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gw Fv The New Orlesni Viagnm says:
| .‘'Among the guileless aborigines of the
F "VVesterni plains it is a common custom
I when a babe is born to give it a name
| suggested by so mi* object that, presents
j jtse'f to the eye of the doting father as
I he step* outside of the door of his teut
and looks about him. This will explain
l why it is that no Indians have ever been
I isnsed ‘Honest Government Agent. ■ »i
TV iter man* are liard at work, ar
‘ fcrding the New York Sim, digging
to
J ench out of their language. Une of
t<* latest results of this purlfji ig p o
tsss can hardly bo commended. The
! j cord “jatrunille" is to be cut cut of the
it of military terms, and in its place is
L • be substituted “truppcnthoilen
f nachU fe Hpasiergan»” which is not the
•itepiest conceivable manner of express
ing the meaning of the word.
The Catholic Church in Great Britain
is keeping pace with the increase in pop
ulation. There are now 5,041,040 com
•municants in the Inited Kingdom Of
[these |090; Scotland, England 326,000, and Wales and claim Behind, '. V'd,
'901,000. There are also how in England
[end Wales 2811 priests,as against ! V2S in
Bfelb, serving 1301 churches, chapels and
prissionary stations. In Scotland then
jre five bishops and 384 priests, serving
jj 7 chapels, churches and stations.
Henry I abonchcre, of London Truth,
has explained the desire ol the foreign
nobility to seek American wives, Girls
in England arc awkward, red-elbowed,
large-looted, badly dressed, hoyden isb
misses, with giggling propensities ar.d
no conversational powers. American
girlswo , handsome, , natural, , always , at .
ease, a litt o cite j, wot 1 ■<-•■>-e ,
good 5 conversationalists, and free fioin
the smell of bread-and butter. ,, He do- ,
elares that England will continue to be
overcrowded with old maids until Eng
llish girls realize these facts and become
[Americanized. .
P^Vith union of action Italy between and Portu- Ger
many, England, France,
gal for the suppression of the Zanzibar
slave trade, backed by the nival forces
of these combined powers, Awe cun-.be
no doubt, declares the New York Nun,
that the end of that abom untion is at
hand. The first time at which broad
measures were taken against the slave
trade in general was in IHOg, when tire
I nited States and England joined in
tha enforcement of the policy which
jthey [These had adopted for its suppression.
powers subsequently received aid
in the work from the Netherlands,
f'ranee, and Spain. In 1*20 our Gov
lernment too'; the lead in declaring the
■lave trade to be piracy. A declaration
If this kind will doubtless have to he
[hiade by the oijwer? that have .ust com
Izined against" die slave traders of Zan
ient.
^*Dr. Corwin, of California, mod* has recently
M to his a! brethren
[s*lpUd.hem |lge|rdii a number harmfufness of questions of jjjj r(J
the possible
11 Kiasin habit. Of course, observes the
New ork GrmMr, Dr. Corwin has n<
IjAn c abolishing oscillatory contact
I jfom l-iBian experience. There are said
| P be -,me savage tribes that have nevet
iiriven [liiat -d the kiss, bet it is safe to say
Lighted ikay comprise a very small and be
portion of the race, and that the
; k of driving any of the re t back into
tins howling desert or a ki-eWi exist
!,,ce is hopeless. The doctor’s idea is
(hat kissing has been extended from its
1-gitimate field, nod that a large part oJ
riat liequnte now done is unaccompanied by any
compensation for the risk
^ ^''pgjthat on. Others than Dr, Corwin are con
that risk is conshh.rabie;
pitinL n;> *,» s-h/nv-thal
fodly variety of diseases may be con
cted through kisses.
he Pulse of Domesticated Animals.
_ ■The . pulse nUjanimals
m varies tome
Fiat I even when in toil health and at
st. A fell -onusCh nny lucre .so the
[.umber of beats and so wfcl high tem
jjerature, but, a c rule, we must say that
the pulse of a healthy horsewjhwSS at aud rest
should range beta ecu thirty-six
I ty-six—about forty beats may be con*
I. ered normal. In the ox ami cow
mt forty to forty-five, but after a full
ai it may increa-e ten beats or even
lore without indicating disease. In
ep, goat*, and p’gs the pulse is from
ecty to eighty Leafs, and in the dog
bty to one hundred. The pulse may
felt wherever a large artery crosses a
Ie, itied and in the cord horse which it is generally ex
on the crosses over
i bone of the lower jaw in front of its
UtheUyc 10 A' 1 nil
mpid. hardand f
l-e is an" i du ntjon of high fever or
hmmatiem An irregular pulse indi
ies heart disease.—• AY<a Yurk Huu.
[A Talented and GarrmtMU Crow.
[live | Georgetown, and forty Ky., years harl ago Mr. crow Adams, that
L a
next to Henry s.lay in the affections
| light, its people. Though wholly aelf
it could talk well enough to
Itswear (the the army in Flanders,-answered
name of Fete, went to every race i
feeling thereabout and shouted “Go!”
• naturally that the jockeys oflen took
raise lially start. In addition, apd hog he delighted
Ldd in musters killings, the
hover over the soldiers or
■xers Bhody in equally e fish glee, ami it
Pe displeased terrible it would thief scream and out.
tvaa a!-o a withal, an
■eterate drunkard; yet, such a
PLy -eid’ent sprite, In w-wsgtou that when the he largest was ihot funeral
rseen in Georgetown. He was buried
en, far and near, wore mourning for
kny days. — Commercial Ail re User.
'Tore Off Her Baby’s Eyelid,
.three-year-old daughter of Mr,
>t. ktleld. I’at Garroll.of East Ninth street,
Ohio, was playing with
tub hook, and in sonic way, got it
-o Lttdn lasa'sai^s.s an eyelid. The mother did
loWm it. This act/ caused tho
■ Actually tear off Hie lower lid of
^lOindnnMlu^urer. i
on ~ whi ,T77 h/raany ...... a poor fellow „
e
k the wavf of a
1
O
• VOLUME
A Life Lesson.
There! little girl; don't cryl
They have broken your doll, I know;
And your tea-set blue,
And your play-house, too,
Are things of the long ago;
But childish troubles will soon pass by.
There! little girl; d. <vi cryl
There! little girl; don’t cryl
T y jQy have broken your slate, 1 know
And the glad, wild ways
Of your school-girl days
Are things of the longngo;
But Tifo and love will soon come by.
There! little girl; don’t cryl
There! little girl; don’t cry!
They have broken your heart, I know
And the rainbow gleams
Of your youthful dreams
Are things of tho long ago;
hoaven holds all for which you sigh.
The,el 1Utle doa,t
—[James Whitcomb Riley.
THE FACTORY GIRL,
It was a little studio, quito at tha top
of tho house. Upon tho easel that oc
cupied tho post of honor in tho middle
of tho room, a largo piece of canvas
glow „, with tho soft tint, of a spring
| 4n( j 5CS p ' C 0 nd Seymour stood
beforo it, 1 pallet ,, ta . hand, , ’ ,. Ins largo ,
brown eyes dreamy with , , a sort of ,, inspi- ,
ration.
la a comfortable, oasy chair, by tho
door, sat a plump, rosy, little female,
in a fnco cap with a plenty of narrow
white satin ribbons fluttering from it,
and silver-gray poplia dress—Mrs. Sey
mour, in fact, our artist's mother who
had j"’ 1 U P fron tha very basc
mont “to seo bow Frank was gottiag
along.’
“Here, mother,” said tho young man,
w dh an onlhuaUrtio sparkto in his
eyor, “just seo tho way the sunset light
touches the topmost branches of the
old apple tree. I liko the brown, sub
duod gold of that tint; it somrhow ro
minds mo of Grace Teller’s hair.”
Mr-. Beymour moved a iittlo unoasily
in her chair.
“Yo-, it's very protty; hut it strikos
me, Fiank, you aro lately discovering a
many slmilitu les between Miss
Teller and your pic uros.”
Frank laughed good humoredly.
“Well, mother, sho is pretty.”
“Yes, I don’t deny that she’s pretty
enough.’ 1
“Now, mother, what’s the meaning
of that ambiguous tone?” demandod
tho young artist, pleasantly. “What
have you discovered about Miss Grace
Tc!lor ,hat ‘harming and womanly
and lovely?”
“Frank, do you know who she is?”
“Yes, I know that sho is a remarka
bly pretty girl with a voic; that sounds
exactly like tjie low soft ripplo of tho
Bttlo rivulet where I used to play when
I w * fl a boy."
“Notisinse,” said Mrs. Seymour,
sharply,
“Well, thon, if you aro not satisfied
with my description of her as she is,
would you like to know whit she will
be?"
Mrs. Seymour lookod puzzled.
“Mother, 1 think ono day sho will ho
my wife.”
“Frank? Frank 1 are you crazy?”
“Not that I know of,” sai l Mr. Sey
mour, composedly, squeezing a little
deep ‘ blue on his .* pallet oift of a dainty 1
tln tabc . and ral . *‘°« ll thoughtfully.
“Wo know so little about her,”
thought Mrs. Seymour. “To be sure
sho is visiting Mary Elton, and Miry
belongs to a very good family, if tho
does live in haLf a home and take in
fine embroidery for a living. Bat then
she has no style at all compare 1 with
Cynthia Parker, and Cynthia alwrfys did
fancy our Frank. Then, moroover, sho
has five or six thousand dollars of hor
own. But dear me, a young man in
love is tho most headstrong crciturc
alive."
Mrs. Seymour mused awhile longer,
»»'k anl tben !>“* and 00 monse^colored
bonnet gray slu.w , and^tet out
upon a tour of investigation.
“I’ll find out someth!ug about Miss
Toller, or 111 know the roason why,”
thought the indefatigable widow,
Mus Graco Teiier was “at home,”
helping Mary Ellon in ano.aborato , , , pi . cs
ol embroidery. The room whero the
two gills a at was vory plain, carpeted
with the cheapest iagraia, and cur
tained wilh very ordinary pink and
white chintz, yet it looked snug and
c hcery, J ’ for tho fat blackbird was chirp- 1
ing noidly in the window, aad a stand
of mignonette aad velvet-blossomed
pansies gave a delightful tiat to this
pretty picture of every-day life.
Mary E ton was pale, thin and not at
ail pretty; there was a tremulous sweet
noss about her mouth that seemed to
—Sisper tint she might hay. b„, d„.
ferent under diff;rent circumstances,
Grace Teller W33 a lovely blondo, with
large bluo eyes, ro3oleaf skin, and hair
whose luminous gold fell over her fore
head liko an aureole.
As Mrs. Seymour entered a deeper
shade of pink stole over Grtce's beauti
fnl cheek, but otherwise she was caim
—«•»«—>. v p»w
the old lady’s interrogatories.
“Very warm this morning,” said the
old lady, fanning herself. “Do they
have as warm weather whero you came
{rom > Mu ‘ Tollerf Ta
...
“I ry ia Fa
ZEBU LON, (a A., TUESDAY, JANUARY 15, 1881).
ryTille," said Grace, composedly taking
snother needleful of white silk.
"Factoryville? Is that your native
placof Perhaps, thon, you know Mr.
Parker—Cynthia Parker’s father, who
it superintendent in the great calico
mills there?”
‘ Very well, I hsya often seen him.”
“Are you acquainted with Cynthia?"
“No—I beliovo Miss Parker spends
moat of lior time in this city.”
“That’s very truo,” said Mrs. Sey
mour, sagely; ‘ Cyotlua says there’s no
society worth having in Factoryville—
only the girls that work in the factory;
Cynthia is very gontoel. But—excuse
my curiosity, Miss Teller—how did you
become acquainted with Mr. Parker
and not with his daughter?"
Grace colored.
“Business brought mo in contact fre
quently with the gonlloman of whom
you speak. But I never happenod to
moot his daughter.”
Mrs. Seymour gave a iittla start in
her chair—she was beginning to seo
through tho mystery.
“Perhaps you have something to do
with tho calico factory I”
“I have,” said Grace with ctam dig
city.
“A factory girlF’ gasped Mrs. Sey
mour, growing rod and white.
“Is thero any di?grac3 in the title?”
quietly asked Graco, although hor own
cheeks wero dyed crimson.
“DisgraceI Oh, no—certainly not;
thero's no harm in earning one’s living
in any honorable way,” returned McS.
Seymour, absently. Tho fact was, 6he
was thinking in hor inmost mind,
‘What will Frank say?” and antici
pating the flag of triumph she was
about to wave ov;r him.
"I do not hesitato to confess,” went
on Grace, looking Mrs. Suymour full in
tho eyes, “that to the calico factory I
owe my daily bread.’’
“Vory laudable, I’m suro," said tho
old laiy, growing a little uneasy under
tho clear blue gozo, "only—thoro are
steps and gradations in all socioty, you
know, and—lam a little surprised to
find you so intimate with Miss Elton,
whoso family is—”
Mary camo ovor to Grace’s side and
stooped to kiss her check.
“My dearest friend, my most precious
companion,’’ sho murmured. “I should
bo quite lost without her, Mrs.
mour."
The old lady took hor leave stiffly,
and did not ask Graco to return her
call, although Bho extended an invita
tion to Mary, couched in tho politest
and most distant terms.
“Frankl’ she ejaculated, novor onco
stopping to rernovo shawl or bonnet,
and bursting into her sou’s studio like
an oxposs-messenger of lifa and death
news. “who do you supposo your para
gon of a Mi-s Toller is?”
“Tho lcvllest of hor sex,” returned
Frank, briefly nnd comprehensively.
"A factory girl 1” scroumod tho old
lady at the height of hor lungs, "a fac
tory girl!"
“Well, what of that?"
“What of that? Frank Seymour,
you never moan to say that you would
hnvo anything to say to a common fac
tory girl!”
“I should pronounce her a very un
common factory girl,” said tho young
man, with an aggravating calmness.
“Frank, don’t jest with me,” pleadod
tho poor little mother with tears in her
eyos. “Tell mo at once you will give
up this fancy for a girl that « in no way
equal to you."
“No—she is ia no respect my equal,"
roturnod Frank, with reddening cheek
and sparkling eye, "but it is because
sho is in every respect my superior.
Graco Teller is ono of tho noblost
women that over breathed this torros
tial air, as well as or.o of the most beau
tiful. Mother, I love hor, and sho has
promised to ho my wife.”
Mrs. Seymour sat down, limp, life
less and despairing.
“Frankl Frankl I never thought to
see my son marry a common factory
girt.”
And thon a torrent of tears camo to
her relief, while Frank wont on quietly
touching np the scarlet foliage of a
splendid old maple in the foreground
of his picture.
« » <r
“So you are determino 1 zrry me,
Frank, in spite of everyth
Grace Teller had been crying—tho
dew yet on her cyelsshos, and tho un
natural crimson on her cheeks, as Frank
Ss/mour camo in, and Mary Elton con
siderately slipped out “to look for a
missing pattern.”
“I should think so,” said Frank,
ooking admiringly down on the gold
head that wa3 stooping among tho pan
sies.
“But your mother thinks me far be
low you in social position.”
“Social position be—ignored. What
do I care for social position, as long as
my little Grace has consented to mako
th3 sunshine of my own home."
“Yes, but Frank-"
1 Well, but Graco?”
“Do you really love mo?"
For answer, he took both the fair
delicate little hands in his, and lookod
steadi!4dn her eyes.
“Fr%k,” said Grace
J
strong-willed, obstinate sort of a hus
band."
“I shouldn't wonder, Gracia.”
An so the gold twilight faded into a
purple, softer than tin shadow of L at
ern amothysts, and f lic stars camo out,
one by one, and still Mary Elton didn’t
succeed in finding tho pal (ern.
* * » * *
Mrs. 8 -ymour was tho first guost to
arrive at Mrs. Rin.dall’s select soiree on
the first Wednesday evening in duly—
elevating her kid-gloved hands, “what
Is tho matter? I hop) Frank isn’t in
any sort of trouble.’’
“My dear,” sai l the old lady in mys
tcrioui whispers, “Frank has been on
trapped, inveigled Into tho most dread
ful entanglement. But yen ever fancy
that he, the most fastidious and
ular of croatod beings, ocu'd bo reso
lutely determined on marrying—a fac
tory girl?”
Airs. Randall uttered an exclamation
of horritiod surprise, aud at the tamo
momenta party of guests wero an
nounced, among them was Miss Grace
Teller, looking rather more lovoly than
usual.
“Well,” thought Mrs. 8 ymour,
hor hostess hurried away to
tho new comors, “will wonders
erase? Graco Toller at Mrs.
soiroel But I supposo its all on
count of Miry E ton’s uncle, tho judge.
Hero comos Mr. Parker and
dear mo, what a curious mixturo
American sotioty is; how thoy will
shocked at meeting Graco Toiler.’'
Involuntarily slio advance 1 a stop
two^o witness the meeting, M . Par
kcr looked quito as much astonished
she had expoctcd, but somehow it
not just tho kind of astonishment
was on tho programme.
“Miss Graco; you here? Why,
did you camo from Factoryville? ’
“You aro acquainted with Miss
ler? ’ asked Mrs. Randall, with
surpriso.
“Quito well; in fact I hnvo had
management of her proporly for
years. Miss Teller is the young
who owns tho extensive calico factories,
from which our village takes its name.”
“Bear me I’ ejaculated Mrs. 8
mour, turning palo and sinking
on a divan near her. “Why, they
tha heiress of the old gentleman
owned the Pactoryvfile property i»
richest girl in tho country.”
“Grace,” said Frank, gravely and
almost sternly, “what does this mean?"
Tho blue eyes filled with tears as sho
clung c’oser to his arm.
“I can’t help owning tho calico fac
tory, Frank. Don't you love me
as well as if I didn’t?’
“My little daceiver. But why didn’t
you toll me?”
“Why should I tell you, Frank? It
was so nico to leave tho heiress behind
and bo plain Graco Toller for awhile.
And whon I saw how opposed your
mother was to our engagement, a spark
of woman’s wilfulness rose up within
me, and I resolved I would maintain
my incognita, come what might. Mrs.
Sjymour,” she added, turning archly
round and holding out hor hand to tho
discomfited old lady, “didn't I tell
you that I owod my daily broad to the
factory? ’
And poor Mrs. Seymour, fur onco in
her life, was at a loss for nn answer.
The Sensation of Being Scalped.
The man who can toll more tales
Indian fighting, bear hunting, and wild
life generally than any otlur man west
of tho Rockies is Carroll Bronson,
pioneer of the Selkirk mountains in
British Columbia. It i, forty-two years
slnco he made hi, way alone from tho
head waters of (ho Missouri to
mountains, and he is now in San
Francisco, seeing for the first time in
all those years a town of moro than
thousand persons.
His faco i, scarred from arrow
wounds received in Indian fights, and if
ho lift, his long white hair from tho
silo of hi. host he shows a great
circular scar extendhg from above hi,
right eyecloar around the right sido and
back of his head almost to the left oar.
That is where the old man was scalp id.
“It was in 'CO, with tho Sioux,” he
explained, “and it was the worst brujh
lever had with the Indians. They
of ... nine of us aud ,
camo upon a camp one
of them pounced upon me, soized mo
by tho hair and cut right around my
head where you seo this scar. Then ho
gave a sharp wrench upward with his
right arm nnd laid the whole skull hare.
I cannot describe tho pain it gave me,
and I don’t believe I could have endured
any moro without simply dying of it.
Thero is no other torture man can ho
subjocted to that will begin to compare
with being scalped.
“It is a common belief that a man
cast live after being scalped, hut I’ve
survived tho experience, a matter of
twenty-two years, and I don’t think I’m
quite to the end of ray journey yet,oven
if I am seventy year, old. I know
another man up there, too, who didn’t
die under the scalping knife. Tho
scalp wa* torn completely off from tho
whole top of his head, so that it had to
be constantly swathed in cotton and
olive oiL He lived- a year. That man
SUNK BY A METEOR.
An m Account of Re _
markable Incident,
A Mysterious Ship Scuttled By
a Fiery Aerolite.
Potor W«3gren, an old sailor of San
Francisco, who has cruised in every
ocean on the face of the globe, but
whose soafaring days are nearly over,
b ? caU8a bU )° int8 810 8I0 ™ 8
bl8 ' wcak wlth a ^' wa8 aakcd b *
» Now York Sun correspondent wha
th « » tran <? ,,t ftbg he ever saw at
sea. The old man mused for a few
moments, and then said:
“Wo woro becalmed in the Pacific
about iiiao or ton degrees north of the
equator, and, if I recollect right, in
something like 128 degrees west longi
tude. The Antelope lay there like a
log, rolling on the swell fit lo make a
man siok. Tho sails flapped against
tho mast with dull, booming sounds,
and the only draught of air you could
feol was what they made, The water
was liko melton load, lapping haavily
against her sides. If you never wero
in any of those calms, you can have
idea how gloomy it makes a man.
“It was the second night in tho calm,
and tho port watch was on dock,
moon was shining clear; everything
still, but for tho creaking noises always
about a ship afloat, and as there
nothing to keep a lookout for
indications of a breeze, which
seem likely to come along,
wo had puckered our lips out of
whistling for it, tho men wero
ing undor tho bulwark>, and the man
the wheol was snoring.
“I was leaning over tho rail, looking
at a brigantine becalmed about
miles away on our starboard quarter.
We hadn't spoken her, and didn't
what she was or whore she was f rom.
could tell by tha taper of hor
that sho was Amoriean built, but
was all. She was a trim little craft,
and it was enough to break a
heart the way sho was wiped off
face of tho earth that night. To
sure, tho Antelope wasn’t treated
hotter, a fow months later, but fire
ono of tho things a sailor
among tho chances of his calling, and
many a good ship is burned at sea.
But I don’t supposo any otbor
evor met such a sudden and unnatural
fato ia this world as that brigantine.
Mind, I don’t say I know it never
happened before, because ufrango
things always aro happening at sea,
and somo of the strangest never get
to’.d. Because why? Mon don’t livo to
toll ’em.
“Well, I was loaning on the rail at
about six bells, with my check in my
palm, looking away where tho
tine lay in the moonlight. The motion
of tho bark on the swell was alow and
kind of soothing, and I had got sort of
half dreaming with the lazy roll of her,
whon I was startled broad awako by a
bright light in tho sky. Hooking up
saw a great ball of lira rushing down
through tho air on a slant, aad thoro
was a dark clou t above. By tho time
I had hauled in tho slack of my mind
enough to know that it was a shooting
star - tho 8 lara of u 80t 80 bl % ht thtt
ihB U * M of tho moon wa9 of n0 moro
” cconnt than a ,U,,h Iam P- aad tho5tarS
wor< > put out altogether,
‘’There was a rushing, hissing sound
in tha air a8 ,ha thin « c, “* d 0W t
When it got pretty near, the light , al
m08 ‘ bllado ; 1 ra0 aad 1 COuld 800 DOth '
in « lut tho 1,0,y gloara ° f 14 on
tho wat<r - 14 Wfl8n 4 a ’ loa « from the
timo i4 boT ° in 8i S ht uatil 14 struck 88
1,ya bcaa tcllin8 how 14 lookaJ ’ 14
must haT0 baen traT(!lin K liko a ctt3tloa
ball, or maybe a goof many more knots
* miaute ' In 4Ua « lara 1 lost sl « h4 of
the bri g»“ liaa - 1 haa!d 8
»ound, and tho ball of fire disappeared,
lflayin « everything black before my
oyas 4or 8
‘' Whaa 1 had blinkod 4he ri8ht 8i S b4
laok into my eyc9 and « ot u8od 4o 4h °
moonlight,that seemed palo and s.ckly,
I fenced over tho starboard quarter to
wharo tho bri ^ ntina h ' lJ baor ’> bu4
thero wasn’t a trace of her to bo aeon. I
could hardly believe my own eyes, al
though they were a good pair in thoso
days beforo tho dust of tho soa had
dulled them, and I thought I must
haTa baaa b,t dai!ed , , , by wha4 , had ,
8
ha P- D8aad and 804 c<,afu,ed la . my , bear -
ia as S a 8 - spar Bat in ia sight, ao dircctloa and off there ^ a8 80 on mu the f
quarter thero was a rising and falling
of short wares, their tops cafehing tho
glint of moonbeams, that showed whero
the shooting star had gone down into
tho sea. That was where the brigan
tino had been.
“ Tha fla,h and roar of tbo Mlin8
atar had aroused the watch on deck.and
tha mcn wata gathered in a group l:y
tha ^emast, blinking their cyos and
wonderin8 wbat 1,ad b “PP aaad -
had 8ean 8114Uat 1 had aa ^ Ididn’tknow
wflat llad taada tUo 8 raat 8lar0 of
I told them to look for the brigaMAne,
and sent a man aloft
NUMBER 8.
but our own, and asked me if the brig,
antino had blown up. TUo man aloft
reported that ho could not mako out
anythiag.
“They were token all aback whoa I
told what had happened, and being a
superstitious lot, as forecastle hands are
apt to bo, thoy shook their heads and
mumbled among themselves about tha
devil being nbtOlul.
“Thinking some poor feilfflT tnighl
be floating about whbro tho brigantine
went down, Icalledupthe captain and
all hands, and the eld man sent out a
boat to search. Tho second mate wont
in the boat, and when ho camo back ho
brought only a bit of scorched deck
planking that he picked up adrift
whore he calculated tho brigantine had
been. That was all tho trace of her that
was left, and we never know her name
or anything mora about her.”
Burials at Sea.
“Why ara tho bodies of passengers
who dio on ocean steamships at sea
thrown overboard instead of being
brought to port?" was asked of a navy
officer.
“It depends upon circumstances
whethor it is advisable to bury a person
at sea who dies on shipboard,” was the
reply. “If the vessel is within a day or
two of the end of tha voyage, there is
no good reason for not bringing tho
body into port, although a superstition
prevails among sailors that if a dead
body is kept on board it moans tho in
evitable destruction of tho vessel. And
it is often tho case that whon a body is
shipped on board a vessel to cross tho
ocean tho fact is kept from tho knowl
edge of tho sailors.”
“It is contended by somo that the
bnrial of a body at sea is not attendod
with thosolomn ceremony that it ought
to bo 1”
“A burial at sea is a vory solemn aud
impressive sorvice. A death at sea casts
a gloom over tho wholo ship, and it is
natural for tho officers of a vossel to
avoid ostentation and display, All
mariaers aro firm in thoir conviction
that whon a person dies at sen, unloss
within a few hours' run to port, tho
-body should ho givon up to tho doep. As
a rule, vessels aro not provided with
any placo whoro the body rmy he kept,
nor do tho medicine chests contain any
drugs or chemicals by which it can bo
embalmed. Somo of the linos, I be
lieve tho White Stnr and Fronch Trans
atlantic, carry metallic coffins in which
the bodies of those dying at sea, when
tho urgent request of their friends is
made, may bo placed until tho vessel
roaches port. But thoro is no law. as
some havo asserted, which makes it
compulsory to bury a body at sea.
“As for tho burial sorvice, tho body
is usually sowed up in canvas nnd heavy
pieces of iron, nnd cither grate-bars or
shot, aro lastonod to it to cause it to
sink. Then tho body is taken to tho
gangway, and the officers and crow aro
assembled by tho captain, who roads
tho Episcopal burial service, ns pre
pared for such occasions, tho ship being
stopped meanwhile. Tho sorvico b ing
completed, tho plank -upon which tho
body rests is tippod up and tho body
slidos into tho ocoan and sinks, being
carried down by tho heavy weights.
Thon tho vossel is put on hor course and
goes ahead. Surely thoro is nothing
inhuman or unbecoming in this.”—[New
York Tribune.
Russia's Great Norolist.
Count Tolstoi is a man ol sixty, with
iron-gray hair, sunburnod countenance,
plentifully furnished with gray heard
and muetachc. His hair is parted down
tho middle and is thick and full. His
brow, furrowed with the ploughshare
of thought, is broad and massivojhis
eyes, small and piercing, glcnm out be
neath bushy brows. His nose, largo
and prominent, has full and oxprossivo
nostrils. Tho features aro so strongly
marked that onco seen they cannot aoon
bo forgotten. Ho is rather above tho
average height, and his threescore years
havo not bowed his stature. But ho is
no longer as robust as ha was. Ho
looks soomowhat shrunkon and worn,
as if timo and tho ever-burning fire
within wore making inroads on what
was onco a stout and stalwart form.
Count Tolstoi drosses not a la moujik,
hut not as a Count. Ho wean a coarse,
dark blouse, buttonod up tho breast
nnd fastenod round tho waist with a
leathern girdle. Collars, cuffs and such
frippery ho eschews. IIi3 trousers are
as those of other men. On his head he
wears a soft, weather-beaten brimloes
hat, and whenever ho walks abroad ho
carries a stout staff. Tho costume of
the disciple is liko to that of his master.
Simplicity ia dross is a distinctive note
of tho Tolstoian gospel—one among the
maty points in which it resembles tho
Quakers.—[Loufevillo Courier- Journal.
The Proper Gender.
“Pa,” inquired Bobby, “what is a
phenomenon?”
“A phenomenon, my boy,” replied
the old man, “is a person who excels or
is romarkabio in some special way."
“Is phenoidfeion, aSlatert*’ pa, of the
•or feminine
fHH SURPRISE.
<
Joy met Borrow in a placo '
Where the branches Interlace.
Very secret, still and sweet,
Bate from all profaning feet.
"Why art here!” Joy, startled, cried;
“Why art here!" gray Borrow atghed.
"I came hereto woep," said Joy.
“Tear* are ever my employ,”
Murmured Borrow. “Yet 1 see
Tears os grateful were to thee.
Come, young novice, and lie taught
Uow to ease thy heart o’erfraught."
Joy sat down at Sorrow's feet, A
And was taught a lesson sweet,
“
Fain would he make kind return;
"Borrow, art too old to learnt
Nay! Then tarry yet a while,
Till I’ve taught thee how to smile!”
Blnce that hour the two have been
Bound as by mysterious kin;
Since that hour thoy so exchange
Tearaand smiles, ’tis nothing strange
If sometimes a puzzled heart
Scarce can tell the twain apart
—Kdith Thomas, in Boston Troauefipt.
Hl'MOK BP THE DAT.
Got the stuff in him—An effigy. A
Babes in the wood—Wooden dudH|| dolBHj
Potomac flats—Washington feel
All poets have trouble with their
Cuts a good figure—An expert seuljy
tor.
A race across tho Atlantic—The Eng
iish.
The still alarm—An overwound AmeriJ
can clock. ami ■
The Port of London— Logwood
currant wine.
A matter of some weight—I’rc
to a 200-pound widow.
A touching sight—A small boy it
gating a newly painted door. I w
The immediate delivery system -
money or your life.—Bo U>n (ja.e.t
A neighbor had so natural a pict
a ben that it laid in his drawer
week.
The reason why a sailor is called
is because ho is constantly pitched a
by the ocean.
No matter how good a man may be,
when he ships as a seaman he gets into a
mess. — Ocean.
At a Montana wedding: Justice -
“Arise! Grab hands! Hitched! Sis
dollars. Cash up; no trust ’’
When hall and bat are put away,
And icy winter’s here.
The clubs have plenty time to brag
Of what they’ll do next year.
There is a man in New York who; it
is said, can eat, nine pounds steal* of sU<-’
sitting. He is the greatest
we ever knew.
Edison’s phonograph has on®
that is worthy of consideration. tlfl ■
talks unless talked to. But, on
baud, it talks buck .—Nine York ,
De Bmithvilie (at the theatre®
you Butcher—“Oh, like tragedy, I Miss dote Butcher ilk.
on ■ '
attend papa's slaughtor-housc ^
week.”
The funeral of a Colorado editor who
charged a State official with being such
a dastardly robber that he would rifle a
camion, was largely attended.—
ington Critic.
One of the saddest sights in-this world
of ups and downs is to sec an “I Know
My for sale Kedecmcth in a paW f.iyijth’’ mfi wro ‘
Nets York Mercury. w w
In Iceland it is the custsm for every
body to kiss everybody else he meets. Iceland It
requires a good deal of skill in
to meet only the people you would really
like to see .—Somorcitle Journal. \
A St. Louis' physician has cured a
woman of chronic nervousness by com
pelling her to spend four weeks in a
boiler factory, where she couldn’t hear
herself talk.— Detroit Free I'ress.
Husband (severely)—“Wlmtl dead—you'd more
money. Bupposc I was have
to beg for vour cash.” Wife (calmly)
“It wouldn’t be a though 1 had never
had any practice, sir ."—Chicago (Jt.ifte.
There is a wealthy man churcBH uptoyr
does not hire a pew in
he believes in paying and drops us he iHj Iff
goes twice a year ItvdH
the box each time,— New
The papers say that “wine 'v.;
peering from the tabic.” ...
who keeps noticed a hoarding house, peculiarity
has the same »
bread, butter, beef, potatoes and oth.i'
eatables. — Noroistrum Herald.
A cat sat on tlie old back fence, his comrade*
ail had tied. thing* flew
And as a natural consequeneo
about his head—
Bootjacks, bottles, stools and bricks, the
neighbors wild did lire, lick
But he his chops did calmly and loudly
yelled "Ma-ri-a!”
“Buffalo! Buffalo!” shouted the brake
man, looking in tho car door as the
train renehedthat city, “liy .love I” ex
claimed the excited English tourist,
“my gun is in the luggage room, you
know !”—Mail and Nx^res-.
Young Tidies ifaiut hearted)—“Just
think, angel mine, how poor 1 am. Why,
what could I mako of you?” Bhe
(bravely;—“Well, you could make Mrs.
Tillies of mo if you had any nerve.”--?''
Washington Critic.
“See here, my friend,” said a farmer
to a tramp, “you’ve been lyin’ in the
shade of that fence for over thirteen
hours. Ain’t it ’bout time to move on?”
“If you say so," foot, replied “I s’pose the tramp,strug- it is. I’m
gling to his
only tryin’ to make my shoes last as long
as possible.”— Time.
Asa specimen of the ponderous legal
witticism, Mr. Baron Huddleston's latest
obiter dictum is not had. “.Such was the
intricacy of the lunacy laws,” said his
lordship, ‘that they had a tendency to
reduce persons who gave an abstruse
study to them into persons for whose
benefit they were intended.”
A Humorous Horse Snap.
A Cincinnati paper records a hors*
trade which, if not quite chronicler the first evidently of it*
leculiar kind, as its
jolieves it to he, is at least worth men
tioning. Joe Yearsley, a owned young shoe
maker of Hipley, ( 'liio, nn old
plug about which all the hoys were eon
tinually joking him. Among the
was Will Mockbeo,who said he days
give $2 for it. A few
the old nag died, and
joke, Yearsley offered to sell hiirjH
us he stands” for sixteen Jp
to! ucco. the Mockbee, proposition thinking nM/f'",.*
accepted Yearsley agreed
forfeit. nerJmFjt
hor thut -■ at hour T o’clock dray the M At Vi-rtJ
lit a
Mo i. bee's house, arrivtifl^H wiijH
the animal's
duly dtfiivered, trufeLiuhon f
never
A Freni i
lo tj