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SHE WOULDN’T HAVE IT.
U IKJDO! 0;' T3S LITE SEASII IT CQET ISLAM.
P.Y UKUilt Llf at R.
There were two of them.
One was tall, rather showily attired,
not bad looking, but garrulous to a
fault.
The other was shorter, moderately
arrayed, though the extreme garrulous
ness of the other may have conduced to
her silence.
They were about thirty, each, “ old
maids," evidently, from some inland
town, and had arrived on the Manhat
tan grounds just a3 the “ captive" bal
loon began to ascend.
“ Jane, ’spose that’s the balloon, don’t
you? I never saw a balloon before, but
1 know that’s a balloon. What a big
thing it is, ain’t it? Shaped like a pear,
ain’t it? How it shines don’t it? I
wonder what it’s made of?" Thus the
tall one volubly expressed herself at tlxe
first " go off,’’ as it were.
Jane gazed interestedly at the balloon,
but said nothing.
"It looks frightful, don’t it, Jane, to
see that big thing going up into the air,
with them people in the basket under
neath? It makes me fidgety, I declare."
"It looks queer, Eliza. But its got a
tope to it."
" I know that, but it must be danger
ous. Dear me, what do people want to
put themselves out for to get into dan
ger, when there’s enough of it round
everywhere? Want to say they’ve been
up in a balloon, I ’spose. Wonder how
much ’twould take to get me up in that
thing? See it go up and up, Jane."
“ I see. Eliza."
" They’re laughing and talking in the
basket jea’ so there warut no danger!
’Spose tlse rope would break? 'Spose a
hurricane should come along—where’d
they be then? Jt makes me shudder to
think of it. ’Spose it was struck by
lightning!—there’s a great black cloud
off there. ’Spose it should bust of itself?
Gracious! it makes me crawl all over to
think of it, Jane."
" What do want to think of it for then?
I don’t-"
“Of course you don't. Ido. ’Spose
anything should happen to ’em up
there? I guess they’d wish they’d a
stayed down here where we are, Jane.
Folks always wish they hadn’t when
anything happens, but never stop to
think they needn’t aforehand."
“Wonder what make it go up, Eliza?"
“Go up? why, they let the rope out,
you goose! Don’t you see the rope’s
getting longer ’n longer all the time?"
“Yes, I see that, Eliza; but—" She
hesitated. The letting, out of the rope
didn’t appear to be a satisfactory reason
with her, for the ascension of the balloon.
"Do you ’spose you’d go up, Eliza, if
there was a rope tied to one of your legs,
and-"
"Hush! for mercy’s sake, Jane!”
(spoken in a sharp undertone). “ There’s
a gentleman there"—(in a whisper,
pointing to a man about six feet to the
left and front of Jane) —“ who Jmust
have heard you, I know. I saw him
look round and smile. The idea of your
speaking out so loud about my—you
always speak so plain, Jane, that I’m
ashamed of you sometimes. When we’re
alone, I don’t care, of course, but when
we’re out among people you’d ought to
be more careful."
And Eliza rattled on for two minutes,
dwelling on the enormity of Jane’s ut
terance, and trying to impress upon her
the necessity of being more discreet in
the use of her lingual organ.
I suspected that it was more to keep
Jane from reverting to her partially
uttered supposition, than anything else,
that Eliza made so many words, she
seeing that the reason ascribed by her
for the balloon’s ascension was a ridicu
lous one. But as she returned to the
subject herself, my suspicion was, of
course, well founded.
“ If they didn’t let the rope out, Jane,
of course the balloon couldn’t go up.
But that ain’t what makes it go up. I
only said so to have you laugh, but you
took it so serious. The balloon’s filled
with air, you know, and if the rope
didn’t hold it, it would go ofl’on its’own
hook. My! ain’t it high now? What
would you be up there for, Jane? I
wouldn’t, not for all the whole word—
not tor the whole of Hackensack!"
“ Nor I either. Eliza; and as neither
of us has got to go up there, what’s the
use of getting worked up about it?—l
don’t nee."
This quietly sensible remark rather
took tlie wind out of Eliza’s sails, so to
speak; but they filled away in a moment.
"Oh, well, people talk about what they
wouldn’t like to do, and would like to—
don’t tfa_y? all except you; and you
never say anything. I sh’d die, if I
was as dumb as you, I know 1 should.
Why, I talk like a house afire when I’m
all alceie to myself, and you’d be as
dumb’s an oyster, I know you would, i
have disputes, too, with myself, and I
always get the best of it, too; catch me
moping round and saying nothing—why,
I sh’d go off the handle in fifteen min
utes!"
Jane smiled, and kept her gaze fixed
upon the ascending balloon, greatly in
terested in the spectacle—a novel one to
both.
“I’d like to have somebody explain all
about a balloon to me,” she said, in a
quiet, half musing way—“why it is able
to rise and take up a lot of people be
sides."
"Why, it ; s the air that’s in it that
does it, Jane. I told you that."
"The gas, ladies—gas, if you excuse
me” said a pleasant masculine voice at
the moment, the speaker raising his hat
arid looking at Jane, near whom he
stood, and for whose edification he had
evidently spoken.
It was the same gentleman whom
Eliza had referred to and pointed out as
the one she imagined bad overheard
Jane’s flagrant remark a few moments
before; and at him Eliza stared—glared,
almost—as though he had been guilty of
an unpardonable offense in presuming to
address them.
She "hated" that man on the instant;
not so much on account of his overhear
ing Jane’s incidental allusion to her legs,
it, indeed, he did overhear it, as that he
should presume to correct her statement
in regard to what the balloon was filled
with.
She "hated" that man; and could her
eyes have annihilated him on the spot he
had perished then and there!
Jane had acknowledged her obliga
tions to the gentleman by bowing to and
thanking him. Eliza expressed her feel
ings in the premises, not only in the
manner stated, but by tossing her head
contemptuously, and derisively saying:
"Gas, eh? I sh’d like to know what
kind of gas. H’m, ’taint house gas, I
know."
She didn’t say this directly to, but at
the gentleman, switching her dress and
curling her lips as she spoke.
"Understanding your meaning, mad
ame, in respect to ‘house gas,’ as you
term it," said the gentleman, smiling, "I
would say that that is the kind of gas
ordinarily employed in balloons—coal
gas.”
"Cold gas—ha! ha! ha! Well, tain’t
likely they’d use hot gas, mister, and
have the balloon on fire! Can’t you tell
us something else?"
Jane looked at her appealingly, but
the look might as well have been di
rected at the balloon. Eliza was in a
belligerent njood.
"You misunderstood me, madame.
Coal and not cold gas—gas evolved from
coal," and the gentleman pronounced the
two words very distinctly.
"Gas revolved from coal! You can
tell real funny stories, can’t you, mis
ter?"—confident that the gentleman was
"running a saw" cn her and Jane, so to
speak, or, as she would have expressed it,
"trying to stuff them up," she was de
termined to let him know that she was
"up to snuff," as it were, and not to be
"fooled," hence her derisive and ironical
utterance..
"You are in ill humor, Eliza. The
gentleman was very kind, I’m sure, to
give us the information he did. I’m
thankful, myself, and Jane glanced her
thanks to the gentleman.
"Oh, you are, eh? Well, let him tell
how coal gas—if there is any such
stuff- makes a balloon go up, and I'll be
thankful too,"
The speaker tossed her head and
showed very plainly no fear of being
compelled to pay tribute to the gentle
man in the shape of thanks.
"dimply, madame, because the gas is
lighter than air," the gentleman re
sponded.
"Lighter than air!" To Jane: "I
s’pose you’re thanful for that most ridic
ulous piece of nonsense!" Very sarcas
tic she was, but turned at pnee upon the
gentleman: "Now, ain’t you smart,
mister. Coal gas lighter than air. Ha!
ha! ha!—the idea!"
"Most assuredly it is, madame.”
"’Tain’t no such thing, now. I know
you. You’re trying to stuff us up, but
you can’t do it—not me you can’t!” and
she looked superior to the vain arts of
the "stuffer."
"I am not trying to stuff you, madame,
I assure you. I simply state a fact, that
is all, w in saying that gas is lighter than
&! r." •
"You get out; you can’t fool me, I
tell you. Nothing is lighter than air,
nothing—the idea! How can it be? Air
don’t weigh nothing, and what can be
lighter?"
"Some things that you can see, mad
ame, are lighter than air—clouds and
smoke, for instance."
Eliza was tethered,<i as it were, but
kicked, nevertheless.
" Well, them things I s’pose is. Any
how, clouds stay up in the air, and
smoke’ll go up. But balloons, baskets,
and people in ’em ain’t lighter’n air,
anyhow, if gas is. I guess you can’t git
over that, now," and Eliza felt conscious
of victory, if looks went for anything.
" You are right there, madame "—her
eyes sparkled and flashed with satisfac
tion—" but gas is so much lighter than
air that it will lift a weight in propor
tion to the amount confined. A larger
balloon than that, filled, would take up
a larger number of persons or greater
weight of anything—understand?"
Jane nodded affirmatively, while Eliza
looked incredulously and defiant.
"H’m!" she sneered," then, I s’pose
you’d tell us that a balloon big enough
could carry up this big hotel and all the
people in it?"
" Most assuredly, madame."
An incredulous and derisive smile
played on Eliza’s lips.
“ What a whopper! The most ridicu
lous thing I ever heard of in all my born
days!" To Jane: "I suppose you are
thankful for that, too—h’m!" To the
gentleman: " Why, you must take us
for fools, mister! Biemby you’ll be tell
ing us how heavy air is, gas being so
very light! Do! Be funny, now, and
tell us.”
“ I will, madame. Air is a compara
tively heavy fluid, and its weight can be
increased within a certain space or de
creased. You can rarify or expand,
compress or squeeze it, so to speak."
"There, mister, that’s too funny for
anything. Squeeze air! Ha! ha! ha!
Well, if you ain’t the funniest man I
ever saw, I wouldn’t say so! Ain’t you
thankful, Jane, to him for telling us that
air can be squeezed? How I’ll make the
Hackensack people’s eyes stick out when
I tell ’em how heavy air is, and how it
can be squeezed. My! won’t they think
me scientific, though?"
Jane, as little informed as Eliza in re
gard to the subject expounded by the
gentleman, but who felt that he was
honestly stating the facts for the in
formation of herself and Eliza, again
cast an appealing glance at the latter,
who, riding the high horse of disputa
tion, heeded not the glance.
Smiling and unruffled, the gentleman
continued:
" Yes, madame, air is not only a fluid
of weight, and capable of being com
pressed or squeezed, but its pressure
upon you and I and all things is some
thing tremendous—quite a number of
pounds to the square inch of surface,
madame. Were it otherwise—were you
relieved of this pressure—you would fly
off into space like a rocket.”
"There, mister, now stop; do, for
mercy’s sake, or I shall die a living
being. Y’ou are just to awfully funny for
any thing. You are—such a funny man.
But now, serious, mister, don't make a
fool of yourself any longer trying to fool
us. You may her, but you can’t me for
a cent! I won’t have it. Now you jes’
tell me how we could git up when lying
down if air pressed on us so tremendous
as you say. How could we walk, go up
stairs, do anything, I’d jes’ like to
know? I guess I’ve got you now,
mister!"
" The explanation is, madame, that
we were brought into existence entirely
adapted to these conditions, and— ”
" Well, I declare, if that ain’t crawl
ing out of the little end of the horn,
then I don’t know what is. Now, see
here, mister ” —she switched round, and
stood squarely face to face with the
gentleman—" I want to ask you if you
think I’m a fool—a natural born fool?
Jes’ look at me and see!"
The gentleman looked squarely at her
not unhandsome face, a smile, denoting
how deeply he was amused, playing on
his lips.
" Well, no madame, I do not think
you are a tool, by any means; on the
contrary, you look like rather a sensible
woman."
“Oh, I do, eh? —rather. Well, I guess
I’m just as sensible as you are, any day
—there now. And jes’ let me tell you,
mister, that you are an impudent fellow !
You ain’t satisfied with trying to stuff
us up with humbugging, ridiculous non
sense, but you must insult us—me, any
how. Now you jest git right about your
business, and don’t let me hear no more
of your lies and impudence. I won’t
have it, now I tell you. And if you
don’t go we will—come, Jane."
She switched away on the instant,
Jane moving after her, her look and
smile, as she turned away from the
gentleman, strongly appealing to the
charitable side of his nature—plainly
asking him not to judge her friend too
harshlv.
. Heroes in Journalism.
Memphis presents a fresh example of
the faithfulness of the journalist. The
city is literally dead, and there is posi
tively nothing doing in the way of busi
ness, yet the papers appear as regularly
as ever, and it has, of course, never oc
curred to the editors to suspend publica
tion, and, like the merchants of the
place, close their establishments. Cer
tainly they go on at a loss, for all the
sources of their profits are shut. The
newspaper is ever the last to succumb.
If its office is burned down, it is out next
morning with "a full account of the
conflagration." The fires which destroyed
Chicago and Boston only scorched the
newspapers though the buildings were
laid low. The war record of the Mem-
Ehis Avalanche can not be forgotten—
ow it carried its presses from point to
point as the Union armies advanced, and
printed its edition everywhere and any
where, but always somewhere. The
religion of the journalist is his trade. To
him it is a sin to fly from his desk at the
appearance of danger. Like the general
at the head of his army he would be for
ever disgraced in his own eyes if the
enemy, coming in what shape it might,
did not find him in command. The in
come of the Memphis editor stops, but
his expenses do not. He fights for
others and pays for the privilege. He
urges courage. He is so little frightened
by Yellow Jack that he takes him by tlie
buttonhole and laughs with him. He
tells his afflicted fellow citizens never to
lose hope. He sifts out the truth from
the wild stories flying about and kills
despair by showing how things could be
a great deal worse than they are. He
points gleefully to the future, and
declares that Memphis must and will re
cover the old-time prosperity. Imagine,
if you can, Memphis in its hour of its
sore trial without its press. Think of
the ravages of the dead visitor, un
recorded, with only the nlarmed people
to tell one another who still lived; with
the whole world silent, with no word of
vneouragement to reach the public ear.
Grant’s Crazy Brother.
[Washington Letter.]
In the midst of all the honors lavished
upon General Grant, the feasting that is
given him and the homage that is paid
him, it is pitiful to see his only brother
going about town, dirty and ragged, a
harmless imbecile, borrowing a quarter
or half dollar from anybody who will
ttive it to him. He is an imbecile.
One of the most interesting objects at
the fair is the enormous two hundred
ton steam trip-hammer, which for the
past ten days lias been engaged in
pounding one of the Palace Hotel steaks
for Gen. Grant’s especial mastication.
The inventors were to have that steak
ready on time or break the hammer.
The steak has had the call in the pool3,
however. —San Francisco Post
A young lady who didn’t admire the
custom in vogue among her sisters of
writing a letter and then cross-writing it
to illegibility, said she would prefer her
epL’les "without an overskirt." Sen
sible.
FOB THE YOUNG FOLKS.
At William Hackett’s dingy, cramped
quarters in London, there were three
very busy people. These were Mrs.
Haekett, Miss Haekett, and Master
Hackett. They were working upstairs
in an attic room, sitting about a table on
which there were dolls, doll-heads, doll
bodies. All about the room were boxes
of dolls, undressed, except for those in
evitable little paper-cambric slips which
seem to embody the only inalienable
right that dolls have in this world.
Were the Hacketts —Mrs., Miss and
Master—dressing dolls to help out be
lated Santa Claus? No. Were they
making dolls? Again, no. They were
unmaking the creatures.
First, the lovely dears were beheaded.
Then they were ripped open about
where their clavicles would have been if
the doll-makers hadn’t left the clavicles
out of the darlings. When they were
all ripped, and gaping in a ghastly way
from shoulder to shoulder, they were
emptied of what would have been their
vital organs if it hadn’t been sawdust.
Then the heads and bodies were stuffed
like Thanksgiving turkey, not, however,
with oysters or curry force-meat, but
with costly laces—laces fit to adorn 3
duchess.
Mr. William Hackett was going to
emigrate to America. He was going to
open a toy-shop and lace-shop in the
United States, and make his fortune.
He had put his means, the gatherings
and savings of thirty years of work and
economy, into fine laces. * *
When the custom-house officials
boarded the incoming steamer, Mr.
Hackett, without hesitation, reported
his dods and toys, and stood by while
his wares were rummaged so roughly that
Master Hackett, also standing by,
thought that some of the doll-heads must
surely burst open and let out their se
crets. But tne investigation ended
without any cracked skulls; duty was
paid on the dolls, w r hile the laces passed
in free.
The Hacketts, in good numor, took
rooms, and again the dolls were be
headed, disemboweled and reconstructed.
The laces were worked over and carded;
a toy-shop war opened, and Master
Hackett, instead of going off to fight the
.Indians, and get scalped, was set to keep
it, while Miss Hackett presided over the
lace-sliop. You and I know why her
laces could be sold at low prices—low
prices bring quick sales—thus Mr. Hack
ett soon found himself back in London,
ready to bring out another lot of immi
grant dolls, to find homes in little Yan
kee girls’ hearts. In the meantime,
some things had happened—among others,
the Chicago fire. By this, many and
many a little girl was left doll-less, and
many a boy, top-less. All over the
country, from New England and New
York and Ohio, and the great North
west and the Pacific coast, while mam
mas wee boiling and baking, and pack
ing boxes of clothing for the burnt-out
folks, and papas were giving their checks
freely, the dear little boys and girls were
getting tops and dressing dollies to com
fort the burt-out children.
And Santa Claus, you must know, was
one of the heaviest sufferers from the
great fire. Thousands and thousands of
his Christmas toys were destroyed. But
when the great holiday came round, the
children in the land stood by their
blessed old saint and friend. Many a
Christmas-box they sent to Chicago for
this and that burnt-out Sunday-school.
And so it came that there was a Christ
mas-tree for a certain Presbyterian Sun
day-school in Chicago, all of whose gifts
had been sent by children of nobody
knew-what-places; that is to say, nobody
knew by the time the articles had reacted
the tree.
Among other things on this certain
tree was a wonderful dolly, in a marvel
ous dress of pink gauze.
"If I could have that,” said Josie
Hawley, "I’d stop crying about my
burnt-up dolly."
" Why don’t you to get it,’’ said Patsy
Clark. " I’ve been praying for that
picture-book up there ever since T first
saw it."
" Well, I will," said little Josie.
She put her hand up to her eyes,*and
looking through her fingers too keep the
coveted dolly in sight, site said:
“ Now I lay me down to sleep,
I pray the Lord my soul to keep;
If I should die before I wake ”
“Is that the right way? ‘lpray
the, Santa Claus has tooked it
down!” she cried.
A lady had just whispered to Santa
Claus. He was looking straight into
Josie’s face.
" This beautiful doll,” he said, “ is foi
the good little girl, Josie Hawley."
Oh! where was the little girl who had
sent that pretty doll? She ought to
have been there to see Josie’s radiant,
happy face, as two eager arms were
reached out to receive the beauty.
One day, in the following January,
Mrs. Hawley was thinking, in despond
ing mood, of her ruined fortunes,
when Josie ran into the room, crying:
" Come quick, Mamma! My dolly is
drowned all to pieces in the baf-tub."
"Why, Josie, what have you been
doing?” said Mamma, hastening to the
bath-room.
" I gived her a baf; her wanted a baf
so bad," said Josie.
There, in and on the booming deep,
with a cataract roaring from the open
faucet, was the beautiful dolly, all un-
Easted., One fair foot and the fairer
ead had gone to the bottom of the tub.
The beautiful unglued curls were float
ing in a tangled mass on the restless
waves.
“ And what is this ?’’ said Mamma, as,
having rescued the other parts, her hand
plunged and brought up the head. Drip
ping honiton lace was hanging from it.
"Did anybody ever?” continued Mamma,
pulling at the lace, and drawing out
yard after yard.
Further investigation followed; dolly
was dissected, and a marvelous anatom
ical structure was revealed. You see
bow it was. do you not? it was one of
the Hackett dolls which, by mistake, did
not get its lace insides taken out, on its
arrival in America.
Of course, the matter couldn't be kept
out of the papers; it was published far
and wide. 1 presume you read an ac
count of it. Some custom-house officers
did, and the Hacketts did not. They
took a London paper, setting itdownthat
American newspapers were sensational
and unreliable. The custom-house folks
had their explanation about the lace
stuffed doll; the lace was smuggled lace.
They wrote it down on their memories’
tablets, "Beware of dolls!" Mr. Hackett
was coming in on a second venture while
this inscription was fresh on the tablets.
When his dolls were exposed for in
spection, the investigator took one in
his hand. It was a beautiful creature,
with long SaxOn curls, black eyes, bright
cheeks and a rose-bud mouth. There is
surely not a little girl in all the world
who could have looked at it without a
flutter. What do you think that
hard-hearted officer did? He took the
head in his right hand, the bright face
against his great palm, while the left
f rasped the darling just over the little
eart, if there had oeen a heart in its
body. He laid the neck across the box’s
edge and broke the pretty head off, so
that it would have bothered Master
Hackett, expert that he was, to recon
struct that doll.
Doubtless, there never was another lot
of dolls that paid a higher fee than Mr.
Hackett’s for admission into our country.
—Sarah Winter Kellogg; St. Nicholas.
The Future of the BaWoon.
Professor King has been interviewed
by a reporter on the New York Express,
and the following are his views on the
possibilities of the balloon: " The bal
loon is condemned by many, and justly
so, because there are those who claim for
it impossibilities. It can only be used
and valued for what it is worth to
science. It will never be used as a car
rier in the strict sense, because that is
impracticable; but for scientific research,
it is the only means we have of studying
the higher regions and learning about
the upper currents —about the formation
of rain and snow and the action of
storms. It is the only thing by which
we can reach a point in the heavens clear
of the earth; and for these purposes it
is invaluable. The day will never come
when balloons will be made to navigate
the air against the currents. That can
only be done by flying machines having
momentum, which a balloon is without.
You cannot throw a tuft of cotton
against the wind, for the reason that it
has no resistance. The balloon’s mission
is scientific in several ways. You know
in case of war, it has been very useful
in escaping from besieged cities, like
Paris, for instance, and for military oper
ations, is the only way you have of look
ing into the enemies’ fortifications with
impunity. It is also valuable for look
ing down into deep water. I had an
offer made to me once to float over Lake
Erie and search for a steamer that had
sunk in a storm. From a balloon you
can look down to the bottom of very
deep water, because you are away far
enough to overcome the reflection of the
sky. From my balloon here, I can see
the channel the boats take to Bockaway
very clearly.
" I have not the least doubt that the air
will be navigated by a flying-machine,
but it will have to fly better than a bird
flies, the same r.s a ship, and better than
a fish; that is, the ship will carry a
thousand passengers and a heavy cargo,
and go through the water very swiftly,
while a fish has all it can do to take care
of itself. The flying-machine will have
wide, strong wings, and will be propelled
by some great force—it may be nitro
glycerine, it may be with gun-power, and
it may be hydrogen and oxygen gas, or
it may be something else, that will give
it momentum; but, whatever it is, it will
be light and compact, so that a handful
of it, so to speak, will last a whole day.
A base-ball travels when hit by a bat,
and, if there should be a fly on its sur
face, it would carry its passenger. You
know how nicely a piece of card-hoard
can be shied through the air. The flying
machine will operate on something like
the same principle, but balloons will
never be used for the purpose, being, as I
said before, without momentum."
A Pretty Window Transparency.
To make a pretty window transparency,
Dne novel and inexpensive, follow these
directions: Take a small, round, thin
wooden plate and scrape the center with
a penknife so that on holding it up to
the light, it seems almost transparent.
Then dash half across the inner part of
the plate a coating of blue paints and in
the center draw a ship with saiD out
spread, which must be colored brown.
When held up to the light, it has the
appearance of a ship on the ocean seen
in the twlight, for the light shining
through the centre which has been
scraped, looks the glimmer in the sky
from a departed sun, and brings into
relief the vessel’s from. A hole is bored
on the edge above and blue ribbon
inserted, by which the plate may be sus
pended over a window, or elewfflere, as
may seem convenient. Sometimes these
little plates are used as menu cards,
having the names of the guests inscribed
on the upper portion. They are taken
away and suspended afterwards as
mementos of the occasion.
o
It is on one of the wooded streams of
Maine. A summering papa lay fishing,
in company with his two boys. A mag
nificent silver eel, having fooled around
the bait, was nimbly ianded, and its
mortal coil shuffled off without unneces
sary delay. The father had resumed his
occupation, when one of the youngsters,
noticing the spasmodic action of the
striped eel, called out excitedly: "Look,
father! Look at the beast! He’s mak
ing believe he’s alive!"