Wi) ft? IIISIM'H' B. F. SCHWEIER, TEE OOISTITXJTIOI-TSS UHOI-AI9 THE ETTOSOEMEIT OP TEE LAWS. Editor and Proprietor. VOL. XXXIX. MIFFLINTOWN, JUNIATA COUNTY. PENNA.. WEDNESDAY. OCTOBER 14, 1885. NO. 42. JOTS OF HOME. ewKtarethejoyiof Hame, . V.dews of morn and evemuu oouie lo trken.l close the day. T, nrld bath ita de''ibt". And its delusion, too: Rn, Home to calmer blisa invites, More tranquil and more true. IV mountain flood U roug. BiitfBrf"lini,af,rtde; WUUe p-ntlv mil the f ream along Ihiracefal val'.ey'e aide. if, charities, like liiiht, '..-approached become more bright. And I H..ui Life', own star. Wen tiered prouud! H'in Hume's Loly joys, a-am An Eden "'a-v 0,1 1,,liml- . nce of heaven to see. Iu none on earth is tftveii; i0J vet a b.U'P family 1, but an earli. r heaveu. CYKIIS WOOU-MMl'U. some -ars ago I stood musing on a Jcocv overlooking tlie Basse l'laut at ju. i" had been sjuding many mouths v-e will" niy uncle, who required iatgefor his health. But he had mu gradually weaker, and now was ti-celv able to return to England and rifvorhurst The twilight shadows uvl wrapped the town in night; the ifterir'ow had faded from the lonely real- the mysterious outline of the iaie'au loomed ghost-like through the isiile screen woven by the interlacing jes within the moat; anu still I Un bred till the lamps were lighted in lie streets Wow dull globes shining ml to make a darkness visible. Then tuned slowly away. Through the window I saw my uncle Lucius Trevor, reclining in an arua iair before the smoldering lops upon he health, with legs outstretched and lands clasped over liis waistcoat, form M with thumbs and little ringers, icute angles, north and south. The eteniblauce to a benevolent gnome ras striking, as the flickering light lanced disrespectfully on his bald lead, losing itself in the furrows which yrane like gothic arches over his deep rt eves, but the attitude of repose, the fcx:b, givxi-humored lips, now parted n a genial suiile, flatly contradicted he cotnarison, and left no doubt as the character of the good old gentle nan. "I'm glad you've come in," he coni nesced. as i sat down. '-Cyril, nry xy. what do you think of getting mar ied?" "A proceeding, in the abstract, nat aral; in particu'ar, iiupleasant," I re plied. "What has suggested the idea ww, sir?" 'My old age,Cyri!,and failing health," eturn'ed my uncle; "and you are the ast of our race. It would be a pity to etthe family die out. You ought to uarry, CyriL" Up went the eyebrows ind the firelight executed a jig on the if of liis nose. 1 groaned. This was an old point of l;5rence between us. I could not rec lpiize in his ardent desire to see me ettlea in life, any reason for burden ing myself with a companion whose lympatbies were likely to be at van it w:th miiie. Even the prospect of id heir was not sufficient to lessen the lislike I had conceived toward all of ite feminine gender. Allowing that t sentiment was unnatural in a young san, it certainly increased in exact jrojiortion to the eauerness my uncle ihowed to provide me with a wife lgimst my inclination. Therefore it not surprising that the impending fcscussiou provoked anything butgrat iude in rue. "In my opinion," continued Mr. Trevor, -it isn't good for a young man io wander about the world with plenty )f money m his pocket, and no respon cbility to steady him. Why don't you :hooe a pleasant girl to share the cares of Trevorhurst with you, when I am ao longer here? There are as many as une could wish for, even in Fau, my boy." "Oh, as many and more!" was niy rynical response. "Oulv, preferring to be married for merit rather than money IsSould like to know something of the jouig Uly herself, and thanks to folly iid fashion that feat Is well nigh im possible. Can't we let the subject iron, sit? 1 am thoroughly tired of it." "Let it drop?" said my tormentor, rolling bis bead round to see me better. rin suddenly drawing in his legs, he iarted a lean hand sideways in uiy di lution as greater emphasis tolas mean ing, and recommenced: "Now, Cyril, just listen. You rep resent the good of life to uie. I took yon when your parents died; reared you as my heir my sou; and you have !ways beeU a cood lad always. I an't last lung you know i can't. 1 pow weaker every day. Do me this jvor this one favor. Promise to p r'lJU;!? about j rou while we are "any one. Xo, no! But to please uie. ' giatify and old man's w hims, con fer me subject seriously." "Enough. I answered, touched mis appeal. -I give you my promise u utserve iar more than that from ; 1 will think the matter over care 'My.anddomv best to meet your Thank you, my bov!" exclaimed r uncle, rubbing his hands together. iou always was a good lad very I" vertheless I was greiitly annoyed. fternoou not many days after Frced:ng conversation. I strolled ros the bridge over the Gave, Inten se to walk off a fit of ill humor !nc;-"-t on meeting three fashionable TOng ladies in the Place Gramont. L y was '"densely hot, and in my rjsent state of mind shade became ab-y-a-ely necessary on advancing "cour,try. Luckily a little by-path, mg to mvite investigation, enticed ,7' T takin it, I found that it led K?h thick Plantation, which af rH ,mtefuI relief after the dust ! ?lare of the high road. esently, emerging from the wood rnPPieof running water attracted Jattentlon. Following the sound. fDre"Ved at a grouP of b11 trees, and wcgajy way through the under- , saw a natural basin where the em had collected into a clear pool a ten . .. deep- Around the margin bx 1,,nrt lvy found their wav through lading down to admire their renected in the mirror beneath. laenTtf ntre there juttea UP ffag ui ot rock, clad with grayish lichen bom ,i 0(1(5 rock-ferns which peeped 1.7 me narrow Dssurns tn its aidpa. as a place fnrniana hoirtAiwiiui .i.m. uciiku w wwvm Ttro myself down, 1 reclined upon a couch of fallen leave, conceal ed by the undergrowth, which still per mitted me to enjoy the peaceful beauty of the scene. My happiness was com plete but not lasting, for at the moiuent a sweet voice broke the stillness. "MeTllT. merrilr 'hall I lire now. ruder the bloa-om that hang on the bough.'! "The nymph of the stream," I mur mured. "Here she comes!" Crish, eraii. U.stris'i! The brambles on the other side were parted, and a young girl stood upon the bank. Site seemed about seventeen, but wetl formed for ner age. m Her feet were concealed by siiboU, and she wore a short cloak, like that of a French ofiieer, over her dress An old hat, wh cli had slipped back during the stm . gb with the thorns, framed a quaint tulle face more quaint ly still. "L)eliciou6 !" she exclaimed in En glish, peering eaaerly into the gren shadows. "Uor cool the water looks! Oli, dearl How tired I am, and how hot my head and feet are!" Fliugiug an armful of ferns on the ground, she seated herself on the brink of the fountain, tapping the surface of the water with the jwiut of her sabot. She was strangely beautiful, but the great soft, brown eyes, fixed dreamily on the surface of the pool, would have redeemed the must Irreulhr features from the chaige of ugliue.-s. I will J" she suddenly cried. "There is no one here to ee, aud no one any where to care."' I watched her in amused perplexity The girl pleased me, and trie wild, graceful freedom of each motion con trasted agreeably with the studied ele gance of polite society. "What a goose I am!" she soliloquiz ed, pausing in the act of throwing off her little sabots, as a slight change of my position rustled the leaves of which my couch was composed. "That is the consequence of unorthodox amuse ments. Every leaf that stirs must be coustrued by my guilty conscience into some one looking at me. A pretty sight they would see, too! The idea is laiighableP She took off ber bat and let loose a mass of dark, curly hair, which floated about her should-rs in picturesque dis order. Then, lying down on the edge of the pool, she stooped over and dip ped her face In the water, pouring it with her little hands over the top of her head, till her curls were dripping like a water spanmel, then laughing as she wrung out a shower of diamonds. At that moment an incident occurred for which I liave been thankful eve4 since. In casting off the sabots, one had fallen dangerously near the edge of the bank, and this, now receiving an impetus from its heed leas little owner, quietly slipped into the water, com mencing a journey on its own account by jogging over the miniature waves with most prosaic obstinacy. A cry of dismay followed the dis covery. What was to be done? The shoe was already out of reach and how could it be recovered? I laughed silent ly. All tra:e of my dislike to women had evaporated. I blessed that shoe and waited heartlessly till the sense of loss brought tears into the brown eye, then soft.y drawing aside the branches I stood up and spoke. "Mademoiselle!" was all I said.though I saw that she was English. Such a start I Such a blush! It rose over her eyebrows. Hooded the sun burned neck, affected, I verily believe, the tiny feet themselves. Her shyness conquered mine. 1 longed to set her more at ease. "Mademoiselle, pardon me. I would not have presumed to make my pres ence known, had not it been for this misfortune "said I, respectfully, poin ting to the self-constituted boat steadi ly approaching the centre. The Nymph hid her face. "Will you permit me to attempt the rescue?" I persisted, determined to hear her speak. "Oh, sir, have pityl I thought I was alone. If you can assist me, pray do so!" she answered, striving to conceal her tears. Poor little thing! Decidedly that sa bot must be obtaiued. "If mademoiselle would kindly aid me by throwing stones from her side, so as to drive the shoe toward the shore," I suggested, ignoring her dis tress. Dashing her hand across her eyes, the girl immediately set about collec ting missiles, which were then flung by mv'direction at first badly, but, grad ually regaining confidence, her aim im proved, and, to my great jay, forget ting in the excitement all the disagree able attendant circumstances, her clear laugh rang through the fragrant air, each peal re-echoiug withiu my heart. Here was a revelation. In all my life, a perfectly natural girl, at the same time perfectly well bred, had never crossed my path. Hundreds of pretty damsels had walked, danced and posed before me for the sake of Trevorhurst, but never one who.- grace had not been cultivated, made to order whose smile was not a languid elongation of the lip. On the other hand, the frank abruptness of the country lasses was no better; loud voices from charming women jar upon my nerves; so that be tween this Scylla and Charybdis I be came a man whose books and horses represented to him the only pleasure in life. Xow, to upset these crude ideas.came a maiden, with bare feet gleaming through the moss, over whose entire person sweet modesty had thrown her vail. If but the mind equaled the ap pearance in simplicity, my uncle's wish would not seem so hard to gratify. Meanwhtle.tbe would-be boat drifted nearer to the.land and having by means of a long stick obtained possession of it, I dried it iu my handkerchief before surrendering it to the owner, who dared not raise her eyes to aid ber faltering thanks. Feigning not to observe how the sa bots were resumed, I occupied myself in gathering up the ferns strewn upon the bank, talking incessantly. I told her how the Autumn tints had charm oi m an that town life faded into in- signilicance before the freedom of the uplands, and as I praised, a bond oT sympathy sprang up Detween us, u.i we chattered like two old familiar friends. . , . . . "Are you an artist?" she asked at length. "I am quite sure that you are English. Besides, you are too cour teous for a Frenchman." I laughed. "Thank you. Xo, I am no artist, except so far as appreciation of beauty can make one. I am a stu dent of nature, at present intent on be coining acquainted with the neighbor hood of Pau from a different standpoint to that of the ordinary visitor. W ui vou help mer" , . . My companion smiled, complying by describing favorite nooks, hidden, bke tnifl fairy pond, from prying curioaity. Leading her on to speak of herself, I learned that her name was Beatrice Ross, that she lived with h r father in a villa on the Coteaux. with no other companion than an old housekeeper. Sometimes her only sister came from Pau, where she resided with an aunt, to visit her, but thest events were com paratively rare. To our mutual de light, in this sister was a pretext found for our acquaintance. I had often met her at parties, and she had described me to Beatrice as a "woman-hater," but Immensely rich." "I dont know why she called you that," said my Xymph, doubtfully. "You are not unkind to me, but quite the reverse." "Xeverjudgea man by what you hear," returned I gravely. "Man is a many-sided animal; gentle to those who treat him well, the opposite when bad ly managed. lie must be humored. Miss Beatrice. But are you never loue lv, separated so much from all society? Do you never wish to be with vour sister?" "Xo," she answered, quickly. "1 am qu te happy as I am. Xow and then I long to see the beauties of other lands, but that cannot be. Aud, after all, tbougb nature may look otherwise, she cannot be more beautiful than here.' "You are right," said I; "there may b difference in kind but not of de gree." "So I believe. People often say the Coteaux are disappoii'ting, the Pyre nees not to be compared to other mighty ranges, but the fault It seems to me, is theirs. If you come to nature," she continued, waving a little band to il lustrate her meaning, "with a fixed idea, there must be a hill here, a foun tain there, icebergs glittering in the sunlight yonder, and moss-grown ruins where I stand; of course one will not always find them. But come to the great earth-mother saying, 'Show me what thou wilt! And what loveliness she then unfolds! Tne morning sky of palest yellow, darkest indigo, and clear est rose, so shaded as to be a miracle; no harsh discord, but all a blending harmony, the pure air shaking the dew drops off the trembling grass; the mel ody of fifty different birds, and the solemn tremor of the forest trees. At mid-day, the deep hush of sleep only the cicala to make the silence felt. At night, the glorious stars and peaceful slumber of the woodlands. Xever twice the same!" As she stood, with hands clasped over the ferns, hsr eyes, shining with a strange light, fixed on the quivering beeches. I almost fancied that she saw fie earth-mother herself, beckoning from the dim recesses of the whisper ing shadows, and that, like some hero ine of German folk-lore, she was fast losing the consciousness of mortality under the influence of a mystic charm, while unhappily the snap of a dry twig aroused her, and with a gentle dignity she bade me farewell. "We shall meet again?" I asked, de tain log her hand. "Who can tell?" was the reply, as pushing aside the brambles, with a merry laugh the wood-nymph vanished out of sight. I wanted to follow but dared not, retracing instead, the dusty way to Pau, oppressed by a strange sensation of loss, and dizzy with new ideas. Oh, chilu! yet no child, but woman in all the depth and tenderuess of unsophisti cated wisdom who could have told but yesternight thy lot and mine were interwoven in the weft of time? Ah, that it may not prove a passing golden thread, glittering against the darkness of a lonely life, but that the two may twine together all through the years the future holds concealed! It was not difficult to interest my uncle in the adventure. The elder Miss K ss had impressed him favorably by her beauty and accomplishments, but he fully approved of my winning a wife whose youthful mind could readily adapt itself to her husband's views and customs. However well Miss Boss might play the lady of the Manor, her younger sister would probably be a bet ter match for me. Then the question arose, how to gain Mr. Boss's consent? Plainly the road to the villa lay through his sister Madame B 's drawing room. My uncle, therefore, proposed calling on her, stating my wishes to see more of her niece, and enlisting her sympathies on my behalf. As the plan seemed feasible; I consented gladly promising to await the issue with all the patience at my command. Weeks passed on without any visible result. My uncle only responded to my imKirtunities by mysterious nods, or more exasperating proverbs. I wan dered all over the country in the hoie of meeting Be ttr t. returning at the close of the day more desimudent than ever. I haunted the pool, but though the sun-elves played upon the surface, no girlish figure came through the brambles, no sweet voice sang the prai ses of the wood. Granted t! at all my attempts began and ended In folly what will not a man do when he is in love? I grew discontented aud peevish and augmented my private woes by anx iety about my uncle's health, he having caught a cold which he seemed unable to shake off. We did not talk much in those days, we were not sociable com panions, he sat on one side of the fire, rolling his bead and coughing; I sat on the other, responding by impatient sighs. One evening, on coming home in a more dejected mood than usual, I was greeted with a volley of chuckles that must have been the death of any other man. :You seem merry, sir," I remarked crossly, throwing down my hat, "Very merrj'l" he replied, rolling hi head fearfully. 'I think you need a change of air, Cyril. We'll go to Mentoneor Bome. They say the cli mate is more exhilarating and quite as mild as this. What do you say to it?" "I'm well enough, sir. Butall places are alike to me, aud I'm quite ready to accompany you anywhere." "A very proper rrame of mind," he chuckled, gathering bis legs up sharply and shooting them out again with equal rapidity. "Very good! Then we'll be off next week. By-the-by, Madame B has a party to night, as you know. She wanted me to go, but I said the night air was too great a risk and I told her I'd send you instead. You'll look in my boy?" "Certainly, if you promised, sir," I answered, morosely. "But frankly, I wish you had not done so. I am in no humor for frivolity just now." "Quite right," coughed my uncle, satirically. "At your advanced age you ought to have done with frivolity. But you'll go, Cyril?" Accordingly, about half-past eight I presented myself at Madame B The rooms were full, and, as I paused on the threshold, if my face betrayed my secret feelings, its expression must have been kindly ungracious. Madame however, welcomed me exceedingly, and after a few words, said: "You have met my niece before, I understand. Perhaps, however, a more formal introduction would not be out of place. Beatrice, my dear, allow me to present to you Mr. Cyril Trevor." My head rettled, my heart stopped, as, in the radiant being before me, I recognized my long lost wood-nymph. It is impossible to recall what follow ed. Everything was enveloped iu a rosy haze of blissful incredulity. When I recovered somewhat we were sitting together in a distant part of the room, screened from the public gaze by rows of plants, from which I conclude that even at that trying moment my native common sense had not entirely deserted me. The time passed with terrible rapidity Beatrice told me that her aunt had come a few days since to the villa, and, arter a long conversation with Mr. Moss, had carried her off to Pau. Mak ing good use of my time, a bond of sympathy was binding us very closely together when madame at last broke in upon our solitude. . "Really, Mr. Trevor, I cannot per mit you to monopolize my niece all the evening. You may call to morrow if you like, but I must separate you now. Beatrice Miss Lucy wishes to speak to you about Lady Cs ball. Are you going, Mr. Trevor?" "I had not intended accepting the iuvitatloti ou account of my uncle's health," I replied; "but if Miss Ross will favor me with her hand " I stopped ami looked at Beatrice. "I am not a good dancer," she said, blushing. "You will be sorry for hav ing asked me, afterward." ' "Xeverl" I cried fervently. "Grant my request, and I shall be happy for life." Madame laughed heartily at my ar dor, aud having obtained the desired promise, I took my leave. "IIoI ho!"-huckled my uncle, wheu I reappeared iu his room. "Shall we go to Rome next week, Cyril? Do you want bracing now, my boy?" "The wind has changed, sir," I an swered gravely. "The journey will scarcely be necessary on my account. Had you any idea tint Miss Ross would be at her aunt's to-night, sir?" I in quired. "Of course I had," chuckled my uncle. "I arranged the whole affair. Got Madame B to drive with me to the villa one day. and had a chat with Mr. Ross. The long and short of it is that I obtained his consent to your mar riage with his daughter, provided he incurred no trouble or expense iu the matter. A selfish old man, Cyril. You do well to take the girl away from his influence. But, my boy " he added you must have the wedding soon. I can't last much longer." "Don't sir, for pity's sake, say so. You'll live for many a long year yet, please God," said L, brokenly, "Ah, no! My time is almost run," he answered, sadlj. "And I should like to see you settled first." I took advantage of Madame B's complaisance with the result of falling daily deeper in love. Beatrice comple tely won my uncle's heart, and it was very pretty to see her tender solicitude for him. In due course the day of the ball arrived, and I sent Beatrice a bou quet and wreath of flowers, but as yet I bad not dared mention the wedding day. My uncle bad been far from well '.hat day, and toward evening alarming symptoms began to appear. He was very anxious that I should go. however declaring that he should rest more easi ly when he knew his dearest hopes were consummated and I was actually mar ried; and grew so excited on perceiving my reluctance to obey, that at last I left the room, pledged to redeem my promise to him before returning bome. Determining only to explain my un cle's danger to Beatrice, and carry back from her a single word for him. I searched the crowded rooms and cor ridors of Lady C! 's villa, and at last found her seated in the conservatory screened by large flowering plants from observation, the very embodiment of it elancholy. On seeing me she sprang up hurriedly, a vivid flush dying her lovely features. It was not difficult to guess who wes the object of ber con templations. "Cyril! I thought you would never come! I even heard some one mention that your uncle was worse, and you would most probably not be able to leave him." "And was this the cause of your sad ness, Beatrice?" She blushed and looked down, with all the charm of modesty that had cap tivated me that very first day I bad seen her at the pool. This innate mod esty was part of her nature, inseparable as herself, as exquisite as, alas, it has become rare. Then I told hat that my uncle was Indeed worse, and thought his end ap proaching. I added that his only re maining wish on earth was our mar riage, aud begged Beatrice to name the day. At first she was pile and agita ted; but with all her modesty and sim plicity there was an absence of coquetry about her that before many minutes were over she had given me the requir ed promise, and named the day. Then, together with as much happiness in our hearts pronably as was ever given to mortals, we went in search of Madame B That good lady was not surprised at the news we brought; but while con gratulating me, joined with Beatrice in urging my departure, as my uncle must require my immediate care. In truth, my own eagerness was great to hasten back to him. I bade them both farewell. The servant met meat the door. "Mr. Trevor is worse, sir," was the news that greeted me. "We were go ing to send for you The doctor says there is little hope." I ran up stairs to his room. The dear old gentleman was struggling hard for breath, but he smiled and tried to speak as I leaned over the bed. "It Is all right, uncle," I said, softly. "Beatrice has promised to be mine in a month from to-day, but sent me back to you the moment she beard of your nines'." He pressed my hand feebly in reply. All through the sorrowful night I sat beside him, distressed at the sight of his sufferings, which be bore so patient ly. Toward morning the straggle abated, and he fell into a semi-stupor. How strange life seemed to me during the long hours of that watch! From a sick bed to a ball; from a proposal to a death! How every act of loving kind ness came back to me as I recalled the years we bad spent together, with never an unkind word to mar the memory of the tenderness bestowad on me. And now just as the great wish of his heart the only one I had ever evinced re luctance to fulfill, was about to be grat ified he might not see the consumma tion of bis hopes! How often it is thus in life! When the dawn was shining clearly through the curtains he raised himself with my assistance, and, with the ghost of his old, quaint smile, he whispered; "So you're going to be married at last Cyril, and the old man has not a wish on earth unfulfilled. Farewell, my boy; you have ever been as a son to me, the one bright spot in a lonely life. God bless you and make you happy ! Good-by, Cyril, Some day we shall wish each other good morning in a bap pier clime." Tneu he fell back as if to sleep but it was the last long sleep that knows no waking. A few weeks afterward there was a very quiet wedding In Pau. I was obltged to return to Enclaud, and could not bear to leave my wife behind, so the trousseau was curtailed, and Bea trice came with me to disperse the gloom of Trevorhurst. Years have passed since then, years full of quiet happiness seldom bioken by storms,and never once have I regretted meeting my fate among the beeches. The mists are again stealing up the hillsides, as I stand on the same balcony on which this tale commences, looking over the same seen. The sun is once more de clining in the west the Pyrenees seem far, and dim, and cold too grand to heed the sighing of the breeze that comes from them to me. But they cannot chill the memories that bind us to the past, nor freeze the mingled joy And sadness of those days, when the dear old man who loved us both, plot ted and planned the welfare of my wood-nymph and myself. Fortune From m Joke. One hot night in July, ISSo.when the burden of proof-reading in a close room seemed almost suffocating, Dick Shanks was working as only night fiends on morning papers can work, gazing in tently at the agate aud nonpareil takes, deciphering bad manuscript, and labor I iuusly contributing his share to make a ! ... a, A. t . O morning paper, adoui naii-pasi o o'clock in the morning there was a slack in the run of copy, and while Shanks and his fellow workmen were waiting for other proofs, he began to tell how night work was wearing on him. how be could not sleep through the hot days, and yet how dependent he was upon his small salary for a liveli hood. He told how he had lost a f art u ne In the war and now bad to work like a slave; that be was poor and discouraged with his condition, and he did not care how soon the good angel called him to another world. A few minutes later the proof-reader, who sat beside him, came to a little telegraph "take" which said something about a vast fortune in Kentucky left to the heirs of David Shanks. Thinking he could have a little fun by inserting bis companion's name In the despatch, the proof-reader added in a few lines on the manifold paper these words: L xne oriy (Down neir "i mis ftraitn... c-iwn,. '-ft. Lr-AAmui, a laiue taau n4 pr reader, I I ... u i.a Iilrj. . a'Kif. ilt th. T. lift) J The old copyholder read It and laugh ingly put it in his vest pocket, where it remained for many months. Xo one ever dreamed that there was a word of truth in the manufactured telegram. Mrs. Shanks one day found the tele gram in her husband's vest pocket, and asked what It meant. Just for fun he said it was a true telegram which he had received. She told a sister-in-law, and this sister-in law wrote to Stanford, Lincoln county, Ky., to know if it was so. The answer :ame that there was a fortune there for the heirs of David L. Shanks, formerly of Virginia: that ho had at oue time owned a number of shares in a turn-pike road. He died in 1841, and the annual dividends had accumulated and been In the public treasury ever since, and that the heirs could not be found. When Dick Shanks saw that letter he knew that his father, who died just before Dick was born, was the former owner of those shares, for his name was David L. and be came from Virginia. Subsequent com munication with the State Treasurer and county officials has placed "Dick Shanks' identity beyond a doubt as the heir or three-fifths of the entire fund, which has been accumulating for over forty years. The case is in the hands of Mr. J. C. Bower, of Kansas City, and Dick will soon have his money. Frineeee Aleaanttra. A recent writer In a Loudon papet Hys it would be ungallaut not to admit that the princess of Wales Is an orna nint. tn tier spi and her sweetuess ami beauty are the themes of every scribe whenever the royal lady is to be seen iu public. But has anyone ever observed the wife of Albert Edward smile? Her absolutely immobile countenance and her set expressson are well known, and photography reproduces them iu perfect truthfulness. That fair but sphinx like face one iu time begins, naturally ti, retr-Anl as a mask, beneath which the real index of the soul moves in concealment. Reflections such as! these are suggested by examining the latest cabinet portraits of Alexandra clothed in her doctor's robes doctor of music, not of law. nor of divinity a-j she was lately seen in Dublin, It would be curious to know why the princess always affects one fashion iu the arrangement of her coiffure, but the fact is she Is bald, or nearly so. Her head was shaved during a serious illness, and her hair has since refused to grow. Consequently the royal ward robe includes fifty wigs.the distinguish ing feature of which is that the curls ora hrniitrhr. well over the forehead. Artistic dressing serves another pur-1 pose, also, and the presence of a mark ! of disfigurement on the swan-like neck j is effectually concealed by the high collar, large bow, band of velvet, or j other artless contrivance Invariably worn bv the future aueen. Poor lady, i she knows her sorrows! It is within general recollection when it was the fashion of court dames to affect the "Alexandra limp," in servile imitation j of the princess of Wales, whose free gait was slightly Impeded by the effects of rheumatic fever. A cork heel of. unusual height added to one boot now, however, restores, as far as possible,1 the ravages of disease. j Miss Besstb "Tell me, Auntie, am 1 1 twenty-five or twenty-six to-day. It is j lanny enough, but I never can remem-. ber." Auktis. "Why, Bessie, yoi oughtn't to forget when yon were born ; you are twanty-eix." Uncle Job (who ! is a little deaf) "Bessie born in twen-1 ty-aixl V7 Jane yon are crazy: she wasn't born till fifty; she is only thirty fiTa." A Seared Coekaer. He was an English clubman, and he came to this country with the beat of intentions to see his translantic cousins at home and observe their peculiarities. He was here just one week; then he sailed back straight for England. He bad seen enough of America. It wasn't his fault that be chanced to do a young American a substantial favor one night in London a month or two ago; It wasn't his fault that he happened to meet the same young gentleman on the deck of his steamer on his passage out. It was fate. The American was grate ful for past services and urged his Eng lish friend to visit him at his home up in a little Connecticut town. The clubman was not backward in accept ing the invitation, which promised him full opportunities to see the Yankees around their own hearths. A day or two spent in New York after the steam er reached this side, and the English man was speeding along in a hot, dusty railroad train which left him finally at the station of the village where was his friend's home. Here more fate came In. The American was laid up with a sprained ankle, and the task of enter taming John Bull fell to the rest of the family, including a younger brother. Bright and early one morning this boy proposed a swim iu a lake a mile or so distant. His propositus was accep ted, and in half an hour a man of the world and two small boys were riding over a stony country road In a wagon bailt chiefly to withstand hard usage and furnished with springs that did everything else but spring. The strange boy bad something in his pocket and on his mind. He carefully drew from un der his coat what looked like a big fire cracker, covered with yellow oiled silk, and furnished with a yard of rubber tube dangling from one band. Over the rough road along went the wagon pitching recklessly, and the English man for a long time ignored the fire cracker, having time to pay attention to little else than the gymnastics of that wagon, ricocheting here and there all over the roadway, and threatening mo mentarily to dump its whole cargo on the rocks and bi ambles over the high way fences; but pretty soon he did give an ear to the conversation of those two high-spirited companions of his. "How much is in it?" asked his friend's brother, addressing the other small boy and tenderly caressing the yellow silk packet, while that youth with evident pride, answered: "About halfa pound." "Sure it will go off ?" "'Coarse; there's half an inch of ful minate in the cap." Fulminate! Somehow that had an unpleasantly familiar sound. "Ah, what's fulminate fori" asked the queen's loyal subject. "To kill fish!" came from the twain in one breath. That was reassuring, somewhat. Yan kees were so ingenious, he had heard, and this was probably some novel sort of a reel. "But bow does it work!" he persisted. "Easy enough," was the response," just light this fuse and chuck it In where the water's deep." "Light the fusel Why, what is In it?" "Dynamite," calmly chorused the youngsters. Then there was fun for the small boys. Out of that wagon went their distinguished guest pell mell. Half a pound of dynamite! A rattling wagon, a stony road, and a pair of reckless boys! What a fate! And he howled and he ran. But those small boys were not to be sat upon in that way. They called for him to come back; he didn't come; then out the little scallawags started in close pursuit, threatening that if he did not halt they would throw the whole cartridge fair and square for his bead. There was no hope but in surrender, and he surren dered; then those wicked Yankee lads put that firecracker shaped affair into his own hands, coaxed him up into their wagon again, and with persuasive tones such as the youth of a certain age is best master of they rattled on toward their destination. They had no fear. Yes, it was real dynamite they assured him; dynamite, and enough too to blow up a county or two if it were given half a chance. It was perhaps because he was new to the climate that the gentleman from over the water perspired freely, while the youngsters kept comfortably cool til! the journey ended, as most journeys do. and the good man was given a little exhibition. Those boys had not been fooling him, that fuse was lighted, and J over into the water it went with a little I splash that developed in a minute or two to what sounded like an exploding parliament bouse, as safe behind a big tree be waited and trembled aud list ened. A big stream of water bad shot up into the air.and fish dead or stunned so that they could readily be picked up lay over a wide sufarce of the lake. Then the lads having done what hosts of "sportsmen" all over Xew England do dally went swimming-, but they went alone, for the man behind the tree bad been quite content to hurry back over that road altogether satisfied to bear himself company, aud it was the very next train to Xew York that brought him from Connecticut. "It's all very well, of course," he explained, "when you are used to it, but I havent been brought up ou dynamite at home, you know, and I'd lather a blarsted sight take my chances with the Fenians than any of your fool youngsters who try to be funny." This is a true story. That gentle cockney was fairly prostrated. lie had seen quite enough of the States. And away he sailed. Bouse Teoderoeea Xo matter how busy a man may be be should find time every day to tell his wife he loves Ler. Xo matter what social demands made upon the woman, she should find time to kiss her husband and give him one of the smiles that were so sweet to him when he came courting her. Xo matter what their daily cares, the parents should find time to take the children upon their knees and caress them with kind words and lender touches. When a bachelor says he is single from choice, it makes him mad to ask him why the girl made choice of some other fellow. A good story is told at the expense of a certain naval officer well known In Ed inburgh circles. He was one day sit ting iu his cabin at dinner and had jtut carved slice from roast on the table, when he suddenly summoned his stew ard before him. "What d'ye mean, sir; what d'ye mean, sir, by this?" "By what?" exclaimed the astonished stew ard. "By what, sir?" replied he of the paulettea, "why damme, sir, don't yon oe that this roast beefs not half boiled I," Th. onsiD or -o. k." In the language of the Choctaw In dians, one of the most frequently oc curring expressions is the emphatic oke with which an affirmative or denial is concluded. This oke (pronounced with strong accent on the last syllable) Is one of the substitutes for the copula tive verb "to be"' which is wanting in Choctaw. Oke, as pronounced in Choc taw, has exactly the eaine sound as the alphabetic pronunciation of the O. K. in English. The meaning of the expression as nearly as it can be conveyed in English is: "That is true; that is all so." A few examples, out of mauy that might be cited, will illustrate this. "The Choctaw Indian is a good fellow" is expressed thus: Hattak api huma I Chalita ackukmah oke, in which hattak api Duma means "Indian ' (literally, man-body-red), achukmoh meaus'good' and oke is the copulative expression, "it is so." In.the Rev. Cyi us Bying ton's Choctaw' Xew Testameut the first sentence of Matt. 5, 13: "Ye are the salt of the earth," is: gakni iu huppi huchebia hoke, literally: "the earth its salt ye: that is so." To Gen. Andrew Jackson is attribu ted the introduction of the Choctaw word into our Anglo-American speech. Before the war of 131:., in voyages up and down the Mississippi and in trad ing expeditions overland from Nash ville, Tenn., toXatchez, Miss,, through the Choctaw nation. Tie was brought Into frequeut cc-mmuuicatioii with the Choc taws. lien. Jackson, as everybody knows, was prone to the use of downright and energetic methods of assertion. Hear ing this emphatic oke so frequently ut tered by the Choctaw people, he learn ed the meaning conveyed by it t the Choctaw mind and appropriated it. out of hand, to his own purposes. From him it passed over to the multitude. This account of the origin of O. K. has been current in the south for many years. If not true, it is, to say the least, ben trovsto. Xo one who has ever read an auto graph letter of Gen. Jackson's will eas ily credit the story that he was in the habit, whenbe was president of the United States, of Indorsiug, iu kaltem blute, applications for !li e, with the letters O.K., under thebeiief that these were the proper initials for "all cor rect." Jacksou was no scholar, but he was not so grossly ignorant of English orthography as to fail into a blunder uf that sort. He may have indorsed doc uments with the letters O. K. as a joc ular symbol of his favorite Choctaw expression. The story that these let ters were seriously intended by him as an abbreviation of "oil korrect" was proba "y, as Mr. George Bancroft sug gests, an a posteriori invention ot the enemy to wit, the Whigs during the hot political contests in the days of the roaring '40's. That the abbreviation O. K. was coined by JacKson himself and used by him long years before it passed into cur rent slang, finds confirmation in au ex tract from the old court records of Sumner county, Tenn., quoted by Par- ton in Lis "i.ne of Jacksou." vol. 1, page 1 jo: "October 6, 1700. Andrew Jackson. Esq , proved a bill of sale from Hugh McGary to Gasper Mansker for a negro man. which was O. K. ' A common western mistake," adds Mr. Parten, "for O. R. , which means Ordered Re corded. Hence, perhaps, the saying O. K."l It is not more likely that the O. K. of this entry was suggested by Jacksou himself, as a brief way of saying, after the Choctaw fashion, that the claim bad been legally made out. Uoata of Uotu. The Museum of .Northern Antiqui ties in Copennagen lias just been en riched by a remarkable discovery made at a small pla-e near Thisted, on the west coast of Jutland, Denmark. Two men digging In a grave-pit in the neigh borhood ot an old burial mound, called Thor's mound, struck an earthern ves sel with their picks, disclosing a num ber of gold pieces. On examination it was found that an eartheru vessel of aljout seven inches iu diameter at the rim, and covered with a flat stone, had been buried about a foot and a half below the surface, and this had con tained about a hundred little golden boats, curiously worked, varying in sie from three to four aud a lialf inches. A gunwhale and frame3 of thin strips of bronze bad first been formed, and these had been covered with gold plates, some of which were further ornamen ted with impressions of concentric ring. The boats, of which only a few are in a fair state of preservation, are tapered at both ends, and resemble the Danish fishing craft of the present day. The discovery, which may be regarded as a deposited treasure of votive offer ings, and belongs, doubtless, to the close of the bronze age, proves that frame built vessels were already known at that time, aud that man was not satis fied with the hollowed -out trunks of trees. The gold of which these little fishing-models are composed was val ued at JL2T, which amount, together with a gratuity, has been forwarded to the finders, who are both poor meu. Popular Motion ot Beauty. Our popular notion of beauty is dis played with unconscious exactitude in the saws which declare it "only skin deep," a "snare" and "handsome is that handsome does." The tendency of English people to moralize is not to be repressed even in such a matter as this. They refuse to grasp an abstract idea. Beauty must be allied with some concrete quality of the individual, as truth, or modesty, or good works, or what nqt,, or it is merely frivolous. A good many people truly are content with it as such; in fact, they prefer Fhryne to Apasia. But the iron of moralizing has entered all our souls, and though a few dare own to them selves that beauty is an end sullicient, fewer dare to avow it. Tbe great masters of old would have stared, then laughed consumedly when tney caught the humor of the thing, to hear the "interpretation" of their works which some of our brooding authorities have hit upon. They aimed at beauty and nothing else it was supremest beauty they found because themselves were supreme. There is grave reason to think that if a greater number of their masterpieces survived, our fashionable critics would be sadly puzzled te recon cile many inconsistencies. In that earlier and happy day there was a more general agreement about principles than now. By nature, or habit, or circumstance.nersonal tastaa wem mi.n akin.it seems, and great works appealed mora generally w the crowd. NEWS IX BRIEF- There are 1-2 cigar factories in Key West. The widow of Sauta Aiaia is still living in Mexico. The Jryest flour contains from 6 to 7 per cent, of water. C'rotou water is purified by keeping fish in the reservoirs. Germany is fittiug out Four Arctic exploration expedltiot a. Most German army ouVera, it n reported, wear corsets. Silver is scarcer than gold iu thd Xevada mining cam pi. One and two dollar bills bring a premium in Xew York. Semi-mil itary discipline is to be iu troduced at Vassar College. A Rochester druggist has con.-. t me ted a safety jar for morphine. The estimated losses by the- cycloue at Charleston foot up il,t'.KJ,iHHi. Cotton seed hulls are uiade into kindling in an Alabama factory. Thespire of St. Patrick's Cathedral, Xew York, is to be olW feet high. The new postal curds will cost tb Government $47.71 per thousand. Bosworth battle field Is cut Lit.) quarters by a canal and a railroad. At least oue ton of gold is burled iu the graves of the dead every year. The product of the mines of Boli via is estimated at lO.OOU.UUO ounces. Political gossips in Europe have it that Italy is preparing to seize Tripoli. According to a late estimate theie are -2UU.UU0 Adventists in the I'mled States. -Within the last tweuty-flv e years 4 1 dally newspapers have died in Xev York. The manufacture of roller skate; employs thirty thousand hands iu tti. country. The City of Xew Yoik, it is esti mated, has at present no fewer than -P millionaires. The Bolivian government levies a tax of four-sixths for each ounce of silver mined. The ore output of Leadvilie for July reached 1,000 tous a day for evrry working day. The weight of l,0uo,0OO dollar bilU in greenbacks is within a fractiou of 2,841 pounds. The Woman's Xatioual Industrial League has decided that Chinese laun dries must go. The circulation of all Xew York papers is steadily falling away iu the West and South. The pay-roll of the Comstock mines for the mouth of July will ' not, far from U5,0uo. The output of the miueml product i of the United States in lSr4 was val uedatiI03,l04.G20. Adolph Sutro, the millionaire, is about to establish a free scientific library in San Francisco. The Chicago linkers ami tuoueyed men are unanimously oppsed to fur ther coinage of silver. Attempts to introduce American brook trout into English waters have not met with success. The depression of the coal trade in South Wale3 is so serious that nearly 40,000 men are affected by it. Fire has not left the hearthstone of one farmer in Georgia since it was kin dled with flint and steel In 1S42. The total number of self-support im women and girls over ten years of ae, in Xew York State, is 2,t'47,l."7. A Xew York lawyer says he would have no trouble in getting l.uoo meu in that city to swear falsely in a case. The death U reiorted of Sultau Abdul Mumn of Bruucil, in the island of Borneo, at the age of 141 years. An average of 1.",G7:; letteis for every working day are received at the Dead Letter Office in Washington. It is said that 'J farms in Iowa are owned by women, and that twenty dairy farms are managed by women. The bones of Piarro lie iu the Li ma Cathedral, a building tlmt was Liu ished in 1510 and cost nine millions. The "brother-in-law is the t 'hi&Mo name for the bogus bell punch employed in "beating" the street car companies. The popular supposition that au ostrich never lays but one egg, auj drops that anywhere uhh the sand, u nonsense. m The ruius of Hierapolis, in the Delta of Egypt, ouce above inundation. are now beneath ade(osit of seven feet of mud. The American Bible society ex uds ilo.OUO a year in translating. pub lishing and distributing the Hibie iu foreign lands. The people of Huston place great confidence in their newspaper men. twenty of them hold State and muni cipal offices. Fifteen bundled telephone instru ments in Buffalo are supplied from elec tricity made by the water power of X tagara r alls. Tbe stenographers in ili.llalo as sembled have decided that a speed of 230 words per minute is unattainable and undesirable. The Australian authorities have es tablished offices where all patent medi cines intended to be offered for sale iu the country must be tested. More than fifteen firms manufactur ing and dealing in croquet goods have gone out of the business within two years. The game is dead. When potatoes were first intro duced iuto Connecticut it was held that if a man ate them every day he coul.i not live beyond seven years. Statistics furnished by the Cincin nati Chamber of Commerce for the past fifty years show that the average rain fall is gradually decreasing. Four vessels in the United Statei navy named Boston have come to disas trous ends. Superstitious otlicers.tliere fore. dislike to go into service ou the new and fifth one. The laws of propriety are so rigo rously strict in Mexico that a man may not ride in the same carriage with tha lady to whom he is betrotned. The recent sale of unclaimed aiti- cles left in the Xew York elevated rail road cars comprised S00 umbrellas and parasols, 150 books-,50 hats and 25 ) pur ses and money bags. Eugene G. Blackford, Fish Com missioner of Xew York, says that 1,174.8115 shad . were taken from the Hudson river the past season, which sold at an average price of $15 per hundred, making the wholesale value, of the total catch amount to (ISO, 225.--25. 1 i
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers