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J. W. ANDERSON, Editor and Proprietor
DISSATISFIED.
An old farm-houBe, with pastures wide,
Sweet with flowers on evory Bide;
A restless lad who looks from out
The porch, with woodbine twined about,
Wishes a thought from in his heart:
Oh, if I only could depart,
l*'rom this dull place the world to see,
Ah me ! how happy I would be!
Amid the city’s ceaseless din,
A man who round the world has been,
Who, mid the tumult and the throng,
Is thinking, wishing all day long:
Oh, could I only tread ouce more
The field path to the farm-liouse door;
The old green meadows could I see,
Ah, me ! how happy would I be.
—Dublin ( Ireland) Times.
A LONDON ADVENTURE.
Three years since I had occasion to
I pass a few weeks in London. I am about
I to relate an adventure whioh befell me
[ I at this time, which came very near hav
ing a very serious termination. I can
I not even now think of it without a
I shudder.
[ I was wending my way in the early
part of the evening toward Drury Lane
Theatre, a famous temple of the drama,
I known the world over, when my atten
I tion wag suddenly drawn to an appeal
I for charity made by a figure crouching
[on the doorway of a house.
I looked at the applicant. Ho appeared
I to be au elderly man attired in a manner
I which bespoke tho extreme of destitu¬
tion. His coat was soiled and ragged.
I From beneath a shocking hat I could
[see [was gray locks stealing judged out. His form
[eral bowed, and I from his gen
bearing that he must be at least 6P
[ years of age.
j "A few pence, sir, for a poor old man,”
ae whispered. “I am cold and hungry.
! I have had nothing to eat since yester¬
day.”
My compassion was stirred. Had he
neeir in the prime of life I could have
passed by his petiti ou unheeding. But
age and infirmity make poverty a pitifu’
spectacle.
“Are you, indeed, so poor?” I asked,
stopping before him.
“I am too feeble to work,” he said.
“I depend on what gentlemen give me.
Yet I should not care so much for my¬
self, but my poor child—I am obliged to
leave her at home sick while I come ouf
to beg. ”
I was on the point of giving him a
shilling when an instinot >f caution
stepped in.
“After all,” I thought, “he might be
an imposter.” In that case I should
grudge the EhilliDg, small as it was,
which I intended to give him. But if
things were really .as he said, I should
be willing to bestow on him a larger
amount.
“How am I to know whether your
story is true ?” I said, stopping in the
act of drawing a shilling from my
pocket. “How am I to know whether
you have a sick child, as you repre¬
sent?”
“If you will come home with me,” he
said, in a tone of subdued eagerness (I
remembered this afterward), “I will con¬
vince you.”
“Perhaps ho makes this offer,” I
thought, “feeling confident that I will
not accept it. He shall find himself
mistaken this time. I am resolved for
once to satisfy myself, and if it is as he
says, lie shall have a crown instead of
a shilling.”
* I Where do you live?” I asked, after
a moment’s pause.
“About a quarter of a mile from here,”
Was the reply.
“Lead on, theu,”isaid I. “I will ac¬
company you home aud satisfy myself
whether your story is correct. If you
arc needy as your appear to be I will do
what I can to help you. ”
The old mau was profuse in his pro¬
testations of gratitude. In fact, he
seemed so willing to comply with my re-
1'iest that again there was a revulsion of
feeling, and I felt ashamed that I had
questioned his honesty. I inwardly re¬
solved to make it up to him.
It was a dismal night. The air was
misty and damp, and the occasional
street lamps revealed a disagreeable
[neighborhood. On either side I saw
■wretched tenement houses. At the doors
Iwere gaunt faces, sometimes wearing a
■fierce, almost desperate look. I felt
■that I should not like to pass through
I these streets at a late honr of the night.
I Yet it is only fair to say that London is
[tolerably well governed. The police are
numerous, and, so far as my experience
extends, are polite and attentive to
strangers. Considering how great an
amount of poverty and utter destitution
there is in the great city, it fnrnishes a
Walter of surprise that the harvest of
crime, great as it is, should not be even
greater. Yet doubtless, as the incident
J am relating serves to show, there is
many a secret crime committed that
mwer sees the light and never becomes
known to the authorities.
My glance fell thoughtfully upon my
guide. He was toiling along, appar
ently with difficulty, a little in advance
of me, and from time to time looked
back to see if I were following him. j
Once when he looked back I had my
iratch out—a valuable gold chronometot j
—from which I was endeavoring to ;
ascertain the time by the light of a
'iae E e:gkboriag street lamp. Perhaps 1
imprudent iu making a display in i
£lic Comnaton tar.
so suspicious a neighborhood. My
guide looked at the watch greedily.
“Poor fellow !’’ I thought, “Every
evidence of wealth and comfort must no
doubt fill him with onvy.” I don’t know
why it was that no suspicions of the
man’s good faith had thus far entered
my mind. If there had, the sight of his
feebleness would have led me to smile
with contempt at the thought that he
could possibly do me any harm.
Still he hobbled on.
We had by degrees got a considerable
distance from the place where I first
encountered him. I thought that I
should be late for the play, and thought
of pausing and dismissing him with a
gratuity of half a crown.
“Are you far from your room—from
where you live ?” I asked. “We must
have gone half a mile instead of a quar¬
ter.”
“That is the house,” said he, point¬
ing to a wretched building only a few
steps distant.
“In for a penny in for a pound,”
thought I. “I will see this adventure
through, even if I am late for the thea¬
tre.”
My gnide entered the house, and I
followed him up a rickety staircase—
rather up three—until we reached the
fourth story. It was pitch dark all the
way. When he had mounted to the
third landing he fumbled at the door
and opened it. I followed him in.
“Stop a moment, kind gentleman,
and I will light a candle,” said the old
man.
I stopped, and in a moment the dim
light of a farthing dip illuminated the
apartment.
I had scarcely time to take a hasty
glance at the room and its appurtenances
than the old man stepped behind me
and closed the door. There was a
click audible. It fastened as it closed.
What did 1 see? Of course I expected
to see a miserable den, with broken
down furniture and every evidence of
the direst destitution and wretchedness.
Instead of this my gaze rested on a room
comfortably furnished; a Kidderminster
carpet, not much worn, covered the floor.
There were a few neat chairs, a mahog¬
any table and a comfortable bed.
“You have deceived me,” said I, stern¬
ly, turning upon tho old man. I turned
as I said this, but what was my bewil¬
derment at perceiving that the old maD
had disappeared and in his plaoe there
stood before me quite a different person¬
age.
Tho gray hair, the bowed form, tho
marks of age had vanished. My gnide
was no longer old and decrepit, but a
man in the prime of life, strong and
vigorous. His gray wig, for it was a wig,
lay on the carpet, whither he had care¬
lessly tossed it.
“You seem a little surprised,” he said,
in a mocking voice; “strange miracles
sometimes happen nowadays.”
“What does this mean ?” I asked, in
bewilderment.
“What does it meau?’’ repeated tho
man, coolly. “It ..means that I will
trouble you for that watch of yours. It
appears to bo a valuable one,” he con¬
tinued with bold impudence. “I will
take the liberty to borrow it of you for
an indefinite period. Just now, unfor¬
tunately, my watch happens to be at the
jeweler’s, so that I am unable to be on
time in my fashionable engagements. I
shall be compelled to trouble you for the
loan of yours.”
“Is there anything else you would
like ?” I asked hotly, indignant at hav¬
ing been so cleverly outwitted, and
that, too, by a man whom I had been in¬
tending to succor. It seemed the worst
kind of an imposition, playiug upoa my
feelings only to work me injury.
“Yes,” he replied carelessly, “I am
out of money just at present. Slightly
overdrawn at my banker’s. Awkward,
isn’t it ? I will take the additional lib¬
erty of borrowing your purse. Though
I don’t generally do such things, I will,
if it will be any satisfaction, give yon my
note of hand for the amount, due say in
ninety years.”
Again he laughed mockingly.
“You are an atrocious villain 1” said
I, indignantly.
“Oh, no doubt. You’re quite welcome
to call me so. We’re all sinners, yon
know 1”
The man’s insufferable coolness and
impudence quite took away my breath
I felt that a discussion could do no pos¬
sible good, He had me in his power,
and of course that gave him the entire
advantage.
“Let me out 1” 1 exclaimed, advancing
toward the door.
"Not yet,” said he resolutely, display¬
ing a pistol. “Not till you have com¬
plied with my very reasonable demands.
Do that and yon shall go freely, and not
a hair of your head shall be harmed.
Cone, what do you say ?”
What could I say ? How was I, sin
gle handed and without a weapon, to
contend with this man, my equal iu
strength and armed with a pistol ? This
makes the weak equal with the strong,
If I only hail that pistol—if I could only
Bnt that seemed
watchful and wary.
should I make the attempt and fail he
w ould probably kill me without mercy,
Yet that attempt I meant to make,
^ lucky thought came to my assist
ac ce. I was something of a ventrilo
aud had been from mj youth-
COVINGTON, GEORGIA, APRIL 8, 1885.
that is, I could throw my voice to an
other part of the room so that some one
else might seem to be speaking. No
sooner did I think of this than I resolved
upon my plan.
“Well,” said he impatiently, “have
you decided ?”
“Wretch 1” said a voice just behind
him.
He turned suddenly, and at that mo
ment I snatched the pistol from his
grasp.
“Now it is my turn,” said I exulting,
ly. “Open that door or I fire.”
He looked at me in stupid surprise.
I repeated my commaud.
He advanced a step toward me.
“Make the slightest attempt to retake
this weapon and I fire. ”
He glared at me with a look of baffled
ferocity, and looked undecided.
I repeated my order and he sullenly
opened the door.
I passed through, backing out warily,
ready to fire at the slightest movement
showing intent to assault me. I should
have felt no hesitation in doing so. The
man was a desperate villain, very likely
a murderer, and I felt that I should be
justified. But he seemed to have given
up his enterprise as bootless. He went
back into his room and slammed the
door. I made my way out into the
street and hurried to the theatre, first
removing the charge from my weapon.
It proved to be a valuable one, and I de¬
cided to retain it as a “contraband of
war.”
Roller Skating Rinks.
The Cleveland Leader says: A stylish¬
ly-dressed young lady, whose features
were concealed by a thick veil, entered
the downtown office of a prominent
physician yesterday afternoon, and, with
some show of nervousness, requested au
audience with him. The doctor led the
way into his private office, and the fair
patient removed her veil, remarking as
she did so, “I wish you would tell me
what is the matter with my face.”
In the dimly-lighted room the physi¬
cian was unable to find anything wrong.
Stepping to the window, the lady said,
poiuting to the roguish dimples that
nature had placed ou cheeks and chin
aud the little creases about the corners
of her eyes: “Do you see that? My
face looks as though I had been working
in a coal mine. ” Closer inspection
showed the physician that the dimples
aud creases as well as the larger pores
in the lady’s face were filled with a dark,
grimy substance. “I have scrubbed and
worked at that until I am tired, but
cannot remove it. I am satisfied it is
not dirt,” she continued, evidently judg¬
ing from the physician’s look that he
was about to tell her to take a oath.
“I understand,” said the doctor, with
with a smile; “the roller rink again.”
“What do you mean ?” she asked in a
troubled tone.
“Nothing but roller rink dust. That
is all. It is nothing serious. Try soap \
and water again and use this solution '
before retiring at night, and your com
plexion will be all right again.” -
“Oh, I am so glad,” the lady re
marked, as she adjusted her veil and de
parted.
“That is the latest feature of the roller
skating craze,” remarked the physician
to a reporter who had overheard the
conversation with amusement. “That
is the second lady who has been to see
me with a similar complaint within a
week.”
“What is the cause of it ?”
“Why, you see, the dust that ri«es
from the floor of the rink is very fine aud
peuetratiug, aud when it settles on the
skin, dampened with perspiration, it at
once finds its way into the pores.”
Saved From a Life Sentence.
The last proceedings have finally been
held iu the famous Mack murder case,
which took place July 14, 1878,
in Jonesville, Wis. Mrs. Mack,
charged with murdering her hus¬
band, was tried, convicted, and sen¬
tenced to the State prison for life, but
the Supreme Court granted her a new
trial, and on the second trial the jury
disagreed. Since then she married the
priucipal witness against her, which
renders his testimony worthless against
her. She made au application to have
her bondsman relieved by giving her
own bond in the sum of 88,000, which
was granted. She having married the
State’s most important witness and tho
other witnesses being widely scattered,
it is not like’-y [that the case will ever be
called.
African Explorations.
Serpo Pinto, the celebrated African
traveler who started for Central Africa
last year from Mozambique, came near
starving to death not long after he began
his march. He and his comrade, Lieut.
Cardoso, were stricken with fever in a
district where famine prevailed. They
could buy little food, and, being too ill
to be removed, their party were soon
reduced to sore traits. The Governor of
Mozambique heard of their distress, aud
sent a relief party, who remained with
them until the explorers were able to
push ou to ample food supplies beyond j
the famine district Pinto is leading
into inner Africa one of the best
equipped parties that ever left the
coast.
GENTEEL, BUT k
A aESPKCTABI.E YAAiKANT AM)
MEANS OK HUl’FOUT.
£««l ICxpcrioncc of Two Vonns Men who
ore Willing Ko Work hut are Unable to
Find Any.
“Yes, we are tramps, We are as
thoroughly out in the world as the most
tattered, impecunious vagabond that
begs for a few pennies on tho street or
for a piece of bread at the back door.’’
The speaker was a young man, not
shabbily dressed save for the frayed
binding on his coat. -His face overgrown
with a week’s old beard, was frank and
kindly. His companion was also young,
aud his appearance, too, was respecta
ble.
“You don’t look like tramps,” said the
reporter.
“That is very true, and yet, if you
were only to count as tramps those shift¬
less vagabonds, down at the heel and cut
at the elbows, who jostle eaoh other at
the soup houses and steal for the sake of
going to jail, you would have little more
tEau half the tramps in Philadelphia
to-day.”
“ What has been your experience ?”
“I’ll tell you, but you must not pub¬
lish our names. You can take them so
that if any one, after reading the story,
has a desire to give us work, you can
let us know. We are both down in the
world, sir, but our self-respect has not
left us yet. I pray God it never may.
Well, as to how we got down in the
world. I am a traveling Salesman. At
the end of 1884 depression in trade
threw me out of a position I had held for
two years. I soon became poor, and
then followed the usual experiences
with pawnbrokers. I could get no work,
and finally my money was all gone and
I knew not where to turn to get a meal.
My companion last year was an advance
agent for a circus. Before that he was
an engineer. He has a wife and two
children in a little back ro >m oh Vine
street. We met as companions iu dis¬
tress, aud he took me to his room.
The scene I witnessed there turned my
trials to trifles and dispersed my sorrow
for very shame. His wife was sick and
his children stood shivering beside the
empty stove. There had been nothing
to eat in the room for two days.”
The speaker paused a moment and
gave a great gulp, as though to choke
down a lump in his throat. His eyes
had a glistening suspicion of tears in
them.
“Well,” he went on, “that was a
month ago, and it was the beginning of
our friendship. Since then we have
been tramps, and we have worked to¬
gether. How we managed to get along
is almost a mystery to me, now that tho
first month is passed.”
“Give me some idea of your opera¬
tions.”
“Our meals are secured chiefly at free
lunch counters. Often enough we cau
slip in and get a drink with a crowd
and then help ourselves or sit down and
eat, no one noticing that we had not
invested at the bar. Sometimes I would
go np to the counter, and when no one
was looking, pass back to my companion
enough food to make a meal for his fam
ily. He has a place to sleep, but I
have none and at night I have to shift
♦or myself.
“And how do you make out ?”
‘Sometimes I sleep at tho statiou
houses, but the officers will not allow
one to keep that up for mavy nights.
Fonr nights I slept in empty freight cars
out near Brewerytown. When I fail
to find a place to lay my head I stay
around the Broad Street Station until
they tnrn me out. Yes, 1 am one of
the tramps tho station master talks about
as constantly coming around there,
and being as constantly asked to go
out. Well, after I am invited out of
the station it is usually midnight. I
have to keep awake and put iu the timr j
until morning. It is a weary time of it.
Sometimes I walk out to Frankford aud
sometimes to Germantown. Very oi ten 1
am stopped by penniless wanderers like
myself, who want a few pennies for a
night’s lodging. That is what I call the
very irony of poverty.
“I could tell you a good many things
to make yon smile. Do you remember
the incident Mark Twain relates in
‘Boughing It’ of the fellow who found
a dime and threw it down so he conld
pleasure of finding ... i . ? j
have the again
Well, I had a similar experience. I J
found a silver quarter at road and j
Spring Garden streets. I had not eaten j
anything for nearly thirty-six hours. 1
picked it np and could not realize my
good fortune. I tossed it down ou the
pavement to see if it would ring, and
then walked away, and coming back,
picked it up again. The pleasure of
going through the process of finding
the coin the second time was equal to
tho first .—Philadelphia Priss.
I
The Color Line in Massachusetts. ;
Boston, Mass, j
Judge Parmenter, of
gave a decision in the case rf Richard
S. Brown, a well-known colored man,
ngainst Joseph Hawes, Treasurer of the
Wmslow Skating Rink, fining Hawes
sixteen dollars and costs. Brown visited
the rink with two children, but was not
allowed to purchase admission tickets,
Upon demanding the reason for this dis- j
crimination Browa was forcibly ejected
from the premises. J
ARCTIC DOG SLEDGING.
Not Mich Amusing Work oh U i« Supposed te
lie.
Speaking of Melville's book on the
Lena Delta, the Literary World says:
Sledging is never an easy matter in Sibe¬
ria. The dogs are quarrelsome, and
very difficult to manage, as the follow¬
ing description of a journey with a team
of eleven dogs will show: “Away we
went with the dogs in full cry, all yelp¬
ing, snapping, biting, and seizing each
other from behind, those in front turn¬
ing round to fight back, until some one
were drawn oil their feet and dragged
along at a fearful rate; Vasilli, yelling at
the top of his voice, coaxed, scolded, and
anathematised by turn, until at length,
t by dint of twisting and rolling over, the
team became entangled into one living
mass of vicious flesh. To pacify and
disentangle the crazy canines, Vasilli
leaped upon them with his iron-pointed
guiding staff, and the only astonishing
thing to me was how the poor brutes
could live under such a heavy beating.
It is true some of thorn, after receiviug
a severe blow on the small of the back,
did drag their hind legs for a few min¬
utes; but in tho end it did not seem to
check their desire to bite and fight. Yet
they were considerably more tractable
after this, their first beating, and ran
along at a more even pace, foilowiug the
leaders, who in turn were guided and
governed by Vasilli’s word of command:
‘Tuck! Tuck! Taduck, taduck Stoi,
stoi!’ (right, right; left, left; stop!
stop); and a general chuckle of encour¬
agement.”
The dogs, moreover, are so ferocious
that if they meet a team of reindeer
they will at once attack and kill them.
On one occasion Mr. Melville was pro¬
ceeding by deersledge when he en¬
countered w team of dogs. His driver
at ouce drew off the road into a wood,
stationing Mr. Melville with a huge
stick to prevent the dogs from following.
They came on in hot pursuit, despite
the efforts of their driver, when a stout
blow from the stick caused the leading
dog to turn round aud attack his neigh¬
bor, and in an instant the whole team
was embroiled in a “free and easy,”
while the deer team made their escape.
The Editor at Rome.
Tho joys of editing any country news¬
paper are many and compensating. But
—as iu everything else—they are un¬
equally distributed. Now here is Editor
Ford, of the Baraboo (Wis.) Democrat.
He has within the last three months
been hanged in effigy and had a flag
shot from his office at the instigation of
his vile contemporary. But the royal
diadem of his delight is described in a
column editorial, leaded pica, under the
title of “A Pleasing Announcemeut,”
from which the Journal quotes : “To¬
day we have the satisfaction of announc¬
ing to the public that the mortgage has
been lifted, and tho Democrat office is
not encumbered with a dollar's indebt¬
edness. To accomplish this we have
labored with unceasing toil, day aud
night. Indeed, we have worn ourself
almost entirely out, buried ourself from
all society, and lived in our office like a
hermit, in order that we might once
more call ourself a free man. Five
years of the hardest labor of our whole
life have been spent in Baraboo, while
Mrs. Ford has almost lived in the office
with us during that time. Long, long
ago, and dreary the time seems to us
now; but daylight has at last dawned
upon us, and when we leave our office
at 6 o’clock in the evening and return to
our pleasant little home, find our coal
house full of coal, our wood-house full
of wood, cellar full of vegetables, don our
slippers, recline back in onr cusioned
rocker, put our feet on the centre table,
take Francis Woolfolk Ford on one
knee and Daisy Brausford Ford on the
other, and listen to them while they
sing that soul-stirring hymn—
I want to be an angel,
And with the angels stand;
A crown upon my forehead
A harp within ruy hand,
we forget our tribulations, and think
that after all, there is some happiness in
this world.”
A fellow in Oxford county, Me.,
gulled a whole town and caught a rich
widow. When the assessors of taxes
came around he told them that they
might tax him for 810,000 in money at
although ho was supposed to
^ j )O0r an< j worked in a mill for 81-50 a
q a y_ Tim fame of a man who was suffi
honest to nncover concealed tax- j
b) property of his accord, spread '
e own
the town, and he was lionized. [
made and an married impression her. After on a the wealthy wed- j
the assessors had to abate the tax
the supposititious 810,000, and the
had to support a worthless hus
He was not worth a dollar.
----•----
The state of affairs in Dublin, N. II.,
is somewhat interesting, owing to the
difficulties experienced by the Select¬
men in disposing of the income of a fund
of 82,500, which was given to the town
some time ago with the provision that
the interest should be annually dis
tributed to the poor inhabitants of the
place. The interes t is new about to be
distributed, but there are no takers, as
quite a number of persons to whom
off.es have been made decline on the
ground that their self-respect would be
compromised.
VOL. XI, NO, 21.
THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE.
Over Ilnlf of Those who SprnU It Inhabit*
• ants of the United Stutes.
Tlie language in which Shakespeare
and Milton wrote was the language of
but live or six millions of people in their
day, and as late as 100 years ago English
was spoken by not more than 15,000,000
people. At the same period French was
the mother tongue of at least 30,000,000,
and German, in one or other of its
forms, was the language of from 35,000,
000 to 40,000,000. This state of affairs
is now completely reversed. Between
forty and fifty years ago the English
language equalled the German iu the
number of those who spoke it, andjnow
the latter is left far behind in the race.
German is spoken by 10,000,000 per¬
sons in the Austria-Hungarian empire,
4(5,000,000 in the German empire,
40,000 in Belgium, 2,000,000 in Swit¬
zerland, and is the native tongue of
some 2,000,000 in the United States and
Canada. This gives a total of about
(30,000,000 persons who may speak Ger¬
man.
With French the case is much the
same, but the gain during tho past
century has been smaller than that of
German. French is now spoken by the
38,000,000 people of France, by 2,250,
000-in Belgium, 200,000 in Alsace-Lor¬
raine, 600,000 in Switzerland, 1,500,000
in Canada and the United States, 600,
000 in Hayti, and by 1,500,000 iu Al¬
giers, India, the West Indies, and
Africa; in all about 45,000,000.
English is now spoken by all but some
500,000 of the 37,000,000 persons in the
British Islands, by 53,000,000 oat of the
56,000,000 inhabitants of the United
States, by 4,000,000 persons in Canada,
3,000,000 in Australasia, 1,700,000 per¬
sons in the West Indies, and perhaps by
1,000,000 in India and the other British
colonies. This brings up the total to
100,000,000, which cannot bo very far
from the truth.
El Malidi’s French Lieutenant.
Oliver Pain, the Frenchman now in
the Mahdi’s camp, and to whose coun¬
sels much of the false prophet’s recent
success is credited, is a brilliant Bo¬
hemian. He is about forty-five years
old, was born in or near Paris and was
educated in the schools of the city. In
1863-70 ho was prominent in that Com¬
mune aud the attempts to overthrow
Napoleon III, writing for tho papers
and taking part in the street-fighting.
He was tall, dashing and handsome.
During the Franco-Prussian war he was
a captain in the French army and at tho
same time newspaper correspondent.
Later, in 1873, Marshal MacMahon sent
him with Rochefort, editor of La Lan
lernc, aud other Communists, to the
penal colony at' New Caledonia. He
was one of tho little band that escaped
from there in 1875 aud came to this
country. Then ho went to London and
Geneva, following a journalist’s career
until the breaking ont of tho Rnsso
Turkish war. Pain was among the first
correspondents on the ground, but soon
began to take an active part on behalf
of the latter country, both by counsel
and arms. He was taken prisoner by
tho Russians, suspected of being a spy,
and condemned to be shot; but there
being great doubt that he was one and
the fact that he was a Frenchman saved
him. After a severe imprisonment ho
returned to Paris on the grouting of a
general amnesty to the Communists and
wrote for several of the leading news¬
papers. On the breaking ont of the war
in Egypt he was sent there as a corre¬
spondent at his own request, as he
seemed never to be so happy as when
in the midst of turmoil and excitement.
While there he changed his mission and
formed the brilliant idea of penetrating
to the camp of the Mabdi, which he
alone succeeded in doing of all the cor¬
respondents sent t,o Egypt, and this in
the face of almost insurmountable ob¬
stacles and iu spite of hardships and
terrors which would have appalled the
heart of any other man but Pain.—
Boston Pilot.
A French Penal Colony.
A recent visitor to New Caledonia
gives a shocking account of the state of
society in that island. It appears tla‘
the number of criminals living there
amounts to about 10,500. The mortali
ty is very great and there are numerous
escapes. Dnring the last ten years nc
fewer than 247 convicts who have
managed to smuggle themselves on
board ship have been discovered in the
Anstralian colonies. The grievances of
of the colonists are, therefore, by no
means imaginary. Id the first instance,
no attempt is made to classify the pris
aud the result is often disastrous
to those who are only partially depraved,
convicts are ultimately divided into
five classes, rnnging from men who are
kept at severe labor, without any reiaxa
tion or indulgences, to men who, owing
their good conduct, enjoy compara¬
freedom, aud are restored to family
Many of the convicts, however
their conditional liberty in prey
upon tho free settlers and the
and tho state of things in the
has in consequence become in
Such being the condition of
Caledonia, it is not surprising that I
shouid bo a strong feeling in Am
against the proposal to establish a )
Frrc i pan&i settlement in the New !
STRAY BITS OF RUMOR
FOUND IN THE COLUMNS OF OUtt
EXCHANGES.
The Fireman ItPMlgned —On the Roller
Skates—Put on Record—He was Indie*
uunt-Fouud his lion**. Etc.
A FIREMAN WHO RESIGNED.
“What caused you to leave the fire
department, Jim?”
“Oh, I got sick of it.”
“What was the trouble?”
“Well, I’ll tell you. I worked four
years to get on, and then I got right off
again. It wasn’t what I thought it was.
I’d watched the boys working lots of
times, and I’d been around visiting them
at their houses. I kinder thought I’d
like it. When I got my appointment I
felt that I was fixed for life. The sec¬
ond night after that an alarm came in
for us about eleven o’clock, and out we
went. When we got to the fire, which
was in the cellar, the captain made me
go down and hold a lantern. The ther¬
mometer was about twenty-five below
zero, and just as I started to go up the
back stairs a stream hit me in the mouth
and knocked me down so quick that I
couldn’t tell what struck me. I lay
there senseless with the hose playing on
mo for a little while—long enough for
mo to freeze fast, any way, and when I
tried to get up I couldn’t. I was all
covered with icicles, and the whiskers
of me were frozen so stiff that I couldn’t
get my mouth open to yell. I began to
think I was done for, when one of the
boys stumbled over me, and gettiug a
lantern, found out who I was. They
had to chop mo out with axes, and when
I walked off I looked like a snow man,
That sickened me of the fire department,
aud I resigned the next day ."—Chicago
Herald.
FARES OF THE FAIR.
When two lady friends enter a street¬
car together they generally go through
with a funny little formula for tho sav¬
ing of each other’s credit for generosity
and for appearances generally. “Now
mind, I’ve got the change,” says one as
they hail the car. “Have yon? Well,
so have I. I cau pay the fare,”
answers the other. By this time the
ladies are seated, aud both begin to
fumble leisurely in their satchels for
that change. “Now, I’ll pay," exclaims
one, and she fishes ont a dollar bill and
looks helplessly around for some maii to
pass it up. “I want change, anyhow.”
The money is passed up to the box, and
in the meantime the other lady quietly
deposits two nickels in the box. “Oh,
you meau thing 1” cries the street-oar
guest. “Never mind, I’ll pay coming
home,” and then they fall to talking of
some absent one.— New Orleans Pic¬
ayune.
ON TIIE SKATES.
I want to be a skater,
And with tho akators glide,
A pair of rollers on my feet,
A sweet girl by my side.
He tried to be a skater,
And bravely be struck out.
The doctor says: “In three months
Agaiu he’ll be about.”
—Morristown Deraid.
FOUND HIS BOS&
A plumber and his wife wore on their
way to chureb.
“Wliydid yon bow so low to tha
gentleman we just passsed V she in¬
quired.
“He owns a roller-skating rink,” tht
rich man said. — Lncjlcsidc.
ANOTHER ONE PUT ON RECORD.
When I was at Washington I said to
the engineer of the little building at the
foot of the Monument:
“You have a mighty tall chimney for
such a small factory.”
He silently chalked a mark on the
board wall behind him.
“What’s that for ?” I inquired.
“You are the 176th person who made
that remark,” was his answer .—Detroit
Free Press.
QUALITIES OF SOUND.
Mrs. Minks—The nurse seems to have
tronble with the baby to-night. He is
crying yet.
Mr. Minks—Yes, bless his little heart
I wonder what ails him ?
Mrs. Minks—Oh ! nothing serious.
How sweetly shrill his voice is ! So clear
and musical.
Mr. Minks—Yes I—but hark ! Those
souudsdonot coma from onr nursery.
They come through the walls of the next
house.
Mrs. Minks—Mercy! So they do.
Why can’t people have sense enough to
give their squalling brats paregoric or
something, instead of letting them yell
like screech owls .—Philadelphia Call.
BRIMSTONE FOR CONGRKGATIONALISTS.
A good story is told of three clergymen,
two Congregationalists and one Uaiver
salist, who reside not over a thousand
miles from New Bedford. Two of them
were talking when the third joined
them, and, putting a cigar in his mouth,
said to his brother Congregatioualist,
"Mr. -, give me a match.”
There was some hesitation about
granting the request, so number three
turned to his Universalist friend with
his request which was granted.
“Well, here is a Universalist with
brimstone about him,” said the smoker,
“ Yes, sir, we keep it for our friends,”
said the deliberate Uni verbalist .”—Hew
Eedjord Standard.