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THE MAN IN THE PEPPER-BOX. pepper-box ” was a little octag onal house al>out six feet in diameter and eight feet in height with a conical roof. In one of the eight sides was a little door with a window in the top of it, and in the other six sides there were small windows. The pepper-box was furnished with one comfortable leather covered arm-chair, and the curious little building stood in a railroad yard amid a perfect net-work of switches mu! turn outs, and was placed there to shelter the man who watched the “ know-nothing ” or crossings where two railroads inter cept each other at right angles. The crossings of which I now write were in the railroad yard of a large manufacturing city and railroad center where nearly every foot of land, with the exception of this little triangular spot of ground where the pepper-bos stood, was covered witli iron rails. One would naturally think it to be a very confusing place to be in. The man in the pepper-box was obliged to keep a level head on his shoulders or he would be likely to make a mistake in regard to the time that one of the numerous trains was due ; and a miscalculation of half a minute meant more or less destruction of life and property. Or, if he was got constantly on the lookout and alert, when he stepped outside he was liable to be' run over and cut, to pieces by the regular or switching trains. Paul .Serus, the pepper-box man. called “ Old Serious” by the railroad “ boys,” was an object of interest to every one of.the scores of employees on the several roads, who passed gind repassed his close quarters every day. lie had never been seen or heard of by any of them until, dusty and travel worn he walked into the passenger station 011 c day in a half intoxicated condition, and took the cars for New Y ork. lie refused to show his ticket or to pay his fare, so the conductor, giving a pull to the bell rope to have the train slowed tip, pitched the poor fellow off —rather too unceremoniously it was thought—and left him lying on the ground in a half dased, half stunned condition, before he regained con sciousness and was able to get up, an other train came along and ran over and cut off one of his feet that was lying across the rail. There was quite an ado made over the affair. The conductor was blamed lor not bringing the train to a stop be fore he put the man off. and for leaving him parti}' on the track. The former was suspended indefinitely—there had been many complaints entered against him before at the superintendent's office —and the poor victim was carried to the city hospital where the superintend ent of the road, a very kind-hearted man, himself jse. well cared for. lie became interested in the patient. Paul Serus, and called to see him more than once, and promised him a job as soon as he should be well enough to take it, on the condition, however, that lie should sign the pledge. The wound ed man promised faithfully to do so, and while his mutilated stump of an ankle was healing he had time to get thoroughly sobered, to profit by the sorqpwhat dismal retrospect of his. life and to make plans for a useful, honor able future. “ This is the first time I have been Completely sober for years,” lie said to the surgeon, who was very attentive and kind to him. “ I feel exactly as if I had been away from my true self all this dreadful time, and had just got back into my old body again—as I used to be when 1 was somebody in the world.” As soon as poor Paul was able to hobble about on a crutch, the whole souled railroad superintendent came to the hospital arid had a long interview with the surgeon in regard to him. There was such a quiet dignity about such a native goodness of heart, honesty in action and purpose, that these two gentlemen had made up their minds not to turn the crippled patient out on the world when he should have recovered, but on the other hand to do something for him. " You may give him a situation where there is some responsibility ; where lie will have something to take up mind constantly,” said the good surgeon. “ The pepper box down in our yard is the liveliest place I know tiT foragreep hand," said the superintendent. “ I will give him the day watch there.” And so he did, telling big Mike, the old and faithful switchman on a side iravk near by, to keep a sharp watch upon him, however. “There’s not a uian on the road, sir, as needs less watchin’ than old Serious.” reported Mike at the end of the month, “ he jist rnoinds his own business.” One day as the superintendent was walking in the yard, Paul said to him: “ I can do the day and night work both just as well if you frill increase my pay and let me build an addition to my Jvnise in the shape of a dry-goods box in which I can stretch myself out be tween trains at night; there's room for jt in the triangle. Downing, the night watch, told mo to-day that lie must throw up his job, his rheumatism had got such a hold upon him. Besides, I can easily wake at any given time at pight; I was noted in the army for that when on guard and picket duty. *< Very well,’ 1 replied the superintend ent, o I am willing you should try it. Downing spoke to me just now about giving up his job,” In this ease little Mike, the night watchman, was instruct ed to have an eye out to see that Paul kept the right signal lights at his win dow. So Paul made the queer addition to the pepper-box. The railroad hoys VOL. HI—NO. 4. called it old Serious* chapel, and made a great deal of fun of him in his Bible | reading. It came to be quite the thing I to get up stories about the poor man. Some said he was a murderer hiding from justicefothers said he was an es caped burglar, and at last, as the months went by, and •mil remained faithful and alert’at,'his post, they all settled down in the belief that he was a miser, and that in the estimation of the free hearted road hands was the worst char acter conceivable. Somebody started the report that the pepper-box man buried liis wages each month under the floor of his domicile; that he boarded himself on crackers and codfish, and never had a decent meal, nor a smoke, nor a chew. They did not say he never took a drink, for they knew he could not keep the job in that eventf-and many of them were tee totalers themselves. One moonlight night in autumn a company' of the hands who had come in on the different trains, thinking to have some l’un by frightening •• Old Serious,” marched in Indian file from the freight depot up.the track to the popper-box, and encircling the funny little structure, looked in at the windows. The blood red signal light was burning brightty, casting a liirid glow about the premises. The poor cripple was fast asleep on the floor, wrapped in a blanket, bis head and shoulders in the. pepper-box and iiis feet stretched out through the little aperture in the wall into the dry-goods box. A few pieces, of charcoal were faintly glowing in. au old iron kettle over which, in a tin pail, some kind of broth was simmering. The hands expressed tjieir indigna tion at his miserly habits in low whis pers, and presently Bill Edson shouted, “• Get iqi. old pinch-penny, and hand over enough of 3'our hoard to buy us all a hot supper and the cigars for the crowd.” “Y T es,”said another, “shell out or we'll carry von down the cliff into the river, and poke you over the falls.” .The crippled watchman, not. showing the least fright, incensed the whole company into roundly Abusing, and in sulting “ Old Serious.” He slowly raised himself tip, opened the door of his domicile.and said, Y,-toy*Ti woftki mvita you iu wa&u- not my quarters so circumscribed. Per haps you will sit down here on the dry sand while I tell you a bit of a story. “ For manj r years I .have been estranged from hoine and friends and family by drink. I shall not weary yon with the details of my life. I will simply say that at the time my foot was cut off I had not seen m3- wife and chil dren for five years. As soon as I was able to write, I sent my wife a letter telling her that I was trying to be a man again, and asking her would she live with me again. She immediately re plied that she would gladly do so, pro vided I could keep 1113' resolution to let liquor alone. 1 don't suppose she had much faith in me at first, but I have written to her evety week, and I ban see by her letters to me that there is a new and growing hope springing up in her heart. “ Now there is not a man among 3-011 who will wonder why I look ‘serious,’ or that I do double duty here, although it does wear on me a little. But I get extra pa}-, and have had no time to fall into temptation. You will now sec the reason why I live so cheaply is to save money enough to bring my family half across the continent before the snow falls, that the3’ and I may have a home together once more.” “ Hurrah for ‘'Old Serious,’ hurrah for Mr. Serus,” shouted Bill Edson, correct ing himself. “Isa bo3’S, pay day was 3’esterda3 r , and we've all got some stamps by us ; let’s take up a collec tion,” and pulling off his grimy cap, lie passed it around, getting generous con tributions from all hands. Then turn ing his own greasy, black pockets in side out, and shaking them in a droll wa3 r over the cap, he said, “ There, com rade, take that; and do 3011 see that little white cottage up there on the cliff ? It’s empty-. Tom Reynolds moved up to the other end of the road to-day. It’s handy to your job; just the tiling. I'll see about it myself as soon as it's daylight. You just send for them folks o’ 3’ourii right off. and if you haint got money enough 3 r et to pay the bills, we fellars will see that it's all right.” Paul's family arrived in due time, and every one of those wild, but kind-heart ed railroad “bo3's” had a hand in set ting them to housekeeping. And as they point to that little pepper-box to this day, and tell this simple story they say”that Paul Serus is aliero. and that somehow they feel as the3 r owned a share of him, and in his happy, thrifty family living in the neat little white cottage on the cliff above the crossing. Why?” asked a teacher in the Sun day school, “ did Solomon tell the slug gard to go to the ant' ’ “ Because, said a thirteen-year-old boy, “ lie knew his aunt would have him at the wood pile or in the onion bed every afternoon as soon as school was out. HARTWELL, GA„ WEDNESDAY] SEPTEMBER ISiIB,T AMONG THE MOONSHINERS. The Origin of the Moonshine Whisky— How the Liquor Is Tunic— Where II Is llltlctcn—'The t'nte of lies rime S|>ii's. From Iht New York Sun. 1 The conflict between Federal and State Courts in South Carolina over the shoot ing of Ladd by a United States Mar shal under the supposition that he was lledmond, a noted illicit distiller, has again drawn public attention to the moonshiners. These men live iu the mountains of west North Carolina, north west South Carolina, East Tennessee, and Northeast Georgia. The country is wild.’the 1 soil excellent, and there is a lair sprinkling of herders aul farmers. The people are reasonably honest and passably industrious, but they lack a thorough knowledge of farming. They seldom manure tho ground. Mowing machines and cultivators are not seen. Fanners plough and.reap, fyut cut their grnin with a sickle, and use a plough so light-that it enu be lifted to the shoulder with one hand. As the roads are rough and the mountain streams! frequently bridge!®!?, their products do not reach a market. There are neither railroads nor telegraphs. Silver is sea roe, and greqnbaeks more than scarce, lias 7-go ing (rappers and hunters turn farm hands a lew days in each year, and take their pay in produce. Houses are poorly fur nished. Chhirs with coWskin bottoms are a luxury, and guests at first-class hotels usually sit upon rough board benches while eating their meals. An tique clocks' reach from the floor to* the ceiling, and are wound by pulling a corf. Momcspuu garments are worn, anirtliemim ofxhe spinning wheel is heard in nearly every house. Most of the travel is upon horseback. Women ride as skilfully as men. The writer drove forty miles and did not meet a ve hicle. The country is not a network of turnpikes. Thousands upon thousands of unfenced acres lie between the roads, over which branded cattle roam at will. These lands are ridged with towering mountains and seamed with rocky de files:*! Furling brooks and dashing wa terfalls fill the air with music. The inhabitants arc self-sustaining. They export but ljttkwind importless. They live-hn •hfig-itiid-Wimiity; anil Brink corn whisky the same as a Northern farmer drinks cider. They call it sweet mash.” Before the war every man either made his own whisky or sent his corn to the still, and got his sweet mash in return, less the distiller's per centage, the same asgv Northern farmer runs his apples to a cider press, or drags his grain to a grist mill. Whisky was as free as water. It was found in every house. Preachers, deacons, church trus tees and their wives and daughters,hush whackers, and slaves drink it as English men drink beer or Frenchmen red wine. No one thought of declaiming against it. With possibly a few exceptions it was rated next to hog and hominy, and ’could be bought at from fifteen to twen ty cents a gallon. At the close of the war the honest mountaineer heard that they must pay a tax of 82 per gallon on their favorite beverage. They were thunderstruck. The tax seemed to them particularly unjust. The same rate on beer in Ger many, or red wine in France, would cre ate a revolution. The mountaineers, however, had had enough fighting. They protested and questioned the right of the Federal Government to impose so exorbitant a rate upon what they regard ed as a necessary of life, State rights were asserted, and they refused to pay the demand. As they were unrepre sented in Congress when the law was passed,, they qifoted the example set by our forefathers when the British Parlia ment imposed a tax on tea. An army of Government officials flocked to the mountains. One by one well-known stills were destroyed. Their owners could not pay the tax, for the most of them distilled whisky only for home consumption, and the mountain eers would not pay two dollars and a quarter a gallon for what they had been getting for twenty cents. If they toted , corn to the stills they were obliged to al low the distiller his percentage and pay two dollars per gallon for the distillation. The whole country was impoverished, and a farmer with two ifollars capital was regarded with envy There was not enough ready money in the mountains to buy a homestead for a freedman. What was to be done? The whisky must be had. Many thought that they could not live without it. In all agricultural districts there are men who have a natural dislike to farm ing. They will hunt, fish, drive stage, burn lime, or do any labor except till the soil. These men came to the front. They began to distil whisky surreptious ly, and were upheld by the community. Nine-tenths were rollicking youug fel lows, who . spent much of their time squirrel shooting and patting and danc ing gubaa. The other tenth were gray haired veterans, with hawk-like eyes and beaks. No fox or deer was more wary or knew tho mountains better. Little stills came up like mushrooms S The work was done in lonely dells and gorges. light nights the rmigli’WtV’hra"wS.X.k. and the cool numnUtyi air was laden with the odor of sweet mash. Tho boys were busy. They carriedjcorn to the stills on their bucks, and returned with demijohns <jf liquor, which mas poured into pickle bottles or whatever was han dy, and distrjhutod among the farmers Occasionally a little money was received, Irnt pay was generally taken in produce. Once an old hog was givtcu in payment for a gallon of whisky, and the cnange recaivejJ in pigs. As most of the work war-done in the light-ef the moon, the bill's were dubbed moonshiners, and sweet mash was known ns moonshine whisky. A barrel of the stulf kept its distiller in provender for a month. From that time to the present there lias been hut little variation in the pro cess of distillation. In some ca?es seven or eight men club together and make a barrel or more a night. This is smug gled into country loftns iMf*AiHages, and the boys receive cash for It. i Moilh shine whisky is plentiful in silch places as*Asheville, Hendersonville, Ruther ford, Murphy and Charlotte, j?. C\, Spar tanburg, Pickens Court llout*>> Green ville, Yorkvillo, Anderson, Abbeville, artd Ijaumisville, C., Morganton, Blairsville, Clayton, Clarksville, Hart well, and Athens, Ga., and Marysville, Greenville, Newport, Sevierville, and Benton, Tenn. Occasionally a few bar rels reach Charleston, Wilmington, Sa vannah, and Knoxville, but very few gallons go over the border. The color of. the prepared liquor is a light yellow. Some of it, however, is as clear as Mex ican aguardiente or Chinese rice rum. The mountaineers prefer the latter. The former sells more readily in villages ai|d cities. To an educated New York oil Kentucky palate its taste is camphen cy and disagreeable. It scorches the gdllet on its way down, add once down makes g nian feel as though carrying a red shot in his stomach. A Kentuckian says he felt as though he luWl swallowed art electric cat backward. fingers will upset a stranger, but a genuine, mountaineer never succumbs to. less than half a gallon. ,It * 8 fre quently sweetened with honey or qiclas ses. This improves the taste, and makes, it>iu insidious drink for novices. Well sweetened, it will throw an ft Wstity citing' Yankee under a table quicker than egg nog. Despite the dangers surrounding them, the moonshiners seem to live a happy life. They are courteous and obliging to strangers, and kind and hospitable. They scorn pay for services rendered them. A man with a million is perfect ly safe among them ; but woe betide the revenue spy. His life is uot worth a shuck. They kill him as readily as a Bulgarian Christian butchers a Turk. In the long run they hold theirown with Government officials, avenging every death on the first opportunity. I never saw a moonshiner with a woollen shu t. I saw none with undershirts. They wear unbleached cotton shirts, and pass the summer in their shirt sleeves. They run to soft felt hats and brogans. They delight in weird negro hymns, and the mountain glens echo their songs. At times they meet in rude taverns on cross roads and have glorious blow-outs,’ sea soned with the music of the, fiddle and banjo. They are tall and well formed, and climb the crags like goats. Their complexions are ruddy and clear, and they wear their hair long. They are welcome guests in all farm houses, for the hearts of the farmers Are bound to them with bonds of steel. Some are church members, and regular attendants at quarterly meetings. They cache their whisky in the mountains. I have walked witli them in the most obscure mountain paths. There was no house within miles. At the slightest reference to w hisky, oue of the party disappeared and quickly returned with a pickle bot tle or tomato can loaded to the muzzle with the clear juice. When askijd where they got it, they smiled mysteriously and answered, ‘‘ It cainc from the moon.” Although the taxon whisky has been reduced to ninety cents per gallon, the moonshiners are as busy as ever. They never complain of the hard times, and are perfectly satisfied if they can trade a quart of the liquor for a bushel of po tatoes or a peck of hominy. Peaches at $155 a Dozen. Bai.timokk, September o.—At the Corn and Flour Exchange, this morning, ten fine jieaches, donated by Capt. John Woodford, for the yellow fever sufferers, were sold at auction. James Knox paid SJS for thd first choice. One sold for 820, two for 81 5 each, and the balance for 810 each. Total, 8145. Afterwards tffo peaches from another source were sold for 85 each. Milledgeville Old Capital ; The new arrivals at the Asylum for the Insane are increasing alarmingly. Nearl3' every <1:13- some unfortunate is brought anil their names registered in the great book of the clerk's office. Full eight hundred insane jicople, many of them forlorn and wretched, are now quarter ed on the State, and the list swells, and the institution continues to be enlarged to meet the demand for rooyi.” WHOLE NO. 108. Tho Number 2. 1 WMI . ’ ■ v* for The Um titt'ff Sun. We see the number two in a great many instance!. A ghml many things go by pairs, Viz ; In the human body, two handy, twy feet, two eyes, t,wo ( onrs, two sidei|L The fingeca are. in piura: thumbs, two litwlo- fingers, Ac: two great toes, two little toes, Ac. In animals two obtains very considerably. In instruments we see pairs, viz : shears, ayissors, tongs, nippers, wagon Wheels, and a great many other instruments. Of all qoimajq there are the male and Ju thy physical, world we sec things by pairs or opposites, viz: suniinur and winter; seed time and harvest; day and night; morning and evening; sunshine and rain; cold and heat; fire and water; light and darkness: earth and sky; east and west f mirth mid ISnnth ; up and down. Whenever wot sfed one thing we may look efther for a’ pair or it s opposite. God and Sntah r Heaven and Nell; time and etdrnrtwk In principles we sec this duality or opposition: Honesty and tlleft? kindness and crnelty’, frank ness ami duplicity ; industry and indo lence ; bravery and timidity ; eoououiy an 4 prodigality; candor and .Cininiug. TJiere are a great many singular things in nature; but we know of nothing more singular than that of pairs or op posites. It is very probable that noth ing can he found in all nature but that there is a pair or its opposite. Many things in nature are singularly strange ; but it would seem flint this is one amongst the strangest of them all. Libert. Tyro. Swallows Attack a Mun. Utica tltynvr. One mile and forty b£ds ntirtli of the beautiful village New Yark. resides Mr. Andrew Recent ly lie started to walk fa llm village. Swinging along with qis wopteij sfriile, anil reaching a point jvithiq hajfa mile of his tracted by the strange action of a large flock of swallqws, hoyeripg low down over tlie sidewalk, flying rapidly hither in great qjtcltcftlent, As lie apnrpddicii them; Tiflti' wfibn' ttrtiW, J YHtdf | evinced no fear of his presence, and in stead of flying away on his entrance among them, they pressed around him in great numbers, and almost immedi ately attacked him with their sharp bills with great fury. At first he was dis posed to treat the attack as a Rival mat ter, and attempted to brush them away with his hands; hut the few thus dis placed were immediately replaced by myriads more, darting, chattering and piercing him with their sharp bills like “the flight of a cloud of arrows.” Their immense numbers and persistent charges were so great that lie was soon thrown to the ground. Now thoroughly alarm ed, he struggled to his feet; covering his eyes and face with one hand as weii as possible, he endeavored with the other to wrest from the fence at his side a stake or picket with which to defend himself, but not succeeding, and the wild and infuriated little warriors still increasing their attack, he was forced to fight them again with bis hands, when again he was thrown to the ground. Now really terrified for his life, he pull ed his coat over his face and head for protection, regained his feet and fled for Ids life, but they did not pursue him far. Exhausted, and with his hands bleeding, he reached the village, convinced that he had a narrow escape. Scenting Stud'. A long, lean, gaunt Yankee, entered a drug store and asked : “ Be ye the drugger?” “ Well, 1 suppose I am—l sell drugs.” “Well, hev you got any of this scent ing stuff the gals put on their handker chiefs?” “ (), yes.” “ Wall, our Sal's gwinetobc married, and she gin rne liinepcnce. and told me to get the hull ’mount in scentin’ stuff’, so’s to make her sweet, if 1 could find some to suit, so if you’ve a mind, I’ll smell around.” 'l'he Yankee smelled round without being suited until the “ drugger ” got tired of him, and taking down a bottle of hartshorn, said: “ I’ve got a scenting stuff that will suit you. A single drop on a handker chief will stay for weeks, and you can’t wash it out; but to get the good of it you must take a good smell.” “Is that so, Mister? Wall.jist hold on a rninit till I git breath, and when I say ‘ neow,’ you put it under my smel ler.” The hartshorn, of course, knocked the Y'ankee down, as liquor lias many a man. I)o you suppose he got up and smelt again, as the drunkard does? Not he; but rolling up his sleeves and doub ling up his fists, he said : “ You made me smell that tarnel ev erlasting stuff', Mister, and now I will make you smell fire and brimstone!” That little Hartwell Sen is a bril liant and lusty bantling. — Old. Capital. Mil. lOtKWOOIPS GRIEVANCE. ■ ■ ’ by MAX AXJELKR. /*. —i \ “ During tlie last, trip I took over tho Pneiflo railroad. I noticed that after wo' left Omaha the man in the scat in front of me appeared fo-hatwsottiothing upon bis mind. He wodld fieowl dreadfully* for a inorntmt, then be worfld gate wFW a far-away look out of Ifis witkkny. Then he would draw a huge bowfc'-kjufw from his citat packet, iiiyi, a art j’ ping ij, upon his boot, lie woulif run fiiar thumb along tiie rdgrt. AfNVseowHn-r a, few gi'mutes more, he woufyl take yut a revolver, examine lhe*’b< , *nbttri, assqre •hipisell’ .tlicy wore loaded, mut ter a few vigorous sentences, and put# it away again. I watched him a day or two ; and at last he saw me looking at him. He* -aid : * I reckon you think I am dxcitcih about something ? Well.A ami 1 F anv going ftp to Salt Lake to kill a litan." “ Indeed v Jiow terrjhlq! What's tho matter f” I . .. t u gil e.fT .1 “ Well, you see—by the way, do yoii know Jim Stephens ?”VtWn > > av< l. No. i|n! I Hunk not.” *■ •* Well,‘tills is the Way It camh about: Twelve J3m ifrul T werfe friefld^ 1 am,l wheo 1 gob nuu'rieil d.iui pnajc intff a. present of tin* most splendid .rtHvjwl cake basket you ever snw ia your lifuJfl r Thaf'S'liot what yon are going to kill him for, isdtif” "i.. i .11 “Of course not! And I fait so? grateful that 1 took him by the hand, and s;pd h j Jim, J'lj ftet J Oll a <^ ko kqt as hanutjuiuc uf find whenever yog, urc married.las sure as fny name is.bm atlian lockwood.’ .'*Mad him a solemn pledge, you know." “ Hid he marry sidwoquently ?f f “Marry? O thuftrter! Let inetelfl you about ft. 1 AbmtPn rear rtffbf h<£' went f? Utah and became a Mormon. Within a mouth he sent roe cards far Ids wedding with Hannah Watson. So I went, out and bought a sublime cake basket, and forwarded it by express. Two weeks later ho wrote to say that Hannah's sister, Ethelbertn, had been sealed to him, and he asked me out to the wedding.” “ 1 )id you go ?”• “No; hut I sent him another cake lmskct. But hardly had a fortnight ellipsis! when Stephens telegraphed to two that, as oliljdrs. Watson, Hannah’s and Etlqilberta’s mother, seemed so lonely tv of that the girls were gone, he had (SirtMlfltFt'i Ito annex her, also. He proj^;<3f'Tb?‘ i send full particulars by limit, gjjs.,yight a third resplendent cake banket went west in charge of the I express.copigany.” “ paid him' three to one, then”, “ Tine* ?..*Wait till I get done. Wall, 1 hesnlMiotliing more from him for a year or more, When one day cards came for his marriage with Louisa G. ('arboy. I was pretty poor about that time, and hardly able to make presents to anybody, but I had pledged my word ; so out went another imposing cake basket.” “ Did he get it ?” *• lie wrote and said his darling Louisa thought it was beautiful, and he added a postscript, in which he men tioned that lie had arranged for a fur ther consolidation on the following Thursday with Helena Ililkersham, re lict of old Ililkersham, the popular hat ter.” “ Did yon respond ?” “ I did; 1 borrowed some money from a friend, and forwarded the most stupendous cake basket I could find. At the same time I wrote to him and asked him if he didn't think it time to knock oil'. 11c replied and said lie was sorry I had such narrow views about matrimony, particularly as lie had everything ready for another marriage on the following Tuesday with Mary .lane Willmrfurce, a charming girl of property.” You didn’t send one to her, did you ?” “Of course! Couldn't break my word ! She got the most impressive cake, basket I could lay my hands oil. Well, Stephens didn't stop there. That was two years ago. lie has married eight times since, and I have come to time promptly with the cake basket. Three days ago I received notice that lie was going to marry again.” “ Again ?” “ Yes, again ! That, you know, lets him out! What does the man mean '( Does he suppose that I own a cake basket, factory, where they turn ’em out with a crank ? Does he suppose 1 have a mine where we excavate baskets by the bushel ? lias he got an idea that cake baskets grow on a tree, and that all I've got to do is to knock ’em down witli a pole when they arc ripe ? Why, he’s an unmitigated ass ! And, as he won’t let me olf from my promise, I’m going out to massacre him. You un derstand '{ In less than three days there'll be a dozen or so widows in Salt Lake City going to see a man named Stephens buried.” Then Mr. Lockwood turned gloomi ly away, sharpened liis knife again on his boot, and relapsed into silence. It was a little hard on him, I think r myself. A fair and buxom New England widow, who had buried three husbands, recently went with a gentleman, who, in iiis 3’ounger days, had paid her marked attention, to inspect the graves of her dear departed. After contem plating them in mournful silence, she murmured to her companion : “Ah ! James, 3-011 might have been in that row now if you had 01113- had a little more courage.”