1-r
Mi1
B. F. SCIIWEIER,
TEE COJTSTinjTIOF-THE tnflOJT A5D THE ESTOBCEMEST OF THE LAWS.
Editor and Pitprietor.
VOL. XXXII.
MIFFLINTOAVX, JUXIATA COUXTY, PEXXA., WEDNESDAY, JULY 24, 1S7S.
XO. 30.
fittftiirf SMBBh- ill
Ww 4j ill
1. j IS J I 'ICwil
UXDER THE YIOLETS.
Her bauds are cold ; her face is bVs ;
No more lier pulses coma and go ;
Hr eyes are shut to life and light
J ol J the white vestures, anow on snow,
Aud lay her where the violets grow.
But not beneath a graven stone.
To plead for tears with alien eyes ;
A slender cross of wood alone
Shll say that here a maiden liea
Iu space beneath the peaceful skies,
Aud gray old trees of hugest limb.
Shall wheel their circling shadows round.
To make the soorching sunlight dim.
That drinks the greenness from the ground
Aud drop their dead leaves on her mound.
When o'er their boughs the squirrels run.
And through their leaves the robins call.
And ripening in the Autumn sun
The acorn aud the chestnut fall,
ltouU not that she will heed them alL
To her the morning choir shall sing
Its matins from the branches high,
Aud every tnius'Tel-voice of Spring
That trills beneath the April-sky,
Shall greet her with its earliest cry.
When, turning rouDd their dial-track.
Eastward the lengthening shadows pass.
Her little mourner clad in black.
The crickets alidiug through the grass, -Shall
pipe for her an evening mass.
At last the rootlets of the trees.
Shall Dud the prison where she lie,
Aud bear the buried dust they seize
Iu leaves and blossoms to the skies,
bo may the soul that warmed it rise.
If any. born of kindlier blood.
Should auk what maiden lie below,
Say only this : A tender bud.
That tried to blossom in the snow.
Lies withered where the violets grow.
A Hidden Chapter of Crime.
Daniel Percira was au Israelite, ver
ging on three score years and ten. lie
hail ntrver been married, and resided
alone in an old d .veiling on the Rue St.
Juentin. He was reputed to be im
mensely wealthy, and such was un
doubtedly the case. For years he had
been one of the best diamond merchants
i.f Paris, and had had for his customers
the most famous residents of the city,
from royalty downward. The back
parlor of his residence was his place of
business, and there he had a safe con
taining jewels of immense value, and
goblets of gold, whose history made
tlicin more priceless than if they had
Wu gigantic gems. For years he had
been collecting these mementoes of the
past, and prided himself On their ios
scssion, having repeatedly refused of
fers for them.
On the forenoon of August 20, 1SC2, a
-ab drove up to the door of l)aniel Pe
rcira 's residence, and a gentleman with
a valise alighted.
On ascending the steps he confronted
the servitor, and asked : "Is Monsieur
l'ereira within "
-He is, Monsieur," w as the response.
'Your name and business, if you
please?"
"Here is my card," the gentleman
said, adding, in a low voice, "I come
from the Emperor."
The servitor bowed and admitted the
visitor. At the same moment two men
alighted from the cab and ascended the
steps. The door was immediately
ojK-ned by the gentleman who first en
tered. The two men passed in rapidly,
and the door was closed. The servitor
had entered the back parlor an instant
before the men were admitted. The
three strangers passed noiselessly along
the corridor, and the two latest comers
placed themselves on each side of the
door of the diamond merchant's pri
vate room.
As the servitor crossed the threshold
of the door, he was seized, gagged, and
Diuioned in an instand. The merchant
hearing the scuffle, approached the
door. The gentleman who was first
admitted sprang in and grasped him by
the throat, at the same time drawing
forth a handkerchief and placing it to
the old man's nostrils. The merchant's
limbs grew limp, and his assailant suf
fered him to fall gently to the ground.
The three men then ransacked the safe,
loading themselves w ith the precious
plunder, and filling the valise with the
valise with the golden goblets and
gems. Then the man with the valise
passed out to the cab, one of the men
!! ing to him obsequiously as he quit
ted the door, and then retiring within
the house. "J he cab immediately drove
off. A minute afterwards another of
the robbers was politely shown out by
his companion, and walked leisurely
down the street. In a short space the
third man passed out, and departed iu
another direction.
At 8 o'clock that evening, when the
night watchmen reached the dwelling
of Daniel l'ereira, all was dark within
and their summons was unanswered.
After a brief delay they opened the
window and entered.
The servitor lay in the hallway,
bound and gagged. Iu the back parlor
the old merchant lay on an old-fashioned
couch, dead. By the direction of
the Chief of Police the affair was kept
secret until the Emperor should be
communicated with, and the fact that
no particulars of the tragedy were ever
made public would indicate that "uch
was his pleasure.
The secret police and detective force
were employed on the case. It was
round that on the night of the murder
one Jean Fonier, a driver in the employ
of Henri Dinour, a cab proprietor,
threw up his employ very unexpected
ly and disappeared. This man. Fonier,
had been in trouble more than once for
alleged theft, and it was thought more
than probable that he had been select
ed by the three men to convey them to
iMniel Pereira's house.
On the 29th of September, one month
aud five days after the murder. Fonier
was recognized as he was getting into t
private cab at the Opera House. The
detective who saw him was too late to
capture him if he had felt so disposed,
as the cab was immediately driven off.
The officer sprang into a cabriolet, and
gave instructions to the driver to fol
low the private cab. It was driven at
a rapid pace to an aristocratic neigh-
borhood, and stopped at an elegant
mansion. The officer In pursuit jumped
from the cabriolet, as the cab stopped,
and made towards it. As he approached
he was somewhat surprised to see an
elegantly attired lady alight and enter
the mansion. He looked inside the
cab, expecting to find there the man he
wanted, but it was empty.
"Who is that lady?" the detective
asked the cab driver.
"That is Madame Du Torville," the
driver answered. "The wife of the
wealthy speculator."
Turning away the officer returned to
the cab aud said :
"You missed your quarry ; you fol
lowed the wrong cab."
"What !" the driver exclaimed. "The
wrong cab! I never took my eyes off
it the whole time."
"Your eyes are not worth much,"
the officer said, and he sprang into the
vehicle, aud was driven away.
In the meantime the house previously
occupied by Daniel l'ereira had been
sold by his heirs. A short time after
the incident Just recorded the detective
who figured in it sauntered down to the
scene of the crime without any fixed
object. He entered the wine shop op
posite ana smoked a cigar, meditating
on the mystery of the deceased mer
chant's death. The landlord, observ
ing that the officer was a stranger, got
into a conversation with him, among
other things referred to the death of
the wealthy Israelite, and pointed out
the house which he had occupied for so
so many years.
"It has been sold." the landlord re
marked.
"Do you know who has bought it?"
the detective asked, more for the sake
of saying something than anything
else.
"1 did know but forgot the name,
was the reply, "but my wife will re
member, I dare say. The gentleman's
servant came iu here to drink, and
mentioned his master's name. Wife,
come hiiher!" the landlord called out.
lhe woman came and courtesied to
the stranger.
"What is the name of the man who
has bought the old Jew's house?" the
landlord asked his spouse.
'Monsieur du Torville," was the
woman's answer. "He is a speculator
on the Bourse."
That was the name of the husband ol
the woman whom the stupid cabman
had followed by mistake instead of the
man Fonier.
The officer drank his wine and paid
his score, lighted a fresh cigar, and de
parted.
Who was Monsieur du Torville? The
detective had an idle hour and be
wanted to find out.
On the street most frequented by the
stock brokers and speculators there was
a small building, the first floor of
which was occupied by a banking firm.
In the rear was a door, with these
words on it:
A VG CUT BA VCHEZ,
Accountant.
Twenty minutes after the detective
quitted the wine shop, he was tapping
at the door of Monsieur Rauchez. A
voice within told him to enter, and he
did so.
A snort, stout man, of middle age,
sat at a desk, smoking.
"Good morning, Monsieur Rauchez,"
the detective said.
"Xow, then, be quick," Monsieur re
plied, pulling out the smoke. "What
is it?"
"I am Frederick Rotilon of the se
cret police," the detective said.
"I know you," Rauchez said. "Say
on, and be quick."
"You know Monsieur du Torville?"
the detective asked.
"Well," was the reply, "is it busi
ness of the bureau?"
"It is," Rulon answered. "I want
to kuow all about Iu Torville."
"Sit down," Rauchez 6aid. "A year
ago Du Torville came on the Bourse.
He is the Emperor s broker. 1 hat Is
enough."
. .... . . -1 .AX
" here did ne come irom r tne oin-
cer asked.
"How much is there in
this?"
Rau-
chez inquired.
"A hundred thousand francs,'
the
detective replies.
"And vou want my services,'
said
Rauchez.
As the greatest of Farts' detectives,"
the officer replied bowing.
"A fair half, then?" Rauchez said.
"A fair half," Rulon responded.
"Then be quick, and tell me the
whole story," Rauchez said.
Rulon unfolded the whole story of
Daniel Fereira's murder.
"This is hardly in my line," replied
Rauchez; "I'm employed entirely on
financial crimes."
"Wait a little," the other said, and
proceeded to relate how he had pur
sued the private cab, into which he had
seen Fonier enter, and how the cab
drew up at Du Torville's mansion, and
Madame Dn Torville alighted.
"There is no Madame Du Torville,"
Rauchez said ; "he keeps a mistress,
and her name is Jeanette Fonier."
"My God !" Rulon exclaimed, "then
she is the sister, without doubt, of Fc
nier, the cab driver."
"Very probably," was the reply,
"and you think there is a mystery.
Wait; I will help you to clear it up.
Du Torville's real name is Trappe. He
was a political prisoner in the fortress
of Ham when the Emperor was impris
oned there. He aided Louis Xapoleon
in the fight, and the Emperor did not
forget it. Trappe was in the bagne at
Toulon for forgery. There was also a
suspicion of murder against him. Xews
does not reach a prisoner rapidly, and
not until about two years ago did
Trappe learn that his tormer fellow
prisoner was Emperor of the French.
He managed to communicate with Xa-i
noJeon, and was released. He is clever.
and has been successful. If you ask
me how, I reply, he has made money
otherwise than on the Bourse."
"Do you suspect "
"I do," interrupted Rauchez, "and
that the Emperor suspects or knows it
to be so ; hence the order to keep the
matter secret, and the desire on the
part of the Jew's nephews to let the
crime be condoned on condition that
they get back the plunder."
"And Fonier?" the detective said,
Inquiringly.
"Fonier is in concealment," Rauchez
said, "in Trappe's house, and the Mad'
anie du Torville, whom you saw alight
at the door, was Fonier!"
"I see it all," Rulon said ; "he had
his disguise in the cab, and seeing that
he was followed, used it."
"You're right, without doubt," said
Rauchez.
'Well, we must get back the dia
monds, Emieror or no Emperor," said
Rulon.
"Wait," said Rauchez, and he un
locked a drawer and took out a note
book. After examining it for a minute
he said : "Du Torville was absent
from the Bourse all day on August 21,
the day of the robbery. I will see him ;
he knows me well, for I arrested him
for the forgery, for which he was sent
to the Ixignf . Come here to-morrow."
The detective quitted the place, mut
tering to himself : "I am a child and
I know nothing."
The next day when Rulon called at
the office of Rauchez, the latter handed
him a letter and pushed him from the
room, saying: "Read that and be
quick about it."
When Rulon reached his apartments
he oftened the letter and read as fol
lows :
I have arranged it all with Du Tor
ville. He will deliver the diamonds
and other property for 300,000 francs.
At 11 o'clock to-morrow Madame Du
Torville will be at home. Show this
letter to Madame Fleury, of the secret
police, and place the money in her
hands. She will wait on Madame Du
Torville, pay the 300,000 francs to her,
and receive a box containing the prop
erty, which she will satisfy herself is
correct. Give her an accurate list of
the jewels and other things. See her
take a cab, deposit the box in it, and
come to my office immediately.
RaroHW..
Xext dav at eleven o'clock Madame
Fleury alighted from a cab at the man
sion of Monsieur Torville. A servant
showed her into a magnificent talon.
and in a few minutes Madame Du Tor
ville appeared, followed by a servant
carrying a large leather satchel. The
servant retired, and Madame Du Tor
ville opened the satchel. It was filled
with sparkling gems and goblets of
gold. Madame Fleurv produced her
inventory aud compared it with the
contents of the satchel. It was cor
rect. "Here are 300,000 francs," the female
detective said, and she counted out the
bills to Madame Du Torville.
"This satchell is heavy," said Mad
ame Fleury.
"My servant shall carry it for you to
the cab," Madame Du Torril'e replied.
The servant was summoned and bore
the precious frc:ght to the cab, closely
followed by Madame Fleury. Then lie
retired.
"Madame," said the driver of the
cab, "have you far to go?"
She gave him the direction of Mon
sieur Rauchez.
"I shall cary this for you then," the
driver said, "for my harness has bro
ken, and I shall have to leave my horse
and cab here until I return."
"Call another cab," the female detec
tive said, in an angry and disappointed
tone.
"They are hard to find around here,
Madame," the driver replied, "but 1
will carry the bag around until you
find one."
"Goon, then,".Madame Fleury said,
and then added in au undertone, "I
carry a pistol, and if you attempt to
quit me I will shoot you."
lhe driver assumed a look of sur
prise and horror, and then moved off,
closely followed by the female dece
ptive.
At the end of the street there was a
place where he could secure privacy,
and, with an apologetic bow the driver
turned into it. The cross street was a
crowded thoroughfare, otherwise the
female detective would have followed
the driver into the retreat despite the
annoyance. As it was, she had to wait
outside until he returned, which he did
in a moment or two. Madame Fleury
gave a sigh of relief as she saw the pre
cious satchel under the driver's arm.
A few blocks on they met at empty cab
and the female detective and her sat
chel were transferred to it.
When Madame Fleury reached the
office of Monsieur Rauchez, she saw the
driver of the cab carry the satchel in
side. "Is it all right?" Rauchez asked.
- "Yes, thank God !" answered the fe
male detective.
She unclasped the fastenings with a
nervous, gratified smile on her face,
and threw open the satchel. It was
filled with broken pieces of glass and
bricks.
When the disappointed and aston
ished woman had- told the historv of
the satchel frani the time she quitted
the house of Monsieur Du Torville,
Rauchez said :
"1 see it all; they bribed the driver
while you were inside, and w hen he
turned into that place whither a lady
could not follow him there was some
one waiting there who changed satch
els with him. 'that's all."
When Madame Fleury and Detective
Rulon returned an hour later to the Du
Torville mansion they found it in the
possession of a furniture broker, who
had putchased the contents the day be
fore. MonsieHr Du Torville disap
peared from Paris, and a week after
ward, when certain of his creditors at
tempted to attach his property, they
found that the house purchased by him
from heirs of Daniel Pereira had been
conveyed to one August Rauchez.
When Detective Rulon found this out
a long time afterwards, he made inqui
ries and discovered that the deed of
conveyance was drawn on the very day
on which Rauchez handed him the let
ter of instructions as to how the sto
len property was to be recovered.
Nothing further has come to light
about the Emperor's broker and his
clever confederates.
A hungry man see fax.
How Greea was Hold.
Sam Green owed his friend, Bill
Smith, a grudge. Bill had ofted played
jokes upon him much to Sam's disgust
aud the merriment of the other board
ers in the house. Sain and Bill occu
pied the same room together, and the
last joke that Bill played upon him was
after this fashion : Sam perceived a
shadowy figure approaching him one
night after he had retired, having in
its hand a huge carving knife, which
glittered in the uncertain light as the
" figure " swung it wildly over his
head; this proved too much for Sam's
nerves he gave a yell that would have
done honor to a Modoc, aud sank to the
floor, calling piteously for help. This
brought the whole household speedily
to the scene, aud they assisted the poor
fellow to his feet and then, of conrse,
demanded to know what the uproar
was all about. He was on the point of
telling them all about the horrible
speetre that had menaced him, when
he looked up and beheld Bill Smith,
with a broad grin on his face, holding
the same carving knife (which, by-the-by,
was only an imitation one, made of
tin foil) that he had seen in the shad
owy hand. Sam saw at once that a
joke had been played upon him, and so
got rid of the astonished boaiders the
best he could, at the same time vowing
vengeance on that rascal. Bill Smith.
The next morning he fixed a cigar,
with a fire-cracker inside of it, so that
it would explode when about half
smoked. This he placed in his pocket
with another one, and went down stairs
where he found his tormentor sitting
on the back stoop, reading the morning
paper.
"Hillo, Bill!" said he, as though
nothing had happened.
" Hillo, Sam !" said he, as though he
had never played a joke upon anybody
in the world.
"Have a cigar, Bill?" he asked,
handing him one.
" Ah, thanks!" said Bill, taking the
cigar and lighting it, while Sam did
the same.
"He won't be so thankful after he
has smoked awhile," thought Sam.
Bill continued to read and smoke, and
in about ten minutes something went
off with a bang. Bill looked up from
his pajier only to see Sam holding his
face in both of his hands, and hopping
about like a crazy man. Alas! Sam
had kept the wrong cigar himself and
given his tormentor the innocent one.
" Sold, by thunder!" he growled, as
he started up stairs, thinking how the
biter had got bitten.
A Story of tlie Revolution.
Moses Harris was born in Dutchess
county, Xew York, in 17-1!, but his
lather moved to Washington, aud at
the outbreak of the Revolutionary war,
was living on the Brayton farm about
a mile south of Fort Ann village, and
remains there until the springof 1777,
when the advance of Burgoyne com
pelled him to remove back to Dutchess
county. The son was a staunch patriot,
but was in the habit of visiting a tory
uncle named Gilbert Harris, who lived
on a farm in the town of Kingsburv,
known as "the thousand appletree
farm, now owned by Thomas Owens.
It so happened that both Schuyler and
Burgoyne wished to procure the ser
vices of a confidential messenger. Har
ris was recommended to Schuyler, and
was employed by him. He was also
sent for by his Tory uncle and at mid
night was aroused by him, and asked if
he wanted to engage in the service of
the King. Harris resotided iu the
affirmative aud followed his uncle to
the barn, where a secret passage dis
closed a room to the centre of the hay
mow. Here he was introduced to the
British officers, and engaged by them to
act as messenger between the armies of
Gen. Clinton and Gen. Burgoyne.
Pausing long enough to make a canteen
with three heads to secure greater
safety for his dispatches, he went to
Burgoyne's headquarters, and that
general ratifying the acts of his subor
dinate olliccrs, Harris was entrusted
with dispatches to be conveyed to Gen.
Clinton. On reaching Fort Edward he
had au interview with Schuyler, who
read and altered the dispatches so as to
mislead Clinton and delay his advance
towards Albany; and on his return the
dispatches were again opened and
changed so as to completely puzzle Bur
goyne. The usual custom of Harris,
however, on his way south would be to
stop over in Easton with a Mr. Fish,
who would take the papers to Schuyler's
headquarters, where they were copied,
altered and returned to the spy, aud by
him taken to Albany. Here they were
delivered to one William Shepherd,
who forwarded them to Xew York,
giving Harris in return dispatches for
Burgoyne from Clinton, which on the
way back would, as usual, be subject to
the inspection of Schuyler. He had
many adventures, being subject to sus
picion on both sides. Shepherd tried to
poison him. He was once arrested at
Tripoli by the Tories and taken to the
big swamp east of Sandy Hill, where
they attempted to hang him. He was a
Mason and gave the great hailing sign
of distress of the order, and the captain
of the troop that was to hang him at
once recognized him and let him down.
This caused the whigs to suspect him,
and one Jacob Benson lay in ambush
all night for him, and threatened "tt
put a ball through the cussed Tory."
He was, however, warned by a friend,
aud taking another road, escaped. Once
he was wounded and compelled to swim
the Hudson at Fort Miller, just above
the falls, and, arriving at the residence
ofXoah Paine, was taken in and con
cealed by that gentleman. He was
thrown into prison by command of
Schuyler, but was restored to liberty as
soon as public attention was called off
from him. Once he was arrested at St.
John's by the British, who suspected
him of being a spy. He feigned such
indignation at the charge, and desired
so earnestly to be shot at once rather
than be suspected of disloyalty to the
King, that he was discharged. He
made tracks out of the camp at once.
but hardly had he departed before the j
suspicions revived, and they deter
mined to recapture him.
Swift Indian runners were put on his
track, but being fleet of foot aud pos
sessed of great powers of endurance, he
outstripped his pursuers, and reached
Vaughn's Corner, in the ton n of
Kingsbury, before he was overtaken.
At this point he was so fatigued and
hard pressed, that in passing an old
building, used for bol'ing potash, he
dodged in, and clambering up the lad
der, hid himself behind a large chim
ney. A moment after the Indians came
around to the place where he had just
entered. One of them ran up the lad
der, but seeing no one, gave a grunt,
and rejoined his companions. The In
dians we re not seen again ; ami it is
supposed they went on to visit Gil Har
ris, who lived half a mile west. Harris's
stratagem, in not pulling up the ladder
after him, probably saved his life; for
had the savages suspected the fugitives
to be in the garret, they would have set
fire to the garret and thus destroyed
him. Jn the evening he made bis way
to the -American lines, where he was
arrested as a spy, and closely guarded
until his true character became known.
The dispatches of the Canadian author
ities, which he bad managed to pre
serve, he delivered to Schuyler iu per
son, as his friend Fish was sick, and
unable to act as the "go-between."
Finally he was watched so closely
that he had to abandon Burgoyne's
service entirely, and took that officer's
dispatch with which he was last en
trusted to Gen. Washington. Schuyler
gave him 100 guineas for his services,
and Washington offered him a position
in the Southern Continental Army,
which he declined to accept. He re
turned to Kingsbury, saying that "all
the Tories this side of Hell couldn't
drive him away from his home." He,
however, in 1787 bought a large tract of
land in Queensbury, to which he re
moved, and on which he continued to
live iintH his decease, on the 30th of
November, 1S:ES, having attained the
advanced age of t0 years.
The Toilette.
Cosmetics, as a rule, injure the skin
to such au extent that should the mod
ern Juliet whose countenance is daily
calcomiued, chance to be caught some
early morning by her love-lorn Romeo
before she had put on her "good com
plexion," that worthy youth would
stand appalled, and might well mutter,
"she would have the face to prove that
black is white!" Late suppers aud rich
food have more to do with pimply aud
muddy complexions than all the cos
metics in the world can undo. To pre
vent the greasy look which many faces
wear, wash olten in some mild acid
such as diluted lemon or tomato juice,
aud rub the face several times a day
not roughly with a towel. A piece of
flannel is better to wash the face with
than a sponire: the slight roughness
cleanses the pores of the skin, aud pre
vents those little black specks that so
many complain of, and for which they
try every remedy except the right one
soan. water and towel suasion. To
keep the skin smooth and soft, make a
linen bag large enough to hold a quart
of bran ; put it iu a vessel and iour two
quarts of boiling water on it ; let it stand
all day, and on retiring at night, take
out the bag and wash in the bran water.
If this is persisted in, the coarsest skin
will soon become as soft as velvet. It
is well sometimes to apply cold cream
mixed with water, to the hands and
face at night during the winter season,
and iu summer to use oat meal water in
stead. For those whose household
cares roughen and chap the hands it is
well always to keep a bottle of glycerine
on the toilette table and everv time you
wash, rub a few drops on your hands
while they are yet wet, and then wipe
dry. The less soap such ladles use the
better. A little borax in the dish water
will cleanse the dishes far better than
soap, and save your dishes. If you
would keep a dish of coarse bran in
stead of a cake of soap by your wash
bowl, you would And it au excellent
substitute, and almost a sure preventive
of those troublesome and often painful
skin diseases to which many hands are
subject in cold weather.
An Atrocious f-lbel on Editors.
Yes, I'am Mrs. Snow, an editor's wife.
I well remember the day when Mr.
Snow asked me to become his wife. I
confess I liked Mr. Snow, .and
thinking it wouldbe a fine thing to
he the wife of an editor, I said
"yes" as pretty as I knew how, and 1
became Mrs. Show. I have seen ten
years of married life, and find niv hus
band to be an amiable, good-natured
man. He always spends his evenings
at home and is in that respect a model
man ; but he always brings a pile ot
exchanges, which is ouly limited by
the lensrth of his arms, and reads while
I patch the knees and elbows of his
pontaloons and coat. After we had a
Quaker meeting of an hour's length, I
broke the stillness by asking:
"Mr. Snow, did you ordei that coal I
sjioke to you about ?"
What did you say, my dear?" he
asks, after a moments silence.
"Did you order that coal I spoke to
you about?"
'Indeed, my dear, I am sorry, but I
forgot all about it. It shall come to
morrow." Another hour's silence, which is re
lieved by the baby's crying, and, rather
liking a noise of that sort I made no
effort to quiet him.
"My dear," says sir. isnow, after he
had cried a minute or so, "you had bet
ter give the baby some catnip tea to
quiet him ; he troubles me."
The baby is still. Another hour
passes without a breath of noise. Be
coming tired I take a lamp and retire
for the night, leaving Mr. Snow so en
gaged with bis pj.pers that he does not
see me leave the room. Towards mid
night be comes to bed, aud just as he
has fallen asleep the baby takes a no
tion to cry again. I rise as quickly as
possible and try to still him. Then an
other baby begins to scream at the top
of bis lungs. There Is no other course
but to awake Mr. Snow :
"Mr. Snow ! Mr. Snow !"
The third time he starts up and cries,
"What, Tom, more copy ?"
Four Hoars of Mortal Terror.
During a late voyage of the schooner
Louis Walsh, from Bavacoa t Xew
York, a dreadful storm occurred, and
the first Mate O'Donnell.was washed
overboard. The incident is thus nar
ated byCapt. McDade.
"Cap'n I'm overboard," CapC.Melhide
heard his brother-in-law scream. It
was a trying moment for the captain.
His wife's brother Iu the sea, and his
main boom whipping back and forth,
his vessel careening, and his control
over her almost gone. If he tried to save
the mate his craft was gone sure.
"He's dead; it's no use, cap'n,"
Peterson shouted.
('apt. Mclade did not am.wer, for
just then, as the vessel lurched, the
binnacle light went out, and an instant
afterward a flash of 1'gtit shone from
the cabin windows. Steward Downey
saw that flash. "My God," he cried to
the captain, "the ship's afire." He
lraped into the cabin. The three oil
lamps were on the floor, aud the fire
was well under way. Downey sprang
through the flame to the captain's state
room, seized the blankets from the hunk,
and throwing them on the fire stauied
it nut.
Meanw hile the crew had got the main
sail lowered, and the schooner was
eased. Mate Peterson, however, had
heard O'lHtnnell shout, aud without
waiting for orders groped his way for
ward and lowered his yawl into the
water, and then Captain McDade heard
him shouting away behind iu the
schooner's wake. Adrift in the boat,
without an oar,and the schooner making
10 knots an hour. lit could not even
see the schooner's light, the'waves ran
o high. Peterson had given up hope.
Suddenly he heard faintly aw ay oil' in
the darkness
"Look sharp!"
It was poor O'Doiinell, w hom Peter
son supposed to be at the bottom ot the
sea. Just then he saw the schooner's
light. She had tacked, and was almost
sw eeping over him. lie made fast to
her as she scudded along, aud shouted
to tile captain that be was safe. Just
then they all heard again a voice out in
the darkness. Downey seized the oars,
jumped into the yawl, and with Peter
son rowed toward the voice.
When O'Donnel struck the water be
sank only a few feet, and on rising to
the surface shouted to the captain, and
then tried to swim. He could not use
his legs. Then he remembered the
blow that he had received in the small
of the back. He thought his back was
broken aud that he might as well die.
He paddled a little with his hands, and
saw that it kept him afloat, although
his legs hung like lead in the water.
Almost in despair, he was about to
cease paddling. Then he saw the light
of the vessel, and that kindled hope.
The light disappeared, and he feared
that the captain could nut stop to pick
him up, but he kept up a gentle pad
dling. Thus he kept his head above
the w ater, and rode out the great w aves.
He was able to keep himself all Kit with
little exertion, but the paiu in his back
was excruciating. Xow and then he
shouted, and tried to catch an answer.
None came. He gave up all hope, bnt
paddled instinctively. Then he remem
bered the sharks that followed the
schooner in the morning. This thought
filled him with terror. Still he pad
dled, half unconsciously. Then he
thought of his w ife and children, now
in Europe, and that nerved him, and
putting his hands together reverently,
just using motion enough to keep him.
self afloat, he prayed to heaven to spare
him for his wife md children. As he
opened his eyes after this prayer, he
saw that dawn was just breaking, and
far away a speck approaching him. It
was the boat. The men did not see him
but fortunately they pulled in his direc
tion, and when they heard him shout,
they pulled with all their might toward
him.
Downey said afterward that they w ere
just about giving him up as they heard
him call. O'Donnellsank to the bottom
of the yawl unconscious, and the two
sailors pulled to the schooner, which
lay-to six miles away. He had been
four hours in the water.
A Tree Agent Treed.
Till proprietor of Rudder Grange,
returning from a drive with Eupheniia,
his wife, finds a tramp in one of his
trees and a tree agent in another near
by. with his savage dog, Lord Edward,
plying between. The following scene
ensues :
"This one, Pomona, is a tree man "
"I should think so," said I, as I
caught sight of a person in gray trou
sers standing among the branches of a
cherry tree not very far from the kitch
en door. The tree was not a large one,
and the branches were not strong
enough to allow him to sit down on
them, although they supported him
well enough, as he stood close to the
trunk junout of reach of Lord Edward.
"This is a very unpleasant position,
sir," said he, when I reached the tree.
"I simply came into your yard on a
matter of business, and finding that
raging beast attacking a person in a
tree, I had barely time to get up into
this tree myself, before he dashed at
me. Luckily I was out of his reach ;
but I very much fear that I have lost
some of my property."
"tffo he hasn't," said Pomona. "It
was a big book he dropped. I picked
it up and took it into the house. It's
full of pictures of pears, peaches and
flowers. I've been lookin' at it. That
is how I know what he is. And there
was no call for his gettin' up a tree.
Lord Edward never would have gone
after him if he hadn't run as If he had
guilt on his soul."
"I suppose then." said I, addressing
the individual in the cherry tree, "that
you come here to sell me some trees."
"Yes, sir," said he quickly, '-trees,
shrubs, vines, evergreens everything
suitable for a gentleman's country vil
la. I can sell you something quite re
markable, sir, in the way of cherry
trees French ones Just imported ; bear
fruit three times the size of anything
that can be produced on a tree like this.
A ad pears fruit of the finest flavor and
enormous sie "
"Yes," said Pomona. "I seen them
in the book. But they must grow on a
ground vine. Xo tree couldn't hold
such pears as them."
Here Eupheiuia reproved Pomona's
1'urwarduess, and I invited the tree
agent to get down out of the tree.
"Thank you," said he, "but not
while that dog is loose. If you will
kindly chain him up I will get my
book, aud show you specimens of the
finest small fruit in the world, all im
ported from the first nurseries of En-
rope the Red-gold Amber Muscat
grape, the"
"Oh, please let him down!" said Eu
pheniia, her eyes beginning to sparkle.
I slowly walked towards the tramp
tree, revolving various matters in my
mind. We had not spent much money
on the place during the winter, and we
now had a small sum w hich we intend
ed to use for the advantageof the far.n.
but had not yet decided what to do with
it. It behooved me to be careful.
I told Pomona to run and get me the
dog chain, and I stood under the tree,
listening as well as I could, to tiie tree
agent talking to Euphemia. aud paying
no attention to the impassioned en
treaties of the tramp iu the crotch
above me. When the chain was
brought I hooked one end of it on Lord
Edw ard's collar, and then I took a firm
grasp of the other. Telling Poinoua
to bring the tree agent's book from the
house, I called to that individual to get
dowu from his tree. He promptly
obeyed, and, taking the book from Po
mona, began to show the pictures to
Euphemia.
"You hail better hurry, sir," I
called out. "1 can't hold this dog very
lonir." And indeed Lord Edwrrd had
made a run towards the agent, waiah
jerked me very forcibly in his direc
tion. But a movement by the tramp
had quickly brought the dog back to
his more desired victim.
"If you will just tie up that dog,sir,"
said the agent, "and come this way, I
would like to show you the Meltinagua
Iear dissolves in the mouth like snow,
sir; trees will bear next year."
"Oh, come, look f t the Royal Spark
ling Kuby grape," cried Euphemia.
"it glows in the sun like a gem."
"Yes," said the ageut, "and fills the
air with fragrance during the whole
mouth of Septemlier "
"I tell you !" I shouted, "I can't hold
this dog another minute! The chain
is cutting the skin off my hands,
sir, run! I'm going to let go!"
"Run! run!" cried Pomona.
Run,
"Fly
for your life!"
The agent now began to be fright
ened and shut up his book.
"If you could ouly see the plates, sir,
I'm sure "
"Are jou ready?" I cried, as the dog
excit?d by Pomona's wild shouts, made
a bolt in his direction.
"Good-day, if I must " said the
agent, as he hurried to the gate. But
there he stopped.
"There is nothing, sir," he said,
"that would so improve your place as a
row of the Spitzenburg Sweet-scented
Balsam fir along this fence. I'll sell
you three-year-old trees
"He's loose!" I shouted, as I dropped
the chain.
In a second the agent was on the
other side of the gate. Lord Edward
made a dash towards him, but stopping
suddenly, flew back to the tree of the
tramp.
"If you should conclude, sir," said
the tree agent, looking over the fence,
'to have a row of those firs tJong
here "
"My good sir," said I, "there is no
row of firs there now, and the fence is
not very high. My dog, as you see, is
very much excited, and I cannot an
swer for the consequences if he takes it
into his head to jump over."
The tree agent turned and walked
slow ly aw ay.
An Arkansas Cow.
Judge Grant was in Little Rin k, Ark.,
in attendance at the United States court.
One morning he saw a farmer with a
slouch hat, and a genuine butter-nut
suit, trying to sell a cow in the market
there. It was a large, long-horned
animal, and the planter was informing
a man that the cow would give four
quarts of milk a day, if fed well.
Up stepped the judge. "Whatdoyou
ask for the cow ?"
"About $30. She'll give five quarts
of milk if you feed her well," replied
the planter, and he proceeded to des
cribe her good qualities.
Said the judge: 'l have cows on my
farm, not much more than half as big
as your cow, which give twenty to
tw enty-five quarts of milk a day."
The planter eyed the judge sharply
for a moment, as if trying to remember
w hether he had ever seen him before
or not, and then asked: "Mranger,
w here do you live?"
"My heme is in Iowa."
"Yes, stranger, I don't dispute it.
There was heaps of sogers from Iowa
down here during the war, and.
stranger, they was the all-firedest liars
in the whole Yankee army. Mebbe
you mount be an officer in some of them
regiments?"
The judge slid for tl.e court bouse.
Insects la Floor.
A foreign exchange says that Mons.
Troupeau recommends the following
process of discovering whether there
are acarians in the flur: Some flour
is placed between two sheets of paper,
and is thinned out by pressing it with
the finger. If acarians are in the flour,
they will reveal their presence by small
molecules, which can be seen by the
naked eye. These are then transferred
by a moistened point to a microscope
To minutely study the legs and hair of
the insect, glycerine and acetic acid
should be used, as they increase the
transparency. In order to avoid bruis
ing the insect, a hair should be placed
between the plate and cover glass.
Proceeding in this way, H. Troupeau
found that of a large number of speci
mens of flour nearly all contained aca.
rlans, the number of which seeemed to
increase according to the time the flour
had been exposed to air and moisture.
A Handy Maa to Have A roll ad.
There was a look of bowed care about
the man, as though he had at some time
sat down to meditate uudera pile driver
and had been suddenly disturbed by
some one starting up the machine. He
walked into the counting-room of a
morning paper, leaned his elbows on the
counter, rested his chin in his hands,
looked solemnly at the clerk and said :
I understand the care of horses,
young man, and when it comes to land
scape gardening, I cu tell jou I ain't
no slouch.'
'I can't see as that Interests me any, '
said the clerk, with a yawn that endan
gered bis ears. don't run a livery
stable, nor 1 ain't a park commissioner.
'I'm a handy man to have around the
house,' proceeded the intruder, with a
smile that seemed painful. I can turn
my hand to most anything, from build
ing a fence to keeping the baby quiet.
'Xobody disputes you, remarked the
young man, dryly.
I also understand pruning, and a
good many people think I'm surer tbau
certainty itself when it comes to graft
ing.
'Well, this ain't a nursery, old man,
and we don't pay for gas we don't burn,
so you might as well close the concert
and meander.
'It might be mentioued that I know
how to milk, and for keeping a churn
dasher busy I'm right on deck every
time; now you can just charge your
mind with that. I never dodge hard
work, no matter what shape it c mes at
me in. Ail I ask is plenty of it, and
meals regular.'
The clerk was growing fidgety and
red in the face. He pointed to the door
and uo!ded sideways with the air of a
man who had about made up his mind
to stand no more foolishness. The mau
reci'uing on the counter continued
calm and undisturbed:
'In house cleaning time' I'm the hai.-
diest man you ever saw. 1 can beat a
carpet till you wouldn't know it, and at
washing windows and scouring up ire u-
erally 1 won't take a back seat for any-
oouy. in snoving around heavy furni
ture and taking down stoves, I'm right
at home, anu I also kuow all about
whitewashing, aud can go over a carpet
without spilling a drop,'
'Well, who said you couldn't? de
manded the clerk. 'Clear out! W
don't want any more of your lingo, and
we don I want any more of your help.
We never clean house here.'
'I'm the most willing man you ever
saw. Just put down that I'm alwavs
ready to make myself useful, and a
good steady job with plenty to do is the
one I want to tie to. It don't matter
about the wages; we'll never fall out on
that head.'
'But I tell you we don't want you.
We've nothing in the world for you to
do here.'
'Well, Lord bless you, man, who said
you had ? I never asked you to give me
no job, did I?'
Well, that seems to be about the
drift of your gab. If I can understand
plain English,' said the clerk petulantly.
'Gracious me, no; 1 never thought of
such a thing. What I'm trying to come
at is that I want you to write it down
and print what sort of a gnslin I am in
your paper.
'Oh. I see,' said the clerk. 'You
want to advertise for a situation ?'
Yes, that's it, exactly. There's lota
of folks, I s'pose, worrying and fretting
because they can't get hold of just such
a sort of man as I am. Handy men are
mighty scarce these times, sure's you
live. I s'pose that had better go at the
top, in great big letters, and where you
say that I'm willing, put it as loud as
you have room for. They'll always find
me willing, whoever finds me 'specially
at about meal times. You might throw
in that 1 have seven characters, and
some of 'em as much as four years long-
Horses is my preference, but I'm not
above drivin' a team of mules, or shov
eling gravel, if nothing better offers.
Fix it all up so't scmebody'll have to
hire me, and I'll divide the first month's
wages with you. Pile it all on just as
strong as you want to, and I'll back it
up when I get the job every word of
it, I ought to know how to work, I
should think I'm just out of the work
house from a twelve mouth's trip, but
I suppose that hadn't better go in. If I
had the chink to spare I'd pay extra
and have you slam it in poetry blamed
if I wouldn't, but then, hold on that
might fetch me up in a place where they
live on style aud toothpicks, and that
wouldn't hardly suit me now, just at
first. I'd rather have a chance to fatten
up a little. Make it plain and blunt.
and that'll strike the livers.
Foinoned spears.
In an Interesting series of letters to
the London Field from the Xew He
brides, a group of islands north of Aus
tralia belonging to the Graguan groap.
whose inhabitants are extremely savage
and think nothing of making a meal of
a missionary. Mr. L. Layard describes
the dreadful poisoned spears of these
islanders, made with long carved points
of human bones. These points are
formed from the leg bones of either
friends or enemies, a thigh bone being
split into four points, while a shirt bone
suffices for only two. The natives are
very particular about the selection of
them. They say that the bone of a per
son under 20 is too weak and spongy;
from 20 to 40 they are at their best.
After that age they become too brittle.
Some spears have as many as 2 X) or 250
points, and splinters fastened on them,
three or four vastly exceeding others
in size, being in fact the main points.
A fragment of one of these remaining
in the wound is almost sure to produce
fatal results, as the cellular structure of
the bone is, of course, impregnated with
the virus of the body that has decayed
around it- Tiiey are nsed for arrows
also, and barbed for the purpose of being
fixed in the wound long enough for the
poison to mingle with the blood.
A slothful man U a beggar's brother.
Who looks not before finds himself
behind.
9