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* ft J;, -<3 v W mljhh - ! - • ‘ : ■- v K lllil VOL. XIX. Tombar, or the White Dove. By W. T. Dumas. Ha looked every inch a prince, did Tombar. Indeed,' according to his own testimony, which no one thought it worth his while disputing, he did have royal blood in liis veins, being the son and lieir apparent of a powerful African king. Ho could remember the time, when a child of seven years, he with his father, mother and a band of armed warriors, had made an expedi tion to the coast for the pttrpose of procuring that article indispensable alike to the civilized and the savage—salt. It was on the return journey that their camp was one night surrounded and, after a desperate battle, his father, mother and most of the warriors were slain. He was found clinging to the bleeding body of his mother, and with the rest of the survivors was carried away captive. Ho could remember seeing men with red coats on and a great ship. He, with others, was packed, like sardines, in the noisesome bold. He could recall the stench, the thirst, the fever, the agony of the voyage; the pitiless sea beneath, the pitiless men in red coats above. At last, after what seemed an eternity of misery, the slaver anchored; he was driven down the gangway and onco more breathed the pure air of heaven —no longer a captive but a slave. He was bought by a Georgia planter who carried him to his plantation near the coast. Owing to his tender years he had little to do except to do odd jobs and engage in the sports of his dusky companions. But their pastimes and gambols had few charms for him, al though he excelled them all in activity and endurance. He was distinguished for a gravity far beyond Ids years, being usually moody and isilent and consequently rather unpopular with this playmates. Their aversion was, however, born of fear rather than of positive dislike. Ho would seclude himself whenever ho could, and grieve and stretch his hands toward the east and utter words in an unknown tongue. All bis life seemed to go out in regret for the country that was to be his no more. Hence the rest of the plantation darkies, ’with the superstition of their race, regarded young Tombar as an uncanny being in league with the evil one. Ho was, himself, tho victim of a Strang.) fancy, childish but poetical. Through the edge of tho plantation ran a large river,on the banks of which it was Tombar’s delight to stroll in his aimless fashion. Ho was seen, one summer’s afternoon, to plunge into its waters. Being an expert swimmer, it was supposed that lie was amusing himself by indulging in that ex ercise, but as he rose and sank, making no effort to sustain himself, one of tho field hands, working near, jumped in and rescued him. “Not,” as he afterward explained, “fur de sake of de nigger hisself; he mout er drowned, God knows,biit case Marse. George moot er raised . nlcbbil erlong er me fur a lettin’ of him do it.” When restored to consciousness and asked the cause of his strange conduct, ho pointed towards the ocean, saying that if he could but sink in the river, it would carry him to tho sea, and the sea, in some unexplainable way, would bear him under its waves to his loved Africa, and ho would awake there as from a dream. After this ho was watched closely, and when ever he exhibited any tendency to submarine transmigration, which, for a long time, he fre quently did, lie was subjected to tho overseer’s whip and put in solitary confinement. The latter punishment seemed most effective, as he would receive the former with sullen endu rance and an air showing plainly that his spirit was unconquerable. Tombar grew to be a great man, stalwart, broad-shouldered and proud in his bearing. His superior intelligence, strong, almost Cau casian features, proclaimed .him to have no kinship with the ordinary Guinea negroes with whom the plantation was stocked. His physical peculiarities, coupled with his own story, indicated that he belonged to some in terior tribe remote from the coast. He never did anything to incur the charge of voodooism, yet the mere fact of his being an African was sufficient to make tho simple negroes regard him as a mighty conjurer who could, if he chose, at any moment put them under the in fluence of tho evil eye. On winter nights, when grouped around a fire of blazing logs, relating stories of ghosts, goblins, witches and other monsters known to their folk-lore, Tom bar was always associated, somehow, in their minds with the eerie portion of the narrative. His silence, rarely broken, and the fact that never, in all his life, had he been known to Smile, intensified their belief in his su pernatural powers. They would not have been surprised at any time to have seen him disappear in sulphurous flames or metamor phose himself into a huge black snake and be gin his diabolical mischief by swallowing all the little negroes on the place. Consequently none were surprised at what happened in the sequel of this storjr. It was on a hot summer afternoon that Tombar stood in the lot grooming his master’s horse. It was a work of which he never tired. He seemed to find more congenial company among God’s dumb creatures than among his fellow slaves, who feared and respected but could not love him. As he'.stood with one hand resting fondly on the horse's mane, there suddenly appeared, in ! the air above him, a pure, snow-white dove. It circled around and around, as if seeking a rest ing place, its wings gleaming in the sunlight, and finally, as softly as a feather, it lighted on Tombars’s head. After perching there for an instant, it fluttered fondly about his breast, j then, cooing plaintively, it mounted straight | up and out of sight in a moment. The negro ■ seemed dazed; a vacant, far-away look camo into his eyes, and he stood as motionless as if the current of his life had been suddenly ar rested by some powerful enchantment. What was it? Whence did it come? Where had it gone? What did it mean? These were some of the questions that were in tho minds of tho bystanders when they were capable of reflection. Never before hail such a bird been Seen in that neighborhood. When tho dazed negro came to himself, which he did with a start, ho said solemnly, almost mechanically, to his master who was standing near and had witnessed the occur rence: “Good-bve, Marne George; Tombar's done be ’n sent for; Tombar must go.” “Where are you going, Tombar?” asked his master. But tho only reply that ho could elicit was: “J’s g“in’ to the lan' of tho lion.” His master laughed at him for his supersti tion and before night had forgotten the cir cumstance. The rest of the day, Tombar moved about as one in a dream. Ho evidently regarded tho • incident as a premonition of approaching : death, but, if he did, ho exhibited neither joy j nor sorrow at the prospective occurrence. Tho next day, at noon, the overseer reported that ha had a largo quantity of fodder hanging i in the field, perfectly cured,: ml that hr- would ! need all the spare help on the place to get It ■ snug in tipie to escape the rain whieii he pre dicted would como In tho afternoon. Gonso- I qucntly the cook, stable boys, all the picka- ' ninnies from the quarters, and the house girls oven, were ordered to ti.o field to help harvest the forage. Among the rest wont Tombar, 1 who worked more Kre an automaton than a man. Ail hands worked fast ami furious as the storm, which the over ;.-r r’s weathi r wis- Aom had f reset a. wi.?>■■;• ral liwjp pj Sf] with thunder and hanging out its banners of lightning. Just as the last k indle had been thrown upon the stack, and a victorious shout ftomtbo I light-hearted crew announced the completion of their task, tho rain began to fall in great . sheets, and the thunder teemed to shake tho hills. Every one. except Tombar, ran for home, less than a mile distant, knowing that tli« rest of the evening was theirs, and what indoor jollity would reign in the quarters. Tomb ar was seen to seek shelter under a tall pine that stood near tho center of the field. Night came, but Tombar did not. His ab sence, however, was not noticed, as ho was supposed to be somewhere on the premises, his strange ways and solitary habits having gained him no little liberty in this respect. I Ho was not at breakfast next morning, nor could any one remember having seen him sineo tile previous evening in tho field. The ov< rscer, suspecting him of having run away, whistled his hounds and, with his assistants, went again to the scene of yesterday's labor. vV hen within about a hundred yards of the tree, under which Tombar had taken refuge, he was seen standing close to tho trunk, but to tho overseer’s admonition to “stir up your stuuins. you lazy nigger, or it will be worse for you,” there was no response. On going closer, and wi-athfully raising his whip for the pur pose of chastising him for his stubbornness, his hand dropped nervelessly to his siuo. To those crowding around, the reason was soom apparent, for there erect, rigid, with a face of awful serenity turned toward the cast, stood Tombar—dead. Tho treo against which ho was leaning, was riven from top to bottom. A single scorched spot on his breast told how swiftly and surely the lightning had done its work, and those who bent over him remember ed the White Dove. > COWED THE HENDERSON GANG. A’l Incident in the Life of a Tavern Keeper in up Ohio River Town. ' From the New York Suu. “Speaking about nerve,” said Brooks, as he sat at a table in the office oi the Commercial Travel ers’association, “the bravest man I over met was one Prescott, of Evansville, Ind. He was a daisy. I often stayed at his place—a sort of tavern, saloon, billiard room and dance hall combined. It was like tli’s: There was a bit of property which had been idle for years. All sorts of men had tried to run it, but they had to get out. They lacked the required nerve. T.ie bloods would cross over from Hender son, Ky., and make it disagreeable for the landlord. They would play his billiards and drink his whisky, and then when asked for pay would set in and clean bis shop ou‘. Finally this man Prescott heard of this property ft r s de, found the price low, and so bought it In. But I don’t suppose he knew just what ailed the property, for he was from New Hampshire. “I just wish you could have seen the cuss! Why, he didn't look big enough to whip a cat. He was one of those Slim Jims, with sandy hair and weak legs, a sallow-faced, light, watery blue-eyed fellow. I was travelling Utfouah there at that time, and I happened along X week or so after Prescott got started. He had fixed the place up in style. I drove up at dusk, put out my team for the night, and, after a drink, prepared to go out for the evening. I noticed ten strapping young bloods in' the billiard room. They were dressed well, and had gold watches with long chains. There didn't seem to be anything the matter with .them, and t left Abera playing Uftfcmlt and smortng notf *n 1 then a call on the bar. when T got back to the tavern, after a while, the same crowd was there, and there didn’t seem to be anything the matier with them then. But Prescott said to me, (I was a Vermonter, and he and 1 felt some what acquainted): “ ‘l’m afraid these boys will give me trouble.’ “ ‘Why?’ “ ‘Well, this is that Henderson gargthat I’ve heard so muc’.t of. They're all rich n e i’s sons, and think they can run things. Their game is to get all they can and pay nothing lb.- it. But they will have to pay me for what they get before they get out of here!' “He said it all as qu’et as if he lai just remarked he thought it would r..i i next day. I sat smoking near the stove, where 1 could see the young bloods in the billiard rot m. I declare they seemed to be very decent young m n. They had been to the bar petty often, and they were a trifle lively in their play, and may! ea bit loud in their conversation, but th it was all, and why Presco't was afraid of trouble I couldn’t for tie life of me make out, “But pretty i oon they began to show their band. First, two of them took a good stiff drink and a cigar apiece, and then jo ked their thumbs over their shoulders as they moved toward the door. “ ‘The other fellers’ll make this all right.’ “‘Prescott said‘Very well,’and then he bowed them out like a prince of the royal line. Then a couple more took a big drink and the best cigars, and out they went. “ ‘The other boys in thar’ll settle the score?’ “ ‘Th re were now half a dozen big ones left in side. Pretty soon they came out, too. They ranged along the bar, filled two or three times around, and then started for the door. ‘“Stop." “They paused, then looked around mildly re proachful at Prescott, who stood behind the bai. One ot the party said: “ ‘Well! what d’ye want!' “Prescott, with his thin, white face, showing no more emotion than a brass kettle, remarked: “ ‘Gentlemen, you've forgotten something. Please to pay for what you've had.’ “ ‘Wall—we’ve got no money. Pay yer some other time.’ “Then something happened. The little white livered cuss of a Prescott sprang over the bar like a cat, his long, white apron Hying between his legs; and before the Kentuckians comprehended what was to happen, he iiad his back against the doo ■, and the six toughs covered with two big horse pistols. His face was us white as eha!!:, but I tell you his blue eyes blazed. In an instant, after recov ering from their surprise, tho gang reached for their guns. But Prescott had them too well covered. He said: “ ‘The man that attempts to draw his shooter gets a hole through him as big as a barrel. Not a man shall leave this room till Tie had what's due me.’ •‘lt lo kel very mu :li like blood there for about a miuute, but Prescott’s blazing eyes nnd his ugly looking guns took the starch out of the toughs, and pretty soon they tried to slink out of range. One of them said: “ We left our money home. Let us out and we’ll fetch it to yee.’ “ ‘No—you—don’t.' “Tills was Prescott’s de'erminedanswer. Indicat ing one of the party with a pistol, he said: “ ‘You put your watch on the cigar ease,’ “Ho did us directed. It was a gold repeater. “The big hone pistols were lowered. “ ‘Now, gentlemen, come up and have something on me.’ S'Prescott said this with all tho suavity Imagina ble, as ho resumed his place behind the bar, and pretty soon the Kentuckians were lifting in liquor as naturally us If nothing unusual had occurred. "Money? Why, that gng was full of It. They stood up and culled for round after round, and paid for It, and refused to take any change. Os course after awhile tl.ey got tire land wanted to lean up against the furniture, while one of them insisted on I kissing the bartender. Finally they went offloaded right to the muzzle, but perfectly gool natured. They took t'.o gold watch along, of course. But I they left about a hundred collars of good Kentucky I m n y in t ie place of it. “A year later 1 stop; e l at Prescott s again. "'Well, Prescott, have the Henderson boys cleaned “He smiled. The most profitable customers h bad were tl.osc wild Header, on l.o; s. They knew nerve wix: they saw it, and they liked it." T/ .’/; "It’s an 111 wl d that blows nobody I ‘ r 1110.I 110 . ! .-„..‘.-S. r -4..u.. J . iqj..,. i.a- '. hw "fi f - , '! I The Indians l ave taken so sniokin : • garet ■ . K v let them stand ar iund ■ lbe rrol ' km ; ATLANTA, GA., TUESDAY, DECEMBER 6, 1887 A HOLIDAY PASTIME. New York Fireside Companion. i A shock of red hair, a pair of the lightest of blue eyes, a dawning, sickly mustache, and bands and feet of ample dimensions,Phil Dodd certainly did not very closely resemble Apollo, or nny other of those ancient models of manly [ beauty. But his homely face beamed with per petual good humor, and his big hands wore brown with honest toil. On this particular afternoon ho was weeding in the front garden, with occasionally an ex pectant glanec down the country for the stage coach. For tho Dodds had been making prepa i rations, for a week past, for the reception of summer boarders, who were to arrive that afternoon in tho shape of two young ladies. Phil, the only son and heir of tho Dodds, had nt first decidedly objected to “bavin girls posterin round tho place.” But he had boon ! so far won over by liis sagacious mother’s rop ■ resentation of tho profits to be reaped tliere -1 from as to help forwarding the preparations, even going to the extravagance of painting tiie buggy and whitewashing tho front fence. Now, as ho stood awaiting their arrival, with an eagerness which ho would not have betrayed for worlds, lie was picturing to himself bow ho would receive them. He meant to adyanco gracefully to the stage and assist them to alight, with a bow and a few polite words of welcome, just as he had seen tho city chaps do at the now hotel. But, alas! for human resolves! No sooner did the lumbering old stage appear on top of the hill than his courage completely forsook him, and he ignominiously retreated to tiie rear of the house. Thence, from a screened retreat, he watched rough, honest old Ephraim Dodd assist two visions in bright summer costumes and lace parasols to alight while Ma Dodd, fresh from the kitchen, stood in tho doorway, arms akimbo, to receive her guests. "What a domed fool I atn,” was Phil’s men tal comment; thinking consolingly, however, that no one but himself know of his defeat. But his next thought was, how vtis he ever to face them at tea? He would have kept a fast that night, rather than go through that ordeal, but ho kew ho could not escape his anxi ous mother’s inquiries as to his non-appear ance. But there was some latent heroism in Phil, ar knowing that the worst must come, be summoned all his courage and marched boldly into tlic dining-room at his mother’s summons. “This is my son, Phil,” announced the proud mother, with an air which plainly said, “and I reckon you ain’t seen many like him.” “And Phil this is Miss Lorraine,” indicating a quiet, lady looking girl, who merely bowed and murmured some words of greeting. “And this is Miss Vernor,” continued tho worthy woman. A white bund was extended, which ho grasped almost mechanically in liis big, brown paw, and a pair of blue eyes glanced coquet* islilv at him, as Miss Vernor said, sweetly: “Flow do you do, Mr. Dodd.” Mr. Dodd! It fairly took his breath away. .Sure she must have meant “dad;” but tho young lady evidently know Vi hat she was say ing as she also addressed “dad” as Mr. Dodd. That meal which Phil liail so dreaded passed off in an extremely satisfactory manner. M iss Vernor completely won “Mann” Dodd’s heart by the praises she bestowed on her biscuit and butter, and strawberries; and she so complete ly bewildered poor Phil by the bowitelling glances she bestowed on him that he lost his appetite entirely. In the long summer days that followed, tho city girls explored tho farm, sketched fin tiie. woods, nnd expressed unbounded delight and astonishment at everything they saw. And Miss Vernor insisted on pressing Phil into her service. He must go witli them to show them where tiie nicest ferns grew, and tho best streams for fronting, and a thousand and one other things. It mattered not to tho despotic little lady that it was the busiest part of the haying season, and Farmer Dodd’s dis gust and chagrin at liis son’s shirking clear of the work “to dance round after a couple of gals” were alike unheeded by her. As for Phil—would he not have gone to the north pole at the bidding of these l ine lips, or at a glance from those wondrous, violet eyes? His life was a feverish dream of biiss and fortune. Ho thought how tamo existence had been before her coming, but he dared not think what it would be like after her departure. The money ho expended in hair oil and per fumery almost rendered him bankrujtt. The two girls were seated in the “best room” at the close of a sultry August afternoon, Miss Vernor vigorously using her fan. “So this is our last day here,” she remarked, languidly. “Well, I have rather enjoyed rus ticating, and shall go back to city fortified for any amount of dissipation.” “Yes, Ido think the worthy people have dune their best to entertain us,” said her friend, absently. “Especially Phil,” said Miss Vernor, with a soft little laugh ; “helms really proved inval uable. Do you know, he has asked mo to go for a drive with him tonight.” "Well, do you think it is quite right to lead him on as vou are doing?” said her friend, so berly. “lie is so innocent—or perhaps you would term it ‘verdant’—that I believe ho thinks you aro in earnest.” “I lead him on 1 Why, May, what are you thinking of ?” said Miss Vernor, with a pretty assumption of surprise. “Yes, any one can see that he is head over ears in love with you. But then I believe you would flirt with a gorilla if nothing more available came in your way.” “You astonish me, May, by your profound insight into human character,” said her friend with a languid smile. “But there is tho bug gy at the door, so I suppose I must make liasux and not keep my cavalier waiting,” and gay, heartless Nell donned her most coquettish hat and tripped down stairs. How peaceful everything seemed, “With distant echo from the fold and lea," ns they bowled along tho smooth country road. There was nothing very poetical in Phil’s composition—lie was much better versed in horse-lore than in analizing nature’s moods; but he felt, in an indefinable manner, the con trast between the claim of outward things and his own inward, feverish unrest. For Phil had resolved to learn liis fate to night. He had brought Miss Vernor out lor the express purpose of asking her to share bis | name and fortunes. True, she did seem rather i above.him; but then, had she not given plain proofs of her attachment to the country anil of her preference for himself? Besides, he was consider! d rather a “ketch” | with the farmers daughters round about. . There was “Mariar" Black, who would give | hl ■■ eyes to be mistres.iof the Dodd farm. But : “M ariar’s” charms paled immeasurably before i those of his brllliaat companion. “>So this ia my last evening at Peunyville,” Miss Vernor’s dulcet tom-; were saving. “J . know y. u must be glad, Pliil, wo have been such a bother to you.” J Giro was his opiiortunity. “I didn’t know- -1 -I thought tnnylx.- you’d I coieJmlo to stay meirrir- “O, tint would lie impossible," she said, with j an irrepressible giggle. The bare thought of spending the r' st of h<a ! gayety-loving life with bustling “Marm” Dodd so appealed to her of the ludicrous , that she sunk back in her seat shaking with suppressed laughter. “O, when I axed you to stay. I meant, of course, for you and me to git hitched,”-said Phil, eagerly, plunging boldly into tho matter. “You must have seen that I like you a heap better than any of tho gals round here,” ten s dorly, attempting to embrace her. 1 But Miss Vernor’s self-possession had re ; turned, and thinking her dupe had gone far enough, she said icily: ’ “I think you aro very presumptuous, Mr. r Dodd : what right have you to talk in that way tome?” ) Phil stared at her aghast. “What right!” he cried, in a passion of dis r appointment and pain: “why, hain’t you ' given mo reason enough to think that you sot something by me? Couldn't 1 ha* got, as 5 likely gals as there was in tho hull Country side, only I'd rather take you, it you bad been I a beggar, than any one else with the best farm t in the state.” Tho awkward boy was gone, and a man with a passionate, wounded heart sat there in liis ’ stead. I “I am surprised that you over thought it i possible I could care for you,” she returned, Coldly. “I never dreamed that yon would so misconstrue my friendship.” Truth to tell, the petted Miss Vernor felt ’ just, a little embarrassed at liis just wrath, and 1 the rest of the drive was performed in uuediu fortablo silence. i She said nothing to Mayot this episode, fcel- I ing in no mood fur reproaches. Besides, sotno j thing in Phil’s face made In r conscience give a few unusual twinges; so, with a feeling of re lief that she was so soon to leave the farm and > ,ifs.ininatos she fell asleep. , How long slia slept slio knew not. but she s awoke with a suffocating feeling and n sense of impending danger. She groped her way to the p door and opened it, when a volume of smoke and fiamo rolling up the stairway drove her ’ back, half fainting with terror. At the same > time the sound of excited voices and cries of [ “fire!” from below told her that the household ( had also discovered their danger. j They called wildly to her to come down, but when she again tried the stairway, again the flames drove her back. She sunk down with a > moan of despair, but some one dashed up tho , burning stairs, wrapt her hastily in a blanket, and bore her out of the room. Down tho blazing stairway, as through a fur nace, they passed. They had reached tho hall; ' a few steps more and they would gain the door; but, overpowered by tho deadly heat, her pre r server sank.on one knee with his almost lielp i less burden. I “O, God!” cried I’hil's voice; "we shall die!” And then Nell lost consciousness. When she again opened her eyes she was ly ing on the grass, with May Lorraine’s anxious face bending over her. Dark figures were liur ' lying hither and thither, and the whole sconce 1 was lighted up by tho glare of the burning ’ building. . But whose was that dark, motionless form > borne along on a shutter, with features burned , ami blackened horribly? ■ With a terrible instinctive knowledge, tho gay city belle covered her face with her hands to. shut out the sight. *- She knew tho whole story afterward—how ho had rushed through almost certain death to save her, and had died with her name on his lips. Her remorse for her heartless conduct toward him was keen and sincere. She remembered no mure bis homely features and ungainly ways; she thought only of tho hero's soul that burned ip that rough frame. It was no longer the heartless flirt, that re turned to her gav city home. The pa:,time of breaking men’s hearts had lost its old charm for Nell Vernor. And if ever she did feci tempted lo trille with an holiest affectum, tho sight of Phil's white, despairing fa; , mi tho evening wlion she had crushed his hope, rose up before her with startling distinctiveness, and checked that folly at which the world laughs. —————— L'on M. Dickinson's Nerve. Correspondence B >ston Globe. The continued rumors of Don. M. Dickin s-n s appointment to L- postmaster puicriJ annoy (ho countless fricn ls of Fiust Assistant roshnnster- Gcnend Stevenson, than whom there is no one whom the democrats of tiie country would rather ace promoted. Mr. Dickinson Is a very sharp citizen. He ,captured tho ad ministration ut lirst sight, and his grip has not weakened since, although the democratic congress men from Michigan have done all they could to shake it. An incident of the democratic convention nt Grand Rapids last August furnished an illustration of a leading e’ara tisic of the new statesman from tii.i Wolverine state. Rev. Mr. Tilden oj ened tiie proceedings of (he convention with a prayer, in which he invoked biesulugs on Jefierson, S. J. Tilden and others, but failed tomention President Cleveland. M I) rkinson then ir> cto address tho convcn tior. A hush fell on tiie great gathering, as with lie. d erect and flashing eyes, lie said: ■ M . Chairman and (icntlcm n »t the convention: I libtened with bowed head rnd reverent heart to tho eloquent invo< aon of th,, r verend genfl man with the s tcrod nam ”. II oliicc here wa to voice to prayer the hearts of the members of tho convi n tlon, but J rnis el in his utl'.ramts that sentiment which J b<d e .od to be uppermost in every breast in this body, and with the uttermost rev rmco I can speak that sentiment.” Then with uplifted hands aid with full and solemn voice headed, ‘God i.i .s and mvc and keep the democrat of democrat.*-, then b t > them all, Grover 0 vcland, president o the U i T iis charming nerve Inoe’red the kickers out. and not only was there not a whisper <d’« rii i» i m utte red against the administ ration d-G ini' i o con vention, biitu strong ind'jrsement <i. C evelaiid went through without udls-.cnting voice. -—— - -♦ Signs uud Omens of Negroes. When er crane Uy over de roof nv de cabin cn call “corpse! corpse! corps-!“ ar’B er death wamdiu’! When wilo birds takes t»jr flutterin’ on flittering ’ronn’ er house Homcbo ly in dot housegwine jrijikij. Ob, Jx>’d, dig de grave when de crow lights on de ' roof er de house. Hear er whip po’-will in day time is death sign for some pusson, en dut pussou ain't gwine die in de bed. Squlnch-ow 1 shivers for somebody's death-call. Wood peckers come peekin’ at trees 'bout de cabin do’—de sho' is nailin' cuiiiu lids fur some pu son in dat house. When er rooster turn ho face to'ards do house cn cr<>w inter do do’, death gwine e nuo in dat do' cn take out who he want. Chickens den tgo ter rwst ’fo’ sundown lessen some death lx.* cornin' nigh. When t>>e Hot Scot Nought to Kiss ffer» I From the Nineteenth Century. Several years ago the wife of a scientific man was seized with what is called “hysterical’' paia!ysis of the lower limbs. She was informed I the h T Inability to walk was not the r ;ilt ;of any I organic Change, but merely of nervous debility, • and bhe received the usual routine advice/ vk.: that i “she might tight against her f-. Jlbgi an 1 make constant ctrorts to overcome the pandy kby force ! of will.” She followed this advice for a long time, ’ t'fort’pts at walking and resigned her.ulf to th • igno j i/.’.ny of a bath chair. After mouths of r< s. the uno I of her limbs was Mildcnly rcstor.,l to her. On J.iw.Ute v •■rt-,-' rr r . "*i. ‘v. p•’ ! per. During hh itVx.nc j a half intoxicated high j iande. approached the Indy and thrcatGiiod to kiss j i»4f. in terror she jumped from thi bath chair and ■ made off in search of her Lu-.tiand. From the date of that incident she gradually recovered her j power of locomotion. THE COLONEL’S TALE. From All Year Round. It was late—after midnight—nnd as wc got up from the whist table and gathered around the lire, Colonel Thornton said: “If you men are not too tired, and don’t mind sitting up for another half hour, I think I can tell you a good story.’’ Wo protested wo were never less tired, and could sit up till morning if necessary. So tho colonel began: “My father, as you Know, was a parson, but lie took orders late in life, after having been fifteen years at tho bar, and the events of which I am going to tell you he, himself, told mo as having come directly under his eye when he was a barrister, “It was at the Monmouth assizes, in 18—, that a case was tried which became tho talk of the m ighborhood and country for years after. My fntlior was sitting in the court of the as sistant judge, when a note was brought to him from a friend in tho adjoining court, asking him to come and hoar n case of more than usual interest, the facts of which wore these: “Some time b(‘foro a farmer’s horse near Monmouth had been broken into and robbed by men disguised and masked, tho farmer murdered and his servant shockingly ill-treat oti. Among other things which were stolen wore two old-fashioned silver brooches, curi ously inlaid with malachite, heirlooms of tho family ; and although unremitting search was made, and the description of the lost articles made widely known, no trace of the mur derers could bo found. “A month or two after the murder, how ever, a police oilicer, in going through a com mon lodging house in Bristol, noticed a dissi pated looking sailor lying on a pallet and resting his head on a small bundle. I lo asked him what it contained, and was told that, it was ‘only his kit.’ Tho officer, not satistied, opened the bundle, and almost tho first things to fall out were the two brooches made of silver and malachite. Struck by their curious beauty, and wondering how such a wretched looking fellow could have become possessed of them, ho suddenly remembered the advertisement and description of the stolen articles. “‘How did you come by those?* bo in quired. “The sailor replied: ‘By cluirce. When I camo .ashore some limo ago with plenty of money in my po kct. I mot an old seaman who was down on his luck, and ho offered to sell mo these things, which had belonged to his mother. I was pretty flush, ami gave him a good price for them, although tln v were use less to mo. And that’s all about it? “The police officer, still dissatisfied, took him into custody. Ho was sent to Monmouth gaol, the brooches wore identified, and he was committed for trial at the assize on the charge of theft and murder. And.” continued the colonel, imuD'ssively, “ a t my father entered the court, Un.j man was being placed in the dock. “Tall then average height: and gaunt, with Un unkoot board, ami an evil, yellow eye, and though evidently suffering from his long imprisonment, he yet presented a powerful and imposing front. The trial had begun, and he hud just been asked tlie usual cj'.ioKtion: ‘Arcyou guilty or not guilty?’ and had answered in a hollow voice: ‘Not guilty, my lord,’ when the entrance of one of the court officials with a, gentleman stopped the prone Klings for a while. And here 1 must ex plain th is intei runt ion. “A few days before a quiet, gentlemanly man, a Captain Forsyth, of his majesty’s navy, had arrived ut the chief hotel of the town on a fishing excursion; but the weather had been so adverse that he was obliged to look else where for amusement. Tuininjj to tho land lord for information, he was told of this trial ns exciting considerable interest, ami so it came. (.> pass that, ns the prisoner took his place at the bar, Captain Forsyth sent his card to the judge, who gladly allowed him, us was then the custom, a sent on flu bench. “Tim <-as? proceeded'; witnesses were called to identify the bro<»ches, the servants swore to the figure of the prisoner as resembling that of the murderer; no u itnessos were called for his defense;—no one defended him; everything pointed to his guilt, ami the jury retired to their room. In a few minutes they returned, and, amid the breathless expectation of the crowded Court, tho foreman announced their opinion that the man was ‘Guilty.* “Din < tly this word wamt tored, the prisoner, Who hud been leaning as if for support against tho side of the dock, raised himself to his full height, stretched out both hi c hands above his head, ami, looking up, exclaimed in a broken voice: ‘.sot guilty; not guilty,* “The judge then asked him, as was usual, if ho had anything to say before sentence should he pronounced, ami the prisoner< riod hoarsely, ‘ Not guilty, my lord, not guilty ; before heaven ami man lam innocent of this crime. 1 never set iny eyes on the murdered man ; I did no murder. Oh! captain, captain— ? in his vehe mence ho addrc.jsed the judge as if he wr?rehis officer ‘f am as innocent of this crime as the babe unborn.’ lie paused, then suddenly, in a voice choking with feeling, ho exclaimed: ‘'Yes, yc , only one man can save me now; but he ran do it, swear what you may. The Lord be thanked, that man is here.’ “A buzz of astonishment ran round the court; tho feeling of awe that had held the audit neo <d:an;,c<i into one of amazement. “ 'joint him out to inc,’ said the judge. “ ‘The man who can save me,’ replied th© pr loner, ‘bits there beside you,’ pointing to the astonished ('apdain Forsyth. “The judge turned to Captain Forsyth and raid; 'This man appears to know vou. Is it tlmc.se?’ '•‘i; lainiy not,’he replied, much surpris ed’ ‘1 mA or saw him before in my life.’ “ ‘Oh, < aptain,’ broke in tho prisoner; ‘yes, you m rded start, I know you, Captain For syth. Vou are never going to swear away an innocent man's life like that?’ “‘it is curious, my man,’ the captain re plied. ‘that you know my name; hut I repeat that I never saw you before in my hfo.’ •“What? Not know John Williams of the Neptune? Tho coxswnim of tho captain’s cutter?’ “ ‘ Y(is, J know John Williams, but you aro not he. John Williams was the smartest man that ever served under me, and never likely to stand where you uro now.* “ Captain,’ rep'-ated the prisoner, ‘I tell you Jam John Williams. A long illness, a hard Ismt of drinking and this cursed impris onment have made me what lam And I will prove it captain, I will prove it if you will only listen.’ “The sensation caused by this dialogue was immense. Tho judge, the members of the bar and tho spectators were equally astonished at the curio.is, tin n ti.o affair had taken, and, though believing the man to he guilty of a des perate deceit to save liis life, were eagerly awaiting what should come. “ ‘Captain,’ continued the prisoner, ‘I am accused of murder ng a man here on June 25th, more than nine months ago. Now, tell me, sir, was not John Williams--your cox swain invalided home from the West African station on the last of that month ?’ u ‘What tho man says,’ remarked Captain Forsyth to the judge, ‘is p rfectly turn. His majesty’s ship, tho Invincible, sailed with our invalided m<n for England on June ■‘•-'i.'.-. •p<; ;’Wt th ’»n r* ‘'Y'cTTaii’.l *1 urrive 1 in England at the end of July, weak ami ill, and getting my prize money, went and drank It all away. And that’s bow it was I was found at Brhtol, wh re I had gone for another ship; ami ever since then I have been in this accursed jail.’ “ ‘The follow is plausible enough,’ again re- PRICE FIVE CENTS. marked Captain Forsyth. ‘Ho is certainly about the height of Williams. Well, my man, I suppose you can prove what you say ?’ J “ ‘Av, ay, captain! Do you remember, on tiie 10th of last Juno, giving orders for a night raid on the native town off which we lay look ing out for slavers?’ “ ‘Yes, I do, to be sure? “ ‘Ami that we were live boats in all. And the first to beach was tho captain’s cutter. And the fiast man to jump out of it was youu captain?’ “AV ell, this is is the most extraordinary thing I ever hoard’’ Ami, turning to thn judge, the captain said: ‘Every word of thia poor fellow’s narrative is true, my lord. Ha may have picked it up somewhere; but 1 can’t help beginning to think there is soim thing be hind. My ship is still on foreign service, and» 1 have only returned to take charge of an« ot her one. “ ‘Well, go on, man.’ “Om‘ word more, captain, and maybe you will believe me. As wo were lighting in the town, a great nigger came behind you with his ax and would have cut you in half before you saw him had not a man rushed between and .‘‘topped him with liis cuthiss; and yctnotquito stopped him. for that infernal nigger’s ax slipped down the cut hiss and gashed the man’l head open. , Who was that man. captain?’ ”‘John Williams,* was tho reply, ‘the cox> swain of my cutter.’ “ ‘Ay, ay, canta n. and here is the cut which that ax made, ami, Lending down, he lifted with one hand his long, untidy hair, and with the other pointed to a huge, and fearful scar running for several inches along the side of his head. “Captain Forsyth leaped from his seat. “ ‘Good heavens, you are right! But how you have changed ! My lord, this poor fellow had not sailed from the African coast when the murder was committed; it is imposeibla that ho could bo guilty of it. Williams, you savod my lite : I thank God 1 havo been abl® to save yours!’ “At (Lose words everybody in tho court stood up and cheered the prisoner with tho wildcat excitement and enthusiasm; the judge said, iu discliarging him, he must at the same time compliment him on his gallantry; and the foreman of the jury then and there started a subscription for him, which came up tonoar Captain Foray th ordered u chaise to taka him post-haste to London, for tho purpose of removing Williams from a place with such horrible associations, and of getting him an ap pointment from the admiralty. The peoplo insisted on dragging tho chaise out of town with their own hands, the horses wero then put to, and amid deafening cheers they drove off—and wero never heard of again. “Why was that?” some one asked, os the colonel paused. “Because it was a hoax!” “What!” we all exclaimed. “A hoax!’* Wc had listened breathlessly to the tale.which the colonel certainly told admirably, tho per spiration standing on his forehead as with horrible reality he personated the desperate sailor. “V es,” be said, “u hoar, it wai all » precon certed arrangement; the captain was merely a cbwer who played such parts for those of h!S (WSbciatefc fn crime who camo near receiving their reward. This was probably his biggest performance; but though it answered well enough then, in these days of teiegraphio communication and multiplied navy lists, it would bo simply impossible.” WILD ELEPHANT HUNTING. From Harper’s Bazar. The village of Kottiar lies in the center of Tiimblegan bay.’on the’northo.ist coast ofCeylon, and it was here, nn ler a tamarind tree, which stUl stands, that Knox, with his sou, Captain Robert Knot, “the historian, *’ an I his ship’s crew, in tho year I<>VJ, were betrayed by the Kandyans, and thence carried prisoners to their mountain strong hold to remain in captivity fora period of twenty vear.4, by order of Rajah Singh 11. A neat little government rest-house for the use of ravoler.-i, built In tho time of tho Dutch ic < close t > the Landin * place, and is at present In charge of a piece of ebony called Mr. Lignum Vltie. A small charge is ma le to uh who occupy It, to as sist hi defraymg'oxponses. We commenced our journey up river, but not lielng able to obtain suiheient canoes, the (Odles had t-j walk up the banks, and to encourage them through the jungles wc each took it hi turn to wulfc with them. By recent heavy rains up country the river had unfortunately greatly swollen, and the banks In many places were overflown, also, tbs surrounding flat country; what were or ginnlly rivu- I ts running Into the Ganga now became flowing rivers, aqji our progress under the circumstances, was much retarded. Most of the hlml’ low streams were got over but many deep and w I lo ones bud to be crossed and this was‘lone by cutting a fairly straight youn/r tree an I placing It between the forks of two others on eith r bank, then making a bun 1 rail of jungle rope, and in this way we hod Utile difficulty in crossing several of the worst streams. In one imtancc.only the hand ru.ll broke, prJclpitatlng a coolie with a ch eof our precious provision.' into the running stream, which was of course*lost forever an«l curried away by the cujreut The cool c was luck Hie saved. Having arrived safe and sound at Kauda Kadti, wc pitched our tent, changed into dry clothing, fix ed our camp beds, lit a roaring tiro, roasted the fat ted calf, ami dined “truly rural” on tho tut of the land, and soon retired fur the night. Rising early next morning from a most refreshing sleep, we found our trackers already on the alert, also a Ved <lnh tone of the aborigina l or wild men of the woods) who Offered his services, which were accept ed. After seeing to our guns nnd ammunition, and taking with us a few refreshments, we began our march alter the rogue who Lal bet u reported ta have committed all sorts of depredations tn the nelgbborhKid of late, nn I eou!d not then be very far ulf, as he had paid a visit during the night to oneof tho vlllnger.fi’gardens not two miles away, , and had torn up nearly nil bls I amimi trees. After nearly three hours wading through the Jun gle, with water up to our waists, wc came upon our game, and had only just time to Hlip behind one or two g(xxl trees when the elephant suddenly made his iiop -aruiice, making straight for us. I took thy first shot, and giving him the c intents of my 12 lx>r® rifle at 12 |>acesiust over the eye, he threw up hU head, turned tail and fled, trmnp' ting, smashing and leveling everything in bis headlong career, it was ImpoHsibie then to give him a second shot, owing to the large volume of smoke, which would not r.so. the atmosphere being tix> damp, but we immediately gave chase, and after a most exciting run of twenty minutes came iq>on him again in Jar better Jungle. 1 was again lucky enough to be first In the licl'l, nnd with a well directed shot, placed just behind the ear, tho ponderous brute tupplod over. dead, close to a jungle palm. Alter taking the brush we d auk our very good health, and were not al all sorry for a refresher alter so long and exciting a chase under the lays of u tropical sun. 'fo r< turn to our camp. To save lime and dl»- tance in retracing our step? we decided to cross tho river, so wo sent off our trackers to cut decayed jungle trees. Having done this, and brought tho trunks lo the river's side, we lashed them together and m idea raft,and then launched it Intot ho river No Msmur bud we done so than a loud bark and a h]*lh b came from a group of mangroves on the op puslte side. We looked ut each otner, and all knew well what those omlnlous splashes meant: but nev ertbelors we had made up our raft and minds also to (r >ss. The ferryman, or Kanda Kada. who accompanied us, aby no means inferior tracker, and known to most S|K>rUunen who have travelled in this part of the <^untry, was a very strong Moor, as plucky aa they can bo made, mi 1 a perfet t fsb In Die water. Having place I the guns and ammunition on th® raft, he boldly phingci into the river, regurdlcMl of the cio 'odlh s and sai m acro.s with it audits con .leutb tw the-cti.c •idr, undr L-.-.rug- wViy* landed * the cur-», trought tho raft back s r u«, maklna a noise tho white something like thu! thu! to drive away hD amphibious friends. The eldest member of our party had thew at of honor on the raft, and the other two not llklnz to I c outdone by the old ferryman, agre ed to a Lt their c jmrsd® over on this occasion; we plunged In also in our hunting at tire. and after tome time our minds w reset at rest by touching ground oh the opposite bank. !