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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.