Newspaper Page Text
' WITH THEE.
■_'»
If I eould know that after all
These heavy bonds have ceased to thrajfc,
We whom in life the fates divide
Should weetly slumber side by side—
That one green spray would drop it« dew
Softly alike above us two,
All would bo well; for I should be
At lust, dear loving heart, with thee!
How sweet to know this dust of ours,
Mingling, will feed the self-same flowers—
The scent of leaves, the song bird’s tone,
At once across our rest blown,
One breadth of sun, one sheet of rain
Make green the earth above us twain 1
Ah, sweet and strange, for 1 should be,
At last, «ar.tender hear, with thee I
But half the >vrth may intervene
Thy and mine between
And leagues of land and wastes of waves
May stretch and toss between our graves.
Thy bed with summer light be warm,
While snow-drifts heap, in wind and storm,
My pillow, whose one thorn will be,
Beloved, that I am not with thee!
But if there be a blissful sphere
Where homesick souls, divided here,
And wandering wide in useless quest,
Shall find their longed-for heaven of rest,
If in that higher, happier birth
We meet the joys we missed on earth,
All will be well, for I shall be,
At last, dear loving heart, with thee!
—Elisabeth Akers Allen.
THE MOONSHINERS.
The girl closed the door of the crumb
ling spring house. Her expression was
alert and expectant —her movements
aluwgish, almost dilatory; and yet a
chilling wind whistled down the holes
of the rotten roof, through long gaps
and chinks between the worm eaten
logs; it tossed her brown hair,crimsoned
her pretty cheek, all unheeded. Miriam
Sagsby did not feel the northerly gale.
Her gaze fastened itself upon the
thickets of laurel, sassafras and creep
ing bramble, where a narrow path, only
a few yards away, abruptly disappeared.
The spring bubbled out from under a
huge rock, behind which ran a deep
ravine where sunlight never penetrated
the great pines, even at midday. The
spot could not have been more wildly
sombre; but there was a safety in that
black abyss, serviceable more than once
within Miriam’s memory. Her smile
broadened into a pleased laugh as the
lapping bushes were pushed aside, and
a man looked warily about him before
quitting their shelter—a man in the
rough homespun of a mountaineer, but
with the handsome face, soft hands and
indescribable aspect of one used to ease
and luxury. *
“It’s you, Dr. Heathe!” she exclaimed
in well feigned surprise.
“Who did you think it was, Miriam?”
inquired Dr. Heathe, his keen, rapid
glance darting with lightning rapidity
into every nook and remote shadow.
.There was something painfully appre
hensive in the watchlul scrutiny con
tinually in those restless, suspicious
eyes, as well as the firm, half menacing
hold upon the rifle always carried or at
hand for instaut use. “Have you seen
any strangers?” he questioned.
“Strangers? How should I? Strangers
don’t come this a-way, onliest they’re
arfter the moonshiners,” she laughed.
“Don’t they?” he said, without echo
ing the laugh. “There are worse things
than free stills. Could you, at the .peril
of your life, save men tracked like wild
beasts?”
“If ’twur father, now, I’d like to see
’em catch him while I’m about, onliest
father don't have no mo’ to do with the
free stills. When he did, I kep’ him
safe, en’ give him the signal if ever a
stranger prowled the ridge,” returned
Miriam; “but you ain’t no moonshiner?”
“Ao, Miriam, not a moonshiner; but
•would you stand by me in that way, my
girl, and care what became of a
stranger ”
“dou have been on the ridge six
months or better—you are not a stranger, ”
she interrupted.
“No; not a stranger as these people see
|t,” was the half ironical reply. “But,
Miriam, would you care enough to marry
Mae? I mean to stay here in the moun
tains all my life —spend my days in
these pines where no one will ever see
me. Does it matter to you that I don’t
want any one to see or know of me?”
A more vigilant apprehension gathered
under the intensified suspense. She had
hesitated and averted her face. The
Crystal surface of the water at her feet
reflected the superb grace and manly
beauty of this stranger, so unspeakably
different from the rugged sun-hardened
inhabitants of ridge and hollow. The
girl turned slowly toward him.
“I know you’ve got summut to hide
from,” she said, quietly; “fc'ut for all
that, Dr. Heath, you’re better than I am
—you’re quality bred, and i am only the
old moonshiner’s daughter—”
“Hush, Miriam! What does it matter
what I was?” he broke in passionately.
“You are too good for me. Only say
that you will marry me and care for me,
scoundrel that I am,” added the man
bitterlv.
A dauntless resolution depicted itself
upon Miriam’s countenance, as she lifted
her lustrous eyes and held his shifting
glances by the subtle force aud tire in
their depths.
“Yes, ril marry you, en’ stand by
you, too stand by you en’ help you
true en'faithful, if I am onliest a moon
shiner’s daughter. I’ll say it en’promise
it, ef so be you as true en’ faithful to
me.”
The harassed tension of Heathe’s coun
tenance relaxed.
The girl laughed, and Heathe opened
the door and went in.
“Mirry km tie ter w’homst she pleases.”
her father said, when Heathe, taking ad
vantage of Miriam’s absence in the shed,
told him of his hopes. “Hit’s a good
leetle gal as you’ll git, en she’s a smart
gal, Mary is—h’aia’t afeerod o’ nothin’.
She’ll stick ter you, spite o’ole Nick his
seif, less'n you go back on her; ’t wouldn’t
be overly sife fur you then.” and Ab
chuck’ed, while the great quid of tobac
co oscillated in his cheek.
Abner relaps d into his moody enjoy
ment of the huge crackling blaze. Grand
mother Sagsby came in, and soon dozed
over her knitting. Miriam came in and
sat on the hearth opposite Heathe. The
firelight glowed over her beautiful face
and the strong, shapely figure. Itter
repose and the delightful warmth con
duced to that half drowsy ha iness and
abandon of perfect rest. The one exccp
tion was the stranger. Apparently he
never rested. The watchful, listening,
wide awake look seemed never beguiled
by any charm whatsoever. Two or three
dogs that slept on the floor near Ab be
came somewhat restless. An old hound
opened his eyes and pushed himself
nearer the door. The movement was
slight and noiseies?, but Miriam sat up
and noted the animai for an instant, then
left her seat and stepped slowly past him
to the shed room. The dog followed her
into the chilly starlight beyond. Then
she stopped short and observed the
hound. Lifting his uese high, he sniffed
suspiciously and gave a low growl.
“What is it, Miriam?”
The girl started. Heathe was beside
her, an agony of apprehension in his
countenance even as he grasped his gun
and held it geady to tire. “Summut
strange is around. Leader never mis
takes,” she whispered, creeping closer to
him. “Do you think they are hunting
for you?”
“Yes, I know it. They are on my
track at last. They are hunting for me
if they are hunting for anybody, but I’ll
never be taken, Miriam—never!”
“Taken? No. It’s not many get
taken in the mountings,” was the scorn
ful reply. “Leader’ll give tongue time
enough; and remember the big hollow
tree back of the clearing—the rope is
always there to let you down in it, ” she
directed, in quick, low tones.
“Miriam,” he whispered, “don’t be
lieve their black story of me—don’t be
lieve it. I was there—l saw it—but I
didn’t do it. I never intended the worst.
I can’t prove my innocence, but I sol- j
emnly tell you I am innocent of the worst j
—the very worst you will hear.”
Miriam laid her hand gently on his arm
—her face grew tender—her voice soft
and tremulous.
“I care for you, John, whether it were
true or not. Go—now; Leader sniffs
lower—quiet there. Leader—summut’s
closer!”
The girl’s startled, suppressed voice
became suddenly shrill in its terror.
Heathe sprang forward with an agile,
chamois-like bound and vanished in the
pines. The dogs inside the cabin as well
as out set up a simultaneous howl. There
was no doubt of an alien presence near
at hand. Miriam rushed into the house
and fastened the door behind her.
“We know he’s in there I” shouted a
rough voice.
“He’s there! Give him up! We’re
goin’ to have him!” chorused rougher
voices.
“It’s better ter let ’em come, Mirry.
He’s done swung hisse’f in ’gainst
now.”
Ab unbarred the door, and opening
it stepped on the threshold in cool con
templation of the scene. Instantly a
revolver was on each side of his gray
head.
“What be you arfter, Shurf?” he
asked, thrusting him aside. The men
outside rushed rudely past him.
“You might as well give him up,
Ab,” answered the Sheriff. “They’ve
tracked him out here, en’ it’s ’gainst the
law ter sheltur a criminal. I don’t
want’er ’rest a neighbor. The fellow
goes by the name of Heathe.”
“We’ve got to search the premises,
Sheriff,” bristled a ferret-faced man,
more than usually energetic in his ef
forts.
The Sheriff smiled significantly.
“Ei' you kin sarch these ’eryprem’ses,
why jes’ go ahead, Mr. Paxton—course,
sir,” he dryly responded.
“I’ve followed this Heathe for a year
and I won't be beat now. There's a re
ward out for him—dead or —so you
‘may as well tell me where he is.”
The man Paxton turned sharply upon
Miriam as he spoke.
“Heathe is not his name neither, Miss,
and I’ll make it worth your while to
tell of him.”
Miriam heard him in silence, a set
resolute expression upon her face.
“You shall have part of the reward”
“I don’t touch blood money!” she
interrupted, fiercely.
“It don’t matter. I’ll catch him yet.
He’s a cold-blooded villain—wanted for
murder.”
“Murder?”
The girl shivered. Her face paled
into a whiteness Ab had never seen
blanch its deep, healthy hues.
“Murdered an old man for his money.
They’re sure to lynch him if they get
hands on him. Murder and robbery.
I’m certain to nab him sooner or later,”
answered the detective, with the profes
sional gusto of a man who had bagged
human game.
Miriam listened wearily while they told
the terrible tale to Ab. She watched her
father narrowly. The quasi moonshiner
might condone offences against the rev
enue, but murder!—she knew that he
had a superstitious horror of a man with
blood on his hands.
“He h’ain’t fitten tor git off, Mirry,”
he whispered, while the search went on
in the angry thoroughness of threatened
discomfiture. “He’ll fotch us turrible
luck, ef lie's done h’it; en’, Mirry, he
shan’t have you, noways. We'll git inter
trouble long o’ him ef we don't tell.
“Father. I’ve helped en stood by you,
hev’n't I?” asked the girl, a passionate
pleading in every lineament and accent.
“True’null, Mirry; you’ve helped me
pow'ful; but ’twur never murder,” he
rejoined, uneasily. “H’it’s no good
a-holpin' murder.”
“No, no! 1 wouldn’t do it either,but
he says he is innocent, father.”
“Innercent? Mayhap he is, an’ likely
he hain’t; likely he’s jes’ a-fooliu’ wid
you,kase he's.sartin' ou’ll help him out’n
his troub’e,” shrewdly interposed Ab.
“Father, he says he didn't murder—
he says so,” she repeated; k'theu don't
you tu’n against us.”
“Us? He shan’t hev you.”
The girl clung to him in desperate,
terror-stricken vio’ence.
u Vn T won’t lip.vpr urn with him till
you give the say so, father.” she
promised recklessly. “But le didn't do
it- -he is innocent, en I’ll hold to him
till it comes all right ”
Ab turned away—his wrinkled
countenance had grown hard and stern
in aspect. lie wished he had heard it
all before they told Miriam, or before they
had come into the house, and the g rl
had reminded him of the time wli«'. her
vigilance and devotion had stood him in
good stead wh le “Guv’menters” hunted
for the free distillery.
Angry and disappointed of the gains
for which they served justice, the de
tectives came in from their futile search.
They had found the two or three brush
thatched outhouses an infinitesimal shred
of the “prem ses,” compared with the
black ravine, the dense thickets, and
the great pine forest stretching away
into untold labyrinths.
They had taken themselves off, down
the ridge, some time before Ab said, with
a satisfied chuckle:
“Mind you, gal, you hain’t got my
say so ter tek’ no man es commits mur
der, en’ you’ll never git h’it, kase he
don’t mean you right, en’ h’it’s onlucky.
The girl knew her father too well to
j remonstrate. She knew, too, that
Heathe was only safe while she adhered
to her promise not to marry him without
All's permission. The cold winter
; tightehed its grip, and still an uneasy
| sense of surveillance and danger hung
| over them. The old moonshiner’s family
; had once been full of expedients for de
luding doubtful visitors. They seemed
to come back to Miriam, along with
j thousands of ingenious devices for the
| comfort and safety of her lover. All
1 the winier long he was never seen nor
heard of at Ab’s cabin, but all the winter
long neither rain nor snow nor raging
tempest—the tempest of the mountains
—prevented the girl’s daily pilgrimage
to the hut in the black ravine. Ab
would watch her go out in the whirling
snow wreaths, with the basket on her
arm, but he never questioned her errand.
So the winter dragged its ice cold lengths
away. The fine frosty flakes of snow be
tokened a fierce storm coming over the
ridge—already it had sifted like white
powder into crack and crevice, shutting
out the rigid wind roaring savagely
among the pines outside, but passing al
most contemptuously the warm, sub
stantial cabin crouching beneath them.
The snow deadened all sounds without,
the dogs gave no howl nor warning,
when suddenly the door was thrown
open, and with the sweeping gust twrt
men came in. They were the Sheriff and
a stranger.
• “Don’t make a stir, Ab!” shouted the
Sheriff. “It’s all right—t’other feller’s
confessed. Heathe didn’t do it. This
here’s his brother—t’other feller owned
up when he’s adyin.’
Ab smiled grimly.
“I wouldn’t hev tuk nobody’s wu’d
for hit but your'n, Shurf.”
“Yes, we’ve kem a-puppose ter get
him,” added the satisfied Sheriff. “You
see Heathe kem in on ’em, en folks
knowed thar’s bad blood’twixt’em, so
they pitched on him, en’ wouldn’t be
lieve nothin’ else. ’Twur a clear case
’gainst him; but he's innocent, and me’n
his brother have kem for him. He’s all
right now. ”
“Fotch him, Mirry—h’it’s my say so.”
“You had a close call young man;
they’d hev hanged you sure, if they’d
caught you,” the Sheriff said an hour
later, when explanations had been made,
and Heathe stood among them, beside
his brother, free and innocent.
“I must have had an inevitable and
final call this winter but for this true and
loving woman,” answered Heathe, as he
looked down into Miriam’s lustrous eyes
and beautiful face, softened and aglow
with joyous tenderness. “And now, Ab,
there is nothing to hinder—we will be
married to-morrow at Odd Corners.”
And they were. —Frank Leslie's.
New York Diamond Cutters.
It is not commonly known outside oi
the trade,probably, but one of the finest,
if not the very finest, of all artistic me
chanical work—that of diamond cutting
—is now done as well in Maiden Lane as
in Amsterdam. That means that it is
done as well as anywhere in the world.
The earliest mention of a cut and
polished diamond, made by Harry
Emanuel, F. R. G. S,. iu his standard
work on dian£j«ids and precious stones,is
that of the gems worn by the Emperor
Charles in 1373 as ornaments to the clasp
of his cloak. It is probable, however,
that for a long time before that the
Coolies of India were skilled in the trade.
One of the most beautifully cut stones
ever takeu to Maiden Lane was of such
a shape and style of workmanship that
the cutters there unhesitatingly declared
that it had been cut by the Coolies more
than four hundred years ago. It was re
cut a few months ago in order to improve
its market value by giving it a modern
shape.
The art of cutting and polishing dia
monds with their own powder was intro
duced in Europe, according to the gen
erally received ac ount, by Louis Van
Berghem, or Berguem, who, in Paris,
studied the handicraft, then imperfectly
practiced. He revolutionized the trade
and established a guild of diamond cut
ters in Bruges. In 1475, nearly twenty
years after he had made the discovery, j
if it was a discovery, he was entrusted i
with the task of cutting three large
rough diamonds for Charles the Bold,
Duke of Burgundy. For his work he
received 3000 ducats. The largest was
the famous Saney diamond, which was
lost in the battle of Granson. The
second afterward belonged to Pope Six
tus IV. The third, a triangular shaped
stone, was set in a ring and given to 1
Louis XI
Afterward Amsterdam became the
chief center of the industry, and thou
sands of persons are employed at it in
that city now. For a considerable time
it was the only place where diamonds
could be cut, but of late years estab
lishments have been set up in other cities,
and within ten years New York has been
chooen bv half a dozen ma ter cutters as
a place of business. The trade has for
many years been mostly in the hands oi
the Jews.
No special changes have been made for
a long time in the tools or the methods
employed, and no shape has been invent
ed that seems likely to supersede that oi
the modern brilliant. Tools, method
and shape are too Well known to need
description here, but it is interesting to
know that the work done in New York
is accounted fully equal to that of Lon
don or Am-terdam. —New York Mail and
Express.
What’s the Matter With This?
A subscriber writes: “A friend asks
me to multiply $5 by $5. I do so and
announce the result as $25. All right.
Now multiply 504 cents by 500 cents,
giving the answer in cents pure and sim
ple, notas fractional parts of a dollar. I
do so and am surprised to see the figures
climb up 250,000 cents, which is $ ’SOO.
As $5 and 500 cents are equivalent, th«
result is puzzling. It cannot be urged
| that decimal marks should be used. A
cent, as such, is as distinct a unit as a
dollar, and, as result is to be announced
! in cents, the decimals cannot be pleaded
| in extenuation of the rather surprising
result. But there is clearly something
wrong. What is it?”— Penman's An
; Journal.
DANISH FARMERS.
THE FOUR CASTE DIVISIONS OF
THE STURDY PEASANTRY.
A Code of Hiring—Laws for Settling
Between Master and Man—
Feeding and Lodging
the Laborers.
The peasantry of Denmark, says a
Writer in the Fortnightly Review, are
divided into four distinct ciasses, namely,
“Gaardmand—pronounced Gorman—or
yeoman farmer, who either owns or rents
from thirty to eighty-five English acres;
secondly, the “Panelist,” who owns or
rents from eight to thirty acres; thirdly,
the “Husmand,” or cottager, with from
one to eight acres, and lastly, the “In
sidder” who generally rents his cottage
and garden plot, and from this last class
it is that the laboring men are princi
pally drawn.
Until marriage the laboring men are
fed and lodged upon the farm where
they work, and in one of the buildings
just referred to are the dormoritories for
the “Karle,” of which upon such afarm
there would be about twelve beside the
foreman ; there, too, is the roomy kitchen,
and the refectory, where these stalwart
hungry youths are fed, and particularly
well fed, too, partaking of no less than
five good meals a day. At 6 in the morn
ing their breakfast is served, consisting
of huge slices of bread and butter—cut
by a machine—with coffee and a small
glass of “snaps’’ or corn brandy; cn the
island of Zealand this early meal is a
kind of thick soup made of rye bread
and beer, with which a salt herring is
• aten. At noon dinner, which is soup
or porridge, followed by meat, or cod
fish, or pork, with vegetables and beer;
at 4 p. m., bread and butter, cheese, beer
and more snaps, and, finally, a supper of
porridge with milk.
The farm hands are hired by the half
year, and the whole system has hitherto
worked to the mutual satisfaction of
both laborer and employer. This, how
ever, is greatly due to the fact that there
exists a code of hiring law's which pro
vides an easy settlement of all disputes
between master and man. Every servant,
farm or domestic, is under these laws
compelled to keep a book which is
officially registered, and wherein are
written all his or her certificates of
character, each one of which are neces
sarily countersigned by the magistrate
of the district wherein the master or mis
tress resides.
The Gaardmand's homestead is sub
stantial, square and thatched; the barns,
6tables, etc., are joined to it, forming
together a quadrangle farm yard, with
the entrance gate facing the dwelling.
At the back is a garden, usually of about
three-quarters of an acre, devoted to
fruit, vegetables and hops, with a few
roses and gilly flowers near the house
door. A farmer working from sixty to
eighty acres wfill have upon his farm two
“karles,” a boy,, and two girls for the
dairy, all of whom are helped in their
work by their master and his family.
Generally such a farmer keeps upon his
land fifteen or more cow's, four sheep,
four horses and two goats, for every
farmer is a horse breeder, more or less.
The poultry is his wife’s care and per
quisite, and forms a highly important
item in her yearly budget. These farms,
when owned by the yeoman, are,generally
speaking, mortgaged for half their
value, a fact to be attributed in most in
stances to the repeal of the law of primo
geniture.
At present the parent is permitted, if
he pleases, to leave one-third of his
property to his eldest son, a clause in
the law of inheritance much appreciated
and in general use. In cases where a
loan is impossible, owing to a previous
mortgage, subdivision steps in, and in
some instances has been repeated until
the mimimum area has been reached.
Necessarily, if the family be numerous,
and all elect to retain their share in the
land, they sink to the position of Hus
mand, and have to resort to a trade to
eke out their livelihood. Should, how
ever, a younger member of the family
have had the good luck to marry the
child of a wealthy Gaardmand with a
good dowry, then the newly-married
pair proceed to buy a small farm of
about twenty-five acres, and become
Parcelists.
Class distinctions are clearly 'marked
and rigidly adhered to among the peas
antry. Not so very long ago it was
argued from certain political platforms
in the Midlands that the farm laborer
who possessed “three acres and a cow”
would no longer have the need to touch
his hat to the squire. Judging from
the Danish peasantry, however, a race
fully as sturdy and independent as our
own, it would appear that an increase in
the number of owners of land does but
augment the number of those who
demand a respectful salutation from
the laborer, whether ne possesses
a cow or not. Also as regards
marriage, a Gaardman’s son marries
almost invariably a Gaardman’s daugh
ter. When the marriage of a Gaard
man’s son with a Husman’s daughter
occurs, all the peasant society of the dis
trict is put in a flutter, and a match is
considered a grave mesalliance, not at all
to be encouraged. The younger sons of
: Gaardmand who have neither the pros
pect of a good inheritance nor of a good
j “match,” usually learn a village trade,
s ich as that of the wheelwright or
blacksmith; those with a better educa
tion and more enlightened may become
village schoolmasters and village “vets,”
and sometimes, if they have a preference
for horseflesh, they may take the post of
coachman at the Herremand’s, though it
is rare for the yeoman class to enter
domestic service. Those who do, like
those who take to a trade, lose caste,and
may freely choose their wives from the
Husmand’s daughter-, but not so the
veterinary, or schoolmaster, for whom it
would be unpardonable.
| Fowls are kept invariably. They help
to pay the rent, and often more besides.
Upon the highway one meets the tiny
child of 4or ■>, fair haired, blue eyed,
her mother in miniature, as regards
dress, from the dose fitting cap and
long apron to the little sabots peeping
out from under the long, full petticoats.
She is armed with a withy, and is there
alone to guard the flock of poultry
searching for a meal by the waysde,
and which, ever living on terms of close
intimacy with the family, are well con
ducted birds, easily amenable to disci
pline. In winter they are stowed away
( in all sorts of places, in the loft, or more
-often in hutches.
A Plague of Hugs on Board a Ship.
A recent issue of the Philadelphia
Record says:
The mate of the newly arrived British
bark Douglass, from Montevideo, tells
the biggest hug story of the season, and
it is no romance. The voyage from the
River Plata to Philadelphia was one
long fight with myriads of loathsome
insects, swarming up through the
hatches from the cargo of bones below,
more dreadful than a continuous tempest
and more irrepressible than hunger on an
unprovisioned reft.
Barrels of the pestiferous bugs were
scooped from the vessel’s hold alter her
arrival at this port, and the painful na
ture of the ordeal through which crew
and officers had passed on the voyage,
was shown in their drawn countenances
and discolored skin. A half buffiel of
small crawling things, with dirty brown
| backs and a wormy squirm, crawled
about the after part of the deck as the
j mate told the painful story of the voy
age and pointed them out as the living
evidence of his narrative. “We have
been fighting these torments ever since
we left Montevideo,” said he, “and it
has been a painful struggle, in which the
crew were not always sure of a survival.
W e lay for many days at anchor in the
River Plata awaiting an advance in
freights which never came, and, finally,
in despair, took on a cargo of bones for
Philadelphia. None of us will ever for
get that cargo or the voyage which fol
lowed.”
The bones had been gathered from the
plains of the Argentine Republic and
Uruguay, and were hurriedly lightered
on board, the flesh still remaining on the
inside of the skulls and on the vertebne.
We had hardly landed our Spanish
pilot before unwelcome passengers began
to appear from below the hatches and to
make themselves acquainted with the
halyards, store-rooms and the sleeping
apartments. When we came into the
warm latitude of the Equator their at
tacks were terrible, and a night’s sleep
was impossible.
The bugs would creep the through
anything, and at night would crawl into
our mouths and ears. Often the crew
were compelled to seek refuge in the
rigg ng, and the men stretched ham
mocks between the masts to avoid the
bugs.
When the Douglass arrived here the
insects had multiplied by the thou ands,
and after the cargo had been discharged
it became necessary to resort to sulphur
fumes to ride the vessel of them before
another cargo could be taken on board.
Bushel after bushel of the asphyxiated
pests were taken out of the hold.
The sailors on the Douglass declare
that in all their lives on the ocean, and
in all the stories they had heard of
strange things at sea, their experience
on this voyage was the strangest, and
that nothing could induce them to ship
for the River Plata again if the return
voyage shall be made with a cargo of
South American bones.
Long Search for Submerged Treasure.
Anchored in the East River, opposite
Mott Haven, within a stone’s throw oi
the New York and Hartford Railroad
tracks, lies a large wrecking pontoon
familiar to boatmen on the Sound. It
has appeared there regularly every sum
mer for tw T enty years, and although its
owner remains unknow'n it is kept at
work on the river every summer search
ing for treasure—some $200,000 of the
British ship of war Hussar, which w r ent
down off Mott Haven during the Revo
lutionary war with all harnts on board.
The Hussar came-over to pay the British
troops, and anchored where the wrecker
has been dredging for the past twenty
years.
Besides the British gold there was a
large number of “Hessian troops” on
board and it was among these that the
mutiny broke out. Whether it was the
desire to escape from the Continental
troops who at that time occupied Mott
Haven, or a desire to gobble the Eng
lish gold that caused the mutiny, will
never be known, but any way the Ilus
san sank in twenty fathoms of water and
not a spar of it has been seen since.
One of the English marines who was
on the Hussar escaped. It was he who
told the story of the large amount of
gold in the ship. Years passed and the
sinking of the ship was forgotten,but re
called again about twenty years ago by
the appearance of the pontoon, which
anchored where the English ship went
down. The river for almost a mile
around the spot has been dredged, and
toward the end of the second year
the community was startled by the news
that the wrecker had found the treasure.
Beople came from miles around and
for a short time the sunken ship was the
talk of the country. Divers were seen
going down and reappearing with bags
tilled with something, said to be British
gold, and for almost a year the man on
the pontoon made a fortune. For $5 a
diver would descend to the depths and
bring up a rusty bolt, or perhaps a cop
per coin, and to possess one of these
men paid handsomely. Curiosity soon
died out, however, and since that time
but few relics have been found. The.
divers have not despaired, however,and
the are working away as hopeful as ever.
—New York Telegram.
Dakota Once Belonged to Michigan.
The Territory of Michigan w:is created
June 28, 1834, and included that part ol
Dakota lying east of the Missouri and
White Earth Rivers, in addition to the
present States of Wiscon-in, Michigan,
lowa and Minnesota. July 3, 1830,
Congress established the Territory oi
Wisconsin, which included the eastern
half of Dakota. The Territory of lowa
was organized June 12, and a part
of I akota was contained within its
boundaries. March, 3, 184!', Minnesota
Territory was established,which covered
the eastern part of Dakota.— Detroit Free
Press.
Force of Imagination.
A physician ot a hospital in New York
reports the case of a lady who has been
a chronic invalid for many years from
insomania, to relieve which hypodermic
injections of morphine are given her each
night on retiring; at least she supposes
them to be of morphine, but in reality
only clear, cold water is inserted. If
the water is not inserted as usual the
patient becomes nervous and irritable,
and spends the night tossing about or in
fitful slumbers. If, on the other hand,
the accustomed operation is performed,
she enjoys a sound sleep, like a tired
child.
THE WAY TO WIN.
If on the field of love you fall,
With smiles conceal your pain
Be not to Love too sure a thrall,
But lightly wear his chain.
Don’t kiss the hem of Beauty’s gown,
Or tremble at her tear,
And when caprices weight you down,
A word within your ear:
Another lass, another lass,
With laughing eyes and bright—
Make love to her,
And trust me, sir,
Twill set your wrongs aright.
TV hene'er a sweetheart proves unkind
And greets you with a frown,
Or laughs your passion to Jjhe wind,
The talk of all the town,
Plead not your cause on bended knee
And murmured sighs prolong,
But gather from my minstrelsy
The burden of my song:
Another lass, another lass—
There’s always beauty by—
Make love to her,
And trust me, sir,
’Twill clear the clouded sky.
--Samuel Minturn Peck, in the Century .
PITH AND POINT.
Every dude has a head light.
The baker—The more I knead, the less
I want.
0 One touch of rumor makes the whole
world chin.
The people of Lima, C., are said to
know beaus.— Pittsburgh Chronicle.
No woman feels like quoting poetry
when there is a mouse in the room.—
Hotel Mail.
A hawk on the wing takes a bird's
high view of things beneath. — Bingham
ton Republican.
The man who hollows amen the loudest
doesn’t always mean it the most.—
Merchant Traveler.
“How much to peep through your
telescope:” “Ten cents.” “There’s
five. I’ve only one eye.”— Time.
When a young man has given a ring
to his best girl he soon realizes that it is
«ne of those things that there is no end
to. — The Idea.
Science now claims that every atom
has a little soul. There are men who
seem to have swapped souls with atoms.
— -Martha's Vineyard Herald.
Teacher (to class) “Why is procrasti
nation called the thief of time?” Boy
(at foot of class)— “Because it takes a
person so long to say it.”— Life.
“Do you dravfr at all, Mr. Fangsley?”
“My patrons say I draw very well.”
“So you’re an artist?” “No. You mis
understand me. I’m a dentist.”—Lin
coin Journal
Now the tourist at his easo
Swings idly with the breeze
In a hammock hung in some delightful spot;
While in town some hapless wight
Murmurs loud from morn till night,
“Ain’t it hot!” —New York Sun.
‘‘l am on my way home, doctor, ” said
a citizen, who was after some free ad
vice, “and I’m tired and worn out What
ought Ito take?” “Take a cab,” re
plied the intelligent physician.— New
York Sun.
An attempt is now being made to pick
a flower for a national badge. Con
sidering the American proclivity for
oratorical display, a proper badge might
be selected from the flowers of speech.—
Arkansaw Traveler.
“Are you engaged?” inquired a pert
young lady, stepping briskly up to a Bar
Harbor buckboard driver, who was
lounging indolently across the front
seat.' “Gracious, no! Are you?” was
the prompt reply.— Lewiston Journal.
Bobby has made himself sick by sur
reptitiously eating too many jam tarts.
“Now, Bobby,” coaxed his mother, “if
you will take this medicine like a man
yon can have almost anything you like.”
“Can I have some more jam tarts, mal”
New York Sun.
“Accept my hand, Augusta ” And
the maiden looked at the hand, which
was something smaller than an average
sized salt fish, hesitated a moment, and
then said, sweetly: “Isn’t there some
thing off, where you take so large an
Order:”— Boston Transcript.
“My dear, aren't you iu an awful
state?” asked a Woodward avenue
mother of her daughter, who came in
with her hair disarranged, her face
flushed, and swinging a racquet over
her shoulder. “les, mamma; in the
state of tenuis, see?” — Detroit Free Press.
A story is told of a young man who
went out to deliver an address. He
took an old friend with him to hear him.
When he got through he turned to his
friend and said to him: “Well, don’t
you think that was a finished address?”
“Yes,” said the friend, “Ido, but there
was one time when I thought it never
would be.”
An editor, who does not mind
a joke at his own expense, says he went
into a drug store recently and asked for
some morphine. The assistant objected
to give it without a prescription. “Why,”
asked the editor, “do I look like a man
who would kill himself?” “I don’t
know,” said the assistant; “if I looked
like you I should be tempted.”
Loquacious Wag: “Most remarkable,
madame. lam assured bv the Captain
that, the son of the owner of tins vessel
lived to be a well grown man, and yet he
died at his berth.” Ingenious old lady:
“And did you believe it:” “Certainly,
I have the Captain’s word for it. Strange
phenomena happen at sea, madame.
“Well, well, it does seem so.”— Ocean.
A green watermelon sat on a fruit stand,
Binging “Mellow, I’m mellow, I’m mel*
low.”
And a small boy stood there with a cent in
his hand, _ .
Saying “mellow, it’s mellow, quite mel
low.”
3o he bought a big hunk cut right out of the
heart, . .
And he ato it all up to the hard outsid ' part,
And they carried him away in a rag dealer s
cat t,
Poor fellow, poor fellow, poor fellow.
— Philadelphia News.
A queen bee will lay 2000 eggs daily
tor fifty da.s, and the eggs are hatched
in three days. A swaim of bees con
tains from 10,000 to 20,000 in a natural
state; in a hive, fre— 3J,00 to 10,000
bees.
Prince Henry of Frnssia was the fir#*
German. T'rince who ever sailed round
the wfrld.