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TIE OGLETHORPE ECHO.
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Bong, Long Ago.
Hark tis the ring of tj,e merry sleigh bells !
Over the hills and down through the dells,
With the speed ot the bind or the bounding
deer,
Onward they g>o, with a ringing cheer—
the light falls whitest,
VV nere the stars shine brightest,
here the snow lies clearest,
* here the frost bites keenest,
Over the hills and down through the dells,
l-’*t to the ringing of the tinkling bells !
■>ee where the dash of th*Wglittering steel
follows the track of the coursing heel,
fin rivers of glass, in the dancing light,
"here eyes of lovers are sparkling bright;
W here the ice grows strongest,
W here the moon stays longest.
Where the hearts beat lightest,
here the eyes shine brightest;
There is the truck of the coursing heel
Lit by the flash of the burnished steel!
1 hear them again, as the years go past,
Blithesome and gay in the winter’s blast;
1 he clattering footsteps come and go,
With a swift, light tread on the glist’ning snow;
Where the heart is boldest,
Where the love is oldest,
Where the taitli is newest,
Where the trust is truest,
iliey come again, in the wintry blast.
And sing of days—the days that are past.
And the white cottage down under the hill,
The light in the window guiding still;
As 1 turn me back trom the giddy whirl,
To stop and look for a sinning curl; •
W here t,!i<- throng is thickest,
Wheretlje Insert (seatsquickest,
Where tins love holds strongest,
H here the days seem longest—
Aii! iicv..|- again, , L s guide to me,
Will till- hing light in that, window be!
—Philadelphia Inquirer:
THE BEST OF IT.
, , • “Cedar, June 15.
‘ IB:a it I *i ll l. —When are you Coming?
< <slnr is i„ full feather. Bionics set in
to-morrow ; strawberries just right; two
•delightful widows; lots of girts; anti the
whole house crying for you. Come
along, by return mail. I meant to say
tin* picnic \v:i*s day after to-morrow. I
shall he at the late train to-morrow.
“ Yours, as usual, Harry.”
Philip N'orton laughed as he read this
j'/iVy,, h was so Tike Ifarry Clarke—
Hal Head long,” his father used to call
{."•n —the brightest, handsomest, gayest
fellow o( his class sit Yale, now a c-oun
-1-ry doctor at Cedar, a town in the west
ern ii i tof New England. Having lost
;tll liis property by rash speculation,
except hi> wife’s farm at Cellar, which
her lather left her, the elder Mr. Clarke
went there to live, and one of the local
physicians being near death with old
age, harry thought it a good place to be
gin what he called his “medicinal ca
reer,” being a young mftn who had no
reverence tor the English language, but
made light of it, .and used it in his own
way as another outlet for the overflow
ing fun of his nature.
I hilip Norton had been his chum sit
•■■ollege, and his friend ever since. lie
was of graver nature, and had gone into
file ministry. With the gifts' of keen
intellect, ready language anil good looks,
he found lile easy enough, and his first
pal ish was in New York, where, in a
lu st-class hoarding-house, he did not
s eem so much a modern apostle as a very
Hu-ky man. lint good fortune could not
spoil his earnest and truthful character.
He preached as sharply to his flock of
s'nners as if he had live hundred a year
m-Pad of live thousand, and tlid as much
!wrd work among the city outcasts as if he
•leaded a mission to the Digger Indians,
and lived in a shanty instead of Madam
Ralston's elaborate establishment.
lie had just recovered from a severe
attack ot typhoid fever; consequent on
some of these excursions into the dark
places of the earth, when Harry's letter
came, and w as glad enough to accept his
invitation. There were only three
children in the Clarke family besides
Harry—twin girls of twelve and a
younger boy—and they all loved Philip
as well as if they were his brother and
sisters instead of his friends. There is
something in a sudden journey of pleas
ure that- is inspiriting, and 'when Mr.
Norton left the train at Cedar ite felt
stronger and better, in spite of the long
day’s ride, than for many weeks, and the
next morning declared himself quite
ready for the picnic, though Mrs. Clarke,
a motherly soul, alwavs devoted to her
"other hoy," scolded him well for the
idea. Rut being a persistent man. he
went his way, and by ten o'clock had
joined a gey party in the ear they had
chartered for the day and attached at
Cedar station to tin* train going to Pat
ton. a little village above Whose quite
street towered Cray Mountain, their
place of destination. The day was a
“‘day in June.” fair as ever poet cele
brated. There were fifty pleasant people—
pleasant for a picnic, that is—and Philip
was nut in charge of a Mrs. Boyd.
*’ One of the widows.” Harry whisper
ed in his ear: a very bright.’agreeable
woman, with a pleasant face, dressed
neatly enough in brown liolland and a
black hat—a costume adapted to the oc
casion. but not becoming. She was evi
dently not vain. A few seats before them
sat a beautiful young woman, daintily
dressedj though evidently she considered
herself m mourning: but the shower of
soft, fair curls that drooped from the back
ot her head, the sparkling ornaments of
cut jet. the rings on her little white hands
of pearl and diamond and onyx, all
seemed out of keeping w ith the crape on
her dress and hat: and when that co
quettishly-looped head-gear was laid
aside, a triangle of crape, with the con
ventional widow 's ruchealiout it. pinned
on with diamond and onyx pins, looked
a real absurdity, and every woman in
the ear laughed at Nan Boyd's attempt
to assert her widowhood; for this was
the other of the two widows. Yet if she
was a little absurd, who-eared? When
one's skin is tinted with the Warm glow
of pink apple blossoms, with lips scarlet
as fresh strawberries, great clear blue
eves, delicate features, teeth of pearl, and
abundant gilded-flax hair filling every
where in long loose purlij, what doesit
matter what one wears! Nan Boyd
would have been lovely in brown hol
land and a cheap black’hat, though her
cousin and sister-in-law was not.
Nobody had over supposed the Rev
erend Philip Norton was susceptible.
He had never given a tenderer glance to
any lovely girl in his congregation than
to the old woman who swept the cross
ing before his church; hyt he fell in
lovi like a schoolboy during the next
six hours with Nan Boyd. ~ Courtesv
obliged him to attend to the lady placed
in his care, and the obligation was not
disagreeable. She was natural, intelli
gent. kindly, with an artist's eye for the
wonderful scenery about them, and more
over a generous w oman : for when Philip
asked her. as carelessly as he could put a
question that thrilled his lips, who the
beau tv before them was, she answered,
quickly:
” Mv cousin and sister-in-law—another
Mrs. Boyd. Isn't she lovely? I like to
look at her as I do at a flower: she is so
exquisite. ’’
Mr. Norton assented gravely, and turn
ed the conversation. His head w hirled,
his eyes wandered: he could not talk
with any sort of fluency: he was tie
witched by the pretty widow. She,
however, had her own court to hold.
Butterflies never fluttered more thickly
about the gay weed that hears their
name than the gentlemen of the party
about Nan Boyd: for. to tell the truth,
this lovelv creature was a native co
quette. It was .as much a matter of
course for her to flirt with every man
who came near her as it is for a rose to be
fragrant: and slip had that charm, sub
tler than beauty, which is potent with
out but irresistible with it.
Oglethorpe Echo.
By T. L. GANTT,
i It was a proverb in Cedar that no
| youth ever grew to manhood there who
had not adored Nan Boyd. Her cousin
| Anne was very different. She had come
1 to Cedar on a visit when Nan at last
made up her mind to select Will Boyd
as a permanent victim from the crowd
about her, and she found her own fate
in Will’s twin-brother James. The
cousins, however, were not married at
the same time. Anne could not leave
her father, for Iter mother had died just
after her return from Cedar; hut before
many months her father went too, and
there was a very quiet wedding at her
lonely home, and a brief journey back to
Cedar, where Nan, already a six months’
wife, was ready to welcome them.
Anne Boyd found too late that she had
made a mistake. She could not lie hap
py with her husband. He was ungra
cious—harsh, indee—dthough Tie had
seemed to her only reserved and fastidi
ous; selfish, penurious, at times ill
tempered. When he died, a year after
their marriage, and from the curious
physical sympathy common with twins,
\V ill diet! too, neither of the widows
was heartbroken—Nan from pure levity
of nature, Anne from no sense of loss,
but rather of relief. Since they both
lived at Cedar, there had been much
confusion of names between them, Anne
Boyds both; but Will’s widow was
always called Nan by her old friends;
and bearing her grandmother’s full name
of Anne Hart, while her cousin was
Anne alone, there was a way of escape
for those who were well informed; the
others took their chance.
As the lovely summer days went on,
and Philip Norton was involved miore
and more in the simple gayeties of
Cedar, whose inhabitant' consoled them
selves for, their long cold winters with
plenty of out-door life and enjoyment in
the brief summer months, he became
more and more bewitched with Nan
Boyd. Her beauty stood the test of sun
and air, heat, fatigue and daily observa
tion; it was as genuine and real :is the
roseate splendor of the mountain laurel,
whose oink hells illustrated and illumi
nated every hill about the village, and
shone with a light like dawn through the
edges of the dark wood's.
Then she was graceful, genial, kind;
always ready to get up or to join a party
of pleasure; willing to sing if singing
was wanted ; to make wreaths for other
girls—wreaths she could not wear, for
the sake of that typical triangle; she
never seemed tired, dull, or ill-dressed:
in short, Mr. Nnrton believed her a real
angel, and threw all the strength of his
honest, deep nature into Ids passion for
this lovely little creature. An unpreju
diced observer—of course a woman—
might have decried the sharp thin voice,
the shallow laugh, the naive selfishness,
of thfc angel, and suspected that this gay
blossom would show no adequate fruit
when its petals fell; but Philip Norton
had no such slanderous thought in his
heart. Such external charm was to him
.only the expression of inward beauty.
Experience might have taught him bet
tor, but he was not just now amenable to
experience—he was in love. He liked
Mrs. Anne Boyd much; as lie became
better acquainted with her, her really
sweet and fine character had its effect oh
him, and he enjoyed an hour’s conversa
tion with her—when Nan was not at
hand—thoroughly. She was one of those
people who have that rare charm, a deli
cate anti melodious voice, with wonder
ful command of language, and being
withal perceptive, liighminded and of
deep feeling, she was a most fascinating
companion even to a man in love. Harry
Clarke, too, was devoted to Nan Boyd.
He had been a childish lover of hers dur
ing his youthful visits to his grand
father’s farm at Cedar, and now tlie first
love seemed to have re-awakened. He
was at her side everywhere, and if his
professional life had been anything but
that of a beginner, his practice would
have suffered ; as it was, his rivals suf
fered instead, for either out of the famil
iarity of old friendship or the mere caprice
of her disposition, Nan chose to parade
Harry as her cavalier more ana more
frequently.
Philip Norton was plunged in despair
by this state of things; he could not in
honor Tor decency come forward as a
rival to his best friend in that friend’s
house; his affection for Harry, his sense
of tlie'proprieties, till forbade his ex
pressing in any way his passion for this
enchantress. He kept away from her
charmed circle as far as possible; he
talked much to Airs. Annie Boyd, be
cause she was Nan’s cousin. It is well
to he near the rose if you are not a rose
yourself, for there is at least the neigli
ixirhood of its bloom and perfume to
attract adorers. Still, he plunged daily
further and further into this gulf of
bitter-sweet passion, till one moonlight
night his mind was set at rest concern
ing Harry. They sat on the steps of tlie
south door, tired with a long day’s anve
to Bashhish and back, and the two little
girls were hanging about them, anxious
to hear some report of the day’s enjoy
ment, for to them a picnic of grown
people was an unattained paradise.
There had been much whispering be
tween Ruth and Rachel for a few mo
ments: hut at last Ruth took courage,
and looking up shyly at her brother’s
fare, spoke out: “Hal, dear, arc you
going to be married?”
“ 1 hope so. ma’am, at some period of
my existence.” he answered, gravely.
“Oh, I don’t mean that! Are you
going to, pretty soon?”
“ Not this week, Aliss Inquisitor.”
“Hal, you’re an awful tease—there!”
burst in Rachel, out of patience.
“Aly dear girls, in the words of the
lamented Artemus. * Why is this thus? ’
What lias got into your small heads in
that vacant place nature intended for
brains?”
“ A\ by. Jack said Tom Green told him
you were certain sure going to be mar
ried right away to Airs. Nan" Boyd.”
“Not much!'” ejaculated Harry.
“Oh. Hal, that's slang!”
“ Well, what if it is? Slang is the
language of the coming man: slang is
universal word-painting; slang—but I
wander from the subject . Listen, listen,
ladies gay. and I will point a moral and
adorn a tale for your infant minds. I
fell in love over head and ears and the
top of my tallest hair with Nan Boyd
when I was twelve years old and she was
ten. I spent my little all m eandy and
peanuts tor her sweet sake: I wrote her
a valentine, and. made her a string of
bird's eggs three feet long—a rosary o
despair to the gentle birds I robbed: l
paid for a tin-type of her sweet face with
my last copper and a jackknife that I
loved like a brother: but she refused me
after all, though 1 implored her to elope
with me in tlie milk wagon. Lo. as the
Yorkshire man said, only t'other end
first, 'She wouldn't have he, d've see?
for why now. he won't have she!’ The
moral of all which is. Rachel, don’t snub
Tom Green too much now. lest he should
turn and rend you by-and-by.”
“ I hate Tom Green,” retorted Rachel.
Harry laughed. Rut Philip Norton
could not speak: he fairly trembled with
a relief of mind almost painful in its
intensity, llarrv did not notice his si
lence. and Ruth went on:
“But I should think you would want
to marry her, Harry. She is awful
pretty.” ' ,
“Oh. Toot! ‘ awful pretty!* and vou
talk to me about slang; My dear, your
glass house will become fragmentary in
about five minutes if you go on."
“Don't you like Ker, Harry?” asked
Rachel, always direct.
“ A os. miss, I like her. but I don't
wan't to marry her.” '
“ Don’t people ever marry people when
they don't wan't to?” said'Ruth.
“ Perhaps they do. ma’am, but I don’t
consider that lam people. By Jove! I'd
rather spin ropes out of sea'-sand than
tie myself up that way. Ask the minis
ter here if he don't agree with me.”
Philip roused himself from his dream
at the appeal, but the question had to be
repeated.
“ I'd rather do anything else. Miss
Ruth.”
“ But what it vou'd got married by
mistake, just as those people did in the
THE ONLY PAPER IN ONE OP THE LARGEST, MOST INTELLIGENT AND WEALTHIEST COUNTIES IN GEORGIA.
newspapers, for fun—but really they
were married—what would you do?*
asked Rachel, persistently.
“ Alake the best of it.” laconically
answered Philip.
“ Bad is the best of such a mistake,
Phil. Are there no divorce courts, my
friend and pitcher?”
Philip’s lace darkened. “ Not for me.
If I had married Hecate ‘ by mistake,’ as
Rachel says, I would try and make the
best of her._ Anything rather than di
vorce: that is unchristian and unmanly
both.”
“Good for you, parson! You haven’t
forgotten your old trick of accepting tlie
: position. ‘ Alake the best of it, was tlie
theme of this distinguished gentleman’s
valedictory address, my dears, on that
i glorious day when lie became the proud
j possessor of a sheepskin, like the immor
j tal Brian O’Lynn, only the woolly side
was out; he pulled that over the profes
| sor’s eyes, and thereby got all the honors,
while my modest worth went unre
warded.”
Here the gate swung open, just in time
to prevent further burst of Harry’s elo
! quence, and a boy with a telegram came
jup to them. It was for Philip. One of
j his most valued friends and supporters
i in the church was dying, after a brief
j illness; he must see Mr.-Norton. There
i was no delay possible, and in the morn
] ing, very early, Philip went, leaving
I such adieus as he could for Harry to de
! liver, and carrying with him a triumph
j ant sense that neither honor nor honesty
I need seal his lips now; he could tell Nan
: Boyd the love that possessed and con
sumed him, and surely so stringent a
! passion must compel return.
But lie found his friend in the very
agonies of death; and in the atmosphere
of grief and pain that surrounded him,
after the solemnity of death, in the care
and Help of the forlorn family, and the
services of burial, more than a week
passed away before he could write the
important letter, and when it w r as once
gone his courage failed, suspense racked
and tortured him, he could not eat or
sleep, and on the fourth day he sat be
fore the beginning of his sermon totally
unable to get further than the first sen
tence, waiting feverishly for the letter
to bring himTife or death. But the mes
sage was merciful; a sweeter letter, to
his thought, was never written; modest,
reticent, yet with a tone of deep feeling,
it promised to tlie heart far more than it
said to the eye, and put him into a state
of grateful rapture that crept into the
delayed sermon, and made a sensation in
tlie parish when that precarious dis
course was at length finished and de
livered. For a few weeks frequent let
ters were exchanged, but, at the lady’s
request, nothing was said of any fixed
engagement; she wished, she said, to
know a little better the man to whom
her future life must be bound. Philip
had heard that AVill Boyd had not been
altogether devoted to His wife, and ap
preciated at once tlie sense and delicacy
of her reserved expression of feeling iii
the matter. In September lie received a
brief note, following a long letter, to say
that she and her cousin had both been
called to California to a sister-in-law’s
hurried wedding. Dr. Clarke was to go
with them as escort and groomsman to
his old friend Dr. Eldridge, and Nan
wished Air. Norton to know that they
were going—would be gone when the
note reached him—in order to account
for his own letters being unanswered
for their brief stay in San Francisco
would not permit the mails to be use
ful to them. It seemed as if fate sported
with poor Philip, for not two days
passed before lie, too, received a summons
to travel directly the other way; his only
relative, an aunt in Europe, was seized
with severe illness, and telegraphed for
hint at once. He sailed by tlie next
steamer, and found Airs. Warne tit tlie
point of death; but the pleasure of seeing
her nephew seemed to rouse her anil
waken her vitality; she grew a little bet
| ter week after week, but was sent south
ward as she recovered, tmd at last to
, Egypt. It was May before Air. Norton
brought her back to New York; but by
this time it had been agreed in the few
letters that had been received by him in
His constant transit from one place to
another, that without any formal an
nouncement of engagement, Nan should
be ready to marry him at once on his re
turn. So having previously telegraphed
her, he arrived in Cedar tlie last of May,
late in the afternoon, and instead of go
ing to Air. Clarke’s, went to the little
hotel, and as soon as inigHt be betook
himself to Airs. Boyd’s house.
He stood a moment after being shown
into tlie parlor, liis heart wildly throb
bing with hope and agitation, when the
door opened and in walked Airs. Anne
Boyd. She glided up to him with a face
so full of blushing emotion, he thought
she came to congratulate him, and with
the abounding affection engaged people
have for all their relatives in prospect,
he stooped and kissed her fresh, sweet
lips.
“llow did you know where to find
me?” slie said, blushing. “ I forgot to
tell you in my letter that I had been liv
ing here the past year. AVlien Nan was
married she left me in charge.”
“Alarried!—Nan!” echoed the gentle
man. aghast.
“ Oil, you must have missed tlie letter
I sent to Nice telling you all about it.
She married an Englisman, living now
in Boston, and they went abroad to see
His friends.”
The truth flashed on him like a stroke
of lightning: it was Anne with whom
he had corresponded: Anne to whom lie
was engaged: Anne he was expected to
marry. Nan was lost to him forever,
lie turned very pale, and reached his
hand toward the table for support. Annq
thought he was faint; with tender haste
she pushed a chair toward him, gently
put him into it. and poured a lew drops
of cologne from a flask on tlie table on
his head: the fresh, delicate perfume
made him shudder for years afterward.
He saw in one glance the position before
him; one life must be ruined, his or
hers. Tiie moment that passed over him,
as he leaned had;, sick and faint, con
scious that Annie's eyes t were fixed on
him anxiously, was long as some placid
lifetimes. Thanks to a constant habit of
self-control, the dizzy whirl of emotion
was conquered quickly; the color re
turned to liis face; he said to himself
that tlie life already wasted could find
no Help in destroying another. Annie
wasinnoeent of any intent to harm him:
she was a woman, too; both as a man
and a Christian minister it was liis duty
to protect and honor her. He looked up
j quickly and smiled.
“ Excuse me, dear,” lie said, hoarsely.
••I was very tired.”
He told the truth and no more. Had he
lieen capable of deceit. Anne's honest na
ture would have detected it; but of an
i untruth he was incapable; and now, as
he sat beside her, and liis mind returned
i to its own balance, he involuntarily be
i gan to weigh tlie possible ameliorations
\of liis dreadful mistake. He could not
marry Nan now: she was hopelessly be
! vond liis reach. One factor of the prob
; lent was forever set aside, and that tlie
! greatest. Then he recalled the letters
that he had received from Anne, what
j fine and lovely traits of character they
j disclosed. Here his head began to whirl
again: for it seemed impossible to sepa
i rate the vision of Nan lie had built up on
| that verx foundation from tlie reality
which belonged to Anne. Nan would
have thought his love-making cold in
! deed; but Anne was shy and reticent
I herself. She could feel, and feel deeply;
j but she could not be demonstrative, and
\ she dreaded demonstration in others. It
] was quite in accordance with her nature
that, after a long, quiet evening of con
versation, Air. Norton should part from
her with one grave kiss on her forehead.
Nan would have clung about his neck,
and put her peach face up to his for ca
; resses, as a flower seeks the sun. He
knew how it would have been, and for
I one mad moment sickened with thwart
; ed passion: but Annie never saw it. She
trusted him implicitly, and after her pure
! prayers fell asleep, 'like a happy child
; and dreamed of nim and her future
home. But what a night awaited him'
LEXINGTON, GEORGIA, FRIDAY, AIAY 9, 1879.
: Sleep fled far away. He had in Jier pres
ence been able topreserve calmness at
least, and resolved to accept the situa
tion ; but when he was alone, all the past
came back on him like an armed man.
It was a night never to be forgotten. In
the morning lie went to Mr. Clark’s anil
told them of his engagement, and asked
them to the quiet wedding next day.
They were all surprised, and congratu
lated him with such warmth and sinceri
ty, lavished such love and praise on
Anne, that he felt almost guilty in ac
cepting the pleasant words, conscious
how little they delighted him. Harry,
as soon as they were alone, proceeded to
enlarge on Anne’s charms.
“To tell you the truth, old fellow, I
have been mightily smitten with that
lady myself; but she has behaved like a
lay nun the past year. I couldn’t under
stand it. Somehow or other I got it into
my head you were sweet on Nan. I
even went so far as to feel sorry for you
when she married Dalrymple—what'a
waste of the raw material! —and all the
time you were cutting me out with Anne.
You had not heard of that marriage till
Anne told you. It was a nine days’
wonder here; he is fat, fifty, and rich as
Croesus: that was his charm. Ducats,
my lord, ducats! Nan loves a shining
mark; she inherits old Aladam Hart’s
tastes as well as her name, only the
madam loved to save, and Amie to
spend.”
Here it flashed across Pliilip that liis
letters had all been mistakenly address
ed. Nan was Anne Hart Boyd, and he
had thought the initial belonged to
Anne. From the very first those letters
had gone wrong, and in liis own dislike
of nicknames lie had never used hers,
but called her Annie always—a tender
softening of the monosyllable that seemed
to express more than the eold stiff name.
The day after, the wedding was cele
brated. Very quietly and simply Philip
Norton and Anne Boyd were made one.
He could not lielii owning that the soft
folds of dark rich silk, illuminated with
fresh white roses on her breast and in
her hair, the warm color on lip and
cheek, tlie soft hazel eyes, dark and clear
as tlie brown water of a forest brook, and
the expression of deep emotion on her
face, made her a very attractive bride:
hut even at the altar a glimpse of blue,
bewildering eyes, floating gold-lit hair,
ineffable witchery and sweetness, seemed
to dazzle his eves and constrict liis heart,
but lie repelled the dream sternly, and it
fled
Had Anne been more selfish and Philip
less strong and sensible, here now was
place and room for a real domestic
tragedy, of all tragedies most vital and
least dramatic; but each began the new
life in devotion to the other, one from
love, one from duty. But if it was
Anne who kissed and Philip who bent
tlie cheek, was she less happy? Tlie
giver is more blessed in all tilings; and
in time Philip learned to love Anne as
fully as her heart could ask. lie was
mightily assisted, no doubt, by the
career of Airs. Dalrymple, who soon re
turned to America, and asserted liei-self,
in the right of beauty and money both, as
a queen of society. She did not pretend
to care for the stout, stupid, brusque
man ofliusiness who supplied her purse,
but ran a wild course of folly and fashion
year after year, as only a loveless and
childless woman can. Ten years after
liis marriage Philip met her, faded,
rouged, overdressed: her laugh false and
hollow, her smile forced, the childish
ringlets waving in soft mockery about
tlie worn face, and even lier smile me
chanical. His heart reverted with a
glad leap to the wife lie had left at
home, a calm, sweet-faced, gracious wo
. man, with lovely children clinging about
her, tlie color of health and happiness
richly glowing on her cheek, and tlie
love and admiration of all who knew
her making a halo about her noble char
acter. He owned to that remorseless in
quisitor, liis own heart, that he had in
deed made the best of it in a fuller sense
than the poor allowance of the proverb,
that Anne was as far beyond Nan as the
star beyond the clod, and that the true
failure of his life would have been the
result of the success he had longed for
and missed. Yet all his life he hated
the smell of German cologne.— Harper's
Bazar.
Trials of a Telegraph Operator.
New telegraph operators have to un
dergo a reception which borders on tlie
treatment known to college freshmen as
hazing. Tlie Operator thus describes it:
The new man walks into an office full of
strange faces—not a friendly hand to
shake—with nothing to recommend him
but liis ability as an operator and liis
implicit confidence in that ability for liis
only encouragement. He approaches
the manager’s desk, and after five or ten
minutes the manager condescends to
glance upward, and, in a tone full of
thunder, bluntly inquires: “Well, sir,
what is it?” The “ freshman” states liis
business, and the manager proposes to
give him a trial. Accordingly he is as
signed to an instrument and told that he
is to “receive a special.” His feelings
at this juncture are about the same as
those supposed to be experienced bv a
man who is about to he hanged. Ner
vously grasping the pen, he begins to
copy. The perspiration trickles down
his hand, winch makes that member ad
hero to the blank; his pen sticks fast, tlie
ink is the thickest ever encountered, and
there is nothing left for him but to break.
Casting a guilty glance about him to see
if any one is looking, he reaches for tlie
key and explains to the sender that lie is
anew man—“please take it steady;”
but this only makes matters worse. Tlie
sender begins to “ whoop ’em up,” and
as the cold chills run down his spinal
column the “ freshman’s” pen indites
characters upon the blank resembling the
Chinese hieroglyphics on a tea-box.
This torture usually occupies about half
an hour, when the welcome “ n. m.” (no
more) falls soothingly upon his ear.
He breathes a sigh of relief and looks
about him. Behind him stand half-a
dozen operators with grinning counte
nances. Tn a moment" light begins to
dawn upon the “ freshman” —he is tlie
victim of a joke. A glance in another
direction discloses the fact that the most
rapid sender in the office had been trans
mitting to him from tlie columns of a
daily paper for the amusement of the
'“ boys. " If he accepts the situation as a
joke, he is initiated; hut if he becomes
angered, he is still a “ freshman.”
A Dog’s Bank Account.
A dog is a good thing to have around
tin* house, and nobody is better convinced
of this fact than the lady proprietor of a
certain boarding-house oh Grand River
street east, not very far from Woodward
avenue. It seems that the lady left a
five-dollar bill upon the parlor table
several days ago, while temporarily ab
sent from the room, and when she re
turned the bill had disappeared. After
a long and unsuccessful search it was
noticed that the dog had a sneaking,
hang-dog expression about the mouth
and did not seem inclined to wag liis tail
as numerously as usual. Somebody sug
gested that lie might have swallowed
the bill, and then it was remembered
that he had been suspected of that sort of
thing before. An emetic was administer
ed, but tlie dog only howled and nagged,
and stubbornly refused to show the
“ true inwardness ” of his disposition.
Another emetic was sent for. and finally
the missing bill was vomited up with a
small tempest of howls and gurgles, and
penitential tears. Airs. NT. took tlie
money to a hank and represented that it
was killed and ragged because it had
lieen carried in somebody's pocket for a
long time, and the bank was persuaded
to take the bill at a liberal discount upon
its original value.
Two'or three days ago a bill was pi ceil
on the floor were the dog could see it,
and then everybody left “the room, ex
pecting when they returned to seethe
dog and bill consolidated. But lo! tlie
bill remained untouehed, and the re
pentant canine lav curled up in a comer
of the room looking as ashamed and
miserable as any human being would
have looked under the circumstances.—
Detroit News.
FOB THE YOUNG FOLKS.
TRe First Primrose.
A primrose awoke from its long winter sleep,
And stretched out its head through its green
leaves to peep;
But tlie air was so eold. and the wind was so
keen.
And not a bright flower but itsell to he seen.
“ Alas!” sighed the primrose, “How useless
am I,
As here all alone and half hidden I lie;
But I ? ll strive to be cheerful, contented to be,
Just a simple wild flower growing under n
tree.”
Soon a maiden passed by, looking weary and
sad,
In the bright early spring-time, when all should
he glad;
But she spied the sweet primrose so bright tmd
so gay, .
And the sight of it charmed all her sadness
away;
And the primrose gave thanks to the dear Lord
above,
Who had sent it on such a sweet mission ot
love.
A Morning Call from a Panther.
“ I suppose you’re wondering why I
seep that u<riy old chest,” said Airs.
R , “ and I must own that its not very 1
ornamental; but it saved my life once,
for all that. I see you think I’m making
fun of you, but I’m not, indeed; and when
you hear the story, I think you’ll agree
witli me that I have good reason to value
it, ugly as it looks.
“This was how it happened. When
we first came out to India, my husband
was sent to make tin; survey of the Ner
hudda Valley, one of tin* wildest bits in
till Central India; and we really were,
just at first, tlie only white people within
forty or fifty miles. And such a time as
we had of it! If my husband hadn’t
been as strong as lie is. and a perfect
miracle of patience as well, I don’t know
how he could have stood what lie had to
do. It was dreadful work for him, being
up sometimes for a whole night together,
or having to stand out in the burning sun,
when the very ground itself was almost
too lio't to touch. And as for the native
workmen, I never saw such a set —always
doing everything wrong, and never liking
anybody to put them right. When the
railway was being made they used to
carry tlie earth on their heads in baskets;
and when Air. li served out wheel
barrows to them, they actually carried
them on their heads in the same way! I
could not help laughing at it, though it
was terribly provoking, too. And that
was just the way they all were: if there
was a wi-ong way (of using anything
they’d he sure to find it out. Even our
butler, or khitmutgar , who was much
better than most of them, came one day
and begged a pair of old decanter-labels
that my husband was going to throw
away ; and when the man came in next
morning, lie had positively turned them
into earrings, and went about quite
gravely witli ‘Port’ in one ear and
'* Sherry’ in the other!
“ However, if the native men worried
me, the native beasts were fifty times
worse. It was no joke, I can assure you,
to be awakened in tlie middle of the night
by tlie roar of a tiger close under the win
dow, or by an elephant crashing and
trumpeting through the jungle with a
noise like a mail.coach going full gallop
into a hothouse. Well, as soon as that
was over, the jackals would set up a
squealing and whimpering like so many
frightened children; and then a dreadful
native bird, whose name I’ve never found
out (I suppose because nobody could in
vent one bad enough for it), would break
out in a succession of the most horrible
cries-j-just like somebody being murdered
—until the noise fairly drove me wild.
“ And then the ants! but you’ve seen
them for yourself, and I needn’t tell you
about them. But all this while I’m neg
lecting my story.
“ One day (it will he long enough be
fore I forget it) my husband was out as
usual sit his work, and tjie nurse had gone
down to the other native servants at the
other end of the ‘compound,’ sis we call
this big inclosure, and I was left alone
in the house with my little Alinnie yon
der, who was then just about a year old.
By this time I had got over* my first
fears, and didn’t mind a bit being left by
myself; indeed, all the lower windows
having bars across them, I thought that
I was safe enough; but I little dreamed
of what was coming. ft
“ I must have been sitting over my
sewing nearly an hour, with the child
playing about the floor besides me, when
suddenly I heard a dull thump overhead,
as if something had fallen upon the roof.
I didn’t think anything of it at tlie mo
ment, for one soon gets used to all sorts
of strange sounds in tlie Indian jungle;
but, presently, I thought I could hear a
heavy breathing in the next room but
one, and then I began to feel frightened
in earnest. I rose as softly as I could,
and crept to the doorway between the
rooms. This doorway was only closed
by a curtain, and gently pulling aside the
folds, I peeped through—and found my
self within a few paces of the largest
panther I had ever seen in my life.
“ For one moment it was just as if I
had been frozen stiff, and then tlie
thought came to me just as if somebody
had spoken it: ‘ The big chest! ’
“ I knew that this chest would hold me
and my child easily, and that I could
leave a chink of the lid open to let us
breathe, for the overlapping eige would
save my fingers from Hie 'panther.
In a second I had it all clear before me;
but had the brute not stopped short at
sight of the curtain, I should never have
had a chance of trying-it. Luckily for
me, the Indian panther, savage as lie is
is a terrible coward, and suspicious as
any detective. I’ve seen one go round
and round a trap for more than Half an
hour, before lie made up his mind to
spring at the bait. So, while my friend
was puzzling himself over the curtain,
anti wondering whether it was meant for
a trap or not, I took up Alinnie (who,
poor little pet, seemed to know there was
something wrong, and never uttered a
sound) and into the chest K-rept, making
aslittle noise as I could.
“ I was hardly settled there when I
heard the sniff-sniff’ of the panther
coming right up to where I lay, and
through the chink that I had left open!
the hot, foul breath came steaming in
upon my face, almost making me sick.
It seemed to bring my heart into my
mouth when I heard his great claws
scraping the edge of the lid, and trying
to lift it up; but, happily, the chink was
too narrow for his paw to enter. But if
the paw couldn’t, the tongue could; and
soon he began to lick my fingers, rasping
them so that I hardly knew how to bear
it. Still, the touch of Alinnie’s little
arm around my neck seemed to give me
courage.
“ But there was far worse than this to
come; for the panther suddenly leaped
right on top of the chest, and his weight
pressed down the heavy lid upon my
fingers, until the pain was so terrible
that, unable to stand it any longer, I
screamed with all my might.
“ The scream was answered by a shout
from just outside, in which I recognized
my husband’s voice. The panther heard
"• too. and it seemedjt(/scare him. for he
made a dash for the window, either for
getting or not noticing the iron bars; but
just as he reached it. there came the
eradk of a rifle, and I [heard the heavy
brute fall suddenly upon the floor. Then
all the fright seemed to come back upon
me at once, and I fainted outright.
“ I heard afterward that Air. R
had happened to want some instrentum
which he had left at tlie house; and, not
wishing to trust it in the hands of any of
the natives, he came back for it himself—
luckily, just in time, for the bullet from
liis rifle killed the panther. But, as you
see, my hand is pretty stiff yet.”— David
Ker, in St. Nicholas.
The man who is penny-wise and pouhd
foolish, attempts to wash the sore on his
mule’s hind leg, but he who knows the
ways of the beast, takes him to a* veteri
nary surgeon.
NOVEL FISHING.
The 3lauuer in uliich Cormorants are
ITilized in Japan,
I was invited one evening, says a writer
in the Argonaut, during my sojourn at a
small town not far from Kiyoto, the old
capital of Japan, to accompany some
yakunins (officials), who were then
traveling with me, to the neighboring
river, for the purpose of witnessing the
manner in which cormorants are em
ployed in the catching -of lish; at the
same time I was informed that a pleas
ure boat had already been engaged for
the occasion. I accepted the invitation
eagerly, and, lanterns being provided,
together with a guide to show tire way,
we set out, carefully picking our way
along the narrow paths dividing the rice
lields, the myriads of frogs in the water
all round us keeping'up a deafening roar,
rendering it almost impossible to carry
on conversation, while the mosquitoes
were anything but friendly in their de
monstrations. When we were about
live hundrediyards from the place where
our yane-bune (literally roof-boat) was
awaiting us. we were met by one of our
boatmen bearing a lantern, who at once
turned and preceded us to the little pier
of stones.
I On entering the boat, the bottom of
which was comfortably covered with
tatami (thick mats), over which was
spread a gay-colored rug, I was agree
ably _ surprised to find that everything
requisite for spending a pleasant evening
had been sent on before my hosts. My
after-acquaintance with the people of
this beautiful country has taught me
that they never lose the opportunity to
make merry, and will seize upon the
most trifling excuse for organizing a pic
nic, and thoroughly enjoying themselves
when such pleasures do not interfere with
the strict 'performance of their public
'duties. On the present occasion Six
geisha (female musicians) had been en
gaged, who sat at one side of the boat,
while we of the other sex ranged our
selves on the mats on the other. Sweet
meats of various kinds were spread out
on lacquered trays, as we all settled our
selves into the most comfortable atti
tudes, and the sendo (boatmen) were told
to cast off.
After about fifteen minutes’ sculling we
rounded a bend of the river, when a
magnificent spectacle burst on our view.
The river appeared to be on fire. Near
ly two hundred fishing boats were in
sight. At the bow of eaoh, and attached
to the end of a pole projecting over the
water, was a brazier containing burning
pine wood, blazing pieces of which every
now and then fell through the bars into
the water, thereby multiplying the num
ber of lights, real and reflected, and add
ing to the general effect. Our boatmen
now steered us into the midst of the
busy scene, and driving the boatpole into
the bed of the river, made fast to it, and
sat down to smoke their kisero (pipes).
Each of the boats possessed from ten to
twenty cormorants, which, when not en
g agedn their duty of catching fish, re
mained silently perched on the gunwales
awaiting their master’s commands. The
birds which are employed in this branch
of industry are hatched from eggs ob
tained from the cliffs along the shore,
and being accustomed from the first to
the company of man, are very tame.
Each has a name given to it, and, on its
owmer making a peculiar sound, will
enffr the water in search of the fish that
would, were it free, be their natural
prey. Large'numbers of them were now
swimming around the boats, their move
ments controlled by strings attached to
rings around their necks, and held in the
fishermen’s hands. Whenever a bird
spied a fish attracted by the glare of the
fire, it seized it with its bill, but was
prevented from swallowing it by the ring
round its throat. The fisherman then
uttered a peculiar cry, and gently drew
it into the boat, where it was forced to
give up the prize. Occasionally the
birds are rewarded by being permitted
to swallow a fish. In some parts of
Japan considerable quantities of fish are
taken in this manner.
. One of my entertainers now hailed the
nearest boat and bargained for some of
tile fresh-caught sakana (fish), and hav
ing provided a griddle for the occasion,
had his purchase broiled over the hibachi
(box holding charcoal fire); and this
made a repast fit foi an epicure. I par
took heartily of this dish, which the Jap
anese know so well how to cook, and did
not neglect the sake (wine), which was
passed around pretty rapidly, and which
was kept hot in a kan-dokuri (porcelain
vessel in which wine is heated by being
placed in a kettle of hot water) by one of
the fair singers, who also took care that
the bottle was replenished as fast as it
was emptied. During all this time the
geisha had been enlivening the feast with
songs, accompanying themselves on their
samisens (guitars), while in the interval
jokes, puns, and repartee kept all in a
continual laughter.
My hosts now proposed to return, andt
he boatmen having blown the remains,
of the tobacco out of their little pipes as a
boy would blow a pea from a pea-shoot
er, the boat was unmoored, and we
dropped gently down with the stream
toward our landing-place; and just as I
was beginning to cast rather tender
glances (probably the effects of the fish
or wine) in the direction of a very pretty
geisha seated opposite me we touched the
pier, and, stepping ashore, took our way
again through tlie rice fields, the scene
enlivened by large" numbers of hotaro
(fire-flies) flitting hither and thither.
Outside our hotel we parted with our
fair musicians and retired to rest, having
spent a most pleasant evening.
The Mnsic of the Nightingale.
Philomelia is the classic name of the
nightingale, as our readers are generally
aware. Due honor in all ages has been
given to this bird as a songster. The
Germans have not only been the admirers
of its melody, but some of them have
attempted to interpret its songs.
Bechsten, a German rhapsodist, had a
pet nightingale, whose song he interpret
ed as follows:
Zo ro zo ro zo ro zo ro zo ro zo ro zirr
hading!
Ae re re ze ze ze ze ve ve ve ve ve;
conar he dze hoi.
Higa iga iga, iga iga iga iga iga, guaia
gai eorieo drio dzio pi.
Of which all we have to say is that we
hope that the song of the bird was more
melodious than the translation looks
to be. In the year 1740. the Prussian
authorities being in want of money, or
dered the trees around Cologne to be cut
down and sold. The entire city of Ag
rippina was alive with terror at th
movement: the whole wood was filled
with nightingales, and the few burghers
living near them, though extremely poor
themselves, actually bought the trees
standing, and thus preserved the woods
for the nightingales, and the nightingale
music for the inhabitants of Cologne.—
American Monthly.
Dr. Rabelais’ Free Journey.
The learned and famous Frenchman,
Dr. Rabelais, once found himself in Mar
seilles without money. He wished to
travel to Paris, but could not contrive a
way to do so. At last, however, he hit
upon a plan.
lie started one fifst of April carrying
with him some full phials labeled “ Poi
son for the King and the Royal Family.”
At the city gates, according to the cus
tom in those days, the traveler was
searched, and these suspicious-locking
bottles were found, as he intended. The
officials were horrified, and they prompt
ly arrested him and hurried him off as
a state prisoner to Paris, there ffiKe tided
for treason
Not long after his arrival Rabelais and
his bottles were taken before the judges.
Then the doctor, who w r as very well
known as a wit, made a little explana
tion, showAl that the phials contained
nothing but brick-dust, and was at once
released—the court, the accusers, the
lookers-on, and all Paris convulsed with
laughter at the oke. — fit. Nicholas.
A Laughable Episode.
_ A laughable episode occurred in tlii
city, in which the practical joker had the
tables turned upon him in a manner soc
casioning no end of fun to the party and
liis friends. A certain disciple of Escu- 1
lapius, who loves a joke, is the owner of
a fine skeleton, set up in such a manner
that by opening the door of the recepta
cle and touching a spring, the bony ob
ject will walk forward several steps out
of the door.
Among the many pests and detriments
to study and thought which this physi
cian is daily subjected to. is the frequent
intrusion of apple, orange, and other
fruit venders in the shape of small boys.
The other day while in close proximity
to the door of the closet in which the
skeleton is kept, the good doctor’s reverie
was broken dv the entrance of one oi
these youthful venders with a shrill cry:
“ \Vant to buy any apples?”
Thinking to have some sport at the ap
ple vender s expense, the worthy physi
cian suddenly threw open the c.loset door,
and touching the spring, forth stalked the
skeleton in all his bony majesty. A bas
ket was instantly dropped to the floor, a
half bushel of apples rolled broad-cast
over the room, while a terribly-seared
youth was seen disappearing through the
office door with shrill cries. After en
ioying a quiet laugh, the physician busied
himself in picking up and restoring to
the basket the scattered fruit, expecting
the lad would return in a moment for his
stock in trade.
_ After a brief interval the physician no
ticed from the window the lad standing
in the street, gazing spell-bound at the
office door. Seeing the lad evinced no
disposition to return for his basket and
fruit, the doctor carried the same to the
door, which he opened, and calling to
the lad, requested him to come and get
it. Judge of the doctor’s surprise when
he was greeted with the following re
sponse to his invitation:
“No you don’t. “You can’t fool me
if you have got your clothes on.”
Now it happened that a friend of the
physician, who is tall and thin, and not
blessed with a single ounce of superflu
ous flesh, was passing the office and
heard the remark of the lad, and having
ascertained the cause which called it
forth, the situation was too ludicrous to
keep, and the various friends enjoy many
a laugh at the doctor’s expense over the
incident.— Syracuse Journal.
Tobacco Poisoning.
Numerous and almost endless have
been the charges brought against tobac
co from the time when James I. led the
van of opposition in his famous “coun
terblast.’’ But, although almost every
thing has been jsaid that could be said
against the wees as consumed in the or
dinary form of smoke, it seems that there
are Other and new enormities to be alleg
ed against it when differently employed.
A correspondent of the London Lancet,
writing from Lincoln (Eng.), declares
that tobacco is not uncommonly used in
neighborhood for the purpose of stopping
ping wounds; and he gives a very strik
ing example of the effects that may follow
from the practice. The case was that of
an unfortunate woman who had inflicted
a wound upon herself by knocking her
leg against the sharp corner of a sewing
machine. As the bleeding was profuse
and difficult to staunch, she adopted the
device which is familiar in the district,
with this difference, that instead of ap
plying merely a “ pinch ” of the tobacco,
she affixed quite a large bundle of it to
the wound. Having done so, she had the
injured limb tightly bandaged up, and
had no suspicion whatever until the doc
tor arrived that she had done anything
foolish or rash. The man of science ac
cordingly found her in a most dangerous
condition, subject to constant fainting
fits, and presenting all the symptoms of a
dying person. As she had no sort of idea
that the wound had anything to do with
her other ailnfents, the physician might
have utterly failed to discover the rea
cause of her sufferings. Fortunately he
insisted upon taking off the bandage, in
spite of all the assurances of the family
tliat it had been properly put on, anil
then for the first time discovered the
bundle of tobacco, which had in the
space of less than an hour infused a viru
lent poison into the blood and reduced
the patient to a state from which it was
exceedingly difficult to recover her. It
is to be hoped that the incident will put
an end in Lincolnshire, and wherever
else it prevails, to the practice of using
tobacco instead of lint for bandages.—
London Globe.
French Fun.
The unhappy man who had been run
over was carried into the police station,
where the surgeon examined him and
said:
“It’s a mercy the wheels passed over
him as rapidly as they did, for if the
carriage had been going slowly there
would have been no hope of his recovery
—none whatever.”
“ Precisely,” cries the radiant hack
man, desirous of backing up this favora
ble opinion as strongly as possible;
“ when I saw the gentleman crossing the
street a little in front of me, instead of
pulling up the horse I just gave him a
clip with the whip and yelled‘Get up
there!’ and that’s how I saved the gen
tleman’s life.”
A sergeant ol zouaves had, at the bat
tie of Orleans, his thigh smashed by a
fragment of shell.
“Well, my poor fellow,” said his cap
tain, who visited him in hospital, “ you
must find it pretty lonesome work, being
laid up ere.”
“Ob, no, cap-, not at all,” was the
reply. “ I suffer a great deal, and that
makes the time slip by.”
A prisoner who firmly expected that
he would get his deserts and be sent up
for life, is astonished to hear the jury fix
his term of imprisonment at two years.
“Two years only!” he exclaimed in
delight; “ah, then, gentlemen of the
jury, mar heaven do likewise unto you a
thousand-fold.”
A Blind Man’s Suicide.
A suicide which, for a display of cool
deliberation on the part of the victim
lias never been equaled, occurred at Zanes
ville, Ohio, at an early hour in the morn
ing. the self-destroyer being Mr. Frederick
Helbig, a German, formerly a stone,
m:ison, and of later years a contractor.
About the first of last November Helbig
had made a desperate effort to take his
life by ineang of a pistol-ball, he being
found in bis stable clotted with blaod and
with his eyes, through which the ball had
passed, hanging out of his face. Through
skillful medical attendance and patient
nursing by the heart-broken wife he re
covered his vigor, but never his sight,
being totally blind thereafter. Being
naturally an active man, this life of a
blind man has had the effect of still more
effectively fixing the idea of self-destruc
tion in his mind. When the family arose
in the morning he was missing. Upon
search being instituted, he was found seat
ed on a chair in the cellar, with a bed*
quilt wrapped around his head, in a life
less condition. He had, with a chairand
a quilt in his possession, felt his way to
the cellar, there severed the gas pipe,
passed one end up his coat sleeve, wrap
ped himself in the quilt, pressed his face
to the shoulder-opening of the sleeve,
crossed his legs, folded his hands and
quietly awaited the easy death that en
sued.-' •
Stillwater's first walking match came
off last Sunday"evening. A voting man
walked out of a front yard.on Government
kill, just'in front of the father of a young
ladv who resided there. The old man
walked with a square-toed movement,
and'wore N6. 16 boots. The young mart
wore a sad and perplexed expression of
countenance. No. c-ards. Stillwater
Lumberman.
During the year 1878 there were over
72,000 deaths in New York city.
YOL.Y. NO. 31.
A Japanese Fable.
Once upon a time, on the shady side o
a hill near the sea-shore, there lived
crab. One day he found some boiled
rice, and set oft' home with it: but on his ;
Way was spied by a monkey. The inon- ;
key offered to exchange the seed of a
persimmon, the frtlit of which he had
nearly finished eating, for the rice. This
the crab accepted on condition that the
monkey had not injurad it with his
teeth. The exchange made, Joeko de- j
voured the rice, but the crab planted the
seed in his garden. A long time after
ward, the monkey happening to pass the
same spot, was surprised to see a fine
tree laden with fruit, and his friend the
crab sitting on the balcony of a nice new
house, admiring his fruit tree. Th*
monkey being hungry, begged the crab to
allow him to eat some of the fruit. But
the crab apologized, saying that his friend
would be quite welcome to some of the
fruit, but he could riot climb the tree to
gather it. The monkey declared his
ability to climb if the crab would allow
him to try; to which the owner of the
tree consented, stipulating that lie should
receive half the fruit that was plucked.
So up the monkey clambered and ate as
fast as be could, selecting the best and
ripest fruit, but-was too greedy to notice
the crab, who was waiting patiently
below. At length the crab, losing pa
tience, accused the monkey of being a bad
and deceitful fellow; upon which the
monkey got angry, pelted tlie poor crab,
and broke bis shell. The crab's friend,
the wasp, coming by, attacked the mon
key ana stung him so severely that
Jocko scampered away frightened. The
wasp sent tor liis friends Eirir and Mor
tar, and, after due deliberation, they
made it up amongst them to punish
Jocko. They arranged that Egg should
explode if put on tlie tire, the wasp
should sting Jocko, and Mortar, pl.-vcd
on the roof, should roll off upon his
head as he ran out of the door. The
next day the monkey being hungry,
called at the crab’s house to apologize,
and beg another dinner of fruit: but,
seeiug no person in tin- house, lie entered ;
and finding a nice large egg on a tray. In
put it on the fire to roast it. as he could
not manage raw eggs so well as hard
cooked ones. Presently the egg exploded
violently and scattered the hot cinders
over Jocko, who ran into the next room
howling with pain; hut the wasp flew
out of a corner and stung him so badly
that lie rushed out of the house, fright
ened and almost mad with pain, when
down dropped tlie mortar upon liis head
and killed him.
Moral—Cunning and greedy people
rarely gain much, and ungrateful ones
are generally punished in the end.
Romantic Meeting of Fattier and Son.
Who says that the days of romance are
ended needs to read the strange history
of a Scottish plowman who lias returned
to liis native heath after a long exile.
Twenty years ago a farmer in Orkney
hired a young man to do formwork.
The plowman touched tlie fancy of his
master’s daughter, and tlie result was
that in a runaway fashion, and in oppo
sition to the will of the patriarchal
former, the two became man and wife.
The old gentleman was furious, and
turned his hack determinedly on his son
in-law. The young plowman kissed his
wife, left her in her father’s arms and
sailed for Australia, whence he soon
ceased to write. His wife became a
mother, and remained in a state of such
wretched suspense that her father began
to repent of the treatment to which he
had subjected her husband. Efforts were
then made to trace the whereabouts of
the latter by means of advertising in
colonial papers and otherwise, but all to
no purpose. He had gone to America.
Year* passed. The grandson grew up to
manhood, and, not liking formwork,
bade adieu to Orkney, took ship last
year to the United States, and after some
knocking about found employment m a
mercantile house in Illinois. In the
course of business lie discovered that the
gentleman at the head of the firm was a
native of Scotland, hailing, indeed, from
the same district as himself. Occasional
meetings led to more minute inquiries as
to dates, names of places, persons and
the like in the old country, and • after
being six months in the establishment
the youth found—however wonderful it
may appear—that he was actually serv
ing as a clerk with no rtther than Ills own
father! Tlie effect of this discovery on
both may he left to the imagination of
the reader. Father and son are now in
Scotland. The man who went away a
penniless plowboy, but returns rich, lia*
been welcomed with much emotion by
his venerable father-in-law, who is still
hale and hearty, as well as by tin- wife
whom he left many years ago in her
youth and beauty, but who is now a
middle-aged matron.
Tried lo Save the Colors.
One of the most heroic incidents ol
1 the massacre of the British camp on the
i borders of Zululand, in South Africa, is
related by a correspondent of the Uindon
! Daily News. It seems that when all was
| over, the ammunition being exhausted,
and nothing remaining for the men to
| do but to sell their lives as dearly as pos
j siblc, a desperate hut triumphant effort
was made to save tlie colors from the
I foe. Melvill, the adjutant of the Twenty -
; fourth, and Coghill, Sir Bartie Frere’s
j aide-de-camp, managed to fight their
way through the enemy who was sur
: rounding them, Melvill having torn the
j colors from the poles and carried them
i off. They reached the Buffalo river,
about nine miles off. in safety, though
closely pursued by the enemy; but in
attempting to swim the. river both their
horses were carried away by the stream,
and they just succeeded in reaching the
opposite bank still grasping the colors,
where they were so exhausted that they
were unable to go any further. A vol
unteer, who had been with them up to
this time, with difficulty effected liis es
cape, being, of course, unable to give
them any assistance in tlieir defenceless
condition, and the last lie saw of them
was that a crowd of the enemy was clos-"
ing round them.
Different Replies to a Question^.
Statisticians usually concern them
selves with the facts of the past and pres
ent more than with the speculations of the
future. But in gathering its figures this
\ year relating to the condition of work
ingmen. the Massachusetts labor bureau
has gone outside of the beaten path and
given us a specimen of what may he
called psychological statistics. Its of
ficers questioned a considerable number
of workingmen as to tlieir hones of se
curing a living competence at tne age of
sixty-five, with the followingresults:
i “ Expect to lay by enough to support my
self after I am sixty-live’' 2.5
j “ Prospects are good, and hope to do 50”... 18
“ Do not expect to lay by enough to sup)-ort
myself after I am sixty-five” 58
; -‘As times are now, no” 16
“Not with present pay” 15
“ Expect to die a pauper if these times last,” 4
| “ Not at my present business” 4
“Can just live now on my wages” 5
“ No prospect oi saving anylhing n0w”.... 11
‘ “Cannot save a dollar” 8
j “ Do not pay inv way now” 3
l “ Not by day labor”. 4
I “Life insurance and savings banks broke
me” 1
“ With present condition of business, don't
wantrto live to rixty-five”
A Tennessee Terror.
The following emphatic hint is pasted
up in a TennesseJ* hotel. Tlie original
is done with pen and ink, and neatly
elaborated with flourishes:
NOTICE.
All persons waiting for a train u-ing
this room and not eat their meals will lie
charged the same as if they had a pri
vate room or eat their meals.
Lunc-H EatinG
is Not
Allowed
in this Hofcei
a.s i cannot afford to furnish room and
lire for folks to eat their Lunch and use
my room and fire and bp in my paying
guest’* way.
THE OGLETHORPE EfiO.
Advertising Rates
Stack. |1 w| jw[4w| 2 ai| 3in|6m |1 yr
1 inch sl.oc $1.50 $3 uo.f4.tu SS.UO s7.oj flj.uU
•Jinchea 1.50 3.50 4.0 C 6.00 1j8012.00- 18,(0
3 inches 2.0 * 350 4.75 7.( 0 8.00 14.00 22 to
4 inches 3.00 4.00 ti.o§i 8.00 10.00; 18.00 2 .l
M column... 4.0 U 6.0 U P.oo| lO.lM' 12.00!20.00i 30.05
X column.. 8.00 12.00 Is.ouiiß.t 022 Go 3S.ou' Gs.iO
1 column.. /. 12.00 16,00'2'j.00i25.t)0,35,00 6O.OOtIOU.QU
Legal Advertisements.
Sheriff Sales, per 1evy...,,, .....ss.o*
Executors’, Administrators’ and GuaruiaiT*
Sales, per square s.t#>
Notice to Debtors mud i reaitors, %hirtv days.. 4.**>
Notice of Leave to Sell, thirty days .. 5.00
Letters of Administration, thirty days s.ot>
Letters of Dismission, three months 6.5*>
Lettersof Guardianship, thirty dsyi .. ...... 4.6*
Letters of Di*. Guard unship, forty day 5....... 5.0*1
Homestead Notices, three insertions. B.OW
Rule Nisi’s per square, each insertion lA.O
ITEMS OF INTEREST,
The notes of a jail bird are forced .
“A fellow feeling”—A phrenologist.
Philadelphia has 20,000 unmarried voe
men.
On its last legs—A chair tilted back
ward.
Stokers are the most stirring men of
the times.
A novel experiment Publishing an
author's first novel.
The Chicago Time* office has in us.
six speaking telephones.
Gen. Hancock is the wealthiest officer
of the United States army.
Jumping tlie rope by the little girls iff
another harbinger of spring.
What class of women arc most apt to
give tone to society ? Tlie belles.
“ Out of sight out of mind ” does not
mean that blind people are lunatics.
M. Clairville. the French playwright,
who died recently, was the author of 000
plays, 450 of which had been put on the
stage.
Conclusive evidence at a recent trial
in England proved that a girl had be
come a mother at the age of twelve
years and one month.
Since paper napkins wpre introduced
by a manufacturing firm in Wisconsin,
a year ago, one Boston firm alone ha*
sold 250,000 of them.
One good reason why professional
pedestrians should he allowed to walk
3.000 quarter miles in 3,000 quarter
hours is that it has a tendency to kill the
pedestrians.
The man who can face a hurricane
without winking, will shiver all over
when his collar button comes out and
makes a longitudinal pilgrimage to
the interior of one of his boots. .
Anew- fancy that will probably
“take” is to face the skirts of dressy
costumes with red silk, under which the
lace balayeuse is basted, making a very
pretty and striking dress effect.
• A champion pedestrian makes $20,000
by one week’s work, a champion. re
porter S2O, showing the superiorly of
mind over matter. Perhaps tlie reporter
should throw more sole ii'to his matter.
r ris now along the highways
The robin* gayly flute.
And in the orchard byway*
The cal>l pages take root.
Tis now the chief musician
’Hound the cottage is the wren;
’Tis now that the fruition
Of the merry--hearted hen
Wakes jov in the bosom of Agricola
sells eggs.
Some 1 >arren land near the city of
Dantzig was irrigated by sewage from
the city. Tlie potato crop grown upon
this land averaged 'sixteen and one half
tons to the acre. This result led the ex
perimenter to contract with the munici
pal authorities of Breslau, a city of about
two hundred and fifty thousand inhabi
tants, to remove its sewage during twelve
years, and with it he intends to irrigate
for his own profit about three thousand
acres of lantt.
ovoii!
Wile, make me some dumplings of dough.
They are better than a meal for my cough
Pray, let them he boiled till hot, through,
But not till they’re heavy and tough.
Now I must be off to my plough.
And the boys (when they’ve had enough)
Must keep the flies off with a bough.
While the old mare drinks out of the trough
, A Milliner-Senator.
“ I made a surprising discovery the
other day.”
This was the remark made by a, busi
ness man, anew arrival in the commun
ity, to a reporter for the Tribune. Ripe
for anything calculated to disturb the
stifling serenity of local affairs, the intel
ligent news collector was moved to ask.
“How so?”
“Take a seat and I will tell you,” and
thereupon the merchant who, by the way.
is a New Yorker, proceeded as follows:
“ I ran away from home when I was
fifteen years old. Thought 1 was restrain
ed at home and needed more scope. Iw as
living near Hornellsville, N. \.; and on
my first launch for freedom reached
Adrian, Mich., a then quite remote city.
This was in 1851, I believe. I roatpwi
around tlie town tor two or three days
before I found anything to do. Finally,
one afternoon, without the least idea that
anything would conic of it, 1 dropped
into "a little store —a sort of ladies' fur
! nishingstore: that is, the stock mmsisted
j of collars and cuffs and lace and neckties
\ and thread and yarn and all such little
truck. The store was a small affair —
liardlv eight feet wide by perhaps fifteen
| feet deep. I walked in and accosted a
small, thin, white-haired and foir-coin
plexioned young man, with an applica
! tion for employment. 1 must admit that
tlie proprietor —for the young man was
i the proprietor—did not seem to care
j much whether I went to work for him
lor not. But after a little talk, mostly on
| my part. I was ‘engaged ’ at $3 per week,
j witn the privilege of sleeping in the
j store.”
Something in the cxpre-sion of the re
porter's face suggested to the narrator to
sav that “the point of the story was to
! come.” So the yarn was continued:
“My proprietor did not (to a very
i heavy business, and did not seem to care
much either. He belonged to some
! secret society or other, and was con
i stantly called upon by brother members.
On these occasions the proceedings were
j quite mysterious, and a little sort of a
; wash-room in the back part of the store
was used for consultations. My ‘boss’
seemed to lie the head ring-master of the
concern, and, though his store was a
small affair, I noticed that the leading
men of the city sought his guidance. lie
paid little attention to the customers —I
: liad most of the ‘ waiting on ’ to tto, and
nearly all day when not engaged in those
—to me —singular conferences, my eni-
I plover would stand in the middle of the
store thinking, thinking, thinking, while
he kept constantly rapping his front
! teeth with a pencil. He was troubled a
; great deal with pain in his bark, and
complained of an affliction of the kidneys.
I had only been with the pale-faced
i young man a few months when I was
prevailed upon to return home, and never
: gave my casual -employer at Adrian a
thought till within the past few days.
The other evening at the hotel I was
glancing over the advertising columns of
the Tribune, when among the bank ad
vertisements I noticed the name of
Jerome It. (,‘liaffce. It jingled familarly
in my mind. Where had I seen or heard
that name before? I could not htfln its
running through my head. All at once
it came to me. Jerome It. Chaffee was
the name of the young fellow I worked
for in Adrian. Mich., so Ion" ago. I
could hardly believe that my old Michi
gan employer anil the noted bank presi
dent ana United States Senator were one
and the same. But as all my time was
then my own (I had not got info business)
I happened into the First National bank
one morning and made a few inquiries.
\ in about this style:
Anxious Inquirer—ls Jerome B. Chaf
[ fee connected with this bank ?
Bank Man —He is. sir, slightly.
A. I.—When did he come to Colorado,
and where frorry?
B. M.—He came here in 1h57. I think,
and lived previously at or near Adrian,
Mich.
A. I.—ls he of fair complexion—very
fair —and is he troubled with kidney
complaint?
B. M.—He has an exceedingly fair
complexion and. I believe, is troubled
somewhat with chronic disorder of the
kidnevs. * _ .
“This was aj! that I wanted. I was
and am satisfied that my quondam em
ployer of long ago was identically the
same person who's the richest mat! and
the keenest politician in Colorado. Now.
is hot that a rather funrry thing, any
"how?”
The reporter, somewhat weary, ad
mitted that it was.— Denver (Col'.) ’lVi
hunr.