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DISTANCE.
* softening days, when a storm was near.
jMAt the farmhouse door I have stood in the
Kray,
caught in the diseance, faint but clear
■flic sound of a train, passing, far away.
HHb< warning bell when the stall was made,
HgThe engine’s puffing of smoke unseen,
HUHth the heavy rumble as wheels obeyed—
Acrons the miles between.
-And so sometimes, on a moonless night,
J i‘When the stare shine soft and the wind is
low,
To my listening soul, in the pallid light,
Come the trembling voices of long ago
*n>e tuneful echoes when hope was young.
The tender song of love serene,
And the throbbing rhythm of passion’s
,tongue—
Across the yeai-s between.
—Margaret H r . Hamilton.
my!)ay.
■pw long is that of most people. I
wqjßer? Some perhaps can number the
six hundred ana thirteen thousand
and eight hours of the al
;jSfced threescore years and ten, while
|Mbers outlast the pre-Adamic day of the
and cover all eternity. But
mine was just the ordinary daylight one,
' the shortest in the year, "too, for it was
the 21st of December.
And even short as it was. I had already
wfited some hours of it. Had I thought
it would have set so soon I might have j
been up at its dawning, though usually I
hold, with Lever, that the sun looks best |
—as every one else docs—when he's up
and dressed for the day, and that its a
piece of impertinent curiosity to peep at
him when he’s raising and at his toilet;
he has not nibbed the clouds out of his
eyes, or you dared not look- at him.
But when one's sun shines such a little
while as mine, might not one be pardoned
for'rushing to the levee at an unfashion
able hour.
Yet it was noon before I was out tn the
bright glow, tmdgingdown the lane with
yesterday’s fall of snow crisping under
my feet, and last night's sleet clashing
overhead, as the wind caught at the
straggling, overgrown hedge-row boughs
and, sent them ringing together with
such an icy jeweled flash and splendor
of green and gold and red and blue
as summer with all her wealth of
leaves and blossoms, could not rival.
The very splendor promised the glitter
ing mockery but a short life; the sun is a
traitor with his kisses, and the warmth of
them would soon wither away the snow’
wreaths, making their delicate mimicry
of the white May and the hawthorn in
the hedge. But meantime they were very
fair, and the snow lay light and white
under the great peach orchards that had
their icy sparkle too. as they swept away,
with gentle undulations, right and left of
the still lane. And the blue sky had
the merest snowflake of a cloud drifting
along, and the sun was shining full upon
me, and somehow a glint of it had got
into my heart, though there was nothing
in particular to bring it there. Yet I did
not intend to mope. Aunt Margaret and
the girls were friendly and kind, and the
least I could do would be to put aside the
shadow of my crape, and show them a
contented face. And so—
Perhaps something more than content
flashed into it just then, when that
thought of mine was broken short off by
a clatter of those hedge-row’ boughs, and
some one sprang down through the gap,
bringing with him a little clatter of fall
ing icicles into the road before me. For.
as we shook hands, there was a pleased
look in his eyes, and he said, with some
Abruptness:
“You are a little glad to see me? You
won’t mind my finishing your walk with
you?”
I tried to answer carelessly, though it
was not so easy, under that gaze of his.
“Oh, if yon arc of a zoological turn this
morning. I am going in search of foxtail
and crowfoot. I marked a quite splendid
bed down by the brook in the woods in a
sheltered spot where I dare say this light
snow han not covered it. The girls toll
me they are not in the habit of putting
evergreens about the house, but I always
did it at home, and ”
He understood me at once. He said,
with his rare gentleness: “And you are
trying hard to keep some of the old feel
ing about you. You must forgive me if
I cannot help seeing something of your
brave struggle, and yearning to help you
in it.”
K Yearning! It was a strong word, but
his eyes made it stronger, as I could not
help glancing up to see. And before, in
my confusion. I could drop mine again,
somehow’ my muff was on the snow’ at our
feet, and both my hands were in his.
’ “Miss Deane—Annie—l help you
—with my whole life, Annie!”
And, after that, is it any wonder if the
sur shone straight into my heart?
I don’t think our researches would
have added much to thecause of either
z ’ology or botany that day. On the lat
ter especially my lover would have made
‘(strange confusion, insisting that we were
passing under quite a number of mistle
foe boughs, if my superior knowledge of
’/the science had not set him right. We
did find the crowfoot, however, and, as I
•hnd expected, not too deep in the snow.
But when he had torn up a long spray of
it and flung it trailing over my shoulder.
I stayed his hand. Madge and I could
, j «ome another day for some—there was
K P’ Pn *y time—but to-day's in-gather
afangs I meant to keep all to myself.
At least for this one day. I told him.
■jwhen we had reached the house, and
/paused together in the porch. For this
U, one day we would not call in any one.
E. however friendly, to see what it had
B?. brought me: but to-night, when he was
■Lgone. then I would tell Aunt Margaret
|Hthat I was to be his wife. I said the
•word in a little flutter as we stood to
■Bgether, for already he had been asking
(fee how’ long I meant to keep his own
Atom him. As I said it. I glanced up
shyly at him, and it would have discom
fited me to see how. his face changed,pal
ing at that word, if his hand had not
■ closed on mine with a tightening grasp
which made me ashamed of a dawning
P* doubt that he wanted it.
‘ ’Annie—”
The voice, full of a strange pain,
startled me. Could this day have any
pain in it ?
Perhaps he read that thought—he was
| always so quick to understand—for he
said: “I have a story to tell you, Annie,
a story that may take some of the bright
ness out of this hour for you, as it has'
taken all the brightness out of the last
seven years of my life until now. Shall
I tell it you now ? Or can you trust me
that it is nothing which ought to part
us I and would you rather wait to hear it
until to-morrow ? ”
I could trust him: ay, rather, I could
not distrust him; and I told him so. Let
us live this day out without a shadow;
afterward, if shadows must come, he
should lead me safely through them.
“There is no danger in the shadow’.
Annie; there is only something for us
both to forget."
“Let us forget it now, then. See, there
is Aunt Margaret at the window signing
to me; she is afraid I shall let her neigh
bor so offend against her good old
fashioned hospitality as to go away to his
bachelor's hall, when it is three o’clock
and our dinner hour.”
The shortest day of all the year. We
were watching its setting from the libra
ry w'indow, we two left alone, for Madge
and Fanny had driven into the village
for the mail, and Aunt Margaret was
summoned to one of those kitchen-cabi
net councils which grew more and more
frequent under old Lethe’s administra
tion. So we two were standing together
in the bay-window, watching the crim
son glow fade off from the wide snow
stretch of lawn that sloped down to the
lane, dotted here and there with a black
green pyramid of fir, between the naked
oaks, when presently I caught sight of
something moving across their shadows
flung stiff and dark across the white.
“Some one is coming,” I said, break
ing the happy silence. “A lady, I
thought—though I wonder who it could
be, walking.”
“What a bore!”
“Oh, she'll not be shown in here, un
less you feel disposed to go to Aunt Mar
garet's assistance —”
Here I saw the side door of the library
opening from the lawn. The visitor
must have observed us at the window;
some one on sufficiently unceremonious
terms.
It was a stranger.
She had closed the door behind her,
and had come forward into the full glow
of the wood fire blazing on the hearth.
A stranger, certainly; If I had ever seen
her before, I should never have fergotten
her.
She was standing on the hearth, and
drew her slender gloved hands out of the
folds of her cashmere shawl, holding
them to the warmth, before she turned to
us the fairest face I have ever seen—the
fairest face one ever dreamed. Only that
would have been a strange, Fouquc-like
dream in which such a vision should
come.
It could not have been after-knowledge
on my part, for before she spoke, while
she still fronted us with that gay smile
upon her perfect lips, I thought of Un
dine in her soulless loveliness, light
hearted, glad, careless of others’ pain be
cause she could not feel it. There is
the Undine nature in a child too, for
whom there exists no pain that does not
bruise its own tender flesh, and that soft
hardness made itself felt in every line
and curve about this woman, as she stood
there, white and golden, looking at us
out of those great brilliant eyes, of which
I have read somewhere:
“Alive in their depths,as the Kraken Ismeath
the sea blue”—
eyes which I would fain have followed,
for they fixed themselves on Brian. Only
I could not. that face so held me.
“They told me at your house that you
were here; and so 1 came, ” she said, still
looking at Brian.
I turned and looked at him too, then;
the clear, soft, shallow, child voice broke
the spell.
But. he never saw me. His eyes were
riveted on her—just as a man might look
who sees a ghost.
And then she smiled. She had been
beautiful before, but now her beauty was
! bewildering. She stretched out her hands
to him.
“Have you never a word of welcome,
Brian, for your wife ? ”
He drew a long, hard breath, and
passed his hand heavily over his eyes.
He never once glanced my way, though
I felt he saw me all the while. He
answered her very slowly:
“How is it you are not dead, Louise ?
For nearly seven years you have allowed
i me to believe you were.”
She laughed a mocking little laugh.
Though she did not turn toward me, I
knew she had flashed a glance at me.
“Have you been a disconsolate widower
all that time, my poor Brian ? It was
1 very wicked of me, of course. But
j then, you see, I always hated poverty:
! and you were so very impecunious at that
time, I really thought it better to die off
| your hands.”
Here she turned suddenly to me with a
I sweet graciousness of manner, while her
j eyes, alive with mocking spirits, looked
■ me through, and through.
“My husband is a little remiss at in
' traductions, so I find I must make my
| self known to you, as I see you are one
.of his friends. Every one has a skeleton
;in his closet, you know, and I present
’ you to Brian’s.”
I She made a playful courtesy as she
I spoke.
“Only he fancied it was laid away un-
I derground,” she added. “Perhaps he
has told you of our runaway match when
he was at college, and how angry poor
mamma was, and hushed the matter up,
and carried me away to Europe to finish
Imy school days there. And there it was
that mamma "made her brilliant second
marriage—a real, true German baron; and
jwe went away to Vienna to live. But
first I died: for one must die—must not
one?—to get into paradise. Brian would
j never have let me go there alive, so I
! sent him a lock of my hair and a little
scrawling deathbed note inclosed in a
I letter from mamma's maid, who had
I helped us to run away the year before.
You remember Fifine, Brian? She has
come over with me now. Such a clever
! soul! I can’t tell how I should
ever, without her, have man
aged to keep myself informed
of your movements, and of course I had
to do that, for all widowers aren’t so con
stant, and you might have married, you
know—”
He interrupted her, hoarse with pas
sion : “And how do I know that you
“Oh, Brian, how can you! As if that
\ were not just what my stepfather and I
; quarreled about! After dear mamma
died—she died last year” (with a pretty,
plaintive fall in voice and eyelids, come
and gone as swiftly as a child’s grave
look)—“he was quite sot on making a
I match for me; and of cotirse that
wouldn’t do at all, you know. Dear
mamma was content to let me enjoy life
my own way; but after she was gone,
the steppapa became just a little difficult.
Ami so Well, Brian, I knew you were
no longer a poor man, and that I should
not drag you down now. And so 1 have
come back to you, if you will have me.”
She put out her hands then in the pret
tiest pleading way. If I had been a
man—
But Brian did not soften in the least.
He had pent up his wrath now, and had
it under his control; but his voice was
still hoarse as he said to her:
“I shall take pains to learn whether all
this is truth. Meanwhile we will not j
trespass any longer ujxm Miss Deane’s
patience. I shall take you back to my
house, and will set out within the hour
for Vienna. Miss Deane will par
don ”
There he broke off huskily. He had
not once lifted his eyes to me since first
they fell upon her shadow, which the
waning sunset cast between us.
But—how I had the strength I do not
know—but I went straight up to her and
took her hand, and kissed her on the
pretty smooth white brow as she lifted
up her face to mine. Is there woman
born who can keep anger for a pretty
child? And there are some people who
never outgrow the charm and irresponsi
bility of childhood; if they pluck at
one’s heart-strings with their careless
fingers until one could be stung into
giving them a blow or a shake, one must
kiss and l>e friends afterward. And then
I turned to him—l must have had a
vision of how it would all end: for she
was wonderfully fair; she had been his
first love; she would be his last. I
turned to him.
“I am sure you will find all as she has
said, and that you will forgive her. I
don’t think I shall be here still when you
come back from your long journey, so
you must let me give you my best wishes
now.”
Our hands met for an instant—not our
eyes; we neither of us could bear that.
Then our hands fell apart, and presently
I was alone.
My day was over; twilight darkened in
window, grey and blank.
And after twilight?
Just a paragraph in a book I have been
turning over by my solitary fireside to
night has set me thinking of all this. It
says:
“There are women who live all their
lives long in the cold white moonlight of
other people’s reflected joy. It is not a
bad kind of light to live, after all. It
may leave some dark, ghostly corners in
the heart unwarmed, but, like other
moonlight, it lets a great deal be seen
overhead that sunshine hides.”— Harper's
Weekly.
The Case of Joseph Meister.
By the application of this method, says
M.Pasteur in the Popular Sr lente Monthly,
I had succeeded in getting fifty dogs, of
various ages and races, proof against
rabies without having had a single fail
ure, when, on the 6th of July last, three
persons from Alsace unexpectedly pre
sented themselves at my laboratory. The
odore Vone, a grocer at Meissengott.near
Schelstadt, who had been bitten in the
arm on the 4th of July by hLs own dog,
became mad; Joseph Meister, nine, years
of age, who had been bitten by the same
dog at 8 o’clock in the morning of the
same day, and who, thrown to the
ground by the dog, bore the marks of
numerous bites on his hands, legs, and
thighs, some of them so deep as to make
walking liard for him. The more seri
ous wounds had been cauterized only
twelve hours after the accident, or at 8
o’clock in the evening of the same day.
with phenic acid, by Dr. Weber, of
Ville; the third person who had not been
bitten, was the mother of Joseph Meis
ter.
At the autopsy of the dog, which had
been killed by its master, we found its
stomach filled with hay, straw and pieces
of wood. It was certainly mad. Joseph
Meister had been picked up from under
it covered with froth and blood. M.
Vone had marked bruises on his arms,
but he assured me that the dog’s teeth
had not gone through his shirt. As he had
nothing to fear, I told him he might go
back to Alsace the same day, and he did
so; but I kept little Meister and his
mother.
The weekly meeting of the Academy of
Sciences took place on the 6th of July. 1
saw our associate, Dr. Vulpian, there,
and told him what had passed. He and
: Dr. Grancher, professor in the Ecole do
i Medicine, had the kindness to
come and see little Joseph Meister at
once, and ascertain his condition and the
number of his wounds, of which there
were no less than fourteen. The opinion
of these two physicians was that, in con
sequence of the severity and number of
the bites upon him, Joseph Meister was
almost certain to have hydrophobia. I
then informed them of the new results
which I had obtained in the study of
rabies since the address I had delivered
at Copenhagen a year previously. The
death of this child seeming inevitable. I
decided, not without considerable and
deep anxiety, as you may imagine, to try
upon him the method with which I had
had constant success on dogs.
A Lucky Confectioner.
A German confectioner, while tramp
ing through Turkey a short time ago,
saluted the Sultan vigorously as the latter
drove past. Unaccustomed to such an
exhibition of cordiality, one of the sul
tan’s officers thought it best to inquire
if it had any significance. His explana
tion proving, satisfactory and his inno
cence clear, and the avowal of his avoca
tion, moreover, creating evident interest,
the man was dismissed with a present and
an injunction to turn up the next day
with a clean skin and new clothes. The
result of the second interview was that
the confectioner was set to making pastry,
and his success was so complete that he
was engaged right off at a salary of 500
piasters per month. The pastry found
its way to the sultan’s table, and his
highness was so pleased with it that he
made the stranger his confectioner at
once, with 1,000 piasters a month for
making tarts.
A new industry has sprang up at New
Orleans. Heads of large fish arc dried,
mounted and sold for table and mantel
irn aments.
WILD BEASTS SURROUNDED
HOW FARMERS PROTECTED THEIR
CATTLE IN EARLY TIMES.
The Famous Work of Many Hunters
in Bradford County, Penn.,
Eighty Years or More Ago.
An old resident of Bradford county,
Penn., described to a New York Times
correspondent an event which, he said,
“probably never had a parallel in this or
any other country.” Continuing, the
old settler said:
“There are those living yet who re
member the extraordinary occurrence, but
all who were participants in it are long
since dead. The details arc well pre
served in scores of families in the county
whose ancestors were among those who
helped to make this extraordinary chap
ter in the unwritten annals of the back
woods.
“The region now included in Bradford
county liegun to be settled more than a
century ago. In 1805 there were alrout
5,000 inhabitants of the county. There
wfflv a few small villages, but the set
tlers were generally scattered about on
farms. With the exceptions of these
clearings the country was still an un
broken area of dense forest. Wolves,
panthers and bears had hardly thought of
retiring before the encroachments of the
settlers. Deer roamed the woods in
herds, and the elk still browsed in the
mountain fastnesses. The baekwoixls
clearings were constant foraging grounds
for wild beasts. The few sheep, swine
and cattle the pioneers possessed
were never safe from these marauders,
and it frequently happened that these
raids Icjt the settler’s stock inclosures en
tirely empty. Although hundreds of |
wild animals annually fell victims to the
traps, snares and guns of the pioneers,
their depredations still remained a serious
obstacle to the welfare of the settlers. In
1805, at the suggestion of a long-suffer
ing farmer named Buck, it was resolved
to organize a systematic and combined
raid on the haunts of the animals whose
destructiveness individual effortshad but j
slightly checked. Buck’s idea was to 1
ennst every one in the afflicted settle
ments who was old enough to carry a I
gun, and with this small army form a |
circle around as large an area of country I
infested by the animals they desired to J
assail as the number of hunters war
ranted. The party was to be divided
into companies of 10, under the lead and
command of an experienced woodsman
and hunter. When the hunting ground
was surrounded each party was to move
forward simultaneously toward a common
centre, the march to be conditioned on
such obstacles as streams, swamps, or
hills that might intervene. As the raid
was to be one merely of extermination,
deer, elk and other unoffending animals
were not to be ruthlessly nor indiscrimi
nqtely killed. Every hunter, however,
should be bound to lay low every pan
ther, catamount, bear, wolf,or fox,young
or old, that crossed his path.
“The pioneer’s suggestion was unani
mously adopted nt meetings of settlers
held at convenient localities, and it was
resolved to make two raids during the
year. One was to be in June, when the
animals they sought would generally be
found with their litters and families of
young brought forth in the spring, thus
affording opportunity to put much future
trouble out of the way with ease, and the
other raid was fixed for November, dur
ing the nutting season. Every arrange
ment for the successful and smooth work
ing of the novel campaign was perfected
during the winter and spring, and when
the day came for the grand raid to com
mence 600 men, each armed with his flint
lock, a hatchet and a hunting knife, and
provided with two days’ rations, were
ready for the march.
“The number of men who were to par
ticipate in the raid was known for days
before the appointed time, and warranted
the selection of a wide area of country to
hunt over. A wild region, which was
known to furnish all the requirements of
the animals to be proceeded against, ex
tending from the head waters of the
Wyalusing creek, and taking in portions
of Lycoming and Luzerne counties, it
was thought, could be profitably and
thoroughly scoured by the large party,
and a circle of hunters, five to a mile, was
formed in that region. This gave an area
forty miles across, or 120 miles around,
to close in upon.
“The day before the day appointed
each command of ten men had received
orders to be at a place designated at 6
o’clock in the morning, and to be in posi
tion to start forward half an hour inter.
The arrangements were all successfully
carried out. The circle was to be reduced
by ten miles the first day. Each hunter
had strict orders not to shoot except when
he saw some animal plainly and within
easy range, so as to avoid the danger of
shooting a fellow-hunter in mistake for
game moving, but not seen, in the brush.
During the first day’s march through the
woods ami swamps, al) around the great
circle of hunters, the result of the raid,
according to the returns of the hunters
whose shots had been successful, was as
follows, old and young: Panthers, forty;
wolves, fifty-eight; bears, ninety-two;
foxes, twenty; catamounts, thirteen.
The second day’s march brought the hunt
ers close together at the centre of the
area, and also drove into close quarters a
large number of wolves, bears and pan
thers, beside many deer and a few elk.
My grandfather, who was a captain of one
of the divisions of the party, said that the
scene presented by these hemmed-in beasts
was one he never could forget. The
hunters stood in ranks five deep about
them. The panthers yelled furiously
from the tree-tops as they leaped from
branch to branch to escape, but rifle balls
met and followed them in all direc
tions. Bears huddled together covering
their cubs with their bodies, growling
fiercely and showing fight even against
such fearful odds. Wolves sneaked and
snarled about, showing their great white
teeth and looking a fierceness they did
not possess. The frightened deer and
I elk ran wildly to and fro within the
circle, and frequently made desperate
rushes and cleared the wall of hunters at
a bound. Short work was made of the
coraled beasts of prey, and when the
slaughter was over the record for the two
days’ hunt stood: Panthers, seventy-two;
wolves, ninety; bears, 145; foxes, thirty
seven ; catamounts, twenty-eight. A
number of deer and elk were also
killed by hunters who could not resist
I the temptation. Scores of both could
have lieen slain with ease. Foxes and
catamounts being less belligerent than
bear and psnther. and more wily, es
caped with less slaughter, although very
numerous in the woods. The bounty on
the animals killed amounted to $550.
The skins hiul an aggregate value in
those days of not less than $2,500. Then
the bears killed yielded at least thirty
five pounds of highly-prized food to each
hunter. But the benefit that resulted to
the fanners from the raid in protecting
their pastures and farmyards overbal
anced tenfold all other profit there was
in the hunt. The November raid proved
also very successful, and the destructive
prowlers of the woods never regained the
foothold in the region they had so long
enjoyed.
Impressions of Bismarck.
The following is from an interview of
a Washington correspondent with John
Bussell Young, published in the New
York WorM:
“I suppose, Mr. Young, in your life in
Europe you must have met many men
worth remembering?”
“Yes, I was two years in General
Grant's company when he traveled
abroad, and tnat gave me an opportunity
to meet nearly every sovereign and states
man of distinction m Europe and Asia.”
"You must have met Bismarck?”
“Yes, several times. I met him first
with General Grant, and several times
later. Bismarck is a towering, proud,
dominant character.”
“How did Bismarck impress you?"
“I think that the personal impression
Bismarck makes justifies his great fame.
I remember General Grant saying to mo
on his return from his tour around the
world that he had met four really great
men—Bismarck, Beaconsfield, Gambetta,
and Li Hung Chang, the grand secretary
of China. Bismarck impresses you—as I
remember him—as a man born to govern
nations—the strongest, character since
Napoleon; audacious, arrogant, proud,
with a vein of humor permeating his con
versation, and the embodiment of wit,
courage and common sense. I should say
he was the embodiment of absolute com
mon sense and justice, with a courage
that feared no antagonism, and streaming
and vivid with intellect and justice, and
a determination to carry his point against
the whole world. He was personally a
strong, virile man, and would say the
most unusual and extraordinary things,
and more than that he would carry them
out. He had a purpose and a policy, and
he did it in away that reminded you
very much of what you read of Frederick
the Great, or Marlborough, or any of
those great men who have been called on
by Providence to do great things.
“Prince Bismarck, speaking of him as
I recall his personal appearance and man
ner, had a resemblance to General Butler
and to General Sickles. He had General
Butler’s odd way of stating things in a
sententious, humorous phase, and he was
very strongly like General Sickles in his
manner. He spoke English fairly well,
slowly, cautiously, liken man translat
ing?’’
Room for Improvement.
The nuts which we find on the tabla
for dessert, are nearly ail of foreign
growth. This ought not to be so. There
are varieties enough in our forests, ns any
country boy can testify, to spread the
table of a king. The most, eminent bot
anist in America, Dr. Asa Gray, after
speaking of this fact, goes on to explain
how much these hard-shelled fruits might
be improved by cultivation.
Our wild chestnuts are sweeter than
those of the old world; it would be well
to try whether races might not be well
developed with the nuts ns large us mar
rons or Spanish chestnuts, and without
diminution of flavor. If we wore not
too easily satisfied with a mere choice be-
I tween spontaneous hickory nuts, we
might have much better Ami thinner
; shelled ones. Varrying, as they do, ex
cessively in the thickness of the shell and
the size and flavor of the kernel, they are
1 inviting your attention, and promising to
reward your care. The pecan is waiting
to have the bitter matter between the
kernel bred out; tin- butternuts and black
walnuts to have their excess of oil turned
into farinaceous and sugary matter, and
their shells thinned and smothered by
continued good breeding; when they will
much surpass the European walnut.
Lightning and Trees.
A writer in the Hnilding Neir.s explains
what takes place within the bark of a
tree when struck by lightning. Most of
us have seen the effects which arc here
described, but not all of us can tell the
reason why the tree has such an appear
ance :
In a tree which has been destroyed by
lightning, the layers are not. only shat
tered and separated into strips, but the
wood also appears dry, hard, and bril tic,
as though it had been through the process
of curing in a kiln. This is attributed
to the instantaneous reduction of the sap
into steam. When the sap is abundant,
as in May or early in June, the amount
and force of the steam not only bursts
and separates the layers and fibres, but
rends the trunk in pieces or throws off a
portion of it. When the amount of
steam thus suddenly generated is small,
owing to a dry condition of the stem
from continual evaporation and self
exhalation, there may be no external
trace of the lightning-stroke; yet the
leaves will wither in a few flays, show
ing that the stem has been rendered in
capable of conveying supplies, and the
tree will cither partially or entirely die.
Still lighter discharges may be conducted
down the moist stem without any injury
Auroral.
When the sim comes brightly beaming
In my toolroom at the morn,
And I ’in lying idly dremning
Os a rosy, bracing horn,
When the dew-drop geniN the daisy.
And the night mfat disappears,
And I softly tuck the crazy -
Quilt around my none and ears—
When the tom-cat, never cheering,
Doth no more the fence usurp,
And the full-moon <lisapjx aring
Htoj/s the barking of the purp,
When J heard the merry chirrup
Os the sparrows at the sill.
And fond thoughts of cakes and syrup
All my Ixdng subtly thrill
When tiie milkman’s verbal volley
Greets me like a blast from ,
And I am as melancholy
As a bull without a ix 11.
When upon my ) mortal MaD 1
Given the customary rap.
Saying bmtkfast’s on the table—
Then I turn and take a nap.
- /Wf.
WARNING TO A HUMORIST.
ALEX. SWEET WRITES AN OPEN
LETTER TO GEORGE W. PECK.
Why the “Siftings" Man Would
Dearly Like to Meet the “Bad
Boy” Humorist.
Alex Sweet, editor of Texas Siftings,
publishes in his paper the following letter
to George W. Peck, of the Milwaukee
Sun and “Bad Boy” notoriety:
Mv Dear Peck: While you were in
New York a couple of weeks ago you
called at the office of Texas Siftings, but
I did not get to see you, as I waa not in
at the time, but I found your card on my
return. I mean on my desk, where you
left it when you, yourself, left. In jus
tice to you I will also state that I did not
miss anything out of the office. It
seems you did not improve your opportu
nities.
I was very sorry that I did not get to
see you, for" I wanted to thank you per- »
sonally for a favor you did me about
eight years ago, when I was on the edi
torial staff of the Galveston News.
There are some doubt among the peo
ple of Texas as to my veracity. Some few
people intimated that I didn’t have any
at all, but the general opinion was that I
could tell the truth if it was to my inter
est to do so, and I made an earnest effort.
Just at this crisis I received the follow
ing letter from you, which I published
for my own vindication. After request
ing in the letter the temporary loan of
ninety cents, to enable you to purchase a
pair of new pants, you went on towny in
your letter:
“I have never in my wildest dreams
thought of competing with the Sifter as
a truth crusher. lam an ordinary Wis
consin liar. I have never had the advan
tages you possess. My surroundings are
not good for the development of genius
in lying, as the community in which I
reside is pious, anil I have no competi
tion. No person can succeed unless ho
has some competition to bring out the
talent that lies hidden in him. Now, it
is different down in Texas. You, al
though you may be the champion, are not
the only liar there. You have competit
ors. Every man you meet has some claim
to prominence, and your talent is con
stantly being burnished. I would be only
a nine-spot in Texas. I was there in
186(1, and I know what I am talking
about. ”
I fully appreciated this compliment.
From that time on my status as a truth
wrencher was fixed. Everybody in Texas
had heard of Peck and his endorsement
was all that was needed to be regarded
as a talented journalist.
I have often longed for the opportu
nity to take you by the hand and thank
you, and ask you when you were going
to pay back the ninety cents I sent-you.
This is why 1 am sorry I was not in when
you called the other day. However, you
inn remit either by postal note or check
or both, if you see proper.
I have to express my obligations to you
for another favor.
A few days ago, while putting on my
new sixty-dollar overcoat, a disagreeable
odor assailed my nose. I noticed it even
after I got into "the street. On meeting
me, people would gasp, hold their noses,
and cross over to the other side of the
street. Several dray horses shied and a
mule fainted. When I entered the office
of Texas Siftings everybody present
snorted, and looked at me pretty much as
a Texas pony does when it hears a brass
band for the first time. There was a vo
ciferous smell in the office strong enough
to drive a dog out of a slaughter house.
I received several kindly suggestions
to consult, an undertaker, or a coroner. A
gentleman who was about to sign a $2,000
advertising contract, dropped the pen
and fled in wild dismay. He has never
come back. I think he has left New York
for his health. We have lost $2,000.
Owing to the warm air in the office I
readied into my pocket to get my hand
kerchief to fan myself with it. When T
pulled out my hand there was adhering
to it a sticky mass which said “Limber
ger” very plainly. It spoke right out.
How do you suppose that Limberger
got into my pocket? You don’t know,
eh ? Well, let me tell you. I have a boy
at home of alsmt nine years of age. Os
late hi: has been reading a book called
“Peck’s Bad Boy.” Ever hear of it? My
boy, Norman, got that Limberger sug
gestion out of that book. He it was who
put that old cheese in my pocket. Ho
said that was what Peck’s Bad Boy did
to his pa.
Well, lie don’t read that book any
more. He can’t read even his Hunday
school book now without lying on his
abdomen to do so. I don’t feel safe for
my life unless 1 know that boy is nt
school or asleep. If you read of my fall
ing down the stairs and breaking my
neck in consequence of the steps being
lubricated, or if I come to any other sud
den and mysterious end, you may close
your eyes at night with the consciousness
of knowing that the diabolical suggestion
that shoved me into the tomb originated
in that infernal book of yours.
When you send me that ninety cents,
include in it the $2,000 ad. we lost
through the Limberger cheese.
I’d like to known when you arc coming
to New York again. I want to meet you
at the depot when the train comes in.
You will be able to identify me by a large
club which 1 shall wear in my right hand.
How the coroner will be able to identify
you after I get through with you is not
very plain.
Oh, come to the Ixiwer I’ve shaded for yen,
And I'll make an effort to lie there Ux>.
Yom true friend and future benefactor,
Ai.ex Sweet.
Shorthand.
The latest abbreviation crank hails
from Illinois. He registered at the
Southside hotel thus: “Y & ct.” It was •
deciphered to indicate “Wyanet.” Out
in Kansas they always write Leaven
worth “11 worth,” and Wyandotte “Y
A.” All this is done in the interests of
economy, not through indolence. There
was a man once whose name was James
Hole, and who was so lazy that in regis
tering his name he simply made a “J” ,
and then punched a hole in the paper.
John Underwood, of Andover, Mass.,
always signed himself:
“Wood,
J.
Mass.”
Chicago Mail.