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W, M. CHENEY, Publisher.
f THE SONG OF THE WIND.
! Who hath an eye to, fl n( j mc ,f
•Who hath a to bind ine?
My haunts are earth's fair forests, fields and
| 1 break the 112 anlight Into dancing flakes,
' And blurr the pictured dreams of sleeping
Hither thither going where I plcaso.
Men See not, but they hear mo;
They lovo me, yot thoy fear me.
All nature breathes and moves at my com
Sometimes I dally with n maiden's tresses,
Or bear faint odors from far wildernesses,
Then strew with wrecks the desolated land.
Well may the seaman tremblo
When I with smiles dissemble!
For ne'er a spirit had such changing moods.
From wafting heavenward the white
Under propitious skies, I seize my whips
And lash the tempests from their solitudes.
Who hath an eye to find me?
Who hath a chain to bind me.
The vagrant roamer of the homeless sky?
Before the hoary mountains were, I lived;
For ages murmuring through their pines
That I alone of all things ne'er shall die.
—J. P. Hitter, Jr., in }lelford's Magazine.
THE SOUDANESE SPY.
BY WILLIAM M. GHAYDON.
"Listen, Bruce, what's that?" and Car
riston raised his hand with a gesture of
silence and looked at me intently. Then
we both dropped our cigars and rushed
out to the door of the Embassy.
A gun-shot, plain and unmistakable,
had echoed through the night air, and
•we certainly had heard a faint cry.
But in the dreary street all was quiet,
and the Solitary electric lamp reflected no
shadows save our own on tho pavement
of the British Embassy, while the palace
across the way, with its coral facades and
massive carved gates, showed no signs of
Then a gun went off, a drum began to I
rattle loudly, arms clashed, hurryiug foot
steps echoed on the stones, and shouts
were given and answered. I listened in
speechless astonishment, and then rushed
back for my cap and sword. It was best
to be prepnred, though what possible
ground for alarm existed I could not see.
Buakin was protected by a line of sen
tries that extended a mile beyond the
town. No signal had come from the out
skirts, yet here was this turmoil in the
▼ery midst of the European quarter.
As I hurried back to the door the great
palace gates swung open and a squad of
Egyptian soldiers trooped out, their
swarthy faces shining under their crimson
caps. Close behind them, escorted by
several officers, came a tall, dignified,
looking man. He was bareheaded and
held an unsheathed sword in his hand.
I recognized him at first sight as Ach
mcd Ras, the Egyptian Governor of Sua
kin. lie glanced up and down the
street and then hurried across to the Em
"You are a British officer!" he said,
breathless with excitement.
Captain Dugdale, of the Ninth Dra
goons, at your command, Your Excel
lency," I said, briefly.
"Thank you. I am in need of your
services. An Arab prisoner, a captured
spy of the Mahdi, has made his escape.
My stupid soldiers are to blame. The
fellow has been gone some time now, and
it is important he be retaken, for he has
stolen valuable plans of the town and
fortifications. I fear my soldiers can do
little, but if your dragoons will scour the
"Your Excellency," I interrupted,
"what you desire shall be done at once."
I mounted my horse, waved a hasty
salute, and galloped off down the narrow
■treet, leaving Achmed lias and Carriston
hobnobbing together on the steps of the
Embassy, for Carriston was the British
Ambassador at Suakin. The hot blood
was coursing madly through my veins, for
I had only been at Suakim a week, and
the faintest touch of excitement was in
1 remembered, too, having seen this
escaped Arab only a few days previous,
when he was being led captive through
the streets of the town—a great black
giant, with muscular, brawny limbs and
his black locks dangling in curls down his
I spurred rapidly through the town,
crossed the peninsula to the mainland,
where the troops were quartered side by
side with the native population, and soon
the bugle call to arms was floating out on
the night air, and the jingling of spurs
and the trampling of hoofs were heard on
all sides. A few brief, concise orders
and we galloped out onto the desert and
scattered over the sandy plain. Chances
were in ovr favor, for the moon was com
ing up slowly, and the enemy's outposts,
where alone the Arab could find safety,
were at that time three miles beyond the
Not a stone or bush or a mound of
sand escaped scrutiny. The men were
widely scattered,clinging far to the north
and to the south aud drawing steadily
nearer to the enemy's lines.
I galloped straight across the plain,
closely attended by a solitary trooper, a
bravo fellow named Tom Fraser. I kept
as far as possible in the direction I judged
the fugitive had taken and I hoped to
have the pleasure of capturing him my
self, for the trampling of my horse was
muffled by the drifted sand and would
not betray my approach until I should be
close upon him.
A mile and a half from the town lay a
belt of deserted intrenchuieiits from
which the enemy had been driven a month
or so previous. As we approached these
we slackened our speed and began to look
for a suitable crossing place. The Brit
ish shells had leveled them in places, and
one of these points we soon found, a
break in the trench with a gentle slope
on either side. We rode slowly dowu
into the hollow, and as our horses were
commencing to ascend again Fraser sud
denly tugged fiercely at my arm.
"Look, Captain, lookl" he whispered
excitedly, and as 1 followed the range of
his outstretched hand I saw a sight that
made my heart leap. Off to the south ex
tended the trenches in one unbroken for
mation, their mounds of sands rigid and
exact, and outlined sharply in the moon
light against the right hand wall of earth
was a swiftly moving shadow. Even as
we looked the specter vanished around a
curve and we saw it no more.
We pulled our horses' heads round and
dashed dowu the trench side by side, for
it was fully wide enough for three horse
men to ride abreast.
We thundered on in silence. I clutched
the reins tightly with one hand and with
the other I held my saber. The Arab
was unarmed and I would take him alive,
I thought, and lead him back in triumph
to Saulcin. This all passed through my
mind in an instant and then wc galloped
round the curve and saw our prey in
full view before us. He? was struggling
along painfully and limping as though
one leg was hurt. The moon shone full
upon him, and to my surprise I saw
that he carried a great shield and one of
those enormous double-edged swords
which these Arabs use with such terrible
effect. He had doubtless found them in
We called on him to surrender, but he
never even turned until as we were close
upon him he suddenly whirled around
in desperation and confronted us menac
ingly. We drew our sabers and dashed
Just here, extending full across the
trench, was a rugged depression, caused
probably by an exploding shell.
This we failed to see, and, while
Fraser's horse leaped it gallantry, my
animal stumbled and fell, and dowu I
went, partly beneath him.
I tried to rise, but my ankle was badly
sprained, and, with a cry of pain, I
dropped down behind the horse. Then I
forgot every thing in what I saw going on
before me. The Arab had retreated
against the wall and was fiercely keeping
Fraser at bay. Their swords clashed
until the sparks flew, and Fraser's heavy
strokes were intercepted by the Arab's
They fought on in silence and in the
moonlight I saw the Arab's face, the eyes
sparkling with hatred and the white teeth
clinched in deadly determination. Clash
after clash rang on the night air. Sud
denly Fraser spurred on his horse and
dealt a fearful blow at the Arab's ex
posed head, but as a flash the great
sword flew up, and the short saber strik
ing full and forcibly against the awful
edge, broke off close beside the hilt and
lay shining on the sand at their feet.
What followed I can never forget. It
will haunt me to my dying day.
Fraser threw up his right hand, with
the broken hilt, and with the left reached
for his revolver, and then, as I looked
on, stupid with horror, the Arab raised
his great, sword aloft with both hands,
and with all the force of his desperate
strength he hurled it forward like a
The gleaming blade flashed the moon
light from its edge and crushed with an
awful sound through poor Fraser's head,
cleaving its way through the skull and
between the shoulders and on down
through the back until its point fairly
touched the rear of the saddle.
Split in twain from head to waist the
poor fellow dropped to the ground with
[ out a cry, and his plunging steed tram-
LAPORTE, PA., FRIDAY, JULY 26, 1889.
pled over the body and then galloped to
mad fright down the trench.
Wholly engrossed in this awful scene,
I forgot my own peril, and only realized
it fully when the Arab, bracing himself
against the wall of the trench, began to
drag his sword out of Fraser's body.
With a shudder I reached for my pistol,
and grew faint for an instant when I re
membered that it lay under the horse in
the holster. I was wholly at the Arab's
mercy. The wretch was still tugging at
the sword, and seemed unable to loosen
it. If only I had my pistol how nicely I
could bring him down.
All at once I saw something glitter in
one of Fraser's outstretched hands, and
the sight of it gave me a thrill of hope.
It was his revolver, which he had sue
cceded in grasping just before the blow
If I could reach it before the Arab
could extricate his sword, I was saved. If
not— 'Eraser's fate would be mine. I
gritted my teeth, seized my saber firmly
and rose erect. The Arab saw me, and,
with a savage imprecation to Allah he
threw himself on the sword with a terri
ble effort. Still it clung to Fraser's body,
and then, as I leaped toward him, forget
ful of my sprained ankle, and flourished
my sabre liercelv, he grabbed his shield
and fell back a few yards, keeping on the
defensive. I uttered a loud shout to in
timidate him, and then bent over poor
Fraser. He still held the pistol, but his
grip was like iron. I gave a strong pull
and then another, and just as his stiffened
fingers loosened their clasp my injured
ankle asserted itself and I fell heavily to
one side. The wary Arab was watching
his chance and before I could even turn
ho leaped on me like a tiger and wc rolled
over in the sand splashing through a pool
of Fraser's crimson life-blood.
The Arab had clutched at my throat,
but missed it and clasping each other's
shoulders we floundered about the trench,
now one uppermost and now the other.
With clenched teeth, and struggling for
breath we fought on desperately, knowing
that one or the other must die. I could
feel the Arab's hot breath upon my neck
and' his huge brass earrings flapping
against my cheeks. I still held the pistol
tightly in my left hand. If I could only
get a chance to use it! Very foolishly I
relaxed my grasp a brief second and in
that lightening-liko interval the Arab
seized the advantage and fastened both
his brawny hands firmly on my throat.
In vain 1 struggled and strove to turn,
the bony fingers were pressing my wind
pipe and tho hideous face was glaring
into mine with a mocking smile.
I was choking, suffocating—all sense
was leaving me.
Must I die thus ? It was horrible.
With a fearful effort, the strength that
madness alone can give, I twisted tho
Arab sideways. My left arm was free.
My hand still clutched the pistol. I
raised it with a jerk. I put the muzzle
to his ear, with the last atom of strength
I pulled the trigger, and as the stunning
report echoed through the trench with
thundering reverbations everything grew
black and dim.
* * * ♦ * * *
Attracted by the pistol-shot, they
found us there half an hour later, still
locked in a close embrace. My uniform
was spattered with the Arab's blood.
Messengers were sent to Suakin for
stretchers, and while waiting the body
of my desperate foo was buried
where he lay in the trench, and
beside him was laid my horse, whose
neck had been broken in the fall.
We marched mournfully back to Suakin,
and the next day poor Fraser was laid to
rest in the English cemetery on the shores
of the Red Sea. I've been in many a skir
mish with the Arabs since, but that night
in the trenches outside Suakin was the
closest call I ever had, and as a living re
membrance I have kept that great two
edged sword which split Tom Fraser
nearly in half before my very eyes.—
The Sea a Diver's Tool Chest.
There is a diver at Bangor, Me., who,
if he had lived a thousand years ago,
would have had a wonderful story to tell
of water-nixies and the aid they had
given him. He was under the water ex
amining an obstruction in front of one of
the Bangor wharves and wanted a pick
axe or crowbar very much but thought it
would take too much time togo for them.
Accordingly he resolved to make one
more attempt at what he desired to do
without either. He had not moved five
feet along the river bottom before he
stumbled over a pickaxe that some un
known mortal had at some time los
overboard. Thus equipped he finished
his work without trouble.— Leicuton
A DEN OF DEATH.
A WIRE CAGE WHICH CONTAINS
A Man Enters and Fondles the Hep
tiles— Their Deadly Breath
Feeding and Washing Them
Onco a Week.
I was taken to a Dime Museum on
Eighth avenue, says Nym Crinkle in the
New York World.
It was one of those shows of which we
have altogether too many. A collection
of human monstrosities, human frauds
and human invalids, with a fringe of
museum and an attempt at performance.
But in one corner on the second floor t
where no sunlight ever came, aud abutting
the little stage where disease stalked in
tinsel and to which morbid visitors came
with delight, there stood a wire cage
about eight square, with a movable lid,
and by its side sat a rather spare young
man with a turban on, made of a dirty
American flag. In this cage, coiled, in
terlocked, writhing in convoluted masses,
and darkly moving about were the two
hundred rattlesnakes. They were the
unmistakable crotalida-, and represented
every variety of the animal that is known
to our land, from the lively and cinerous
prairie rattler to the scaled beast that one
seldom sees except in the rocky retreats
of the Alleg-hanies, the Catskills or the
The wire cage in which they were
| placed was not over three feet high, aud
| when the lid was lifted it was open
! across one-half its top. Presently the
floor-walker of the museum, who con
ducts the crowd from freak to freak and
I explains the wonders with proverbial
' rhetoric, approached this end of the room,
and as he called the attention of the
sight-seers to the den of snakes, the man
with the star-spangled turban, who had
| been sitting on a box by the side of his
I cage, got up and with the utmost sang
| froid lifted the lid and stepped over the
| wire side into the box. I noticed that
: he was very careful where he put his
! moccasin ed feet, the toes of which went
| dowu very gingerly in the narrow space
where there was no snake. But the
| moment he put his hand upon the lid to
lift it the occupants of the box showed a
curious activity, and there rose from
| every serpent the whirring cicada sound
of rattles. There was an unmistakable
endeavor on the part of each snake to
i get himself into the concentric position,
which is most favorable for striking, but
! so interlocked and massed were they that
| it was not an easy matter.
The exhibitor seated himself in the
centre of the box. Its inhabitants were
now in a most lively condition. They
; squirmed and rattled, but not one of them
struck at him. He picked them up, re
gardless of their attitudes and warnings,
I laid them one upon the other across his
knees, put them about his neck so that
the little black scaly heads came together
] on his chin, and hung two of the smallest
J over his ears, and presently he was pretty
S well covered with a writhing mass.
I noticed that he exercised a great deal
of dexterity in picking them up. That is
to say he picked them up gently, and at
I the same time appeared to do it care
lesslj-. His one great care was obviously
not to irritate the snake. In putting
down his hands to feel for them on the
I floor of the cage he could not turn his
j head to direct the motion of his hands
| with his eyes, as his writhing neckerchief
interfered. He therefore groped deftly
about with his fingers, now collecting a
snake by the head, now by the tail,
and nearly every one that he lifted kept
up the rattling, rather, however, in an
automatic than in a vicious manner.
He remained in the cage just two
minutes and thirty seconds by the watch.
1 When he disengaged himself and slipped
j out he was in that condition called as
| "a dripping perspiration," and his pulse
; was abnormally high. The crowd paid
| no attention to him and passed onto tho
other wonders. So I had him alone.
! I found him to be an intelligent Irish
man (O'Connell is his name), and he told
me that he could not stay in the cage
| over three minutes, because "the breaths
of the snakes overcame him."
; I asked him in what way he was af
fected. He said it made him "weak."
This is a curious and interesting point,
md I am inclined to believe that this man
suffered from an unconscious fear. He
nas been struck three times, and has es
caped so far, but he never steps over the
wires without a sub-consciousness that it
may be the last time.' That this affects
. him in some way I have no doubt.
Mr. O'Connell told me that he had no
Terms—sl.2s in Advance; $1.50 after Three Months.
fear of snakes, and never saw one that ho
could not handle. But this only amounts
to the statement that he was not aware of
any fear, and I have heard tho boast be
fore about handling serpents. Once a
week he washes his pets and rubs them off
gently with a whisk broom, after which
they shine, he says, like a morning star.
What is still more interesting, he feeds
them on raw meat, and has to open their
mouths and put it in, the snake of course
not being disposed to seek food that is
not animated. He has to put this meat
into their throats, so to speak, before the
act of deglutition begins.
All the information that he gave me
concerning the crotalidte was correct
enough. I asked him why he did not
extract the fangs, and he said they would
grow in again, which is true, for behind
the developed fangs are the rudiments of
others, sometimes as many as five. I have
seen an expert Indian boy jerk the tooth
out with a pieco of canvas which the
snake had struck. Mr. O'Connell insists
that the rattlesnake never strikes unless it
I believe this to be true. So flat a head
as that of the crotalida: leaves them with
out any upper brain whatever. They have
not even the cerebrum of a porgie.
It is idle, therefore, to look for volition
in his scaly system. He furnishes the
best example of the muscular automaton
in the chain of animated nature and would
have delighted Descartes. He is a crea
ture of surface irritation. The whirr of
a bird, the sharp crack of a bough, the
tramp of a heavy foot sends the nervous
current along that spine to the alarum.
But the sleeping beauty might harbor him
in her bosom if she were quiet.
Mr. O'Connell appears to know this
from experience. Better philosophers
than Mr. O'Connell have advanced it out
of their inner consciousness. The crota
lida; are subject to rhythm. This is the
explanation of serpent charming and the
explanation of Mr. O'Connell's success.
The Hindoo uses the rhythm of sound.
The Irishman uses the rhythm of motion.
He is like a serpent himself in his motion
Incense for Homes.
The agreeable fashion of burning
pastilles aud fragrant herbs in rooms that
are apt to grow "stuffy" in damp weathei
is almost a substitute for a fire on the
hearth, which purifies and cheers the
whole house. Ever since the mania foi
Japanese decoration came in there has
been a demand for the delicious pastilles,
or "reeds," which are the condensation
of Eastern fragrance, and their use has
brought about a greater love for aromatic
odors of a refined and purifying nature.
The subtle sweetness permeating articles
that come from China or Japan will last
for years and affect the atmosphere, not
merely of the room they are in, but of the
entire house. There is not a Rimrnel or a
Lubin in Europe that can produce this in
toxicating, and, if one may say so, high
bred perfume from the Orient, try as he
may. A bunch of Japanese pastilles,
smoldering one at a time in a little in
cense burner, will last several week ,
while for olfactories disliking any per
iame, however delicate, a bit of gum
camphor or a little stack of pine needles
produces a most refreshing odor while
burning. Pine needles can be gathered
by the bushel and kept all winter to be
thrown on coal fires in city houses oi
burned by themselves in one of those lit
tle chafing dishes for which Japanese art
is famous.— Chicago Herald.
A Dog With a Record.
As a finely proportioned Newfound
land leaped out into the exercise ground
of ten acres, Mr. Ireland described him as
a dog with a history. "This,"he said,
"is champion Miro, who has won twenty
seven prizes and has never been beaten.
Nobody knows his pedigree, but it is, of
course, of the very best. Mr. Ben Lewis,
of this city, saw him one day a few years
ago, lying in front of a butcher's shop in
New Orleans, and asked concerning his
career. The butcher was totally unaware
of the rank and value of the dog, and
only knew that Miro had come to New
Orleans on a ship from some foreign port
and had deserted the vessel there. In
the few months that he had been in New
Orleans Miro had made a great record in
saving the lives of drowning people in the
Mississippi River.— Philadelphia lie cord.
Miss Caroline King, a young Boston
artist, was offered S3OO to make a series
of designs representing the industries of
women. She wanted the money, but
when she found the pictures were to
ornament cigarette packages, she re
fused the contract.
"Do you want-to buy this hand-book?"
"Do you call that ponderous quarto a
hand-book?" "Certainly; it's a work on
Railroad Patron—"Why don't you
have a clock here?" Station Agent—
"Got tired telling people it was right.' (
—New York Tribune.
"What cruel luck! Just as I had made
up my mind to bo an out-and-out pessi
mist, this joy must needs come in the
way."— Fliegende Blaetter.
Wife—"Where shall we hide the sil
ver while we are away?" Husband—
"Put it in the pockets of your dresses in
the closet."— Harper's Bazar.
Teacher—"Name some of the most
important things existing to-day which
were unknown 100 years ago." Tommy
—"Us."— Terre Haute Express.
"I want to write a letter to the Secre
tary of the Navy. Shall I address him
as 'Your Excellency?'" "Oh, no; use
the term, 'Your Warship.'"— Life.
The maid you meet in Fashion's whirl,
That you'd ne'er t»'y to woo,
Is just the very kind of girl
Your mother picks for you.
Old Lady (to elevator boy)—" Little
boy, do you go up in this elevator all
day!" Little Boy—"No, ma'am. I
come down the other half ."—Philadelphia
A. (somewhat illiterate) —"I read
something in a paper about idiots. Are
they human beings?" B.—"Certainly;
they are human beings like yourself." —
"This heading, 'French Duel—A Man
Hurt,' doesn't fill out the line by about
three-quarters of an inch," sung out slug
47. "Fill out the line with exclamation
points!" thundered the foreman.— Chi
Mr. Lytewaite—"Miss Hightone, how
do you like my painting, 'Columbus Dis
covering New York Bay?' " Miss High
tone—"Oh, the painting is lovely; but
didn't you forget to paint in the Statue
of Liberty?"— Time.
A city young man had a lingering wish
To tickle his palate with something deli
So got him a tackle and went out to fish,
Believiug the time and the region auspi
But returned empty liandod and weary at
Said luck was capricious,
For fish were the only things that didn't bite.
—New l'ork Herald.
America's Worst Penmen.
The most celebrated exponent of bad
penmanship in America was Rufus Choate,
the great Boston lawyer, whose signature
has been aptly compared to "a gridiron
struck by lightniug," and whose hand
writing was, in many cases, absolutely un
decipherable, even by the writer himself.
; On one occasion Mr. Choate was having
| his house repaired, and made arrange
ments to have a carved mantlepiece put
up, promising to send the model. Failing
to obtain one to suit him, he wrote to his
workman to that effect. The carpenter,
after studying the missive—which looked
as if a spider wading in ink had crawled
across the paper—at length concluded
that it must be the desired plan, and
forthwith began fashioning probably the
most original mantlepiece that ever orna
mented a room. This story is almost
equal to that told of the great Napoleon,
who was such a wretched writer that it is
said his letters from Germany to Joseph
ine were at first taken for rough maps of
the seat of war.
It is related of the late Dean Stanley
that a short time before his death
he was invited by the editor of one of the
New York magazines to contribute an
article to its pages on some timely topic.
The paper was promptly written and duly
received, ' ,to the consternation of the
editor, no one could be found who was
ibte to decipher the handwriting. Fin
illy, in despair, the editor was obliged to
return the manuscript to England, to be
rewritten for publication. In fact, the
Dean, like Choate, did not write,
out made a few arbitrary strokes with a
pen on paper.
No mentton of remarkable penmen
ivould be complete which did not include
.he name of Horace Greely, whose chi
fograpliy was once tersely described by a
lew compositor in the Tribune office in
the savage remark, liberally interspersed
vith profanity: "If Belsliazzar had seen
his handwriting on the wall he would
lave been more terrified than he was."—
The fortune of the richest man in New
South Wales, Sydney Burdekin, began
n pawubroking. He is worth several
Millions of dollar