B. F. SOHWEIER, THE 00I8T1TUI10I-TIE UHOI-AID Til EHOXOEMni Of T-B LAT8. Editor and Proprietor. VOL. XL. MIFFLINTOWN, JUNIATA COUNTY. PENNA.. WEDNESDAY. FEBRUARY 24, I8S6. NO. 9. The Round of Life Two children down by the shining strand, With eyes as blue as the summer sea. While the sinking sun fills all the land With the glow of a golden mystery, Laagbmg aloud at the sea-mew's cry, Gazing with joy on its snowy breast. nil the first star looks from tha evening sky. And the amber bars stretch over the west. A soft green dell by the breezy shore, A sailor lad and a maiden fair. Hand clasped in band, while the tale of yore Is borne again on the listening air. For love is young though love be old, And lovealoDe the heart can fill; And the dear old tale that has been told In the days gone by is spoken suih A trim-built home on a sheltered bay; A wife looking out on a glistening sea; A prayer for the loved one far away, And" prattling limps 'Death the old roof tree; A lifted latch and a radiant face By the open door in tbe falling night; A welcome home and a warm embrace From ahe love of A youth and children bright. An aged man in an oM arm-chair; A gulden light from the western ky His wife by his side, with her silvered hair, And the open book of iod close by. Eweet on the bay the gloaming falls. And bright is the glow of the evening star; But dearer to them are the jasper walls And the golden street of tlie Land altar. An old churchyard on the green hillside, Two lying still in their iKsiceiul rest The fisherman's boats going out with the tide In the fiery glow of the amber west. Children's laughter and old men's sighs. The night that follows the morning clear, A rainbow bridging our darkened skies. Are the round of our lives from year to yearl ANTHONY MARSHALL'S DAUGHTER. At tbe Intersection or an aliey and an obscure street, in an outlying portion of one of our great cities, stood a low frame house. A narrow walk exten ded along the alley from the street to the side door of this house, above which bung on a frame, swinging and creak ing in the high March wind, a sign upon which could be read from the street, ANTHONY MARSHALL, SHOEMAKER. In smaller letters beneath was an nounced the fact that repairing was neatly and promptly done. The repair ing was really Anthony Marshall's bus iness. He had taken up tbe trade of a shoemaker late in life, and he had never risen in it above mending what others made. In one corner of the small room which was bis shop, stood a little old-fashion-iwi inviivinm. On one side of the me- lodeon were two violins. Oa the other aviolencello and a large improvised rack which was full of worn music. On the wall above these was an excel lent old engraving of Beethoven. Be neath this was a large-sized daguerreo ir, in home-made frame of coues. representing when you were just in the right light, a young girl of perhaps twelve years, with a broad full brow, great, questioning, velvety eyes, a wide smiling, jovous mouth, and a firm, square little' chin, softened by just the suggestion of a dimple. Suspended from the same hook which held this portrait hung a girl's hat, battered and worn, the broad band of which still held a large, faded red rose, and a bunch of withered green leaves. Between where the instrument stood and a door leading into the front part of the house, was a small bench for light carpentering. On the other side of the door w as an open cupboard of shelves, containing riles of newspajiers, a strap such as newsboys use in carry ing their packages securely from the newspaper offices to their "beats," several piles of unopened shoe blacking two shoe brushes, and four triangles on a shelf by themselves, ranged along neatly in the order of their different Near the one window which looked out on the alley to the south, and through the small, uncurtained panes of which the sun was streaming, sat Anthony Marshall on the round leath ern seat of bis shoemaker's bench. "When oth er lips and oth er hearts' "sang Anthony Marshall. "Rat tat tat tat tat tat !" rang bis broad little hammer. " 'Their tales of love' " "Rat tat I" went the hammer. "Shall tea,"' The old man laid the hammer on the bench at his side, pushed his spectacles upon his bald head, and t5ent over the boy's coarse shoe he was half-soling, with the peculiar close gaze of the near sighted. Taking up his thin, sharp knife, he proceeded to trim off the bat tered heads of the pegs; while, with bis under lip closed tightly over the upper, he hummed through to its close the air which he had begun while he was driving home the pexrs. Ills voice was a trifle thin, and had the occasional quaver icu!iar to old age; but there was in the undertone singing and humming of "And you'll remember me," a fine touch of finish and expression; while now and again there was a note so pure, so sweet, so thrilling, that the moulting canary iu the little cage hanging in the sun, stop ped the dainty arrangement of its feathers, and with smoothed plumage and swelling throat, gave forth little thrills in emulation. An irregular, hurrying step turned from the street down the little walk along the alley. The shop door was opened quickly, but quietly, and the old shoemaker raised a surprised, ques tioning face to greet a lad, who, with an eager, out-of-breath, "Oh, Uncle Tony!" thrust himself with a sidelong jerk into the room. The boy was lame and niisshaien. The old man raised his finger, with a warning glance toward the inner door. The lad's bright face fell a little, as he asked: "Is she very 'particular' to-day Un cle Tony?'' "liaihcr 'particular,' Tim," he said, with a side turn of his head. 'But why are you at home?" "Such luck! such news.Uncie Tony!" A cold, gray color swept over the old man's lace. With drawn brow and lips, and anxious eyes, he started up, overturning in Lis agitation, the clamps with a great crash; and dropping the shoe he was mending, he exclaimed, as he reached both of his poor old hands toward the daguerreotype; 'Tim! Tim! have you found found her? Heard anything of Sara, Tim?" .v v tue briht light faded from the boy's face, as he shook his head slowly, and said, sadlv: "Not ttat, Uncle Tonv; not so good as thatt But then, Uncle Tony, my news is real good common' good, you know. And you couldnt guess what it Is in a yearl" The old man slowly set the clamps m their place by the bench, picked up the shoe and the stick of blacking with which he was finishing the edge of the sole, and then he sat down. He looked at Tim. The boy's dis appointed face touched his sensitive, gentle heart, and he at once assumed a look of interested inquiry, though his face was still very pale. "Well, Tim, if I can't guess, tell me." Tim bitched himself into a chair, and began to tell his news. "Well, you know. Uncle Tony, how we was talkm' yesterday about the op'rer, and about the time whent you used to play in the orchestrer at that 1-ane Theatw iu London?" "Yes. Tim in the orchestra at Drury Lane Theatre." "That's it! Well, this mornin' after I had sold out. I was just a-wishin' and a-wishiu' that I could get twenty shines to do, as I did last year, so we conld go ag'in, for, oh, it was just heavenly! and I was a-standin' before the main entrance of the Grand Hotel, and a thinkin' about that op'rer we went to last year, and a-whistlin' the theme you learned me, and we play together, when two awful swell gentlemen cam 9 along, one of 'em with his boots all splashed. I said to him: "Have a shine, sir? You need it.' "lie put his boot on the box, and said; Where did you learn what you was just now whisthn' my lad?' ! beard it at the op'rer last year, and Uncle Tony learued me to play it,' Then he say3, Ms your uncle a musi cian? Says I, 'You jest bet he is!' Where does be play?' says he; and I told him you played at home. 'At home!' said the gentleman, raising his eyebrows this way" and Tim opened his handsome brown eyes, and raised his fine, straight brows as high as pos sible. "Isn't he a professional musician?' I guess he is,' I said, 'but he mends shoes, now, and we play evenin's. I live with him.' 'Urn-ml' said the gen tleman. 'So your uncle plays Wagner's music and mends shoes, does he?" Then he turned to the other gentleman and said: 'There is another phase of American life for your book, Patton.' "Then, do you know. Uncle Tony, he put up his other boot, and bending his head with a queer kind of a smile said: 4Anddoyou anticipate going to the op'rer this year?' 'If I can get shine's enough for the tickets in the loft' for Uncle Tony and me.' said I. ')h ho! so you furnish your Uncle Tony with op'rer tickets, do you?' said lie. Yes; Miss' Marshall won't let Uncle Tony spend any money for 'em.' And who might Miss Marshall be?' 'Why, Uncle Tony's wife, of course.' Isn't she your aunt?' No; nor Uncle Tony ain't ray right uncle. He found me asleep in a packin'-box seven years ago.' 'Well, we.ll, well! here Is a combi nation! I suppose you would like to go to the op'rer, even though this adop ted uncle of yours the musical coDoier should stay at home?' 'No, 1 wouldn't said I. 'It wouldn't be the same with out Uncle Tony '" At this rolnt Uncle Tony brushed his hand across hij eyes, and blowed his nose vigorously. "Well,' said the gentleman, 'come in to the desk a moment, and we will see what we can do.' We went in, and he wrote on a piece of paper, put It in an envelope, and told me to go over to Carton's theatre and give it to the man at the ticket office. 1 did, and here, Uncle Tony, is two season tickets!" And Tim took them triumphantly from his pocket, and handed them to the old man, who, bringing them close to his near-sighted eyes, exclaimed: " Why, Tim, they are for the dress circle, as sure as you live!" The door of the Inner room opened with an emphatic click, and a large woman, with a broad, roucd face, small features, aud beady, black eyes, name in, treading with such weight that the triangles in the cupboard set up a vigorous chiming. Her expres sion plainly told that she believedher selftobea martyr, and that no one could know what she suffered. She seated herself In a rocking-chair, and fetched a heavy sigh. Tim turned his cap round uneasily, Uncle Tony gave an apologetic cough, and then he asked: Do you feel any better, 'mother'!" "Nobody cares whether I do or not!" was "mother's" ungracious response, as she leaned her head on her band,and swayed back and forth ominously. Uncle Tony coughed again, and said gtntly: ... Now, don't 'mother!' Tim and I do care a great deal about how you feel." 'I should think you did by the noise you keep up when I am trying to get a little rest!" "I did upset the clamps, but I really did not mean to." "Mother" was uuappeased, and con tinued to rock and sigh. Tim shifted uneasily, and Uncle Tony bent over his shoe very industriously. As the continued silence gave "moth er" no further opportunity to say any thing unpleasant, she raised her head, and, turning toward Tim, said, sever ely: "Timothy, this is a strange time m the day for you to come home. I should certainly think that a boy who needs as much as you are always a-needin', ought to put in his time a-pickin' np what he could." TT , Tim looked furtively toward Uncle Tonv, who came to his assistance. "Tim had great luck, to-day, 'moth er,' and came home to let U3 know about it." , . It would have been too much conde scension on the part of "mother" to have appeared at all interested, but, uuder the influence of awakened curi osity, she ceased to be aggressive, and Tim was emboldened to relate, briefly, how he had obtained the season opera tickets. Knowing that "mother's" one standard of all earthly good was monev, Tim, in an evil moment, and to make his story impressive, declared that his tickets were worth forty-eight dollars, and would fetch as much as thirty dollars, he knew. "Mother's" Interest began to kindle, and in a tone of superior wisdom aud commanding suggestion, she said: "Now, Timothy, you have a chance to make something worth while. You just advertise in the papers that you will sell them tickets. If you can get more than thirty dollars,just do it, and it will be a nice nest-egg for a real lit tle fortune. I will help you take care of it. Timothy." Tim saw his error too late. He grew red. and stammered: "But the gentleman gave 'em to me for Uncle Tony and me to use. I guess he is the op-rer boss, and he wouldn t like to have me sell 'em." "Well," said "mother." bridling, "I dont s'pose a gentleman such as the one you told us about, gives Injun pres ents to take 'em back, do you?" "No-o,"8aid Tim; "but if he had a-wanted 'em sold, be'd a sold 'em him self " "Timothy, now when you have the chance to get a chunk of money, it is flying in the face of Providence not to do it. What if you was to be sick? What would you do then? If you get a little money together and Just put it out to interest, the interest is a-soin' on night and day, day and night. Your money is a-earnin' for you whiie you aresleepin'. You just go and put in the advertisement." Tim. in common with a great many people, felt what he found it quite im possible for him to express. He was no match for Mrs. Marshall on the sub ject of selling the tickets, though, aside from his great longing to go to the opera, he felt it would be a mean act to sell them. He twirled his cap round and round, and looked furtively, anxiously, toward Uncle Tony. Perhaps three times during the fif teen years that Anthony Marshall had lived with his second wile, he had qui etly, firmly and successfully asserted himself In direct opposition to her will. On these rare occasions he had done this to vindicate some nice point of subtle honor, or delicacy of feeling, for Anthony Marshall was a born gentle man. Now be raised Mi head slowly, and spoke with a shade more precision and distinctness than usual. "Mi-ran-dal Tim must not sell the tickets. It would not be honorable. Tim and I will go to the opera aud use them, as tbe gentleman who gave them to him expected we should." Mrs. Marshall recognized in the tone and manner that this decision was final She was not a stupid woman. She therefore arose, and with a look of lof ty commisse rating disdain remarked: "Some people ought to be born with two silver spoons in their mouths." Then she marched out of the shop, her crinoline-distended skirts mowing down a wide swath of small movables as she went. When the door had slammed behind her, Tim, in silence, hastily ate the lunch of bread and meat which he bad taken with him in the morning. Then taking one of the triangles from the cupboard and his box from the floor, he put his hand on the latch and turned with a hesitating: "Well, Uncle Tony?" "It will take an hour to walk it, Tim. We will start at seven o'clock. Good by, my boy, aud good luckl" said Uncle Tony, wrapping up the shoes he had finished. The gale which had been blowing all day bad fallen with the setting of the sun, to a low, cold, crisp wind. Here and there the dingy white of the half melted snow sparkled with the Cather ine frost, in the light of the large moon Up and down the streets of the great grimy, hurrying, never-silent city, the trailing robes of pale while light and shadow made all things dimly beauti ful. Down the streets, now in light, now in shadow, Tim and Uncle Tony went silently on their way, Uncle Tony taking a queer little back step at regu lar intervals, to keep himself in pace with Tim's halting gait. . "Uncle Tony," said Tim, looking up into the old man's face, "wo would you mind telling me how it all hap pened?" The old man hesitated a moment, and then said: "Tim, I will tell you; but I must be gin pretty well back, or you wouldn't understand it. "You see, Tim, my father was a mu sician by profession. He had great musical talent, and a touch of genius, just enough to make him ambitious, and he was never very successful. He wanted me to keep away from the mu sic, but, Tim, I couldn't do it. And I tell you," said the old man, growing quite emphatic, "I could play marvel lously well in those early days, for one who was not a genius. "You remember I told you that I played in the orchestra at Drury Lane Theatre. Well, the great folks liked my playing, and some of them sent for me to come up to West End'lalmost every night, after I was through at the theatre. It was in that way that I be came acquainted with Adelaide, Sir William Norton's only daughter." Uncle Tony's tone had been growing lower and lower, and now, with bent head, he walked on in silence until Tim said, softly: 'Wh where is Adelaine now, Uncle Tony?" "Ah," said the old man, raising his head, and lifting his rusty silk hat rev erently, "she's an angel; an angel with God these many years." A few moments and he went on hus kily: "After a time, Tim. we stole away and were married. There never was a lovelier being, Tim, than she was." The old man sighed heavily and went on in silence until Tim said: "Was she ever in America, Uncle Tony?" "Yes," said he, rousing himself. "Yes, When Sara was born. Ade laide called her Sara for her dead moth er. W nen ner rawer neara or it ne wrote her This was the letter, Tim. I remember every word of it: 'You have insulted your lady mother's sain ted memory by calling Anthony Mar shall's daughter by her name. 1 will never look upon your face again, nor hear from you, if I can avoid itl " "He was a mean, hard one, wasn't he?" said Tim, his brown eyes flashing indignation. "I don't suppose he meant to be. I believe I can understand how it was," said the old man, in his gentle, direct way. "After this Adelaide grew more frail every day, and, for the sea voyage and the change, we came to America She was better at first, and then she failed in that fatally sure but impercep tible way which only victims ot con sumption do, and growing more radi antly beautiful, Tim, with each suc ceeding day." The old man dropped his head and did not sieak again until some one, going in the opposite direction, shoul dered roughly against him and roused Jiini. "It was then, Tim. that I learned to work on the shoes. I only had what I earned by playing In the orchestra. You see there was no great folks in New York who wanted me to play for them. Ah. Tim. it is a great comfort fot me -to think that Adelaide never wanted for anything which money could buy, and that she never knew about the shoes." The old man spoke no more until Tim asked: "And how was it about SanL Uncle Tony?" t "After it was all over," said Unci Tony, in a quiet, weary tone, "I conld not play. There is much in os, Tim, which mav die out while we live on," with a long s'gh, "and I have work- ea only at shoes since." He paused a moment and then con tinued: "Mrs. Wicks that was mother's name then lived in the house with u& and she looked after Sara and T. When Sara was ten years old, mother came in one morning looking very severe. After she had arranged every thing she said: "Mr. Marshall you must get some o;ie else to do what I have been doin' ever since your wife died, and before, too, for that matter. Not that I don't want the money, or that I mind the work, but' Stie stopped and I asked her what she meant. 'Well,' said she 'to tell you the unvarnished truth, Mr. Marshall, you are a widower. I am a widow. The neighbors icill talk.' "I didn't know what to do, and I told her so. You see, Tim, I was used to 'mother.' She took the kindest care of Adelaide, and I alwavs remember tha. You know how mother smooths her dress, Tim, when she is saying any thing very particular. Well she smooth ed her dress, stopped a little and then said: We can fix it by getting mar ried, Mr. Marshall!' " "So she asked you. Uncle Tony?" said Tim opening his eyes very wide. "Yes, Tim. I should never have thought of but one kind of marriage. Well, Tim, I knew that Sara must have a woman's care. That decided me. You know, Tim, that mother means well enough, but at times is a little wearing." "Yes, Uncle Tony, and she's pretty savin' always." "Just so, Tim. Well, she couldn't understand Sara, and as Sara grew older mother wanted her to wash dishes, mend stockings and sew, and, as she said 'be like other girls.' Sara could no more do these things, Tim, than a lark could draw a plough. You should have seen her perch herself on my bench.Tim and then heard her sing. How she could sing! There never was another such a throat. "The summer Sara was thirteen, an Italian singer took apartments in the house. Many musicians came to see him, and Sara was with them a great deaL She was a born songstress, Tim, i'ihad the genius which her father missed! "One morning after the singer had moved away, I found Sara gone. In a little note to me, she said she had gone away to study and be a great singer; that she loved me better than all the world; and that she would come back for me, her dear little father that is what she always called me, Tim and make us all happy and proud; and that I was to be always sure she was very good and was working hard !" The old man's voice bad a sail, little tremble in it as he added, "Ana mat was jeigui years ago!" "And it was in iNew ioik, wasn i it?" "Yes. Tim; Sara had been gone al most a year when we came here. " "You found me in rsew xorK.aiunt you. Uncle Tony?" "Yes. Tim. fast asleep in a packing- box with your triangle in your baud." "Do vou know. Uncle Tony, that I always like to have my triangle with me. It makes me feel close to my mot'i- er. one used to sing to me Kinaerciear and wailin' like, but so sweetl All about old Ireland; and when I play my triangle it seems as if I was a hearin' her. She bought me the triangle 'cause it was all she could afford, ana l likea music so. She took care of me real tender. Uncle Tony a long as she lived." "'And when she died your drunken father put you in the street?" "Yes, and I am awful glad he did. If he hadn't you wouldn't have found me." "And, Tim, you and the triangle has brought music back to me." So these two, on whom the ills of life had indeed fallen heavily, were thankful and content It is only when misfortune is met with resentment and lameut that she is developed into hag gard misery or vice. - . . They were now in the central part of the city. As they approached the the atre they found themselves born along by the crowding throng, up to the bril liantly lighted entrance.and on through into the handsome auditorium, which was already crowded. The usher looked at them doubtfully as be took their tickets, which be ex amined with great care. Anthony Marshall would never have thought of going to the opera in any other but a dress coat. His was of bot tle green cloth. The waist-line had been gradually rising with his increas ing weight and size during the twenty years which had passed since it was made, until now it gave his figure a very peculiar proportion. The half circle of fine gray hair below his bald crown was brushed carefully from the back, so that it just peeped over each ear. With his glass in bis eye, and his self-possessed, gentle bearing, his ap pearance was most quaint and unusual and as he and the misshapen, roughly clad handsome-faced boy passed down through the brilliant audience of ele gantly dressed men and women of fashion, to tbe very best seats in the bouse, they attracted an attention which even the ringing-in of the orches tra did not divert from them. The curtain rose, discovering Faust in his lonely studio, a victim of disap pointment and despair. Tim and Uncle Tony followed with bated breath each note. When Mar guerite at her wheel was revealed to Faust, a hesitating, anxious attention came into Anthony Marshall's face, and he took his glass from bis eye and wiped it carefully. As the opera ad vanced and Margurilt sang, "How Strange'tis to Me,".the old man grasp ed Tim's arm, and whispered: "Isn't it like her, Tim? Isn't it like the daguerreotype? eh, Tim?" Tim looked in a startled way, first at the old man, and then at the stage, and replied softly: "Why, she is some like it, sure sure." "In the 'jewel scene' the old man's suppressed excitement grew intense, and he exclaimed in a quivering whis per: "Tim, if it Isn't her, it la cruelly, cruelly like her! And, Tim, it certainly, certainly is ber hand! So like her mother's hand!" The act closed with Marguerite at the casement, and the old man rose in an unsteady way with: "Tim. Tim, I m.f him airt' atul than thrOUffh the gay audience they went, Tim leading now, ana the oia man lenowimj -step almost as uneven as Tim's. They gained the street, s The old man after drawing a long breath, dropped his head upon bis breast, and remained several minutes in deep reflection. Then slowly raising his drawn, wBite face to Tim, he said: "I believe we have seen Sara, Tim. I cannot bear this suspense. I must eo to the grand hotel, and know tbe truth, Tim-'to-night." They stepped inside tbe theatre as Marguerite was raising from her pallet of straw. Then her voice, full of heart broken anguish and passion of leve, rang out In agonized pathos. With trembling hand the old man adjusted his glass, grasped the door for support, and, in a dazed exultation, tremblingly whispered: "me, Tim, come! It is Sara! It tnusl be her!" As they were hurrying along, the old mau stopped suddently, as if he bad been dealt a blow. They were in tbe shadow of a great building, and Tim could not see his face, but there were tears in his voice as he said: "Tim she has never come for me, and perhaps " His voice failed him for a moment, but he cleared his throat bravely, and continued. "Perhaps she would rather rather not And me, Tim." 'Now I don't believe that, Uncle Tony," said Tim, stoutly. "I bet she has looked for you all over. Why, it's seven years since you came from New Y'ork." "But she never wrote, Tim." -Maybe the letters got lost. Lots of let I ts get lost, you know. ' "Perhaps. Anyway I must be cer tain about it all. And then if" He stopped, and after a moment said, in a resigned and gentle tone, "It will be a comfort, Tim, even if I should never see her but this once." They had been waiting but a few moments, just inside the door of the ladies entrance of the Grand Hotel, when the carnages began to arrive. Several parties passed in. Then she came, leaning on the arm of her escort, followed by ber maid. The fragrance of the flowers in her baud touched the old man's face. The down on her cloak brushed bis hand as he stood in the shadow. He did not stir until she had swept quite by him. Then he followed her quickly. Not until she had reached her apart ment could be command himself. Then stepping forward, pale and trembling, he said softly: "I am Anthony Marshall." She started back, poised an instaut on one foot, and then, springing for ward with a wild, glad cry, she reach ed out her beautiful arms, and clasped the old man to her strong, young breast, exclaiming: "1 knew knete I should some time find my dear little father! I would rather have you, my little father, than ail of England! yes, yes, yes! than all the world!" Ever after, this great songstress and this little tadiant old man were insep arable; near them, too, was loyal, lov ing Tim and bis triangle; while "moth er," less particular, mellowed by opu lence, but still alert as to values, stood like a rock between all the world and Authony Marshall's daughter. Terror of flaunted Locomotives. Licomotive engineer are almost, if not altogether, as superstitious in regard to haunted locomotives as sailors in re gard to haunted ships. About ten years ago the engine Mat Morgan blew up wlnle standing on the track of the Shore Liuo road near tbe station in Provi dence, it. L, killing tbe engineer. Tbe engine was subsequently rebuilt and put on the road. Oa the first trip that she made after being rebuilt she went tear ing into Providence in the night with the train swinging bshiud and tne sleep ing town echoing to the shrill whistle. On approaabing the station the engi neer leaned forward to shut off the team, but to his horror a ghostly form appeared at hia side and a ghostly hand grasped his wrist and held him fast. When the station was reached the ghost disappeared and the engineer stopped the train some distance beyond. At least, this is what the engineer tell. Mauy people have not forgotten the terrible itichmond svitcu disaster sev eral years ago on the Providence and Stonington road. A little brook became swollen bv the rain and carried away a railroad bridge. The train came rush ing along tliat night and was hurled in to the chasm. Giles, tbe engineer, wnen he saw the danger ahead, instead of leaping from the engine as his fireman did, grasped the leyer and reversed the engine. But it was too late. Tbe train was going at such a speed tuit tne loco motive leaped clear across the stream, and tber found Giles lying under his overturned engine with the lever driven through his body and one band elutcn in the throttle-valve with the grasp of death. Giles, when be came into Provi dence, was accustomed to give two pe culiar whistles as a signal to his wife, who lived near the railroad where it enters the suburbs of the city, that he was all right and would soon be home. The absence of those whistles was the first intimation which was received at Frovidence of the disaster. When the engine which made the terrible leap on that stormy night was rebuilt and put on the road again there was at first great tronble In getting engineers for it, with such a superstitious horror was it regarded. To-day there are people ready to swear that they have heard whistles, such as Giles used to blow as signals to his wife, sound through the suburbs of Providence when no train was coming np the road. A Plucky Pair. When the Apaches attacked the Black Rock ranch of William Johnson, near Nogales, N. M., only Johnson and his young bride were on the premises. They took refuge in a chicken house, from which the light was kept up for an hour, the husband doing tbe shooting and the wife loading the guns. John son was shot through the body and thigh, and had one arm broken. When the Indians gave up the fight and left, Mrs. Johnson hitched up a team, placed her husband in a wagon and drove twenty miles to I an J. nomas. A Tramp was brought before Judge Duffy. i.ne cnarge was vagraucy ana tuuririncr on th streets. "So you deny begging on the streets?" Certainly I do, your Honor," "Why did you hold out your hand and takeoff your hat" "I was once mixed np to New York politics and was a candidate for civil justice, and I got into the habit of taking off my hit and stretching out my hand 'o shake with the voters, and I never could break myself of it after wards." CHILD-FAITH. Month of September, 1870-On the Eastern Line. I arrived at the station at tlie an-' nointed hour. I enterei. or rather was tiirown oy an aitenuaiu, inu uit i-;u ttendant, into the car 1 The door was quickly nearest to nie. me uooi shut The whistle was blown and we were off. Curiously enough the car was not crowded. I formed the fifth passenger. Two of the corners were occupied, one ty an officer aud the other by a civilian. Kuinn mo u-'i j si trnmn :i t m in l mi team old, neatly and modestly dressed, ami beside her sat the most Deauuiui little child I ever saw a little girl ibout 6 years old, with a flood of blonde curls waving under her immense straw liut Xiiw ami then tha child would Imit- flirniih the window in the direc tion of the engine, and then ner eyes. seemed to wander in the minute sjace that was unrolling itself before her. We came to a station. The train stopped. The little girl put her fare to il.u ivimliur "I don't see him" Then suddenly her face brightened and her eyes lit witn goiuen nues, snunng wan indescribable joy, while her lips came ilntrn iiimn 1 wo, hands that came f rom the exterior and were placed utn the a i frame or me open winnow. -n, papa. !firo in reilia!" PXchllllied 111V little neighbor, with the exuberant and illllO- eent joy 01 ner o years. if tt'nd tim Anaineer hi nur Lniin. wnii li'ul rmn ti ;ttfik iii h'A little ihtnufhter ! and his wife, who was seated in front of me. . ! "We must make ut for Iot time.'" i reulied the man. "Were you afraid, Jeanne?" "No," said the child "because I knew that you were driving." "Well, bv-by," said the man, as he left. "Well, by-by, papa," said the child, throwing him a kiss. The train started and gradually reached an extraordinary speed. I worship little children, and I began to examine the little one in front of me. She was full of life; and good humor. She amused herself w ith everything ami nothing, cajoling with her mother, in quisitive w ith the window, and severe with her doll. She was carrying on a thousand different conversations all at once, and with a noise that was almost deafening, when suddenly the gentle man iu the other corner exclaimed: "Decidedly, we are going too tast. The train "will surely run off the track !"' 'Oh, don't be afraid," said the child, seriously, "papa is driving." The officer was reading. He looked out of the window, and then resumed his reading without making any ob servation. The other gentlemen again began t talk. The officer closed his book and stretched himself along the seat. ' I would advise all to do the same.'' said he, with the greatest coolness. "If you keep seated your legs will W smashed. Hemember the Versailles accident." "This is certainly, madness," he con tinued. "Yes, niadame, he said, ad dressing the lady, "your husband is either drunk or crazy." "Oh, sir, "said the lady,' my husband never gets drunk. You saw him a little while ago. Certainly the train is going at a furious rate. I don't understand it " Indeed the train was running at a terrifying rate. What in the world could' the engineer mean by such driv ing?' "I am afraid?" said theeitizeu, white with terror. Then the oflicer took me aside. Here i mv name anil address " said he. "If I aiii killed or mortally wounded in the accident to which we are running and vou escape promise me now that you will carry these dispatches without a moment's delay to the general whose name you will find by owning this en velope." 1 promise. Tim tvnmaii took the child in her aruis and covered her little face with tears and kisses. She seemed to wish to make a rampart of herself to pro tect the little one against the frightful smash-up, that was momentarily ex pected. "I am not afraid." said the child. smilingly; "papa is driving." And 5lie alone among tne passengers 01 mr car, and doubtless she alone among an on board the train, had faith ami con fidence. We could hear in the other cars cries of terror and waitings ot despair, and, in spite of the mothers, tlie child leaned out or tne wimum the baek door and shouted out with all n.o f..i-fo nt lmr littln liiiiirs: 'Don't be afraid; papa is driving!" Ah! tluit sweet little girl, in tlie general terror, . 13 .1 tower of strength, with that stored love of a child for a father an affection that nothing cau break down. lirariualiy tne train sioweu aim uuic to a standstill. We were at a station. The engineer came to the door. e have lieen going very fast," said he. "but at all hazards we must gel to Peiiiw liefore the Prussians. That we must do at the risk of being blown up or smashed to pieces 011 tne way. 1 111 told we are carrying imiwrUint dis imtches," and he looked at his little girl with tears in his eyes. Wve me your hand," said the olhter. "You are a brave fellow. It is I who have the dispatches." "En route!"' then said the man, and he gave a iit ing glance at the fairy form of lus child, as if to bid her farewell But Jeanne was not afraid; and, moreover, nobody in our compartment was afraid any longer. We knew that we were risk ing our lives for our country, and that satisfied us. As for the train, it recom menced its furious race. This was in the month of September. liSTO. ou the Eastern line. Mn. Grant's Big Check. Mr. Jesse Grant said recently that his mother had received her first check from tlie publishers on account of "Gen. Grant's Life." I have not seen the fact mentioned in the newspapers, ii..., n,i. Mi rfn vim siionose that check 1IU11 111 11' 1 j 1 was for? No less than $-250,UUO "the largest sum ever paid at one time for literary work," he said. The next 1 ... lm thinks was naiil to I I.I I Ll I. J 1. 1- 1 11- Maeaulay a hundred ami fifty thousaud .n;ia nf m -nrniuienui uiioi v uuvuiz within four weeks. But I think Walter Scott, who was the idol of bis generation and who wrote against Time, Death and the Sheriff, is entitled to this second place. If I am not mistaken, be received 200,000 from Constable at .,.. timA lust before he was made a barouet, and he earned $100,000 a year for nearly a score 01 years. A KENTUCKY COURT SCENE. How a Louisville Judge Presided In Lawless Region. ktn tmnldii attrt1Tnrv fliA frtn. TicUon of aesperaa0e8 whose actsof ., in Wtlons of Kentucky have for years produced a reign or ter ror, a cause which is not understood by those who only read accounts of the crimes committed, has been the failure on the part of the prosecuting attorneys aad criminal judges to do their duty. T.iis failure is to be attributed to what may best be called "local influences." If a judge belongs to one faction, or owes his election to a particular iriy, his opponents at once declare their ina bility to receive fair treament at his bauds and will fight rather than be tried In one of the counties where scores had been killed who belonged to opposing factions, and where houses were barricaded, the abandoned, where woman and children were armed and the extermination of the entire popula tion a matter of very early possibility, the governor requested Judge Wni. Jackson of the Loulsvill9 Circuit, to hold court. Nobody thought th Louis ville judge would comply, but in this they were mistaken, for he proceeded forthwith to the scene of bloodshed, quietly announced his presence and made known his mission. These facts excited the greatest curiosity through out the county, and when the day of trial i .ma nn tha whnli nnmila.ce arv peared in the courthouse with but little , exception. The first case, one of mur i der, was called. All the witnesses re : sponded to their names save one. "We l.ona that witness Afr Sheriff " 111 1 1.1 1, ill. 1 U feUUV .VHWU, J said the court, firmly. "If your honor pleases, I can't get him," said the county sheriff. "That's no excuse, sir; have him here without fail In fonr hours. Let the court stand adjourned until 2 o'clock." And as Judge Jackson finished speak ing he arose from the bench with dig nified ease, calmly put on his hut and walked from the court room alone, to the great astonishment of the natives, whose regular judge would have re mained until perfectly satisfied that no enemy was near. At 2 o'clock court again corvened. The bawl of the sheriff, "Oh yes, oh yes, court is dow men." had scarce died ont before Judi:e I Jackson asked sternly: "Mr. Sheriff, ! have you brought that witness in ! court!" The sheriff, answering iu the nega tive, gave as his reasons for failure to obey the court that he found the house or the witness barricaded and full of armed mountaineers, who swore they would kill any man who attempted to enter. "Mr. Sheriff," said the court very sharply, "such an excuse is not to be thought cf, aud will not be entertained. I want the witness here at 10 o'clock to-morrow morning, if you have to bring him here on a litter. Mark you, sir, a failure to comply on your part will compel this court to fine and im prison you to the full extent or the law. Do your duty sir." To say that natives were astonished lru.a nut mnm the fliphtest idea of their true feelings. All that afternoon aud next morning there was a universal desire to see the "city Jedge close," and the fellow who got to shake hands with him had all the free drinks he de sired. Court opened promptly at 10 o'clock. "Mr. Sheriff, have you that witness?" asked the court. "Yes, your honor," spoke the sheriff, excitedly; "he's coming." A curious sight presented itself now. Half a dozen stalwart men appeared carrying auother, who was the missing witness. One arm hung limp at his side, a leg refused to do its duty, blood trickled from all over his head, and an immense bandage concealed one eye. "Stand up, sir," spoke the court, and, with the aid ot his captors, the fellow assumed as fair an upright position as his wounds would permit. "What do you mean by evading the law?" asked the judge. I didn't know it was your court, sir. I thought they wanted to take me to Louisville for moonshining. 1 knew as how there were deputy marshals about sir. ' "Mr. Clerk," said the judge, "are there any United States marshals in this section?" The clerk said there were aud that they had warrants for the civil witness, whereupon he directed the sheriff to bring every one of them into court, aa order soon compiled with. Eight U. S. marshals faced the court. "Gentlemen," began the judge, "have, vou warrants for any of taese witnesses?" "Yes, sir, for nearly all of them, and four for this chap," answered a mar shal, indicating the wounded man. "Well, gentlemen, I am holdmg court here now, and if you interfere with me in any manner w hatever, I'll put you all in jail for a year every one of you. Let this case begin " The trial proceeded, and more con victions followed than had hapiiened previously in the whole life of the coun ty of Breathitt, which is now one of the best in Kentucky and where capi tal is now finding the richest cannel coal in the world, England not ex cepted. .1 ml ere Jackson recently went to Letcher countv at Governor Knott's re quest. "Will you need a hundred men?" asked a local friend of justice who well knew the desperate affairs which had marked every previous trial of the accu sed. n" thundered the Judee. "this court is equal to a hundred men itself?" This remark went tne rounus nice wildfire, and during the long trials which followed enabled the court to conduct its business without the slight est jar. Iu dealing with Kentucky feuds the only thing necessary to make peaceable and good citizens out of the lawless men ot the mountains has been the need of men like Judge Jackson, whose nerve and firmness find respect as quickly with desperadoes as with peaceable citi zens. Governor Knott expressed him self as much pleased with the manner in which Judge Jackson has conducted court hi the mountains. He said: "I would rather send him to try these law less people than aregimeutof soldiers." At a receut meeting of the Thursday evening Club in Boston William Ever ett read a paper en --uegeiuume xw dexis." There was not a dry eye in the bouse, and our readers will regret that they were not present There are very few of us who know as much as we should about that rare and interesting onimal, XEW8 IN BRIEF. Suisun, Cal., has a petrified pump kin. Copenhagen is to have an English church. The Indians in Alaska are to be vaccinated. Arnold Schaeffr, the German hii torian, is dead. In Scotland third-class passenger travel is increasing. Mr. Huxley claims to be the origi nator of agnosticism. High license law is spreading in popularity in Missouri. Henry James intends to live per manently in Europe. Calfomia has 1.000,000 inhabitants, but only 900 churches. Mr. Kob'rt Browning has never visited Alliens until now. f Cabbages command as much as 50 cents per head at Fort Worth. A portrait of Sir Moses Monteiiore is to be painted by Mr. Millals. A New Euiaad tooth-pick factory uses 43,000 cords of wood annually. Mr. Gresham, the Fostniaster-Gen-eral, is a great sufferer from insomnia. Judea pitch, which is found float ing on the Dead Sea, is an excellent fuel. Tlie Chinese of Portland, O. e., are assessed for 5115,200 worth of real prop erty. Home, Italy, has just instituted a society for the protection of street chil dren. Agriculture aud not the mine.'! is now the main source of wealth in Cali fornia. The Marquis Tseng acts as If he was afraid to stay in France over night. f New Haven, Conn., has an S-year-old boy whose waist nie;isures 34 inches. v Prince Albert "Victor, eldest son of Prince Christian, is an excellent crick eter. M.uiy protests are made against excessive baggage charges on the Con tineut. Mgr. Cupel thinks that American women are better educated than their husbands. Mr. Parnell has subscribed JC2.") towards the projected monument to Father Burke. Gold coinage has just been resum ed in the English mint, after two years without any. Dakota is third iu the list of a old producing States her yield f r 1SSJ be ing 3,:3CO,000. Last year bilol! Italians emigrat ed to other countries, as compared with 1.5."i.So2 inlSsl. King and Yakiov; .'ountic T., re agitated over recent gold discover--, ies iu the cascades. Certain large London establish ments furnish their lady customers with a cup of tea. The Japanese game of checkers Is so intricate that a month is often spent in deciding one game. --Tha Duke of (Jastlemor.te, recently captured by Sicilian brigands, has been ransomed for 5 i.OOO. Tlie Burlington, Vt., watei works chimney, o0 feet high, was blown down the other night lu a gale. The German historian. Von Rank, is eighty-four years old, but is still en grossed in literary work. Bismarck thinks he knows tlie day and hour of his death, which he has . predicted by astrology. A Blitzzug or lightning train is to be run from Paris to St. Petersburg at a rate of OH miles an hour. The Paris press complains that the police of that city are excessively se vere In performing their duties. Dr. Schliemanu's health is so broken that he cannot continue his ex cavations. He is at home in Athens. The public wealth in the United Kingdom has increased from 127 per head in 112 to .L'2 t'J ter head in 1SS2. In the last two years there have been 172 enlistments for the sigual ser vice, of which 53 were college grad- uates. Louisiana, winch expected to make ' :;iXVU0 hogsheads of sugar this season, now looks for only about half that yield. so scarce was water in the South this Fall that It was bought and sold In Vicksbuig -1X". per barrel being the price. According to an English statist! .. ; .. 1. 1. 1 -, f ...... .1 ... .1 li.r ilata on the subject, early risers U? the longest. Cashmere shawls are embroidered almost entirely by men, and sometimes a single garment represents the work of thie generations. Tbe pioneers of AV;ishington Terri tory have organized an association. The membership is limited to Uiose who came before l Vj. The first return of the New York tax ollicers filed Willi the Stab) Comp troller showed the assessment to be about 1973,000,000. W. F. Sutton, a nottil Scotch bicy clist, living in London, has completed ii miles in 21 hours, claimed to be the Dest yet recorded on the wheel. The marriage of Frmce Louis of Batttnberg and Princess Victoria of Hesse is expected to tako place at Windsor Castle when a date is :ixed. Southern papers sicak of the ap pearance of an unprecedented number of tramiis in that section, but tlie lat ter do not appear to be of tho vicioui, depredating order. A department of Agriculture's scientist says our wheat is deficient iu aibumenoids. It will be now in order for some foreign power to bar its im portation. Of the English Ministry, Mr. Glad stone draws i:4,020 a year from land. Lord Hartington i'lj.OOO a year, M. Dodson 3,lti3. Lord Spencer 42,2 1'J. Kimlwrly JS24.9M, Lord Northbroke i.'ll,0iX. and Lord Derby 1:130,320. Large importers of American cot ton at Genoa have found quantities of matches in tbe bales, which were evi dently placed there with Incendiary intent. There is a stream near Helen (Mont) whose waters pre so impreg nated with copper, that any metal articles dropped into it are soon copper-plated. When an Omaha warrior dies bis widow loses all right to the children, who are taken possession of by the dead man's relatives. The separation of the mother and her off-jpriug w permanent. M
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers