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VOL. XI. NO. 24. TIUNESTA, PA., SEPTEMBER 4, 1878. $2 PER ANNUM.
1
Tho Path Through the Coi$3t
Warm and brhrlin tho summer air,
Like a pleasant suaYhen the wind blows fair,
And its ronghent broath had scarcely period
The grcon highway to a diwtant world,
Soft wliiHporn passing from Hhore to shoro,
At from boarts ooiitont yet doglring more
Who fools all forlorn.
Wandering thus down tho path through the corn?
A short spaoo since, and the dead loaves lav
Mouldering under the hedgesew gray,
Nor hum of in soot, nor voloo ot bird,
O'er the desolate field was over hoard;
Only at ovo the pallid snow
Blushod roue-red in tho rati aun-glow;
Till, one blent morn,
Shot up into life tho young groon corn.
Bmall and feeble, slondor and pale,
It bent its hood to tho winter gale,
Hearkcued tho wren's soft note of cheer,
Hardly believing spring was near;
Haw chefitnuU bud out, and campions blow,
And daiuies mimio the vanished snow
VVbore it was born
On either side of tho path through the oorn.
The oorn, the corn, the beautiful oorn,
Ilislng woudorful, morn by morn;
First scarco as high as a fairy's wand,
Thon JURt in reach of a child's wee hand;
Then growing, growing tail, brave and strong,
With the voioe of new harvests in its song;
Whilo in fond soorn
Tho lark out-carols tho whispering oorn.
A strange, sweet path, formod day by day,
How, when and wherefore we cannot say,
No more than of our life-paths we know,
Whither they lead us; why wo go,
Or whether our eyes shall ever see
The wheat in the ear or the fruit on the tree!
Yet, who's forlorn t
lie who wa ored the furrows can ripen the ooru.
Tho Romance of a Studio.
In the every-day working world there
are hot sunshine and rattle of carriages,
the oenaolesa tread of restless feet and
the oou fused Babel of a thousand differ
ent sounds. Butn the very throng of
it one can turn into a long high hall,
climb a wide dim etairvay, and enter a
totally different place and atmosphere;
that is Don Lapel's studio.
Four easels are in the room, on each
an mtfluiahed picture, and the whole
air of the place is that of still, thought
ful, purposeful work. Lepel is a
painter of the modern sohool industri
ous audthoronghly respectable, with a
fashionable visiting list, and a good
oredit in the Secoud National Bank.
lam sorry to admit that he is not
hanisoino. People expect beauty ol
artists ; but Lepel is short and rather
stout, and hat other deficiencies not
worth particular mention. Still, as lie
stands before his easel with his palette
ou his thumb, calling up on hia canvas
a face of exquisite beauty, there is a
sense of power about this ordinary man
which almost ennobles him,
lie has been working this warm June
day Bince early morning, and he is satis
fled with himself. "I will go to the
Park now," -he says, approvingly; I
' shall enjoy a stroll, and perhaps I may
take a pull up the lake."
That waB Lepel's very sensible idea of
recreation ; and ho had qnite tired him
self with the first part of his programme
when he came to a little rustic seat un
der some pines near the upper boat
house. There was a girl Bitting reading
at one end of the bench, but she was
very young arid very shabby, and he did
not in the least fear that Bha would con
sider him an intrusion.
At first he watched the boats, but
praduolly his companion attracted him.
Her form was faultless, and he found
himself dressing and posing it in all the
characters which juat then ocoupied his
pencil. Of her face he could see noth
ing at all, for there was a little brown
sun-shade between them. This was so
far favorable that it allowed him to make
a thumb-nail sketch of her attitude,
which was extremely natural and grace
ful; and he had scarcely done it when
fortune played him a pleasant 'rick; the
girl, in attempting to tear open a leaf,
let her sun-shade slip; it fell to the
ground, and Lepel stooped and lifted it
for her.
The next moment they stood face to
face, and Lepel exclaimed, in tones
whioh were a strange mixture of pleas
ure and annoyanoe, "Why, Bee ! Is it
possible I"
Bee shrugged her shoulders and said,
petulantly, she supposed it wsGT
"And I have been sitting beside yon
twenty minutes, and did not know you."
I know you."
"Why did you not speak ?"
"My dress was so shabby and my
shoes. I suppose you have grown rioh.
"Do you Buppose I have grown a
snob also, Bee ? Sit down; I want to
talk to you."
"Really?"
"Yes, really. Where is your father
now?"
"lie died last summer."
"Poor child ! What have you been
doing Bince?"
" I can find nothing to do. During
the opera season I sang in the chorus,
and I made my money last as long as
possible. But I am very poor; you can
see that."
" Bee, I owed your father some money
for oopying "
" No, you did not, Mr. Lepel. You
cannot offer me charity on that plea.
But if you know any way to get me
work, that would bo a great kindness ;
if not, I must live as the birds do, from
crumb to crumb, till winter oomes.
" Suppose you let me board you with
Signor Z . He would prepare you
for a better engagement, and you could
pay me from your first receipts for
your father's sake, Bee ?"
" Why should yon do this for father's
sake ? You were not friends; you had
not been to see ns for four years. I
hoard that yeu had rich patrons and had
crown proud."
" Well, Boo, I will make you another
offer. I want a model, say, from two to
four hours a day. You will have to
stand in very fatiguing postures, and I
shall perhaps get cross and unreasona
ble, aud forget yon aro Beatrice Erling;
T Ml ..J - 11.. l
uu x win give you tun uiguesc terms,
and pay you every day as you earn the
money.
" What will you give me?"
" Fifty cents an hour."
" That will do.' When shall I come?"
" To-morrow at ten o'clock."
The conversation had fallen into a
purely business tone, and after those
arrangements. Lepel handed her his
card, and said a rather cool " good
evening." For now that the thing was
done, he was uncertain as to its wisdom.
In the first place, he had offered Bee un
usually high terms: and in the second.
he had voluntarily connected himself
- I . . . .
ugnin wiiu a ciass oi arusis lor wnom ue
had neither respect nor sympathy. He
knew that he liad been influenced by
Bee's beauty, and that if she had been
ugly or ill formed, his remembrance of
her would not have led him to any such
active sympathy.
"It is a bad plan," said tho young
man to himself, " to analyze one's good
deeds. I have not a bit of self-com
plaisance in what I have done for Tom
Erling's daughter ro-night, and I sup
pose now she will be a great nuisance to
me."
This rencontre compelled him. even
against his inclination, to recall the gay.
clever, idle fellow whom he had bo long
forgotten. " What an in Unite genius
that man had I" he muttered ; " there
was nothing he oould not turn his pencil
to ; and as for musio, it was his native
tongue."
But, for all that, Tom Erling had
been a failure and a broken promise.
He worked irregularly, he never kept
his word, he fell into debt, borrowed
money, and by oontinual petty imposi
tions sinned away bis most faithful
friends. And yet the man had some ex
cuses ; for he had been set to fight a
battle for whioh nature had provided
him with no weapons. Time I money I
obligations ! Tom knew the value of
none of these things. He ought to have
lived in some sunny Italian city, and
been cared for as the ravens aro.
Lepel had at first been charmed with
his easy good-humor, his song and wit,
and free-handed generosity. But men
can't afford to pay euooess and fame for
tftese pleasant things, and he had found
himself compelled to drop an acquaint
anceship which brought him nothing
but unreasonable claims and annoy
ances. Beatrice had then been a Bhipshod.
iil-cared-for girl of twelve years old,
perfectly familiar with all her father's
shiftless, dishonorable ways of raising
money. Scrambling breakfasts, disor
derly dinners, alternate fasting and
feasting, was the girls domestic story.
She had picked up a knowledge of readr
ing and writing, and New York had done
the rest for -her. In some marvellous
way she had acquired lady-like and
rather reserved manners, and the know!
edge of now to make the most of the
little clothing she was able to procure.
But even among her father a asso
ciates she had no friends. These genial
good fellows had nothing to spare for
themselves. They all spoke pityingly
of "poor little Bee," but not one of
them would have denied himself a cigar
for her sake. When her father oould no
longer protect her, she had even got to
fear him, and to feel their notice of her,
in some way or another, an insult.
But Don Lepel s offer was a different
thing. She thought it over after he had
left her. recalled his looks and tones.
and felt satisfied. "You are a lucky
little bench," she said, smiling, and
touching ' almost superstitiously the
rough wood, "and I feel as if good
fortune had been making me a call."
The next evening she was rather more
doubtful of it Lepel had been very
oool, and had made her fully earn her
fifty cents an hour. However, as the
weeks passed away, things grew pleas
anter. Bee had plenty of tact, and had
been in an excellent school for develop
ing it. She saw at once that Lepel did
not trust her, and that she would have
to win his confidence. Indeed, Lepel
was constantly expecting to find her the
daughter of her father. He feared that
she would break her word, forget her
appointments, or ask for money in
advance. As her reserve passed away,
and she became witty and merry, or
indulged herself in snatches of song or
a new step in a dance, he expected
these moral aberrations more and more.
But they did not come. Bee grew
rosy-cheeked and light-hearted, began to
dress with much taste, managed her
small funds with discretion, and said,
gratefully, "she began to see the good
of living." In fact, before the winter
was over she had got, through Lepel's
influence, a comfortable little business
as "model," and was making with her
six hours' hard strain three dollart a
day.
The June sunlight in which we first
saw Lepel's studio is now January sun
light. Somehow the room has a bright
look; perhaps it is the basket of flowers
on the table, or perhaps it might be
such a trifle as a cunning pair of bronze
slippers trimmed with cherry-colored
bows that are standing on the hearth
rug. Don Lepel has just put them
there. It is a very, very cold morning;
of oonrse tnat aooounts for the action
He stands looking at them with i
dreamy look iu Lis eyes, very unusual
to those keen gray orbs, until ho hears
a clear quick footstep oome pit-patting
along the hall. Then he resumes his
preoccupied air and his palette and
penoiL
The door opens, and in oomei Bee.
Her face is like a rose, her eyes like
stars; her dark blue suit has bits o
snow all over it, and so has her trim lit-"
tie hat and feathers. She nods to Lepel,
shakes herself jauntily, and then taking
off her hat, fans it gently before the fire
to reourl the feathers.
"Better put on your slippers, Bee. I
can't have you take cold now, with these
threepiotures on hand."
"Which do I sit for this morning?"
"Ophelia. I have been painting tho
face from mademoiselle's photo; you
will dross and pose for the character."
I don't feel like the love-lorn damsel
this morning. Bah I The idea of any
woman dying for love, and the snow,
and the sunshine, and the joys of music,
and reading, and eating, and walking to
live for I I suppose she was insane of
course she was.
She was unbuttoning her boots during
this tirade, and when she had slipped
her feet into the bronze slippers and
waltzed twice round the room, dodging
Apollo and Hercules very cleverly, she
announced herself ready to begin. . In a
few minutes the secret of he high
spirits was evident. Lepel read to her
a few lines, and her face and hair and
figure instantly translated them; the
very droop of her arms was a revelation
of physical sympathy.
Two or three times while occupied
with minor details he let her rest, and
she trailed the long robes of the Danish
maiden up and down the room, chatting
all the time in the merriest every-day
manner. " Had Lepel heard that Clif
ford's picture was sold ? Did he know
that Harry Martin and Palozzi had quar
relled ? Was he going to the Lotos, and
if so, would he tell her how Miss K 's
dress was trimmed?" Then she told
him of a new song she was learning, and
obligingly hummed over part o( the
melody.. And so back again to the
heroine of a thousand years ago.
At last Lepel says, " That will do to
day, Bee. Will you go and have an
oyster pate with me, or is Clifford wait
ing for you ?"
"I dont like oyster pates. If yon
give me a quail I will go."
' ery well, Miss Extravagance, you
have done admirably to-day, and you
shall have a quail. Then are yon going
to Clifford's ?"
" Why do you tease me about Clif
ford's? I am not going to Clifford's
any more." "
"But why not T
" A woman's reason because I am
not."
The next morning, Lepel met her
very stiffly. ' Before you robe, Bee, I
want to tpeak to you. Sit down and
warm your feet." m
She put the pretty slippered feet on
the fender, and looked curiously up at
him. "Well?"
"Clifford was here last night, and I
know why you would not go there yes
terday. Think again, Boo. Yu might
do much worse. I have tried to be your
friend, and I must say this much."
" Oh, ion advise me to marry Clif
ford." For a moment her face was
ablaze with scorn, but the next her eyes
son edit Lionel's iust for a moment : he
thei&esitated, and the chance was forever
lost to him. Nothing oould be more
cold and saroastio than her next atti
tude. "Clifford has genius, Bee, and in
dustry ; he is struggling bravely for a
position.
" I hate poor struggling men. I saw
plenty of them in my childhood. Suc
cess is the one thing forever good. The
successful man is the handsomest man
and the wise man ; he alone is worthy
of a woman's love."
She spoke extravagantly, as was her
habit nnder excitement, but Lepel was
annoyed at it
" I do not like your advice, " she con
tinued, angrily. " You favored Mon
tana because he could cultivate my
voioe, and I might thus have a carrer
with him ; and now you advise that I
become wife to the poor struggling
Clifford, iu order to save him the ex
pense of a model, I suppose."
" Don t be unjust, Bee. l only wish
ed to see you cared for."
Thank you ; but I have my own
ideas as to what being cared for means."
"Do you mind enlightening me ?''
" Not at all. It means a luxurious
home, servants and carriages, foreign
travel, home entertainments, and a hus
band whose greatest joy is to gratify
my wisheB."
Lepel hardly knew whether she was
in jest or earnest, for she stood up to
make her explanation, and ended it with
a pirouette that brought her suddenly
face to face with a gentleman whose
amnsed expression showed that he had
been a listener to her avowed matri
monial position.
Then Lepel turned with a bow to his
visitor, and Bee vanished behind an old
oaken screen a convenient place for an
observation, and Bee was not above
peeping at the intruder. He was a man
of about fifty years of age, with a fine
presence, and that indefinable aurio at
mosphere around him which envelops
tho confidently rich man. Boa liked
his appearance, and was rather pleased
to observe that he glanced around the
room before leaving it ; she was sure
that he was looking for her.
There was no more now to be said
about Clifford's hopes, and no more
advice to be given to Bee; Lepel for
got everything in his gratification at
Mr. Belmar's visit and the orders lie
had given him. These orders really
required some supervision, but hardly
as much as that gentleman gave them,
In a few weeks he was a very regular
vititor at Lepel's studio. He said he
enjoyed these visits, and it is probable
he did. Bee's costumes and characters,
her sunny good temper, her queer criti
cisms on players, politicians, artists,
and the world in general, made it a con
stantly changing entertainment.
If Bee suspected that she had inter
ested Mr. Bel mar which it is likely she
discovered at onoe Lepel certainly
never did. He considered his patron
as. a genuine lover of art, and a peculiar
admirer of his own peculiar style and
coloring. That he should admire Bee's
kitten-like movements, and applaud all
her clever, keen little epigrams, was
natural enough: he did that himself,
and everybody else did it
Thus the winter passed pleasantly and
profitably away. Bee had saved a little
money, and was taking singing lessons.
" If she was to have a career," she said,
spitefully, to Lepel, " it should not be
with any Montana." So now in her
intervals ef rest she sang scales and
astonishing exercises; she said the lofty
rooms suited her, 'and they objected to
her practice in her boarding-house.
Lepel lad no objections to her rioh
musical intervals; besides, it gave him
occasionally the pleasure of saying,
" That is a false note, Bee. "
It was again June, and Lepel had put
the finishing touches to Mr. Belmar's
last picture. He met that gentleman
one warm afternoon in Union Squaro,
and told him so. Then they turned
toward the studio, and went up" to. look
at it It was an Italian scene, and Bee,
dressed as a Tuscan peasant with a
basket of grapes on her left shoulder,
was the only figure.
She is a beautiful girl," said Mr.
Bclmar, thoughtfully, "Either as
Princess Bee or Peasant Boe she is per
fect. By-the-bye, what is her na ne?"
" Her. name," said Lepel, coldly, "is
eatrice Erling."
" Erling? Erling? Not Tqm Erling's
daughter?"
"Torn Erling's daughter. Did you
know Tom?"
"We were brought np in the same
Conneticnt village, and went to the same
district school. Tom beat me in all the
classes, and I whipped him out of them.
Then he fell in love with my sister in
short, there was a quarrel, and Tom
came to New York. He must be poor,
to let his daughter "
"He is dead. His wife was an Italian
singer who died soon after Bee's birth.
The poo child has no relatives."
"I will tell my sister about her. She
is an invalid now, with very few pleas
ures or interests. I am sure she will be
glad to befriend Tom Erling's daugh
ter." In this way it came to pass that Bee
was soon constantly visiting at Miss
Belmar's pretty cottage on the Hudson,
and that whenever she was there, Miss
Belmar's brother also found it convenient
to oome out with a few new books or
some early fruit. Indeed, the mciden
lady, almost confined to her house, had
given her heart very realily to this
bright, pretty child of the only man she
had ever loved. She could befriend
Bee, and do something for her; and this
in itself was a great pleasure to the poor
invalid, so long the recipient and not
the giver of kindness.
So when in early July Lepel shut his
studio and went away for four months,
Bee's small personal effects were remov
ed to Miss Belmar's, and she spent the
summer there. And it was amusing to
Bee what easily detected little plots and
plans this lady laid in order to bring
about a marriage that had been already
determined upon.
Bee had never been so happy in all
her life; the sweetness and coolness and
repose, the tender love and ceaseless at
tentions, tho riding and boating and
moonlight strolls, made the time pass
like an enchanted dream. Mr. Belmar
watched her constantly, but found noth
ing in which it was necessary to direct or
advise her, for with that wonderful
adaptive tact inherent in American wo
men she caught not only the habit but
the tone of the circumstances surround
ing her, and made them a part of her
self. Early in November she went one
morning into the city and climbed again
the familiar stairway lea ling to Lepel's
studio. He had resumed work, and met
her with a petulant complaint : "Where
on earth have you been, Bee ? I have
written three times for you."
She did not answer immediately ; but
sitting down before the fire, and putting
her feet on the fender in her old way,
she turned her head and looked rather
sadly down tha long room. " Lepel,
what charm is there is this life, I won
der ? Who that has lived in Bohemia
ever left it without a sigh ?"
" You don't mean to say that you are
leaving it?"
"Yes, I came to say 'farewell.' I
shall never make money or make merry
in this dear old room again. I am going
to be married."
" To Clifford ?"
" What an idea I No, Sir, to Mr.
Belmar. I Bhall order pictures of you
now, Lepel, and patronize you dread
fully." "Don't pull my prices down, Bee.
That is all I ask."
" But that is exactly what I shall do.
Mr. Belmar will have a great many ex-
Eenses with me. I Bhall not let him
uy any more pictures."
She spoke in her old saucy way, bal
ancing her muff first on one hand and
and then on the other ; but in spite of
her jesting way, Lepel saw she was in
earnest about her marriage. He said a
few low words of congratulation, and
went busily on with his work. Bee felt
instantly sobered. Was he angry with
her ? Was he jealous of her good for
tune, or selfishly sorry to lose bo good a
model ? If Bee had believed it any of
these things, her tongue would have
avenged hef, but some look on the
grave, sorrowful face" made her remem
ber the moment when she had seen
Love's oonfession trembling on his lips.
She rose quietly, said a few words of
gratitude and farewell, and before Lepel
could answer them, was gone.
Then Lepel, taking from a shelf a
pair of small bronze slippers, locked
them carefully away, and with them
looked away the one love of his life. He
worked harder than usual, worked
till the room was cold and dark, then
throwing down his pencil, he made his
only complaint on the subject : "I don't
blame her : she never knew ; I hardly
knew myself. Well, well, life is full of
might nave beensl' "
Again the January snow is in the
brisk cold air, and Lepel's cheery studio
has its old look of earnest labor. He is
before his easel, but he is not working
with his usual serious attention. The
reason lies on the table beside bim in
the shape of a note of invitation to din
ner at Mr. Belmar's. A year has passed
since he saw Bee, and he is not at all in
love now, but still she possesses a
greater interest for him than any other
women. He wonders how she will look,
and what she will say, and whether he
himself ought not to buy a new evening
suit for the occasion. Also there is dimly
present a pleasant expectation of orders,
for Lepel is never oblivious to Buch
profitable contingencies.
Stillf if he had one selfish thought,
he forgot it in nobler feelings when he
saw Bee again that night Standing in
his quiet recess, he watched the beauti
ful woman, serene in temper, elegant in
manners, and exquisitely clothed, guide
the whole entertainment charmingly to
its end. Her husband still her lover
trusted absolutely in her, and his
sister watched her with a pride that was
almost motherly; it was evident she was
to be a woman of great domestic and
social influence.
Lepel sat long that night over his
studio fire thinking about her. "How
often I have scolded her in this very
room I how often she has said 'Thank
you' for a two-dollar bill right here on
this hearth-rug I and yet how cleverly
she made me feel, without a shade of
pride or unkindness, that she was now
Mrs. Belmar ! Belmar has got a model
wife." And Lepel smiled grimly at the
only pun he had ever made. "Now no
man oouhl Blip into a position like that,
and fit it so exquisitely; but women
puzzle me more and more every year
especially American women. Har
per's Weekly.
Coney Island.
Coney Island comes in for a good shore
of notice in the New York Tribune, be
ing given some five columns of descrip
tion and illustrated by several maps. It
is an extraordinary story of the sudden
growth and development of a popular
resort out of a barren sandy shore.
Within leas than ten years, four miles of
the beach a saudy tract on Long Island
at the entrance to New York harbor
was a desolate waste, which nobody
claimed and nobody visited. There
were a few bath houses, and a small
Mtel where an invalid could half-live,
Half-starve. A single steamboat did
service as a tug-boat, lighter and pass
enger boat. One railroad ran down
near the center of the island, but there
was neither hotel nor depot at its end.
Within four years, and mostly within
the past two, seven railways have been
constructed; in place of one dilapidated
there are three elegant steamers, and
four more excursion steamers ply as
regularly as ferries, the single hotel
with its five shabby rooms has been
succeeded by at least twenty, three of
which are as good as those at any sea
side resort Claimants are plenty for
land which a few years ago nobody
would own, and leases that then went
begging at seventy-five dollars each are
now held at $30,000 for the two years
yet to lapse. Where $100,000 was not
in 1874 invested in hotels, railways,
steamboats and pavilions, now fully $5,
000,000 is employed, and where fifty
persons found occupation three months
iu the year, now 2,600 find constant
employment. It is remarkable that a
place bo convenient to New York and bo
well adapted for giving the hot and
weary people of the city fresh air and
water, should be so long given up to
"clammers" and "crabbers," or to pio
nio parties of suoh a character that re
spectable people were obliged to keep
away or submit to insult and possibly
worse. Its rapid growth is equally re
markable, and its advantages and capac
ity for entertaining the constantly in
creasing patronage is being developed
more and more each year.
Spitting Spite."
No blows are struck in the East. A
quarrel in Bulgaria is accompanied by a
series of highly exasperated expectora
tions, reminding the observer of a noc
turnal feline combat. One of the com
batants spits upon the pavement,- in
what he conceives to be an intensely
malignant and daring manner; his an
tagonist immediately follows suit, and
spits upon his side of the street in what
he imagines to be a more desperate and
blood-curdling style, and, if the con
troversy is a very deadly one, the par
ticipants keep up the bombardment of
the unfortunate sidewalk until their lips
are so dry that they rattle in a vain
attempt to expend more ammunition.
When this point is reached, the dispu
tants generally walk off in different di
rections, turning back every two minutes
for the first two miles to shake their flsta
in the direction they suppose their an
tagonists to have taken,
Items of Interest.
Americans eat twice as much salt as
the English.
The grasshoppers have appeared in
Central America.
A fast young man: The one who sat.
down on a pot of glno.
The first piano in the United States
was made at Philadelphia in 1775.
All honest men will bear watching. It
is the rasoals who cannot stand it
Women love flowers and birds. They
are, however, not so partial to swallows
as the men are.
A quidnunk iz an individual who goes
about stealing other folk's time, and
phooling away lis own. Josh Billings.
"How greedy you are I" said one little
girl to another who had taken the best
apple in the dish; "I was going to take
that."
The people who never mUke enny
mistakes nor blunders have all the neo
essarys ov life, but miss the luxurjs.
Josh Billings.
There was a time in this country when
the man who was sunstruck would ttrike
back, but Americans are loosing their
taste for war. Detroit Free Press.
The small boy looks with longing eyes,
Upon the apple green;
Ho ill not touch thorn if he's wise.
Lurking in the core there lies .
Colio and cramp unseen. -
"Will, I fear you are forgetting me,"
said a bright-eyed coquette to her favor
ite beau. "Yes, Sue, I have been for
getting you these two years," was"' the
suggosivte reply. -'. ;
Shakespeare makes nse of the. words
"And thereby hangs a tale" in four of
his plays "Taming of the Shrew,'
"Othello " "Merry Wives of Windsor,"
and "As You Like it"
The inhabitants of Madagascar are
dying to get hold of an American ship
captain who sold them 10,000 quart
cans of tomatoes as a new kind of gun
powder. Their old blunderbusses
wouldn't go off.
THE BUMBLE BEE.
Buzzing little busybody,
Happy liitle hay-nold rover.
Don't you feel your own importanoe,
Bustling through these wilds of clover ?
" Don't your little wings grow weary
Of this never-waning labor?
When the butterfly swings near yon,
Envy you your idle neighbor ?
" Btny a moment ! Stay anl tell mo.
Won't my gossip make you tarry?
Hurry home, thou, honey-laden,
Fast as busy wings can carry.
" Fare-the-well, my tiny toiler, "
Noisy little mid-air steamer;
Tbou hast taught a wholesome lesson
To an idle daylight dreamer.
A Novel Position of Danger.
There are probably many persons lir
ing in the shadow of Jennings' Knob, iu
WilEon county, Tenn., who aro unac
quainted with the origin of the name.
The Btory, as told by Captain Jennings
himself, for whom the Knob was named,
is as follows :
A party of scouts from tho stations on
Bledsoe creek, in Summer county, was
over in Wilson on a tour of observation
for Indian signs. It was a habit of the
settlers to keep out men all the time,
who went in succession the entire circuit
of the settlement, in order to give timely
warning of any hostile approach.
As tho party referred to were prepar
ing to camp late one winter afternoon,
Captain Jennings, who was one of tho
number, Btarted out to kill a buffalo
from a herd which was near by. There
was a heavy sleet on tho ground, and ho
found it difficult to get a good range on
account of tho noise of his feet on-tho
craoking ice ; but after following tho
game for several miles, he at last killed
a very large bull at the top of a high
knob. Fearing thnt the meat would be
injured if lolt until next morning, he
skinned tho animal and took out tho
viscera. By the time he had finished
his task night had oome, and ho decided
to remain with his meat instead of seek
ing camp in the darkness. So, wrapping
the huge hide around him, 11 esh sido
out, he lay down and slept very com
fortably until morning. On awaking
he fouud himself tightly imprisoned in
the hide, which had frozen hard during
the night, and now resisted all his efforta
to escape. Hour after hour rolled by
in agony to the captain. He yelled at
the top of his voioe for help, and strained
and kickod with all his great strength at
his rawhide inclosure, but it proved
stubborn to the last degree. He ej
ected his companions to search for
him, and they did, but with a groat deal
of caution, fearing that he had bem
killed by Indians. His prolonged ab
sence could be accounted for in no
other way.
The captain, in relating the circum
stance to Captain Rogers years after,
says that he gave up all hope of extri
cating himself as the hours wore away
and his companions foiled to come to
his rescue ; he s apposed that they had
become alarmed at his absence and had
left the vicinity with the idea that he
was dead, and that it was unsafe to
search for his body. Truly it was a
trying situation which his great strength
and will had failed to overcome. To a
man who had escaped Indian bulleta
aud had swam icy rivers like a beaver,
such a dsath was mortifying in the ex
treme ; but such was the prospect h-s
had to face alone and unaided by human
power in the depths of the wilderness.
We will let him relate the issue iu Li a
own words, in answer to a question as t
how he finally escaped : " Wall, the h
oome out in the afternoon, and '.this
ened the hide ou top so I oould t-: ' t
arm out, and when I got one an
I worked Hfce rizen nutil I get I,N