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VOL. 1. DREAMLAND. There’s a mystical land that we fight in the night, darkness, aloof from the Quite close to the light, the facts A. land where impossible things are In a pageant of good or of impious nets— A realm where the loveliest scene slips away, thought is forbidden to And a deed or a realm” sta y A of illusion, with nothing that seems— The wonderful sleep-bordered country of dreams. —William Hamilton Ilayne. • fill fin UrilSUC rirtictin t/IlQlHU. Fnrfinn f • * > BY C. II. COLVILLE. * The sun shone under her straw hat and made her shade her eyes with her hands as she lookedupat me, standing by the edge of the river. “Now, Mr. Conway,” she said, “are you quite sure you can manage a canoe?” “I’ll promise you anew frock, Miss Delia, if 1 upset you,” said I gallant- iy. “Don’t be rash,’’she laughed; “per¬ haps I’ll think a new frock well worth the wetting.” “I said—if I upset you,” I replied; “if you upset yourself I cry off the bargain.” . t I’m sure you’ll never be so mean as to argue the cause of the damage,” said Delia; “anyway, I’ll risk it.” “I feel a little afraid,” she said, as I gave her my hand to help her aboard. I am inclined to think, however,that her hesitation was not altogether due to nervousness, but was a little in¬ fluenced by the fact that she bad the prettiest lijtle feet in the world, and was wearing the very daintiest of brown shoes, which showed to the best advantage as she stood in timid uncertainty, one foot on shore and one poised over the canoe. I confess the attitude was fascinating to me, more especially as is necessitated a very dis¬ tinct pressure of my steadying hand. I was the more convinced that the timidity was affected when she even¬ tually settled herself among the cush¬ ions in the bows of tbe canoe, for all the world as if to the manner born. Indeed, as I stepped warily in the centre o( the craft, I am sure 1 was really the more nervous of the two, but then I could judge of my short¬ comings as a canoeist far better than she. “Now then,” I said, “are you quite sure you are comfortable?” She gave a last smooth to the folds of her brown skirt, gave a little pat to the sleeves of her white blouse,and lay back against the red cushions with a sigh of content. > “Yes,’’she said sweetly; “I’mquite ready. ” I let go the tuft of grass to which I had been clinging, pushed off gently with my paddle, and we were fairly afloat. The sunshine sparkled on the water, the leaves of the trees waved ever so softly in the breeze, the bright-colored dragon flies darted hither and thither, while along the bank the bees flew languidly from flower to flower, as if they only kept themselves awake by incessant buzzing. “Isn’t it delightful?” murmured Delia. “It is, indeed,” I assented, but would have done so more truthfully if the bows of the canoe bad not clis- played so great a reluctance to keep straight up the river. The splash of tbe water from tbe pad¬ dle was wonderfully smoothing,and my fair companion closed her eyes. Directly she did so politeness no longer debar¬ red me from gazing my fill at her up¬ turned face. I looked admiringly, taking mental stock of her charms. How softly her dark eyelashes swept her cheek—how coquettishly curved her mouth —how dainty the suspicion of a dimple either side her lips—how delicately turned her chin—how becoming the red cush¬ ion to her wealth of blaek hair—yes, undoudtedly her uose was retrousse, but a fig for your stately Greek beau¬ ties! there is a fascination in the— crash into tbe bank went tbe bow of the canoe, and the subject of my re¬ verie opened her eyes with a start. For the life of me I cannot steer a canoe and think of something else at the same time. By the greatest good luck we were not upset. “I am most awfully sorry,” I stam¬ mered. “I was nearly asleep,” she said. “I can’t think what happened; it was dreadfully careless of me.” THE TRIBUNE. “Don't Give Up tlio Sliip. 5 BUCHANAN. GA„ FRIDAY, JUNE:}. 1808 “Oh, it really doesn’t matter,” she replied with a great good n.itine. I paddled clear of the bank and vowed such a collision should not occur again Delia, however, made uo further attempt to go to sleep. “How smoothly the river runs, she said thoughtinHy. L alike the course ol true love, I added rather weakly. It was not a very apposite leniark, but then I knew the topic of love was a dangerous one for me, and so, fool- hardy, I courted it, as the moth the candle. The . t !f TV P a use /“ ^ u l0 “* While I successfully , 1 negotiated a sudden bend in the river. It s a gieat pity, isn t it. said Delia. “What is?” I inquired. ( i Why, that the course of true love never runs smooth.” “Oh,but it does sometimes,really,” j j I I asserted. “I suppose the love isn’t really true, then,” said she. 4 i Nowadays, books and plays nearly always end nn- happily.’ said philosophically, “Oh, well,” I, “there are two sorts of love —there is a passionate love,full of presentiment, which makes a man morbid and melancholy,and forces him a thousand times to curse the fate that brings it to him, but this soit ot loie is too lolty fora workaday world, and the only artistic ending is a tragic one. l am afraid I bore Delia now and again by holding forth in this way, but she only gave the politest possible yawn, as she said. And what about the other? “The other,” I went on, taking care to watch the course of the canoe, “is a tender, pastoral love, which makes a man cheerful and take rosy views of ... life,causing ........ him to thank heaven every day that such a love has fallen to Ins lot, and the artistic ending is wedding bells and domestic happiness.” “Dear me, Mr.Conway,’’said Delia, smiling, “you seem to know a deal about it. ” . sweetest gray-brown Delia has the eyes, and it is an extraordinary pleas- ure to look right into them, longer than is actually neeessaiy v\ line listen- ing to or making a remark; only speak- ing of artistic endings made me teel quite certain there was a mote artistic euduig to such a look than mutu- a !y o drop oui eyes. i .was just t unking about this, and now very giace u some git Is look m a caiioe, vvhen, like a too , L et my paddle catch in a weed. I endeavored as gently as possible to extricate it, j but lie weed proved o stinate. Delia grewnervous and sat up in the canoe, Oli, please be careful, Mr. Con- vvaj, s e ciici . I pulled a trifle harder, but to purpose. I ion I los patience. I gave the paddle a sharp jerk, the weed gave way all .. oo sudden ill y. tv De r la gave a little scream and 1 clutched wild y a be side ot the canoe m a vam attempt to keep my ba a nee. * * It vvas all over in a in omen , and when I say alt J. include Helm, myse t and the canoe. Fortunately we were close to the bank and the water was shallow. I scrambled ashore and he pet De.ia on to tiy am as best I could. unutterably “Really, Miss Delia,” I said feeling foolish, as I caught the painter of the canoe and rescued the floating paddle, “I’ll never forgive myself for this; I wish you were a j man and could swear at me.” look,” “What au awful fright I must said poor Delia, putting back her wet hair from her face. I murmured of “Venus rising from the sea,” but indistinctly, suddenly doubting the propriety of the allusion. Don’t forget your bargain, Mr. Conway,” said she, shaking tbe water from her bedraggled skirt; “will you order the frock, or shall I, and send you in the bill?” I know it was not a very suitable occasion to do anything so serious as make an offer of marriage; also, that it was a very prosaic way of putting it, but upon my wold I couldn’t help it. “I wish you would give me the right always to pay your bills,” I said. • “I don’t think I mind if I do,” she said. We were both very wet and both very muddy, but I looked into tbo.se afore-mentioned brown eyes, and this time she didn’t turn away, for I dis¬ covered the more artistic ending—I put my anil around her waist and kissed her.—Madame. Then# is an immense garden in China that embraces an area of 50,000 square miles. t HOLLAND'S FENIAN RAM. A Submarine Boat With a Curious HU- tory Now tying xe K iected. submarine torpedo boat with wllich M r. Holland has been experi- menting about New York is not his first venture iu that line. Sixteen years ago he built a similar vessel £or severa i Irish patriots, headed by James Reynolds of New Haven,Conn., ami the vessel was among the effects of Mr Reynolds’ estate. For the last thirteen years it has lain neglected under au 0 id shed near Mill River, New Haven, but its owners assert that ; it is .tin seaworthy. It is a cigar- . s haped affair, built of iron, thirty feet long, and about six in depth at the deepest part. It had no electrical equipment, but was provided with steam engines and a propeller. All the machinery was removed long ago. The craft has always been known as the Fenian ram. It is said that it had several trials sixteen years ago | off the New Jersey coast, and Mr. | Reynolds during his lifetime was ac- j ] customed to declare that it had fill- tilled every expectation entertained of it. He himself was on board during ! one trip. The Fenian ram did not submerge itself by diving, like the new Holland boat, but sank. Experi- ments were made to test its effective- ness a8 a 1 . am> with encouraging re- sn Hs. Still attached to its bow is a sort of boring apparatus, intended to penetrate hulls either of iron or wood, it has no difficulty iu staying sub- merged for five hours. It cost, ac- e0 rding to tbe statement of its present keeper, about $40,000, all of which is believed to have been furnished by the Fenian societies. No one seems to know who is tlio owner of this craft. It is at present in charge of Capt. P. O’Connor, son- in _ law o£ James Reynolds. Mr. Hey¬ j no i dS( w ho brought it to New Haven thirteen years ago, was an Irish patriot of world-wide fame. It was lie who was prin.ciptftly instrumental iu arranging for the voyage of the merchantman Catalpa, which sailed from New Bedford in 1875 under the command of Captain John Anthony, an d, after a series of adventures, effected the escape of the six prisoners at ]p reeman tie, Australia, condemned to Rf e imprisonment for their part in penian rising in 1866. They were the companions of John Bovlc O’Reilly, who made his own escape the year be- £ore> Mr. Reynolds risked all his property in this venture, and was ever a ft e rvvard familiarly known as Catalpa jj m He died in New Haven last Au- , j g ust _ ^ f e w m0 ntlis previous to his dea tq a banquet was given iu his i fi onor at ti ie New Haven house. j It submarine j s believed boat that Mr. Holland’s first was constructed j f or Mr. Reynolds and other Fenians £or U3e a g a j n st the British govern- ment. At the time of her construe- j ti on several hafl well to know Ireland New and Haven been men gone imprisoned on account of their j aotivity m^ against Reynolds England. nourished It is thought plans f or their rescue, and that liis sub- J mar in e ram was built in view of his > intended operations. practical It was never | : t tQ use. New Haven irishmen have suggested incase the new Holland boat fulfilled the expec- ; tatious entertained of it, that Mr. 1 Reynold’s craft be presented to the government. With a few repairs and ; changes they believe that the old Fenian ram might prove useful.—Neiv York Sun. London Idea of American Manners, In an article describing tbe ladies’ billiard saloon of the Waldorf-Astoria hotel in New York the London Globe enlightens its readers with the fol¬ lowing veracious observation: “If a man should be so bold as to remove his coat, ail attendant instantly hands him a lounge jacket. All present shut j their eyes and do not open them again until the ringing of a bell announces \ that the shirt sleeves have been covered. » > Sweden’s Matches. The oldest match manufactory in , the world is in Sweden. -Matches were made there long before the old, roughly trimmed splinter of wood " 1 .* V lu ’ 7 s t iscau ei with the , tinder boxes tor which they j were used. In twenty-five years the i export trade of Sweden in foreign matches increased to 10,000,000 boxes a year. Another Thing:. He—I’d give up my life for you, dear. ■ , She Would you really give up tbe i life you are living?—Boston Courier, j INSURANCE ACAINST ILLNESS. People Now Able to Prepare for Attacks of Contagions I>1 tease. The newest thing in personal insur¬ ance, so far as this country is concerned, is insurance against sickness. Such insurance has been furnished in Eng¬ land and on the continent for some time, and iu Germany, where tbe blessings of a paternal government are enjoyed to the fullest extent, it. was recently announced that all heads of families engaged in wage-earning would be compelled to take out iusur- anee against illness. Insurance of this kind has been fur- nished iu this country for some time on a small scale by mutual organiza¬ tions, but it was not until last sum¬ mer that it was taken up by any well- established company. There are said to be only two com- panies at present prepared to write policies of insurance against illness, This is included with regular accident insurance, and there is a combination policy offered by which for a small ad- ditional payment the insurance against illness is secured. A person so insured may receive $'25 a week if he suffers from “typhus fever, typhoid fever, scarlet fever, smallpox, varioloid, diphtheria, mea- sles, or Asiatic cholera, and such ill- ness shall, independently of all other causes, continuously and wholly dis- able and prevent the insured from per- forming any and every kind of duty pertaining to his occupation.” The limit of indemnity is fixed at twenty- six weeks. AU the diseases mentioned are of a contagious character, and no attempt has been made as yet to in- sure against any others. Iusuvance men who are interested in this subject are watching with in- terest to see how the new idea“takes,” and some of them say it is probable that the list of diseases which a per- son can become insured against will soou be lengthened. If will be noted that one important contagious disease, yellow fever is not named iu the list, but the chances of being attacked with yellow fever in this part of the country are so small that its omission is not a matter of great importance to New Yorkers. — New York Tribune. Can Talk under Water. When Captain Louis Sorche of Bui- timore, himself a diver, invented the submarine telephone he brought forth a great boon for his fellow craftsmen, Had it not been for these telephones many a diver who is at work today would have been dead, simply because he would not have had the means to tell of his peril in time to have been saved. This invention makes it possible for ! the diver’s tender to hear even a whisper from the man below water, and the attendant can talk with equal facility to the man he has to care for. The telephone’s ends are fastened to the heads of both men, and gives them full use of their hands. By a wire connection made above water by two tenders, a diver can talk to an- other who is working some distance from him. The old svstem of signal- ing wants by the number of tugs at the life lino was very unsatisfactory, for often the signals were misnuder- stood, and many a diver lost his life for that reason. Six of these telephones were in use by the divers working oil the wreck of the Maine in Havana harbor. They saved the lives of several of the men who had so fallen that they would have been strangled unless their diffi¬ culty was distinctly understood. What a man says can be understood always, but he cannot always signal and be sure of making what he wants to say understood, even though he is sure of the code of signals.—New York Press. Tlie Money In Strawberries. To show how much money there is in strawberries when the grower sells at home, we will give one or two in¬ stances. On Monday Ivie Robinson picked 275 quarts of behries. He was offered 16 cents a quart, wllich he promptly accepted, making a total of $ f the one d >s picking . Kie hftS tUree Peking : J days 4- in each week, „ d he (u erag 0 two hundred qunrts at each picking. When a fair j, 1 r iee is offered he is always J wise enough to sell, and who would want a better Klondike than this?—Orlando (F1 '' . Ke110 ' .. t ,,,. Hard Pressed. Priggs—What did she say when she rejected you? Griggs-—She said it wasn’t neces- sadly due to lack of merit, but on ac- C()mi t 0 f the great pressure of other material.—Life. NO. 26, GRANT IN THE WILDERNESS. A Wounded Soldier's Close Study ot* tli® lirvnt Commander, “Oh, it was an intensely interesting study—my study of Grant at dose range in the Wilderness!” The speaker was the Rev. Theodore Gerrish, a Maine veteran of the civil war. “Ah! I can never forget that terrible day iu 1864, when was fought the lirst of the two days’ bloody battles of the Wilderness,” continued Mr. Gerrish. “1 at the time lay wounded under a tree, close to Grant’s headquarters in the field, and hour after hour watched Grant, it While serving ns a private in my regiment, I was severely, though not dangerously wounded, and, like a great number of others, was taken to the rear. I was placed under a small tree, and, as it happened, within a few rods of the spot where the leader of that mighty host of Union warriors was conducting the battle. In fact, I was so near to Grant that I could see every motion lie made, and critically study him iu the momentous, fearfully responsible role he was playing. “And such a study! ■ “Why, it is not hyperbole to state that it was worth all the pain and dis¬ ability 1 endured then and thereafter from the effects of my wounds, “There stood the ‘silent man o( destiny’ in front of his little tent; a man plain and unpretentious, holding in his hands not only the.fate of his vast army, but the life of our nation as‘one and inseparable,’ yet as cool and self-possessed as if he were merely eviewiug abrigade of militia on train- ing day. All about him was wild ex- citement and seeming chaos. In front of him, and for miles in extent, the unceasing roar of artiUerv mingling anil alternating with the rattle of musketry, the bugle calls, the shouts of the contending troops, now nearer ,.'■<! more terrible,now seeming farther away; anon the crashing of a shell iu dangerous nearness, causing a tem- porary scare in the vicinity of its full. “Everybody was agitated except him who had most cause for travail, “Staff 1 officers would gallop up every few minutes, to each of whom lie would give a brief written order for to some brigade or divi^ sion Commander, perhaps involving the fate of thousands of brave men. Orderlies were dashing hither and von. General Meade, on his alert charger, was so nervous that he could not long remain in his saddle, but would dismount and pace the ground a while, remount and sit a short time, then off and walk as before, his liaud- some face wearing a worn and troubled look; and yet, through these long and terrible hours Grant never once lost his head, but kept constantly in his mind’s eye all the details and intrica- cies of that stupendous plan which devolved on him alone to carry oat — the solution of that mighty problem, the key to which lay in his right hand, which held the fateful pencil. ‘Tes, Grant knew precisely what he was about, and he knew,moreover, that a cool head and well balanced mind were all-essential to the great work in hand. . “The lesson of that day’s study of Grant Whs, that he was one of the most wonderful men this century has produced. ” London Newspaper Cheats, “I was iu London on the day that the news of tbe sinking of the Maine was flashed over the cable,” said Mr. W. B. Chester of San Francisco. “The newspapers of the English capital employ men to perambulate the streets with big notices of start¬ ling events placarded on their bodies in the way of advertisement for pending editions. These ‘sandwich men,’ as they call them, bore the sensational legend in "big type: 4 4 ‘The United States battleship Maine blown up by the Spaniards.’ “This announcement certainly created a stir in London, and there was- a rush for the newspapers of almost unprecedented proportions. After buying them the public soou caught on to tbe fact that the walking ads.had been in a way. a snare and delusion, but tbe deception caused the sale of many thousand extra copies.”—Wash¬ ington Post. A Sell eme That Failed. Papa—I did tlie count an injustice. I thought he was a chump. Mamma—And you have changed your opinion? Papa—Yes, indeed! You should have seen him kick when I tried to work off some worthless railroad stock -s as part of tbe marriage se'.Cement.— Puck!