and even after Bris- 1
sac had the rope r<itdy, and had em- I
braced me, he urged me to go. ' No! j
said (.finally. "If you are in France,
you ian work for my release. If I go, !
wc uiav nil lie lost; and if you stay, as
you still threaten, of what use will it be?
\Ve shall come to feel that God gave us
an opportunity and wc rr'used it. Go,
then, urge my release, and tell my j
mother that I still retnemlior not or
think of Jean ltcrthold firt.'
" Well, he went. We both wept; but
he went. Tie n I crept to my l<ed;
I was alone. The guard passed the door.
'lf he should come in.' I ' bought, 'even !
vet they could be overtaken!' ami. in
English, I .all out, * lirisaae. my lad.
give me the water; I die with tinrt"
and then I upset a chair The guard
paused, and I heard him laugh, and he j
went on. In the morning I thp w up '
the hed-clothe* on Hrissar's lied and
When onr hrnkfa*t came, the guard
said : "That lazy fellow, is he not up
yet?" It w.as noon before it was dis
covered. for I sang and talked, and it
was thought wc were both within. The
surgeon was first missed."
" Wasn't there a great luss made?"
ask'-d Ixtuis, excitedly.
"Indeed there was; the drum* w<rc
bent, the guards put under arms, the
country scoured bv horsemen, but. as I
repealed again snd again, that lirisaae j
was a good walker, tliev did not set sail ■
to look for him. The Swiss was never
thought of Until, when I was relenaed, I
sent the Norwegian money for his shal
lop,"
"Then you did get off?" said 1/iui*.
"Of course I did," replied his uncle,
laughing, "bow else tbinkest thou I
would lie here?"
" And how?" asked Isiuis.
" My king sent for me. ' said Jean IW
thold, proudly. J The merchantmen bad
to'd wonderfiil tales of what we did to
saTe them, and it was thought we were
all lost; so when ItrisSae reaehed St.
Main and it took them forty-eight Imur*
the people rose and would have
smothered him with kindne-s. They
took him in triumph through the streets,
and lie broke from them and told them I
wm in prison yet I don't know what
ponscn*e he talked, hut the queen heard
of it. and she sen? for him. and the end
was the king paid for my release."
"Hid you ever *<• tin? king?" cried
I/tni*.
"Yes, and the qnecr, and one of the
princes. There was too much fuse made '
ahou* all that, I/hiis.''
"There couldn't be!" cried I/mi*. ■
standing up in front of bis uncle, and ,
looking at him with flashing eye*
" Uncle Jean. 1 think you aie the great
est man alive."
" I am one of the biggest," said bis
unde, with n smile, looking down at
himself, "and if I sit aliout at home and
tell stories I shall be largcryet!" -C'Arpi
ftoit Union.
For the Ud Time.
There I* a tcucli of ? atho* about doing
even the simplest thing " for the last
time." It is not alone biasing the dean
that gives us this strange pain. You
feel it when you have looked your huit
time upon tome scene you have loved—
when you stand in some quiet city street
where you know that you will never
•land again. The actor, playing his
part for the last time; the singer, whose
voice is cracked hopelessly, and wlis
niter this once will never stand before
the sea of upturned facet, disputing tnr
plaudits with the fresher voices and
fairer forms; the minister who lias
' preached Ids last sermon—the e all
, know the hidden bitterness of the two
i words. " never again." How they come
to us on our birthdays as we grow older
Never sgain young—always nearer and
nearer to tht very last. the end which is
universal, "the lost thing which shall
follow all last things, and turn them,
let us hope, from pains to joys." We put
away our boyish toys with an odd heart
ache; we are too old to walk any longer
on our stilts, too tall to play marbles on
the sidewalks. Yet there was a pang
when we lliourlit we had played with
our merry thoughts for tin- last Urns and
life's serious gmwn-up work was wait
ing for us. Now we do not want the
lost toy* hick; life has other and larger
playthings for us. May it not be these,
too. shall seem In the light ol some far
off day* as the boyish games seem te our
msnhood. and we shall learn that death
I* but the opening of lbs fate lato the
new land of promise?
TIMKI.Y TOl'lb'B.
Among flic laws passed last winter by
the New York legislature was one per
mitting historical societies to acquire
and hold the site ot any battle or fort,
that is notable in the history of the coun
try, for the purpose of erecting monu
ment* or inclosing in ten-sling remains.
The limit of occupation is six acre*. The
property is to be free irom taxation and
free to visitors. The land cannot be
used for any business purposes, except,
perhaps, peddling peanuts and lemonade
at anniversary celebrations.
At the eiosc ot iast year there were
81.H41 miles of railroad in opera
tion in the United State*, with a popu
lation of about 3H,000,1KK). The number
of mi ies of road in operation in Europe
was about 1)4,000, for a |Kinulation of
something over 300,000 000. I'lie United
States thus has a mile of railroad to
aliout 401 inhabitants, nnd Euro;** one
mile to about 3,31*3 inhabitant*; or, in
other words, every inhabitant of the
United States has about seven times as
much railroad as every European.
Courting in the Azores, if one can
credit the correspondence of the Phila
delphia TV me*, is done at long range.
Passing n house the correspondent saw a
young man standing in the middle of the
road talking to a young lodv who was
leaning over the railing of the balcony.
When lie saw he w:i* noticed he walked
away, hut presently returned nnd re
sumed his conversation. On inquiry the
corrcsiKindi-nt learned that they always
begin that way, and that the ygung man
is never admitted to the house until
aliout to he engaged to the young lady,
anil then he sees Tier only in r lie presence
of other members of the family.
A congress for the improvement of !
the condition of the blind has been held
in Berlin. Foremost among the ques
tions wo* that of the printed or written
character to V U'<d by t .e blind, and i
the congress decided that the system of
writing nnd printing hy combination of
raised points, first introduced hy I/iui*
B ail!e in IKM. should be adopted in '
Germany without modification. Another i
important decision was that the prae
ticcol uniting the blind and the deaf in
the same institution was highly objee- i
ttonahle. Ihe congress also recorded
the fact that in tie c\p< rienee ol German
institution* tope-making i* one of the
best trad en there practiced hy the blind, i
The funeral of Herlig. a Soeinlist mas
ter tu' ner. was the sceiic of a great So
cialist demonstration at Dresden. Sev
eral t'lou-and sympathizers followed
the b< Iy to the grave, but the police
t*ik i ivantu .T'■ of an old Saxon law
against the public exhibition of repult
lleon emblem* to forbid the wearing ol
political insignia. No funeral oration
wn* permitted, and wtcn n woman |
stepped forward nnd spoken lew word*
an order was given to arrest her, the
execution of which wa*. however, rt-n
-der-d impossible by the closing in of
the crowd Several wreath* were thrown
on the coffin, hut not before the police '
hod insisted r.n the removal of th? red
silk ribbon* with whh h they were tied.
_____
A man has gone moon-blind in Bos
ton. He applied at a police station for
lodging* m a Sunday evening, and be
ing told tlial lie must goto tie- Hawkins
Street Home, answered that lie was
moon blind, and unable to find the way.
in explanali'-n. lie said be wa* recent,y
a member of the night gang at work on
the new sewer in Dorchester. One night
the men took an hour's rest a* midnight,
and lie fell into a doze while reclining
on an embankment. The moon was
stiining bright and clear. When lie
awoke at one o'clock ami nttcmplcrto
return to lit* work, he found that lie
could not see. In the daytime nnd by
the aid of artificial light, be can now see
as well as ever, but alter duk and in the
open air hi* sense of sight i* wholly lost.
A great business is being done this
year in the importation of iron from
Africa for u*c in American manufac
tories. The great nas in for preferring
Afriean iron to native ore is, of course,
its cheapness, hut it has the further ad
vantage of remarkably free from
plawpborus. Tin* ore lias >een imported
to some extent for two or three years,
but never in such quantities as now.
one authority estimating that two hun
dred thousand tons wi" be shipped to
New York this year and half as much
to Philadelphia, the latter for nseattlir
iron workstn Bethlehem and Johnstown
and hy the Pennsylvania Steel Com
pany. Another notable feature in the
iron" trade i* the importation of Bessemer
pig. of which forty five thousand tons
are known to be tinder contract for the
United Stat" *. There have been no im
portations of ibis wort before sinoe 1*73
England ha* been slmcl d by a blun
dering execution, nnd it ippcar* to be
setta-d that Marwood, tl • hangman, is
an Ignoramus, who i p< emitted to try
experiment* at the expel *"' of the con
demned, At Newgale one -tarn"* Dilley
was to he put to (lentil. Mar wood nr
rnngrd for a fall of six feet. The man.
after experiencing the horror of such a
fall, finally "lied oniy ol strangulation.
Scientific jpcrson* are of the opinion that
the wretch must have been torturously
racked and have died in gr<*t agony.
The long fall Is a failure. Ibe old gal
lows. it is tbought, killed much more
mercifully than the new-fangled ma
chine* which have been introdu'-ed.
The British press Is discussing Mr. Mar
wood, and with all the more vigor
because by an order from the Home
Office the representative* of the pre**
are hereafter to be excluded from execu
tions.
Escaping their Foes.
The escape of the troopers who were
out foraging at the time of the Uahul
massacre is paralleled hy that of an
English soldier who was acting as ser
vant to one of Sir Willinm MeNagbten's
officers, in Afghanistan, in 1841. Having
h en sent out on an errand hy bis mastei
shortly before the attack on the British
began, be took alarm at the uproar trom
the direction of the residency, and at
once mode Ids way out of the town. A
Sikh trooper, who likewise belonged to
the doomed band, baffled tlie vengeance
of his raptors by a singular stratagem
Knowing well tnat bis exploits during
the war liad marked him for the worst
tortures which Afghan cruelty could In
flict, he declared that were his life given
Idm, be would reveal a charm making
the wearer invulnerable, the power of
which lie was willing to test on bis own
person. The superstitious Afghans at
>nee agreed, and the prisoner, covering
Ills breast with a white cloth, bade them
fire at i. and see how It would turn
their bullets. Every rills wss instantly
discharged, nnd the Sikh fell dead en the
spot, thus esos ping the to rates U in store
for him.
Anecdote of Arteinu* Ward.
Inu t Artemus Word but once. I was
quite young at the time and W/L* acting
as city editor of the liar, published at
be. etmcUdy, N. Y. The paper's whole
uamc was the f.vcniny >Oir. Well, while
I was city editor of this sheet I met Ar
temus. He had came among us to de
liver his famous lecture, and the whole
place turned out to hear him. Strange
as it may appear I didn't go. Y„u H ?e,
I wns fathoms deep in love with a girl
at the time, and had a rival. This rival,
whoi.ml recently blazed out In anew
suit of clothes, was at the lecture, and,
sitting by bis side,as happy aa a kitten
with a gill of sweet milk concealed about
it* person, was the idol of my heart—the,
alas! Hcklcquecn of my young affection*.
This is the reason that sn hour after the
lecture was over I happened to s'.and on
a canal bridge, looking sadly down into
the water. Although I heard no foot
step* I suddenly became conscious of a
presence. I/ioking up, I saw standing
lieside me a slender form, whose face in
the dim starlight seemed to be an un
usually sad one.
"Pardon nie." be said; "saw you
looking dreamily into the water as if
you might be a poet, or |M-rhaps a coro
ner, and was attracted to your side.
Has misfortune overtaken thee, or art
thou thinking of :i lost one—or two, or a
nearer one yet. and a dearer one still, in
the shnneofa V?"
I explained that I had lost no money,
and during the course conversation re
vealed the fa? t that I was a local editor.
" It must be a terrible strain on the
intellect to attend to the duties of a
local editor." he remarked, tenderly.
" I/>ng, long time I had a relative—
it is a family tradition— who wns a local
editor. He succumbed to bis tremen
dous intellectual exertion at an early age.
Noble soul, he died in the harness—at all
events a stub lead-pencil and an old note
bi/jk were found in his coat-tail pocket
after his demise. His last words were,
"Set 'eni uii again,' alluding, you under
stand, to the type."
I was about to say something in re
gard to my heavy editorial responsibili
ty. hut Ward cheeked me by asking:
" What creek is this?"
"Creek!" I exclaimed. " Why, this
is the Erie canal!"
" How far is it navigable?"
"Why. of course it is navigable from
one end to tne other," >va my sur
prised reply.
" Weli,"solemnly replinl Ward, "that
heat* all the stream* 1 ever heard of.
By the way, I think I can make out some
large boats anchored up th<* stream there
—what arc they, propellers or sidev
wheelers *"
I replied that they were merely
eanalboats. moved i.y horse power.
" Ah! I didn't think the stream was as
shallow a* that," said Artemus.
" A* shallow a* what?"
"Why you say that those 1 its are
pulled along by horses. Now. of course
they must walk along in lri<r:t oi the
boat, mustn't they? I used to run a
stoneboat on my lamented Uncle John's
farm, and I distinctly rememoer that
the horses walked along in front."
I mentally declared that I had never
before met with such ignorance. I spent
some time explaining the peculiarities
of the big ditch, and ju*t a* I had begun
to lliink that at la*t I had >-'-t the stem -er
right on the subject, be knocked my
hope* into kindliogwood by remarking:
" I suppose that when the stream "fries
up in the summer they put the boats on
wheels, don't they?"
Then I began again to explain every
feature in the < anal from New York to
Erie. How attentively he listened t<>
my words. I can still sIS that melan
choly face lit by the ad light of the stars,
and those mournful eyes looking into
mine so earnest iy; and again 1 hear, . *
I did then, after I had taik'-d for ne.arlv
lulf an hour, going fully into the details
ot twiating. the low, pathetic drawl:
" Any sawmills on this sit cam that you
know ol?"
Shortly after some gentlemen ramc
along who seemed to be acquainted with
my obtuse friend Presently one called
him Artemus and then I commenced to
reflect. I always reflect best when I'm
bid away somewhere, so I went and bid
myself.— lhtrotf Frtt /Vr*s.
Mexican Horses.
Hore* are fired in great number* st
the different I aeiendo* in provinces,
some tit the lsrger e.tate* having eighty
or a hundred thousand cattle and fifteen
or twenty thousand mules and bore*.
The pastursge * green nil the vear round,
and the animals receive no other food
Tliey multiply a* the birds do. and with
a* little profit to their ownirs. Generally
speaking. tb<y run wild until wanted,
when they are caught with a !a**o, hood
winked and immediately mounted, tor
the first lift n or twent *• minnt-s thev
e\et tth-lr whole strength to throw thi ir
rider, hut, finding their effort* unavail
ing. patiently submit, nnd geniraliy give
but little trouble nft<Tward. Owing to
their immense numbers, finr* •* are *>,<!
very cheap, the av tag prii-e for an un
broken hen! i>eing eig! I or ten dollars a
10-nd. will hut little <l< mand at that It
sometimes occurs that the government
purchases a few hundred lor the armv,
out. generally speaking, there are few
occasions when they <an lie sold. Mexi
can horses, as a rule, are not hsndso i f,
and are scldonitmoiv than fourteen hands
high; still they have nothing of the je
cuiiar build < t the pony about them.
Fed entirely upon graas, tliev yet endure
more fatigued nd are cnpahlc of main
taining a rapid gait for a longer t'me
than the gratn-ici liorsea of other lands.
In the towns and cities they receive
the is antiest of care and the mrsfemit
nllowanc* of food. Tied up the whole
day in the stifling courtyards, they
stand pat ion Iy availing their evening
meai. Frrvuently they are turned loose
together- whm it requires the use of a
la**o to' eateb tbeni. So familiar with
this Instrument do they become, that the
moment the animal f-cl* the rope about
its neck it stands stock still, when with
out it it would not uffer itself to be
saddled or bridled.
American Imentlve Genius.
An English paper gives credit to
American genius for at lea-t fifteen in
ventions and discoveries, which, it savs,
have Ieen adopted ail over tIM world.
Those triumphs of American genius are
thus enumerated: First, the cotton
gin; second, planing machine; third,
the grass mower and grain reaper;
fourth, the rotary printing press; fifth,
navigation hy steam; sixth, hot air or
caloric engine; seventh, the sewing
machine; eighth, the India rubber In
dustry; ninth, the machine for manu
facture of horse shoes; tntb, the sand
blast for carving; eleventh, the gauge
lathe; twelfth, the grain elevator;
thirteenth, artificial ioe manufacture on
a large scale; fourteenth, the electro
magnet and iU practical application;
fifteenth, the comparing macUne far
printers
A TKKKIIiLK NIGHT.
Thrilling ErptrkMM of a Detroit Ulrf
in ihr lliilimrlta of • Klnlilat
Pfojn Her.
'I he I> troit Free Vrm ha* the follow
ing account of the experience rf Mia*
Hello <lllllllllOll, a young lady who was <
aboard the propeller IV-rfM-hy wlien il
wjiji wrecked on l.ake Huron:
After leaving Hay City we had much
heavy weather and had become rather
accustomed to the tossing of the boat.
Thuixla v night no change was observe i
and the lady passengers, myself among
the number, collretra in the after rahin
to listen to the stories of several Kouth
ern Indies— refugee* from the fever epi
demic, who haoi lioaen the Jake a* aaf
reaort. I wa* standing within three feet
ol my stateroom when the conversation *
wan ended by a teridble erasli which
threw me headlong aero** the cabin.
The other 1 adieu were crowded in a cor
ner, not one le-ing able to apeak For
aoine minute* no one moved, and I only
heard an occasional prayiy above the
hoarse roar. One lady, like myself, had
iiad experience in similar emergencies,
and we with difficulty gained the deck.
The night wan very daik. and nothing
could he le-en except the lighthouse hea
con, aeveral mile* away. Our steam
whistles had been sounding signal* of
distress. hut the water dashed over tha
engine fires and they were put out, and
theonly signal on laiard gradually died
to a moan and then failed quite. W•
looked (or torches, hut there were none
on hoard. Our lamps had t>*en dashed
out and we were left gror ing alxiut in
tlie darkness Captain M'Gregor had
bren sick in bed, but I could distinguish
bim on deck, giving directions for th*
launching of a boat which wan to make
an atti-mpt at lar.ding in order to secure
assistance. The Iwint was in the water
but a minute, and then I knew by th*
screams 1 heard that it bad roue over.
We passed the night in this way,
comforting each otli<T :ind assisting tha
•Tew as ould. The male passenger*
on board 1 hI secured their liie-pre*erv
ers and sa vith tbern on all night, but
the w<>m< ad given everything up and
I refused i put one on, thinking it
would on. irolong my suffering. Karly
Friday nn ling tlie steward came itelow
and insist' t upon buckling on the pre
server. It stwmed like getting into my
collin. (i I had said rny last prayer and
j wtw reaoy. After securing the beit* we
were led to tlie upper deck, and. :is the
i boat threatened to part every minute,
we were lorhcd one iiy one to the outer
j bulwarks. Whenever tlie sea pound
over me the rope* held nie fast, and I sat
j tied there three hours looking into tho
water and wishing I could go down and
1 have it ended.
The captain*passed by, and, with his
glass, 1 could see some ol our men cling
| ing to the foot of a j*erpcndi'-u!ar cliff
alaiut forty feet in height. They had
been drifted ashore tlie night before,
when the small boat was swamped. I
also saw the lifeboat 'sing launched, and
the crowd of men hurrying ui> and down
the shore as though lewiiiered. The
life-saving boat could be seep an instant, n
tben it would sink in the trough of tlie
sen, and we thought it wis lost. It
gradually neared us. and a line was
thrown out and secured by Captain Kiah.
Then two men were seen rlimbing out
I on the ropee and through the water to
ward our boat. It took them along time,
but they were at last on Imard and knew
how to direct our rfforta for salely.
Through their management the boats
, came near by and we were hauled on
board :u.d then taken to land. Not until
i stood on solid ground rould ! think
that it was pi sihlc for me to crape
death.
The greatest j.raise is due the men in
the lifilioat. 1 visited their Matiott
Saturday, and found the road over
w liii ll tii< y carried their boat rough and
sandv. As it was about fire milo from
the propellt r's wr<-k. it seemed marvel-
I out that they could reach her at all.
Why the Light West Out.
Next time you go out on the Michigan
Central road take a acat on the right
h;Uid side of the car, so that you may
notice, about ten tniies down the road, a
little old red farmhouse. The curtains
will be down, the doors shut, and rank
weed* and tali grass.-* will meet the fly
ing glame in the front yard A month
ago old Nan Roger* livid there; to-day
the p)m i in tlie keeping of rat* and
mice and desolation. The old woman
was a widow nod rhildless. If she had
a relative anywhere in this great world,
thou wlio buried her wire not aware ol
the f,i< t Nl.r li*i<l *ll alone, having
only a bit ol land and biing aiiled by
kind ncighbots t<> raise cm-ogli to supply
lor want*. Seven or cielil yar* ago.
wlo-n li" l iat In id left home to mt-r t a
\ iuient d- otli on ttii* same road, tlie me*
:>f the rails ber-une Interested In tliat
' quaint old faimle-use. Qne night they
' aw a bright light in on* of the win
dows. lis rays strained out over lbs
flowers and fill uisin the rails along
I which the wheel* thund<-rrd, and the
engineer wondere<) over the signal. Tha
lamp was there the next nignt and th*
next, ami it wa* never missed for a
I single nil fit until one evening a month
; ago. Old Nan. deprived of husband and
! children, made frond* with the rushing
i train* and their burdens. Tits trainmen
soon foetid that tlie lamp wa* for thorn,
and they watched f„r it. During th
early evening hours they saw old Nan-
I ny's face behind the li lit or at the door,
: and a thousand time* conductors, engi
i neers and hrakemen have railed cheerily
through the darkness:
"flood night, old Nanny; God bless
yon!"
Winter and summer the light was
there. Winter and summer tlie train
men looked for it, and the more thought
ful one* often left a bit ol money with
the station men beyond to help the oM
woman keep the bright rays shining.
Tlie lamp was not 11 tore for one train,
hut for all. and all men understood tha
sentiment and appreciated it. One darx
night not long ago. when the wind
howled and the raindrop* boat fiercely
against headlight and cab, th* engineer* a
missed the signal light. The* looked
for it again and again, as one who sud
denly misses aa old landmark in a city,
and when they failed to find it the hand
instinctively went up to the throttle, M
if danger lurked on the curve below.
Each trainman aboard that night looked
for tlie signal, became anxious at its ab
sence, and made Inqulrh* at tho stations
above and below. Next day men went
down to the Utile old house, fearing old
Nanny might he ill. There sat the lama
on tlie window-alll. but the oil was ex
hausted. In her bed, seeming to have
only fallen asleep, was the pom old f
woman, cold and dead, lift and lamp
liad gone nut together, and men of rough
ioo and hardened heart replied, as they
board th* new*:
"Poor old woman! May her spirit
rest l hc*\*o'"—/-riruif Jfto* /tm