{ title: 'Rockland County times weekly. (Haverstraw, N.Y.) 1889-current, November 17, 1894, Page 3, Image 3', download_links: [ { link: 'http://www.loc.gov/rss/ndnp/ndnp.xml', label: 'application/rss+xml', meta: 'News about NYS Historic Newspapers - RSS Feed', }, { link: '/lccn/sn83031499/1894-11-17/ed-1/seq-3/png/', label: 'image/png', meta: '', }, { link: '/lccn/sn83031499/1894-11-17/ed-1/seq-3.pdf', label: 'application/pdf', meta: '', }, { link: '/lccn/sn83031499/1894-11-17/ed-1/seq-3/ocr.xml', label: 'application/xml', meta: '', }, { link: '/lccn/sn83031499/1894-11-17/ed-1/seq-3/ocr.txt', label: 'text/plain', meta: '', }, ] }
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Poetry and Story. HEATHER SONG. AH tho bentbor bolls At o ring ng on tbo mcor All t bo rij.o wild straberrloj CI Jib tor up to tbo Moor. Cluster round tbo door, Though tbo world i« wide, To welcotud h< mo my brido i Htr and poor! Trailing i*ofo imd bine Make tbo put bway nweot* Nodding through tbo fminmer time Summer friends to greet; But my Honthor bloom* apart, In herself complete, Heatlior lias a necklace fair Bonded In a row; Heather bns a honeyed heart, Ah tbo wild bees know: He wt o stoops to gather Heather Smiled to stoop so low. All tbo heather bolls Are ringing on tho moor. And tho ripe wild ntrawborrlos Creep up to tbo door, though our cot bo poor, And tho world wide, Wo nro «ido by aido Kvor ttioveV -rail Mall budget. A Complicated Case. Sh%was ii little dressmaker who everybody respected. She had atubl-; tions and ideas, after which she was perpetually striving in the tread-mill ; methods of a struggle for daily exis- tence. She had possibly some dreams i of love, but there was always a dis- mal awakening until she had come to look upon her circumscribed area of life as the only camping-ground fate i was willing she should have. So she i made herself comfortable with the material at hand, and tried to think herself happy when her four walls were the boundries of her world. 1 Contentment came, if not happiness, 1 and then the disturbing element of love entered into her domain and , took possession. She was continually meeting a man upon the stairs of the boarding house. He was a lonely siugle man of gentlemanly appear- \u25a0 ance. but to the eye of the Initiated he bore the unmistakable signs of dis- sipation. Miss Lonsdale, the little i dressmaker, was not Initiated. She I believed him to be suffering from 111- j health, the result of despondency, ! and, woman-like, first pitied, then j loved him. His name was Maurice ' Dunbar, and he told her that his family had disowned him because he was poor. This seemed perfectly nat- ural to Miss Lonsdale, for she herselt looked on poverty as a disease or ciime, and shunned cod tact with the more fortunate of her' fellow-beings, j They were married, and she soon j found that with a conjugal comple- i ment she was a complete failure. She j had used her burial fund as a mar- ! rlage dowry, and while it lasted they ] lived on the fat of the land She found her husband had extravagant tastes, and she gratified him with all she had. and when it was gone, went back to her dressmaking. She no j longer chatted and beguiled the time 1 of her fashionable people with quaint reminders of other customers. They grew tired of her and took their cus- ; torn elsewhere When she could no [ longer maintain him, her husband abused her. \I made you a lady when I married you.\ he said; \my family is far above yours,\ and he would pose dramati- callv like an injured lord. \1 have no family,\ she would an- swer in a tear-choked voice, \except you, He good tome, Maurice, and I will do anything for you. You need j not lift a linger; only be good to nie.\ ; The disposition of a man to whom such an appeal is necessary is already brutalized beyond redemption. He j went fjom bad to worse, gambled, ! drank, and ended by beating his wire and turning her out of doors. Mrs. Dunbar went to the house of one whom she had befriended to ask i shelter for the night. It was de- ' clined on the ground that there was no vacant room. She would have taken her friend in and sat up all night, that she might rest well. I There was one other family, but on j the steps of their house her heart failed her, and she turned away j and went back to her own rooms, where sne could not make any impression on the man in a drunken sleep within. Then she walked the streets until daylight, when she fell senseless and was car- ried off in an ambulance to one of the hospitals, where she remained unknown and unclaimed. She was ill a long time. After that there was a tedious season of convalescence. She sent a note to ber husband by a messenger, who! brought back word that the house was empty. She never intend'd to, go back to him, but wauted the few possessions she owned to make her comfortable. One day she was read- j ing a newspaper, when she saw her 1 husband's name amomr the killed in a marine disaster. There could be no mistaking it, for it was peculiar i and the description justified ber fears?or shall I say hope#? for she- bad suffered so much that she could shod no tears tor him, nor canonize ! tbem as some widows do their de- r parted tyrants. She was sorry for his wasted life, his desperate death, but would have felt herself insincere and hypocritical to mourn for his taking- o.i. She went out into the world the next day and began life over again, . queen of two hands. ****** I Richard Lester, lawyer and poli- tician, and a rising young man, al- ; though no longer young, sat alone iu his private oltice one afternoon, when the door opened to his confidential : clerk, who said: \A lady to see you sir,\ and at the same time he laid a cheap looking card upon tho lawyer's desk. It read: \Mrs Maurice Dunbar, fashionable i dressmaking, < ose Terrace.\ \Why Claude,\ e claimed Mr. Lester, \this is the party for whom we advertised.\ \.Same party, sir,\ responded tho clerk, with commendable brevity. \Well this is remarkable. Hut by the way, Claude, it was a man, not a woman, we wanted. What does she look like?\ sir.\ her in.\ W \'he next moment a slight figure, dressed in new, cheap black, was ush- ered Into the rooai. The lawyer roe to meet her. He asked brusquely: \Are you the widow of Maurice Dunbar?'! ??Yes sir.\ Her voico had a peculiar resonance, 1 acquired through much pain?tho clear, low sweetness of her hospital tones attune to the car of suffering. There was nothing suppliant In thom, no alms-taking quality, but a wo- manliness that touched the tough heart of the lawyer Into a sympa- thetic vibration. He looked at her with Interest, and excused himself for asking her to throw aside her long crapo veil, lie found himself staring atapale, delicate face,around which masses of red-grown hair were heavily crimped. Her eyes looked into his with tho truthfulness of a child. \J'anion me,\ he stammered, then resuming his coldest exterior do- mandod her credentials. She showed an aptitude for business in ihe promptness with which she pioduced her lrie4itification, the account of her husband's death and other data of Importance. No point was loft un- covered. She had come prepared to lay immediate claim to a fortune left to Maurice Dunbar by his uncle, Maurice Dunbar, who had lived for the past twenty years in an inland town of British North America. He was not on good terms with any member of his family excepting Maurice, who had visited him some years previous, and in whoso favor i tho will had been made at that , time. 1 \Had you ever heard your late hus- band speak of this undo?'\ the law- yer asked among other questions. ; \I have heard him speak of a rela- tive from whom he had expections.\ and ho once said that he would bo benefited by his death, and that he had the same name.\ \Tho name is a common one, but I shall probably have other appli- cants who will Bee the advertisement, and must not make any mistake. 1 The conditions of the bequest are i unusual. Have you any children?\ \No thank (iod,\ answered the widow quickly. ' In the case of there being chil' dren the money would belong right- fully to them. The will makes this i prevision, but adds further if there are no children the widow shall bo tho next heir. In the event of death or remarriage, the whole sum reverts j to charity, one particular institution i being named as beneficiary.\ ' \I shall not marry again,\ asserted the widow. I \Don't be too certain of that,\ re- sponded the lawyer, \you are still young, and at?\ attractive, he was going to say, but finally concluded, \at your age it is not an impossibil- ity. I will see you again to-morrow. Good-bye. madam,\ and he escorted i her to the door, which he closed after her. !\u25a0»****«* Within a month tho money had t been paid to her, and the widow of Maurice Dunbar, who had put on her first black in order to appear decorous at the lawyer's office, moved into a handsome new house, and be- gan climbing to her new ideals upon the fateful fragments of her dead I past She hardly recognised herself I In her new role of a successful woman who nad money enough and to spare. There was no frivolity in her outlay, j Her home was a picture of comfort. She looked up a poor woman who had i once assisted her in her dressmaking enterprises, and gave her an elabor- ate order for modified mourning. She made glad the waste places of many I a life with her compassionate help, I and In making others happy, found I her own greatest happiness. One man came to her for help and j comfort, who needed the sunshine of j life and could find itonly in her pres- ence This was Richard Lester, the successful lawyer. He had met his i fate when he first saw Myra Dunbar, aud heard the tones of her womanly voice, and now he was pleading with ber to marry him, to cast her fortune into the lap of charity, and receive tenfold from him. She was afraid to tempt fate again, and put him off, but he had compelled her to acknowl- edge that thislovewas no imposture, but the genuine brand. She was , lonely, so was he, and they were so ; congenial, and looked at everything with the same eyes. What she did ; not know he could easily forgive! And he would teach her?sweet ern- ! ploymeut! And at last she consented to a very quiet wedding, and a long journey to foreign lands where under a new heaven their wedded life would be- gin, then ****** \A someone to see you, ma'am,\ announced the rosy-faced housemaid of the widow one morning a few weeks before the wedding day \Some one on business, Julia?\ asked Mrs. Dunbar, looking up from the morning paper. I \Y-e-s'm. I expect be wants help. He looks kind of shabby.\ I \He is not a gentleman?\ ' \I should say not, ma'am and he isn't a tramp exactly?kind of be- twixt and between.\ \1 will see him, 1 ' said Mrs. Dun- bar, and she laid aside her paper and \u25a0 left the bright fire burning in the grate a little reluctantly. She had laid aside her mourning now that she was engaged to another man, and wore a pretty breakfast gown that was suitable to her petite stature, and most becoming. When she entered the littlo rscop- tion room where the caller waited, she saw a thin, emaciated man shab- i oily dressed and bearing many marks ! of privation?and she saw, something i else, a likeness in his profile that set her heart to beating with an awful , fear. When he rose aud confronted her sho fell back, and with whitening lips gasped out tho name: ; -'Maurice Dunbar!\ I \Yes! Maurice Dunbar returned from the dead,\ was the answer. Then she faintod, and mercifully knew no more. +r w -If fr * * Again, lilchard Lester, a bowed and miserable man, was seated in his otlico alone in the gloom and depros- aion of approaching night, and of his own unhappy thoughts. Before him was the one letter ho had received from her since the cruel necessity of| parting had come upon them. It contained the ring with which they had plighted their troth. He had written a mad and hasty reply, In which he had urged her to fiy with him, and offered her the devotion of a lifetime, and she had como to him and rebuked him with broken heart. I \Do not make it harder for me,\ »he said in that brief final interview. \You can do one thing to belp me, if it is not wrong. This money really belongs to?to?my husband, but 1 think (iod has made mo his almoner. As long as he bolioves tho money to bo mine, I can control him and com- pel him to live like a gentleman, and perhaps help hiin morally. If ho has It ho will go to instant ruin. Will you help mo keep the secret? Ho shall have every comfort, but,he must take all at my hands. Can vou do this legally?\ No, he could not, but for love of, her, concluded to keep silent and let her believe it was right ,'o liq pays the annuity regularly and asks God to forgive him if he does evil 1 that good may como. A strange sequel to this was a cai> ;on one occasion from Maurice Dun, bar him eif, who, well dressed ana cared for, presented the appearand) of a gentleman, a moral phase of do- i velopment which was the effect oIJ : his faithful labors. ; \I have conic,\ ho said as he fol- ! lowed his card into the presence of tho lawyer, ' to consult you on a mat- ter of importance upon which 1 re- quire legal advice.\ \He has heard of the bequest,\ thought Lester with a sudden fear, j but aloud he said calmly. \J'leasej state the circumstances as briefly as possible.\ I And he listened to another phase, in tho complicated life of tho woman he loved. \I wish to inquire,\ proceedod Maurice Dunbar, \whether a man who marries under an assumed name is legally married or not?\ \Yes he said after a moment's j thought; \yes by th» law of this State a man who marries under any name Is legally married. 1 assume, then,\ continued the lawyer, \that you are Interested in such a case?\ \I am personally interested. The name by which I am known, Maurice Dunbar, is not my own name. I have been troubled with some doubts. My wife is a lovely Christian woman and I I feared I had done her a wrong in, ] marrying her under a name that was assumed as a matter of convenleuce. There is no disgrace attached to it, but when I ronounced my family 1 left off the old name. 1 shall keep the one I have until 1 die.\ He paid a liberal lee aud loft tho stunned and dazed man of law with another complexity to combat. It only remains now for the real Maurice Dunbar to appear and claim hu in- heritan o.?l tlca Globo. FORTUNE FROM A ROSE. How the iFamouß American Beauty Was Discovered by a Hardener. Here is a pretty and Interesting story about tbe origin of that most beautiful of flowers, the American beauty rose, says the Boston Tost The late George Bancroft, besides be- ing a historian and scholar, was one; of the lirst amateur rose growers in America. Every year he imported cuttings from the leading flower grow- ers of Europe. The King of Prussia ?when old Kaiser William was king ?allowed the American historian to have a slip of whatever he might fancy in the royal conservatories. Mr. Bancroft's gardener used to cultivate some of his roses in an old house away out on F, or perhaps It was G, street, above Twenty-second street, in the west end of Washington, D. G Mrs. Grant had a florist named Field in charge of the White House con- servatory. He was a rose grower of rare merit and skill in his artistic w.irk. One day he happeued into the oid building where Mr. Bancroft's gar- dener potted his plants. Over in a corner he observed a rose of a variety utterly unknown to him, and of won- derful size and perfection inform and. color. \Where did this come from?\ he carelessly inquired of his rose- growing confrere. \Jh it is an off-; shoot from some cuttings we imported; from Germany,\ the man replied. It! was evident to Mr. Field that thel other did not in the least comprehend! the value of the new plant. After some talk Mr. Field bought the cut ting he had seen for *5. A year, thereafter, when he had propagated his new purchase and become con-' vinced that he had a new and very' valuable variety of rose, which he) named the American beauty, he sold 1 his find for $5,000, the most wonder- ful result of the investment of $5 on record. To follow his luck a little further, Mr. Field Invested his easily 1 earned $5,000 in lands near Washing- ton, which in a little less than three years he sold for $50,000. Truth is sometimes stranger than action. THE LION GOT HIM. A British Soldier Wanted to Meet Leo and: Did So. 1 often used to warn Billy against going out so far by bluißelf and sleep- ing by himself all night* as he often did. But be didn't give a curse tor lions, and never could be brought to believe that lions were capable of at- tacking a white man. \1 wish the brutes had the pluck,\ he often said, for he had promised his girl in Cape- town a necklace of lion's claws, and was keen about killing lions. Well, one day, when we bad not had a bit of meat for two days, he started on ahead. In the evening we camped at a river, and conc uded that Billy had j camped for the night farther on. in the morning we started on again, and we had not gone ten miles when we came across a still smoking tire. \Hullo:\ cried Byrne. \Billy's left his billy behind. Just then 1 found i Billy's rifle about twenty yards away from the fire, with an exploded car- tridge in the breech. I felt somehow tbat something had gone wrong with my old chUm, and we all scattered witn the idea of finding or following up bis spoor. In half a minute Byrne cried out \Ouch just as if he had stepped upon a snake, and when 1 got up to where ho was standing 1 saw him glaring at one of Billy's boots. \Man he whispered, \there's the foot in it still!\ And sure enough, ' the poor fellow's foot was there There was blood all over the place, and the spoor of a big lion could easily bo seen on the soft ground. We followed up the spoor and found half of Hllly's head near a tree The tall, green grass all round was crushed down, showing that the lion had been lying there. It was the top of Billy's head that was left* and both tbo eyes were open and seemed to be look- ing at something on the ground tlfty yards away. We buriea the poor I remnants uudera big wild Dlurn tree, and spent a week in tracking that lion, but we never <\ame up with It ' --Ashton Reporter. THE MAN AND THE ELEPHANT. A Hlnrj Which llttMtrntM tho Valnn of ? Manterjr of Syntax. \Oh bother this old syntax!\ Ned exploded the words, striking his hand on the table. \If you mean syntax is a bother, I'm with you there,\ said Uert, look- liig up from his grammar. Julia looked up quickly, too, with j an amused twinkle in her eyes. He- ! Ing in the \Normal such agonies as these of Ned's and Bert's were in the past tense with her. \Ho struck in Tom, \what's the use of bothering, any way? Let'em mark you forty in urammar, and keep the average up with something else arithmetic, or natural history, or something. You can talk so's to be understood without Knowing syntax.\ \Not always, Tom.\ \I'd like to know why not, Julia. If a fellow knows what he wants to say, 1 guess lie can say it all right enough. I believe in having a little fun evenings. Here's a rattling good story I've got. .suppose yon follows take In that, and let the syntax go.\ \What is it?\ asked Ned. \Why it's about a man that had a picture of himself painted on an elo- j phant%\ \Ha ha.\ laughel Ned. \That must have been a funny looking ele- phant! Did the man have his pic- ture painted on the elephant's back, or on his sides'; 1 \ \No I don't mean that. 1 mean the man had himself painted sitting on an elephant.\ \Had himself painted!\ Every- body laughed but Tom. \Sitting on an elephant! Did they stand on a stopladder to paint him, Tom?\ \Aw! you know well enough, Bert, what I mean.\ \Well what?\ \I mean the man sat on an ele- phant to have himself painted.\ \Mr. and Mrs. Perkins, from across the room, were laughing, too, by this time. \Well retorted Bert, \Idon'tsee but what that's the same as you said last, only turned around.\ \I can put It right,\ chimed in Ned, confidently. \You mean to say, the man who had an elephant, painted, sitting on his back. No, that wouldn't ?\ \1 should think it wouldn't! That's i the worst yet,\ cried Uert \If the elephant was sitting on his back; where was the man? Or was the ele- phant sitting on the man's back?\ \It was a relief to Tom's temper and general feelings to join the laugh at Ned. Then he spoke up, with dig- nifled emphasis: \I mean exactly this. I moan the man that had an elephant painted with him on Its back.\ \Well Tom,\ said Mr. I'erkins, roguishly, \if that's what you mean, 1 wouldn't have liked to be In the man's place, sitting up there while the elephat was being painted?not if it was a very large elephant!\ \Then I'll say, if you like it bet-! tor,\ persisted Tom, just a little net- I tied again, \the man who had a pic- ture of an elephant, with him on his bacK, painted.\ \With him oc his back, painted, eh?\ mocked Bert. \What color was he painted, Tom, black or blue?\ \Perhaps I can help you out, Tom.\ suggested Julia, gently; \though I don't feel very sure. How would this do? The man who had a picture paint- ed?of himself, sitting on an ele- j pbant's back. Everybody paused to think a mo- ment in silence. \There doesn't seem to be any- thing the matter with that,\ ven- tured Bort. slowly. \No; I'm inclined to think that's what you wanted to say, Tom,\ said ! his father. \Probably It was, then,\ assented Tom, smiling good-naturedly once more. \Go ahead with your syntax, hoys, for all me, and Pll llnish the story to myself about the man and the elephant.\?Youth's Companion. COLLEGE IDIOCIES. One of Them Is Called Harvard's \Illoodr Monday\ Night.. \No said a sophomore to the Bos- ton Transcript, \i dou't believe in rushes on 'Bloody Monday' night: ; they are too likely to bring a bad name on the college. But then,\ he added, as bis class loyalty began to jj assert itself, \if there is a rush, of course, 1 snail be lu it!\ And his re- mark seems to express pretty fairly the general attitude of the two lower classes on the subject. Some of the freshmen, it is true?possibly a maorlty of them?really hope that there may be a rush, for with their superior strength in numbers and the hilarity so characteristic to freshmen, they are eager to let loose their pent- up spirits In a trial or strength with their natural rivals, the sophomores. The latter, on the other hand, have had a year to bring themselves into the true Harvard spirit, and as a ?lass they probably look with dis- favor on any disturbance. Neverthe- less, if there Is a rush, they, like the young man quoted, mean to be in it Anything founded on tradition, like this rush on \Bloody Monday\ Is always difficult to uproot or to out- grow. For years it has been the cus- tom at Harvard for the two lower classes to gather ir» the yard on the tirst Monday after the opening of col- lege, there to bluster about, shouting ridiculous epithets at one another, until a favorable opportunity otters, and then to rush at one another pell- mell, the two bodios of students mingling in a scrimmage that only ends with the inglorious retreat of one class or tho other. in the old days, tradition has it that many good honest blows wore glvenand received, that heads were broken and faces bruised in the good old-fashioned way; but now the rivalry Is generally of the good-natured sort; many men in the two lower .classes hold them- selves aioof from tho rush altogether, and those who do not enter tho arena confine thomselves to pushing and shjving their rival* about tho yard, I if they are able, now and then knocking a man's hat over his eyes, or, as they i-ay, \swiping\ a particu- larly noticeable cap. Naturally tho faculty are against this sort of thing. Malting Artificial Clouds. Artificial clouds were recently made for the protection of vines from frost at Oaeleain, on the Swedish-Nor- wegian frontier. In carrying out this novel innovation liquid tar was ignited in tin boxes placed along the vine refws, and large section* of solid* I fled petroleum were fired at various places In the vineyard. From these > com busti bios large clouds of arooko arose and thoroughly protected the particular vineyard in which the ov- perlment was being tested, although vines In the immediate neighborhood were I adly injured by tho frost. Showed He Could Run. First In is the winner always, sure enough. That the best man In pluck or brains doesn't always get first place in tho competitions of the world is a generally accepted fact, while tho merits per se of wind or muscle in rearhitig the front rank cannot bo disputed. One little boy forgot this distinc- tion the other clay and remained bllssrully happy In consequence. It i was at a traveling circus at Pat- cbogue, L. 1., one of those one night stands where they (ill out a show by an actor two made up of local clTort, running, bowling or sparring forwomo members of the audience, and whero, before the Beats havo time to be cleared after tho performance, they begin to haul tho polos from under the tents. A raco for small boys for a twonty- flve cent pri.e was to bo run, and a chubby, well groomed little lad of fl pleaded with his father and mother to allow him to run. Tho other boys were bigger and shabbier boys, and the father only consented after long pleading and hesitation. 1 He ran like a little man, and \Two to one on tho little chap!\ shouted from all sides spurred him on to ox- cited effort. He threw his little curly head up and stuffed his chubby lists into his trouser's pockets, just to show that he felt 'twas all as easy as fun, and if he won the twenty-live j cents It wouldn't be after any tre- mendous exertion. But few years and short legs, as was natural, fell behind, and when a raw-boned lad of about eight gripped the post and claimed the quarter, the little chap was three rounds b hind. He wasn't thrown down about it. His head kept up and his eyes gleamed, and he stepped back to his seat, his lists still thrust independ- ently in his pockets and with an air I of actual conquest. I \I to d you I could run,\ ho said, i \You sec 1 did run the best. Every- body says 1 did, only?the first boy I won.\ Chinese and Japanese Art. A gentleman of Poston, who has I been a great traveler, and a keen observer and thinker, says in the New York World: It is natural that we should sympa- thize with our friends the Japanese in their quarrel with China, but that sympathy does not justify those who assume that the Japanese are in every way the superior people. The dluer- ence between the two peoples is rather one of condititions than of character. Wide as the difference seems to be between the Chinaman and the Jap, great as is the super!- ority of the Jap in many directions, I the Japanese are indebted to the Chinese for their civilization, for their literature, for their art Their debt to China is as great as ours is to Greece and Home. Before they as- similated Chinese culture they were as barbarous as the Germanic tribes were in the ttfth century. The Chinese have done much for civilization. Ooth Japan and Europe are indebted to them for an art in making pottery that has never been equalled; for silk weaving, and, as the most competent antiquarians have ceased to doubt, both for print- ing and gunpowder. It will not do to despise the Chinese mind. It lacks breadth, but It has a marvellous j capacity for patient labor. Persistence of a Fox Terrier. The following peculiar Incident is told by a Baltimore man as occurring to his fox terrier: \On last Tuesday while the cellar door was open, the dog descended in search of rats at about n o'clock. At ti:3o the dog was searched »for and thought lost No further notice was taken of the matter until Wednesday morning at 11 o'clock, when I was attracted by a dog yelping. After a ; careful search in the cellar, which revealed only a pilo of sand by the wall, 1 noticed the dog's nose pro- trudlng through an inch board at the top window of the cellar looking into the yard. I went immediately up- stairs and removed five bricks from the pavement and pulled the dog out. After a careful inspection I discov- ered he had dug under the foundation of the house In the sand, which had caved in on him. Finding no other means of escape he dug up to the surface, a distance of six and on arriving at the brick surface, which had been recently paved, dug toward the window, a distance of three feet, and had nearly oaten through the board in his efforts to free himself. He was nearly ex- hausted when discovered, being twenty-six hours under ground. One eye was entirely closed from sand, the other nearly so.\ Very Conscientious. A quiet, nice man had opened an undertaker's shop In a western town and about the second day after, the bully of the burg called on him and insulted him grossly. An hour later the undertaker called on u friend for advice. \That tough. Hill Slugg,'* ho wild, \caiuo into my place awhile ago and called me a liar.\ \Why didn't you shoot him?\ was the prompt inquiry. \1 didn't like to,\ he said dllli- dently. '?Why not?\ \Aw well,\ ho hesitated, \I kinder thought people might say 1 done it for business purposes only \ Lord Bukadai-hanis is credited with owning the most magnliicent residence in .Scotland, and Ills lord- ship can ride 100 miles west from Teymouth l'ark to Armaddy Castle, on the Argyllshire coast, without setting hoot oil his possessions. Canada has a debt of $;K)0,000,. 060, which is about live times greater per capita of population thun the debt of the United States. Since IH7B the expenditures have grown three times as rupidly as the popula- tion. But, down almost any man's prayers Into live words, and you will llnd them to be: \Howard me, I'un ish my enemy.\ HER NAME. flow the Kind Mid Gentleman Who l.lved JiMl Hour I'fnrnrd It. The gentleman of the house of the new neighbor was a charming person, in the opinion of pretty Miss Kather- Ino Medley, who llverl next door and -saw him going out in the morning and comintr home in the evening He was elderly?that is, his hair and whiskers were white and ,he was such a fatherly old gentleman that she couldn't help but love him, even if he had lived next door for only two months of that lovely.lune, when Harold Aihbrooko had become so much to her. Possibly she loved the old gentle- man because as he passed the house and saw Harold and her talking on the piazza lie always smiled a cute little smile to himself, as if ho knew the whole story and understood every word of it Hut, of course, he did not, for she didn't even know him, .as ho had never presumed on his proximity as a neighbor to speak to her. One morning as'she stof.a on the piazza steps humming a merrv tune, for Harold had told her many things the evening before, as they sat In the shadows of the vines, and she was very glad, the old gentleman came out of his house. He was very radiant over some- thing, too, and there was that in his face which almost tempted her to speak to him, and tell him her joy. She thought she heard him whistle as he stepped onto the street, and she grew bold enough to come down to her own Bate to get a good look at him. She stood there unconscious as people always are who want to sec people without havimr people think they are being gazed at, and she watchcd him furtively, though she was looking straight across the street When he reached her he stopped. Then she looked around really startled, for this seemed almost a flirtation, and only last night Harold bad told her so much. He took off his hat, bowing grace- fully, and spoke with a smile that made her smile 111 spite of herself. \I beg your pardon,\ he said; \is this Miss Dear?\ \No she said, \I am?\ \Miss Darling?\ he interrupted po- litely. \No; I?\ and her face looked like a puzzle. \Miss Love?\ he interrupted again. Now she began to grow angry, aud her face reddened. Yet she could not comprehend his actions. \I am Miss Medley,\ she said, haughtily. ' Oh, I beg your pardon,\ he ex- claimed, with that same funny little smile she had often noted; \but I thought differently. As 1 came home last night I hoard the young man talking to you on the porch, and be called you Katie Dear, and Katie Darling, and Katie Love to such an extent that I really wanted to know your name, and?\ But he did not finish the sentence. She had fled into the house, and it was a week or more before she re- covered. A Moving Mountain. A traveling mountain is found at the Cascades of the Columbia. It is a triple-peaked mass of dark brown basalt, six or eight miles In length where It fronts the river, and rises to the height of almost l',ooo feet above the water. That it is in motion is the last thought that would be likely to suggest itself to the mind of any one passing it, yet it is a well-estab- lished fact that this entire mountain is moving slowly but steadily down to the river, as if it bad a deliberate purpose some time in the future to idam the Columbia and form a great lake from the Cascades to the Dalles. In its forward and downward move- ment the forest along the base of the irldge has become submerged in the ;river. Large tree stumps can be jseen standing dead In the water on (this shore. The railway engineers and brake- imcn find that the line of railway 'which skirts the foot of the mountain is being continually forced out of jpiace. At certain points the perma- nent way and rails have been pushed eight or ten feet out of line in a few years. Geologists attribute this istrange phenomenon to the fact that the basalt, which constitutes the bulk of the mountain, rests on a sub- stratum of conglomerate or of soft sandstone, which the deep, swift icurrept of the mighty river is con- stantly wearing away, or that this softer subrock is of Itself yielding at igreat depths to the enormous weight of the harder mineral above. A Born Genius. A noticoable fact in the case of Dr. 'Holmes was that his genius ripened early. Some of his best poetry, in- eluding his most celebrated piece, \The Last Leaf,\ was written when a very young man. The germ of the Autocrat papers appeared several years before they were seriously en- tered upon for the public. His first little volume of poems wa3 published |and widely read und admired before ihe seems to have anticipated a liter- ary career, and while he was closely engaged in his profession as a physi- cian. Ho wos ready to respond to public calls, and as brilliant as atany 'time in his achievement, when he had not roached the stage of regard- ing himself as more than an amatuer in literaturo. The more sustained literary work of his life begun with the publication of the Atlantic Monthly. The public then lor the iirst tlrno fully recognized his versa- tility, and the call for his writings was suoh that he had no choice but to furnish them. We doubt if any writer who has lived was more stead- ily satisfactory through so long a period. Certainly no American was ever so often called upon to provide lltorature for special occasions, and In the more than half century in which ho thus contributed, tho in- stance is not Known of his disap- painting in the slightest degree, pub- lic expectations.?lloston Herald. Roads. Lot uny farmer haul a load on a rough and muddy road, and then es- timate bbo cost for his time, team, and wear of his vehicle during the poriod he is engaged at such work, comparing the result with the small additional tax luj would have to pay (or a better roarl, and the probability is that he wilt favor an increased tax and better roads. ONE CIGAR TOO MANY. A ranghabte Tarn Told Ahont One of tte I.nte Sir Andrew Clark'* Hobble*. The late Sir Andrew Clark was so ardent in his crusade against over- eating and overdrinking, and so firm in his belief that In a large majority of cases diet would do far more than drugs, that he was a little too much inclined to take It for granted that his patients were self-indulgent to tho ruin of their health. Among the many anecdotes to which his views gave rise tho following is one of tho mo.-t noted: A patient came to consult him, and was at once overwhelmed with direc- tions on the subject of the lifo ho should lead and the diet to which ho should adhere. \Now remember, only onoglass of wine at each meal,\ the physician concluded, \and just one cigar after dinner won't hurt you. (iood-mornl ng. Be sure you keep strictly to one cigar.\ \Ono cigar!\ said the patient \Hut \Mv dear sir,\ broke in Sir An- drew, somewhat testily, \1 must In- sist if lam to treat you you must follow my directions. I know quite well you will And it hard, but it la absolutely necessary for your health.\ The patient heaved a deep sigh. \All right, Sir Andrew. Since you insist 1 will do my best Good morn- ing.\ He went his way, but his health did not Improve, and at the end of a few weeks he returned to the phy- sician's consulting-room. \No better?\ said the doctor, sur- prised. \But have you followed all my directions?\ \Absolutely replied tho visitor. \1 must admit that tho cigar was rather hard work at first, and In fact it made mo feel ill; but I soon got used to it and now I rather like it\ \Good heavensl\ said Sir Andrew, on whom the truth dawacd, \do you mean to tell me \ \Yes I had never smoked before.\ Once a Famous Publisher. With the death of George Rex Graham the last link is snapped which bound the literary America of a half a century ago with the literary America of to-day. Graham, It will be remembered, published the first ambitious magazine of original American literature ever attempted here, and made a fortune at It, be- sides Introducing Bayard Taylor and other afterward eminent writers to the notice of the public. It seems odd, in these days of high prices, to reflect that Graham hired Edgar Poe for his managing editor at 9800 a year, or about $Hi a week, and was considered recklessly liberal. Bayard Taylor opened his eyes wide when Graham handed him $25 for the first two poems he ever wrote. \Surely *? he exclaimed, \you are not going to pay me for them;' Why this is the tlrst money I ever earned!\ Long- fellow sold his \Village Blacksmith\ to Graham for $50, which was the highest price paid to either him of Bryant for any poem, except in onfe instance?the ' -Spanish Student\ brought $150. Fenimore Cooper and G. P. K. James received as high as $1,200 and ti,Boo for serial novels, and N. P. Willis used to turn in three- page sketches for $50 each. At these rates Graham commanded the best talent in the market, and he made money so fast that once a friend seeing him pass up the isle of a restaurant, called out: \Come here, Graham, and put your hand on my tabic.\ \What for?\ asked the successful publisher, wondering. \Because everything you touch tturns to gold, and 1 want soma\ Graham sent for Cooper once. Cooper called at the office, and in* quired with a rather imperious air what was wanted. \I want you to write me ten short stories of naval adventure.\ \Oh I can't write for you,\ sneored Cooper; \you can't pay me enough.\ \How much would you charge?\ \One hundred dollars a story?in advance.\ Cooper pronounced the last two words with great deliberation, as if they settled the whole business in the negative. To his amazement Graham calmly drew his check for $1,000 and handed it across the desk to his visitor. The stories were written, but there was no reason to suppose they helped the magazine a penny's worth, as far as bringing subscribers or purchasers went The news of the incident did spread abroad, however, and, in connection with other stories of the same sort, helped to advertise Graham as the prince of American publishers, and thus to \boom\ his enterprise. Not the Only One. Crossing the Cumberland River one morning In the rope-ferry boat which prevails on those waters, 1 passed the time talking to the gawky young mountaineer who did the Charon act in that locality. He was about 20, and, to my experienced eye, was, as I judged men, quite as green a sped- / men as X had come upon. \Are you married?\ I asked after a few minutes. \No mister.\ \Not married? Why, you are old onough to be.\ \I reckon I am.\ ' Well, you ought to bo. It is tho only proper condition for a man, and every man owes it to himself and to society to take a wife, it settles one In life and brings about those host- ages of fortune which are bound to iua.»e a better citizen of him, as well as a better man.\ 1 knew 1 was talking over His head, but 1 was enjoying it if he wasn't. \Air you married?\ bo asked with a directness that rathor disconcerted me, \Well no,\ 1 hesitated, \lam not. 1 tried to lie, but the woman iu the case objected.\ Ho was still for a minute. \Mistor he said then; \you reckon you're the only feller In tho world that ever happened to meet up with oue uv them objectin' kind ov wirn- men?\ l ater, when 1 told him good by and shook bands with him in sym- pathy, 1 didn't think he was as green as he looked. Tun Stato with tho greatest rail- road mileage is Illinois?lo,-123 miles. Isext comes Pennsylvania, with 0,435; Texa9, with «, 184; Kansas, with 8,1)31; Ohio, with 8,558; lowa, flffth 8,013, and New York, with 8,110
