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HARLEM GEORGIA
I'IHI.IHII /< AI7/. )' TH! Mil’.
Ballkicl <*• Alk.ln»on,
iiidliiirroKH
M.IKIMi SoMiS.
Till OItK.IA or HOMI Wl IJ»
KNOWN < oMI’OHITIONM
T»i< l.lHlr Ba< k Parlorti. I’rtrabnis
I i.mi Wbl« hl •!>!<• Forth Manx
lira nt in* I A Ml or J
of Three I'rhnil*
AV ho ha* not I iron *n*k<-nrd front hi*
Gm pin Ihr early morning hour* by “ "u«
jurty of home going reveler" ringing.
"Win down upon the Huwnnee Rive,
The nulodlou* mu»i< invade* th* half
roiiMti aennea like a dream, and the
dreamer doe* not redat It He <lo»e«lii*
eve* again toliaten motionl* He ha*
heard the old *ong many tim< liefore: he
ran anticipate every word and note; there
I* no novelty in it for him. but he i • not
provoked at Iming awakened He baton*
dreamily and let* the mode bring Io him
thought* of home not the home of hi"
manhood, made happy by wife and < hil
dren, but the dream home of hi child
hood, where moth" r wu
There atood iu the city of I’ittdiurg.
forty year* ago a cottage nt 'll J’< arl
atie. l It waa a cozy homo, with vim
covered window* and n broad hearth
atone ft waa the home of Charle* I’
Hhira* and hi* mother, familiarly known
to her friend* a* “Aunt Becky" Hhira*
Charlo" Hhlra* had two particular friend*
of hi* own age, Htorn n Fo«tor anil John
Hull. The*c men mid been < ompunion*
from their Itnyliood, and death alone
broke off their frieodahip.
Hhira* Wa« a literary geniu- lb »al
well edm nl<d, brilliant, and )""■ • -»•■<! of
a fertile, active mind He waa ambition*
and animated by the nobleat pur|io*c*.
For aonie yearn, and nt the time of hi*
death, he wa* connected w ith the I’ltt
burg < 'omenrrsial Journal All hi* literary
work wa* full of merit and many of hi*
pnaluctiun* gaimal wide attention He
publiahed two (mull volume* of poem*,
the lw«l known of which nre "itollar*
and l)inie»,”ltei|emption of Lultor," mid
“The Iron City." fhc*c he conaidered
hi* lieat work, but lie ► Iriingilv refuaed
to publicly ack now bilge tin nuthorahip
of the booutlful aong* which would have
given hi* name, with that of Fo«ter,
world wide fame He erred in hi* judg
inrnt of the effrot they would prodine,
and in hie ambition for higher flight*.
cnn»idered them childiah and fooliah
Foater wa* a mu*i< inn ami < ompowr.
Ill* "old w*« full of the |aietry of Hound.
He had a flue. effeminate face mid hi*
nature wa* a* noft mid yielding u* -n
maiden'*. He waa a dreamer, often *ad
and melancholy, mid every bnr of hi*
In-autiful, aintple mu*i<' i» marked with
the charwteriatic* of hi* nature He
found clone aympathv in the tine, poetic
mind of Shira*, nod both found «y mpntliy
and cm oumgenicnt in the more rugged
and aggre**ive nature of (heir mutual
friend, Hull.
Hull wa* a mechanic, working for hi*
daily bread from hi* <*arlie*t Ixrydmod.
Vnl'ikr hi* friend*, he had no education,
but the clrcmniitiim e* of hi* life gave hiiu
►trong good *cn*e and char judgment.
H< w.i*n Inver of the lieautiful, mid hr
found much to admire in hi* friend*
Shira* and Foster. He had n mu*i< id
voice, and Foster, who could not aing,
taught him inu*ic He hud a retentive
memory, and from Shira* he learned much
of literature He be, nme tin critic
the production* of Imth In* friend*, mid
hi* judgment of a poem or a song wa* to
them all auftii lent
And no a beautiful friendship existed
between thew three in boyhood, in youth
and until their early manhood, when
BhlrtU till'd. Tin y weie together during
all their leianre time, and "many happy
hour* they squandered " in " Aunt Becky '
Shira*’little Imek parlor It wa* here
that Shira*, in hi* resting moment*, wrote
those liemitifid songs to please hi* friend
Flatter; it wa* here that Foster eotn|m»pd
music for them to please himself and hi*
friend Hull, and it wa* here that Hull
Mtig them for the pleasure of nil
The first song they published wa* "Old
Vnelc Mid." Foster sold it ton Pitt*
burg house for SIOO. With thi* money
he purchased a small piano and placid it
in “Aunt Becky " Shira* littli parlor.
And on thi* little piano he after
ward played music which lia* gone
around the world. "Old I nele
Neil" made it* appearance about the
year IMO, mid imnndiately laa amc popu
tar \\ ithin three year* later Shir i- and
Foster together produced "Old Folk* at
Home," "Susannah. Don't You Cry,’’
"Gentle Annie," "Hani Time* Conic
Again No More,' "My Old Kentucky
Home," “Massa’s in de Cold, Cold,
Ground.’' "Old Dog Tray. ' Willie. We
Have Missed Aon." "Conn 'Vlirn Mi
Love Lies Dreaming." and other* fully a*
popular.
It is certain that Shiras wrote the
line* of nearly all these Mings, except
"Cotnc When My Love Li, - Dreaming "
Foster was willing mid anxious to share
their authorship with hi* friend Shira*,
but the latter often laughingly told
Foster that he wa* welcome to all the
reputation he would gel from their pub
beat Inn
I’oor Shiras died when he was twenty
nine year* old. liefore lie dreamed that
the songs which he had written in an
idle fancy, a* a men' partime. would li».
in every home in the Christian world.
Mr* Jane Swisshehu wrote hi* obituan.
He left a young wife and a girl baby
Tlii« baby i* now a buxom mother of
bnhiew.
Foster livid some year* after the death
of his friend He went t - \ w A ik
city, where he died in IStU tr.-m the
effect* of a fall in the Bowery llewa*
widely known and very p,pillar Hi*
funeral wa* attended largely by the lit
erary, theatrical and musical class, , \
choru* of voice* *ang over hi* grave,
“Come AVhere My Love Lie* Dreaming
CAkwge Tors.
TucME is one thing to be said in faro
of rxraster*. They don't want the earth.
CaapaaMtlaa aad Halaace*.
Amnawtoaew
nw, ski** ara btu* sn-1 ilaya ar* *1 way* fair:
rh« gvnUtwt
Vnd Mrda wng *»••' ' i" 'h*ir «r»*n retrest—
■Vhsre shadow" interlacing on tb« mo**
A'ork bnaaMon* pattern* a* lhay twin* ari l
era**
ATial thongl> tha wind* ba k**n and mountain*
Whan wa but ibivor in tbn W intry air—
Di* Aiea arelffu* and long Jay* soft and fair,
Somewhere
M omewb*re,
•Vhen Summer heat* npfre • n* with thoii
glare.
Ilia haaiant wind* arr breathing clear and ;
eooi,
». t<l hgh/loww | iny r»p >r» the unmoved pcxd—
A i.ei* ! liclicnt <i« k thn ayivtii.
tnd trn content*'! in Ib* shade.
SoeuKrj ftirnnr© hrif4 with parching stare,
'•'OflMKii mukl* forbidding, bn»r«’ r ‘. bate,
Noquertrh'aas tliirit to rack the -pirit there,
Somewhere
-mewhere,
\ hen wa ere struggling with our loads ol rare,
\nd trouble* weigh .i« with thi-ii burden*
down
\nt| life it but a <h «cit b«r»t an I br..wn-
I*he hapnr jyeoplea live in |H»aceful joy
«.» avil thoughta to dim with earth's alloy,
h fingmah rrowhimc in its tiger lau,
Os pain too flerp nml pitiht«a to spare;
'.nt nil ]«! veiling pciif «• complete end fair,
Somewhere.
M»ma « here.
ILc) know not trrroi'» grim »n<! stony stare;
\o gnefa that Im»w u* to the bitten ninth,
\t»i ilia which »»c!rify or stifle mirth;
Hut awcet contentment every day and hour,
And ir»ixnnfi->ii with it« priceless dower
‘H calm cnjf»yn»ent< bv no vain regret.
Fnmc stir» no envies with its trumpet blare,
Vnbition hurts not with their work and wear,
Hut pehciw-ii governs, and tegiets kio rare,
Somewhere.
Snrip w tiri e
testa like n presence on the air;
A i l w hile wt- »t uggle in our constant grief—
•>t .r.-k in fi übh <1 things tn find relief—
llh v < i in <pii«x where uht<l sunbeams play,
Ami gmila -pints guru ! them night and day.
t hank <»«wl that though those chains ol ill we
m I’iir
\ml wenrK'l *• ti'e their trilmlationa bear—
We walk in liiilli, iin-l wiut surreawe ol care
When fwoetvst iew,u<h each varnc-t
pmy« i
Somewhere
/ Kdgar Jone*.
THE LOST RING.
1 had a very g.md place at Miss Cal
lliorpc'.*. I was always allowed to ail
n the little dressing-room opening out
of Miss Calthorpe’s own apartment,
iml sew quietly by myself.
• Stella is such a nice little thing,"
Miss <'althorpe said.
.And you may believe I was very
glad of such a goisl situation, after all
tha' iny mother and I had gone
through with. You see, 1 was edu
cated nt a fashionable boarding-school. !
but when my poor father died, leaving
his affairs in such hopeless confusion.
I hud come home without waiting to
graduate.
"Don’t be afraid, mother,’’ said I.
“I'm sure 1 can teach and support
you.’’
But 1 couldn't get a situation as
teacher, nor as a nursery governess.
Then 1 answered an advertisement
for a saleswoman, and got a situation
In a fancy store. But I soon found it
was wearing me out! So 1 took a
place with Miss Calthtirpe, for I was
always quick with the needle and had
a very fair idea of dress-making.
Miss Calthorpe was a great beauty
and a belle, and hid a haughty way
with her; but she wa* very kind to mo
and paid me the fourteen dollars a
month as regularly as the day came
around. And George Miner was al
ways at the corner of Saturday night.*
to walk home with me, for I had Sun
days to myself in the dear little room
where mother sat at her knitting, and
the little copper tea-kettle sang on the
stove, as if to welcome me home
1 got acquainted with George at the
Teachers' Bureau. He was Idoking
for a place as teacher of Latin and
Mathematics and he succeeded in ob
taining a very good one and when he
had laid up money enough, and saw
his way dear, we were to lie married.
So you can easily see that those days
in Mias t'althorpe's dressing room were
very happy ones for me. For as 1 sew ■
isl 1 dreamed and not Miss Calthorpe
herself, going out. night after night,
to her brilliant balls and parties, in
her elegant silks and tissues, was half
so secretly blissful as 1.
Vntil the losing of that pearl ring'
It was a very valuable one—at least
sol was told- a stone of great size
and luster and there was nobody but
us In the room the day it was lost.
"Os course she ha* take:: it,” said
Mrs. Nidgett, Miss Calthorpe’s aunt.
"Oh, aunt," said Miss Calthorpe,
deprecatingly; "Stella is such a good,
quiet little thing, and I have always
found her strictly reliable ’
"Because she never had been tempt
ed," said Mrs Nidgett. setting her
thin lips coldly together.
So they sent me away'
l»esr mother sympathized with me
ia my troubles, cried on my shoulder,
called M»s Calthorpe a “cruel, heart
leas wretch.” and declared we would
live en bread aud water until I could
get another place. But George Miner
changed in his manner, and there was
that in hl* look and voice that atung
me to the heart.
“George." said I, one evening, "speak
out; if you think me a thief; say so!"
“Well." said George, nervously
twirling his thumb*, “since you wish
me to be frank, it will, perhaps, be
best for both parties. -My situation
depends a good deal ujion my charac
ter, and I had better not form any ties
with a person who has been even sus- :
pected. < u sar’s wife, you know I
anil he laughed uneasily.
I drew off the ring and gave it back
to him. But my heart was too full for
me to speak a word, and, through my
tears, I could see the pained look on
his face. For I believe poor George
loved me even then.
••Mother," said I, when he was gone,
‘it’s all over now! 1 shall be an old
maid, and live with you all my days.
You must be husband and children
and lover and all to me, mother, dear."
Ami 1 felt better after that last
shower of tears.
In those dreary times Charlie Ellett
used to come and sit in our room a
deal of evenings. He was in a law
stationer' .s store down in Nassua
street, and got me copying to do,
which helped ns along. And I didn’t
know until afterward that he sat up
late at night to copy over my first at
tempts, which were blirtidering and in
correct, rather than dispirit me by
criticism. But I got to be quite a
skillful copyist after a while, and earn
ed a deal of money.
And one day Charlie asked me to
marry him.
"I’ve just had an increase of salary,”
said he, “or I shouldn’t venture to ask
you. Miss Stella, to cast in your lot
with a poor law clerk. And your
mother will always be welcome as
daylight, in my house, and I'm study
ing law at o ld time*, and hope one day
to keep you as you deserve."
AVhat could I say? Mother likes!
Charles Ellett, and -and I didn’t posi
tively dislike him; and so I said yes.
"But,” I added, coloring up, “you
must not commit yourself in ignorance
of all the circumstances. They think
at Miss Calthorpe’s that I am a thief.”
And I told, besides, the story of the
pearl ring.
"You, a thief !" repeated he, disdain
fully, “my lily hearted love!”
And he drew from his pocket a little
garnet ring he had bought, and slipped
it on my finger.
"This seals our compact," said he.
I Charles hired a Hat in the next street
I —a dear, little flat—with five rooms,
and sunny windows looking out on the
avenue, where mother could sit among
her pots of running ivy and monthly
roses while I was at my housekeeping,
and Charlie down at the store; and
sometimes in the thrill of my new-born
happiness I almost forgot that I had
ever known George Miner.
But one evening he called. Mother
and I were alone, for Charlie had extra
work at the store that week, and he
came in just as if nothing had happen
ed to mar the happiness of our old re
lations.
“Have you heard,” said he, “that
pearl ring has been found?"
"I always supposed it would be,
sooner or later," said I, going calmly
on with my sewing.
"I met Natalie Duwande, Miss Cal
thorpe's maid, on the street this morn
ing," said he. “It was found in the
finger of an old glove that Miss Cal
thorpe had flung aside. The ring was
most probably drawn off with the
glove, and there it has lain these six
months. Natalie says Miss Calthorpe
has been trying to find your address,
“he wants you to come back to your
old place.”
"1 am much obliged to her,” said I,
quietly, "but that is quite out of the
question."
“I suppose so," said George. “And
lam glad of it. It would not suit me
for my wife to occupy a menial place,
even for a few weeks. So, of course,
Stella, things will be with us just as
they were before?”
1 shook my head, sesree able to re
frain from smiling.
“Hardly. Mr. Minor," said I. “Be
fore you go any further it may be as
well for you to know that 1 am to be
married on Tuesday of next week to
Mr. Charles Elltjtt.”
"Married?" And I shall never for
get the look in his face as he spoke the
word.
And that is my story A little trial
—a little love, a little glimpse of sun
shine at the last, Is there much else
tn the printed books one reads? Can
their final chapters say more than 1
can say of Charlie and myself, "And
we lived happily ever after?"
I think not
A good man is the best friend and
■ therefore is first to be chosen, longest
' to be retained, and indeed never to be
parted with, unless he ceases to be
that for which he was chosen.
Bare tishlng.
There are 14 varieties of fish to be
found on the Florida coast that will
rise to the fly, and twice that number
that may be taken with a spinning
bait, it is only here that the real tar
pon, the “silver king," is found. For
beauty, strength, speed and la*ting
powers he heads the list of game fish.
As the royal stag is to the mounted
hunter, even so is the silver king to
the ambitious angler. He is often
hooked, but seldom taken, his size,
speed and peculiar tactics usually ena
bling him to get rid of the hooks in a
few minutes. In weight he runs from
50 to 200 pounds; the average is not
far from 100 pounds. When hooked
there is no possible way of checking
his first mad rush.
If checked too hard he will tear his
jaws to shreds in his frantic efforts to
get rid of the hook. It is an exciting
and beautiful sight to see him making
straight out to sea with a constant suc
cession of high leaps and short runs
under thy surface, for, as he darts into
the sunlight, he looks like a glittering
stream of burnished silver; and he nev
er ceases his leaping until, thoroughtly
exhasted, he lies supinely on his side
anil allows the boat to come alongside.
Even then he is to be approached with
caution. He is getting his second
wind, and on seeing the boat is pretty
certain to make a second wild race,
but only a short one, when he may be
secured, with grapple or gaff, though
the better way is to shoot him in the
head, which quiets him at once and
saves any further trouble. Recently
an enthusiastic angler came on the
coast with a rig specially gotten up
for the torpon, the special points be
ing a very short, strong r id, and a reel
of the best make, carrying 1200 feet of
the best line. lie succeeded in cap
turing a tarpon of 100 pounds, and I
see no reason why with such an outfit,
he might not capture one almost every
day during the season.
The local fishermen of tlie coast are
very successful with the tarpon by
"graining,” that is spearing them with
a two-tined spear. A spear is made
fast to each end of a line 200 to
800 feet long, and the fish is usually
strucK from a common rowboat. The
handle fits loosely in the socket of the
short spear that it may draw out when
the fish is struck and ride parallel
with the line to which it is made fast
by half hitches. AVhat with hard hold
ing by the fishermen and towing a
heavy boat after him, the silver king
generally turns upon his side before
the end of the line is reached, and then
the boat is cautiously pushed upto
him and he is given the reserve grains.
If the second shot is a good one his
fight is soon ended.— lndianapolis
Journal.
The Mystery Os Apoplexy.
Apoplexy is unfrequent before the
end of middle life, because up to that
time the cerebral vessels usually retain
their integrity, but there is no way in
which it is possible to predict the oc
currence of apoplexy in a person who
has never had a seizure. A person
who has once had a stroke is more
likely to have another than a person
of the same age who has never had
one. But the occurrence of one seiz
ure does not necessarily imply a speedy
recurrence of the trouble, nor, indeed,
any recurrence at all.
The individual may live to old age
without having another attack, and
finally die of some trouble wholly un
onnected with the tendency to apo
plexy. But notwithstanding this pos
sible exemption, it is proper and im
portant that the person should pre
serve as closely as possible a temper
ate mode of life, avoiding excesses of
all kinds, and adhering as faithfully as
possible to that golden mean, which
is the exponent of the laws of whole
some living. Mental excitement and
great bodily exertion must be avoided,
but all mental occupation should not
be prohibited, and moderate physical
employment is one of the necessary
conditions of good health.— Good
Houstkreping.
The Hyena and the Lion.
The Hyena had Abused the Lion
for several months, to all other Ani
mals, without Provoking a Retort, and
one day met the King of Beasts face
to face aud said:
“I have been Abusing you for this
Many Weeks.”
“Ah! I hadn't heard of it.”
“1 have called you All Sorts of
names.’
‘•lndeed”’
“I have Maligned you Profession
ally. and lied about you Personally.”
"J ust sa”
“And you hadn't heard of it?”
“Not a word."
"And if 1 now Repeat this Abuse to
your face?"
-1 shall Accept It as Coming from
a Hyena?" said the Lion.
Moral.—The Lion who Stoops to
Cuff a Hyena does the Hyena a great
Favor.—Free Press.
RUNNING FOR THE TRAIN
Laughable Experience of a
Would-Be Passenger.
Catching the Last Oar of the Train and
Getting Left After All.
"Talk about missing trains,” said a
stoop-shouldered man to a couple ot
friends the other day, in continuation
of a conversation on that subject; I
know it’s most blamed annoying to
miss a train under any circumstances,
but I had an experience in railroading
a couple of weeks ago that capped
anything I ever heard of.”
"How was that?” interrupted a man
who wa* trying to smoke a very short
cigar without damage to a very long
mustache.
"I know how it was,” interposed the
other man, w-ho always took off bis
hat and run his fingers through his
hair whenever he had anything to say.
“After a long run you came in sight of
the depot just in time to see the train
pull out ’’
“And then you dropped your grip
and went to spitting out words that
would make a dog quit barking,” cut
in the other man. I know how it is
myself; I’ve been right there more
times than I could tell you.”
“No, boys, that wasn’t the way of it
at all,” replied the first speaker. "The
fact is I got there in time, and that’s
what rigged me. Missing the train al
together would have been apple-pie
compared to the annoyance I stirred
up by not doing it.”
"Do you mean to say that you made
the train ?”
“Yes.”
“AVas there some one in the car you
didn’t want to meet?”
"No.”
“Then, how in the deuce could you
be annoyed by making it?”
“That’s what I was going to tell you.
I had the usual run, but by straining
every nerve I managed to get there
just in time to grab the railing of the
last car, and pull myself aboard after
the train had got in motion. It was a
long run, and I was completely tuck
ered out; in fact I could scarcely
breathe. I staggered into the car,
dropped into the first seat I came to,
and rested my head on the back of the
seat in front of me, pulling and blow
ing at a bad rate. While I was in that
fix, paying no attention to anything,
and thinking of nothing but getting
back my wind, I’ll be essentially ter
minated if they didn’t run that train
on to the siding, cut loose the car I
was in, and light out as though the
very old Nick himself was after them,
before I had the gumption to notice
what they were up to. There was a
a big crowd at the station that morn
ing, and I don’t think 1 ever attracted
more attention in my life with less ef
fort than I did when I left the car."
"I reckon you didn't say nothing?”
“No, I didn’t even cheep, though 1
can generally toss out a chapter or so
of talk with as little preparation as
anybody, and sometimes a few off
hand remarks seem to do me a power
o’ good; but just then, boys, I couldn’t
even gasp, and felt as though I had
been dumb from birth. But it was
just as well, I reckon, for I don’t be
lieve anything in the fireworks of
speech could have done the subject
justice."— Chicago Ledger.
Bringing Up a Prince.
The Crown Prince of Prussia was
always a very sensible man in the
management of his household, and he
is ably seconded by his wife.
On one occasion the governor of his
children came to him and said: “Your
Highness, 1 must complain of the little
Prince; he refuses to have his face
washed in the morning.”
“Does he?” answered the Crown
Prince. “AVe’ll remedy that After
this let him go unwashed.”
“It shall be done,” said the governor.
Now the sentries have to salute
every member of the royal family
children and all—whenever they pass.
The day after the little 4-year old
orince went out for a walk with his
governor. As they passed a sentry
aox, where a grim soldier stood, the
man stood rigid without presenting
arms. The little prince—accustomed
,o universal deference—looked dis
oleased, but said nothing. Presently
mother sentry was passed. Neither
lid this one give a sign of recognition.
The little prince angrily spoke of it to
Ms old governor, and they passed in.
And when the walK was finished, and
‘.hey had met many soldiers, who none
of them saluted the prince, the little
fellow dashed in to his father, exclaim
ing: “Papa—papa—you must whip
every man in your guards! They re
fuse to salute me when I pass!"
“Ah I my son," said the Crown
Prince, "they do rightly; for clean
soldiers never salute a dirty little
i prince.”
After that the boy took a shower
bath every morning.— lngleside.
A Cool Detective.
Highwaymen in the mining states
seldom operate upon a stage coach
with “U. S. M.” on it. They know
that these initials stand for the United
States mail, and are a pledge that the
whole power of the government will
be used to capture them.
The detectives in the government
service are quiet men, courteous in
manner and gentle in speech. Mr.
Hayes tells, in his book on “New Col
orado,” of one whom he met who wore
gold spectacles, and looked like a Ger
man professor. Yet this man alone
took two mail robbers from the north
of Texas. At one place their friends
planned a rescue. He quietly inform
ed his prisoners that, while their
friends could undoubtedly kill him,
they might be sure that the first mo
tion would send them both into eterni
ty. Not a man in the crowd moved a
finger.
On one occasion, a celebrated detec
tive was on a stage which was attack
ed by two masked men. The first he
knew was that two revolvers were
thrust in the coach's window, with the
command, “Hands up, gentlemen.
The highwaymen "had the drop” on
the passengers, which, in their vocab
ulary, meant the certainty of their be
ing able to kill before being harmed
themselves. To his disgust, the detec
tive was compelled to give up his
watch and money.
As the robbers left, he put his hand
down in the “boot,” and to his delight
it touched a carbine. Asking the
driver to go on a little further, and
then stop and wait for him, he went
back alone.
The two men, unsuspicious of dan
ger, were “divvying up” the spoils in
the middle of the road. This was just
what the detective had calculated on.
“Now, you scoundrels, it’s my turn,”
he shouted, covering them by the re
peating carbine. “Throw up your
hands or I'll shoot.”
The robbers, at his command, stepp
ed one side, holding up their hands,
while he picked up their revolvers. It
was not many minutes before the as
tonished passengers saw the highway
men walking down the road, with the
cool detective following. They were
taken in the coach and finally lodged
in jail.
The hero was General Charles
Adams, who subsequently went alone
among the Utes and secured the re
lease of the women captives from the
AVhite River agency.— Hall's Journal
of Health.
Hints About Horses.
Bad driving will often fatally injure
a horse in a few miles; while skillful
driving would make the journey in
less time and leave the horse as fresh
as when he started. Drive slow when
the animal is full of food and water;
but after the muscles are limbered and
the system emptied, increase the speed.
Then check up and let the horse cool off
before stopping, and there will be less
danger of taking cold and of stiff mus
cles and less necessity for rubbing down;
and make good time on level ground and
on moderate descents. Never keep
the same gait and speed for a long
time, for a change of gait is equivalent
to a rest.
Never ride a horse without first
making his acquaintance and securing
his good will. Go to his head, speak
kind, pat him, look him in the eyes.
AVhether you are a friend or foe, he
will judge by your voice, your eye and
your breath. Horses judge a man as
quickly as a man does a horse. Feed
and water abundantly at night after
work and the animal has had time to
rest and cool off. Feed moderately in
the morning or before work. Partha
ins and Arabs prepare their horses for
hard drives by fasting rather than
feasting. More horses are injured by
hard driving on a full stomach than
by any other process. Never let a horse
eat or drink much when it is hot from
work. Study youi horse, treat it ac
cording to its nature, make it your
friend, and it will do better and safer
service.
Born that AVay.
“AVell, Ethalinda De AViggs, I don’t
see how you could go and engage
yourself to that old Slimpkins. AVhy,
he hasn’t a tooth in his head,” ex
claimed Miss AYiggs’ dearest friend,
when she heard of the engagement.
“AA’ell, dear,” was the reply, “you
mustn’t be too hard on him on that
account, for he was born that way.”
“AVas he ? I didn't know that, or I
wouldnn't have said anything about
it,” was the sympathetic response.
—Pittsburg Chronicle.
AVhere “Adirondacks” Came From.
In treating of the Adirondacks the
new “History of Essex Cpunty,” says
in an explanatory foot note: "This
Indian name is derived from Iroquois
words, *Ga-ron-dah’ (trees) and ‘Ha
des’ (they eat). Hence the word ‘Ha
de-ron-dack’ (wood or tree eaters).”—
Saratoga Journal.