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iim-1 .a wo Mr-7 5 R A. i)• > t ii,':/'.' '"I '.']' _- ’1 i .i. ] .'.' ' • A.t !- ; i<l • :<• ] r. y -f ’ J C .M-kM that we *hrurk©n, K? v that arr* Hunken, * Lip* that were never oVrbold ; ’ Only a woman, fomaken ana poor, Aakliijr an alma at the bronze church-door. Hark to the orga* ! roll upon roll The wave* of the manic go over her eoal! Kilka rattle pant her Thickt-r and faater; The gr-at bell cease* It* toll. Fain would sh© enter, but not for the poor Swingeth wide open the bronze church-door Only a woman—waiting alon#*, Icily cold on an lce-cbid luroue. What do they care, for her ? Mumbling a prayer for her, Giving not bread but a atone, rnd-r old lacen their haughty bearta beat. Mocking the week of their kin In the atreet. Only a woman ! In the old daya Hope , arroled to her her happieat lay* ; Homebody mlnsed her, - jc< body klKHcd her. Somebody crowned her with pralae; i .in ; ,dy fac'd up the ba*tlea of life r her sake who wa mother, or wife, c m : and v ii•'h wRh a t.r/M* of her hair k Lift i. 'i heart wher<* tl.e float h-K bad own are; ,s rn l >dy wait* for her, Opening the gate- f>r her, d'-llgf.- for delalr. ■h woman—uverni ire poor— IPg*. -s i £ : Mf tut mfnuy tower. WM\ ; pi;.'! ...I li.vc come hero,” Hi Marquis ili J > it.-jiio t'. tl,<• HHng kui'/M, <1 is ton .I.- i’otitailie, as ■L.U till; terrac'd of Boltono ‘Jkv.i glad >u liiiv* sunn. Brosßibowel anil a flush of pleamiro Brkhcil across hia brow. W “The robbers above here aro very boi'i iow. They attacked you, I bd • “ <-e of the villains ventured to do so : i wont them away with more than they xpictecl.” “ A steel ransom. ITa ! FTa !” “ It is very strange that you are not able to discover their retreat.’’ “Very—very strange. My men have sought in every direction.’’ “The country is favorable to secresy,” said Gaston, looking round. it spread far away around the castle. From the height upon which lioilono stood, the wide plain and the surround ing hills could be distinguished for a great distance. Hills and crags were near the castle, gullies and paths formed by torrents lay among them. A river flowed through the plain, turbulent and noisy.” “ Yes, it is a good place for them,” said the marquis, in reply to Gaston’s exclamation, “ But yet I wonder at their hardi hood.” “ They rob almost every friend who comes to visit me, unless I send my soldiers to guard them,” said Boltono, bitterly. “ This should ho stopped. I wonder that they do not show themselves some where.” “I have done all that man can do. Lot us forsake this subject for the pres ent. Bee yon yon tower?” “ Yes. It is older than tho rest of your on: tie, is it not? I have been much interested in it.” “It it; very old and is of Roman con struction. We never use it.” “ Never ! Why not?” “ ’Tis haunted,” “ Haunted?" Gaston was surprised at tho seriousness of tho marquis, and out of res|>eet to him he suppressed a rising smile of contempt. “ Yes. It has for many years gone by the name of ‘the Goblin Tower.’” “ Why so ? ” “ Because there aie sights to bo seen thote, and sounds to be heard, which are not of this world. Shrieks are heard at the dead of night, and lights gleam from the turrets. All the peas antry tremble, and the hoarts of all within the castle quake with fear.” “ But have you never entered to see the cause of tlmse things ? ” “ God forbid that I should seek to know aught of the doings of the pow ers of darkness! ’ “They may be done by hands of niau, noble marquis.” “impossible! Who would dare?” “No great obstacle could prevent them if no one ever ventured there ” “ Men have gone there and never re turned. In the life of my grandfather there was a legend about it, and a say ing than whenever the castle was freed from the goblin within, there would be no more robbers without.” “What! have the robbers always been here ? ” “ \1! the time that the tower was haunted. ” Gaston, was silent, and mused for a time. “ I will tell the story,” said the mar quis, “it is not long. This tower was built, as I liavo raid, by the ancient Romans, and has been in tho posses sion of many a baron. Ouoe, about two hundred years ago, onr family lived in Florence, and a baron who was related to ns resided here. He was a strange man, of dark thoughts and gloomy'aspeot. That tower he made bis " , si “.*mo9. At uight lights gleamed from it, und strange sounds were heard sounds in tiie world. By Btaa 1| '' 'K \ HI lES k i£X IfF v -*/*•** h&Jb I ■was not so much awed by the marquis. did well—these suitor*, and ■ do the same for a similar mat! would yon venture there?” oble sir, you have promised to m eme your son-in-law,” said Gaston, with his ingenious countenance covered by a flush of pleasure and confusion, “but I have done nothing to win the lovely Alvira. Buffer me to win hbt in this way.” “What!” cried the marquis. “ I am willing to enter that tower.” “ No, no ; you are rash. This is not bravery, it is rashness. You have done enough, my dear Gaston, to win a dozen Alviras.” “Bat let me also do this. Noble marquis, I cannot - must not be refused. Why need I fear? Are not friends all around me?” “ Your friends cannot preserve you from the demons.” “ Demons ! I fear them not. With my trust in God and the holy samts, how can the evil one injure me?” “ I implore you not to think of this.” “ No, no, permit me. Do not tell Alvira. Promise me not to tell her. I will free your house of demonsand rob bers or die.” The marquis gave a reluctant con sent. It was mid day, and Gaston walked outside the castie. There was a deep gorge in the hills behind, and the Ro man tower rose above this, while the other parts of the extensive c,astle lay further from it. Gaston walked to the verge and looked down. The porter had told him not to venture there —that the people in the castle were afraid of the goblins who dwell there. But Gas ton despised the idle tale. “ Goblins—ha Iha ! What a strange mind the marquis must have not to see that these mysterious robbers are the goblins and the makers of all this riot. But I must descend and examine here.” He went down slowly and softly among the bushes which grew thickly enough to hide him from view. At length he was suprised to see a beaten path, “Ha!” he cried, “this was never made by goblins. I will follow and see where it leads.” He descended carefully, and watched the path to see that none were viewing him. At last he was at the bottom of the chasm. The path before him took a sudden turn around a rock. Leaning stealthly over this, ho looked forward. There was the base of the goblin tower, which arose very far on high, from its foundations at the bottom of the chasm. There was a small aperture here, so hid den by bushes that none but the sharp est and most observant eye could have detected it. Ho went nearer, and hear ing nothing, he crawled close to it. Looking in ho saw steps which led up. “ Now were this unused, the steps wonld be covered with grass and mould, but they are smooth and are used often.” After a few minutes the young knight departed by the same path, and soon stood in safety upon the top of the declivity, well satisfied with his expe dition. “ Well, Gaston,” said the marquis, at night, “are you still determined?” “ I am, I ask only my arms. Gan I have the way shown me ?” “ Once more, Gaston, let mo'implore you not to go.” “I must go, noble marquis, for I have said it.” “ Retract your words.” “ I cannot —I would not.” “Then I must part with you. I fear I shall never see you again. I will ac company you to the place.” The two walked along a desolate hall extending entirely through the castle. The night was dark and the wind moan ed as they went ou. Doors banged and noises we’re heard through the house. “ Those noises do not come from the tower. They are made by the wind ! said Gaston. “ Ah ! here wo are I suppose.” They paused before a massive oaken door, which the marquis opened after unlocking. The bolts sounded harsh as they grate ! baok. They entered the room. The light which the marquis held was feeble, and illuminated it but in part. The apartment was large, and the walls were wainsooted with oak, carved in the antique. Chairs of olden form stood aro and, and a long table of massive construction stood iu the mid dle. “ I will go into yo..r closet and watch the room. I can be hidden there.” “Do so. Do not expose yourself. Do you want the light ?” “ No—Oh ! no. I will be better in the dark.” He opened the door of au old closet. It was empty. There was an opening in it, through which any one within oonld look out iuto the room. Here Gaston entered. The marquis departed, locking the door carefully. Gaston drew his sword, and, holding it in his hand, prepared to watob. An old chair stood here in one oorner; upon this he seated himself and waited. The hours passed tediously away, yet he sat in patient silence listening to every sound. Aud these were of many kind's, which came to his sharpened wire. Low moanings sounded without, the doors, loosened by uro, rattled on their hinges, the heavy, dusty drapery shook and fluttered. There was a faint light in the room. As Gaston looked through, there seemed to come a brighter light. He was sure of it. A strange thrill shot through him as the room began to grow visible, illuminated by some unseen power. Footsteps—low, muffled footsteps, sounded without—beneath, whisperings and exclamations were heard by his ox cited earv. Ills heart beat quick—he hold his sword more firmly. “ The hour is coming—the time—the soeue is at hand. Now shall we see whether Gaston de Pontaille will die.” He leaned forward more earnestly. At the extremity of the n ad he heard whisperings murmuriugs —footsteps, but he could not look there. The light grew brighter. Some form approached. Gaston looked out. It was a tall figtir' dreared in black, and through two holes iu the wall which covered its head, the eves gleamed with intense brightness. He came to the table and sat down. It was dressed in the same manner. Two others came in, and the four sat down at the table. Lj“Wiue,” said th< tl st. m a deep Ip! and >B, . in Id very much ■V i'l;! r Ht ! B I ' Hk from , B. ■ ‘ 21 ■ " §eL Bit , K One arose and brought a number of bottles. Then each one, lifting his vail, drank in silence. Gaston watched in suspense. “Comrades,” said the first one, “the bishop has much gold. To morrow the | marquis shall give more.” A low murmur of applause went ! round. “ He would have been unmolested ! had he refrained from molesting us.” “Ha! ha!” said another, in a dis ! cordant voice. “He not of | “The Golden Tower.” ‘ 1 What will he not pay for her ran som ?” t Gaston started. •* ! “And the young knight—would he I not give his toul to purchase her ?” “Margo,” said the leader, “bring! her along.” Margo departed, and the others be- 1 gan to divest themselves of their man tles. E;ch one, taking off his black j robe, disclosed the well-armed figure of | a sturdy soldier. “1 heard footsteps here this night,” | said one. “May there not be a true j | goblin—” “Fool !” cried the leader, savagely, i “You are a novice. A goblin! We are the got)! ins of the tower, Anlonio. j Ha ! What breath is that ?” “ I said so !” cried the other. The three started at a rattling sound- 1 ed in the room. They looked at each ; other and turned pale. The entrance of their comrade put an end to their terror. “ Bring her along,” cried the leader. ! Gaston could see nothing, but he j heard a low moan as though! from a fe male, and the tone struck a chill to his ! inmost soul. “Good e’en, my pretty maid,” said the leader. “Bring her nearer, good | Margo, let her be seated.” There was a slight struggle and Mar go brought forward the prisoner, j Gaston started—his frame shook in fren- I zied rsge. It was Alvira! He re strained himself. “Who are yon, and why dare yea thus treat the daughter of Boltono?” “Because we love the smiles of lovely women. Was it not rash in you to walk alone on the terrac* at such a time ? Could we—the goblins of the tower—resist the temptation !” “ What will you do with me ?” “You shall cheer us in our lonely tower.” “O, God!” she cried, wringing her j hands in agony. “No lamentation !” cried the leader. “Come, we wish you to be gay ; cheer up.” Alvira wept in despair. “Weep not! Why shoa'id yon? Come, let me have a kiss!” He rose up and reached out his hand. Alvira shrunk back. He stepped for ward. The others looked on in hideous glee—they saw n*t the armed figure with uplifted sword. “ Come, one kiss—” “ Villain !” cried Gasten, in a voice of thunder. Alvira saw him—all saw him, as with a bound he sprang forward and buried his sword in the robber chieftain’s heart. “ Die !” cried the infuriated knight, and turning upon the nearest, with a blow lie severed his head from his body, j The others rose and grasped their dag- j gers. Gaston struck at the nearest aDd j his weapon was dashed from his hand, while the owner was dashed, to the ground. Margo, the fourth,B*lr' upon bis knees. With a strong hand Gaston bound him, and taking his rescued love in his arms, he bore her forth along the hall, to the great hall of the castle. The noise had ronsed the marquis, and the inmates of Boltono soon knew all that had happened. A week after, the nuptials of Gaston j and Alvira were celebrated, and the j body of Margo hung iu chains from t,ne | summit of the “Goblin Tower.” A Blot for a Playwright. We remember a tradition of the Mac-a-Cheek valley that would be well ito commence with. After the fight, i and destruction of the Indian towns in that locality, one of the volunteers, | wandering in tho woods, saw the head of an Indian peering a. him from behind I rock, and without a whereas of any I length and a resolution quite as brief, brought his gun to his shoulder and ! tired a shot that tumbled over the iu j quisitive aboriginal. To the hunter’s i horror he found the victim of the fe male sex, with a papoose strapped to ! her back. He removed the babe, and jhe and his companion buried the j mother. He carried the infant over a j hundred miles to his log cabin, on the | banks of the Ohio, and adopted the j boy. He grew to manhood, a shy, wild | fellow, with no taste for civilized pnr ! suits, and a love for the woods. The situation was not pleasant, for | the youthful Lo was expected to work j for his living, and the labor was of the I hardest. To make matters worse, he ! had the misfortune to fall in love with j his patron’s daughter, a beautiful girl with no end of suitors, and as an In | dian in those days was regarded as a j little better than a negro now, his love making did not prosper. His love was I soon {.lighted to another, and as the wedding day drew near the young In dian disappeared. The marriage came off with its usnal metry-making, that consisted of rifle shooting, races, aud wrestling during the day, and dancing and drinking at nigLt. The married couple had retired to the bridal-chamber, that made one end of the double log cabin, and the merry making continued all night. The next morning the two so lately united for ! life were called to breakfast. They did ; not respond, for the very g,.od reason j that both were dead, being found nmr- ; dered on their bridal coueb. All knew who the avenger was : but j ! to leave no doubt upon that head a | wampum beY, worked by the poor girl i years before, was found npon the floor j at her feet. But he was never heard of after. He seemed to vanish into uight I and memory. The poor father, reeog- ; r.iziug the hand of retribution, took to drink, and was returned to congress. He is remembered as a mrmber of the committee of ways and means, aud acsnmnlated quite a propeity out of j subsidies aud Indian contracts. He is spoken of to this day by an aged, red- I nosed, life insurance agent as that “ bloody old Brown who was a Jackson ; man with a bad breath and a worse j ; temper.”— Washington Capital. The Sad Story of a Life. The Unfortunate Wife of Haximilian Once huip- ror of Mexico, The Belgian papers announce that the death of the uotappy Carlotte, the wife of Maximilian, once emperor of Mexico, is daily exjiected. During the last years of her eventful life the som ber darkness of mental night has rested upon her, and even the consolation of forgetting in insanity her misfortunes has been denied her. The light of this world’s pleasures, though not the gloom of its pains, long since went out for her, and that she should not follow her brave and unfortunate husband to the grave may be regarded as the only hap piness which the future had in btorefor her, and as'a grateful relief to the royal l hearts who have watched over her deso j late years with constant and loving ten ! derness. The daughter of Leopold 1., ! of Belgium, the wisest and shrewdest ; sovereign of his time, blessed with j beauty and a superior mind, graced with | the accomplishments of courts and the 1 polish of letters, it was Carlotta’s des tiny to be united at a very early age to 1 the most amiable and able of the Aus trian archdukes. Maximilian was dis tinguished for his virtues, his courage, his courtly bearwg and the liberal tone of his thoughts and feelings. At the time of the marriage no more brilliant prospect than the luxurious life of an emperor’s brother and sister opened be fore them. Maximilian thought of no loftier destiny that) to form one of the princely galaxy around Francis Joseph’s throne, to govern a Slavic or Croat prov ince, perhaps lend his sword to the glory of Austria, or to spend happy summer months with his lovely bride at his cas tie of Miramar, on the Adriatic. No graver danger than that of a European war or local insurrection threatened to interrupt a tranquil aGd contented life. Tne ambitions projects of Napoleon suddenly intruded upon the even tenor of this calm existence. The conquest of Mexico by Bazaine and the necessity of finding a wearer of royal blood for the new imperial crown, caused Louis to cast his eyes over Europe for the available candidate, and he fixed npon Maximilian as the prince be&t fitted for his purpose. The Archduchess Sophia urged him to decline the bauble. Car lotta, with ali toe enthusiasm of youth aud ambition, begged him to accept it. To her Maximilian unfortunately yielded; he went to Mexico, accom panied by his dauntless and exulting wife, and bravely nerved himself to meet the perils of his new position. These perils were not fanciful; the long conflict between the virtually usurping emperor and the persistent Juarez is well known. Ils tragic termination, in which the gallant Austrian went calmly to the fate of Charles of England and Louis of France is one of the most thrilling episodes in history. Carlotta stood staunchly by her husband from first to last. When his cause waned and bid ere long to be desperate, this heroic woman hastened to Europe, fell at Napoleon’s feet, and begged him to go to the rescue. Stung by the refusal of the one who had lured Maximilian across the ocean, the unfortunate princess broke into wild imprecations. From St. Cloud she hastened to Rome, only to learn at the Vatican that it was hopeless. Desperate with disappoint ment, Carlotta wandered over Europe, pleading with Francis Joseph at Vi enna, mourning with her brother in Brussels. Tnen the bright though weary intellect began to fade. She sank into alternate idiocy and madness; and while in this diseased fancy she was fighting the battle over and over again in the quiet retirement of Lacken. Maximilian was shot at Quer etaro. A ?omnaml)iilist Pilot. I oaxing a Steamboat Tin a Crooked Pitas In tlte Dark. BY MARK TWAIN. There used to be an excellent pilot on the river, a Mr. X., who was a som nambulist. It was said that, if his mmd was troubled about a bad p.ece of river, he was pretty pure to get up and walk iu his sleep and do strange tilings. He was once fellow pilot for a trip or two with George E , cn a great New Orleans passenger packet. Late one night the boat was approaching Heleua, Ark., the water was low, and the cross ing above the to*a in a very blind and tangled condition. X. had seen the crossing Since E had, and, as the night was particularly drizzly, sullen and dark, E was cousideringwliether he had not better have X. called to as sist in running the place, when the door opened and X. walked in. “Let me take her, Mr. E ; I’ve seen this place since yon have, and it is so crooked that I reckon I can ran it my self, easier than I could tell you how to do it.” “ It is kind of yon, and I swear I am willing. I haven’t got another drop of perspiration left iu me. I have been spinning around the wheel like a squir rel. It is so dark I can’t tell which way she is swinging till she is comign around like a whirligig.” So E took a seat on the bench, panting and breathless. X assumed the wheel without saying anything, steadied the waltz mg steamer with a turn or two, and then stood at ease, coaxing her a little to this side and then to that, as gently and as sweetly as if the time had been noonday. When E observed the marvel of steering. he wished he had not confessed. He stared and wondered, and finally said ; “Well, I thought I knew how to steer a steamboat, but that was another mis take of mine.” X. said nothing, but went sei enely on with his work. He rang for leads ; he rang to slow down the steam; he worked the boat carefully and neatly into invis ible marks, th n stood at the centre of the wheel and peered out blandly into the blackness, fore and aft, to verify his position; as the leads shoaled more and more, he stopped the engines en tirely, atui the dead silence and suspense of “ drifting” followed; when theshoal est water was struck he cracked on the steam, carried her handsomely over, and then began to work her warily into the next system of shoal marks ; the saire patient, heedful nse of leads and engines followed; the boat slipped through without touching bottom, aud entered upon the third and last intri cacy of the crossing; imperceptibly she moved through the gloom, crept by inches in'o her marks, drifted tediously till the shoalest water was cried, and then, under a tremendous head of steam, went swinging over the reef and away into deep water and safety ! E let his long pent’ breath pour out in a long, relieving sigh, and said : “ That s the sweetest piece of pilot ing that was ever done on the Missis sippi river ! I wouldn’t have believed it oould be done, if I hadn’t seen it. ” There was no reply, aid he added: “Just hold her five minutes loDger, partner, and let me run down and get a cup of coffee.” A minute later E—— was biting into a pie down in the “ texas,” and comforting himself with coffee. Just then the night watchman happened in, and was about to happen out again, when he noticed E , and exclaimed : “ Who is at the wheel, sir ? ” “X .’’ “ Dart for the pilot-house quicker than lightning. The next moment both men were flying up the pilot house companion way three steps at a jump ! Nobody there ! The great steamer was whis tling down the middle of the river at a her own sweet will! The watchman shot out of the place agaiD. E seized the wheel, set an engine back with power, and held his breath while the boat reluctantly swung away from a “tow-head” which he was about to knock into the middle of the Gnlf of Mexico ! “ By and by the watchman came back and said: '‘‘Didn’t that lunatic tell you he was asleep when he first came uo here ? ” “No.” “ Well, he was. I found him walk ing along on the top of the railings, just as unconcerned as another man would walk a pavement; and 1 put him to bed. Now just this minute there he was away astern, going through that sort of tight-repe deviltry the same as before.” “Well, I think I’ll stay by, next time he has one of those fits. But I hope he’ll have them often. You just ought to have seen him take the boat through Helena crossing. I never saw anything so gaudy before. And if he can do such gold-leaf, kid-glove, diamond breast pin piloting when he is sonnd asleep, what couldn’t he do if lie was dead ? ” The Grasses. Dr. Bachelder, of Central New York, talks thus of the different grasses with which he has been experimenting: Perennial rye-grass he considers of no value for hay or pasture, as it will not endure the winters, but Italian rye grass, he says, is hardly anywhere in New York, and is one of the most val uable grasses known, either to cut for soiling or for hay. In vigor it is like orchard-grass, but is finer in texture, and is of the “cut and come again” kind, often producing two crops of hay in a season, and then a rich aftermath. Meadow fescue he finds to be one of 1 the most vigorous, adapted to either j meadow or pasture. It equals timothy in the same time. It is a good grass to grow with timothy. _ Sweet vernal grass ought to be grown'in the meadow to give fragrance to the other hay. Cattle devour it with great eagerness. Orchard grass alone, or with the medium clover, is valuable, but then it ripens too soon for timothy. If cut just be fore the flower-scape opens, it makes a valuable hay, but if left till it ripens it is no better than rye straw. Timothy, Italian rye grass, meadow fescue, red top, meadow-oat grass and red clover ripen well enough to make good hay, and aro well adapted to the climate, which is the great consideration. The proportion he gives of each is as fol ! lows : Timothy, ten pounds ; Italian rye, five pounds; meadow-oat grass, | two pounds ; red clover, eight pounds. For pasture he thinks June and orchard i grass the best. The doctor thinks the Alfalfa will prove valuable in the west and south-west. Norway. In its general aspect Norway presents the most unpromising conformation of surface for farming operations that can well be conceived. Mountain ranges, with plateaus whose altitude precludes cultivation, and from which rise moun tains that reach an elevation of eight thousaad feet above the sea, prevail generally throughout the country. Ex cept in the south the mountain-tops are covered with snow for the greater part, if not all the year; their slopes, when not absolutely inaccessible, are far too rocky and abrupt for farming settle ments. The dr eper valleys that inter sect these mountain ranges# and which ramify with the contortions of the hills, are channels up which the sea sends its tides; above the level of these fjords are other water-worn valleys, which convey the overflow of the mountain lakes, subsided by countless streams that in varying volume leap from the hills as waterfalls, or rnsh foaming down the mountain side—the impervi ous primitive or metamorphoric rocks that are characteristic of the country not permitting the absorption of the melting snows or the summer’s rains. There exists, therefore a very extensive superficial area that presents physical as well as climatic difficulties of a char acter not to be surmoijnted by the most enterprising cultivators. With few ex ceptions the h imestead of the Norsk farmer is built on the lower slopes of the hills, where, in fact, the wash of tbe rocky surfaces, in broken stone aDd siltv soil, has accumulated to a suffi cient depth for the operation of the plow; or on the embanked levels of loamy soil, the deposits left by ancient rivers, cr when rich lacustrine alluvium is met with or where moraines are spread out at the embouchure of gla cier grooved and expansive valleys, firming suitable sites of scattered ham lets and little farms. At Green Bay, Wis., winter "still lingers in the lap of spring, but the people don’t mind it, because they have the garment known as the sawdnstelio. One who has seen .this useful invention says of it: “ This covering, which em braces a coat and breeches all in one, and is donned by both sexes, is made out of two thicknesses of blankets, i tilled in between with sawdust. Hay or straw can be used for the stuffing. The outfit looks a little elephantine to j a stranger, bnt the people of Green Bay j 'on’t mind the appearance so long asit , is so oomfortable.” The Governor and the Grizzly. A correspondent of the San Franciico Alta writes as follows of the new gov ernor of California : Governor Pacheco has, among his ac complishments—and they are many one possessed, we believe, by no other governor in the United States. He can lasso and get away with a wild grizzly bear, and we saw him do it in May, 1852, on the Rancho de los Osos (Bear Ranch), in San I uis Obispo, then the residence of Governor Pacheco’s mother. Away up in the mountains, among the wild oats, the grizzlies take their morn ing naps, after their nightly prowling about in search of any stray calf, pig, or other small game. Early one morn ing the enormous print of a grizzly’s foot was seen in the ear-h, close by the dwelling of the governor’s mother, and in a few minutes Romnaldo and two or three others were in the saddle and off for the mountains. When the tall, wild oats, half-way up the mountain, were reached, the party had not ridden more than two minutes among the tall, dry wisps, when the horses suddenly started, snorting loudly, and instantly a huge grizzly stood erect, with a terrific pres ence, high above the dry wild oats. He looked just like a gigantic negro, with shaggy, fur overcoat, his eyes gleaming fiercely, his cruel teeth and red mouth unpleasantly conspicuous. Each man and every horse for the instant seemed petrified—as if, while every nerve and every muscle and eveiy sense was at its utmost tension, they had suddenly looked upon the Medusa. Ia a sec ond’s time Pacheco spurred forward, swinging his lasso. The bear com menced sparring warily, and few pro fessional boxers can fend off as these creatures will. But Pacheco’s lasso shot like an arrow and clasped about the huge fore-foot, when the horse (who saw every movement, and was as wide awake as Pacheco) sprang the other way, and, the lasso being fast to the pommel, the bear was instantly thrown to the ground, when two oth- r men, quick as lightning, had thrown their lassos and caught the hind feet; then another rider caught the loose fore foot, and the four horses took their positions like cavalry animals trained by some noiseless signal, and slowly marched down the mountain’s side, two horses in the van and two in the rear, dragging Ursa Major quietly down the grassy descent, the rear horse3 keeping just taut line enough to prevent the bear from getting any use of his terri ble hind claws. Nabl has painted some of these California lassoing scenes that ; have been as near justice to such excit ing tableaux as could be done by the painter’s art, but nothing could portray the intensity of excitement and action brought forth at such a moment. Pach eco was, at that time, twenty-one years old, and the handsomest man we ever looked upon. I guess the panther in the wilderness was net more fair than he. When he first realized the sudden presence of the terrible enemy and stood erect in his stirrops, his face gleaming with the glory of youth, fear lessness, and excitement—his great black eyes sparkling, his white teeth tightly pressed upon his nether lips, perfectly still for a second, he was the most glorious object in nature. In no longer time than the sight of this could be just taken in he sprang forward, his long, dark hair tossed wildly for a mo ment, and then he had captured the bear, as related. The captors slowly took their prisoner down to the house, where a long, he avy piece of timber lay upon the grass. Fastening the bear’s hind-feet to the timber with the strong lasso, and the fore-feet to a strong, deep-driven stake, they stepped away to a respectful dis tance, their eyes upon the ferocious creature and their hands upon their saddle-pommels. Wo walked up close to the bear to take a careful look at him. All cried out “ Cuiado 1” “ Take care.” “ Why, he’s all secure,” we said. “ Yes, but look out,” “ You don’t think he could get loose?” “ Perhaps not, but you’d better keep away 1” And we did. The bear lay with his head between his huge paws, covering his eyes, save occasionally when he could furtively lift his eyes, like a sulky child, to look at his captors ; then covering his eyes again, remain a moment and steal an other look. Soon he gave heavy sighs, aud someone said, “He is dying.” We expressed surprise to learn that the bear was wounded. “He is not wounded,” they replied, “but his heart breaks—he dies of rage.” And in a few moments he had breathed hi last, and was dragged awav some distance from the house and left, Pacheco pointed to the sky. We looked and saw a hundred carrion .'rows, whose watchful eyes had seen the feast long before it was halfway down the mountain side ; and before we were a hundred yards from the dead bear its body was completely hidden by the sable, flapping wings of the hungry undertakers. Beef Fillets with Vegetables,— Cut some rump steak in slices halt an inch thick, trim them all to the tame size is the shape of cruets, acd lard them finely and thickly witn fat bacon; lay them out the larded side uppermost into a baking-dish, and put in as moch rich stock of gravy as will come up to, but not cover, the larding; cover the dish, and place it in the oven to braise gently for half an hour, then remove the cover, baste the fillets with the gravy, and let them remain uncov ered in the oven for the larding to take color. Take equal quantities cf car rots and turnips, cut them into the shape of small olives, parboil them, then toss them in butler separately un til done. Melt a piece of bn’ter in a saucepan, add a little fionr, mix well, and put in as much of the gravy in which the fillets have braised as will make enough sauce ; stir weil, add the vegetables and when quite hot ar range them, and serve. Heke is an instance of Scotch thrift: A man sent to jail for larceny was per mitted to write to his wife, and this is what he wrote: “Dear wife—if they keep me iu the gaol, make them put you in the poor-house.”