A BABY IN THE BATTLE.
,* v
y AN INCIDENT IN THE CAREER OF
HEROIC LORD CHARLES HAY.
Into the of Heath lie Strode Alone,
and, Railing (he Helpless Child in Ills
Arms, Carried It I'p to the Enemy's
Front mid Delivered It to the Mother.
"Hello! What's 'Young Salamander'
up to now?''
I 't "Mad, I fancy, or else he wants to get
V killed."
"And so he will, whether he wants it
or not, if he goes running in among the
bullets like that!"
In truth "Young Salamander" (other
wise I-ord Charles Ilay of the First Life
Guards) did seem to he running a fearful
risk without any reason whatever. One
of the hardest battles ever fought be
tween the French and English in Bel
gium was at its hottest. The French
<•; ,/> army was much the stronger of the two,
and although the English held their
.. ground as stubbornly as bulldogs it
seemed very doubtful which way the
fight would go. Just then, in the thick
of the uproar and confusion, the rolling
smoke and the (lying shot, young Hay
(whose bravery under fire had long since
earned him the nickname of "Salaman
der" from his adoring soldiers) was seen
to step forth from the English line and
advance straight toward the enemy.
A DESPERATE VENTURE.
A more desperate venture could hardly
"* he imagined, for so thickly were the bul
lets (lying between the two opposing
lines that the littl" jets of dust which
they knocked up from the dry eartli
formed a cloud almost as dense as the
smoke itself. Nothing niorlal surely
could live in such a storm of shot; and
what could he pussibly be going to do
there?
"Come line .. inv lord; come back, for
heaven's sak •!" shouted a dozen deep
voices at on".
"The >>:uig fool's mad—stark mad!"
roared the English colonel, recovering
*" from his stupor of amazement. "Come
back this minute, you young idiot! l)o
you want to ho killed?"
But Lord Charles still went forward
without a moment's pause, us if he had
not heard them Then the English
ceased firing in sheer astonishment; hut
just tit that moment the flash and crackle
of a fresh gollcv burst forth like a storm
along the glittering line of French bayo
nets, and till was hidden in smoke, When
h the smoke cleared again every one expect
\, ed to see the brave lad lying dead. But
ho—Hay was still on his feet. His cap
had been struck off, and some said that
they cottld see blood on his face, but he
was still marching onward as steadily as
ever.
And now tlie French grenadiers, begin
ning to descry him through the rolling
smoke, stopped filing in their turn, ap
posing that this single man who was
coming toward them so boldly from the
English line must be tlio beart r of some
message from flie British general, and
vilie attention of the two contending hosts
"was bent upon the solitary figure be
tween them. Just then asudden gust of
wind whirled aside for a moment the
cloud of smoke and dust, and every one
saw for the first time what Lord Charles
Hay was about.
A little to tlia left of the English line
of battle stead a cluster of miserable
hovels, and the Flemish peasants who in
habited them, instead of running away
when the battle begun, as one might
A have expected, bad stayed where they
were, seeing that the light seemed to be
rolling away from them, and not liking
the idea of abandoning their bins, which,
poor and wre tela I as they were, were
the only home • • t they had. But they
soon found that v were mistaken, for
a sudden chaw in the position of the
two armies fir - lit these unlucky cot
tages right in; • i . • line of fire, and the
terrified pea.sr '-. finding the cannon
balls falling thickly on every sido of
them, took to i wir heels at once, drag
/ ging with them !h -ir children and what
• few goods they < mid manage to carry.
In the hurry ol tc.is panic flight a tiny
girl, hardly old enough to walk alone,
had fallen or fir i left behind, and was
now lying 011 the ground midway be
tween the French and English lines, cry
ing bil rl< while her mother could ho
see' 1 .1 . dance shrieking wildly and
tossi• t arm- in the air and strug
gling to fir. k I. • >e from her husband,
who v. . . .!• fin; iier firmly, for, count
ing Ins c'.i. iah . iy lost, 1 , had no wish
to lose his wilt ' ■ well.
Al'ri .'.i o: I) BY THK ENEMY.
Coolly >if iin paradetli ■ brave young
guard sin i : • onward to the spot
where the ' • ■ child lay, his fair hair
and hi" In , '••••■• showiii." through
the biilovvy in >!; like tho-o of an angel
in eoui 'old Italian painting. lie raised
it tenderly in Id arms, and some who
saw it said alu rw.ird that the poor little
trembler c used crying at once, as if
soothed and comforted bv his gentle
voice a: d kindly smile. Then, keeping
his own body as much as possible be
tween the chilli and the leveh d muskets
of the French, he went straight on, as
'♦ calmly a.- < i, toward tho dark mass of
his enemies.
t 'lJon't bit.-, comradi don't fire!"
shouted a tall stern looking French
soldi, r, who- grim face was black with
dust uhd unpowder. "If lie were
twenty times an Englishman, lie's as
good ana sail i from heaven, for all that!"
Attlia' moment a mighty shout, which
was heard iu n ..i.ovo the roar of cannon
and m i-lo i r v from tho other sid.. of tho
battle i. Ihi i-t from the English ranks
as tin • m. < their, young hero hearing
the child ualiarined across thot deadly
space, and . careely liad the cheer died
away when it was echoed by an answer
ing cheer from the French, which rolled
along the vast plain like a peel of dis
tant thunder. Meanwhile tho young
officer, pulsing close to the cruel points
of the French bayonets as coolly as if
they had been only bulrushes, with the
tiny face nestling trustingly against his
shoulder, went straight up to the dis
tracted mother and placed the child in
her arms.
Then lie kissed the tiny thin little
a
cheek tenderly, and was just turning
away to go back to his own men when a
stately old officer with a long gray mus
tache, whose broad breast was covered
with crosses and decorations, stepped
forth from the French line and held out
his hand.
"Monsieur," said he, bowing cour
teously, "permit mo to have the honor of
shaking hands with the bravest man 1
have ever met."
An hour later Lord Charles Ilay was
lying face downward upon the earth,
sorely wounded bj a chance bullet which
had hit him just as the enemy were giv
ing way and beginning to retreat. But
though his wound wasa severe and pain
ful one, and though he lived to become
one of the richest and most popular men
in all England, lie always spoke of that
day as the happiest of his whole life.—
Montreal Star.
I.hiroln'H li inkers.
President Lincoln's kind (heart always
responded to a child's advances. Ho in
dulged his own children, saying, "It is
my pleasure that my children are free
and happy, and unrestrained by parental
tyranny. Love is the chain whereby to
bind a child to its parents."
Before his election in 1800 a little girl
of 11 years, seing his lithograph portrait,
thought his appearance would he im
proved should he wear whiskers. She
uttered her childish thought in a letter
to Mr. Lincoln, and in a few days re
ceived a friendly answer, in which lie
asked:
"As to the whiskers, as I have never
worn any, <lo you not think that people
would call it a piece of silly affectation
were I to begin wearing them now?"
During his journey to Washington, af
ter his election to the presidency, the
train stopped at AVestfield, Chautauqua
county, at which place the little girl re
sided.
"I have ucorrespondent in Ibis place,"
said Mr. Lincoln, "a little girl whoso
name is Grace Bedell, and I would liko
to see Iter."
Shews brought to the station. He
stepped fri .a the cars, extended his
hand and >.iid: "You see I have let those
whiskers grow for you, Grace." Then
kissing her, he hade her good-bv.
When lie stood up at the Capitol to de
liver his inaugural address, friends were
surprised to sec that the president was
raising a crop of whiskers. Vexed at his
spoiling a face which expressed power
and pathos by wearing a coarse, stiff,
ungraceful hoard of the blacking brush
variety, they made inquiries, and learned
that lie had ceased to shave to gratify a
very young lady.—Youth's Companion.
A Hint for Young Girls.
When your sweetheart comes to see
you, don't be foolish enough to confine
your sweetness to him alone. Have him
in where all of the rest of the household
are. Lot the talk and the chatter and
the music and the playing of games be
in the home circle. Then the few min
utes that lie gets with you by yourself
will seem all the more delightful,and lie
will think you the most loving little
creature in the world. Men are much
more observant than they are credited
with being, and the man worth having
as a husband is the one who will appre
ciate your love for those of your own
people an i will see that as you make a
small part in one home, you are becom
ing adapted for the central figure in an
other.
Nov. r : ay thai you don't expect a man
to marry your whole family. It's vul
gar. You do. That is, if you are a good
daughter and a loving sister. You want
him to lie one with you in sympathy and
in affection, and as you take his name,
so yon assume responsibilities as far as
his people arc concerned. You two are
the mo.-1 to each --mr love for
each should Is; tli< fiut you can
not isolate your- B i in-is! that you
have no duties on: \ a own home.
If you do this you ■ ■•■ in i. .rr< and
selfish, and you a: .mi:.•> ifi. a girl
for that. So remember ui a lie comes,
this bridegroom of ivoiiia, ifi hi-heart
is bound the tighter t \ oil if 1 ■ ■ ribbon
used to hold it l:a \ rteli upon it in
golden letters, "Lo\c mi consideration
for those at home.' 1/ li. Homo Jour
nal.
Truth Not Alaay*
"Dear friend!" cried I !.n willow, as she
bent c v insini. uid I on ii -r
beautiful oiiu v. u'cted on (ii-. gin.—iy
surfa'v. 'ln ■ ' nder sad luiw true you
arc! Lan i the fi. .firs around me have
not a .single ii.o'in that is rot, mirror <1
on your faithful -bosom." Vnd, a- the
breeze played gently aim ng her lira aches,
they bent to the it.re am and l,i-..d the
placid \\ at. i .
Suminvr snl, and wink-: ; suaimcr
and winter; suVutncr and w inter; and tho
willow grew old. Its leaves wfire few,
its branches withered, the flower s around
faded.
"How changed you are!" she cried
peevishly to llin stream. "Origp I never
looked on you but to rejoice, for all you
showed mh was pleasant and full of
praise. Now, when I try to bend to
catch a glimpse, I turn away sad and
sorrowful; for what do you bring before
mo? Not verdure, not symmetry, not
grace; but bareness, deformity and de
cay. You are greatly changed."
"Foolish willow!" answered the
stream, "1 am too true.—that is my
fault. There is a change, but it is not
in me; but you are not the only one that
looks coldly on the truth when it offends
tho liking."
V Oiimition hi Pliynlofftl Culture.
Sweet Little Daughter—Papa, isn't
niaiuuiu dreadfully strong?
Papa—No, dear. She's small, you
know. It's your papa that is the strong
one of the family.
S. L. D.—But, then, I heard mamma
telling Mrs. Tell'ytall last evening that
she could just wind you around her fin
ger.—Pittsburg Bulletin.
Wlmt a Itucket Shop In.
Tom—Say, Jack, what's a bucket
shop?
Jack—l guess it's where the brokers
get their buckets to water the stock
with.—Lippincott's.
THE PAY OF CLERGYMEN.
A CLAIM THAT THEIR SALARIES ARfr
COMPARATIVELY SMALL.
Son! lutfrcstinj; Statistics Containing tin*
Sums Itecelvwl by Sevonil Noted Men.
Some Few Ministers Get I.urge Salaries,
but They Are (Exceptions.
No man who adopts a ministerial ca
reer can be justly charged with merce
nary motives, for in no other profession
is the monetary reward so small. There
are, to be sure, a few instances of preach
ers who are paid large salaries for their
services, but the rank and file of the
clergy receive hardly enough to main
tain themselves respectably. The aver
age salary paid to ministers in Protestant
churches is less than SI,OOO per annum.
Even in the large metropolitan parishes,
where men of marked ability officiate,
the income awarded them is altogether
incommensurate with their talents
Prominent lawyers like Joseph 11
Choute, Robert U. Ingersoll and Benja
min F. Butler make all the way f*-om
$75,000 to $125,000 each year. Among
physicians, Dr. Loomis earns from $50,-
000 to SOO,OOO, Dr. Polk from $40,000 to
$50,000, Dr. Sayre about $50,000, and a
dozen more might be named who earn
over $25,000 annually. Compared to the
salaries paid the managers of large finan
cial institutions, tlio reward of tlio great
est preachers in the land seems paltry.
The president of the Mutual Life Insur
ance company receives $50,000; Mr. De
pew, as president of the New York Cen
tral railroad, gets $" hand there are
a considerable nun wealthy corpo
rations ' it pay chief officials
from $. 10 to $ ) for a year's
services. liiglic ry paid a cler
gyman in i >v York 1,000, and Dr.
John Hull is tlio forti dividual.
SOME WEALTH Pt NTS."
There are perhaps half dozen other
preachers who get l'r m $1 ,000 to $15,-
000, hut il should he r< diered that
they repr ml the weal' ■(. parishes in
the city. it the -time its much
respou- that devolving upon the
heads i moneyed institutions.
This win pparent when we regard
the church sunder their direction from
a purely financial standpoint. Trinity
Church corporation owns millions upon
millions in real estate. Its annual in
come is nearly SBOO,OOO. The bulk of
this vast sum is paid out in church work
eacit year, and Dr. Morgan Dix, the
rector, presides over its distribution.
Dr. Hall's church has a plant—if this
term may he allowed—valued at $2,000,-
000. The income from pew rents and
contributions amounts to nearly $050,000
per annum. Most of this is spent in
missionary work. In 188!) the congrega
tional expenses, including the pastor's
salary, the music, and all incidental
items, fooled up $03,081. The balance
' .€ over SOOO,OOO was applied to domestic
nd foreign missions, the relief fund of
the Pre: iivterian church, and to miscel
laneous charities. In view of this re
inarkalile showing it cannot lie doubted
that Dr. Hall earns his salary.
Grace church has an endowment of
$250,000. lis property is worth close to
$2,000,000, and its annual income from
pew rents and contributions averages
SIOO,OOO. The property of Ascension
church, Fifth avenue and Tenth street,
represents an investment of $850,000.
Its revenue is about $50,000 each year.
St. Thomas' church and property is val
ued at $750,000. Its pews alone rent for
$50,000 each year, mi l the contributions
amount to from SOO,OOO to SIO,OOO more.
St. George's church is supported entirely
by voluntary contributions. All the
pews are free. Dr. itaiusford, the rec
tor, gets a nominal salary of SIO,OOO per
annum. He is pi. d of private
means, however, at ' .-turns his salary
to the treasury of : ui h. The prop
erty is valued a I > id and the
yearly revenue i-i In ; SHbOOO and
$50,000. A large p: portion of this sum
is spent in iri-a cli.iri; ion. Calvary
church anil , i ij rty is worth at least
$300,000. Its contribute' arc very
large, averaging frot i : ■> SBO,OOO.
Tho total income of tin parish in not far
short of $1)0,pot) a year, niul fully one
third of it goes to general charities.
Mi:ST I.IVE EXPENSIVE!.V.
The Madison Square Presbyterian
church, where Dr. Charles 11. Park hurst
preside i i income of between
$50,000 aiul rMO.OOO. Its plant is prob
ably we a ctdO.OOO.
Dr. I'.i xtoii' . West Presbyterian church
has an incomeof overbed,ooo. The value
of its plant lias not been estimated.
Ten large church organizations have
been instanced here, representing a com
bined property worth millions upon mil
lion.--, from which a total yearly income
is do; iv d from pew rents and contribu
tions of about §1,000,000. This vast sum
is, Tor the most part, left to be disposed
of by ten men. At the least, their will is
a potent factor in its distribution. It is
essential, therefore, that they should
each combine first class business
qualifications with learning and elo
quence; yet the average Salary they
receive per annum is only a trifle over
SII,OOO. When it; is considered that they
must keep up a style of living in accord
ance with the dignity of the pulpits they
occupy, besides answering substantially
innumerable private calls on their char
ity, it is not to he supposed that they can
lay by very much money against the
time when old age will deprive them of
their usefulness.
Nothing has been said so far as to tho
personal value of a clergyman to tho
parish under his charge. Experience
has proved that the income of a pastor
ate depends mainly upon the qualities
displayed by tho pastor; so that in near
ly every instance he may be said to earn
personally the revenue of his church.—
John P. Hitter in Frank Leslie's News
paper.
luMiring Against llurglury.
For two years past there has been an
insurance company against burglaries,
flourishing in London. According to the
regolur rates you can insure the contents
of your residence, or tho damage to it
through burglary, or any special article
you desire.—London Letter.
WHAT IT COST HER TO DRESS.
A Thousand Dollars a Tear Nona hnl
5250 Woulil Do After tlio Wedding.
The young man had been sitting in
deep thought for several minutes look
ing at his liest girl and judging as well
as he could by the dim light the cost of
her apparel. They had been engaged
for several months, and, having passed
that period of ecstatic bliss which ob
scures all thoughts of worldly affairs,
they were able, at odd moments, to
speculate about the future. The parlot
was elaborately furnished, and every
thing about tlio dear girl, from the tips
of her dainty patent leather shoes to the
gold pin in her hair, was suggestive of
weal tli.
The night was clear and cold, and this
was one reason why the young uuin had
the power to look at things in a cold,
worldly fashion. The night on which he
had flopped on one knee and laid his
heart at the feet of the fair creature had
been wild and stormy. She had accepted
him in a particularly wild buret of rain
and wind, and thereafter on every stormy
night visions of bliss swept over him and
made his rather poor prospects glitter
with unnatural brilliancy. Onthisniglit,
however, he saw things in their true
light, and after the heavy tread of his
dear girl's mother had given way to a
low rumbling snore, ho suddenly cried:
"llow much did that dress cost?"
lie touched the garment lightly, and
looked lwwwohingly up in the girl's
face.
"The material cost sls. making it cost
$18."
"Phew! Can you make dresses?"
"The idea! Of course not."
"How many dros-<>- do you get in a
year?"
"Well," she said, contemplatively,
"when Igo away in the country I usu
ally take six new one with me. They
cost on an average $45 each. Then I give
four receptions a year, arid, of course, a
new dress is necessary each time. The
four cost about $240. Then I suppose I
have about live other dresses, which
come cheap; perhaps about S4O for each i
one." *
The young i ;ei buried his face in his
hands l'or - minute, and then said:
"Hats and shoes pretty expensive?"
"Oh, my; no," replied tlie girl,.with a
little cry of scorn. "I suppose my hats
and shoes do not cost more than S3OO a
year."
"Now, look here,.Jess," said the young
man desperately, "what I am trying to
get at is how much it costs to dress you.
You do a little figuring and let me see
what the result is."
Jess bent her dear little head over an
ivory tablet and scribbled away indus
triously and bit her pencil thoughtfully
for five minutes. Then she submitted
this table:
Dresses.. $7lO Wraps JSO
Hats laij Linen, etc 100
Shoes 75
Gloves Sol Total SI,OBO
The young man read these items over
and over again.
"Great Scott, Jess," he said, "that's
pretty steep, isn't it?"
"Oh, I don't know," she replied.
"That is only a small part of what I
cost, for you have no idea what an ox
pensive girl I am. You know I usually
spend it month every summer at some
watering place, and then 1 get rid of an
awful lot of money in helping ihechurch
along, in car fares, bonbons and such
things."
"What does it cost to run this house,
any way?" asked the young man, sav
agely, for ho felt that the idol of his
heart was slipping away.
. "I don't know exactly," replied Jess,
"but, maybe, $3,000 a year will do it
nicelv."
"Humph! Lot rnedoalittleilguring."
T?io young man's figuring was like
this:
Probable east of furniture, $1,000; juarly
instill Inn nits S3OO
Rent of fiat (In Brooklyn > .* 400
Wages of servant • 180
Wife's clothing (.her estiu. 1,080
My ciot'.ilng (my estimate) 100
Necessary recreation, vacations, and charity 200
Food 150
Total $2,410
Jiy salary .. 8,400
Deficit $lO
Jess bent Iter bead over this table and
studied it intently.
"Are you estimating what it will cost
us to keep hou-V:" alio asked.
"Yes," was tho dreary reply.
"I think 1 can improve on that list,"
shesaid. "Now, cut off from my estimate
of clothing SBSO and add $l5O to your
estimate of your clothing. Deduct SIOO
from the cost of recreation and so forth,
and another SIOO off the rent. Reduce
the servant's wages S3O. 1 am suro
our furniture won't cost more than §7OO,
but you can let tho yearly install
ments stand. 1 think you had better
add $33 to thb cost of food. Now, how
much difference does that make?"
"Eight hundred and eighty-live Uol
lars."
"And the $lO deficit you make by yor.i
figuring reduces this to $875. 1 can livo
on this if you can."
And he said he'd try it if she would. —
Now York Sun.
!.incol,i':i Funeral Car.
While sitting in our office this morning
a train passes tho town. It is running
wild and is composed of an engine and
one passenger car. This car is old in
fashion and appearance. It lias not seen
paint for years, though it still bears tho
jaded lines of former elegance and re
finement. Now it -is only a construction
car, used to convey men to wrecks and.
accidents, and holds one of the humblest
positions in the car service of the Union
Pacific system.
But that old weather-beaten car has a
history and it has been honored by a
grief stricken people as no other car in
the Union has, for under its faded old
top lay the remains of tho martyred
president, Abe Lincoln, when they wero
borne in state from Washington to
Springfield. Through that car poured
grief stricken people at every stop on the
journey—sorrowing, weeping women,
men \i hose pulse beat meant sorrow and
resentment, children who are now tho
mainspring of this republic,—Fort Lup<
ton (Colo.) Cyclone.'
! WOMEN IN THE OILMARKET
SOMETHING ABOUT THEIR SPECU
LATIONS ON 'CHANGE.
Thii Mrmige Story of One Wowhd'k Kxpe
rtonce—Devoting Her Lift to tlie Recov
ery of ller llunban(l't( Money, IVhich She
I.oM—An fill Company of Women.
There have been some pretty big fe
male plungers in the oil market at one
time and another. There are still wo
men speculators in most of the oil ex
changes in the region, hut there are few.
if any, of the "high rollers" left. Oil!
City has had more women speculators,
in petroleum than any other town, al
though at one time Bradford had a fnit
quota. The Globe-Democrat correspond
ent learned today that there are but
three women who still visit the Oil Ex
change daily and make a regular busi
ness of toying with the oily tiger. These
ladies have been familiar figures about
the cxchaugc for several years, and are
all that are left out of 6overnl women
speculators.
These ladies do not come ou the. floor
of the exchange, and are not, in fact,
members, but are in their seats in the
ladies' gallery as soon as the exchange
opens, and remain tolerably regularly
until the close at I! o'clock in the after
noon. They deal, of course, entirely
through brokers, a nod being a sufficient
order for a broker to buy or sell 1,000,
5,001) or 10,000 barrels of oil, as the case
may be. It is not often that they go be
yond a deal of 1,000 barrels, as. the la
dies who are left in the exchange, to put
it in the phraseology of a broker, are
"flying light." With a few exceptions,
the ladies who have entered the jungles
of the oily tiger have got the worst of it.
The three who still cling to the exchange
are content to deal in 1,000 barrel lots,
and it is not always they can do this.
A number of ladies prominent in the
charitable organizations and in society
here have been successful speculators in
oil, and two or three of them have been
interested in some largo deals. They
were not regular habitues of tlio ex
change, and were frequent visitors to
the gallery, which is open to the public.
All their deals in the market have been
made through brokers. When there was
more activity in the market than there
is at present it was a universal theme of
fireside gossip. Everybody speculated
in oil, from the minister down to the
porter in tlio hotel, and it is no wonder
the ladies fell under tlio fascinating spell
of tlio "bull ring." as the pen like place
where the deals are made on Vliahgo is
called.
During exciting times in the market it
has been discussed quite as much in the
drawing room as in the counting room.
In the system of speculating in oil the
persons of small capital and no capital
at all have not. been overlooked, ami the
servant girl is given an opportunity to
• take a flyer in oil" if she is so inclined.
During one big whirl in the market, fol
lowing the collapse of the Cherry Grove
field, it was well known that a large
number of servant girls lost their little
handle along with the big fellows. This
was the most disastrous panic the oil
country ever knew, and it marked to a
great extent the end of speculating by
women. So many of tlieui lost all their
money that only a limited number of
them have had the courage to venture
back into the speculative whirlpool.
The history of one woman's specula
tions in the Oil City exchange is curious.
JJer husband had been in business in the
oil country for several years and had ac
cumulated considerable property, in all
worth about $16,000. He concluded to
go west, and went to several of the west
ern cities to look around for ait invest
ment. lie had ctTected a sale of his
property before leaving Oil City, and his
wife remained behind to settle up some
details, collect payments not yet duo
and join him in the west, where they
were to make their future home. The
woman collected the money, an I, doubt
less, wishing to carry a pleasant surprise
to her husband, she put the motley into
the oil market to "make a turn." The
turn went the wrong way and lost.
In the hope of getting it back she made
other litvi ;tments, with the usual result.
It was not long before she bad ! t every
dollar < f the money that she was to carry
to her husband. It was. orne time before
she.ventured to break the t.-wsof her
folly to her husband, and this alio did
only after he bad writ tea i.-p dly fot
her to come on with the money. At last
she .told him tho story of her 1 in the
oil market, where she had : in the
hope of doubling their money, Yho hus
band had taken enough mom . with him
to buy a small farm, and with this lie
was contented to begin the lusinc jof
money gotlin over again, hut his wife
refused u ■ hare his lot until si; > had re
stored to him the money she had lost.
She declined to go west, hut remained in
Oil City in the hope of recovering her
lost fortune.
This was ten years ago. and the woman
is still a daily attendant in the gallery of
the Oil Exchange. She has had varying
luck, but has never got enough money
ahead to make good tho loss to her hus
band, or anything like it. The Globe-
Democrat correspondent was told t hat in
this time she has several times been re
duced to the extremity of doing the work
of a servant. When she would get
enough money together to buy a "put"'
or a "call" she would again try her luck
in the market. She always dresses in
solemn black, and evidently has but one
purpose in life, namely, to recover the
money she foolishly risked in oil and re
store it to her husband.
There is not much likelihood that she
will ever succeed. Her husband contin
ues to urge her to abandon her self im
posed task and .join him on his farm in
the west, hut she resolutely refuses to do
so. lie has made two or three trips to
Oil City to prevail upon her to give up
the market, but she cannot be shaken
from her purpose. She says she is in it
for the money she lost or for her life.
She lives in the most frugal manner,
oven when making some money, but the?
chances are remote of her ever recover
ing her losses. Her dealings recently
have been in a very small way, and she
barely makes enough to support herself.
—Oil City (Pa.) Cor. St. Louis Globe-
Democrat.
Ksjpt'i Former Khedive. '
It reads like a passage from comic
opera when we find that in the beginning
of 1860 "business was practically sus
pended in nearly all the government
offices in order that those of their staffs
who knew French might be employed iu
translating the 'CEiI Grove,' the 'Belle
Helene,' the 'Mariee do Mardi-Gras' and
other chefs d'oeuvres of Offenbach into
Arabic for the use of the harem ladies."
In May the khedive gave a grand hall to
| celebrate his accession. One of the items
of expenditure on this occasion was the
throwing of a temporary bridge over the
Nile, at a cost of £B,OOO.
And then in November came tho
crowning splendors of theopenjng of the
canal. The empress of France, (he em
peror of Austria and the crown prince
of Prussia were tho most notable of tho
guests; but there was a multitude—
amounting, it is said, to thousands—of
less distinguished persons, who were en
tertained in a most extravagant style,
£1 per head being jmid for the hotel hills
ofeacli guest at the canal and £2 Us. at
Cairo. The whole expenditure of the
fetes came to considerably more than
£1,000,000. Even literature got some
pickings out of this gorgeous outlay, the
author of an official history of the cere
mony being paid £I,OOO for "copy."
Doubtless Ismail fancied that by this
costly outlay tic was building up an ab
solute independent throne. If so, it
must have been a grievous disappoint
ment when lie had to sell to the porte his
new ironclads, especially precious sym
bols of independent power. Year after
year tilings went on. the linancial situa
tion growing steadily worse ami worse.
The great Disraeli coup of purchasing
tiie khedive'a canal shares set him on
legs for a time, but the end was ap
proaching.—London Spectator.
Origin of Numn of Fubric.t.
Everything connected with one's busi
ness is of importance. Very few dry
goods, men know the origin of the names
of many of the goods they handle. They
may teem trivia! points, but they are of
interest to the man who seeks to be thor
oughly familiar with the merchandise in
which lie deals. For the information of
such we give the derivation of tlienainea
of the following goods: Damask is from
the city of Damascus; satins from Zay
town, in China; calico from Calicut, a
town in India, formerly celebrated for
its cotton cloth and where calico was
also printed Muslin is named from
Mosul, in Asia. Alpaca from an animal
in Peru, of the llama species, from whose
wool the fabric is woven.
Buckram takes its name from Fostat,
ti city of the Middle Ages, from which
the modern Cairo is descended. Taffeta
and tabby from a street in Bagdad.
Cambric from Oarnbrai. Gauze has its
name from Gaza; baize for Bajnc; dim
ity from Datnietta, and jeans from Jean.
Drugget is derived frotu a city in Ire
land. Droghedu Duck conteS from
Torque, in Normandy. Blanket is called
after Tbonias Blanket, a famous clothier
connected • h (lie introduction of wool
ens into Fit it; ad about 1840. Serge de
rives i, air from Xerga, a Spanish
natiti . -i peculiar woolen blanket.
Din p. i* int Tom D'Vpres, as it is
sometime, inted. lut from the Greek
diasproti, t .uic.l. Velvet is from the
Italian veliute. woolly (Latin vellus—a
hide or i>elt). Shawl is the Sanscrit sala.
floor, for shawls were first u-' d ascar
jiets ami lape.-.try. Bandanna is from the
Indian word to bind or tie, I e au.v> it is
tied in knots before dyeing. Chintz from
the Indian chott. Delaine is (lie French
"of wool."—Trade Journal.
Kreiicliuirtt Surprised at .Siimvlinl N.
The first snow of lite season reminded
an artist friend >!' a snow storm which
he exporiei "d a \vignon, in the south
of Franc • ror two ago. No snow
had been :t at \vignon for twenty
years jiri ■ is, and the surprised French
man hi. n n<.r what ii> luahoof it. An
amusing si in if was them try to
make snowballs and pelt one another.
Experience had never taught them the
art which every New England hoy learns
as soon as lie 1 -aves his cradle, and they
handled the low as daintily as d ies a
cat when he lit!. lier paws one by one
in a surprised manner, and shakes them
before she > its iheiu down a ii. Two
American ... ; fo.md gr ,t <!■ light in
rt i.im; stow.. . i- and enga ;big hi the
i ray. an-1 lb-y nil putt in ■ :i. ire village
ei Fivnc . wen I iduioiv. "¥Oll
pet ston 01 tin in!" they v-l when
they; it tl. . ■ an v.-;. .I '.'hard
. nowball. 't v - iho> u t this
was not In. . >t the . couM 1 ; under
stand how the 1 mericaii i < . akri
their mi i! > hard or thr tlietn
with such f >r .ud .Mr • vil
lagers of \vi:;> a will no 1 long re
member their Waterloo at ho hands of
the two At •ri.aui urti ts.—Boston Ad
vertiser.
No ISunUo.
It liavi n ruiuorc i that a promi
nent Lie ;■ i: r i 1 been bunkoed out of
S4OO in New York city, a i. i.ind called
upon birr. id told Jiim what was said,
and asked him if there was an) truth in
the report.
"Not an i '.a, -ir!" .<t 111 - indignant
response. ,
"It's ia.fidur lio.v the report irtcd."
"So it is. and if 1 could trace it back
I'd make il liar eat his words."
"I thought it was odd."
"So it i . The only thing I can think
of to give ri: 3 to such a story is the fact
that 1 met a young man in New York,
who said he had drawn two valuable,
books in a I try. lie offered mo one or ■
them if i would go along and get it. I
went and found they had a lottery draw-J
ing in the same room. I bought $400!
worth of tick is and drew aWaterbuiyl
watch, but I was never lucky in suchj
things. The idea that I could ho taken
in by such a bunko man! I'd like to
got my hands on some of those fellows
who start such lying reports!"— Detroit
Free Press.
Not All lie Seemed.
Ethel—Who was that jolly old fellow
that kept the table in a roar?
Edward—That was Nophlowers, the
obituary editor of The Weekly Casket.—
Pittebui'g Bulletin.