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H'W WANT TH EHOM B ifOtTB’N -A. Jb, ' Headquartersfor Houston news. —The/HokE Journal Job of fice is fall y prepared to do &mf Sind of Commereialj ob work -th *t may be’AeVdedN 4,11 .‘hicejjy -pad* ded, and at prices tbM will' ©car- pete with hay city. UaUnird l**k at our Samples and get onr : prises, and yon will leave your orders. '** ■GIVE THE PERRY, GEOE.Gil. THtJRSDAY/ JUEY 25, 1889 A Rom.ance of ilie Sea.!-probably Marshall forgot it. I! ns when she learns how you have long beyond the time we naturally think we should wait until the ship settled this old difference. But one expected you to return?” thing I will say: I have lost coh-“Everything. Asa sailor you fidence in the magnetic needle; 1 j knbw the old Ti. is an old tub, shall never have my old respect'anyhow; one of those ships that BY GEORGE ROGERS HOWELL. itf t bif. ii-tl© •W/eLlis H Mi fh% !- © o s S3 aii Q M F JL 0 m£co® g-a; w CD 8 CD M «2- Eft CD §3- CD P CD © n p e*+> P- © •TO ^OOYH #• r y. IDlOf SS a Mo g % £3 0 : h&iAi>§ April 15th, 1848, at. Sonthham- ton, on the coast of Long Island. The air is vocal with the piping of a million tadpoles in : the swampy ground west of the main street of the village. . It is, the first sure herald of spring. A maiden lithe and fair steps out from one of the many cozy farmhouses, and takes her way to the academy hall,where the weekly singing-school is held. Let us enter the house she has left. A man., in middle-age has just laid down, the semi-weekly Spectator, which he had been reading aloud, and Turns slowly his gaze ]lpon his wife, who is en gaged in mending the family stock ings. He has a weary, anxious, look before he breaks the silence. “Well, mother, do you see what we can do to save- the old home stead?” ... . ■ ;... : “Is it as bad as that, father? I should think you could borrow the money from some of the neighbors.. It is only five hundred' dollars.”, “1 know, but. V/fi. ,can’t touch Henry’s money in the bank for months yet, supposing the ship and crew are lost; and I hate to go begging for a loan; and besides, who has the money to lend except the Squire? You know how he feels toward, me.” • “Well, it is not due until June, and ; the Jiord will find, a way. I have trusted him too long to give up now.” , . , The husband answered only with a sigh, Mr. Mitchell had been in jured by a fall some fifteen years before, and ever since," though able to carry on his farming: business, had not been able to do an able- bodied man’s work. Two years before he had lost, by fire a barn with its contents of hay, grain and horses, and could only secure the money to rebuild and stock by a loan with a mortgage on the home stead. This he- thought safe enough, as-the sum might be part ly obtained from the sale of lag crops, and - partly by assistance from his son, then at sea as second mate of the whaler Ticonderoga, of Sag Harbor. But crops had been small, and the ship was long over due, and fears- ware- general of her having foundered in a gale. While the good people in this house were discussing their hopes and fears, let us. enter another of the village residences. The ’squire and his wife also are alone. ' One son, thei!£>flrst-boim, is captain of the missing whaler; the other, a bright yoilng man, not a year out of college, has gone to the singing- school with his sister. Nellie Gel- son is the light of that household, .and her fatlien.has not yet learned to look with friendly eye on, the suitors who have sought to take- her from the .paternal home. • She loves, and her lover, is. particularly objectionable in the. eyes of her father. He is the second mate of the Ticonderoga, and what the . fa ther’s objections are may be learn ed from tlie conversation now tak ing place between the ’squire and his wife. “Bat,” said his wife, “you should not reckon it a fault in Hiram that he was partially disabled by an ac cident” , “No; hot a fault, but a misfor- tuna . ; I don’t wish Nellie allied with an unlucky family. And, be sides, there’s thathverlasting dis pute about the boundary of the wood-lot at Sebonac. ~ You know Hiram claims a long strip . of my land heavily timbered. The old lines in the deed run over by com pass put the strip in my land, and he obstinately clings to an old stone he. claims is a corner-stone, which may have been there ages before a white, man ever came here. And there is that cow he bought of me and claims he paid Marshall feu: just before he went to sea. If he did, why didn’t. Marshall tell me of it, or hand it over?”. , “Why you know the ship had Beenweady and ..•^aitffig for a fair wind Ids three d^s, and the very “Yes, if the ship ever comes in,” said the . ’squire testily. “As to Marshall’s marrying Bertha Mitch ell, that’s his own affair. But our Nellie—I cannot, as ? I . feel now, give her to Henry, at. least until he is better able to take care of her.” ■ • - “Well, he is doing Very well so far, and Nellie is*.satisfied. Don't you think she ought to have some voice in the choice of a-husband?” To this the ’squire found no an swer, and lapsed into moody si lence. A few days after the scenes at ihe opening of cur tale, on a bright morning, Mr. Mitchell, and the ’squire met in. the village. Mr. Gelston asked his neighbor if he willing to make one more trial. to settle the boundary of the wood- lots, and as that day promised fine weather, to go at once upon the work. -. ;• .;= “Yes,” said Mr. Mitchell,'‘'Twill go, although I had.intended to go after a lot of soft-shell clams. Yes, I will go and take the old deeds to get- the courses and distances of the land.” “Oh, by the way, suppose we have my son Thomas along torun ihe lines. You knew he has a set of surveying instruments, and must be familiar with' all the new wrin kles in the business, as he has just graduated at Yale. There he comes now. Tom, we were just speaking of tackling the old boun dary line at Sebonac—do you feel competent to undertake the busi ness?” - - “Yes; I think I can run a wood line without any trouble. I was thinking about the old boundary line last night, and the idea caihe iuto my head that -1 could solve the problem that has baffled the old town surveyor.: You see, neither the first surveyor who laid out the lots in 1750 -when the ..deeds were written, nor the old living survey or ever thought of the variations the needle. I looked . over my notes at once, and found that in 1750 the variation of the needle was about eighty.degrees west, and now it is about six , degrees west. This correction may show ns the true line.” i Good, my boy; that’s a good idea/’, said the ’squire, “and we’ll give it a trial. You go home, neighbor, and get your deed, and I will harness up at once, and take you with us.” ; Once in the woods, there was no difficulty in finding the starting- point. The course as laid down in the old deed brought by Mr. Mitch ell w$s north seven degrees west, eighty-four rods; then south twen ty rods, etc. ..The line, run on this course by compass eighty-four rods, terminated four rods to the south of the ; rude, - rounded: stone which Mr. Mitchell claimed as the true corner-stone from information given him by his father. But the line., thil3 run,, cut off a triangle forty-four rods long, four rods wide at one end, and coming to. a point at the other, at an included angle of about two .degrees and forty-four minutes, and included little more than an acre of heavily- timbered laud, claimed, as we have seen, by, both parties. The young surveyor, making the .prober cor rection for the change in the va riation of the needle . of. two de grees, laid off the nevi line south, five degrees west, and to the sur prise and chagrin of the ’squire, it ended so near the corner-stone clanged by Mr. Mitchell, as to put it beyond dispute, that the latter had but claimed his own. But the squire was- as upright in his own dealings as he wasiEbadjusting of-, cxally the disputes cf his neigh bors. . / , . . ‘The laud is yours, Hiram, and I Had rather it should be mm have, it doubt. /indlom entered gate m my its boy the satisfaction I get from- fringe of the M mm The first day of May has-Gome and still no tidings of. the Ticonde roga. The daily stage to Sag Har bor is starting with the- mail bag for way stations and New. York, and thence to all points of the com pass. to the ends of the earth. The street was quiet save for the rum bling stage coach till it turned the corner of the old post road toward the harbor.. Suddenly the . quiet bas interrupted by 'the sound of a distant caiinon from the sea. One man in the center of the main street has already had his morning meal and is standing: on his door step. He hears the gun and in ah instant the listless attitude . disap pears. His face kindles with ex citement as he. hurries into his house. He soon reappears with a seaman’s spy-glass and hurries to the house, of a neighbor. This man was known to the village as Uncle Billy, and socially, was ev erything that Ishmael was not. He is every man’s friend, and every man is his friend. ; l With prom precision he goes to the only man in the village who has before sailed in the Ticonderoga. Together they Hasten to the Pres byterian church, on one end .cf which is. reared a large square tower, and to, this they climb with hurrying steps. • Again 1 and again the cannon signal has-broken the silence of the spring morning, and by this time many are on the street, of both sexes and all ages. They have heard the guns, and the cries along the street: “A ship off the coast, colors set and guns fifing'” and they all know the iron-throated cannon is speaking to them. They soon discover the two men on the church tower, and thither turns a stream of anxious ones; vrhiie oth ers rush to their own housetops to inspect for themselves, and a score of glasses are soon turned oii- the passing ship, not, three miles dis tant. Uncle: Billy’s companion leeks long and steadfastly..'At last the glass is lowered and he says: “That’s the old Ticonderoga, sure enough. But the foremast is gone and they have rigged out a jury- mas!; In? its place.. That puzzled me at first, and one of ; tha boats is gone from the davits, but i can see the figure-head of old Ethan Allen and his cocked hat at the bows. Yes, that’s the . Ticonderoga, and tyith this'-wind she will be in Gar diner’s Bay this afternoon.” At this announcement Uncle Billy leaned over .the parapet of the tow er, made a trumpet of his hands and shouted to the crowds -below: “The Ti-eon-de-rb-ga!” - In IbSs than an hour the news of the . safe return of .the whaler was the sub ject of joyful discussion in every household in the village. While the women are preparing the va riety and abundance ef food that nature provides 1 so -bountifully for these dwellers by.the sear, and look ing to the apartments so long un occupied that they shall, be is readiness,Yhe menj after the dinner hour start for Sag Harbor to wel come and bring home their sons and brothers. They have not long to wait on the -dock before boat loads of men and sea-chests are be ing rapidly rowed to land. Up the dock-stairs they swarm, s.warthy young, men With the activity, of cats and “bearded like the psrd.” The imagination can picture better than the pea describe the welcome they received, and no man winced at the strong grips given and re ceived on that May afternoon on LongWharf: B at home was still ten miles away. Soon the sea- chests werejbu.ndled into the farm wagons and the/ procession took its way toward Scutliamptbn., . “Well; Marshall,” said.’Squire Gelston to his son, as they left tire hind them 1 for it. To point one way one day,; make fourteen miles in fifteen-days. and another on another—bah!” Then when we were recruiting in water and vegetables at Honolulu I had a chance to ship home' 500 barrels of oil and concluded to do so, and cruise a mouth or two for sperm whales off the coast cf Afri ca... So I laid in some more casks, and was actually lucky enough to again fill up with sperm oil. , It’s the best voyage l ever made. After leaving the whaliug-ground for home we encountered a'heavy gale that carried away our foretopmast. /The gale whirled the ship around in the trough of the sea arid the only thiiig left was to cutaway the mast and run before the wind. We were in some clanger, of being over whelmed by the big seas that sometimes broke : over the stern but we rode it out, and when the gale broke and the sea went down we were a good way off our. course. However, we rigged out a jury- mast at the fore, and saved the ship and cargo. We lost one boat in the scrimmage f and thought our selves lacky to get off as lightly as that. Of course the seas often svvept the decks find -miade lively times for ten or twelve hours. Every man on board stood up to his work like a hero.” . ;■ “What kind of man did you find your second- mate Henry Mitchel in those times of danger?” the Squire asked. , “As plucky a man as evei trod^a deck. And quick to see and take advantage of the means of hand ling the ship. Ask the'xfiexi what they think him. I suppose I owe my life to him to-day for his promptness in knowing what to do and doing it. We were off, three boats of us, after a sperm whale. He came up near me and my boat- steerer fastened a harpoon into him. He began to show fight, and just then Harry came up and< tlie whale made for his boat, head on. Harry picked him several times with his lance and thus kept off the attack,.all the time watching am opportunity to lance him in a vital part,. . I laid as close by as I dared, when suddenly the whale turned to strike the boats with his tail, and Harry seized the moment to lance him in earnest, at the same time shouting to his men. tb back 1 water. This saved his 1 boat in the nick of time, but tlie flukes came crushing clown on the gunwales of my boat, and a broken oar of lance- pole knocked me insensible, over board. . The. whale Was spouting blood just cut of rbach, gnd Harry palled up and was in the water in stantly. He succeeded in reaching- me and brought me la the surface, and both of us were taken on board. t was not much hurt, but stunned by a blow on the head, and was over it in a day or two. Ye3, he is pure grit, and as good a seaman as any master in the Harbor.” *» : What were' the feelings of the good ’squire at this moment we can easily conjecture. A revolution begun in Sebonac woods now fair ly converted him. Yes, he acknowl- edged-it at; last to 'himself. . Harry Mitchell was good enough for his own loved Nellie.. In thie frame" pf mind he palled up his team at the old homestead' At the .door stood mother, sister and bother to welcome the young captain. What they said-iin’d did we leave to the imagination of the reader. J; When at last the story / of the long detention had been*toId again, and a lull had occurred in.theibick- chning questions and answers,: Mrs. Gelston tamed to her son and inquired:- / : “Oh, ’by the way, Marshall, do you remember Mr. Mitchell’s pay ing yon the evening before vou lefty for a-cow he had your father?” “Ob,, never mind broke itethe ’squire. room I guess I shall fihd it in the 1 pocket of the vest IT< _. r | And off he rammnd ! wds again before the othefrs'had i ered from their Ust . waving the bills iriami ! above his head. •* - ” “Did you think; Mf. Mitchel— “Never mind, my/boy,' whab I | thought, t khotr ihy old * i^igh 1 I bor is as true as the'sun. 1 And fcbd : sooner you young folks tuffiSap into ! brothers-in-law, or whatever th4 relations will be—you understand —the better it will suit me.'* ^ If Nelly blushed a rosy red; abet Marshall was radiant with happi^ ness, and the face ctf good Mrs! Gelston beamed with delight On all and espesially on her husband} why it would be no more than you and I W.opld expect Under, thehcirl cumstances. And s6 tfrd w*edc3ngs took place in that month of 'Majr: Not a double wedding where pedpte married in platoons, but two sepi erate weddings on rtwp sp^erate days, each bride from thchbiae of her father. They were neither d£ tliem to-be robbed of theNhoffo# and pleasure of their owmWbdding day. The boundary of their indi vidual lives was tb be marked each* By its own solemn and joyous'erff- emonial, -where the best fiieii' p&i rents had was none too good faff their daughters’ marriage.—Al bany Press. Tile Old and tlie Sew South. Mr. Henry Watterson, the Keii-! tack thorongbbred, asks what thd difference is between the old south and the new south. That ip a very, easy conundrum to guess. The old south had a hoi tion that the yankee’s love of golct and his willingness to work' for rfc were the characteristics of a rath er vulgar mind” ’ ” \‘- The 1 new south suddenly found a lot of iron and coal miries on ite estates, become excited, peeled off its swallow tail coat, rolled up 1 ltd sleeves and taken a greit -fcig oath? that it will gel more money thaif the yahkee ever dreamed of, oili know the reason why. •And, great Scott! it will do W too, if we are not careful.—New York Herald. . Jr- The railroads have refused re-" duced rates to the Grand Army 6 men for the national encampment at Milwaukee, and the Grand Army officers Urge the different posts to send only a limited num ber* of delegates. EUi’EPSr : •• . . This is what you: ought- to’ kaVef in fact, you must have it, to fully” enjoy life. ‘ Thousands are search ing- for it daily, and moarnin'g be-/ cause they find it not. Thousands.’ upon thousands cf • dollars are - spent annually by oiir people- in? the hope that they may attain this boon. And yet it may be Had by- all. We guarantee, that- Electric' Bitters, if used according to di-- rections and the use persisted in7 will bring; you Good Digestion and' oust-the demon Dyspepsia and in-' stall instead Enpepsy. mend Electric Bitters sia and • all disease: Stomach and Kidne; 50c; and SI.00 per Hcltzclaw &. Gilbert, ] ' A Cincinnati other day paid $1 for velope containing would enable hit beer. When ‘he found on a small “Don’t sell so much CONSUMPTION SUBELY ' TO THE .SBI'TOE— ers tliat i have a. posiEire nanjea dlfiease. Bjrita tiraejy hope!e.« cases.have beeV. I siKSl.fceglad to send two dy tree to any of yonr readers sumjitKmlf they will s and pcs: office address. T- i.3LcGUM..3t c. to open card fro