Pittsburg dispatch. (Pittsburg [Pa.]) 1880-1923, January 27, 1889, SECOND PART, Page 10, Image 10

Below is the OCR text representation for this newspapers page. It is also available as plain text as well as XML.

    rjf t- jgrfjgy r 7 v
iW-?E?Sr?
rT"T
' ;-Jry
Tf.
10
THE- PaTTSBUKG- DISBATOH, SUNDAY,
: JANUARY
27. 1889.
-
'J.
f
X
m
i'
f
i-
f
!
fi
ll i
obduracy of purpose, sbe realized now that tbe
only avoidance of the threatened catastrophe
was to aid him. for she did not hope to deceive
him with successful treachery to his cause.
She went to a window and stood silently look
ing ont between the curtains at the dazzle and
commotion in the garden, from which the
throne was passing to the ballroom, whilo her
companion sat silently contemplating proba
bilities that were not less brilliant in his eyes.
His cboler subsided slowly, and, taking
Sheeba's aqaiescent attitude ai one of renewed
co-partnership, he sought to be companionable,
as they were habitually.
"Look here, my girt," he said; "we're going
to win. I'm sure of it. Hurrah for the union
of our children. So pouts, Sheeba. O. ou'll
be merry enough when we come into our for
tune. 2o deviltry then except deviltry for fun,
She turned half around where she stood at
the window, and in doing so her hands kept
their hold on the heavy curtains, so that she
was partially draped in them. Her face puz
zled him with its forced smile, and be fancied
for an instant that a light of fury gleamed in
her eyes. He had a flitting conceit, too, that
when she brought her hands out from the cur
tain they would hold a weapon, and that she
was about to assassinate him. But-it was not
so, and he smiled at the foolishness of his
fancy.
"ion were with May Morns an the alter
noon," he remarked. "What did she say, and
what did you say?"
"She was sorry for Victor Leroyd," Sheeba
answered. ,
"Sorry for the coward!" ""
"Is he a coward? Is he not a victim of foul
play?"
"What put that crazy idea into your head?
Did you suggest such a thing to-day?"
"I said that, possibly, the tramps had killed
him."
"Jfonsense. And she said "
"She said, That.wonld be better.' "
"She has an abnormal sense of honor."
"She said that a stain upon a name was worse
to its owner than death. 'You couldn't lire
tinder such a reproach, even if it were no fault
of your own?' I asked of her. 'Possibly. she
replied, 'but life would be all dead to meJ' "
"Take care, then, that I don't have to make
her mother known to her," and the Colonel was
admonitory rather than threatening. He even
meant to be soothing, for he laid his hands on
her head, when it drooped to the arm of the
chair into which she fell, and he patted her
shoulders, when they shook with her sobs.
"There there Sheeba don't you see that sou
couldn't bear to let her know that you're her
mother? We must avoid that you and I."
The dialogue was stopned by a rap at the
door. The woman's cultivated power of dis
simulation overcame her emotion instantly.
She straightened tip in her chair and cried
"Comer' in an untroubled voice.
Mr. and Mrs. Footle entered, and he was lu
gubrious still, besides being hot and out of
breath. His black suit made his contrasting
white shirt bosom look expansive to the point
of bursting, and be was not a figure to be taken
seriously, notwithstanding his frowning face.
Sirs. Footle was radiant.
"Well, I've been dancing with my dear old
husband, she saia. "tie waltzes in the style
of '57, and it is tryingly obsolete."
"And your pupil Miss Morris?" the Colonel
ackad. "Are you a faithful chaperone?"
She is all right," was the cheery response.
"WTith Winston?" and he disguised his inter
est in the answer by pretending to hard v listen
to it.
"She is with our hero," was the reply that de
lighted him.
"Dancing?"
"2s 0. As a chaperone. I was bound to ob
serve that he seemed inclined to walk with her
in the dimest corner of the garden. So I left
them together."
Mr. Pootle was amazed. That his wife should
be in good spirits under the uncertainty con
cerning his nephew was all that he could for
give, even in a bride of half his own age. but
that sbe should, with jocularity, too, help to
match the girl of that nephew's choice to an
other Icllowwas something to induce apoplec-tic-symptonis.
But his scant breath and liigh
color were attributed to his physical exertion
in his quarto-centennial waltz, and he was dis
regarded as he heaped himself back in an easy
chair.
"Would you believe it," Mrs. Pootle contin
ued, "May presumed to have a headache on the
night of a grand Saratoga hop. She wouldn't
show herself at all, if her tutor"
"Her ex-tutor." Mr. Pootle commented, by
way of aimless contradiction.
"My authority over her lasts until the end of
her vacation. With you it is for life old
dear."
"And it is a test of my obedience to be here.
I don't understand how you can be jolly blest
if I can. It is heartless."
"Didn't I do my duty to your nephew our
nephew by going up to tho lake yesterday
alone, and making an amateur detective of my
self all day long?"
"You went?" the Colonel aked in unbetrayed
alarm, "what did you detect?"
"Nothing that need frighten his friends
as to his safety. So I have told my hus
band, but lie insists on being doleful just be
cause he fears that Victor verified the proverb,
'He who fights and runs away may live to fight
another day. "
"Only be didn't fight, and he probably
wouldn't fight any day," thereassured gambler"
exuberantly remarked.
That roused the ire of Mr. Pootle, and he
stood up quickly to say: "Colonel Dallas, your
son is lucky in baring his courage proven. I
couldn't credit it without evidence, and I won't
believe cowardice of Victor without proof."
"I meant no aspersion. Forgive me;" and the
offender extended bis hand.
"You arc to forgive him, dear," Mrs. Pootle
wheedlingly commanded.
"I forgive you," and Mr. Pootle shook hands
obediently.
"Thank you," the other cried with a cheeri
ness that for once was sincere; "and now let us
all cheer up under the almost certainty that
Victor is safe, and under tho influence of a
wonderful bowl of punch that I shall make.
The utensils are at hand so are the ingredi
ents." He touched the electric Button, and a
waiter responded with an alacrity in keeping
with hotel attention to occupants or first floor
parlors. "In the next room Mrs. Dallas will
show you are to bottles, and a punch bowl,
with a block of ice already in it." While
Sheeba and the waiter fetched these things,
he went on glibly: "The recipe is one of my
most rained properties it is potent as well
as palatable compound it brings happi
ness to its drinkers. Happiness if they
deserve it, but misery if that is
their just due. It is not a mysterious com
pound." Here he brought out from a drawer
two small jugs, some lemons, a knife and a vial,
which be placed along with the bottles in a
semi-circle around the punch bowl. "I will ex
plain what I do while doing it, like the sleight-
oi-nana men, duc, aiso, iiko inem, 1 win con
ceal the hocus pocus," he gesticulated very
playfully, like a necromancer. "I pourin some
brandy thus and then some curacoa thus.
1 cut and squeeze the lemons as you see and
stir the whole with an ordinary ladle. There
is positively no deception in the process. Only
the result is mystic. Now a touch of acetic
acid on the melting ice, and the nectar is
is ready."
The dignified gentleman became waggish,
and bis mimicry of a showman's passes and
flourishes was more demonstatiTe than he
usually permitted himself to be. He tilled
glasses from the bowl and the waiter served
them. His own amount of drinking was in a
ratio of ten portions to one swallowed by either
of the other drinkers, and bis animation in
creased with his swallows of the beverage, until
at the end of a quarter of an hour he was mer
rier than either the punch or the assurance of
his scheme's success would separately naro
made him. He beamed on Mrs. Pootle, for
bad she not aided him by learing Winston and
May favorably together? and at length be pro
posed a visit to the ballroom.
"Give yonr arm to Sheeba, Mr. Pootle." he
said, "and I will escort your wife if she will
permit me."
1 he other couple went from the room sedate
ly, but the vivacity of the Colonel was counter
parted by the gaiety of Mrs. Pootle.
"Have one more glass of the punch with me,"
he said, detaining her after the others had
gone.
"Thank you." she assented-
"It was good of you to leare those two sweet
hearts together."
"Here's to a happy climax to tho interview
between those two sweethearts!"
They clinked their glasses like boon com
rades, and his manner was not more convivial
than tiers as she held aloft her glass before
carrying it to her smiling lips.
"But if you devoutly wish that May shall be
won by her wooer," she interposed, after a
sip, "we should at once abandon this room to
them. I happen to know they will saunter in
here in about two minutes more."
"Then we will retreat."
"After arranging the scene for the wooing,
let the environment be romantic." She lowered
the gas, opened the tipper half of the window
blinds, and thus changed the light to an in
pouring from the garden's illumination.
That's a very good imitation of moonlight,
sn't it ? Now we'll scoot."
"Mrs. Pootle insisted that I should reappear
to surprise yon all at this balk She said she
had the authority of an aunt, and a taste for
melodrama. You did not expect me?"
"Uo."
Something in the tone of ber monosyllables,
simply as they were uttered, made him know
that she was not at ease, and indirectness was
something be bad nerer before known to break
her clear, open frankness of speech and action.
"You do not think it seemly to be alone bere
with me," was his spoken thought. She looked
into bis eyes as a fearless child might have done,
without either coquetrv or self-con6Ciousness;
and so he went on: "What is It that constrains
you? Before we were good friends almost in
timates. Now, ou are reticent. Is itarersion?
I must be told," and his msistance was accom
panied by a clasp of both her hands.
Sbe sank down on a sofa, and it was hard for
him to tell whether the loosening of her hands
was intentional or careless.
"The manner of your disappearance the con
struction that Is put upon ft what the tramp
said" and there she stopped.
"What did the tramp say?" he demanded.
She turned to him, as ho seated himself be
side her, and made no attempt to conceal the
fact that sbe was watching the effect of what
sbe said, but gazed straight into bis face as sbe
slowly said: "Tho fellow whom Winston cap
tured, but who escaped afterward, said that
you fled in afright, when be and his companion
attacked you that you were a coward and
they declared that you would not show ourself
here shamefaced. I thought you had been
killed"
"You hoped so, rather than to know that I
was a dastard?" be eagerly interrupted.
"Yes," inperfect simplicity.
"Good. Thank tou." and he pressed her
hand, which she took away from hiin again so
gently that the action seemed careless. "I did
not run away from my assailants. They
wounded me. Then one held me down while
the other went on with the robbery as you al
ready know. 1 must hare been unconscious a
few minutes, for I seemed to awaken. The
villain was still kneeling on me. I made a
sudden resistance, which be did not expect.
We wrestled desperately to our feet. We were
close to the edge of a ravine. We went orer
together, and then fought at the bottom, but
weakly, for both were jarred by the fall. Again
I felt myself becoming insensible, and with all
the strength left in my hands I clutched bis
throat. The next I knew I was aocd in a boat
man's house. Jfy antagonist was in another.
He was not able to get up. Then my impetuous
young aunt found me yesterday, and induced
me to join ber here before seeing anybody
else." Not an instant had May's eyes swerved
from bis during this account, and he finished it
with: "All this, I hope, can yet be proven."
"For me it is not necessary," May said com
posedly. "You are indifferent."
"Indifferent! No.no."
"You will take my uncorroborated word
against anything or all that is against it?"
"I will take vour word."
Sbe quietly arose, and, as hestood facingher,
the soft gleam in her uplifted eyes, and the
pink tinge that was coming into her cheeks,
explained to him' the reason of her faith.
"You love me!'' he exclaimed, taking the
hands that now were unresistant. "Do you
love me."
"0, yes," she replied, as though itwasstrange
if he did not know it.
Then she screamed, for Victor suddenly
staggered, and fell, hair fainting, upon the
sofa. Her outcry was sufficient to bring a hall
boy, who went hastily in quest of the friends,
althongh Victor assured May, as he revived,
that nothing serious was the matter with him.
The knife stabs bad not been deep, be declared,
and it must have been the jar of bis fall that
bad weakened him. Colonel Sam Dallas and
Mr. Jonas Pootle led the arrivals, and their
surprise was equal, but their other feelings
were totally different.
"Victor Leroyd!" one exclaimed.
"Victor, my boy, what's the matter?" said the
other.
"He was wounded in bis fight with the ruf
fians, for a fact," said Mrs. Pootle, "and he's
been husnrine: Mav that's a surmise."
"He fought?" sneered Winston, for he and
Sheeba had come in with the rest.
"Yes he fought," Mrs. Pootle aggressively
repeated.
Colonel Dallas clutched Sheeba by the wrist,
as they stood just aside from the excited group,
and savagely whispered: "Is this your doing?"
"I know nothing of it, as God bears me," she
answered.
Victor Lerovd was giddy with the weakness
which be disliked to show, and which should
have prevented him from indulging Mrs. Footle
in her whimsical method of restoring him to
view at the ball. That lady still insisted, upon
controlling him, and her order was that he
should lie down on a bed in the aojoimng
room.
"Well, Til do it for a few minutes," he assented.
"And we'll have a doctor," she added.
"No. no," he objected, as he unsteadily
walked into the other room; "I only need a lit
tle bracing up, and I am physician enough to
prescribe for myself. Give me a pencil and
paper. I haven't forgotten all I used to know
of medicine."
Colonel Dallas and "Winston were left by
themselres in the parlor.
How do we stand now?" the father growled,
walking quickly to and fro. "It wasn't you
who was with the girl?"'
"No. She avoided me."
"Then Mrs. Pootle fooled me, "Why I won
der. How much do they know? Only what
Lerovd tells them, and will that criminate us?
I don't think so. That he's alive is bad. It
might be worse. Let me see, Winnie, have you
an idea?"
"Not a glimmer, old man."
"Of course not"
The hall boy came from the room where Vic
tor was surrounded by his anxious friends
"How is Mr. LeroydT" tho Colonel asked.
stav down, and in a tussle we went over the
cliff." -- -'
That is all you know of it er Tom," said
the Colonel, very blandly. -"That .was before
Winston arrived and encountered Jim. We
have done you an injury, Victor, and wp are
sorry for it." " "
"Do not distress yourself,'' said Victor, not
taking the proffered band.
"We apologize we all apologize," and. Win
ston echoed bis father's bidior pease.
Tom disappeared, but it was' observed that
two strangers received him in the hallway and
seemed to be careful of him.
"Come, ladies and gentlemen," and now the
Colonel was at bis best in nrbane deportment,
"there is punch lathe bowl yet. Let us drown
all recollection ot this slight unpleasantness.
Here, boy."
The boy was the one who had gone Out with
the prescription, and be handed a small packet
to victor, before obeying the order to pass the
punch.
"Put your medicine into some of .ray punch,"
said the host. "Sheeba please,"' and as be
filled a glass he whispered In ber ear: "See tbat
be takes his dose." '
In a flash Sheeba knew that the vial .which
Victor took from the packet contained poison.
II was more than a surmise. It was a certainty
in her mind. She had been so intimately asso
ciated with him in subtle and adroit duplicity,
and had so often seen him play his tricks with
cards, tbat instinctively she located his crime
in this instance. She knewlhat Somehow Vic
tor's prescription had become deadly- .'But She
carried the glass to Victor, who poured a part
of the rial's contents into it, as it stood(on a
table bv bis side.
"He must make himself take bis own medi
cine." said Mrs, Pootle.,
"Yes," said Sheeba. with a meaning former
husband's ears alone, "we must be sore that he
swallows bis dose."
"There should be no mistake about it," he
responded.
ilUl WU LUCID All J. OUCCUA &UVW J VAUCil'
A WOMAN'S- OFFENSE.
A Decidedly Lively Tilt Over tjie
Education of Onr pear Boys.
WHAT TflKI LEARN AT SCHOOL
The
Teachings of Some Educators 4nd
Pastors Leading To -
COKTEJIPTJFOR-PaEENIAL AUTHORITY
ence how bold a' cheat mav beiPlaved without
.. .. ..... ..1. '-j.--.- .
aetection 11 11 De aone quicKiy ana ne&uy.
Sbe
isn't it ? Now we II scoot.'
"Still drinking to the union of May Morris
" he began, tapping ber glass again with
bis own.
"And our hero," she interrupted, with singu
lar quickness and emphasis, as she drained her
glass and laughed gleefully.
chapter: xil
Alt ESPECIAL GLASS OF FIWCH.
Mav Morris came to the Dallas narlor almost
immediately after it had been vacated, except
by the waiter, who let her in and departed s
he had been told to do. May bad not expectud
to find the room empty. She had been enjoined
by Mrs. Pootle to appear there at a certain
tune, and to bring ber companion along. Hue
woie a white gown, soft of texture and grace
ful of outline, and as she stepped from the dim
part of the room into the place whitely lighted
from without, the sight that she uncousciouiiy
made was all that Mrs. Pootle had planned
The vouthlul fairness of her young tacews
paled a little, and its ingenuousness was
crossed bv unwonted lines of perplexed anx
iety. The young man from whose arm sbe took
away the light touch of her hand on entering,
was not Winston Dallas.
He was Victor Leroyd.
"Yon were startled when yon first saw mef"
lie was saying.
"Yes," the girl replied.
"Says he's only weak and nervous, sir." the
boy replied. "I'm going witn a prescription."
"A physician who doctors himself, don't they
say? has a fool for a patient," said Winston
pettishly.
"Let me see it," and the calmer father read:
" "Strychnia sulph. one gram; acid phosphor..
dil-. half an ounce; coca' Ah! a quick tonic"
Then he told Winston, by means ot gesture
so covert tbat the servant did not see it. to di
vert that spectator's attention; and the son did
it by asking: "Do you think Mr. Leroyd is very
ilir
"Well, sir, it is an ngly cut he has in his
shoulder."
The Colonel's thoughts were running thus, as
hescannrdUieslio of paper: "So careless to
write a prescription in pencil. Now, somebody
might make a bit of mark to the capital L,
which stands for one grain of strychnia, thus
turning it into an L or SO grains of strychnia,
instead of L The smallest dose out of that
would kill in a minute."
'Did vou see the wound?" Winston asked.
keeping the boy's eyes away from the prescrip
tion, upon which the father was now carefully
using a pencil.
"lies. Mrs. Pootle made him show it. She
said she'd got to put it in evidence, whatever
she meant by that."
"Here you are," spoke up the Colonel, hand
ing the altered prescription back to the boy;
"hurry with it"
"It is about a toss-up for us," he said meas
uredly to Winston, when they were alone. "As
it was before we couldn'tloseanythingwhether
we won or not Now we've got to win to escape
losing."
"What did you do to the prescription?"
"I put a blunder into it. Amateur Doctor
Leroyd sends for a' tonic, and he gets a deadly
dose-ofit."
"But, Governor"
"It is safe for us. PH swear the forgery can't
be detected and it couldn't be fixed on us, any
how. Lerovd will simply be killed by his own
mistake. Now, a brief stroll in tho garden
would make us look unconcerned."
They were absent ten minutes, which seemed
to them an hur, and on their return to the par
lor they found the entire partv there. Victor
Leroyd sat in an armchair, and Mrs. Pootle was
bustling around him.
"O. Colonel Dallas," she cried, "may I intro
duce an acquaintance?"
"Why, yes," he replied.
Coine in," she called, opening a door.'
The man who slouched in was Tom, the
smaller and meaner of the two vagabonds. He
was worse off in appearance than before, too,
because one arm was in a sling and his face was
discolored bv bruises.
'This is Tom Mullen," said Mrs. Pootle, with
a jaunty air of graciousness. "He was one of
the two precious scoundrels whom Victor en
countered up the lake. You gentlemen met
bim there, I believe. Make a bow. Tom. Aw
fully dull here at Saratoga yesterday so I
thought I would hunt up Tom. I told vou that
in my search for Victor I discovered nothing
that should alarm his friends as to bis safety.
The fact is that we found him safe back in a
shanty, but hardly sound, though he was no
worse off than Tom. whom he had hurt in a
most nnfriendlv manner. Tom had a sure
passage to State prison, apparently, but I
urged that his little falling out with .Victor
or falling over might bd amicably settled.
Eh. Tom?
"Yesscm," said Tom.
"Tom isn't a vindictire fellow. It is true
that be ana his worthy comrade, Jim, attempt
ed to murder Victor, but that was quite in the
way of business. Socially, Tom is urbanity it
selr. What?"
"Yessera," said Tom.
"And when he was told that a misconception
had arisen that Victor had been placed in a
painfully false attitude he kindly preferred
to come along with us and tell the truth, rather
than to go to prison."
"The trouble is we can't believe him," said
tue i-Oionei.
"Not when his testimony is corroborated by
Victor,'roared Mr. Pottle, whose face was
now beaming round and smooth upon his wife,
after the temporary eclipse: "O. I think wo
may. Now. Tom, tell ns about it"
Tom spoke in his hitch-and-go-two-words
style, but Mrs. Pottle had practically learned
his peculiar language, by several hours of con
versation, and she was able to interpret him as
follows:
"There ain't much to tell. Jim and I cot &
sight of the young lady's pockethook, and we
w ent back for it when we thought she was left
alone. We ran against the young gentle
man" "Which -onng gentleman?" Mr. Pootle
asked. "That's the important point"
Tom pointed to Victor: "Whv, that young
gentleman, and we undertook to do him up.
We thought we'd finished bim, but be wouldn't
substitnted ber own glass for the "drugged one
as ther stood side bv side, and Victor drank
some of the clear punch while sbe touched her
lips to the rim of the murderous glass.
"Victor," the Colonel asked, "I trust that the
flavor of the punch wasn't spoiled?"
Victor did not concern' himself to reply, but
his uncle responded: "To a happy lover all
drinks are nectar, I guess."
"How does your's taste'?" his roguish wife
inquired.
"First-rate. and nigh a month aftermarriage,
ton. while Victor's is probably a month or so
before." ,
"Victor and Mav. Is-it so?" said Sheeba,
setting down the poisoned glass, and impul
sively going close to her daughter.
"Uncle Jonas is perhaps too conclusive in
his announcement," Victor replied, "but I
think we shall not contradict him altogether."
May blushed and said nothing.
"Has Miss Morris been permitted to engage
herself to Victor Leroyd?" the Colonel loudly
asked, with an air of aimost judicial authori
ty. "Was there nobody With power to prevent
it?"
"Haven't we cleared -up Victor's record
yet?" Mrs. Pootle retorted. fWell, we'll call
another witness, and she went to the door.
"Jim Grimes!" Upon which Jim and Tom both
responded.
"I don't think I need to introduce Mr. James
Grimes to vou. Colonel. Jim hns concluded to
stay out of prison with bis friend." They are,
so to say, members of our party."
"He is a liar. Whatever he says, it is a lie."
"Hear him first Colonel," Mr. Pootle expos
tulated. "You are too hasty."
Colonel Sam Dallas was bewildered for the
first time in bis career as au adventurer. He
had momentarily expected Victor to besrricken
by the instantaneous poison, and the failure of
the drug to kill was to bim inexplicable. Wins
ton saw his loss of self-coutrol,-and sought to
restore him by saying:
"Don't be excited, governor. Cool yourself.
This can all be explained without. such a row.
As a preliminary Victor didn't emuty his
glass drink together like gentlemen."
But there was no more calmness for the
Colonel. Concluding that Sheeba had fooled
him, and determined to punish her, whatever
else happened, he said: "With my friends I
will drink yes. But as for you, 8heeba, I
shall tell them what you are. and why you
have interested yourself in May Morris."
Sheeba stood at the sido of the table on
which the punch bowl rested, while her hus
band was behind it The poisoned class was in
ber band. He had filled one for himself just J
ueiore speaking, ana lor an instant ne leit it
resting beside the bowl. With a gesture of her
left hand a menacing fiing at his face she
directed all eyes awiy from her right hand,
with which she changed the glasses. It was a
feat which she bad learned from, his cleverness
at legerdemain.
"I will tell my own story," she cried in a des
perate desire to keep one secret safe from the
revelation. "I am an adventuress a criminal
an irredeemably wicked woman. I thought
tbat for one short summer I might -associate
with virtue again, and no disaster come of it
I was a fool. The man you know as Colonel
Dallas "
"He cannot let a confessed convicl speak for
him. He drinks yonrgsod health, all. Victor,
pray join me," and Colonel Dallas, with a
grandiose sweep of tho arm lifted the glass of
death. He drank it dry, and then began again:
"This woman and May Morris - "
"I was not done let me finish." Sheeba
broke in on him, and she furtively watched to
see him affected by the poison. "I was after
May's fortune I confess it But I have failed.
I will try no more. She shall never on earth
see or hear of me. I will go away."
"Sheeba is " the Colonel began again.
In that unfinished sentence he was silenced.
A sickly pallor spread over bis face, a con
vulsive quiver of pain shook him, and he fell
to the floor. After a few speechless seconds,
Colonel Sam Dallas was dead.
THE END.
rWEITTES FOB THE DISPATCH.
EADEES are sel
dom kind' enough
to furnish com
ments, .so much in
line with present
topics, as an editor
who has fallen
upon my corres
pondent Newton,
and Newton's im-
mprliftfo Bntvr
3)f" The editorial is cut
ting upon Newton's defects as a mother. She
"has become imbued with. the idea that her
child is different from other boys." She is
taken to be "an ultra .sentimentalist, of
weak and vacillating, characteristics," who
"regarded him as an exotio from some dis
tant star, to be shielded as far as possible
from other children and brought up, as be
came a boy so different from other boys that
had been or ever would be. Of course, his
first trait was selfishness of the coarsest type.
This little prince was fed on his mother's
expressions of his own" superiority. His
selfishness, his ntter disregard for the rights
or the comforts of others; thanks, to his
hothouse training, made an unpleasant
companion of him. Then, later on, this
very ordinary boy, too good to mingle with
other children; 'almost too precious to
breathe upon, could brutally treat his
mother at very little provocation. The
young brute had been set up as a little god
of the household. The feverishness of
babyhood was allowed to run unchecked
into the hot temper of a man. A man with
out the esthetic ideas of raising children,
which troubled this woman, would have
used a gad on the young wbelp every time
his temper manifested itself. It is difficult to
see anything now other than a spoiled child
in him. In her fear of the disorders which
beset her cultured ancestors, the mother
overlooked the fact that the supposed ten
dencies of heredity may be subdued by the
manipulation of a shingle. A boy who
roams the fields all the time be is not on
a stool at his mother's feet, cannot rub
shoulders with other boys in. the way to
make bim manly.' And the feeblest apo'logy
for the vices of any man or boy is the com
mon one of heredity," etc. '
PANCIEIJ IDEAS.
There is such a thing as an ides running
away with one, and the idea which runs
away with this writer, I must say, is not ap;
parent in "Newton's" first letter. The spite
and bitterness against a fancied idea, the
utter reverse of character and case as really
drawn, are so characteristic of feminine tilts
with the pen that one hazards little in assign
ing this slashing bright editoriaL"to the
woman editor of the A'ews. To seize upon
one point and construct characters and situ
ations to fit according to the bent of one's
own mind, smacks of that charming femi
nine intuition which finds itself at the top
of a question ahead of everything, else and
quite as often has ignominiously to come
down ana jump on another side for footing.
"M"rtcf voarlan rill ea t t "Vairlnn'i" l.lla.
ging him to use bis influence against tbat vice
with the boys, and what do you think was the
answer I had. "Mrs. , I don't know how to
believe thist I see those boys, and they are so
uniformly well bred, I can't think tbey could
be guilty of such grossness." This gentleman
could by implication believe without trouble
that a woman of whom be knew no ill could
raise a false report and a mother bring a false
accusation against her own son, before he could
credit the prevalence of tbe most common vice
among juniors. 1 implored the boys' Sunday
school teacher to use her influence, with equal
results. The boys wero so chhrmlng at the tea
parties and treats that she could only believe
any lapses of conduct forced them by parental
opposition. And when pastor and teachers
both knew I disapproved and forbado my son's
attendance at a boys' club, preparation for
which absorbed every hour not given to the
pressing duties of school, he was not only ad
mitted by them but welcomed, and elected to
the best offices In it
THE BOYS' CLUB.
1 You pay smile, but the boys' club, to the
"")."" nonors as nercely contested as seats
in Congress, and it is by such seemingly insig
nificant things that boys are encouraged in
wilfulness. Add to this constant onnoslnr in-
nuence, me outspoken protests of neighbors
against anything like control or discipline, and
you will not wonder that children imbibe disre
spect to parents, or that a mere varnish! good
manners is counted enough for society, and
hung up with a boy's hat when he comes home.
1 hare been all my life a church-goer, and was
a Sunday scholar, and I have solemnly to say
that never, from pulpit or teacher, was there
one word spoken to lead children to think that
regard f orparents was creditable and jnstor to
reach moderation In thrdr amhlHnnlfnrTilirn
.and Pleasure. T 1araAt nih Cttr,.in tram-
'rapny. and much about Jewish customs, much
i ,r htu;iK mas went over ino neaas
of all who heard, but the nearest duties of life
were wholly ignored, or treated in a pompous
ray which left no impress.
And this poor teaching I have in 40 years
heard but twice! With the influence of the
world, the pulpit the school against quiet, tem
perate lives, crushing the conscience which
does not care to outstep others, but to measure
its duty by its own abilltv. hmi uliall f ho mnt
single banded keep his children to the same
happy course 'ther are meant tn fiinw The
is a time, with boys at least when they are too
big for the Blipper and shingle administration.
They show fight when punishment is offered.
Tbe mother cannot conquer them: the father,
absent most of the time, can hardlv judge
cases by report, and very likely declares, as
one man I know did, "I cannot punish the boy
In cold blood!" General sentiment at such an
age weighs more with young people than mere
Ennishment, and general sentiment tends any
ow except to right methods and aims. I do
not know of a single school whero truth tell
ing, obedience to authority and deference tj
the wishes of parents, have the slightest con
sideration. I don't know one where discipline
worth the name is enforced. If bovs behave
not quite intolerably, they are got a'long with:
if they exceed the mark they are expelled. Ex
pulsion saves trouble in the school, but it does
not save tho boy. God help us! We parents
cannot exi -l our children from our hearts if
we would. And so 1 ask how we can keep their
freshness of mind and body unspoiled, instead
of seeing them the meager, precocious, snap
pish type common to-day. In a school of 100
pupils I do not see a dozen wholesome, healthy
looking children. Anxmic spotted faces, un
dersized, rickety or dumpy figures are the rule
even In well-to-do families. Newtos.
"WHAT AEE THE SCHOOLS DOING?
HOW A HORSE MOVES.
Captain Charles King on the Various
Gaits of Saddle Horses.
FODR AMERICAN ARTIFICIAL GAITS
The Fox Trot, the Sack, the Single Foot
and the Banning Walk.
SPEED ATTAINABLE IN EACH CASE
tWBITTIN FOR Till DISPATCH".!
IN the spring of
1869, while stationed
in the city of Cincin-
n a t i on recruiting
I service, the writer was
I invited to joinariding
.partv. Just at this
l.time riding parties of
ysryagg
Copyright, 18S9, by Franklin File.
"The Bnried River," a Weird Romance,
byJonquln Miller, will appear in Next Sun
day's issue of The Dispatch.
EtnrtlinK News From the West. '
From tbe St. Joseph (Mo.) Daily Herald of Jan
uary 13, 1SSD.
IS CLEVELAND TO MAEEY?
TroyfN.Y.) Dlspatch.3
The report that President Cleveland will
soon become a benedict is again revived.
This time the news was given publicity in
this city. A young lady, a member of one
of the first families, has quite an acquain
tance in Buffalo, and -returned a few. days
days ago from a visit to that city. " Yester
dav she received a letter from a lady friend
in Buffalo, the writer being on especially
intimate terms with Miss France C. Folsom,
whose name has frequently been used as
that of the probable bride of .President
Cleveland. The letter states that Hiss
Folsom has inlormed a few of her dearest
friends that she and the President are en
gaged to be married. While tbe date fixed
for the wedding is not disclosed, if is un
derstood that the great event will occur
during the present year.
How to Forcet Sorrow.
British and Colonial UrugglsLL
A druggist recefatly received a visit from
a lantern-jawed, hollow-eyed man, who
asked in cadaverous tones if he could give
him any remedy that would drive away a
nightmare-like care that was preying upon
his health. The man of drugs nodded, and
compounded a mixture of quinine, worm
wood, rhubarb and Epsom salts, with a
dash of castor oil, and offered itfto the de
spairing patient, who apathetically gulped
it down. History avers that for six months
he could think of anything except new
schemes for getting the taste out oF his
mouth. t '
Didn't Know He HadVald It.
Cambridge Daily. 3
In a speech "Wendell Phillips once made
use of the following illustration: "Expect
the authorities of Boston to enforce the law!
I should as soon put a peck of potatoes on
the top of the groufid and read to them an
essay from "Flint en Agriculture," and ex
pect a crop." The gentleman who, tells the
story afterward approached him, and said,
"Mr. Phillips, I am curious to know
whether that was impromptu or, "Stupid?"
"Did I say that?" he replied. "Well, I
not only did not prepare' it beforehand,
but I did not even know I bad said it until
you reminded me."
A Startling Illusion.
t
Eockaway Beeche I'm just going out
(meeting Hoffman in the country for a
Howes as he comes day or two.
down the avenue) f
"Whv, how are yon, ' - h.
olefel? , 'Pudc
Most readers will see in "Newton's" letter
only tbe unambitious, thoughtlul mother,
anxious to preserve her son from brain dis
ease on one hand, and the vices, rivalry und
greed on the other. Heredity, which i's the
red rag to the JVews editor,. is referred to in'
the slightest way, not in tbe least as an
apology for anything the" child became, but
a cause of physical disorder. Heredity
can no more be disregarded in nervous chil
dren, tending to inflammation nf the brain
or the spine, than tbe fact of hereditray con
sumption in a patient wttii weak lungs.
Heredity is small apology for evils, but it
is a warninsr, and predisposing cause no
parent can afford to ignore.. But we may let
"Newton" speak for herself.
I never guessed how distorted a clear case
could become in other minds, which shade and
fill up outlines from their own experience.
That my lively, merry lad who roams the flelds,
not alone, but with half the boys in the neigh
borhood, after school who was smartly slip
pered and shingled for disobedience as the
JVero man could wish, who was rather popular
than otherwise with old and young, and rnbbed
shoulders with other bovs onlv too readilv.
should figure as a peevish, selfish brat, "who
will add to .selfishness all the petty vices and
mean characteristics" as the Newt predicts, is
a handful! That I regarded him as costly
Venetian glass, adored him as a "rare exotic
from some distant star," and "fed him with ex
pressions of his own superiority,' considered
him too good to mingle with 'other children,
and had aesthetic ideas of bringing him up, is a
most amnslng picture of what is not the case
know that I am a proverb among my neighbors
for more than common strictness of discipline,
and the most downright plainness of ideas and
practice. I -plead, guilty to being very fond of
my own child since when has that become a
crime? but there are mothers whose love is as
clear-eyed as it is intense, who gave their lives
to root out the faults of their children mil
have a jealous sense for their defects. I doubt
not the Jfewa man can find me in fanlt for this,
just as well as the other thing.
NOT A MOTHEB'S FAULT.
No, the fault was not in any weak, worship
ping mother. It was that entering school tbe
boy was introduced to an artificial system of
ideas, false students, rabid, petty ambitions,
and was systematically taught to undervalue
all other opinions and rules. I am not the only
one to complain that the influences of society
to-day set at naught home views and authority.
One of tbe brightest women on the Boston press
had tbe same experience,-finding her delicate
precocious boy pressed at school, till his health
begau to give way, and all her protests were
sneered at or ignored. Being a woman of re
source, she took the boy from school and had a
battle royal with teachers to do so. ''"You are
a fool. You will ruin your boy," theyjsaid In
so many words her offense being that when
her watchful eye saw tBe boy ailing, she would
have him stay at home and be cared for, let
classes get ahead of him as they would. She
felt for her son what Stevenson says of himself.
"I am sorry that 1 have no Greek, but 1 should
be sorrier if 1 were dead." All tbe same, the
child feels tbe clash between two influences,
each of which he is taccht to respect, and a
the fresher one is more felt, the parent goes to
tho wall In hi esteem.
At tho mother's jneetings of a prominent
Boston society the complaint is frequently
made that teachers in the' public school teach
the children contempt for'their parents author.
ny. une lamer ana momer aesired that a
child should not draw maps evenings, as it
tired the eyes and made late study till long
after 9. The teacher's answer was to the child:
"No matter. This school directs the maps
must be drawn, and you have got to do It!"
Or. a parent disapproves of some popular ob
ject for which contributions are urged, and
sharp publishers and mission venders are learn
ing to make regular levies upon the quickly
raised enthusiasm of children. No matter
what the object, to buy apicturc of Longfellow
for an Indian school or to send Christmas cards
to Samoa, in Sunday school or public school,
the parent who dissents from the popnlar craze
may be sure the child feels keenly the legible
sneer on the faces of teachers and mates.
TAUGHT IN SCHOOLS.
A great deal is taught in-the public schools
to-day not put down in tbe list of subjects. For
instance, one faithful mother warned her boy
up with the usual glance at carelessness lead
ing to dishonesty, with th? county jail in pros
pective. "Hull!" says the boy in serious scorn,
"that's nothing. Billy Farren, in our class,
was in jail three months for stealing, and we
asked him bow be. liked U. and ho told us all
about it. Said be was comfortable, hadn't any-'
thine to do, and lie got in with the warden so
ho cot cood erub. A fellow needn't minit thati"
Tho first strong lesson my boy had in school
was the punishmentvof a very passionate, will
ful lad, the son of a manv lnlllloned family who
yet sent their sort to pnblic school. The lad
didn't take it kindly, and tbe younger bovs and
girls went home telline, with shocked faces,
how "Whitten d d Miss Clark and Mr. Price,
the principal, and swore' awful all round."
Next, 1 should fay they all'toolt swearing les
sons, for the army In -Flanders could hardly
outdo the volubility- of tha pnblic school
boys In our town, from three feet high and
unward at hard swearinr. What 1. v.
done. I spoke to the pastor of the parish, beg-1
It is impossible to ieel that the public
schools to-day are doing their duty bv the
children, either for health or principles.
Those most important things it sacrifices to
mere cram, rivalry and parade. Yet the
schools never can take such hold of the peo
ple as when pupils return home with an
added grace or two as well as competition
prizes, and the careful parent finds his work
assisted, not thwarted by the influence of
the teacher. The schools bring all sorts of
children .in contact, as "Newton's" letter
shows, the millionaire's son rubbing should
ers with the paddywhack from the tene
ments. And some sort of moral disinfecting
would be no more amiss to mind and man
ners than some intellegent consideration for
the health of tho hundreds of pupils in
care. The parents are an imnerfect set. I
own, and have faults enougn to keep us
modest, but our interest in the children is
the strongest they will ever know. It is
sleepless and anxious for them when teach
ers and pastors are comfortably obtuse to
perns aneaa. '.ineyao not have to nurse
sickly, over-wrought pupils, or to stand
between fractious, immature la-ls trying
to do man's work, and their certain fail
ure. As "Newton" says all the pastor has
to do is to drop unruly" boys from Sunday
school classes, and the teachers can expel
them from the public schools and wash her
hand of them. But we parents cannot
leave them so. "We Tnust mend the fractuKs
unthinking hands have made, endure all
things from children who seem created with
out souls, and watch and contrive desperate
remedies to bring them to the sense of
trnth and fair living. One of the best
writers ot to-day says plainly on this sub
ject, "the test of training is what a man can
do, rather than what he knows. Has he
good judgment? Is he a man of common
sense? Has he power of adaptation? Can he
organize? Can the young man lend a hand
at nomer
"Are our boys getting any sort of training
answering to this? Or is it not the German
idea of book matter on top, and reoutatiohs
waiting to be made?" Eeputations, mind,
not achievements. And is it not persistent
that all the great teachers, who left their
mark upon time through their pupils were
men dominated by the moral idea, and giv
ing the fullest scope in their teaching?
Arnold and Farrar in England, Jacob Ab
bott and Horace Mann in this country, were
'men of another order from the prominent
pushing teachers of to-dav, and their pupils
were different. Shibley Daee.
TO SELECT POULTRY.
A Blnlno Denier Gives Some Valuable Points
. About Choosing; Birds.
Lewlston Journal.
"Pick me out a good one," said the mat
ron in the Lewiston market, Thursday, as
she wondered which chicken was the best,
"To select poultry," said the dealer," you
should always pick dry-picked or unscalded
poultry. Fresh poultry should have moist
and limber feet and legs, and those birds are
the best that have small bones, short legs
and clean, white flesh. It is an old adage
in the business that the black-legged chicken
is best for roast and the yellow or white
legged is best to boil. Beware of slimy or
black-looking poultry. It is old. To judge
of the age press the breast bone at the point
toward the latter end of the body. If young,
it will be soft ahd pliable. Breeds with
long legs and big bones are not as fine as
those that are full-breasted and plump. A
hen turkey is better tha n the Tom. The
legs should be black and smooth. The
windpipe ot a youne goose or duck should
be so It, while in older birds it is hard. If
the feet of the duck or goose are red and
stiff, the bird is old. You can take these
directions for what they are worth'. Look
out for black pdultry and poultryjwhere the
skin is rubbed off. Sometimes New York
merchants soak passe birds in alum water.
It doesn't improve them. The odor of fowl
is worth much as a gnide. Bad poultry is
a dangerous thing. It is not a help to the
digestion or to the trade.
At Death's Door.
Boston Budget.
Physician (arousing a, tramp one morning
from a-nap on his doorstep) Here, what is
the matter with you? Can't you move more
lively?
Tramp I'm feeling pretty bad, boss, and
can't be expected to move in a' hurry.
P. What's the matter?
T. I've been at death's door all night.
An Interpolation on the Tennessee Mount-nlns.
the young people in society was tery much
in vogue. Assembling at the-home of some
one of their number, they would set forth in
the afternoon: ride out to some pleasant spot
neither in Kentucky, across the Ohio, or in
tne Deauttlul environs or tbe city itsenjiae
supper there, have an informal dance and
return by moonlight.
Joining the party with the best mount to
be found at the stable to which he was ad
vised to go, the writer found some 20 young
men and maidens on very trim-looking Ken
tucky saddle horses; and very soon, with a
discreet chaperone in the lead, we filed
away to the ferry and were soon clattering
through the streets of Newport and out on
the broad, winding highway beyond. Once
there, the leaders took a rapid gait, and the
writer being near the rear of the column,
had bis first opportunity of watching horse
man and horsewomanship as then practiced
in the Queen City. Up to that day he had
never ridden any gait but what are termed
the natural gaits of the horse the walk,
trot, gallop or the easy, graceful modifica
tion of the latter, known in the East as the
canter and on the frontier as the "lope." In
each of these especially the trot there is a
certain amount of physical and muscular
exercise. Not much, perhaps, in the walk,
but a little at any rate.
NATURAL GAITS.
The writer had ridden some steed or other
from the time he was 7 yean old, when he
began on a vicious little brute of a Shet
land, whose chief object in life seemed to be
incessant and frequently successlul efforts to
dump his boy rider into snow drift or mud
puddle as the seasons might provide. Later
he had been indulged with many a ride on
a fine bay thoroughbred, owned by a rela
tive, whose riding opportunities were few;
but this was in New York, and neither at
Dickers nor Disbrow s the two equestrian
schools of the ante bellum days, had he seen
taught anything but the English tbe nat
ural gaits. Then came the war, when, as
mounted orderly at brigade headquarters
early in '61, he made acquaintance with the
McClellan saddle and the cavalry seat; and
then "West Point, with its bareback and
"rough-riding" training; then light battery
duty in the far South, with an occasional
brush on the Metairie track, or race across
the level plains in the suburbs of New Or
leans; but now at last he was to see a new
and typical phase of American horseman
ship and make acquaintance with the
"gaited" Kentucky saddles.
Time and again he had noted at all the
railway stations in Mississippi and Tennes
see just alter the war the dozens and scores
of saddle horses tethered to the posts and
tree boxes, and had seen their lank, sallow
faced owners mount and ride off at that
wonderful all-day amble known as the "fox
trot," but here at Cincinnati was something
entirely new; and forgetful perhaps, of "the
small" talk due to a.fair companion, who.
fortunately for him, was an enthusiastic
horse-woman, and forgave him, he became
absorbed in watching the party in front
while urging his own unwilling steed to
take and keep a lope instead of the eait 01'
his forerunners (lorerackers, more properly),
wnicn, to tne soiaier s Demgntea mma, was
simply no gait at all.
MOVING LIKE MACHINERY.
Sitting in their saddles without the
faintest effort, motion or "equitation" of
any kind these young people of both sexes
were whirled along at rapid gait, their
horses' heads and necks stretched ont to the
front, the reins dangling loosely and the
four legs of every horse moving like ma
chinery in a way utterly novel and strange.
It seemed more li,ke banks of oars than any
thing else; the hind lee "kent stert" with
the fore leg on its own side and the result of
the swiit, swinging motion was a rapid pro
pulsion of tbe horse and rider through
space; but for all the exercise, for all tbe
skill and security in seat gained by the
cqnestrian in such performance, he orshe
might just aswell be seated in an armless
chair on the b&vk of elephant or camel.
There was just about as much motion as
there is in a Pullman palace car going on a
straight tracK at ten miles an hour.
The tendency of the system was to encour
age a loose, slouchy style of riding; an ut
terly insecure seat and an indisposition,
after a few trials, to ride anything but the
"gaited" horse. That it was productive of
insecurity and lack of skill was suddenly
most conclusively established. One of the
horses, startled by the shadow of a kite,
shied and swerved and the rider rolled off
into the dust. Had he been accustomed to
ride the trot and gallop; ha.l be learned, as
then would have been necessary, the quick
pressure of knee and gripe of leg, such an
ignominious thing as being unhorsed by a
"shy" would not have been likely to hap
pen. Tbe writer learned then and there to
consider horsemanship which confines itself
to gaited horses as simply no horsemanship
at all. No man, no woman who desires to
master a horse and to ride well can afford to
learn the exercise on any but the natural
gaits; but once at home in them, then there
is pleasure, comfort and actual benefit in oc
casional indulgence in the artificial amblings
of those wonderlul Western horses.
themselves "out of gear," as it were, and
galloping "disunited" a matter the prac
tised rider will recognize in an.instant. In
the proper meshanism of the gallop the legs
on the right side move in advance of those
on the left or those on the left side in ad
vance of those on tbe right; either will do
when running straight, but when turning or
riding in circle, the fore leg on the side to
ward which the turn is made should strike
the ground in advance of the other. Now
when a horse going at full speed suddenly
"changes step," throws himself "out of
gear," and gallops as the phrase is "dis
united," the rider is subject to a series of
jolts and jars, and the horse himself is weak
ened. In the disunited gallop the, right leg
follows the left fore leg or the left hind the
right fore, and the moment it is detected the
horseman should check the steed and restore
the natural gait. Simply reining in gently
and touehiug with the spur on either side
will generally effect it.
The canter or lope is, especially for ladies'
horses, a delightful gait to ride, and is one
easily tanght. Some of them are apt to be
a trifle stift-legced at first, and the canter
under such conditions is rough and clumsy,
but when a horse "lopes" springingly and
gracefully it is by long odds the pleasantest
gait to ride, and the one which, for park or
city purposes, a woman appears to the Tery
best advantage- It is simply the gallop
slowed down or modified.
ARTIFICIAL GAITS. V
It sometimes happens that a horse is found
who is naturally a pacer. It is a gait of
wonderful swutness and very smooth and
easy to side. The pace has, therefore, been
'classed by some good authorities among the
natural gaits, but as more horses have to be
taught it than otherwise, the classification
is perhaps qnestionable.
We now come to those refinements of
saddle-horse locomotion known as the "arti
ficial gait." If you buy a Kentncfcv horse
and there are no better in the West the
highest recommendation the dealer will give
him after certifying to his soundness is that
he "has all the gaits." It-certainly means
agoouaeai. 11 we exclude tne pace thev
are four in number: The fox trot, the run
ning walk, the rack and the "single foot,"
and they are'admirable for people who ride
for air and ease and do not care for genuine
horsemanship. One of them, the fox trot,
is so useful that it is by no means improba
ble that it will be introduced and cultivated
in the cavalry service. It is nothing but
a "smoothing out" and a slowing up of the
true trot, but it is universal thronghont the
Southern States, and. though the slowest of
the Kentucky eaits. it is one the horse can
I take and keep all day long, covering five or
six miles an hour and never fatiguing either
the rider or himself. It is not difficult to
teach, and once learned is never forgotten.
Speaking of it in a paper read before the
Cavalry Association of the United States at
Fort Leavenworth (an institution, by the
way, which has members all over the
country, and which welcomes horsemen and
riders, whether in trie army or out of it),
Captain Woodson savs: "While it is not a
true diagonal motion, it departs from it
simply in thefact that the fore foot touches
the ground slightly in advance of the diago
nal hind foot."
THE CRAFTY SPIDEJt;
Strange Stories Regarding an Ugly
looking Little Animal,
BEARING AN EVIL BEPOTATION.
Per-
Great Feats of Strength and Skill
formed by Cunning Creatures.
SPIDERS' WBS USED AS MEDICOS
THE RUNNING tVALK.
The running walk is another modification
of the trot. It differs from the "fox trot" in
that the hind foot touches the ground
slightly in advance of the diagonal fore foot;
consequently more ground is covered and
the pace is more rapid. It is a springy,
elastic gait; the rein is kept tighter; the
head of the horse is held higher and it is
much more stylish; bat it is fatiguing and
not to be persisted in for more than 15 or 20
minutes at a time without telling on the
average mount. It sounds on a solid road
bed very like a quickening of the walk.
The rack is a swaying, straggling gait, for
which the cavalryman has neither use nor
admiration, but it has many advocates in
civil life and is an undeniable favorite with
those who want to get over the ground at the
fastest speed without jar or discomfort to
themselves. Everybody is familiar with the
true pace, and this gait the rack is simply
a forcing of tbe pace a variation of it in
which the hind foot strikes the ground in
advance of the leading fore foot
iinauy we have the "single Jool" a gait
that is unlike all the others, and yet is a
sort of compromise between the trot and the
pace, is not an exact intermediate between
them. It is so called because each foot acts
singly, or independently of its fellows, and
the same interval of time elapses between
the four hoof beats. It is a stylish gait;
very popular in Western cities;is rapid and
free, and can be made a "three-minute" af
fair with a good, sound horse. It is a gait,
moreover, lrom which the steed changes
easily to any one oflhe "naturals," and one
in which he readily gathers himself for a
leap over slight obstacles.
And all these gaits are demanded in a
Kentucky horse, and almost universally
taught there.
Capt. Chas. King, U. S. A.
ramiTTEN FOB THE DISPATCH. 1
PIDEESarethe most
curious and interesting
of the small animals.
Its ingenuity.industry,
patience, avaricions
ness and ennning have
furnished texts --for
scores of essays and
homilies, while natu
ralists have written
volumes descriptive of
its habits and necnli- -
arities. Its body has
been used for medicine and even for food,
and numerous unsuccessful attempts have
been made to turn its industry to account
in the manufacture of silk fabrics from its
web. It is a very knowing creature and
not particularly friendly toward man. Yet
cases are on record of ugly spiders tbat were
traiped and domesticated until tbey would
come at their master's call and take food
from his hands.
Spiders are said to be peculiarly suscepti
ble to the charms of music. It is related of
a French prisoner of war who was allowed
to play upon the lute during his confine
ment in the Bastile, that he was much as
tonished, alter having had his instrument
for a few days to see the spiders descend
from their webs and gather around him in a
circle as he was playing. A number of mice
also came out of their holes to enjoy the
music. When he ceased to play the spiders
returned to their webs and the mice to their
nests, but ever aiterward, while engaged in
whiling away the tedious hours by music,
he had the same curious audience. lore
over, the number of mice and spiders that
came to gaze and listen grew greater each
dav, until at last he begged a cat of his
jailor, kept it in a cage and amused himself
by letting itloose whenever he wished to
create a panic among his strange compan
ions. SUPERSTITIONS ABOUT SPIDERS.
Another Frenchman tells of spiders that
came ' down from their webs and gathered
around a skillful violinist who was prac
ticing alone in his room. Many other in
stances are cited by various writers to provo
that these creatures are fond of music.
As a weather prophet, the spider is re
garded by many as the superior of Wiggins,
or even the eroundhog. If the dav is to ba
MKSING BOTTEEFLIES.
How
PlPf
Bev. Mr. Lukeson I'l bery glad, mah
hearers, dat mah disco'se on d' puss'n'l
characteristicks ob d debbil has seen a good
'feet on d' congergashion. Judge.
STYLES OF OAIT.
A brief description of the gait may be of
interest. Everybody who rides at all knows
the natural gaits. No saddle horse is worth
having unless he be a good fast walker. A
slow walkinghprse is weariness and vexa
tion to the spirit, but a horse whose' walk is
so slow that in order to keep up with his
fellows he must resort to the jog trot, is a
quadruped whose proper vocation is with,
the plow. Such a brute as that wears out
many a temper and not a few troopers in
the long cavalry marches of the frontier.
Three mile and a half an hour is as slow as
the slowest caddie horse ought to be allowed
to walk. "Four miles" is a good, honest
swinging gait, and every roadster ought to
be able to take it. The trot a gait so easy
and natural for both man and beast,
even for several miles at a stretch
when the gentle rise in the
stirrups is cultivated is something of a
dread to military horsemen who use the
army saddle andare expected to sit squarely
down. Very few of them will willingly sit
it out more than a mile, and I doubt if the
horse himself would approve it. The
French, for all purposes, and the Germans,
1 forcampaign moves at rapid gait, now pre-
scriue me rise 01 tneir troopers, ont we
Americans seldom march more than a miie
or so at the trot, and then only to break the
monotony of the walk. Watch a cavalry
column at the trot aud you will see here and
there uncomfortable looking fellows who
are slyly urging their steeds to change to
the lope, but Were they equipped with the
"Whitman array saddle, the rise would be
easy, natural and even graceful, and ten
miles or eleven could easily be covered in
an hour.
THE GALLOP AND BUN.
The gallop and the rnn are the hone's ex
treme gaits, and those in which, when in
health and spirits, he most rejoices. So
long as ho gallops true and "united" the
gait is delightful, exhilarating and safe; but
1 uithuj uvisH uavc oji uuu viib& V4 tucunjug
a Species of Ant Cares for Them
Tho Secret of It.
The youth's Companion.:
Ants and butterflies are not ordinarily on
friendly terms, for ants have a ruthless
custom of seizing and devouring their
winged acquaintances. There is, however,
one species of butterfly, described in a
scientific journal of Bombay, the larva; of
which are protected by the large black
ants found in Indian gardens and houses.
The secret of this care lies in the fact that
the larva: exude a sweet liquid, of which
the ants are very fond, and which they ob
tain by gently stroking the little creatures
witn .their antnnte. At the foot of a bush
on'which the larva: feed, the ants construct
a temporary nest, and are then ready to act
as attentive nnrses.
About the middle of June the ants are
busy running about on this bush, in search
of the larvx.and driving them down toward
their own nest. When the prisoners reach
their place, they at once fall into a doze,
and undergo transformation into pupa?.
During this period, if the loose earth at
the foot of the bush be scraped away, hun
dreds of larva: and pupa; mav be seen, ar
ranged in a broad, even band about its
trnnk.
In about a week, the butterfly is ready to
come forth, and is tenderly assisted to leave
its shell. If it is strong and healthy, it is
allowed to spread its wings and fly away,
but should it prove delicate, the ants exer
cise the utmost care in assisting it to the
,tree, and holding it there in safety.
It is said to be a curious sight to watch
these fragile creatures! going about in per
fect confidence among the strong, fierce
ants, which have, however, by no means
adopted the profession of nursing for the
love of it; for when the larva? of another
species are thrown among them, they imme
diately set upon them and tear them to
nieces'.
Improvements In Chicago.
Epoch.
Englishman (to American young lady
visiting abroad) Aw Miss Breezy I un
derstand 'that the society young ladies in
America always carry jeweled revolvers at
evening entertainments.
Miss Breezy Well, yes; I believe that
is the custom in the wild untutored West;
but back East in Chicago, where I reside,
we have long since discarded such usage.
A Pillablo Sight.
Epoch.
' "Aren't you sorry for that poor little boy,
Bobby?" inquired his mother on their way
to church. "He has to wear old, ragged
clothes, and even his toes stick out from
the end of his shoes in the cold and wet."
"Yes, ma." replied Bobby, "I'm borry,"
(butBobbydidn seem lobetoosorry),"but
why doesn't he walk on his heels?"
Off In Spelling,
ipoch.
Waiter handing menu card to country
man in fashionable uptown restaurant,
briskly Now, then, sir, what will it bel
Countryman Well, the fust thing I want
to say is that you've got yonr sign spelled
wrong outsider "Cafe" don't spell coffee
by a long sight. Ef you should start a
shop down to the Corners you'd get the
grand laugh. '
windy or rainy they creep out of their holes
and shorten the filaments on which their
webs are suspended, drawing them up tight
ly. When they are indolent good weather
maybe expected; whenever they are un
usually active lookout tor a storm.
It is thought to be unlucky to kill a
spider, but to have one crawl over your
clothes is a sure sign of coming good for
tune the general superstition being that
the person so favored will soon receive a
sura of money. If a spider approaches you,
either by descending from the ceiling or
crawling toward you, it is a sign of good
luck; but if the creature runs
tbe other way some evil is about
to befall you. Killing a spider
that crosses your path will bring bad luck,
and if you are to kill one at all never on any
account do so in your house. Should a
spider drop from a tree directly in front of
you before night you will be visited bv a
dear friend. In some parts of England
there is a epssmon belief that spiders will
not hang their webs on an Irish oak because '
all sorts of vermin were banished from
everything Irish by St Patrick's decree.
OTHER CURIOUS BELIEFS.
The strength of the spider is so great that
it should entitle him to rank as the Samson
of the smaller animals. An eminent legal
gentleman, of New York State, related,
many years ago, a curious story of what ha
himself had witnessed. A striped snake,
that was fully nine inches long, was dis
covered suspended alive in a spider's web in
a wine cellar.' The web hung between two
shelves two feet apart, in such a position
tbat the snake could not possiblybave fallen
into it. Three spiders, each smaller than a
flv, were found feasting on the body of tha
still-living reptile. On examination of the
snake by means of a magnifying glass
it was seen that its mouth was firmly
tied up by a great number of threads so.
tightly that it could not run out its tongue.
The tail was tied in a knot, leaving a small
loop through which a cord was fastened. A
little above 'the tail was noticed a small
round ball, which npon inspection proved
to be a small green fly. The fly had served
as a windlass to haul the snake up, tha
cords having been wound around it. Many
threads were fastened to the cord above and
to the ball containing the fly to keep it
lrom unwinding ana letting tne snase lalL
The snake had evidently been caught nap
pine and strung up by his ingenious little)
captors before he had time to make a strug
gle for freedom.
Probably every person who has spent a
summer in the country has been surprised,
while taking a morning walk, to note tha
immense number of gossamer-like webs,
glistening with dew, that have been spread
upon trees, shrubs grass, fences aud hedges
during the preceding night.
SPIDERS' TVEBS AS MEDICINE.
There is a commou belief, by no means
confined to the ignorant, that these webs
fall from the sky in showers, bnt wherever
they come from, there is little doubt that
that they are woven by the gossamer spider.
It was an ancient notion that the gossamer
was made by dew that had burned in tha
sun, and one learned man of olden time
even went so far as to advance the theory
that it was not unlikely that the-white
clouds, so frequent in summer, were of tha
same material.
Certain kinds of spiders, according to
travelers, are regarded as dainty food by tha
natives of Australia and by certain African "
tribes. The use of spidersand spiders webs"
as a remedy for fevers and other diseases is '
by no means confined to savages. In some
parts of this country it is still held that pills''
compounded of spiders' webs are a certain
cure for the agne, and the round bodies'of
spiders themselves, minus the legs, have
been administered for thesame complaint.
Spiders confined in a goostquill or sewn up
in a rag and worn about the neck were long
believed to be an infallible preventive of tha
ague. The Indians, it is said, have great
faith in the efficacy of the spiders' web for
curing this disease. Barney. "
International Courtesy.
The Duke of Soggerrath Do you know,
me dear yonng lady, tbat I'm tempted to
carry home one of you American gyrls ray
Miss Crip You'd have to carry her, y'oux
grace. Judge.
4.-.
:3E3&