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TMK HMT WAT.
1 va'krJ with the braotifui Mtrcl:ine
At rr in the scented c orer ;
The i t£httn?ale tang to the rose and moon
One i*ed eon* ortr and over.
The t iahtlEgaie **ng, and ne sang, 1 know
“Te l her ! Tell her joo loee hei I Td tell hei to
" Tet: her you lore her ; It’a easy to aajr
Ju-it here In the ecected e'oter ”
Bm 1 told her the awerteat story there—
I toid It e aiui otti ;
Bat at moonHsbt, music and ah t t said,
My be*utiloi Mat ceiline thoot her bead.
Next day 1 walked with the exquisite girl
In the street* of the crowded city;
the waa da! ttilj clad in elk and lace,
the waa tncicai, wise and srittr ;
1 apoke >1 je wela, of house* and gold,
Of land* to be bought, and bond a to be told.
I ahowed her my back-book there and then;
And she wtitapered, “ Really, Barry !’*
. nd Marcelline, darling, all a halt be youra
Whenever you c hooee to marry ;
So on, ani accordingly thinga were said,
And the tieautiful Mar ceiline bowid her heed.
. .n,bt a> and murlc and that sort of thing
Are rated aa foolish or fanny;
If you’re la earnest your wooing to speed,
T*lk to a giri of your money.
Tell her, “ I’m worth ro and sothen a kiss ;
Bet you the wed<l ini rfn? abeMl aay “ Yes.”
THE MARKED ARM.
Click! Jn the dead of night a sharp
Bound awakened Mrs. Halifont. The
room was dark. Not even a gleam of
moon or starlight fell through the cur
tains of the windows. It was a strange
sound indeed, but she saw nothing, heard
nothing more. Bhe sat up, leaning on
her dimpled left elbow, and put out her
right hand and touched her husband's
shoulder. He lay upon his pillow fast
asleep and did not awaken at her touch.
“It must have been a dream,” said Mrs.
Halifont; and her young head—she waa
only a bride o f a year—nestled down
again closer to her husband’s arm, and
she slept again.
Click ! This time the sound did not
arouse Mrs. Halifont. It was her hus
band who awakened. He did not pause
to listen, but giasped the revolver be
neath hia pillow and jumped out of bed
at once. In an alcove in the next room
stood a safe which contained valuables.
It waa not one of the wonderful new
safes, which defy fire and burglars, but
an old one that had been in the iamily a
long time. Mr. Halifont knew on the
instant that someone waa opening this
HAfe.
A man of courage, a man who never
hesitated in the face of danger; one too
who had a warm regard for hia worldly
possessions. Mr. Halifont strode at once
nto the room where he knew house*
breakers were at work, and, running in
the dark against a powerful man, tackled
him at once. The light of a lantern
flashed across the room. There were two
more men. Three against one.
The sound of blows, struggling, and
tie report of a pistol, aroused the young
wi'e once more. Amid her terror she
bad the good tense to light the gas. It
shone upon a Bpeotacfe ot horror. Her
husband weltering in his blood, wrest
ling with a gigantic man whose features
were concealed by a mask of black
crape ; a man, the upper part of whose
person was clothed only in a knitted
woolen shirt of some dark color, with
sleeves that left his great arm bare. On
the right one, the one that clutched Mr.
Halifont’s throat, was a red mark or
brand, a scar, a birth make. It would
have been impossible for Mrs. Halifont,
even in a calmer moment, to tell what it
wa°; "but it indelibly impressed itself
upon her mind, as she bravely cast her
self into the struggle, and fought with
all her might to drag the horrible hand
from her husband’s throat, screaming all
the while for aid.
A blow, a kick would have silenced
her. The burglar must have known
that, but there are very bad men who
could not use violence toward a woman
to save their own lives. This man could
not. His companions had flown with
their booty ; help might have arrived at
any moment. With a great effort he
wrenched himself from toe clutch of his
victim and let go his throat and sped
away. It was not too soon. Assistance
arrived, now that it was too late, but
Mr. Halifcnt did not live to tell the
st ry. He was mortally wounded. His
youDg wife watched his bedside until he
breathed hia last, then dropped beside it
sense’ess.
For weeks she raved in wild delirium
of the murderous hand, of the great
muscular arm with the scar upon it.
ami called upon them all to save her
husband’s life; bat she was young, and
bad a fine constitution. After a while
Iter health returned, and at last her
mind regained its equipoise.
Bhe removed from the city and tock
up her abode in a lonely country place,
with a favorite sister or a companion.
She had resolved, as all widows who had
hmd their husbands do at first, to re
main a widow forever. And, indeed,
though many men would gladly have
tempted one so young, beautiful and
wtalthy to change her mind on this
point, she seemed to care less for any of
them than for the kitter which purred
upon her knee, or the little black-and
tau terrier which ran along her side by
the gatdeu paths. She was nineteen
when her husband was murdered; at
thirty two she was still true to his
memory.
Is anyone forever utterly true to an
other’s memory out of romance—any
one who does not die young? I fear
not. In this, the lapsing summer of the
woman’s life, when she pretended to
believe that autumn had actually come,
temptation to inconstancy assailed her.
For many years a fine house upon the
neighboring estate had been empty, but
now there came to take possession of it
a gentleman not yet forty. A widower
with pfenty of money and no children ;
a handsome man, well built and stal
wart, with magnificent black hair, and
eyes that were like black diamonds—
Spanish eves; indeed, he called himself
a Spaniard, and his speech betrayed a
loreign accent.
The dark eyes and the blue ones met,
a ew neighborly words exchanged, a
call followed soon. Mrs. Halifont felt a
new emotion creeping into her heart.
Sue felt pleased and flittered by this
stianger’a admiration. Then she knew
she was loved, and rejoiced, and so dis
covered that she herself loved again.
At first she was angry with herself;
then she wept over her inconsistency,
VOL. XX.-NO. 14.
but at last she yielded utterly. After
all it was the love that made her untrue.
Since she had loved she could never
pride herself on being faithful again,
and ro she litened to the sweet words
that, despite herself, made her happy
and promised to marry Colonel Hum
phries.
When a widow does marry a second
time she generally contrives to make a
fool of herself.
Mrs. Halifont had certainly not done
as foolishly as some widows do. She
had neither chosen a little boy nor a
titled Italian without money enough to
keep himself in macaroni. Her future
husband was older than herself, and too
rich to be suspected of being a fortune
hunter ; but, after all, no one knew him.
He came into the neighborhood without
letters of introduction to any one, and
whether he won his fortune by trade or
came to it by inheritance remained a
mystery.
There were those who shrugged their
shoulders and declared that Mrs. Hali
font would regret not having chosen some
one of whom more was known—some re
tired merchant, some gentleman of for
tune, whose father had been known to
her friends. Nothing, to be sure, could
be said against this Spaniard or Cuban
with the English name; but who knew
anything in his favor?
However no one said this to Mrs.
Halifont, and it any one had, words
never changed a woman’s fancy yet.
Mrs. Halifont believed in Colonel Hum
phries, and meant to marry him.
Indeed the trousseau was prepared and
the wedding day was fixed, all was
ready, and Ida Halifont believed herself
to be a very happy woman. She once
more built castles in the air. Her old
sorrow seemed to fade sway in the dis
tance. She was a girl again. At last
twenty-four hours lay between her and
her wedding day.
She was busy in her sewing-room on
this last day, finishing some ruffles in
lace and ribbon, and singing softly te
herself, when suddenly the house was
filled with cries.
An old man-servant, while cutting the
grass upon the lawn, had wounded him
self seriously. The doctor was sent for
at once, but he was not at home, and
meantime poor Z.-bedee was bleeding
death. I
Suddenly Ida Halifont remembered
that Mr, Humphries had said that he
understood wounds as well as though he
had been bred a surgeon. Without this
it would have been natural for her to
call on one who was soon to be her pro
tector in a moment of anxiety. She
would call him herself, that there might
be no delay, and seizing her garden-hat,
she ran along a little path that led from
her ground to that of Mr. Humphries,
climbing a low fence to save time which
would have been lost in reaching a gate,
and so gained the rear of the dwelling of
which to-morrow she would be mistress.
She thought herself terrified and dis
tressed. She felt rather injured that
such an unpleasant thiug as the wound
ing of poor Z.bedee should have hap
pened on the eve of her wedding day.
Ten minutes after she thought of herself
at that moment utterly at ease—wun
derously happy—for as she reached those
windows and peeped half timidly through
the curtains, a thing happened that
made all she had ever suffered appear as
nothing.
The room, the window of which she
had approached, was one that opened out
of a conservatory. She saw Colonel
Humphries busy with some rare plants
he had just set out to the warm sunshine
that fell through the glass. He had
taken off his coat and rolled up his
sleeves Now he left the conservatory,
and coming forward proceeded to wash
his hands in a basin of water that had
been set ready for him. He was close to
Ida Halifont. He did not see her, but
she could have reached out her hand
and touched him.
Why did she not speak, and call him
by name ? Why did she sink down
u[ on her hands and tremble like an aspen
leaf? Alas! the awful reason was this:
Upon that arm which she was about to
give the right to clasp her in tenderest
embrace she saw a terrible mark—a
mark she had seen once before. She
knew its shape and size and color. Her
eyes had been rivited upon it as the
siuewy hand, at the wrist of which it
ended, grasped her dying husband’s
throat. She had learned it off by heart;
shß could not be deceived. Though
years had rolled away, that horribly
marked arm was not to be forgotten or
mistaken by any other.
Suddenly Colonel Humphries felt
himself grasped by a hand that, small as
it was, had the fieice touch of a tiger’s
claws. The fingers closed over that red
mark—a white face came close to his.
“ You are my husband’s murderer I ”
hissed a voice in his ear.
Then the two stood staring at each
other. He made no denial; he only
looked down at the red mark upon his
arm and cursed it aloud.
“ How dare you to make love to me ?”
she gasped. “ You—”
“ Because I love you,” he said.
“ Woman, if I had not fallen in love
with you that night, I would have
killed you. It was risking my life to
spare you, with your screams calling
men to hunt me down—”
“ Oh, if you had but killed me then 1”
she moaned.
“ Well, I am at your mercy now,”
he said.
She answered : “ You can kill. I wish
you would. I pray you do it. You
killed my husband. The murderer of
I my hu-band must be brought to justice,
I and I—yesterday, nay, an hour ago—l
loved you ! O God, pity me 1 I have
loved this man, this thief, who came in
the night to rob my husband, and who
murdered him ”
She remembered saying this. After
ward a strange drowsiness overcame her.
| She seemed to let go her hold upon the
! world. She faintly recognized the fact
that Colonel Humphries knelt at her
feet and kissed her hands. Then there
were blank hours, and strange, wild
dreams, and she awakenad in the twi
light and found herself bound fast to a
great arm chair, long cords about her
arms tying her hands and confining her
feet.
So her servants found her; but she
waa the only living being in the great
house. Colonel Humphsies and his two
black servants had vanished, no one
knew whither.
The empty bottle of chloroform on
the floor—the fact that he had left little
behind him, and that he had always
kept his money in a form that left him
free to leave the country at any time,
all proved that detection had been pre
pared for. And he was never traced—or
had the means to bribe those who were
set upon his track.
Ida Halifont lived through it all. She
lives to-day in the quiet house beside
the river, but no one has ever seen her
smile since that hour. No one will ever
see her smile again; and from her
deepest slumbers she often starts in
terror, fancying that she sees uplifted
menacingly above, that cruel, terrible
arm marked with the blood-red stain.
There is no hope of happiness for her,
for she never can forget that this arm
has also embraced her.
Spanish Anchovy Fishers.
All The Year Ronnd.
Men and women were hard at work
packing the sardines in baskets shaped
something like a nautilus shell, and
holding each five thousand. The fish
were placed in layers, separated by
leaves and salt, and in this state were to
be dispatched on mule-back over the
mountains to supply the interior of
Navarra and Alava, and even through
the government lines into Castile. Ask
ing what they wouldj be likely to realize
in the inland towns, I was told lOd. per
100, at the very least. Thus the buyer
who had his outlet was purchasing at
2}d.,and even adding an additional 2sd.
for 'packing expenses and transport, the
profit would be sd. on the 100, or Is. 2d.
on the 1000; so that if, as I was in
formed, 100,000 would be sent off by
this one dealer, he stood to clear £2O,
even allowing something for losses. Well,
this gave me a tolerable notion of what
the buyers were making in a fair season,
but I felt more interested as to the gains
of the men who risked their lives, and
this is the information the commandant
gave me. He said that if the patron
made for himself, boat and net, £2 the
round trip, the return would be consid
ered good, and the crew would be well
satisfied with 12s. each. Thus, suppos
ing four voyages a week to be made
during a good season, giving two days
off for repairs of gear, and no serious
accident met with, the patron might
pocket something like £9O in three
months—it being impossible to count on
a longer period, owing to weather and
various obstacles—and the men possibly
£2B. Of course, there are the tunny,
aDchovy, mackerel and other seasons,
but it is to be doubted, even with the
best of luck, such as being able to put
to sea nine months in the year, whether
the patron ever gets beyond £250, out
of which he has to keep his boats, spars,
sails, ropes, and, above all, his nets, in
seiviceable condition. Probably the men
may realize in a good year £BO. But
these calculations were made under the
most favorable circumstances; and it
was more than likely that, one year
with another, neither patron nor crew
ever reached these respective amounts.
Very Pathetic.
One loves to linger, says Bierce, in
the San Francisco Argonaut, on every
detail of a death like that, and it is with
a satisfaction as deep and serene as the
reflection of the dome of a Virginia City
restaurant in a plate of soup—a satis
faction so perfect as to resemble a sin
ful pleasure—that I record the fact
in Mr. Davis’ last moments he had a
chance at the consolations of religion.
His father, a Carson clergyman, was
with him on the scaffold:
“.Samuel,” said the good man, chok
ing with emotion, “ would to God I
could die for thee!”
The erring son was deeply touched.
“ Would to God you could !’’ he mur
mured.
“ But, no,” continued the pious fath
er, pointing upward, “it cannot be;
your only hope lies there.”
Sam cast his considering orbs aloft,
then shook his head despondently,remark
ing :
“That kind of a knot doesn’t give”
—presently adding, from force of habit
“ a damn.”
“ Betcher life 1” asoented the sheriff.
..To find out whether a garden has
been planted or not, a paper gives the
following rule : “If one forgets wheth
er beds are planted or not, a good way
to tell is to turn a stray cat into the gar
den. If the beds are planted the cat will
! proceed to race round and dig into them,
and act as if it had relations in China it
i was anxious to get at; while, if they
are not, it wiil sit down calmly in the
path, and seem to be meditating on the
progress of missionary work in Africa.
A cat’s instinct seldom deceives in this
matter.”
CARTERSVILLE, GA„ FRIDAY, MAY 2, 1879.
CBRAP JOHN.
S'bsl (lars Morris Hrsrd usd Has In
las rrssrlMO.
There is a poor old woman just across
the street who came to California years
ago. Her husband found plenty of worx
to do and did it, until one terrible day
he came to a pause in his labor—a pause
that bßs covered many a wretched year;
for to him who at thirty is crippled and
blind, the years are both long and bit
ter. Then the wife came to the front.
She could not go out to service, because
of the three little ones and that living
woe, her husbaud ; so, being young and
strong, she took in washing. She worked,
as a woman always works, with reckless
disregard of self. She might have fed
and sheltered her brood with half the
labor, but she was ambitious for them.
Her always suffering husband had to
have luxuries. Her little ones were
sent to school in neat and tidy dresses.
In the meantime Chinese laundries flour
ished, increased in number, -were every
where. She was compelled to lower
wages to keep her work. Suddenly the
mania for fluted ruffles swept over the
town. Everything- was ruffled, and
therefore everything must be fluted.
Fluting-irons cost money. With low
ered wages, she had barely kept the
wolf from the door. She sat up all night
and crimped ruffles with a knife-blade ;
but that was pronounced old-fashioned;
the washing went to the Chinese laun
dry. For several years she had lived in
a tiny little frame house of four rooms,
in which her children, her husband and
herself lived and had their being. At
last she turned to office-sweeping— hard
work for small pay, but still keeping
bread in their mouths.
For eighteen months she held that,
and then the China boy asked for the
job. He was told a woman had it.
Said Jim Lee; “ What do r you pay
her ?” So much, says the man in charge.
“ Well,” says Jim Lee, “ I will sweep
the office and make fires when needed
for the same money—” “ Wesl-l,” de
murred the man ; but Jim Lee breaks in
again with the offer to sweep the office,
light fires and clean the windows for the
same money that was paid the woman
for sweeping alone. Jim Lee got the
job. To-day that poor old woman
receives charity for the first time. The
Chinese monopolize most of all the small
trades. There is the trouble. They do
tin work ; they run sewing-machines ;
they make shoes ; jthey are rag-pickers,
gardeners, porters, barbers, bakers,
photographers’ assistants—oh, well, they
do everything. A tin smith had a store
in one of the smaller streets. His bus
iness waa thriving. He thought he
would indulge in cheap labor. He took
in a couple of Chinamen ; they learned
the trade, and then secretly taught it to
some of their friends, who clubbed
together and started a small tin shop in
the same block, where they undersold
him clean out of the business. When
they got possession of a trade they
employed only their own people. Day
before yesterday I bought an article of
underwear, and I expressed some sur
prise at its small cost. “O, yes,”
answered the sales woman; “ last winter
that would have cost seventy-five cents
more ; but we employ Chinamen now.”
“ And what has become of the girls you
formerly employed ? ” “ Well, a few of
them found their way into the ballet of
some of the smaller theaters, I have been
told, and some, I am very sorry to say,
did worse—gone wrong in fact.” And
so it goes.
BADLY SOLD.
How a Poor Bat Honest Minor Profited
at the Kxpense of Slls Overseer.
Virginia (Nev.) Chronicle.
For many years past a belief has been
prevalent on Comstock that in early days
a large quantity of bullion was buried
by stage robbers in this vicinity, and
that the robbers were killed belore they
had an opportunity to exhume the plant.
This rumor was scouted by the general
public as being on a par with the story
of Captain Kidd’s buried treasure, but
a few old timers have placed more confi
dence in the report than they cared to
have known, and kept their eyes open
for surface indications. The report was
confirmed four weeks ago in a very singu
lar manner by a laborer in the Sutro
tunnel, named Daniel Connors. He met
John Blewett, foreman, one afternoon in
the tunnel, and having first exacted a
promise of secrecy from him, exhibited
a small bar of bullion about six inches
long) remarking at the same time: “ That
books pretty solid, doesn’t it ? ’ to which
Mr. Blewett responded that if the court
knew herself, and he believed she did, it
was a pretty solid exhibit in a small
compass.
“ There’s lot’s more where that came
from,” said Connors, with a knowing
wink; “ I found that buried in the
ground, and there’s a big pile of it.”
Mr. Blewett became suddenly inter
ested. Would Mr. Cenrors go out of the
tunnel with him and take a drink ? Mr.
Connors had no objection, and the mu
tual health of both parties was drowned
in eight fingers (Irish meter) of Sutro
whisky, of the same quality as that con
tained in the quart that killed a man a
few weeks ago.
Mr. Blewett expressed his apprecia
tion of Mr. Connors as a workman. He
had always found him to be a faithful,
industrious and competent man. If it
was ever in his power—(and here he
threw out some dark hints concerning
sub-drains, lateral drifts and flooded
■mines, each hint punctuated with a
mysterious wink)—if ever it should be
in his power—-a certain friend of his,
whom he did not care to mention at
present for reasons of delicacy (another
mysterious wink) —might obtain the
i lucrative position of assistant foreman
1 over five hundred men. Take another,
Mr. Connors ?
Mr. Connors took. The chink of
glasses was succeeded by a gurgling
and there was silence for a brief
interval. Both men left the saloon
arm in-arm. and the next day Mr. Con-
Dors slunk into the back room ot the
little saloon with a heavy bundle under
his arm wrapped up in canvas. Shortly
afterward Mr. Biewett, with his h*t
pulled down over his eyes after the man*
ner of a poker sharp, and with an ex
tremely guilty look, darted in. The
conversation that ensued was carried on
in whispers. The mysterious parcel was
unraveled, end it proved to be a large
bar of bullion of the value of $1,284 27,
as shown by the stamps. Connors was
suffering from a disease which made it:
necessary for him to go to San Francisco
for medical attendance. He would leave
the bar in care of his friend Blewett
until he returned, when they would
both proceed to the hiding-place of the
treasure in Flowery district and divide
the spoil. Would Mr. Blewett advance j
him SIOO to help pay his expenses?
“ Why, certainly, my dear boy.”
Mr. Connors went to San Francisco.
He became so sick that he could not
writ* Mr. Blewett became nervous.
He gave the bar of bullion to John
Cassidy to have it assayed. The assaver’s
certificate reads as follows:
Babbitt metal 99
Quicksilver 1
Total 100
Mr. Blewitt has had three fights and
has not heard from Connors yet.
Yellow Hair.
The yellow hair which a number of
actresses and many women off the stage
affect, seems to be growing more and
more common. It is not pleasant to see,
however, because it is, in almoat every
instance, artificial, the result of dyeing
and artificiality is never agreeable for
any length of time. Actresses have
professional reasons—perhaps mistaken
ones—for dyeing their hair; but other
women have no excuse for it. They
imagine, of course, that it adds to their
beauty, or modifies their homeliness,
which it certainly does not. The effect
indeed, is quite the contrary. Nature is
very likely to understand the true prin
ciples of art. Although she may not
make all women handsome, she gener
ally furnishes them with complexion,
eyes and hair to match. And when they
bleach their hair they blunder aesthetic
ally, wronging jjatmc nd themselves at
the same time. The peculiar hue of the
hair which is now the fashion with a
certain class is almost always unbecom
ing, because it is unnatural. It adver
tises and emphasizes its artificiality, and
conveys an unfavorable impression of
the person who adopts it. No woman in
civilization colors her hair blue, her nose
red, her cheeks green or her teeth black.
But if she did she would be acting very
much like the woman who dyes her fcair
yellow—a dead, fictitious repellent hue,
Yellow hair is apt to give an unprepos
sessing notion of the wearer. The man
or woman of taste and good sense who
sees it associates it with painted eye
brows, painted cheeks and other false
things, spiritual not less than material.
If these hair-dyers knew what men of
the world mean by saying, “ She is the
sort of woman who bleaches her hair,”
they would tiink twice before they did it.
Tne Russian Nihilists.
Pall Hall Gazetta.
The doctrines held by the Russian
Socialists Propaganda are enunciated
with a frankness which leaves nothing
to desire, in some extracts published by
the Krymski Listok. The following
are passages from the Vpered (Forward):
“ Republican ideas are a chimera. Gar
ibaldi and Felix Pyat are behind the
age.” The burning of Paris by the
Commune in 1871 “ threw a ray of light
on the futurebut the Commune
“ took no decisive step; it only imposed
a task on the social revolution which it
had not the courage to achieve itself.”
The new Socialist school will not re
strict itself to the “ half-measures of the
Commune“ it will not shrink from
any amount of severity,” and will wage
a “ merciless war against society ” —“ a
war o f plunder, incendiarism, and as
sassination.” The Nabat (Alarm Bell)
preaches “ the annihilation Of middle
class society, and the burial of the old
world beneath its ruins.” “ The insti
tution of the family is to be destroyed,
the light of property abolished, relig
ion ignored, and even liberty disregard
ed as an empty question.” According
to the Narodnaya Raspravr (National
Execution) the Socialists will “come
forward with arms in their hands to ex
ecute all hangmen, traders and landed
proprietorswill “ spread terror among
all of different opinions from .them
selves,” and will “ destroy everything—
persons, things or circumstances—that
disturb the work.” “ Those who are
not with us,” concludes this paper, “are
against us, and must fall under the bul
lets of our revolvers.”
.. A gentleman presents himself at the
police headquarters to leave a descrip
tion of his daughter, who had been miss
ing for two or three days and was
thought to have got her hence with all
advised celerity and the coachman.
“ Describe her minutely, it you please,”
says the clerk. “ Well,” says the par
ent, “she’s pretty tall and light-com
plected, and is about three or four years
younger than you’d take her to be.”
.. Some people are so constituted as
to be unable to see anything beautiful
in this life—not even in a mirror.
PUBLIC STORY-TELLERS.
How Ih* Nsllss'i N*nslirt and Rop e
h-uUllivs Auinat' Thrmwlm.
Washington Ocr. St. I’aul Pioneer Ptcs*.
When some senator or member of mod
erate ability is making a speech, the
cloak rooms are general.y crowded. The
scene represents a club-room more than
anything else, but were there not so
many hats and coats along the walls, and
were there a little more of an air of
j cheerfulness, the resemblance would be
more complete. As it is, however, the
cloak-rooms are the most interesting
places at the capitol. Around the walls
are cleats, on which are large brass hooks
with the names of the owners on little
cards under them, on which the congres
sional hats and coats arß hung. There
are sofas and settees of old-fashioned
patterns and well worn; chairs in various
stages of decay and offering various de
grees of attraction are scattered about.
There are a tankard ol ice water, three
or four marble wash basins, with soap
nd towels, and at the house end of the
capital a couple of barber’s chairs in
each cloak room. Cheerful fires are burn
ing in the grates, and generally one of
the chandeliers is lighted, for the only
light that can be otherwise obtained is
filtered through the stained glass win
dows rom the public corridors. A box
of matches sets on the mantel, and in
the house cloak-room one of the pendant
gas jets, seen ia cigar stores, gives the
smoker his “fire.”
At any time during the session groups
of lounging statesmen may be passed, in
every variety of posture, all smoking
and discussing the events of the day or
telling stories; and some of the best
story-tellers in the world were in the
last congress.
Abraham Lincoln’s stories are quite
as much a part of his administration as
the emancipation proclamation. Presi
dent Grant told a story eloquently when
he was “ unbent,” but he was not in
the habit of telling them promiscuously.
President Hayes does not originate
stories as Lincoln did, but often quotes
them, and seems to have been studying
Lincoln, for he repeats his sayings very
frequently. Secretary Evarts D an
habitual wag, and is the life of cabinet
meetings, very often illustrating his
views on a pending question on the
point of an anecdote. Many of his
stories are in circulation now. Attorney-
General Devens doesn’t tell many stories,
but is given to punning. Secretary
Thompson love3 a joke as well as ever a
man did, and can entertain a company
with “ Hoosier ” auecdotes for a whole
croning at a time. Postmaster-General
Key often attempts to be lunny, and
sometimes succeeds, but generally tells a
story you have heard before. Schurz is
fond of a good story, but doesn’t tell
one. Sherman and McCrary are the
sober men of the cabinet. Sherman
sometimes smiles, but was never heard
to give a good hearty laugh. McCrary
laughs sometimes, and is always in good
humor, but you seldom get an anecdote
from him.
Charles Sumner never knew what a
joke was. Humor was entirely absent
from his nature. Morton enjoyed stories,
and told them sometimes, but be was
always a very busy man, and when he
wasn’t in bed, suffering torture inde
scribable, he was generally at work.
General Sherman is an inveterate story
teller. And you can catch him at army
headquarters, surrounded by his staff,
relating his experience, of which he
seems to have had an unusual amount of
an amusing character, or describing some
funny sight he has seen, or some funny
thing he has heard. He has a very keen
sense of the ridiculous, and is graphic in
description, and very successful in
mimicry. Vice-President Wheeler enjoys
a joke as well as any man in congress,
but seldom perpetrates one.
Conkling is inimitable when he chooses
to be. There is no man in public life
who has conversational powers equal to
his. He can be interesting on any topic
that may enter a conversation, and when
he fairly lets himself out, as he did in
England a year ago last summer, people
stare at him until they are overcome by
fascination. Blaine is equally accom
pl shed, but does not display himself as
Conkling does on stated occasions.
Blaine is more genial as a common thing,
but not so pyrotechnic in his displays.
General Butler can make himsslf as in
teresting as any man when he chooses,
but his humor generally is of a grim
kind, and he tries to make people un
comfortable. If Butler should sit down
at a dinner table with twelve strangers,
before the coffee was reached he would
find the tender spot of each man’s armor.
He has a disagreeable way of finding out
the weakness of those with whom he
comes in contact, and a conceited ass or
braggart never wants to meet Butler a
second time. He puts his faculty of
making people uncomfortable to very
good use sometimes ; but he isn t always
disagreeable, for he can be as charming
as a sweet sixteen when he chooses.
Martin T. Townsend, Proctor Kuott,
Sunset Cox, Charles Foster and Dr.
Stewart were the story-tellers of the last
house. Dr. Stewart will be especially
missed Tom the cloak-room coteries;
and his stories, most ot which were new
down here, will be quoted until he comes
back to congress to tell some more.
Human Labor.
In the gigantic works of antiquity we
have the results of an enormous concen
tration of human labor. With regard
to some o# them, as in the great obelisks
and sphinxes of Egypt, the highly con.
vent-ions;lized art of the times has pre
served £ record of the mode in which
thi* fe.bcv was applied. With regard to
other? = the case of the magalithic
S. A. CUNNINGHAM.
walls of Tiryus or of MyceDa?, the ques
tioo has ever been raised whether they
must not have been reared by races of
greater strength and Btature than any
now existkg on earth. But the most
wonderful of all these evidences of
mighty toil, as shown in the size and po
sition of the enormous masses of stone
reared in the air at Baalbec, have been
the work of known tribes of men, with
in historic times. The great master of
mankind in Egypt, in Greece and Syria
executed an amount of sheer human
toil to which modern times can show no
parallel. And yet the mightiest works
of ancient times, such as the raising of
the entablatures of the Temple of the
Sun at Baalbec, are but child’s play
when compared with the construction
and fixing in place of the great tubes of
the Menai Bridge.
The Koala of Australia.
Chambers’ Journal.
One of the most interesting of the
purely nocturnal marsupials is the col
onists’ “ native bear,” the koala. It is
arboreal in habit, and its chief food is
the leaf of a powerfully astringent euca
lyptus, with a slight flavor of pepper
mint. Full grown individuals weigh
about twenty pounds; they are destitute
of tailß,and covered with a gray or rufous
wooly hair of beautiful texture, and all
their limbs formed for climbing. Dur
ing the day they sit in the fork of a tree
in the densest scrubs, with the head
buried in the breast, presenting the
appearance of a ball of gray lur. The
writer has kept many of these as pets,
but failed to rear the first he took in
hand in consequence of feeding it on
cows’ milk alone. Assuming that the
natural milk would be astringent, the
experiment of macerating leaves of the
peppermint gum tree in cow’s milk was
tried, and resulted in bringing up the
second on this infusion until it was able
to subsist entirely on leaves. It lived
in the house, and passed the night in its
master’s bed room, and gave audible
evidence of its presence as it climbed
about guns, rods and book-shelves for
hours together. When tired of this it
would creep into bed and nestle up
under one of its master’s arms. During
the day it would hang upon the skirts of
one of the servants, apparently fast
asleep, with its muscles in a state of
tension as she went about her household
duties; or sit upon the back of its mas
ter’s neck firmly grasping his hair, and
indifferent to any movement he might
make.
The tastes of this and two other koalas
wra peculiar, aud their fondness for tos
bacco in any form most remarkable.
They would lick all over with avidity,
and even chew the foulest pipe saturated
with oil; and it was a difficult matter to
prevent them when sitting on the shoul
der from taking the pipe out of one’s
mouth. Neither did the black colonial
tobacco come amiss to them; and they
seemed to suffer no ill effects from these
indulgences. One of thorn even went
further than this, and one evening at
tacked a glass of whisky and water
standing on the table; and ever after
the jingling of glasses was the signal for
his descent from the rafters of the roof
to take his modest share of the customary
“night-cap” with as much gusto as if he
had been born no:th of the Tweed. The
tenacity of grasp in the koalos is due to
their having both the great toe and the
thumb opposable to the other digits, so
that practically they possess four hands;
but they have no weapons of offense or
defense, and never bite. In intelligence
they are superior to any of the other
marsupials, and their quaint habits in
confinement render them interesting
pets.
Thoughts.
What the key is to the watch the
prayer is to our graces.
Self-sacrifice is the only power that
can plant or build.
Earnestness of purpose can spring
only from strong convictions.
Theie can be no true thankfulness
where there is no benevolence.
The trouble with many communities
is, that their dead men refuse to be
buried.
Man believes that to be a lie which
contradicts the testimony of bis own ig
norance.
The happiness of the tender heart is
increased by what it can take away
from the wretchedness of others.
Great vices are the proper objects of
our destination —smaller faults of our
pity; but affectation appears to be the
only true source of the ridiculous.
No man has come to true fgreatness
who has not felt in some degree that his
life belongs to his race, and that what
God gives him he gives him for mankind.
The very heart and root of sin is an
independent and selfish spirit. We erect
the idol self, and not only wish others
to worship it, but we worship it our
selves.
Universal love is like a glove without
fingers, which fits all hands alike,"and
none closely; but true affection is like
a glove with fiDgers, which fits one hand
only, and fits close to that one.
It is when our budding hopes are
nipped beyond recovery by some,rough
wind that we are most disposed to pic
ture to ourselves what flowers they
might have borne had they flourished.
The great sorrows of life are either a
curse or a blessing to us. Even the
open grave may be a doorway into
the heaven of a larger faith or the open
way into a life of solemn despair.
You destroy the divine image in your
soul by sadness. God is joy. All na
ture rejoices in its Creator. Would you
remain in sorrowful silence ? It is Chris
tian joy that makes the heart fear God.
WAIFS AND WHIMS.
APRIL VRiPBBS.
The turtle* drum In the puUele** b*y. **
1 h cricket* creak In the prtckfui hi>dge
The bullfrog* boom in the puddling eedge
And the whoopoe whoop* it* rmper lay
Away HMI9
In the twilight soft and gray.
Two loti (troll ia the glinting g!om -
Hi* hand In her’n and ber’n in hi*—
Bhe blutha* deep—he'i talking bii -
They hog and pop a* they ll*tlee*.raam—
They roam—
It’* late when they get back home. \
Down by the little wicket gate,
Down where the creepful lry grew*, ,mn
Down where the sweet nasturtium blows,
A box-toed parent lies in watt—
In wait
For the maiden and her mate.
Let crickets creak and bullfrogs bsom.
The whoopoe walls In the dismal dell—
Their tuneful throbs will nee’i dispel
The planted pain and rooted gloom—
The gloom
Of the loser’s dismal doom.
..God pardons like a mother, who
kisses the offence into everlasting for
giveness.
..Matrimony hath something in it of
nature, something of civility, something
of divinity.
As love without esteem is volatile
and capricious, esteem without love is
languid and cold.
.. A weak mind is like a microscope,
which magnifies trifling things, but can
not receive great ones.
.. An exchange says that Napoleon
IV. is always poring over books. He
never reigns, but he pores.
. .“I never waste any time listening to
the meaningless song of the blue birds
when the dinner gong is winding its
mellow hum.”
..“ We are going out with the tied,”
said a young man to a friend, as he filed
down the church aisle after a wedding.
“ In that case,” said a lady in front, “you
can afford to get off my train,” and he
did.
.. I envy the man that kan tolk 36
days in the year on one subjeckt, and
think he iz original and interesting ail
the time ; but I don’t want to be a sons
in-law ov one ov these kind ov people.—
[Josh Billings.
. .Julia A. Moore, the sweet singer of
Michigan, was nearly paralyzed with as
tonishment when recently informed that
“eclat” didn't rhyme with “he cat.”
She has not sufficiently recovered to finish
her half-completed poem “ On the birth
of anew spring.”
. .Among the names of the many base
ballists who have secured fame and
money by their achievements within the
diamond arena, we have never yet seen
the name of the prodigal son, yet the
fact stares posterity in the face that he
was the first man to make a home run.
.. A family is like unto an equipage.
First, the father, the draught horse;
next, the boys, the wheels, for they are
always running around; then the girls,
they are surrounded by fellows. The
baby occupies the lapboard ; and the
mother—well, what’s a wagon without a
tongue, anyhow Y
A Preacher on Himself.
A church in Indiana, being without
a pastor, has received the following
among other applications. The writer
ia a New York clergyman. “ I am a
Princeton Presbyterian of the sainted
Dr. Hodge type,” he says, “ a little past
age, with constitution and health of the
very best, not married; have been preach
ing over fifteen years; am of Scotch
stcck with a tinge of Scotch-lrish and of
Plymouth Rock Puritans. The former
needs watching against fire, the latter
against the gulfstream of heresy. Am
about six feet two inches tall, neither
stout nor lean, as 180 pounds avoirdu
pois testifies; blue eyes, side whiskers
of fair size, of genial turn, with a quick
eye for the humorous and ridiculous,
and am aure of three classes of friends
—children, darkies and dogs—the first
because I love them, the others because
I treat them friendly. As reading is
not preaching I preach. My style is
simple, direct, earnest, with the argu
mentative underlaying it. I aim to give
each hearer a. handle by which to hold
the sermon and keep it—hence I can
not repeat them. Most of my sermons
I write on two pages of note paper, in a
bold hand, with blue and black pen
cils, using five or six languages, most
of the mathematical signs and several
arbitrary characters—a language of my
own making. I write the thoughts, not
the words. None can read them but
my-elf; then if the'mind trips I have
this certain] help before me to recover
myself by a glance of the eye, and also
to keep my sermon (the thoughts) to
reproduce them at will. While I have
perfect freedom in speaking, I try to
strike thirty minutes, but to do so have
to watch my watch. I seldom see much
sleeping in sermon time, and when exs
changing with brother Methodists, in
their churches, often hear from the
‘ amen corner.’ As to salary, fix it the
most you can give, and pay it on the
day premised.”
Sailing Ships Disappearing.
A New York letter to the Philadel
phia Ledger says: There would really
seem to be no future for the poor sailing
ship. About the only paying business
that has been left for the smaller class
of vessels of late has been the West
India sugar and molasses trade, and now
even that is about to be turned over to
the all-devouring British ateamships.
At this moment there are some six or
seven of these quick°sailiug, cheap
manned British freighters on their way
to this side, under charter to bring sugar
at $3.25 to $4 per hogshead, whereas the
sailing vessels heretofore have thought
they were doing badly if they could not
get a much higher figure. These steam
ers are upward of 1000 tons burthen,
but their draught is not great as to
prevent them from getting a and out of
any of the sugar ports without difficulty.
“ The worst of it is,” said an old ship
owner at the Maritime exchange this
afternoon, “ when these British steamers
once take hold of any particular trade,
they never let go their hold until they
have driven every one else out of it.
We may as well accept the situation,
however, and make the best of it. Cer
tain it is tha* the sailing vessel has had
its day, and as things stand at present
no one but a lunatic will think of build
ing anew one.”