THE STORY TOLD ANEW. In the dusk nnd down u lone Two walked, hund in kund, together, Blew the wind nnd fell the rain, Little heeded they the weather. Cold March winds might storm about, Warmth within mocked cold without. Had the road been paved with gold, They had never seen a shimmer; Had the stars left heaven's high fold, Night to them had grown no dimmer- Earth, unto its widest hem, Consisted of four feet for thein! What said he to make her start, Flush and glow with a sudden pleasure? What could cause the woman's heart Then to beat a tauter measure? Why did eyelids, prone to rise. Hide the light of glowiug eyes? 'Twas the story told anew, Old, but never antiquated; Just the same words—just a few- Just the case so often stated- Just the same in every wise, As once was told in Paradise. —[New York World. NETTIE'S TRIAL. IIV MARY I'UESTON. A lovers' quarrel 1 They are not un common, they do not always bring life suffering or even remorse; but Nettie Hay, standing in the summer-house at j Alton Hill, and hearing the first harsh words that had ever greeted her from Stephen Rockhill's lips, felt as if all j her life's happiness was gone. For the words were: "Unless you can tell me why you j were at the quarry on Wednesday even-i ing, and who it was you met there, j you and I must part." And, in reply she could only say: | "I cannot tell you. If you will not j trust me, we must part." "Trust!"you was the furious answer. | "Trust a girl who has assured me j again and again she loved me, who has j no male relative, father or brother, and j yet meets a man, in a mysterious place after dark! llow can I trust you, when you refuse all explanation?" "1 know appearances are against me, but 1 do not deserve a reproach." But Stephen would not believe this, and so they parted; he to stride down the road, boiling with rage, slie to sink down upon the rustic chair in the sum mer house, lean upon the table, and weep bitterly. Grief would have its way at first, but, after a fit of sobbing, little Nettie lifted her pretty face, and took herself to task. "This is my gratitude," she thought, "that at the first sacrifice I make I cry like a baby and am heart-broken. But— Oh, Stephen! if you only trusted me She thought over one by ouc the bene fits she owed to Marion Alton Raymond, her cousin. Five years before, when Nettie was only fifteen, she had been left orphaned and penniless, and Marion Ray mond was keeping a little trimming stoic, earning a bare living for herself and her three-year-old boy. She was a ! widow, with a living husband—a woman who had given her heart to a man who had left her side for the gambling table, and lost heavily night after night, had finally comitted forgery, been discovered, and lied. Marion had borne her heavy cross pa tiently, had worked faithfully to support j her boy, and been a kind friend to Net tie. When Nettie had shared the liard carned home for a year, Marion's uncle j died, and left her Alton Hill and fortune. Then Nettie became a petted darling. The best teachers, the pretti est costumes, the choice of pleasures, were nil licrs, and Marion's friends knew they could not better please her than by showing kindness to Nettie. Marion's wealth had proved truly a j friend in need, for one year after her j uncle's death she became a confirmed in- i valid. An incurable disease of the spine held her helpless and suffering, and it was only her unselfish persistence that prevented Nettie from devoting her J whole life to nursing duty. But Marion would not have it so. She ; had a large circle of friends, who did not 1 hold her responsible for her husband's crime, and she insisted upon Nettie's ac ceptance of all their invitations and civil ities. Even when love came, and Nettie would have sacrificed Stephen, if Marion asked it, she had smiled upon the wooing, knowing him to be a true, good man, worthy even of Nettie. The engage ment was not generally known, but the two were betrothed when Stephen, with his own eyes saw his darling, his dainty, refined, little under circumstan ces that appalled him. Nearly two miles from Alton Hill was 1 a huge deserted quarry, a place known as a rendezvous for the loafers of the vil lage in the day time, but usually deserted and desolate after night-fall. It stood back from the direct road leading to Al ton Hill from Bnyswator, the nearest town, but was often crossed, as a short ; cut between the two places. Still after dark, it was a place safe enough usually for those who wished to meet secretly. Stephen having called at Alton Hill, was utterly amazed to find Nettie absent after eight o'clock. Mrs. Raymond had received him, and explained that Nettie had gone to a neighbor's, but had refused to send Stephen to escort her home, as 1 he asked and expected. She had been agitated and was deadly pale and unlike her usually calm, serene self, and Stephen was puzzled when he left the house. But his perplexity changed to deep wrath when, in crossing the quarry lie saw Nettie—his Nettie -standing' in earnest conversation with a tail man. whose heavy beard and broad white fore head were plainly visible in the moon light, as he took off his hat, lifted Nettie s hand to his lips, and then strode away toward Bavswater. 100 far away to speak, Stephen had recognized Nettie as she sped away to ward the ro.id, rather than cross the quarry to reach homo, and he had stood stunned by the thought of her presence there under such circumstances. He was actually afraid to trust himself to face his betrothed at once, and spent nearly half the night wandering about, striving to calm his excitement and anger. But it was only held down by a strong effort of will when, tlic day fol lowing. ' ttic quietly but firmly refused all explanation. She denied nothing. "I am very sorry you saw me," she said, "but sinceo you did, I can only say that you mistake my motive and errand." "You acknowledge, then, that you whhc'l thi to be a secret meeting:" Stephen said. T did not wish it known, certainly." "And did not intend to tell mc of it!" "No. You should never have known if you had not seen me." "And you will not tell me who the man was:" "I cannot." "Nor why you met him." "1 cannot!" "Words failed to move her from this position of resolute defiance, though her face was pale, and she evidently suffered deeply from her lover's anger. Still, she s:4id nothing after her return to the house, and Marion was too ill to ques tion her. For two days Marion had been fighting symptoms that were dangerous in their character, and when Nettie, pale but tearful, came to her side, she found her writhing in pain. "Poor Marion! Oh! if I could have spared you!" she cried. "Dr. Nelson so warned us against all excitement, and you have had a shock that was terrible. If only I had known what that letter contained!" "Even if you had, I must have seen it," whispered the invalid. "Send for I)r. Nelson! This pain is unendurable!" Days of agony, followed by utter pros tration, ensued, and Nettie was an un tiring. faithful nurse. But neither skill nor love could overcome the fatal symp toms developed by the shock of some j dreadful tidings. Only a few weeks be- j fore Nettie's betrothal. Marion had fol lowed her only child to the grave. She ! had wearied herself with nursing; she had left the house for the only time in years, to attend the funeral, and had so added to her already heavy ill ness that the doctor had warned Nettie that any further strain, mental or bodily, would be fatal. Tenderly, Nettie had endeavored to spare her all care or agitation, but her love had been powerless against the fatal shock that reached her cousin through the post office. Absorbed in Marion's danger, watch ful of every symptom, Nettie had thrust her own heartache into the background, though sonic silent tears would fall when I she thought of Stephen, j And Stephen, in his hotel room at | Bays water, where he had come for a ; summer vacation, to be near Nettie, raved about woman's perfidy, judged ( j harshly and spoke cruelly, and yet alter- j i uated these bitter hours by softer regiets j j when he longed unutterably for a j of Nettie's hand nnd a word ot lo vc from her lips. Every day he resolv et [ ! to leave .Bavswater, every night he ff c -| j termiued to wait one more day, with ! ! the faint hope of some explanation to i reconcile him to Nettie. ' Two weary weeks had passed, when i a note was handed liim: "I need a true friend, who will per- ! form a service for me without question, ! J and who will keep a secret. Will you come?" No, he would not, lie resolved. 11c ; | had been deceived, and would not play cat's paw for any woman. And yet— A fair, pure face; eyes, innocent, shy, love-lighted; lips that spoke only ten der maidenly words—these rose to con front him, and still reluctant, lie took his hat, and went to Alton Hill. "I knew you would coine," Nettie ' ' said, springing gladly to meet him, as of old; not lifting her shy blushing face ; for liis caress, but pallid, careworn and | sad, a very gray shadow of her' bright little self. "Will you go for mo, without ques tion, on an errand of life and death?" .she asked. "I will," he said, gently, but not : tenderly. "In Heath street," she said—and lie shuddered, for only the most wretched I of Bavswater poor lived there—"in i Heath street, you will find a Mrs. Smith's. ! It is No. 85. Ask for Bill Jones, and i tell him he must come here to-night, I after dark." j "Nettie!" I "Oh, trust me! Only trust me!" she pleaded. "Is there no other message?" "None! I dare not send one. But he must come!" With a heart heavy as lead, and yet strangely moved to obey her request, Stephen left Nettie, to seek for Bill Jones. He was not surprised to sec the tall bearded man lie had seen once bc | fore at the quarry. But he was shocked l to recognize upon his face the unmis takable signs of mortal illness. Evident- | i v whatever the man's life had been, it I was nearly spent. A dry hacking cough, | extreme emaciation, hollow eyes and | j hectic flush all told plainly their piteous ' story. j And the message brought on such vio- I lent agitation, such an exhausting fit of coughing and suffocation that in mere humanity Stephen granted the stranger's i request that he would accompany him j to Alton Hill, and went to secure a car- i riage for the drive. It was dark when they reached the house, and Nettie was watching. She I •lid not seem surprised to see Stephen, i but motioned him to wait, while she led j the strange visitor up the broad staircase, j The little mantel clock chimed three times, and midnight had nearly come, j but still Stephen lingered. Some"strange hope held him to the room where Nettie | had left him, and he paced up and down, waiting. Waiting till nearly at night's noon, the ■' door opened, and Nettie came in "I hoped you would wait," she said. "Will you come with me?" Up the broad staircase, to a large room above. Upon a couch there, dressed in a snowy wrapper, lay the still form of Marion Raymond dead, and beside her upon the floor crouched the man Stephen knew only as "Bill Jones." "You must help us," Nettie said, and Marion told mc to trust you. You guess who this is?" The stranger lifted his head. "Tell whom you will," he said, in a I hollow faint voice; "I'm almost gone! I've killed my wife! I've starved, begged, stolen! What docs it matter! now? Bring the police, and tell them : Henry Raymond is found at Inst!" "Your cousin's husband?" Stephen ; whispered, throwingoff the burden on! his heart in one deep sigh. "Yes. I met him, at her prayer, to j give him money to lice again from justice. But he has been so ill, he could not go. j The shock of his return, after so many I years' absence, killed Marion. You' will help me to conceal him? He can not live many days." "Not many hours," Stephen thought; and he was right. Before the day dawned, Henry Raymond hud gone be- j yond earthly justice or vengeance, and Nettie carried out Marion's last wish, that her husband should rest in death in the cemetery where wife and child lay beside him. Nettie was Marion's heiress, by a will made when Mrs. Raymond believed her husband must be dead. But the little , 1 maiden's wealth did not give her the deep happiness she felt when Stephen ' ■ pleaded for forgiveness for his want of faith, and she once more felt his kiss I upon her lips and his words of love greeted her ears. The Ledger. Pilgrims to Mecca in 111 Luck, Cruel ill link has befallen some of the it Indian pilgrims in Mecca this year. The pilgrim steamer Deccan, which left [j Bombay for Jeddak on the 17th of June had on board more than twelve hun dred of these Mohammedans, packed, it is said, us usual, "like herrings in a bar rel." It is not surprising that during the voyage six cases of cholera occurred. ! This led to the ship being detained in quarantine at the great Red Sea port for ' ten days. When this period had , elapsed another case was declared, which i involved a second quarantine. By this I time the period of the sacred ceremony of walking round the Kaubah or temple of the Prophet and kissing the black stone said to have been given by an an gel to Abraham was at an end, and the poor pilgrims having spent all they had upon this pious duty were compelled to return as they came. It is painfully sig- j uificant that the Deccan brought back 122 persons less than she took out. A similar incident, it is said, has not oc- j curred for half a century. It is regarded by the faithful as a visitation of Divine displeasure. A CABBAGE ROMANCE. What Some Big California Vegeta bles Lead To. j Romance aud the rose go haud-in hand I and the dainty violet and the modest lily have often opened the portals of love, but it has been left to California to pro duce the only cabbage that ever led to a real romance that wound up in a wed- I ding. Eighteen months ago, according to ' tlie unquestionable statement of Gran ville W. Alexander, a grain merchant in this city, there stood in front of the door of one of San Francisco's real estate deal ers a cabbage from San Bernardino j county weighing ninety-two pounds, and 1 said to be the largest ever raised. While this production of California's greatness was on exhibition the Oregon express landed from England two Britons, so ; fiesh from their native soil that they I walked along the dry and dusty streets with surtout.s down to their ankles and their trousers rolled up to meet their | coats. They were both bouud for Aus tralia. Passing along they espied the 1 wonderful cabbage. Both men stopped short. Up went two single eye-glasses. | "By Jove, old boy, but that's a doos j edly large cabbage, doncherknow." j "Doosedly large," replied the second surprised sou of Albion, and then they I both went in and inquired of the real cs ! tatc man where it was grown, j Both men were wealthy. Botli men ! were cousins, and while unknown to i them the busy hand of fate was now at ! ' work, it only seemed to the curiosity i seekers that iu deciding that life would be misspent unless they saw tlie land upon which this cabbage grew, that tlicy j were only obeying the idle whim of idle 1 gentlemen in going to San Bernardino to ! do so. And so they went. Englishmen as a rule are not garrulous, ! and these two friends were no exception. I i Once in San Bernardino they were di- j | rccted to the farm where the cabbage j grew. They remained two weeks. At! the end of that time one of them said to j the rancher: I "I want so much of your land in a certain section. How much is it worth?" j "Four hundred thousand dollars." It was paid for. The other friend said to the rancher: " Your daughter is very beautiful, and j I love her. 1 want to make her my ■ wife." 1 Two months ago there was a wedding jat the ranch. There were a number of j j people present, friends of the family, I and the groom threw aside fiis taciturnity long enough at the supper table to toll how the big tabbage had led to his hap piness.—[San Francisco Chronicle. Started the Graveyard. Out in the Erie coal fields near Bur lington, Col., a few years ago a lean, ' ! freckled-faced fellow, with high Spanish j j heels on his boots, walked into the t ! Stone and Quartz saloon, at Burlington, ' j says the Pittsburg Dispatch, and, lean j i ing his Jong body on lus bony arms on | tlie bar, turned round to the half dozen j loiterers in the place, and with a drawl drew his lantern jaw down on his flannel shirt and said: i "llow long lias this yer camp been a j runnin'?" "Two years," replied the bartender, without raising his eyes. "Graveyard begun yit?" "Not yet." \ " 'Bout time the camp had one. S'pose I start one?" i One bony arm left tlie bar. It never ! reached its owner's belt. There was a noise that sounded like a man dropping : a log chain in an empty hardware store, ! and this noise was followed by a crash j of exploding six shooters from the loit j erers. A curtain of white smoke rolled up against the ceiling. The man at the j bar made a lurch and then fell upon the 1 floor. Six bullets were in his body. ! A graveyard was started in Burling- I | ton next morning. The lean man started ; jit himself. Burlington is now wiped , | out, but high up on Bear Rib Butte is | i one grave. It is tlie only one the camp left. Deadly Vegetable Poisons. The most deadly poisons iu the world ! are vegetable poisons. For example, there is the "woorari" plant from South ! America, which is used by the savage natives for poisoning their arrows. In troduced into the circulation, the juice of this vegetable immediately paralyzes the muscular system, and soon produces death. Physicians experimenting in vivisection employ this poison to para lyze the muscles of frogs and other nni ; inals, in order that the subject treated | may not move under the knife. It ; should be mentioned that the arrows j envenomed with this powerful agent of destruction are propelled through blow- | ! guns of bamboo with astonishing accu-1 racy of aim, birds and other game being captured in this way. Strychnine is a j ! vegetable product, obtained from the i nux vomica plant of India. The seeds supply this active principle, which is | used in medicine to act upon the nervous • system as a tonic. Too much of it is a deadly poison, paralyzing the nerve cen . tres and occasioning convulsions that soon end in death. The Effects of Forests. At the International Agricultural Con gress, at Vienna, one of the first papers read was by M. Prosper Demontzey, "On the Prevention of Torrents and the Reaf i foresting of Mountains," in which lie dc- I scribed at length the experiences of the i Forest Department of France, of which j he is the administrator, lie pointed out the importance of assisting nature in re storing the forests which the selfishness of man had destroyed, thus creating a real danger to the public, and urged for esters to persevere in their efforts, not > withstanding the indifference and oppo ; sition which they at present met with. L Another paper by Dr. Ernst Hbermayer, of the Munich University, dealt with the - hygienic importance of forests, and sum- II murized the results of a largo number - j of exact experii: cuts with reference to is forest, air aud soil.—[New York Herald. THE JOKER'S BUDGET, j. TESTS AND YARNS BY FUNNY 1 MEN OF THE PRESS. Bliss and Its Penalty—A Possible ; Catastrophe—A Musical Pointer i ( —Their La3t Resort—Wanted Enough, Etc., Etc., Etc. j BLISS AND ITB PENALTY. Two lovers stroll in the glinting gloam— His hand in hcr'n and her'n in his; She blushes deep, he is talkiug biz, They hug and pop as they listless roam They roam — 'Tis late when they get back home. < Down by the little wicket gate, Down where the creepful ivy grows, j Down whs re the sweet nasturtium blows, A box-toed parent lies in wait— In wait— For the maiden and her mate. —[Lowell Mail. A POSSIBLE CATASTROPHE. "If Mr. Duste don't take back what he said this morning, I will leave him to night." "What did he say?" "That my services were not required any longer, and that I may go to-night." —[American Stationer. A MUSICAL POINTER. I Mother (whispering)—My dear, our 1 hostess wishes 3*oll to play, i Daughter—Horrors, mother! You know I never play before strangers. I become so nervous and excited that my fingers get all tangled up, and I make all sorts of awful blunders, j Mother—Never mind, dear. Play something from Wagner, and then the mistake won't be noticed.—[New York | Weekly. WANTED ENOUGH. Young De Fast (who has been out very late the night before) —Have you filled the bath tub, as I told you? Valet—Yes, sail. "Then lead me to it." "Watah's awful cold for a bath, sah." ''l don't want a bath. 1 want a drink." —[Good News. A CHANGE OP CIRCUMSTANCES. I Mrs. Lonely Widdcr—l brought }*ou I three weeks ago a number of books to j have engrossed upon their first blank 1 pages, "From my husband, my first and j only love." Have you finished the j work? Artist—l have been ill and am sorry j to say that I have not yet commenced the work. But I will— Mrs. L. W.—All the better; as you have not begun the work, substitute "From my first husband, Charles Wid ler."— | American Stationer. THROWN HIS MONEY AWAY. | —Cosmopolite—So you've been to Bos ' ton? j llustieus—Oh, Yes. C.—Did you get to Faueuil Ilall? It.— Oh, yes. I C.—Did you hear Phillips Brooks I preach? ! U.—Oh, yes. I C.—Did you go up Bunker Hill Mon ! umcnt? j II. —Oh, yes. I C.—Well, did you go into one of those 5-cent stores and hear the girls say "Caawsh?" R.—No. C.—Then you have simply thrown your money away.—[Boston Courier. TIME IS MONEY. Scene.—General S. S. Agenc}', Broad way; six months hence. Mr. B. '/. Ness—Book me for the Plu tonic to-morrow. S. S. Agent.-—Well, I can nccommo -1 date you 011 her; but if it's on urgent business, I'd advise you to go by the City of Hobokcu. She's ten minutes . faster.—[Puck. HOW HE WON HER. .Tack (who lias popped)—lt takes you a long time to decide, j Sallie—l know. And I've about con j eluded to wear a demi-train of white eliilTou over white silk, and have no bridesmaids. —[Judge. IN TIIE WINTER. Father —Why don't you work? Sou—Why, I am as busy as a boo. Father—You do nothing but cat. Son—Well, that is all the bees arc do ing just now. AN APT PUPIL. Doctor —The trouble with you is that 1 you don't take enough exercise. Take more. Blinks —Thanks. How much do I owe you? Doctor—Two dollars. Here is your change. Much obliged. llciglio! I don't feel very well myself. Blinks—You take too much exercise, doctor. Take less. Two dollars, please. [Good News. A JELLY TUNE. The jelly making time is past, And jams and jellies are at last Deposing in the larder; ! And now her loving task complete, The little housewife beats retreat, While I in awe regard her, ! Wondering as I see her stand, With jelly stacked on either hand, Which has worked the harder. —[New York Herald. AM ATE UR TIIE ATRI OA LR. "What part am I to take?" said Chap pic. j "You are to be the heroine's father," replied the stage manager. | "What does he do?" i "lie dies ten years before the curtain < rises 011 the first act." THEIR LAST RESORT. * Reporter—Do you never get tired of continually pounding on those keys? Pretty Typewriter—Oh, my, yes! Reporter—Then what do you do? P. T.—Oh, as soon as we get tired wo 1 marry our employer.—[Epoch. A SURE THING. Customer—Your safety matches arc abominable things. I can't over get them to light. Storekeeper—Well, what greater proof of safety could you desire?—[Flicgeude Blue Iter. VERY FORGETFUL, i "You talk about Crnmlcigh! Why, my dour boy, he has forgotten more than you ever knew." j" "You don't say so! Well, that ac counts for it. Every time I call on him lie's poring over the encyclopaedia or the dictionary. He must be searching for more things to forget."—[Boston Tran script. THE LUCK OF TIIE UGLY MAN. "I have a beautiful wife." "You have indeed." ! "What! Have you scon licr?" i "No: but I never saw an ugly man married yet who didn't get the pick of the flock."—[New i'ork Sun. DIDN'T PRESS TII.Vi; CnAROE. "What became of Hank Davis, the horse-thief ?" "Oh, the boys hanged him lost night.'" "He had also committed a diabolica! murder, hadn't he?" "Yes, but the boys let him go on that charge." NATURAL HISTORY. Little Sister—ls tails any use to mon keys? Little Brother—Of tourso they is. They is to help the monkey hang OD when the organ grinder walks. THE SUPERLATIVE DEGREE. She—This parlor is better than sitting on the beach with the hot sun pouring j down, isn't it, dear? He—Yes, darling; about $5 a day better. TOO REFINED. Mrs. Fangle—llow do you like your new maid, Mrs. Jingle? Mrs. Jingle—Oh, she'd be all right if she were not so over-refined. "In what way?" "She never breaks anything but the most costly Dresden china."—[St. Joseph News. HAD BEEN THERE BEFORE. City Swell —I fain would have thee for my very own. Country Girl—Well, you can just get. Your're not the first by several that's feigned the same thing, and I'm still doing the housework for 111a.—[Bing hamton Leader. FRIGHTFUL. A.—llow much Miss Homely looks like her mother. B.—Yes, the resemblance is positively frightful.—[Texas Siftiugs. A TROUBLE EASILY CURED. Distressed young mother, travelling with weeping infant—Dear, dear; I don't know what to do with this baby. Kind and thoughtful bachelor in next sont—Madam, shall I open the window for you?—[Boston Courier. AN IMPORTANT P. 8. "Dear Mr. Hicks," she wrote, "I am sorry that what )*ou ask I cannot grant, j I cannot become your wife. Yours sin j cerely, ETHEL BARROWS." | Then she added: "P. S.—On second thoughts, dear George, I think 1 will ! marry you. Do come up to-night and | see your own true Ethel." IIE DOTED ON HER. i "I've won again," she sweetly cried, "What luck 1 have at play." "Not luck, my darling," he replied, "It is your winning way." FIRST OVER ALL COMPETITORS. First Merchant—l suppose you kno\y my inks received the first prize at the exposition? Second Merchant—l haven't been reading the papers lately. Who were your competitors? First Merchant—Well, I was the only one who exhibited, but many intended ; to do so.—[American Stationer. Performing Cats. Those persons who believe cats to be f incapable of profiting by education would change their opinion if they could sec the exhibition of performing cats in Paris, France. The skill and docility ol I the little animals arc truly wonderful, and would, even in dogs, be considered a proof of great intelligence. The cats are concealed in two small wooden . houses or kennels, which stand opposite j each other, with a row of fifty chairs _ between tlitfm. The performance begins by the trainer tapping on the roof of one . of the houses. Immediately a cat t comes out of the door, and, [after being . stroked and patted by its master, leaps s to the top of the first chair and then goes lightly and gracefully from one chair to the next, stepping only on the backs, until it reaches the other house, i into which it retires. Each cat does this in turn, and then two cats cross the . chairbridgc in opposite direcoions, one ! going over the tops as before and the other passing along the hoti/.ontal bar just below. Long, wooden planks arc then laid over the chair-backs, and a number of wine bottles placed in a row at short in- j tervals, and the cats wind swiftly in and out between the bottles without missing one or knockiug one over. A still greater difficulty is presented by a small, wooden disk being placed on the top of each bottle and a cat stepping from one to another, while other cats , follow the serpentine walk among the bottles below. Chairs and plauks are , then removed and a number of trestles set up between the two houses. The v cats leap from one trestle to another [ with the precision and agility of a cir cus-rider. A largo wire hoop, wrapped in tow which lnul been soaked in alcohol, is held up and set on lire, but the pro cession of pussies, nothing daunted, leap through the flames obediently. Tight rope dancing is the next performance, and a number of live, white rata placed on the rope receive 110 attention what ever from the cats. —[Farm and Fireside. Stonewall Jackson's Death. Historians always stop to describo the dying of Wolfe and Montcalm, the two opposing commanders in the battle of Quebec. But their deaths were simply heroic compared with the Christian death of Stonewall Jacksou. About 1.30 011 the day of his death lie was told that lie had about two hours to ' live, and he answered feebly but firmly : " Very good; it is all right." A few moments before he died he 1 cried out 111 his delirium: " Order A. P. Hill to prepare for action. Pass the in fantry to the front rapidly. Tell Majoi Hawks—" then stopped, leaving the f sentence unfinished. Presently a smile of inctTable sweet ness spread itself over his pale face and then lie said quietly and with an ex c pression of relief : " Let 11s cross ovci the river and rest under the shade of the trees." Ami then, without pain or thf least struggle, his spirit passed.—[ Phi la e delphia Press. t Rothschild's Wish. e A story is related of one of the Roths childs which may never have been said by him, but which nevertheless is true, I > as every successful business man will 1 testify. "I hope," said a friend to Rothschild, "that your children are not too fond ol 1 money and business. I am sure you J would not wish that." "1 am sure ] 1 should wish that," replied Rothschild. "I wish thorn to give mind, soul, heart, and body to business—that is the way tc be happy. It requires a great deal of boldness and a great deal ot caution t( make a great fortune, and when you havi got it, it requires ten times as much wil 1 to keep it."—[Scientific American. Tlu* noldier who really did good at fch front nvor brags about it. SOMEWHAT STRANGE. ACCIDENTS AND INCIDENTS OF EVERY DAY LIFE. Queer Episodes and Thrilling Adven tures Which Show that Truth is Stranger than Fiction. A PARTY of surveyors returning to Cor pus Christi, Texas, from Brownsville were surprised, on making a sharp turn in the road, over a terrible commotion going on between some large objects a few hundred feet distaut from them. The first thought was that some wild beast had attacked a steer, but as there was no sound audible except the noise occasioned b/ the wild lashing of the ground by some living things, the com motion could not bo accounted for in that way, says the St. Louis Globo-Dem ocrat. Great volumes of dust filled the air, shutting out every view, but by gradually drawing closer it was discov ered that a fight was in progress between two large snakes. On nearing them their hissing could be distinctly beard. I Suddenly the snakes, which were what ! are commonly known as "bull," became I aware of the presence of the surveying ' party, when the larger of the reptiles, with lightning like rapidity, caught the smaller suake with his mouth just back of the head, and, amid a violent lashing of the ground, attempted to carry it into the brush, in which it would have been successful but for the volley of bullets | that was poured into their bodies by the I gentlemen of the party. The snakes measured twelve and nine feet respcct ( tively. It was an excitiug and interest ing scene to see these two monsters lash j and coil their bodies around each other ,in a crushing embrace, their eyes look | ing like small balls of fire, large jaws ex -1 tended to the utmost capacity, and with* their heads thrown back, watching for !an opportunity to strike. Some Mcxi ! cans to whom the occurrence was related said that it was not uncommon to wit ness such fights as this one between much larger snakes than those of this species. AN occurrence of a singular character was witnessed not long since in one of the thoroughfares of Leeds. While a drove of cattle were passing one of their ! number suddenly took fright, and ran into a workshop in the neighborhood, in which a number of persons were then employed. It made its way upstairs iu- I to the workroom, and naturally created j considerable alarm among those I who happened to be there. Every device had to be resorted to for their protection, but before the first beast could be driven out another was on its way upstairs. This one could get no further than halfway up the stair case, with the result that the passage be tween the workshop aud the street was | blocked, and neither the beast on the j stairs nor the other that was above could be driven oil the premises for j some time. Eventually ropes were pro ! cured, and by their means the beast on , the staircase was first pulled up into the room and subsequently hauled down in to the street. The other was got into the street by a similar process, but not before the workshop tlicy had seized pos session of had been completely deranged 1 aud its occupants considerably alarmed. j A NOVEL exhibition was given the other night in the transmitting room of tho I Americau Telephone and Telegraph Company, New York City. The music I of an orchestra concert was listened to ;by at least six audiences, all several miles apart from one another. In the long-distance telephone central ollices at Philadelphia and Baltimore people I heard all the numbers of a lentlly pro ' gramme. The members and guests of the Newark Board of Trade were also favored with the concert. In a big hall over in New Jersey an immense receiver had been placed and the music was trans mitted from Cortlandt street clearly and distinctly. General Superintendent Hibbard from his residence at Morris town, N. J., directed the programme by means of his cabinet telephone, lie en tertained a party of guests and in his parlors were placed three big receivers and eighty "p licc telephones." The service from New York was so good that sets were formed and quadrilles and waltzes were danced with a delight add ed by the new experience. ALEXANDER WILSON, a brakeman of a freight train, recently met with what is consideied at Chester, Peun., the most remarkable escape from a horrible death yet recorded. The. train was being cut to switch a portion of it on a siding at Welsh street. Wilson uncoupled the cars and stood on the top of the one at tached to the locomotive. A sudden jerk caused him to lose his balance and lie fell between the rails directly in front of the six cars that were rapidly ap proaching him. One arm was thrown over a rail, but with rare presence of mind he withdrew it and crouched close to the ties. The six cars passed over him, and as they did so the beams and rods underneath caught his clothing and turned him over. The spectators shud dered, expecting to see him torn to pieces. 11c made a miraculous escupe, however, and after the cars had passed he crawled oil the track and coolly re sumed his post on the train. Ilis body was slightly bruised and the end of one linger was cut olf. Wilson belongs in Wilmington, Del., and is an old and ex perienced ruilroad man. A STORY which, whether true or not, is at all events "well found," is told in a New York paper. A contractor, under the stress of financial tightness, sold a house very much under its value. Puz zling his wits to recover his property, he hit 011 the idea of working 011 the super stitious fears of the new owner. Every night the purchaser heard rappings and other strange noises, but the tenants were not disturbed. The noise had, at last, such an effect on the nerves of the frantic owner that he was in the act of dashing himself lrom the roof to the ground in a lit of insanity, when some of the neighbors came on the scene and . prevented him. An examination of the building resulted in llic linding of an electrical knocker, which had been hung over the roof and made available for operation 011 any desired point. This was the bogey which had driven the new owner out of his wits, and the contractor, on being confronted with the facts, con fesscd that he had adopted this method of frightening him into giving up the property. ! "UREAR," a valuable white and black hunting dog, belonging to N. G. Daven port, of Circleville, Ohio, committed suicide recently by drowning. The deed was executed in the Scioto river, just be low the aqueduct, with remarkable de liberation and determination. At this point there is a gentle decline from the shore to the middle of the river, and the dog waded a considerable distanco be fore the water came up to his shoulder, when lie ducked his head and deter minedly held it there until lie lost con sciousness. A number of people wit ! nessed the occurrence, but did not real j ize what the dog was trying to do until I too late. The dog had been bitten the day before by a rattlesnake and was euf fering excruciating pain. Besides being a good hunter he was a great pet. LARRY PIULAN a nativo of Ireland and foi more than forty years a resident of Harper's Ferry, Va., and at one time an employee in the United States Armory, died recently aged 77 years. The de ceased about fifteen years ago conceived the novel idea of making his tombstone, and procured a piece of slate three by five feet, cut the apex in the form of a cross, chiselled his name, place of birth, and thinking he would die between the years of 1888 and 1890, cut the first three figures on the face of the stono but not dying at that time, he cancelled the last figure and substituted 9 and sent the stone to his lot in the Catholic cemetery. Mr. Finlau was buried and his tombstone was erected after the filling of his grave. ONE of the oldest houses now standing in Main is the famous Sparhawk mansion at Kittery Point. This sturdy old relic of colonial days was erected in 1741 by Sir William Pepperel, who presentod it to his daughter upon her marriage \a ith Col. Sparhawk. It is a stately old house, high posted and containing many rooms, among them a parlor 20 by 30 feet. The original wall paper still remains in a good state of preservation, and the antlers of deer killed generations ago are still perched over the doors of the great hall. The old mansion was formerly ap proached through a fine avenue of arching elms, but the trees were cut down years ago by some clodhopper who hadn't an idea above firewood. TIIE opponents of vivisection (the London Daily News' correspondent at Vienna telegraphs) will be disgusted to hear of an experiment which took place at the hospital of Professor Strieker's class. A little dog was made insensible, fastened to a board, and when his heart had been laid bare, an instrument called the episcope was applied, which threw the magnified picture of the dog's heart on the wall opposite, revealing to the eyes of all present every movement of the heart. The experiment lasted half au hour. According to the professor tlio successful demonstration of the move ments of a living heart is of the greatest value to the student of medicine. A MAN in Worcester, Mass., has a dog that is only a year old and of the Prince Edward Island breed, and is the constant companion of his boy, four years of age. Not long ago the boy got possession of a hatchet which he had been forbidden to touch and went about hacking things generally and endangering his own legs. After watching him a short time, the dog approached, took the hatchet away from the boy, carried it into the garden and buried it; and when the child attempted to dig it up the dog drove him oft and lay down over the buried hatchet, effect ually preventing the boy from rccovciiug it. A LITTLE idiot girl, four years old, was brought to Dr.Lannelougue, in Paris, and her case for a time puzzled Him. She could neither walk nor stand, and never smiled nor took notice of anything. The doctor concluded that the abnormal nar rowness of the head obstructed the growth of the brain, and in May last he made an incision in the centre of the skull and cut a piece of bone from tho left side of it. The result was marvel ous. Within less than a month the child could walk, and she is now quite bright—playing, smiling, and taking no tice of everything around her. BECAUSE of the great poverty among the Russian peasants on the Volga it has become a common occurrence for them to sell their children. The police oflicers of Nizhni-Novgorod were recently noti fied of such a case. On a steamer arriv ing from Kazan was a Russian boy about 12 years of age under the guardianship of an Armenian. During the passage the passengers noticed that the boy was trying to run away from the guar dian, and as he was unable to do this, he attempted to throw himself into tho river. The police, on investigation, ! found that the boy had been sold to the ! Armenian by his father in Kazan for twenty roubles, lie was released and returned to his native city. Miss LIZZIE JOHNSON, of Mariposa, Cal., while riding horseback from school, was attacked by a large panther that sprang from a tree upon her horse. He failed to get a sufficient footing upon the animal to injure it in any way, but frightened it badly. The young girl saw the beast as her tcirilied horse rushed away. ONE of the shortest names in tho country is possessed by Mr. Ye, who is Secretary of the Corcan Legation at Washington. Mr. Ye has just been made happy by the arrival at his home of a little daughter, and the child has been christened 44 Washou Ye," which in English meuns 44 Washington." This child is the first born of the Coreau nationality in this country. AN immense cloud of locusts recently passed over the city of Allahabad, India. The stream of jthese terrible pests made its appearance at about J. 30, and lasted tl ' nearly sp. m. The sky was overcast with them, but fortunately they did not settle at Allahabad, though a good por tion of the swarm settled on the fields in the neighborhood of the Muir village. The advent of these pests is regarded by the natives as heralding a famine. A MOST singular uccident is reported from Hungary. During the work at the Innsbruck electric central station a spider, which was busily engaged in designs against the übiquitous fly, climbed on one of the lightning protectors. This occasioned an earth connection, and an induction bobbin was damuged by the breaking of the insulation. The spider, of course, paid the penalty for intruding into tho primary circuit of 2,000 volts, but in oruer to prevent future accidents the lightning protector plates arc to be closed up in glass boxes. DR. KOUCHARSKY, a professor of medi cine in St. Petersburg, completed a lec ture on acids, and then poured some drops from a vial in a glass. Then he said to his class: 4< Attentiou, young men! In two minutes you will sec a man die. Good-by to you aIH" lie drank the liquid, took out his watch and counted the seconds until he dropped dead. A cow belonging to Mr. J. TV. Bach, near Kiderminster, England, has given birth to triplets, all tine, healthy calves. Mother and offspring were doing well at last accounts. Abraham Lincoln's Log Cabin. A committee from Chicago in the int erests of the world's fair visited Wash ington county near Danville, Ky., recent ly, and bought of Ilenry Reed the log cabin in which Abraham Lincoln lived as a boy, and where his father was mar ried to Nancy Hanks, the certificate being preserved there yet in the county clerk's office. The price paid for thil historic relic was SI,OOO, and it will be taken down and erected cut ire on s prominent site at the world's fair. —[Chi cago News.
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers