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The Useful Plough.
A country life is sweet!
In moderate cold and nem t , ,
To walk in the air is pleasant and fair!
In every field of wheat
The fairest of flowers adorning the bowers,
\nd every meadow's br 'w,
So that I say, no courtier may
Compare with them who clothe in gray,
And follow the useful plough.
They rise with the morning lark,
And labor till almost dark, ,
Then, folding their sheep,they hasten to sleep;
While every pleasant park
>*ext morning is ringing with birds that are
singing,
On each green, tender bougli.
With what content and merriment
Their days are spent whose minds are bent
To follow the useful plow!
Anonymous.
WILD WORK;
A Study of Western Life.
BY MARY E. BRYAN.
CHAPTER XXIII.
The sun, low in the west, shone behind clou
dy bars of rose and gold, a wind crept up from
the river, freshening the heated air, stirring
the silver-lined leaves of the cotton wood, and
moving the silky rings of hair on Zoe s forehead,
as she sat on the gallery of her brother s cot
tage, her sewing dropped in her lap, her eyes
watching the sunset gleam npon the tops of the
dark woods in the distance.
‘Look!’ cried her little nephew, pulling at her
sleeve and pointing to the road where two men
on horseback were approaching the house. They
stopped before the gate, and the taller of the
two inquired for Mr. Vincent, and being told
that he had ridden back in the swamp to look
at some wood his hands were cording, he asked
f Mr. Vincent did not n«ed more wood-cutters
ias their business with him was to get work;
and wood chopping would suit as well as any-
^Zoe glanced up at the two men, and thought
they would not do much at the wood business.
Their appearance showed none of the muscular
development of men accustomed to heavy work.
Both were young; the taller had a supple, slen
der figure, straight as an Indian’s, a pale, beard
less face (the fact of being without a beard be
ing singular in the West) a small, pale, restless
gyg hands tanned but slender, and a foot
whose shapeliness could not be wholly disguis
ed by the rough Texan boot worn outside the
pants. In his manner there was a mixture of
carelessness and refinement at odds with his
coarse, dusty clothes. His companion, lower
and clumsier of build, had nothing of his easy,
independant carriage and grace of look and
manner. He was swarthy-skinned,_ with an eye
dull yet watchful—like an alligator’s.
They alighted from their horses and came
up to the house, the tall one seating himself on
the step and beginning to play with the chil
dren, the other walking up and down in the
yard whistling and humming a song, the re
frain of which, as Zoe canght it, was;
‘Oh! Mary, sweet Mary,
"You're false and unkind,
i’ll roam the broad prairie
Some peace for to find’
Hugh came at last, greeted them in his usual
bluff, off-hand way, and was informed of their
business.
‘Wood-chopping,’ he said, doubtfully, as bis
eye ran over their figures. ‘You’re rather light
for that work—and your hands! Are you used
uiu you come irom, and what are
you doing here?’
‘Crops failed for want of rain in Texas where
we were, and we come here hunting work.’
‘Havn’t I seen you some where ? I recognize
your faces. Stay! wasn’t your comrade here,
the fellow that pitched into the Radicals so, in
Cohatchie last Saturday—abusing Devene and
Omar Witchell to their faces, and swearing he
could whip out the whole of them ?’
‘The same. It’s Jim’s way when he takes
too much. He must show his teeth right away.’
‘He did more than show his teeth Saturday.
He was on the bite and no mistake. He was
outrageously abusive, and I wonder Devene
kept his hands off him.’
‘He wouldn’t, if it hadn’t been for that meek
sheep-looking chap, Witchell’s brother. He
kept holding the other fellow’s arm and telling
him to be calm, and remember what Marshall
had put them on their guard about.’
‘If your brother wanted a fight out of them,
he went about it too brash. He over did the
matter, and made them suspect he was put up
to it <
‘That’s Jim’s foolish way when the liquor’s
in him. I saw he was going too far, but 1 was
bound to hack him.’
‘Hegot taken up and putin jail, didn’t he?’
‘He did, and he got out too.’
‘Through Alver’s influence, I heard. You are
lucky to find such a friend. I wonder he did
not employ yon upon his own place. Did he
send you to me?’
A shade of embarrassment tinged the young
man s face at the keen look and abrupt question.
But he answered promptly.
‘Not exactly. He said if we were after work
we might try here, as you had a wood yard, and
he knew you to be a square man to deal with.’
I aidn t think Alver would besocomplimen-
tery to me. Something must be in the wind I
d ? n 4 1 1 * e T him * n ° r J“ e - rve “ever joined
his White League that they tell me has got to be
such a strong organization,’
‘You’re a Rad, then.’
‘N° “O'® than ^ er is. I’m a white man to
the back bone, and I m against being ruled bv
Radicals and niggers, but all the same I don’t
want to bind myself by the rules and regula
tions of a clique got up by a man who’s more
alter office than he is after principle or the
good of the people. But this is drifting awav
from business. You want a job of wood chop
ping and I can t give it to yon. I've more chop
pers now than I want.’ r
‘Anything else then? We’re bound to stay
around here. Our horses are too jaded to
travel.'
‘Go to work ! There's something wrong
about these fellows. Wanting work is an excuse
to hang around the neighborhood. They’ve
plenty of money. They have gone and hired
the negroes to get out the shingles, and I found
them out yonder where the hands were at work,
popping away at a maik. Rube says they have
whiskey with them. I must turn them off.
They are up to some mischief likely.’
That evening after sunset, as Zoe and the
children stood on the river bank, they saw ap
proaching a wagon, driven slowly with an ex
cited group of negroes following it. A little
darkey running on ahead, announced to them
breathlessly that ‘dem two white men done
font, and one bus tother’s head clean open
wid a axe, and he dead dare in de waggin.’
Zoe hurried up to the vehicle which had
stopped before the out house. Jim Nolan and
two negroes were lifting the senseless form of
Dan, out of the wagon. They put him down
on the floor of the porch. His face was covered
with blood, his head a mass of clotted gore. His
brother stooped over him. He was only half
sober, his hands were stained, his face streaked
with his brother’s blood.
He raised Dan’s head and put a bottle to his
mouth, his hand shaking, and the liquor spil
ling over the unconscious man’s face.
‘ Come now Dan ; stop this foolishness, hold
up your head and drink -some of this, You’ll be
right in five minutes. Curse the blood, how it
flows ; It’s only a scratch. You give me a sight
harder lick. You ought not to provoked me,
throwing up that blunder. Yon know how I
am, specially when I’ve had liquor. Bat I’ll
forgive you if you’ll stop this darned foolish
ness. Open your eyes, drink a little of this
now, do.’
He tried to force the neck of the bottle between
his brother’s mouth. Zoe was horrified.
‘ Let him alone; can’t you see he is dying ?’ she
cried.
• Dying!’ he turned on her with a red glare in
his dull-lidded eyes, ‘ dying ! he is not going to
die. If he does ‘ he uttered with slow, hoarse em
phasis, striking out with his clenched fist * I die
too. He’s my brother, and if I’ve killed him,
I'll go too. I’ll blow out my brains the minute
I see he’s at his last gasp. Here’s what’ll do
the business. ‘ He brought up a pistol out of
his pocket and cocked it with a sharp click, then
his roving, crazy glance fell on his brother, and
he saw he had opened his eyes. Down he got
over him again, the pistol was hastily uncocked
and thrust into hts pocket, and the bottle drawn
out.
‘ You‘re coming round old fellow. I see you
are,* he cried, fumbling about his brother's face
with his bloody fingers. ‘There was‘nt much the
matter. That‘s right; stop your Donsense and
drink this and get up. Curse it ; don't shut
your eyes again. ‘
‘ Get away with your liquor Nolan, * Hugh said
sternly. He had just come up. ‘Rube, set tnat
bucket of water ( close to him; Here Zoe, run and
get some big towels; we must stop this bleed
ing. The doctor won't be apt to get here
before morning. Get back Nolan: you can't
do any good; you're shaking like a man with
the ague. Go and wash your hands and face,
for God's sake.*
‘ You don't think Dan's in any danger ?'
‘Well, from the looks of all this blood, I
should think he was, and I'd advise you to
mount your horse and get away from here as
quick as you can, if you don't want to get
nabbed. ‘
‘Never ; I'll never leave him in death or life.
What'd I do without Dan? I'd be lost without
him. He's all I've got, if he dies gentlemen,
I'll go too,quick as hot lead can send me. But he
aint a going to die, not he, he's had too many
hard rubs to knock under for such a tap. Look ;
ff-r— xv “*“ u you, ao you J Want some
thing stronger; here it is. Get away nigger I
know what's good for him. There ; you see he
swallows; that‘11 bring him np. Pat back the
cloths ‘ he cried, as the towels dropped away-and
exposed the swollen, spongy scarlet cut, from
which the blood continued to flow.
‘ Yes you'll soon be all right,' he repeated,
springing to his feet and beginning to walk the
floor rapidly, whistling, and ,at last breaking
out with fa
‘Oh Mary, sweet Mary
You’re false and unkind,
I’ll roam the broad prairie
Some peace for to find.’
Such scenes were repeated all night. Dan
Nolan lay in a stupor from which he occasion
ally roused and stared about and spoke. Once,
he sank into a kind of swoon, and Vincent
thought him dead. Jim Nolan, down on his
knees, felt for his pulse. Shaking his head he
said coolly.
‘Yes, he’s gone,’ and pulling out the pistol,
cocked it and put it to his own head.
‘Stand back Squire'he said to Vincent. ‘Don’t
interlere, or I'll shoot you sure.’
‘Don’t you see your brother is coming to ?’
shouted Vincent. Those words arrested the would
be suicide and brought him to his brother’s side.
A moment after, he was whistling—‘Mary, sweet
Mary,
At daylight, the doctor came, and contrary to
Hugh’s fears, pronounced the wound not nec-
sessarily fatal and the patient likely to live,
though, having lost so much blood, he would
be very weak for a long time.
‘I've nothing you could do unless you could
get out shingles. I want a lot for my new sta
bles, but I’ve half promised the job to some
darkeys. 1 ou don t know how to get out shingles
I suppose? °
The young fellow out a quick, half quizzical
glance at his comrade, who had taken no part
in the conversation, but had stopped his walk
and his whistle to listen to it and stood rubbing
the rust off the blade of a large knife with his
dirty handkerchief. Zoe, who did not like his
furtive, reptile eye, wondered if that might not
be the rust of blood.
‘Shingle-getting is our favorite profession,’
said the other. ‘We can take a premium on
that any day. We’ll do the work cheap too as
any.’
‘Very well, I’ll try you to-morrow, Mr. .
You hav'nt told me your name yet.’
'Nolan —. Dan and Jim ; we’re brothers.’
‘You don’t look the least alike. Well, you
can sleep in that little out honse there, Mr. No
lan, at the corner of the yard, and we. will
seBd you your meals.'
‘Did your professional shingle-getters go to
work all right?’ Zoe asked her brother the next
day, when he returned from the woods.
CHAPTER XIV.
He was ill for a good many days. His broth
er nursing nim unremittingly, and Zoe help
ing in some of the lighter services. Dan Nolan
was a mystery to her. In his fine brow and
mouth, in his tones, his looks, and under his
quiet, careless manner there was a strange re
finement, entirely wanting in his brother, and
foreign to his own acknowledged pursuits. He
had read, traveled about, mixed with artists and
actors perhaps been an actor himself for he had
locks of hair from the heads of not a few famous
ladies of the stage. He carried a flute too in
nis knapsack, and a set of chess men he had
caiT-d with much taste.
Once, when his brother had gone to town for
medicine, Zoe was sitting by him a while as he
lay on his pallet on the shaded back porch. He
had been more than usually feverish, and she
had bathed his head and face. He took her
her sahR *** m ° ving awa J’> and » looking at
_ ? re ^ 00 g° od > you don’t know what a
J ?, m \ What would you say if I told
you that the hands you have been bathing are
stained with crime ? that they had even meant
to do harm to you and yours ?’
‘Harm to us !—Why ?’
•Yea ^ your Mother enemies?’
‘Especially since he refused to join the White
f ague- Alver’B motto is. They that are not
of ns are against us !’
ev?« e o^ ld “ ot , 8a Y an Y more; but closed his
r- d la y back as if exhausted. Zoe’s curi-
T/™ excited; her fears were slightly aroused.
Tim’u » t bers ?^ justifiable that evening after
tindnw^ 11 ’ in 8t ,°PPmg an instant just by the
nn w ben she heard the brothers speaking
her ear * >0rc * 1 outs i d0 . Alver’s name caught
I *? id yon see him ?’ Dan asked.
# ® : 1 cam ? “ear breaking his neck too. He
no fnrth«r 88 V Was a dog T ol d me he had
fool *n a for ns ’ that we bad played the
enonoh /f Ve “J fifty Said that was
oSmeWes 8n ° h “ ar ' pIota “ wo had proved
devil! As if he didn’t
make a firm bargain for ns to Btay here till after
the election at his expense !j I’ll get np there
pretty soon if it kills me, and I’ll show him.’
‘Better not. He declared if I came np there
again, he’d have me arrested, whether for what
I did to you, or for the old scores, I don’t know.
He said it would be healthy for us to get out of
the parish.’
' He’s afraid we’ll peach. He want’s us out of
the way. He has got somebody else to do that
job for him.’
‘I believe he has. I am sure of it. Thetown
is in a commotion to day; people standing with
their heads together, talking. Something’s go
ing to drop pretty soon. An old fellow told
me it was whispered they were looking for the
negroes to rise—and pitch into killing and robb
ing generally.’
‘ We understand that’ Dan said significantly,
‘ At least, I think I do. If they can make believe
those fellows started the row, it’ll be better than
their first plan. There; you’ve hurt my head,
old fellow, that was an awkward punch.’
Zoe stole away from her plaoe at the window
troubled and perplexed. Her situation just
now was peculiarly painful. Hugh had been
taken down two days before with fever; her
sister-in-law had a little babe not ten days old;
the responsibility of the family rested on her
young shoulders. She knew nothing of the
two young men whom acoident had quartered
upon them. They might be rogues, desperadoes,
murderers, for autdit she knew, and now she
seemed to have g*j an inkling of some evil
mystery with which they had to do. She had
no neighbors on this side the river, npon whom
she could rely. ‘Every oae for himself’ was their
motto. They were narrow, selfish people with
whom moreover her brother was not on friendly
terms. His quick, somewhat rough temper had
revolted against some petty meanness and med
dling on their part. Then too, he was looked
on with suspicion because he had not joined
the White League. Loyal Southerner and Demo
crat as he was, he had his own notions, and he
held that it would fetter his freedom of con
science and of action to pledge himself to fol
low the lead of any organization, especially one
planned and controlled by a man whose ambi
tion was his god.
Thus Zoe felt herself in a manner, isolated
and alone. Her keen instinct had made her
vaguely conscious that something was wrong—
something unusual going on among whites and
blacks. Crops were neglected; men rode abont
restlessly, crossed the river and gathered in
Cohatchie; negroes left their work to collect in
knots around the house of some important char
acter among them, and talk earnestly. To-day
she had noticed that they seemed to be excited
—their gestures ware agitated, she was driv
en to remark their .restless tramping and riding
up and down the river. Their own farm hands
looked at her strangely and heJd aloof. Even
the cook was reserved and sullen. Zoe felt the
oppressing influence of all these things, but she
had no time to indulge in misgivings. Her
day’s work and cares were not yet ended. She
called the children to her, gave them their sup
per of milk and bread, and put them to bed.
Then she saw to the comfort of her sister-in-
law, lying there, white as her pillows, with her
fat, rosy babe sleeping beside her. She ad
ministered Hugh’s medicine to him, and gaye
him the few moutbsful of nourishment he
would take. Then, after freshly arranging his
bed and room, she left him in charge of the old
colored woman, who had been his nurse when
he was a baby, while she went out into the front
gallery for coolness and a moment’s quiet
thought. Some one was sitting on the steps
and called her name as she approached.
‘Is it you, Henry ?’ she said. ‘Have you been
here long ? I did not know it. You must par-
$<J T UT&he you atr4>Ar l ,t, ii no more, so i waited ’
He was a youig'ii^mer, who lived across the
river a good heOluted fellow very popular
among the men- anli deeply attached to Zoe—
but quite timid in his worship. She liked him
His simple, merry talk made some bright spots
in her dreary life, for her life was lonely here
at this place where people, wrapped in the cul
ture of,cotton and corn, were like coooons in their
cells, and cared for nothing outside their nar
row home interests.
‘You wanted to see me, Henry—was it for any
thing special ?’ she asked, sitting down on the
steps near him.
‘I wanted to ask you not to go to the ball to
morrow night’
‘The ball—what ball ?‘
‘Why the grand ball that colonel Alver gives
in his fine new store that‘s just finished.*
‘I had forgotten. I believe too I was to have
gone with you. So many cares and distresses
have come upon me lately, that they have quite
put the ball out of my head. I should not g<
any how, but why **.re you so particular in re
questing me not to be there?*
‘I can’t tell you that Miss Zoe?’
‘Why not Henry ?
‘Em pledged not to. But—I may tell you
this much I think. There’ll be no ball, no danc
ing of any account. It’ll be broken up as soon
as it begins.’
‘Henry, I insist on your telling me what you
mean. This is more perplexity. There is some
mystery floating in the air that I vaguely feel,
and it troubles me. What is it that will break
up the ball? Why are you pledged to keep
it?’
We are pledged not to tell the secrets of the
League to out siders, and your brother is an out
aider.’
But he is a true Democrat—a true friend to
his country.’
I believe that. And I don’t see why this
should be one of the secrets of the League
Everybody ought to know it, seems to me, you
especially who are so unprotected on this place
right now. Miss Zoe, I must tell you: it may
put you on your guard. They say the negroes
are going to rise; th it the night of the ball they
aim to surround the.h&ll-room and kill the men
and carry off the ladles.’
‘Oh, what a wild project! Do you think the
negroes would be such fools ? What end would
they have in view ?’
‘ It’s the Radicals putting them up to it.’
‘ For what purpose in the world ? How did it
get out, Henry ?’
‘It got out through a letter Witchell wrote to
his brother, telling him to stir np a riot with
the negroes, and scare and kill the whites, so
that the Radicals would carry the election.’
‘ You saw that letter ?’
‘ No; we heard at our last meeting, (that is a
few of us did,) how such a letter had been inter
cepted in the post oiflee at Cohatchie, and how
in some way, it had come to the ears of the
League leaders that the night of the ball was
the night chosen for the attack. The programme
is that we are to go there, as if we suspeoted
nothing; only, we are all to carry arms. A few
know why and are pledged not to tell,' the others
suspect there is something in the wind and will
come armed, because told to do so. The Radi
cal officers are invited. Senator Witchell him
self may be there. TEey are looking for him from
New Orleans to-night, or to-morrow.’
‘ It all seems strange to me. It is strange that
the Radioals should wreck their own cause this
way. Why, it is their policy to make out the
negroes are the most, peaceable, best disposed
citizens of the South, and now to incite theift
to a riot on the eve of election! Why that : ftf,to
sell themselves, sure enough. Of conrse. Yoe
riot would be qnelled. The few white Votes
that might be destroyed, would count nothing
against the injury that would be done the Re
publican party in the state —in the whole South.
And Witchell has beep working hard to gain the
confidence of a portion of the whites here, and
has quite a number of friends on the Hills. It
seenis strange. I cannot realize that such a
thing can be intended. Do you really believe it?'
Oh ! yes, Miss Zoe, I am afraid there is some
thing of it.’ .
‘ It may be. I know there is something un
usual going on among the negroes. I have
noticed they seem restless and excited, espe
cially to-day.’ .. ,
‘Well, you know they are all stirred np.
They are, or they pretend to be, scared and
confused as sheep the wolf has got amongst.
One of theie big men—old Moses Clark—the
richest and mo3t thought of darkey about here
—was killed yesterday. Havn’t you heard
about it ?’ .
‘I stay here and nurse children and sick
folks and hear nothing.’
‘He was called out just at dusk and shot
down—the negroes say by a white man. It’s a
pity. He was a harmless, respectable old fel
low. And now, I hear to-day, that the cabins
of two more negroes have been fired into, that
the negroes have been threatened by an un
known party, and have had one or two anony
mous letters through the post-office, warning
them to join together for protection or they
would be trampled out. Old Rube tells me
they have come to Levi Adams—here on your
place—to know of him what they must do; I
can’t think who’s been working this mischief
to the negroes. I know it’s not our League.
They’ve always frowned down Ku-Klux meas
ures of any kind. Maybe, all this is done by
the negroes and Rads to throw dust in our eyes.
If so, we’ll be too sharp for them. They’ll
be a little disappointed to-morrow night.’
‘As well as the poor girls who expected to
dance. Why do you not warn them all to stay
away ?*
‘We were ordered to keep silent. I have
broken commands, but I was determined to
warn you. Miss Zoe, you had better go into
Cohatchie and stay with some of your friends.
It‘ll be very unsafe for you here, with noth
ing but the swamp back of you, and so many
negroes and so few white people around. Yon
must go across the river any how. Come and
stay with mother.*
‘And leave this sick family and these little chil
dren ? No, Henry, I shall stay right here, I
hope this may prove a mere sensational story—
an election canard. I know our people would
not be s# unprincipled, as to incite a riot, and
I don’t think the Radicals are such fools, and
the negroes have not sense or courage enough
to organize anything unless put up to it—ex
cept perhaps, if they are really frightened, to
band together in an irregular way for protec
tion. That is little Ralph calling me. He will
wake up his father, if I don’t go at once and tell
him a bear Btory to send him to sleep again.
Thanks, Henry, for coming to put me on my
guard. I hope though, your warning will not
be needed- Good night.’
The next day—the day of the ball—was a
still, warm, bright summer day—shining down
on ripening corn and burdened orchards—
scarlet pome granites, figs, and peaches—that
oaded the boughs and dropped into the long
neglected grass. But to Zoe, the cloudless day
had ominous portents. No negroes worked in
the field; no songs or laughter reaohed her ears;
no little darkey came to beg fruit; her cook did
not make her appearance. A few negro men
came to ask her to open her brother’s store and
sell them some powder and shot to go hunt
ing with. They seemed to resent her
refusal, and muttered their disbelief of the ex
cuse she gave. Early in the day she saw the tall
mnlatto, Levi Adams, the negro leader of the
neighborhood, ride off from his cabin on her
xio was gone numo Ho&rs v , returned, seeme'd To
consult with a group of negroes collected under
( the pecan tree by his house, and th^n rode away
r up '.he river. Sne was standing in the front
yard, as he passed the house. He turned in his
saddle and looked at her with a sinister, inso
lent expression on his fierce, scornful face. He
rode, leaped, shot, swam, and dodged, like an
Indian. In fact, he must have had more Indian
than African blood in his veins. His skin was
tawny red, his .nose straight, his cheek bones
high, his build strong but slender, his eyes keen
wild and watchful.
In the evening, when the men, from 'different
plantations below her brother's place (just above
it was a bayou that emptied into the river, with
a swift, deep, current that could not be forded)
began to ride up to Vincent's Landingjin groups
ot two and three to cress the river here to go to
the ball in Cohatchie, Zoe saw Levi Adams sta
tion himself on the bank—his norse and him
self motionless as a bronze statue—and seem to
be watching each one that crossed.
Dan Nolan, leaning on his elbow as he lay
on a bench on the piazza, observed the negro
and said quietly. * That darky is rosed up to
something. He has the devil waked np in him.
He‘s scared and savage at once, like a grizzly
that scents the dogs. He's going to try to do
something, he does’nt know what. Jim Nolan,
there‘11 be fun at this ball, Get your horse and
go, and come back and report, We might have
had an invite and led off the ball if you had'nt
been a non compos. I don't fancy you‘d be
welcomed there now by my lord. Never mind.
Go. I want to hear the news.*
At the same hour, Floyd Reese c&me out upon
the veranda at Alver’s dressed for the ball. Ear
lier, she had been down to the ball room put
ting the finishing touches to its decorations.
Coming back, with some lady friends, they had
passed a shabby figure, sitting on a barrel in
front of a store smoking a stubb pipe.
Pretty Mrs. Perrine pointed him out. ‘Pa
tience) oil a monument,’ she laughed.
‘Oi Diogones sitting on, instead of in his tub’
answered Flovd, and nobody saw that she held
up Beven of her pretty, ungloved fingers—no
body bat the shabby man on the barrel.
The clock had jnst struck seven, when Floyd
came out iu her ball dress, upon the back piaz
za; walking there a little enjoying the perfum
ed dusk, she stepped down into the yard, and
glided among the shrubberied mazes in her
floating white draperies like a descended gclond.
There |was one corner of yard thickly shaded
with myrtle and syringa, and with a glossy
leaved vine covering the paling. Outside,
close to this thick vine-screen, a figure had
paused, dim in the gathering dusk.
TO BE CONTINUED.
THRILLING ADVENTURE.
A Diver in the Clutches of a Devil Fish
The Warrnambool Australia Standard gives an
account of a diver being seized by an octopus
or sea-devil. “The diver engaged at the
Moyne River, Belfast, in removing the reef
had a rather narrow escape from losing his
life on Thursday evening, 7th instant. It
appears that Mr. Smale had fired off a charge of
dynamite and displaced a large quantity of stones
at the bottom of the river. He went down to
prepare for lifting these stones by the aid of
chains into the punt. While engaged in rolling
over a large stone he saw something which he
supposed at the time was a piece of clean-look
ing kelp moving about in front of where he was
working. In a few seconds this object came in
contact with the diver’s arm, about which it
quickly coiled, partly holding him. Immediate
ly as Mr. Smale touched what was coiled round
his arm he became aware of his position, and
tried to extricate himself from the grasp of a
‘sea devil,’ but found it a far more difficult
job than he anticipated. Catching Bold of tbg
part hanging from the arm he walked
along the bottom of the river towards the end of
it, when he saw he was firmly held by one of the
feelers of a large octopHs, better known amonst
sailors as the ‘devil-fish.’ Mr. Smale tried to
pull the fish off' from its hold of the rocks, but
without effect for some time. At last ilie fish,
perhaps thinking it had not got sufficient hold
or power over its prey, loosened itself from the
stones and quickly transferred its feelers or
arms around the diver’s legs and body. In this
position Mr. Smale thought the best thing for
him to do was to get up on deck as soon as pos
sible, and he quickly made tracks tor the ladder
which reaches from the deck of th6 punt to the
bottom of the river. The diver was certainly a
curious-looking object when he came up. Thi3
huge, ugly-looking thing appeared to be entang
led all over him, holding him in a firm embrace.
However, Mr. Smale’s lellow-workmen were not
long in freeing him from the unfriendly hug of
his submarine companion. The body portion
of the octopus was only about the size of a large
soup plate, with eyes in its head like those of a
sheep, but it possessed nine arms, each about
four feet in length, at the butt as thick as a
man’s wrist, tapering off at the end to as fine a
point as that of a penknife; thus it could
spread over an area of nine feet in di
ameter. All the way along the underneath part
of each feeler are suckers every quarter of an
inch, giving it immense power. Mr. Smale de
clares it was powerful enough to keep three
men underwater.
While several boys were yesterday playing
the national game on the sidewalk near a $40, -
000 residence, one of them said to the other:
‘Say Rob, your father has struck a legacy, hasn t
he?’ ‘I dunno; why?’ was the reply. I saw
him com&oat-of the gate just now all togged up
to fits, and I hardly knew him.’ ‘Did he have
on anhlfl.phig hat, long hair, rusty boots, coat
gittin’ aniny on the elbows ?’ queried the son.
‘Not much ! He Bhone like a new pin, and his
diamonds almost put my eyes out.’ ‘Oh, you
met our coachman instead of father!’ explained
the lad, and next moment he was ‘knuckling
down tight’ to ‘plug’ a bull's eye.—[Free Press.
Among the passengers of the Germania, which
sailed last, week for Europe, was Miss Bijou Heron,
the youthful actress, who will remain abroad for a
iwo.yeaite course of study under the direction of
Mr. Robert Stoepel.
yr$t I shood like wood be, toj hey dollors
wioh reprodoose their selves. Ef two dollors
oood marry And hey large lamilies, that wood
be satnin like.
Dancing Birds.
One Autnmn day, watching for the ducks
while ensconced on a musk-rat house in the
great Mendocio marsh, which extends back
many miles from the Mississippi River oppo
site Clinton, I noticed some objects moving on
the summit of a knoll. By careful watching I
discovered they were prairie fowl, and, moved
by curiosity, carefully approached them. As I
drew near I discovered fifteen prairie-fowls ap
parently dancing a minuet. They were scatter
ed about on the short turf, twenty yards apart,
holding their heads at one another,and present
ly two would run out and perform the figure
which in a country dance is known as “cross
over and back to places,” all the while uttering
a soft note of “coo-cooe,” the last syllable being
much elongated. Then would follow “salute
your partners” and “dos a dos." This scene of
merriment was sustained for half an hour and
until a shot from a neighboring gun caused the
birds to run into the tall cover of tne reeds.
3J!Mim 1 }*Antainn and ^he^ con-
scene vividly on the spectator’s mind. A neigh
boring farmer to whom /.he circumstance was
mentioned, said:
‘Yes, them same birds skye around there most
ly every day.’
The other varieties of prairie grouse indulge
in the same kind of amusement.— Scribner's.
How the Farm was Bought,
A young man was very anxious to secure a
piece ot property which was just then for sale
on very advantageous terms. He went to confer
with a frieni of his, who was a banker, about
the matter, and to inquire whether it would be
prudent to borrow the requisite sum, and pay
it in regular installments. He thought he should
be able to manage all but the first payment
He was advised to borrow from the bank a
sum enough larger than he wished to raise to
cover the first payment, lay it strictly aside, and
then go ahead.
“But,“ said his friend, “you must spend lit
erally nothing. You must live off of your place,
lou must make a box, and drop into it all the
money you receive. “
The young man and his wife went bravely to
work to follow this advice. If it was necessary
to dine off of a head of boiled cabbage and salt
they did so, and never grumbled. Every p av ’
meat was promptly met. The egg money, and
the butter money, and corn and wheat money
—all went into the payment box, and at the
specified time the place was theirs. There was
an invisible wealth about such hard-earned
possessions that common observers knew noth
ing of.
On the day of the last payment the yonns
man presented himself before his friend with a
smiling face, and with the money in hand —
There were no rags to be seen, but his clothing
was well covered with darns from head to foot
‘You see, I have followed your advice, ‘ he
said, casting a glance over himself; • and mv
wife looks worse than I do. But I have earned
one farm, and now I know how to earn another. *
Remarks on Eating.
Professor Blot used to say it is a fact bevond
all question that the intellectual and moral
faculties of man are influenced in a large de
gree in their operations by those physical con"
ditions which are dependent upon our food
Physiology proves that it is the contraction of
the muscies that produces wrinkles; and a per
son whose food is properly prepared appear"
younger and more .beautiful than the one who
follows no scientific principles in his eating
Good food, properly prepared, will keep his
muscles in order and elastic. v
Any one, male or female, young or old start,
ing with a good stomach, can keep healthy and
in good flesh with proper food; it is onlv ne
cessary to select the kind required by the con-"
stitution and prepare it judiciously? It is not
what we eat that makes us fat, but what we
d s geSt ' u B i d food may bri “g a temporary bloat
edness, but not the plumpness of good health
He agrees with the opinion expressed by Thos"
Jefferson, as well as by a celebrated New Yok
lt r WrZ n ’ hat g °° d things b *ve been made by
the Creator for good people. oy
At the conclusion of a festival last
an excellent teacher, desirous of adn^n^L^ 6 *
a trifling moral lesein, taonirad T° g
rfthoj bad enjoyed the repSt With’“‘JU
genius modesty of youth thaw n
•Yes, sir.’ ‘Then,’ Sed the exceLnf ?° nd u 6d:
‘if you had slipped into my S S®*,’
hart2 r ted b a2 r ^dS t Mw?‘ le Ev;ry WOUld ,i ‘J® 7
as, with the cheerfulness^ ai of e ’ con ld - ittle Tbom -