Vi"
VC-
.-f
V
THE PITTSBUKG- DISPATCH, SUNDA1
MAT
18
12, '188Q.
lick, like that of a drunken man. "A very
little more and I had been done lor.
"Yes, you were in ratlier a nasty box,"
i admitted, "but all's well that ends -well.
j he
and Tou're safe enough now. When I heard
yon calling I thought it was a child your
voice was so thin and faint "
"It'i mighty fortunate for me that you
heard me at all. I had given myself up for
lost. "What a storm this isl"
"Yes glorious, isn't it? It's the grandest
spectacle I've ever seen. I tell yon, si r, it's
veil for us that nature should occasionally
kv m her sharp claw, utncrwise wea
ret to considering her a quite tame domestic
a 1.2.1. ch.'. rnk v nnv TnMTIS- Tin hn
pel which she's not by any means. He
J,t lived in vain -who has lived to
..nr wiiirii aut a uw. ...i -, .. . - - . . -
Y,nt lived in vain who has lived to ex
pericnce this Worm. And it's so exhilarat
ing withal I It mates 'a man feel like a
boy."
"That would depend somewhat upon the
age and the physique of the man, 'I sug
gested. "Ah, yes, true enough. But for me, I
declare, it is like wine. "Which way do you
go?"
"I go east and south to my home which
is in Beekman place, if you know where
thjtis. But to tell you the truth, I doubt
my ability to go at all I'm pretty badly
used up. I think I shall ask to be taken
in at one of these houses."
"As you like it But I know where
Beekman place is; in fact I'm bound in
that direction myself. I want to see how
the storm looks on the river. It must be
magnificent If you please we'll marcli to
gether. I suspect, with aid, you'll be able
to safely arrive."
'Tou have already saved my life, sir.
and now you offer to see me home. I shall
owe you a heavy debt. But I cannot con
sent to take you out of your way."
'That's just what you won't do. I was
bound lor the riversfde, upon my word.
Come on." And next thing I knew my ro
"bust interlocutor had again lifted me Irom
my feet, and was trudging off toward Sec
ond avenue, bearing me like a child in his
arms.
But this, of course, was altogether too
ignominious a position for me to occupy
without protest.
"Oh, sir, this is needless. I beg of yon to
put me down. Beally, I can't submit "to
this. Let me walk at your side, and lean
upon your arm, and I shall do very well."
"My dear sir," he rejoined, "permit me
to observe that if ever mortal man was com
pletely tuckered out, you are. You've lost
your wind, and your legs are as shaky as if
you had the palsy. Tou couldn't get as far
as the corner, to save your neck. Now so
far as I'm concerned, on the contrary-. I
don't mind carrying yon any more than I
would a baby. At the outside you don t
weigh more than nine stone. And what's
that to a lcllow of my dimensions? Lie
Etill, and I shan't know you're there. Iiie
still and rest, and you'll recover your
breath, and be all right again."
"But. sir, the thing is too ridiculous. I
can't in dignity consent to it. I beg of you
to put me down."
I attempted to release myself, but his
arms were like bands of iron.
"TJipw there! Resign vnnrsfjf. Don't
m trTifplp " he said. "I shall put von down
presently when the time is ripe. And as
for your dignity, I realize that yon wouldn't
care to have the world see us in our present
relation; but console yourself with the re
flection that the snow answers every pur
pose of a Fortunatus cap and renders us
beautifully invisible. Anyhow, I take it,
your dignity isn't as precious to you as
your safety, your health; and I vow if you
tried to foot it another hundred yards yon'd
pay for your Temerity with a fit of sickness.
Consider, also, that I am old enough to be
your son. Let me play a son's part for the
nonce and cany you home."
"Well, I have no right to quarrel with
you," I answered. "But you place me
under an obligation which I shall never be
able to discharge. It will weigh as heavily
-upon my conscience as I now weigh upon
yovr muscles."
"Then it will cause you mighty slight an
noyance. To tell you the truth, this is jolly
good fun for me. It's an added excitement,
a most interesting adventure; and it will
provide a capital chapter for the winter's
tale I have to tell But a truce to talk. Let
us waste no further strength in that way.
" "You lie stilt-there and rest yourself; X'll de
vote my energies to getting on." .'
So for a good while we forbore speech. At
last, "How, then, here's Beekman place,"
he announced. "What's your number?"
"Sixty-three. The fourth house from the
corner."
"Well, here you are on your own door
step. There!" He set me upon my leet
"I hope you may suffer no ill effects from
your experience; and now, sir, good day."
"Good day, by no means," I made haste
to retort. "1'ou must come in. You must
do me the honorof letting me offer you some
refreshment. And besides, if, as you inti
mated, you wish to watch the play of the
storm upon the water, you could enjoy no
better point of vantage than one otmy back
windows." " '
I opened the door with my latchkey, and
preceded him into my study
CHAPTER VLL
A beautiful fire was blazing in the grate.
The transition from the cold and uproar of
the street to the snug, quiet and warmth of
this book-lined room, was an agreeable one,
I can tell you. I was pretty well rested by
this time, and, except for the tingling in my
Hose, ears and fingers, lelt very little the
orse for my encounter with the elements.
, Now," said I to my guests, "the tables
are turned. Buta xnonientsince I was your
prisoner. Sow you are mine. Draw up to
the fire. Throw off your overjacket and
your rubber boots. I trust you are not wet
through; for we are built respectively upon
such different patterns, it would be futile
forme to offer you dry garments from my
ward robe."
He laughed at the idea, for he was taller
than I by a round eight inches. "Indeed it
would,' he assented. "But you need give
yourself no uneasiness. I'm as dry as a
Greek Praxis."
"In that case, let me supply you with a
drop of moisture," I suggested, producing a
decanter of whisky and a couple of glasses.
"Thanks, yes, a toothful ot this will do
mcithcr ot us harm."
"We clinked glasses and drank.
"And now that I find myself your guest,
'it behooves me to introduce myself," the
young man volunteered. "My name is
Henry FaircHld, and by trade I am a
sculptor.
"My name is Leopold Senary, physician
and surgeon. And I trust, Mr. Fairchild,
that you have no urgent affairs to call you
sway from my house. I should never be
easy in my mind if I permitted you to leave
it before this storm has abated; and that
doesn't look like a yerv imminent event."
"My affairs are not urgent. In lact,when
rtre ran across each other I was abroad for
my pleasure, pure and simple, for the en
joyment of the tempest. But that is no
reason whyl should abuse your hospitality.
If I thaw here before your fire for a hall
hour I shall be in perfect condition to make
xay waylome."
"That would depend npon the distance of
your home irom mine."
"My home is'in my studio, and my studio
is in Eleventh street, near Sixth avenue."
"So farl Very well, then I shall certain
ly not hear of your leaving me so long as
the storm continues. It would be as much
as your life is worth to attempt such a
journey in such circumstances. It's a mat
ter of two, three, will-nigh four miles. I
shall count upon your spending the night
here at least. And now, if yon will exense
me for a few moments, I'll leave you here,
while I go to change my clothes."
"That's the wisest thing Von could possl
hly do,"" he returned. "I shall amuse my
self excellently looking out of the window;
but as for your kind invitation to remain
over night"
"As to thar,since yon have acknowledged
that you have no pressing business to call
you elsewhere, I will listen to no refusal."
I went upstairs, my first care being to
make known my return to Josephine
and Miriam, who, of course, were thereby
greatly surprised and relieved. They pro
fessed they had suffered the acutest anxiety
ever since J. had ieit the house, and as they
listened to the account I gave them of my
adventures they paled and shuddered for
,jjror.
jmu, . uivuuuc joang & wao case
to my rescue, is even now below stairs in
the library," I concluded.
"Then," cried Miriam eagerly, address
ing Josephine, "let us go to him at once and
thank him. To think that except for him
my uncle might have 1" She completed
her sentence by putting her arms around
myneok and giving me a kiss. "Now.
sir," she went on, "I hope you have learned
a lesson and will never do anything again
that we tell you not to."
"I promise to be a good, obedient little
old man iu the future," I replied.
And tne two women went on.
I joined them as soon as I had got into
warm clothing; and we sat down to lunch
eon; the young sculptor enlivening and en
tertaining us with a flow of high-spirited
talk. He and Miriam got on splendidly to
gether, chatting, laughing, exchanging bits
of repartee with the vivacity that was be
coming to their age. Josephine and I
hearkened and enjoyed. Luncheon conclud
ed, we adjourned to the parlor. There, ob
serving the piano, Pairchild asked Miriam
whether she played. She answered yes (we
had procured for her the best musical in
struction we could afford to pay for; and she
had mastered the instrument with a facility
which proved that she must have been a tal
ented pianist in her earlier life). Miriam
answered yes, and then 3?airchild said,
"Will younot be persuaded to play for us
now?"
She played one of Liszt's Hungarian
rhapsodies, after which Fairchild himself
took possession ot the keyboard, and estab
lished bis claim to rank as a skillful ama
teur by dashing off a Strauss waltz. Then
he and Miriam played a duet together the
Tannhauser Overture; and then, abandon
ing tne pianatorte, the young people sat
down near to it, and plunged into an ani
mated conversation of which music was the
topic, and which I, for one being, though
an ardent lover of music, no musician
found of dubious interest.
"I thinfc, Mr. Fairchild," I interrupted
them to say, "if you will forgive the breach
of ceremony, I shall retire to my bedroom
for awhile and take a nap. I feel somewhat
fatigued alter the exertions of the forenoon;
and Tarn sute that I leave you' in good
hands when Ivleave you to my sister and
our niece."
"Indeed, Dr. Benary, the kindest thing
you can do for me, you and your ladies," he
replied, "will be to let me feel that in no
wise do I interfere with your convenience.
Otherwise, I shall be compelled to take my
departure instantly; and I confess that by
this time I am so penetrated with the com
fort of your interior, that I should hate
mortally to renew close quarters with the
storm."
So I withdrew to my bedchamber and was
sound asleep in no time. Nor did I wake
until the clang of dinner bell broke in upon
upon my slumbers.
As I rose to my feet, something dropped
from the coverlet to the floor. Stooping to
pick it up I discovered that it was a folded
sheet of paper, with one corner turned down,
and my name written upon it in Josephine's
hand.
"What earthly occasion can Josephine
have for writing me a note?" I wondered.
Donning my spectacles, I read as follows:
"Whatever shall we do? I can't come
and say this to yon in person, for I dare not
leave them alone together. But he has rec
ognized Miriam. J."
It took fully a minute for the significance
of that sentence, "He has recognized
Miriam," to penetrate my understanding,
still thick with the dregs of my sleep. Then
I started as if I had been stung, and rushing
into the hall, I called, "Josephine 1 Jose
phine 1" at the top of my voice.
(2b be continued next Sunday.)
Copyright, 18S9, by Henry Harland.
All rights reserved.
THE SHADOW OP ELECTRICITY.
The Essence That Hnnc About Telegraph
Wires Made to Carry Messages.
UewYorkSun.i
An Englishman, O. Langdon-Davis,
claims to have perfected an instrument,
called the phonopore, by "which the "induc
tion current" on electric wires is utilized to
carry messages, and the capacity of a tele
graph or telephone line thereby increased.
The induction enrrent is the thing that
makes the buzzing and crackling noise in
the telephone and that slings fragments of
what is passing on other wires into the mid
dle of what you are trying to tell some one
else over the line. It is a sort of faint
essence of electricity that hangs about every
electric wire, and is affected similarly, but
in a lesser degree, by everything that affects
the current on the wires. Its strength varies
with the intensityof the main current and
the condition of the weather, but there is
always enough of it to be a nuisance on long
wires and when delicate work is desired.
The induction from a telegraph wire is so
strong that it will overcome entirely the
weaker current of a telephone wire near it
on the same pole and make it impossible to
transmit intelligible sounds over the latter
when the former is in use at the same time.
The English invention claims to harness
this faint current to regular instruments and
make it work independentlyof and simulta
neously with the main current on the wire.
The mainjeature of the invention appearsH
u uc iuc use ai kuc receiving insirnuient 01
two wires insulated from each other, but
each attached at one end to the main wire.
The regular current cannot communicate
through these wires, because they" are in
sulated from each other, but the induction
enrrent exists between them, in spite of the
insulation, and any impulse communicated
to the induction current at any station on
the line is faithfully reflected by the induc
tion current over these two wires at the re
ceiving end. By delicate adjustments sim
ilar to those used in the duplexing and
quadruplexing ordinary wires, the impulses
of the induction current are kept separate
from those of the regular current, and will
carry a separate message from that passing
on the main wire.
It is claimed that it will be possible by
the use of the phonopore to double the ca
pacity of an ordinary telegraph wire work
ing singly, by simply attaching the new in
strument at each end. A duplex wire can
be made quadruple! in a moment by the
same operation, and a qnadruplex wire sex
tuple! or octuplex. The phonopore may be
hitched on at way stations instead of at the
end of the line, and works as well, and in
perfect independence of the main current
It can beput on at a place where there is no
regular instrument Experiments now be
ing made over English railroad lines are
said to prove conclusively that the inven
tion is capable of easy and profitable use in
connection with existing telegraph systems.
It does not appear however, that this new
English invention is more than an im
provement and perfection of the system of
teiegrapning irom moving trains, which has
been in use in this country on the Lehigh
Valley Bailroad for some time, and is said
to have proved to be practicable and use
ful. In both systems the induction from
regular telegraph" lines is used.
A RcTolntlon In Dancing-.
The coming unromantio style reported as
flsreatealng the foreign floor. Puck. -,
CLARA BELLE'S CHAT.
A Feminine Whim Which Opens "Dp
a New Aienue for Prodigality.
GENERAL SHEEMANA SOCIAL PET.
A Glimpse at Ills Home Life'and a Peep atf
His Pretty Daughters.
HOW INGEESOLL'S G1EES KJ0I LIY1HG
rconnKsroKDENCE or Tins dispatch.
New Yobk, May 1L A feminine whim
which opens up a new avenue for royal
prodigality is that of the theater hatpin.
The hat, against which all the world has di
rected its vituperation, has become still
more tightly riveted into the drama by the
last craze for magnificent pins, which are
stuck in the back hair so that the
edge of the hat can catch over the. head
of the pin and thus be prevented from slip
ping backward. "Within the last year these
little arrangements, which wero originally
used as an unpretentious necessity, have be
come so elaborate and conspicuons that a
man's eyes are dazzled as he sits in a
theater, and his attention distracted from
the stage performance. No manner of wear
ing an expensive piece of jewelry has yet
been found to compare with that of the be
gemmed hatpin. Situated as it is, squarely
at the back of a woman's head, it can be
seen, if it is brilliant enough, hy the greater
part of an audience. It is positively ag
gressive and assertive in its importance, and
I really believe that as long as the fashion
for it prevails there is no hope for the death
of the high hat in the theater. If you ask
a young woman now which she prefers for a
present, a ring or a bracelet, she will surely
reply, a hatpin.
COMBS HAVE THEIE TSSJSH. ,
In addition to this ornament now growing
so popular, I find that combs are again
coming into fashion. They began a month
or so ago, and are still worn quite small,
and are stnek sideways through the back
hair instead of up and down as in the old
days. It is the favorite custom now for
young wbmen to braid their hair tightly
and then wear it in a coil covering the
backs of their head. Through this lati
tudinally is stuck the comb. At present
plain gold ones are most worn by girls on
the street, but for dress occasions richly
gemmed ones, sparkling with all manner of
precious stones, are utilized with lovely
effect These combs are growing larger all
the time. They began as a sort of hairpin,
with only two prongs and a mildly orna
mental bead. They have already reached
the four-prong stage with elaborately
wrought crowns. At the theater.this wees
I saw a society woman with one
made of the most exquisite
tortoise shell, upon which was seated a
crown of delicately carved gold, and in this
were set diamonds in a graceful pattern of
antique beauty. Worn as it was, it attract
ed the attention of everybody, and there was
not a girl in the hquse but decided to get a
comb the very next day. All the Jewelers'
windows now display these combs more copi
ously than any other article of their stock,
and it is easy enough to see that there is go
ing to be a run on them. Nothing is pret
tier as we get them now in their smaliness
and concentrated elegance, but, according to
the U'ual feminine desire to push a good
thing to absurd limits, I doubt not that ere
long the comb, like the late bustle, will have
expanded Use a peacoct s tail, and between
us and the drama there will be instead of
the high hat a sort of gold fence with dia
monds as big as hickory nuts set along the
ridge.
A GREAT LADIES MAN.
General William Tecumseh Sherman is
kept as busy as a belle posting his social
journal, acknowledging books, prints, ham
pers of game and cordials, and accepting as
many ot the cards of invitation as the all-too-short
days will permit Every morning
he is at breakfast hy 8 o'clock, looking as
fresh and sweet as a new babe straight from
the bath. There are always t two or three
young ladies at the table, the guests of the
Misses Sherman, and the butler has a trick
of serving the fruit, delicately "browned
omelettes, sea food, rice cakes, rolls and
coffee so as to squander at least an hour and
a half of the morning for the old warrior,
who dreads being alone or with his own
thoughts. From the breakfast table he goes
to the library, seats himself in a big, prune
leather chair and with a tooth pick
between his lips, and a fierce looking
miniature scimeter between his fingers, cuts
his way through a mass of mail ot a char
acter to move a whole university of beaux
to envy. There are letters from all parts of
the country, and from all sections of the
city, and "all from girls," as he confesses
himself. He has a pretty habit of sending
a rosebud, or a sprav of mignonette, to one
lady by another, and in return is repaid by
a dear little letter of acknowledgment
The hotels alone keep him. burdened with
obligations, for the invitations to lunch,
dine or see a play come from transient
friends and must be attended at once. Then
the local demands! Chesterfield himself
would have found it tedious to be punctual
even with his regrets. But the dainty notes
are read aloud to the little group who
EIMOY THE SMI1E3
That play about the soldier's face, often
without heeding the favors that provoke
them, and when the last seal is cnt one of
the daughters piles the open letters on a
salver and gives them to her father, who
goes up to his office, where the secretary
awaits him. Here the two work till
luncheon time as diligently as any mer
chant and stenographer iu New York, and
in the afternoon, if there are no companies,
no receptions, no teas and no matinees, the
General busies himself on some reminis
cences to be published later.
"Just now," he says, "the work is being
shamefully neglected; but my friends im
portune me so that there is nothing for me
to do but go. And why shouldn't I play
now? Most people play first and work
afterward. But "I worked first, and now
that the afterward has come I mean to have
my games."
At the Centennial banquet alady, when
told that Sherman often attended 15 course
dinners a week, asked how he managed to
escape gastronomic suicide.
"I do not eat 15 per cent of the dinners I
go to," be said.s "I go to see the diners
and enjoy their enjoyment, which I never
could do if I was foolish enough to treat my
stomach disrespectfully. You see, it has
been too stanch a iriend to neglect X eat
to live, and am satisfied with the simplest
kind of food. Then, I take great pains to
give hunger a show, and while I believe
most thoroughly in the value of regular
hours for meals and rest, X have learned
how to go through a dining room without
eating a morsel without being detected,
and, above all, without hnrting the taste of
the hostess."
MISS SHERMAN'S TVOEK.
During ber lifetime, Mrs. Sherman kept
up a most extensive correspondence with
church people, discussing by letter thegooc
and useless methods of government not only
in local asylums, school cloisters and par
ish churches, but in remote and foreign sec
tions of the country. She was perhaps the
onlv American with whom Pope Fins IX.
and the present Holy Father regularly cor
responded, and at the time of her death the
letters exchanged dealt with living topics
the Henry George movement, secular educa
tion and the spread of infidelity anyone of
which would be read with avidity had the
recipient permitted them to be published.
Mrs. Sherman was always a careful student
ot church literature, and her exchange or
books, specials-and reprint, made her name
honorable in many of the convents and mon
asteries of the'fJnite'd States. In all this
religious enthusiasm her distinguished hus
band took but little interest, reading noth
ing, not even the r casual contribu
tions of his wife to Catbolio periodicals.
She was constantly ia receipt; of
rare and beautiful fragments ef ecclesiasti
cal needle work, precious specimens of con
vent embroidery, painting or drawing and
emblems, talismamo charms, souvenirs and
mementos hallowed by the imposition of
ceremoniathandc, and valued above price
br reason of association. All the collection
was left to Miss Sherman, whose devotion,
while not eqnal to her mother's, is greater
than the enthusiasm of her sisters, flhn
has until recently given much of her timfc
to a class onittle boys in the parish church.
She dressy in deep mourning, wearing such
texture as the nuns have for home use. Her
little bonnet is close fitting, her hair is
brushed back smoothly irom her face, and
hidden under the clinging black nun's veil,
and the severity of her toilet has led many
strangers to take her for a cloistered woman.
THEY I.IKE SOCIETY.
Miss Bachael Sherman is less severe In
dress, and the mischievous lights that play
nmnr tlia 4vaeBAa aP Iiaw l.tl.l J l-! .
and the merriment of her smiling face,
make the contrast between the daughters a
matter of remark. Like their father, the
Mitses Sherman nre very fond of society,
and. while all drawing rooms and dancing
'affairs are "regretted," they are habitual
diners out
In the approaching ordination of their
brother as a priest, which will occur next
month, there is not a little discussion as to
the future of the Misses Sherman. It is not
likely that either will ever marry, and while
Miss Bachael Sherman is not the sort of a
woman to bury herself in a nunnery, there
are many friends of the family who would
in no way be surprised if Miss Sherman
annonncel her determination to lead a re
ligious lire. Snch a choice would gratify
her brother, but what effect it might have
on the old warrior will hardly be known, as
he has always permitted "Sis children "to
follow the inclination of their own hearts
and act in accord with the dictates of con
science, than, which there is no higher
tribunal in this of ours."
The religion of the daughters of Colonel
Bobert G. Ingersoll, or their lack of it, has
been variously misrepresented. Taking a
clergyman's recent assertion the elder of
the two desired to become a Christian, and
a later denial, as an excuse for asking the
young lady for the truth, I got from her a
positive assertion that she had no inclina
tion churchward.
THE INGERSOLL HOME.
Every Friday Mrs. Ingersoll and her
daughters and sisterare at home, informally,
to their friends. The Misses Ingersoll often
sing and play, and there is always special
talent in the drawing room, and some deli
cious little spread in the dining room. These
companies are delightful, the charm being
the great territory they represent, for every
body who comes to New York wants to see
Colonel Ingersoll's home and the Bartholdi
statue of Liberty. On Sunday the entire
family is at home, and then chairs are at a
premium, and so many delightful groups
are formed and so many brilliant points
maue tnat one is at a loss now to tato it all
in. There were never such Sunday evenings
as these, for everybody on the carpet can do
or say something just a little better than
anybody else, at least the host thinks so,
and that puts the guest at his ease. As an
index to the.taste or the family the room gen
erally reserved for company is the library a
splendid apartment with lofty walls, pol
ished woodwork and a view of ever gay
Filth avenue. The floor is carpeted with a
splendid crimson rng that warms and
brightens up the room, and wherever the
eye strays there is a piece of china, a water
color, a pot of pink azalia, a spreading palm
or a bit of marble to make what the art-loving
lawyer calls a beanty spot Every wall
space is covered by a bookcase, from which
tne doors have been removed, and there are
thousands and thonsands of books between
the floor and frieze, and the library table is
literally stacked with folios of prints and
attractive volumes of poetry and song.
Many of the books are treasured as souven
irs, and on the margins are crisp, terse re
marks showing the owner's opinion of the
authors. Adjoining this
DELIGHTFULLY BOOKY BOOM
is the salon parlor furnished in blue,
hung with splendid paintings, dotted with
lamps, candelabras and bric-a-brac that
illuminate and idealize, and lined with a
variety of chairs, divans and low seaU.
One corner is given to musio and here the
Colonel gets his greatest enjoyment Once
a week Mrs. Ingersoll opens her basement
door to the poor and needy, and the help she
personally extends would put some very
liberal chnrches to shame. In the winter
kettles of soup and coffee are kept boiling
the entire morning; empty bottles and cans
as well as empty stomachs are filled and
whatever the season, no worthy applicant is
denied assistance. ,
Both daughters being of marriageable age
that hackneyed of all interrogatives, is mar-riage-a
failnre? not unfrequcntly comes up
and with it the blushes of the pretty sisters.
Apropos oi elopements, the great infidel has
repeatedly denied the possibility of a sur-
nse, inasmuch as he has always had his
aughters' confidence for the reason that he
has tried to deserve it, and more than that,
it has been the rule of his household never
to admit to their society any man unworthy
of their acquaintance. JSto one who has
ever known the lovely girls will doubt the
frequency of invitation to change their
names, but as yet no-suitor has been favor
ably regarded, the young ladies insisting
that their father must choose for them.
There is bnt one condition on which the
consent of the unbeliever can be had, and
that is a written agreement from the son-in-law
to become a member of his family. "My
daughters are free to marry any men they
love, bnt instead of losing them I insist on
gaining two sons. " Clara Belle.
A FOETDNB IN THE BED.
A $4,000 Discovery In Annapolis A Sur
prised Colored Man.
Every housekeeper knows what is to
have the feather renovator come around to
get the feather beds and pillows, put them
through the steaming process and retnrn
in new ticking, clean and good as new.
There is an old colored man in Annapolis,
Md., who concluded to have bis bed reno
vated, hut haying 'heard that renovators
were not honest, he concluded to weigh his
bed before turning it over. On its retnrn
he weighed it, and found it several pounds
short, and said to the man: "Look yere,
boss, disyer ain't my bed, dese ain't my
feddersl" The man said: Ain'teh? All
right; but is this yours?" and he pulled
from his pocket a roll of greenbacks con
taining $4,000, which he had found in the
bed. The sight paralyzed the old colored
man, and he was then willing to admit the
ownership of the renovated bed. The man
who cleaned it and found the $4,000 is
hesitating now whether he will give up
the money or not The colored man will
have to "prove ownership, which he can
hardly do.
After a Night With the Boys.
tm
ill
Br
w
His Valet There's a gent below as would
like to see you, sir.
Judge Dillenback (sleepily) Is he In ?
His Valet He is, sir.
Jadge Dillenback (still more sleepily)
J. c gviiituos,epjra vmige. ,. .y, ti
DEAL" AMUSEMENTS.
t . , , 1
Ber. George Hodges DiscnseesAmong
Other Things, the Question,
OUGHT A CHRISTIAN TO DAKCE?
He .Concludes That Our Dutj in the Batter
of Amusements ia
BIMPLI THE DUTX OF DISORIMIflATIOH
rwalTTIN TOR TBS DISIMTCH.1
Ought a Christian to dance? Is it per
missible that a church member should be
seen at the card-table, or the parson, at the
play? People are all the time asking these
questions, and other people are just as per
sistently answering them. The trouble is
that the answers do not agree. Some say
"ves" and some "no." Suppose we study
the matter.
It is evident that in the mind of the Mas
ter there was a distinction between "the
world" and the evil of the world. "I pray
not that thou shouldest take them out of the
world, but that thou shouldest keep them
from the evil." It is also evident thai, in
the opinion of many good people, this is a
distinction without a difference. ''The
world" and "the evil" mean the same
thing. It is evident, further, that this pop
ular confusion of "the world" and "the
evil" rests on certain historical founda
tions. The adjective "worldly" began to have a
bad meaning as long ago as the first century
of the Christian era. In those days of
storm and struggle, when young and pure
Christianity was fighting its good fight
against old paganism, flinging stones of
truth against the forehead of sin in those
days the world stood on one side and the
church on the other, and gave no truce and
made no compromise, and had no speech
one with the other, except such speech as
David had with the Philistine.
The amusements of the people of that day
were crettv much upon the side of the world.
They had no time for play, those messengers
of Ged, standing with hands clenched and
eyes looking straight before them, in the
face of a generation dying in its sins. They
had no time and no temper for amusement
It is significant that the Apostle Panl,
journeying through countries remarkable
for beautiful scenery and famous for histori
cal associations, had no comment in all his
letters upon the grandeur of sea or sky or
mountain. He visits Troy without a mem
ory of Hector or of Homeland sees nothing
in Atbens nut images and temples. Me nad
something else to think about The fact is
typical of the whole Christian
SPIBIT OP THE TIME.
The world managed the amusements, and
as the world was a pagan world it amused
itself, very naturally, in pagan ways. The
amusements of the day were, in the first
place, distinctly heathen. The games and
shows were celebrated upon the festivals of
the pagan year and in honor of the pagan
gods. There was good reason why Christian
vounsr men and maidens should not dance.
When the dance circled about the idolatrous
image of some heathen deity, to dance was
to deny the faith.
And worse still, the amusements of that
generation reflected not only the pagan
religion, but the pagan morals. The theater
stood for all that was unclean, and the
amphitheater for all that was cruel in a
wicked world. There was good reason why
the Christian shonld not be counted among
the, crowd which pushed in through the
gates of the arena in those strange
days when gentle Boman mothers and their
tender daughters clapped their soft hands at,
the sight of human blood, and cried "Kill!
kill!" when some miserable gladiator hesi
tated to stab his brother or his son. Men
have never forgotten that brave Christian
minister, Telemachus, who came one day
running into the ColoseumairBome, leaped
down over the barriersinto the arena when
the tragic play was at its fiercest, parted the
blood-stained actors, pushing his way be
tween the swords, and cried indignant shame
upon the audience. That was the only way
in which a Christian conld be present with
a clean conscience at the world's amuse
ments then.
The first thing Which made the pagan
world really know that there were snch peo
ple as Christians in it was this attitude to
ward the popular amusements. The pagans
described the Christian .religion as an un
social superstition.
Those early Christians had only one word
for the wicked world and its wicked ways
of amusing itself, and that was the stern
word of protest and negation. The pleas
ures of the people fell, of necessity, under
the ban of the church. There was no chance
for discrimination, then. There was no op
portunity for distinguishing between the
"world" and the "evil." Practically, they
were synonomous.
THE PTJEITANS OP ESGLAKD
looked in the same stern way upon the
amusements of the cavaliers. Those sober,
grim, determined, righteous men, with their
vivid realization of sin and penalty, with
their constant consideration of the shortness
and uncertainty of human life, with the
fierce mouth ot hell ever open close beside
their feet to them the gaiety, the light
ness, the bright garments, the smiling faces,
the ceaseless pleasures of the society about
them, seemed actually wicked. To these
men. thus standing face to face with the
great realities ot human life, with
eternity, sin, death, hell; standing, as it
seemed, alone for God in a scrld lying in
darKness to these good people it was
almost a sin to be particularly happy. I
make no doubt that Macaulay's comment is
true, that the Puritans objected to barbarity,
not on account of the pain which it gave
the bear, but on account of the pleasure
which it gave the spectators. That good
woman, who, with her own protesting eyes,
beheld people in the streets of the citr of
Edinburgh smiling upon the Sabbath day,
and described it as an awlnl sight, was a
good Puritan. John Bnnyan thought him
self a hardened sinner.and well-nigh repro
bate, because he played tip-cat and danced
on the village green.
"We find the reason for this Puritan tem
per in the spirit of the age. The Puritans
lived in a generation which, to say th'e
least of it, was utterly frivolous, prodigal
and ungodly. In such an age there was
only one thing for a righteous man to do,
and that was to protest The Puritan pro
tested. The whole evil of the time centered
about its amusements. The men of the
world seemed to care for nothing else bnt to
be amnsed, and to' he amused after their
own unrighteous fashion. That they
set such emphasis upon amusement was
their first fault in Puritan eyes; and that
they chose such sort ot amusement to em
phasize was their second fault
And so, to the Puritan, the world and the
evil were the same thing. They were not (o
be parted. The world was evil all the way
through, and all the amusements of the
world were sin.
PAOAIT AND TTIEITAir
have long since passed awnv. Nero, the
Emperor, and Charles, the Kkg, with all
their courtly and uncourtly society, with
all that was good and all that was bad
about them, have gone to their own place
wherever that is and our world is not
their world. Civilization and Christianity
have not worked in the world for nothing
during the centuries which part their time
from onrs. The world is a good deal better
world to-day than it has ever been before.
To condemn the amusements of the world to
day in the "wholesale .and indiscriminate
fashion of the Christian -of either Puritan
or pagan times is simply to shut our eyes
and put our hand into 'the gniding hand of
prejudice. ,
There are few things which live longer
than prejudice. Prejudice at the beginning
means principle. It can give a reason for
its being, and a good one. But by and by
the time comes when prejudice is puzzled to
give a rational account of itself. The old
relations, the old conditions, have changed.
Soaewraee Hie ODjecsM lapses Bjwe
... ... . . . . -
transe of wisdom into the, heart of the ob
jector; sometimes by reform lathe matter
which is confronted by objeetiea. Bnt the
objection very often keeps straight on.
Prejudice perseveres. Oncerthe prejudice
represented a principle, bHt at last it comes
to represent nothing at all except the con
servatism of the human Yace.
We may set it down at once that the
Christian judgment about the world's
amusements is almost sure to be a judgment
predetermined, "We made up our minds
about this thing two or three hundred years
ago. Bnt judgment predetermined is prej
udice. And prejudice is all the time lead
ing blind men into bogs.
Let us get this clearly in our minds.
Whoever would solve the problem ot, the
Christian's right relation to amusements
must first make allowance for prejudice.
He must remember that as concerns this
matter; prejudice is inevitable.
And he mnst remember another thing.
He must remember that amnsement is neces
sary. It is one of the facts of our human
nature that we crave amusement "We need
it. The trouble with most people, in this
country is that they don't take amusement
enough, and that when they do try to amuse
themselves, they take as one has said, even
their pleasure sadly.
THE AMEEIOAlf PEOPLE
are the most nervous race in the world. No
where else upon this planet is the strain of
life so tense as it is here. And the more
nervous we are, so much the more need have
we for a relaxation of the tension ot these
strained nerves. And that is what amuse
ment is. God has so made us that amuse
ment is heipful to us. "We need more of it
rather than less.
The Christian religion was neve meant
to take any of the pleasure out of life. Its
purpose is take the sin out to take out, that
is, all that turns pleasure into satiety and
remorse and pain: but to fill our lives full
of joy. Ours is the religion of the best hap
piness in the world. God is our Father, and
what father is not pleased to have his chil
dren happy? "This is the day," cries the
Psalmist, "which the Lord hath made."
"What shall we do with such a day? Shall
we weep and lament in it? Shall 'we starve
our bodies and afflict our souls in it? Is
that the best use for the Lord's day? The
Psalmist has an answer other than that "let
us rejoice and be glad in it." This is the
life which God has given us, let us rejoice
and be glad in it. Let us open our eyes to
all its beauty, and our ears to all its melody.'
Let us get all the good we can out of it; let
us nave just tne oest time we .nownow.
Accordingly, when Christ came, He came
as the prejudiced religionists of His day
complained both eating and drinking.
Not as an ascetic, not as anavoiderof the
scenes of social joy, but as a divine man,
entering, so far as the high purpose ana
hard work of His life would let Him, into
the pleasures of our human society. He
came to teach .what one has called a
"Christian worldliness." He came to tell
us, and to show us plainly by His own ex
ample, how we may live in the world, work
in the world, and be happy in the world,
and yet be good Christians. He sanctions
the amusements of the world, provided only
that we discriminate. He would not have
us taken out of the world, only out of the
evil.
The Christian's duty, then, in this matter
of amusements is simply the duty of dis
crimination. Geokqe Hodges.
THE BEYMGE OP TIME.
When a Sinn Can Appreciate a Forty Dol
lar Sprint: Bonnet.
Cadwallader (pere) How's this,Eleanor,
a dO-bill rendered from Fuss & Feathers?
Cadwallader (fille) Oh, yes, papa, dear;
that is for my Easter bonnet, you know; it
was lovely, too.
Cadwallader (pere, grimly) It ought to
have been,
Cadwallader (fille) It was, I can assure
you. Jack thought it a perfect gem. .
Cadwallader (pere) H'm! That was very
kind of Jack.
Cadwallader (fille) Yes, wasn't it! I
don't mind letting you, papa dear, see a bit
of poetry he wrote about it on the flyleaf of
my prayerDooE during service.
Cadwallader (pere, readlng
"A flatter of ribbon, a fringe of lace.
A bnnch of posies nodding upon it;
Two tender eyes, a micnon lace
This is my lore in ber Easter bonnet"
Thanks, my dear, I appreciate yonr confi
dence and Jack's rhyme. I will not forget
either.
ONE TEAK LATER.
Jack Eleanor, isn't 50 a big price for a
spring bonnet?
Eleanor Ob, no, not specially; it was my
Easter bonnet, you know.
Jack Ah I I was not aware thatmiHin-
I ers had Easter offerings, too.
Eleanor (pouting) xou know very well
they do not I meant that the bonnet was
of superior design and elegance. Papa met
me on the avenue and said I had never
looked prettier. Oh, and" he sent a message
to you, tool
Jack What was that?
Eleanor He bade me be sure to tell you
that my bonnet was very becoming, and that
if you intended to write an ode to it as
usual, this year, he would snggest that you
write in blank verse and affix youc auto
graph. Jack (reddening a little) Your papa,
Eleanor, is a very funny old gentleman!
AOKOPBOBIA.
A Karao for the Kerroas Apprebenslon of
High Places.
Science.
Among the many curious psychical ex
periments that are now attracting the atten
tion of scientific minds, the one to which
the term "acrophobia", has been applied
has several points of interest. Dr. Verga
has recently described the phenomena In
his own case.
Though by nature not at all timid, all his.
courage leaves him when above ground.
He complains of palpitations in mounting
a step-ladder, for instance; finds it extreme
ly unpleasant to ride on the top of a coach
or even look out of a first-story window.
This idiosyncrasy forbids him the use of an
elevator, and the mere thought of those
who have cast themselves down from high
places causes tingling all over his person.
His acrophobia even goes so far that the
thought of the earth spinning through
space is enough to cause discomfort.
She Took 1I10 Wrong; BanSlei r. Heroic
Treatment for Goat.
Mrs. CunnifF( the washwoman) AvOi'm
not mistaken, Fourteent' shtreet's th' nixt!
'!
-t
23U GwH-iifcpPtfj
Captaring Crawiskes and Trapping
tho "Wily Water Snake
AT HIGHT ON THE MIAMI CANAL.
The Bank Keeper Works Day and Sight
Fighting Wild Water Lite
WITH JSET, TEAP, GDN ASD SPADB
rCOKniSFOJTDENtl OT TBS SISVATCH.1
CnrcDTKATr, May 11, 1889. "Well,
what's up now, Irank?"
Frank bad suddenly called ia me to stop
rowing, and with a quick-sweep of the rud
der he sent the little skiff in which we were
seated nose on td the bank among a high
growth of sweet cloverwhich hung overand
made a shadow in the moonlight, effectually
screening ns from view. Then he pointed
to the opposite bank of the canal, where the
water widened into a natural lake. A flame
of unmistakable fire was moving slowly over
the surface of the water. When it shifted
its position and went nearer the shore, we
saw that it was in the bow of a flat-boat,and
that the tingle figure in the boat
moved his paddle with great cau
tion, slipping it into the water gently,
and without noise. After skirting the shore
of the little lake for a few boat lengths
he drew in the paddle, and like the luntre
of a steel bow his right arm shot out and
sent a spear hissing into the water. When
he drew the spear partly back by means of
a cord fastened to the shaft, we saw that he
had struck a fish, and that the spear had
apparently passed through it It was a
large one, and for five minutes the water
about the boat was broken into foam and
ripples which showed silver in the com
bined light from the moon and the flasbnan.
Then the fish gave up the struggle, and,
leaning over the side of the boat in a man
ner that would have capsized a crankier
craft the man put both hands into the water,
and with an effort apparent at our station
lifted his prize aboard. It was between
three and fonr feet long, white and glitter
ing like silver.
"A buffalo, and 40-pounder, too," whis
pered Frank.
"Say it again."
"I say the bank-keeper over there has
harpooned a buf&lo fish, and a big one."
"Ah! Now that you have explained that
the buffalo is a fish,kindly tell me what is
a bank-keeper?"
AK IMPOBTAITT PERSONAGE.
"You know what a railroad track-walker
is. Well, a canal bank-keeper performs
the same functions for a canal company that
the track-walker does for a railroad that
is, he keeps down the shrubbery and weeds
on the banks; he fills up little crevices
'which would in time become leaks, and in
the spring especially he works day and
night in exterminating the bank-keeper's
greatest enemies, muskrats and crawfishes."
"In what way do they injure him? How
does he capture them? And is the spearing
oi ounaio nsn a part ot nis regular duty V-
"Let'saskhim."
Frank left the rudder, took up the oars,
and in a few moments we were beside the
surprised bank-keeper.
The place- was on the Miama Canal,
almost within the corporate lines of Cincin
nati, through which city the water makes
its placid way for a distance of about four
miles before it debouches into the Ohio
river. At the point where we were the
canal widens into a couple of lakes or
basins, ont the borders of the suburban vil
lage ot Clifton. From these basins comes
much of the ice which forms Cincinnati's
summer supply, and. whenever the canal is
drained, its aquatic life finds shelter in the
basins' depths. Old and knowing catfish
here have their permanent home, and
the place is- so isolated and quiet that
it swarms' with, turtles big enough to pull
under and drown full-grown ducks, and in
credible numbers of buffaloes.a light-colored
fish, with large scales, a projecting sucker
mouth, high dorsal fins running almost back
to the tail, and a body bunched about the
shoulders, much like the hump of a bison or
buffalo; this conformation giving the fish its
common name. Like the catfish, it is found
in the Ohio river and its tributaries, often
reaches a weight of from 80 to 100 pounds,
and its flesh is in sufficient demand for food
as to be sold in the markets. The banks of
the basins slope gradually, and birds of all
colors, size and voice people the trees and
shrubbery which in some points come down
to the water's edge.
The bank-keeper smiled sheepishly when
asked if spearing buffaloes was a part of his
regular business.
AGAINST THE IAWS.
"Well, no, gents; it is not not by no
means," lie said, "and I hope you gents
wont give the snap away; because fire fish
ing at night is against theiaws,and I would
not like to get into trouble just for 4ne fish.
You see it was this way I came out to
night to set my snake and muskrat traps,
and while I was netting a couple of frogs
for bait, my lieht attracted the fish and as
they arc good eating why, I stabbed one;
that's all. The basin is alive with them in
spring, as they come in here to spawn, and
they seem to be lazy and like to float near
the top of the water at this season, and it is
curious how a light will attract them, and
in fact almost everything that swims in
water. Hist! Look there, directly forward
keep perfectly still, please, for "one sec
ond." He took up a little Flobert rifle from the
bottom of the boat, put it to his"shonlder,
with the muzzle pointing toward a clump
of burdocks growing on the edge of the
basin in the line of the light cast by the
torch. There came a sudden metallic click
as the bullet went on its errand, and then a
three-foot water snake threw itself out of
thehole in which it had been hiding when
espied by the man's trained eye, and
writhed on the grass in plain view.
"I really don't know whether the snakes
hurt the canal banks or not," he continued,
opening the gun's breech and pushing in a
fresh cartridge, "but I don't like them, and
next to a muskrat I would rather kill a
snace man any other tninir that swims.
They are death to yonng fish, and it is a
part of onr policy to protect fishes all we
can; that is of course "
He looked with some confusion at the big
buffalo lying dead in the bottom of the boat
a monument to his zeal in the protection
of the finny tribe and then while he threw
a tarpaulin over it we gave him the quiet
laugh.
But, as I was saying, snakes are death to
young fisb. They swim near a school of
them in. the water, suddenly make a grab
for thenearest and then with it crosswise
in his jaws, Mr. Snake rises to -the top of
the water and swims ashore, where be bolts
it. If you will remember the fact, and
keep a close lookout the next time you are
near a pood or stream infested by snakes,
you may see a snake's head risitic half an
inch above the water with a little fish tight
in his jaws, carried exactly as a dog carries
a stick which he is bringing ashore.
WHEREIN SNAKE AND TURTLE DIFFER.
In this respect the snake differs from the
water turtle. A turtle catches fish in muchr
the same way as a snake does, excepting
that instead of swimming around after his
prey the turtle lies fiatou the bottom of the
pond Or river nntil he is so covered with
mud and.sticks as to le hard for a fish to
see. Then when the unwary fish- swims too
cloe, the turtle's-head shoots ont and
catches him. But Instead of taking his tid
bit ashore, to swallowjtrhole, as the snjke
does, the tnrtle cirrie it down, npd, hold
ing itfirmlybytbe weight of his shell, he
tears the fishto pieces with his Sharp beak.
"HowdoXk4rjr? I have seen itdotfe,
here in this basing Abetit 4 o'clock one
morning last Jaae,,bfcre' the sun had come
up over the hill, an old duc,k came down to
the water to give he seven little ones a
bath. Thev had not oet nut tn (Vofc from
mhcbuw one ot we mi
adweatWv. It,dW
shore,, whej one of the little ohm gave a cry
aeteoiMupsgaiB,
WftfAwr;
r-r:
ter, and there oh tie bottom of the basin!"
which I conld see through the clear water!
as plainly as through so much air. a big?
lurue usu iub uucjw paiHpr uauer it and was
trying to tear it with his beak. But the
little bird was game it tikes some time to
drown a dnck,7ou know and struggled so
that the big brnte could not get a good hold
on it I got immediately over them and
reached my oar down with the intention of
cracking his skull for him, bnt he was too
quick for me, and swam away, letting the
little duck come to the. top of the water. It
made a bee line for the top of the bank,and
after scrambling out dropped on to the
grass, where it lay crying aud panting for
little while, but the next day it was swim
ming around with its mother same as ever.
"At first I thought it mfcht be a muskrat
that had pulled it under; tbey do that some
times, and so do bullfrogs, yes", sir; bull
frogs. There has beeh many and many a
little duck drowned and eaten by bullfrogs
when the people who owned it have put its
loss down to the account of dogs 'or mis
chievous boys.
"But all this aint business. I have two
muskrat traps and a snake trap to set vet;
lfyouwanttogoalong and see how.it U
done, jump in."
THE TRAPS SET.
The muskrat traps were the commoSi
sleel, toothed-jawed instruments, size No. 1,
with a few Teet of iron chain attached, and?
ofer pulling to a clump of pawpaw bushes
which hung over the water, the Dankkeeper
proceeded to set the first one. A muskrat
hole led into the bank a little under tho
surface of the water, and it was easy for tho
most careless eye to see that such a hole in
an unprotected berme bank of a canal would
soon form a crevasse through which the
canal would enjDtv itself in time if Tnft t
its natural course. After making the chain
fast to the pawpaws the trap was set, with
out bait, in the mouth of the hole, in a way
that in coming into his domicile the rat
must necessarily step upon the plate which
springs the trap and be caught by the leg.
A frog formed the bait for the snake trap,
which was a common rat trapot the variety
with a funnel-shaped entrance ofconverging
wires. It was fastened among the long
grasses on the edge of the water, and a
prowling snake would have no difficulty in
making its entrance far enough into the trap
to catca the frog; but when the reptile at
tempted to back out, it would find that the
wires would close around it A flat board
laid upon the grass near the water is a much
simpler device to serve thfe same nnrmu.
With the instinct of all wild creatures to
hide themselves, the snakes seek the boards
for shelter, which prove in these cases treach
erous houses of refuge, as it is onlv neces
sary to turn the plank over to discover the
looked-for reptile.
"But there is no use talking," the bank
keeper remarked, as he lighted his pipe and
sat back in the stern, while the boat drifted
with the wind, "there is no use talking,
crawfishes give me more work thau any
thing else hard work with the spade, fill
ing up the caves which have occurred on the
towpath when the ground beneath is honey
combed with their holes. The muskrat
hardly ever burrows under the towpath; he
keeps himself to the qnieter berme bank,
and I generally know where to
look for him; but the crawfish
is everywhere. The lead mule
ahead of the Alary Jane, that went down
yesterday morning, broke through to his
knees in aplace that looked as solid as the
hills; but when I came to dig there and fill
in, I found that the bank was riddled with
holes, and it took two cart loads of gravel to
make it solid again. You hear some talk
sometimes about catching crawfishes with a
line and bait; but that is all guff. The only
way that! know to catch them is first to
find them, and then gently let down a little
dip net immediately behind them, and with
a stick touch the water in front of their
noses. Tbev will'go away backward quick
as a wink plump into the net H. AHW.
A SURPBI3ED CIiERGIMAJf.
lie Called John Bright a Raica and Then
Asked Him to Church.
St James Gazette. 1
The following incident fs related on,, fha !'
authority of, W. L.' Bright, MCHirf
Bright yrenfejnto an agricultural district
one aay, ana ne had to wait: from the stav :
tion a long way into the village. On the
way a clergyman who was driving in a dog
cart came np to him, and the two men
passed the time of day. The clergyman
offered to drive Mr. Bright into the village,
andHr. Bright accepted the offer. The
clergyman was a Tory, and had been
reading a speech Mr. Bright had made the
previous night, and turning to Mr. Bright
he said: "Have you seen the papers to-day,
sir?"
" Tres, said Mr. 'Bright What's ia
them?'
" 'Why, that rascal John Bright has beest
making another speech.'
" 'And what was it about?' asked Mr.
Bright
" "Why, so-and-so, and so-and-so,' and he
went on to relate the incidents of the
speech. They discussed the topic, and Mr.
Bright, said:
" 'Well, it is just possible that Mr.
Bright may have been right, and that he
was only expressing his honest convictions.
There may be something in it'
" 'Oh, no, there can't be.' said the irate
clergyman. If I had him here I'd ieel just
like shooting him.
"Neither revealed his identity, but before
they separated the clergyman invited Mr.
Bright to go to his church next morning,
and Mr. Bright promised to go. And he
kept his word, as he always did. The
clergyman took for his theme Mr. Bright'
speech, and at he conclusion Mr. Bright
thanked him for his txj able sermon, As
he was going home to dinner a friend of the
clergyman met him and said: 'You have
been preaching under distinguished patron
age this morning, then.'
" 'No, said the clergyman.
'"Oh, yes, you have, said the friend.
You had John Bright among- the congre
gation. You must have noticed him ia
the front in the middle pew. I know him
perfectly well, and I assure you it was Mr.
Bright'
" 'Why, said the clergyman I drove him
to the village yesterday in my do jj-cart,and
called him a rascal and execrated him an all
the moods and tenses, and he never said a
word. He kept perfectly calm and cool. I
have insulted him. I mnst go and apolo
gize at once. "
THE GIRL WHO PITIES TOU.
Women Who Waste Sympathy and Comfort
Pretending' Safleref s. r
N Morula American.
There is an awful lot of wasted sympa
thy in this world. We don't want to sym
pathize with everybody, bnt there are some
people we want to sympathize with so badly
that we will go so far as to invent troubles
for them to be able to do it When a girl
loves fondly she can'tstand her sweetheart
being always happy. She wants to be a
good angel to him, and she's got to pre
tend to be miserable sometimes just to let
her feel that she is a comfort to him.
That's why when he fells her he's very
tired and wants to go home to bed she takes
him in her arms as if be were in the deepest
trouble and says: "Poor darling, poor dar
ling!" And she tells her chum about her
poor George, who was so tired the nfoht be.
i tore that he couldn't possibly sit up, and
-my neartjust Diea lor mm. .a. woman
would rather feed the man she loves .with.
jelly when he is sick than eat frogs with
hint tah.n Y,a waII '.
u.1. w uu M i, ncil. .
Looked Like His Name Was Bok. ' .
SiTannab.Kcws.1 ' f .
The other nftArnnnn afbi- ft vital. f
Dooly county had been dismissed, "two'of JFL
the littleboys had a row over a knife taat , $
eacn wanted to mace a whistle with. .After'
a considerable race the boy with the kiLfa'
eseaped. The disappointed boy met'.'
stranger ia the road and accosted hist tM- '
"Say, ahter, yer ain't seea Mwy W '
1km ie4 there with ay ki8. M --- -
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