Newspaper Page Text
SWIFT DRESSING.
Haw Aflrfar. Are ■'■■nMril la itianca
Tlalr IwiMMfi Ha (faintly.
The lady correspondent of the Cincin
nati /inquirer writ** from New York
about a visit she paid to the dressing
room of a popular actress:
There I saw a handsome evening
dross spread out on a chair with orderly
precision. It was an elaborate combina
tion of satin and embossed velvet and
loco, made up in ono of the newest styles;
but it had a peculiarity of being oi*cii in
front, from neck to hem, like a wrapper,
but it was so contrived that the opening
would not bo discernible when the gar
ment was worn.
Another odd feature was that all tho
bows, jewels, and other ornaments, such
ns women ordinarily spend an hour or
so in adjusting, were already fastened on
in tho proper places, By the chair was
a pair of satin slippers, and on a stand
was a pair of kid gloves and a fan. On
n block was a blonde wig dressed in the
latest fashion, with a ribbon and a gilt
ornament all in place. The maid glanced
with anxious eyes at all these arrange
ments, and seemed afraid that I would
disturb them. I was just realizing that
they were planned to effect a lightning
change of costume, when tho actress
herself bounced in. She was warm from
her exertion on the stage, but not a bit
Hurried. She did not lose a single mo
ment, though she chatted glibly with mo
ail the while.
First, sho picked up the gloves and
began to put them on. At the same
time the maid unhooked her dross from
top to bottom with quick, deft fingers,
nud stripped off the whole garment ill a
twinkling. The pretty creature stood
before me in her white clothes, laughing
at my expression of surprise at the rapid
disrobemenfc. She seated herself and
extended her feet for the ihaid to take off
the shoes and stockings. The latter, be
ing stripped down over the feet in n jiffy,
did not disclose the naked flesh, but
elaborately clocked silk hose, so that, the
fresh pair were already on. By the time
the slippers were on, the actress had got
the last button of tier gloves into its
button-hole. A minute and a half had
elapsed. Both had not only worked with
great rapidity, but without any false
motions or vexations of any sort. Then
the maid took of several puffs and a bow
from her mistress’ head—her hair in the
last act having been simply dressed—
and put on the more elaborate blonde
wig, fastening it in place with hairpins,
and setting a lock here and there into
place. Next the actress stood up, and
the maid swiftly put her into the dress
that had lain on tho chair. Every part
of it fell admirably into plage, fire drap
ery across the front hiding the junction,
and plentiful hooks and eyes holding ail
together. Standing before a full-length
mirror, she finally surveyed herself
critically, at just three minutes and a
half from tbe start. Half a minute moro
was employed in putting some additional
rouge and powder on the face, and then
she was ready to go on the stage.
Baby is Dead.
“Baby is dead!” Three little words
passed along the line; copied somewhere
and soon forgotten. But after all was
quiet again I leaned my hand upon my
head and fell into a deep reverie of all
that those Words mean.
Somewhere—a dainty form, still and
<eold, unclasped my mother’s arms to
night. Eyes chat yesterday were bright
and blue as skies of June drooped to
night beneath white Jids that no voice
can ever raise again.
Two soft hands, whose rose-leaf fingers
were wont te wander lovingly nround
mother’s neck and face, loosely holding
white buds, quietly folded in confined
rest.
Soft lips yesterday rippling with
laughter, sweet as woodland brook falls,
gay as trill of forest birds; to-night un
responsive to kiss or call of loro.
A silent home—the patter of baby feet
forever hushed -a cradle bed impressed.
Little shoes half worn -dainty garments
—shoulder knots of blue to match those
eyes of yesterday folded with aching
heart away.
A liny mound, snow covered in some
'quiet grave-yard.
A mother’s groping touch, in uneasy
slumber, for the fair head that shall
never again rest upon her bosom The
low sol) the bitter tear as broken
dreams awake to sad reality. The hope
of future years wrecked, like fair ships
that suddenly go down in sight of land.
The watching of other babies, dimpled,
laughing strong, and this one gone! The
present agony of grief, the future empti
ness of heart, all held in those three lit
tle words, “Baby is Dead!”
Indeed, it is well that we can copy and
soon forget the words so freighted with
woo to those who receive and send them.
And yet it cannot harm us now and
then to give a tender thought to those
whom our careless peu stroke is prepar
ing such a weight of grief.— Kokomo
Tribuna.
Sedentary Habits.
The alarming increase of late years in
the proportion of sudden deaths is be
ginning to attract the attention of statist
icians. It is largely due, no doubt, to
more general mental activity without a
proportionate increase in bodily exercise.
The busy life of the age demands a con
stant hurry and excitement, and taxes
the physical powers to the utmost to
keep up in the race for money-getting.
One of the disadvantages of introducing
facilities of transportation is the tempta
tion to cut short time and distance by
the habitual use of steam cars and horse
cars even in the daily transit from the
dwelling to tho office. A sedentary oc
cupation begets an almost unconquera
ble aversion to regular exercise, and the
result of yielding to the indisposition is
that the mental powers, kept at a steady
tension for years, will some day suddenly
relax and leave their abuser either life
less or a helpless paralytic. To literary
and professional men is vigorous and
regular exercise especially needful, and
the example of its effects in a hale old
age will suggest themselves to every one.
The exercise needed to keep the mind in
tone and the physical force unabated, up
to the three score years and ten, is not a
daily spin behind a fast stepping horse,
but the long swinging gait which puts
the walker over a country road at the
rate of three or five miles an hour, and
sends the blood pusling with invigorat
ing life to every portion of the system.
Two hours exercise a day, so far from
being a positive waste of time, is a posi
tive economy, supplying the nervous
force for moro and better work in ton
hours than the man of street cars and
carriages can get out of twelve. — New
London Telepram.
He Gracefully Accepted.
“ I assure you, gentlemen,” said the
convict upon entering the prison, “that
the place has sought me, and not I the
place. My own affairs really demand all
my time and attention, and I may truly
say that my selection to fill this position
was an entire surprise. Had I consulted
my own interests, I should have, per
emptorily declined to serve, but, as I
am in the hands of my friends, 1 see no
other course than te submit.” And ho
submitted.
He Iwm lisfo |,tpi
WIL SINGLETON, Editor & Proprietor.
VOL VI.
WFRtIK’N fJI-DTH
Slips of n kil skin iVfrly sofrn,
A scent its thmiu:li lu*r pinion Mown,
The tender hue that clothes her and >ve,
All these—find tills Is {Serlle’i glut's.
A glove hut InMy desfthd. for look—
-11 keeps the happy slmpe It look
Warm from the touch ! What glVo tho gTowT
And where's the mold that shaped it to?
It clasped the hemd, so pure, so sleek,
Where Gnrtie rests a pensive Cheek,
The it; n I, that when the light wind si Ira,
Reproves those laugh! og locks of hen.
VoUr fingers four, you little thuittb!
Were 1 but yon, in days to Come,
T I clasp and kl.-H an I keep her gol
And tell her that 1 told you so.
A. GIBL’N FANCYv
BY KDWABC i. SIIttIVNEK,
ft is a quiet summer afternoon, and
tho valley in tbe Catskills where ive find
■ ourselves lies in perfect ntlliuos#; the
3kiff that monopolizes tiro littlo lake
moving gently along without a ripple to
tnakn pretense of barring its program.
Brownfields is a delightful place, but if
it were not ter t-hfc visitors with whom
the Deters fill their house in the sum
mer. lonely enough to bo railed ’'flu.
With tho Peters and theft friends, and
with the group* ttl workmen that Mr.
Pete)*’ fVrfges b .we gathered in the val
ley, we have lit tie to do; but will turn
again to look at the fisher-boy, the note
occupant of the skiff.
Jimmie Gordon te nth bilious, and for
the son of an Irish workman—the fore
man at one of the shops—is well edu
cated and refined. Mr More, a city
clergymen who spoilt some of his vaca
tions at Brownfields, was struck with his
quick native shrewdness, and, taking an
interest in him, loaned him books,
talked with him. helped him orally while
in the mountains, and afterward by cor
respondence; and Jinite.'o s own intelli
gence and earnest application have done
the real; so that when we meet him as
Mr. Peters’ fisherman, he not only in
tends, with a true American ftAhguine
ness, to rise, ' butte far better equipped
for the IxitUo he has enlisted in than
many even who start on a good deal
higher plane. Meanwhile he attends
strictly te business, end to-day, when we
find hita on the lake, lias finished his
fishing for the day, and is idly sculling
about, thinking of that better fortune
that he lias resolved shall bo his in time
and wondering iu what Shape the fates
will bring it to him.
Mias Etta barton does not in the least
look like a Pate as she comes dofifn the
hill-path with her cousin, George Lar
fon, and their mutual friend, Harry El
lis; in fact, we are very much inclined to
agree with George when lie thinks of
her to-day as numb more of a Grace; but
if she is net a Jfute herself she is cer
tainly a notable instrument of their will.
They are all three stopping with a large
party at Montrose, tho nearest apology
for a town, and this full four miles away.
Miss Lal’ton, however, “gobs in” for
walking as the proper thing in the moun
tains, and rather against the will of her
escorts, lias covered the whole four miles
on foot, and is still fresh and ready for
adventures when she enters the little
Brownefielda valley. Bather dark, of
medium height, and in sturdy good
health, shall be the wliolo of her per
sonal description; and for her “state in
life” it Will be enough to say that she is
the only daughter of the richest man in
Cleveland, and so of course spoiled, but
withal, very fascinating, as Cousin
George can testify. She is given to
whims, and just now the fancy that
strikes her is te have a row on the dear
little lake that is so invitingly laid out
below, so that the one duty of her obedi
ent companions is to find the ways and
means; not altogether an easy task, see
ing that all the boats are carefully locked
up, except tho one that Jimmie and his
fish use with not the best effects as te
cleanliness. Still, as it is the only one,
it must be had, and Jimmie, in response
to Larton’s request., immediately rows up
and takes tho party, Miss Etta in the
stern and in full view' of the handsome
boatman.
Is there such a thing as love at first
sight? Surely; and before the trip
around the lake is finished, Etta is com
pletely conquered by tlie blue eyes of
this Irish fisher-lad. On bis part ho felt
the natural attraction toward a lovely
girl that any man would; but never ex
pecting to see her again any more than
other chance visitor’s who have happened
to row’ over the lake, he hardly thinks of
her as more to him than a beautiful pic
ture. If for a second anything further
had entered his mind, he would instantly
have dismissed it as an absurd crying
fortbe moon. But Etta is not used to
giving up her whims so easily. No
sooner had she discovered that she liked
his looks than she made rm her mind to
Bee more of him; and when Jimmie,
after explaining all the surroundings oi
the lake, lands them, and somehow im
presses on them the conviction that lie
is not the sort of person to fee, she takes
her cousin aside, and persuades him
a little against his will to try and make a
return for his politeness by asking him
to the hop at the Montrose hotel the
next week.
And now opens the nflw era in our
hero’s life. He is quitie good-looking
enough and “nice” enough not to seem
out of place in a frock-coat; and by
careful use of his own and brother’s best
clotlies, he is able to appear at the hotel
quite correctly attired ter a country hop,
and so far from finding Etta’s infatua
ation vanished as suddenly as it was
born, she seems worse than before.
Going to meet him. as lie enters the
room, with an eager, bright smile, she
quickly exclaims:
“Then you haven’t failed us ?”
“Why, no; surely I wouldn’t miss
such a chance as this.” And then, sud
denly reflecting that it would be best to
modify this, he adds, “and of seeing
you.”
A quick flush of pleasure comes to her
face at this first sign of admiration from
him, and nil her habitual coquettery
comes to abet the curious folly that has
taken such a hold on her.
“No,” said Jimmie, “I enjoyed my
row too much the other day not to come
to this hop. Do you know that I hare
lived by that lake all ray life, and never
knew how beautiful it was before last
Friday?”
“Then this is really your home? Wn
were wondering whether you belonged
here, or were only a visitor.”
BEEN A VISTA, MAifIGN col NTV, OA„ SATURDAY FBBIH'AttY Iff 1881.
At this paten bln attempt to rlufitn him
ho was silent fete a fit omen ti littHhiul*.
bent to Seoul ramini, no answered:
'*e, I was born and raised hero.”
Then, smilingly, “I’m only A country
boy, yon know. Yon may lie sure,
though, not too much of an one to Mutilk
you for your kiinhifiSS to me.”
JJttlr ils he yet understands the full ex
tent, of his influence oVet her, And think
ing that she only takes sonto sltfia Inter
est ip him or. Mr. More has, he yet feels
that he must not shock this rich young
lady with the full truth about himself
—that ho is only A poor woiktfittn’S son;
and. te Avoid More inquires, at once asks
for the dance just commencing. When
the couple follow this up by another,
and still another, the Layton party begin
to talk; but nil look tin it. as a flirtation
m whf'ch Etta is amusing herself at this
country boy’s expense; and Mi’s. Lni’toh,
au easy-going woman, not especially re
luctant to See Etta- wife Is only a step
dsinghtef get herself into scrapes,
makes no attempt to interfere.
George Larton alone gains, Utlte
clearer sight from h'“ intense jealousy,
the ncjni'iu result of his long and painful
suit. Rather dissipated when very
young, the father’s consent has only been
won after a most earnest siege 'rind to
newed proofs of fefolrfii; and when at
test oblfun'ea, has by no Means brought
With it Etta's love. At thirty he is not
oven on trial, and has A Morbid hatred
: fob Any man who seems to lie receiving
Hr, least favor.
Hurrying across the room to claim the
ne*t dance, which is due him, and lie
5a doiibly infuriated at Etta’s quiet re
fusal.
“O George! I aM very sorry, blit T for
got you, sted lrAvS promised this to Mr.
fififnon.”
“I am sorry too,” was the angry reply,
“to deprive Mr. Gordon of your society,
os this will be hi” last-.nance of seeing
gout btit 1 wfeli particularly to speak to
you at once.”
A little scared at his manner, sho takes
liis arm pettishly, and turns away with
him, saying!,
“Tito iioxt shall be yours, then, Mr.
Gordon. ”
“Etta,” exclaimed George, “you posi
tively must not dance with flint fellow
again. I m acting in place of your
ffiLhei’ now, And cannot see von flirting
publicly with a man not a fit. associate
for you, and becoming tho talk bt the
entire room.”
“ “Veiy well; T consider ‘this follow’ a
fit associate for me or for you, and as I
never was kept from doing what I pleased
by people’s talking, you wfiu’t frighten
me in that way.”
And so he lias killed liis own hopes.
Rousing all her feminine and individual
perversity, iiia only result of his protest
is to see her spend tho Most of the even
ing with .Jitnniie; to him brought up
to Mrs. Liff-toli, and capturing her as ef
fectually as her daughter with his sunny
blue eyes and sturdy, handsome face, to
hear him invited to Cleveland!
In the midst of it all Jimmie’s heart is
beating very fast, and his head swim
ming a little; but lie comes through it
triumphantly, and leaves for borne that
night with strange, new hopes of secur
ing the wished-for wealth by an easier
and a quicker route than lie had even
dreamed of before. That lie is purely
mercenary it would be hardly fair to say;
for most Men can be flattered into a
liking, if not into love, and Jimmie cer
tainly can hardly help being flattered.
Very few young men exist but are a lit
tle inflated by the evident liking and
even admiration of a pretty and attrac
tive girl; but when there is so great a dif
ference in social position, in wealth and
every thing else as in these two, we must
lock for more age and experience than
Jimmie had to keep his head from being
turned. Being turned, it is easy to see
why it should fancy it was the heart,
and almost to think itself in love as easily
as Etta has been.
And now we will drop the curtain for
a few weeks, to raise it again during the
early fall in Cleveland. In the cab that
is driving up Euclid Avenue we find our
hero, the same boy whom we met ou the
lake at Brownfields, still intent on his
object, though no longer with a dreato
ing indefiniteness. The time since Etta
left Montrose for home has by no means
been spent idly. She, for the first time
in her life, has found a whim to which
she is constant; and in the correspond
ence which she grants him has, instead
of dulling her interest in this latest no
tion, added fresh fuel to the flame.
Jimmie, seeing now just how things
stand, has been vigorously making pre
parations for appearing before Mr. La"-
ton creditably. His first step is to bor
row a little money his father lias laid by,
and the next to hire desk-room and a:t
office-boy in New York, where he puts
up a sign as “Broker in Iron,’ this being
to give color to the, character he intends
to assume of being an agent for Mr.
Peters. And now, with all his arrange
ments completed, he is driving up to
Etta’s home, not yet cured of all his
palpitations, but with considerably more
self-possession.
He feels very tremulous again as he
enters the door, and as the footman with
a gentle persistence, takes him to his
room rather reluctant, since he cannot
see what “fixing” he needs, and almost
gives way when he finds himself in the
most elegant room he has ever seen.
Dressing and suddenly discovering that
he is utterly at a loss as te where to go
and what to do, his usual good luck
brings Etta to his rescue on her way
down stairs. Helped bv the same good
angel he struggles through his dinner:
escapes a danger in not knowing what
wine to drink by suddenly becoming
totally abstinent; is fortunate enough to
be drawn into a conversation on iron,
and by adroitly using the little know
ledge "picked U P at ii lo forges and in his
reading, to gain credit for knowing a
great deal.
And so the days go on, Jimmie’s luck
favoring him steadily until he has won
Etta’s pledge of her love, her step
mother’s good will, her father’s esteem.
Her Cousin George had gone to Califor
nia, disgusted, as soon as he got home
from the Catskills, and Mr. Ellis, who is
tiie only person besides Etta that knows
anything of Jimmie’s real position, is
South on a long trip.
On a lovely September morning tho
lovers are standing nttlio lakeside, watch
ing the bright sunlight that sparkles in
innumerable diamonds ou each little
Devoted to iho Inteleeta of Maridi Cotinty and Adjoining Seetionfi
1 fiflfio crest, ffiiile n grertt, lumbering
Miormrr t’ioejth Wily Aten,A filth nil oc
casional clank of its boom against, (lid
mast, and tiie cool swish of (he water,
timt seems hi grow deeper and darkrf
1 And Holdet 1 nfi (lie fiitndofinf the hull fnlla
j Across it All around is the ’.dazzling
| sunshine, that hove and there flashes
, while fimfl A Sail trying, to Aon* Motion
from an Alt’ too hot anil tired to #tte Into
| a wind.
| “Dear,” said Etta, Suddenly, “do yon
. know that jiilpa gosi to Europe to-teor
ten* (ot Si* weeks?”
j “No, 1 hadn't heard a word of it. It
! must be a very sudden move.”
I “Very. Ho Only Made tip bis mind
last eight.”
I ,: nm are nor. going too, as yoi) thought
you would on liis next trip?” V
j “No, I.cau’t get ivad.te” *
“Etta,” StteyS .TiifiniiUi after r ~'e. •■mini’s
i patlAe, “have you tiie courage lor a bold
step while he is away ?”
“No—oh, no!” cried the frightened
' girl. “I edn’t do j[t; Wifi don’t yhil
. ask tel’ ids consent?”
‘‘Because I would neveriget it. He
j will only give you to a rich man, and
I that l won’t bb for some time. I; yoii
! Marry Me now he will cAsil.v giVte hi, and
: will then have An interest in pushing us
■ jin, and will help its more tliAu 1M would
; help Me alone. It repte filth you, And ii
von han’t Agree to this, Wfe limy as Well
j give up all our hopes.”
“Wait until to-morrow, And I'll try aiid
j answer then.” 'turning quickly to tiid
, carriage behind them, she adds: “We
] will go home nbw, and I will think until
j the morning. No, ybli (hasn't talk to
!me !” itttperiohsly, sW he eorAMeuficß to
, speak.
Very charming she looks, with her lit
! tie, haughty air, but vet,” commanding,
j and her lover very wisely leAves her to
: the balancing of duty and inclination of
prudence and self-will, that is so sure to
j turn in his favor. All through the eren
! ing and the next forenodfi she is the
| usual bright fairy that Bo* iSl.liM fiof-
Slflps; but hardly inis the Carriage left
| (he door when she turns to Jimmie, who
is standing behind her, with the words—
“l will go with you to-morrow!”
Poor little lips! Bow fi-hite they are,
. and how they quiver! Jimmie Gordon
| really loves her, and is very earnest in
! the ambition that first prompted him;
j but for a few moments tie wavers in his
| purpose, so cruel in its sacrifice of this
I victim to a destiny so uncertain. He
j can hardly bo blamed for the utter sel
fishness of his plan when we think of (he.
to him, tretaendottn value of tho prize,
i and the training that has never taught
him liis intentions are wrong simply lie
cause it has never held up to him the
: possibility of them; but still he cannot
help feeling his responsibility in stealing
Ia defenseless girl from lidr home, and
doing it by means of systematic deceit
toward Imtli her and lirr father. Only
for a few moments does this last, and he
clasps in his aims this trembling frame,
so lovingly, even in its terror, clinging
te the manliness that she sees in the
fierce triumph shining out of his eyes.
The nr xt day all the soft beauty lias
gone out of Nature, and her sterner
mood seems aroused by the unnatural
betrayal of hospitality and deliberate
deception instead of being allayed by the
happiness of the lovers. The water that
forty-eight hours before spoke only of
’the Skimpole side of life with its lazy ac
cent, now lashes itself to wake to tho
coming storm. The gentle lapping (A
the waves is changed to an uneasy rush
and hoarse whisper; their bright diamond
points give way to a dull, leaden line
that is only harkened by the white caps
gleaming ivith their continuous energy
as far as the eye can reach. As our run
aways fly along on the railway to Roches
ter, they see the storm-rack
“Come rolling in ragged and brown,”
and in that sheet of spray and rain and
wind, each movement overtaking and
hiding another and another sail, they
think they see a shadow of the darkness
lying before them and forbidding a
glimpse of their future.
Of this part of their story there is lit
to tell. If we were to follow them we
would see them on the wedding-tour,
happy in the present, and thinking little
of any trouble to come. Then came the
return of Mr. Larton, his grief at his
daughter’s flight and anger at her hus
band; his inquiries, too late, about Jim
mie by letters and even detectives, with
the reports of mortal turpitude and bad
reputation that the detectives feel bound
to give him to justify their use and their
pay; and finally comes the day when,
under the influence of these reports, of
his hurt pride and disappointed affection,
sud spurred ou by his wife’s cautious en
couragement, fie writes to Mr. and Mrs.
Gordon, waiting for his answer in New
York, thAt they shall never enter his
house.
We will pass over the receipt of this
letter, with its message of sorrow to
Etta, of anger and bitter disappointment
to Jimmie; over the brief year after the
marriage, while they live modestly on a
few thousand dollars that Etta had in
her own bank account at the time of the
elopement; over tho awful day when,
this giving, out, a letter begging pardon
and reconciliation is replied to with:
‘■Dear Bib—Your favor of the 2Mth received.
My letter to you of a year since fuilv covers the
question upon which you touch. Tlease con
sider our intercourse and correspondence closed.
“Yourstruly, Hexry Larton.”
And the storm-rack closed down over
them, driving into their very souls the
mist and cold.
The little girl born a few weeks before
this is their only child, and its babyhood
knows only hardship; but when, at five
years old, she begins to delight her
father with a miniature of Etta Larton
that trouble has so quieted and changed
into Etta Gordon, she has a father who
is a man, instead of the selfish, lazy
parasite the forgiveness by Mr. Larton
would have made him. His old friend,
Mr. More, long before this had got him
a start in a clerkship with a very small
salary; but meeting one day Mrs. re
fers, who had always been fond of him,
■ she persuades Mr. ' Peters to secure him
; another lift, by which he improves him
self; so that, six years after his marriage
| day. he finds himself beyond the reach of
| want, although still a poor man. As
[ the littlo family sit on this evening, a
: cheerful circle, though with the cloud
i that recollection still casts over them, a
| visitor comes. So changed ii he from
the fleniw Larton of old, that Etta
pauses before she flics to liis arms,
j “My daughter,” says fhis white-haired
, man, “Inin n Widower again, and have
cntiie to Ask fan if yon will eoiile back to
Mo.”
“(I p.lfifi! t tore yon still, And T pity
you- hut I have a husband and a eliild.”
I “My deAr,” smiling, “t don’t want to
. Aefklrnte rim from them. Can't you bring
theta with Jot!.
“Excuse file, sir,” interposes Jitottie.
“I cannot ‘be taken’ by toy wfife now;
And onr Struggles together have at least
'aught Me that it is better to make m v
I own living thSn to live ofi any man’s
Alms.”
“Mr. Gordon, I do not wish you to
i’oiiio bii jdtor finite, hut tdr toiue; and if
! the reports of your business AapAcity are
j true, T think I shall get the better of any
bargain I e'nn make With you. I have
learned, in Aliofif, that voti have brains,
| as well as a handsome face, and att pre
pared to be proud of my Son-in-law.”
I Let tis tejifie therU here. This, our
| Jacob served ills njjpi’fcntidefdfi'p for Only
six years, and that after he got his
Rachel; bqt it served him ii: good stead,
And like Hopeful in the story book, lie
fofind Ijis foHiinfe when he had truly
| earned it.
toiitlifnl Criminals.
| A New York iter aid reporter visited
the Jefferson Market and Tombs prisons,
in that city, where youthful offenders
against the jaw Are detained. Warden
McDermott informed him that their n.v
(wage age is from twelve to sixteen years,
blit AdinetiMes they are as young as
eight, tine boy ol ton ft Hu was sen
tenced for twenty days, and his crime
was stealing a pair of socks. The
Weather was bitter cold, and it was clear
ly evident that tile Child took them to
keep from perishing with the cold. GnS
of the boys, about thirteen years of ago,
said lie had been arrested for stealing a
Ain c sign j which was insecurely fastened
At tile doorway of A large building. He
admitted that lie had been with several
other boys, who started away with it,
but on discovery had dropped it. This
boy did not run away, and was arrested.
Hi's father went to a lawyer to secure his
services for his defense, and was told
that for S3O he could get the boy ac
quitted. The father was very poor, but
in the belief that his son w’as innocent he
pawned a number of articles, and man
aged to scrape together the requisite S3O,
which lie handed to the lawyer. The
latter, just before the trial, told the
father it would be necessary for him to
have $lO in order to secure the boy’s
acquittal and that the S3O paid was sim
ply hia fee for legal services. The father
had no means of raising the additional
$lO, and the boy got thirty days in
prison while the Toombs lawyer got S3O
of the poor father.
One cell was occupied by a mere child
of ten years. Unlike the cells in the
Jefferson Market Prison, which are used
for a like purpose, these cells in the
Tombs are dark, dismal, and repulsive.
The corridor in the part now under
notice is narrow, low, and dingy, and the
whole aspect of the place as repellant as
Murderers’ Row on the other side of the
prison.
“What’re you here for?” was asked of
a boy in a cell.
“Stealing.”
“What did you steal ?”
“A pocketbook.”
“How much money was in it?”
“Dollar and thirty cents.”
“Didn’t you know that you would be
sent to prison if you stole it ?”
“No, sir.”
Tbe boy was apparently of average in
telligence, but very pale and thin in
flesh. He both looked and spoke as if
he were in ill health, and his appearance
did not indicate more than eight years of
age. Close questioning developed the
statement that he had never stolen any
thing before, and that he went to church
and attended school. And yet this mere
child was incarcerated in this gloomy
cell just as were adult murderers in the
other side of the prison.
Monkey Shooling in Gambia.
The mere fact of slaughtering monkeys
will probably not cause any great degree
of pleasure to any one aspiring to the
title of sportsman, though at the same
time anian choosing to kill as many as
possible might yet not consider himself
altogether wanton in his sport, for the
monkeys may be termed vermin. They
are a great nuisance to the agriculturist,
and cause nnteh loss, especially in the
ground nut p 1 nutations, where they fre
quently pick the seed out of the ground
almost as soon as it is planted. To shoot
the dog-faced monkey is easy, but to
make a bag is quiet another matter. You
may knock him out of a tree, or you
mav bowl him over on the ground, but
you will not find him on the spot where
you feel sure you saw him fall. Dead
or alive, liis companions carry him oil,
and pursuing monkeys on foot is not a
game which man is adapted to play suc
cessfully. The most likely way to secure
a specimen is te take a little boat and
pull gently along close into the bank,
just after sunset, at which time the mon
keys frequently collect in the branches
of trees overhanging the river; thus one
may be shot so that lie falls into the
water, whence his friends are powerless
to rescue him. The great drawback to
this method of aquatic stalking is that in
the upper river, and especially at the
close of the day, the mosquitoes fairly
swarm, coming down on one in clouds,
and making shooting a matter of great
determination and endurance. Certainly
it is very easy to say that such and such
game may be shot by lying out at night;
and this necessitates an amount of ex
posure again s* which most Europeans
are not proof, to say nothing of the at
tacks of the above pests, though they
may, to a certain extent, be balked by
wearing over the hands and face bags
S made of some light material —leno, for
instance. Perhaps at some future date
monkey skins may become of commer
cial value, and when they do the Gambia
will be able to flood the market, and the
ground nut growers will rejoice.—Lon
don Field.
An elevated purpose is a good and en
nobling thing, but we cannot begin at
the top of it. We must work up to it by
the often difficult path of daily duty—of
daily duty always carefully performed.
A If UNT OF SUBSCRIPTION* $1.25.
CJnftfd ShifM UiWk Regarding f?re*u.
In 1817 the. United States hud a nni
forin designed to meet the usages of Eu
ropean courts, or. the recommendation
(it the mission to Ghent in the year 1817,
ill which the United Stater Ministers'
Costumes \Vete fixed as follows: A Mtie
Coat, lined with white silk, straight
standing cape embroidered with gold,
lingle-trreasted, straight or round but
ton-holes, slightly embroidered. Buttons
plain, or if they cau he had, with the
artillerist's eagle stamped upon them, >.
e., an eagle flying, with a wrenth in his
moitth, grasping lightning Hr one of its
talons. Cuffs embroidered in the man
tier of tli. cape, white eassimere
breeches gold knee-buck lea, white silk
stockings and gold or gilt shoe-buckles,
fc three-cornered chapeau bras, not so
large as those used bv the French, nor
o small as those used by tne English, a
Vlaek cockade to Which an eagle wan
tftefward attached. Sword, etc. oor
espor.ditig.
The Secretaries of Legation hao the
wine costume, with the exception that
their Coats had less embroidery ihai.
those of the Ministers. Foi the grand
gala days „t ccnrt, where the occasion
was greater than an ordinary levee. *
coat similar to that above described, im.
embroidered round the skirts and down
the broad as Wei! as at the cuff's and
cape was recommended The coats were
distinguished ns the great and the small
uniform A White ostrich leather, or
pluniet. was recommended for the Min
ister’s hat not standing erect, bu* sowed
found the brim.
The aboVe dress prevailed from the
date of its promulgation on November (!,
1817, until Governor Win. L. Marcy in
1853, Issued a circular doing away with
such uniforms iil a great degree, as fol
lows:
“Depaetmeni of RtatE, 1
‘ Washington, June 1, 1853. f
‘ in addition fo tl.'o ‘Personal Instructions
to the Diplomatic Agents of Ch3 United States
to Foreign Countries,’ the following arc here
after to be observed:
In performing the ceremonies observed on
the occasion of his reception, the representa
tive of the United States will conform, so far as
Is Consistent with a just sense of his devotion
to republican institutions, to the costume of
the country wherein he is to reside, and with
the rules prescribed for representatives of bis
rank, hat the Department would encourage, as
far as is placticable without impairing hi a
usefulness to bis country, his appearance at
court in the Himpie dress of an American citi
zen. Should there be cases where this cannot
be done, owing to the character of the foreign
Government, without detriment to the public
interest; tho neatest approach to it compatible
with the due performance of his duties is earn
estly recommended. The simplicity of our
usages and the tone of feeling among ctif peo
ple is much more in accordance with the exam
ple of our first and most disgnished representa
tive it a Royal Court than the practice which
baß since prevailed It is to be regretted that
there was ever any departure in this respect
from the example of Dr. Franklin. History
has recorded and commended this example, so
congenial to the spirit of our political institu
tions. The Department is desirous of removing
all- obstacles to a return to the simple and unos
tentatious course which wb doomed so proper
and was so much approved in the earlier days
of the Republic It is our purpose to cultivate
the most amicable relations with all countries,
and this, we believe, can be effectually done
without, requiring our diplomatic agents abroad
to depart in this respect from what is suited to
the general sentiments of our fellow-citizens at
home. All instructions in regard to what is
called diplomatic uniform or court-dress being
withdrawn, each of our representatives in other
countries will be left to regulate this matter
according to his own sense of propriety, arid
with a due respect to the views of his Govern
ment as herein expressed. W. L. .Marcy."
In an act of Congress approved March
'27, 18(17, it was declared that officers
who had served during the late war as
volunteers in the army of the United
States, should be entitled to bear the
official title of their rank, and wear, upon
occasions of ceremony, the unifonn of
the highest grade they had held by bre
vet or other commissions. —New York
Clothier.
Sausages.
The following' culinary note on saus
ages may be of interest: “The earliest
authority given in Tocld’s Johnson for
‘ sausage Richardson does not notice
the word—is ‘Baret’s Alvearie,’ 1580 A.
D., a‘pudding called a sawsege.’ Todd
also says that the contents are ‘stuffed
into skins, and sometimes only rolled in
flour. ’ In this he is doubtless right, as
early makers of sausages can not all
have had skins at hand to put them in.
But these savory edibles were made long
before 1580, and were called ‘weasels,’
whose long, thin bodies they resembled.
A recipe for making these ‘weasels’ is
given in the very curious Liber Cure
< 'ocorum, of about 1450 A. I)., edited
for the Philological Society by Mr. Rich
ard Moms, in 1862: First, ‘grind pork,
temper it with eggs and powder of pep
per and canal; close it in a capon’s neck,
or pig’s paunch (or gut), roast it well,
and then varnish it with batter of eggs
and flour, and serve in hall or else in
bower.’ ‘Haggis’ was made in 1450, too,
as the recipe for it follows that for ‘wea
sels;’ sheeps’ hearts, kidney, and bowels
well boiled, chopped up with parsley,
hyssop, savory, suet, pepper, and eggs—
with mint, thyme, and sage also in win
ter—then boii again, and sprinkled with
salt.
His Best Points.
A young man who is not very bright,
but likes to affect the sporting character,
recently bought a horse, and he thinks
he is the handsomest horse in the United
States. The young man was showing
the animal to a man who really knows
something about horses, pointing out all
the animal’s good points. When he got
through praising the beast, the other
spoke up and said, “All you say about
the animal is so, but you have omitted
two of his very best points.” “What are
they ?” ‘ ‘Well, in the first place, nobody
is ever going to steal the aifimal from
you, and, secondly, if any body should
steal him, you would have no trouble in
overtaking him on foot.”— Exchanae.
The Everlasting Lamp.
In one of the cemeteries near Paris, a
small lamp, some years ago was kept
burning under an urn over a grave, and
an inscription on the gravestone ran thus
when translated into English : “ Here
lies Pierre Victor Fournier, inventor of
the Everlasting Lamp, which consumes
only 1 centime’s worth of oil in one
[ hour. He was a good father, son and
] husband. His inconsolable widow con
! tinues his business in the Rue aux
Trois. Goods sent to all parts of the
city. Do not mistake the opposite shop
■ for this, "e—Chambers' Journal,
Thrilling #fry of th* Sierra*.
“What's or matter wid yer?” demand*
' 1 Abe Wallace, with a not unnatural
■ prtlnanee finder the circumstances,
j "What er yon lingerin' around that via
' age er mine for? Can't yer rasp that
I countenance l ?''
I Obviously ho rnnldn’t. For nearly an
hour be had striqqied his razors and
mowed diligently, but Ixirbcr though ho
was of a thousand, barl>er extraordinary
to ijeaping Antelope Run, ho seemed ta
make no headway against Abe’s bristling
badge of manhood.
"Ef yer razors won’t cut, shoot ’em
off. Year me? Shoot ’em off," and the
handsome sun-burned miner composed
himself for the novel operation.
"Is the barber at home?’’ naked a low,
sweet, musical voice, entering the door
at that moment.
He started. No yellow water running
from his pan had ever looked ns sweet to
him as that voice. It percolated him,
and he arose from the chair anew man.
The rough life passed away from him.
The enist formed by his debits and har
dened by his surroundings was broken.
"Permit me, madam, to assure you
that this individual before you is the
barber,” said Ala*, and bis new dignity
sat easily upon him and seemed a part of
hint.
“I am cm my wav from Boston to the
Sandwich Islands,” said the young girl,
quietly, "and our carriage broke down.
J thought I would improve the opportu
nity and have my hair banged. Oh ! no,
no,” she exclaimed, as Abe gallantly drew
forth a thousand dollar draft on New
York. “Not for the world. I’ve six
millions of dollars, not only in my own
right, but in my pocket. I will pay for
any service.”
As the barber proceeded with his task,
Abe walked the shop nervously. A pre
sage of danger oppressed him. The
chestnut curls on liisforehead grew damp
with anxiety. He knew life in his rough
wav, and ho knew barbers. The fair
young girl would bo no match for the
frontier hair dresser, if the worst should
come. And why should it not come?
Had she not millions in her pocket? He
glanced at the tiny feet planted squarely
and firmly on the stool before her. aud
recognized character. He knew nothing
of Boston, but he understood feet.
“Aud do you live in this funny place,
t he?” asked the gill smiling at Abe’s
reflection in the glass.
“I do,” said Abe. “Misfortunes have
cast my bark of life upon this barren
shore and left me with only the shelter
the sea weeds afford.”
“To he ! how odd? Ouch!”
But Abe grasped him and laid him up
yu the floor. The barber had made a
dive for the dainty pocket and had
failed.
Leaping Antelope Run was aroused.
Sueli an attack found no apologists
among the wild, rough miners. What
ever they might be inherently, they
would tolerate nothing of the kind iu the
barber.
“Away to the dull thud?” demanded
one more intelligent than the rest. And
they echoed the cry till the moonlit air
was shivering and the beams crept away
convulsively. They may have expected
liim to beg, but he eyed them sternly.
“Oh! my! what will they do with
him?” asked the beauty with one eye.
She had no need to speak. The thrill of
tiiat eye struck a c-hord iu Abe Wallace.
“They’ll sprain liis neck, darling.”
murmured Wallace, in tender accents.
The feeling was new to him, but he un
derstood it.
‘ ‘Gracious! aud may I see him?”
whispered she with tlie other eye.
Abe’s answer was lost in the sullen
roar of the crowd.
Out under the grand old trees that
fringed the mines. Out under the whis
per of the leaves. Out through the shad
ows. The wind swept Gown iron, lha
Sierras, velvet winds, but pitiless. They
shook sweet voices out of their satin
garments, but not a pleading tone from
that human barber, soon to be neither
barber nor human.
The rope was around his neck. Mil
ling hands were ready. A cloud floated
across the face of the moon, but she
struggled from behind it, held by the
horror of the scene.
A Cruel Joke.
Bolivar went home, and entering the
room where his mother was, exclaimed:
“Say, rna, have you heard about Mr.
Bralev?”
“Why, no,” answered Mrs. Bolivar,
with an air of surprise. “What about
him?”
“This morning he got np'early,”
“Yes; goon.”
“Wait till I tell you. He got up early,
mid remarked that he felt very well. ”
“Go on!” exclaimed Mrs. Bolivar, af
ter a short pause.
“Just wait. He said that he felt un
usually well. While Mrs. Braley was
getting breakfast he went and shelled a
lot of corn for the pigs. He came back
to the house, still saving that he felt
well.”
“Why don’t you go on?”
“Wait till I get my breath. I’ve run
from all the way down town. He sat
down to the table and ate the heartiest
breakfast you ever saw. When he got
up from the table he remarked again
that he felt well. Then he turned
around, and just as lie got half way be
tween the table and the water bucket
he—”
“Dropped dead!” exclaimed Mrs. Boli
var.
“O, no; turned around and told his
wife that he felt much better. ”
“You imprudent scoundrel!” yelled
Mrs. Bolivar; and seizing a broom, she
knocked the boy down. No one knows
where the joke originated, and the boy
doesn’t care.
NO. 'l4.
A Street-Car Scene.
An amusing incident occurred on a
stroet-car the other day. A woman of
fifty, made up to look about twenty-fivo
years old, got aboard at a crossing to
find every seat occupied. She stood for
a moment, and then selecting a poorly
dressed man, about forty-live years of
age, she observed:
“Are there no gentlemen in this car?”
“Indeed, I dunno,” he replied, as he
looked up and down. “If there ain t,
and you are going clear through, I’ll
hunt up one for you at the end of the
line."
There was an embarrassing silence for
a moment, and then a light broke in on
him all of a sudden, and he arose and
said:
“You can have this seat, madam. I
am alius willing to stand Tip and give
my seat to anybody older than myself.
That decided her. Bhe gave him
look which he will not forget to his
dying day, and, grabbing, the strap, she
refused to sit down, even when five seats
had become vacant. —-New York Herald.
To-day’s duty can ouly be done well to
day. Time and circumstances are now
favorable, and we are in the best condi
tion to perform it. To-morrow all will
be changed; other exigencies will arise,
other objects will claim our attention,
and our capacity for performing that
special duty will be sensibly diminished.