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r SENECA COUNTY JOUBNAL. DSirOI'HD TO TJTE SSBT IJJ'TETiSBTB OE TJiE PEOPZE I V CJiVPCJT AITP BPjiTB. VOLUME 5. SENECA FALLS, N. Y.. WEDNESDAY. FEBRUAEY 19.1890. NUMBER 51 Seneca County Journal. PUBLISHED EVERY WEDNESDAY. BY THE JOBBHAl. PUBLISHING CO. (UMITEDO SENECA FALLS, N. Y. FR A N K N . ST E V E N S , Business and Local Manager. C ounty S ubsckibeks , - $1.50 per j^ear. ■when paid in advance. B y C akkiek , - - .$1.75 per year, when paid in advance. ADVEETISIIG BATES _ ^ Lacol i | | : illl Is iis L egal NOTICES.—Notices required bylaw to be pubUshed, charged at the legal rates. B usiness C akus —Not oxceeding live lines, *5.00 per year. B usiness N otices —In local columns, 10 cts per line for first inserUon, S cts. per line fo’ each subsequent insertion. JOHN E. EIOHAEDSON. W.M. FOLLET.M.D. COVEET & BODINE. FEED W. DE MOTT, S e r v i c e s a t m e C l i i a v c i i e s , sm^iees halt S t . S v ’N1>. v \ — iiwhiy evomii.i' E. F. FARMERS AND HORSEMEN: At 91 Fall Street, Seneca Falls Second floor, opposite Stanton House, 1 MAKE THE BEST WOKK AND OF THE BE.ST MATEIUAL, WAKUANTED. All styles of Harness, Collars, Whips, Boots, Brushes, Curry Oonihs, Eobes, &c. I make to order all styles of H O R S E B O O T S OLD HARNESS CLEANED Oiled and Kepaired at the lowest rates. I i t a n d OAK TANNED LEATHER Repairing Promptly Done And to yotur entir^satlsfaetion in quality. G I V E M E A T R IA L X T e w G o o d s BBCEIVED DAILY. BARGAINS IN BOOTS «& SHOES At Addison’s FOR THE NEXT SIXTY-DAYS Women’s Serge Gaiters - BQcts Men’s Piain Shoes, - - $i-00 Missss’ Shoes, - - - !-00 Women’s Shoes, - - tOO NEVER UNDERSOLD. CA AND EX A ieiN E AT A D D I S O N ’S . H. A. HILIMIRE CUSTOM TAILOR THE FINEST IMPORTED AND DOMESTIC GOODS MADE TO ORDER AT THE LOWEST OF PRICES, AND A FESFECT .FIT GnAEAKTEED OR lOKY REFURDEB. 9! FALL STREET, SENECA FALLS, - IT. Y. 20 CTS PER BUSHEL, B wr i l l i ( U ) , Would not be clieaper than WALL PAPE^5 AT SHANDLEY’S For the next 3 0 D A Y S your Clliiio \MiiUl dels P E H H OLL. ART REPRODUCTIONS, • PASTEL CRAYONS, ARTISTIC ETCHINGS, ON PAPER OR SATIN. MEZZOTINTS, ARTOTYPES, ART REQUISITES, ETC. No. 60 F a ll St. Choice Assortient Books, Fine Fancy .Vrticlcs, Novelliis, llihles, Vllmins, I’layer I!iiok». nymnal.s, Xmas Cards, Toys Games, Kto., THE HOLIDAYS THE BOOKSTORE The stock Is NEW and has been .carelully selected m New York this season Diaries and Calendars for IKIO. . CALL EARLY. Bflotseller & Stationer, 117 FaU S t ., SE N E C A F A L L S . ^ akih ^ POWDER Absolutely Pure. C a t a r r h Nasal Passages, Heals the Sores. iciiscs of 'f'aste a i t a Sm ell. THY THE or. m. l BELCHER, P e i m t i s X Teeth preserved hy carefully filling them Artilieiiil teeth without plates Artmchil teeth with plates ot gold, silver or **-Tlie most ^dinieult and complicated opera- Over Wayne’s Bookstore, SLMCA FALLS, N.Y. INSURANCE! For T.NM’iiAM'i'. that is KruAmi'. go to SAMUEL L.JAC0BY, 67 Fall St., Sdueca Falls, N. T. L in :, fc'IlUi, AtriDKNT, cy f l o n e ~ i amlTOKNADO, ami UK.VL KsT.VTE AGENT, AM) NOTAUY pu b l ic . Fire and Live Stock Insurance a specialty. All business placed in iny hands will receive proiiipt iiml pevsoiml iUti’iitUm lloi'se.s in.siired against l ire. Lightning, lirokeii 1 egs. Accidents, and death from di..eatfe, wherevei- they may be in thia smte. Farm Proipci ty insured at roasonahlo rates Fire, Lij^htnin^, Kerosene Lamps, and steam Tint ............................. ....... All h*sw(.s ruljustoii ‘it this j.\.tjency, and i'romptly J ^ i l d ............................. ....... . Be sure and so(* ny helore iuHuiiiip: elsewhere Jtnd get a poli<‘y tiiat gives value received omc e'm Mumly Huilding, No. G7 Fall St.„ .•^KNICCA FALLS. X.Y’ SlUi POLISH IS THE BEST. L A T E S T ST Y L E S H A T S ? O A F S And Gsiits 'Eitnisiiiisi S E [ ,E ( ’T E D W H E N IN niTe-w 'lTox'3^, H A V E A R R I V E D I l f &Y‘UUJ;;Yrl?n1.Tft\; ^ \ C y fng ''o E r Goods lor Spot Gash, d irect troin the ‘S s i r We Quote a fow of our m aty Low Prices: i l e a i K E N Y O N , THE ONE-PRICE HATTER, KENYON'S OL D STAND, F A U . ST . SEKECA FALLS, N, y RIVAL FOUNTAIN PENS SilmoEB’s D ei Stors. Having recently secured the agency ol the ..llIVAL FOrNXAlN PI NS\lorSencoa Falls ; are enabled to gn 'rantee every pen sold satislaetory and su]-v->i ior to any other on e market, at the same price. QOATERMAIN’S WIFI. By H. BIDES HAGQAED. Ayuhor of \Colonel Quariteh, V. O.,” \Mr. Meesonh WUl” ‘U 2W« of Three Lions\ \AUcm Quatermair \She “JiM,\ on. “ I should be beivildered and fright ened to death. It is not nature^ to liv llL'otliat. GodputAdaui garden, t cliildrenI SYNOPSIS OF THE STORY. mSr%?fo^un^J?nThfp^pem main, which were given to the author as literary executor. In It Quatermaln tolls the story of his CHAPTEn L—Describes A1 when a child, with Stella C< gathering. Stella's dress c 1 put Adam and Eve in f and that its h.ow lie meant tlieii to live—in peace, and looking always on Iteauiifnl things. T liisism y idea of pei'fei't life. I w.ant no otlier.” * “I thought that yoit once told me that you found it lonely,” I said. “So I did,” she answered innocently, “but that was before you came. Now I am not lonely any more, and it is per fect—perfect as tlieniglit.” o 1 uriY. Just then the full moon rose above the , founded UPOB a elbow of the peak, and her rays stole far of Aflan Qnater- | and wide down the misty valley, gleam- author as literary iner o„ the water, brooding on the plain, ing out the hidden places of the ipping the fair f( in g on til searching first meeting. ' rOcks, wraj -------------- ----------- Carson, at a Christmas as in a silver bridal veil through which ir form of nature ____ _ ______ ___ _ _____________ _____ _ aced valley; Stella with her father. Squire Carsun. He she turned and looked up at the scarred termined to leave England on account of the dls- face of the golden moon, and then Er'\'\”'' .. . ...... ............. among the Kafiira chapteb II.— ai : When Allan was 20 his 1 :e of the golden moon, and then she iked at me. The beauty of tlie night .3 about lier face, the scent of the night was on her hair, the mystery of the night slione in her shadowed eyes. Slie looked at me, 1 looked at her, and all our hearts’ love blossomed within us. We spoke no word—wo had no words to speak, but j,£“sSiS“!iSiria ”Lf’„3S. C hapteb rv.— yuatermaln discovered a large body of Zulus, and was surprised by two of their = t b ^ f ^ ; x r a M r ^ ‘‘' T = had been following a party of Dutch Boers, co sistlng of seventeen or eighteen men, their women and children, and a largo number of cattle, with whleh tUev were removing to the north. For safety's sake the cattle and some of the women C hapter V.—Quatermaln illseoTered that Inda- ba-zimbl had betrayed him into the hands of ths Zulus, who at first offered him no harm. The camp of the Boers was attacked and destroyed. One little child only was saved nUvo and Quater^ that Quatermain was a spirit. The Zulus deter- child, made their escape. the child. ludaba said “Go nortli,’’ prophesying that friends would bo found there. Quatermain obeyed, thoukh against his judgme:it. They crossed a broad doiort. where there was no wor ter, and at Us end they became unconsoioua when a child, and who was now a beautiful young woman. Since curly chUdhood she had lived in the tvilils of Africa with her father, never hi seen but one other Englishman. eSUAPTER Vll.—Stella was accompanied by a woman called Hendrika, who was captured by baboons when a child and rescued hy SteUa’s father Iloiidrika and ludaba quarreled, and Ueiidrika objected to Quatermaln's being taken to Stella’s home, but wasoverniled. The homo of Mr. Carson, who was sick at this time, was a marvel of white marble buildings, built like Zulu huts, lettled there ChAPrER VIII Is devoted to a description of Mr Carson's i>!acC- lie Lad a tLoiisaud «.atives with him, plaiitH cufTw, oranges, vtc., ami hail eUu- catt'd his dnoijhtcr, though blio had m»vt»r left the vivmity. Old mines were near, and Stella showed them to Quatormalu, when a rather alarming encounter wifh baboons, who swarmed round about, oceuiTeil. Hendrika quelled the diiiturb- ance, and Indaba warned Quatermain of her, sa\ ing, \She is jealous of Stella, ‘the Star,’ and ............................ mestoomucl.atwmes * * harm if she beco onljs while she atleniietl to the IhousanJ and one matters which her fatlier's ever growing weakness had laid upon her; or, rather, as time drew on, I attended to the Diisiness and she nccoinpank'd me. All day through we were together. Tlien afti r supper, when the night had fallen, we would walk together in the garden and come in at length to Iiear her father read aloud, sometimes from the works o f a poet, sometimes from history, or, if he did not feel well. Stella would read, and when this was done Mr. Caixm would celehrato .a short form of prayer, and wo vould separate tUl t?ie moniin uore brought our happy hi mg once tppy hour of meeting. fond fancy are women it solitude her <pii-t eyes? A t tlie least, to m e sh was the realization of the dream whicl haunts tlie sleep of sin staineil men; so my memory paints her, so I hope her when at Lust the sleep has rredoi p.»FREE. S i So the weeks went by, and with evei eek I grew to know my darling bette Often I wonder now if my f deceives me, or if indeed there; as swoot and dear as she. Was: that hud given such depth and gentlei to iuT? Was it the long years of com- muiiing with nature tliat had endowed her witli sucli peculiar grace, the grace . we find in opening flowers and budding trees? Had she caught that nuirniuring voice from tlie sound o f the streams that fall contimially about her rocky home? was it the tendoi-ness o f the evening sky beneath which she loveil fo walk, that lay like a slxadow on her f:ice, and the light of the evening stars that shone in (pii.'t eyes? A t the least, to m e she ealization o f tlie dream which men; s away and the fevered dreams are done. At last tliere came a day—tlie most blessed of my life—wlien w e told our love. AVe had been together all the morning, but after dinner Mr. Carson was so unwell tliat ytella stopped in witli him. At supper we met again, and after .supper, when she Iiad put little Tota, to whom she had grown much attached, to bed, we went out, leaving Mr. Carson dozing on tlie couch. The iiiglit was warm and lovely, and without speaking we walked up tiio gar den to the orange grove and sat down there upon a rook. Tliero was a little breeze which shook tho petals of the orange bloom over us in showers, and bore tlieir delicate fragrance far and wide. Silence reigned around, broken only by the sound of the falling water falls tiuit now died to a faint murmur, and now, as the wavering breeze turned, boomed loudly in our ears. The moon was not yet visible, but already the dark clouds tliat floated througli the skv above us—for there had been r a i n - showed a glow of silver, telling us that slie shone brightly behind tho peak. derness, how she had grown to lovo it, how lier mind had gone on from idea to idea, and how she pictured tho great rushing world that she had never seen as it, was reflected to her from the books which she liad read. It was a curious vision o f life that she had; tilings •were out of i>roportion in it; it was more like a dream than a reality—a mirage than tile actual face of things. The idea of treat cities, and especially of London, lad a kind of fascination for her; she therush, t h e ; rowds of men :h to each, fe shly seeking for wealth and pleasure leneath a murky sky, and tre.ading one another down in the fury of competition. “W hat is it all for?” she asked, earn estly, “ What do they seek? Having so few years to live, why do tliey waste them thus?” I told her that was act women, strangers ishly seeking for stances i t ' drove thei the‘ midst ---------- 'Under stand til! ' hunger. “I oewer want, to calhese,” she went midst of tlie teemhig plenty o itful earth, she did not seem to 'u drew near, till lips were ps as we kissed our eternal It was she who broke that holy silence, leaking in a changed voice, in soft deep that tiirilled me like the lowest a^oG broke tbit aitten harp. “ A h, now I understand,” she said, “now I know w h y we are lonely, and how we can lose our loneliness. Now I IS in thel d of water the scent of flowers. It is love that speaks in everything, but till we hear his voice we understand nothing. But when we h e ar then the riddle is answered and ;ates of our heart a re opened, a n d , e SCO the way that wends througli iven, and is lost in the glory r love is but a shadow. the gates illa n , W( death to 1 3f Which our love is but a shadow Let us go in, Allan. Let us go before spell breaks, so that whatever comes » ns, sorrow, death or separation, we may always have this perfect memory to save us.” eyes fell upon sometl white among the Joliage of the orangi bush at my side, I said notliing, bui looked. The breeze stirred the orangi leaves, the moonlight struck for a mo ment full upon the white object. It was tlie face o f Hendrika, the babyar woman, as Indaba-zimbi had called her, - and on it was a glare o f hate that made rocks behind. Then we went down the garden, and Stella passed into the center hut. I saw Hendrika standing in tho shadow near the door and went up to her. “Hendrika,” I said, “ wliy were you watching Miss Stella and myself in the garden?” She drew her lips up gleamed in the moonlight. “Have I noc watched he years, Macumazahn? Shall I i watch her beci:ause a wandering white man comes to steal her? Whj kissing her in the garden, Mac How dare y oli kiss her who is a “I kis.sed her because I love “'Wliat lias that to her, and me,” I answered, do with you, Hen- Beeause you love her,” she hissed in .ver, “ and do I not love her also, who 'd mo from the babyans? I am a woman as she is, and you are a man, and they say in tlie kraals that men love women better than women love women. But it is a lie, thougli tliis is true, tliat if a woman loves a man she forgets all otlier love. Have I not seen it? I gather her flowers—beautiful flowers; I climb the rocks where you would never dare to go to find them; you pluck a piece of orange bloom in the garden and give it her. Wliut does she do? Slie takes the orange bloom, she puts it in her breast, and lets my flowers die. I call to her— slie does not liear me—she is thinking. You whisper to some one far a w ay, and slie hears and smiles. She used to kiss me Bometimes; now she kisses tiiat white brat you brouglit, because you brought it. Oil, I see it all—all; I hivve seen it gotten. Be careful, Macumazahn, be careful, lest I am revenged upon you. You, you hate me; you think me half a monkey; tliat servant o f yours calls me i);iboon woman. W ell, I have lived with baboons, and they aro clever—yes, they can play tricks and know things you don't, and I am cleverer than they, for I have learnt the wisdom of wliite people also, and I say to you, ‘AVallc softly, Macumazahn, or you will fall into a pit,'\ and with one more look of malice slie was gone. I stood for a moment reflecting. I was afraid of this strange cre.ature who seemed to combine the cunning of the great apes that liad reared lier witli the passion and skill of hum.m kind. I foreboded evil at her hands. And yet there was something almost touching in the fierceness o f her jealousy. It is gen erally supposed that this passion only exists in strength wlien the object loved is of aiiotlier sex from the lover, but I confess tiiat, both in this instance and in some others that I have met with, this has not been m y experience. I known men, and especit men, who were as jealoui tion o f their friend or r lover could bo of that of his mistre; wlio has not seen cases of the sai ig where parents and their cliildr concerned? But the lower one icale of humanity the more r passion thrives;, indeed, it may be said to come to its intensest perfection in brutes. Women are more jealous than I, small hearted men are more jeal- than tliose of larger mind and wider id animals are tlie most ow Hendrika was in ■ removed from animal, which may perhaps account for the fe rocity o f her jealousy of her mistress’ in the sc: ily this p perieiice. I Iiav« icially uncivilized f the affec- ing off my presentiments of evil, ;d the center hut. Air. Carson Shakii I enterei was resting on the sofa, and by him knelt Stella holding his hand, and her id resting on his breast. I saw at ;e that she had been telling him of wliafc had come about bot^veeIl us; nor was I sorry, for it is a task that a would- be son-in-law ia generally glad tO dO bj deputy. “Come here, Allan Quatermain,” he said, almost sternly, and my heart gave a jump, for I feared lest he might be about to require me to go about my business. But I came, “Stella tells m e,” lie went on, “ that you two have entered into a marriage She tells me also that she loves you, and that you say that you love her.” “I do indeed, sir,” I broke in; “I love her truly; if ever a woman was loved in this world I love her.” “I thank heaven for it,” said -the old man. “Listen, my children. Many years ago a great shame and sorrow fell upon me, so great a sorrow that, as I sometimes think, it affected my brain. At any rate, I determined to do what most men would have considered the act of a madman, to go far away into the wilderness with my only child, there to livq remote, frog , civilization and itg evils. I did so; I found this place, and here we have lived for many years, hap pily enough, nnd ppriiaps not without doing good in our generation, but still in a way unnatural to our race and status. At first I thought that I would let my daughter grow up in a state of complete ignorance, that she should be nature’s child. But as time went on, 1 saw the folly and the wickedness of my plan. I had no right to degrade her to the level o f the savages aroiHid me, foi* If the fruit of the tree of knowledge is a bitter fruit, still it teaches good from evil. So I educated her as well as I was • able, till in the end I knew that in mind, as in body, she was in no way inferior lo her sisters, the children of the c ivil ized world. She grew up and entered into woman hood, and then it came into my mini that I was doing her a bitter wrong, that I was separating her from her kind and keeping her in a wilderness where she could find neither mate nor companion. But though I knew this, I could not yet make up my mind to return to active life; I had grown to love this place. I dreaded to return into the world I had abjured. Again and again I put my resolutions aside. Then at the com mencement o f this year I fell ill. For a while I waited, hoping that I might get better, but a t last I realized that I should never get better, that the baud of death was upon m e.” “Ah, no, fa rith a cry. “Yes, love, that, and it is true. Now you will be able to forget our separation in the iiappiness o f a new meeting,” and he glanced at me and smiled. “Well, when this knowledge came home to me, I determined to abandon this place and trek for the coast, though I well knew that the journey would kill me. I should never live to reach it. But Stella would, and it would be better than leaving here alone w ith savages in the wile ness. On tlie very day that I had m; up my mind to take this step Stella found you dying in the bad lands, Allan Quatermain, and brought y ou here. She Ider- who once with your baby hands had saved herer lifeife fromrom fire, that she might live to save yours from tliii h l f fir A t tho time I said little, but I saw the mined to wait between you. At tlie worst, if nothing came about, I soon learned tlnxt I could trust you to see her safely to the after I was gone. But many days knew how it stood between you, and now things have come about as I prayed they miglit. God bless you both, m; children; may you be happy in you love; may it endure till death and b« yond it. God bless you both,” and he stretched out liis hand toward me. I took it, and Stella kissed him. Presently he spoke again; “It is m y intention,” he said, two consent, to marry you next wish to do so soon, for I do not know je allowed : said, “if you nex t Sunday. how much longer will be I believe that such a ceremony, solemi celebrated and entered into before n nesses, will, under the circumstances, be perfectly legal; but of course you w ill repeat it with every formality tho fi moment it lies in your power to do ; And now, tliere is one more thing: wli I left England my fortunes were in a shattered condition; in the course o f years they have recovered themselves, the ac cumulated rents, as 1 heard but recently’, when tlie wagons last returned froi ance over. ask yon to live tliere ahv.ays; it might prove too much for people roared in the wilds, as both of you have been; but 1 do ask you to make it your permanent home. Do you consent and promise this?” Stella. “Verv well,” ho answered; “and n a ‘.'Ss»Lteis;i” “ ““ • CHAPTER X . happiness m ust be ct conver- all I told him that going to marry Stella. “ Oh!” h e said,“I thought so, Mac umazahn. Did I not tell you that you would find le Star from a long way off, to you it is given to wet her on your heart. But remember, Maci lazahn, rememberlemberthat that starstars s^et.” leart. But remember, J s s in you not stop your croaking ever day?” 1 answered angrily, for his words sent a thrill of fear through me. “A true prophet must tell the ill a well as the good, Macumazahn. I only speak what is on my mind. But what of it? What is life but loss, loss upon loss, till life itself be lost. But in death we may find all the things tliat we have lost. So your father taught, Macuma zahn, and there was wisdom ii^ h is gen tleness. Oh I I do not believe in death; it is change, that is all, Macumazahn. Look now, the rain falls, the drops of rain that were once water in the clouds fall side by side. They sink into the ground; presently the sun will come out, the earth will be dry, the drops will be gone. A fool looks and says tiie drops are dead, they w ill never be one again, they w ill never again fall side by side. But I am a rain maker, and 1 know the ays of rain. It is not true. The drops 'ill drain into the river and w ill be one water there. They w ill go up into the clouds again in the mists of morning, and there w ill again be as they have been. W e are the drops of rain, Ma- cumazahn. When we fall, that is our life. W hen we sink into the ground, that is death, and when we are drawn up rain to the sky, what is that, Macuma- bn? No! no! when we find. ■hen we seem to lose, then we Bhall Ily iind. I am cumazahn, but I matched and seen things Christiar S do not see. There, X have spoken. Be happy with your star, and If it sets, wait, Macumazahn, wait till it lin. It w ill n ot be long; one day see. There, I hat :en and often in the after years I have tliought of Indaba-zimbi and his beautiful simile and gathered comfort from it. He was a strange man, this old rain making savage, and there was more wisdom in him than in many -learned atheists—those spiritual destroyers who, in the name o f progress and humanity, would divorce hope from life, and leave us wandering in a lonesome, self con secrated hell, “Indaba-zimbi,” I said, changing the continded ; IT SEEMS BUT YESTERDAY. It teems duo yesterday that May Tripped liehtlj’ past, nor paused to stay A moment longer tlian 'twould take To set her signet near and far, In field and lane—the daisies' star; To set the grasses all ashake; To kiss the world into a blush Of Drier roses, pink and flush, For summer's saka It seemg but yesterday that June Came piping sweet a medley tun©. Whereto the robin and the thrush Lent each his trilling throat, the while The locust there beside the stile. Deep hid in tangled weed and hr * It seems but yestei-day, and yet Made bold to pluck me by the gown. \Vhat time I wandered up and down The path, to see if left behind W’as one last rose that I might press Against my withei*ed cheek, and less Feel time un’**”'' —Atlantic Monthly, THE CIPHER. During my sojourn in Dijon, I was on intimate terms ivith an eccentric indi vidual named Eustache Loriot, a man of of age, fresh, ruddy, , rather stout, of me- _ , irge head, witli forehead unduly prominent, Socratic nose and china blue eyes. He w as a deputy judge of the tribunal, but his duties leaving him considerable leisui'e, and being possessed of an inde pendent fortune, he had early abandoned himself to a passion for bric-a-brac. His collection comprised a little of every thing—rare books, medals, old china. He was, moreover, a member o f an an- tiquarian society, to which he addressed enthusiastic and prolix memoirs on each of ills discoveries. Like many collectors, he displayed a childish simplicity and credulity on the subject of his antiquities. Apropos of a fragment of china or a piece of old iron, his imagination suggested to him mar velous histories, which he ended by be lieving in as firmly as in the articles of He had found, for example, in a sec ond hand shop, a shapeless mask of forged iron, x)ierced with three holes for the eyes and moutli, and he was per fectly convinced that he x)ossessed the identical iron mask that had berved to conceal the features of the mysterious prisoner of Saint JIarguerite and the Bastile. He Iiad very nearly quarreled witli me for venturing to insinuate, mildly, that according to autlientic ac counts tlie famous iron mask was of iilack velvet, and tliat, moreover, had it been of iron, it was not likely that in tlie Seventeenth centurj-—tliat epocli of skilled workmaiisliip—tliere would not liave been found for a prisoner of im portance sometliing le.ss lieavy and less uncomfortable than this lump of iron. Although married, Eustache I^oriot was childless. His wife was a pretty brunette of flS ye.ai-s, well made, lively, witli a i).iir o f dangerous dark eyes, and a light down on the upper lip. Elegant, pleasure loving, she found lif( extremely dull in the silent house in tin Quartier des Grangettes, where lier Iius- baud accumulated bis treasures, and wliere no vi.sitors were received except ing a few old antiquarians and a young lawyer, a friend of Loriot’s, and, like him, an amateur in rare books. Tliis celebrated advocate, Frederic Simonnet by name, was not more tlian 30 years of age, and passed for the head of the Dijon bar. He often came to borrow from Loriot's library, and the evening on which I had the pleasure of making his acquaintance he liad just brought back a fine coijy ol “Dapimis and Cliloe,” bound in red morocco, “See,” said Loriot, proudly, handing the book to me, “liero is a rare book that came from the library of M. des Armoises, a. gentleman of Lorraine, who was imprisoned during the Terror, con demned to dcatli, and whose mistress, a laundress, aided liim to escape on the morning of tlie day fixed for his execu tion. I secured this book for almost notliing a t the sale of the effects of the daughter of tho very woman who saved IS Arm; I took tlie ives remarl book, and while turning tl •ked a singular circumstanc or hypliens, some in red ink, others in yellow ink, and having the appearance “Ah, this is curious,” I murmured; “have you noticed this peculiarity in )py?” I asked of Loriot, showing esis did not exactly coincide with Lori ot’s it was none the less most interesting. The next day I called at the judge’s at an hour when I felt certain of meeting his wife. I found her alone, before a blazing fire, and Eustache Lioriot w as at work in liis library. “I have discovered,” I said in a low voice to Mine. Loriot, “tlie key to the famous cipher corresiiondence.” She never moved a muscle. “Ah,” she murmured, glancing sharp ly at me, “let me sue this book!” I handed it to lier, and immediately, with a rapid movement, she threw it into the fire. “Husli!” she continued, with an im perious gesture; “you are a gallant man, monsieur; let this go no further.” And while I, stupefied, watched “Daifiinis and Chloe” smolder, slie stir red the fire with the tongs. ■When the hapless book was reduced to an incandescent mass, she gave a cry: “ A h, mon Dieu, wliat a misfortune! Wliat will Enstaclie say?” At this exclamation, Loriot came Tun ing out. “ W hat lias happened?” “Such a misfortune, my dear. Mon sieur inadvertently placed the ‘Dapimis and Chloe’ on tlie arm of my chair, and 1 must have made a false movement and the volume fell into the grate. As we wore conversing with our backs to the fireplace, we did not perceive it until too Eustache seized the tongs in consterna tion, pulled out tho burning book, and rushed to plunge it into a basin o f water. But it was o f no use. When taken out of its bath nothing remained of “ Dapimis and Chloe” but a heap of charred cinders. “W hat a disaster!” lamented Loriot; “it is not so much a rare book that 1 re gret, but there are the documentary ma terials tliat the fire has devoured—I re peat it, there was ati enigma tliere of the highest interest—and just as I was about todiscoverthekey!''—Translated for The Argonaut from the French of Andre o Then and Now. I am afraid that old people found life rather a dull business in the time of King David and his rich old subject and fri'iid, Barzillai, who, poor man, could not Iiave told a teal from a can vas back, nor enjoyed a symphony con cert if they had had those luxuries in his day. There were no pleasant firesides, for there were no chimneys. There were no daily newspapers for the old man to read, and he could not read them if tliey were, with liis dim eyes, nor liear them read, very probably, with his dulled ears. Tliere was no tobacco, a soothing ilrug, wliicli in its various forms is a great solace to the many old men and to some old women—Carlyle and his mother used to smoke their pipes together, you remember. Old age is infinitely more cheerful, for intelligent people at least, than it was two or three thousand years ago. It is our duty, so far as we can see, to keep it so. There w ill always be enough about it that is solemn, and more tlian eiiougli, alas! that is saddening. But liow much there is in our times to lighten its bur dens! If tliey that look out at the win dows be darkened the optician is haiipy to supply tiiem with eye glasses for use before tlie public, and spectacles for their hours of privacy. If the grinders cease | country above Pra beoaiise they are few , they can be made inhabited, except many again by a third dentition, which ! white traders, but brings no toothache in its train. By ; and cities from temperance-and good habits of life, prop- ' ajiart, with gover er clotliing, well armed, well dniined and every difficult crossing on the river, well ventilated dwellings, and sufficient, I tYhile on my first voyage I was directed not too much, exercise, the old man of ' on passing the head of Coon slough to our time may keep his muscular str ’’ ■okl • ................. - - - in very good coiidil iantic. The trees are tossing their branches bare, All stripped of their leafage fresh and fair; I am lonely; my heart is full of care. And 1 w ish tliat the day were done. No chetT; no comfort, iny grief to deaden He dm nut cuino: and the day is leaden. YVas ever a cloud so soft a gray? AJid keen and pure is the ebiily How sw iftly the lioi And my heart has es softly sw-^; speed away ledayisgolde -Housekeepei-s Weekly. AN OLD PILOT’S REMINISCENCES. W hat Capt. J . W. Campbell Has to Say About the Upper Mississippi. Capt. J. 'W. Campbell, of Fort Madi son, la., a pioneer pilot o f the upper Mis sissippi, 'vrites tlius about the past and present; “I emerged from the hazel brush in northeast Missouri m 1844 to take a first peep at the wide world be yond. Having been infatuated in early youth with the cat fish and drift log bus iness, it was but natural I should seek a a cub pilot s and Fort along shore between St. Louis Snelling. The first duty of a cub is to designate the difference between fore and aft—larboard and starboard—and with brains enough to determine if tho current of the river runs to the north or “ He is then permi lot house and take the wheel, w senior liglits his pipe, and being cc tutionally tired seats himself on an vated bench in the rear and looks iitted to enter the pi- while his consti- begins to spin from right to left—left t right—hard u;) and hard down; hestrikt with liis clumsy paws at the revol-vin wheel with 1 the awkwardness of his ma- lesake and involuntarily his extremities come in contact with the spokes of the inner circle of the wheel below, thereby illustrating the re sults of cuntrifngal force by throwing liim outside of tlie pilot house. “But :ifter a few more experiments of a similar kind he becomes more skillful, and with less exertion guides the boat steadily along, and then begins his great est task by learning the shores that he may distinguisli unerringly one locality from another in the darkest n ight, after wliicli ho is directed to observe the fol lowing landmarks: ‘Head of Island. Foot of Bt'iid, Cut Bank, 'Willow Tow- head, Big Hollow, High Bluff, Point-no- Point, Dead Cottonwood Tree, Tall Syca more,’ with many more, all of wliicli by association become indelibly painted upon tlic panorama of the mind, and when they are recognized by the cub they become welcomed companions to him in the darkness of the night—a warning sentinel by which ho avoids tlie breakers and reefs ahead. “He is now prepared to stand a watch, is no longer dubbed the cub, but is en titled to promotion and receives the cog nomen of ‘star gazer.’ much harder when I began learn than at present, for the V w e have village ;n lo twenty milei lent lights located a an o f on passi _ s muscular strength . h her dition.—Dr. Holmes in ' nestles be Ix>okiiig on tlie liriglit Sido. Uncle Billy Dawson, who lived house where Mr. Crounze was r was a kind hearted man, who nev a chance to liold out liope to tlie despair ing and sympathy to the suffering. He was alway.s ready witli tlie proof tliat however iiard a neighbor’s lot was, it might have lieen many fold worse; and his ingenuity at finding a recompen.si, gain for every loss tliat any one niig suffer was a matter of local wondc IS Wild C:at liluff, where n ath its shadows the pro.sper- j ous village of Brownsville, and on as- ■ ceuding ten miles farther up we land on I the Brairie La Crosse, con- taining then but two houses. The upper lost occupied by a Mr. Mirick, used jointly as a residence and warehouse, and 100 yards below stood a log hut tenanted by a Mr. W hite, wliile the bar- nediate were dotted matter One day somebody told Uncle Bill; tliat his neighbor, Thomas Dan fallen under the carsars andnd loiost Uncle ... cil. c a l a log. Billy stood in silence several lookingoking att the lutes, lo a i sing lii.s eyes, he said: Well, I’m awful 1 there’s i orry for poor Tom, some consolation in tlie thought that a pair o’ socks’ll last I twice as long a they ust to, and to ren sand banks interm; with Winnebago wigwams. I “ On this bleak and lonely sand prairie of tlie piust vve behold at present a mag ical change. Tho name is abbreviated to plain L,a Crosse. Instead of two resi dents, we find Iiere now a population of over 80,000 xieople. We hear tlie sound of the buzzing saw of m ills less than a hundred yards apart for over five miles Up and down the river, while in front along tho shore are m illions upon mill- ions o f pine lumber and saw logs await ing to be t;iwed down tho river to supply „ a they ust to, and t a your copy?” I asked o f Loriot, showing man as poor as he is that's a good deal.” ilim the marked jiages. At the sam e l The next day Uncle Billy called on tlie time, I raised my head and was struck injured man, and to his surprise learned come and go by by the uneasy, troubled expression of 1 that Tom had lost botli legs. A little W '? ^ the lawyer's countenance. I turned to- disconcerted. Uncle Billy stood by the Crosse tin ’ ' ’ ’ bed in solemn consideration. Presently, however, his face brightened, and lie “In place of one solitary steanibo: landing here semi-monthly, we see thei le lawyer's conn ward Mine. Loriot and was astonished to see her pretty face reflect, as in a mirror, the confusion in Frederic Simou- Loriot had nearsighted (_ ho was turning the pages, murmuring: “Y'es, it is very strange, and what is strangest o f all is that it had escaped me until now. And you, Simonnet, had you remarked it?” “I? No,” responded the lawyer, red- leniug slightly; “ I attached no import- ,nc;‘ to it.” lung wife ring this not uttered a ■; tho fire, stirrir “No import “for my part I think there had ling over igo to whi; ou shall se iriot, firing e is an his- iscover shall seel” uigma there, a mysterious lan- ’ ■ ' I shall discover the the key seized mo of “Daphnif “In the fir by the a m lend,” he s c impetuosil :d, “I am on the g I shall discover before lon g 1 shall discover key! Here is what I have found so ■’ (at the same tii ‘ Chloe” ft opening the volume, “notice that the dots are always in yellow ink and the hyphens always in red ink. They seem to answer each otlier. Now, it is evident e that Des Armoises kept tliis book s prison, and his mistress, visiting there, sometimes took away and sometimes returned the volume, so that with the aid of a cipher the two lovers used it as a means of correspondence. Hal is not that an ingenious explanation? Only I have n ot y et discovered the hey to the cipher, but w ith patience I shall find i t r ■Will y o u lend m e the book f o r a off days?”ays?” I responded.esponded. “ pie o d I r “I have stud ied cipher language a little and might be able to help you.” \3 consented, and I took the book e with, me. It did not require any _ study to discover the key, for the cipher used by the two correspondents ^ ,ietting was of the simplest. They had made u se knev of the characters in the text, retaining ' their ordinary value, and it sufficed to j place the marked letters side by side to reconstruct the sentences. The first that I deciphered was this: “He goes to the tribunal to-morrow s t o’clock. Come; we shall not be (£•* To which the hyphens in red ink re sponded: “Itis understood, darling. A t 2 o’clock. A thousand kisses.” I ■was h igffiy edified, tmd i f my j^£oth- moro of them are owned than a t a n y other point be- lys of yore, with 1he “■WeU, Tom, if you had leg it's a mighty good job i to loose o: that you Ic ’ said Tom, “how St. Louis and St. Paul, and my companions in days of yore, with t fledglings of todat-, have organized a pilot association here with over 150 mem bers, who question the propriety of tho government in appointing an inspector whom they deem inexperienced. “ Again we are under way, passing r left majestic bluffs arising sev- idredfeetabc Tom, true as gospel. You see if you’d only lost one leg you’d be thinkin’ about it an’worritin’ about it all the time, but now, you see, the loss of , , . . , , j each one’ll serve to keep your mind oll’n ' T P'”® added mill- the loss of the other. It's a great blessin’ the wealth of tlte pioneer settler, you lost ’em botii, T o m ,’stead o’ only Aftersteaiuing eighteen miles farther up one.”-W a shington Post. this rock bound mountain shore I ob- ___ _ _____________ served pine trees gi'owmg upon a ledge Vines on House Walls. ' of rocks, and on the tlie face below was F. H. Valentine very sensibly advises etched tho words ‘George Catlin.’ On that grape vines be planted on the south viewing again this once familiar name, side of tl;e building and trained evenly , but by me then almost forgotten, my over the 'vall. Thi.s is an excellent way thoughts reverted quickly back to child- to cover an unsightly barn or old Imild- ‘ hood's happy liours, passed in gathering ing of any kind. There is no expense goedes along shore for this great Amer- for trellis, and gr.ajies will thrive finely, lean traveler, an ever welcome guest at as they get tlie full benefit of the sun’s tlie savage wigwam or princely palace, rays. Very little room is required to , W e cross over to the right hand shore, grow grapes in this way, as ail that is and the valley is in our rear, while in needed is soil enough to hold the roots, front we behold the greatest curiosity on Tliey may be planted under a pavement, 1 the Mississippi river, a conical island stones being removed for the purpose, j mountain, 700 feet in lu and then replaced. In a westc pavement, | le purpose, j mountain, 700 feet in height, commonly western city, a ! called ‘Mount Strombolo,’ but by the merchant showed a early French voyagers La Montaigne his store which que trompe a I'eau.’’—Chicago Times. few years ago, small area in the rear of his store he liad filled with vines, ti-aining them up to the high brick walls, and he said that he had bushels o f grapes every year “W e li.ave never been very positive about the color of horses having much _ . , to do with their usefulness, speed or en- ttm or twelve per thousand inhabitants. durance,” asserts the cditoi' of Field and A moment’s consideration will show that Farm. A test has lately been made in such figures are fallacious, for a death France to determine whether color liad I’ffts of ten per thousand means either Misloading Statistics. fi'eqiiently .stated that tlie death, rate of some particular place is but eight, ttm or twelve per thousand inhabitants. France to determine ^whether cobr liad fjits of ten per thousand means either istto, and it was demonstrated tlm t i t 100, or that the average age o f aU who - ................ie ^ti •s rtain that there i8 r 100, or that the d is I 1 it w as demonstrated Pedigree, feed and early train ing had a ll to do with it, say the French experts, and color nothing whatever, comes ii Among the breeders of trotters it used through to be said that a white legged horse w as childhoo not worth the raising, and so it passed ten per thousand must mean that every current until Dexter with his white adult who dies is considerably over 100 stockings above his knees paralyzed the Years of age.—New York Telegram, t men and the old fogies who ' tu - t i Tf « t lew that three wliite legs could never ! _ , , , “ ’ ,, I Eosamond remarked to her mothei mj' dangers that beset bite legged horse w as childhood, and therefore a death ral ling, and so it passed ten per thousand must mean that e' certain in which every child that the world will pass safely remarkec day: “Mamma, if Aunt Met by Chance. j than U n d e J ------ she knows lots Fur Clad Individual (hia hand closing ‘ “ Who told you that?” her mothe 1 a silver dollar in his pocket)—You “Nobody told m;e, )or child! Have you no friei ' “Nobody told m I just thinked it out myself, ’cause Cousin K ------ and I were playing witli tlie blocks, and we both wanted to build a house at the same time, I and Uncle J— said, ‘Let K ------ build a poor child! Have you no fri Til inly Clad Little Girl (whose mother playing v had married for love)—W hy, Uncle Vic- wanted tc tor! Is that you? | and Unch _ _ Fur Clad Individual (his hand grip- , house first, and ;lien you can build one,’ pi'.ng tlie dollar tighter)—W hy—hum— but Aunt L— said, ‘K ------ , let Bosa' Nelly, I didn’t know you. Folks all weU? m o n d d ozactly is she pleasesl’”—^New Good day.—Chicago Tribune. | York Ti-ibune.
