Bradford reporter. (Towanda, Pa.) 1844-1884, May 15, 1879, Image 1

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The UnaDenten ItEronlrEtt,is published every
Thursday morning by GOODRICH & IDTCPCOcit,
at One Dollar per annum, In advance.
—Advertising In all eases Itxcluslve of sub.
scription to the paper.
SPECIAL NOTICES inserted at Tell CIVITII per
line for first lusertion, and Pit - ataxy* per line for
ach subsemt:nt Insertion, but no notice inserted
for less than fifty cents.
Cil reasonable rates.
Administrator's and Executor's Notice's, V;
Auditor's Notices, ; Business Cards, Beelines.
(pet Year) Or T., additional lines tit each.
• Yearly advertisers are entitled to quarterly
changes. Transient advertisements must be paid
'for Or advance. i
All resolutions of associations; communications
of limited or Individual interest, and no'ices of
marriages or deaths, expending eve lines are charg.
ed ytva c &NTS per linei bet simple notices of inan
rlages and do ItlIN will be published without charge..
"'he. itgronTrat having aiarger circulation than
any other paper to the county, makes it the best
advertising medium in Northern Pennsylvania.
- JOB every in plain and
fancy colors, done. with neatness and dispatch.
Handbills. Blanks, Lards, . Pamphlets, Billheads,
Statements dc., of ery variety and style, printed
at the shortest . notice. The 13EPORTZU price Is
well supplied with power _presses, a good assort
ment of new type. and everything in the printing
line can be executed In the most artistic manner
and at the linkost rates. TERMS IN VARIABLY
'NUOiIiCSO f r aT6's. ,
onleeln Mont:lllpm Block
• TOW ; AN DA, PA.
W . . 11. JESSUP,
.Toage .Tes.up hating resumed the practice of the
,ii• Northern Penat•Tylvanla, will attend to any
I •T.: TlOcTsiTTc,s intrusted to Witt In Ilnulfortl county.
P I.ltitag to consult Man, can call on
St a colcc. Towanda, Pa., when an appointment
tan 10.
ATI , .1c I , * N t °UNE. ELL Olt-AT-LAW,
ToW A N D A, PA.
1.41 L. HILLIS,
A TT , N
vW A ND A. PA.
- Jo
M rn Stret,t (1 sli,"r, hor:11 vr Ward (louse). To.
v 6 .L 1 !a, I'a
Ai 5'R
* I. A W. W \VIII attend
Tw untrtiqult iiih care in linvi (ord,
, .0 s.
~1 pinivg Counties. Office with Esq.
1 FI: 1). 1). s.
m',• on Stato gtr , ct, t.econd ntS , Viz. l'ratl'a
air 3 79.
A TTolocrirs-AT-T.Aw,
Me. over Bartlett &TraCy,:Maltl-lSt.
" • r•MN'IP! , . 1:19 . 777 A it - rill - it
1 4 1 /....S . ; 3llEl•] & SON,
A TT‘ , l:,:l S-AT-I..\n,
tOW A!' DA, PA.
I+.'ln,—lt.ns f”rinerly occupied by Y. M. d 7. A
I: Room. [Jan.:ll'7B.
A TT4,10; I.l*-A
1 - 11 ,et Alry . Er.t. C.
A t t
r,,nNt.v-Ar-LAw .I'l.l. S. commisstott
Tmv.% DA, PA.
Ortice—Nl:r,,h :Sae rubllc square,
) A V 11!,§ & CARNOCIIAN,
t, •
over. - 'l\linwr & Gordoil'A Dnig - Store.
'1 .‘• 3/ay' Le connultedin German.
( (April 12, '76.]
• , }, } l 7 : 0 ITN GI
0117/4N f) A, I'A.
.Pl , lllll 'door isoetlt of the First Igal .]
1:‘• sc., up kietrs.
_ , AT - I'OllN EYS-AT•LAW.
• I • F,.—Forin pcciipied by Win, Watkins,
(00-17.'1)) E. J. ANGLE
met Dayton'ii Store.
U". • 1., Wnnii`A Work . , first door sout:a of the First
bank, tip-s!airs.
A 1)11.1.. ' jare,-73131 J. "I. CALVFF
j R. S. M. WOODBURN, Physi
, and Surgeon. Orrice over O. A. Black's
Cr store.
May 1. '' 114721Y . .
%kr .B. KELLY, DENTIST.—OffiCe
• over. M. E. Ro--entield's; Towanda, Pa.
bc•ertVd en 1:01,1, Silver. -Rubber, and Al:
Teeth extracted cartniit pain.
E . I' ,PANNE, M. D.,
I . lll's'lClAti ANI) SI'VGEON
Mmitativ44` Mlire hours from 10
I. r. M. Special attention
1:,• , • of (lon F.y.• aim! Ear.-0ct.19.16tf.
W. R fi; • ,
'f!'•' , day lank , Sat I:rday of each moot h, over Turner
, ;ordon , :t Drug Store, Towanda, Pa.
- ,, A11 , 1a, 187 A.
1;:_z. 11-PEET,
TFIIMS.-410 per term.
Third street, Ist ward.)
'I -tan. 13,*79-Iy.
L i
4"11.1T rail)
Rank offers unusual faellltles for the trans
n of a general banking business.
'N. N. LI,ETTS, Cashier.
POWELI., President.
Fob. 14„18:11.
,EritoPEAN lIOUSE.—A few doors southof,
hoard by the day or week on
r,....n.th1e terms. Warm meals served at all hours
al wholesale and retail. febll7.
_I •
. .
1 1 , 1 , wen-known 110111 SS has been thoroughly rea
1, i`o,ll and repalrod throughout, and the pmprle
tot I , no.: prepared to offer, first-class aerorurnod*-
te , , ;,, the publie t on the most reasonable terma.
T^ , ,,,,1a Pa., May 2, 15713 E. A. JENNINGS..
TL large, commodious and elegantly-furnished
tiss jm,t bettfoitened to the traveling
, neither pains nor expenSe
hotel Ilist,e!asa In all fis appoint.
?.;;1 respectfully solicits a share . of public MEALS AT .ALL HOURS. Terms
k.c.t the (Imes. Large stable attached.
Towanda, June 7, 17-t.f. •
COODRtCH & HITCHCOCK. Publishers..
When kliugle, klangle,
F.3r down the dusty dingle,
Tint cows are coming dome—;
.`-VoW,. - sweet and clear, now faint and low—
The airy tinklings come and go„
Like chlmtngs from the far-off tower,
, Or pat Wrings of en April Showai
That makes the daisies grow . ;
Ho ling, ko.lang, kolingledingle,
' Way down the darkening dingle,
The cows come slowly home;
' And old-time blends and twilight plays,
Ana starry nights and sunny days,.
Come trooping up the misty ways,
iVhen the cows come home.
BENJ. M. Baca
May I, '7O
With Jingle; Jangle, jtuglo,
Soft tones that sweetly mingle, -
The apes are coming home, ,
Malvin and Pearl and PlotImo!,
DeKamp. Red Rose and Gretchen Schell,
Queen Bess and Sytph and Spangled Sue,
Across the Snide l_hear her "locksao,••
And changher silver belt ;
Go-ling, go.lang,
With taint, far sounds that micgle,
The cows come slowly home ;
And mother-songs of long•gond years,
AM baby Joys and childish War!,
And youthful hopes and youthful fears,
When the cows come home.
With Angle, rangle,
With tiros and threes and single,
The cows ate coming borne.
Through violet air we see the town.
And the summer sun a-slipping down;
And the maple In the hazel glade,
Throws down the path a longer shade, •
And the hills are growing I rown ;
To-ring, to-rang, toringle-ringle, -
By threes an 4 fours and singe, -
- The cows come slowly home;
The same sweet sound or wordless psalm ;
The same sweet Junelday rest and ca'm ;
The ram sweet smell of buds and;balm,
When the cows come home.``
Fete 27, '79
With tinkle. tackle,
Throughlent and pert winkle,
The cows arc coming home ;
A loitering In the checkered stream,
Where the run-raps glance anti gleam,
Peachblootn and ebehe
Stand knee-deep in the creamy lilies,
Inn drowsy cireaut
Todiuk, to-lank, tolitikicrilnkle,
O'er banks with Mittel - cups a-twinkle,
The cows come slowlyhome ;
* And upihrough memory's deep ravine
Come the brook's o`.l song and its old-time slicen,
Awl the crescent of the silver queen,
When tilt cows come home.
[April 12, 1877
With klingle. klangie,
With 100-00, autl 11100.00,and jingle,
The cows are Comlag home ;
Anil 1 hear o'er there on 34irlin 11111,
Th i c plaintive cry of the uhip -po or-will;
AI d the dewdrops lie on the tangled vines,
A Id over the poplars Vtuus shines
4 .1.- And over the silent,;mlll:
With thig-a.ling and pogle,
The cows come slowly home.
Lot down the bars; let In the tra'n
Of Img-gone songs,Sind lowers, and rain;
For dear old trines come - hack egatn
When the cows come home.
liat per'l4,Wetkly
" That is th'e place, bailie. k very
onlucky house, Sir I would not ad
vise you to buy it.".
" Pooh! You don't expect an chi
'traveler like, me to be influenced by
such a bugbear?"
" That is between you and your
heart, Sir • but, to tell the truth. it
was just because you have traveled,
and seen many an up and many a
dOwn, that I expected you to be in
fluenced by an uncanny name. It is
the folks that have •no changes,'
that have no fore-knowledge and no
Lack-knowledge. I'm not a supersti
tious man myself, but thereare things
worth mitding—yes, indeed !"`
Jan. 1, 1873
The" two men had checked their
horses before a large gray stone
house standing on the slope of a hill
that would have been dreary in any
eyes but those of Scotsmen. Rugged
and bleak, with chimps of dark fir
here and there, and patches of dull
heather invading the brown bare bits
of pasture-ground. The firs•had been
thickly planted, round the house, and
had in the
of three or four
generations "
at gardening there had ever been. In
fact, 'nothing now remained of it ex
eept,a weedy, giavelly walk thatled
to • a black lake, which spread itself
toward the moor, and was tgradually
lost in the bogsland - matshes around.
" Those hills in the background
and ihiS marsh ought to furnish good
sport, Brodie." .t
"Ay, but birds and red deer know
many a thingbeyond our keniing.
The deer have left, the hills, and the
birds have found cannier places to
build in than thtise dark slimy ledges.
While they could teach us a lesson,
if we were not fob set in our own
ways to mind tliem. lam speaking'
to ease my own mind, bailie: I know
well you will do just as you like."
Bailie Allister did not answer at
once. Ile took in the whole gray,
dreary landscape, with the lichen
stained melancholy house in the
midst of it, and then asked, abruptly,
" What did you call the place, Bro
die ?"
" I never Called its name at all,
Sir. More than a hundred-Years sync
somebody called it Crossbasket '—
a very proper:tame, for every gene.
ration'has seeit its. basket and store
crossed more and more, at last
basket, store, and mane'y.iioubh are
all but empty."
" Who is the owner now?"
" SholtO MecNair. He's but a poor
lad for a laird—aye dawdling about
the hills with a pencil, they say."
"I think , I will go in and , see him.
There is no harm in veering the
price of a place." ti
"You'll do your will, doubtless,
bailie; and - it is none of my interest
to say, ' Don't.' Still you arc my
own cousin four times removed, and
I would- be loath to see you buy bad
luck with good gold."
" I am not set on' •buying, Brodie.
To tell the truth,. I knew this lad's
Mother twenty-five years ago, and I
would like to sec her sou. Poor
Grace Lorimer ! You'll mind Grace
Lorimer, Brodie?" '
"'I mind her well, bailie. She has
been dead many a year now. and
you are bent on seeing her son, a
" good-day 'to you; it is little time
I have for picking up dropped
So the lawyer and his friend part
ed—the one trotting gently back to
the city; the other, after tying his
horse to the gate of the decaying
house, sauntering thoughtfully to
ward-its entrance.
gekded Cak.
The. Unlucky House.
i ~-
His summona r.t the door was an
swered by an old woman; whose first
greeting was anything but hospita
ble: "Ye needna ring sae loud, Sir;
we're neither deaf nor dead within."
" Can Lsee Mr. Mae Nair?"
" That depends on wha's speering
for him: The laird canna be intruded
on by every sue that has mair time .
than gowd or sense." .
Then'a door softly.opetied, and a
yoUng man in a loose, slovenly un
dress approached. ":Walk in, Sir,"
he said, with a manner that.indica
at once' the nervousness of the' re-'
close and the courtesy of a natural
There was a bright fire in the room
into which he preceded his visitor,
but it did little to relieve the air of
utter decay and desolate neglect
which was its prevailing character.
The stone floor was but partially cov
ered with a ragged carpet, the furni
ture was broken' and moth-eaten, the
walls were stained with damp and the
dropping paper green with mildew.
The bailie felt a sudden chill, audit
was difficult fdr a moment to state
his errand. When at length it was
done, the young lad sighed and an
" Dead? Yes, Sir. She die•l( a
slow, weary death in this very Teem.
Perhaps you were her friend ?"
• "So truly her friend that I would
fain be a friend to her child ;" .and
he stood up and offered his-hand with
a frank, hearty manner quite irresis
tible to the sensitive young than. He .
was a youth, indeed, apt to inspire a
liking in .a heart linking him with
tender memories. He had a bright,
spiritual face, set in soft dark curly
hair, Norse. bone and Celtic blood,
and that quick observation and qui
pathetie.nature that is always ready
to. take a hint or develop a resource.
. Utmscquently it was easy for a
person disposed to be his friend to
find out the hest way to extend help.
True, he had a youth's shame about
poverty, but he had also youth's hope
and youth's confidence in his own re
sources. He eilibited with a kind of
eager modesty his numerous pictures
and studies of Scotch life and scen
ery, and the old man knew enough
and had traveled enough to be aware
that they showed signs of great
. But it was - , not these pretentious
works. that attracted him the most;
it was some papers lying loosely on
We table, covered with quaint de
signs of flowers and stairs and dots
and crosses. He lifted these with the
curiosity 'and the' 'eye .of one who
thoroughly understands a subject and
is greatly interested in it. . Sholto.
bluShed.deeply, and 'nervously tried
to.. draw off his
.visitor's attention.
But the bailie seemed fora few
utes quite absorbed in the work and
in his own thoughts. Then he ejacu
lated, " Beautifull Are those your
designs, Mr. MaeNnir?"
" Yes, Sr;. ldo a little tbat way
sometimes. In tact,.l , am obliged to,
until I can get my pictures into a
proper market."
" Why, these duSigns are exquisite.
To whom do you sell them ?"
" John 'iOrr buys . all, I make."
c" No wonder their sewed muslins
have such - a sale ! .Sholto Mae air,
if'yon will come into the city and de
sign .for my factory for two years,
yoti will ,have money enough for
Rome and the Rhine. What do you
say ?"
•It was not quite easy to p‘rsuade
the young man that his pictures were
not masterpieces, and that he ought
to devote two years to the drudgery
of .money-making, in order that he
might devote many years after them
to travel and study. But. at length
the bailie succeeded, .the wretched
home was` abandoned, and &Otto
took his d'Ok in the designing room
of the great .sewed muslin firni
Bailie Archibald .Allister.
It was about six months afterward
that Lawyer Brodie called one eve
ning oir his cousin Allister. There
was - business of an impoitapt nature
in the Call, but after it had been com
pleted, and the two men" had eaten a
blackcock and drunk a glass of tod
dy, their. conversation gradually
drifted into a lesi pCrsonal. and less
selfish strain.
‘; How is =Sin)lto Mae Nair getting
along, bailie?"
" Ile is doing well—saving money.
and working hard."
It is the fourth gene
ration: maybe the curse lifts a little
by this time. Unto the third and
foUrth generation'—that's how it
reads, bailie." •
" I never rightly understood' the
matter, Brbdie."
The sins of the fathers, unto the
third and—"
" Oh, I know that, of courfe. But
what what sin has shawdowed the
lad's fathers, and how is he restionsi
ble for it? The old Mosaic law is a
hard one, Brodie.- Thank God, : it is
Bethlehem and not Sinai now!"
" ion'll say nothing against
law of Moses, bailie. It is just and
right—just and right; - there is no
lawyer in the . land will say different.
If !Lanald Mac Nair chose to lay the
foundation , stones
.of his house in
bloodjust and right it is that his
children pay the price and be a r the
stain of ft."
For afew minutes the two men sat
gilently sipping their toddy and look
ing into the blaze; then Bailie Allis
ter said,:
" This. Ranald Mac Nair was a a law
yer and a judge of the Court f
"'A scoundrel and a murderer- of
the worst kind, bailie. My grad fa:
Cher sat' beside him on the bench for
twenty years."
Thep there was another pause, but
Bailie Allister knew better than to
breakiit. - He let the spell of the flick
cring]'.fire-light and of the sensitive
expectant silence tell upon the heart
of the old lawyer ; and presently, af
ter quietly making himself another
glass of Ulenlivet,, he said, in a low,
thoughtful voice; "I'll.tell you, bailie,
what •I know about it, and there is
one knows mole, for we havo'done
the Mac Nair businesi nearly eighty
years, though I am free to say it is
quite against my ordinary way to talk
abOut my clients.
"This Ranald Mac Nair was a
black-looking Highlandman, and son
of Donald Dim- Mac Nair, as fierce
and bad a mad a 4 ever the Mac-
_ . •
Na'ar clan. I have naught at all to do
with the quarrel between him and his
father and elder brother ho aye
boasted that it had not been 'a dry
quarrel,' but in those days the dirk
settled every dispute north of the
Grampians, and civilized folk hardly
cared to interfere.
" Anyhow, Raynald came south.
ward with a dark name, and, strange.
ly enough for such a fierce spirit, he
entered a term of law with-the house
of Caldwell at Faudler. Some folks
just hated his dark lace and domi
neering ways, but my grandfather
took to the proud highlander won
derful. I don't know what for, unless
maybe that David Maelifaiater h ated
him, and David and my grandfather
were born foes. °
They-had no personal or partian
!ar quarrel, but David and Ranald
had; for both of them fell in love
with bonnie Maggie Faulder—just as
mad in love as two such proud, set
in-their-own-way fellows were like to
.be. Maggie kind . or favored David;
and. Ranald swore if he married her,
he might buy a dirk with the wed
ding .ring. •
" Then old .Faudler sent Maggie
away to some southward friends, and
David and Ranald went on ,to the
roll of his Majesty's attorneys, and
both of them settled dolin to plead.;
ing causes and •attending to other
people's business.
"But. they were always watching
one another-; and when David was
,put up fur some rich county oilice7-
Clerk of the Rolls, I think—Ranald
was furious, and spent both time and
gold freely in . order to defeat him. I
suppose lie did it.. Anyhow, his 4zip
ponent,Jairie.3 Laing, won, and David
was out of place and pocket. Soon
itiler,'James Laing was found dead
in his office, with a dirk through his
"Suspicion_ gathered swiftly and
certainly around Dairid MacMaister.
He - was, as 1 have said before, a pas
sionate and proud man. It could not
be denied that he had.spoken bitterly
of his, of)ponent, and many a threat
uttered in anggr was now iemembered
against him.
_ .
"His arrest and imprisonment
seemed to deprive him almost of his
.senses. lie denied .his guilt in t i.
most solemn terms, but could give
no account of himself during the hour
in which the murder had been com a
'flitted, except that he had been in
liquoi in his,own-room. This apology
added little to his defense, and many,
even of his intimate acquaintances,
believed him to be guilty.
" Probably because of the well- .
known hatred between the men , the
proseeutiOn selected Itanald
Nair to conduct their case. Nothing
so exciting as this trial had agitated
every circle - of society since the land
ing of Prince Charlie. Houses were
divided, friends quarreled, and im
mense bets were laid on its issue.
" While •it was pending, Maggie
Faulder returned, and Ranald wags
now doubly anxious for the success
of his prosecution. It was wonderful
what acumen. and industry and .elo
quence he .brought to bear on it.
summing up and fi nal speech electri
fied every one. There was a solemn
and awful stir of applause at its.close,
an 4 . eVerybody considered the verdict
" But the judge was a just and
merciful man, and he did not put the
question that night; he thought; you
see that it was only fair to let the
men have time 'to locik at both sides
c4olly. Still Renald was sure of,his
verdict, and g reatly elated a t . th e .
sensation he h 6 ad . niade, especially as
Mr. Faulder stopped to congratulate
him, and even the beautiful Maggie,
pale and tearful as she was, faltered
out some words which he took for a
compliment. •
" Hee k had a score of invitations to
dinner,that night, but lie was too tri
umphant:and happy to trust himself
where wine might make bird reveal
the devil of gratified hatred and re
venge in his. heart. He had his din
ner in his own chaqbers, and then in
reflections after his own heart passed
several hours. In them he fell asleep,
tor toward midnight he was aroused
by a shake so powe4ul that he Would
have leaped to his - ffet only that two
brawny hands held him tight in his
" In a moment his senses were all
alert, and he saw bending.over him
.a gigantic
_llighlandman, in whose
thews.. he knew even his strength
would be as that of a baby.
" ' You are a Campbell, I know by'
your' plaid. Now what do you want
with me.?' asked Ranald, fiercely.
. " Sit still, and don't move an inch
while I tell you. I killed James
'Laing. I killed him because, while
he was shooting-on. the braeS of An
gus last year, he wronged. my sister
so deeply that I behooved to kill het,
too. I watched until all his new fol
lowers had gone, theft I walked into
his room and put my dirk thrOugh
his throat. I had wrongs to right,
~and I righted them; but
you spoke against to-day knows noth
ing of the matter. I don't want to
Murder him, too. Tell the police that
the. man who killed James Laing is
Alexander Campbell: They can - look
for him in.Bute—:maybe they'll find
and ` maybe they will not.'
"Without another Word he was
gone. 'and Ranald was too shocked
to detain him, even if he had had the
power. However, he made no spon
taneous effort, and when reflection
came he determined not to do it. He
could not bear to give up his triumph ;
he knew; the temper Of popular feel
ing, and was sure that, David's inno
cence assured, David would become
the popular idol. He had biboredfor
his ruin—bow could he now givFup
his object ?' And then he thought 'of
Maggie, and that thought decided
him. No, nothing should now' induce
him to retrace his steps. -
" The'.tiext morning in court he
had anothar chance to clear his soul..
The prisoner had received from some
person in the press a paper assuring
him that: Repaid had been - notifled.of
his innocence, and would proclaim it
in the court. David begged the offi
cer to pass thi s paper over to Renald,.
and he eagerly.scanned,his face while
he read it. The two enemies looked
a moment into each other's eyesiand
then Renald e with a scornful smile;
tore the paper into fragments.
'` So, David •was sentenced that
fi - a
-• ' . - _'Llli•-- " - - . • - - 1
. _ s
~- , • • I .
. • , . -
~ .. i
. ,
1, j 1 i - .:- ,
day, end in due timehung with all
the circumstances, of barbarity and
indignity _then common -to the last
act of thelaw. If lienald felt himself
a murderer he did not show it, and
no visible judgment followed his
crime.- He rose rapidly in Ms pro
fession, married Maggie Faulder,
built yon house at Crosabasket, and
was finally made one of the Lords of
" Hut long lx fore this some people
had began to notice that he was a
haunted man.- . I say 'some people,'
because there are men and women
I that arc just-lumps of clay, and never
see anything beyond their own meat
and money matters."
" A haunted map;-Brodie What
dO youjnean?"
" Just what I say, Allister. The
man he had: , hung called him from
bed and board and bench, and he was
compelled to go. His face turned
gray with mortal agony; and the ser
vants told strange tales of cries and
voices and of fierce struggles, which
always left their master more dead
than alive. The doctors gave these
attacks some grand Latin name;
the man was far beyond their help.
" One night he was awfully wretch
ed and restless, and insisted on hay
only the company of his eldest
grandson, a bright lad of three years
old.' At midnight there was the old
-stzuggle and the cries, and the child
ran--pobbing down -the great stairs,
halt - crazy with a terror that he never
caul(' explain ; for it was not likely
;he: could deser be in the language of
-this world things that bolonged to
o . And Renald Mac Nair ?"
" Was found dead this time, and
his room was locked to this day.
The little lad present at that last aw
ful struggle was Sholto's father. He
carried the memory of that hour into
every hour - of his life, and I think
that he never either hoped or tried
to avert the poverty and sorrow he
believed to be - ; the best Indgment of
his house. He was a pics man; but
4e.. _held this world's goods wp
loose ger). Sholto, you , say, is pru
dent and world-like?" e,
" I have nothing against him but
his constant hankerinenfter work
that will never' pay him._ Nobody
cares for historical paintings and pic
ture castles, Brodie."
"No, no; and why should- they ?
Tell him 'to paint piOraits ; .every
one thinks his own face makes the
.pictu re." ,
But in a feW months Bailie Allis
ter had a still greater cause of disap
probation. Among the girls in his
factOry•was one of
known generally by her companions
as " Lady Jennie." Popular nomen
clature is rarely wrong, and Jennie's
stately beauty deserved the title giv
en her. Sholto's admiration was so
marked that his friend could hardly.
avoid interfering in the matter. So
he made the inquiries he thought
proper, and then asked Sholto to
come and dine with him.
Sholto was quite prepared for the
discussion, and when Bailie Allister
proposed that he should now go to
Rome and pursue his studies, the
proposition had been foreseen and
considered. , He answered, quietly,
that he had been preparing for such a
step some time, that he bad firiished
designs'ennleient for the house's need
until his place could be properly
filled, nnd that he was now only.wait
ing for his marriage, which would be .
performed the following week.
" You know who you are going to
marry, Sholto, I suppose ?"
_•" Yes, I know. I was afraid , she
would not have me; but she is an
angel, dnd litu3 . 'forgiven all."
" She has heard, then, of the wrong
your great-grandfather- did .her
houge ?"'
" She hag heard that nanald Mac-
Nair deliberately kept back facts
which would have saved her• great
uncle from a shameful and early
death ; but she knows that, Sholto
Mae Nair bad neither part nor lot in
that son, and that he would die him.
stlf rather than hurt a hair of her
head." -
" She is but a working-girl, Sholto."
" I am not fit to touch , her hand,
bailie, she is that nobly born ; and I
hope, for my mother's sake, you will
bless our bridal."
SolSholto and his wife went to
Rome t and the old house of. Cross
basket grew every year more dreary
and melancholy-looking. Nobody
asked to rent it, nobody asked to buy
it, and the marsh grew so upon the
garden every year that people began
to prophecy the place would be
eventually swallowed up by the bogs
and water.
For sonic time little was heard of
Sholto. The bailie thought it a good
sign. •" The lad," he said, " is happy
with :his wife; and busy with his
brush." Events justified this opinion,
for. Sir Thomas MacGilvery, Lord
Provost of Edinburg, having gone to
Itqly in the seventh year of Sholto's
islAence, Vought back with him a
wonderful painting of the broken
hearted King James entering Edin- -
burg after the woful field of Floddeii;
and Sholto Mac Nair was the artist.
Far and wide the fame of the work
spread, and Bailie Allister and Law
yea Brodie !ea. purposely to Edin
burg to see- " A wonderful pic
ture," they both allowed, but the law
yer grumbled a little at the subject.
"It was just as easy," he said, "to
choose a triumph as a disaster. But
the MacNiiirs are to ill luck, I
Perhaps the lawyer never said any
thing that had.soapeedy a refutation;
for the very next day the bailie had
an offer which caused him to write to
Sholto and urge his immediate return
to Scotland. In a few 'weeks after
this he was riding once more out to
Crossbasket; but this time Sholto
and "Lady Je nnie "
. and their two
daughters were with him. They wan
dered through the old house, which
even in the bright summer sunshine
had an eerie, mournful, uninhabitable
look, and Sholto grew strangely si
lent, and Jennie shuddered and gath
ered her children close to her side.
It was the last time they were ever
to see the old walls, for Shulto had
sold House and lands to the city for
.fBO,OOO, and the house was to be
razed, and the marsh drained, and
the hills and desolate" fields laid out
in Pleasure-grounds for the burghers
of the great city.
All this had been long-accomplish
ed, and the . history of Crossbasket
almost forgotten, when Bailie Allis
ter and Lawyer Brodje again dis
cussed the subject. They had met at
Elholtoll splendid residence to assist
in the celebration of his eldest daugh
ter's marriage, and on their way
home they naturally enough reverted
to /Motto's fortune.
" That sale of the old place to the
city was a grand thing for him," said
the bailie. "It was not such an un
lucky house, after all. Eighty thou
sand pounds! • What if I had bought
it yon day twenty yeari ago? May
belwe were both too supeistitious,
Brodie." •
"-Speak for yourself, Allistei. It
is well known that feW can follow the
twists and turns of Scots law better
than I can, but . I'm not so full of My
own wisdom as to think I understand
everything between heaven and earth.
No, bailie, I'm not a superstitious
man ; but there are things beyond
our kenning—yes, indeed !"
The following details of a recent
attempt to feed a python now at the
Raffles Museum, Singapore, may be
of interest as upsetting previous ideas
as to the certainty of that reptile's
attack: "The python in question is
a fine specimen, caught on the island
for the sake of the reward given by
the police in such cases, and meas
ures about twenty-two feet in length.
It,has been in my charge for about
two and a half months, during which
time it his not been fed. About ten
days since it commenced casting its
skin, and, as is usual after that pro
ceeding,-was unusually lively, snap
ping at a stick put into the cage, and,
in- one or two instances, narrowly
missing the attendant's hand. The
reptile, I should mention, escap.d
from its cage just before casting, but,
having taken refuge beneath some
odds and ends 'of timber near the
museum, was - recaptured . without
difficulty, and was then placed in a
cAge About five feet square every way.
A pariah dog having been obtained,
it-was introduced, muzzled, into the
the cage, the muzzle being then slip
ped. While entering, the snake
struck twice at the dog's hind-quar
ters, but without seizing it. - The dog
crept into a cornet
.and sat down.
Two or three more blows were Wen
male by thel snake, but, ak - before,
without gripping, and the- dog was
then seen to have been struck by the
teeth on the fore-quarters, the punc
tures slightly- bleeding. For nine
successive times the snake struck at
the dog with the same ill-success;
and as it was then growing dark, the
shutters of Abe cage were closed.
Early next morning the snake was
tound coiled round the dbg, which it
had killed and commenced to swal
low •, but a Malay attendant having
touched the python with a rod, it un
twined ;tself and retreated to a cor
ner of the cage, refusing to again
touch its prey."
HAPPY A Nswxas.A pretty .long
list might be made of men who have
owed' their advancement in life to a_
smart answer given at the right .mo
ment. One of Napoleon's veterans,
who survived his master many years,
was wont to recount with great glee
how be had. once picked up the
Emperor's cocked bat at a review,
when the latter not noticing he was a
private, said carelessly, " Thank you,
Captain." "In . what regi m eat, -Si re. ?"
instantly asked the ready witted Sol
dier.- Napoleon, preceiving his mis
take, answered with a smite, " In my
Guard, for I see you know how to be
prompt." The newly-made officer re-•
- eeived his• commission next morning.
A somewhat; similar anecdote is fe
lated of Marshal Suvoroff, who, when
receiving a disVatch from the hands
of a Russian Sergeant who had great
ly distinguished himself on the Dan
ube, attempted to confuse the mes
senger by a series of whimsical ques
tions, but found 'him fully equal to
the occasion. " How many fish are
in the sea?" asked Suvoroff. "All
that are not caught yet," was the an
" How - fat is it to the moon?"
"Two of your Excellency's forced
°marches." " What would you do . if
you saw your men giving way in bat
tle?" "I'd tell them that thef e was
a wagon-load of whisky just behind
the.enemy's line." Baffled at all points,
he ende I with. "What's • the
difference between you Colonel and
myself?" "My. Colonel can not
make me a Lieutenant ; but your Ex
cellency has-only to say, the word."
" I say it now, then," answered Suv
oroff, " and, a right good officer you'll
be."—N. Y. Times.
Mss. Moanstit Was an Irish lady
lately deceased, who, in her 'youth,
was a member. of the
household when Lady Byron, after
many quarrels with her husband, re-
turned to her father's house. Those
quarrels ended one-moaning itt, break
fast, when Lord Byron was in a
" tantrum," and his wife brought
matters tot) a crisis:by asking, proud ,
ly,„ "Byron, am I in your way ? "
Byron; leaning against the mantle
piece, answered, savagely, " Yes,
damnably !" Lady Byron. immedi
ately left the room, and soon after
the house. She. .never saw her hus
band. again,and " damnably" was
the laseworis from his lips which fell
upon her ear.
"Come down', come down, oh, fisherman,
Unto the river blue;
Come down and angle In the tide,
Oh, come, I pray of you
"Oh. come and, sit beside the stream • ,
That Dowstinrsad the sea.
And cast yon': fly add drink your rye. -
And happy, happy be t
"The fish bite keg,_ the fish bite strong, •
The sky Is blue and gray •
Go dig your bait and do not wait.
But bane, oh, haste away I"
The Ashenuan be shook his head, ti
The fisherman be swore, /
And for many a mile the enwodile •
Thus sang along the stare. •
NEw evening dmies are made with
Marie Antoinette parders. .
SLIPPERS of satin, embroidered with
Lead beads, are Morn by brides.
. •
I \
- •
(At fling by the Ed Canfedera Congresw; wsw,
• styfe. Air. "Kitty 'Keay:*
Theysmote our holy cause to dust
At apple-treir;
We bowed our heads because we must
• And followed still our leader, Lee,
'B4 to 1 today we have oar way;
We heed no Yankee frown—
HAM llbYaat .
We• 11 cut the Army down •
. •
We cut that army down before—
.ln Shinandoah's verdant vale, .
On Wagner`. slope. by Shiloh chore,
But It followed mom trail.
Now, -Meet* We the mien be—
We need no Yankee frown—
_flab& 111-Yaa
We'll cut the Army down I
We eat it down on Malvern Mil,
On Bappahantmek's floating bridge,
By Villow'S wall, at Shelbyville, '
Amid the flame of Minion Ridge;
It rose again Bat now as them '
We heed no Yankee frownr—
Haha I HI-Yaa!
• We'll Cut the Artny dews:
Our noble South shall yet be free!
The enemy whose fight was won .
Beneath the Appomattox tree
Shall lose the day In Washington
With Iron bend we rule the land I
We heed no Yankee frown—
Heil! 111-Yes I
Went cut the Army down I
ITbo bright si
....e s .. )pring weather or ie, past
fAvdays has had
-the effect of making the
promenade streets resplenc'ent with bril
liant hues; from the rich .fabries and gau
dy materials used by the dear ladies in
their personal adornment. Don't think I
intend to be cynical or sarcastic, when I
speak .of the innumerable throng that
compose the gay and well-dressed pedee
trienes that walk on our sidewalks, as
"dear" in the sense of inappropriateness
of expense, although I recognize the truth'
contained in the answer to the sailor's
conundrum, why is,a well-dressed lady like
a ship? "Because the rigging costs"more
than the hull." Never hail there been
more variety of material, or more elabe
-1 ration in the styles than offers for the se
lection Of those who acknOwledge the.
-powers and dominion of the tyrant Fash
ion than is now shown in the several lead
ing shops iu this city. The windows are
resplendent with the costliest , goods, dis
playing all the colors of the rainbow. The
prevailing fashion seems to run in the .
line of bright colors, and , the effect upon
the street is very striking, and where
anything like good taste and judgment is
displayed, not unpleasant. There has
been a remarkable eh:•nge in_respect to
gay-colors and elaborate styles, within
the past few years; and what would a
short time since been pronounced "loud"
, or even "fast," is now not only tolerated,
but accepted as "the style."
And "style" is now what makes the
cost of dreising so fearfully expensive.
The price of the material of which a
garthent is composed, is but a nominal
sum compared with the trimmings and la
bee which are required before the realiza-.
tion of the artistic skill and design of the.
modiste is fully established.
.The true ar
tistic adopts the colors and style to the
form and complexion of the wearer, and
the result is harmony, and beauty ; 'bill a
toilette not in keeping with either is ontre
and displeasing . The great mistake. made
by my sisters in . patterning after some
fashion, which is illy adapted to * , either*
.their style, shape or complexion. Most
of them I claiin, !have an intuitive' judg
ment which lead' them to dress becom
ingly, which: ho;
ever is in some cases,
overcome by weak desire and personal
vanity. As. in Shakespeare's time; "the
apparel oft proclaimed the man" so the
appearance of the female denotes in some
instances, the want of jcidgment or the pe
culiarities of taste. A harmonious blend
ing of colors, and a harmony of style is
always recognized and passed to the cred
it of the wearer, while the mistaken exlii-.
bition of illy-chosen tints and. badly se,
lected-styles, worn without regard to-the
surroundings, fails to accomplish the true
design of female adornment, viz : to sat
isfy the innate and universal love for the
Not intending to supply the lady read
ers of the REPORTER with directions and
information which are the province of the
dress-maker and milliner I shall not copy.
from the - fashion publications, but hold
the "mirror up to nature" by trying to
describe some of the novelties which 1
have noticed. Street; or walking suits
arc made shorter than lastseason ;indeed
so short as to show the dainty //Mine, and
to allow the free and comfortable use of
the feet in walking. The long and trail
ing dresses will not be seen so often up:in
the street, and new devices 'for sweeping
the pavements will be necessary, as the
ladies no longer perform that work.
, A handsome short suit was made of cash
mere, in delicate brown, garnitured onthe
skirt by side plaitei ruffles of the ma
terial, beaded by tuck shirring of silk in
olive-brown, and this is still healed by .
grass fringes in both shades ; the front of
the dress is composed of three deep van
dykes, the centre one of cashmere, and
on each side of silk with elustcred shir
ring in the centre ; the ends of the three
points being secured by a. bow of silk;
the basque has collar and reyers of silk,
while the front is closed with ornamental
buttons in decorated pearl.
Among the evening dresses is one of
black . net, in Princesse sham most artis
tically-draped and trimmed' with French
lace, and garlands of/embroidered mar
guerites with their green leaves. One of
the'most delicate dresses is of white or
gandie, combined with' embroidery and
valenciennes lace. In the back a wattean
plait from thc(waist line down, . is demo
rated withilie lace and embroidery in
Perpendic lar lines, and graduating .side
pieces qt the same dainty fabrics are ar
ranged in the side fronts, curving down
to the train.
Unbleached Malin : will enter quite
z lirgely into use as a fabric for dresses
for summer wear, made with kilt skirt,:
and washerwornan dripery, trimmed with
blue biown, black and ecru braid. These
suits are - designed to take the place of the
colored cambric and linen • dresses which
have been worn for the'past few season's.
Among the latest goods for-spring and
summer wear, is "Fonland silk. Peking
stripes and brocade are still the reigning
fabrics for trimming plain silk.
The newest thing now displayed, is
what our grandmothers called a reticule,
and no lady of any pretension would be
seen in the street, without one dangling
on her arm. They are made of all shapes
$l.OO Der Annum In Advance.
N.tyr Yoinc, May 10, 1579.
ring %eathe thr
and sizes. Some are of black satin plain
or worked with embroidery, leaves or for
get-me-nots, Others with beads, the top or
rather lining being of any bright color, .to
match-the snit or hat. , They are very
useful to ladies shopping, to carry the
handkerchief or purge. • Ladies who haVe
had a grandmother will probably find
amongst their effects the precise' article
which is just now solashionable.
Woollen shawlr, of very light texture
and in' delicite shades,. with deep ball
fringe are called Isabella and Augnßta.
They are so light and pretty and the
prices so kiw, that they promise to super- .
Bede the Shetland shawl which has been
so long worn. • •
The hair is still worn in puffs, and a
.loug braid down the back of the head ;
also'nets are worn for very young girls,
with just a bow of ribbon on top of the
head. For evening the hair is wpm quite,
high on the bead.
. The .shirred cap, such as used last
spring, with a slight variation in the ar
rangement of the shirring, will be the
most desirable thing for children, and
looks very neat and becoming.
The new parasols have sixteen ribs in
stead of eight. They are very expensive
and handsome and gay, being zebra strip
ed and dotted and spangled and all colors.
SOme are elaborately embroidered, others
trimmed with lace.. I don't know as I
can better describe them, nor tell, the la
dies how to"economize until they are con
tent to go without or carry a gingham
Of all the articles of feminine apparel,
Which has manifested a disposition to run
to extreme,,hosiery takes the lead.- Ladies
stockings are made of the brightest colors,
"ring streaked• and speckled." .Plaids,
.stripes, checks, •and`sialid colors, _can be
had in every possible shade and variety.
Embroidered hose is now the rage. And
ladies who have exhausted the 'ceramic
epidemic, can now save money and be in
fashion by buying good . plain unbleached .
hose, and embroidering them to snit their
own fancy. They are worked with leaves,
rases and vines. Pricing some stockings
the other day, E. found that they were
valued at fren4lo to . #25: Of course
they were silk andrlace work, but nearly'
as handsome could be made in the man
neAsuggest at a small cost. ;
A very pretty Tashion is a bow of ribbon
for the hair, forined of Wide or narrow
ribbon, made in an old-fashiohed bow,
and fastened ontop of the head, and you
have something new for the
_hair. The
color should be selected to suit the com
plexion or the dress.
The spring fashions seem to set in the
. of a revival of the
bustle or pannier. It is formed at present s.
not by crinoline, nor old newspapers, but
by the drapery of the dress itself cut in
such a way and draped to procure the ef
fect of the pannier. -- Fashion may decree
the re-establishment of this , pecullaritY,
possibility demand the wearing of the ex
pansive crinoline; and the'clinging, statu
esque drapery. with its revealment of the
outlines of the form, pass away to be seen
only in obsolete fashion plates. Whatev- -
er fashion decrees we Must follow, wheth
er the style has - been invented to correct
deformities or designed
. W give grade and
beauty to the wearer .. " Love. rules the
camp and the court,". but fashion rules
aft. Vours,
LlATrin MAY.
CURIOUS CALculaTioss.—The vast
numbei of inhabitants who now live,
and haVe lived, Apon the face of the
earth,'appears at_ fitst `sight to defy
the pOwers of calculation. 'But if we
suppose• the world to have existed
six thousand years;
, - that-there now;
exist one thousand, 'million people ;
that 'a generation - passes ..away in
thirty years; that every.past genera ? '
tion averages the present; and that
four individuals may. stand on one
square yard, we find that the whole
'number will not occupy a compass
so great as one-fourth the extent of
England. Allowing' six thousand
years since the creation; and a, gene-.
ration - to pass away in thirty years,
we • shall have two hundred genera
tions,which, at one thousand million
each, will be two hundred thousand
million; this being divided by four,
(persons to a square yard,) will give
fifty thousand million square yards ;
there are in a square mile three mill
ion ninety-seven thousand six hun
dred square yards, by Which if the
former awn be .divided, it will give
sixteen thousand, one hundred and
forty-one square Miles; the root of
which, in whole numbers, is one hun
dred and twenty-seven; so-that one
hundred and .twenty-seven •square
miles will be-.found sufficient to con-.
twin the immense and alinost incon•
Ceivable number of two htmdred thou
sand million human beings, which
vast number , rather outnumbers the
seconds of tithe that have passed
since the 'Creation.*
—There is now on exhibition in San
Francisco one of Nature's wonders'
in the shape of the largest tree in the
world. This gigantic specimen of
Nature's handiwork was discovered
by Professor Chowles, a geologist,-
in 1874. It grew on Tule river,
Tulare county, California about
seventy-five miles from Visalia. • At
some far distant period its top had
been broken off by unknown forces ;
yet, when discovered, it had an eleva
_tion of two hundred and forty feet.
The body of the tree where broken
was twelve feet to diameter, and-.had
two vast limbs, measuring •respective
ly nine and ten feet In diameter—
which would seem to indicate that
its original altitude had been. much
greater than two hundred and forty
feet. The trunk of this colossal pro
duct of vegetation reached the enor
mous. measurement of one , hundred
and eleven feet. The huge tree is
called" Old Moses" from the fact of
it having grown near a• mountain of
that name, and is . ' said — to be four
,thousand eight hundred and forty
years old. There is said to be nine
hundred cords of wood in the whole
Wurrs linen vests are among the nov
elties shown on lingerie countera. - :
Imola:. fringe fur evening dresses is
made of strings o[-white glass beads. .
Oununs jackets for suits aro Mill made
cutaway, with velvet or silk vests.
Pinstax canvas is a new material for
He wasn't one Of these shiny, gbod
looking chaps that - I see' every:day
hanging about the depots- dressed in
a long overcoat and _plug - hat, and
with seemingly no other business than
to swing a dandy' cane and stare at
the ladies. He don't wear his hair, :
parted hi the middle. To tell the
strict truth, I don't believe it .wai
parted at all, for it stood out all over
his head in every direction, and re
minded one strongly of 'a bush 'on _
fire. That he was from the country
one could see
_with - bar an eye; the
_evidence of rural life plainly
marked. His great, round, ,-good
natured face had-been kissed by the
Km until -it was the hue or a poeny,
and was studed with freckles as thick
as spots on the back of a speckled _
hen. .His hands were so large that
one of them would have made Iwo'
goad-sized ones for a dandy, and left
some to spare. He wore number
fourteens, patent—, no, I mean
eowbides,.with his pants tucked in
to show their yellow tops. his emit"
fitted bini about like .a school-boy's
jacket, and was of a variety of colors
now, owing to long image and ex
posure. Whisps of straw protruded'
from the poe.kets and hung from
every catchable place about him. In
one hand he carried his broad-brim
med straw hat, and in other an
old carpet bag, which had lost the
lock, being fastenedethe r with a
piece of wool twine , and . although
greatpains had evidently been taken
with this, it failed to conceal stray •
glimpses of neither garments and
something that look immensely like
a red'flannel night-cap.
Seating himself by the side of an
elegantly-dressed ladye and putting
the aforesaid= bag between his feet for
safe keeping, he drew out his red
bandarana and mopped off his fore
- The lady drew away her silk skirts
impatiently, and with a frown said
plainly :
" You're out of your place, sir."
But he didn't seem to nitice it in
the least, for very soon he turned to
her, and remarked ; good-natnredly:
"-An all-fired hot, day, marm 1 Go
ing fur?" ...
The lady deigned no reply.
Supposing hin3self unheard, he re
peated, in :louder tone:
"An all-tired - hot day! I say,
warm, going fur?" '
No reply but a look of supreme in
" Why !" lie exclainie,d—evidently
for the benefit of the whole crowd—
" the poor critter's deaf." .
Bending forward, he screamed.:
• " I'm sorry you're deaf, marml
How long have you been so ?-'l‘f you
warn't born so, maybe 'tis only
wax what's hardened In your ears. - I
know what'll cure that, sure as guns!
It curesl my trqle Ezra. I'll give
you the. recipe, l marm, an' welcome
perhaps you'd !letter write it down.
Take a leetic soap and water, warm
"Sir," said the lady, rising, her
eyes.blaging with wrath, " do - yen in
tend to insult me? I Shall complain
&you to the police !!' and she swept
haughtily out - of the depot.
"Weal, I
.never!" he exclaimed.
" I'm beat! What struck her ? - I'm
sure I was jest a speakin' for her
good.. I was, only a goin' to say:
Take a leetle soap and water, warm,
and syriage L it into the . ears three
times'a day. It's sure; an' I'll- bet heifer on it, if she'd only
heerd to.a feller, it would have done
the business for her. But some folks
never like to - hear their unfortunities
spoked, and I s'spose I hadn't orter
a took any notice omit," and • he- re
lapsed into silence. -
Presently.the western train came
due, and a tired.lookin-gwoman came
in. with - two children hanging to her
skirts and a baby in her arms, beside
a band-box and a satchel. It was the
only seat vacant.
- She sank into it
with a,vreary sigh, and tried to,hush
the fretful baby. and keep watch of
the two other reatless Alutteringhud
gets, who were also tired and fretful,
and kept teasing--for this and-that
until -the poor mother looked ready
to 'sink. -
" Pretty tired, warm ?" remarked
Jonathan. " Going fur
" To Boston, sir," replied the lady,
courteously. • .
" Got to. wait long?"
" Until three." (glancing at me.)
" Oh,dearies ao be quiet ; and.don't
tease mother any more." '
" Look-a-here, you youngishavers,
and see what I've got, in my pocket,"
and he drew out a, handful of pepper
mint drops. In it few minutes they
were- both- upon his knees, eatidg
their, candy and listening_ eagerly
while he told them wonderful stories
abOut the -sheep and calves at - home.
But the baby wouldn't go to sleep.
lleotas quite heavy,
,and wanted to
beaossed the whole time. Jonathan
noticed this ;_ and finding a _string
somewhere in the depths. of his old
carpet-bag, he taught the two child
ren a. game which he '
Cradle." Soon they were seated on
the depot flooi, as happy as two kit
:" Now let- ine take that youngster,
infirm . " he' said K'you look clean beat
put. I guess 'I can please him. I'm
a powerful hand with babies," and he
tossed the - great luinp of flesh . , rip
until it , crowed with delight. By and
by - it dropped :its head upon
_his .
shoulder and fell faKasleep.
Two hours — afterward I. peered
through the wiedow, as he - helped her
and her belongings aboard -the cars,
and-I don't believe if he had been
the Czar of • Russia she could have
looked any more grateful or thanked
him any sweeter.
• "'ain't nothin' at all, maim,"
heard hi 4 say, bashfully, but I knew
she. thought differeritly, and so did I.
Ile came back, resumed his seat,
and buying a pint'of peanuts from a
thin-laced little girl—giving ;twelve
cents instead of ten for them—sat
munching away in hearty enjoyment
until the northern train caine due._
Then he snatched his dilapidated
carpetbag and that of an old lady's
near by, who was struggling feebly
toward the door.
" Lean - right on me, marm ; see
You safe through," he said cheerfully.
- The conductor shouted " Ail
aboard !" and the train moved away.
As I looked around at the empty
scats I thought: " Something bright
has gone out of this depot that
doesn't conic in every day—awmasesT
JIEART." • •
Mits. 3luarxx. took great interest
in parish affairs. , Last year she, prom
ised to assist in decorating the parish
church.: One illuminated text she
thought would" look well over - the
chancel screen, and she requested
her :husband to bring it from town.
Aw,inight have been expected, he
forgot th - text, and w ired to his . wife
for prticulars. To the surprise of
all th 4 telegraph clerks, this message
came flashing over the wires : "Unto
us a child is born, nine feet long. by
two feet broad."'