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I
A MEHOIR.
BY MRS. M. LOUISE CROSSLEY.
One picture in a broad green wood,
Oft flashed up before my sight.
And throws its fair, divinest light
On memory’s tender, sweetest mood.
The queen of fays had surely made
This lovely spot for her own home
Of royal state, where emerald dome
Of quivering leaflets threw its shade
On flowers and verdure at my feet,
A rare mosaic of bloom and green.
And made a brightly broidered screen,
Enwrapped with odors, pure and sweet.
Violets, wild lillies, white and pink,
Here, lovingly, t-'getUer grew.
In arabesques of moss and dew.
That painted all the pebbled brink
Of tiny streams whose laughter shook
The lilly’s form, and challenge made
To sorg-birds in the trees o'erhead:
And all without this fairy nook
The sunlight showered down its gold
Upon the blooming earth around—
With aureoles of glory crowned,
Thedistant hill of Titan mould
At whose bold feet the brooks low croon
Sang praises to the daisy’s eyes,
And overall hung opal skies.
With that rare tint seen but in June,
A place to rest,, to muse and dream
Of all earth's lair and radiant things—
Of love, and hope on soaring wings,
Singing its sweet eternal theme.
O lovely world! O memoirs sweet!
That touch our hearts with magic wand.
And glimpses of a summer land,
Our thirsty spirits give! We greet
You here, when weary, tempest-tossed,
And gaze upon your vanished bloom,
As some poor soul in Hades' gloom,
Looks back upou its Aidenn lost.
And I have thought amid the lone,
Bleak moons of life, our feet have trod,
That Nat ure, the transcript of her god.
Engraves His image on her own
Pure heart of love, that we might see
It there in colors so divine—
So glorified in every line.
We fain would wish like Him to be.
Would love her God, and mine and thine,
And strive to reach the starry goal
Of earth's enfranchised, soaring soul,
Aud.goldeu glories, endless shine.
WALTER ELLINGTON,
Ami
Kellie Cranston.
The Mysterious Murder.
An Exciting Story.
CHAPTER VIII.
Walter had taken off his coat three times since
he had left Fern Lodge on the preceding
day.
The first time was when he retired to rest; and
then he had previously bcked tne door of his
loom. He had found it locked, and eveytfiir g
in the room as he had left it on the previous
night, when he arose in th • morning.
The second time was when he commenced
work in the bay-lield, when he had folded it up
and put it close to the hedge, where he had
fouovl it appa'tutly untouched, when work was
suspended at mid-day.
Hs bad put on his coat and walked to a littie
shop near the field tor a peony loaf and a slice
of cheese, with which he bed returned to the
field, and which he had eatm in a cow-shed.
He had taken iff his c«.ai on account of the
heat, and had left H iu the shed during the af
ternoon.
In vain he racked his memory for some recol
lection of suspicious conduct on the part of any
peison employed in the hay-field, or passing
through the meadow, across one corner of which
there was a footpath very little used.
He could not remember having seen any of
his fellow laborers lingering near his coa* wuile
it laid uuder the hedge, or iu or about the cow
shed during the afternoon.
Sleep tied from his eyelids until the black
darkness of his cell uad begun to yiill to the
gray light of eaily morning. i>n tfatn be sank
into a profound .dumber. How strange was the
awakening to the poor youth, who looked wuu-
denngly from the grated window to the straw at
his leet, and then, as the terrible truth that he
whs a prisoner, accused of murder, dawned up
on his mind, sank back upon the bench, and
buried bis face iu bis hands.
He could not account for his possession of the
watch and chain, and, as he thought of the re
mark made by the coLstable, upon the coin
cidence of bis arrival ;,at Fern Lodge on the
morning afier the murder, he shuddered at the
reflection that there might be as much danger in
telling the truth, as iu remaining silent upon
that point.
From this painful and depressing reverie he
was aroused by the constable, who came to iOa-
duct him before the magistrate.
As he was led into the court-room, and plaoed
at the bar, he made an effort to oast off the de
pression that nung like a pall over bis mind;
bnt the grave looks of the magistrate and the
clerk, and the stony visagesottbe coasnblei,
were as oppressive as his own gloomy thoughts.
As p«le and nervous as if he had really been
guilty, he leaned upon the bar and heard the
pockmarked constable relate now, ‘in conse
quence of information he had received,' he had
gone to the hay-field and apprehended the pris
oner upon finding in his possession the watch,
chain, and purse of the murdered man.
‘Can you c-xplain-how those articles came to
be in your pocket ?’ inquired the magistrate,
looking keenly at the pr saner.
* ‘I cannot, sir,’ replied Walter; ‘I bad had my
coat < If during the day, and the only explana
tion I can offer is, that they must have bee”
placed in my pocket by some person. But I
lave do evidence to offer in support of that sup
position.’
‘Is there any other tvideroe connecting the
prisoner with the murder ?' inquired the magis
trate, after a pause.
‘Yes, your worship,’ replied the inspector,
and as eur hero looked up in surprise, his cous
in Somerford Btepped into the witness-box.
‘1 know the prisoner,' said he, wueu be had
been sworn; ‘he is an illegitimate son of the
late Mr. Ellington, and has been educated iu
France, whence he has just returned. He was
expected home on the evening of the day follow
ing the murder, but, to the surprise of myself
and wife, who were visiting Fern Lodge, he pre
sent* d himself early iu tne morning, having ar
rived the night before, and, according to the
statement made by him to myself and wife,
pats* d the interval partly in wandering about
the beatb, and partly in the hovel occupied by
Ralph Cianston, the man who was in the first
instance suspected of the murder. He ac
counted for this strange conduct by the asser
tion that he had lost bis way on the beatn, and j ‘Good-by.’ was ell she could say, as he press-
took refuge in the hovel from the storm.’ | ed her hand in the passage leading from the
•Did you observe anything strange in his be
havior ? inquired tne magistrate. ‘Any blood
upon bis clothes—anything that had belonged
to the deceased in his possession ?'
No, your worship.’ was the reply.
Somerford then quitted the box, and a consta
ble immediately stepped into it, and was
sworn.
‘I was on the cliff this side of the coastguard
station at Nettlethorpe,' said he, ‘on the eve
ning before last, when I saw the prisoner coin
ing along the beach: Knowing that his father
had been buried that day, I thought it strange
that he should be walking about, and that in
duced tne to keep my eyes on him. He walked
slowly along, with bis eyes on the ground, till
he came to tue headland, and then be sat down
on the rocks, and began looking abou r in the
hollows and crannies, as if be was searening for
something. When 1 heard of tnis cnarge, and
remembered that the knife with which the mur
der was committed had not been found, it
struck me that the prisoner might have been
looking tor it, for it must Uav6 been at or near
the spot where he was sitting that the crime was
committed.’
•Did you see him pick up a knife ?’ i»quirad
the magistrate.
‘No, your worship.’
•Was any knife iound upon the prisoner ?'
the magistrate inquired of the pock-marked
constable.
‘N*>, your worship.’
‘Well, p>risoDer, can you txplain the suspi
cions circumstances which have been deposed
10 yon ?' said the magistrate, turning to Walter.
•You can make any statement you please, but it
is my duty to intorrn you that I am about to re
mand you, and that anything you may say may
be used as evidence against you.’
•There are two points iu the evidence upon
which I should like to say a few words, your
worship,’ replied Walter, rally ing all his ener
gies.
‘1 arrived at the station across the heath on
the uightmy father wks murdered, and, in com
ing over the heath in tne dark, I lost my way.
The storm coming on, I took shelter in the
hovei referred to by Mr. Somerford, and when
the rain ceased I again endeavored to find my
way to Nettlethorpe.
‘It was daybreak before I succeeded, and, not
wishing to disturb the inmates of Fern Lodge
at that early hour. I passed the two or three
hours previous to my arrival there in the fields.
‘It was in consequence of a. quarrel with my
cousin, Mr. Somertord, that, on. the day of my
father's funeral, I quitted the house and went
down in the evening to the beach; and when
the constable imagined that I was searching for
a kuife that I had never seen, I was looking for
fossils.
‘With regard to the watch and chAin, I can
only repeat that I do not knowhow they came
to be in my pocket, and trust in Providence for
my vindication from this foul and unfounded
charge.’
•Have yon any witnesses who can speak as to
the manner in which you disposed of the time
between your arrival at the station, and your
visit to Ralph Cranston's hovel on the heath?'
inquired the magistrate, who had listened with
profound attention to Walter’s statement.
‘I was alone on the heath,’ said Walter, shak
ing bis head. ‘The night was dark and stormy,
and I was a stranger.’
Upon hearing this the magistrate was about
to direct a remand, when his attention wasdrawn
to a stir in the crowded court-room, caused by
the sudden entrance, in an excited maser, of a
court-room; and then they parted.
CHAPTER IX.
Public opinion, which had been almost equal
ly divided on the subject of Walter’s guilt and
innocence previous to bis examination, under
went a change, and Nelly s story fairly turned
the tide in bis favor.
But when he left the bar and shook ha-ds
with the girl, and his whispered words were
overheard by the nearest of the crowd, the-e was
a strong revulsion of feeling.
‘That does not look well. ‘ observed an old wo
man. iu a whisper to her neighbor. ‘They are
not strangers, depend upon it; and it is my
opinion she is an artful young hussy, and no
bettor than she ought to to be.’
‘Ah, bad egg, ba i chick !' was the response of
her neighbor. ‘Black Ralph, as they call him,
is one of the worst characters in the neighbor
hood; and though it is doubtful whether the
girl is his child, she has been biought up by
him since she was quite a little toddler. 1
So the whisper went round from one to an
other, and the infection Spread; and Walter
found himself regarded, on his arrival at his
lodgings, with askant looks, and whispered
about with significant nods and winks.
‘Did yon know the girl before, Master Elling
ton?’ inquired his Ian llady, whe.i he told her
the story of what had passed in the court-room.
•Yes,’ replied Walter, but immediately reflect
ing that Black Ralph might punish Nelly if the
admission reached his ears, he added: No. I
did Dot know her, but I believe that I had seen
her before.’
•Oh, indeed !' said the old woman, with sig
nificant coldness.
He took up his hat, and, quitting the cottage,
strolled across the fields.
He was sitting on a stile, when heavy foot
steps approached slowly, and he beheld Black
Ralph.
•Well, Master Ellington,’ said the bronze-vis-
aged vagab ;nd, ‘so you have weathered the
storm, 1 hear. My litttle girl got you over it, eh?
•I should not have escaped a remand if it had
not oeen for her evidence, ‘responded Walter,
‘and I hope I shall be able some day to repay in
kiud the service which she has rendered me
this morning.’
•Queer bit about that gent in the light alpaca
coat, wasn't it?.observed Ralph.
•Very strange ! responded Waiter, meditative
ly. ‘What could be his motive, unless he was
the actual perpetrator of the crime ?‘
•That is it,’ returned Ralph. ‘Do you know
the gent ?•
‘Never heard of him before he made his ap
pearance at the court,’ replied Walter. ‘Mr.
Somerford appears to be acquainted with him,
though.’ -
‘Tnat is curious, isn't it ?’ said Ralph. ‘Of
course Mr. Somertord is not responsible for the
acts of his friends; but the possession of the
watch and chain made the case look very black
against Mr. Wilford Jones, for, as you said just
now, if he did not do the murder, where did he
get them ?’
‘That will, I hope, soon bo found cut,’ rej fin
ed Walter, stepping from the stile,
‘Stay a bit, Master Ellington,’ said Ralph,
clambering over the stile. ‘1 want to have a lit
tle talk with you. ‘
‘What about ?‘ inquired Walter.
‘About yourself,* answered Rjlph. ‘What is
the use of a smart young fellow like you, with
the education you have bad, hanging about here
working at hay-makiDg, and t^ich like? In
dark-eyed girl of thirteen or fourteen years of j London you might get more salable employ-
,1 - “ ** ks ^ n d dis ^
(Continued from 2nd page.)
is on a visit to her relatives, and will, perhaps, re
main with them through this summer. You al
ready know her name and place of r esidence. ”
“Thank you for thus complying with my request.
Which of the men is her brother!”
“The taller one. His name is Harry—Harry
Summerville.”
“Who is the other ?”
“His name is Horace Morone, and accompanies
the Summerville’s from New Orleans. I learn that
he is now absent on a visit to some of his relatives
who live in Augusta. Willie told me that he knew
but little of this man’s history; but 1 have accident
ally come in possession of some facts, of which I
suppose Willie to be ignorant.”
“ What facts have you learned ?”
“I do not know that I ought to tell you, Joe: but
as you have confided an iuqiortant secret to my
keeping, I will, provided you make the same prom-
to me that I did to you, risk one equally imp* rtant
with you. Then we will be even, mid one dare not
tell on tne other. Do you promise, Joe!”
“I certainly promise; and by George Washing
ton, Napoleon Bonaparte, and all the rest of the
partes, I never will betray you,” earnestly replied
Joe, u.-ing one of iris favorite expressions in place
of an oath which he frequently employed when in
wicked company.
“I feel that 5 r ou are rny true friend, Joe; and as
such, 1 place full confidence in your word. You
know that for a short distance, Nelly, Coralie, and
myself, travel the same road in going to and re
turning from school. Yesterday evening, after
school was dismissed, one of the little bovs iiurt his
foot very severely, and while I was binding it up
with my handkerchief, they went on considerably
in advance of me. when the little boy bushed cry
ing, I started home alone, and when near the place
where their road turns from mine, I chanced to dis
cover a neatly folded paper lying on the ground
before me. without having any particular object
in view, I picked it up and read it. Nothing could
possibly be more astonishing to me than its con
tent.!?. Here it is; it needs no comment—it explains
itself.”
Augusta, Ga., May 2d, 1S51.
Dear Coralie:—I wrote you last from Savannah,
but I arrived here two days ago and will remain
with my relatives in this city until the time I prom
ised to return to you. I like Augusta very much,
and were you present, I would be willing to stay
here until we are ready to return home. I am as
well and happy as I possibly could be in your ab
sence. You know, ever dear Corie. that you are
young and inexperienced, and for this reason, and
because I love you so much, l came with you to
Georgia in order to watcii over your welfare and
protect you from the insults of those who are be
neath your high position in life. You also know
that by virtue of my eternal love for you, and in
accordance with your father’s promise to mine
while on a dying bed, 3-011 are mine—mine only,
and 110 other has any right to claim you. Only a
few 3-ears more, in accordance with an agreement
between our parents, our happiness will be con
summated b3' our marriage. Then 3'ou will he the
reigning queen of the most princely mansion in the
Crescent City, and I the happiest man living.
Nothing that gold can buy, or love bestow, shall
ever be denied you. Then you will he beyond the
insults of those pennyless fools who stare at you
wherever >'ou go. Don’t 3'ou hate them for it,
dear Corie? Don’t you especially hate that poor
fool, Julius Latrain, who gazed at you that day we
were at his miserable hut in theswamp, like a luna
tic just escape*l from his keepers ? Oo 3-ou know
that he is nothing but the beggared sou of a misera
ble drunkard, and is guilty- of stealing a gold watch
from a traveler, which he afterwards exchanged
for some books to make people think him a student
and scholar ? I do not see why your relatives keep
company with him, or allow you to do so. I tell
you this that yon may not further disgrace your
self by going to his miserable school. I need offer
no apology for thus addressing you, for you know
toat my motives are pure, and that I love you
more than all the world besides. Do not let any
one see this letter, for I received the information it
contained in such a maimer that I am not at liberty
to tell any one but you. Write to me often, and
direct as abo.ve. Your own Horace.”
621 it and Huwor.
Missing men—bad marksmen.
A home stretch—across a mother’s knee.
Working for a living is the only thing impossible
for a born genius.
A nuptial tie—when husband and wife have both
married for money,and neither has got any.
“Mama,” said a small boy who had been sent to
dry a towel before the fire, “is It done when it is
brown?”
If you have built castles in the air, you need not
be lost; that is where they should be. Now put
foundations under them.
Adebatingclub has settled the scientific ques
tion, “What will become of the last man?” by de
ciding that he will “get left.”
The average small boy is now attempting to at
tend fourteen Sunday schools each Sunday. He is
after scooping in all the excursions free.
I have got so in the habit of being married by an
Episcopal clergyman, that I really don’t feel satis
fied with anj other kind, said a frequent widow.
The nationality of the following epitaph will be
speedily recognized:
“Here lies the bodies of two sisters dear;
One’s buried in Ireland—the other lies here.”
Whitehall Tonies.- Don’t you always notice thaj
when you spill a bowl of gravy at dinner, the at
traction of gravy-tation is the strongest towards
your lap?
They do things in a hurry in Texas. A man who
h id lost a valuable mare recently received the fol
lowing dispatch: “Mare here. Come get her. Theif
hung.”
A Sunday school boy at Maysville, Ky., was ask’d
by the superintendent if his father was a Christian.
“\es, sir,” he replied, "but lie is uot working at it
much.”
A skeptic thinks it very extraordinary that an ass
once talked like a man. Isn’t it still more extraor
dinary that thousands of men are continually talk
ing like asses.
Bonnets are not worn in heathen lacds. Hence
churches are not popular there. It requires a new
spring bonnet to develop the latent Christianity
in a woman.
Two men started out to see which could tell the
biggest lie. No. 1 commenced: “A,wealthy coun
try editor—” No. 2 stopped him right there and
paid the forfeit.
An unsuccessful lover was asked by what mis
chance he happened to lose his divinity. “Alas!'*
said he; ‘‘I flattered her until she grew too proud to
to speak to me.”
An agricultural society offered a premium for the
best mode of irrigation, which was printed “irrita.
tion” by mistake. An honest farmer sent his |wife
to claim the prize.
“Madam,” said a certain one to Mrs. Brown, the
other day, “you are talking simple rubbish.” “Ye*
sir;” replied the ever-crushing lady, “because I
wish 3’ou to comprehend me.”
Thev said to the father of one of the prize winners
at the conservator - : "Soyour son has earned his
spurs.” “Yes,” replied the practical old man, “aud
now he has to earn his boots.”
The rich young lady who recently married a
street-car driver had taken to heart Sir Joseph
Porter’s pronunciamento, that “love is a front plat
form oa which all ranks meet.”
No matter how shabb3’ some men dress tlie3 r will
always manage to have a glossy lookiug plug hat,
nothing about it, and I will not be kept back.’
•Do you know anything about this case ?’ in
quired the clerk, as sbe came forward. ‘If so,
enter the b* x and take the oath.’
Walter looked round, and bis handsome coun
tenance brightened, as he recognized the girl
whom he had seen in the hovel on the heath.
What she coaid tel! that would serve him, ws s
inexplicable to him; but the animated counte
nance of the giri, aud the knowledge that she
had a friendly feeling toward him, was the only
ray cf light that had yet shone into the gloom
that encircled him.
‘I was crossing the meadow where Master El
lington was at wo rk yesterday, between twelve
and one o'clock,’ sbe began, ‘and went into the
cowshed to rest in the shade, for I had walked
from Kings Lias, and I was very warm.
‘Master Ellington was lying down in his
shirtsleeves, asleep. I bad only been there a
few minutes when I heard some one coming to
wards the shed, and, thinking it might be the
farmer, I concealed myself because he bad once
caught me taking a tnrnip out of one of his
fields, and I thought he might be angry with
me for being iu the shed.
‘It was Dot rue farmer who came in, however,
but a gentleman in a light alpaca coat and a
white hat, and two or three rings on his fingers,
and spin that sparkled in the light, in his neck
tie.
•He crept iu very quietly, stood still a mo
ment looking hard at Master Ellington, and
then took out of his pocket a leather purse. He
opened the purse and took from it a gold watch
and chain, and, after looking at them a moment,
he replaced them in the purse, which I distinct
ly saw him place in thepockeiof Master Elling
ton's coat.
‘Then he went out, and when I looked after
him he was walking very last away Irom the
field.’
•Do you know the gentleman ?’ inquired the
clerk.
•He was a stranger, sir,’ replied Nelly. ‘He
looked like a visitor. I saw a gentleman very
much like him on the race-course.’
•Tue description corresponds to that of the
gendemaa whose evidence exculpated this
girl’s father,’ observed the clerk, and address
ing the magistrate.
•Mr. iViliord Jones claimed to be a friend of
yours, Mr. Somerford,’ said the latter, address
ing the new owner of Fern Lodge. ‘Haveyoa
seen him since the examination of Ralph Graus r
ton ?’
‘I have not,’ replied Somerford. ‘Your wor
ship may remember that he was then about
leaving, and feared that he would miss the
train.’
‘I saw him yesterday, near the field where the
little girl saw him,’ exclaimed a laborer pres
ent.
‘dome into the witness-box,’ said the magis-
trate.
The man obeyed, and repeated his statement
on oat!.
‘I can see no ground for the remand which I
was going to direct,’ observed the magistrate.
‘The prisoner has explained all that was suspi
cious in his condnot, and the possession of the
watch has been satisfactorily accounted for by
the little girl, whose evidence has been given
very properly, and bears the impress of truth.
‘The prisoner is therefore discharged, and I
am happy to add i bat he leaves the conrt entire
ly exonerated from the dreadful charge upon
which he was brought before me.’
Walter bowed, and retired from the court,
only pausing a moment to offer his band to Nel
ly, who timidly and blushingly placed her own
within it.
•You tfave saved me again, he whispered to
her. ‘If yon ever want a friend, rely upon me.
I shall not be ungrateful.’
Nelly smiled through the bright drops which
his words called to her dark eyes, but she could
find no response in language, and was silent J
agretabie whispers tuao you 'C'^'InUsTbjeot oi
here. ‘
T have no money, and not a friend in the
world,* returned Waiter.
•Do not say that, Master ElliDgton,* r> joined
Ralph. ‘Nelly did you a good turn this morn
ing. 4
‘Ah, I ought cot to forget that!‘ said Walter.
‘It is easy to guess,* returned Ralph. ‘You
have lost a home and a name, as well as a fa
ther, through no fault of .our own; and,anoth-
er takes his ease in the house that was your fa
thers, aud Should have been yours. You say-
yon have no money and no friends ?‘
•I except Neliy, ‘ observed Waiter.
‘Well, what should you say if I was to t ff-r
you the means of getting up to London and liv
ing for a week or two, till something turns up ?•
Walter turned his blue eyes upon the bronzed
visage of Biack Ralph, with an expression of
surprise.
•I should say that either you were a better fel
low than I have taken you to be, or you were
acting as the agent of another. ‘ he replied.
‘Well, the devil is uot so black as he is paint
ed, they say; and that is just as true of Black
Ralph as of old Nick. I have a few y» llow boys
by me, and I want to find a safe investment for
them. Why shouldn't you take the loan of five
sovs from me, and pay me when you are able?*
Walter hesitated.
There was much reason in the fellow‘s argu
ments, but Walter could not make his mind up
suddenly to accept aid of such a kind, from a
man of Black Ralph's evil repute, aud his hesi
tation was increased by his doubt as to the mo
tive by which such aa offer, coming from such
a man, could be prompted.
Was Ralph really the inurdeTer of his father,
and anxious to get him out of the way, as more
likely thau his cousin to exert himseif for the
discovery of the criminal ?
•Do not be proud,* said Ralph, marking the
youth *s hesitation.
•I suppose Mr. Somerford or his wife, are at
the bottom of it, though,* said Walter.
‘You’re a smart chap, Master Ellington,* ob
served R dph. You will take it then ? That is
right. You get your trunk packed, and be off
to-morrow morning, and I will meet you at the
station. ‘
‘Good-night, then, said Walter.
Good-night, Master Etlingion, 1 returned
Ralph. ’Not a word, you know, to anybody, or
there is no telling what the police may make of
such a transaction between two such dreadful
characters as you and I.‘ Aud Black Ralph
laughed as they parted.
tTo be continued.)
^ ^ even if it takes half a dozen applications of wet
• -' , ... V'-ArUi j>.bring the “shine.”
'nr^-nttoriB to tfoi of‘he ' . -'."Ovr ‘—*•- — r
A young widow of Newport, R, I., having let her
chalet lor the season, was asked what Induced her to
desert such a charming retreat. “Too much balco
ny and too little Romeo,” was the reply.
A mule once got up on his ear
To sing where the whole world could hear,
But to chant when lit tried
The poor animal died,
So rare was that high atmosphere.
Scene in a Cambridge ball-room: Suodkins to a
very young lady—Are 3’ou engaged for the German,
Miss W? Very young lady—Alas! Mr. Suodkins, I
am. Suodkins—So sorry; you werej my last hope-
Fact.
A gentleman traveling ou a Hudson river steam
er, one day at dinner was making way with a large
pudding close by, when he was told by a servant
that it was a desert. “It matters not to me,” said
lie; “I would eat it if it were a wilderness.”
One of the technical papers gives the fo’low-
ug enumeration of articles manufactured of pa
per, displayed at the recent Berlin Exhibition:
Animals, wash basins, water cans, carpeting,
bonnets, a ship fall rigged, lanterns, hats,
masks, shirts, clothes in full suits, straps, hats,
handkerohiefs, napkins, bath tubs, buckets,
bror zes, flowers, urns, window btinds, asphalt
roofing, material for garden walks, coral, jew
elry, window ourtains, skirts, lace, belting; a
honBe made of pine, but with not only roof, oeil-
ing, cornice, and interior walls of paper, but all
the furniture, ourtains, chandeliers, carpeting,
ornamental doors, numerous mantel and table
ornaments; and finally a stove of asbestos paper
burning away oheerfully. and not consuming
itself. These various objects, of course, by no
means comprise all the multitudinous industri
al and mechanical uses to which.paper is now
applied,
a committee of the Michigan Legislature reports
that among the cruelties practised in the Kalama
zoo Insane Asylum was the breaking by an angry
attendant of a patient’s jaw while he was strapped | B
down, and the scalding to death of another in a ! husband gave the wife her choice, and she took the
bath tub. cow,
•ffty.ru’— -'’f ’uua •— at- 'ft' w 0
HORRUftS Of FAlVlINt.’
Thirteen Thousand People Perishing From Hun
ger. Dogs Disinterring Half Buried Bodies.
The following are extrac‘3 from a letter from
the Rev. J. B. Ginsberg, missionary to the Jews
at Mogadore, Morocco: ‘We have passed a se, -
son of indescribable difficulties, misery, sick-
nessand trial ever since I returned to my s a-
tion. Hundreds, I mar well say theusaid j ,
pressed to the gates for relief; skeletons-ama-
oiated by hunger, almost naked, bearing traces
of every possible disease and suffering — who,
for a loaf of bread would be trodden down by
the crowd, braised, and not uufre quently seri
ously injured, sometimes a leg or an arm brok
en in their eagerness to be the first to receive
reiief. Whei. out of town in my daily walks
1 hardly ever returned without picking up a
dying man, woman or child, sometimes two or
three at a time; brought back to town, a plate of
soup and a eover were sufficient to bring life to
the dying. More than once have I met a young
man or woman cuming from the country, with
no strength to finish the last quarter of a mile,
with brnised head and broken teeth from falls
iu tue effort to get up from the ground. The
starvation was not confined to metr; cattle, cam
els horses, ss-tes, sheep and poultry have all,
or nearly all, perished; but the dogs have sur
vived, aud ic their insatiable hanger, findirg
no food iu town and abandoned by their mas
ters, who either died or left their villages 1
search of food, fed on hnaat flesh. Roamirg
over the country in bands of twenty, thirty or
fifty, they sometimes even attacked any human
being they met and devoured him. Sum” twen
ty men and women were eaten up within one
mile of the town. Oae r ay I was busy bv the
river side, with the help of my servant, giving
assistance to a dying young woman, when our
attention wts drawn to an Arab who w..s being
eaten by dogs. He was dead before wo reached
him, and we had only’ the painful duty of bury
ing the remains decently iu the sand. I must
apologize for writing about such hideous mise
ry to you. But,if dreadful to read what is it to
witness ? There are cases which have come be
fore me that I really cannot put on paper. More
than 13,000 have in this town perished from
hunger. There were dead and dying in every
street in and out of town. The dead were bu
ried not more than one span deep, and the
dogs soon uncovered the earth. Iu the Jewish
quarter every house has been tamed into a hos
pital.
Oae cf the silk manufacturing firms of Lyons,
France, are introducing a new industry—the
production of photographic impressions on
stuff's. They sent to a recent meeting of the
Photographic Society several pieces of silk, with
a variety of photographic pictures printed there-
on, including, among others, a number of large
medallions representing pictures of the old mas
ters. The length of the specimens thns exhib
ited is stated as beiDg no less.than 131 feet. The
prooess by which they are produced is not
given, but it is believed that the prints are
made with salts of silver. Whether such is the
case or not, this application of photography —
which ever since tne disor very of the art has
been sought after, and made the ohjeot of more
or less successful experiments—would now
seem to have been realized.
a boy at Chelsea, Mass., habitually amused him
self by hanging from the ties of a railroad bridge
while trains rolled above him, One day he pulled
himself up to see how near a slow train had ap
proached, and his head was taken off by a cow
catcher.
A man and wife in Tipton, Ind., agreed to sepa
rate. Their property was divided, piece by piece,
until nothing was left but a baby aDd a cow. The
Peroration of the Spartan uncle’s lecture to his
scapegrace nephew: “Finally sirrah, you should
endeavor to understand that it is in!initel3- better,
instead of making pledges you always break, to
make no promises at all, and keep them.”
Smith, who had always been a rough one, has just
died. The phj-siciau is met coming from the house
by Brown, who asks, “doctor, how isSmith? Is he
out of danger?” Physician—“No, he is ((dead, poor
lellow, but he is far lrom being out of danger, I am
afraid.”
The following notice was posted verbatim by a
Frenchman iu Peacham, Vt., as a warning to per
sons inclined to trespass on his premises:
One man come ou m3 - place, fish;
One man come on ni3 T place, trap;
One man come on my place, hunt;
Ten dollars lose for him.
“I should like to have 3 r ou raise a club,” said a
7x9 book canvasser to a daughter of Erin, as lie
stood on the front step trying to talk her to death
on the subject of the “Extinction of the tribes of
the Seventh Century.” “I will,” said Bidd3 r , as she
reached around behind the door, “but bad luck to
your picture if you're lingering around here when
I get it raised.” He didn’t linger.
The Reverend Mr. A was more prominent In
his da>- for the brilliancy of his imagination than
the force of his logic. At one time he was preach
ing on “The Ministry of Angels,” and in the pero
ration he suddenly observed: “I hear a whisper!”
The change of tone startled the deacon, who sat be
low, from a drowsy mood, and springing to his feet,
he spoke, “I guess it’s the boys in the galley'.”
She handed him her album,
In which to write a line
Of friendship, love and flowers,
Splendiferously fine.
She murmured as she got it back,
Iu rather pettish tones,
“You might have written! something be-
sides
‘Yours truly, T. A. Jones.’ ”
This Is the season when the love-stricken youth,
who doesn’t know a violet from a porcupine quill,
goes forth to gather flowers for the idol of his heart.
ADd she, bless her, takes the flowers with a gra
cious smile, and when night comes sits in the par
lor with her other fellow and pins button-hole bou
quets all over his coat. Tffll you, young man, it is
better, far better, to be her ‘other fellow,’ than sim
ply ‘her fellow.’ Stick a pin dere, Brudder Horace!
An Ithaca husband whose excuse “at the lodge,’
has been ineffectual in accounting for 2 a. ra. night
ly, tried a new plan the other evening. Going in
quietly and undressing he commenced rocking
the cradle by the bedside, as if he was
awakened out of a sound sleep by infantile cries.—
He had rocked away for a few moments, says the
Journal, when Mme. Antoinette, who had silently
observed the whole proceeding, said: “Come to bed'
you fool. The baby isn’t there.”