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Watclntaa. Em. ISJ4)CM««IIdalfd with thr
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:U^*EalVlM77« } Aihcnii Bauer, B>i. 1S33.
HOUSE.
He anint walk, be cannot speak.
Not Mug be know* of books or men;
He is the weakest «dT tfae weak
Anil baa not strength to bold a poa.
He bus no pocket and no pone, •i
Nor e'-er yet baa owned a penny.
But has more riches than his nurse.
Because he wants not any. . i
He rules bis parents by a cry, V'
And holds them captive by a smile;
A dojij>ot strong through infancy, I
A king from lack of guile.
He lies upon his back and crows.
Or looks with grave eyes on bis mother;
What can ho mean? But I suppose
Thoy understand each other.
Indoors and ont, early and late,
There is no limit to his sway;
For, wrapt in baby robes of state.
He governs night and day.
him;
Hisses be takes as rightful due.
And Turklike has bis slaves tod:
His subjects bond before him too;
I’m ono of them, God bless him.
—Washington Star.
TWO MEN.
Two men tolled side by side from sun to sun.
And both wore poor;
Both sat with children, when the day was done.
About their door.
Ono saw the beautiful In crimson cloud
And shining moon;
Tbs w. or, with his head in sadness bowed.
Made night of noon.
One loved each tree and flower and alngtng bird
On mount or plaio;
No music in the soul of one was stirred
By leator rain.
One saw the good in every fellow mao.
And hoped the best;
The other marveled at his Master's plan.
And doubt confessed.
One. having heaven above and heaven be low.
Was satisfied;
The other, discontented, lived in woe
And hopeless died.
—Boston Transcript.
LIFE.
1 bare heard a lot of people say
That life is not worth living;
But none the less I go my way
Without the least misgiving.
I don’t sit tip night after night
To worry o’er the nation,
Or run and yelp around all day 1
To work its reformation.
I realise that things may run
In sov’ral dififrent ways,
But don't propose on that account
To worry all my days.
Let those who think the world is wrong,
And can’t sleep till its righted.
Go at it on the spot; I’m sure
I shall be most delighted.
But as for me, I am content
To toko things as I find them.
If thoy are not to ray sweet thoughts,
I simply do not mind them.
—J. Costerma in New York Sun.
“GIN tR.”
A COW BOYS HEROISM.
Little Goldy strolled leisurely along
the smooth strip of road which runs
under the cut bank down to the crossing
of the Cottonois, thinking to henelf how
beautiful everything was, and how
strange it was that all her friends should
conspire to keep her shut up in that
gloomy ranch house back under the
hill, when such strange and delightful
places wore to be found just on the out
side of it
The sun was high in the cloudless
northern sky; hut the soft breeze,
which came laden with the spicy breath
of pines, lightly lifted the golden curls
under the brim of the old ann hat and
tempered its noonday heat.
The short season of summer bloom
*-as at its height, and lilies and wax
flowers were being crowded by golden-
rod and the tall Bpikesof the yucca
while the sagebrush exhaled, under the
heat of the sun, that pungent odor that
reminds you of old New England gar
dens, ahnt - in by picket palings and
filled with beds of sage, thyme, rue, lav
ender and all the aromatic herbs our
grandmothers knew and valued—yet is
withal, a wild, sweet perfume quite dia
tinctly its own.
A little way ont on the level which
topped the cut bank at the right lay the
foothills of the Antelope mountains
rising and rounding against the dark
blue of t''-> sky, while on the other side
they fell is gradually into the plain be
low. Between ran the road along one
of those ledges which, forming the top
of one and base of another group of
hills, wound its way down into the
canyon below, and was gladly accept
ed as a highway “ready to hand” by
the dwellers in these mountainous re
gions; and upon this wild trail the little
maid, having slipped away from her
mamma, who was busy in her own room
writing letters, and the housekeeper,
who was deeply absorbed in the manu
facture of bnlberry jelly in the kitchen,
had set ont upon her travels.
“Papa Jack! Papa Jack!” she sang at
the top of her dear little voice, as Bhe
wandered on, “Goldy’s comin to wide
on big toby along wid you, Papa Jack!”
The prairie dogs came out and sat on
the roofs of their houses and chattered
back at her; a big “rattier” raised him-
Jiur ana ms norsc
more on the “round up” than any other
two boys or three ponies on the Cottonois
or the Bijou, and Jim knew it as well as
everybody else on the river. He had
more than once been offered ‘ ‘big money”
to take charge of some rival outfit, hut
Fordham had picked him np years be
fore- away south on the Canadian when
1: ■ was dead broke bucking against his
luck at faro in Jule Howard's “Place”
in the Old Adobe Walls, and they had
staid together ever since that old time.
Ginger was the pride of Jim’s heart,
the very apple of his eye.'' No common
broncho, but a clean built little mus
tang, with a record as a cow pony
brought from the wild Texas country
where Jim found him. What he wouldn’t
do at Jim’s command yon might be cer
tain that no horse could do. Bear till
you’d swear he was bound to fall back
ward and crush his rider; walk at a nod
from Jim into a saloon and knowingly
wink an eye at the man behind the bar,
and as for cows—holding, driving, haz
ing or cutting ont—he knew it as well
as his rider, and a great deal better if
his rider happened'to be a green hand.
And now, as I said, horse and rider
were on top of the ent bank some twenty
feet above the road, along which trotted
little Goldy, lifting her small voice in
invocation of “Papa Jack,” scouting and
crashing along in hot pursuit of a big
Texas steer that had broken away from
"beneath the branding iron, wild and
savage with pain and wilder and more
savage for the rough haring given him
by Jim and Ginger.
The round np had been working that
morning half a mile away across the
Cottonois; had just made camp, and at
that fateful moment “Papa Jack” was
saying, sa he pulled the saddle from off.
his tired horse:
“I’ll throw tins onto Tobe and lope
over to the ranch for dinner. It’s only a
couple of miles; I’ll be back before yon
are fairly at work.”
And so, with his coat thrown over his
am and his right leg curled around the
pommel of ths saddle, to rest the tired
muscles, he galloped his fresh horse
easily np the slope from the Cottonois,
to see—his child, his golden haired baby,
running toward him, with arms out
stretched, crying, “Papa Jack, I tomed
to wider And behind her, only a
few rods, coming at full charge, head
down, eyes rolling in their blood full
sockets, maddened by his morning’s tor
ture, and wild to attack something—the
big Texas steer, which had slipped down
blind coulee under the very eyes of
Jim and Ginger.
Great heavens!” cried the father as
'the fall significance of the sight burst
upon him. “Great heavens! I can't
make it! Tobe!” and voice and spur and
quirt were put at their work, and lean
ing forward in the saddle the man
brought all the strength that was in
him to the task of urging on the animal.
The horse was a good one, and he ran
well, striding to his fall reach, sides and
flanks heaving with the sodden strain,
and soon flecked with the flying foam
from his month, which mingled with
the blood drawn by the madly driven
spurs of bis rider. But in vain! Thi.
chance was too great, and Jack Ford
ham dosed his eyes and his sense*
reeled at the thought of the horrible
thing which he saw that he was power
less to prevent.
Meanwhile Jim had missed his steer
and, riding near the edge of the bank in
his search, heard Goldy’s cry at the sight
of her approaching father, and peering
over took in the situation at a glance.
Measuring from his coign of vantage the
relative position of the actors in the
scene below, he wheeled his horse and
galloped back a few yards, then head
ing him toward a point which would
bring him between the child and the in
furiated animal, which was so rapidly
nearing her, he gave a significant shake
to the bridle.
“We’ve got to do it, Ginger,” he said.
“Goodby, old boy,” and straight as a
shot the obedient creature sped—and
horse and man came hurling down with
a crash that put an effectual stop to the
career of the brute below, which, recog
nizing its old adversaries, turned and
fled down the valley of the Cottonois.
A minute later Jack Fordham flung
himself from his panting horse, and
with difficulty dragged his half con
scious friend away from the carcass of
poor Ginger, whose neck had been
broken in the desperate leap.
“Jim!” he cried, “Jim, old man! do
you know what you’ve done? You’ve
saved her from those horns and hoofs,
man! The baby! don’t yon understand?
Think of her mother, Jim; and of me.
oldman. What is it? Your leg? We’ll
have yon in bed in the house and the
best doctor in the territory—Jim, old
friend, can’t yon speak to me?”
Jim opened his eyes, and his friends
saw that a manly tear was standing in
each of them.
“Never mind the leg!” he cried; “it's
poor old Ginger ITn thinking of I”—De
troit Free Press.
LA BRETOfflE.
A Pathetic Story With a.Moral.
and cdffed in a linen cap that \ me,” thought La Bretonne sorrowfully,
• “ * **2 ? i ;'izt„i.T ere b ?“ UM -5 -
The Question *f Fare Paying.
Two ladies got into a Broadway car
day or two ago and both at once opened
their purses. “I have the change,” said
self into a few lazy coils and then sanfe i one, and at the some moment the other,
back under the protecting shadow of a j r the conductor, dropped
greasewood; a lynx cat, stretched in a ' into his outstretched hand. Where-
crevice of the ledge above, opened Ins ; upon the first woman, supposing sh«bad
half shut eyes and bunked sleepily .at; been forestalled, {nit away her pocket-
her; and the soft wind, Boughing tluough
the tope of the big pines that stood ev
erywhere among the hills, caught up
the refrain—“Papa Jack!”
And so the words came just in time
book, But the conductor came on and
asked for her fare.
“Why,” said her friend, seeing that
the other supposed she was paid for, “I
One November evening, the eve of
St. Catherine’s Day, the gate-of the
Auberive prison turned upon its hinges
to allow to pass out a woman of some
thirty years,- clad in a faded woolen
gown
framed
pale and puffed by that sickly hued fat
which develops on prison regimen. She
was a prisoner whom they had just lib
erated, and whom her companions of de
tention called La Bretonne.
Condemned for infanticide, it was ex
actly, day for day, six years agb that the
prison van had brought her to the Cen-
trale. Now. in her former garb, and
with her small stock of money received
from the clerk in her pocket, she foond
herself free and with her road pass
stamped for Langres.
The courier for Langres, however, had
long since gone. Cowed and awkward,
\he took her way, stumbling toward tho
chief inn of the borough, and with
trembling voice asked shelter for the
night But the inn was crowded, and
the aubergiste, who did not care to har
bor “one of those birds from over yon
der,” counseled her to push on to the
cabaret at the far end of the village.
La Bretonne passed on, and more
trembling and awkward than ever
knocked at the door of that cabaret,
which, properly speaking, was bnt a can-
tine for laborers. The cabaretiere also
eyed her askance, scenting doubtless a
discharged” from the Centrale, and
finally refused her on the plea that she
had no bed to give her.
La Bretonne dared not insist, bat with
bowed head pursued her way, while at
the bottom of her soul rose and grew a
dull hatred for that world which thus
repulsed her.
She had no other resource than to gain
Langres afoot.
Toward the end of November night
comes quickly. Soon she fonnd herself
enveloped in darkness, on a grayish road
that ran between two divisions of the
forest, and where the north wind whis
tled fiercely, choked her with dust and
pelted her with dead leaves.
After six years of sedentary and re
cluse life her legs were stiff, the muscles
knotted and her feet, accustomed to
sabots, pinched and braised by her new
slippers. At the end of a league she felt
them blistered and herself exhausted.
She dropped upon a pile of stones by the
wayside, shivering and asking herself if
she was going to be forced to perish of
cold and hanger in this black night, un
der this icy breeze, which froze her to
the marrow.
All at once, in the solitude of the road,
she seemed to hear the droning notes of
a voice singing. She listened and dis
tinguished the air of one of those caress
ing and monotonous chants with, which
one soothes young chil Len.
She was not alone, then!
She struggled to her feet, and in the
direction from which the voice came,
and there, at the lorn or a emssroad,
perceived- a reddish light streaming
through the branch as. Fiva minutes
later she was before a tnud waited hovel,
whose roof, covered by squares of sod,
leaned against the rock, and whose win
dow had allowed to pass that beckoning
ray.
With anxious heart she decided to
knock.
The chant ceased instantly and a wom
an opened the door, a peasant woman,
no older than La Bretonne herself, bnt
faded and aged by work. Her bodice,
torn in places, displayed the skin tauned
and dirty; her red hair escaped dishev
eled from under a soiled stuff cap, and
her gray eyes regarded with amazement
the stranger whose face had in it some
thing of touching lonelim
Good evening!” said she. lifting yet
higher the sputtering lamp in her hand;
“what do you desire?"
I am unable to go on,” murmured
La Bretonne, in a voice broken by a
sob; “the city is far, and if yon will
lodge mo for the night you will do me a
service. I have money; I will pay yon
for the trouble.”
“Enters* replied the other after a
moment's hesitancy; “but why,” con
tinued she, in a tone more carious than
suspicious, “did you not sleep at Aube
rive?”
They would not give me a lodging,”
lowering her bine eyes and taken with a
sadden scruple, “be—because, see you,
I came from the Maison Centrale.”
“So! the Maison Centrale! bnt no
matter—enter—I fear nothing, having
known only misery. Moreover, I’ve a
conscience against turning a Christian
from tho door on a night like this. Til
give yon a bed and a slice of cheese.
And she pulled from the eaves some
bundles of dried heather and spread
them as a pallet in the comer by the
fire.
“Do you live hero alone?” demanded
La Bretonne timidly
“Yes, with my gachette, going on seven
years now. I earn our living by work
ing in the wood.”
“Your man, then, is dead?”
“Yes,” said the other brusquely, “the
gachette has no father. Briefly, to each
his sorrow! Bnt come, behold your
straw, and two or three potatoes lert
seemed to waken a confused maternal in
stinct in the soul of that girl condemned
in the past for having stifled her new
bom.
If things bad not gone so badly with
SALLEE.
Tom Clarkson was not considered a
great actor by any one; He was a re
liable man—always gave an intelligent
reading of any part he undertook, but
never seemed to create in his audience
that intensity of attention, that “creepy
sensation np the back” which comes to
one when listening to an actor of great
talent or genius.
Tom was leading man at the old'^ol-
beg your pardon. I did not pay your
to the ears of Jim, who was hazing a , though I should have been pleased
long homed steer back to the bunch j to j&m. My long residence abroad hiu.
which was being held for tho work of ma( j 0 me unmindful of our American
the roupad np, half a mile away on the
other side of the Cottonois?
Jim was a cowboy of tlio Creseentout-
fit ands Goldy’s papa's right hand man,
and though he was what Jack Fordham
sometimes called a • sulky brute,” no
hotter cowman ever coiled a rope or be
strode a broncho. Jim—the name by
which his “few and far between” letters
came adui cased to tho Orcana postoffice
—was “Charles Arthur Stakes,” but a
cowboy must needs be rechristened into
bis rough calling, and since Clvarley, a
good name, and one well liked among
the hoys, was ruled ont of court by the
habit of this little exchange of financial
courtesies. You knowiti^Burope every
body pays his own wv;y and expects
everybody else to do the same. Nobody
thinks of franking yon over there. 1
really believe it saves time and trouble.”
“Yes,” replied the other, “and money
too. I hava a great deal of company
from ont of town, and I don’t know wh;i
they should, hut most of them expect
me to do all the fare paying. "Whei |
from supper. It is all I can offer you”
She was called at the moment by a
childish voice coming from a dark nook,
separated from the room by a hoard par
tition.
“Good night!” repeated she, “the little
one cries; I must go, bnt sleep you wellF’
And taking up the lamp she passed
into the closet, leaving La Bretonne
crouched alone in the darkness.
Stretched upon her heather, after she
had eaten her supper, she strove to close
her eyes, but Bleep would not come to
her. Through the thin partition
heard the mother still softly talkin:
the child, whom the arrival of a stranger
had wakened, and who did not wish to
this little one here.
At that thought and at the sound of
that childish voice a sickening shudder
seemed to shake her very vitals#some
thing soft and tender to spring np in
that soured heart, and-an increasing
need for the relief of tears.
But come, coine, my little one,” the
mother cried, “to sleep you must go!
And if you are good and do as I cay, to
morrow, maybe, I’ll take you to the St.
Catherine’s fair!”
The fete of little children, mamma;
the fete of little children, you mean?”
“Yes, my angel, of little children.”
“And the day when the good St. Cath
erine brings playthings to the babies,
mamma?” i
Sometimes—yes.”
Then why doesn’t she bring play
things to our house, mamma?”
“We live too far away, perhaps, and
then—we are too poor.”
She brings them only to rich babies,
then, mamma? Bnt why, mamma, why,
I say? I should love to see playthings!”
Eh, bien! some day you may, if yon
are very good—tonight, perhaps, if you
are wise and go to sleep soon.”
“I will, then, mamma; I will right
away, so she can bring them tomor
row.”
The little voice ceased; there was a
long silence; then a long breath, even
and light!
The child slept at last—the mother
also.
La Bretonne only did not Bleep! An
emotion at once poignant and tender
tore at her heart and she thought more
than ever of that little one whom they
said she had killed." This lasted till
dawn.
Mother and child still slept, but La Bre
tonne was np and ont, gliding hurriedly
and furtively in the direction of Au
berive and slackening her pace only
when the first houses of the village came
in sight.
Soon she had reached and was travers
ing its only street, walking slowly now
and scanning with all her eyes the signs
of the shops. One at last seemed to fix
her attention. She knocked at the shut
ter and presently it opened. A mercer’s
shop apparently, bnt also with some toys
and playthings in the window—poor,
pitiful trifles, a pasteboard doll, a Noah’s
ark, a woolly, stiff legged little
To the astonishment Of the merchant,
La Bretonne purchased them all, paid
and went out. She had resumed the
road to the hovel in the wood, when
suddenly a hand fell heavily upon her
shoulder, and she was face to face with
a brigadier of gendarmerie.
The unhappy one had fo*-gotien that
it was forbidden to liberated prisoners
to loiter in the neighborhood of the
Maison Centrale.
Instead of vagabondizing here, yon
should already be at Langres,” said the
brigadier gruffly. “Come, march; be
off with yon! To the road, to the road,
I say!”
She sought to explain. Pains lost.
At once a passing-cart was pressed into
service, La Bretonne handled into it
and in charge of a gendarme once more
en route for Langres.
The cart jolted lumberingly over the
frozen rats. The poor. La Bretonne
clutched with a heartbroken air her
bundle of playthings in her freezing
fingers.
All at once, at a torn of the road, she
recognized the cross path that led
through the wood. Her heart leaped
and she besought the gendarme to stop
only one moment. She had a commis
sion for La Fleuriotte, the woman that
lived just there!
She supplicated with so much fervor
that the gendarme, a good man at heart,
allowed himself to be persuaded. They
stopped, tied the horse to a tree and as
cended the pathway.
Before the door La Fleuriotte hewed
the gathered, wood into the required
fagots. On seeing her visitress return,
accompanied by a^gendarme, she dwelt
open mouthed and With arms hanging.
“Hist!” said La Bretonne, “hist! the
little ’one—does it sleep still?”
“Yes, hut”
“Then, here, these playthings; lay
them on the bed and tell her St. Cath
erine brought them. I returned to An-
berive for them, hut it seems I had no
right to do it, and they are taking me
now to Langres.”
Holy Mother of God!” cried the
amazed La Fleuriotte.
“Hist! he still, I say!”
And drawing near the bed herself,
followed al ways by her escort, La Bre
tonne scattered upon the coverlet the
doll, the Noah’s ark and the stiff legged,
woolly and somewhat grimy little lamb,
bent the hare arm of the child till"
clasped the latter, then turned with
smile.
Now,” said die, addressing the gen
darme, vigorously rubbing his eyes with
the cuff of his jacket—the frost,
seemed, had gotten into them—“I am
ready; we can go!”—Translated from
the French of Thuriet by E. C. Wag
goner for Short Stories.
bom theater in London some fifteen
years ago. That was before it was
burned down and when it was devoted
to the production of sensational melo
dramas. I think it was then under tlie
management of Clarence Holt, hut am
not sure of this.
Tom played heroes. He was a fine
looking, handsome fellow, and when be
enacted the part of a Jack Tar, and just
as
the Villain (with a capital V please)
Was about to rush off with J;he sweet
heroine, weighing a hundred and sixty
pounds, after having instructed his
hand to carry off the treasure and mui
a „th. old “parknte,” Tom 2?*
w wie.55 ouu UAU aaOV fc%«.
with the same spirit as heretofore. Hi>-
thonghts seemed anywhere but on tin.
stage, and every now and then we could
hear him heave a great sobbing sigh.
•’The audience, however, had grown
lenient. Tom'had caught their sympa
thies in the earlier acts, and anything
he did was good enough now.
“The act was nearly over: Tom was
in the middle of his last speech when
we noticed a woman standing in the
wing with a note in her hand. It was
Mrs. Clarkson’s servant girl.
“Almost hurrying through his words,
for Tom had caught sight of her, too,
we came to the ‘tag,’ the last words of
the play. They were soon spoken, and
amid an outburst of applause the cur
tain came down. Scarcely waiting for
the roller to thump upon the stage Tom
rushed at the girl and tore the note from
her hands.
“I saw it afterward—this is how it
read:
“ ‘Tom, dear Tom, our darling has
fallen and hurt herself; come home
quickly.’
“Without waiting to change his dress,
without waiting to wash off the grease
The Philippine Islanders smoke cigars
a foot in length. The Burmese natives
delight in loosely rolled cigars from six
to eighteen inches long.
we go about, two or three together,
for a few days, it is easy to use up an g 0 to sleep again.
appreciable amount of change m car j The mother soothed and fondled it
— —j — -j r—- fares.” A statement few will dispute, -with words of endearment that some-
fact that it belonged to him of right, he jt ^ to be wished that this European bow strangely disturbed La Bretonne.
was called Jim, and the name suited practice might obtain here.—New York Tkot .wrtvnr-o* of eiinnle tenderness
the man, and the man answered to the Times. I
name and no one demurred thereat.
(limior were worth
The Governor of Kansas, disregard
ing the just request of the Farmers’
Alliance, that he summon the Legis
lature together to electa Senator rep
resenting the people, has appointed a
Republican to succeed Mr. Plumb. To
aggravate bis offense he has appointed
ex-Congressman Biship W. Pekkxns,
was sure of a tremendous roar of ap
plause from the gallery by rushing down
the stage from some unexpected locality,
shouting: “Neverl Unhand the girl,
ruffian! Never shall it be said that a
British sailor deserted his ship or failed
to rescue a pretty girl in distress!” Then
he would go for the villain and heat him
and his “dastardly crew” off the stage.
Tom Clarkson was a married man
with one little daughter, a poor, delicate
little thing of six yearn, who worshiped
her father in a way Bimply rivaled by
his own adoration. There could not be
many more completely attached families
than Tom Clarkson, his. wife and little
Sallie. It was positively beautiful to see
them sometimes when at rehearsal Tom
would bring little Sallie “to keep her
ont of harm’s way,” as he said, “while
the wife is doing the marketing.” It was
question which loved Sallie more, the
father or the mother, and it was pretty
to notice how the child endeavored to
share her favors equally between them.
So sweet, too, were Sallie’s ways and
so amiable and loving was she, and so
patient when all knew how she most
suff er at being unable to romp and play
like other children, for her mind was as
bright as a star, that every member of
the company down to the meanest super
and smallest stage hand was in love with
her and ready to go to the other end of
London, or England for that matter, for
the sake of “Mr. Clarkson’s Sallie.”
‘Our little Sallie” most of them called
her, for she seemed to belong to them.
Two years ago, when in London, the
story was told me by a prominent actor
at the Adelphi, who had been a member
of the Holbom at the time Clarkson was
‘in the lead.”
“We were going to produce a new
play that night,” he said, “and Tom was
:in high feather, for he had a part which
suited and pleased him and he thought
his chance had come at last. Something
else excited pleasurable feelings within
his breast. He had obtained a couple of
dress circle tickets, and his wife and our
little Sallie were to be in front to see the
first performance.
Tom came down to the theater in
great spirits. We ail knew in a very
short time what was the matter. He
had all sorts of fannylike yams to tell
about Sallie and her excitement and de
light at the idea of coming to see father
act. He told ns fellows in the dressing
room how she had put her little arms
around his neck and had insisted upon
giving him the last kiss before starting
him off to his work. ‘That’s for good
lnck, father; don’t yon wipe that off.
I’m coming to see yon tonight; mind,
you make a big hit.’ And Tom laughed
with delight as he imitated the baby
voice rising the quaint theatrical slang
expressions.
The play was a highly sensational
one,.and Tom’s big voice and fine figure
had plenty of opportunity to make capi
tal for themselves. This was always a
source of great fun in the theater, for
we knew Tom to be the most gentle
hearted fellow that ever breathed. As
the saying goes, he wouldn’t have hurt
a fly. Why, he was tender and kind as
a woman, and a kinder nurse never
lived. I was only playing ‘walking on’
parts at the time, bnt he had always a
kind word, a gentle suggestion of advice
for me, and I had been to his little home
in Holloway several times. He was like
a big elder brother to me. Little Sallie
used to call me her sweetheart.
“Tom was dressed quickly that even
ing and down on the stage looking
through the peephole to see his darlings
arrive. It is not always so very easy to
distinguish people in the front of the
house from the stage, though, and when
the first act was called Tom had not yet
been able to find them. He knew they
were there, though, and full of the feel
ing that he was acting for their delight
he did his very best
“I never saw him act so well before,
The manager was heard to remark that
he ‘didn’t believe it was in him.’ We
fellow actors knew all about it, though,
and when the applause came at the end
of the act, and Tom, nervous and ex
cited, stepped before the enrtain, he and
we felt sure we could hear above all tho
noise the dapping of a tiny pair of
hands in the dress circle, and a little
baby voice saying: ‘Look, mother!
mere’s father! Isn’t he beautiful! Oh.
Hn so happy!*
“By and by some of the rest of the
company began looking through the
peephole for Tom’s wife and child, but
no one could see them.
“Then as the play went on we noticed
that Tom himself was getting anxious.
He had not been able to find thorn either
and he had begun to wonder why they
were not there and what had become of
them. Still hope had not left him.. He
felt sure that somewhere in the vast au
ditorium a pair of bright brown eyes
were following his every movement and
he did his very best, though with a
somewhat heavy heart.
“He had a big change in dress to make
before the fifth act, and as he had been
on the stage up to the last moment of
the fourth he had very little time to
make it in. Therefore he did not get
wig and all, just as he was, just as he
had made the first and biggest success
of his life, he rushed from the stage,
pushing aside every one who stood won
dering in his way; with eyes staring like
a madman's, all the terror and grief
that was eating at his heart looking ont
from his face, he ran headlong down the
staircase and passage to the stage door
crying: ‘Get me a cab! For God’s salM
a cab! Oh! my God! my darling!
darling! he quick! Bhe may he dead!’
“Just as he reached the threshold
something seemed to give way. He
tripped and fell forward on his face, and
a great gush of blood spurted from his
mouth and nose.
“They picked him up so tenderly,
those supers and stage hands standing
round about, and carried him into the
doorkeeper’s room and sent for a doctor.
Bnt when the doctor came poor Tom
Clarkson was dead.
“Well, no, that is not the whole of
the story. The whole company sub
scribed, and the manager gave a benefit
for Mrs. Clarkson, and a nice little sum
was raised. We have never let her be
in want, besides Tom had always been
a thrifty man. But the most interesting
part of . this anticlimax to me is yet to
come. Sallie did not die. We had good
doctors for her, and she grew np straight
and strong and tall, and if yon will
come to the Adelphi this evening you
will see my little wife make her debut
on the stage. We have been married
eighteen months.”—Tracy L. Robinson
in New York Recorder.
Work of Congressmen In the National
Capitol.
Washington, Jan. 8.—Up to this
feline, nothing of a startling, or even
specially interesting nature has tran-
pired in either branch of the national
assembly.
Colonel Hill, of New York, has sub
scribed to the senate oath of office, and
is now a fatly equipped member of that
august body. He wears his honors
gracefully, and will doubtless forgo his
way rapidly to the front rank of sena
tors. J;-..-
Mr. Mills has written a letter to a
prominent citizen of Austin character
izing his defeat for the speakership as
"the defeat of a great cause."
Considerable disappointment is felt
at the failure of a Georgian to receive
the appointment of commissioner,
which went to Lindsay of Kentucky. -
Mr. Mills is still at his home in Texas
upon an indefinite leave of absence from
the house. His health is not yet fully
recovered. Mr. Wise of Virginia, will
act as chairman of the committee on
foreign and interstate commerce daring
the absence of Chairman Mills.
Livingston of Georgia, introduced an
important resolution in the house which
provides for the. investigation of the
cause of the financial depression of the
country. * The resolution in whereas
sets .forth the fact that there is-a wide
spread demand for financial reform,
and this demand is being "intensified
daily by the depressed and poorly com
pensated producers and laborers of this
country. ” •
It then presents a set of resolutions in
lix sections, that a special committee
ot seven shall report upon as early as
practicable. The investigation looks to
the establishing of the amount of na
tional bank notes oatstanding, the.
amount based upon United States bonds'
and United States currency; also, the
amount of United States bonds held by
national banks as basis for circulation,
and the reason for their not being used •
for that puipose, together with the
amount of contraction in every species
sf currency that has been used as a part
of the circulating medium since the
ar 1885; the amount of currency now
the United States, its kind and
New Principles In Physics.
A Mr. Lewis, of this city, claims to
have discovered some new principles in
the laws of physics, and is prepared to
demonstrate that there are errors in
Newton’s “Principia.” It has long been
considered an established fact that the
pressure of the atmosphere could only
raise a column of water in a vacuum
about twenty-two feet, and in practii-e
it has not been fonnd possible to raise,
water quite that distance by means of a
suction pump. Mr. Lewis claims that
he can raise water fifty or sixty feet by-
means of a suction pump.
He has a large lot of mathematical
calculations bearing on this matter, and
is now studying np the rise and fall of
the tider -an this coast witn a view of
ascertaining what influence the attrac
tion of the moon exerts upon the earth.
He is preparing an account of his studies
and discoveries to be sent to the Colum
bian exposition. If he can exhibit there
a suction pump which will rals^ water
fifty feet he will, it is safe to say, at
tract more attention than any other ex
hibitor at the exposition, not omitting
Edkon. —Portland Oregonian.
r
The Evolution of the Razor.
“Does it ever occur to you to wonder,
when your complain of the torture of
shaving, how men managed to keep
their faces clean before the exquisitely
tempered steel razors of today were in
vented?” said a scientist.
You have only to observe the ancient
sculptures to see that shaving was prac
ticed in the earliest times. The faces of
tho old Egyptians "are represented in
their statues and hasreliefs as clean
shaved, except for the heard on the chin.
What sort of razors did they use? No
body knows; but something is known
about the evolution of the razor in a
general way.
“The first razor was a pair of dam or
mussel shells, with which our savage
ancestors pulled out the hairs of his
head by grasping them as with pincers.
In the coarse of time it was found ont
that by sharpening the edges of the shells
they could be ground against one another
so as to saw off the hairs. Two keen
edged flakes of stone could be employed
for the same purpose, as the Mexican
Indians utilize bits of obsidian. As a
rule the straight haired and Scant beard
ed races today, like the Nosth Americen
Indians, pluck out their beards. Th
Polynesians get rid of their superfluous
hair with chloride of lime, which they
manufacture by burning corah
“When the bronze age arrived razors
were made of that material, which has
since been superseded by tempered steel.
The latest razors are fire and electricity.
Barbers of the most'advanced school
nowadays singe the hair instead of cut
ting it, and an electric needle is used to
destroy hairs where they ought not to
grow by being thrust into the follicles,
a slight current killing the roots.”-
Washington Star.
who was one of the _ many mis-Reprt- time to take a last peep at the auditorium,
sentatives in the Billion Dollar Con- j think some kind of a presentiment
gress defeated for re-election in 1890. ■ must have filled his mind, for he seemed
to have grown •*—** ««*
TWO HUNDRED LIVES LOST
m
m
where located, and how distributed by
states.
The amount of currency in kinds held
by the United States treasury and by
national banks as reserves; the volume
Ot business transacted by the United
States daring the year 1880, with tho
amounts based respectively upon cash
and credit, and to what exten is for
eign capital invested or used in the
United States; also its effect upon the
industries of the. country, and also to
report such suggestions and amend
ments to the present financial system
as, in the judgment of the commission,
may.be to the b-st interest of the people
of this country, *
A meeting of the Alliance presidents,
ealledby President Polk, was respond
ed to by about twenty state presidents.
Their sessions were held in secret.
President Poik stated that the meeting
was callecl'to discuss several minor ad
ministrative matters. Nothing, how
ever would at present be’ made public.
The sadden illness qf Secretary Blaine
caused great alarm in national circles,
and the news of his partial recovery,
and assurances of no serious results an
ticipated, is hailed with pleasure on all
tides.
In ■ Terrific Mine Explosion in Indian
Territory.
Kansas City, Jan. 8.—A Journal
ipecial from McAllister, L T., says;
A report has reached here from shaft'
No. 5 of the Osage Coal and Mining
company of Krebe that a terrible ex
plosion occurred there at 5 o’clock, from
the effects of which two hnndred lives
are probably lost.
It was just before day. The shift
changed off and came ont of the mine
when a puff of smoke was seen to es
cape from the mouth of the' single
shaft to the mine and immediately fol
lowing this there was heard a terrible
report followed by a rambling as if of
rolling thunder.
The men at the top of the shaft at
sues sounded the alarm and made pre
parations to send down a rescuing party,
bnt found, that the mouth of the shaft
had been completely dosed up by the
debris. When the messenger left, noth
ing had been done toward getting the
men out except to organize a relief par
ty, which was to begin at once on the
lebris.
There are between 180 and 300 men
entombed in the mine, and it is believed
that every one will lose his life, for the
thaft is a single one, with no means for
sir to set to the entombed men. It was
Impossible to get any farther particu
lars from the seat of trouble. ;
To Make Pyrites and Acid.
Blacksburg, S. C., Jan. 8.—This
“GENTLE AS THE SUMMER BREERE.”
‘ I’d rather take a thrashing aDy lime
than a dose of pills,” groaned a patieDt
to whom the doctor has prescribed physic.
“I’d fts lief be sick with what ails me now,
as to be sick with the pills.”
. “I don’t think you’v** taken any of he
I presciibe, or you wouldn’t dread
pills
the prescription so,” laugh the doctor.
“I never U9u the old, inside twister you
have in mind. , I use Dr. Pierce’s Pleasant
Pellets. They alway make me think of
a part of au old hymn—
‘ mild and lovely,
Gentle as the summer breeze.’
The best thing of the bio'd ever invented.
No danger of their making you sick.
You’ll hardly know you’ve t ken them.
I wouldn’t use any other in my practice.
town will soon have a million dollar
company for -the purpose of manufac
turing pyrites and sulphuric acid from
the adjacent mines. The secretary of
state has issued a commission to the
company to be known as the Carolina
Sulphuric Acid Manufacturing com-,
pany. I
There is a possibility of carrying
even self denial to an extreme. While
we are preaching free trade-to the na
tions of the earth and helping them to
cheaper food, clothing and machinery,
it does seem like our people should
have at least a few crumbs from the ta
ble of reciprocity. But it is not so.
We must be content to do good to oth
ers. The showers of blessings are not
for the people of the United States.
They must be satisfied with what they
have, and grateful if the misdeeds of
other nations do not provoke the presi-j
dent to lay a taxon their sugar, mo
lasses, coffee, tea and hides.
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