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T5?•
A Weighty Chanc
BY 8. M. a. c.
It was that unqnestionnbly—and_ I for one
don't wonder that the combined avoirdupois of
Sister Paddington and Brother Bagsby sufficed
to change the current of two lives.
You see it happened in this wise: There was
quarterly meeting at the Methodist Church in
Greenville, and the communicants of that pop
ulous society were many and various. The
chancel, thrice emptied, was filling again when
a woman, slender, yonthful, gracefnl, with
steady, luminous eyea. went slowly up the mid
dle aisle, and knelt in devont unconsciousness
full in front of the altar. I write devont un-
conciousness advisedly, for very few women,
kneeling not a foot away from a most eligible
and irreproachable semi-millionaire, would have
failed to know it—and indeed, ere Maxwell Yin-
ton had been a minnte upon her knees, she her
self was brought to a realizing sense of Norton
Langley’s presence. They knelt as I said, com
fortably apart, when globular Sister Pudding-
ton rolled down on Maxwell's other hand, and
Brother Bagsby, in the fnllness of spiritual pride
and beef-fed plethora, crashed Mr. Langley over
against his fair neighbor. That two bodies can
not occupy the same space is ax’omatic, but on
this occasion they very nearly did it, for in the
surge of collision Mr. Langley’s coat-button got
tangled in the curl that strayed over Miss Vin-
, ton’s shoulder, and as that adornment was of
nature's own providing the statu quo was, per
force maintained throughout tho service. It
was a long one, yet albeit both had come for
ward full of reverent adoration, its spiritual
profit to either of those with whom this veraci
ous chronicle has to do, could be best expressed
in decimals.
At the ‘Go in Peace,’ both rose, Maxvell freed
herself by an impetuous movement that left sun
dry gold-brown hairs to deck the obtrusive but
ton, shot one laughing glance into her captor’s
embarrassed face, then walked demurely down
the aisle, unknowing who he was, and mentally
deciding that he must be very slow not to have
seen the comicality of the situation. Mr. Lang
ley was slow—but likewise certainly sure-hav
ing maintained the state of wdowerhood against
all coiners for the space of fifteen year-—in
deed, the most hopeful now admitted that his
heart had room for no other love than that he
gave the blooming daughter, who by right of
beauty and heiress-ship, was the acknowledged
belle of Greenville. He had the advantage of
Miss Vinton in knowing who she was; she had
been pointed out as the Argosy’s new associate
editor, upon her arrival a month before—though
since that time he had never given her athonght.
Now, thanks to that enforced contact, he could
not get her ont of his mind, and as he rolled
homeward on the softest of cushions, he was al
most glad of the sore-tbroat that had kept Alice
at home and so from knowledge of the conlre
ftnps. It might have vexed her—though she
ought to be well assured that he would never
make a fool of himself over any girl, though this
one was intensely lovely, with her great dark
eyes, shimmering hair and lily-satin skin. Spite
of time and place he hA.d felt an insane desire to
kiss the silky tress that bound them together—
and though I blush to record snch foolishness of
so proper and well-balanced a man, truth con
strains me to tell that the vagrant remnant there
of was carefully detached from Mr. Langley’s
button and not scattered to the winds of heaven,
but as carefully enooiled within a church envel
ope and placed as near his heart as the case would
admit—to wit, in his inner vest pocket. The
which all goes to prove that things be ‘j,n a eon-
oaienation accordm,’ tor had M\ss AlicellaDglev
gone that day to Church snch idiocy would have
never been thought of, much less perpetrated.
For a full week Mr. Langley s mind raD on
his Sunday’s entanglement, and he went to
Church with an odd 8 Q nse of expectancy, and
from his seat in the ‘Amen corner’ sent furtive
glances athwart the house, yet ail in vain, Miss
Vinton was invisible.
After that the feeliDg weakened, and I think
would have quite died away hut, for that spawely-
filled church-envelope, which he somehow did
not destroy—though he meant reiigiousiy to do
it Oace or twice he saw her going about the
streets, her rapid, springy tread and lissom,
supple figure accenting her sharply against the
mass of inert women, but socially they never
met. Greenville, like most Southern towns, is
intensely conservative, and its ‘upper ten’ were
alow to welcome a woman who worked for a liv
ing in what they deemed an outre fashion—and
Maxwell Vinton was too thoroughbred to abate
one jot of the recognition which she felt to be
her due. So it happened that after three montLs
among them she knew few of the townsfolk, even
by name, though through the casual gossip of
her employer and his assistants, a sort of haif-
knowledge of Norton Langley’s wealth, position,
strict justice aDd exceeding closeness, reached
even her incurious ears.
Of his identity, however, she had no suspicion,
else he would never have found her, as he did
early one autumn morning, awaiting his arrival
in the bank’s private office. One look, and rosy
recognition replaced her lovely pallor, but being
full of fire ard grit, and having, moreover a very
steadfast purpose, she did not go away but
handed him her card with nnaltering gravity,
saying in clearest accents:
‘As I call upon business entirely personal, I
must ask you to excuse the apparent egotism of
what I have to say.’
‘Certainly; but pray sit down and make yonr-
self comfortable while yon are saying it,’ said
the gentleman, with a pulse many beats quicker
than that of his very self-possessed visitor.
Miss Vinton went on:
‘Yon doubtless know my position on the Ar
gosy. You may not know that the salary is a
thousand dollars, payable half-yearly. Here is
the contract,’ holding towards him a legal-look
ing paper. ‘Aside from this I have nothing;
nor is there any person that would give a cent,
save in the way of ordinary charity, to keep me
from starving. Now I happen to want a hund
red and fifty dollars—want it immediately —
to-day if possible -and having shown you that I
have a chance, but only one chance, of repay
ing it, I ask you to let me have it’
‘Upon what security ?' said Mr. Langley, too
bewildered to overcome his business habit—in
fact, hardly knowing what he said.
•The assignment of my salary—if my word of
honor be deemed insufficient.’ Miss Vinton’s
voice was steady though her white teeth set
themselves hard upon her under lip.
‘It is sufficient—and more. Pray foTgive the
foroe of habit I am glad of the opportunity to
serve yon,’ said Mr. Langley, now fully -himsslf,
and not a little tonohed by the proud pathos of
this unmurmuring isolation.
Oh, thank yon !' cried Miss Vinton, with a face
like a sunburst, though soft tears droped from
her eyes. After a minute she dashed them away,
saying:
‘it is foolish to ory. That I never do it save
for gladness, is my only excuse.’
‘Then I hope you ory often,'said Mr. Langley,
who though the most rigid of business men, was
In no hurry to be rid of his visitor.
‘No, 1 am seldom very glad—though the world,
like yourself, generally treats me better than I
deserve.’
‘.May I ask you a question ?'
•Twenty, “an it please you.”*
•What made yon think of applying to me?’
•Well/ with a alight shrug, ‘partly beoause
you had what I wanted—that is, ready money—
and partly becasne rnmor told me that yon had
not a habit of doing what people call clever
things, at least financially, and I thought being
nnaccustomed to Bach acts, I might possibly
surprise you into it.’
‘What a lawyer you would have made,’ with a
snperb bow and a laugh of gennine amusement.
‘Yes, pity I can’t be one. But let ns finish
onr business. 1 shall not feel good nntil the
money is in and ont of my hands.’
‘Here is the note payable at Christmas. Sign
here if you please. Do you want bills or a check?
‘A check by all means. Ah, thank you again
at least a hundred and fifty times. Now I must
say good-morning, as I am dne at the office—and
half an hour is more than yon ought to waste on
any woman.’
‘J do not think so, and—yon are leaving the
letter you dropped when you took out your
handkerchief.’
‘Mercy ! so I am. The evils of crying are
just simply incalculable—and I shall have to
look upon you as a soit of bearded guardian an
gel. This letter's miscarriage would make no
end of mischief, for you see, it’s to Joe, and Joe
—with a sudden burst of embarrassing confi
dence, ‘is my sweetheart.’
Mr. Langley put out his hand, not. I think,
in farewell, bnt Miss Vinton so interpreted it,
put her own within for naif a minute, then
went her way and somehow took with her all the
sunshine of the morning, while her new-made
creditor went about his work with a sort of dazed
feeling that not even the friction of stocks, bills
and bonds could wholly rub away.
‘Joe E. Kyland!' the name wrote itself in
hateful clearness on bank-book and ledger, and
the graceful ghost that to his fancy filled all the
room, was never tired of repeating it.
In some fevers cold water, actual or metaphor
ical, is refreshing, in others only fuel to fire.
As to which of these was the estate of Mr. Lang
ley must be judged from the fact that upon that
night, in the sate privacy of his own room, he
put a certain note of band into the worn recep
tacle of a fragmentary tress and in so doing act
ually kissed both those insensate objects.
Three months went swiftly by and Mr. Lang
ley had frequent sight, though scant speech of
his enchantress. She came to church regularly
now, and always returned his salutation with
ladylike giavity yet never went beyond the set
form of ceremonious intercourse. The fact is,
upon the interchange of courtesies in her pres
ence Miss Alice so glowered a handsome young
Gorgon, that Maxwell Vinton, out of gratitude
for a very real service, and unknowing the pain
her coldness gave, denied the acquaintance all
development.
She was rigid in economy too—refusing even
a glance at the bright shop windows, and wear
ing what she bad in utter defiance of what she
liked. Of all this Mr. Langley had cognizance
—thanks to his daughter's remark that ‘That Miss
Vinton would be rather pretty if she knew how
to dress, but she supposed literary people never
did do that, else she, Miss V , would surely
not wear one black dress the year round and a
summer hat well on to Christmas.’
Luckily however, tho dress was of the finest
cashmere and the hat becoming and not tawdry,
so Miss Vinton managed to keep her self-respect
in spite of it all, and rejoicingly thought of the
day wheD she should prove herself not untrust
worthy. Gloves and shoes troubled her most.
In both, her taste was of the daintiest —and every
woman knows the costliness of such a predilec
tion. Even here she conquered herself bravely,
ana went- gloveless when mending and cleaning
grew worse than vain—and she bad a pair of
those perfect feet whose shoes wear out nowhere
save in the sole, so throughout the beautifully
dry autumn, the French kid summer boots
answered antes veille. Ten days befire Christ
mas winter came all at once, and altogether,
with wind and rain ar-d .vl soil of snow.
The pavements were sodden, the gutters over-
11 iwiug, yet Maxwell Vinton went recklessly
over them, never stopping in the press of holi
day work for thought or care of health. Of
course exposure told on her. in headache, hoarse,
panting breath, hectic color, and dark rims
about the eyes, and it seemed but the fever
wraith of her autnmn self, that npcm Christmas
eve, in the back parlor, awaited Norton Lan-
gely’s coining. It was a very comfortable place,
bright, with thickest carpet, and easiest chairs,
and prone in one of these, her soaked feet stretch
ed to the cheery fire, Miss Vinton in her hail
hour of wailing, began to realize how very tired
she was, arid to yield reluctantly to the firey,
urowsy, creeping pain that through these
days she had so resolutely combated. When
Mr. Langley came she got unsteadily to her feet,
and held out both bands with—
‘Hold fast what I give you—and please give
me my Dote, I must get home quickly.’
‘Indeed you oaght to be there now, said the
gentleman in a voice of alarm. ‘Wny did you
come through such weather anyway ?’
‘To keep my word,’ trying to withdraw the
hands ho still held. ‘Besides I was at the office,
and this is not very much farther.’
‘Only a mile; in these wafer-soled shoes. Do
you want to kill your elf?’
‘What’s that to Hecuba?’ with a dreary little
smile, ‘the wafer-soles have a raison d etre —and
if they do kill me, who cares ?’
‘I know he said savagely, ‘you have risked
yonr life to pay me money that I have no nse
ibr, and all through a fantastic pride.’
‘Honesty is not pride, and I did not know be
fore that the luxury of paying one’s debts be
longed exclusively to the rich—however, please
count what I gave yon, I think you will find
there principal and interest, then give me my
note and I will trouble you no longer.’
‘I can trust your counting.’ he said; ‘as to the
note—it is not in the safe. Yon shall have it to
morrow though, as soon as possible.’
‘Yonr promise to destroy it will suffice,’ she
said, dropping a ourtesy and moving away. He
followed, and caught her hand with—
‘Indeed, Miss Vinton, let ns not part less than
friends; I am going a long journey day after to
morrow, and really you should be more careful,
for Joe’s sake you know,’ with a lugubrious at
tempt at playfulness. Miss Vinton’s voice seemed
hollower than ever, as she answered:
‘True, Joe might die for love of me,’ but she
put her hand again in his, and then after a
minute of silence which he dared not break,
went ont alone into the wet, thick-falling dark
ness, while Mr. Langley hastily thrust his cher
ished memorials deep in the fire’s red heart,
wishing as they curled and crackled into noth
ingness, that all they bad meant to him could be
likewise annihilated. He was intolerant of this
pain of life. In it lay mainly the necessity of
this coming journey. Time and absence might
work wonders—if they did not—I think the al
ternative was not clear to his own mind. They
did work wonders in that they left him, after the
space of three months, more than ever eager for
sight and speech of her—a piece of constancy,
whose recording will, I know, put my story quite
outside the pale of probability -wherefore he
boldly resolved to take fate in his own hands,
and bravely put it to the touch to win or lose
it all.
So it chanced one mild March morning, in
answer to his eager enquiries, he was told that
‘Miss Vinton—she was still here—had been aick
—almost dead—did not know if she saw visitors
yet—the nnrse knew—would send her to tell
him.’
Presently the nurse came, tall, slim, black —
the perfection of neatness and weighed with
trouble. A few kindly words, some adroit ques
tions, and the whole story came out. She was
Francis Maxwell, ‘Mammy Frauk’ to Miss Tin-
ton—had been ner mother’s maid. She had
bought a little borne near the old place, and it
was to save it from an unscrupulous creditor
that her young mistress had borrowed money.
Jim Wiley always wanted her child from the
time she was ten years old, and would crawl
over red-hot fire to get her. That was why he
bought the claim and threatened to sell her land;
he wanted Miss Maxwell to beg him not to do it
—but she never even noticed him. Lawyer
Sharpfile settled it all—and after that she was
so happy until the news came that her sweet
child was dying. It was New Year, but she
dropped everything and came, found her barely
with life, had nursed her ever since, and now—
and here to be sure there were plenty of tears—
the money was gone and her precious white
baby, hardly able to stand upon her feet, had
said she must go back to the work that was cer
tain death, and wanted her black mammy to go
away and leave her. She would not do it—no,
not if she starved, there was work she could do
as well as another—and she had promised Miss
Angel when she died, to watch over and care for
her little (girl, lie could go and see her and
welcome. vNobody bad been but the doctors —
and those hateful editors, wanting her to go to I
Rather Tough.
BY THE ‘OLD UN.
In April, 1875. about a dozen of us were
gathered one morning in the smoking-room of
the Italv, on her voyage from New York to Lon
don- We were bowling along at thirteen knots,
under steam and canvas, and everything was
serene. The captain —not our captain, but Gapt.
Ben Battles, a fellow-passenger, a portly, florid
man, with great, lnminons brown eyes and a
perpetual smile—shook himself ont of a doze
into which he had fallen, and resumed the
broken thread of a yarn, thualy:
‘I was so impressed with the valne of fresh
vegetables to keep scurvy out of a ship that,
when I commanded the Trippoo S>ib, India-
man, in 1840, I started a kitchen-garden in the
quarter-gallery, for my quarter-gallery was
bigger than this smoking-room with the quarter
deck put together.’
‘But the sea water, the spray would kill the
vegetation Captain.’
‘We were Tunning down the trades, my boys
• - a f w w f VI11 AX A A1 g UU W AA vll U III J AJ\J j O.
work before she was able—bnt he most be very j N ever shipped a sea; smooth as a mill-pond;
carefnl. And with that Mr. Langley was usher
ed into the presence of something white and
slim, with tremulons hands, cadaverous eyes
anil silken baby-curls about its face, He went
forward very softly. It seemed as though impet
uous movements might be fatal to aught so frail.
As he clasped her hands in his a tear splashed
ever them.
‘Do you never cry except for gladness ?’ he
asked, very low.
‘Sometimes,’ she said, ‘and I believe just now
I am crying for the sight of Joe.’
In an instant he was speechlessly upright, and
the faint, sweet voice continued:
‘I know it is weak and foolish, but yon will
not blame me so much when you look at her pic
ture. Here it is.’
‘In God,s namewho is Joe?’ he cried, heedless
of her outstretohed hand, and fearing he had
not heard aright.
‘Why Joe is Miss Josephine Byland, my play
mate, schoolmate and only friend ’
‘And sweetheart too ?’ How comes that?’
‘For want of a better,’ with a touch of her old
spirit, then, after a minute's pause: ‘I see yon
remember the letter I dropped. We always
wrote each other ‘Joe’ and ‘Max,’ because of a
jest we had over the men we ought to be. At
school, as we were both orphans, with onr own
canoes to paddle, we agreed that as boys we
could have a much jollier time, and as wishing
did not avail to make us such we vowed to be
good fellows the whole way through—at least to
each other.’
‘Your jest has been a crnel one—to me,’ he
said, taking her hand again in his.
She did not speak nntil he i sked:
‘Can I have Joe’s place ?’
‘No—but ’
‘But what?’
‘Any thing else you want.’
‘I want you.’
Mammi Francis here discreetly went away,
and I can do no better than to follow her exam
ple. Perhaps Mr. Langley grew idiotic after the
manner of men, but his one anditor very likely
di l not think so. Whether I know or not, all I
shall tell is that Miss Vinton did not go back to
the Argosy until fairly recovered, and then only
protein—in fact only till they can find anew
editor; and that Mr. Langley looks twenty years
yonnger, while his house, within and without
is polishing after the similitude of a palace.
Young Midas Crossbut is devoted to Misa Alice,
and Mrs. Grundy says there will be a brilliant
wedding in the fall; I myself expect so —indeed
this announcement may be held semi-authori-
tive, yet albeit her father loves her very dearly,
I do not tiring be will be lonely or very much
regret tier </ His eo-diolity .Sister
Puddington j* i sight to see, and Brother Bags
by Las grown to regard him as ‘the rock o' the
Church,’ and if they ever read this storv per
haps they will learn the reason of it—[New De
parture
A Cat Wet Nurse.
The cat is a much malingned animal. She is
commonly used as a synonym of selfishness,
hypocrisy, and general lack of the magnanimity
that is bestowed on the canine race. Sometimes
however the advocates of the cat come forward
with anecdotes to disprove the general charge as
to heartlessness on the part of Mrs. Tabby.
Here are two anecdotes furnished to Social
Notes by the well known Anna Maria Hall, who
asserts that the cat is a more intellectual animal,
more capable of sentiment and refinement, than
the generality of persons believe.
There was, some years ago, an aged actor at
the Haymarket Theatre whose only domestic
companion was a cat. Every night, when his
hour of return from the stage came, he looked
o<r fully along f he rails of the street in which
ne lived, certain to h:?ar the mew of his cat, who
advanced to meet him, always inside the rails
that protected her from danger. When he pro
duced his latch kay and opened his door the cat
was purriDg round his legs, and whiiehe entered
liis sitting-room and prepared his supper. Puss
would trot up stairs and bring down one slipper
after the other, which she placed properly in
front of his easy chair! No dog could do more
than that.
A friend’s cat (I know the cat well, she is no
beauty, or her beauty is more than ‘akin deep')
had two dead kittens and one living one. For
that living one the power to give sustenance was
for the time denied to her, the fountain was dry.
She knew it A neighbor-friend had also a"cat
who had given birth to kittens: she was nursing
them in cheerful and happy glee. The bereaved
mother was observed carrying her hungry kitten
over a wall that separated the gardens, was
noticed to leave it there for a time, and after an
hour or two to return and bear it back to her
own bed. This she did daily until it was able
to lap milk, and coaid do without the help of
the foster mother. Bat every day she paid to
her little one a morning visit to ‘make her toilet,’
to purr a greeting over her, pass the tongue
gently over her coat, turn her over and abont to
find perchance a flea, and the duty done return
to her own mansion. But on such occasions
she never interfered with the duties ot the nurse-
mother, or in any way touched her kittens, con
sidering no doubt to do so would b9 an improper
and impertinent interference—as insinuating
that the nurse appointed by Nature was unable
to do her work for her own—although relieved
from it as regarded the foster-child.
Was this instinct or reason ? Who shall say ?
The cat was perfectly aware that unless she ob
tained a wet-nurs her child must perish. She
found one, wiling as well as able to relieve her
of the anxiety and keep her litte one in life. As
I have said, every day she conveyed it to share
maternal help with the children of her neighbor-
friend, conveyed it back after a reasonable
time to her residence, having no doubt purred
her gratitude for the aid that preserved to her,
her child. It is possible the debt may have been
paid in kind. Very sure we are, at all events,
that if similar service was ever required, the
mother would have joyfully helped the foster-
mother.
This anecdote, for the truth of which I vouch,
may be added to the volume of records that in
culcate one of the most sacred duties of human
ity—humanity to animajs.
For cold-blooded enterprise commend us to
the English. An English woman of Bristol ex
hibited for several days the ghastly corpses of
her two children, who bad been murdered by
their father, to all visitors at a penny a head.
never touched a brace for six weeks at a time.’
‘But your plants would die for want of water.’
‘I had the idea in my head before I sailed,
and laid in eighty puncheons ot fresh water for
my garden.’
‘Bat would your vegetables have time to come
to maturity?’
‘Have time? We’re talking of the tropics,
shipmates, where I’ve seen a pumpkin-vine grow
twenty-seven feet four inches in a single night.
I grew everything the heart of man conld desire
— swext-corn, string-beans, lettuce —I’m very
fond of lettuce; and to have it crisp and fresh
every morning at sea was a triumph of horticul
ture. Why, we had such an abundance that we
fed the pig on green-peas and muskmelons ! By
the way, I was mentoning these facts (?) on ship
board to an old friend of mine, and he was in
discreet enough to doubt my statements, and
say that I reminded him of a certain German
baron—Mnnchansen, I think. We settled our
difference when we went ashore at Malta with
derringers at twenty paces, I won the toss for
the first fire. The funeral was unostentatious,
but chaste and respectable. I hope no gentle
man who hears me doubts my word. That was
my last long voyage. I wasn’t satisfied with
the utile so tried my hand at the dulce —in short,
did a little fancy gardening. I made a perfect
Garden of E len of the old Tippoo Saib. I had
scarlet beans, bisteria and honeysuckles trained
all over the standing-rigging. There were vines
banging from the cross-trees and twining round
the stays and yards. It was Elysium. You’ve
all heard of the wealthy Hindostauee merchant
Jim-Jam Mokudder Roy, who made a mint of
money out of his African caravans.’
‘Yes, yes, Captain. By the way, how did he
die?’
‘Very tragically. He was converted, took to
drinking and completely alcoholised his entire
system. One day, lighting his pipe, his breath
took fire and he burned up. Curiously enough
he anticipated this, for an old fortune-teller bad
predicted it, and he took out policies in two of
the best London companies, the Salamander
and the Etna, and they paid his widow ninety
thousand pounds sterling. I married her.’
‘But we thought Hindoo widows burned
themselves.’
‘Generally; in this case, however, the learned
Pandits decided that one cremation in a family
was enough. However, destiny is destiny, and
when my wife heard a false report that I had
been drowned off Coromandel, she decided to sac
rifice herself in the orthodox way. But the British
government having determined to abolish this
suttee (sooty?) business forbade it. But when
was a woman ever baulked of her wiP? My
poor wife saturated Lei clothes *itu jperosene
and then set to work frying doughnuts. The
result may be imagined. 1 came home think
ing to give her a pleasant surprise. No copper-
colored face, shining like a tea-kettle, smiled on
me; no copper-colored arms were opened to em
brace me. I beat on my gong—twenty-seven
feet in diametor—made a devil of a racket, in
short; and my faithful servant, Sidi Mohammed
Yusuf, promptly answered the call.
‘Bring yonr mistress to me.’ He salaamed, re
tired and returned with the dust-pan. That told
the whole story. I saw it all. I fel Hike a log.
But I am tough; I survived the shock. Her
property and ashes were a consolation. I never
travel without some of her in my snuff-box.
take a pinch. High-dried Scotch, flavored with
carbonized begum, is excellent.’
Here the Captain snuffed, sneezed and wiped
his eyes, while I retired to my state-room to
enter his facts in my note-book.
The Mystery of Mary Noonan.
[Letter from Dakota.]
Here at Fort Lincoln, Dakota Territory, we
have had a singular incident to take place quite
recently that furnishes a parallel in singularity
to anything that fiction has given. The 7:h cav
alry stationed at the garrison here had a woman
attached to it—Mary Noonan who was a widow
of a soldier named Nash, killed in the bloody
Custar fight, until some months ago when she
again married a cavalry man named Noonan.
However, Mary still supported herself by nee
dle and laundry work, also as nnrse to the sick.
Her sewing was beautiful, and shirts made by
ber might have taken prizes at any of your in
dustrial Fairs of the East.
As a nurse she was gentle and capable. Her
little cottage was neat as a pin, and the walls
were hung with pictures—some of them really
fine ones—and with tasteful ornaments of her
own handiwork. In her attire she was also ex
tremely neat, even stylish. At the balls given
by the soldiers of the garrison, she was conspic
uous for the elegance of her dress and the grace
of her form. There was a dash of Spanish biood
in her veins, and she had traveled much in Wes
tern countries, had once been in millinery bus
iness in Leavenworth, Kan.
She bore a good character and waa free from
any evil habit, nor did any mystery attach to her
nntil a few days ago when she was taken very ill
and being told by her physician that her case
was critical, she sent tor the priest, R9V. Father
Chrysostom, saying that there was something
she mast communicate to him. On coming ont
from her room after her confession,had a strange
expression of countenan e and said to the wo
men, who were in the adjoining room, that Ma
ry Noonan requested they would bury her with
her clothes she had ou. She died, and her hus
band being absent in the Black Hills, the ladies
of the garrison took her body in charge to pre
pare it decently for burial. To their amazement
they discovered that Mary Noonan, their com
panion for so long a time, was not a woman at
all, but a man.
* .Why Mary Noonan’ disguised hia sex for so
long a time, and why the secret was kept by the
two husbands to whom he had been married ac
cording to law is not known. The man to whom
he was married, evinoed muoh grief on hearing
his partner was dead, but refused to say any
thing to clear np the enigma.
In California a prize bull attacked a funeral
procession and scattered it; the hearse went
through the town at full speed, and the bull,
flashed with victory,pursued the preacher across
the fields for half a mile.
There are two ways of getting through this
world. One way is to make the fbeet of it, and
the other is to make the worst of it. Those who
take the latter course work hard for poor pay.
Operation oil a Monkey.
Poor ‘Joss,’ the well-known baboon in the
collection at the Alexandra Palace, who in a very
docile manner, and with chloroform, bravely
submitted, a week or two ago, to the extraction
of two teeth by Mr. F. S. Moseley, dentist of
the Strand, was on Saturday afternoon subject
ed to a further and more serious operation at
the hands of the same gentleman. The poor
creature had for a long time suffered severely
from necrosis of the lower jaw; and, while the
lormer operation had considerably relieved his
sufferings, it was necessary to extract two more
teeth, together with an old fang, and to break
away a large piece of the diseased jaw. Chloro
form was used; and as this is the first instance
in which it is known to have been«dmsnistered
to a monkey, it will be interesting to state that
theanima' is a rather large individual of his
species, probably from twelve to fifteen years of
age, that the antithetic was four minutes thirty-
seven seconds in producing perfect uncon
sciousness, and that the revival took place in
about ten minutes from that time, durihg which
the operation had been successfully performed
by Mr. Moseley. Poor Joss soon recovered bis
usual condition, and after cooling his face against
a window pane for a few minutes, quietly re
joined his companions: apparently little the
worse for his mutilated jaw, and much relieved
by the treatment.
Partial to Doss.
The Earl of Bridgewater lived in Paris daring
the last century, when the circumstances we
narrate took place. He was a miserable looking
little man, unable to walk without the support
of two lackeys. He had an immense fortune,
which he spent in gratifying every caprice. Was
a book lent to him, it was regarded as the rep
resentative of its owner, and returned in the
Earl’s landau, occupying the place of honor, and
attended by four footmen in costly livery, who
handed it to the astonished owner. His car
riage was frequentlv to be seen filled with dogs,
his special pets. On the feet of these dogs he
bestowed as much attention as though they were
human beings. He ordered ttiem boots, for
which he paid as dearly as for his own. Not
caring to tntertain his own kind at his table,
few people dined with him. Still, covers were
daily laid for a doz m, served by suitable at
tendants. At this table he received and dined
with no less than twelve favorite dogs, who
seemed to comprehend the compliment paid
them, as they occupied their chairs with deco
rum, each with its white napkin tied round its
neck. They were so trained that should any,
by an instinct of appetite, transgress any rule of
good manners, he was banished icooi the table
and degraded to an ante-chamber, where he
picked his bone in mortification, his place re
maining empty until he had earned his master’s
pardon.
Cruelty to Refugees.
A Young Wife’s Miseries.
One of the saddest episodes of the Yellow
Fever Infliction is told iu a Louisville letter. A
lovely young girl of that city was married last
winter and went a happy bride to Memphis.
At the beginning of the Summer the husband,
who had traveled for a Memphis firm, placed his
wife at a country boarding house a short distance
from the city, and departed on his travels. Dur
ing his absence the fever broke out in the neigh
borhood, and the alarmed wife, with several
friends, started out to find board elsewhere. Bnt
the people fled from their approach and barred
their doors, refusing them even a morsel of
food. One of the party was taken with the fever
on the way, and thus in a country wagon, over
rough roads, they jolted on, sleeping in a
church one night and a barn the next, until they
reached a hamlet where a woman at the risk of
infuriating the citizens, gave them shelter in a
hut. In the meantime the husband had sought
his wife at the old place, and not being able to
find her whereabouts, traveled all night, tracing
her in the moonlight by the wagon track UDtil
he came up with the party, one of which was
dead and another raving with delirium. He
took his wife and started tor the next town,
where, being refused admittance at hotel and
dwelling, they were forced to go into a deserted
out-house, where on a bed of straw, a babe was
prematurely born. Friends were telegraphed to
and came to the relief, and the yoimg wife was
brought to this city to her father’s house, for
the blessed privilege of dying under the roof of
home.
PERSONALS.
‘Old and New Rome, is the subject Joaquin
Millar’s lecture. He’d look well roaming back
to his deserted wife.
The Truth says a woman whom all other
females abuse may be good; but the one whom
all men despise and all women defend is cer
tainly bad.
Bob Ingersoll, who leaves money on the*table
for the girls to take when they choose, could
never have had a resident son in-law.
A red-haired Georgian arrived in Hawkins-
ville last week with an old flint-lock squirrel
rifle on his shoulder, and said he was on his
way to New York to shoot a match against Dr.
Carver.
Wah Kee, a Chinaman, has been elected an
insurance broker by the San Francisco Board of
Underwriters, whose license is required ere a
company can pay commissions to the broker.
At the s ime election several white men were
rej seted.
The W. Rulofson, a San Francisco photo
grapher, who was killed last week by falling
from the roof of the three-story building iu
which his gallery was located, was the man
whose ‘Dance of Death'publication caused such
a sensation a year ago.
They have now discovered that President
Hayes'is descended from a Martha’s Vineyard
family, Thomas Birchard and John Birchard,
bath of whom, more than two hundred years
ago served as town clerks of Edgartown.
‘The fact is, Hooker is a little off here,’ said
General Sherman, when asked about a recent
interview with Fighting Joe and he tapped his
head signifioantly.| ‘Everybody who knows him
pays no attention to what he says.’
The long-nosed man of Sacramento was told
by a man opposite to him that there was a fly
on his nose, to which he replied, ‘Please brash
him off, you are nearer to him than I am.’
The Duke of Connaught is setting a bad
fashion to young ladies- He approves of the
Spanish fashion of cigarette smoking, and has
among other achievements, taught his Russian
fiance to roll and smoke the seductive com
modities.
New York society has been pouring its little
all into the lap of Dean Stanley, who has j ust
sailed for England, after snoh a round of sight
seeing and entertainment, not to speak of ser
mons at Grace churoh, Trinty and elsewhere
that it is small wonder he was a little glad to go
—for the Dean of Westminister in not so young
as he was, and he ie a delioate little gentleman^
moreover, when muoh lionizing might
put an eud to.