The Waynesboro' village record. (Waynesboro', Pa.) 1871-1900, August 22, 1872, Image 1

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Wonder of Wonders! in my stroll,
I met to-day
A. woman with a loyal soul
And deeply read in wisdom's scroll ;
And I will try to tell the whole
This queen did sn
"'Tis true no carpet decks my floor,
- I.3art - what of that ? .
Sod's warmest sunbeams on it pour,
With_loAle spots Beek it o'er and o'er;
And small feet through the open door
Come pit-a-pat,
No silken webs of rare design
----And_tints _roles Ile
• My windows shade ;
And frow'ring plant there intertWine,
Ind sun and leaves and stemeombine,
Sweet arabesque
No gleaming jewels richly glint
Within my hair;
No silks and laces without tint
2‘ly husband's downfall darkly hint,
But, friend; you'll find my gown of print
Is far more rare.
, Our
. frugal hearth knows not the storm
That makes a part _ _ _ _
,Of many lives ; our true loves form
, Our brightest joys and honie's sweet charm,
No fireside e!re so large can warm
Orti - o - great deed -my-West
You'll ever hear.
Who seeks for fame seeks pot the best,
Who toils for wealth gains but unrest;
A. babe's soft lips upon my breast .
Were far more dear.
Too many children—spoke your mit th:-
To me are given?
Thank God, Pm of such honor worth,
I gladly say with each now birth,
Not men alone we bear on earth,'
Angels for heaven.
.Ek slave? friend, you cannot see;
loft do not know.
I'd give him all ; he'd all give me,
Our wills must each the other's be.
When ice lore 71104 then most we'er free.
This must be so.
No sweeter, nobler lot in life
For you or me;
To be a good man's loving wife . ,
To guard him when temptation's.rife,
Rest on his strong arm when the strife,
Shull fiercest be.
And, leaning on his faithful breast,
Look calmly out;
Secure no evil can infest,
o jealous fears thy peace molest;
Far perfect 'peels perfect rest
And dead is doubt."
I gazed upon this woman bright
lu mute surprise.
I felt a coward in her sight.
I knew her glowing words were right,
Of truth the evelrasting light
Was in her eyes.
glistellawn Ntading..
C i ektpitAfilirre*Aliall•SiAtlitlifte4l
One evening, uple in the billiard room
of a Paris hotel, a young man invited me
to join him in a game. I consented, and
we played for an hour or so, after which
he went up to his room, smoked, and
played piquet. He remarked while play
ing that we looked so much alike we
might be taken for brothers. I had not
especially remarked the likeness between
us till now but it is not very great. The
similitude merely consisted in both of us
wearing a rather long red beard, and hair
the same color ; but, then, his eyes were
blue, mine gray, and he had a scar over
his left eye one of us might be ta
ken for the other at a diotance.'
We played till midnight, and I left
him, going to my room ; but au inde
scribable feeling came over sue, and I
could not sleep. I tossed about my bed,
then got up, lit a cigar, and sat at my
window, looking down on the "Quai Hen
ri Quatre," smoking.
It had just struck two from the church
of St. Jacques, when I saw a carriage
drive up to the door, and three mess gut
out and entered the hotel. I wondered
where they could have come from its a
,carriage at that time of night. I sat
smoking and thinking, when a light tap
came at the door ; I unlocked it ; it was
my friend with whom I had been play
ing, billiards. He had a valise is: his hand
and appeared iu a hurry, but not the least
"They have just sent a carriage for nie,
my father is nut expected to live till morn
ing ; take care of this for me until to
morrow," he said, leaving the valise in my
. ,
All passed so quickly I had not time
to think, and he had passed down ,stairs,
and I did not dream of followli him, be
ing undressed. I went back to the win
..dow and saw the carriage drive oil rapid
ly. Then I said to myself, " Why did he
not take the valise with him, as he had
a carriage?" but then, I thought, he had
needs travel . quickly, and did not wish
to be bothered with baggage. I was not
long smoking and thinking when anoth
er rap . was at my door.
.I opened it,
and a tall, military-looking
walked in, while another had come in my
windoW from the balcony. I was hand
cuffed almost before I had time lo speak;
and another gentleman walked in. The. ,
tall gentleman said : "sir, you are ar
rested on the charge of murder, so please
keep as quiet as you can."
Incarly fainted. The idea of my be
ing arrested as a murderer! I sank in
my chair while one of them said to me :
' I'm glad you fetched your luggage with
you, sir; much:obliged to you ; for you've
saved us a heap of trouble. Why, we've
been following that leather valise at the
door for the last few days; but we always
come up with our game"
"That is not my valise," I said ; "that
belongs to 41, gentleman down; stairs."
"See here, youliginiff,' said the - tall
detective, "the less you say about that,
the better. -You may-tell_us_w_hat_you
like now ; but you'll be contradicting your
' self by-and-by.
"But rtell yen it is not mine; I am
not a murderer; and prOteSt against this
Harrestna - d_outrage upon -my-liberty," I
said. The other detective interrupted
• oung:manj n 1 le, Isa p 1 y you
-were-not_brcught up to the In business
you woulThavo Inade - a fast-elliss-shyster
We'll give you a chance to talk to the
judges when we get back to Paris, but
you can't talk to us."
In the meantime' the tall deteetil,' , e
forced open the valise, and after -some
searching found three diamond studs, very
like those I had seen on the
,young man
in the gambling saloon, I felt myself I
growing pale.--
"I say, Henri, I thought we were , on
the right track," said he. "Let us search
him now."
MI en_ y- re ed. o_s- -r
clothes took outeveryt ro r
pockets, an at last came to - the - watch -—
"Young man, I'm afraid it will go hard
with you," he said.
I tried to explain, but it was of no use.
They made me dress myself; took every
thing they could find belonging to me in
the room, and I was marched down stairs
'between them. They brought me into
the parlor of the hotel, and two of them
stayed with me, while the other went out
to see, if the carriage was all right, as he
said. A sudden thought struck ine.
said that was. the young man's carriage--
he who left me the valise. The detective
only smiled. I told him what had passed
and how I had seen the carriage driven
away. A thought seemed also to have
struck him. The detective
,who went af
ter the carriage now came in ; the other
whispered something hurriedly to him
and he went quickly out again.
After this I was brought up stairs to
my room. They bolted the windows and
locked the door. All this had been done
so quickly, and in such. a short space Of
time, that no one but the hotel keeper and
a fi.w waiters knew anything was passing.
They then procured paper and ink, and
tho tall agent said; "Now if we are mis
taken, or if it should happen that you are
only an accomplice, tell us all you know
know truthfully, and you may get off
much easier. I have my own opinion tk•
bout the valise," he added, "but tell me
truly how you came M posession of the
watch ?"
—I-told-him all. He smiled significant
ly, and when I had finished, said "Well,
you may be innocent, but I suppose you
are aware that the young man who was
found with his throat cut is the same who
pledged you that watch, and whose dia
mond studs, which you must have remark
ed that night; have been found in your
valise, or that of your friend, as you call
it. Now, why did you not make it known
that you had the watch. when you must
have guessed it belonged to Mariette Gau
doin, the former mistress of the murdered
man, to whom he had made it a present,
but who returned it ?"
I told him I had thought of doing so;
but I had seen by the papers that she had
been arrested as au accomplice, and I bad
no particular wish to get myself mixed up
in the affair.
The truth now flashed across my mind.
The man who had ldft the valise sought
to shift the murder• on ray shoulders; and
he was the murderer.
The agent now told me he had sent af
ter the other man, and that he would no
doubt be arrested before morning. I ask
ed him how he would find out where the,
carriage went to. He replied: "Why you
see it is a frosty night . my agent will get
on a horse, follow the tracks of the car
riage, and will probably overtake it be
fore two hours, if he has left the town, as
there is hut one road leading to Rouen,
and no trains leave here before 8 o'clock
to-morrow morning, at which hour you
and I will start for Paris; so if you have
an inclination to sleep you can do so."
left alone to reflect.
I slept but little that night. The next
morning we left for Paris. I was allow
ed the privilege of a newspaper, and could
not help smiling as I looked over the news,
rumors and filets of the great murder,
which editors had hashed up for their
morning readers. After reading I slept
most of the way, dreaming of diamond
studs, prisons, hotels, valises, and agent
polim, and wondered at the reality
when. I awoke, only to find the gray eyes
of the agent fixed•upon me—those eyes
that looked so bright, though they had
not closed in sleep for perhaps two nights
before he had arrested me.
We arrived in Paris at last, and I was
at once conveyed to Prison.
The very day a young lady came into
my cell, accounatnied by an agent de po
-11.7C, in whom 1 recognized thc one with
II • •,.• • :7 - mm:4 I 'S I 0 41 - 0 • k
too when 1 saw tow
all_that," said theagent. "When we en
tend' the hotel be saw that his game was
up, so he put his valise in your room, cut
off his beard, trimmed his mustache, went
straight to our carriage, which was wait
ing, and told the driver cooly to drive him
to another hotel, then paid - and discharg
ed him. Of course the 'driver never sus
)ectedunythingras-he-thought—the raur
_der 'er_was one in my party. But the cool
unus_far_as_Roaen_ on the same train with
ourselves, at least so he himself says. In
his room at the hotel we found a large
clasp.knife, with the blood dried in the
instertices ; also the hair he had cut off."
The agent then told me the prisoner
had confessed ; and in his confession had
stated that ho had followed me from Rou.
en to Dieppe, to shift the murder on me,
as I looked so much like him, and as he
had seen me leave the gambling-house
while he lay in wait for the mudered man,
and as he knew the detectives were on his
What a singular stroke of luck it would
have been in his fitvor, the fact of my
having the watch, had chance not fixed it
Next day through the kindness of the
agent and the efforts of my lawyer, I vas
released on bail. I appeared at the trial,
which was very long, and was called sev
eral times to the stand.
The clue the detectives discovered the
murderer by ,was the fact that they had
found two letters on tho murdered man
from Marlette Gaudoin to Claude Belin.
By means of these they found Mariette,
and from her obtained information that
Claude had been in the habit of gambling.
Then they found he had been in the house
at which I met him. I was at once stis
pected, and an agent started after me,
having my description, which coincided
exactly with the murderer, were it not
that he had a scar over his right eye.
The detective then got on my track ;
and so it happened the murderer saw me
at Rouen, where his keen eyes soon recog
nized me, and he determined to throw his
guilt over me, thinking, no doubt, any
personal resemblance to him wouldplielp
considerably to that end. Little thought
he, however,,that the agents de police were
fo:lowing so closely in my footsteps, and
that he was making his own capture the
more easy.
The trial was at length over, and as I
stood there, while the judge sentenced him
to death, I shuddered when I thought of
the quiet game of cards he and I played
together at the dead hour of midnight in
his own room, where he might easily have
murdered me, bad he felt so inclined, as
I never carried my arms. I shuddered
again and hoped he would be forgiven.
He saw me and a bitter 'smile flitted
across his face. He beckoned me to come
to him. I went over, and he whispered
hoarsely in my car : "Do you forgive me?
I played my last hand with you, and did
not cheat. Adieu."
I felt his cold hand in mine ; and lie
pressed it, and said : "Gambling ha s
brought me here ! Beware ! Pare well !"
A BEAUTIFUL notiim.—Life is like a
fountain fed by a thousand streams that
perish if one be dried. It is a silver cord
twisted with a thousandstrings, that parts
assunder if one is broken. Thoughtless
mortals aro surrounded by innumerable
dangers which make it much more strange
that they escape so long, that they almost
all suddenly die at last. We are encom
passed with accidents every day sufrieent
to crush the decaying tenements we in
habit. The seeds of disease are planted
in our constitution,by nature.. The earth
and the atmosphere whencevwe draw the
breath of life are impergnated with death
—health is made to operate its.. own de
struction. The food that nourishes con
tains the elements of decay ; the soul that
animates it by vi vifying,first tends to wear'
its own action ; death lurks in ambush a
long the paths. Notwithstanding the truth
is so forcibly confirmed by tile daily exam
ple before our eyes, how little do, we iay
it to heart. We see our friends and neigh
bors (lie ; but how seldom does it occur to
our thoughts that our knell may next give
the warning to the world.
Excess of f2creniony Oows scantofbrecd
in cr.
few evenings age, amid the rushing,
ing crowd of eastern and western
id travelers at the Union Depot was
old man whose appearance spoke lou
than the words of a hard'fate and mis
, He was aged—not more than fifty
of age, though his appearance he
at least --three-score-and—ten—bent
age, alone, ragged and apparently
condition of abject poverty,he at once
toted and enlisted the sympathy of
whose hearts are susceptible to the
:y of others. His destitute condition
chddish.actions attracted the atten-
of a philanthropic citizen, from whom
outline of the old man's story was ob
led. His name he declined under ev
consideration to give, saying his fate
little interest to any one, and his
arable condition, if made a matter of
r, would only prove a source of
in no way to blame for his misfortunes.
was at one time a resident and farmer
Western, Pennsylvania, and by a rare
. curious freak of fortune became an
'1 king," that is, he suddenly became
~ lthy- b y the discovery of a rich vein
petroleum. In 1864, he left his home,
ther with his wife and ' and
two SUM, any
delphia, where_
several years he continued to move
the crest of fortune's wave. The
',ll-olhiswife7ieft_himiree toenjuy
Ith his sons the fullest license in the way
pleasures of that kind that money only
- will purchase. The boys left to themselves
soon became confirmed--rakes-and-"fast
men," - and for a time made their father's
ducats - fly. - - About - one - year after his
wife's death, the father made the acquaint
ance of a gay and fatinating widow, who,
with her daughter, had created quite a
furore at the national capital as a "par
don broker," and it is said few if any of
our noble Senators were proof against her
_pleading-when_she_had. a "friend" to be
paiiin - ed-or-a - hoon_to_be_granted. The
Oil King was no exception to the general
rule. The widow -went for him and-got-
him. The result was a grand marriage
and a trip to California, where the happy
pair settled down, and for a time were
happy. Intent only upon happiness, the
father turned over his business and prop
erty to the care of his two sons who, to
gratify their inordinate extravagande, de-
I vised means to prove their . father's death,
and, as his heirs, proceeded to adthinistor
upon the estate, at the same time keeping
their father supplied with means and false
information. The result was that in less
than one year the wealth of the father
was exhausted, and he returned home to
find himself a ruined and dishonored man.
Leaving Philadelphia the old man started
for California, and, with his wife and
daughter, located at or near Golden City,
but his wife, disliking the discomforts of
the mountains and the changed circum
stances of her husband,deserted him with
in three months after settling at Golden
City. Stricken with grief and saddened
at his lonely condition,the old man sought
the solitudes of the Texas cattle range,
where he attempted, by hard toil and con
stant effort, to retrive his fortune in the
hope that he might thereby be able to
make himself another home and (foolish
old man) perhaps regain his lost but dear
ly beloved wife. He was very successful
in his trading operations, and last season
brought into Kansas City two small but
profitable herds of cattle, and started to
Colorado in the fall with a herd of horses
and cattle, where he expected to winter
I them, and this spring realize his expecta
tions of another home, and perhaps hap
piness. But fate still worked against the
old man. The hard pelting storms of last
winter, which scattered all the immense
herds of Colorado out upon the plains,
spared not the old man's ranch and herd.
His five hundred cattle melted away be
fore the long and terrific storms ; what
remnant escaped the fury of the elements
were driven and scattered in the buffalo
range south of the Arkansas; his horses
either perished or were stolen by the red
or white thieves, so that when the spring
brightened for a brief period the wild ex
panse of hill and plain, when the deep
snows melted and left the hillsides green
and beautiful, the old man found himself
again a ruined -man—this time an old,
helpless, and broken-hearted man. Ho
says that he has wandered for nearly
three months upon the plains, aimless and
clone. Without money, without hope,
disheartened and tired, the old man took
the train at Ellsworth, and was brought
to this city. He appeared to be meek
and heart-broken, careless as to what be
came of him, but manifesting a desire to
be sent to Cowanshannock, Pa., where he
has friends. He was well taken care of
by some • railroad employees. and. will be
sent by them on his way to'his old home
in Pennsylvania.—Kansas City TinieB, of
A Minnesota wood-chopper hewed down
a tall tree, the other day, and upon split
ting up the trunk with an ax and wedge,
found imbedded in the wood, at the point
where the trunk diverged into branches,
a leather bridle of antique pattern, with
bit and buckles attached, and all in a re
markable state of preservation. It has
been. fully thirty feet from the ground,
and its presence there can only be account
ed for by the supposition that some pass
ing horseman had used the crotch of a
sapling as a rest ihr his bridle, and led
from the place in pursuit of his straying
horse, had been unable to find it again,
and abandoned the bridle to be carried up
and entombed by the slow growth of the
tree. It is believed that the tree must
have been as much as fifty years in hid
ing its treasure. This is no cunningly de
vised fable, but said to be true.
A social glass to whiell 14.aics arc ad.
dicted—the mirror.
Whisper it softly, "
When nobody's near,
Let not those accents
Fall harsh on the ear ;
She is a blossom
Too tender and frail
For the keen blasts
'Whisper it gently,
cause thee no pain;
Gentle words rarely
Are spoken in vain :
Threats and reproaches
The stubborn may move,
Noble the conquest,
When aided by love.
, Whisper it kindly,
'Twill pay thee to know
• Penitent tear-drops.
Down-her_eheek; flow
Has she from virtue
Wandered astray,
Gufile her feet gentl3 - c ----- :
Rough is the way.•
She has no parent,
None of her kin ;
ITeUlleYrrein - error; --
•ep-hei flom aiit
Does she lean on thee?
Cherish the trust—
GoittoLtho-menciful 4= .
Ever is just.
From a train of the Pacific Railroad,
eastward bound;there came into the City
of Council Bluffs, lowa, a fortnight ago,
a fine-looking woman, slightly past the
first bloom of life,but still not very matron-,
ly in manner—who upon registering at
the Pacific House, complained that she
felt unwell and desired that a do ct or
• hattabesalled — She -was an-Endish-la
dy, she told the hotel dell, she was on
her way homeward to England from_ a
trip by sea to San Francisco, and, finding
herself attacked by alarming indisposition
in the cars, had decided to pause on her
journey 'until assisted by medical skill.—
It not being supposably the custom of Eng
lish ladies of rank to travel across conti
nents without masculine escort, the clerk
was skeptical as to the exact veracity of
this explanation and troubled not himself
to consider whether a medical practition
er of the highest professional grade should
be summoned in such a case. Amongst
the guests of the house at the time was a
certain traveling doctor, of some reputa
tion for "wonderful cures," and him the
young gentleman recommended. With off
hand fluency as the physician to be called
with the least trouble to himself. Accord
ingly when the lady had been conducted
to the' room, the atbresaid itinerant was
notified to pay his respects, and skillful
enough to discover that his patient's' ail
ment existed more in imaginary than re
ality. This he frankly told her, in effect,
and prescribed sonic trifling nervine ; but
the lady who gave her name as Mrs. Fitch,
persisted in thinking herself an invalid,
and demanded a course of treatment.—
She was, she said, a spiritualist and a clar
voyant, and knew her own condition bet
ter than any doctor could tell her, and she
must take such and such drugs for the res
toration of her health. Believing that he
had a hypochondria to deal with, the man
of nostront made no strenuous protest a
gainst the involved prospective profit to
himself of such a case, but being rather
busy at the time with the general callers
drawn to hjs room by his advertisements,
deputed hi, "secretary," a young English
man named Stanton, to render the pro
fessional services desired by Mrs. Fitch.
The latter at her second interview with
the young deputy, astonished him greatly
by asking if he believed in 'Spiritualism.'
His polite evasion of a direct answersub
jected him to a still greater surprise at a
third interview when, upon confessing
that he was an Englishman, the eccentric
lady secretly told him that he was the
person selected by the spirits for her hus
band ! He thought her mad, and would
have retreated without further conversa
tion, but his patient begged him to stay
and hear her story. Her father, she de
dared, is an English bishop, and her fam
ily one of the most respectable and weal
thy in England, Although but thirty
.five years old she had wedded and buried
three husbands already, losing the last one
in California; and on her way from. San
Francisco was 'spiritually impressed' with
the conviction that she should very soon
meet a fellow country man destined to be
her fourth helpmate. At first sight of Mr.
Stanton she had known him to be the per-
son appointed for her by fate and now of
fered him her hand and fortune, as com
manded by the spirit. Overwhelmed by
the oddity of the affair, the charlatan's
secretary managed to express his sense of
the honor designed for him by immaterial
parties in another world, yet , requested
time for consideration for his answer.—
This was granted, and Mrs. Fitch made
no other eflbrt to influence his judgment
than by a display of what he deemed sat
tisfactory proofs of her fortune and respec
tability of family. He poor in a strange
country, and in an unpromising employ
ment, while the widow, with all her eccen
tricity and spiritual delusions, was both
rich and homely. In short, if the Omaha
Bee is to be credited, Mr. Stanton finally
concluded to accept the destiny thus cur
iously thrust upon him, was married to
the lady in a parlor of a hotel a few days
ago, and is now on his way to Europe with
his bride.
The wretch that can stand in a pair of
slippers worked for him by his wife, and
scold her, is a brute,and deserves the gout
in both feet.
Forty Years a Squaw.
The Akron (Ohio) Daily Beacon pub
lishes the following interesting narrative :
In the year 1831 Mr. John M. Arm
strong, residing near Detroit, Michigan,
sent his little daughter Mary, a girl of sev
en years of age, unattended, off to school.
On. the way to school she was kidnapped
by the Indians, who at that time were
The stricken parents could scarcely be
consoled 'for the loss of the child, and•fi
nally gave up all hopes of her-recovery.-
When she was taken by the Indians
she was carried off to Texas, and suffered
untold hardships and privations at their
hands. In Texas sho lived for five years,
and when she had reached her 12th year
was compelled to marry "Yallery," an
-Indian warrior. The tribe with which
she lived then removed to Nebraska, were
twelve moons, the length of the Indian's
married life, having passed away, she was
no tion ;er the wife of Yallery, and was
soldlo an Irishman named - mat - w - ad 7
David was a Catholic; and was burned
- at-the-stake-because-he_refused_to abjure_
his religion, after whicn Mary was carri
ed into another tribe, and there after some
years married an Indian chief called Big
Son. Big Son soon got tired of his new
spouse,and - sold-her-to-a-111n—Carman.
pale thee, and with him she lived until a
melancholy event occurred, - which at once
deprived her ocher - husband - and children:
Near San 'Francisco is a placo called
" ac ills;" which,—luatftrll~vas-thc
scene of a bloody fight between the Dig
ger and Snake Indians. Mrs. Carman at
the tune was with th — e Dans,
having been sold to them, together with
her husband and children, a short time
before by the Snake Indians. In the bat
tle between the Snake and Digger Indi
ans, Mrs. Carman's eleven children and
husband were killed. She alone escaped,
and remained with them a short time un
til an opportunity presented itself, when
she fled to San Francisco.
-- From - a` co - mpauy-with=
four others, she was sent by General Sher
fai as St. Joe, Mo., from which
place she now going on her journey to
Columbus, where her aged father and mo
ther are residing.
About ten years ago her father heard
of her being yet alive among the tpdians,
and immediately opened a correspondence
'with parties in the NiTest to see if be could
find any information which would lead
to her return to her parents. After long
waiting the intelligence was conveyed to,
him that she was found and would • soon
be in her home, after forty-one years of
wandering among the savages. - She has
made her way from town to town, and a
day or two since reached Kent. Until'
this time she had worn her Indian cos
tume, but the Mayor of Kent compelled
her to exchange her half civilized ghtb
for one which accorded mock with Kent.
Yesterday she reached Akron, and has
been here soliciting aid to complete her
journey. Such, in brief, is her tale. Wheth
er or not she is an imposter, we are una
ble to tell. Certain it is that she tells a
straightforward story, and the most rig
orous questioning could not cause her to
change the least portion of her narrative.
She is very intelligent looking; and an
swers all questions very readily, and with
an appearance of truth and simplicity.—
When Marshal Parker told her he had
been among the Indians she commenced
talking to him •in the Indian language.
but the Marshall, not wishing to show,
his ignorance of the language 13y inabili
ty to reply, "vamoosed," much to the a
musement of the crowd which had gath
ered about her.
Rev. J. B. Dunn, writing to the Boston
Traveler, gives the following description
of Nazareth :
The situation of Nazareth is very pleas
nut, the people are better dressed, and the
women handsomer than any we have yet
seen in the East. What a pity we must
add the streets are the dirtiest, an open
sewer running through ninny of them.
We of course visited the house where it is
said Jesus and his parents lived ; also,
Joseph's workshop, where we saw pictures
of Mary and her son, dressed in modern
costume, and Joseph at work before a
carpenter's bench, on which lay tools of
modern invention. Toward sunset we as
cended the from the top of 'which aro
to be had the finest views of any in Pales
tine. On reaching our tent we found our
favorite muleteer, Safhda, and his brother
Francis, both of whom are Mohommedans,
had given an Arab a severe thrashing be
cause the Arab cursed the Christians and
our party.
One of the most interesting sights to be
seen at Nazareth is the crowd of young
woman and girls that between the hours
of five and eight in the evening flock to
the public fountain with their pitchers on
their heads, to draw water.
The night.spent here was a memorable
one, for, scarce had we retired to our tents
when a small army of big mosquitoes
came down upon, us and laid siege to our
persons, nor could we drive them away
till morning called us forth to begin a
nother day's journey —a day during which
we rode through part of the valley of Es
draelon, crossed the Kishon, where Baal's
prophets were slain, ascended Carmal to
alto supposed point of sacrifice, where we
spent some time in trying to reconcile the
the Bible and our guide books, but failed,
when putting the latter in our saddle bap
and taking the ibrwer in our hands, Aye
continued our explorations. Leaving Ca
rmel, we rode across the plain to Haifa,
where, after bathing in the Mediterrane
an, we passed the night under wet tents
and on borrowed beds, as our baggage
mules on crossing the Kishon had their
feet taken from under them, the baggage
upset and thoroughly soaked, as some of
my things today testify.
52,00 PER YEAR
all II al. untar.
Georgia girls use none but religious pa
pers for Sunday bustles.
A slouthful young man was asked if he
took the habit from his father. "No," was
the indignant reply, "father has got all
the laziness he ever had."
A Texas Judge lately decided that had
cooking on the part of a wife was a pod
reason _for _granting the husband a di-
... , '" — " i
It s said that a green tarlatan dress
contains arsenic enough to kill a man,
and yet men do not seem to be afraid to
go near green tarlatan dresses.
r The Indianapolis Journal says a 'bull
dog with sound teeth is the only thing
lightning-rod peddlers, will not tackle
and try to•Dursuade into buying a rod,
loutliern paper says in its — l - oeal --
column : "A negro and two fine mules
mules were remarkably fine animals and
cannot be easily replaced."
A "woman of business" in Arkansas
• - justAarred-and-featheredler,husband.---
If a fellow is toile a Klu-klux!ed," how
much nicer it must be to have it done-by—
the wife of his bosom, than - by the cold
roughhand of a hooded stranger.
— Yankee on being old that a person
to whom he w • int 'duced was a self.
ma e man, sai g a o 'ear ofic
On being asked wi , le answered, "I rec
on it relieves the 'rector of a pile of re
. .
Some years ago a Lazy Man's Socie
ty was organized in London, o and ono of
the articles required that no man belong
ing to the society should ever be in a bur
ry.s If ho violated this article he was to
7an . ea o o-o
it happened on a time that a member, a
doctor, was seen driving post-haste through
the streets to visit a patient. The mem
bers of the society saw him, and chuck
led over the idea of a treat, and on his
return reminded him of his fast driving
and violation of the rules. "Not, at all,"
said the doctor, resolved not to be outdone
"the truth is my horse was determined to
go, and I felt to lazy too stop him." They
did not catch him that time.
HARD WORK.—The late James T.
Brady was very fond of the ready natural
wit of his countrymen. One day, speak
ing of this to a friend ho said, "I'll show
you a sample. I'll speak to one of these
men at work, and you'll see that I get my
Stepping up to the men who were at
work on a cellar near by, he spoke to
them cheerfully.
"Good day, good day to you, boys. That
looks like hard work for you."
"Faith an' it is," Was the answer,
we wouldn't be Navin' the doin' of it."
Pleased with this, he asked the man
what part of Ireland he came from.
`•.Ah !" said Brady on hearing the name,
"I came from that region myself,"
"Yes," said the man, with another blow
of the pick, "there were many nice people
in that place, but I never heard that any
of them left it."
ping at a tavern for rest and refreshments
began to talk about his journey. He had
come from a neighboring town; he was
moving away, and glad enough to get a
way too. Such a set of neighbors as ho
had there —unkind, disobliging, cross and
contrary, it was enough to make any ono
want to leave the place, and he had start
ed and was going to settle in ,another re
gion, where he could find. a different set of
"Well," said the landlord, "you will find
just such neighbors where you are going.
The next night another man stopped at
the inn. He, to, was on a journey, was
moving. On inquiry it was found that
he came from the same place from which
the former traveler had come. He said
he had been obliged to move from whero
he lived, and did not mind moving so
so much as he did leaving his neighbors ;
they were so kind, considerate, accommo
dating and generous, that be felt great
sorrow at the thought of leaving them and
going among strangers, especially as ho
could not tell what kind of neighbors ho
could find. •
. "Oh, vell," said tho landlord, "you will
find just such neighbors where you aro go
in Does it not seem possible that men will
generally find about such neighbors as
they are looking Rif.? Some people are al
ways in trouble, others 'follow peace with
all men.' Who knows but wo can have
just about such neighbors as wo wish for
simply by treating them as we ought to
An Oregon correspondent says: This is
a lovely country, as it lies unrolled before
us--the green fields and forests glowing,
and the wide river sparkling under the
bright light of a June sun. All of the
Oregonians feel its influence, and all
praise the beauty of their laud, which to
their minds is without a peer. They are
never tired of talking about it, anti, when
away from it, sigh to return to its shades,
and Thr a view of its landscapes, which
arc really magnificent, and which posices
fur them a wouderous charm, found not
elsewhere in this broad land. There is a
sort of dreamy quiet about it, that seems
the perfection of contentment; and one
says to himself, "This is happiness, sure
enough. Let the world go on as it nuts,
here lam in this gloriou clime,aud hero
I am willing to remain mUi I tlTfl pilf
ered to Inv fathers."