Newspaper Page Text
jdort
,n Prosi
o Otli day
suited Staten
.-cpresentatives, ho receiving
„<in votes, while seven were given
r Andrew Jackson, uud four for \V)I
-in Harris Crawford. Wlion the votes
ro opened, and counted, in Congress,
Littleton W. Tazewell, of Virginia,
Teller for the Senate, and Mr. John
Taylor, of Now York, and Mr. Philip
'arbour, of Virginia, were Tellers for
House of Representatives. It nj>
\g that no one had been chosen to
'residency, tho President of the
(Mr. Gaillnrd, of South Carolina),
ho fact, adding tliat tho remaining
In tho choice of President now
1 on tho House of Represen ta-
Ho further declared that John C.
un, of South Carolina, having re
ed 182 votes, was duly elected Vice
evident of the United States, to serve
r four years from tho 4th of March next,
ho Senate then retired from the Repre
'ntatives’ chamber; and tlie House of
resentatives, resuming, proceeded to
choice of a President, every member
present, except Mr. Garnet, of
,nia, who was in Washington, but
.11 to attend the sitting. The delogo
is voted by ntates, and twenty-four
Hers were appointed, or one for each
(ate. They were seated at two tables,
.ml those at one table appointed Mr.
Webster, of Massachusetts, to announce
tho result, and those at the other table
appointed Mr. John Randolph, of Vir
‘nia, to perform the same oilico. Mr.
’obster rose and said: “Mr. Speaker,
the Tellers of the votes at this table have
proceeded to count the ballots contained
an the box sot beforo them. Tho result
they find to lie, that there are—For
John Quincy Adams, of Massachusetts,
thirteen votes; for Andrew Jackson, of
Tennessee, seven votes; for William FL
Crawford, of Georgia, four votes.” Mr.
Randolph, from tho other table, made u
statement corresponding with that of
Mr. Webster, iu the facts, but varying
in tho phraseology, so as to say that
Mr. Adams, Mr. Jackson, and Mr. Craw
ford had received the vote* of so many
States instead of to many votes. Mr.
Randolph was a State Rights man
of the school of John Tayler, of one of
the Carolina*, and so he could uot ac
cept the form of annunciation adopted by
Mr. Webster. Tlie Speaker then stated
this result to the House, and announced
ilia election of Mr. Adams to the Presi
dency. The usual oommittee to notify
tho President, and the President-elect, of
what had been done, was ordered to bo
ap)K)iuted; and then tho House ad
journed.
Of the eminent men who took part
in those proceedings—which, as being
something out of tlie observation of the
existing generation, we have given at
wane length—all long since departed
from the scene on which they were lead
lug actors. Adams and Calhoun, Web
ster and Randolph, Gaillard and Tazewell,
Taylor and Barbour, Jackson and Craw
ford, Melauie and Livingston, Trimble
and Ingham, nud others, died years
since, ami most of them are forgotten,
or are but dimly remembered; and tho
America of 1881 bears no more resem
blance to the America of 1825 than the
America of 1825 bore to the America of
1770. Yet a few years, and the actors of
to-day, now so eager and so full of life,
will be swept away, and will be moulder
ing in obsoure cemeteries or in nameless
•huroh-yards. But they care as little for
the future as they care for tlie past, being
devoted to the vital though fast-fleeting
present, which is ever with men, yet
dies to them, uot day by day, or hour by
hour, or even minute by minute, but
second by second.— Boston lYavcller.
—i—
Vermont Graveyard Literature.
With the possible exception of the ad
vertisements in old newspapers, there is
no department of literature which seems
to yield such perennial pleasure as an
cient epitaphs in country burying
grounds. In the rural town of Caven
dish, Vt., there is a curious composition
npon a monument which can hardly bo
classed as “ ancient” yet, because tho
mail for whom if is intended is still liv
ing. He did well to have tlie work done
under his own eye, for there would have
boon great risk of some departure from
tho written text if it had been put off
till after his death, anil then put on;
The inscription is as follows :
Thou 1 m (lead yut SpcaUpth
For lu-rv Id nail upon till*
Millton* top. I net this
Noble block to let ths
World no what 1 have don*
It liaa \vr been iy heart*
deeli-r to do unto you aa I
Would that ye should do
Unto me eo cant the beam
out of your own eye and
let me lie in peace
And slug my redeemer'* pr*l*
Come my Sweet Companion
Meet mo here.
In another Cavendish graveyard is a
head-stone wl icli a liereaved old gentle
man erected to tlie memory of tho wom
an who had been his wife for moro
than fiftv Tears, upon which is chiseled
a beautiful hand, with finger pointing
suggestively, under tho legend, “ Gone
Home.” The only peculiarity about it
is that the finger point# downward.
Near by is another stone—perhaps
belonging to the husband of the preced
ing—upon which there is an exceeding
ly terse farewell address, in tho follow
ing words :
Adieu vln world
With *ll your Sniff
For I'v* ixjsn with yon
Loug enough.
The tobacco crop °f Pennsylvania,
t-his rear, is worth SM.OOO.QOO.
~iiy of the Hummer* Around
IlailMin'a Hit-all.
[New York Herald.)
The temperature in Hudson’s Strait
was much lower than in tho bay, nnd wo
felt the cold intensely. I began to im
agine that my acclimatization had not
been complete until I noticed that tho
limits who came on board complained of
the cold as much as we did. Indeed, I
believe that one feels the cold in an Arc
tic summer much more disastrous than
in the winter. Tho low temperature in
the straits is in all probability attributa
ble to the ice that is constantly there,
either local ice or the pack brought down
from Fox Channel by the wind and cur
rent. Tho great Griuuell glacier, on
Meta Incognito, which Captain Hill es
mated to bo 100 miles in extent, must
also have considerable effect upon the
climate. As we passed down toward
Resolution Island we could see this great
sea of ice from the deck of the vessel in
all its solemn grandeur, surround* and by
loftly peaks clad in their ever enduring
mantles of suow.
I did not go ashore while our vessel
lay ut auchor at North Bay, for I had no
anxiety to onoounter the musqnitoes
which abound there, though not to tlie
extent that makes life such a burden as
upon tho eastern shores of Hudson’s Bay.
While our water casks were being filled
at Marble Island in tho early part of Au
gust, Captain Baker and 1 went into one
of the ship’s floats to the mainland, about
fifteen miles to the southwest, to secure
a lot erf musk-ox skins and other articlosof
trade at a Kinnopatoo encampment thoro,
and though we spent but ono night on
shore, I never endured such torture from
so small a enuso as the musqnitoes occa
sioned us. Indeed, my hands and his,
for a month afterward, were swollen and
sore from the venom of these abominable
little posts. They are not like civilized
musqnitoes, for no amount of brushing
or fanning will keep them away. Their
sociability is unbounded, and you have
absolutely to push them off, a handful at
a time, while their places are at ouce
tilled by others, the air teeming with
them all the time. The natives keep
their tents filled with smoko from a slow
smoldering fire in the doorway, which ip
the only plan to roudor them habitable
at all, but the remedy is only one degree
better than tlie disease, as (Japtain Baker
remarked to me, w ith tears. Tho only
relief from tho torment* is a strong breeze
from tlie water, which carries them away;
hut even then it is not safe to seek shel
ter in the lee of m tent, for there they
swarm and ar# as vigorous in their at
tacks as during a calm. The men wear
musquito-net hoods over their heads and
shoulders while in camp or hunting, and
the women and children live in the smoke
of their smoldering peat fires.
Humboldt and iho Lunatic.
"Great wits are sure to madness near
allied,” and a quaint anecdote, taken
from Humboldt’s “Wonderjab.ro,” aptly
demonstrates liow readily even so keen
an observer as the great German traveler
may mistake a genuis for a lunatic. Dur
ing one of his many sojourns in Paris,
Humboldt, who took a deep interest in
the mysteries of mental aberration, con
ceived a desire to converse intimately
with some incurable maniac, and re
quested one of his scientific friends, an
eminent mad doctor, to give him the
opportunity of meeting one of his more
remarkable patients. A few days later
lie received an invitation frym the
specialist iu question to supper, and on
his arrival at hie friend’s house found
two strange gentleman awaiting him,
neither of whom was formally introduced
to him by his Amphitryon. Ono was an
elderly gentleman of grave demeanor,
dressed in the height of the prevailing
fashion, by no means talkative, anil man
ifestly devoted to the pleasures of the
table. The other was a comparatively
young man, extremely excitable in man
ner, with long, disheveled hair, ill-made
clothes, and so exuberantly voluble
that he all but monopolized the con
versation throughout the evening, al
though Humboldt himself was one of the
most loquacious men alive. This wild
looking person displayed extraordinary
versatility anil restlessness in his bilk,
which teemed with paradoxes, and dealt
with an infinite variety, of subjects.
Humboldt listened to his brilliant
mm tilings with absorbing interest, and
upon taking leave of his host at a late
hour of the night expressed his gratitude
for the psychological experience afforded
him, observing that “the madman hail
amused him beyond all measure.” “How
is that?" exclaimed the doctor; “yep
scarcely exchanged a word with him all
the evening.” “I mean, of course,” re
joined Humboldt, “that excitable young
man." “You are altogether mistaken;
the madman was that quiet, deooroua
old gentleman.” “And who, then, was
the person I took to bo demented?”
“That, person, my good friend, was M.
Honore de Balzac T’
A Sailor’s Life at Sea.
In an article upon t-lie general features
of a sailor's life, published in the Boston
t'ommcrcial Bulletin, the writer says:
After tlie pilot leaves tlie vessel at the
mouth of the harbor, tlie captain assumes
command, then officers and crew begin
to understand each other. In olden
times it was customary for the crew and
officers to make this day tho decisive ono
as to whether the officers or men were to
“take charge!”
The most trifling act indicative of in
subordination on the part of the crew, or
the first harsh word from an officer, was
sufficient to throw “all hands” into a
tumult-—as tlie result of this fresh battle
determined the character of, the rale
throughout the voyage. Heaven help’
the officers who are overwhelmed by tho
turbulence ei the crew in this, their first
encounter. For while the men dare not
openly disobey the orders from their of
ficers, they will contrive to render their
obedience iu snob a maimer as to cause
their unfortunate mate the greatest
chagrin.
Railway In the Rocky Mountains.
A writer, describing the Denver and
Rio Grande railway from Conejos west
! ward toward the San Juan country, gives
I tin •se picturesque bits:
For miles the railway curved among
the hills, keeping sight of the plains
ami catching frequent glimpses of the
1 village. Its innumerable windings
I along tho brows of the hills seemed, in
I mere wantonness, as loth to abandon so
| beautiful a region. Almost impercepti
bly, the foot-hills changed into mount
ains and the valleys deepened into
canons, and winding around tho point
of one of tho mountains it found itself
overlooking the picturesque valley or
canon of Los Pinos creek. Eastward
was tho rounded summit of the great
mountain of Ban Antonio; over the
nearest height could he seen the top of
j Sierra Blanca, canopied with perpetual
clouds ; in front were castellated crags,
| art-like monuments and stupendous
precipices. Having allured tlie railway
into their awful fastnesses, tho mount
ains seemed determined to baffle its
J further progress. But it was a strong
j hearted railway, and, although a little
giddy 1,000 feet above tho stream, it
; cuts its way through tho crags and
among tho monuments and bears on
ward for miles up the valley. A pro
jecting point, too high for a cut and too
abrupt for a curve, was overcome by a
tunnel. The track layers are now busy
at work laying down the steel rail at a
point a few miles beyond this tunnel.
The grade is nearly completed for many
miles further. From the present end of
the track, for the next four or five miles
along tho grade, the scenery is unsur
passed by any railroad scenery in North
America. Engineers, who have trav
ersed every mile of mountain railroad in
tho Union, assert that it is tho finest
J they have seen. Perched on the dizzy
| mountain aide, at an altitude of 11,500
I feet above the sea—greater than that of
Veta pass—l,ooo feet above the valley,
with battlemented crags, rising 500 or
(00 feet above, the beholder is enrapt
ured ivitli the view. At ono point tho
canon narrows into an awful gorge, ap
parently but a few yards wide, and near
ly 1,000 feet in depth, between almost
Eerpendicular walls of granite. Here a
igli point of granito bus to be tunneled,
and in this tunnel tho rock men are at
work drilling and blasting to complete
the passage, which is now open to pedes
trians. The frequent explosions of the
blasts echo anil re-echo among the
mountains until they die away in the
distance. Looking down tho valley from
the tunnel, the scene is one never to be
forgotten. Tlie lofty precipices, tho dis
tant heights, the fantastic monuments,
the contrast of the rugged crags and tho
graceful curves of the silvery stream be
neath them, the dark green pines inter
spersed with poplar groves, bright yel
low in their autumn foliage, tiiat crown
the neighboring summits—height, depth,
distance and color—combine to consti
tute a landscape that is destined to be
painted by thousands of artists, repro
duced again and again by photographers,
and to adorn the walls of innumerable
parlors and galleries of art. Beyond the
tunnel for a mile or more tho scene is
even more picturesque, though of less
extent. Tho traveler looks down into
the gorge and sees tlie stream plunging
hi a succession of snow-white cascades
through narrow cuts between the per
pendicular rocks.
Under tho Rose (Sub-rosn).
The tine origin of the term “under the
rose” is undoubtedly to be sought from
the very early oriental connection of that
flower with the rites of the worship of
Venus. In all tlie early mythologies, the
rose was employed in crowning the
Queen of Love, or her worshipers, and
in many instances it is a symbol of the
divinity herself. The secrecy with which
these religious mysteries were veiled,
would sufficiently indicate the reason
why the symbols connected with it were
also typical of silence. There is abund
ant evidence that tlie use of the rose as a
symbol of silence is of far greater anti
quity than the (lays of Romans or Norse
men. There lias arisen much petty con
troversy about tho common expression
“under the rose," mul two different ori
gins have been assigned. Some persons
assert that it ought to be spelt “under
the rows,” for that in former days almost
all towns were built with the second
story projecting over the lower one—a
sort of piazza, or row, as they termed it,
and which may still be seen at Chester
and some other old English towns; and
that, whilst the elders of the family were
sitting at their windows, gravely enjoy
ing tho air, their sons and daughters
were making love where they could not
see them, “under the rows.” The other
is much more elegant. Cupid it is said,
gave a rose to Harpocrates, the god of
silence; and from this legend originated
the practice that prevailed amongst
Northern nations of suspending a rose
from the ceiling over the upper end of
tho table, where it was intended that the
conversation was to be kept secret; and
and that it was, according to others,
which gave rise to the phrase, “under
the rose/|_ m
Hindoo Servants.
Even tlie wealthy Hindoos cannot find
good domestic servauts. One of them
writes: “The good servants are gone
who use to know how to hold your um
brella over your head, pour fhe water
over your hands after meals, and exag
erato your resources before your friends.
This fine close of men has disappeared,
and a degenerate species of epidemic
stricken, untrained young barbarism
have taken their place. They plunder
you when sent to the bazaar; they steal
your clothes, your rioe; and they are so
greedy that they lick off the very syrup
from 'be surface of your sweetmeats.”
“Thebe is not a corporation on the
round globe whose specific gravity is
greater than that of tlie old .Etna Life
of Hartford. It is solid as Granite and
as true as gold."— Phil. Weekly Item,
Go Slower.
The most casual observer mast have
noticed the increase of epidemics, the
increase of the number of sudden deaths,
generally attributed to heart disease, or
if in midsummer to sunstroke, and the
increase in the number of insane and of
suicides. This is true of our own coun
try and of Euroix*. Even in France the
number of suicides lias increased, year
ly, from 4,157, in 187(). to 6,424 iu 1878,
and over in Peoria county, 111., there
are sixty-nine insane and idiotic persons
in the county poor-house. Like statis
tics appear in the papers wi.erover the
attention may be turned. What does all
that mean? may lie reasonably asked.
Our explanation is that civilized men
are killing themselves by overwork and
excessive use of narcotics anil stimulants.
Wo are liviug too fast. We rush tho
cattle too much. We are too constantly
on the stretch. We do not rest and lub
ber-lift enough. The result is we ex
haust vitality and break down the nerv
ous systems and the brain, und sudden
deaths and insanity results, and tho
wretchedness and suffering experienced
by persons whoso nervous systems are
not properly nourished lead directly to
suicide.
If this is tho correct diagnosis the
course for thoughtful people to pursue
is plain enough. Eat less, rest more,
avoid tobacco, wholly if you can, but at
most use it as little as possible ; let ex
citing drinks of all kinds alone, sleep all
the system requires, throw care nnd its
canker to the winds, cultivate your rea
sonable, thoughtful, pleasant neighbor,
go more into society, attend elevating
public entertainments, cultivate music
in tho family, and remember wliat the
wise man of okl said, “I am nowold,
yet I have rffiver seen the righteous for
saken or his seed begging bread.”
We need to get back to the plain, old
fashioned, common sense in the matter
of living and the enjoyment of life, as a
means of regaining health and strength,
and the power to make existence desira
ble.— Wapello (.Iowa) Republican.
Inoculation With Snake Poison.
A wonderful prophylactic for snako
bites, if true, is giveu by Mme. Calder
on de la Barca in her “Life in Mexico,”
page 431. Speaking of Tamtsico, she
sats: “We have just been hearing a
curious circumstance connected with
poisonous reptiles, which I have learned
for tho first time. Here, and all along
tlie coasts, the people are in the habit
of inoculating themselves with the poi
son of the rattlesnake, which renders
thorn safo ’from the bite of all venomous
animals. The person to be inoculated
is pricked with the tooth of the serpent
on the tongue, in both arms, and on va
rious parts of his body, and the venom
introduced into the wounds. An erup
tion comes out which lasts a few days.
Ever after these persons can handle the
most venomous snakes with impunity;
can make them come by calling them;
have great pleasure in fondling them,
and tho bito of these persons is poison
ous 1 You will not believe this, but
we have testimony of seven or eight re
spectable merchants to the fact.
“A gentleman who breakfasted here
this morning says that he has been
vainly endeavoring to make up his
mind"to submit to the operation, as he
is very much exposed where he lives, and
is obliged to travel a great deal on the
coast; that when he goes on these expe
ditions he is always accompanied by liis
servant, an inoculated negro, who has
the power of curing him should he be
bit, by sucking the poison from the
wound. He also saw this negro cure
tlie bite given by an inoculated Indian
to a white boy with whom he was light
ing, and who was the stronger of the
two. Tlie stories of the Eastern jugglers,
and their power over these reptiles may,
perhaps, be accounted for in this way. I
cannot say that I should like to have so
much snaky nature transferred into my
composition, nor to live among people
whose bite is venomous.” —Land and
Water.
The Boys’ Room.
Let your boys havo a pleasant, sunny
room to themselves. If each one cannot
have a separate apartment, let him have
his own bureau, and a specified portion
of closet-room. Let them have substan
tial furniture, and don’t allow a broken
chair, faded carpet, cracked pitcher, or
mirror, in their room any more than you
would think of putting them in the guest
chamber, which always looks so tasteful
and neat. As regards the decoration of
the walls, the boys themselves will soon
furnish tho pictures, if they can be as
sured there is a place where they can be
kept, and all fear of their being consigned
to the dust-box is removed. They may
not be of the highest order of art, but
they indicate a taste for the beautiful
which should be encouraged. Again,
boys must and will have all sorts of ar
ticles collected in different stages of their
life, As every mother con testify, but
even the most heterogeneous collections
can be made to have places of their own,
so the boy can have his pleasure of pos
session, and the mother’s pride in her
orderly house remain undisturbed. Then,
mothers, let “the boys’ room” be just as
warm, bright, ansl clieerfui as motherly
love and sisterly ingenuity can make it
(for, depend upon it, boys do notioe and
appreciate little useful ornaments in
their room, even if they don’t speak of
it), and if the room is often fall of merry
l>oy companions, drawn there because ol
its attractiveness, don’t fret either be
cause of the noise made, or confusion
that will take only a few extra touches to
straighten, but be thankful that you
have succeeded in making “home the
best place” to the boys—a place where
they and their companions are always
welcome.
**Menx> your ways, my son,” said ths
good Deacon Sippleson. “before it is too
late.” “Time eiiough for that, dad,” ex
claimed the graceless rascal, lighting a
fresh cigar; “ ’tis never too later to menJ
you know, dad.”
He Had to Attend a Fnm*ra!.
Old Chief -Justice Bumpns was oHi#
streperous on the bench. II~S
was unassailable—his self-esteem irikeH
triple wall of granite, or gates of bra;fl
through which tho familiarity of tBB
common herd could not make its way.
dispensing justice lie knew no friend si
and in dealing out the duties of
who served about him, ho would soonej
havo cut off a finger than show favor tH
| one more than to another.
Oil a certain occasion, when an
ant case was on the docket, which
run through several days, one of
who had been drawn to serve on tlHj
jury asked very modestly and very
iitely, to be excused. Ho gave ns
reason for liis request that his liusinejH
was pressing him hard for time. “ShoulH
I be called from my business during
two or three days next to come,” he snivl
“the loss to me and to my partneß
would be more than I can tell. For
sell 1 would not care so much; butH
ought not to bring loss to others.”
The J udge looked at him
—a look that might havo paralyzed
weaker man. Tlie look was majestic anJH
awful—a look of pained surprise und ufl
mingled reproof.
“Sir! Man! —How dare you present
personal business in the balance against
the demands of the law? Though your
business were to uphold the arching heav
ens it should not excuse you from per
forming the solemn duties to which you
have befen regularly subpoenaed and ap
pointed! Sir!—you will remain upon
the jury!”
Shortly after this—when his Honor had
recovered liis breath, and a look of com
placency had crept over his corrugated
visage, up to him sidled a- pale-faced,
cadaverous looking man, with a mournful
expression of countenance; a bend in liis
back; and a solemn shade in his garb—
and he, also had come to beg that be
might bo excused from serving on the
jury.
“ O your Excellency! Your Honor, I
mean!” as he saw the old jurist just upon
the point of exploding, “I would not ask
this—indeed, I would not,” —he carried
his handkerchief to his eyes, and put
back the rising flood of emotion—“l
would not ask it for myself ; but a solemn,
sacred duty—a duty, your Honor, which
no other calling of earth can transcend.
It is tlie melancholy duty, your august
Honor, of attending a funeral! Ah me!
Those whom we love are dropping from
us—dropping one by ono! and I shall
ere long go to join the host upon the
other side!”
The Judge lifted his spectacles and
wiped a mote from his eye.
“My good man, your feelings do you
credit. Under such circumstances I will
excuse you. You may go, sir, and attend
upon the sad ceremonies that await the
stricken mourner.”
The man went out in n hurry. He
was careful to drop a tear of gratitude
to the Judge, and then lie sidled away
with the swiftness of a shadow.
“Poor man!” muttered tho august
Court, to itself, after the juror had gon@;
and then, to the clerk:
‘ ‘ Mr. Clerk, who is that man whom I
have just excused from service as a
juror?”
“His name is Diganilberry, dir.”
“ What a curious name. Wliat is his
business?”
“ lie is an undertaker, sir!” — New
York Ledger.
Too Much Enterprise,
An eagle, flying down from his eyrie
on a lofty rock, seized a lamb and car
ried him aloft in his talons. A jackdaw,
witnessing tlie capture of the lamb, was
stirred with envy, and said to himself :
“ Why, that looks to be as easy as start
ing a big newspaper,” and he deter
mined to emulate the strength and flight
of the eagle. He flew around with a
great whirr of his wings, and finally
settled upon a large ram, with the in
tention of carrying him off’, anyhow;
but, his claws becoming entangled in
the fleece, he was not able to release
himself, although he fluttered with his
wings as much as he could. The shep
herd, seeing what had happened, ran
up and caught him, and, clipping his
wings, took him home for the children
to play with. On their asking, “Father,
what kind of a bird is this ? ” he re
plied, . “To my certain knowledge he is
a daw; but he will have it that lie is an
eagle.”
This fable teaches a great many
tilings, and, among others, that starting
a big newspaper is an undertaking that
should be seriously considered in ad
vance. —*Galveston Nears
A Skipper.
“Tastes good, doesn't it?” asked the
drug clerk, as the customer drank tho
soda water flavored with pineapple
syrup.
“Yes, very good.”
The drug clerk laughed sardonically,,
and said:
‘‘ Of course. But then you don’t know
what it is made of. ”
“ What do you mean ?”
“ The old man’s out,” he said, looking
cautiously around the store, “ and I’D
let you into some of the secrete of the
bnsiuessif you won’t give me away. The
old man made that pineapple syrup out
of old cheese that you could smell through
a fire-proof safe. * Full of skippers, too I
I’ll tell yon a curious thing aßout that
cheese. The old man cut off a shoe and
brought it up stairs here with him on*
night. He laid it on the oounter; next
morning it was gone. Come to look ths
little animals in it had shoved it on to
the floor, wriggled it down the stairs and %
put it back exactly in its old place in the *
cheese. The old man said that was an
extraordinary illustration of the strength
of tlie home instinct in' the brute crea
tion. ”
“I think I’ll be a skipper myself,”
said the customer, with a white face, and
he skipped out of the store to the nearest
bar-room