Newspaper Page Text
®li t iftontgoinerji Jitonitor*
D. C. SUTTON, Editor and Propr.
TriE THAXR TOC I'll AYER.
Once upon a ti'oe I listened,
Listened while the quick tears glistened
*Neath the drooping lids that hid them, a* «
little prattler said—
While a father’s arm caressing,
Round the precious form was pressing,
And against his pillowing bosom lay a dainty,
curl-ringed head.
“Papa,” spoke the little trembler,
“Papa, dear, do you remember
When that gentleman was here to tea, his
sober, solemn air?
How he bent his head down lowly,
And his words came soft and slowly,
As he prayed to God in Heaven such a pretty
thank you prayer ?
“And I wonder all about it.
For of course I could not doubt it
Was a funny way that mado us he bo kind to
one another,
To say thank you for each present,
In away bo very pleasant,
And forget that God might like it: so I asked
_ my darling mother.
“But she looked at me so qneerly,
And her eyes were very nearly
Full of crying, and I left her; but I want to
know real had”—
Here the shy eyes lifted brightly,
“Is it treating God politely
When He gives us things, to never mind nor
tell Him we are glad ?
“And since then I have been thinking—
Fapa, dear, why are you winking?”
For a slow sol) shook the strong man as each
keen, unconscious word
Pierced him, all the past unveiling
And the cold neglect and failing,
All the thoughtless, dumb reeeival—how (he
heedless heart was stirred.
“God is good, and Jesus blessed them,
And His sacred arm caressed them
Vurmuring thus, ho touched the child-brow
with a passionate, swift kiss
Os the little ono beside him;
Os the angel sent to ehido him;
And a thank-you prayer, ah, never more his
living lips shall miss.
An Awkward Interview.
You will—er—stay and—and meet Mr.
Rochdale, my dear, will you not ?”
“Well, no, papa,” replied Edith Las
celles, in a meditative fashion, “I don’t
think I will. You see, my position is a
peculiar one. I have no hesitation in
saying I find it a disagreeable ono also.
I suppose if I were like a heroine of ro
mance I should feel a wild excitement
and a strange thrill, etc., etc., at meet
ing the man who is to bo my husband,
but who is utterly unknown to me; lmt
not being a heroine at all, these feel
ings are wanting. ”
“Os course, my dear,” Mr. Lascelles
observed, a trifle nervously, “you know
you can refuse him if you like, but you
nre so sensible, and —”
“Yes,” cut in the girl decisively, “and
I shall lose five thousand a year, sha’n’t
I ? Well, I tell you flatly, papa, I shall
loso the five thousand most certainly if
I don’t like the man.”
“Then you intend to let the money
slip from you altogether. In plain
words you refuse.”
Edith shook her head.
“I never do anything in a hurry,” sho
determined, and a glance at her pretty,
firm mouth bore testimony to her words;
“but you did not tell me, papa, what
induced Aunt Maria to chooso this Mr.
Bochdale more than any other person.”
“She was in love with his father years
ago. At least, I believe so, my dear,
and so—”
“I understand.” Edith’s lip curled
in a sneer; “delightfully sentimental
and deplorably vulgar.”
Two days later Edith found herself
ensconced in the snuggest corner of
pretty Mrs. Dalton’s drawing-room.
She was very fond of Lucy; they had
been firm friends in their childish days,
and Mrs. Dalton had the greatest re
spect for the tall, handsome girl who
was so far her superior in brains. The
last time they had met had been in
Paris, when Edith was introduced to
Lucy’s husband, one of the kindest
hearted men in the world —a dry-salter,
or a soapboiler, or some such mysteri
ous and consequently wealthy person—
and to the golden-haired child, the very
image of her mother and the idol of the
household.
“You are looking pale, Lucy,” Edith
remarked, as she stitched vigorously at
her work—she was never idle a moment-
Lucy suddenly belied the suggestion
by coloring vividly, almost painfully.
“I am very well, dear,” she answered;
and Edith's quick ear caught the faint
est trace of annoyance in the pretty
voice.
She pondered a little over this, and ;
by and by Mrs. Dalton rose hurriedly.
“You won’t mind, Edith, if I leave i
you for half an hour, will you i I must '
go to Dent’s; they- have not sent home
the things I ordered.”
“Let me go.” Edith put down her
work. “You know you have been out
this morning, and Herbert does not like
to see you tired when he comes home.”
“Oh, the drive won’t hint me, and I
would rather go myself, the people are
so stupid. I know you won't be dull;
there is a pile of new books, and baby
will come down if you would care to
have her. ”
Edith stared at the fire when alone.
“If it was not too absurd,’' she sual to
herself, as she recalled the nervousness
and haste with which her friend had
spoken, “I should imagine that Lucy
did not care about my- lx-iug with her
just now. She made me very welcome,
certainly; but she seems changed, a:i 11
don’t know exactly where or how 1 Per
haps she is ill. She may ay what she
likes, but she looks wretched. If so, 1
am very glad I have come. Mile is an
emotional creature, and would probably .
have liecome wretched and depress.-1
while Herbert- is away. ’
* i
Just about 6 o’clock Mrs. Dalton re
i turned.
“Is Herbert in?” she asked as she
threw off her mantle and untied her bon
net-strings. There was the faintest
Hush on either cheek that might have
been caused by the autumnal wind, but
seemed to rise from suppressed excite
ment,
“Decidedly, Lucy is ill,” Edith de
i termined, as she replied in the negative;
i but she said nothing, only resolved that
j during Mr. Dalt-on’a forthcoming ab
j seuoe she would take her friend in hand
and doctor her.
At dinner-time Edith, watching her,
| saw the evident effort made by the
young wife to appear cheerful and’ oasv,
! and was surprised that Mr. Dalton did
not seem to be aware that anything was
| wrong.
“1 certainly shall not enlighten him.”
j she declared to herself, “but I will see
I what I can do with Lucy when he is
j gone. Ignorance is bliss in such a caso
I as this. Why, lie would fret himself
to sidle-strings if lie thought she were
ill.”
When the morning arrived which wit
nessed Mr. Dalton’s departure to the
north, Edith noticed more than ever
that her friend was laboring under some
emotion which was not unconnected, so
it seemed to her, with excitement.
Edith withdrew to let th i couple say
farewell. As she went into the drawing -
room, her thoughts flew- for the first
time to her father and his marriage
scheme.
“I suppose I had better write and tell
the poor old man that I consent to meet
Mr. Bochdale. It can do no harm at
\ any rate, and I can’t possibly many him
without seeing him first,’ I will go
home at the end of this week.”
The first day of Mr. Dalton’s absence
passed much as usual. On the second,-
Mrs. Dalton drove out with her friend
aud child, and did some shopping. A
they returned to the comfortable villa
near Itegent’s Park, they met a woman
carrying a parcel in her hand, evidently
bound for a journey.
“Why, that is Parker, is it not?”
Edith said suddenly; “is she goingaway,
Lucy ?”
Parker was the housemaid at the villa.
“Yes,” Mrs. Dalton murmured, stop
ping with a hurried gesture to push
some parcels on to the seat opposite.
“Sho has been waiting to go homo for
some time, aud I thought now Herbert
was away it was a good chance to give
her a holiday.”
Edith acquiesced in this, and did not
observe Lucy’s face flush crimson and
then fade to deathly pallor as she spoke-,
indeed, at that moment they turned in
at the gates, and Parker was forgotten.
The two women dined rather drearily,
for Lucy was strangely dull, and Edith
was suddenly attacked by an unusual
■ aud disagreeable toothache.
“Why not go to bed, Edith ?” Mrs.
Dalton suggested as the clock struck 9
and they were back in the drawing
room.
Edith felt desperately cross with her
self. “A nice person lam to cheer any
ono,” she thought viciously. She was
more than annoyed that so trivial but
painful an ailment should visit her when
she was the possessor of so rarely white
and even a set of teeth. Sho was not
easily beaten, but after half and hour
I had gone, during which sho had been
too uncomfortable to notice the strange,
restless manner In which Lucy fidgeted
about, she threw up the sponge and de
clared for bed.
“Let me bring you some brandy and
water, and it will make you sleep,” was
Mrs. Dalton’s eager request.
And Edith was obliged to permit her
frii-nd to perform this charitable office,
and see her to her room. She bade
Lucy good-night, and after a wild desire
to bang her head against the wall, drank
the brandy with a shudder, and after a
short while dropped off into a delightful
slumber, in which even- twinge of pain
was lost. All at once she awoke witli a
start, and her head heat in an uneven
fashion: she sat up in bed and looked at I
her watch —just 12 o’clock; she had
slept, then, over two hours soundly, and
the refractory tooth was subdued. Sho
was slipping her watch under her pillow
when again she started; it had been no I
delusion, footsteps wore passing down
the landing. Like a flash Edith was
out of bed and had thrown on her dress
ing-gown. Her courage faltered for a
moment, for Edith was only a girl, and
hideous stories of pistols anil hasty
shooting by Litter-day burglars came to
her mind; but it was only fora moment;
then taking her candle in hand, sho
went as noiselessly as possible to the
head of the stairs and passed down. All
was still, and from the flickering light
of the hall lamp she could see there was
no one left as sentinel or spy; so she de
termined, not without a curious seusa
| tion at heart, to creep boldly down,
j reconnoitre, and then go hack and rouse
i the house. She made very little noise
I descending, and at last stood in the hall.
Hearing a faint voice she paused
todisten before proceeding. The next
instant she was at the dining-room door,
and had thrown it wide open.
A smothered woman's shriek and an
oath greeted her, and a lump seemed to
rise in her throat.
“Lucy,” she said, in choked, hardly
audible’ tones, “your child is up-stairs
and needs you at once.”
Without a word, but with a face as
White as death, Lucy passed her in tho
doorway, and the quick step up the
stairs testified to the existence of tho
mother’s sudden dread and pain.
The man left thus stranded was young,
of a dark, handsome type, attired in
evening dress.
lie stored at the girl before him with
a contracted brow, and looked, as he
must have felt, wretchedly ill at ease.
“Yon, sir, whoever you maybe, please
leave this house at once.”
E lito's hand sought the door for sup
pj: t; though sho kept so bold a front
tor !itnb were tre : filing beyond her
sonfrol.
He looked at her young faoA, rigid in
ita contomnt and horror, and dssnite hi»
MT. VERNON, MONTGOMERY CO., OA., WEDNESDAY. NOVEMBER Hi, 1887.
anger could not but admire her. Sho
made a pretty picture in her scarlet
gown, with hair dark and loose on her
shoulders, but the admiration was but
momentary.
“This is Mrs. Dalton’s house. I am
here at her invitation. I leave it only
at her request,” he answered shortly.
“I will ring up the servants aud have
i you thrown out,” she replied.
“And so compromise your dear
friend,” he said, with a sneer. “By all
means; I am perfectly willing.”
Edith drew a short breath.
“You are a coward,” she said quietly;
then before he could speak she went on
very slowly and with great deliberation,
“Lucy is upstairs. I am alone with
you; the scandal, therefore, will fall on
me. Now, shall I call the servants, or
will you go?”
“By Jove!” he muttered under his
breath.
He lmd never come across this sort of
woman before; his eyes just met hers,
1 and at the unutterable disgust and con
' tempt in them he was abashed; betook
up his lint and sauntered out of tho
| room without saying one word. Edith
! followed him, and closed tho door her
self upon him; then, shaking like a leaf,
she went into the dining-room, extin
guished the lights, and then crept up
stairs, feeling that for onoo in her life
all her strength and courage were hope
lessly gone.
The event just passed had lasted bare
ly three minutes, but its result was
none the less painful.
As she reached the upper landing she
felt some one clasp her knees, and then
crouch down at her feet, and all her
nerve returned.
With her strong yorng arm she lifted
up Lucy, who was weeping bitterly, and
almost carried her into her own bed
room, and the rest of the night sho
spent in trying to soothe and console
escaped; for before morning came Edith
had learnt all she wanted to know; and,
save for her supreme folly and weak
: ness, Lucy Dalton had done nothing to
separate herself from her husband’s life.
Mr. Dalton returned to his cosy homo
j full of spirits, and Edith met him with
■ as much light-hearted manner as she
could assume.
“I am afraid you will never leave mo
Lucy’s guardian again, Herbert,” she
said; “for you will find her rather shat
tered. She caught cold ono day driv
ing, and I have kept her indoors ever
since. ”
She did not slay in the room as she
finished this speech, but as she shut
tho door, she caught a glimpse o!
Lucy’s golden head buried ou her bus
hand’s shoulder, and she was content.
“I think sho has learnt her lesson,’
she thought to herself, “and now I wil 1
trot homo to papa.”
Mr. Lascelles welcomed his daughte: i
affectionately. “I got your letter.
Edith,” he said at once, “and I have j
asked young Rochdale to dinner to-night, i
Does t.lmt suit you ("
Edith simply nodded.
Punctually at eight tho door was I
thrown open and Mr. Bochdale announc- ;
ed.
Mr. I jascellos shook hands effusively j
with the young man.
“Edith, my dear —” he began.
But Edith did not move; she fixed her
eyes on Mr. Rochdale.
“Papa;” she said very distinctly, “I j
do not desire further knowledge of this j
gentleman; we have met before.”
George Rochdale's face grow crimson,
and then white; he recognized the voice j
who had ordered him from her friend’s !
house a few nights ago, though the first j
glimpse at the tall, slender form in
dainty evening dress had not enlighten
ed him.
“Edith ’’beganMr. Lascelles, alarm
ed and angry.
She took up her fan and walked to j
the dcor.
‘ Cousin Mamie will take my place to- j
night; I shall dine in my room.”
, Three minutes later she heard the liall
! door bang, and from her window saw i
j Mr. Rochdale get into a hansom and
j drive away.
Mr. Lascelles came up, for the first
time in his life in a terrible passion with
1 his daughter.
“Yon may say just whatever you like,
1 papa.” Edith remarked very quietly, “I
! know this mau to ha a coward and a
1 scoundrel, and 1 would not marry or
i even speak to him again for all tho
I fortunes in the world. London World.
The Awkward Bridegroom.
A clergyman, the Vicar Bittmore, has
j been speaking on the modes of marriage
| in and near Sheffield. He states that
people are there married in hatches,
; that the bridegrooms almost invariably ;
: get tho ring too small, and have at
j times to lick the lady’s delicate little
finger to induce the stubborn ring to
move on. It seems to lie no uncom
\ rnon thing to find that the ring is the I
; difficulty, through its presence or
l absence.
i “Then again,” says tho vicar, when j
they come to that important part of the
marriage service where the minister
asks the rnan if he will have this woman J
to be his wedded wife, the man will not !
unfrequently turn to the woman and
say, ‘Wilt tha’ black my boots?’ and .
the woman will invariably say, ‘I will;’ I
‘Now tha’st said it,’ and he holds her to j
her word. Such are Yorkshire man- 1
ners.” A reverend canon of the church j
relates that on ono occasion it fell to his
lot to marry his footman to his cook.
The footman would persist throughout i
the service in putting his finger to his
forehead every time his master address
ed him, in accordance with custom.
The reverend gentleman remonstrated
in an undertone. “Don't touch your
forehead, John, fiut say the words after
me.” Then aloud, “Wilt thou take this
woman ?” etc. John, l>earing iri rnind
the vicar’s hint, replied, “After yon,
' sir,” and the assembled friends burst I
into laughter. —Sliinehetler Courier.
“SUB DEO FACIO FORTITER.”
j MYSTERIES OF A DAY.
NOTABLE EVENTS .'MAT \Y 1.
FIND REPORTED.
An Indian Custom American Inven
tions—Born a Slave An Alligal or
After Him—Ealing the liusks,
Etc., Etc.
Jeffry Johnson, who died near Ah'
clianicsbiirg, Ohio, a few days ago, was j
a slave in Virginia in 1779, and lmd
entered on his 115th year when lie
died. He was a slave foi ninety-two
years. He had two wives. Ry the first
he became the father of eight children,
three of whom are living, the average of
their ages being 80 years, the oldest 87
and the youngest 79 years. By his se
cond wifo ho had nine children, six of
whom are living, their average age be
ing 52 years, the oldest being 58 and the
youngest 41. lie had seventy-six grand
children, thirteen great grand children,
and one great-great grand child, his off
spring extending through four genera
tions, there being 100 souls. In his
veins flowed the blood of throe races
white, negro and Indian -and to this
fact is attributed his longeivity.
That the Indians of the far West
have not yet been civilized is proved by
an Oregon merchant, who says that tho
debts of dead Indians' are paid by their
relatives. “When Anderson and Barn
hart,” ho said “killed an Indian several
years ago, he owed $345. Since that j
time $330 of this umont has been paid 1
me by his relatives. Kentucky died tho
other day owing me SSO. Already his
relatives have approached me on tho
subject ami made arrangements to pay
the amount. It is a law with them to
pay tho debts of their relatives, and
they never break it. 1 am sure of get
ting my money'if an Indian dies owing
me; but when a white man dies leaving
no property, no matter how rich his re
latives are, I never expect to got a
cent.”
E. 11. Vinson, of Pools, Idaho, was
riding across the country the other day
unarmed, when he came upon a big
black beai'. He was bound to have it,
and so started to drive it before him un
til l - e could get a gun, and did so for
three miles. While passing a house tho
bear went into the hogpen to rest, and
the woman of the house came out with
an axe and butcher knife to slay the
boar, but Mr. Vinson told her that it
was dangerous to go near him. so she re
turned to the house. After the hear
had rested lie started on again, only go
ing about a half a mile further, when
Mr. Vinson was reenforced with ftro
] arms, and shot and killed the bear.
I Some curious and terrible effects of
] lightning are reported from Monde,
I France. During the recent thundoi-
I storms in that locality the room of a
j Mme. Gaillard was suddenly illuminat
]ed with the flashes of fire. The woman
i and her three children, frightened out
j of their wits, ran for safety to the chim
ney corner, when a single sharp clap of
j thunder was heard over the house, and
' the chimney was struck by lightning.
Tho mother and the three ehildrcn
i were knocked down insensible. One of
them, a boy of 4, was killed iiistantinie
| ously, and U little girl was whirled into i
j the centre of the room mid had her eyes
i completely burned out,
Otto Schkoefel was the son of
| wealthy parents in Weiselherg, Wur
i ternberg. They gave him a good cdue-ti
tion auii he bid fair to make a repute
- tion as an architect, but the old Adam
was too much for him, and he ran away
ton years ago and came to this country.
Since then ho lias been living on husks,
j Three months ago he was stabbed near
J ly to death by a negro near Camden,
and a policeman took hfin to the lios
ipi tub There he was eared for, Iris life
1 saved, and by the chance reading of an
old torn newspaper he learned that he
was the rightful heir to a fortune, the
income of which will amount to SIO,OOO
a year.
Little Maurice Bergeron was catch
ing shrimps at Bruly Landing, La., the
other day, when a large alligator mid
denly appeared near him and made an
effort to throw him into the river with
its tail. Fortunately the blow, struck
with terrible force, missed its mark, and
the boy turned to run for his life. As
lie did so the monster made u savage
rush at him. Coming out of the water,
he seized Maurice fiv the leg, inflicting j
a slight flesh wound’ and tearing off a
great portion of the boy’s trousers. Be
fore the alligator could get a second hold
od the bov he had scrambled up t.ne
loading and was out of danger.
Jacob L. Buzzard and others were |
engaged in digging a well on the prem
ises of James Grant, not far from Hay j
City, Midi. At the depth of three feet
they earne across a large dejiosit of
bones, which, from their appearance,
were evidently those of some giant uni- |
mal of the mastodon species. One ol
' the tusks of this animal was six ill
length, and measured five indies in diu
meter at its base. A hip bone nx-nsur
! ed twelve inches in diameter, and a rib
I was found seven andn half feet in length.
The jaw of the animal was also found,
• and it. measured four i rid a half feet in
| length.
Daniel llooerh, a miner le-tr Oro,
. Arizona, had l*oth hands blown off at
the wrist by a premature discharge of
giant powder recently. He was alone,
and he walked two miles to a deserted
cabin, were lie bound up the slumps of
his wrists after a fashion with pieces of
curtain, which lie tore with Ids tcer.li.
He travelled ail night, during which
, time his trousers became loos" and
j dropj>ed around his feet. Ho kicked off
his shoe.-; and trousers and abb o'clock
was found lying unconscious near u
Mexican cabin. He was taken, to a hos
pital and is getting well.
One of the members of ti < Harris-
burg City Grays is Private Task, who
for twenty-live years has been a Sunday
school scholar, ami in all that time has
j never been absent from his class. Re
cently, when in camp with his company,
Saturday came, and he found some dif
ficulty in getting permission to leave,
i but when he pleaded that his failure to
get to Harrisburg would break the record
j of a quarter of a century’s attendance
nt Sunday school, the commanding ofii
; cer did not have the heart to refuse a
| request which was backed by so unusual
an argument.
Charles E. Jackson, of Halifax. Fla.,
has a pet snake that catches rats. Jack- 1
son heard a racket in a eupboArd, and,
opening the door, found the snake had
captured a rat, and was trying to swal
low it nose first. The rat was alive, and
strenuously protested against, going in
i to such a hole, using his feet to catch 1
hold of tin 1 floor or other surroundings.
Tho snake, wiser than tho rut, raised
him up a foot or two in the air, and in
that position continued the swallowing
process, dropping down to tho floor to
i rest occasionally, until (he rat was swal
lowed.
The fifteen great American inventions J
of world wide adoption arc: (1) The
cotton-gin, (2) the planing machine, (3) j
tho grass mower and reaper, (4) the ro
tary printing press, (5) navigation by
steam, (6) the hot air engine, (7) tho
sewing machine, (8) the india rubber ;
industry, (9) the manufacture of horse
shoes, (10) the sand blast for curving,
| (11) the gauge lathe, (12) the grain ele
) valor, (13) artificial ice making ou a j
large scale, (14) the electric magnet and
its practical application, (15) tho tele- j
phono.
While J. H. Rooltiua was in the
mountains near Granite Greek, Oregon,
ho heiirdsomeono groaning, and ujiou
investigation found Granville ('lark, iil
old placer miner, buried to his ears by
tho caving of an open cut. He had
been in this critical condition eight !
hours, and tons of bowlders, rocks and I
dirt imprisoned him. One large rock
rested lightly on his shoulder, being |
mainly supported by the earth. . If this
rock had settled another inch his head
would have been crushed.
Allen Thomfson, an old Mount
Washington guide, says that no never
carries a compass in tho woods. “There
are three sure ways,” says he, “that 1
have for finding the points of the com
pass. You will notice that threc-fourtlm
of the moss on the trees grows on tho
north si'e; the heaviest boughs on
tprueo trees are always on tho south
Side, and thirdly, the topmost .twig of
every uninjured hemlock tips to tho j
east.”
A citizen of Providence, K. 1.,
make many a dollar by catching bats, ■
which lie sells to taxidermists for fifty !
cents apiece, lie fastens a fish hook to
the end of a long horsewhip, and on tho j
hook ho fastens a moth miller. Then,
standing near an electric light in tho
evening lie waves the whip until one of
the many hats which are hunting tho J
insects that fly around tho light grabs j
the miller, and then he yanks him in.
The Thakorc Sahib of Morvi enforces ;
j a most interesting custom in his Indian
i dominion. There is at the head of each
village one man who is responsible for
the peace and honesty of the eommuni- i
ty. If a burglary is committed, this
man must, nuns up me tnicr, amt n lie
fails to timl him is compelled to pay for
the stolen goods out of his own pocket.
Drug Store Fools.
“Yes,” said the pharmaceutist, “j :
keep a liquor bar behind my drug store.
I’ll toll you this without prejudice. I :
wouldn't tell it to everybody. I should
certainly never dream of mentioning it
to a policeman imlesshewanteiladrink. i
Do you know why I run a reserved jjin
mill ? Why to afford me greater facili
ties for studying my fellow-man. A
druggist ought to have a fine knowledge
of human nature. After fire years of
pretty steady experience I am unable
now to say whether the biggest fools
look at, me through the bottom of the I
tumblers in the back room, or over the
counter in the drug store. I will des
cribe a sample of each kind.
“A lady cairn* into the store yesterday
and asked for five cents worth of carbolic
acid. It. was a small amount to order, :
and just before pasting the poison lubel
on it I said with assumed carelessness:
‘How are you going to use this ?’
‘lt is foi- my husband,’ she answered,
‘lie is going to drink it.’ j
“Os course f knew that carlsfiic acid
I was cheaper than divorce, and much ,
more certain; but I was greatly startled.
She noticed the expression in my face,
and added, hastily: Oh, I shall mix it
with plenty of water.’
“ ‘Why, Madame,’ said 1, ‘you must
be in a great hurry to get rid of your
husband if you are going to give him a
drink of this acid. It is a deadly pois
on.’ _
“ ‘ls it possible?’ said the lady. ‘Let ,
me see; sure! v it was carbolic acid my
husband wanted. I know it was acid of
some kind, but, I forgot, he lias written
the name on a piece of paper. Here
it is !’
“ ‘Tartartie acid’ was what was writ- ,
ten on tie- paper, and I wrapped up five j
cents worth for her. . j
“ ‘Now,’ she asked, as she took it, ii :
t had killed niv husband with that car
bolieocid would it have bv;ii your fault
or mine :' ”
“ .Mine, ol course,' I said, the drug
clerk is always to blame.’
One of the most Htuj>id men on record
is a Roomer, Neb., barkeeper, who, the J
other day, accepted a 85<) Confederate
bill in payment for a small bill, and re
-1 turned the man who tendered it chan go j
in good L'nited States money.
VOL. 11. NO. 37.
TTTF, TRADE IN POTATOES.
KXPKRTS SAY WK CONST MK
2,000,000 BARBELS A YKAR.
I'ftrmops \Vli<> liaise 350 Bushels lo
(lie Acre ami <»el $1 a Bushel.
[From the N. V. Sun ]
One of the branches of the food trade
of New York that docs not attract a great
deal of attention from the public aslong
as everything goes smoothly is the po
tato trade, and since crops never fail
and prices do not vary much everything
does go smoothly year in and year out.
“How many potatoes do we eat in a
year?” was naked of a prominent west
side dealer.
“Home experts say that it takes about
‘2,000,000 barrels, or say as many as
would.kind 520 freight trains of 25 ears
each, ora fleet of 071 ordinary potato
schooners.”
“And where do they nil come from?**
“Washington county."
This answer was only intended to con
vey the idea that Washington county
was tlm chief source of supply. No
body here knows just how many pota
toes are raised in Washington county
every year, but it is commonly believed
that the entire space from Fort Ticon
dcrega to Edgle Bridge, and from Fort
Edward to the easternmost confines of
tho town of Hebron is but one vast po
tato patch.
The crop began to come forward atrout
a week ago. The Troy and Albany
steamers had what the dealers call small
consignments of from .’IOO to 500 barrels
each. Then the Troy boats picked npa
little more trade amt got to bringing
down a thousand barrels a day. This
week they will begin to do some busi
ness. They will have to handle any
where from 2,000 to 3,000 barrels every
day at each landing in this city. Mean
time tho river schooners and hay barges
will begin to bring down potatoes, and
some canal boats will have them on
board instead of the grain and lumlier
that have hitherto supplied them with
cargoes, until, as one denier expressed
it, there will ho quite a jag of potatoes
on the market.
“Will they break the market?” was
asked.
“Net si break. Os course prices will
weaken a little. We average $1.75 a
barrel wliolesido now, and we will get
perhaps $1.(10, maybe as low as $1.50
then. But the price cannot sag much
more because the quality then will be
better than now, and the export and
tho Southern trade will earry off the
! surplus'. (Julia and the other islands
I thereabouts will take a Very large num
ber, while tho whole country south of
Pennsylvania depends on Washington
county. Then the crop in Ohio and
, west of that State is short, and many
potatoes lisiiidly shipped this wav must
go West. I expect potatoes to go West
l even from Rochester.
“The quality of the crop is superior
this year, and on that account prices are
a shade say live ceiitsa barrel—higher.
You ought to have been hero when the
earlieH were coming in from Long Island.
No better potatoes were ever boiled in
milk wit h green peas or served with their
coats baked brown, and their hearts
ready to full into Hour when the coat
was broken. And the quantities! What
| do you think of a man getting 350 bush
els to the acre, and selling them for more
than a dollar a bushel? Well, Long
farmers raised that many, hut a Wush
ington county man thinks he’ll buy his
wife a silk dress and bis daughter a
piano if lie ever gets 250 bushels from
' an acre.”
“Mow much does he get for his 250
I bushels?”
“About thirty live cents a bushel on
the average. The dealers up there buy
j them to be delivered at the nearest river
port or railroad station. Then the
freight is from fifteen to twenty cents a
barrel. Os course we have a commis
sion for selling them, and the truckman
lias to get something for carrying them
from the pier to tho store. That is how
the farmer gets about half as much for
a barrel as we get. But then 200 bush
els at thirty-live cents are better than
fifteen bushels of wheat at ninety or
eighty.”
The llu’son river will float the ladk
of the potato supply of New York until
it freezes; then the Hudson River road
will get the business. But at alrout that
timeu fleet of round nosed schooners
will appear at the North river slips that
will come all the way from Nova rfcotia.
The ] iota to is a big crop in Nova Scotia,
and there is no law to prevent Nova
Scotia fishing schooners from trading to
lo the ports of New York. These pota
toes arrive just in time to prevent the
grower of American potatoes from real
izing an advance which the winter sea
son would naturally bring.
When winter ets in hard and fast,
one great reserve stock of potatoes is to
Iw found in the Erie Basin and the slips
about Piers 4, 5 and tl, on the East
river. It is the fashion for the owners
of canal boats, when industry and thrift
have bad the r proper reward during the
sunirn r. to buy loads of jK»tatocs hj
along the canal' and bring them down
here and then tie up for the winter. It
is a safe speculation for the potatoes
have ready sale at good prices, and the
profit rounds out the season’s result*
very nicely. Hundreds of thousands
of bushels of potatoes are brought to
New York every fall in this way.
Wmr.r. stamping flies on an Ean
C laire, Wis., street, a horse cast the
shoe on one of his right feet with such
force tliat it crashed through a plats
, glass window, causing SIOO damage.
“Then you don’t like hash?" sum the
landlady sternly. “I don’t object to
| hasli,” explained the boarder. "It’s re
hash I kick at.”