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THE STANDARD AND EXPRESS.
MARsniALK,)' Editors and Proprietors.
SLUMBKK SOSO,
BT CELIA THAiTER.
Thou little child, with tender, clinging arms,
Drop thy sweet head, my darling, down and rest
Upon ray shoulder, rest with all thy charms;
Be soothed and comforted, be loved and blessed
Against thy silken, honey-colored hair
I lean a loving cheek, a mute caress ;
Close, close I gather thee and kiss thy fair
White eyelids, sleep so softly doth oppress.
Dear little head, that lies in calm content
Within the gracious hollow that God made
In every human shoulder ; where he meant
Borne tired head for comfort should be laid.
Most like a heavy-folded rose thon art,
In summer air reposing, warm and still.
Dream thy sweet dreams upon my quiet heart;
I watch thy slumber, nought shall do thee ill.
OLD TIMES ON THE MISSISSIPPI.
How Mark Twain Became a Pilot—A
“Cub’s’ l Pxjieriencea- Difficulties At
tending; the Mental Photographing of
Two Thousand niles of River Bank.
In the February Atlantic Mark Twain
contributes the narrative of his experi
ences as “ cub” pilot on the Mississippi
steamer Panl Jones. What with lying
on the rocks four days at Louisville and
some other delays, says Twain, the poor
old Paul Jones fooled away about two
weeks going from Cincinnati to New
Orleans. This gave me a chance to get
acquainted with one of the pilots, and
he taught me how to steer the boat, and
thns made the fasoination of river life
more potent than ever for me.
It also gave me a chance to get ac
quainted with a youth who had taken
deck passage—more’s the pity ; for he
easily borrowed six dollars from me on
a promise to retnra to the boat and pay
it back to me the day after wo should
arrive. But he probably died or forgot,
for he never came. It was doubtless
the former, sinoe he has said his parents
were wealthy, and he only traveled deck
passage because it was cooler.
I soon discovered two things. One
was that a vessel would not be likely to
sail for the mouth of the Amazon under
ten or twelve years ; and the other was
that the nine or ten dollars still left in
my pocket would not suffice for so im
posing an exploration as I had planned,
even if I could afford to wait for a ship.
Therefore, it followed that I must con
trive anew career. The Panl Jones
was now bound for St. Louis. I planned
a eiege against my pilot, and at the end
of three hard days he surrendered. I
entered upon the small enterprise of
“ learning” twelve or thirteen hundred
miles of the great Mississippi river with
the easy confidence of my time of life.
If I had really known what I was about
to require of my faculties I should not
have had the courage to begin. I sup
posed that all a pilot had to do was to
keep his boat in the river, and I did not
consider that that could be much of a
trick, since it was so wide.
The boat backed out from New Or
leans at four in the afternoon, and it
was “ onr watch” until eight. Mr.
B ,my chief, “ straightened her up,’
plowed her along past the sterns of the
other boats that lay at the levee, and
then said, “Here, take her; shave
those steamships as close as you’d peel
an apple.” I took the wheel, and my
heart went down into my boots ; for it
seemed to me that we were about to
scrape the side off every ship in the line,
we were so close. I held my breath and
began to claw the boat away from the
danger ; and I had my own opinion of
the pilot who had known no better than
to get us into such peril, but I was too
wise to express it. In half a minute.
I had a wide margin of safety inter
vening between the Paul Jones and the
the ships ; and within ten seconds more
I was set aside in disgrace, and Mr.
B was going into danger again and
flaying me alive with abnse of my oow
ardioe. I was stung, but I was obliged
to admire the easy confidence with
which my chief loafed from side to side
of his wheel, and trimmed the ships so
closely that disaster seemed ceaselessly
imminent. "When he had cooled a lit
tle he told me that the easy water was
close ashore and the current outside,
and therefore we must hug the bank up
stream to get the benefit of the former,
and stay well out, down stream, to take
advantage of the latter. In my own
mind I resolved to be a down-stream
pilot and leave the up streaming to
people dead to prudence.
A DULL CONVERSATION.
Now and then Mr. B called my
attention to certain things. Said he,
“ This is Six-mile point.” I assented.
It was pleasant enough information,
but I oould not see the bearing of it. I
was not conscious that it was a matter
of any interest to me. Another time he
said, “ This is Nine-Mile point.” Later
he said, “ This is Twelve-Mile point.”
They were all about level with the
water’s edge; they all looked about
alike to me ; they were monotonously
unpicturesque. I hoped Mr. B
would change the subject. Bnt no ; he
would crowd up around a point, hug
gffig the shore with affection, and then
Bay: “Tk e slack water ends here,
abreast this bunch of China trees ; now
we cross over.” So he crossed over.
He gave me the wheel once or twice,
but I had no luck. I either came near
chipping off the edge of a sngar plan
tation, or else I yawed too far from
shore, and so I dropped back into dis
grace again and got abased.
SOMETHING LIKE WORK.
The watch was ended at last, and we
took supper and went to bed. At mid
night the glare of a lantern shone in my
eyes and the night watchman said :
“ Como, turn out!”
And then he left. I could Dot un
derstand this extraordinary procedure,
so I presently gave up trying to and
dozed off to sleep. Pretty soon the
watchman was back again, and this time
lie was gruff. I was annoyed. I said :
“ What do you want to come bother
ing around here in the middle of the
night for ? Now as like as not I’ll not
get'to sleep again to-night.”
The watchman said ;
“Well, if this ain’t good I’m blest.’’
The “ off watch” was just turning in,
and I heard some brutal laughter from
them, and such remarks as, “Halloa,
watchman ; ain’t the new cub turned
out yet? He’o delicate, likely. Give
him some sugar in a rag and send for
the chambermaid to sing rock-a-by-baby
to him.”
About this time Mr. B appeared
on the scene. Something like a minute
later I was climbing the pilot-house
step3, with some of my clothes on and
the rest in my arms. Mr. B was
dose behind, commenting. Here was
something fresh—this thing of getting
up in the middle of the night to go to
work. It was a detail in piloting that
had never occurred to me at all. I knew
that boats ran all night, but, somehow,
I had never happened to refleot that
somebody had to get up out of a warm
bed to run them. I began to fear that
piloting was not quite so romantic as I
imagined it was ; that there was some
thing very real and work-like about
this new phrase of it.
A FINE POINT.
It was rather a dingy night, although
a fair number of stars were out. The
big mate was at the wheel, and he had
the old tub pointed at a star, and was
holding her straight up the middle of
the river. The shores on either hand
were not much more than a square
mile apart, but they seemed wonder
fully far away and ever so vague and in
distinct. The mate said :
“We’ve got to land at Jones’ planta
tion, sir.”
The vengeful spirit in me exulted. I
said to myself, I wish you joy for your
job, Mr. B. ; you’ll have a good time
finding Mr. Jones’ plantation such a
night as this; and I hope you never
will find it as long as you live.
Mr. B. said to the mate :
“ Upper end of the plantation or the
lower ?”
“Upper.”
“ I can’t do it. The stumps there are
out of the water at this stage. It’s no
great distance to the lower, and you’ll
have to get along with that.”
“All right, sir. If Jones don’t like
it he’ll have to lump it, I reckon.”
And then the mate left. My exulta
tion began to cool and my wonder to
come up. Here was a man who not
only proposed to find this plantation
on such a night, but to find either end
of it you preferred. I dreadfully
wanted to ask a question, but I was
earrying about as many short answers
as my cargo-room would admit of, so I
held my peace. All I desired to ask
Mr. B was the simple question
whether ho was ass enough to really
imagine he waa going to Hud tLnt plan
tation on a night when all plantations
were exactly alike and all the same
color. But I held in. I used to have
fine inspirations of prudenoe in those
days.
Mr. B made for the shore and
soon was scraping it just the same as if
it had been daylight. And not only
that, but singing—
“ Father in heaven the day is declining,” etc.
It seems to me that I had put my life
in the keeping of a peculiarly reckless
outcast.
AN ENRAGED PILOT,
Presently he turned on me and said:
“ What’s the name of the first point
above New Orleans ?”
I was gratified to be able to answer
promptly, and I did. I said I didn’t
know.
“ Don’t know ? ”
This manner jolted me. I was down
at the foot again in a moment. Bat I
had to say just what I had said before.
“ Well, you’re a smart one,” said Mr.
B . “ What’s the name of the next
point?”
Once more I did not know.
“ Well, this beats anything. Tell
mo the name of any point or place I
told you.”
I studied awhile, and decided that I
couldn’t.
“ Look-a-here! What do you start
out from, above Twelve-Mile point, to
cross over ? ”
“I—l—don’t know.”
“You—you—don’t know?” mimick
ing my drawling manner of speech.
“ What do you know ? ”
“ I—l—nothing, for certain.”
“ By the great Cm3ar’s ghost, I be
lieve you! You’re the stupidest dun
derhead I ever saw or ever heard of, so
help me Moses! The idea of you
being a pilot—you! Why, you don’t
know enough to pilot a oow down a
lane.”
Oh, but his wrath wa up ! He was a
nervous man, and he shuffled from one
side of his wheel to the other as if
the floor was hot. He would boil
awhile to himself, and then overflow
and scald me again.
“Look-a-here! What do you suppose
I told you the names of those points
for?”
I tremblingly considered a moment,
and then the devil cf temptation pro
voked me to say:
“ Well —to to—be entertaining, I
thought.”
This was a red rag to the bull. He
raged and stormed so (he was crossing
the river at the time) that I judged it
made him blind, because he ran over
the steering-oar of a trading scow. Of
course the traders sent up a volley of
red-hot profanity. Never was a man
so grateful as Mr. B was ; because
he was brim full, and here were subjects
who would talk back. He threw open
a window, thrust his head out, and such
an eruption followed as I never had
heard before. The fainter and farther
away the scowmen’s curses drifted, the
higher Mr. B lifted his voice, and
the weightier his adjeotives grew.
When he closed the window he was
empty. You could have drawn a seine
through bis system and not caught
curses enough to disturb your mother
with. Presently he said to me in the
gentlest way;
“ My boy, you must get a little mem
orandum-book, and every time I tell
you a thing, put it down right away.
There’s only one way to boa pilot, and
that is to get this entire river by heart.
Yon have to know it just like ABC.”
That was a dismal revelation to me ;
for my memory was never loaded with
any thing but blank cartridges. How
ever, I did not feel discouraged long.
I judged that it was best to make some
allowances, for doubtless Mr. B
was “stretching.”
JONES’ PLANTATION.
Presently he pulled a rope, and struck
a few strokes on the big bell. The
stars were all gone now, and the night
was as black as ink. I could hear the
wheels churn along the bank, but I was
not entirely certain that I could seo the
shore. The voice of the invisible
watchman called up from the hurricane
deck :
“ What’s this, sir ?”
“ Jones’ plantation.”
I said to myself, I wish I might ven
ture t-o offer a small bet that it isn’t.
But I did not chirp. I only waited to
see. Mr. B , handled the engine
bells, and in due time the boat’s nose
came to the land, a torch glowed from
the forecastle, a man skipped ashore, a
darky’s voice on the bank said, “Gim
me de oarpet-bag, Mars’ Jones,” and
the next moment we were standing up
the river again, all serene. I reflected
deeply awhile, and then said—but not
aloud—‘-well, the finding of that planta
tion was the luckiest accident that ever
happened; but it couldn’t happen again
in a hundred years. And I fully be
lieved it was an accident, too.
PROGRESS.
By the tims we had gone seven or
eight hundred miles up the river, I had
learned to be a tolerable plucky up
stream steers-man in daylight, and be
fore we reached St. Louis I had made
a trifle of progress in night-work, but
only a trifle. I had a note-book that
fairly bristled with the names of towns,
“points,”bars, islands, bends, reaches,
etc.; but the information was to be
found only in the note-book—none of
it was in my head. It made my heart
ache to think I had 'only got half of
the river set down ; for a3 onr watch
was four hours off and four hours on,
day and night, there was a long four
hours gap in my book for every time I
had slept since the voyage began.
Babies’ Names.
When people name their babies they
sh enld remember their future feelings
Asa general thing, a name that has a
pleasant sound, and is neither too com
mon nor too far-fetched and semantic,
is the pleasantest to have. And it is
always better to have one that, while
admitting of a childish diminutive, will
not sound ridiculous if its bearer lives
to be an old man or woman.
At the same time, there is such a
thing as sticking too strictly to the
oommon-place, and it is not considerate
to inflict upon innocent babes their
grandfathers’ names, or even their
grandmothers’, if they are obsolete or
hideous.
It is due to your baby to give it a
name that will not be a torment to it in
its school-days—and there is nothing
like a queer name for children to make
sport with—and one that will last it if
it lives to be eighty.
A Lost Babe.
HOW A CALIFORNIA MOTHER WHO WOULD
DANCE WAS BADLY SCARED.
A ball was given at Camptonville,
Yuba county, Oil., on New Year’s Eve,
which was attended by a oertain lady
who resides some distance from that
place She had a baby that oould not
be left at home. Arriving at Campton
ville early in the evening with her
baby, she put up at the Globe hotel,
kept by one Jones. She told Jones she
was desirous of attending the ball if
she could find someone who would
take care of her baby. Jones, being an
accommodating fellow, proposed that
he would “father” the “young ’un”
ad interim. The lady accepted the
offer with joy, and putting the baby to
sleep, laid it down gently in Jones’
bed, and then went to the ball. Up to
midnight Jones made frequent visits to
the room, to attend to the wants of his
precious charge. From that hour the
babe, so far as Jones or its mother was
concerned, was left alone, for Jones fell
a victim to sleep. It happened, how
ever, that a stage-driver was asleep in
a room nearly opposite to the one oc
cupied by the babe. About one o’olock
a. m. says the North San Juan Times,
the babe began to cry fearfully, and to
appease it the stage driver took it to
his own bed, and kept it quiet the re
mainder of the night. He was up and
off by daybreak, before the mother had
returned from the ball, and before any
one was stirring in the house, leaving
the babe fast asleep in his own bed.
An hour later the ball broke up, and
the mother returned to the hotel. She
went straight to Jones’ room to see her
babe. Lo! and behold! it wasn’t there
—neither was Jones. Soon the whole
honse was in an uproar, and search was
made for the missing babe, but all in
▼ain. In the meantime the whole town
was startled by the information that a
child had been stolen and carried away.
Finally, it was remembered that the
stage-driver had slept in the house that
night, and that possibly he might know
something about the missing child. He
was telegraphed to on the subject, to
Downieville, and in the course of a few
minutes a reply wag received from him,
which read as follows: “ Frank Ramp
pin : You will find the child in my bed
at the hotel.” bn the reception of the
telegram the mother rushed frantically
to the stage-driver’s room and found
her precious babe lying in his bed fast
asleep. Nearly everybody in Campton
ville got drunk that day rejoicing over
the event.
CARTERSYILLE, GEORGIA,,THURSDAY, FEBRUARY 11. 1875.
MAJOR MUDD’S MURDER.
BY JUDGE CLARK.
Old De Bruin was a leader of the
stockocracy—a “bear,” moreover. He
had faith in nothing but financial total
depravity. His bump of reverence was
a concavity. Like Capt. Symmes, he
believed in the hollowness of the world
—not only of this world, but all others,
including the next. He would have
sold stock in the whole of them “ short.”
The final bankruptcy of the universe
was a cardinal article of his creed, and
he didn’t believe the assets would pay
over fifty per cent.
He had a daughter “ Pet.” The best
that can be said of her is that she didn’t
take after her father; for Pet was a beau
ty, and didn’t care a picayune whether
Bosh Preferred went up or down.
I met Pet at one of our fashionable
sea-sides, and, to cut a long story short,
fell in love with her and told her so.
She said neither “yes” nor “no”
when I popped the question, but hung
her pretty head and asked for time, a3
her father might have done in case of
the “bulls” having a temporary ad
vantage in the market.
I soon found that another was the
real stumbling-block. It always is an
other, who, in spite of what the prayer
book says, is wickedly putting asunder
those whom Heaven would join together.
Another, in this instance, was a fat
Broad-street broker, old enough to be
Pet’s father, and so like the latter that
the two might have been cubs of the
the same litter. He was called Major
Mudd ; and to him, it seems, old De
Bruin had, some time before, hypothe
cated his daughter.
Pet had no great liking for the major.
What woman ever had for a man old
enough to be her father—unless it was
her father ? I was near her own age,
and—well—l’ll not flatter myself.
The upshot of it was that Pet and I
made up our minds to run away and get
married—she oonfiding in paternal
affection for final forgiveness, and I in
the old gentleman’s ultimate discovery
that he couldn’t help himself.
Mi. De Bruin watched his daughter
like a hawk. He evidently suspected
something. How to carry out our plan
became, from day to day, a more per
plexing question, The old fellow’s
eye was on our outgoings and incom
ings. He would tap at his daughter’s
door, at the most unexpected seasons,
under pretense of making this or that
irrelevant inquiry. To evade his vig
ilance would have been like giving the
slip to Argus.
A bright idea struck me, I had often
amused mvself nnd Pot mimicking
the mijor. X oould do his voice to a
nicety; and having had some experi
ence in private theatricals, I felt sure
that with a little stuffing and other
making up I should be able to person
ate the old hipopotamus to perfection.
The major’s arrival was expected
daily, and when he came, Pet and I
knew, that with two instead of one to
watch us the execution of our scheme
would be rendered doubly difficult.
Accordingly we determined to bring
matters to a crisis.
It was given out that I was going
away not to return. It being privately
understood that I was to come back the
same evening, disguised as the major ;
deceive Peter’s father a3 to my identity;
carry her off at midnight; marry her at
the nearest minis er’s ; and boldly risk
the consequences.
I took an austentatious leave of Mr.
De Bruin, bowed a ceremonious good
by to his daughter, and took the next
train for the city.
That evening I presented myself to
the hotel clerk, to whom I had paid my
bill in the morning, with all the dignity
of padded portliness and the frosts of
at least fifty winters silvering the locks
of my wig.
The olerk who knew the major well,
saved me the commission of downright
forgery by registering the name himself.
I spent a dull evening with Mr. De
Bruin. Pet left us early, doubtless to
prepare for our midnight flitting ; and
the old gentleman tackled me in a dis
cussion about “points” and “corners”
that fairly made my head swim, and
more than once drove me to the verge
of committing myself through ignor
ance.
Bed-time came at last, and I hastened
to my room, where T threw off my dis
guise, and resumed my usual apparel—
my purpose being to quit the house
when all was quiet, meet Pet at the ap
pointed rendezvous, and convey her in
a carriage, engaged to be in waiting, to
the place at which the nuptial knot was
to be tied.
It is an unromantic fact to speak of in
this connection, but one which subse
quent events make it necessary to men
tion, that the excitement I was laboring
under caused my nose to bleed freely.
I had barely succeeded in stanching
it, when a glance at my watch apprised
me that I had no time to spare.
I opened my room door softly and
stepped into the ball-way.
“ Ha!” exclaimed a voice.
I turned quickly and found myself
face to face with old De Bmin, who was
evidently surprised to see me coming
out of what he supposed to be the
major’s apartment. He didn’t stop to
parley, however, but passed by, carry
ing his chamber lamp in his hand.
I had gone but a few steps when Mr.
De Bruin rushed out, pale with alarm,
and shouting:
“ Murder !”
“ Seize him !” he cried, pointing me
out to those who came in answer to his
call. “He has made away with the
major, who is nowhere to be seen, and
the floor is covered with his blood !”
The haste with which 1 was seeking
Iq beat a retreat, added to the proofs
against me, - and I was caught and sc
oured at once.
Next morning I was arraigned before
a local magistrate. I had but little to
say. Of course, I oould enter into no
explanations without compromising Pet.
I oould only urge that the major’s body
not having been fcuDd, there was no
sufficient evidence of his murder. The
non-appearance of the corpse, however,
in the estimation of the magisterial
Dogberry, by augmenting the mystery,
only added to the horror of the crimo.
Had I accounted for my presence in the
major’s room at an unseasonable hour ?
Had I explained my sudden return,
after having taken a final leave of the
place in the morning? Had I cleared
up the blood-stains on the carpet ?
None of these had I attempted to do.
Above all, the major had been seen to
enter his room, I had been seen to come
out of it, and he had been seen no
more. It was clear a foul crime had
been committed, and who but I could
be the guilty one ?
I was fully committed to stand my
trial for willful murder, and was being
led away by an officer, when Mr. De
Bruin, who had attended as a witness,
as the crowd passed the railway-station
which was near at; hand, gave a sudden
start.
“ Bless my soul !” he exclaimed.
“ How are yon?” said a portly gen
tleman, advancing to extend his hand.
The other drew back as he might
have done from a ghost.
“ Wh—what!—ain’t you dead, major?”
Major Mudd, for the new-oomer was
no other, warmly repelled the insinua
tion. Old De Bruin was completely
mystified ; and it was not till the dis
guise I had worn had been discovered,
and some other circumstances came to
light, that the truth began to dawn
upon him.
I was discharged, of course ; and, on
my way to take the next departing
train, I saw Pet, on the major’s arm,
promenading the veranda of the hotel.
She made a mouth at m over her
shoulder as I passed. No woman ever
forgives a man for making her or lnm
eelf ridiculous. Pei would have mar
ried me and made me a good wife, no
doubt, but for the misadventures of
that night. As it was, she married the
major, and I am still a bachelor.
An Architectural Fiasco.
INTERIOR DEFECTS OF THE PARIS GRAND
OPERA HOUSE.
Outside, the opera is not a failure;
inside, it is a fiasco. Some years ago,
when Baron Haussmann was remodel
ing Paris, the drawings of M. Charles
Gamier, architect, were accepted for
the national opera, because it entered
admirably into tno general piuu. xuc
center of Paris, the junction of so
many fine boulevards, had to have a
grand monument, and the enormous
building planned by Gamier was ac
cepted by M. Haussmann. But he him
self made many changes in the plan, for
the benefit of his own plan, for the
streets to center at the Place de
l’Opera. Gamier changed his model
and estimated the cost of his building
at some twenty million francs. But
forty-three millions'of francs were swal
lowed up before the house was near
completion. The outside, constructed
under Baron Hauseman’s eye, is as fine
as anything in the world, and no coun
try can show a grander or more impos
ing structure ; but when left to himself
Gamier proved unequal to his task.
The main salle is small, squatty, if I
may use the term, badly lighted, badly
constructed, and with boxes very badly
disposed ; everything has been sacri
ficed to two or three showy foyers
which are marvelous, it is true, but not
as necessary as a good central salle.
The entrance and the grand staircase
re also magnificent, and Paul Baudry
has decorated the foyers with some very
fine work of art; but, beyond tiiis, I
can say very little good of the boasted
monument of high art in France. The
boxes are narrow and there is a man
trap in the shape of a break -neck step
at the entrance of each. I must warn
all who hope to visit the opera during
tho coming season to remember this
step, or they may get an ugly fall. The
gaignoires are simply detestable, and
one might as well be in a cellar. The
grand chandeliers shed but a gloomy
light upon the lower part of the hall,
and even the boxes on the first tier are
not as roomy or as well lighted as those
of the old opera in the Hue Lepelletier.
And stranger still to say, in this thea
ter, built at the expense of the entire
nation, there is absolutely no place for
the people. The chicken-coop allowed
them in the loft is not even decent.
Everything has been sacrified to the
foyers, as I have before remarked, and
to the front tiers of boxes held by rich
subscribers. It was for this reason that
the director was allowed to raise his
prices, for since Eaglish aDd American
visitors will occupy them on off nights,
it is necessary to make them pay as
much as possible. My first v sit to the
building was a disappointment, but I
was informed that everything would be
right when the house was lighted. I
waited in patience to see the result.
My second visit wt?s a still greater dis
appointment, and I must say that, in
my opinion, the salle of the imperial
opera of Vienna is infinitely superior
to this in every respeot. But the grand
monde of Paris ean meet in these splen
did foyers on the aristocratic nights,
and for this the foreigners in Paris are
expected to pay on the off nights, the
prices having been raised to this end,
and for a very long time to come very
few of them will have the pleasure of
assisting on subscription nights. I
very much fear that this system will
prove a costly one. English and Amer
ican visitors may go once to see the
house, but they will probably keep their
money to spend elsewhere when they
find that they can only go off nights,
and see only the“ bourgeoisie.—Paris
Loiter,
Police Court Sketches.
WHEN THE PANSIES BLOOM.
“ This is a case which can be or lied,
tried, and disposed of inside of three
minutes,” remarked his honor, as
Charles Taylor leaned on the railing
and regarded him with an appealing
look.
“ I couldn’t get nothing to do,” re
plied the prisoner.
“ I hear you couldn’t, but if I were a
yonug man eighteen years old, in sound
health, and the fat on my ribs was an
inch and a half thick, I’d find work
enough to pay for my board, or I’d slide
off the wharf and make business for a
coroner.”
“I’ve looked all around,” said the
prisoner.
“ Well, we won’t argue the case. I
know that work is scarce, but I also
know that there are dozens of fat loaf
ers around this town who wouldn’t turn
a grindstone two hours for a week’s
board. You are charged with vagrancy,
are guilty, and HI give you sixty days.
That will let you out about the time the
pansies bloom, and if you oan’t find
work then I’ll send you back for six
months,”
The prisoner shuffled off into the
oorridor, wiping a tear from his nose, and
was so ugly that Bijah had to draw the
crowbar at him before he would sit
down on the water cooler and wait for
the Maria to drive around.
“AND HE WAS SO YOUNG."
He was only twenty-two, and the
bloom of youth on his nose had scarcely
been eaten into by the rust of man
hood’s tribulation. He was found
drunk cn the sidewalk, lying on his
back, arms folded aoross his peaceful
breast, and the pale, cold moon cast a
snowy shadow across his face.
“ Ever here before?” asked the oourt.
“Never.”
“ And you feel powerful mean over
this ?”
“I do.”
“ And you won’t be found in such a
situation again ?”
“ Never.”
“ Well, be very careful of your con
duct in the future, young man. You
are just budding into manhood now,
and if you are picked up drunk at
twenty-two what may not happen to
you at forty-four ? I don’t advise you
to carry an icicle around in your pocket,
or to refuse a prescription because one
of the ingredients is burnt brandy, bnt
as a general thing it will be best for
you to mind your own business, let in
toxicating drinks alone, and pay your
' avi• —■ rm,; a i s oil nil.
there’s the way out.”
“s’cat 1”
Exclaimed someone in the audience as
the name of James Kitten was an
nounced.
His honor rose up, looked around
him, sat down and said:
"That remark musn’t be remarked
• r t
again.
Mr. Kitten had also been drunk. He
said someone drugged him, bat it waß
pretty evident that he took the fluid in
tho usual way, and that it had no more
than the usual effect on him. When
found by the officer he was hanging to
a tree-box near the city hall and shout
ing:
“Lucinda, ’fu don’t open that door
I’ll knockyerheadoff 1”
“Mr. Kitten, suoh oonduot is unpar
donable in a man of your years,” said
his honor, “and it will be altogether
more harmonious for you if you keep
away from me hereafter. I don’t re
member having met you before, and I
don’t want to see you a second time. I
can let yo* off this time, but if your
faded form confronts me again within a
month, I’ll make it so lively for you
that sitting down on a red-hot penny
will be a cool position compared to
your s. *
“ Am I sent up?” asked the prisoner.
“No, sir—you are sent out and you
oan step along as soon as Bijah finds
your hat.”
he wasn’t.
Just before the “ last man” was called
a tall, red-haired woman wearing No. T
shoes and a straw bonnet, and her eyes
showering out sparks of anger, attracted
the attention of the court and asked :
“Is Josephus Andrew McDoff in
here?”
Bijah dodged into the corridor, made
inquiries and then answered her in the
negative.
“ Well, all I want in this world is to
get my paws on him!” ejaculated the
female, and she strode out, head np,
heels striking hard, and her brow oor
rngated until it resembled the grooves
in a washboard. The boys caught the
oue and followed her around the corner,
singing :
Oh! the wife of McDaff,
She's tall and she’s tnff,
And she'll make it rough
For Josephus McDuff.
Tnff-ruff.
Mr, and Mrs. MoDuff.
—Detroit Free Press,
The Secret of Beauty.
It is not in pearl powder, nor in gold
en liair-dye, nor in jewelry. It cannot
be got in a bottle or a box.
It is pleasant to be handsome ; but all
beauty is not in prettiness. There is a
higher beauty, that makes us love peo
ple tenderly. Eyes, nose, hair, or skin
never did that yet; though it is pleas
ing to see fine features. What you are
will make your faoe over for you in the
end, whether nature has made it plain
or pretty.
Good people are never ill-looking.
Whatever their faces may be, an amia
ble expression atones for all. If they
can be cheerful also, no one will love
them the less because their features are
uot regular, or beeause they are too fat,
or too thin, too pale or too dark. Cul
tivation of the mind adds another oharmi
to their faces, and, on the whole, if any
girl is desirous of being liked by the
many and loved by the one, it is mo: - e
in her power than she may believe to
accomplish that object.
Cosmetics will not accomplish it, how
ever. Neither will fine dress; though
a woman who does not dress becomingly
wrong! herself.
Forced smiles and affected amiability
will be of no avail; bat if she can man
age to feel kindly to everybody, not to
be jealous, not to be oross, to be happy
if possible, and to encourage content
ment, then something will come into
her face that will autlast youth’s roseti,
and fain her not only a husband, but a
life-long lover.
Reasons in Natural History
Why have birds gizzards? Because,
having no teeth, the tough and fibrous
gizzards are employed to grind the
food preparatory to digestion.
Why does a black down grow under
the feather of birds as winter ap
proaches ? Because the down is a non
conductor of heat, and blaok tho
warmest color.
Why have ostriches small wings?
Because, having long legs, they do not
require their wings for flight; they are
merely used to steady their bodies while
running.
Why cannot flesh eating animals live
on vegetables? Because the gastric
juice of a flesh-eating animal, being
adapted to the duty whioh it has to per
form, will not digest vegetable matter.
Why are there so many bodily forms
in the animal creation ? Because the
different oreatures which God created
hava different modes of life, and the
forms of their bodies will be found to
present a perfect adaptation to the
lives allotted to them.
Why have birds with long legs short
tails ? Because the tails of birds are
used to guide them through the air by
steerage. When birds with long legs
take to flight, they throw their legs
behind, and they then serve the same
purpose as a tail.
Why have fishes air-bladders ? Be
cause, as the density of water varies
greatly at different depths, the enlarge
ment or contraction of the bladder reg
ulates the relation of the specif! 3 grav
ity of the body of the fish to that of
the water in which he moves.
Why are woodpecker’s tongues about
three times longer than their bills?
Because, if their bills were long they
would not bore the tree so efficiently ;
and when the trees are bored, and the
insects alarmed, th6y endeavor to re
treat into the hollows of the wood ; but
the long, thin tongue of the wood
pecker fixes them on its sfiarp, horny
point, and draws them into the mouth
of the bird.
Why has the elephant a short, un
bending neck ? Because the elephant’s
head is so heavy that it could not have
been supported at the end of a long
neck, or lever, without a provision of
immense muscular power. Note.—Ac
cording to Culver, the number of mus
cles in the elephant’s trunk amounts to
400,000, all of which a:e under the will
as it is to these that the proboscis of
this animal owes its flexibility. It
can be proiracted at pleasure, raised up
or turned to either side, coiled around
on itself or twined around any object.
A Defenses Pretty Women.
After all, is the world so very absurd
in its love of pretty women ? Is woman
so very ridiculous in her chase after
beauty? A pretty woman is doing a
woman’s work in the world, but not
making speeches, nor puddings, bnt
making life sunny and more beautiful.
Man has foresworn the pursuit of beauty
altogether. Does he seek it for himself,
he is guessed to be poetio ; there are
whispers that his morals are no better
than they shonld be. In society reso
lute to be ugly there is no post for an
Adonis, but that of a model or guards
man. But woman does for mankind
what man has ceased to do. Her aim
from childhood is to be beautiful.
Even as a school girl she notes the
progress of her charms —the deepening
color of her hair, the growing symmetry
of her arm, the ripening contour of her
cheek. We watch with silent interest
the mysterious reveries of the maiden ;
she is dreamiDg of a coming beauty and
panting for the glories of eighteen. la
sensibly she becomes an artist; her
room is a studio, her glass an academy.
The joy of her toilet is the joy ol
Raphael over his canvas, of Michael
Angtle over his marble. She is creating
beauty in the silence and the loneliness
of her chamber. She grows like any
art creation, the result of patience, of
hope, of a thousand delicate touching 6
and retouchings. Woman is never per
fect, never complete. A restless night
undoes the beauty of the day ; sunshine
blurs the evanescent ooloring of the
cheek ; frost nips the tender outlines of
her faoe into sudden harshness. Care
plows its lines across her brow; mother
hood destroys the elastic lightness o'
her form ; the bloom of her oheek, the
quick flash of her eye, fade and vanish
as the years go by. But woman is true
to her ideal. She won’t know when she
is beaten, and she manages to steal
fresh victories even in her defeat. She
invents new conceptions of womanly
grace; she rallies at foriy, and lronts
us with the beauty of womanhood ; she
makes a last stand at sixty, with the
beauty of her age. She falls, like
Cffisar, wrapping her mantle around her
“buried in woolen ’twould a saint
provoke 1” Death listens pitifully to
the longings of a lifetime, and the
wrinkled faoe smiles with something of
the prettiness of. eighteen.
An elephant is 1,227,386 times larger
than a flea, but yet there are women
who growl at paying two shillings to
visit a menagerie and, will turn a leather,
bed over for half a day to hunt a flea.
VOL. 16-NO. 7.
SAYINGS AND DOINGS.
The Indian remedy for removing the
dandruff—removing the scalp.
India has now 3,700,000 acres of land
devoted to cotton cultivation.
When a Boston man takes a Russian
bath he imparts a dark stain to sixteen
gallons of water.
There are only three women in Mil
waukee who can direct an envelope
straight without first drawing a line
with a pirn
A “please help the po r" box in
Philadelphia received only four oenta
during the year 1874, and three of these
were very thin cents.
A California man advertises for a
wife, beauty no objeot, but wants her
friends to deposit $1,500 with him as
security for her good behavior.
Evert daughter of the queen of
England knows how to oook and keep
house, which shows that queens are not
always devoid of sound sense.
The danger of dabbling in French
politics is shown in tho fact that more
than 20,000 persons have been arrested
in France for insurrectionary commun
ism.
All the axes and buck-saws found in
the ruins of Pompeii are of light make,
as if constructed for women's use.
Those old ancients knew their little
business.
A Paris merchant who refnsed to ad
vertise was challenged by an editor and
shot. The man who says anything
against advertising deserves to be shot
on the spot.
Admiral Porter says we have no
navy, and that there are a hundred
iron clads in Europe, any one of which
is capable of destroying in action our
whole fleet oombined.
The Indians at Petosky, according to
the Clam Lake News, have the follow
ing expressive if not elegant saying for
one of the Grand Rapids and Indiana
railroad employes : “ Ugh, much talk,
d—d little do.”
Vasquez, the noted bandit of Califor
nia, has been convicted of thirty-seven
separate and distinct murders. We al
ways said that when a man goes into
any kind of business he ought to do his
best to make a success of it.
Kate, in a note from Brooklyn, ex
presses her wonder that men generally
are not better t killed in the art of look
ing at a pretty woman in the street-cars.
She says that all girls are pleased to
have their attraction recognized in a
certain gentle way—the eyes lingering
tux au iustauti uuij'—uuti tuat* a
longed stare from a man, no matter how
handsome he may be, excites nothing
bnt a feeliDg of anaoyance and disgust.
Statistical tables show there are in
the whole world about one hundred and
sixtv four cities with 100,000 inhabitants;
nine with over 1,000,000; twelve with
from 1,000,000 down to 500,000; twenty
with from 600,000 to 400,000; thirty
three with from 200,000 to 300,000 ; and
ninety with from 100,000 to 200,000.
The aggregate of these large cities ocm*
orises 50,000,000 of inhabitants, that is
to say the twenty eighth part of the en
tire population of the globe.
The Paris gossips call the marriage
of Mile. Giulia Strakosch daughter of
\lr. Maurice Strakosch, and niece of
Patti, Marquise Da Caux, with M.
Ernest Bourdillon, a young and rising
advocate of the Cour d’Appel, a splen
did match—a love match in the bar
gain, a thing not always found in
France. M. Bourdillon is a handsome
voung fellow, of very polished man
ners, and will certainly make his mark.
Mile. Strakosch is a sweet and winning
young lady, who inherits the musical
talents of her parents. Avery large
and fashionable assembly assisted at
the nuptial benediction at the Church
of Saint Augustin.
An interesting relic of by-gone time
has lately disappeared with the death,
on December 22, of Lord Byron’s valet,
Falcieri, at the age of seventy-eight.
After the poet’s death, his friend Sir
John Hobhouse, after ward Lord Brough
ton, took Falcieri into his employ as
courier. Before long, however, the
courier returned to his former calling,
nd continued to serve as valet with
Isaac Disraeli, author of “The Curi
osities of Literature,” and father to
,he present Prime Minister, until his
naster’s death. In 1852 Lord Brough
ton got him a berth as messenger at the
ooard of control. He was a very
pleasant, obliging person, and as assist
mt to the head office-keeper, the po
lite old Italian, with bis broken EDg
lish, was often hell in friendly chat by
those who came across him in the way
of business.
Iron in the ConoiuNo Matter of
BnooD.— Paquelin anl Jolly, in a
memoir presented to the Paris acad
emy, have proved : First, that the iron
exists in the blood disks in the state of
tribario phosphate. Seoond, that the
hematin does not contain iron—what
ftlready Chevrenl observed when he
stated that the composition oi ihc col
oring matter varies with the nature of
the solvent used for its extraction, but
st the same time he did not know how
to obtain it in a pure 6tite. We have
succeeded in obtaining the pigment per
fectly pure and free from iron. Hema
tin has the following properties: It
turns without leaving ashes, like res
i ions substances; it is insoluble in
I ure water ; it desolvea in a very small
quantity in ammoniacal water, to which
i; gives a pale yellow tint; it is changed
ty solutions of potash and caustic soda,
to which it gives a brown color; it is
b lightly soluble in alcohol; the solution
in amber color ; the solvents of the hem
atosine are ether, chloroform, benzole,
aad bisulphate of carbon. With these
bodies the dilated solution is amber
color; when concentrated it is red.