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LADY FORTESQUE’S DEATH.
A LETTER FOUND WHICH KEPT THE
BODY FROM A PAUPER’S GRAVE.
A Lady of Noble Birth Dyin« Alone, Friend
and Unknown in Chiea«o«
The fact was developed that alone,
friendless, and unknown, Lady Fortes
que died in Chicago, under the name of
Ellen C. Williams. She was the wife of
Sir William Fortesque of England, who
thirty years ago was a popular club man
in London. In the summer of 1818 Sir
William, on account of some peccadillo
of which he had been guilty in London,
was obliged to seek the seclusion of the
country for a time. In the course of his
wanderings he went to Hull, and fell in
with the family of Capt. Murray, a re
tired officer of the royal navy. The
Captain’s daughter Ellen was then nine
teen years old, and, judging from a
picture found among her effects, which
was painted about that time, she must
have been very beautiful. The baronet,
after a short, but successful wooing,
gained her hand. They lived happily
for a time, but soon Sir William’s old
associations proved too strong for him,
and the gaming table saw him oftener
than his wife. Money, lands, houses,
and even his good name went one by
one.
Throughout all his dissipation, how
ever, he still preserved his love for his
wife; for, influenced by her earnest so
licitation, he at length consented to
break loose from his old ties and come
to America, there to begin a new life.
Gathering together the remnants of
what was once a large estate, the hus
band and wife set sail for New York in
September, 1859. Dissipation had al
ready begun to tell upon Sir William,
and, shattered in health, the pair trav
eled through the country, hoping to re
store the lost vitalities of youth. Their
hopes were in vain, and in 1862 Sir
William died in a small town in western
Virginia.
This left his wife alone and without
friends. Her immediate relatives in
England were dead, and she was obliged
to depend entirely upon her own re
sources. To add to her misfortunes a
daughter had been born a short time be
fore her husband’s death. For some
time she eked out a scanty existence by
giving music lessons. By close economy
she saved up a few hundred dollars and
went to Chicago, where she had resolved
to become a doctor. In due time she
was graduated from Rush Medical Col
lege and began the practice of her pro
fession, hampered by the many difficul
ties which always beset a woman. In
1873 her daughter died, and the poor
woman’s mind was badly affected for
some time by this, the only tie which
bound her to her former state. She con
tinued to struggle along, sometimes in
great poverty, sometimes in poor health,
but always try ing to keep up her cour
age.
Fortesque died suddenly of
apoplexy, and nothing was known of
the event until at least twenty-four
hours after it had occurred. The Coro
ner held an inquest, and the body was
about to be consigned to a pauper’s
grave, when a letter was found sewed
np in the hem of her dress, which gave
directions for finding a sum of money
to defray her funeral expenses. Papers
were also found her past life,
from which was gleaned her history.
Among her effects were some silver
plate, with the Fortesque arms engraved
upon it, and several handsome rings,
which the woman was too proud te
awn.
Water in the Highland*.
The AUgemeine Zeitung gives some
p irticulars of remarkable success in ii •
dicating the presence of water springs
by a man named Beraz, who seems to be
a recognized authority in such mutters.
The scene of his perform nice was in the
Bavarian highlands, at a height of more
than 1,300 feet above the live! of the
sea. The C immune of Rothenberg
suffered greatly from want f water,
snd invited Beraz last an uuin to en
deavor to find some source of supply for
them. He inspected the locality one
afternoon, in presence of the public au
thorities, and announced that water was
to l>e found in certain spots at depths
which he stated. The first spot was in
the lower village, and he gave the likely
depth at between 62 and 72 feet, adding
that the volume of water which the
spring would give would lie about the
diameter of an inch and a quarter.
After incessant labor for four weeks,
consisting mainly of rock blasting, the
workmen came on a copious spring of
water at a depth of almost 67 feet.
What he declared about a water source
for the upper village was very singular.
He pointed to a spot where he said three
water courses lay perpendicularly, under
one another, and running in parallel
courses. The first would be found at a
depth of between 22) and 26 feet, and
about the size of a wheaten straw, and
running in the direction from southeast
to northwest. The second lay about 42
feet deep, was of about the size of a
thick quill, and ran in the same direc
tion. The third he said, lay at a depth
of about 56 feet, rnnning in the same
direction, and as large as a man’s little
finger. The actual results were as fol
lows: The first water course was struck
at a depth of 27j feet, running in the
direction indicated, and having a diam
eter of one-filth of an inch. The work
men came on a second at a depth of 42 j
feet, it had a diameter of 7-25ths of an
inch. The third was found at 62) feet
below the surface, and having a diam
eter of 3-sths of an inch—all running in
the direction Bsraz had indicated.
A Want.—A Richmond, Va., re
ligious paper says: Wanted —A man.
Handsome or ugly; old or young; rich
or poor; preacher or layman; sparkling
with jewels or wrapped up in patches
and rags—only let him be a man who
can do one single act that is purely un
selfish. Where is he? Who knows
him ? Reader, can you fill the bill ?
Try yourself for a week and let us
know.
@lje (Babette.
VOL XII. SUMMERVILLE. GEORGIA, WEDNESDAY EVENING. APRILS, 1885. NO. 12.
thus our life shines.
The breezes play, the breezes away
The laughing, careless trees,
Whispering songs of far away
Across the foaming seas.
Where flowers crown the meadows brown
And summer’s voice ne’er dies,
Beneath the mellow harvest moon
And the azure southern skies.
The boughs hang low beneath the snow
While harsh the north wind howls,
And winter veils the summer’s glow
Beneath his crystal cowls.
Tims our life shines while Pleasure twines
Her garland on its brow:
But when in age its ray declines
The buds all turn to snow.
Alden Lyle.
How sweet is love, if what we love be sweet;
How pure is love, if what we love be pure;
How fair is love, if what we love be meet;
How tender, strong, and patient to endure,
It is a draught to balm a bitter world;
It is a flame to light a darkened way;
It is a gem within the heart impearled;
It is Divinity’s divinest ray.
Let but my love of such complexion be,
Sweet, pure and fair, and take the rest who
craves;
Fame, wealth and power are bubbles of the tea
But love the deep sea is and all its waves.
In sooth, in sooth, w’ere I in true faith told
Take all the rest but love, I would cry, nay;
But proffer love and all the rest withhold,
And I would answer with my whole soul,
“yea,”
MOXEY.
Ezra Alden was in love with Clara
Scudder, and sometimes iu moments of
great exaltation—for he was a modest
youth, as every true lover should be—he
had dared to think that she did not
frown upon his passion. But Clara was
the squire’s daughter and an heiress,
while Ezra was but a small farmer, and
so far from successful in that pursuit
that it seemed absurd as well as impos
sible that he should aspire to the hand
of the lovely Miss Scudder, who had
been courted iu vain even by fine city
gentlemen. Ho he hud sighed and cast
longing looks from his place in the
choir (where he sung in a fine tenor
voice on Sundays) into the squire's pew;
and more than once he thought pretty
Clara blushed brightly, and he knew
well enough that she always smiled
sweetly, and her voice when she spoke
to him had a caressing sound, and alto
gether her manner toward him was not
discouraging.
But Ezra would not be encouraged.
Ho felt that it was useless for him to ask
the squire for his daughter’s hand un
less he had a good pot of money in his
own hand with which to back his pro
posal. So, instead of trying to compass
the desired end by increased industry,
he neglected his little farm more than
before, and spent his whole time in
wishing that ho could find a pot of
money somehow, m the manner of old
fashioned stories—at the foot of a tree
or under the foundation of his house. I
believe ho would even have sought it at
the end of the rainbow, like the boy in
the nursery rhyme, if ho bad been told
there was a good chance of finding it
there.
Suddenly a rumor spread abroad that
a wonderful gypsy had appeared, who
was teliing people fortunes that came
true in the most remarkable manner,
and all the conntry-side was iu a state
of excitement on the subject. She was
of somewhat exclusive character, this
madam gypsy, and could only be con
sulted in a certain place, in the shadow
of a wych-elm, in the open air, and dur
ing certain hours—these hours being
between the last rays of the declining
sun and the first shadows of coming
night.
Os coureo the rumor of the gypsy’s
marvelous fortune-telling reached Ezra
Alden, and equally, of course, he was
much exercised iu mind concerning it.
He found out the place where the for
tune-teller divined these fair fortunes,
and one evening, after watching the sun
slowly disappear behind the western
hills, he repaired there stealthily, and a
little afraid of meeting Clara Scudder
somewhere in the vicinity, for the wych
elm was just on the farther side of the
squire’s farm. However, he met no one
except a hurried squirrel fast speeding
to its home, and it was even more scared
at being met than Ezra was ; so he has
tened to the wych-elm, and there, sure
enough, * was madam gypsy, sitting
curled up against the trunk, and look
ing precisely as if she were waiting for
him. f
She was a very old woman, bent al
most double; her lined and wrinkled
face was the color of a butternut, and i
the tangles of her hair hung in elf-like |
grizzled locks about her brow and over |
her cheeks; but her black eyes had a
wonderful brilliancy and such a keen
look that they seemed to see right ,
through him. She was wrapped in a ’
tattered old scarlet cloak, and a hood of j
the same was drawn well over her head. |
She gave a quick nod to Ezra, and mo- ,
tioned him to take a seat at her feet, :
which he did with his heart thumping as ;
if he were before the Delphic oracle. ■:
And when she spoke he had to bend bis
head and listen very attentively, for not
only did she mutter het wrwrds in a very
toothless fashion, but she spoke in so ;
low a tone that he had some difficulty in
hearing her, But he made out that she
“I was expecting you, my son, and I
know what you come for;” and then she
held out a hand even more butternut
than her face—a shaking and tremulous
hand; and Ezra made haste to cross the
palm with silver, that being, as he
knew, the time-honored custom. This
happened before we had begun the re
turn to a specie basis; and silver was
scarce, bnt Ezra had in his pocket a
half-dollar piece, with a hole in it and a
cross drawn on its face, which he had
kept many years for luck. So, as there
could be no more auspicions occasion
than the present for using it, he timidly
placed it in the gypsy’s hand, and again
bent his ear attentively to listen to her
unintelligible mumbling.
"I know the desire of your heart, my
pretty gentleman,” said the gypsy. “It
is a certain maiden not a hundred miles
away, only you have the faint heart that
seldom wins a fair lady. But if yon
could find a pot of money your spirit
would be bolder. Listen to me and obey
me and you shall have your w’ish.”
Ezra did listen with all hh ears, and,
as you may suppose, they we' > just then
pretty long and wide, and capable of
taking in a large amount.
“You must dig np every foot of land
you possess,” proceeded the gypsy;
“you mustn’t grow weary in yonrsearch
—you must dig and dig, continuously,
and plant and harvest, and dig again, if
necessary; and, mark my words, before
a very long time, you will find the pot of
money and the maiden will be yours.”
Ezra listened with faith, and departed
with joy in his heart. He fulfilled the
fortune-teller’s injunction so well that all
the country-side took to talking of him
after the gypsy disappeared. He not
only dug, but he plowed and sowed and
harrowed; he seemed taken with a sud
den mania for farming and work, which
before had seemed distasteful and monot
onous, now, that he had an object in
view, was full of excitement and iu.
terest. At first he dug and dug, looking
for his pot of money; but as it did not
turn up he continued to dig, full of
faith, and growing every day more in
terested in his efforts.
“What on earth has got into Ezra Al
den ?” asked the neighbors, one of an
other. “Why, he has taken to working
like all possessed. He’s hired a man,
too, and the pair of ’em are at it from
the first dawn of daylight to nightfall.”
“Whatever has got into him he’s going
to have the beet crops of the year,” an
swered one. “Lucky fellow. Just
when there’s going to be a rise in flour,
too, and he has no end of wheat growing,
and iu splendid condition. ”
“Why, Clara, isn’t that Ezra Alden’s
farm ?” asked the squire, as his daugh
ter one day drove him past it in her
pretty pony carriage.
“Yes, sir,” returned Clara, with a
faint pink stealing into her clear pale
cheek.
“Has some one else farmed it, then ?”
asked the squire, “There isn’t another
farm around here fit to compare with it.”
The pink in Clara’s cheek deepened to
a lovely crimson.
“Oh, no, papa,” she said, softly, “it
seems Ezra—Mr. Alden, has just de
veloped a sudden talent for farming.”
“And a very first-rate talent, I should
say,” said the old gentleman. “A man
who can show such a farm as that can
hold his head as high as any one.”
Clara’s eyes glowed and sparkled.
She touched her ponies lightly; and her
happy thoughts rushed off into the
future at a pace to rival even their fast
trotting.
As the neighbors had foretold, Ezra
Alden had particularly fine crops that
season; and his success at farming hav
ing also developed his commercial abil
ity, he sold all that he had to sell to ex
cellent advantage.
“Well,” said Ezra, as he counted his
gains, and tied them securely in his
money-bag, “I haven’t found my pot of
money, but this little pile is not to be
despised, and I shall keep on. By
George I I wonder if this was what the
old gypsy meant.”
Ezra had some time on his hands now
for dreaming; and he took to sighing for
Clara once more, but in a more hopeful
spirit.
“I will speak to her father,” he
thought; “and, if he gives me encour
agement, I will ask Clara, plump, if she
will marry me.”
Now, some young man would have
thought it safer to win the daughter's
consent first; but Ezra was too honor
able for that
“If the squire won’t have me,” he
said to himself, “it’s no use to ask
Clara She would never disobey her
father. I shouldn’t care half as much
for her if she would.”
So he took his money-bag in his hand
and sought the presence of Squire
Scudder.
The squire sat reading a novel of the
Pickwick Papers in his handsome old
fashioned parlor, and being in a very
genial mood, he received Ezra with the
most encouraging kindness, and listened
to all that he had to say with a be
nignant smile.
“It is not a great deal,” concluded
Ezra, holding up his money-bag, “but
there’s plenty more, where I found this,
sir.”
“And pray, where did you find it,
Mr. Alden?” asked the squire rather
taken aback.
“At the roots of my wheat and bar
ley,” answered Ezra, adding, with a
laugh: “To tell the truth, sir, I con
sulted a fortune-teller, and she told me
to dig and dig, and I would certainly
find a pot of money. I haven’t found
it yet, but I intend to keep on digging,
and I don’t doubt but I shall find it by
and by.”
Squire Scudder burst into a hearty
laugh, and kindly patted Ezra on the
shoulder.
“I don’t doubt but you will, my lad,”
fie said, cheerily. “Honest industry is
the best pot of money any young man
ever found. As for Clara, you can
talk over that matter with herself—
she’s sitting there by the window, hid
den behind the curtains.”
Now that was dreadfully mean of the
squire, not to have given Ezra a hint of
Clara’s presence before; but ho didn’t
mean it. It seems quite impossible for
these old gentlemen to realize how seri
ous such matters are to boys and girls.
Squire Sondder rose with a nod and a
smile, and went away, leaving Ezra in
dire confusion, staring at the window
curtains; and wishing the floor would
open and swallow him. But it didn’t.
Instead, the window curtains opened
and a lovely young lady stepped out
from them.
“So, Mr. Alden,” she said, stepping
forward, “you consulted the gypsy for
tune-teller, too ?”
“Oh, Miss Scudder—Clara—you have
heard everything,” stammered Ezra,
sinking into the chair from which ho
had risen in his first consternation.
“What a terrible fool you must think
me 1”
“But I don’t—l have great confidence
in that gypsy’s predictions.”
“Then you consulted her, too,” asked
Ezra.
“Dozens of times—she beguiled me
of nil my small silver.”
“Well, she got but a single piece
from me, that’s some comfort,” said
Ezra, recovering somewhat, and ventur
ing to laugh slightly.
“Was it anything like this?” asked
Miss Scudder, producing one from her
pocket, and holding it toward Ezra on
the palm of a hand like cream.
Ezra looked and started, and gave a
little cry. It was bis own lucky silver
piece. Ho glanced into the laughing,
blushing face; and then for the first
time he looked straight into Clara Scud
der’s eyes. They were very, very dark
and wonderfully brilliant; but this time
they did not seem to look through him
—they sank before his glance, and
veiled themselves under lovely, long,
black lashes.
“Oh, Clara!” murmured Ezra; “you
were the gypsy ?”
“Os course I was.”
' 'And you knew I loved you all the
time ?”
“Os course I did, you foolish boy—■
that’s why I had to invent away of tell
ing you so.”
Domestic Recipes.
A good tomato soup may be made by
this recipe: Chop fine half a turnip, one
carrot, two small onions, one stalk of
celery and three sprigs of parsley; mix
with one can of tomatoes and one quart
of water, seasoning with one teaspoonful
each of salt and sugar and a little pepper.
Boil gently for one hour. As the water
boils away add more, so that the quan
tity may not be diminished. Mix two
heaping tableepoonfuls of flour thor
oughly with one of butter, and thin the
mixture with some of the soup. Then
mix the thickening with the soup and
boil for five minutes. Strain the soup
and serve.
For a mutton ragout cut three pounds
of the neck or breast of mutton in pieces
an inch wide and two inches long, put
them in a saucepan with two ounces of
butter; set on the fire and stir occasion
ally until brown, then add a tablespoon
ful of flour; stir for one minute and
cover with cold water, salting to taste.
Season with one onion, a bunch of sea
soning composed of one bay-leaf, one
sprig of thyme, four of parsley and a
clove, also one clove of gariic chopped
fine. Boil gently until two-thirds done;
then add pieces of peeled potato, cut in
the shape of orange carpels, as many
pieces of potato as of mutton. Boil
gently until done. Place the meat in
the center of the dish with the pieces of
potato around it. Skim the fat from
the sauce and strain it over the dish.
Serve very hot.
Veal cutlets prepared in this way are
palatable: After trimming the cutlets
nicely, dip them in melted butter and
dust them well with a mixture of equal
parts of grated Parmesan cheese and
bread-crumbs. Then dip them in beaten
egg and dust them again on both sides
with the cheese and crumb mixture and
fry them brown. Boil half a pound of
macaroni, and after it is drained add two
ounces of butter and a cupful of tomato
sauce, some grated Parmesan cheese
and salt to taste. Let this become thor
oughly hot, stirring occasionally. Put
in the center of a dish and place the
outlets around it
A Bill—The Michigan Legislature
is considering a bill which provides that
the occupation of every candidate on a
ticket be printed opposite his name.
“This might be all right in Michigan,”
says a local paper, and adds, “We won
der how it would suit some of the candi
dates for office in New York. ”
LOCKED IN THE LAKE.
ARCTIC EXPERIENCE OF THE PRO
PEELER MICHIGAN.
Seventeen Men Leave the Ship mid
Thirty Mllcw of Ice fori tHnUtn-nce—Terri
ble Stiflerii>K ou the Rond—Crowned witb
SncceßM—The Lake Frozen.
A dispatch from Grand Haven, Mich.,
says: Full particular’s were received here
regarding the terrible experience of the
crew of the ice-locked steamer Michigan.
On Monday morning, February 9, the
Michigan, with Capt. Prindiville and
twenty-nine men on board, left this port
in search of the distressed steamer
Oneida. When off Ludington the Mich
igan encountered a gale and was
hemmed in by heavy ice. She drifted
with the ice to the southward, experien
cing many dangers, but at no time being
within twenty miles of land. She finally
got in compact ice, many feet thick, to
ward the head of the lake, but on ac
count of the drifting and fuming they
could not tel! their exact whereabouts-
Sunday last it was decided that, owing
to short provisions, half of the crew
would have to go ashore, as the food
would lost but a week longer.
Monday was very stormy. Tuesday
morning, from the crosstrees, a rim of
land was sighted to the eastward. Thir
teen men were chosen to remain and
seventeen of the most hardy to make
the land. The mercury was ten below.
At 7 o’clock Joseph Russell, first mate;
David Martin, steward; W. P. Kenny,
clerk, and fourteen of the crew, started
with a day’s rations, axes, pikehole,
blankets, etc., expecting that they
might have to be out over night, as the
land seemed thirty miles away. When
about twelve miles off the boat, Clerk
Kenny broke through the ice, wetting
his right leg to the knee. They went
on about six miles, when they found
Kenny’s leg frozen. Ail were badly ex
hausted, as the ice was very rough and
blocked into nearly impassable ridges
many feet high and miles wide. Each
man went for himself, knowing that life
depended on his own exertions, except
Russell and Martin, who helped Kenny.
When off land four miles Kenny cou! d
not stand, and dragged himself along
on his hands and knees for two miles,
when he was completely exhausted and
so frozen that he could not move and
urged the others to leave him and save
themselves.
Some of the party had by this time —
5 o’clock—reached the shore, and found
a few houses at West Casco. They
warned the neighborhood, uitd the farm
ers went out and carried the brave but
insensible Kenny to the beach. The
land there rises 160 feet almost straight.
All bands worked like horses to throw
off the insensibility creeping on them
and climb the steep. Heaving lines
were placed on Kenny, and he was
drawn up by those above and carried to
a dwelling. The mon were apportioned
around among the farmers, who willing
ly cared for them. Kenny recovered at
10, and everything was dona for him
that was possible. All of the men are
able to take cara of themselves except
Kenny. The surgeons have dressed his
limbs, and it is hoped he will soon be all
right. The Michigan is now in no dan
ger, since so many of the crew have left,
the provisions will last the rest 30 days.
A Mormon Story.
A Mormon bishop told a friend of the
editor of a Salt Lake paper of this, a few
days ago, that he had suffered with the*
blues all day, because of something one
of his daughters had said to him. When
asked to explain, he said:
“You know my daughter Mary, the
eldest child of my second wife ? She is
about the age of Lizzie, who is the
daughter of my first wife. Well, this
morning f was going with Mary over to
Lizzie’s mother’s when she suddenly
s lid :
“ ‘Father, I wish I was Lizzie.’
“I asked her why, and reminded her
that she was quite as bright and pretty
as Lizzie.
“ ‘lt is not that,’ she said; ‘Lizzie’s
mother is your first wife.’
“We did not speak again all the way,
and I have had the blues ever since.”
This is a true story all but the names,
Very . tor Coffee.
An individual, evidently connected
with the coffee trade, writes to the A/«Z
ieal Record to say that the colored and
polished coffee pronounced deleterious
by the Board of Health is a small mat
ter as compared with the sale of “pool
skimmings." Skimmings coffee is a
damaged and decayed article, usually
Java, which has “sweated” aboard ship,
and thus turns of a rich brown color,
though the berry is wholly decayed and
has an offensive odor. The ’'skimmings”
is dried and mixed with sound coffee.
A quantity of it was sold recently for
three quarters of a cent a pound.
Three years ago 30,000 bags of the rot
ten berry were disposed of in New York
from the wreck of the Pliny, from Rio.
A Gain.—A Vermont farmer made a
net profit of 843.50 from the produce of
a single hen turkey during the past sea
son. This is equal to 100 bushels of
wheat in Kansas at 43 cents per bushel,
with this difference: It would cost as
much to raise and harvest the wheat as
it would bring, while the proceeds of tho
turkey were clear gain.
THE MARDI GRAS PAGEANTS.
A Visitor’s l<npr«M«loiiM of Brilliant Street
Spectacles ot New Orleans.
The whole city gave itself up reck,
lessly to the Mardi Gras (Fat Tuesday),
writes a New Orleans correspondent.
No pageant of any kind that New York
has ever seen can compare with the
Carnival processions. The fun began
on Monday, the day before Mardi Gras,
with the arrival of Rex. The King this
year was personated by a young cotton
broker, who is a well-known club man
and popular about town. His name is
supposed to be a secret, but it is well
known who he is. He was received at
the station by a military escort, and
three or four wagon loads of harlequins
and jugglers. He was mounted on a
milk-white steed, and the grand cortege
proceeded to the City Hall, where the
keys of the city were presented to him
by a curly-haired and awkward Mayor,
who made a speech which nobody heard
excepting a very obvious reporter, who
was quite the most important person
present. He wore a high beaver that
looked as if it had borne the brunt
of action, and his willowy form was clad
in a faded ulster that was bnttonless and
frayed. His gold-rimmed glasses rested
on a nose that was decidedly of the ac
quisitive order, and a pair of out-at-the
finger gloves adorned his hands. When
he first appeared he came rushing up
the street as though the fate of nations
depended on his speed, and stalked
majestically through the crowd. A
large pie-plate shield glistened upon
his shoulder. He sprang up the steps
of the City Hall and shouted for the
Mayor. Men, women, and children
stepped aside, and he suddenly found
himself alongside his Honor. The Mayor
looked at the pie-plate badge, and was
impressed. The reporter burst into a
glassy but engaging smile, said “How
are you ?” and then glanced around at
the admiring multitude. He took up
his position alongside the Mayor, and
produced a roll of white paper in which
grocers usually wrap tea. He drew a
penoil out of the breast pocket of his
coat, and glanced critically at the vast
throng. Then he made a pleasing re
mark to the Mayor, who looked gratified
at the attention, and straightway began
to take copions notes of the scene be
fore him. Two thousand eyes were ad
miringly fixed upon him while ho reeled
off page after page of notes, „
Then Rex appeared in the distance,
and the eyes of the throng were for a
moment diverted. A moment later Rex
stopped, and the Mayor began his
speech. It was uttered deep down
in his Honor’s throat, and was only
heard by the reporter, who proved an
appreciative and volatile listener, shout
ing “BravoI” “Very good 1” and “Hear I
Hear 1” at intervals, so that finally the
Mayor turned around and delivered the
whole speech into the reporter’s ear,
the reporter meanwhile displaying a
a smile that outshone the radiance of
his badge. He took notes with earnest
ness all the time.
Then a very small girl in pink, hold
ing up a very large cushion on which
rested a gilt key, was carrried down
and placed beside a charger which the
King bestrode. His Majesty took the
key and the procession moved on. That
night there was a procession of floats,
It is impossible to give any idea of the
beauty of these night pageants. The
floats are two stories high and of enor
mous size. They are splendid in gilt
and tinsel, and with the living figures
in costumes are as spectacularly beauti
full as any of the great show pieces on
the New York stage. If the most strik
ing tableaus of the “Black Crook,”
“S irdanapalus,” the “Seven Ravens,”
and “Excelsior” could be seen in rapid
succession, they would be disappointing,
compared with the Mardi Gras night
pageants—except in the matter of
shapely orcans of locomotion.
Women Hnlo fn Bantam.
Among the colonial possessions, or,
more correctly, dependencies, of Hol
land, says a foreign letter writer, there
is a remarkable little State which, in
its constitution and the original costume
of its inhabitants, surpasses the boldest
of dreapis of the advocates of women’s
rights. In the Island of Java, between
the cities of Batavia and Samarane, is
the Kingdom of Bantam, which, although
tributary to Holland, is an independent
State. The Sovereign is, indeed, a mon,
but all the rest of the government be
longs to the fair sex. The King is en
tirely dependent upon his State Council.
The highest authorities, military com
manders and soldiers are, without ex
ception, of female sex. These amazons
ride in the masculine style, wearing
sharp steel points instead of spurs.
They carry a pointed lance, which they
swing very gracefully, and also a musket,
which is discharged at full gallop. The
capital of this little State lies in the
most picturesque part of the island in a
fruitful plain, and is defended by two
well-kept fortresses.
I believe in the colossal; a need deep
as hell and grace as high as heaven. I
believe in a pit that is bottomless and a
heaven that is topless. I believe in an
infinite God and an infinite atonement;
iu love and mercy; an everlasting cove
nant ordered in all things sure, of which
the substance and reality is an infinite
1 Christ.
STRAY BITS OF HUMOR
FOUND IN THE CObUMIM OF OUB
EXCHANGES.
All Broken Up—Kindness In rlie Extreme
—A Cautious l.over-Very Busy-Some
body Suylnv NouietUlnc, Etc., Etc.
ALL BROKEN UP.
“Well, I got on a freight train and
rode np to Hubbleson’s siding, forty
three mild that night, to see my girl,”
said a western young man in conver
sation with Burdette. “I allowed to visit
with her folks all that night and
Sunday, on’ come home on the passen
ger Monday mornin’. She lives six
mild from the station, an’ I tramped out
to the house in all that blizzard, ani got
there ’long ’bout ’leven o’clock Saturday
night. An’ I’il be teetotally cow kicked
by u bjillrush if there was a livin’ soul to
home I Old folks, ’t seems, had gone
away to Lincoln to stay over Sunday,
my girl had went down to Grier’s Island
to stay a week, the hired man had taken
the only horse left on the place an’ gone
down to a dance on Beasely’s branch,
eleven mild away, nn’ there I was, left
over Sunday where I didn’t know a soul.
Went to Deacon Mumbler’s an’ told him
who my father was, an’ he kept me.
Beacon’s stone blind and has the
asthma so bad he can’t talk ; his wife’s
so deef she can’t hear it thunder, they
have no children an’ don’t keep no help,
an’ don’t cook anything Sundays. I
went to church three times that day and
went to two funerals; the deacon goes to
bed at eight o’clock and so I shivered
on a straw bed under a cotton quilt in a
north room for thirteen hours. Now
think of all that when a feller’d been ex
pectin’ a turkey dinner, Bingin’ ‘Hold
the Fort,’ by a melodeon all afternoon
an’ huggin’ the prettiest girl in all New
brasky from sundown till one o’clock in
the mornin’, an’ tell me es I ain’t got
more right to feel broke up than any
man this aide o’ the kingdom? Say ‘no’
an’ Til slam you on top o’ the head witb
this overshoe !”
HOW THE DOCTORS CURED HIM.
Two doctors were disputing by the
bedsi'de of County Clerk Keenan during
his recent illness.
“I tell you the liver is diseased,” said
one.
“Nonsense; nothing of the kind. It
is the spleen,” said the other. ''
“Very well; we shall see who is in the
right at the post-mortem examination.”
Hearing which Keenan became real
mad and got up and dressed himself.
He began to improve from that time
and hasn’t known a sick day since.
GOOD AND BAD CITIES.
Bad city for the wicked—Oinn.
Good city for the empty—Phil,
Good city for the Indian—Lo-well.
Bad city for a man with false teeth—
Gnash viile.
Good city for a laundry—Washington.
Good city for the wealthy—Rich
mond.
Good town for a sea captain—Salem.
Bad city for a musician—Sing Sing.
Good city for impudent dudes—
Yonsjg-kers.
A COMPLIMENT IN DOUBT.
Dear friend Clara (looking at Belle’s
photograph)—“What a lovely picture I”
Belle—“Do you really think it looks
like me I”
Dear friend Clara—“Oh, no, dear; not
a particle.”—Boston Transcript.
THE MERITS IN THE CASE.
“What are the relative merits in the
case?” asked the attorney of a young
man who had sought his advice in rela
tion to a divorce.
“Relative merits?” reiterated the
young man, who was apparently dazzled
at the remark.
“Yes,” replied the attorney.
“Well, the relalive merits in the cibo
is an exasperated son-in-law, and the de
merits is a meddling mother-in-law.—
Pretzel’s Weekly.
KINDNESS IN THE EXTREME.
“Well, dea< on, have you remembered
the poor during this cold weather ?"
“Yes, parson, I think of them vesy
often. Only yesterday a poor, shiver
ing little fellow came to my door with
out clothes enough to cover his naked
ness. It was a very pathetic sight.”
‘‘What did you do for the poor little
creature, deacon?”
“Let him shovel off my sidewalk and
it made him nice and warm, he actually
1 icrspired. ’’ — Ch icago News.
SADLY DEGENERATED BY CUPID.
“Have you noticed how Mary D. has
changed of late ?” asked a stately
beauty, caressing a diminutive blaok
and-tan, whose collar was ornamented
with silver bells.
“What’s the matter with her?” was
the query.
“Why, you know she was married
last week, and her maid informs me that
she has not fed her dog once since her
marriage; has scarcely noticed him, in
fact. She actually seems to prefer the
society of her husband.”
Exclamations of astonishment.
COULD BE SEEN AT A GLANCE.
Jones—Some fellows have no more
spunk about them than a baby.
Smith—Why do you think so ?
J.—Saw a couple going along the
road in a sleigh a short time ago. He
was driving with both hands and she
was sitting fully a foot apart from him.
S.—H’m ! Married couple, I guess.—
Boston Courier.
Imports and Exports.
The Chief of the Bureau of Statistics
of the United States, in his seventh
monthly statement, reports that the ex
cess of the value of exports over imports
of merchandise was for the twelve
months ended January 31, 1885, 8138,.
756,652. The total values of the im
ports of merchandise for the twelve
months ended January 31, 1885. were
8617,166,928, and for the preceding
twelvemonths 8681 405,635, a decrease
of 867,238,707. The total values of the
exports of merchandise for the twelve
mouths ended January 31, 1885, were
’ 8755,923,580,