Below is the OCR text representation for this newspapers page.

' 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.