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LILLIE IDLES; UHD BY II BDSB itcm. A Story of the War in the Southwest. BY ARVIDE 0. BALDWIN. CHAPTER XT—Continued “No, we mus’ go slow, Marse John, 'case dere is no use frowin’ away powder, an' mebbe gettin’ crippled, on account ob fool ishness in dis heah fuss. We is all right heah, an’ night am de best time ter hunt coon and bushwhackers.” From where our friends were located it was impossible for their foes to leave without been seen, so a constant watch was kept on the openings below aud above their cam)). “I don't see any horses, Jeff. They must have plenty of them, but where can they he?” “Does yer see dat holler ’trv? de hill an’ de camp?” “Yes.” “Dat am de 'cality. De bosses am dere.” “What makes .you think so?” “ ’Case I knows it. I’se seed dem.” “Well, Jett, you are a good one!” “Yes, Marse John, I’se a purty fair nig ger ter work when I likes de business. ” “You certainly must like war, then." “Jes tollable, tollable, Marse John.” “What about the horses?” “ When I was gwine up de paf dat go to de place whar Miss Lillie is, 1 heerd de tinklin’ ov a bell to de lef’ in de brush, an I jes went out fer ter see about de matter. As I specs, hosses was dere, an dey comes handy sometimes, yer know. Well, I foun’ de hosses, Marse John, an’ lots ob dem. Mebbe we kin use some ob dose animals dis ebenin’.” “That is what I think, Jeff. But how does it come that you are so well posted, and know light where everything is?” “I'se been heah befo’, Marse John, ef yet disremember correc’lv.” “Thai’s true, so you have; and it seems that you improved your time, too. ” “I’se a no ’count plantation nigger, Marse John, but I’se some ’dapted for wah, an’ I 'spec de reason am dat I spize de debbil an udder bushwhackers.” When the sun wa3 pretty well up a per son was seen carrying something from camp toward the hill beyond which were the captives. The watchers supposed it was food for them. An hour or more later they saw another one of. the campers going in the same direc tion.* They were not positive, at that dis tance, but they believed it to be Edom Woodsley. Ho walked slowly, and the two men watched him closely until hi 3 head sank beyond the hill. It is worth our while to follow this indi vidual, for our friends were correct in thinking the person to be Woodsley. It seemed that he was not in as healthy con dition as he desired. His wound had in flamed, and without proper care was not doing as well as he could wish He was not in the best of spirits as he unlocked the door of the rough log prison that held his lovely captive. Lillie was sitting by one of the small loop-holes that answered for windows, watching the birds flitting about in the neighboring trees. Her spirits had re vived since hearing that friends were near, and she was appearing her own self again when Edom Woodsley entered. As she saw who the intruder was she rose abruptly, and her eyes flashed as he came toward her. “Good morning, Miss Lillie. I trust I find you well,” he saidas he reached out his left hand. “You will excuse me for not offering you my right hand, but that hand appears to be too ‘shaky’ now.” And he tried to laugh at the w r eak pun. “I wish you would not impose your hate ful presence upon me, when you know how distasteful it is,” she said, without paying any attention to the outstretched hand. “O, my little beauty, you will like me when you know me better,” he signifi cantly remarked. “God knows, I wish I had never known you. Your wickedness has made all my misery.” “Your hate has brought any trouble upon ■you that you have had. You have attempt led the life of one that loves you, Lillie Ed dies, but even that will be forgiven if you 'will but ” “Hush! Do not insult me again, and when I am unprotected. I could never even call one friend who has thus warred on the defenseless.” “You have not always been so defense less, it seems.” And he pointed to htl wound. “Ah! But I wish I had that weapon with me whenever a coward offers an insult.” . “It is useless to prolong this ill-feeling. Let us be friends and then we can under stand each other. lam either a gentleman or a devil, and you have the power to say which I shall be in the future. ’ “Well, I’ll say be a mau, then, and be a gentleman—if you can,” she answered tartly. “Then you will forgive all?” he asked. “Yes. all.” “And love me, Lillie?” “Never!” “You must! You shall!” he wildly ex claimed. “I never can, and never will," she firmly replied. “Lillie Eddies,” he exclaimed, “you will marry me, or I will cut your proud heart from your breast! If kindness will not do, I will use other means, for you can never live to be another's. I will feed your pretty carcass to the buzzards first ” “You can murder me, Edom Woodsley; but you can never call me wife, ” she un flinchingly answered. “You will he my wife before to-morrow night or your life will close. It is I or death; take your choice!” “Death is preferable,” she carelessly re plied. “I will return again to-morrow and re ceive your final answer. If you do not con sent to become my wife, so sure as there is a God in heaven you w.ll never live to love another." And he swung his lefthand above his head, and his thin lips closed tightly together. Lillie felt conrineed that he intended to do as he said, but she did not despair. She knew friends were near, and the hope of escape gave her sustaining courage. He turned about when he ceased speak ing aud op ned the door and looked back. “Remember, to-morrow brings happi ness or death!” Lillie deigned no reply to this, and he pissed out. When he had gone a sense of great relief came over her. She knew she was in danger of losing her life if she vratuiot rescued be fore the chmitvg day, for she verily believed that IV oodslov would do as he said —mur- der her uuless she complied with Lis de mands; aud she firmly determined never to do that. CHAPTER XII A MYSTERIOUS RECOGNITION. Time passed slowly to the two men in the rocks, and it seemed that the day would never wear away, but night finally came, as it always does, and always will, no matter how anxiously we are waiting, and our frinds prepared to leave their place of conceal ment. The bushwhackers had built their even ing fire, and white clouds of smoke were circling far above the trees. Our friends felt relieved when the last light streak of departing day disappeared in the west, aud they began to climb down the rocks. Up the river and across it once more they went, and directed their course toward the ravine that held the horses. They carefully crawled across the open space so that they would not be otoerved, but when ouce across nearly ail fear of being discovered disappeared, and they followed on up the ravine. In a short time the tinkling of the small bells were heard, and they knew the horses were nigh. Four of the best ones were secured, and then tney cut the bells from those that wore them and began driving the small herd up the ravine. When they thought they had gome far enough, they then chungedtheir course, and passed over the steep hill on the left, still driving the loose animals be fore them. When they reached the opposite side they left the driven horses at the foot of the hill, in the valley, and then kept on down. Soon they came to the clearing, in the center of which was built the prison of the captives. They halted and began to recon noiter. They found everything as Jeff had found it the previous night. There was the little log prison-house, and there were the two men on guard, one at the back and one in front, pacing back and forth over their beat. Everything was quiet as they looked, but soon the sharp notes of the whip-poor-will rang out but a short dis tance away. Jeff started. The superstition of his race for ait instant got the better of him, but it was only for an instant, for be fore the first sharp cry bad died away he recovered and again possessed his natural coolness. “It is against my inclinations and I dread to do it,” John whispered, “but our only hope of releasing the prisoners is by a des perate action. The two sentinels must be got away with, and we hav ■ it to do.” “All right. Marse John, I hears yer.” “Which one will you take, Jeff?” “De ’whacker back er de house.” “I’ll take the other. Be sure and get your mau, Jeff. Shoot when I whistle. ’ John glanced around a moment and then appeared to be satisfied. "All ready now. Crawl close to that stump and get fixed, and when I give the signal drop him. ” The negro got down on his hands and knees and crawled along like a snake, until he had reached the spot designated. John did the same, and the two arrived at their stations at nearly the same instant. iTO RE CONTINUED.] The Lepers Sent Away. The Philadelphia Press says; It came to light yesterday that Mrs. Miranda and her daughter, the lepers who were isolated in the Municipal Hospital, have left the city. Since their removal to the hospital many plans had been discussed by the health authorities to send them back to their homes in South America, but every vessel Captain that was ap approached would have nothing to do with them. Dr. Ford of the Board of Health said last night that Mrs. Miranda and her daughter had left the city at their own request. The Board of Health and several charitable gentlemen took the matter in charge. In March a tramp steamer entered this port, and by the 12th she was ready to sail for Brazil, South America. The Captain was approached, and, as soon as seen, lie was recognized as the Captain of the vessel that had brought the lepers here. The case was stated to him, and he said lie would gladly give them pas sage to Brazil, and that they would be isolated from all parties on board. Tramp steamers are not chartered to carry passengers, being registered as freight steamers, but the two lepers were taken as part of the family which the steamer is allowed to carry. The strange part of tile story is that the lepers return on the same steamer that brought them here, with the same Captain and occupying the same state room. When Dr. Ford informed Mrs. Miranda and her daughter that passage had been secured for them they were overjoyed. The steamer sailed on the 14th of March, during the blizzard. A few days ago a telegram was received announcing their safe arrival among tlieir friends. Real Smart Jersey Rabbins. A couple of robbins recently came to an amicable understanding, and built a nest in the fork of a low bough on a pine tree growing near the railroad station at Fair View, N. J. It was almost com pleted on Sunday, und, going to tlieir new home, with the last few twigs re quisite, rather for an ornate finishing than for anything else, the birds were mortified to find a large, green, ugly toad filling the nest, and hopping over the edges. Whether a toad can climb a tree or not is an unsettled question, and did not seeni to interest the birds. He was there, and that was quite enough for them. Several hours were passed in strenuously trying to eject him, the birds working in a systematic manner, and, by using their combined forces at one side of the nest, endeavoring to heave the intruder out at the other. They were not strong enough, however, and they could not raise the gross body. The toad seemed to be asleep, and, as he lay with closed eves, the respiratory heaving of his fat sides alone showing that lie was not dead, neither peeking nor pushing seemed to have the slight est effect on him. Weary and discour aged, the robbins flew to an adjacent bush, and, apparently, discussed the situation. When they returned to the attack ten minutes later they had perfected a plan that made short work af the toad. They began, with great earnestness, to teat away the bottom of the nest, and in a very short time the obnoxious thing came tumbling tlnough the hole. HJ roused himself, and, with a hoarse pro testing croak, hopped into the long grass. Then the robbins flew away t<] build another house. They had ousted the toad, but they had no intention oJ reconstructing their desecrated nest. REV. DR. TALMAGE. THE BROOKLYN DIVINE 1 8 SUN. DAY SERMON. Subject: “The Martyrs of Every-Day Life.” (Drenched at Lakeside, 0.) text: Thou, therefore, endure hardness. —II. Timothy, ii., 3. Historians are not slow to acknowledge the merits of great military chieftains. We have the full-length portraits of the Cromwells, the Washingtons, the .Napoleons and the Well ingtons of the world. History is not written in black ink, but witli red ink of human blood. The gods of human ambition do not drink from bowls made out of silver, or gold, or precious stones, but out of the bleached skulls of the fallen. But lam now to unroll before you a scroll of heroes that the world has never acknowledged; those who faced no guns, blew no bugle blast, conquered no critics, chained no captives to their chariot wheels, and yet. in the groat day of eternity, will stand higher than those whose names startled the nations; and seraph, and rapt spirit, aud archangel will tell their deeds to a listening universe. I mean the heroes of common, every-day life. In this roll, in the first place, I And all the heroes of the sick room. When Satan had failed to overcome Job, he said to God: ‘‘Put forth thy hand and touch his bones and his flesh, and he will curse thee to thy face.” Satan had found out what we have found out, that sickness is the greatest test of cue's character. A man who can stand that can stand anything. To be shut in a room as fast as though it were a hostile; to be so nervous j’ou cannot endure the tap of a child’s foot; to havh luxuriant fruit, which tempts the appetite df the robust and healthy, excite our loathing and disgust when it first appears on the platter; to have the rapier of pain strike through the side, or across the temples, like a razor, or to put the foot into a vice, or throw the whole body into a blaze of fever. Yet there have been men and women, but more women than men, who have cheerful ly endured this hardness. Through years of exhausting rheumatisms and ex cruciating neuralgias they have gone, and through bodily distresses that rasped the nerves, and tore the muscles, aud paled th® cheeks, and stooped the shoulders. By the dim light of the sick-room taper they saw on their wall the picture of that land where the inhabitants are never sick. Through the dead silence of the night they heard the chorus of the angels. The cancer ate away her life from week to week and day to day, and she became weaker and weaker, and every “good night” was feebler than the “good night” before—yet never sad. The children looked up into her face and saw suffering trans formed into a heavenly smile. Those who suffered on the battle-field, amid shot and shell, were not so much heroes and heroines as those who in the field hospital and in the asylum had fevers which no ice could cool and no surgery cure. No shout of a comrade to cheer them, but numbness, and aching, and homesickness—yet willing to suffer, confident in God, hopeful of heaven. Heroes of rheumatism. Heroes of neuralgia. Heroes of spinal complaint. Heroes of sick headache. Heroes of lifelong invalidism. Heroes and heroines. They shall reign foi ever and ever. Hark! I catch just ene note of the eternal anthem: “There shall be no more pain.” Bless God for that. In this roll I also find the heroes of toil, who do their work uncomplainingly. It is compar atively easy to lead a regiment into battle when you know that the whole nation will applaud the victory; it is comparatively easy to doctor the sick when you know that your skill will be appreciated' by a large company of friends and relatives; it is comparatively easy to address an audience when, in thb gleaming eyes and the flushed cheeks, you know that your sentiments are adopted; but to do sewing where you expect that the employer will come and thrust his thumb through the work to show how imperfect it is, or to have the whole gar ment thrown back on you to be done over again; to build a wall and know there will be no one to say you did it well, but only a swearing employer howling across scaffold; to work until your eyes are dim and your back aches, and your heart faints, and to know that if you stop before night your children will starve. Ah! the sword has not slain so many as the needle. The great battle-fields of our last war were not Gettysburg and Shiloh and South Moun tain. The great battle fields of tha last war were in the arsenals, and in the shops and in the attics, where women made army jackets fora sixpence. They toiled on until they died. They had no funeral eulogium, but, in the name of ray God, this day, 1 enroll their names among i iiose of whom the wor d was not worthy. Heroes of the needle. Heroes of the sewing machine. Heroes of the attic. Heroes of the cellar. Heroes and heroines. Bless God for them. In this roll i also find the heroes who have uncomplainingly endured domestic injus tices. There are men who for their toil and anxiety have no sympathy in their homes. Exhausting application to business gets them a livelihood, but an unfrugal wife scatters it. He is fretted at from the moment he en ters the door until he comes out of it. The exasperations of business life augmented by the exasperations of domestic life. Such men are laughed at, but they have a heart breaking trouble, aud they would have long ago gone into appalling dissipations but for the grace of God. Society to-day is strewn with the wrecks of men, who under the northeast storm of domestic infelicity have been driven on the rocks. There are tens of thousands of drunk ards In this country to-day, made such by their wives. That is not poetry. That is prose. But the wrong is generally in the op pcsite direction. You would not have to go far to find a wife whose life is a perpetual martyrdom. Something heavier than a stroke of the fist; unkind words, staggering home at midnight, and constant maltreat ment w hich have left her only a wreck of what she was on that day when in the midst of a brilliant assemblage the vows wore taken, and full organ played the wedding march, and the carriage rolled away with the benediction of the people. What was the burning of Latimer and Ridley at the stake compared with this? Those men soon became unconscious in the flra. but here is a fifty years’ martydom, a fitly years' putting to death, yet uncomplaining. No bitter words when the rollicking companions at 2 o’clock iD the morning pitch the husband dead drunk into the front entry. No bitter words when wiping from the swollen brow the blood struck out in a midnight carousal. Bending over the battered and bruised form of him, who, when he took her from her father’s home, promised love, and kindness, and protection, yet nothing but sympathy, and prayer.-, and forgiveness before they are asked for. No bitter words when the tatnily Bible goes for rum, and the pawnbroker's shop gets the last decent dress. Some day, desiring to evoke the story of her sorrows, you say: “Well, how are you get ting along now? ’ aud rallying her tremhling voice, and quieting her* quivering lip, she says: “Pretty well. I thank you. pretty well.” She never will tell you. In the de lirium of her last sickness she may tell all the secrets of her lifetime, but she will not tell that. Not until the books of eternity are opened on the thrones of judgment will ever be known what she has suffered. Oh! ve who are twisting a garland for the victor, put it ou that pale brow. AT hen she is" dead the neighbors will beg linen to make her a shroud, and she will be carried out in a plain box with no silver piate to tell her years, for she has lived a thousand years of trial and anguish. The gamblers and swindlers who destroyed her husband will not come to the funeral. One carriage will be enough for that funeral—one carriage to carry the orphans and the two Christian women who presided over the obsequies. But there is- a flash, and the opening of a celestial door, aud a shout: “Lift up your head, ye everlasting gate, and let her come in!” And Christ will step forth and say: “Come in! ye suffered with me oa earth, be glorified with ine in heaven.” What is the highest throne in heaven? Y'ou say; “The throne of the Lord God Almighty and the Lamb.” *No doubt aoout it. * U.’liut is the next highest throne in heaven? While I speak it seems to me that it will be the throne of the drunkard’s wife, if ahe with cheerful patience endured all her earthly torture. Heroes and heroines. I find also in this roll the heroes of Christian charity. We ali admire the George Pea boiys and the James Lenoxes of the earth, who give tens and hundreds of thousands of dol ars to good objects. But 1 am speaking this morning of those who, out of tbeir pinched poverty, help others—of such men as those Christian ui is sionaries at the West, who«re living on $..‘5U a year that they may proclaim Christ to the people; one of them, writing to the Secretary in New York, saying: “I thank you for that $25. Until yesterday we have had no meat in our house for three months. Wo have suffered terribly. My children have no shoes this winter.” And of those people who have.only a half loaf of bread, but give a piece of it to others who are hungrier; and of those Wi.o ha-e only a scuttleol'coal, but help others to fuel: and of those who have only a dollar in their pocket, and give twenty-five cents to some body else; and of that father who wears & shabby coat, and of that mother who wears a faded dress, that their children may be well apparelled. You call them paupers, or ragamuffins, or emigrants. I call them heroes and heroines. Y ou and I may not know where they live, or what their name is. God knows, and they have more angels hovering over them tiian you and I have, and they will have a higher seat in heaven. They may have only a cuj of cold water to give a poor traveler, or may have only picked a splinter from under the nail of a child's finger, or have put only two mites into the treasury, but the Lord knows th -m. Considering what they had, they dud more than we have ever done, au i their faded dress will become a white robe, and the small room will be au eternal mansion, and the old hat will be a coronet of vic tory. and all the applause of earth and all the shouting of heaven w>!l be drowned out when God rises up to gi'\, his reward to those humble workers in his kingdom, and to say to them: “Wei! cone, good and faithful servant.” Y'ou have all seen or heard of the ruin of Melrose Abbey. I suppose in soma respects it is the most exquisite ruin on earth. And yet, looking at it I was not so impressed —you may set it down to bad taste —but I was not so deeply stirred as 1 was at a tomb stone at the foot of that Abbey—the tomb stone piacea oy waiter Mcott over the grave of an old man who had served him for a good many years house. The inscription most significant, and I defy any man to stand there and read it without tears coming into his eyes. The epitaph: “Well done, good and faithful servant." Oh! when our work is over, will it be found that because of anything we have done for God, or the church, or suffering humanity, that such an inscription is appropriate for us? God grant it. AYho are those who were bravest and de served the greatest monument—Lord Claver house and his burly soldiers, or John Brown, the Edinburgh carrier, and his wife? Mr. Atkins, the persecuted minister of Jesus Christ in Scotland, was secreted by John Brown and his wife, and Claverhouse rode up one day with his armed men and shouted in front of the house. John Brown's little girl came out He said to her: “Well, mis-, is Mr. Atkins here*” She made no answer, for she could not betray the minister of the Gospel “Ha!” Clever house said, “then you are a chip of the old block, are you? I have something in my pocket for you. It is a nosegay. Some peo ple call it a thumbscrew, but I call it a nose gay.” And he got oif his horse, and he put it on the little girl's naud, and began to turn it until the bones cracked, and she cried. He said: “Don’t cry, don't cry: this isn’t a thumb screw; tl»is is a nosegay.” And they heard the child’s cry, and the father and mother came out, and Claverhouse said: “Hal It seems that you three have laid your holy heads together determined to die like all the rest of your hypocritical, canting, snivelling crew; rather than give up good Mr. Atkins, pious Mr. Atkins, you would die. I have a telescope with me that will improve your vision.” and he pulled out a pistol. “Now,” he said, “you old pragmatical, lest you should eaten cold in this cold morning of Scot land, and for the honor and safety of tbfe king, to say nothing of the glory of God and the good of our souls, I will proceed simply anl in the neatest and most expedit.ous style possible to blow your brains out.” John Brown fell upon his knees and began to pra>W‘Ah!” said Claver house, “look out, if going to pray; steer clear of the King; the council and Richard Cameron.” “01 Lord,” said John Brown, “since it seems to be Thv will that I should leave this world for a world where I can 10. e Thee letter and serve Thee more, I put this poor widow woman and three help less, fatherless children into Thy hands. We have been together in peace a good while, blit now we must look forth to a better meeting in heaven, and as for these poor creatures, blindfolded anil infatuated, that stand before mo, con vert them before it be too late, and may they who have sat in judgment in this lonely place on this blessed morning, upon me, a poor, de fenseless fellow-creature—may they, in the Last Judgment, find that mercy which thtjy have refused to me, Thy most unworthy, but faithful servant. Amen." He rose up and said: “Isabel, the hour has come of which I spoke to you o:i the m< ruing when 1 proposed hand and heart to you; and are you will ing now, tor the love of God, to let me die?” She put her arms around him and said: “The Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken away. Blessed l>e the name of the Lord!” "Stop that snivelling,” said Claverhouse. “I have had enough of it. Soldiers, do your work. Take aim! Fire 1” and the h ad of John Brown was scattered on the ground. While the wife was gather ing up in her apron the fragments of her husbands head—gathering them up for burial—Claverhouse looked into her face and said: “Now, my good woman, how do you feel about your bonnie man?” “Oh!” she said, “I always thought wael of him; he has been very good to me; I had no reason for thinking anything but weel of him, and I think better of him now. Oh, what a grand thing it will lie in the Last Day to see God pick out his heroes and heroines Who are those paupers of eternity trudging off from the gates of heaven? Who are they? The Lord Claverhouses and the Herods and those who had sceptres, and crowns, and thrones, but they lived for their own aggrandisement,and they broke the heart of nations. Heroes of earth, but paupers in eternity. I beat the drums of their eternal despair. Woe’ woe! woo! But there is great excitement in heaven. Why those long processions? Why the booming of that great bell in the tower? It is coronation day in heaven. Who are those rising on the thrones, with crowns of eternal royalty? They must have been great people ou earth, world renowned people. No. They taught in a ragged school! Is tnat all? That is all. Who are those wav ing sceptres of eternal dominion? Why. they are little children who waited on invalid mothers. That all? That is all. She was called “Little Mary” on earth. She is an em press now. Wno are that great multitude on the highest thrones of heaven? Who are they? Why, they fed the hungry, they clothed the naked, they healed the sick, they comforted the heart-broken. They never found auy rest until they put their heal down on the pillow of the sepulchre. God at -lied them. God laughed defiance at the < neaiies who put tbeir heels hard down pn these His dear children; and one day the Ix>rd struck His hand so hard on His thigh that the omnipotent sword ratt ed in the buckler, as ho said: “I am their God, and no weapon formed against them shall prosper.” What harm can the world do you when the Lord Almighty with unsli<»**Ahed sword fights for you? I preach this sermon for comfort. Go tome to the place just where God has put you to play the hero or the heroine. Do not ;nvy any man his money, or bis applause, or bis social position. Do not envy any woman her wardrobe, or her exquisite appear ance. Be the hero or the heroine. If there be no flour iu the house, and you do not know where your children are to get bread, listen, and you will hear something tapping against the window-pane. Go to the window and you will find it is the beak of a raven, and open the window aqd there will lly in the messenger that fed Elijah. Do you think tliat the God who grows the cotton of the South will let you freeze for lack of clothes? Do you think that the God who allowed the disciples on Sunday morning to go into the grain field, and then take the grain and rub it in their hands and eat. Do you think God wiil let you starve? Did you ever hoar the experience of that old man: “I have been young, and now am I old. yet have I never seen the righteous forsaken, or his seed begging bread?” Get up out of your discouragement, O! troubled soul, O! sewing woman, O! man kicked and cuffed by unjust employers,O lye whoarehard beset in the battle of iifeandk ow not which way to turn, 01 you bereft one, O; you sick one with complaints you have told to no one, come and get the comfort of this subject. Listen to our great Captain’s cheer: “To him that overcometh will I give to eat of the truit of the tree of life which is in the midst of the Paradise of God. ” THE MYSTERY OF A SKELETON Reasons for Believing it is that of & Noted Gambler in War Times. [From the Louisville Courier.] A few days ago the citizens of Brook lyn, a small town opposite Paducah, were terribly excited over the discovery of a skeleton in the bottom of a well which has been abandoned thirty years. The erection of a new mill made it necessary to clean out the old well. Yesterday the negro who was at work discovered the feet and legs of a skele ton protruding from the mud which he was cleaning out of the hole. The whole frame was intact, and by some mean 3 the bones had been well pre served throughout their long confine ment. They also found the iron frame of an old-fashioed pocketbock and an old musk soap-box. All vestige of clothing except the shoes the man wore had disappeared, but the brains still remained in the skull. Physicians pronounce the skeleton to be that of a middle-aged man, which in a measure confirms the alleged identification last night, many being of the opinion that the remains are those of one John Alex ander, wlio flourished in that section nearly twenty-five years ago. A well-known gentleman of Paducah said to a reporter yesterday: “I knew Alexander well. When the army left Shiloh and abandoned all that part of the Tennessee River above John sonville, Alexander, accompanied by his brother-in-law, . Bally Hinckle, came down with us from Savannah, Tenn. They were both pronounced Union men, and "it would not have done for them to have staid in that country after the Fed eral soldiers went away. They Gere both expert gamblers, and after they reached Paducah they commenced gam bling among the soldiers here aud won a great deal ef money. Their exploits in this direction became so numerous and the complaints against them were so many that the attention of the Pro vost Marshal wv.s at last attracted to them and they were warned to stop their operations, and compelled to re restore several hundred dollars they had fleeced a couple of soldiers out of a night or two before. When Buford made his laid upon Paduedi, they both fled across the river to Brooklyn. Alexander never returned. After the raid Illinickle returned and reported his brother in-law as inyster iou<Qv missing. A thorough search was madWor him, but it was of no avail. It was strongly susjiecfced at the time that he had been made aw ay wi.h and robbed of a large sum of money he was known to carry about his person. I am per feetiAjatisfied that the skeleton found in tlie well was that of Alexander, and I believe that he was treacherously mur dered. Hinckle later turned up here again with Mrs. Alexander, who made every effort to ascertain her husband’s fate,but failing,finally returned home in despair. That a skeleton should remain in au abandoned well, located in a populated district, twenty-five years without being discovered seems incredible, but such appear to be the facts in the case. A Little Love. lam minded to write a few lines on the little courtesies of life that some of us who are husbands and wives seem to have forgotten, or purposely set aside, since the days of our honeymoon. Wo clung to them tenaciously enough be fore—yes, we gloried in them. I know I used to tip my hat in the most grace ful and courteous manner to my wife when I chanced to meet her on the strpet before we were married. Sometimes, I confess it with shame, I don’t do it now. I used, in those “politer” days, V) think that she could not, under gny sircumstances, go upstairs without a good deal of my arm for support, and now—well, sometimes I bolt ou ahead af her, and she says reprovingly: “Here, sir, you’re a gallant husband, to let me go up stairs unassisted.” Then I al ways go back aud do my duty in this respect. Wives cling longer than hus bands to ail the gentle, gracious little courtesies that were never forgotten in the lialycon days of their courtship; but they, too, forget at times some of the little things that made them so charm ing in the eyes of Tom or John or Will. Why shouldn’t we say: “I beg your par don,” or “Excuse me,” and “Thank you,” to each other as well as to other men and women. The lack of these little oourtesies and kindnesses has much to do with the lack of harmony and happiness in many houses.— Good Housekeeping. An Object or Pity. My friends say that I have consump tion. and advise me to partake of fresh blood. AVhere, oh where is there some? — Judge. HOUSEHOLD AFFAIRS. More Room When every nook and corner seems full, consider the walls. A great many things may be hung on a strip of wood running across your bed room or kitchen wall, covered from dust by a calico cur tain. Envelope bags straightened by ropes or lath strips, may hang anywhere to hold aprons, collars, hats, newspa pers, everything. Packing boxes may be placed one above another and shelved aud curtained, or small ones may ba padded like ottomans aud used for seat* and casc3 to hold bed linen or under clothing. .A few yards of bright chintz adorns a room wonderfully in the way of curtains, (hair covers and scrap bags. —New Orleans Picayune. Inex-pensivo Cream Puffs. Cream puffs, made by the general re cipes found in the cook books, are ex pensive luxuries. A recipe is here given which those who have used very highly endorse: Take one cup of cold water and one half cup of butte: and set it on the stove. When this comes to the boiling point stir in one cup of flour dry. The mixture will cleave from the bottom of the pan when sufficiently stirred. Then take from the stove and when a little cool so the eggs will not cook, stir in three eggs, one at a time, without beating, l.ast of all, add a piece of saleratus the size of a pea, dissolved in a teaspoonful of milk. Drop on well buttered tine, with a large spoon, and bake twenty-five minutes in a a very hot oven. This rule makes one dozen very large ones, or about fifteen of the usual bakery size. Do not open the oven door to look at them in less than twenty minutes. When the puffs are cool cut a slit in one side with the scissors and fill with cream. As to the cream filling, almost every cook has her own favorite way of making it, some using flour in its preparation, and others, corn starch, but for the benefit of those who are minus any particular modus operaudi the following is very good: Beat together one egg, one half cup of sugar, and three tablespooufuls of corn starch or flour, stir into it a pint of boiling milk, stir until thick enough; when cold add the flavoring. Open the puffs on the side and put in a spoouful af the cream.— St. Louis Sayings. How AVater Should Be Cooked. “Water is one of the secrets of cook ing,” sententiously said a well-known New York chef to a Mail and Eppiess re porter. “I suppose you mean all food in iti raw state should be washed ?” “Nothing of the kind,” replied the artist. “A few cooks understand the many effects produced by hard and soft water in cooking vegetables and meat. If peas and beans, for instance, are cooked in hard water, containing lime and gympsum, they will not boil tender, because these substances have a tendency to harden vegetable caseine. Now, many vegetables, as onions, boil nearly tasteless in soft water, because all the flavor is boiled out. The addition of salt often checks this, as in the case of onions, causing the vegetables to retain their peculiar flavoring principles, sides such nutritious matter as might be lost in the soft water. Some of the finest dishes in the world are ruined by the use of hard water when soft is re quired. It is a science that can best be ’earned by actual experience in the ca pacity of assistant chef. It requires a ong apprenticeship and a natural apti ude to become a great cook and to un derstand water. Now, to extract the Juice of meat to make a broth or soup soft water, unsalted and cold at first, is the best, for it much more readily pene trates the tissue. But for boiling, where the juices should be retained, hard water or soft water salted is preferable and the meat should be put iu while the water is boiling, so as to close up the pores at once. I have two assistants and once a week I lecture them on the proper use of hard and soft wrier in cooking certain dishes. In answer to your facetious ques tion above 1 will state that not only raw food should be clean, hut that water goes a long way in keeping a first-class cuisine in a healthy sanitary condition. __________ l ’’ A Recipes. ► Imitation Oysters. —Cut tender vea' in pieces the size of an oyster; then sea son well with salt, pepper, and thyme or mace, and dip in egg, then in cornmeal or cracker crumbs and fry. Fried Egg Plant. —After peeling the egg plant cut in slices one-half inch thick, pepper and salt them, and lay one slice upon the other, leaving them to stand ten or twelve hours. Drain off the liquor, dip in flour and fry brown. White Wings Cake. —Beat one and a half cups sugar and two tablespoons butter to a cream, then add a cup of sweet milk, in which dissolve a teaspoon of soda, one egg well beaten, three cups sifteA flour with two teaspoons of cream tartar, and a teaspoon of lemon essence. Bake in one large or small pans in a quick oven. Acid Drinks. —In warm weather acids are not only palatable but healthful. The abundance and cheapness of lemons makes their free use possible, and much of the spring sickness is due to the neglect to use freely such fruit as nature has provided at that season. Lemonade makes a better drink for young and old tliau tea or coffee too freely used. Rhubarb Jam. —An English cook gives the following recipe for it: Peel and cut up the rhubarb, boil till reduced to a pulp with a very little water; allow ODe pound of sugar, one ounce of sweet almonds, blanched and chopped, and half a lemon, cut in slices, to every pound of pulp; boil tor three-quarters of an hour or an hour, remove the lemon peel and put into pots. Pie-Plant Pie. —One cup of stewed pie plant, one cup of sugar, yolks of three eggs, white of one egg, one spoon ful of butter, melted; lemon to flavor. Bake in a bottom crust, make a meringue of the whites of two eggs, put over the top of the pie and brown lightly in the oven. Some persons bake the crust separately, and, after cooking the other ingredients, fill the crust. Orange Comuote. —Orange compote is a delicious dessert and is thus made: Cut oranges and bananas iu small pieces, and to four of each, use three-fourths of a cup of white sugar, and the grated rind and juice of one lemon. Arrange iu layers in a glass dish and pour over a small quantity of currant jelly melted. Serve ice cold with i ake, and regulate the quantity of sugar by the acidity of i the o. atiges.