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VOL. XIX.
UIGJME.
By Wallace P. Keed.
I.
For. The Constitution.
Henry .Dyson was alone in the little office at
the back end of his store.
Mr. Dyson was a pleasant looking man of
about thirty-five or forty, and his fellow-towns
men frequently pointed to him with pride as a
seli'-mnde business man.
But while everybody had a good word for
Henry Dyson, very few people spoke well ot
his brother Tom.
On the night onr story opens the merchant
was waiting for liis graceless brother, and as
the ’.ours rolled on the frown on his face grew
deeper.
“I can do nothing with Tout,” ho said as he
paced the floor impatiently. “I have given
him i very possible chance, but he grows more
idle and dissipated every day. Perhaps 1
ought not to wait for him, but ho was so urgent
in Ills request for an interview tonight that I
could not refuse. Poor fellow! What new
trouble can he be mixed up in ?”
The front door opened and a young man en
tered quietly, and, after a furtive glance
around the store, proceeded to the otlice.
“Well, Tom?” said Henry Dyson.
“I am here, you see,” replied Tom.
“I suppose,” said Henry “that it is useless to
ask why you are so late, er where you have
been during the past two days.”
Tom looked a little nervous, and his eyes
fell.
“That is neither here nor there,” be answered
in a swaggering way. ‘/bfiave bad some busi
ness of my own to lomc after, ami I. knew
that v. u were not short of help in the store.”
■•Well, what is it?” asked Henry abruptly.
“Biotlicr," Tern broke out hurriedly and in
a faltering voice, “1 must have some money,
two hundred dollars or so.”
•I wonder where you will got it,” Henry re
joined. “You will not get another cent from
m - licit is certain. Why should 1 toil here
and • conomize in order to furnish you with
funds to be lost at the gaming table?”
"If 1 do not get this money,” said Tom turn
ing very pale, "I shall have'to leave the coun
try."
"A good thing for the country, then,” snap
ped Henry, "Don't let me interfere, with your
travelling plans?”
Tom seemed to fall all to pieces at this reply.
He made one more effort.
"I hope you are not hard up, yourself,” he
eaid.
"I was never getting along better,” respond
ed the merchant, “but that has nothing to do
with tire case.”
Ho pulled open the door of the iron safe,
and pointed t > a little tin box.
“Do you see that?” lie asked, “Well, that
box contains twenty crisn one thousand dollar
bank notes. I drew the money from the bank
today for an investincht. No, Tom, 1 i:m
prospering, but I am tired of your endless
drain upon my purse. It must stop, and now
is the time.”
Henry rose from his ehair and went into a
’■“fl,-- ■ ■’<> < f for evcr.’ost
In an instant, before a man could count three
seconds, Tom had drawn the flat tin box from
the safe and slipped it into the breast of his
heavy overcoat.
His brother slowly emerged from the closet,
and put on his wrappings. Then he closed the
door of the safe with a click.
“I am ready to go,” he said. “Yon have no
further business with me, I presume?”
"No. sir.” Tom responded with a pale, de
termined face, “Neitbernow, nor later, good
bye.”
“Goodbye, old fellow,” said Henry with a
yawn.
Tom walked out of the store without another
word, banging the door after him.
"I know him,” soliloquized the merchant.
“He will not leave here. He will be around
tomorrow with a new proposition. Perhaps,
after all I had better look into his affairs, and
give him another chance.”
He walked slowly out of the building, and
locked the door. A glance up and down the
street showed him that Tom was not in sight,
and he then quietly made his way to his hotel,
where, he straightway went to bed.
11.
After leaving the store Tom hugged the tin
box to his breast, and walked at a rapid pace.
“It was an awful thing to do,” he muttered,
e- “but I had to have money, and I worked to
make some of it.”
The young man sped onward through the
deserted streets until he reached the river.
He cressed the bridge and started up the hill
on the other side.
His plan was plain enough. He was going i
to a suburban railway station to take the train
for the west.
Suddenly he pulled up with a jerk. He took
the t'n box from under his coat.
“The devil!” he exclaimed. “1 must have
been mad. lam no tiiief, and I will cut my
throat before 1 will become one. There is but
one thing to do. I will take the box back to
my brother, confess my folly, and then leave !
him.”
Ho turned and retraced his stops. When lie
reached the bridge he paused a moment and
looked over into the dark waters below.
"I may find peace there,” he said, gloomily.
He leaned over the railing and listened to
the «wist-rolling current.
“My God!” he cried. “The box! the box!”
It had slipped through his fingers, and al
ready the rushing waters were carrying it to
the sea!
Tom ran in the direction of liis brother's
hotel, and then wheeled about and ran back to
the bridge. His first impulse was to throw
himself into the rivf r.
"I am a fool!’’ he said. “Suicide will not
restore the money. 1 must be a man now if
there is any manhood in me!”
Across the river and over the hill, into the
thick darkness of the night, the guilty fugitive
fied. Mile after mile he walked like a mad
man.
The lights of the city disappeared from '
view, and Tom found himself wandering in an ’
unfamiliar locality.
Again the river camo in sight, ami the ,
wretched man decided to follow its course. It 1
was no’ far to the sea. He would go on to the
nearest port and ship as a sailor.
Anvi'i'ng to get beyond his brother’s reach,
and tin eyes of thr.se who know him!
Thus the light of day found him. but it was !
not likely ■ hat anyone along the riverside
would reci gnize him. There were few dwell
ing' . ami the people he met were farmers who
were not disposed to be unpleasantly inquis
itive.
So th • lialf-crazod man rushed on through i
tlic day. till at nightfall lie lliuped wearily into
a mall eaport town.
HI.
11-i.ry Dy son made every effort to find lire
inis'ing broth, r.
V. h< n In thought of the pained look in
Tom , eyes the night the poor fellow left, he
reproached himself for allowing him to go
S'-.r. without a kind word of encouragement.
The detectives t<x>k the matter up, and the
tieii,papers published an account of Tom’s
tuy ’terious disappearance.
But it was all of no avail. There was no
try • rm clew. and after a year or two the mr r-
Chanl ■ ame to tiic conclusion that his brutucr
was a dead man.
H un- Dyson continu'd to pr< s->er. He
*lo children came to malic his home still
'1 weuty years had rolled away, when one i
night the merchant found himself alone in his
ol’ico writing a letter.
As lie leaned back in his chair to take a mo
ment's rest he thought of the night a score of
years before when 'fom had visited him there
to make a last appeal.
Tear- came into the rich man’s eyes.
“Ho was my only brother.” he sobbed, “and
I acted like a brute. How easy it would have
been for me to have paid his little debts. Thon
1 could have watched over him. and in time
my love would have touched his heart, and he
would have turned out all right. But it is too
late now to think of these things.”
The door opened with hardly a creak, and
the merchant would not have known it but for
the rush of cool air.
Ile rose from his chair just in time to greet a
visitor who walked into the otlice u ithout even
a. knock on the door to herald his approach.
Henry Dyson looked upon him in speechless
astonishment. If he could trust his eyes this
was Torn Dyson, but not the Tom of twenty
years ago. He was an old man with wrinkled
face and white hair.
“Brother,” said the visitor, holding out his
hand, “are you glad to see me?”
With a joyous exclamation the other caught
him in his embrace, and then seated liim in a
; chair.
“This is a glad hour for me, Tom,” he said ;
“I had given you up for dead, and I have all
these years been reproaching myself for my
harshness to you that night, you know.”
“Hold on!” cried the other excitedly. “You
must not overwhelm me with such kindness
until I have made restitution. Here in this pack
age you will find the money to replace the sum
1 took from yoitr safe in the. little tin box. It
has taken me these twenty years to make it,
but here it is at last.”
“But I do not understand,” interrupted
Henry.
“Oh, but you must,” replied his brother.
“When you turned away to get your coat that
night I slipped the box out of the safe and
concealed it. Then you closed the safe uncon
scious of your loss, and I left you.”
“But the box was empty!” shouted Henry.
“Impossible.” answered Tom, “for yon told
mo that it contained twenty thousand dollars.
Well, 1 rushed off with the box, but repented,
and was on my way to return it when I care
lessly let it slip into the water when I crossed
the river. Now you know why I tan away and
concealed myself. I had but one object—to
maffe enough money to pay you back, and then
I would ask your forgiveness.”
“Oh what a foolish Tom!” said Henry.
“Why, man I found in the morning that my
bookkeeper had taken 1 lie money from the
box and carried it back to the bank that after
noon, wlien he found that I was not going to
use it until the next day. I missed the empty
box, but I never connected that with your dis
appearance.”
“Then this money—”
“Is yours,” said Henry, “but even if you
had lost my money, as you supposed, you
should have come back to me. I sometimes
talked roughly to you, but you ought to have
known how I loved you, Tom,”
The two white-haired men sat there till mid
night, talking about old times and making
th-’., plans lor-tbe-fuUwe.
“You must live with me, Tom," saidTlenry,
as he took him home. “I can’t trust you out
of my sight again.”
And Tom gave liis promise, at the same
time thanking the good Lord for blessing him
with such a big-beiirt-'il broti re-
These two kne.v no misi,n'uersu..iding and
no parting until death came to separate them,
and in all the city no man was more respected
and more beloved than Tom Dyson, liis big
mistake made a man of him.
CONDENSING RAIN.
A Novel Scheme to Produce a Downpour
with a Captive Balloon.
From the San Francisco Chronicle.
The remarkable powers and adaptability of
the electric current to the use of society has
been further demonstrated by an invention
which has at least the charm of novelty. Tills'
is nothing more nor less than a patent to open
the windows of heaven at the will of man, and
Micliiel Cahill, M. D.. of this city, claims the
honor of the invention.
The doctor returned to town a few days ago
from Washington, where he went to secure a
patent and bring before 1 lie notice of the gov
ernment liis strange contrivance. He was seen
yesterday afternoon by a Chronicle reporter, to
whom lie briefly explained the proposal.
“I expect to see the sage-brush deserts of Ne
braska and Nevada under cultivation and af
fording pasturage for thousands of cattle in a
few years,” began the doctor. “Should the
government adopt my patent, by its use there
need not be an acre of waste land on the whole
continent.
“By what extraordinary means do you intend
to tap the clouds and interfere with tbe.luv.sof
nature?” queried the reporter.
“Simply by a condenser or captive balloon and
i an electric cable placed wherever the rain is
required. I have long believed that rain could
lie produced by artificial means, and I have
warked at tliis hobby of mine for several years
—ever since I left college, in fact. You see,
first of all, vapor as it ascends receives heat
from tiie solar rays, which al o impels it up
ward until restricted by the cold. Tiie vesicles,
or dewdrops, iiciug crowded together, become
I electrified and float on the air at an altitude of
I front three to live thousand feet, all that is re
quired then to produce rain is to inter pt
these vesicles by artificial means. What I
have invented is a condenser of peculiar shape
and construction, ami connected with the
cartli by an electric cable. Whenever the ve
sicles come into contact with the condenser or
current they are broken up and the water
forced to the ground with great rapidity. '1 lie
rain will be produced l*y the same law as causes
condensation on a window-pane. The surface
of the glass is covered with microscopic point- ,
and on becoming chilled the layer of air next
it falls,allowing the vapor to How to the points
and from thence to the ground.”
"You will require a gigantic balloon for such
a purpose," was suggested.
“O, no. A condenser of about two hundred
feet in diameter will bring doUu something
like twenty-five million gallons a day, or a”
much as would irrigate almost half of this
' state. The volume of water can be devised or
forimd into rivers, whichever may l» desired.”
"W hat will be the cost of ereetmgand fitting
up one of these condensers?”
" J l e condenser will be of especially pre
• pared iron, ami I have received an estimate
from a well-known manufacturer, who placed
' the cost at 52,500; another S6OO would easily
’ fit it up.” J
“What are the opinions on the
I matter, doctor?”
"Weil, when I brought my plan before them
at first they were mostly skeptical, but I have
got a great many of them round since. While
, in Washington I submitted it to the meteoro
logical department, where J am known, and to
1 li's heads of the geodetic survey, and both be
lieved it to be practicable; indeed, the former
body sent an indorsement to the secretary of
the interior to have its efficacy tested. I expect
it will be some months yet. however, before
they will do anything at headquarters,’’’ added
the doctor.
Since his return the inventor has had several
interviews with Lieutenant J. E. Mansfield,
tin- head of the local signal service. Jhe doc
tor is also in communication with a number of
local cap:tali, ts with a view to the formation
of a company for the purchase of the patent
rfglits here and abroad, and it is needlevs to
ad'l that he is enthusiastic as a land boomer
o', er its ultimate a< ceptance and success.
I ne f nine-- r. gard tiie eye of a cat as an in
fuilble i - it. s' . eofil.r.-. 'I he> go tw the
' le- -.iinl 'on of the pupil <’,f the eve
• •■ ■ *u ; ■ ■ 'us upptjucUugor rueedmg
I etteag.l2 o* ti.« tuuiL
ATLANTA, GA., TUESDAY, JANUARY 3, 1888.
Merry Glyistnuis.”
UY ANNA W. YOUNG.
It was Christmas Eve. I was walking
briskly home down a brilliant street in a city
that shall be nameless.
Bright faces smiled their greetings on me ns
they flitted by, and on either side glittered the
windows, rich in their holiday display of sil
ver, jewelry, toys, exquisite fabrics and gor
geously bound books.
I had made my last purchase for the bairn
at home, when a sudden touch on my shoulder
arrested my attention.
Turning, I saw,not another fond mother out
on an expedition similar to my own, but a
black-robed, quiet figure, whose calm, pure
face looked earnestly into mine from out tiie
sombre hood of a Sister of Charity.
I recognized her at once, this fair young
devotee to a life of usefulness, whom, in days
gone by, 1 had known as the “quoenliest
queen” of all in society’s charmed circle.
As I looked at her standing before mo, so
meek, so pale and gentle, her waxen hands
clasping tiie cross of her rosary, a picture of
her, as I had seen her, in tiie flush and pride
of her belle-hood, rose before me in vivid con
trast. Born to affluence; surrounded from her
cradle witli luxury and admiration, she had
suddenly abnegated her social throne to take
on herself the vows of the self-sacrificing,
toiling, patient hand of sisters. Why had she
done ibis? Conjecture was rife, but the truth
was never fully known. Treachery and dis
honor in one whom she had loved was said to
have been the stroke that swept the joy and
pride of her life from her forever: but she
kept her own secret, a*id her mother made no
disclosures, though it was long before she be
came resigned to seeing her brilliant child re
nounce the world and its pleasures so alluring
to one beloved like Lucile do Vcre.
I looked fixedly at the lovely face.
Dad si If abnegation ami devotion to others,
to the sick, the sorrowful, the sinful, brought
its reward ? I thought 1 read “peace” on tiie
white brow, but the sweet mouth was sad.
“Dear Lucile,” I said. “Hush!” laying her
snow-flake hand <n my arm, and smiling
faintly. “Not that mime, it fell from mo
when J shook hands with the world, two years
ago. Call mo Sister Clare, dear friend. lam
so glad to see you. It is a longjwhile since we
have met,”
“Long,(indeed! ” I. answered, suppressing a
sigh. "But where are you going this cold
evening?” "Tothe hospital, will yougowith
me?” There is a. woman there —a lady, young
and refined, who is ill and suffering, with not
a friend of an acquaintance in tiie city. She
has a child, too—a sweet little girl of four
years, ff-she dies what will become of this
little one? Como with me, Helen, I wisli to
interest you in this case. I know your kind
heart as of old.”
"I will go,” I answered, and taking a bundle
fi.nn my basket of Christmas imrchasos. i told ,
t'D seivant i’ take the o’MBI
sjHl r ''
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■■ ■ ■ ■■■■’ ' ■'
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sailed to this port. On tire
were attacked by yellow fever,'anti on arrivß
ing here were put under quarantine. After
absence of many months the vessel returne®
home, but the long expected husband did
make his appearance. The unhappy
si,light the captain who informed her
husband hql been 1 ft behind, liopele.ssl!miß|
aud was now probably dead. She refused to
accept his death as certain, andjresolved to seek
him. Her efforts to find him were vain, and
hope deferred was making her heart sick and
despondent v. lien an epidemic broke out and
she fell an easy victim to it. Her slender
means were soon exhausted, and I found her
very nearly destitute. She lias shelter and
good nursing in tiie hospital, but she continues
to be so hopeless that ! P nr .she v. ill never ral
ly.” \Ve reached the hospital as Sister Clare
ceased speaking, ami sheeonducted me through
a long corridor into a large, comfortable apart
ment. A tire burned on the hearth and before
it. on a rug, kneit a lovely little sprite.
“An airy fairy. Lillian,” Clare whispered,
touching the little one’s golden hair, as she
passed on to the couch where was lying a wan,
emaciated, but still beautiful woman. '
“Ah! kind, dear sister, the only friend left
me/’ the Indy exclaimed with quivering lips.
"Don’t say so,” Clare cried, bending down and
kissing her forehead. "See, I Lave brought
another friend —one who is full of sympathy
and eagerness to help and cheer you.” A
silent grasp ul my ham! and a grateful look
from the .ad brown eyes thanked me : and then
followed a burst of passionate weeping.
“Nay, nay.” said Clare, bending tenderly
over the weeping woman. “Do not despond.
More things are wrought l.y ;.layer than this
world dreams. ‘ Vsk and ye shall receive. 1
Who knows? The pitying Christ may yet
heal your bleeding heart, and restore your lost
and loved one to you. ' U-r voice had fallen
io a whisper aud her eyes seemed “homes of
silent mayor.” The tears would not down at
my bidding as I watched the two. end turning
away 1 knell beside the little tot. on the rug.
Children’s hearts arc easily won, and soon
Lillian and I were the best of friends. As I
al with my arm around hci the thought that
1 might make this Christmas a merry one to
her, al least, came suddenly to me.
Seeing the mother had grot.n quiet again, I
led the. little one to her side and said:
“Will you give Lillian to mo for this even
ing?” She gave me a quick, startled look
that yielded, however, to one of evident pleas
ure, as I continued : “I shall only want her
for an hour or two. This is the children’s
night, and Lillian must share its pleasure.
"1 will take good care of her, ami till her
hands and heart with Christmas cheer.”
She put the little one’s hand in mine.
"1 can safely trust my darling with vou. dear
lady. 1 see it in y<mr face, and in Si ter
< iarc’s smile,” she said.
Saying good-’.iy to the mother, I wrapped
the child a.-, well as I co.'ld in its thread-bare
cloak, thinking r eanwhile ol a very com
fortable one 1 ln«f stored away in lavender.
1 ho little one who had once worn it was sleep
ing soundly beneath the Watching winterstars,
and would need it uevOT again, i stopped at
home long enough to envelop Lillian
m soli, fleecy folds, then summoned
my delighted boy, and hasnmed lo
an'd a brilliantly illuminated build
ing gleaming proudly in the di ,t,.■
It was. a truly benevolent inspiration which
had moved a band of large-hearted women to
go into the by-ways and hedges of onr city
and gather together the humble little dwellers
on "Poverty’s flat” for the purpose of tilling '
their hearts with joy on this the happy Christ- |
“Inasmuch as ye have done it unto the least
of one of these, ye have done it unto me,” my
heart whispered as I passed into the room al
ready crowded with bright faces. Some were
gathered around the long tables that teemed
with substantial, tempting viands, while
others laughed and chatted merrily bcm ath
the <„ l.i 'slmas trees that held a present for '
each little one there.
Lillian was v. ild with delight. “Oh, Teddy, I
what a boufui tree,” she cried to mv Imv. “and
what pretty dolls and such lots of tandy.”
"And see,” 1 added, “that warm bright shawl,
shall we get it for mamma! And that pretty
ph.id . ill make Lillian a warm dress." But
it was n blue-eyed wax doll which called forth
her most raptured exclamations. “It’s des
like one my mamma div me one time, before
see e.ot sick,” she cried touching the pink
chi eks with her taper forefinger. YVithdruw
mg my eyes from her beaming face for a mo
ment, they encountered those of a tall, hand
some, but pale, and worn looking man who
wim gazing intently at Lillian, in a moment
he grossed the room and was bending eagerly
over her.
"Mho is your mamma, my little girl?’l
hoard him ask in an excited voice. But his
impetuous manner frightened the child, and
deignmgjiim no answer, she bid her face in
the folds of my dress.
Turning to me he. said in an eager, agitated
voice: "Excuse me, madam, 1 did not menu
to fc’ighten the child; she reminds me greatly
of my little girl whom I have not seen for a
great while. “Ah!” as Lillian looked up.
“Those are my wife’s eyes! For heaven’s
sake, madam, tell me who is this child ? What
is her name?”
Before 1 could explain the little ell beside
me lisped out in her childish treble: "My
name is Lillian, but mamma calls me Pet,
tause that was papa’s name for me.” In an
instant the stranger had caught her in his
arms.
“She is my child! I know it: I felt sure of
>t. t)h, my Lillian, where is your mamma!”
When the first transport of emotion hud
subsided, I conducted him into a retired cor
nel, away from the curious eyes that hud
gathered around us.
There 1 told him his wife’s story and wept
in sympathy as 1. saw liis breast heave witli
sobs.
“Cruel indeed has been the fate that sep
arated us,” he said at length. “As you have
hen'd, I was desperately ill, and when the
vessel started on her homeward voyage I was
ielt bohindt o die in the mariner's ho.pital, on
own of the lonely islands in the city’s harbor.
Here 1 lingered for moaths, a prey to burning
fever, which so seriously affected my brain
that for sometime 1 was little more'than a
madman. When at length reason returned,
my first thought was of my wife. I
wrote to her address again and
again, but received no answer to my letters.
Halt wild with anxiety, I resolved to put an
end to my suspense by returning home imme
diately, although I was scan ely aide to stand
so long a voyage. Imagine my dismay wlien,
on reaching there, I found tiie doors closed
and my wife and child gone. They told mo
she had gone to seek mo, and 1 resailed in
stantly. The fatigue and anxiety I had under
gone were more than I could endure in my
weak state. I relapsed, and again became
an inmate, of the Island hospital. I left
it today for the first time, determined
to resume the search for my lost ones. Prov
idence led my footsteps here, where the sight
of my chilli’s face awoke a wild hope in my
breast. And now, lady, I will go at once to
my poor wife.”
“J will accompany you,” I answered. "We
must prepare her for this happiness.”
In a few minutes we stood nt the door of the
hospital. J left Mr. Logan outside and enter
ed the room, as 1 thought, alone, but Lillian
had flitted in with me, ami darting to her
mot her's side cried out:
’ ' I - end papa: wo's found papa”’
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I elixir is love! ”
And the fair woman who had forever re
nouucod love, sighed and clasped her cross
with a little shivering, spasmodic movement.
A TRAGEDY ON TIIE PI.AINS.
From the Kansas City Times.
“The average cow-boy,” said a cattle-dealer
Inst, night at Un- St. .lames hotel, “does uoi Is t er
himself about religion. Tin eri els and i.- ms that
worry civilization are as a sealed bool, to the rattler,
who is distinctively a fatalist. He believes that when
th.: time comes fur him to goi.w. r the mug'- notbhig
call stand death off, and no mutter what danger ho
f..es previous to that time no deadly harm ran
come. The arch-destroyer of the Loys is lightning.
More cow-toys meet death from this sour o than
from any other.
“One night, when a party of us were driving a
herd across the staked plains, we had hardly made
camp wiien a .’ierce storm, accompanied by terrific
thunder and lightning, settled overhead. The
crashes of thunder fairly shook the earth, and the
lightning seemed to dance from the tips of the
cattle’s horns. You see, whi n tlio cattle become
wet, the s'.earu ailsing from them forms a la d;. of
superheated air that rises upward two Inmdred or
three hundred feet. In the ah- nice of atree, inoun
tain or any better conductor, tin' lightning rims
down this column of heated air. it is then almost
iiure. to bo attracted by the steel guns and Lappings
carried by the cowboy.
“Well, that wild night Hie whole gang was kept
busy preventing it stamjxidc. Ono ol the party
was Woods, as good a man as i.vcr
straddled n broncho. Jim had u premonition
that bls end was near n hi nt. All day l.e had
■ been talking ulmut bls ol I mother back in the ea-t
and the girl lie used to go with, Well, when the
storm broke, Jim went about his work with n white
face and n listless manner. In the gang and station
ed next to Jim was a young Texan, loud mouthed
and bl*sphi ixious. Evry firn" a loud peal o.' thun
der sounded and the Ugliltiing Pushed unusually
bright, the 'O il! • b-avado raised I i. clenched tint :o
the sky and uttered a volley ol'oalbs.
“Go on, yer ole ptfltct, ye can’t bit us. We're
thunder-proof, we air.”
“As quick a' thought Jim pulled up nlongrlde the
saerlli.glows scamp and, pulling u six sl.ooter,
shoved It into the biasphi.mi l's fu< <‘. His face was
as white ns chalk as he sere' clied
■“Git around on the otbi side, ye miserable
: ski.nk, <T I'll shcot ye full of loii'l. Ye can't Include
me In none of yer dells. My tune's cornin’ soon
rn .f without 'spesuully invitin' ii. Now stam
pede.'
“The Texan fairly Pew, and not a second 100
SO’ ii, for the flush of lightning end the Ihundcr
erasli that followed took the s .ul of Jim Wools
along with it. One rd the boys hurried to the spot
ami loiind Jim and hi-, pony Mi I and dead.''
- -
Another Story About Dan I’.ice.
From an Exchange.
J)an Rice, the veteran showman, was nicely
fooled one day, a* he was engaged announcing the
wonders or his circus outside the tent. A man
standing with n little boy in the crowd nearby cried
out: “I’ll bet you a dollar you cannot let me flee a
lion. ’ ‘ Donewild the showman, eagerly; "put
down your money.” Ihe man plated his dollar In
the hand of a bystander, and Ran dkl the.same.
“Now walk this way,” said the showman, “and I'll
Moon convince you. There you are,” said be tri
umphantly; “look in that corner at the beautiful
Numldlan Hon.” "I don’t see any,” responded the
' man. What 8 the irufter with you? 'asked the
Bhf ’vman. "I m blind/' was the grinning reply,
i and in a few minutes the man pocketed the two
dollars aud went away.
A Bridgeport letter carrier wears a scarf pin
| in which Is a tiny electiic light. When he la d<-
liveiing letters utter dark, and w ishes to read an ad
du- >s, be turns on the electricity from *is poid et
| battery aud dashes out a one candl' chev
.IW i ' t
CHRISTMAS IS OVER
And Arp Tolls How the Children
Spent It.
A FEW REMINISCENCES OF THE CAMP
(’mistmas is over at last and everything
cleaned up but the smell of the fire crackers.
Those ehaps would slip one in the fireplace or
the grate every now and then just to see us
jump ami hear the maternal ancestor threaten
ami scold. No more crackers now for a year.
No roman candles nor rockets nor fizgigs, no
kerosene fireballs to throw around. The show
is over. The ('hristma ; tree was soon unload
ed of its pretty things and has been removed.
It was a pretty tree with its lighted candles
and its popcorn festoons and its freight of dolls
and toys ami pretty books. Everybody got
something nice and was happy. I got. a nice
silk cap to cover my def« useless head and I'm
ha])py too—so it is all right and no loss on our
side. It cost some money for Christmas in its
last analysis is the paternal pocketbook, but it
is no loss, the happiness is worth the money.
“Two tigers shot this morning.” I was look
ing over the leaves of an ohl diary one that 1
kept, during the war, and that was the memo
randum made just 26 years ago. “ Two
tigers shot this morning.” It was at Center
ville, not far from Manasses, General Joe
.Johnston’s army was in winter quarters there,
and the winter was a cold and bitter one, and
the days were long ami weary. There was a
company from Louisiana called the Tigers and
the name fitted them veil, for they were a
wild, untamed and untamable setof rough,
restless and determined men. They were
bravo and reckless. They first battle
of JManasses had given them
a taste for fighting* and
they wanted more. This winter quarter busi
ness did not agree with them al all, and their
oiiiccrs found it impossible to restrain them, or
keep them in military discipline. They ran
sacked the naborhood at their pleasure and
committed many outrages upon the rights of
person and property. On one occasion two of
them resist (al arn st and struck their ollieers,
and a regular mutiny seemed impending. This
state of things had to be boldly dealt with, ami
so they were overpowered and a courtmartial
ordered at once by General Johnston. Their
crime was committed one evening. They were
tried next day and convicle.d and condemned,
and the next morning were shot. Blindfolded
ami kmucing, they faced the minnio rilles and
received the fatal bullets without a murmur or
a.prayer. Twelve men fired at each, hut only
six of the gtuts were loaded, and not a man of
the. twelve knew whether there was a ball in
his gun or not. They are not allowed to know,
for tho guns are loaded by others so that no
one man could say that he, had killed his com
rade.
Speedy justice that. How unlike our civil
tribunals, where weeks and months ami years
elapse before even a murderer is al the < mi of
his rope. What, a contrast. These men wore
shot, not for murder or any outrageous crime,
but for striking a man. r l’Li» was part of the
war—a very small part ;uid excited only a
passing not'eu. Who- ?l , Lies..ing is
pence. Wli.-q *• .. ■ f war. How
many heartaches there w rfe for homo and
kindred during that long Vi inter when snow
and sleet was our daily Shut up in
our little lents it was aconstnnt effort to keep
warm-—that is to keep a healthy equilibrium,
for it was too warm inside and too cohl with
out. The Im st we could d<> was to scorch one
side and then scorch theotlu r.and ever and
anon go out ami Damp around to stir up the
blood. But we had company, lots of it, for tiie
soldiers were sociable and letters from home
were common property, ami the news went
round tbe camp tires as soon as it arrived. I
never think of that winter with its long linger
ing days and its lack of coin forts,but what I am
grafcj 1 for present liberty and peace, and the
endearing joys of home. We had a.little tent
abort twelve feet square, with cols for four.
A little chimney built of turf that wo
spaded up in squares and nicely
laid in broken joints -one upon another and a
little fire place with rucks for andirons an«l a
piece of an old wagon lire for an arch. With
such a chimmy wo felt rich and consequen
tial, foi but few of the tents had such stylish
ones. W<‘ Irhl wtwt straw or hay upon the
ground, and four caiiip stools to sit upon, and
a camp table and candle si n k ami eamlles, a
wash pan ami bucket, ami this was all of our
furniture. It was enough for a soldier—
enough for the horrid business of war enough
for them who had no abiding place and wen*,
liable at any moment to have to “pickup their
tents like the Arabs
A cl silently steal away.”
The prophet Elisha had no more than we
had lor the Shunamite woman said “let us
build for him a little chamber ami set therein
a bed, ami a stool, ami a table, ami a candle
stick.” I reckon that was a very line turnout
in that day fur it ph used the prophet
very much so much that, he wanted to do
some great thing for the woman, amt said,
•‘Thou hast been very careful for me what
shall Ido for lhec'.' I wonder how many
prophets would be content with such furni
ture now.
Sometimes unwelcome visitors would stay
too long ami keep us up when we wanted to go
to bed. On such occasions, Tip the faithful
Tip- would put an old sack on a pole ami lay
it over the top of the chimm y ami smoke us
out The tent would get full to suffocation, ,
ami our unwelcome visitors wuiihl abuse our
< himn-y and be forced to retire. Th< n Tip
would remove the sack and the hut be, all
right again in a little while. That, was 'l ip’s
secret, and we never told on him,
1 do hope th< ,v will not have a war in Eu
rope. J low pitiless it is for us to dismiss the
elfed of such a war upon our trade onr busi
ness, our cotton and wheat and bacon Tin<l beef
--ju.it as though the. war would be all right If
we pr pared by it. No account taka n of
wounds and deaths and broken hearts and the
crushing gi’u t of mothei,; ami < hihlrcn made
w'ulow and orphans ami nothing left but pov
erty. Surely, surely, there is no necessity fur
nations to to war any more.
But It does look like the, devil gets loose
sometimes ami the best oft.; feel like a little
fighting would be a relief. Now, who can help
getting mad when Governor Larrabee, of
Towa, tolls the j‘ porter that all that surplus of
sixty millions in the ire; * ury, ought to be
divided out among the state ■ that were not in
the rebellion. “The south is not entitled
to a dollar of it,” said he. Oh,
my country! Here we have been
paying that pension money for northern sol
diers for twenty-two years, and have never
complained. Our conquerors taxed our ‘•oiton
just after the war ami took from us thirty
million dollars on that account, :tt.d their ow ii
courts have decided it an illtgal exaction, and
yet they won’t pay it I mm-k. Notwithstanding
the decision of their highest tribunal, we are
about as far oti from getting that money hark
as the French are from getting their spoliation
biil. U here is no greater rascal than a govern
ment about paying moral obligations. The
doctrine is that might makes right. What
doe-Governor J/ rruljoe keep on hating us
for? Bo smites us on one cheek
and wo turn and let him smite ti.s
on the other, and still Im i not happy.
1 wonder if ho would take that sixty millions
and not give us a cent. I want to see hire. I
wish he would »<iid mo l>D photograph. I
would hire to have a phrenolo“:at examine his
head. There is Bonn thing wroii" about that
in: ri. Ii ho v.i'i i, I'Ll i u gentP iiiuil or 4
re s; Stable J.'iv I would .'J. “Lb. v. I,
those people Mown u '.ib thought were
'’ j •’* j' l -• ■ • ’Liuliu P.b ate.
PBICE FIVE CENTS
and they have suffered enough, and now us
all tote fair and divide. Let us pay that cot
ton tax out of that money the first thing, and.
let us begin n<>w to pension their soldiers just
like we pension ours. In fact, we ought to
pay them something for their slaves if
we could. England paid for her®
when they were set free and Gladstone,
that great and good man, got three hundred
thousand dollars for his and our southern
brethren are just as good as Gladstone.”
That is the way ho would talk if he had a
great big heart. I tell you there is obliged to
be another world just to make things square If
nothing else. Larrabee has got to feel mean
sooner or later. 1 would like to hear St. Pe
ter interview him when ho knocks at the gate.
Poor Larrabee. J'itiful Larrabee. I wouldn't
swap places with you for all that sixty miL
lionsjo boot. \on forget that Virginia and
the Carolinas and <leorgia are some of the old
thirteen that fought, bled and died for
all the liberty you hiixo got. Whoro
was lowa then? A howling wildcrnesi
that belonged to old Virginia. She gave it to
vour folks for nothing, and now yon assume to
be bigger and better than your revolutionary
fathers. But you are not the first conceited
boy that tried to run over his daddy and run
him off (he track. Well, you will not get any
more of that money than we do; I’ll hot oil
. that : and wo will get that cotton-tax back too.
See if wo don't. The south is looming up f
and she will come to the front in a few years.
She is solid, ami always will be as long as the
Larrabeos and Shermans and Forakers run the
slander mills of the north. Bill Arp.
PASTEirit <>t TDONE.
Five Hundred People Treated for Hydro
phobia by a New Jersey Family.
Special Dispatch to the Globe Dem ernt.
New. vitK, N. J., December 2f>. Dog-bitten
men, women and children to the number of stX>
have been treated for hydrophobia by the
Reeve family, at Bloomingdale, in this state.
The little white farm house hard by the station
has become the Mecca of all who have reason
to dread an at tack of that most terrible malady.
Over forty years ago David 11. Reeve said he
had obtained a secret cure for hydrophobia.
People wore slow to place much credit in his
statement until his own son was bitten and the
father trusted to his now remedy to cure him.
This action of the el<h*r Reeve, testing, as 16
were, his medicine on himself, gained lor him
the confidence of his neighbors. The number
of his patients increased, and his fame spread
abroad.
JI is secret was divulged at first to his wife,
and by her to their son. All three have now
practiced the cure, and over 500 patients have
treaded their way to the Bloomingdale home
to bo cured of dog bites.
Israel <Reeve is third and present physician
using this remedy. He has had the secret fur
six years. The medicine given is a yellow
powder. A tablespoon lul is taken in mohissea
each morning for nine days. Thu stomach, it
is claimed, should be empty and nothing is to
be eaten lor six hours after taking the drug.
I he Iteevcs stipulate that fora period uiihr< <>
weeks no grease, pepper or salt shall he eaten,
nothing cold drauk, ami the patient's diet be
limited to buttermilk, gruel, bread and mo
lasses, with a drink of warm, weak tea. It ii
further directed that the person who takes the
medicine ■/ Vl •i e ui'.in iy, k.j aj< ,; ><; f
three month\ from Lie use of spirituous and
malt liquors mid tobacco in every form.
The patients treated by the hooves come
from New York, Brooklyn. Jersey t'itv, New
ark, Paterson,Montclair, Hacketstown, Bloom-
Held and towns throughout the counties in tho
northern part of New Jersey. Severn! patients
have come from Rockland, Orange and West
chester counties, N. ¥., and the medicine has
been prescribed to one man in Detroit, Mich.,
and to another in St. Louis, Mo. Two instances
are noted in which the treatment has succeeded
when*failure to use it by persons bitten at tho
same time by the same dog resulted in death.
In one of these cases five boys in Paterson
worn bitten by one dog. Four went to Bloom
ingdale, were treati d by Mr. Reeve, and all
lived. The filth, who was not treated In any
way, died.
Another case was that of a husband and wife
bitten by one dog. The woman was treated by
the Reeve method, while the man was treated
by the regular family physician. The woman
ihe I, but her husband died, Another case
that points toward the importance of I lie at
tending diet was one in which a husband mid
wife were both treated by the Bloomingdale
method. The husband refused to abstain from
drink,and died. Tiie woman ‘till lives.
fn conversation with your correspondent
Reeve said, alter relating the history of his
cure: “XVe do not know where father got hi*
secret. lie was a man of few wonls, and to
ryy knowledge never told any one where ho
heard of the cure. He told my mother who,
surviving him three yi ars, dealt out the medi
cine herself. She told me the secret, and since
her death, six years ago, 1 have treated all
people who have come. lu re. Wo have nevefl
advertised the cure. Father, motlu r and my
self have treated over 5<X) eases. r l 'ho com po
sition of the drug no one knows but myself. I
give the medicine, with directions, to any one
who applies.
A Paterson physician who bought the modi
cine had it analyzed, but did not succeed ip
getting at the secret.
The medicine is useless unless the people fol
low the directions we give. Thev don’t object
much to the diet for three weeks, but many
don’t like to give up drinking and smoking or
' hewing. We also toll them they must keep
dry and not get heated while they are taking
the medicine.”
“Yes,” ho replied; “we know of two mon
and a child that were treated and who died of
hydrophobia.”
Whether the belief in Mr. Reeve's modlcine
and treatment be w< ll founded or not, it is a
fact that many people in Bergen, Passaic, Mor
ris and Essex counties, be .ides numbers from
other places, go to the little hamlet when bit
ton by a dog, Instead of submitting themselves
to the < are of their family physicians. The
last natient treated by Mr. Peeve was William
English, of I’arkai k. English was poisoned
in the linger by the saliva of a bulldog that
raved and roamed for two days, killing two
dogs. This‘log made a great deal of trouble,
bit about t wenty dogs and cats, rushed at a
child, and was shot while tearing a dog to
pieces. Engli Ji's ting* r first became inflamed
mid swollen, fl is whole arm was at lust great
ly swollen, and so painful that he could not
sleep nights. About ten days after the biting
he went lo Bloomingdale and was treated by
Reeve. Th< welling and pain grew 1< ss and
soon disappeared. Mr. English seems to bu in
good health today.
•
New York’* Growth.
The population of New York city Dl ( flOO,OOfk
Tho World furnishes this Jnterestlng ityra of ?!>•
city sgrowth: "Ninety-oney»ur«ago lust stunwef
the liixt xtcamlx/iit with a rcicw propeller was tert
< Jln the city. The water • n which it floated mi
i.he r ’olid t, or Freshwater pond, and that beautL’id
pond, with Its banks rich in fuiHage, flowed over
the site now occui led by the tumbr. Tho popula
tion of th ■ city was then Ju i s l , fifiy-llvt
years a"O, it bad Increased to 200,000.’’ This ahowt
that within finy-five years the population ha* in
creased 1,300,0(X’. Ihr- in; ample evidence that*
solid growth b'.ats a boom.
——«
An old sea captain thinks ho hiei a good
anrwer for the question: "Where do sea budMobtnin
hesh drinking water.” lie »ay» that be has ofha
seen birds far from land that could furnish watei
flying around, and under storm clouds, drinking
t.ic .li q,s o f Atttcr i Ch y fell, < .haltering irifl
d> 'ks hi apond on a hot di •. They will 4
• -.f.H.. iOj iu . a aud Uj tu; J Mta Ue
Ul,‘^’loU..3 4b^Vd4
