THK PRAIRIE FATIMKB.
BY EUOKNE BARRY.
IV* lived here now for thirty years, and, etran
ger, I'll be bound
There's not a better farm in all this Western
country round.
But somehow at this time of year, like fever in
the blood,
A restless feeling o'er me steals that's hard to
be withstood.
I can not work, 1 can not rest, but far away
would room.
For now the orchards are in bloom in my New
England home.
I've prospered well; these lovel fields as far as
you can seo,
They are bought and paid for, and they all be
long to me.
I never could have done 60 well at homo, you
raav be sure;
I often smilo to think upon thoßo farms so thin
and poor a
But as 1 sit behind my team and plough the
deep black loam,
I see the apple-trees in bloom 'round my New
England home.
Straight east I draw my furrows wide to meet
the rising sun,
Then turn and drive straight westward, and so
till day is done ;
And then in autumn's glorious time, when days
are cohn and bright.
Miles upon miles of ripening grain wave in tbo
golden light.
But when at night 1 Beek my bed, in visions
sweet I roam
The hills of old New England around my child
hood's home.
My boys are grown to stalwart men, roy girla
ore fair to see.
They're proud of this free Western laud, and
wonder much at me:
But they have never utood upon the mountain s
summit grand,
Nor seen old Ocean's crested waves break foam
ing on tho strand. ....
Nor ever known the sweet delight in forest
wilds to roam.
Nor seon tbo apple trees in bloom 'round my
Now England home.
The swallow seeks the grove where first it saw
the son's bright gleam,
Tho SHlmou leaps the torrent's fall to reach its
native stream,
A thotisuud leagues tb<s wild gooso flies on tire
loss wing o'erhead,
Straight as nn arrow to tbo bleak, baro North
where it was bred ;
So in tho spring my faithful heart, holding all
el so in scorn,
Turns back to old New England - the homo
whore I was born.
Though here I've caßt my lot for life and hero I
must remain.
Till death shall plough me under like stubble
on the plain,
Make not my grave in this strange land, but
placo me if vou will
Within my father's burial lot, upon the wind
swept hill,
Where.l may watch the mountains glow aud
ocean break in foam,
And see in spring the orchards bloom 'round
mv New England homo,
—New England Magazine.
STORM-TOSSED.
A Perilous Voyage on Lake Ontario.
m W. I FRENCH.
One fine June day in the year 1872,
a young couple might have been seen
strolling through a grove of magnifi
cent beech and maple trees toward the
shore of Lake Ontario. They were en
gaged lovers, and their names were re
spectively Harry LeMar and Bessie
Corbett.
The young couple were botli resi
dents of the city of Hochester, and were
down with a party of ladies and gcntle
meu from the city to enjoy the cool lake
breezes for a time.
Harry was a handsome young fellow
of six and twenty, a little too quick
tempered perhaps, but a good fellow
witlial, and thoroughly devoted to liis |
betrothed.
Bessie was a handsome, vivacious girl
of twenty, kind and considerate as a
general thing toward others, with one I
exception: when it interfered with the
gratification of some personal pleasure,
then Bessie was decidedly selfish.
As her parents always indulged her
every whim and wish from childhood
she had not improved any with years.
The day was not very warm as there
was a good breeze blowing on shore,
but when they got down to tho beach
they found the big waves were rolling
high.
They had come down for the purpose
of going around a point, which ran out
a couple of hundred yards into the lake,
in a boat, aud then rowing back into a
little inlet or bay where some handsome
water-lilies grew, which they had ob
served the night before. Finding the
water so rough Harry said:
"I do not think we had better venture
out on the lake to-day, but wait for a I
time when tho weather is calmer. lam j
not much of a sailor, as you doubtless I
know, and a Oath in tlie Jake with the
waves running high, might bo rather
dangerous."
"Now, Harry, you know there is not
a bit of danger in going arouud there;
you only refuse to go to spite me for
flirting with Ed. Brooks, that's all."
"No, Bessie, you are mistaken; I
never play the baby act. I do not con
sider it safe to go around that point in
the present wind. While one might
make it safe enough, it might also end
in disaster."
"A truce to your fears, Harry," she
replied; "I will flirt twice as bad with
Brooks to-night if you don't row me
around that point."
"You may flirt with him all vow
choose," replied Harry. "But I will
not imperil your life and my own foi
the sake of satisfying a whim."
*You may call it a whim if you wish,*
fch# retorted half angrily, "but if you
will not row me around, I can and will
go alone, and I don't think you will lei
me do that."
Angered more by her manner than
hor words, ho hotly replied: "No! 1
will not even let you go at all. If you
are determined to have the flowers I
will go aione, to show you that it is not
physical fear which deters me. But 1
can see no reason in the venture."
"Who gave you authority over me, to
restraiu mo from doing anything I
wish ?" and she started toward the
boat.
"No, you shall not do this!" he ex
claimed and, stepping before her and
giving the boat a push from shore,
leaped into it. Seizing the oars, he
plied them vigorously, and, as tho water
was not so rough near the beach, made
good progress.
He glanced back once at Bessie,
standing on the shore looking after him
with an expression half of anger, half
of sorro . on her face.
Already she was commencing to re
pent the hasty words that were causing
him to venture out in the boat,. As lie
neared the end of the print the water
grew rougher and rougher, till it re
quired all his strength and skill to keep
the boat from turning with the wind
and waves.
Slowly ho forged ahead and had
nearly rounded tlio point in safety,
when one of his oars snapped
in twain. His boat whirled
sharply around and commenced to drift
with tho waves and he was powerless
to prevent!it.
The wind was blowing a stiff gale di
rectly toward the Canadian shore, and
Harry Haw the beach, where Bessie
still stood watching after him, fast re
ceding from view.
Bessie saw that something serious had
happened, and that her lover was
powerless to return to the shore.
She bitterly repented her rash words
and stood there watching the fast re
ceding boat, all the tfmS Her terror in
creasing. Finally, when it disappeared
from her view in the distance, she ran
shrieking to the cottage where she was
stopping, declaring to her astonished
friends that Harry was dead, and she
was liia murderer.
When her friends heard of the acci
dent which had befallen Harry, they
had but little hopes ot ever seeing him
alive again; still for Bessie's sake they ;
tried to make matters appear as favor
able as possible.
As for Bessie, she was half crazed I
and sick with grief and remorse, and
the hastily summoned physician ex
pressed grave doubts of her retaining
her wits should the young man be lost.
In tho meanwhile Harry was steadily
driven out on tho bosom of the deep.
He fully realized the peril of his posi
tion.
His boat was a frail one, and, besides,
somewhat old, so that it was liable to
founder any moment and leave him at
the mercy of the waves.
In anticipation of such an event lie
' removed his coat, vest and boots, so as
to be encumbered as little as possible.
There were several pieces of rope in
the boat and he fastened them to his
body so that he could use them to bind
pieces of the boat together in case it
should founder, and thus make a rude
raft, which would assist him greatly to
keep afloat. He was kept quite busy
bailing out the frail craft with an old
tin pail, which happened to be in the
boat.
It was about tlireo o'clock in the
afternoon when he commenced his
perilous voyage, and it was with no little
anxiety ho saw the sun go down, and
wondered if he should ever see it rise
again.
It seemed to him that the long weary
hours of darkness would never pass,
but at last it began to grow light in the
east.
He had eagerly hoped that daylight
would show a vessel near him but he
vainly scanned the horizon in search of
one.
The wind veered suddenly after day
light and blew him and his little boat
westward up the lake.
Ho was wet to the skin, with the fly
ing spray, and the heat of the sun as it
rose, proved very welcome to him.
All day he drove before the wind
without seeing any ship, and night found
his little ship apparently as sound as
when he embarked in it.
The second night was one of weary
watching and laboring to keop the boat
from swamping.
The wind shifted again in the night
and blew from the west, driving him
back toward the east.
Daylight came at last, but found no
ship in sight.
The wind began to blow hard and
soon had raised to a perfect gale.
Ho was almost worn out with fatigue
exposure and hunger and he felt that ,
he would he unable to hold out much ;
longer.
Suddenly the little boat, which had j
I weathered the storm so long, went to
pieces, and he found himself struggling
in the waves.
He was an export swimmer, and by
hard work he managed to keep afloat
| and lash together two of the largest
pieces of tho wrecked craft with tho ,
ropes he had saved. Clambering up on
this rude raft, ho found to his relief
that it would sustain his weight, and
that it was much easier to cling to it
than he had supposed it would be.
Life seemed doubly dear to him, now
that its continuance appeared so uncer
tain, and he determined to struggle to
tlio last with the elements for an exist
ence.
The afternoon was half gone when
his eyes were gladdened by the sight
of a sail bearing directly toward him
from the west.
How slowly it seemed to him the
vessel approached, and his mind was
filled with the fear that she might tack
off in some other direction before he
was seen.
But she came steadily on 'till within
about a half a mile, when they saw
him.
The ship came as close to him as it
could, and then lay to while a boat was
lowered.
Joy aud hope had taken the place of i
despair in Harry's heart when lie saw
that his rescue was certain.
The men soon had him in the boat
with them, and then the reaction came
and he fainted.
Kind liands lifted him to the deck ol
the vessel and carried him below, where
he received every attention which the
men could give him.
The vessel was bound for Oswego,
only fifteen miles from where they
picked Harry up.
Tho next morning the ship dropped ;
anchor close to the shore, and i
Harry, after bidding his kind rescuers
good-by, went ashore.
They had fitted him out with clothes
on the vessel, not so good or so nice a
fit as those he was accustomed to wear
ing, but still very acceptable.
He lost no time in hastening to the
depot and taking the first train to the
village near which they were camped,
nearly sixty miles away. He reached
there that evening, after an absence oi
three days.
His father who had been telegraphed
to and had come down, had given his
son up for lost, and was about to return
to the city to break the news as gently
as possible to his wife.
When Harry came back alive and
well, ho was welcomed as one returned
from the dead.
He had thought he would treat Bes
sie a little cool for her language of a
few days before, but when ho learned
that slie was sick in bed and half
crazed with grief over his sup
posed loss, love overcame his anger
and he hastened at once to her side.
His return did more than all the doctori
in Christendom could have done for her, I
and in a few days she was as well as
ever.
A month from the day of Harry's re- ;
turn a grand wedding took place at the
home of Bessie's parents, in ltochester,
and she became Mrs. Harry LeMar.
The lesson Bessie learned in those
few days of agony was a bitter one, but
her whole future lifo was better for it. (
West I.Milan Carriers.
Tho crcole porteuse, or female carrier
of the AY'est Indies, furnishes a remark
able proof that great physieial energy
and endurance can oxist in the tropics.
At a very early age, perhaps at five
years, Hays Lafcadio Hearn, she learns
to carry small articles upon her head, a
bowl of rice, or even an orange on n
plate, and at nine or ten she is able to I
carry a basket or trail—a wooden tray !
with deep, sloping sides—containing !
twenty or thirty pounds. Then she j
walks barefoot beside her mother,twelve
or fifteen miles a day.
At sixteen, she is a tall, robust girl,
and cai ries a burden of one hundred
and twenty or one hundred and fifty
pounds weight. She now earns about
?ix dollars a month, by walking fifty
miles a day, as an itinerant seller. f
There are never old porteuses; to do !
the work even at forty, indicates a con
stitution of astonishing strength. After i
the force of youth and health is spent, |
the poor carrier must seek lighter
labor.
As a rule, the weight is such that no
well-freighted porteuse can load or un
load un assisted. The effort to do so
would burst a blood-vessel or rupture a
muscle. In preparing for her journey, !
the young merchant puts on her poorest
and lightest robe, and binds a plain
(landkercbief about her head. On tile
sop of this is placed another handker- j
chief folded, to form a pad, and on this i
rests the great loaded trail. She wears
ao shoes. She must climb and descend |
thousands of feet every day, over slopes |
o steep that the horses of the country |
break down, after a few years of similar I
journeying. The soles of her feet be
come so tough that they feel no rough
ness, and present to tho sharp pebbles
A surface at once yielding and resisting,
like a cushion of solid rubber.
Young girls very often set off to
gether, and keep step and time through
out their journey, but the veterans, or
women selected for special work, usu
ally go alone. To the latter class be
long girls employed by certain great
bakeries. They are the most heavily
laden of all, and carry baskets of
astounding size far up into the moun
tains, so as to furnish country families
with fresh bread, at an early hour.
At sundown, the porteuses are coming
from far Grand Ause to halt a moment
in this village. They are going to sit
down on the roadside before the house
of the baker, and his great black work
man, Jean-Marie, stands waiting to re
lieve them of their load. Here tliey
come, the girls, yellow, red, black. See
the flash of tho yellow feet, where they '
touch the light! All smile to see Jean-
Marie waiting for tliem, and to hear his .
deep, kind voice cry out:
"How art thou, dear? How goes it ,
with thee ?"
"All sweetly, dear; and thou?" some
of them make answer. But others, j
over-wen t v, cry to him:
"Unload IMO quickly, dear, for lam
very, very weary."
Then he takes away their burdens,
fetches bread for them, and says little
foolish things to make them smile. !
And they are pleased, and laugh like
children, as they sit down on the road
there ; to munch their dry bread.
Monopoly of Cirlof.
The colored people in a small town iu
Georgia had gathered at their church to
hold funeral services over the remains
of a woman who had died a couple of
days before, says the Chattanooga
Times, and the ceremonies were about
to begin when the bereaved husband,
who was a large, corpulent man, beck
oned to one of the men standing in the
I vestibule to follow him to the horse shed
|in the rear of the church. When they
| arrived there the bereaved turned on
, bim with:
"See lieali, Moses, I wants an under
standin' wid yo' befo' dis funeral goes
any furder."
"What is it, Julius?" asked the
other.
"Las' week, when we buried Henry
Carter's wife, yo' was right at hand.
, Yo' crowded yo'self up to de front.
When de weepin' begun yo' set yo'self
to work an' moaned an' took on until
Henry hadn't no show 'tall. Some of
de white folks reckoned yo' was de be
reaved yo'self."
"1 dun couldn't help it, Julius."
"Yo' couldn't? Well, now, let me
give vo' a pinter. Lucinda was my wife
an'nobody else's. She libed wid me
an' died wid me, an' I'se got to foot all
de'spenses. Now, den, when de sad
ness begins I'zo No. 1 from start to
finish. I'ze de bereaved, while yo' is
only an outsider who feels sad 'cause
I'ze left all alone in dis world. If yo'
go to takin' on like lyo' did last week,
I I'ze gwine ter forgit my great loss jist
I long 'nuff to turn around an' gin yo'
j such a lift under tho oar dat you'll
j reckon yo' is tho subject of the funeral.
Do yo' lia'r me, Moses?"
"I does."
"Den cum along, an' reoommember
I what I'ze been saying. Better take a
j seat in de back row an' hole yo'self
down, for at the werry fust whoop of
sorrow I'zo gwine to light on yo' wid fl
fo'ce of fo'teeu boss power."
Putting: Thing* in Ordor.
Everybody knows that we men owe
an immense and ever accumulating debt
to the ladies. One of its principal
items is tho gratitude due to them for
putting our things to right and keeping
them in order. Rough and disorderly
as we are, what should we do without
! their neat-handed ministration?
What husband, that remembers the
j hopeless chaos of his bachelor bureau, ;
and contrasts it with the trim and tidy
| appearance of the drawers in which
| wifely care has his shirts,
I handkerchiefs and socks in jierfect har
mony with heaven's first law, does not
bless the day when he emerged from
the single state into double blessed
ness? How delightful to find the shiit
bosom uniformily "cream-laicl" and
guiltless of twist and wrinkle, the hose
always duly mated, the convenient
string and the indispensable button ever j
in place.
Looking back on tho higgledy-pig
gledy days of his hermit life, the bene
dict blessed with a notable helpmeet
pities from the bottom of his heart such
of his old companions as arc yet un- '
coupled.— New York Ledger.
Not No Near Sighted After All.
"Herbert," she said with a melting
mellifluonsness in her voice that
sounded like the ripple of an orange ice
as it thaws, "Herbert!"
"What is it?" asked Herbert. And
the cold firmness of his tones showed
that he meant every word of it.
"Would von love me jnst as well if
you knew that I am very nearsighted?"
"Why, why," he stammered, "of
course I would; hut are you ?"
"Yes, lam afraid so. Just as a test
—I can't read a word of that sign across
the street; can you ?"
"Yes," said Herbert, resignedly, "I
can. ;It says, 'lce cream.'" —Wash-
inglon Post.
Only Walting.
A man who boarded an open car v>
Jefferson avenue found a woman occu
pying tlmt end of tho seat, while all the 1
rest of it was empty. Ho stood for a
moment vailing for her to "hitch," but
as she made uo move ho quietly asked: j
"Madam, do you wish mo to step on
I you?"
"If you dare to!" she promptly re
| plied. "My husband tried it this
! morning and got left, and now I'm
i waiting for someone else!"
He went back to the last seat.— De-
I troit Free Pre,us.
HEAVEN will be full of surprises, but |
none greater than when a man realizes
that all his gocd intentions have put
no jewel in his crown— Atchison
I UIoIJU.
IV WANDERER'S LETTER.
MOTES AND OBSERVATIONS IN
THE SOUTHWEST.
q>rea<liiifr Texas—The Largest State in the
Union Kiijoylng a Boom—Active Compe
tition Among the Leading Cities—North
ern Capital Invited—Railroad Interests
Developing and Land Rooms Everywhere-
DOUBT if nny one
lrefc V I in the outside world
I appreciates the sort
I boom that this
I is enjoying at
rI this particular mo-
I zZsf " meut, and it is not
—* a matter of immedi
ate growth. It has been going on for
several years; in fact, no Texan likes to
have you speak of "the boom." He al
ways says, "We are not having a boom;
we do not want a boom: we are having
simply tho steady, natural growth to
which our Stato is entitled." But at the •
same time boomers are at work, and you
moot them in every city where you go.
And they are more nearly like the West
ern boomer than any other class in the
country. In fact, some of them come
from the West. This part of Texas far
more nearly resembles a Western than a
Southern State.
BOOMING THINGS AT DALLAS.
There is such a heavy Democratic ma-
CITY HALL, DALLAS, TEXAS.
jority tnnt voting and counting arc both
honest, and there is little, if any, com
plaint thnt persons attempt to manipu
late elections. Every one hero is busy
making money, and I am glad to note
that every one succeeds. This is tho first
consideration here, and politics has to
"take a back seat " Just stop and think
what some of the cities of this Stato are
accomplishing. I visited Dallas and found
it a city of beautiful homos; houses laid
out in villa lots, with suburbs which h tve
sprung up like tho growth of a night into
magnificent city sites. Manufactures
have been encouraged, and city improve
ments have been lavishly attended to.
Dallas has made a splendid fight for
supremacy and the control of the busi
ness of its section. It is still growing,
and prices of real estate wore never be
fore so high; still there is no sign of a
decline. Northern capital is offering it
self freely, and the people are as buoyant
as they wore two years ago, when tho
boom was supposed to be at its height.
FORT WORTII AND ITS RIVAL.
Fort Worth, only thirty miles from Dal
las to tho westward, is a rival of the
former place. It claims to be tho ontre
pot for all the groat trade of the West
and Northwest, so far as this State is
STREET SCENE, SHERMAN, TEXAS.
concerned. There is nbout Fort Worth
much of the aspect of a frontier city,
and it has tho appearance of Minneapolis
and St. Paul in tho days precediug theii
phenomenal growth. Electric street cars
arc hero, as in Dallas and other Texas
cities; there is an excellent water supply,
an electric-light plant, and the hand of
improvement is shown everywhere. It
was at Fort Worth that tho famous
Spiing Palace was located, which was I
recently by tiro, and at which I
tho son of the President, Mr. Ilus
soll B. Harrison, distinguished him
self by assisting men, women,
and children to escape. This Spring
Palace contained an exhibit of all the
wonderful products of tho State of Tex
as. Its destruction was a severe blow to
Fort Worth and tho entire State, but
with a wonderful display of energy tho
people havo decided to rebuild it next
year; to make it of iron, fire-proof, and
to expend $300,000 in its construction.
When this is finished it will bo one of
the marvels of the land.
THE NORTH TEXAS ROOM.
Gainesville, in the north of Texas, has
been one of the smaller cities, but it is
just waking up to the fact that it is in
every way deserving of the riso that other
SOME OF THE IION. ROGER Q. MILLS, COBSICANA,
TEXAS.
aities are enjoying. I have learned re
cently ot a combination of capitalists to
put Gainesville to the front. It is cer
;ainly one of (he pleasantest cities in the
State, and its surroundings presago n
wonderful growth and life.
Sherman, to tho southeast of Gaines
ville, has been ono of the oldest and most
conservative cities of Texas. With a
population of from 15,000 to 18,000, it
probably has more wealth than any city
of its size, and it has boon ono of the
largest banking cities of tho State. One
of the banks, under the control of Mr.
Tom (not Thomas) Randolph, has a
capital of $1,000,000. Mr. Randolph
had the honor of being tho youngest bank
president in the United States. At the
ago of 20, on tho death of the President,
he was elected to take his place, but
under tho law tho courts had to legalize
his actions, as ho was still a minor and
theroforo debarred from discharging im
portant trusts. The city of Sherm o "
stands in probably the richest farming
rogion of the northern part of tho Stato.
A RAILROAD TOWN.
One of the liveliest and most pro
gressive cities in Texas, nnu one nearest
tho northern border, is Denisou. Strangely
enough, it stands in the conlor of a rich
black agricultural soil, while its own
town site is a sort of sandy loam, so that
the immediate outlying country is famous
for its small fruits and vegetables, while
beyond it a few miles come the rich cot
ton and corn lands. DeciHon has this
advantage, that it is within a few miles of
the famous coal-fields of tho Indian Ter
ritory. It is not very far from the iron
♦ ■'nes of the State. Because of its near
ss to the coal rogion, extensive railway
I shops havo been erected, emplovincr six
or seven Hundred men, and to their credit
znost of the employes have established
themselves in comfortable homes which
they own. It has an exposition building
in which a splendid display of limestone,
granite, kaolin, lire-brick, clay, galena,
and other minerals are made. It is n
wonderful exhibition, and one who looks
upon it can readily understand why Den- J
ison has had such an extraordinary
" l
RUINS OF THE TEXAS SPRING PALACE, FORI
WORTH, TEXAS. 1
j
growth. The establishment of a cotton j
factory here has been secured, and the ,
building is just being erected. It will be j ,
one of the largest cotton factories in the i
South, with 25,000 spindles, and is to 1 ]
employ 600 persons. An electrio and;
motor system of cars and a splendid 1
water system make the city attractive. I 1
CREDIT TO NORTHERN 1 NTERPRISE. I J
In making my hurried trip in Texas, I
havo been attracted by the spirit of en
terprise everywhere. There is a natural
strife to secure railroads, and corpora- J
tions take advantage of this to secure
large bonuses. In this way the Texas i
and Pacific received property from Fort i
Worth which is now worth $2,000,000.
The city of Sherman, some years, ago re- '
fused a quarter of a million to the Mis
souri, Kansas and Texas Railway, and it
was diverted from that direction to Deni-!
son, and has been woith to the latter city 1
every dollar of the bounty that they paid ;
for it. The funds for railroad, munu- i
factoring, and other enterprises are raised
by the cities, everybody contributing, 1
and some contributing more than they
really feol they should. But the contri
butions all come back in the growth and
impulse given to the towns. The same
sort of enterprise in Northern cities would
amaze the people, and would hardlv re
sult in tho same sort of boom that Texas
enjoys. Texas is welcoming a cons ant
stream of immigrants and offering to cap
ital every facility for investment and
speculation. Tho newcomer will find
himself liable to be misled, and must ex- 1
pect to meet some very shrewd men in
his operations, but he only needs to em- j
ploy ordinary tact to secure his bargains
and make tho most of them.
WANDERER.
DALLAS, Tex., June, 1890.
l'arulyzed by a Scra'ch.
"I liave lead of men being paralyzed
by a wound and unable to move," said
a well-known prominent Maine office- j
holder, "and I believe it. I know that'
there have been many cases of the
kind, and one of them in particular has
such a personal twist that I have good
reason to remember.
"It was at the battle of Chantilly in
the early part of the light. We had
approached a low, rambling fence—a
Virginia fence, as they were called— I
and I had my gnu through it and was j
doing what service I could. I saw the \
splinter fly from a piece of that fence j
under tho impetus of a ball from the
enemy. In the lightning flash of the
flying wood I seemed to find time to 1
dodge, and there was a quick pain like
the searing of a hot iron and the sjilin-!
ter was through my hat-band and
along my scalp, penetrating it, but not
injuring the skull.
"The blow was severe and stunned
mo, and I remember as well my last
look at the scene—the fighting troops,
the smoke, the battle and tho tramp
ling men. I foil back, my legs half
doubled up beneath me, and in a mo- 1
ment my strength was gone and I was
powerless. I saw everything. Men
fell upon me. Horses reared around
me. The battle was on all sides.
"My w its were clear, my brain un- ;
clouded, but there was I, dying a death
momentarily, alive, yet dead and suf- j
fering moro tortures than I thought
life could have. I lay there perhaps
an hour—every moment a year of
agony—when I felt some one's hand j
on my collar, and I was dragged out
and tinned on my face, where I lay for j
a moment as some one rifled my car
tridge box. The motion saveil me.
My pulse seemed to stir, my heart
beat, my will to re-exert itself, and in
a few minutes I was myself. The
wound was so small that I staunched
it with my handkerchief and in half an
hour I was as well as ever.
"If the hand had not found my coat
collar I should have been bleaching my
bones on Chantilly at this moment in- 1
stead of here talking to you, and it
would have been tough to have passed
in on such a scratch."— Lewiston
Journal.
Dreaming; Out un Available Story.
Having a severe cold in the head, o
literary friend <f mine had taken a
hot bath before retiring and a dose oi
fine whisky. "I slept like a log," he
says, "until about 5 o'clock. "YVlien I
awoke my head was as clear as a bell
and I found myself interested in a pe
culiar story which, in all symmetry,
was passing through my mind. The
plot was somewhat complicated, but
thoroughly artistic. I was astonished,
and at first thought that my memory
WHS recalling some tale that I had
read. As I reviewed tho story, how
ever, I realized that it was eminently
original.
"Much pleased at this seeming pre
sentation from the gods of a literary
nugget, I composed myself to sleep
and in the morning found that the tale
was still mine. Some weeks later 1
received an order from a syndicate for
a story of 10,000 words. I had thirty
six hours in which to produce the
manuscript. The plot that had been
the outcome of a hot bath, whisky,
and sound sleep now came into play,
and I had no difficulty in completing
my story within the allotted time. As
I received $l5O for it, I am now pa
tiently awaiting another cold in th
" —Watihirwtnn Post,
Deceptive False Curls.
Every one must have noticed the
numbers of ladies who wear short,
curly hair at present. It may astonish
you to learn that most of these charm
ing curls are falsa Typhoid and other
fevers have played havoc with lioir this
winter. After such an illness the hair
is almost invariably seriously injured,
and even if it does not fall ont it be
comes so dry and harsh that there is
nothing to bo done but to shave it close,
and wait for a new growth. Unless tho
hair grows very rapidly it will be two
or three months before it is long enough
to look well, and in the mean time a
wig is a necessity. The short, curly
hair looks more natural than a dressed
wig, and is easier to keep in ordor, so
most ladies prefer them. Elderly
ladies, however, often use French twists
uud pompadours. Few people know
how common wigs are. I have some
times sold five or six in one day, and a
great many ladies say they are sorry i
their own hair grows out, as the wig'
has saved them so much time and I
trouble. — lnterview with a SL Louis
Wig maker,
W HEN the bad boy puts a bent pin in
he teacher's chair, ho is at least justi
lied in predicting an early spring.
DOINGS OF WOMEN FOLK
NEWS. NOTES AND GOSSIP
ABOUT FEMININE AFFAIRS.
Not Many Women I'rinterti —Tlio Abune of
Coffee— Women In the Diasecting Room—
An Effective Dinner Dreas—English anil
American Girl*.
A noted Now Y'ork oostumer has made
a dinner dress intended for a brunette.
The train is a long one of the richest
black Lyons velvet, while the front is
of broadcloth, the shade being a per
fectly clear yellow, with not a tinge of
green it. The bodice is pointed, and
of velvet. A plastron of the cloth is
set in front, overlaid partially with gold
passementerie, and the short sleeves,
very closely shirred, are also of the
cloth. Cut very decollete, the edge of
the bodice is defined with a narrow
gold cord. Only gold can be worn with
this costume, so the necklace will he of
Etruscan gold in pendants and balls,
while in the hair will be worn three
gold fillets. The stockings of black
silk, the slippers black velvet, with
large gold buckles upon them.
How to Save Hoy a.
Women who have sons to rear, and
dread the demoralizing influences of
bad associates, ought to understand the
nature of young mauhood. It is exces
sively restless. It is disturbed by vain
ambition, by thirst for action, by long
ings for excitements, by irrepressible
desires to touch life in manifold ways.
If you, mothers, rear your sons so that
your homes are associated with the re
pression of natural instincts you will be
sure to throw them in the society that
in any measure can supply the end of
their hearts. They go to the public
house at first for the animated and hi
larious companionship they find there,
whicli they find does so much to re
press the disturbing restlessness in
their breasts.
! See to it, then, t*>at their homes com-
I pete with public places in their attract
iveness. Open your blinds by day
and light bright fires by night. II-
I lumino your rooms. Hang pictures
upon the walls. Put books and news
papers upon your tables. Have music
, and entertaining games. Banish de
i mons of dullness and apathy that have
so long ruled in your household, and
bring in mirth and good cheer. Invent
occupations for your sons. Stimulate
their ambitions in worthy directions®
| While yu make home their delight,
fill them with higher purposes than
mere pleasure. Whether they shall
pass happy boyhood and enter upon
manhood with refined tastes and noble
I ambitions depends on you.— Ham's
I Horn.
EiikUhli anil Amorlcun Girln.
Contrasting English and Amerioan
girls, W. AS'. Story tlniß writes in "Con
f versations in a Studio:" "Take nil En
glish girl and [rat lief beside an Ainer
can girl whose ancestry is pure English
and there is a reu arkable difference be
tween them in bhnpe, nature, and color,
i The American, as a rule, is slenderer,
fairor, and slighter-limbed, thinner
foutnred and mors vivacious and ex
cited in manner. Tlio English girl is
! fulier, rosier in col >r, heavier in build
and calmer. The voice of the American
is thin and high, that of the English
girl is rieli and low. But where you
will find the greater physical difference
l is in the feet aud hands. The Ameri
i can's foot is snia 1, thin, high-arched
and tendonous in the ankle. The En
glish girl's is plum i, flat, and full at the
j ankle. There is tie same difference in
j the hands. Take i cast from an En
glish aud America! foot, and any one
can distinguish tliin with half an eye.
i All the attachment, as they are called,
j are longer and mort tendonous in the
American than in tie English. There
is something charui ng in the one as of
a rose, and in the qiher of a lily. Where
the English have tie advantage over
the American is in their voices and in
tonations. An English woman's voice
is a pleasure to hem—so sweet and low
nud pleasant in its nodulations—while
the Americans wline with a liigh
i pitched voice. The latter sing better
j than the English, bicause the English
never can fully utter their voice and
throw it out. Cortanly the American
girls are sometimes ery handsome, and
tlioy generally ha,e a refinement of
| look and feature, if not manner. In
their ways, too, the e is a certain wild
willfulness and bdependence which,
i when it does not getoo far (as it fre
quently does,) is vf y attractive."
Women In tho lisHoctlng Room.
It is often asked low tho women take
i • the awful exponent- of the dissecting
' i room and the hospital, says the Balti
■ j more American. lowcver the nerves
> of the sex genera ly may be, these
j I strong-hearted wonbn never falter. Dr.
' [ Winslow stated to he reporter that,
during the entire hisory of the institu
' j tion, there had never been one case of
| fainting. One of tin ladies was asked
i by the reporter concerning her feelings
'j when she first begad work in the dis
-1! seeting room. Sue Inted that the hor
:, ror of what she wouu see had been so
' | exaggerated to her beforehand, and she
' i had been led, througbpopular report, to
" ; expect so much mora ban the reality,
3 1 that her nerves were iraecd to such a
5 degree that sho experienced no very
> | disagreeable imprei lions. Tho first
> body was a fresh on i and tho odor,
-'; therefore, not very bd. It was that of
s J a colored person, and eemed like a ma
' j hogany statue streti led on the table.
1 j The bodies are never hought of as con
nected with human b 'ngs," hut as mere
I things, mere mnchim , whose mechan
j ism is to be invest igaed.
1 | The ladies work tw> and two, choos
ing as their companion those congenial
1 j to them socially, as Veil as from their
! style of work. TlioO'h they work so
' . courageously over tieir horriblo vic
-1 j tims, these young laiies are not strang
ers to human fear. )ne of them con
fesses that, as she was left alone for
| several minutes by ler companion one
1 I wintry evening towed 7 o'clock, she
| felt some decidedly inpleasant feelings
1 as she sat among th( bodies, and also'
confessed that, whil< she could make
herself do anything he had to do, she
would not like very much to enter a
; dissecting-room alcie in the dead of
night. She laughei at her own feeling,
but said that it is oily in such moments
that she realizes thi.- these things have
ouco been living penons.
Not Many Wo ne ,i J'rlntera.
A\ omen printers ew years ago were a
standing menace to ,ie trade, in the view
of the men printers and the question
of th tir admittance to typographical
unions threatened become a burning
issue in the labor w rid. In this city it
was settled for the time being by the
I admission of tho wOaen to Union No. (>,
I with the condition t. ; at they bo not al
lowed to wor* lor less wages man men.
This handicapped the women heavily,
for the trade is not one in which the
woman can hold her own with a man on
equal terms, but even at this it was not
satisfactory to a large element among
the men, who objected to having women
in the trade at all, and the trouble con
tin uafly threatened to break out in new
spots. Meantime, however, the matter
has beeq summarily settled out of
court, as it were. Women don't want
to be printers any more. The intro-
Iduction of the typewriter and the open
ing up of other lines of employment
more agreeable and suitable for a
■woman seem to have relieved the fe
male labor market of the greater
of the women who used to want to be
printers.
It is said by officers of Typographical
Union No. 0 "that there are not over
three hundred womeu printers in New
York now. One hundred of these are
in the Union. They work chiefly in
large book printing offices, where the
hours are easy and there is no rush.
A few are in the morning newspaper
offices, working as distributers in the
afternoon. Women have worked as
compositors on some of the morning
papers, but the cases were exceptional,
such as where a man died and his
widow was allowed to take his case un
til she could get something better to
do. It is thought that the number of
women printers is decreasing constantly
in spite of the rapid growth of the trade.
Men say it is a good thing, not only for
selfish reasons, but because the trade,
although generally classed a9 a light (
and easy one, is really too wearisome,
too unhealthy, and in other ways un-
Buited for women.
The Abune of Coffeo.
Much has been said, savs the British
Medical Journal , concerning the un
doubtedly evil effects of excessive tea
drinking. Dr. F. Mendel has recently
enjoyed opportunities of studying the
results of an unbridled abuse of coffee,
and his results are now published.
The great industrial center round Essen
includes a very large female popula
tion.
While the women of the working
classes in this country are often ad
dicted to dosing themselves with tea
that has stood too long, it appears that
the workmen's wives at Essen drink
coffee from morning till night. Some
consume over a pound of Ceylon coffee
weekly, and one pound contains over |
sixty-four grains of caffeine. In conae- f
quence, nervous muscular and circula
tory disturbances are frequent. The
nerve symptoms are characterized by a
feeling of general weakness, depression j?
of spirits and aversion for labor, even .
in industrious subjects, with headache
and insomnia. A strong dose of coffee
causes the temporary disappearance of
all these symptoms.
The muscular symptoms consist of
distinct muscular weakness and trem- ?
bling of the hands, even during rest. j
The circulatory symptoms are marked j
by a small, rapid, irregular pulse and f
feeble impulse of the apex of the heart. y
Palpitations and heaviness at the pre- ;
cordial region are frequent. The hands \
and feet feel very cold, and the com- 1
plexion becomes sallow. Dyspeptic }
symptoms, chiefly of the nervous type, t
are very common. Acne rosacea is |
seen in a large number of the sufierers.
Those cofl'ee-drinkers oannot be cured
by simple abstention from their favorite
drink with substitution of milk as a
beverage. They require rest from
work, open-air exercise, cold ablutions,
followed by friction, and small doses of i
brandy. Care must be taken, especially j
when a large body of working-women
lare under the care of a medical officer,
lest the flrst and last items of treatment
do not lead to malingering.
A Haunted Oak.
Up to the year 1800 their stood on the
main road leading to Suffolk, Nause
tnond county, Ya., a venerable white
oak. Many are the stories told of a
ghostly visitant to this tree every night. j
The story had it, that in 1830 a murder .
was committed at the foot of this (
monarch for the purpose of robbery and '
that the money taken from the victim
was buried there. Every attempt to
secure it had failed because a phan
tom horseman was guarding the oak.
It was said of this tree that it bore a
kind of fruit, not unpalatable, called
oakballs, which furnished to the credu
lous additional evidence that treasure
was at its roots.
One night a party set out with the
intention of securing the hidden riches.
They brought with them an ax, a pick
and two spades. Arrived at the tree
they began excavating the earth, being
on the alert for any unusual sight or
sound, when a scream of unearthly
character pierced the air. A second
I and third shriek were heard, followed
by the cry "Help! oh my God!" The
diggers looking across the road, saw, \
in the full glare of the moon, a large
powerful bay horse, with a rider top
pling from the saddle. He fell to the
ground with his face toward the tree
and seemed gasping for breath. The
liorse began to melt gradually away
before the astonished and terror-stricken
gaze of the party. As soon as the horse
disappeared, the fallen rider rose to his
feet and started directly for the tree.
The treasure seekers immediately
started on a run, glancing behind to
see if they were pursued. The rider,
without heeding them, went to the tree,
and, pointing with his right hand to the
ground at the root, uttered a deep
groan and vanished. Nobody has since
visited the tree in the night time.
Senator Jones' Sliver Dollar Story.
Senator Jones, of Nevada, was twitted
by Senator McPberson, of New Jersey,
in the course of his silver speech th®
other day, with the fact that the silver
dollars were only worth 72 cents. Of
course it "reminded him of a little
story."
"I recollect," said he, "talking on
this subject once with some Senators in
Itho cloak-room. During the conversa
tion one of the Senate pages brought
ine a telegram, on which he said the
telegraph messenger had told him there
were 51) cents due. I gave the page a
silver dollar and said to him:
" 'I have been informed by some very
respectable and intellectual gentlemen
in here, some of them candulatos for
the Presidency even, that this dollar is
worth only 75 cents. Ido not want to t
jchoat a little boy. Take this out, and
if the boy thinkß it worth only 75 cental
die can send me back 25 conts, and if
he thinks it is worth a dollar he oah
jsend mo back 50 cents. I will leave it
to him.'
, "The page brought back 50 cents and
isuid the telegraph boy told him he did
not kuow what those old 'duffers' in
itliore might say, but it was as good a
idollar as he wanted and was very hard
jto got." (Laughter.) Washington
'Cor. N. T. Tribune.
Is IT quite right to oall an expert
oarsman a lirst-closs sculler.