Newspaper Page Text
J. V. ANDERSON, Editor and'ftoprfetor
The Two Tillages.
Over the river on the lull
Lieth a village qniet and still;
All around it the forest trees
Shiver and whisper in the breeze.
Over it, sailing shadows go
Of soaring hawk and screaming crow.
And mountain grasses low and sweet
Grow in the middle of every street.
Over the river under the hill 1
Another village lieth still;
There I see in the cloudy night
Twinkling stars of household light,
Fires that gleam from the smithy's door,
Mists that curl on the river shore,
And in the road no grasses grow
For tile wheels that hasten to and fro.
In that village on the hill
Ne’er a sound on smith or mill;
The houses uro thatched with giasiuu and
flowers,
Never a clock to tell the hours;
The marbio doors are always shut,
You cannot enter in hull or hut,
All the village lieth asleep,
Never again to sow or reap,
Never in dreams to moan or sigh,
Silent and idle and low they lie,
In that village under the hill—
When the night is starry and still,
Many a weary soul in prayer
Looks to the other village I hero,
And weeping and si lung longs to go
Up to that home from this below,
Longa to sleep in the f'orosi wild,
Whither have vanished wife anil child,
And heareth praying, this answer full —
“Patience! This village shall hold you all!”
— Every Other Saturday.
Charity in Masquerade.
As the phrase goes, I always feel
very much put out -whenever I hear
the complaint: ‘ There are no really
good people, now-a-duys.” O ie might
suppose that the present time was the
worst since the creation of Adam, and
that his descendants, everywhere
were inhuman alike. I feci inclined
to reply : “It isn’t at nil true, although
there me knaves enough in the world,
and our own country has more than
its quota of rascals.’ A bad deed is
quickly known everywhere, but a no¬
ble action, one truly brave and unsel¬
fish, is slowly advertised. Why then
should 1 bo silent when 1 learn of a
-try—
now tell of such a dead which hap¬
pened not long ago.
It was a bright summer d;ty in Vi?
onna, and tho grand Prater was
thronged with people in holiday at¬
tire. Beneath the superb trees, in this
noted public garden, old and young,
rich and poor, s rolled about and many
strangers came to share in the festivi¬
ties. Where so much cheerfulness
abounds, he, too, has something to
hope for, who ask’s charity’s bestowal
from his fellow man ; hence a large
crowd of beggars, organ-grinders and
harp-players were assembled there, all
seeking to earn a few coins from tho
passers-by.
For several years there had lived in
Vienna a pen doner, whose bounty
from the government was so small i
that it scarcely allowed him the nee- i
essaries of life, lie would not beg, so
he took his violin, which his father, a i
Bohemian, had taught zz&'zi him to play, j
sat before him with an old hat in Ins j
moqth, into which feil whatever pieces
of money the people were inclined to !
give, on this holiday, the veteran
stoatj there and li Idled, and, as usual.
the dog sat before him with the hat in
his mouth, but the people passed by.
and tho hat remained empty.
Could they but once have looked at
him they must have had pity. Thin
white hair scarcely covered his head ;
h« was wrapped in a soldier’s thread
haw coat. He had fought in great
Itattleo, and many a scar had hero
ceivnil.in remembrance of them. Only
three lingers on the right hand held
the bow. A bullet had carried off the
two others, and almost at the same
time auother rifle ball had shattered
his leg.
But the holiday-makers never no
{i( .’8d him, although he had bought
strings, foi his violin with his last
.
‘ “ ‘
rai ■ g . t t. bajly and mournfully the or ,
»» gated at the crowd, of people, at
8 r ha PP.v fac es, and at their gay
costumes. Every laugh seemed to-sta >
am ; to-night he would have to lie
1 own hungry on his straw bed in the
garret. IBs poodle was better off, for
ks might perhaps find a bone in the
street, with which he could allay his
hunger.
It was getting late in the afternoon
The pensioner’s hopes were as lAear
setting as tbe sun, for several of thh
peopla were leaving. A deep look of
sadness came over his weather-beaten,
scarred face. He little thought that a
weUMressed gentleman was standing
not far from him, who had been 11s
tenin'.- and looking at him with an ex
pression of the deepest pity. When at
last it spurned fruitless to remain, and
his tired fingers coaid no longer guide
the bow, nor his leg bear him, he sat
dewn on a stone, supporting nis head
on his hands, and shod a few bitter
team,
P I 4k V -v - * r c ;; I fc maton fat.
stranger’s heart, for he hastate, r>
ped forth, and giving the old man a
gold coin said, “Lend me
for a moment.” The poor soldier
looked up in speechless gratitude
the gentleman, whose German was as
»wkw.,.I li,i lte .pi„,„ s .
he mderSoot him! and
gave him his Violin. It was not such
a very poor one, but the fiddler played
it badly. The gentleman tuned it as
true as a bell, and said, “Now my good
fellow, you take your money, and 1
will play.” Then he began to play so
beautifully that the fiddler looked
his violin with curiosity, and thought
it, never could be the same instrument
for the tone seemed to pierce through
the soul, and the music to roll out like
pearls. It seemed at times as if angels’
voices were rejoicing and then as if
Whicl, , h „ hMrt that ,11 eyes
filled with tears.
.......w tlie people remained stand
ing looking at the gentleman, and Us
«—* —f I .very
one saw how he was playing for the
poor man, but no one knew him. The
audience grew larger and larger ; even !
tho carriages of the richer people j
e.gner, and gave liberally. Gold, sil
co cordinY dmg as C °r the gtver fel1 felt d.sposed Y'
I poodle began to growl ; was it ,
from pleasure or snger? He con d
hold the hat no longer, so heavy had it :
“Kuipty it.mM nun !” cried... one of
the spectaftfrs, *IV Svitl sbbri be fulf
again.”
The old man did so, and sure enough
lie into had his bag, to empty in which it again once more j
he usually put j
his violin. The stranger stood there !
Every one was charmed. At last the ,
violin broke out into the splendid tar
of the song, “God Preserve the Em
pieror.” All hats and caps were im
mediately removed ; for the Austrians
loved their Emperor frannis ufth all
their hearts, as he truly desIrvetS ; and .
such the enthusiami^fcthei a heigfctfiai t\\zjJ peojle sufdoitfv rfehal ,
began to sin?. The violinist played I
until the ended , , then , he
song b was ;
placed the violin . the pensioners . ,
in
lap. and before the old man could say
** 2rtr t tt?’^2d2e people.’
A gentleman stepped forward and
said “I know him well, he is the
accomplished violinist Alexander
Rtmcher, who has been employing his
art in the service of.charity. Let us
never forget his noble example.”
lie then held his hat, and again the
rir.it: 0 ld pYnsioteV' Everv onegavt
-
•
S” , Sthe f c“ld Boucher I”
"soc icu.,. - ’
j ,
L ’ sceud , u ,on the home of his amiable
1
1 lU . on
==^
lacrnrles ol t \?
A lunatic at tho Morns 1 mins J sy
>nm was mute for hveyears. Even the
physicians th ®“K a ' '
,
power of speec.. q ”
t w0 of his lin 8 ers a
chine, and they w ore orn ny many. .
-To who the heard astonishment him he exclaimed; of ^ By ^ tin
great and jumping Moses, « devil s.
better than an inventor. Ilian was
three years ago, and he has not spoken
since. Another patient, a boy in the
same institution, is a lightning calcu
iator. The most intricate problems
are solved by him in fractions of
i n „te The bov believes that his
m
I ««•»
figures upon them, and that they
- different nositions ami
„ Ha thinks
1 )rain ji in fact , is a multiplication
is insanity s«e!*s ptrtdonablo,
', few sane m en can compete
jjthhiimt» him as a mathematician. Every
a ^ w pre
' ' t,tiling,
’
- ■ ,. , f n ra and oc
*• . , or oil to nut into
castona. J imaginnrT squares
ea»«® *
j s par i, other more easily.
— x --------—
._....
Phenomenon Explain* .
,
Westerner—“4 es, „ . -
too. The grounds moved on Uiirty mvh
stands has -
C.ty
since ’75.” it>3
right, Stranger-’-WeU^l but li < W ;
“Of course it s b i’ V e got
. ^ t
! the measuremen t* ”
do}ou acecun . F qo
“How
! meson? italwsvs was
-Well, I v
j j ago-shead place. ; . Call
ON, GEORGIA. .AUGUST 2(1, 1885.
Conmrrcinl Gn-reHte, who describes
’ ■'W^.the famous ca
«• termff Rrtper, \tTio asserted that ‘some
things could be done as well Mothers,*'
lean >^ ^ ^
the time,
1 bnr in the 13 >0 ’ M’fcri’WWt ir V
year t 1 .•
naWii height a week before A.
induced by the gambler; • Y Y Y ?
who were managing thereat m Y i Ttd
: off him to reneat
o Y Y
i occasion. Thev erectel ■ ,-r f
fold on the jutting rock whenmhe
' the’previous'
taken his departure on
occasion making it ‘f
\ rock, ’floor or 120 feeUa all fro' ,°f « ' ^ • • "
j fold to the surface JY,*’?' 11 Y
; a t the foot of the-HU- Y a- ®
tho scaffold with „ nm bY J’steev
siderably inebriated \ ’ and y p
„ e . ,
£££ZZ «
ing ^ thousand ^'£X' - tVr i
leaped forward “ himself “ «T- His nerson
struck the water forcibly
bruising him and NotS forcing’ the'breath
from his body more was !
seen of him till the next March when
^nmL t blw^erv^ discovered —° m2 me
latGd ; hUtby a “andker
chief tied around the body. Patch,
beginning on the schooner yard-arms
at Patterson, N. J.. was a special
leaper for 20 years or more, jumped
from arhazing heights at Niagara
tbneo before h,e tried the Genesee rap
ids, and challenged the inspection of
admiring thousands to the realities of
his feats. If yet living he would be
about 90 years of age, but who knows
if he had not tackled John Alcohol,
his bear, and a great leap at one and
Roupi . al Butler Toba ^ ang .
When 1 (lrst ' W8n Washington
, ^western approach H the Capitol,
,1e 018 ' !0 P eil,in S iinprov emeu m
^eooffnne^ed, was 1 --“S* through Y' aline ■'
f ^ The mfproach then
* * .1 JJT
' p ' '' 1
which extended the , whole length of )
the building. The . winter- . . ,
8 pages, ‘ % in •
, ...
cYtlYg. “Utead^of “sleds!
however, they used certain large paste
‘ J
tala0 ^Yterraels ^’and
0 0 d y ’ J P park
grounds were covered with a thick, ,
hard coat of sleet; so the envelope-box
es were brought out and the lively
tobogganing began In the midst of
aecompanietl by a few other represen
he seemed to enjov the sig.it, one m
tbe pages asked him if he would take
a ride. After a brief deli aeration, t le
.* PT lUM ■
In a moment a . box ■ PJ.; ‘ t
his disposal near the a o
pet, or upper terrace. n is
considerable difficulty, the portly rep
tentative «^onced himsolf, and
soou * e stat011 ! ^
At th» word, t.ie imge.-, g.-v-v- i
shove, and down ho went
wit h lightning sw, ltnoss, o ie gre.i
delight of the Msembletl spectators
A s with increased momentum he
; gtruck the second terrace, the box
parted, and with terrific speed, he tm
j jshe(i th0 tdp> » a ll by himself ” ^ nd
hQ wa3 sti fl go ing when lost in the due
_
; t;(nce 0 f t he park!— St. Nicholas.
I
a Prominent Preacher’s Boyhood.
i n a lecture entitled. “From Anvil
uev. Robert Cl.J,, W
-Mv father had $4..)0 a week to keep
; i,j s 'f am ily on. and ne got along with
| rl!i „g regularity. I was the eld.
| egt of tbe family of children, and was
i alwaya glad of that. At that time
| ]m)vis j 0 ns were not nearly so cheap and as
• there were no cheap schools,
^ « haols were ndt-very common, and
.h as they were you had to pay for
i - 1I( made
thpm Yet that good mother
| {liat iocome'sfuiid !?o l for p]en- All;
«\> lived on oatm-al and milk in
j (y ^vith just a bit df meat when and we
I coild iret bold of it; a mug o f tea
‘ white bread on Sundays, brown bread
I ' , t of the time. My mother
. onW make soup on Sundays, and
v to ,,s bovs. -Now. boy9> he
^ drinks th* m k«oup Avon shall drink have
eTO03t meak’ We as
...
much as we c „uld carrv. then she
gay< , WpIk ro!) , ;a n’t eat any
! roore . we’ will sav ■ the meat until to
with such a training as
liiis it is no wond°r that I hardly know
-
j wbaty0U mean by indigestion.”
t MINSK’S QUEER STORY.
How He Obtained the Name
of “Pocket-book Sam.”
A Jenny's Appetite for Greenbacks Nearly
Eesu.ts in a Lynching,
An old Colorado miner .told a party
eners -whom was a New
1 ork correspondent, the follow
0*1 story of how lie eauto to be called
1 ‘♦’““'’I'book s,m -"
•
"' Vheu 1 came to Colorado some
ei " hteen ycars a 3°> 1 m *$ t ' ,irst of all
to Fairplay, in Park county. It was
a P r *tty rough place then, and I was
en0Ugh plMS< ’ d gQ ,p to Alma «
^J ' ^ re aaoxcltement Mv P artner atthattime was just begin
was a
named Stove Cutter. It was well
° l' D a(ln Y . ’ t winter been there when we lon went, but we
very 8 when one
day, ils I was working my way round a
rid S e on ik >unt Lincoln, I <a me across
811 outcrop that looked too good in my
“ H “ ** •»> ^ « » -
a ten derfoot for paying attention to
?*'*?**, lowever ’ to S° to ' work **•*>'"* at it, though
“T *“ r % was as pretty U “ a
° f mlneral ds °° uld wish
'
, ^ , f
g °
£“ J ^ ^ T* TJ *
^ determined ^ their tune about the
-i to take a jack load of
ore over to Fairplay to see if I couldn’t
interest moneyed men in the property,
j went to Mr. Birge, who was the
principal merchant at the time, and he
lent me a jenny to pack my ore, and at
f he same time asked me to get $1,200
for him atthe bank and bring it over _
p a g ree( i readily enough, anil I started
out. I made one grand mistake here.
1 hadn't the Russia recorded yet. The
only thing to show who tho owners
were was the location stake at the
fll fttifSfceftr -'VNV’ffiY 1 Matt till
the trouble to record the certificate
while in Fairplay, half would have
been mine in spite of anybody. As it
was, if I were out oi the way Steve
cou i d get the wliolemineby simply
rullbing lny namo ofr the stake . Bllt
1 trusted him too fully to think ofsucli
a * h 1 "*;
“1 1 left my ore to have assays made,
got the money in the shape of a roll of
; bibs, and started . \ hack , ,, through . a . heavy
storm of , wet snow. By „ the time I
r8ached ‘ he f Mm * * hatl
^ “J ^ ^
my coat in the sun to dry, and on top
ol it 8pread the b,Hs ' for tbey were
damp. I then went to get something
^ t _ ^ ^ 0|Itsi(Je smoki
^ jenny wa , picking up what it
^ ^ ^ th(j cabiQ> Qn comjng
^ t wea( . t0 my coat> and to my hor _
^ve u'Y trying «
blown away or else the ^ jenny
^ ^ |t There irasn>t a
t W in<l stirring, so I linally eoncludeil
16 d -“ «* 8 «>">*•
“I went over to Birpe’s and told him
his money, and,the whole story,
8eepi inclink to believe it,
but said little nt the Unite* I went to
^ 1 ^ ' thH . J feeling
3 Allows m bart lly gl , t e(ip when H
of with Birge at tbeir
head, hr foe into the cabin. Alnhwt;
^ ^ they had a rope
round m y neek and thf other end nvir
^ ^ jnti|eroof _ the rope tjght .
enP( , an(1 aftllo , T callout that! had
^ ^ to
^ Good'Gfviii I Was so
c01I ld hardly breathe. 1 don’t know
'
{(! y j to tell therfi i
hadn’t the-money, fiat, it was really
'ost i’ but *tfhev .me’ onlyijerked the rope
a n told to h.rfy 4oke np or they
1 into a
- ' few ^ inin-'*
and j rii.r, „ fp Those
wcre ycars tomV
«P 1 J P >
vome;
'' L<> e rr ittPr « loovs--let’s
ou 0 ; .p,,u,e thief he is
with a rope ronml M , _ npc t ec »nd‘f an d if he he
ever cornea, one g
“‘Go with the mnging, , yelled
'Tnlf a dozen; we dcri t want any
thieves in. Alma
^ the mtney, and it _ s my
“ No; I lost,
say.’ replied Birge.
“Ait<-r a lot of tdk they let me
down and I breathe! a?am. Then
they led m, out of town. 1 made
tracks, you can bel <4. I stopped in
Boulder. Wh-n I |ad been there
ab .ut three weeks, £ e night Birg- 1
and three miners cafe to my boar
in* bouse. Birge shjeold ftofi boy; up to we me. v
amt it I h“, 'Sam, all*,.
got the money 3 W*tn»D
you like a d >g,
apologize.’
“I could hardly trust my ears, but
they soon told the story. The very
next day after I’d been led out of Al¬
ma, my paituer Steve was caught in a
snow slide while going up to the Rus¬
sia, probably to take off my name. He
lived long enough t„ be brought to
town and to make a confession.
While I was inside the cabin the
jenny, snuffing round for something to
eat, had very innocently protruded
her tongue and taken into her mouth
Ul « Steve happened to
see her just as she was about swallow
j ing her valuable rations, ran to her,
; put his hand in her mouth, seized the
greenbacks and brought them out He
I then result hid them * with the almost fatal
; to me that I have described,
i He pointed out where lie had hidden
it, and Birge got his money. I was
j brought they back to Alma in triumph, and
gave me a pocketbook with a cool
thousand in it to make up. But I
wouldn’t go through such another
time for twice a thousand. After that
«» '<»»'» «80,»00. »nd th.t
was the beginning of my fortune."
Feelings of an Opinm Smoker.
“I don’t deny Pin an opium smoker,”
he said, “for several reasons, tho main
one being that my looks, the color of
my skin and my wasted form would
tell any observer different. It’s a ter¬
rible thing, and in the course of a few
years will kill me, but as I haven’t
got any thing particular to live for,
am alone in the world and like to en¬
joy myself, I don’t know but what
I’m doing just what most of the world
is doing, or trying to do—enjoy my¬
self. It’s a wonderful satisfaction to
be able to lio alongside of a bamboo
pipe, have somebody cook your ‘dope,’
smoke your fill of the drug, and know
that you are free from the desire to
gain a Dame for yourself in this world,
and that you couldn’t get rich if you
tried, ‘so there’s no use in trying.’
Rut it’s ruin to the man or woman
who once gets the ‘habit.’ Don't you
know what the‘habit’ is? Well, I’ll
Ilia. It s it*. r„o a .......t /i„gj llia,, tha
whiskey habit. When the feeling
comes upon you, you’ve got to smoke;
when that feeling comes upon you for
the first time, you know that you are
a ‘fiend;’ you might just as well give
up all hopes of ever amounting to any
thing, for they will only make your
life miserable, and at last die out, only
to haunt you now and then when you
get the blues and curse the day you
ever put a pipe to your mouth. What
is the‘habit’ like? Well, 1 couldn’t
exactly tell you, for it comes upon peo¬
ple in different ways. I get it twice
and sometimes three times a day.
When it comes upon me the perspira¬
tion stands out on my faee and fore¬
head in great big drops. If I do not
obey the summons of my master my
bones begin to ache, until at last I am
forced to go. I drag myself along up
to a ‘joint’ I generally go to, and in
twenty minutes I am at peace with
myself and the world again. A half
dozen ‘pills’ have cured my ‘habit.’ and
a half-dozen more have charged my
system full enough to last me six
hours. At the end of that time I am
summoned again, the same perform¬
ance is gone through, the same enjoy¬
ment and satisfaction are experienced,
and here I am, an opium smoker, a
person who lives for nothing else in
God’s world but to smoke opium.
Would you believe it? Well, it’s the
caste with just one thousand other men
in this town no older than myself, and
I ain’t twenty-eight yet .’’—San Fran¬
cisco Chronicle.
A Woman’s Way.
“Hid you ever notice how a woman
takes the cork out of a bottler
1 think “ ot * Did you?"
yi° w does she do it?”
%hy. she nails it with her teeth,
1 ^(#fit off, and then gets mad and
th * bottle. If she don’t do it
that’-way, she takes a knife and prods
.rou.d «h. ,t„pp„ till she
cl,fc3 her fm = er - and then * whea the
|.^ itnml begins to run and her Dutch
she throw, tho knife acres,
the room, shoves the cork into the
tk, spanks the first young one she gets
her hand on, and then sits down and
takes a good cry.” — Chicago Ledger.
.
-----
Why She Felt Acqnalnted.
it is in no sense a part of an Amer
. ,can minister’s duty to act as social
.-sponsor for ambitious nobolies, or to
; introduce at court people who do not
know how to behave when they get
there. A once too easily persuaded
nimlster yielded to the teasing of one
of Ms countrywomen and presented
her at the court of one of the Conti
nental nations. The Queen received
her most kindly, but judged the min
j s ter’s horror when, to her Majesty s
ki „dly welcome, the American woman
replied: ‘T really feel as if I had known
„u a Ian, urn you know „• go,to
Ur-*—
VOL. XI. NO 41.
SCIENTIFIC SCRAPS.
A theory new and novel is that the
vast depressions of the ocean beds are
to be accounted for by supposing that
the moon broke away from the earth
more than 50,000,000 years ago. The
basins are the scars then made.
In Paris remarkable success has at
tended experiments in photographing
the country from a captive balloon.
The operators remain upon the ground,
and open the valve of a panoramh
object-glass by means of an electrh
current.
From recent information, it appears
that the known plants of Australia and
Tasmania, numbering about 9,000.
occur in the following proportions ii>
the respective colonies: Western Aus¬
tralia, 8,455; Queensland, 3,457; New
South Wales, 3,154; Northern Aus
tralia, 1,829; Victoria, 1,820; South
Australia. 1,816; and Tasmania, 1,023.
Prof. E. C. Marshall says the French
hav6 more suspension bridges than any
nation on the globe. Their engineers
are putting up suspension bridges
everywhere, and at least one of the
structures approximates to the size of
the Brooklyn bridge. So numerous
are such bridges in France that it is
impossible to secure an accurate list of
them on this side of the water.
From the records of observations
made at thirteen Prussian stations
stations since 1873, Prof. Muttrichhas
determined that forests exercise a posi¬
tive influence on the temperature of
the air; that they lessen the daily vari¬
ations of temperature, and more in
summer than in winter, and that the
tempering effect of the leafy forest is
in summer greater than that of the
pine forest, while in winter the pine
forest has more influence than the dis
foliaged forest.
One house recently uncovered at
Pompeii appeared to have been under¬
going repair at the time it was over¬
taken by the terrible volcano storm of
November 23rd, A. D. 79. Painters’
XV llllCWTBII BiBW'PlI wwli on <1 fLum Pnhj
and kettles had been bundled up in •
corner by themselves, but dinner had
not been forgotten. A solitary pot
stood on the stove. The oven was
filled with loaves of bread, and a suck¬
ling pig wxis awaiting on a brown dish
its turn to be baked. But the pig
never entered the oven, and the bread
remained in it eighteen centuries.
Monsieur Florelli’s museum at Pom¬
peii contains the loaves—twenty-one
in number—rather hard and black, but
perfectly preserved.
An Historical Gold Cup.
A curious law suit over a gold cup,
which, though no larger than a good
sized cream pitcher, is worth $40,000,
is now pending in Paris. The treas¬
ure was presented by James I. to the
Duke of Castile, Spanish Ambassador
to England in 1604, in return for dis¬
tinguished services to tlie crown. The
Duke was a pious man, and on his
death bequeathed the cup to the Con¬
vent of Medina do Pomar, near Bur¬
gos, The deed accompanying the gift
stated the conditions on which it was
made, which were that, under no cir¬
cumstances, even with the consent of
the Pope, should this communion cup
be sold or even loaned, under the pen¬
alty of a right arising, in that case, to
his heirs to reclaim it from the convent
along with a lot of other valuable pres
ents. Three centuries afterwards.
that is to say, in November, 1883, tho
Baron Picho, a well known French
collector of art curios, wrote to the
Duke de Frias, a descendant of the
Ambassador already named, that h»
had purchased in Paris, from a Span¬
iard, an enamelled saint-ciboire of the
fourteenth century; that the vender
had assured him that it had once be
longed to the family of the Duke, and
that as some of his friends questioned
its authenticity he would be grateful
for any information on the subject
that he might possess. The Duke,
supposing that the cup must have been
: stolen from the convent, wrote to the
Superior about It Now. a, a matte,
ot fact, tho convent had sold tho cup,
through the intermediary of the Span
iard, to the French Baron, and when
the Duke’s letter reached the Abbess
her first reply was evasiva She final
ly confessed, however, that she had
made the sale with the collusion ot a
prie9t _ g„ it waa immediately insti
t uted by the Duke to recover the treas
ore f rom the purchaser. The cup is
0 f massive gold, and not only is the
W orkmanship of wonderful quality,
but it is set with precious stones and
ornamented with two remarkably clear
enamels representing the martyrdom
oi St. Agnes, Around tho foot was a
Latin inscription reciting the reasons
0 f the royal %itt,—PhiladelpUia Prem.
is mYIYT^i advances t r
; 1 ' '
. ,
_ *
CHILDREN'S COLUMN.
(
Swl»i Song.
Swing, swing! sing! sing!
Here's my Throne and i am a King.
Swing, sing! swing! sing!
Farewell, Earth, for I’m on the wing!
Low, high, here I fly,
I,ike a bird through sunny sky!
Freo, free, over the lea,
Ovor the mountain, over the sea!
Up, down, np and down,
Which is the way to London town?
Where, whore?—Up in the air!
Close your eyes—and now you are then!
Soon, soon, afternoon,
Ovor tho sunset, over the moon,
Far, far, over tho bar,
Sweeping on lrom star to start
No, no! low, low,
Sweeping daisies with my
Low, low, to and fro,
Slow—slow—slow—slow.
— IVm. Allingham, in Magazine of Art
What TTappened to Charlie.
Charlie lived in the country, on the
banks of a river. He had everything
he wanted to play with, and could do
almost as he pleased. But he was not
allowed to get into the little boat that
was kept down at the landing. He
thought it very hard never to be
allowed to row alone. He often went
with his father and could row quite
well. He was not always good, and
perhaps some day would have gone
without permission, But the oars
were always kept in the boat-house,
which was locked, and Charlie did not
have the key.
One day his father and mother had
to go to the city and leave Charlie at
home. He promised to be very good
before they went, At first he did very
well; then he was lonely. He walked
down to the landing.
“I will get in the boat for a minute,”
he said. He rocked the boat from
side to side, and played he was at sea,
in a great storm. He was soon tired
of tho boat, and wanted to go back to
the house. But this he could not do.
The rocking of the boat bad unfas
tened it, and it was drifting down the
ffir£«■ VWB SSf’hSNte
a
In the river there was a small
island which belonged to Charlie’s
father. The current carried the boat
to this island, and Charlie got out.
There was nothing to get out for, but
he had been in the boat long enough
lie sat on the ground and wished he
was at home.
When his father and mother came
back they wondered where he was.
lie did not come to dinner, and they
began t» feel alarmed, His father
found the boat was gone. He bor¬
rowed another of a neighbor, and set
off to look for Charlie. He had not
rowed far before he saw the boat on .
tho island and a lonely little figure
sitting on the shore. When Charlie
bhw his father coining he jumped up
and said, “Oh, I am so glad! Have you
come to take me home?”
“No,” replied his lather, “I came to
look for you. Now that I find you
have disobeyed me 1 shall leave you
here for the rest of the day.”
Charlie would have cried if it had
done any good, He watched hi3
father row back home. Then lie sat
down on the ground and wished he
had never stepped in the boat. He
had a very dull afternoon. When his
father came at night, to take him
home, there was not much said, but
Charlie never forgot that long day on
the island.
A Sure Cure for Hiccough.
A remedy, tested many times with¬
out failure, is published in the Popular
Science Monthly, which says that it
can always be used by some one per¬
son upon a person who has “the hic¬
coughs,” and generally by the sufferer
himself. You say to your friend some
thing like this: “See how close togeth¬
er you can hold the tips of your fore¬
fingers without touching. Now keep
your elbows out free from your side.
You can get your fingers closer than
that. They are touching now. Ther*
_ now hold them so. Steady!” By
this time you can generally ash: -Now.
„ h ; don’t you hiccough?” The in¬
voluntary tendency to breathe slowly
and steadily when the attention is (lx
e donperformingadelicatemanipuia
tion counteracts the convulsive action
0 f the diaphragm.
Paper Shoes
An Englishman has patented a pro
cess of manufacturing slippers, san
dais, and even common shoei out of
paper. Paper-pulp, or papier-macho,
is employed for the upper, whicn Is
molded to the desired form and size.
and a sole is provided madeof paper or
paste-board, leather-board, or other
suitable paper material, which is
united to the upper by means of oe
ment, glue, or other adhesive materia'.
prfonSS The upper is creased, embossed, or
[an at the instep and side.,
Jprins; it somewhat pliable, and pre
TOnting Us cracking while in us&