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THE OOISTITUTIOI-THE UH0I-AIS TEE EHOBOEXIIT 07 THE LAWS.
B. F. SCHWEIER,
Editor and Proprietor.
VOL. XXXVIII.
MIFFLINTOWN, JUNIATA COUNTY. PENNA.. "WEDNESDAY. MAY 23, 1884.
NO. 22.
Sepliotii
UK liCMlC Ul'SBAND.
Be gentle, husband, to thy i
rife,
tor seldom dost toon e
The trials which do daily rise
To try lier ove for thee.
Speak not to her an unkind word;
She is tay darling wife;
Let uo murmuring tone be heard,
So anj;ry look, nor strife.
Be gentle, lovins, kind and true;
Trials w 11 nurely rise;
Sprak kindly always to thy wife;
Tlou hast, perchance, a prize.
Ob, bu.-b.iml. bear and do not chide;
She, too, is tempted hero.
On thy fund bosom let her hide
Uer every anxious tear.
Though be may le sorely tried,
And often sigh for breath.
Oh, do not, by an angry look.
Incline her down to death !
Xone are perfect here below.
In llii brief world of stri le;
Then, all tby love on her bestow,
lie gentle to thy wife.
A llUSI-lTAL KOMANCE.
It is the height of the London season,
and we are in the thick of it at least,
s far in as we can well manage to push
ourselves. That is to say. we have
taken a house in a good neighborhood,
and have induced a titled country ac
quaintance to introduce us at Court,
and now and tnen to appear at our
overcrowded receptions for a few min
utes, on her way to some more fashion
able entertainment ; for there is no
doubt about it we are not in the high
est circle, our friends are not the ereme
de la crane, though very charming and
well-connected people in their way.
Auut has managed indeed lately to add
to her visiting list a laronet,t wo Count
esses, and a Marquis, in addition to the
friends who introduced us. The Bar
cnet is rather weak and silly, but is, I
believe, jiis rtprochc, is not bad-looking,
and lias a good property. He is
regarded in the household as the treas
ure trove of my eldest cousin Louise.
The Countesses are rather out-at-elbo ws,
and one of them is a little doubtfuL
The Marquis is better known at New
niaikel than at St. James's, is rather
shakv in the moiuing. after a fashion
which is suggestive of potations over
night, and his language Is more or less
garnished with slang. But then he is
a Marquis, and the pains taken to se
cure his soeiety and that of the out-at-e'.bows
Countesses are worthy of a bet
ter cause. However, my aunt is con
tent, and talks of her aristocratic
eott ric.
Upon this happy state of things a
thunderbolt lias lallen. I am ill, and
the Duetor, having been called in pro
nounces the ailment scarlet fever.
"Nothing to be alarmed about, my
dear madam," he stys blandly "only a
slight attack ; we shall have the young
lady round in no time ;" and with a
kindly Minle he goes away.
Nothing to be alarmed about,"cries
my aunt hy-terically, regardless of my
ftvt ris'i state, "vt hen this horrid fever
will spread through the house, and we
shall lie tabooed tor ever so long when
it will quite spoil Louise's prospects
f.r Sir K-ibert was going to propose
I know he was and now he will not
see ht r for months !"
lie is not worth regretting," I ven
tre, '-if hecouM forget her m so short
a tune.'"
" Vou know nothing about it.child I"
sebs my aunt. "These jeopie of rank
have sJujany temptati -ns. I have tried
so hard to make up a nice Little circle,
aud, now ihat I have done so, it is too
bad to have everything singled. I must
say it is very inconsiderate of you.Rose.
1 shall get you a nurse, but 1 cannot
risk the precious health of my children
by going 111 and out to you myself.
Sl she too takes her departure; and I
am left alone.
1 twist ami writhe in bed. V hat am
I to do how endure this trouble ? I
Lave no home, poor little desolate waif
that 1 am ! I have been my aunt's ward
until within the last few mouths, when,
being eighteen, I ceased, by the terms
of niy father's will, to le a minor. I
am not poor in money, for I have five
hundred a year ; but, oh, how poor I
am in that love which makes earth's
true riches I Would that I might die,
and lie dovn by my dead mother's si ;e,
aiid trouble no one any lonzer I
Suddenly a bright thought flashes
through my brain. When first we came
to town, the housemaid had measles,
and was sent to the Fever Ilosiii-al
Why should not I go there not to a
ward.of course, but to a private room ?
No soom r thought than acted on. I
scribble a hasty note, ring the bell, and
desire the servant w ho answers to take
it at once to Doctor TrailL He is for
tunately at home, and conies immedi
ately. "What is it, my dear ?"' in mires the
old fentleuian kindly. "Not worse, I
hope V
"Xo, Doctor : but I want you to help
me."
lie looks surprised.
"You must see that I am in the way
here," I continue hurriedly "that my
aunt is afraid I shall infect the house
hold, or, at any rate, shut her out from
society. It is not my fault t" And I
begin to sob.
"My dear, my dear" and the kindly
old face smiles down on me as 1 could
fancy my father's might have done
the father whom, save in my dreams,
I never saw "you must not fret.
These things are ruled by a Higher
Power. Our part is to suffer in patience
and in hope."
"I want to eo to the Fever Hospital,
Doctor. Could you not manage it for
nie? Telegraph or something please
do. I shali go mad if I stay here I"
"But what w ill your aunt say ? Have
you consulted her?"
"Oh, no ! She will pretend to be an
noyed ; but she w ill be glad I know
she wilL And, Doctor, ask them.please,
to send the ambulance."
"Xo. no," he answers ; "we sha'n't
want that in vour present stage. You
tan infect nobody. My carriage is at
the door. I shall send one of your ser
vants to help you to dress and put up a
jew things for you your worst, reniem
Jr. I Uall drive in the meantime to
the nearest post-office, and send the tel
egram, and come back and take you
Itself."
1 know he can ill spare the time the
time that means money and I am very
f ateful to him for his ready help.
In due time we arrive at the bospi
"Mnd wait in the head-nurse's sitting
room. The resident doctor comes,Tj re
nounces my case to be, as Dr. Traill
one of mild scarlet fever .but adds
" "npleasiug intelligence that there
a ho private room vsuunt n th wn-
en's side, aud that I must go into ai
It Bu' Doctor Traill puts in bis
word r
"Have you no room on the men's side
l she could go?
00 not like mi
not like putting ladies there;
but, if you wish it "
"I do wish it. This young lady's
friends would not approve of the other
plan at alL"
And so I am half led. half carried
along stone passages, up a flight of
stairs and deposited in a chamber where
a fire is burning brightly.
"This room was intended for another
patient, whom we expect this evening."
says Doctor Browne ; "but I shall give
orders to have the next one prepared
for him."
I am soon in bed. Doctor Traill
comes to say good bye. promising to
see me soon ; and I am left alone, i cry
aud laugh by turns, now overcome by
my exceeding loneliness, now struck by
something absurd about the whole af
fair. Ths new patient arrives, and I won
der vaguely who he is. I am restless,
miserable, feverish, and the Doctor or
ders me a draught, whereupon I bleep
heavily.and awake somewhat refreshed.
My case is a very mild one, as I have
said, so there is nothing for it but to lie
iu bed and take fever diet to lie till I
am weary of the wooden wainscotting,
the pale blue painted walls. To relieve
the monotony, I begin to chatter to the
nurses ; if one has any latent love of
gossip in one's nature aud what wo
man has not ? life in a hospital will
develop it.
" Who are my fellow-sufferers ? What
are they like ? Are they very ill ?"
So I inquire, and learn that the two
pnvate patients down-stairs are young
one a student at King's College, the
other a schoolboy ; they both have scar
let fever, and the latter is very ilL My
next-door neighbor, who arrived only
last evening, is more interesting. He
is an officer, Major Ronald McDonald
by name, is middle-aged and single,and
has been a fortnight in London, and is
ill of scarlet fever. The nurse adds
that he is tall, and must be very hand
some when in health.as even the redness
and swelling caused by the fever have
not been able entirely to disfigure him.
He holds possession of my mind. His
name pleases the romance of eighteen,
the discription takes iny fancy ; and I
dream of him, long to see him, listen
for the faint sounds of his voire, and,
when Doctor Browne tells me that he
has been in the Zulu campaign and has
been wounded there, I think of him as
a hero.
1 long, as I say, to see him. I do so
all too soon. The evening of the sec
ond day draws to a close.and the night
nurse "looks sad and worried, for the
schoolboy down-stairs is very ill indeed,
aud she can scarcely leave him, and
Major McDonald is restless and uneasy.
After a time, I fall into a doze how
long I know not ; but. when I awake,
I am not alone. Some one is sitting by
the fire, which is blazing brightly, and
the gas is turned full on. The figure
moves ; it is a man not the D.ctor,but
a tall powerful man in a dressing-gown.
I catch a glimpse of a well-cut profile
as be half turns, listening. He holds a
knife in his hand, for I see the glitter
of the steeL Involuntarily I move
slightly, and he starts to his feet. What
a face I Even though distigurea now,
with unshorn beard and the reduesj of
fever, the face is that of a brave man
aud a good one. Delirium gleams in
his eyes and gives strength to his up
lifted arm, which grasps the knife.
"Alone.alone," he mutters,"amongst
those fiendish Zulus, and my sword
broken ; but 1 slnll not die unavenged:"
He springs to my bedside, his arm
raised, and the cruel steel guttering in
the air.
They tell me that I am brave. Thank
Heaven, my courage does not fail me
now, or his Hie might be poisoned by an
undving regret ! 1 speak softly
"Major McDonald ?"
"Who calls ?" he cries. "That is an
English voice ? Is there any one in
distress ?"
"Yes," I answer. "I am ill, wound
ed. I am not a Zulu, but an English
soldier."
He takes my hand in his and looks at
it tenderly.
"How small and delicate I" he says.
You must be very young. Only a little
drummer ! Have courage, my boy I I
shall not forsako you, and shall carry
you to a place of safety, if possible ; if
not, we can die together. But hark I
Here is the foe in full force I" and he
stands near the door, his head thrown
back, his arm upraised to strike.
I know who is about to enter it is
the head night-nurse, who has heard
the sounds in my room, aud is coming
ii) and, unless 1 can turn him away,
her fate is sealed, for he has in him for
the moment the strength of twenty
men.
1 call out feebly
" You are wrong 1 That is the ambu
lance nurse; you would not harm her 1
There, there is the foe I" aud I point
to the corner where my dressing gown
is lying, presenting somewhat the shaie
of a human figure.
He dashes at it with a deep vengeful
cry, and the knife pierces it with such
force that it snaps in two, leaving the
point buried in the wood-work beneath.
The head night-nurse now enters, a
sweet-faced woman with golden hair,
whom all the patients love. Dear nurse
Branscouibe? How thankful I am
that the cruel knife did not seek her
heart 1
Major McDonald turns ; the sight of
the nurse's face recalls his wandering
mind. He passes Lis hand over his
brow and looks bewildered, his strength
seems to fail, and he murmurs
"1 fear 1 have made a great fool of
mvs-lf. I thought I was in Africa. I
am so sorry ;" aud he turns away deject
edly. The next day I am worse.more fever
ish, aud Major McDonald is beyond
measure distressed. He recollects last
night's scene vaguely, and in his con
trition sends out for a bouquet, which
the nurse bring me, with his compli
mentsalso a tiny note, feebly written,
imploring me to forgive him, and to
send him even a leaf in token thereof.
I select a rosebud. I am too weak to
write now, and beg that he will think
no more about it- Evening comes ; and,
cheered by the Doctor's assertion that
nothing of the kind can happen again,
as a special night-nurse has been as
signed to Major McDonald, I compose
myself, and, looking at my sweet flow
ers to the last, 1 fall asleep, and. undis
turbed by anything, awake next morn
ing refreshed.
I do not see Major McDonald again
for three weeks ; nor do I hear much
about him, as, soon after, a private
room on the women's side of the hos
pital becoming vacant, I am carried
over ; so that only from the head night
nurse and the doctors do I hear any
news of him. I preserve his flowers
as long as it is possible ; and, when they
are thrown away, somehow the room
looks lonelier. They do not all go,
though, for I keep a rosebud similar to
that which I have given htm. 1 have it
still, and hope that when I am in my
coffin it will be laid upon my breast.
When next we meet, I am sitting in
the garden, wrapped in shawls and
cloaks, looking, I doubt not, a very
fragile and insignificant piece of hu
manity. The resident medical officer
comes forward, and wit h him a man
tall and broad-shouldered, who, though
weak and languid now, would in full
vigor be the ideal of a soldier and a
hero. Doctor Browne introduces him.
"Major McDonald Miss Rose Mor
ley. She does not look much like a
Zulu chieftain to-day .does she,Major?"
The young Doctor laughs and chats
for a few moments, and then strolls
away towards the men's convalescent
ward. Major McDonald, who is sit
ting beside me, now bends forward.
"Miss Morley, "he says earnestly, "I
have to thank you deeply for the cour
age which saved me from taking either
your life or the nurse's, or both. I do
not ask your pardon ; for I have it
here ;" and he touches his breast.
What does he mean ? Is my rosebud
next to his heart.as his is next to mine?
It cannot be. I am only a silly girl of
eighteen, and he is thirty-six.aud a gal
lant soldier, above all such sentiment.
I blush and falter something stupid.and
we enter into conversation. How dif
ferent it is from the twaddle of Louise's
silly Baronet, and from that of the
"horsy" Marquis 1 I live in fairy-laud,
from which the nurse rouses me, to say
that tea is ready.
I see no more of Major McDonald
that day ; but on the next and the next
he sits beside me on the seat which,
though somewhat worm-eaten and
brittle, seems to me, since he is there,
glorious enough to be a resting-place
for derai-gods. How I hate the wet
days which come uow and then, and on
which I cannot see him 1 How I dread
the time when I shall be pronounced
free from infection, and shall be com
pelled, after a few weeks spent at the
sea-side, to go back to the dull loveless
life of so-called pleasure I I sit drear
ily in my room one wet day.
"Xo visitors," says the Doctor, com
ing in "not even Doctor Traill ? You
are not so foitunate as your friend the
Major. He has Mrs. McDonald with
him."
A great surging comes into my head,
a blindness bvfore my eyes.
"Mrs. McDonald 1" I say, in surprise.
There is a mischievous twinkle in the
Doctor's eye.
"She is a beautiful woman," he says;
"and it is only natural she should come
to see him, is it not ?"
"Oh. yes !" and I laugk idiotically
and talk so gaily that the Doctor stays
for what to me seems hours. "Will he
never go ?" 1 ask myself.
He rises at List, runs down the stairs,
and I hear biin whistling "Nancy Lee"
as he crosses the lower corridor. 1 rise
and look out of the window. The rain
has ceased ; but everything looks damp
and dreary. I call myself ugly names.
"Fool, idiot, weak, contemptible,
mean-spirited wretch, to love a man
whom I have known only a fortnight
just f-fteendaysl Xo, I 4ou't love
him !" I say fiercely. "It is only a
fancy which will pass away when I
leave this place, and have other things
to occupy me."
And yet,and yet I know it is no fancy,
but the love which can never pass away
while earth shall hold- me. And he
he had no right to act as he did, since
he was a married man. He even told
the Doctor he was single, and the nurse
said it was on the board containing his
description. True, I was a fool I 1
took a fancy to him from the first night
I saw him ; but it was only fancy, and
he fanned it into love. His voice soft
ened when he spoke to me, his eyes
lighted when he looked at me. Oa,
cruel, cruel !
Well, I shall despise him ; and I take
a kind of fierce pleasure in thinking
how I shall show him that I do.
It is fine the next day, and I go out in
the afternoon. I resolve to be dignified
at least, so far as my five feet two.my
slender figure, and childish appearance
will allow me and I saunter down the
walk slowly with my head in the air. It
is all thrown awav so far as Major
McDonald is concerned, for he is lot
there, and, notwithstanding my con
tempt for him, my silly heart sinks.
At last he comes striding down the
path, with eager eyes and outstretched
bands.
"I am glad to see you again," he says
wannly. "How dull you must have
been yesterday 1"
"Oh, not at all I" 1 answei frigidly.
''Doctor Browne sat with me for a long
time, aud was so agreeable" this with
cmjircsscmcnL
"I ain glad," he says ; but somehow
he does not look so. "I had a very wel
come visitor, who stayed nearly all
dav ;" and he smiles.
"Yes ; I heard your wife was with
yon."
He flushes, and looks bewildered. I
suppose he is surprised that I have dis
covered his treachery.
"Was it not pleasant to see my wife?"
and be laughs as he says it.
"It is strange," I say coldly, "that
she allowed you to be brought here.and
never came to see you before."
"Very," he answers drily. "But
you see she was in Naples ; still it was
remiss on her part very. You would
not act so, would you ? and he smiles
down on me.
Is he enjoying ray misery ? Hateful
idea !
"Oh, I don't know !" I answer reck
lessly. "I dare say I should get very
tired of my husband, and should be
very glad to get him out of the way for
a time."
A pained look comes into his face.
"You don't mean it ?" he says earn
estly. "You are not a 'girl of the period'
I cannot believe it."
"Yes, I am," I cry fiercely. "I could
not care for any one much unless in
deed he were rich and titled ; and then
I should loe only let beaux yeaux de sa
easMttte. I don't believe in sentiment"
We walk in silence, and sit down in
silence. At last he asks
"Where do you go when yoa leave
here ?"
"I don't quite know," I say drearily.
"My aunt says she will take rooms for
me in some place."
"She will go with you 7"
"Xo, I must go alone at least, I
shall have only a maid "
"Go alone t How old are you ? Oh,
excuse my rudeness, but you seem a
mere child !"
A child I Is that how he regards me ?
I draw myself up, so as to look as tall
as possible.
"I am eighteen years, four montlis,
three weeks, and two days old," I say,
with crusldng dignity.
"And how many hours ?" he asks,
,i-;rh twinkle in his eve.
I feel inclined .to cry, and my lips
pout ; he is making fun of me. He
rises, looks at his watch, and says
"I expect a visitor again to-day.
Will you excuse me ?" Then, seeing
the cloud still on my face, be lays his
hand for one moment on mine. "For
give me," lie says, "little "
I cannot quite eaten tne last word ;
but 11 sounds like "darling," and my
foolish heart throbs. I ought to be
angry; but I am not. nu touch has
made me glow with momentary happi
ness. Half an hour passes, and he comes
agaiu, accompanied by a lady. I can
not see her face ; but she has a noble air
aud bearing and a queenly tread. They
come nearer. Yes, she is, as Doctor
Browne said, beautiful, notwithstand
ing her sixty years, her snow-white hair
the most beautiful woman I have
ever seen. But she is not Major McDon
ald's wue ; her years, her striking like
ness to him, prove it, even before he
says
"Mother, this is Miss Rose Morley."
His voice grows tender as he speaks
my name. The lady takes both my
bands, and looks at me long and inquir
ingly. Did I not know that Major
McDonald was already married, I
should think that it was the look that
a woman casts on her who she believes
holds in her hands the key of her son's
happiness. Apparently the scrutiny is
favorable, for she draws me towards
her, kissing my brow. The caress
touches me. and I cling to her.
"Poor little girl 1" she says. "Poor
little motherless girl I Ronald tells me
that vou are to be sent away alone when
you leave here."
"Yes," I answer sadly. "Auut is
afraid to have me."
"I have a better plan than that to
propose. Iwaut you to come with usto
Diuard, where we are going for change
of air for my son." How fondly and
oroudly she says "my sou"! "I think
I have a little claim on you, my dear,
for I believe I was at school with your
grandmother at least, a school-fellow
of mine Rose DUry tuple married a
Mr. Morley. 1 was one of her
bridesmaids."
"My grandmother's name was Dal
rymple," I answer eagerly,
"Ah, I thought so I But, after 1
married, we lost sight of each other, as
I went out to India. I am glad tD see
you, my dear ; it reminds me of my
youth. And you have a look of Rose
about your eyes. I shall write to your
aunt about your visit to us."
Soon afterwards Mrs. McDonald rises
to leave, and her son escorts her as far
as be is allowed, and then retnrns to me.
'How beautiful she is," I cry enthu
siastically, "and how kind !" Then,
with forced gaiety, I add, "We shall be
a nice li'tle partie carree abroad you,
your wife, your mother, and I."
I am not married. Miss Morley," he
answers gravely. "It was only a fool
ish jest ; though the young lady whom
I hope to make my wife will, I trust,
be one of our party."
Worse and worse I The quiet affec
tion of a married couple would have
been endurable ; but the fooliog of be
trothed lovers would drive me mad.
lie looks at me long and meaningly.
Does he want to give me a hint that bis
heart is not his to bestow ? Without
doubt it is so ; and yet I cannot refuse
to go with them. I am powerless. I
am the steel, he the magnet ; and I can
not cannot cannot tear myself away.
My aunt is only too delighted to get
rid of me. So in ten days' time I am
at Dinard with my new friends. Mrs.
McDonald, who is not very stro sits
a good deal on the beach of the French
bathing-place, and sends her son and
myself for a daily walk. We ramble
now amongst the deep lanes, now along
the cliffs ; but, though three weeks pass
away, there is no sign of the fiancte ;
and I am happy wildly, childishly,
frantically happy. It is bliss to me to
hear his voice, to see his face, to walk
by his side ; the mere touch of his hand
as he helps me over a rough piece of
ground sends a thrill of rapture througn
me.
"I have heard from Anna." says Mrs.
McDonald one morning to her son. "She
can come to us soon."
14 Ah. that is pleasant I" he answers,
with a beaming face, and, turning to
me. explains. "Anna is my mother's
and my favorite cousin, one of the best
women the world bolds."
"Here she Is at last I" I moan to my
self. "I cannot bear it; I must go
home. I shall just wait to see her, and
then go. Aunt Margaret cannot be
afraid of me now."
Maior McDonald and I take our wain
almost in silence to-day. I am nervous,
distrailt ; fool that I am, I cannot over
come my feelings I What must he
think of me ?
"Snail we turn ?" 1 say, arter a tinie.
He azrees: but. instead of going
back, we stand facing seawards. I look
up at last and meet his eyes, which have
an expression in them which has often
been there 01 late, 1 iremuie. uuau,
look down, and say, in my nervousness,
just what I ought not.
"When is your fancte coming?" I
ask, with a forced laugh which sinks
into a feeble giggle, whilst I dig holes
in the ground with the point or my par
asoL "My fiancee!" he says, in Diana"
amazement.
"Yes. Anna." I answer. "Are you
not engaged to her ? You told me the
young lady who was to De your wue
would be with you abroad."
"Anna is fifty-five." he says, laugh-
(ns irailv. "I call her my second mo
ther, for I was sent home to her from
. - -L.I J A I . I.
India wnen 1 was a nuuu. auu mu
young lady I hope to make my wife is
witn my momer ana mo uow. uw
Heaven, what a cnua you are w uavo
misunderstood me I"
And then there is silence. 1 have
dug a hole deep enough for a robin's
crave before ne speaas again.
Knse" ine voice is low nuu uuu'
ing "Rose, I am neither rich nor
titiea ; Dus 1 love you -
His eves are full of intense longing,
his arms are Btretched out yearningly
towards me. Perhaps wouia ne more
mail imlv. more dignified to hold back
coyly; but I don't I limply fly into
them with unseemly haste. He sees
nothing wrong about it however, for he
holds me close to nis Dreasi, as uiougu
ha rnuirt never bear to let me go.
"My one love my aaning i" ne mur
murs. ....
Ah, bow good, now precious it is to
hear such words to me, who have been
nobody's darling since the dreary day,
far back in my oesoiai cuuunooa,
when my fair young mother died 1
Monterey, Mexico, uses beans for
money since the nickel has become de
funct.
New Tork contains more than 169
buHdingJ each above 80 feet In height.
Brother Bn.
I was in a hurry to reach home. 'So
wonder, for it was the wildest night I
had ever known in all my life, and the
country over which I took mv way as
bad as country roads in general. Con
sequently I was walking at a great rate,
with the collar of my rough coat over
my ears and comforter tied over my soft
hat and under my chin, to keep it on
and protect my ears, when suddenly a
man stood full in my path and caught
me by the arm.
"Hullot" said he. "you're ju?t in
time; yon are wanted at the cross roads
to-night'."
1 be voice was that of a ruffian.
I fancied myself attacked by a high
way-man. I stood quite still, and strove
to show him by my manner that 1 was
able to protect myself.
"What the deuce am I wanted at the
cross-roads for?" said L "Unless I
choose it will be a hard matter to get
me there."
But Instead of producing a pistol and
demanding my money or my life, the
man answered in an altered tone:
"Beg pardon. I made a mistake. I
thougLt it was my brother, and I want
ed to frighten him. Bad night, sir?"
"Very," said I,
"You don't know the time sir?" he
asked.
"It was seven when I left the train at
"L," I said.
"Thank ye, sir," said the man.
"Good-night."
trood-night," said L
If bis object had been robbery, prob
ably he had decided from my rough
appearance that I was too poor a man
to be worth the trouble. But after all,
I thought, probably he spoke the truth.
A man may have such a voice without
being a highwayman, no doubt. So I
went homeward and soon found myself
under shelter, and partaking of a warm
and savory supper.
My mother was there and my brother
Ben. Ben was a great strapping fellow
w ho could beat any other boy of his
age for miles aiound, if it came to
wrestling or boxing, and a good-natured
boy as ever lived; a boy always to
mother and me, though he bad exerci
sed his right to vote in one Presidential
election. When supper was over, and
we had chatted for an hour, we went
up stairs to- ether. The moment Ben's
head touched the pillow he always went
to sleep. That night I followed his
example. But I did not sieep long
without a dream a dream in which 1
felt a rough grip on my arm, and was
roused by a cry in my ears:
"Wuke up! you are wanted at the
crossroads."
It was so real, so palpable, that when
I became broad awake I 'actually be
lieved that some one was in the room;
the man who intended robbery or vio
lence. But when I had arisen, and lit
my lamp. The room was empty, ex
cept myself and Ben, who lay snoring
on his pillow. I went to the door; it
was locked. 1 went to the window;
the rush of rain against the panes was
all I beard. 1 even weut across the
passage to my mother's room. Sue was
awake; there had been no unusual
sound, she was sure.
Only a dream born of my meeting the
strange man in the road, 1 felt had
awakened me. I went to bed and felt
asleep again. Again I was awakened
by the same words, this time shrieked
in my ear by an unearthly voice:
'Wake up, wake up. Yos are want
ed at the cioss-roads."
I was on my feet once more, aud
caught Ben's hand as he came over to
ward my bed.
"What ails vou?" he cried.
"Nothing. " said I. "Did you hear
a voice?"
"Your's," said Ben, "yelling woke
me up; you fairlv frightened me."
"Ben,' said I, "wait till I light a
lamp; I heard another voice. There
must be someone in the house or out
side." So 1 agtdn lit the lamp, but we
searched in vain.
"Xiglitmare," said Ben, when I told
him my story.
"Ben," said I, "what is there at the
cross-roads?"
"One little house, beside two oak
trees and a fence. An old man lives
there a rich man, and a bit of a niter,
they say. His granddaughter keeps
bouse for him.:'
"Ben, that fellow may have meant
harm to them. I may be wanted at the
cross-roads."
Brother," said Ben, "go to sleep.
You had a nightmare," and Ben plun
ged in between the blankets and was
snoring again.
I also, In ten minutes, slept as sound
ly as before, but the awakening soon
came again.
I opened my eyes to see a girl stand
ing at the foot of my bed. A girl in
white robes, with golden hair all about
her shoulders, who rung her hands and
cried, "Oh, wake up, you are wanted
at the cross-roads."
This time I started out of bed, bathed
in a cold perspiration. I trembled like
a leaf. I had no doubt that I had re
ceived supernatural warning.
"Benl" I cried; "Ben, for the third
time I have been told that I am wanted
at the cross-roads, and I am going."
And I began to dress myself as speed
ily as possible, listening the while to
the storm raging wilder aud wilder
than at any other period since its com
mencement. Ben remonstrated with me in vain.
At last he also began to huddle on bis
clothes.
"If you have gone mad I must go
with yon and take care of you." he
said. "But fancy another man going
out in a storm like this to the cross
roads because a nightmare caused him
to do so, and what would you think of
him?"
"I said nothing. All I could have
answered would have been:
"I am compelled to go; I must go.
I dare not refute, whatever may be
thought of me."
In ten minutes we were splashing
through the mud and rain along the
road. It was perfectly dark; now and
then a red star in the distance told us
that a lamp was beaming through the
rain in some cottage window, but
otherwise we would not have been con
scious of our proximity to any habita
tion whatever. At last nearing the
spot where the road from S crosses
the road to P , we were indeed in
as solitary a place as can be imagined.
The house which abbutted on the
very angle of the roads, called in fa
miliar parlance the Cross Roads, was
the only one for some distance in either
direction, and certainly oa such a night
we were not likely to meet any travel
ers. All was quiet aa the grave. We stood
quite still. In a moment Ben broke
out in one of his wildest laughs.
"Well he said, "how now? Will you
go home now, and have another night
mare?" But hardly had the words escaped his
lips, when a shriek broke on the air,
and a woman's voice, plainly coming
from the interior of the cottage, cried:
"Help! help! help?"
"Ben," said I "we are wanted at the
cross-roads," and then understanding
each other, without more words we
made our way to the window, through
which a light shone. A muslin curtain
draped the panes, but through it we
saw an awful sight
An old man lay on the floor, and
over him bent a ruffian, clutching his
throat and holding a pistol to his ear,
while another man grasped the shriek
ing girl by the arm a girl in floating
nightdress with such long golden hair
as belonged to the girl of my vision.
Not a moment was to be wasted, Ben
flung his weight against the slender
lattices and crushed it in, and we grap
pled the ruiliins before they knew
whence the attack came or how many
foes wjre upon them.
I did not intend to describe the strug
gle; indeed, I could not, if I would.
But we were strong men, and inspired
by the cries of the helpless old man
and the terrified girl, we soon had one
of the viliians bound and the other ly
iug prostrate on the floor.
Then Ben started for assistance, and
before morning both were in jail. Ben
admitted, as we shook each other by
the hand, "that we were wanted at the
cross roa Is."
Tne old man was not a miser but he
had saved some few thousand dollars
for his old age. and living more plainly
than he need have done, had given rise
to the rumor, and so brought the burg
lars to the cross-roads in the hope of
booty.
The girl, a beautiful creature of sev
enteen, was his grandcaughter, and as
no story is acceptable to the lady read
ers wuhout a flavor of romance, I will
tell them that she became in after years,
not my wile, but the wife, ot my dar
ling brother Ben.
To Tba Very Second.
"We are running very fast now, ain't
we?" said a drummer to his companion,
as the train whizzed along at a lively
rate. "At least 30 miles a hour." re
plied the other. "Thirtv miles! We
ain't going less than a mile a niinut."
"You are away off. We are not going
a bit laster than 3.3 miles a houg at the
outside. I've been riding on trains for
twenty years, and you cau't fool me on
the speed. I've got it down so fine I
can tell within a mile or so just how
fast we are running." "You can, eh?"
replied the first speaker: you bet you
have it down fine, eh? Xow, I'll just
bet you $") I can guess closer to the
number of seconds it takes us to run
from one mile post to another than you
can. Is it a go?" It was a go. The
money was put up in another drum
mer's hands, and he took out his watch
aud stood up in the aisle so neither of
the wagerers could see his tickee. The
passengers who had overheard the con
versation gathered around to see how
the bet would come out. As a white
mile post whizzed past the window the
referee cried. "Xowl"
The contestants looked out of the
window at the line of wire fence and
procession of fast disappearing tele
rraph Poles. "Time!" cried the drum
mer in the aHe as the next mile post
showed himself one fleeting instant.
Every eye was turned to the makers of
the wager According to agreement
they were to write out the number of
seconds they guessed and band the pa
per to the referee. The man who "had
it down fine" did this very promptly,
but the one who started the conversa
tion was slow. He had tome figuring
to do with his lead pencil.
There was considerable excitement
among the lookers-on. and several side
bets were made. In a few moments
the drummer bad completed his calcu
lations, and the referee announced:
"Charley puts it at one minute and for
ty seconds. Bob makes it one minute
and twenty-five seconds. The actual
time by the watch was one minute
and twenty-four seconds. Bob
wins." The man who "had it done
fine" but missed it by fifteen seconds
and lost his money took his defeat in
good humor, but begged Bob to tell him
how he had worked it.
"I haan't ought to give it away," said
Bob, " 'cause l've been niakin' about
$15 a with it all winter. I usually hit it
to the second, but thie time I forgot that
I'd bad only one drink this morning."
"What has drinks got to with it, I'd like
to know" "Why, you see, it takes at
least four drinks to settle my pulse down
so I can rely on it to the very second."
Tba Conadlog Fnbllc.
Two or three weeks ago a pedestrian
who was passing a house on Riopello
street, Detroit, heard the sounds of a
terrinc struggle going on, and as he
looked in at the front door a boy about
12 years of age, who sat in the hall,
quietly observed:
"It's on'y the old folks having a little
row. stranger"
"Do they have em' often?" asked the
man.
"Almost every day."
"If 1 were in your place I'd stand at
the door here and charge ten cents
admission fee. It's worth the money to
see a family riot like this, and you
might as well make a few dollars as to
let the chance slip.
The boy said he would think of it,
and the pedestrian waited until thenan
had choked the woman as black as a
plum and then passed on. Yesterday
he clianced that way again, and there
was another row going on, and the same
boy sat on the door-step.
"I'll see the show," said the man as
he pulled out his -rallet. "Has my ad
vice profited you?"
"Stranger, I can't take your money,"
replied the lad.
"Why?"
"Because I'm a square boy. For a
week or so every fight in there was as
square as a dice and worth the price of
admission, but as soon as a crowd be
gan to come and tie gate money began
to run up to eighty or ninety cents, dad
and man began to hippodrome on the
Dubhc. That blood on bis nose was put
there half an hour ago, and mam's
black eye is three weeks, old. They
want me to stand in with them and de
ceive the public, but I cant do it. Let
the best man win or quit the business,
ismy motto. Pass on, stranger, for this
is a put np job to gull the confiding
public"
The beet-root sugar manufacture
is beltfg overdone In German.
Crlmo la Farla.
Recently "Monsieur de Paris," as
Che Paris populace nicknamed the exe
tutioner. pulled a peg out of a piece of
frame-work that supported a triangular
piece of steel and there fell into the
bag of sawdust, the common recefta
.cle of such offerings, the bleeding
I head of one of the greatest scoun
drels that ever throve in the poisonous
atmosphere of a great city. The mo
, tive of the crime for which he suffered
was a mean one. ne murdered two
..heloless old men in their sleep for the
sake of money. He lacked the com
mon courage of the buleteer ; his nerve
failed him at the last moment and he
fled from the scene of the murder be
fore bis task was accomplished and had
to return to complete his hideous work.
But he succeeded in exciting a degree
of romantic interestamong the poplua
tion of the capital usually only accord
ed to those who have earned a reputa
tion in its criminal annals by wholesale
slaughter, such as that of Dumallard,
who enticed a great number of servant
girls to his house aud murdered them
for the sake of their paltrey savings ;
Troppmann, who murdered the whole
family of Knicks, eight m all, without
the aid of an accomplice ; the skilful
poisoner. La rommerage, a physician
in great practice and an accomplished
scholar, or the murderer in the Fualdes
case, who chopped the victim into mi
nute pieces while music was being
played to drown the noise.
It was not the circumstances of the
crime that lent a peculiar interest to
the criminal in Cam pi's case. What
made the public take an interest in him
was the fact that he managed to con
ceal his real name, and gave, as his
reason for so doing, the fact that he
had a brother, who belonged to the
honorable profession of arms and wore
the uniform of a French officer in a
line regiment, whose agony and shame
at seeing one of his own name die a
felon's death would drive him to de
spair and ruin the prospects of his life.
The high standing of Laguerre, Campi's
lawyer, forbids the supposition that
Campi's story was a device to excite
compassion and cheat the guillotine.
But the murderer's attitude in court
was extremely theatrical and the cheap
eloquence of the heroes of boulevard
melodrama was always in his mouth. In
his cell he gave vent to fits of savage
passion, like a wild beast. Yet if it be
true, and it no doubt is, that he con
demned himself to silence to save a
brother's reputation the idea was a
noble one and shows that even in the
darkest depths of the most degraded
human heart there sometimes timers a
ray of purer light to reveal the univer
sal kinship of mankind.
In Troppmann's case the unlikeli
hood of an unaided man leing able to
destroy eight human beings was worked
to the best advantage by his lawyers
and by some of bs criminal associates,
for Troppmann belonged to the loves t
type of criminals. It was during the
Second Empire, and notwithstanding
the enormity of his crimevbe made au
application to the Garde des Sceaux for
the commutation of his sentence. It
was refused, but the Empress Eugenie
received a bundle of letters, written in
the fine handwriting of a woman, ad
dressed to a Madame Braig, who kept
a small tavern in the Rue Grange-Bat-el
iere. The writer pretended to possess
information showing that Troppmann
could not have committed the crime by
himself, and that if a trustworthy per
son were sent to a certain address
proofs would be produced. An inves
tigation set on foot resulted in nothing.
It was a simple device to obtain a stay
of execution. But the most curious
part of the whole transaction was that
the person who wrote the letters did
not know Troppmann, except by name.
She was a criminal Like himself and
the interest she took in him was purely
a professional one. It was ai instance
of the free-masonry of crime.
Troppmann hoped against hope until
the fatal day of his execution. Mon
sieur Claude, the Prefet of Police,
asked him on the scatlold to reveal the
names of his accomplices, if he had
any. Troppmann repeated "I cannot"
again and again. When the execution
er's assistants tried to put Lis head in
its proper position under the axe all the
violence of that wild-heart nature as
serted itself. A terrible scene followed.
The ravings of the mob around the
scaffold on tne Place de la Roquelte iu
January, 1870, bafile description. Such
excitement, such an orgie of blood,
that when in the following March
Lathouvers, the footman who had
murdered his aged mistress, was con
demned to deatn, the Euqierior to
avoid a repetition of such scenes,
commuted his sentence to imprisonment
for life.
Too Battar mod Uia Maid.
At a boarding-house on the east side
of Rochester, at midnight, an elderly
gentlemen was prowling around the
pantry for some edible, and, in coming
through the dark kitchen, overturned
a pan of batter which the landlady bad
intended to convert into buckwheat
cakes for the matutinal meal. Instead
of striking a light and repairing his da
mage, he quickly hied him back to the
privacy of his own room. As the hours
rolled on toward morning the deadly
batter got in its little work to perfec
tion. The viscid material spread itself
over the kitchen floor, and was waiting
patiently for the servant girl to come.
She came, carrying an unlighted
lamp. Striking the batter which lay
over the floor, her feet slipped from un
der her and she came down with a crasn
which broke the lamp and diluted the
batter with kerosene. Cries of "Mur
der ! Fire I Police I" resounded through
the house, and the gentleu an who had
caused all the trouble came running
out in robe de nuit and bare feet, but
with his revolver in his band.
Rushing into the kitchen he slipped,
rolled over a few times, and when quiet
was finally restored the twain stood
looking at each other in mue chagrin,
both covered with kerosene aud ".he
premonitory symptoms of buckwheat
cakes.
A miserly, unkempt old man, who
had been siwk for some time, called on
a doctor, and, after telling his symp
toms, asked what he should do. "Well,
sir, yon must take a cold bath every
morning." "What! wash all over every
dav?" "Yes." " til I die if I rt.m't
do'it?" "Yon certainly will." "Well,
doctor. I aint abie to walk down town;
will you go an 1 get a preacher and
undertaker? I'll go home and get ready
to see them You may send your bill
to my administrator and he will settle
it after I'm gone. Good day!"
NEWS IN BRIEF.
There are 1.750 languages or dia
lects spoken on this globe.
Silkworms were taken Into Eorore
from India in the sixth century.
London miikmen and newsboys
use tricycles in their daily rounls.
A Vermont man has a parrot that
can recite nearly half the twenty-third
psalm.
Switzerland, by a recently published
return, has 1002 hotels with 53,137
beds.
The origin of borrowing money on
pledges is referred to Perugia, Italy,
about 1102.
Over fourteen million dollars are
invested in the manufacture of gas in
Massachusetts.
Germany has increased its beet
crop in ten years from 3,M,tf''J to S,
500,000 tons.
The Princess Louise of Wales is
seventeen, but will not be presented at
court this year.
Rhode Island savings banks have
fo2, 400, 205 entrusted to their care by
120, 4S2 depositors.
Munkvcsy. the great Hungarian
painter has been made a baron by the
emperor of Austria.
London now receives from italy
flowers as fresh as if they had been cut
only an hour before.
Stanley says the Congo valley,
Africa, has a dense and enterprising
population of 40,000.000.
A mac nine that makes seventy-two
pretzels a minute is said to be run by
a Lancaster county man.
California Is at present producing
not far from SIS.OiiO.OOO of gold aud
silver bullion annually.
Michigan now has 2 075 insnne
people in its asylums au increase of 152
over the same time last year.
Half the sus-ar consumed last year
in the United Kingdom was m ule, it
is said, from Europeau beets.
Michitntn is credited with raising
one-half of the total supply of pepper
mint, or about 75,000 pounds a year.
The woods of the Uni ed States
are estimated to rover 3'J0,00 W acres,
or sixteen per cent, of the total area.
It is said C000 boy 3 and 2'fX) girls
under ten years of age are employed in
Chicago Factories in violation of law.
Mr. Irving sailed for England re
cently. The receipts during his Ameri
can engagement have been over i luO,
000. When fifty four people dine at the
White house the number of wineglasses
on the table is 373, or seven for each
person.
In Sweden, it is said, thr re is a law
taking away the right of suSiaae from
every man who hits been drunk three
times.
Mrs. Dubuys, of Pass Christian,
daughter of General Wm. T. Slierman,
is the owner of one of the loveliest roso
gardens in Mississippi.
The feat of transmitting two tele
graph messages along a wire at one
time was first accomplished by Djctor
Gmtl, an Austrian, in 1"3.
The whaling schooner Charles
Colgate, of Xew London, recently
brought home lluO ban els of sea tle
phant oil from Desolauou Inland.
The calico and printed goods mada
In Lowell, Mass., in ls-2 wouid twice
encircle the earth at the equator, and
then all would not be used to do it.
The Crst tame Cittie were luoir;i:t
to America by Columbus in 1 1'J'i. Taey
were first imported into Vug.ma m
lt507, and into Mas3cuu?etts m 10J1.
The Romans introduced eock-tii; it
ing into England. It was toroiddeii
by Edward 111., Henry V III. ami
Cromwell, and by tjuetu Victoria in
1STJ.
Dogs in Tence-see, it has been
calculated, number 3o00, cost iiJ.i'OO.
000 a year to keep, and prevent, the
raising of 2,000,WA1 sheep w hoc mutlou
aud wool would be worth jio ObO.OOO.
The dress of the different orders of
monk? is the same as mat of the low
est orders of the population at the time
the oiders were tounded.
Michigan contributes as lier block
to the Washington monument a piece
of polished mass copper, leuty-Lwo
inches long by six thick and a foot in
width.
A New Lond. n whaler has killed
the largest whale ever caught. It
yielded 10S barrels of oil and 2,500
pounds of whalebone. It was killed iu
Cumberland I met.
Having lost his nose a Norwegiau
residing on Greenwhich street, N. Y.,
advertised tor the same the other day.
It is made of silver, with steel spring,
lastenmgs.
Stamford, Conn., has living within
its limits eighty persons over SO years
of age. Twelve are over W j ears old,
the list being headed by ex-Umted
States Senator Truman Smith.
A few days ago the Washington
Monument had reached a height ot 410
feet. The total height of the shaft
will be 555 feet, which will make it the
highest monument in the world.
A Georgia gentleman whose son
spent from $40 to $00 in a "gin palace"
at Pore's Hill, Thomasville, recently
bought out the bartender's license as a
business investment.
The Baltimore Fire Commissioners
have forbiddeu the playing of cards Lu
the engine-houses cf that city, even for
amusement, but allow checkers, chess
and dominoes.
. A single cattle ranch in Texas, at
the head cf lied River, is said to con
tain neariy 25,0 K acres more than the
enure State of Rhode Island contains
in territory.
The mines of the Black II ills, in
Dakota, have mined aud milled, 1,512,
037 tons of good ore, yi ldmg lu,4W,
115, an average of only Jj. 75 per ion,
making a proUl aud paying m dividends
5oU2.
The first hats were anade in Paris
by a wisa in 14,'4, and became fashion
able after lli'J, when Charles VIL,
making a triuiuptant entry lntoltoucn,
wore a red velvet hat witn a plume, of
feathers.
A reduction of 20 per cent, in their
charges is reported to have resulted
from a convention of Japanese inn
keepers, htld some time ago, the de-
cieae being based uku a tall in tire
prices of necessar es or life.
The police force of England and
Wales consists of (532 superintendents,
14SS inspectors, 34s2 serauu and 24,
3sl constables, while the Scottish loica
has 32 chief constables, 110 superin
tendents, 17ti inspectors, 350 seiganU
and 32157 constables.
::i
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