Wages of school teachers in Connec
ticut have doubled in the past thirty
five years.
It seems to be the irony of fate that
Greece should now be compelled to
pay handsomely for the ineffable priv
ilege of beiug thrashed.
Hard times or not, the price of
pictures seems to keep. At a sale in
London the other day a work by
Gainsborough sold for $25,000.
The world's agriculture occupies the
attention of 280,000,000 men, repre
sents a capital of $24,000,000,000, and
has an annual product of $20,000,000,-
000. _________
An ordinance has gone forth in
Japan exhorting the people to eat
more freely of meat, with a view to in
creasing the average height of the
race.
A traveling evangelist in the West
has an assistant stationed outside his
meeting places, and every time he
brings down a fresh sinner he signals
to this man, who sends up a sky
rocket.
The Marquis Ito repudiates the idea
that Japan wants to annex the Ha
waiian Islands. He declares that
"Japan does not want the islands as a
gift. It only wants to see treaty
rights observed."
Portland, Oregon, has l'oriqed a Cit
izens' Protective Association. The
city has been steadily losing population
and wealth, and the object of the as
sociation is to encourage home trade
and industries.
The silver to be used in plating the
"silver palace" at the Omaha (Neb.)
Exposition has been furnished by
Western miners. The metal, it seems,
is, however, only on loan, and will be
given back to the owners when the
show closes.
Every war vessel built for the Gov
ernment by private enterprise has won
a bonus of from SBO,OOO to $350,000 for
making a little more speed than tlie
contract requirement. "Why not raise
the standard and save the bonuses?"
asks the New York Press.
The Berliu National Zeitnng thinks
the American apple lias come to Ger
many to stay. It is not only good, but
can be sold in the streets at less than
four cents a pound, and, what is most
important of all, it keeps much longer
than the German apple.
New Jersey has made more progress
recently in road construction than any
other State. As a result the price of
farm lands in New Jersey has advanced
and many farms which had been aban
doned because of the difficulty in mar
keting their crops are now tenanted
and cultivated.
An English officer at Canea re
marked the other day to a Russian;
"I should like to sink this island and
wash oft' the whole crowd—Cretans,
Turks and Greeks!" "Yes," replied
the Russian, "and when the island
came up again, you would like to plant
the British flag on top!" It is prob
able that the one officer was as disin
terested as the other.
Germany, says the San Francißco
Bulletin, seems to be forging ahead in
the race for industrial greatness, if not
supremacy. She already stands second
among the Nations in the value of her
exports and imports. Official figures
put her exports and imports for 1895
at $1,926,729,000; England's were $3,-
125,820,000; France's, $1,366,167,600,
and the United States', $1,544,770,000
Says the Jacksonville (Fla.) Me
tropolis: "A few years ago the region
of South Florida was one vast orange
grove. The cold weather came and
swept away the beautiful and profita
ble trees. Now that secrtion is a to
bacco farm, and it promises to be more
remunerative than orauge-growing. It
is not packing houses that we once
heard so much about being constructed,
but tobacco bouses to prepare the leaf
for the market. It is said that where
there is a will there is away, and this
seems to be true of Florida. If they
can't have one crop they can another.
The soil yields bountifully, aud the
year 1897 is going to prove u success
ful one to the tobacco growers. Much
of the tobacco, it is asserted, will prove
the equal to that heretofore imported
from Cuba. In fact, many of the na
tives of that island are now engaged in
the culture of the plant in the south
ern counties of this State. Calamities
come and calamities go, but the re
sources of Florida go on forever, and a
hack-set does not discourage other
efforts to retrieve losses. We should
be, if we are not, a happy people when
there are so many opportunities to-be
happy presented."
r&ffctW
f
"'TIS LOVE THAT MAKES THE WORLD
GO ROUND."
A thousand years ago, or more,
A maiden and a youth
Discovered for themselves ane.w
An old, yet living truth;
For through their love these lovers
found
'Twas love that made the world go
round.
As youths aud maidens had before
A thousand years ago and more.
A thousand* years from now, or more,
A youth will know the bliss
Of gazing into eyes that flash
The love-light back to his;
And send the world for many a day
A-sj.inning gayly on its way,
A-spinning faster than before.
Another thousand years, or more.
And. Love, have you and I not found
•'Tis love that makes the world go round?
G list a v Kobbe, in Harper's Weekly.
| THE END OF IT ALL
!
f HAT'S the last word, is
it?" It was Bale who !
asked the question. He I
had screwed his courage
to the sticking point at
"That's the last
word," said Selina,
'and to my mind, Mr. Tolley, it's a
Int of a pity jt ever went so far."
"As how?" said Bale. He was very
gloomy and quiet, and unlike himself,
and she had ceased to feel ufraid of
him.
"In this wise, Mr. Tolley," she an
swered. "I never chose your com
pany, and I never liked' it. I look
on what you've said to me as a
liberty. And f defy you to say I ever
showed you u sign of encouragement
to it."
"That's true enough," said Bale
gravely, and without touch of irony.
"I'll do you that much credit, You've
made it pretty clear as you disliked me
from the beginning."
"And that," the girl retorted, "is
why I look on what you've said in the
light of a liberty, Mr. Tolley."
"It won't be repeated," Bale an
swered. "Goodnight!"
He lingered as if in expectation of
an answer, but the girl turned away
without a word. The garden gate
clicked behind her, and Buie was left
standing in the roadway.
"Well," he said to himself, "it's
what I looked for, and it fits my
merits." He pulled a handful of loose
tobacco from one pocket of his jacket
and a pipe from the other. * Then,
having stood for a minute or two with
out a movement, he filled his pipe, lit
it, and walked away.
The girl meanwhile had reached the
cottage kitchen. She took a candle
stick from tlie high cliinineypiece, and
set it on the table with an augrv
emphasis. She stirred the waning
fire with the same petulance, and,
having thrust a thin sliver or two of
wood between the bars, she knelt
down before the grate and fanned the
embers with her apron. When they
blazed she drew out one of the sticks
and lit the candle. As the wick be
gan to burn she looked up and gave a
faint cry at the sight of an unexpected
figure in the room.
"Mother!" she said, with a hand
upon her heart. "How you frightened
me!"
"Hast no cause to be afraid o' me,
wench," her mother answered, "So
Bale's got the sack, has he?"
"Got the sack?" Selina echoed.
"No. He was never in my service."
"He never got any wages, poor
lad!" said the old woman. "That's
another matter, however. In your
service he has been this three year."
"Well," returned Selina, "I never
had any truck with him, and I never
wanted any. And now, if that's what
he wanted to know, he knows it."
"Yes," said the old woman, knitting
away with the same tranquillity, "you
let him know it."
"Why, mother," cried the girl,
"what would you have me do? Did
you expect me to say 'Yes!' to him?"
"No, ray dear. It would ha' given
me a rare sore heart to hear it. But
I've known him since the day lie was
born, and I've been sorry for him
many time. He's a nobody's child,
poor Bale is. He was bred on charity,
and lie was made to feel it. He's gone
wrong, my dear, like a good many
more, because he'd hardly ever the
chance to go right; but there was the
makin's of u fine man in him. You
was quite right to say him nay, but I
could wish as you'd been gentle with
him."
Selina lit a second candle and sat
down beside it with her sewing.
" His father was a travel in' conjur
or,*' said the old woman, after a long
pause. "I saw him once alive, and a
liner figure of a man I never saw. I
helped to lay him out, poor fellow,
that same night. He broke his back
bone with a cannon ball doin' some
juggler's trick with it. They said at
the time he was in liquor, and he'd no
right to do a dangerous thing like
that at such a time. He'd built a bit
of a tent across the road there on the
waste ground, and there was the wife
a-wuiting her confinement. The child
wasn't born half an hour when some
blunderiu' idiot told her tba news.
That killed the mother. Then poor
Tolley's wife took in the child and
kept it, and we all helped a bit; and
he growed up to be called Tolley. And
us if he hadn't had misfortune enough
to begin life with, old Tolley must
needs go an' christeu the poor little
ereetui' by his own name of Balaam,
as VP been a laughing stock for the
whole o' Castle Barfield for 'ears an*
'ears. He learned himself to read'an*
write without any help as iver T heard
on. He was put, to work at the pit
bank by tbe time he was eight 'ears
old, and he lerned himself the engine
drivin' by looking at 1 lie engine an'
watchin' the chaps at work at it. Poor
Bale!"
A bright drop or two fell from the
girl's eyes and glistened on the stuff
she was sewing.
In the meantime, Bale, the rejected,
had walked down into the valley, had
lingered for a while at the forge gates
to stare in at the wliite-hot, half-naked
figures that dragged the bloom from
the surface, and ran it on its iron
trolley to the steam-hammer, and had
waited to see it beaten from its incan
descent heat to a dull red glow.
"It takes good stuff to abide that
kind of handling," said Bale. "The
good stuff's the better for it. But it's
no use trying it. on slag. As a matter
of fact, you can't have the good stuff
without it, but it's a pity to treat all
sorts alike."
He was making a parable of the
matter in his own mind, and he walked
on thinking of it in a" sore-hear ted and
rather empty-headed fashion. He
passed the frowsy town and came out
on the road to Quarrymoor, with its
almost instant hint of country odors
in the darkened air. It was late
spring weather, almost summer, and
the smoke veil hung high and thin.
The stars shone through it vaguely,
and a .dew was falling. He walked on
for an hour, clean into the country,
not knowing or caring where his feet
led him, and suddenly he was aware
that the moon had risen, broad and
full, and that a nightingale was sing
ing.
"Why, Bale, old lad!" a cheery
voice called out. "What brings you
here?"
"There's a nightingale in the copice
yonder," said Bale. "Listen!"
They kept silence for a minute, and
the bird's song, which had been
checked at the sound of the footsteps,
began again. The new-comer tidgetted
a little, and after a minute or two said:
"It's a pretty music enough. But
who'd ha' thought of your caring for
it, Bale? Going home again?"
"Yes," said Bale. "At least—l
don't know about home. I shall drop
in at the Sir Ferdinand."
"Ah!" cried the other,?striding 011
again with Bale at his side, "I should
think that was more in your line."
"Well, yes," said Bale, "I suppose
it is. Shall we set ourselves to walk
toward u glass?"
"Why, no," said his companion.
"Not to-night. I've better work on
hand. You've always been a 1 rust
worthy sort of chap in away, Bale.
You can keep a secret?"
"I've kept one or two," Bale ans
wered.
"Why," said the other. "The
secret's this, Bale. I'm goiug to get
married."
"Oh!" said Bale. "You've squared
the old lady, have you?"
"Yes. I've squared the old lady,
and I'm off now to the top of Hill Road,
my lad, to carry the news to the young
'un."
"The young lady?" said Bale.
"The young lady," said his com
panion. "She's been rare and down
hearted this six months past about the
old woman's opposition. She'll cheer
up above a bit when I break the news
to her. And look here, Bale, old lad.
You and me have always had a liking
one for another. There's a bit of a
difference in our stations in life, but
I've never made a difference on that
account. Have I, now? Come! Have
I?"
"No," cried Bale; "you never have."
"When a man's married," said the
other, "he's got to let his wife have
something of a say about the company
he keeps. Now, sometimes you are a
most extraordinary racketty chap, Bale.
You know you are. Selina's got a bit
of a down on you, old lad."
"Don't you trouble about me,
George," said Bale. "I know what
Miss Rice thinks about me, and J know
what I think about Miss Rice. We're
never likely to trouble each other."
"Why?" said the lucky lover, check
ing his walk suddenly and facing
round. "What do you think about
Miss Rice?"
"Oh!' cried Bale, "don't let's have
any misunderstanding. I've the very
highest opinion of Miss Rice. She's
made up her mind that I'm a wastrel, i
and she's let nie see her opinion. She's
quite right, George—quite right. I
am a wastrel. I'm no fit society for
her, and if, as a married woman, Hhe
makes up her uiind as I'm no fit com
panion for her husband, why, all 1 say
is, her will be done. I shall never
think the worse of her. It's a woman's
business to keep her own man straight.
Well, here's the Sir Ferdinand. Good
night, George, and good luck."
"Not yet," returned George. "We
haven't got to the bottom of what I
wanted. Try and be a bit steady, Bale.
That'll bring Selina round; and I'd like
to see an old chum at the fireside now
and then. I don't want to lose you,
Bale."
"Oh, well! We'll talk o' that an
other time. Neither Miss Rice, as she
is, nor Mrs. Truman, as she will be,
wants me about her. Good night,
George. We shall meet to-morrow,"
How Bale Tolley, who had gone to
the bad this three years, went head
long to the worse from that evening
forward, is not worth telling, and yet
was told in a thousand households.
There was good choice of blackguard
society in the neighborhood for any
uiai} who cared to seek it. Bale found
the yvgrse, and played the uncrowned
king among it. His name grew to be
a byword. Aqxious parents warped
their sons against hip?. Only the old
woman who had sometimes "moth
ered" him in his lonely and miserable
childhood had ever a sympathetic
thought about him.
"Poor Bale!" she would say to her
self, for she hardly dared say it to an
other, Bale was so flagrantly a sinner.
"He's got the very look of his father on
him. It might be printed 011 his hack
and he 110 plainer reading. Ruined
dare-devil. It's wrote large all over
him. But he's a beautiful flgnre of a
man to look at yet, an' if iver a child's
heart was i' the right place, that child's
was when he was a child."
George Truman and Selina Rice
were cried in church, lmt of this Bale
knew nothing, for he did not mix with
church-going people. But George nnd
Selina were married, and that fact
came to his hearing. Except Selina
and her mother and Bale himself, no
soul had an idea that it concerned him
in the least.
The married pair took up residence
in their own house after a three days'
trip, and George Truman went back to
the office of the milling engineer who
employed him. Bale drove his engines
at the mine, the Three Crowns Yard;
and a year went by. Then the two
men met again, Bale in his laboring
grime at the engines, and George in
his more respectable working gear.
"Hallo, Hale, old lad," said the
lucky man, "how art? I've come to
have a business look at things."
"Going down?" asked Bale.
George nodded and looked about
him, rather evading Bale's eye than
not, said ail indifferent thing or two
about the weather and so on, and
went his way.
"Ting!" said the little bell. Bale
handled his levers, and watched the
dial face.
"I could smash him like an egg,"
said Bale, "and not a living creature
would think it was anything hut an ac
cident."
George's mind was in his work, and
lie had 110 guess of what was passing
in thoughts of the man who at the in
stant controlled his destinies. The
descending skip swung to its stopping
place like a feather. The married man
stepped out and made his way along
the workings in pursuit of his own busi
ness. The bachelor above ground
folded his smeared arms across his
chest, planted his hack against an iron
upright which ran from floor to ceiling,
and pulled at his pipe, awaiting the
next signal.
"Here, yon!" he shouted to the hoy
who passed the door. "What do yoii
mean by letting all this cotton-waste
lie about here? Clear it out,"
"All right, gaffer," said the hoy. "In
a minute."
"Ting!" said the little bell. Bale
set down his pipe, and took the levers.
The pipe fell over. When his im
mediate task was finished he looked
for it, and could not find it. He raked
the cotton-waste here and there with
his foot. No pipe. Bale cursed a lit
tle to relieve his feelings, "Ting!"
said the little hell, and he went hack
to his work. He swung the skip up,
the careful eye seeking the dial every
now and then. Being free once more,
he began his search again. He'kicked
the oily waste savagely, and all at once,
as if it had been a living thing, a flame
broke out at him. He raced swiftly to
the door and shouted "Fire!" "Ting!
ting! ting! ting-a-lingle-ling-ling-ling!"
The little hell was mad.
"Shaft afire!" roared a voice from
the side ol' the distant downcast.
"My God!" said Bale, and dashing
hack to the engine house, he fought
wildly with the growing flames. He
stamped out the blazing waste, and
turned again to his levers. Round
spun the shining wheels. Smooth and
steady went piston and crank, round
crept the hand on the dial. He looked
behind him and the floor was smoul
dering.
"Fire here!" he shouted. "Engine
house afire!"
"Ting!" snid the little bell. There
were a hundred and J fifty men below,
and he was their one helper. He
obeyed the hell, and then rushed once
more into the open, truinpetting with
all his lungs.
"Help here! Help! Engine house
afire!"
"Ting!" said the hell. The floor was
crumbling with flame, and the partition
wall had caught. It was bnilt of thin
wood, and was dryer than tinder. The
fire raged, and he was back at his lev
ers in the midst of it—scorched,
choked, blinded. Then help came with
a roar of voices. "Ting!" said the
inexorable hell. He held 011 to his post,
fighting against death. Outside, men, •
formed in line, passed buckets from
hand to hand, ami the contents being
dashed upon the flames filled the room
with scalding steam. He could not
see the dial any longer, but he worked
by instinct, and the instinct never be
trayed him once. "Ting!" nnd the
first stage ol' the cage was filled with
rescued men. "Ting!" and the sec
ond stage was filled. "Ting!" and
the third stage was filled. Then he
tore her up like fire, cheeked her,
coaxed her, stopped her to a foot.
"Ting" and "Ting" and "Ting" and
the three stages were empty, and that
hatch of thirty was hack to life again.
Then he sent her down like a stone,
and lived along the plunge in his own
mind until lie felt she should-he there.
Instinct proved true again by the
hell's voice.
His body was in hell, hut his soul
leaped with a passionate intoxication
of revolt and mastery to defy its pains.
The men outside dashed water on his
burning elothes. They howled ap
plause at him. Some among them
wept as they cheered, and one went
shrieking, with both hands writhing
in the air, as if lie himself were tor
tured.
It was all done at last,'and there
went up a cry of triumph terrible to
hear. Bale reached the open air
charred, blackened, scarce human
to look at, and as he fell into the
nearest comrade's arms the roof of the
engine house dropped in. They car
ried him to the nearest cottage, and
all that could he done for him was
done, lie was conscious to the end.
and lie made shift to ash for Selina
She came, her mother with her.
"I wanted you to know," said Bale.
"T could't lia' gone through with it if
your George hadn't been down."
Selina stopped and kissed him, her
tears raining on his face.
*'There, there!" said Bale. "That's
the end of it all."
God has made nothing stranger
than man, to be blackguard and hero,
devil and angel in a broath.—New
York Journal 1 !
SCIENTIFIC AND INDUt{TRIAL,
Medical experts are of the opinion
that, shyness is simply a form of in
sanity.
The new naval observatory at Wash
ington is one of the linest scientilio
plants in the world.
Aluminum, in plates a quarter ol
an inch thick, has proven a very dura
ble roofing material in Berlin.
A German statistician estimates that
17,000,000 human beings lost their
lives from earthquakes between the
years 1187 and 188(5.
At Berlin the veterinary school has
found that out of 154 sick parrots lif
ty-four were suffering from tubercu
losis. The disease is hereditary in
the birds.
A late mysterious explosion in n
colliery in South Wales appears quite
certainly to have resulted from a spark
caused by a heavy fall of the gritty
snndstone roof.
The world's production of coal lias
almost doubled within the last fifteen
years. In 1880 the aggregate output
was 864,787,000 tons. In 1895 it had
risen to (>88,'805,000 tons.
The dust collected from the smoke !
of some Liege furnaces, burning coal
raised from the neighboring mines,
produces, when dissolved in hydro
chloric acid, a solution from which
considerable quantities of arsenic and
several other metallic salts may be
precipitated.
A Danish scientist, Dr. Joliannson,
of the Agricultural High School at
Copenhagen has discovered that
chloroform and ether have a wonderful
power in awakening the vegetable
kingdom", while they put the animal
world asleep, a closed flower can be
reopened instantly by either of these
age.n ts.
A queer sight was the ladies' night
of a London microscopical club, where
the guests sat around 304 microscopes
listening to a lecturer. One of the
curiosities shown was a chapter of St.
John written on the two-thousandth
part of a square inch, on which scale
the whole Bible would cover just one
square inch of space.
A remarkable adulteration of saffron
has been discovered by a German mi
croscopist, who has found barium sul
phate within the cells, and concludes
that the drug was first soaked in a so
lution of barium salt and then in a sul
phate solution. Barium sulphate was
thus precipitated within the substance
of the drug as well as on the surface,
rendering detection difficult.
The geological fault of the Jordan-
Arabah Valley has a length of two
hundred and seventy miles or more
from the Gulf of Akabah to the base of
Hermon, and is undoubtedly much
longer. Another great line of fracture
is now reported from South Afghanis
tan, where Captain A. H. McMahon
has traced a remarkable trench for one
hundred and twenty miles in > north
northeast and south-southwest direc
tion, finding it to be clearly a fault
line.
Climbing High Altitudes.
All persons avlio have climbed great
heights are aware that respiration be
comes more or less difficult, the heart
beats either very irregularly or with
great rapidity, and nausea, exhaustion
and other unpleasant sensations are
experienced. Just what is the highest
limit to which man can ascend and
live has frequently been questioned.
A scientist reached 15,000 feet about
sea level without great trouble. The
idea suggested itself—could he not
create a rarefied atmosphere by a me
chanical process? He jjrepared a very
large pneumatic air chamber and
rigged it with all the necessary appli
ances. He shut himself in, then the
air was rarefied to a degree which
would probably he found at the height
of 24,000 feet above sea level, then he
became so distressed that the experi
ment had to stop. As Mt. Everest is
a mile higher than this simulated alti
tude, we may naturally conclude that
unless there are means provided for
ussisting respiration, feet will never
read the height on this globe.
A Difficult.v in Tunnel Const ruction.
One of the greatest difficulties to
contend with in the construction of
the Simplon tunnel will be the tempera
ture. In the Gothard'and MoutCenis
the maximum temperature was about
eighty-seven degrees. This entailed
much sickness among the workmen
owing to the defective ventilation. In
the case of the Simplon it is expected
that ninety degrees will have to he
met. It is proposed to make two pas
sages, of which the smaller will only
be used for ventilating. This is to he
connected with the main boring by
air-tight galleries at regular intervals,
so that any section may he swept by a
ourrent of fresh air when desired. A
fine water spray will also be exten
sively employed.
Source ol' the Miggouri.
An explorer Hays that the Missouri's
source is at the crest of the Rockies,
8000 feel above the sea level, just "with
in the boundary of Montana. The
stream is two feet wide and two inches
deep, its water coming from melted
snow. This source is 4221 miles from
the Gulf of Mexico and 2045 miles
from its confluence with the Missis
sippi, making the river the longest un
broken current in the world.
A DESERTION EPIDEMIC.
WHEN SOLDIERS TOOK FRENCH
LEAVE IN THE FEDERAL ARMY.
At First the PuuialiiiieiilH Were Compar
atively Light, But Later the Death
Sentence Was Inflicted—A Solemn
Scene—Why Men Sometime* Deserted.
"Do you ever recall the desertion
epidemic in the army?"
"I do. They are among tlie sorrmv
ful things connected with the war."
.Then we two fell to talking about
desertion and punishment for the
crime, writes J. A. Watrous in the
Chicago Times-Herald.
"When the desertion epidemic first
put in an appearance the punishments'
were comparatively light, hut later it
became necessary to inflict the severest
penalty—death. During the winter
of 18(13, when the severe punishments
were decided upon, there were not
many regiments exempt, from deser
tions. Home of the deserters were
overtaken and brought hack within
two or three days. Even at that time
their punishment dope-' led largely
upon their former conduct as soldiers.
X<ef inc bring the matter right home.
One morning in February we found
that three popular men of our com
pany, who had faced death at Bull
Run, South Mountain, Antiefcam and
.Fredericksburg, had deserted. A lew
days before they had had some trouble
with two of the non-commissioned offi
cers and been punished. They deemed
their treatment and punishment un
just and unbearable. Two of them, re
turned of their own accord within
throe months. The colonel, having
kuowledgo of their former good con
duct in battle, interceded for them,
and they escaped with the stoppage of
a portion of their pay for several
months. During the remainder of the
war there were no better soldiers in
the company. The third one was cap
tured and brought back at the end of
seven months. He had escaped three
great battles in that time. This count
ed against him, lie was found guilty i
and sentenced to he shot. The same !
colonel, aided by other officers, made
a gallant fight for the man's life and
saved him. I never saw u more grate
ful person. At the end of his three
years he re-enlisted, and was so valu
able during the last year of the war I
that he was given promotion from time !
to time until he became first sergeant, j
and was about to be recommended for j
a commission when Appomattox came."
"Did you ever see a man shot for
desertion?"
"Yes, several of tlieni. The first
one was a man of our brigade. He de
serted while we were near Fredericks
burg and joined the confederate army.
A few weeks before we started for
Gettysburg a confederate deserter
reached the lines of another brigade
and was placed under guard. A sol
dier of our brigade passing that way
saw the confederate and was surprised
to find that he was the man who had
deserted from his company a few
weeks before. Found guilty, he was
sentenced to be shot. The day upon
which lie was to die we were on the
way to Pennsylvania to help fight the
great deciding battle. The deserter
was placed in an ambulance, by his
coffin, that morning. At noon, after
hard tack, pork and coffee, the brig
ade formed three lines of a square,
when the deserter was marched from
right to left of the line and seated,
upon the coffin. Twelve men were
marched two or three rods from him.
The officer gave the command :
"Ready, aim, lire!" The criminal fell
back on his coffin, pierced by live or
six bullets. The burial followed im
mediately, without service, and the
brigade pulled out, the band playing
a quickstep.
"After the battle of Gettysburg,
and when the Fifth Corps was camped
near the Rappahannock River in Sep
tember, the whole command was
formed on three sides of a square, the
customary formation, and witnessed
the shooting of five deserters. All of
them were the class known as bounty
jumpers. They had deserted several
times; one of them five times. They
were New Yorkers. A desperate effort
had been made to save their lives.
Several committees from the great
city had waited upon President Lin
coln and pleaded for them. The wives
and children of two of them visited
the President, but Mr. Lincoln could
not be moved. He had overlooked the
offense in hundreds of instances, but
the time had come when the discipline
of the army demanded the severest
punishment of soldiers found guilty of
that crime. Secretary Stanton, for a
year before Mr. Lincoln had refused
to so punish deserters, had pleaded
with him to let the law have its way.
Mr. Stanton had told the President
many a time that his soft heart was
spoiling the army and endangering the
life of the Nation, but Mr. Lincoln
paid little heed until 1863.
"In some portions of the army it was
the custom to hang deserters, 'but in
most instances they were shot, and in
the presence of their respective com
mands, as described. The effect was
magical. Desertions were little heard
of for the next few months,
"I believe that a majority of the de
sertions of men who went iiito the army
from patriotic motives resulted from
what the men regarded as impositions
upon tßem by officers, from corporals
to generals—officers unfit to be placed
over sensible and sensitive volunteers.
Hucli officers did not know how to treat
their fellow men. Many a self-respect
ing, independent, man of brain and
character could not bear the yoke, and
in desperation deserted. Among all
of the men of our regiment who de
serted I do not recall one who had not
been in from one to twenty battles.
They were not afraid to fight, but their
manhood rebelled against the treat
ment thnt a manly man would not in
flict upon a dog, Many went at once
into other regiments. [am making no
excuses for the crime of desertion, yet
it was not wholly an unnatural crime
under the circumstances indicated.
Think of the thousands of boys and
girls who have deserted their homes
because tlicy thought father or mother,
or both, imposed upon them.
"The class of men I have beeu talk
ing about were not. the professional
bounty jumpers, such as large cities
contributed, fellows who never went
into a tight, men of no character. For
this class of creatures there was no ex
cuse. They were simply bad citizens,
made no better by their enlistment.
Not enough of them were shot."
WISE WORDS.
Joking often loses a friend, and
never gains an enemy.
They that know no evil will suspect
none.—Ben Jonson.
The retrospect of life swarms with
lost opportunities.—Sir H. Taylor.
The first stop of knowledge is to
know that we are ignorant.—Cecil.
No communications can exhaust
genius; no gifts impoverish charity.—
Lavater.
Neither a borrower nor a lender be:
for loan oft loses both itself and friend.
—Shakspeare.
The most utterly lost of all days, is
that in which you have not once
laughed.—Crawford.
The way to procure insults is to
submit to them—a man meets with no
more respect than he exacts.—Hu/.litt.
The best portion of a good man's
life is bis little, nameless, unremem
bered acts of kindness and of love,
Wordsworth.
The darkest hour in the history of
any young man is when he sits down
to study how to get money without
honestly earning it. —Horace Greeley.
Whatever there is of greatness in the
United States, or indeed in any other
country, is due to labor. The laborer
is 'the author of all greatness and
wealth. Without labor there would
he no government, and no leading
class, and nothing to preserve.—U. S.
Grant.
Explosion* in Wnn'houst'H.
Mr. Charles T. Hill writes for St.
Nicholas an article 011 "The Perils of
a Fireman's Life." After speaking of
the "back-draft," that is responsible
for many deaths among firemen, Mr.
Hill says:
Another kind of back-draft that is
greatly dreaded takes the form of an
explosion, and is usually met with in
tires in storage-houses anil large ware
houses that have been closed up tight,
for some time. A fire breaks out in
such a building, and, as a rule, has
been smoldering for some time before
it is discovered. The firemen are
summoned, and raising a ladder, they
pry open an iron shutter or break in a
door to get at, the tire. The combustion
going on within the building has
generated a gas; and the moment the
air gets to this, through the breaking
open of the door or window, the mix
ture ignites. An explosion follows,
and a portion or the whole of the front
of the building is blown out. Several
accidents of this kind have occurred
in New York—one in a storage-ware
house in West Thirty-ninth street a
few years ago, when the whole front
was blown out, hurling the firemen
from the ladders, and severely injur
ing a lurge number. Another accident,
of the same nature occurred shortly
after this, in a large wholesale fiour
warehonse down town. In this caso
it. was supposed thnt particles of flour
in the ail- inside the warehouse be
came ignited and exploded; but it uas
practically another case of the back
draft. Several firemen were maimed
and injured in this case.
Twenty Years of Growth in the South.
Where the proud city of Birming
ham stands to-day there were in 1877
only worn-out fields. Chattanooga
was a dilapidated village. Atlanta
still sat in the ashes of the war. Flori
da was almost as much of a wilderness
as in the days of Spanish rule. Texns
had made 110 impression 011 the world's
markets as a cotton producer. The
States of Louisiana, Mississippi and
Arkansas were in poverty and despair
because of the miseries of the recon
struction period. The coal and iron
mines of Tennessee, Alabama and Vir
ginia were practically undiscovered
and unopened. There was no serious
competition by any Southern port
with New York and Boston for the ex
port and import trade. With a single
exception there was not one great rail
road system in the Sonth, and that
did not toncli tile southeastern part.
Twenty years ago the manufacture
of cotton in the South was wholly an
infant industry, and cities now known
as textile working centres were mere
trading posts at the crossroads. The
fruit nut! vegetable business of Florida
was so small as to attract little atten
tion, while the fruit and melon busi
ness of Georgia did not exist at nil.
Southern farmers then bought their
corn and meats, instead of raising
them, as they do now, and the cotton
crop of Georgia, notwithstanding the
comparatively low price,s and notwith
standing the cities have absorbed so
lunch of the rural population, is twice
as large as it was then.—Macon (Ga.)
Telegraph.
Queen Victoria'* Big Family.
Queen Victoria has had over seventy
descendants, over sixty of whom are
living. She has had nine children,
seven of whom are living, and in
numerable grandchildren and great
grandchildren. Her sons and daugh
ters who are living are: The Prince
of AVales, the Duke of Connaught, the
Duke of Edinburgh, the ex-Empress
Frederick of Germany, the Princess
Christian, the Marchioness of Lome
and tlie Princess Beatrice. Among
her descendants are Princes, Prin
oesses, Dukes, Duchesses, one
Emperor, two Empresses, one Mar
chioness uud a Lady.— Ludies' Home
Journal,