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THE STANDARD AND EXPRESS.
A . ITI VKM II ALK 1 -. ~, , ..
U. A. KUItM IIALKj an*! Proprietors.
FiUIJIKK JOHN'S ICKTI 10.
Home from his journey Farmer John
Arrived this morning safe and sound ;
ITis black coat off. and his old clothes on,
“ Now I’m myself,"’ says Farmer John ;
And he thinks, “ I’ll look around.”
TTp leaps the dog—“ (Jet down, you pup!
Are you so glad you would eat me up ?”
Toe old cow lows at the gate to meet him ;
“ Well, well, old Bay!
Ha. ha, old Gray !
Ho you get good feed when I am away ?
“ You have not a rib!” says Farmer John,
“ The cattle are looking round aud sleek;
The colt is going to be a roan,
And a beauty, too; li iw he lias grown !
We’ll wean the calf next week.”
Pays Farmer John, “ Wheu I’ve been oft",
To ra'l you again about the trough,
And watch you, and pet you while you drink,
Is a greater comfort than you think J”
And he pals old Bay,
And he slaps old Gray ;
“ Ah, tli'B is the comfort of going away J”
“For after all,” says Farmer John,
‘ The best of the journey is getting home.
I've seen great sights; but would I give
This spot, and the peaceful life I live,
For a 1 their Paris and Koine ?
These hills for the city’s stifled air,
And big hotel, aud bustle and glare,
Band all houses, and roads all stones.
That deafen yonr ears, aud batter your bones.
Would you, old Bay?
Would you, old Gray ?
Thai’s what one gets by going away !”
“ There money is king,” says Farmer John,
“ And fashion is queen ; ami it’s mighty queer
To see how sometimes, wliile the man,
Eiking and scraping all he can,
The wife spends every year,
Ktiougb you would think for a score of wives,
To keep them in luxury all their lives !
Tiie town is a perfect Babylon
To a quiet chap,” says Farmer John.
“ You see. old Bay,
You see, old Gray,
I'm wiser than when I went away.”
“ I've found out this,” says Farmer JohD,
“ That happiness is not bought and sold,
And cla!cbed in a life of waste and hurry,
In nights of pleasure and days of worry ;
And wra th isn’t all in gold,
Mortgages and stocks aud ten per cent.,
But in simple ways and sweet content.
Few wants, pure hopes, aud noble ends,
Some land to till and a few good friends,
Like yon, old Bay,
And you, old Gray,
That’s what I’ve learned by going away.”
And a happy man is Farmer John,
0, a happy man is he;
IT roes the peas and pumpkin" growing.
The corn in tassels, the buckwheat blowing,
And fruit on vine and tree;
The large, jund oxen look their thanks
As he rub*, heir foreheads and strokes (heir flanks:
The doves light, round him. and strut and coo,
Says Farmer John, ‘ I’ll take you too,
And yon, old Bay,
And yon, old Gray,
Next time 1 travel so far awav!”
OUR SEUONII-FLOOB LOOKER.
When John find I first began house
keeping wo were doubtful whether to
live in apartments or to take a house
ami let them. We finally decided upon
the latter; for as John remarked, lodging
housekeepers were such pilferers that
one never knew when oue’s expenses
ended ; bke a lawyer’s bill, there were
so many items.
We began to fancy we had chosen ill,
however, when the little ombossed card
hung for three weeks in the little sit
ting room window without getting one
application, save from an old lady in the
neighborhood, who, I am certain, carno
only out of curiosity.
But at the end of that period au elder
ly gentleman, in delicate health, called
to look at them with his niece aud de
rided to rent three rooms at once.
t was very glad for they appeared to be
quiet people, and meeting John with a
hearty kiss that evening I told him we
were in luck at last,
“ I am pleased to hear it, my girl,”
answired John. “Only take my ad
vice ; don’t be on more friendly terms
with them than need be. Keep to your
place. All persons have their iittle
fads and peculiarities, and when those
become antagonistic one house cannot
hold both parties. The warmest friend-
f 1 op with lodgers generally turns to the
bitterest dislike. Mrs. Joucs, presum
ing upon Mrs. Brown’s good nature,
hot rows her electro teapot. She makes
a dent in the Id and thus strikes the
first nail into the coffin of their friend
ship. ”
J stopped John’s mouth with a muffin
- ii failing of his—but promised to do as
ho recommended.
That, however, was not so easy. Mr.
Fortesque’s niece —Miss Kathleon Mtl
brooke—was such a quiet, sweet, amia
ble girl, and seemed so alone, Uiat I
'v is irresistibly drawn to her; and, when
we met, always had a little conversation,
w hieb, I felt sure, gave her considerable
pleasure.
Indeed, her life was terribly monoto
nous. No one visited them, and Mr.
Fort esq ue, a cob firmed invalid and a
hard, austere man, was irritable from
disposition as well as delicate health,
and, I fear, led his poor niece so weary
ing an existence that, I amagine, when
fiho could get a way for a chat with me
she found it a wonderful relief.
Well, they had been with us nearly a
fortnight, when, late one evening, a
gentleman called to see the room we
had on the second-floor backhand which
he had heard of at the stationer’s. He
was very good-looking, tall, with a pale
face and heavy dark beard and mus
tache.
It’s very foolish, I know, but I have
always been mistrustful of dark beards
and mustaches. Dear John’s face is as
smooth as an egg. Bit the stranger
spoke openly and fairly enough ; gave
me references to his last landlady aud
to the firm where he was employed,
while, to clinch the matter, he put down
the first two weeks’ rent in advauce, as
be wished to come in that night.
1 felt I ought not to have left him,
but I was yet nervous in the part of
landlady, and hadn’t the courage to re
fuse. And when, in about an hour, lie
returned, carrying his own portmanteau,
aud I, having lighted him to his room,
came baek to my own room, I conld not
help speculating a little tremulously
upon what John, who had been detained
m the city, would think.
John thoitght I had done a very foolish
thing, and so terrified me out of my
wits by saying our second-floor lodger
was no doubt a burglar, who, when we
were in bed, would break open all the
cupboards and drawers with the skeleton
keys and “Jemmy” (yes, that was what
John called it), which he had concealed
10 bis portmanteau, that I couldn’t get a
"fink of sleep through the night.
I found everything secure, however,
jke next morning, and our second-floor
lodger qnietly waiting for his breakfast,
ue took it at half-past seven, leaving
homo at eight, and seldom returning
until nearly the same hour in the even
lnf>> when he rarely went oat again,
doing this so regular that John began
leave off jesting aud terrifying me
about “my burglar,” aud onee, happen
■ug to meet him on the door-step, he
Mr. Airlie in to have a cigar and
a glass of ale.
Oar lodger accepted the invitation,
a ud sat and talked for over an hoar,
during which he saw John was frying
0 learn Something about him; but
luefiectually.
‘Ny dear,” I said, smiling, when we
alone. “I suspect you know now
as much about our burglar as I
’Near about the atne,” bo answered,
“o eas clcee as the two -abed* bf *
J knjiw tbi®-’*
“That ho is exceedingly good look
ing,” I broke in.
“Good-looking! Bah! That is all
you women think of.”
“Exactly, or perhaps I shouldn't
have married you, John.”
That made him laugh, and, getting
up, gave me a kiss for my compliment.
“ No,” he went on, resuming his
seat. “What I meant to say was that he
has something upon his mind. Though
he can’t be more than twenty-sevi n at
the most, he hasn’t a bit of spirit, and
talks with all the air of a preoccupied
man, who is ever brooding over some
trouble. Perhaps,” said John, extend
ing his slippered feet to the fire, “he
has robbed or is about to rob his em
ployers. ”
“John!” I cried, “you horrid mon
ster ! How can you say such dreadful
things? It’s only out of spite, because
‘my burglar’ has turned oat the very
pattern of lodgers.”
“ I stopped, checked by a single tap
at the door. It was Miss Kathleen
Milbrooke. Her uncle was asleep, and
she had made an excuse to come down
for a chat. I know, poor child ; so, as
she was a favorite of John’s, I asked
her in.”
When she again went up stairs, after
a pause, John said :
“ I say, Meg, suppose Mr. Airlie and
that vonng girl should fall in love ?”
“Nonsense, John! Mr. Fortescue
would never hear of it.”
“ Why not?”
“Because I am certain, from what I
have caught here and there, that he is
muoh richer than he lets be seen. So
it is scarcely likely he would permit his
niece, who is his heiress, to marry a
man who has probably robbed his em
ployers. ”
“ You have mo there, Meg; so we had
better have supper.”
What subject is more prolific of ideas
to a woman than marriage? John had I
put a thought into my head, which,
though small as a pin’s head at first,
soon grew to large dimensions. When
ever I saw Mr. Airlie I thought of Miss
Milbrooke, aud whenever I saw her I
thought of him, until, in my mind, at
they were united. And I began
to hope that what John had “supposed”
might be possible, for the more I saw
of the two the more I liked them. They
appeared more in need of happiness, I
reflected. One might bring it to the
other.
But how could it ever be brought
about? Love at first sight is possible.
But love at no sight at all is assuredly
not; and owing to his early departure
and late return, Mr. Airlie and Miss
Milbrooke never met upon the stairs.
“ Ask them both down to tea,” sug
gested John, as we sat in onr cozy
parlor, I at work and he doing some
writing.
“Mr Fortescue would not let her
come,” I said.
“ Ask Airlie alone, then, and make au
excuse to get her down afterward. At
auy rate it will be a relief to him, seated
moping up in that little room every
evening, with not a friend with whom
to exchange a word.”
“ That might do,” I pondored. press
ing the tip of my needle thoughtfully to
my lips ; then gave such a start that I
pricked myself as I exclaimed : “Good
gracious ! John, what is that ?”
“ How can I tell, Meg?” he answered,
rising quickly. “It is Mr. Fortescue’s
voice.”
“He is quarreling," I exclaimed, in
alarm, as I hurried after John to the
door.
The words which made me start wore:
“You unmitigated scouudrel!”
Opening the door John was about to
hasten ont; but, abruptly drawing back,
motioned mo to silence. Then, mute as
mice, wc listened. Remember, we were
lodgiDg-house keepers.
“As Heaven is my witness,” replied
the clear, firm tones of Mr. Airlie, “ I
never dreamed you were under this roof;
cr, as I staud here, I would never have
placed a foot in it.”
“You expect me to believe that?”
“You must, seeing that I could gain
nothing by such proximity to you.”
“ Nothing !-—nothing ! Yon sneaking
hound 1 Do you think I am blind ?”
cried the old man; and we heard the
stick with which he walked strike sharp
ly on the floor. “Not gain Kathleen, I
suppose? Hov do I know you would
not persuade her to wed you on the sly
and thus rob me of my money ? How
do I know that you have not done so ?
Yon are both capable of the trick ?”
“ Beware, Rir ?” ejaculated onr lodger,
his voice all of a quiver. “Call me
what you please—all terms are alike to
me, coming from such a father’s lips—
but, by Heaven 1 you shall not malign
that pure, noble girl, who has sacrificed
herself to yon. When you drove me—
your son—from your doors, I offered to
share my home with her, knowing the
miserable life to which I left her, but
she sacrificed love to gratitudo; aud,
because you had brought her up, poor
orphan ! from her cradle, bowed her
gentle head to your cruel will, and re
mained under your tyrannical rule.
You have used hard words to me, sir,
and hard words to her whose mem
ory is dearer to me than life; but
I have managed to keep my hands off
you. Bat take care ! tliero are bounds
to every man’s forbearance. Do not
speak ill of Kathleen.”
“Dare you threaten me?” shrieked
the old man. “True son of a shamo
less mother.”
“ Oh ! Heaven, have a care !"’ and the
sound of Mr. Airlie’s voice showed the
stupendous self-control he was exerting.
“You drove my mother from your roof
as you drove me.”
“ Your mother left it of her own ac
cord ; she ran away, the—”
The word he uttered shall not be
written. It was foMowed by a loud,fierce
cry, and a sound which told Mr. Airlie
had flown at the speaker. There was
the noise of a struggle, the gaping cries
of the old man, blended with his niece’s
screams for assistance.
“ Help 1 help ! ” she shrieked. “ Oh,
Richard—Richard, let go. Reflect 1
He is your father ; he is old—he is ill 1
Yon will kill him 1 ”
We had ruehed up stairs, but before
we reached the landin ? those pleading
words of his cousin had calmed the
just ire of the man, and his passion was
again subdued.
We found Mr. Fortescue leaning
against the drawing-room door, panting
for breath, and half supported by
Kathleen Milbrooke whose tearful eyes
were turned with compassion upon Mr.
Airlie, who stood apart, his arms
folded, his head drooped upon his
chest.
“Would you kill me?” gasped the
old man as we arrived.
“No,” was the answer, “I would
have you live that heaven may soften
your heart by a slower approach of
death, so that you may on your knees
beg my dear mother’s forgivoness for
the ill you have done her in word and
deed. She may pardon yOn ; as yet I
cannot. ”
At tfcj* Mr, ¥VsH>aii*d(< fury
more broke forth ; but his neice making
John an imploriug sign they managed
to bear him back into the room, swear
ing terribly against his son, and avow
ing that he would disinherit his niece if
she ever exchanged words with him
again.
She did, however, for when the old
man lay exhausted and insensible from
his fury she left us in charge and
slipped out to her cousin. When she
returned tears were in her eyes, aud I
caught these words through the closing
door :
“ My own darling, you are too good
for me to blame though I am the suf
ferer. Know I will ever love and watch
over you until my death.”
I expected after this that Mr. Airlie
would leave, and he did that night. He
told me his father was very rich, but
almost a madman from a selfish, jealous
temper ; that he had so cruelly treated
his wife that she had been compelled to
leave him when he had on ,t the most
shameful accusations upon her, even
after her death, which accusations, re
peated to his son, had driven him away
also.
His father, Mr. Airlie added, pos
sessed a large estate in Devonshire,
and why he lived in apartments he did
not know, unless it was an idea of
hiding Miss Milbrooke’s whereabouts
from him, her cousin, as he was aware
of the strong affection existing between
them.
We were sorry to lose Mr. Airlie,
and I could not help promising him
that he should be well informed of ali
that took place respecting Kath
leen. This, however, I was not
able long to do, for the next morning
Mr. Fortescue gave me notice of hi
intention to leave directly he could
arise from the bed upon which his un
natural passion had thrown him.
But that night the climax came.
It was about two in the morning,
when I was awakened by a terrible
smell of fire.
Arousing John, we went into the
passage to find it full of smoke.
“Merciful heavens !” I cried, “the
house is on fire i ”
It was so.
We thought of our lodgers, and strove
to ascend to them, but were driven
back by volumes of dark smoke rnshing
down, through which the red glare of
flame was visible.
The lire was in Mr. I ortescue’s rooms.
“Oh, poor Miss Kathleen!” I shrieked.
“Help! help !”
I threw the street door open, and
filled the place with cries for assistance.
I was soon joined in the appeal by
Mr. Fortescue and his nieca from the
upper window. They had evidently
tried the stairs and found it impossible
to descend.
John had just run off to the eDgine
station, when, lrom the opposite direc
tion, I perceived a man coming toward
me.
I recognized him at once.
“Oh ! Mr. Airlie, thank hoaven it is
you!” I ejaculated.
“ Good Heaven ! what is the matter ?”
he asked.
I began to tell him, but the form of
Kathleen Millbrooke at the window re
lated it quicker than words.
In a second her cousin had darted
into the burning house.
I followed, bnt already he had van
ished up the stairs.
One, two minutes, and, blackened,
burnt, ho was back with Kathleen
Millbrooke.
“Oh, dear Richard !” she cried, “Mv
uncle.”
“Do not fear ; I will save him, if
possible, darling,” he answered, again
disappearing amid the smoke.
Three, four, live minutes it seemed
now before he descended, with the old
man wrapped in the coverlet, and cling
ing wildly around his son’s neck.
We bore him into the open air, for he
seemed half suffocated and paralyzed
with terror. Airlie rested him on his
knee ; but Sir. Fortescue would not un
clasp his arms from him.
His eyes were closed.
The crowd gathered. I bade them
keep back. The fire-engine rattled up,
but I could not leave that group.
Abruptly Mr. Fortescue looked up,
and his eyes rested upon the blackened
features of Mr. Airlie.
He started violently, then exclaimed :
“Richard! was it you, then, who
saved me?”
“ I was so fortunate,” he answered
qnietly.
“ You are in no danger now, sir.”
There was a pause. The old man
never removed his gaze.
Then I saw a great change come over
his features.
“ Richard,” he said in a low voice,
“can you forgive?”
“Yes, father; but rather ask it of
her,” and he poiuted upward.
“ I do—l have, when in yonder awful
room. Mary, pardon !” he murmured,
lifting his eyes. Afterward ho added,
anxiously: “My will—my will ! It is
there—burnt 1 Thank Heaven for that.”
He made an effort to turn toward the
burning house, and in the effort fell
back on his son’s shoulder dead.
I have no more to say. The will be
ing burnt, of course Richard Fortescue,
alias Airlie, succeeded to his father’s
property, aud also married his tousin
Miss Millbrooke.
They now reside in Devonshire, and
when we pay a visit there—which we do
frequently—we always are sure of a
hearty welcome from the family of our
second floor lodger.
Not long ago there was witnessed in
Paris a rather singular scene. A gen
tleman with a lady on his arm was pass
ing down the boulevards, when there
suddenly sprang out of a cafe another
gentleman, who dealt him a violent
kick. The victim bounded round, and
the assaulter recoiled with consterna
tion, for the kick had been dealt under
mistake of identity. Explanation, how
ever, though most contritely offered,
did not appease the victim, who furious
ly yelled, “ Some of my acquaintances
may Iqave seen me kicked, and will go
about saying that I did not wipe off the
insult. I must slap your face.” And
be did bestow a box on the ears, which
the other received in a spirit of humiltty
very commendable. There is no reason
to suppose that this gentleman was less
brave than his grandfather, who, hav
ing once administered a kick, would
probably have accepted no other retri
bution for it than that of the sword’
point.
Brooklyn Argus : Twenty years ago
a poor boy, after attentively perns
ing the life of Lord Nelson, secretly
left his parents’ roof with a pocket
knife, a sandwich and a bunch of twine
as his. sole capital, resolving to go to
sea and become an admiral. Five miles
away from home this brave, ambitious
lad was kicked into a duck pond by an
exasperated mule, and he is now one of
the wealthiest and most. dtVoted RgrU
''!(irvrtuD In ste.tr of YpjV.
CARTERSVILLE, GEORGIA, THURSDAY, JULY 8, 1875.
TOUKTIIMIK.
lax SABAH O. JEWETT.
I wonder if you really send
The?e dreams of yon that come aud fto 1
I like to say, “ She thought of me,
And I have known it." Is it so ?
Though other friends walk by your side,
Yet sometimes it must surely lie
They wonder where yonr thoughts Uavo (tic
Because I have you here with me.
And when the bu c y day is done.
And woik it ended, voices cta s e,
Ween every one h is said g.iod-night,
lii fading firelight th< u in jicace.
Idly I rest; you come to me—
Your dear love bolds me close to you,
If I could see you face to face,
It wouid not be more sweet aud true.
I do not hear the words jon Fpeak,
Nor touch your hands, nor see your eyes ;
Yet far away the flowers may grow
From where to me the fiagrance flies.
And so across (lie empty miles,
Light from my star shines. Is it, dear,
Your love has never gone away ?
I said good-by, and kept y*u here !
Jetties at the Mississippi's Month.
In the recent announcement that
Gapt. Eads was already beginning the
work of pile-driviag for the jetties to be
constructed in the South Pass of the
Mississippi, there is, we might almost
say, an occasion for national congratu
lation. The whole country suffers so
long as navigation at the outlets of the
Mississippi is impeded. It is not only
our greatest river; when we trace it
and its affluents from the Alleghanies
to the Rocky mountains, from our
northern to our southern boundaries,
and count the sites of commerce and
industry that line either bank, no piling
up of statistics is necessary to tell us
that the Mississippi should be our great
highway to the ocean. In a letter re
cently published, giving a partial report
of the proceedings of the convention of
civil engineers at Pittsburgh there was
afforded the means of comparison be
tween the cost of conveyance by rail
roads and by our great river. Including
interest on their capital, it was shown
that railroads might afford to carry the
cereals of the west from Chicago to the
seaboard for eight mills per ton per
mile. Making the same calculation,
based on actual experience for two
years, the cost of water carriage be
tween Cincinnati and New Orleans was
only one and four-tenths mills per ton
per mile. Here then is an artery of
trade by which four-fifths of the coot of
inland transportation might bo saved.
Rat the mouth of the artery is tied up.
Xu the closing lettev reporting the
Engineers’ Convention, there is a brief
discussion on the work which Cipt.
Eads has undertaken. No layman is so
competent to offer au opinion on the
subject as these professional experts,
and they regard the work with evident
favor, and consider the government for
tunate in its choice of the superintend
ing engineer. It is au immense work,
and may require more time and expen
diture than was at first estimated. But
the end will fully justify the means.
Borne things, however, may warrant us
in expecting comparatively speedy suc
cess. A now survey of the South Pass
by the United States survey department
shows that most of the work will be in
very shallow water. There is now a
depth of 81 to 9 feet on the bar. As the
work makes progress, the depth of wa
ter will increase, so that navigation will
be facilitated long before completion.
The experience of Gen. E lis, in charge
of the jetties now constructing in the
mouth of the Connecticut, shows that
wheu they are only finished in part,
there is a depth of four or five feet
added over the bur. They produce a
marked and immediate deflection of the
current.
Especially is it a pleasant thing to
know that this improvement will be of
great benefit to Louisiana. She has
not had much of late years to thank the
general government lor. It will be a
refreshing experience to the tax-ridden,
plundered citizens of New Orleans, to
see the levee again crowded with traffic
and to count the funnels of ocean
steamers among those of the river
boats. —New York Tribune.
Health Notes.
Persons who work hard under 20 years
of age, should be allowed ten hours’
rest in bed. The health of girls is
sometimes ruined by over-pushing
mothers.
Always air your room from the out
side air if possible. Windows are made
to open, doors are made to shut—the
troth of which seems extremely difficult
of apprehension. Every room must be
aired from without —every passage from
within.
Let it always bo borne in mind that
ioid air is not necessarily pure, nor is
warm air necessarily impure.
In all ordinary ailments and accidents,
secure quiet of body, composure of
mind, pure air, pure water and simple
food at regular intervals—being a little
hungry all the time.
Children should be compelled to be
out of doors for tho greater part of day
light, from after breakfast until half an
hour before sundown.
Wc do not advise a warm bath oftener
than once a week. But we must con
sult nature and facts. Each man ehould
bathe in a manner which, from observa
tion and personal experiment, does him
most good. In matters of health aud
disease each must bo his own rule. Im
mense mischief is daily done by ignor
ing this principle, which is at once the
dictate of a sound policy and of common
sense.
The more sick people can sleep, the
sooner they will get well. Sleeping in
the daytime, if before noon, enables
them to sleep better the following
night.
Fan is worth more than physic, and
whoever invents or discovers anew
source of supply deservos the name of a
public benefactor; and whoever can
write an article the most laughter-pro
moting, and at the same time harmless,
is worthy of our gratitude and respect.
It is a bad plan to be always taking
medicine ; such persons are never well.
A teaspoonful of blood from the nose
has prevented many a fatal attack of
apoplexy; hence a nose-bleeding is
sometimes the safety valve of life.
Multitudes bring on themselves the
horrors of a life-long dyspepsia by
drinking large quantities of cold water
at their meals.
Infants and animals never have dys
pepsia if let alone, for nature is the
wise apportioner. Thus is it with sleep.
Nature, herself sleepless, wakes us up
the moment we have had enough, if we
are not tampered with.
Swallowing ice freely in small lumps
is the chief treatment in inflammation
of the stomach.
Of Confession.— True humility
being a wise virtue, will deal more in
sslf-examination and secret contrition
than in confessiou. For confession is
oftets a mere luxury of the conscience,
used as the epicures of ancient Rome
wgn n * urtqrn t}*ib
before they pat down to feast. It is
often also a very snare to the maker of
ii, and a delusion practised on the party
to whom it is made. For, first, the
faults may be such as words will not
adequately explaiu ; secondly, the plea
of guilty shakes judgment, in her seat ;
thirdly, the indulgence shown to con
fession might be better bestowed on
the shame which conceals, for this
tends to correcliou, whereas confession
will many times stand instead of peni
tence to the wrong doer ; and sometimes
even a sorrowful penitence stands m the
place of amendment, aud is washed
away in its own tears. —Henry Taylor.
Hard Up, jet, Rich in Eloquence.
Ue walktd out of the depot wiih a
satchel in his Land—a good looking
satchel, yet terribly gaunt aud thin. If
satchels had ribs, one could have seen
that satchel’s ribs, and noted how thin
in flesh it was. When a professor of
hack driving asked the stranger if he
would have a carriage he smiled blandly
and replic and:
“ Not this time, colonel—not just
now, although I warn thee that it is
plebeian-iike for a duke to walk around
with his baggage in his hand. lam in
search of a hostelry —a caravansary
where I can recuperate and refresh.”
When he stood before the hotel clerk
the clerk noted that the stranger’s hat
was fall of dents and caves ; that his
shirt-front was badly soiled; that his
garments were becoming threadbare,
and that there was need of thorough
repair.
“ I desire a seat, at the banquet board
without delay,” said the stranger. “ I
have traveled far aud feel the need of
refreshment.”
The clerk smiled as the satchel was
lifted over the counter. He “hefted”
ifc*aud smiled again.
“ I carry the ducats here, in my
wallet, said the stranger, “aud after I
have sipped the amber Mocha and carved
the spring poultry, I shall cheerfully re
quite thee.”
ne might have seventy-five cents
about him—the clerk would chance it.
Victory lurked in the stranger’s eye .as
he turned to one of the bell-boys and
said:
“Youthful slave, eondnet me to a
placo where I can lave my fevered
bn w. ”
He was conducted, and after lie had
laved he looked a little better. Even a
boot black is improved by a liberal ap
plication of soap and water. Still,
there was ihat lank satchel behind the
counter, those threadbare garments and
that hungry voice.
Seated at tho table and approached
by a waiter, he remarked :
“ Thou caust. bring me rare viands of
any kind, and I will not quarrel with
thee about the cookery.”
“Beefsttak—fried ham -mutton chops
or liver ?” queried tho girl.
“Fair lady, to thine own good judg
ment do I leave it,” he replied ; “only
let wings be added to thy speed, for my
castle is leagues away and I hunger.”
She brought him a well-selected stock
of groceries and provisions, and he got
away with them as a steam ditcher goes
down through sandy soil. He ate his
fill and then he crammed another meal
down on top of that. He emptied his
coffee cap again and again, and when
he finally rose from the table he could
hardly lift himself. Turning to the
fatigued waiter he gently said:
“Fair maiden of the valley, thou
hast done thy culinary work in a manner
which speaks volumes for thee. Permit
me to offer thee my heartfelt thanks.”
He strolled into the office, put some
matches in one vest pochet and some
toothpicks in the other, and then leaning
bis elbow on the counter, said to the
clerk:
“ Tlion knowest thy duties well, and
when I am far away I shall gladly sound
thy praise.”
“Come, no fooling now—ont with
that seventy-five cents.”
“ As soon as my retainers arrive I
shall give thee a weighty purse aud
thou canst keep overv ducat in it.”
“ Ducats be hanged ! I want scrip—
nickles—stamps 1 I want pay for your
breakfast 1”
“ Gently, my friend with tho Roman
nose,” continued the stranger, “thou
cans’t not say I am a lord or a duke in
disguise.”
“ Aud I don’t care a cent! Are you
going to pay ? ”
“ Am I going to turn theso fragments
of wood into gold?” queried the stran
ger, as ho hold up a number of pine
tooth-picks.
The clerk came out of the office,
having the lean satchel in his hand, and
he took the stranger to the door, kicked
him with great good will and pointed to
i he street.
“I go,” said tho man in a solemn
voice, “but when my retainers arrive,
I shall seek revenge—human gore shall
be shed to satisfy me?”
“ Yon want to gore right away from
here—quick smart 1 ” exclaimed the
clerk.
He went. His face was clouded for a
moment, but then a grand smile covered
it, and he stopped a newsboy and asked:
“ My faithful minion, cans’t thou di
rect me to an oflice over the door of
which hangs the traditionary golden
balls of the base money-lender—a place
where I may exchange a few precious
Leirlooms for some vile dross ?”
And tho boy did. — Detroit Free
Press.
Was Napoleon A Fatalist?
It was in 1709, when the directory
had named him commander-in-chief of
the army of Italy, and at the same time
had refused, or were unable to supply
him with the means for repairing to
headquarters with the state and dignity
befitting his new rank. In this diffi
culty the young general raised as large
a sum as he could by neans of his own
credit and the kindness of his friends,
and as this was miserably small, he in
trusted it to Junot, a young officer who
frequented gaming tables, and bade
him lose it all or increase it in enormous
proportions. “On your success,” he
said, “depends the possibility of my
accepting this command, and taking
you as my aid de-camp.” According to
one account, Junot first augmented the
amount of his capital by selling a gold
hilted sword which belonged to him,
for Bonaparte never failed to win the
love of those who came in close contact
with him. After several hours’ play, in
which Junot had been successful" be
yond his hopes, he repaired to his chief
and handed him his winnings, which he
thought would be more than sufficient
to meet all immediate claims. The
general sent him back once more to
tampt fortune, with an order not to re
turn till he had doubled the sum or lost
every cent. When Junot appeared
again it was with enough money to
enable Napoleon to make a splendid
appearance at Headquarters, 'xhe last
pttra won by Junot that night has been
pat at SStfiOCO, while tli j
rests on JdCaDaot •Ptl'crßy,
BURIED ALIVE.
Slrßiise Autlx-utlc stories of Persona
Kuioinbeit Wliile Living.
We select the following as cases well
authenticated :
TUB CASE OF VICTORINE LAFOURCADE.
Victorine Lafourcade, youug, beauti
ful, and accomplished, Lad a great
number of admirers. Among them was
a journalist named James Bossonet,
whose chances of being the successful
suitor seemed to be the best, when
suddenly Victorine, contrary to all ex
pectation, accepted the hand of a rich
banker named Renelie. Bossouet was
inconsolable, and his honest heart ached
all the more when he learned that the
marriage of his lady-love was uuhappy.
Ranello neglected his wife in every
possible way, and finally began to mal
treat her.
This state of things lasted two years,
when Victorine died—at least so it was
thought. She was entombed in a vault
of the cemetery of her native town.
Jules Bossouet assisted at the ceremony.
Still true to his love, and well-nigh
beside himbelf with grief, he conceived
the romantic idea of breaking open the
vault and securing a lock of the de
ceased’s hair. That night, therefore,
when all was still, he scaled the wall of
the cemetery, and, by a circuitous route,
approached the vault. When he had
broken open the door and entered the
vault he lighted a candle and proceeded
to
OPEN THE COFFIN.
At the moment when he bent over the
supposed corpse, scissors in hand, Vic
torine opened her eyes and stared him
full in the face. He uttered a cry and
sprang back ; and immediately recover
ing his self-possession, ho returned to
the coffin, coveroditsoecupant’s lips with
kisses, and soon had the satisfaction of
seeing her in full possession of all her
faculties. When Victorine was suffi
ciently recovered, they left the church
yard and went to Bossouet’s residence,
where a physician administered such
remedies as were necessary to effect the
complete recovery of the unfortunate
woman. This proof of Bossouet’s love
naturally made a deep impression on
Victorine. She repented her past fickle
ness, and resolved to fly with the ro
mantic Jules to America. There they
lived happily together, without, how
ever, being able to fully overcome their
longing to return to their native land.
Finally their desire become so strong to
revisit the scens of their youth that
they decided to brave the danger at
tendant on a return and embarked at
New York for Havre, where they ar
rived in July, 1839. Victorine, in the
interim, had naturally changed very
greatly, and Jules felt confident that her
former husband would not recognize
her. In this hope he was disappointed.
Renelie had the keen eye of a financier,
and recognized Victorine at the first
glance. This strange drama ended with
a suit brought by the banker for the
recovery of his wife, which was decided
against him on the ground that his
claim was outlawed.
The scene of the following two cases,
with which we shall end our review, is
in England : One Edward Stapleton
died—as was supposed—-of typhus
fever. The disease had been attended
by such strange phenomena throughout
that the physicians were desirous to
make a post mortem examination of the
ease. The relatives, however, positively
refused their consent. The physicians;
consequently decided to steal the body
—not an unusual thing in England—in
order to satisfy their curiosity. They
communicated with a band of rascals
who at that time made a business of
stealing bodies, and three days after the
funeral had the body of Stapleton
brought to the dissecting-room of a
neighboring clinic. When they made
the first incision, which was across the
abdomen, they were struck with the
fresh appearance of the flesh, and the
clearness and limpidity of the blood.
One of the physicians proposed that they
should subject the body to the action of
a galvanic battery. This they did, and
obtained abnormal results; the move
ments and contractions of the muscles
were more powerful than are usually ob
served. Toward evening a young stu
dent suggested that they should make
an incision in the pectoral muscles, and
introduce the poles of the battery into
the wound. This was done, when, to
their amazement the body rolled from
the table, remained a second or two on
its feet, stammered out two or three
unintelligible words and then fell heavily
to the floor. Fora moment the learned
doctors were confounded, but soon re
gaining their prosence of mind, they
saw that Stapleton was still although
he had again fallen into his former
lethargy. They now applied themselves
to resuscitating him, in which they were
successful. Ho afterward said that
during the whole time ho was fully con
scious of his condition, and of what
was passing around him. The words
he attempted to utter were :
“i AM ALIVE !”
A somewhat similar experience was
that of an Eoglish artillery officer who,
: n a fall from his horse, had fractured
his skull, and was trepanned. He was
in a fair way to recover, when one day
he fell into a lethargy so profound that
he was thought to be dead, and, in due
time, was buried. The following day,
beside the grave in which he had been
interred, another citizen of London was
buried, and at last one of the assistants
chanced to stand on it. Suddenly the
man cried out that he felt the ground
move under nis feet as though the occu
pant of the grave would find his way to
the surface. At first the man was
thought to be the victim of an halluci
nation, but the earnestness with which
he persisted attracted the attention of a
constable, who caused the grave to be
opened. They found that the officer
had forced the coffin lid, and had made
a partially successful effort to raise him
self up. He was entirely unconsious
when they got him ont but it was evi
dent that the effort to extricate himself
had been made but a short time before.
He was carried to a hospital near by,
where the physicians, after a time,
SUCCEEDED IN RESUSCITATING HIM.
He stated that, for an hour before his
last swoon, he was fully conscious of
the awful situation he was in. The
grave had fortunately been very hastily
and lightly filled with clay, and here
and there the continuity of the mass
had been brokfn by large stones, which
allowed the air to penetrate as far down
as the coffin. He had tried in Vain to
make his cries heard, and finally, partly
in consequence of having an insufficient
supply ot air, and partly in consequence
of the mental agony he suffered, he had
fallen into the unconscious state in
waich be was found.
Another Ecglishman describes what
he experienced, while lying in a coffin
in a p rfcc’L conscious btate, :n thefol
| lowing wonls : “It would be impossi
ble to find words that would express tne
! iifoiy and despair that T suffered.
Erery blow of the hammer with which
! they nailed do* my eoffia-lid went
! through n-y b*aiu bke *he of A
death knell. I would never have be
lieved that the human heart could en
dure such terrible agony and not burst
into pieces. When they let me slowly
down into the ground, I distinctly heard
the noise the coffin made every time it
rubbed against the sides of the grave. ”
This man also awoke under the knife of
a doctor. He, like Stapleton, had been
stolen, and carried to the dissecting
room of a medical school. At the
moment the professor made a slight in
cision down the abdomen the spell was
broken, and he sprang to his feet.
Paddy Ward’s Epitaph.
There was a droll debate the other
day at a meeting of the guardians of
the Drogheda union. It happened in
this way. Long ago in Drogheda there
lived one Paddy Ward, a jovial gentle
man, who took a fancy to erecting his
own monament in the place where he
intended to be buried. He did so ; and
upon the stone he cansed to be inscribed
the following: “ Beneath this stone
here lieth one, That still his friends did
please; To heaven I hope he’s surely
gone, to enjoy eternal ease. He drank,
he sang, whilst here on earth, Lived
happy as a lord, and now he has re
signed his breath, God rest him, Paddy
Ward!”
Having set up this memorial of him
self, Mr. Ward, according to tradition,
dedicated it by giving a party on the
spot, at which he, with all his guests,
got “ gloriously drunk.” In due time
he was gathered to his fathers and
placed under the stone. When the Rev.
Mr. Powderly, came to rule spiritually
over the vicinage, he was greatly
shocked and scandalized by the in
scription, and he ordered it to be
effaced, allowing only the words “ God
rest Paddy Ward ” to remain. Then,
indoed, there was a row and riot and
rumpus in that parish, and Mr. Owen
Markey, taking the matter up, asked for
the dismissal of Johnny McGeough, the
sexton who had not reported the deface
ment. Mr. Markey said that so much
did he admire the inscription that when
ever he had employed a stone-cutter he
had always ordered him “to give a lit
tle touch to Paddy Ward’s tombstone.”
The Rev. Mr. Powderly being called
upon to defend his prima facie piece of
vandalism, made a most solemn speech
to the guardians, in which he argued
the matter thus : “ There would be no
sense at all in writing that Paddy Ward
drank, if it was not intended to convey
that he drank too much—in plain Eng
lish, that he was a drunkard ; and the
words ‘he sang’ oould only mean that
he sang the indecent and ribald songs
in which drunkards are wont to in
dulge ;” “ and yet,” said Mr. Powderly,
“we are told that ‘to heaven he is
surely gone.’” Was this a thing “to
be read ” by the children of the “par
ish ?” at a time, too, when “ the vice of
intemperance was spreading over the
whole country?” He hadn’t in the
least injured the stone, but he had
given the deceased a respectable, decent,
temperance epitaph, with “ God rest
Paddy Ward !” as legible as ever.
The board of guardians appears to
have been bothered and unable to come
to any decision. Mr. Mangan asked
Mr. Markey “if he intended to renew
the inscription?” Mr. Markey answered
promp’ly and decisively, “I will, by
the blessing of God!” and so the matter
was allowed to drop.
Fashions in Stockings.
Tl e Paris shops are full of the most
fancitnl designs in this one detail of
feminine attire. They are made in
or )am color, lemon color, orango yellow,
straw color, pink, pale blue, pale green,
lilac, light brown, dark brown, crimson,
scarlet, purple—in short, in every shade
of every color. But the precise tint is
only half the question; the designs
worked upon the stocking are by far the
most important part of it, as regards
fashion, and these are of the most varied
description. One pair of stockings
which excited much admiration from the
passers of a certain well-known shop in
Paris was in lemon color, and the instep
of each foot was covered with bunches
of black currents, with their twigs and
leaves most delicately embroidered in
the colored silks. Another example of
ornamentation lay close at hand, in the
f jrm of a black silk stocking, round the
log of which a garter of silk rosebne’s
and leaves, winding upward from the
ankle, was exquisitively embroidered.
This last fashion is very popular just
now. Stockings so embroidered are, of
course, enormously dear. Few women
can afford to buy many such expensive
articles of dress as these garlanded
stockings; therefore, it becomes a
matter of eager competition among the
leaders of fashion to secure as many:
specimens of the latest rage as their
purses will allow. The mania is in
stilled, and henceforth the woman of
the world takes rank according to her
stockings. Garlands of flowers do not
hold the field alone, it mast be observed.
In some cases inscriptions and devices
are embroidered round the legs of the
modern stockings and rows and patterns
are worked in colored silk stars or
spots. The ground, however, of all
this work must, on no account be white.
Professor Tice’s Prophecies.
A writer in the Louisville Commer
cial says : It certainly looks as if
Prof. Tice is either the teacher of anew
philosophy in regard to meteorological
laws, or a good gnesser. He first ac
counted for the dry snmmers of the past
two years upon a theory which ho said
was based upon observed facts. The
theory fitted what had transpired ad
mirably. Bnt he went farther and pre
dicted a summer of storms up to the
middle and possibly all through Jaly,
based upon the same theory. And he
also stated that these causes were oosmi
cal, and would affect the whole globe.
And up to this time his prediction has
been verified. For not only has the at
mospheric ocean been perturbed in an
unusual manner everywhere, but we
hear of earthquakes in various quarters
of the globe, and volcanio convulsions
to an unusual degree—in Asia Minor, in
Central and South America, in the
islands of the sea. Then storms are
numerous and constantly occurring, and
the rain fall abundant The professor
ascribes these to planetary influences
and the frequent occurrence in a limited
time of planetary equinoxes, which, he
says, have accompanied like phenomena
in all cases since they have been re
corded, and verification possible. It
must be that the atmosphere is subject
to fixed laws just as all other elements
are known to be. But as we cannot see
it, or tonch it, or handle it, these laws
have remained undiscovered, and we
know less about the ocean of air that
surrounds us than of any other, or rather
we know nothing of it. Prof. Tice has
struck out anew path, which he says is
based upon f acts recorded, and his book
now in press will ba looked for with
great interest, in view of the remarkable
luifidmeid of bin untwebou?-
VOL. 16--NO. 28.
SAYINGS AND DOINGS.
Identity
T. B. ALDRICH.
Somewhere—in desolate, wind-swept sp* e,—
In Twilight-land, in No-man's land,—
Two berrying Shapes met face to face.
And bade each other stand.
‘An and who are yon ?” cried one, agape,
Shuddering in the gloaming lijjht.
** I do not know,” said the second Shape,
“ I only died last night!”
Providence has decreed that those
common acquisitions money, gems,
plate, noble mansions, and dominion—
should be sometimes bestowed on the
indolent and unworthy; but those
things which constitute our true riches,
and whioh are properly our own, must
be procured by our own labor.
The Nevada ninuy hammer who ha
just buried his wife in a silver coffin has
done a good deal of harm. Other women
will now feel that nobody cares a farth
ing for them if they are not laid away
in the same style, and they won’t put
up with any of your German-silver oof
lins, either.
“ No, gentlemen of the jury,” thun
dered an eloquent advocate the other
day in a Denver court, “ this matter is
for his honor to decide, who sits there
sleeping so beautifully.” His honor
opened both eyes and his month, and
said, “ All owing to your narootic
speech, sir.”
We are having too many local centen
nials. Better save them for next year.
A man celebrates the anniversary ef his
birth and his wedding; but nobody
ever heard of his giving a ballon the
anniversary of the day he first put ol
trousers, or a dinner to commemorate
his first cigar.
Fitzhcoh Lee, the friskiest dragoon
that ever led liis troopers against loyal
legions—the boldest knight in all the
array of southern chivalry—the Du
Guesclin of the rebellion—Fitzhngh
Lee cheered in the streets of Boston !
Clasping hands across the bloody
chasm ! Where’s your chasm—Brook
lyn Art jus.
At a camp-meeting last summer, a
venerable sister began the hymn—
“ My soul be on thy gnarJ :
Ten thousand foes arise.”
She began in shrill quavers, but it
was pitched too high : “Ten thousand—
Ten thousand,” she screeched, and
stopped. “Start her at 5000 !” cried a
converted stock-broker present.
Passing up Beaubien street yester
day a gentleman 6aw a man sitting on
the steps of a dilapidated old house,
and looking so lonely and friendless that
he halted and asked :
“ Anybody dead in the house ? ”
“ Noxt thing to it,” sighed the man,
as he scratched his knee through a hole
in his trowsers, “ the old woman’s got
an idea that she wants twenty-one yards
in a calico dress.”— Detroit Free Press.
With a white chip bonnet, paper of
pins, and a box of miscellaneous feath
ers, lace, ribbons and flowers, any girl
of the period, with a small stock of in
genuity, can convey the impression to
the public at large that she has half a
dozen bonnets this season. Avery
fashionable shape is that male by sit
ting down and stamping on an ordinary
frame, and then putting in some large
roses !
An English officer at Boston thus
wrote of our revolutionary sires : “In
this army (the British) are many of
noble family, many very respectable,
virtuous, and amiable characters, aud it
grieves ono that gentlemen, brave
British soldiers, should fall by the
hands of such despicable wretches as
compose the banditti of the country,
amongst whom there is not one that has
the least pretension to bo called a gen
tleman. They are a most rude, de
praved, degenerate race, and it is a mor
tification to ns that they speak English,
and can trace themselves from that
stock.”
A Javanese editor writes of European
customs: “If we observe the practioe
of Europeans, it would appear that the
power of the wife is greater than that of
the husband, and that this error has
been brought aliout by the want of a
correct view of the dictates of nature.
We will point ont examples of this. In
going through a door the wife passes
first and the husband follows her ; the
wife takes the best seat and the husband
the next best; in visiting, the wife is
first saluted ;in forms of address, the
wife is first mentioned. Moreover,
while men are in the company of ladies
they must be particular in their conver
sation, and are not permitted to smoke
without the ladies’ permission being
first obtained. These and like customs
are innumerable, and the power of the
’ women is far greater than that of the
! men.”
I'lie London Men and Women's Club.
The Albemarle Clnb baa at last, after
many months delay, opened its doors.
This is an association organized on the
principle of ignoring sex, and giving to
men and women together the ordinary
facilities of a London clnb. It is the
firet exjieriment of the kind. There is
a clnb for women separately already in
existence on a small scale, but there
never has been one where the two sexes
meet on even terms. Bold as the ven
ture is, it has the countenance of some
of the best women and men in England,
and it l*egins with over three hundred
members, having accommodation for
five hundred. Care has been taken to
meet some ef the obvious difficulties in
the case. Only some of the rooms are
to be used in common. There is a sepa
rate drawing-room for ladies and a
smoking-room for men, from which la
dies are expressly excluded—though
smoking among ladies is not unknown.
The dining-room is open to both, but if
a lady likes a cup of tea in the ladies’
drawing-room she may have that. At
present there is nothing in the rules to
prevent a member of the club of either
sex from asking a friend of either sex to
lunch of" dinner. The only security
taken on this point is that the name of
the guest and the host shall be entered
together in a book open to inspection.
The marriage relation gave rise to
some debate, I hear, in connection
with the question of membership,
but it was decided that the club
had nothing to do with it—in other
words, that a wife might be
a member without her husband and the
husband of course without his wife. I
indicate only one or two out of several
curious points of inquiry, some of
which remain yet in doubt and yet
must be disposed of. The experiment
is made in perfect good faith, and the
club is entitled—since they would make
it—to fair treatment. But i* is difficult
to see how its life can be much pro
longed without giving rise to scandal,
though scandal and entire innocence, as
is often the case, go together, or to be
lieve that its members will not by and
>yy fine that they hav triad" a.
1