Newspaper Page Text
8
Transposition.
< I.
The winter leaves were bare and sere,
And naked woods were black and drear,
Nor bud, nor flower had thought to start.
“Oh! beautiful, fair world’’ I cried—
And pressed the warm lips of my bride;
Sweet Summer-time reigned in my heart.
n.
The wealthjof bloom and song was
To perfect summer’s blandishment,
And woo man to her with soft art;
“Oh! cold, bleak world,” I wept and sighed,
And kissed lips of my bride,
Deep Winter lay within my heart.
Harry Wood, in the Current.
A PROLONGED VISIT.
S' • '
“Oh, pshaw!” said Paul Romer.
“But really I” pleaded Helen, his
fair-haired young sister, with the Ma
donna eyes—“really now, Paul I For
the meadows never looked so lovely,
and Crystal Falls never rushed over
the rocks in such a sheet of foam be
fore, and Kate Bonney never has been
in the country.”
“Let her come!” said grandma,
beamingly. “Poor creature! I can’t
fancy what folks feel like who have
never been in the country.”
“And only think of her being
obliged to spend her vacation in that
horrid, stuffy, onion-and-cabbage
smelling boarding-house,” added Hel
en. “Please, Paul, mayn’t I write for
her to come? Mayn’t I have old sor
rel and the wagon, to meet her at the
station ?”
“Os course you may,” said the good
humored young farmer, putting up
both his hands with a gesture of de
spair. “Don’t I know that you two
women are bound to have your own
way in any event? But mind you—
no city airs and graces for me. If I
find ; I can’t stand your elegant young
‘saleslady,’ I shall take my rod and
gun, and go up into the mountains
until the coast is clear.”
“No one can help liking Kate Bon
ney,” said Helen, with decision.
"I never saw a girl yet, except you
and Polly,” said Paul Romer, “that I
didn’t consider a first-class bore.”
But Polly sympathized warmly with
the unknown presence; and grandma
herself wdnt up stairs to make sure
that the was well-aired,
and that the linen sffms were clean
and perfumed with dried sweet clover,
while Helen sat down and wrote a
warm and enthusiastic letter to Kate
Bonney, who stood at the same coun
ter with her at Messrs. Sell & Make
change** dry goods store in New York.
Kate Bonney hesitated a little be
fore she dared to accord herself so
great a happiness as this. She had
always lived a lonely life since her pa
rents had died on the passage over
from England, and left her a solitary
orphan. What right had she to ob
trude herself into the warm, social
glow of other people’s homes? And
yet—and yet it.was such a temptation!
Such a temptat’on! Kate Bonney
could not resist it She wrote:
. j ' “I will comet"
It was mid-haying time, and all the
meadown and hillsides smelt sweet
when the train stopped at the quiet
little Connecticut station among the
balsamic woods.
There was in a cozy little
wagon, holding the reins of a sleepy
old sorrel horse; there were wild-roses
all in bloom; there were acres and
acres of daisies stretching out towards
the sunset.
Involuntarily Kate gave a cry of
delight.
‘Oh, Helen,” she cried, “how could
you ever leave this lovely placo to
come to the city?”
Helen gave a grimace.
“All very well for a few weeks in
midsummer,” said she, “but it is so
dismally, terribly, forlornly dreary all
the year around! But jump in.. We’re
waiting tea for you at home!”
Ahd such a teal Raspberries, with
real cream; crisp, green lettuce-heads,
justout of tho garden; trout which
hall an hour ago were leaping in the
brook; nhd a broiled chicken, which
Kate Bonney scarcely dared to eat, so ’
entirely had she associated it with
high prices in the restaurant bills of i
• fars» while grandma looked smilingly :
on, and adeiicious atmosphere of home
seemed to pervade everything.
And Paul. too—how handsome he
was. with that broad, sunbrowned
brow, and the roguish sparkle in the
qjqufblue eyes, that were so much like
Helen’s.,.,
And at night the air was so cool and
refreshing, and they all Sat out upon
Ch* porch, and a night-bird came and
sang to them from the big oak-tree on
the edge of the woqds; and when Kate
Bonney went to bed, she dreamed the
sweetest, brightest dreams that ever
haunted a maiden's.pillow.
H»w quickly these "iwo‘ weeks tied
, away! To*Kate it was as if the hours
were actually winged. • Woodland re
cesses, impromptp, picnics, walks be
” side ’kinging flvulets, and on the
solemn edge of mountain cliffs; learn
ing to milk co*a, to feed chickens; to
put together the puxding blocks of
grandma’s “Irish chain” bed-quilt; to
make corn Johnny-cakes, and gather
the great, juicy berries, which were
beginning to ripen along the black
berry vines; to dress her hat with pop
pies and ferns, to distinguish the
whistle of the cat-bird from the “chir
rup, chirrup, chee-ee” of the robin.
It was as if some new page of the
volume of existence were opened to
the New York shop-girl.
While Helen and Polly were over
joyed to see how much interest Paul
took in promoting all these useful
studies—Paul, the ostentatiously-pro
fessed old bachelor—Paul, the scorner
of city damsels.
And grandma was so innocently
pleased at seeing “the children happy”
that it did one good even to look at
her.
“Only three more’days,” said Kate
Bonney. “Oh, Helen, we must be
very happy indeed for these three last
days!”
“Oh, of course,” said Helen. “But
I’m not sure, Kate, that I shall not be
glad to be back within the sound of
the elevated roads again.”
“How can you talk so?” said Kate,
eagerly. “How can you compare this
free, wild, satisfying life with that
stuffy little store in the city, with the
brick walls all around it?”
And glancing up, Helen intercepted
the sudden light of Paul’s eyes, as he
looked across at the enthusiastic young
speaker. ,
“How interested Paul is!* she said
to herself. “I wonder— But of
course he would never dream of such
a thing as that!”
The next morning, when the girls
came down to breakfast, there was a
troubled look on grandma’s kind face;
Polly was decidedly out of humor, and
Paul Romer’s seat was vacant.
Kate looked surprised; Helen cried
out at once:
“Where is Paul?”
» “He’s took his rod and gun, and
gone up to Mount Casco,” said grand
ma. “He said he wanted to see how
the trout was in Clear Lake; and lie
said, tell you he wouldn’t most likely
be back till sunset.”
Kate looked disappointed, but she
said nothing; Polly bit her lip, and
helped them all to toast.
“A pretty cavalier!” cried Helen
“When he knew perfectly well that
we depended upon him to show us the
way to View Peak!”
fiut there was an uneasy expression
on her brow, and once or twice she
lost herself in thought.
Was Paul really tiring of their vis
itor? Had she encouraged Kate to
prolong her visit to too extended a
period? Should she never dare to in
vite her there again?
The two girls went to View Peak
alone, but they did not enjoy the walk
nearly an much as they had expected,
and both were a little inclined to be
silent and depressed, as they returned
to the farm-house again.
Kate Bonney sat down in the porch,
taking off her hat to let the cool
breezes blow through her lovely mass
es of dark hair.
Helen went into the house to put
her ferns and wild in water.
“Oh, Paul!” Kate could hear her
voice exclaim, from the little room
beyond the kitchen, “you are here?
What a lot of splendid fish! But what
made you play us such a trick this
morning? You are not tired of Kate
Bonney already?”
“Tired of her?” repeated Paul Ro
mer’s deep, sweet voice. “No, Helen!
It is because I have allowed myself to
become too deeply interested in her
already that 1 dared to risk no more.
I am a plain farmer, and can never
hope to become anything more ambi
tious. She has the prospect of infinite
possibilities before her, and—”
“Stop—oh, please stop!” uttered a
soft, pleading voice; and then they
both saw Kate Bonney in their midst.
“I—l couldn’t help hearing what you
said. Please—please don’t say any
I more!”
"But I must say more!” declared
Paul Romer. "1 have already said so
I much that it only rests with me to
' confess the whole truth, and let you,
I Miss Bonney, judge for me as well as
1 yourself. As 1 said before, lam a
t plain farmer. You are a city young
! lady. Do you think you could be con-
I tented here, in this dull corner of the
5 globe, all your life long?”
“I think it is the sweetest place the
, world can give,” confessed Kate, hang
-1 Ing down her head.
“Would you think it bold and un
j called for if I were to ask you to stay
! here with me, my wife, my guardian
angel?” vehemently went on Paul.
I “Yes, I know it is audacious,' but I am
. driven by an inexorable fate. I love
> ’you. Kate. Tell me, will* you be
mina?” . '
.| Byway of answer, she put he.* hand
• 1 in» his extended palm.
• I “And I, too, have learned to love
»< yow Paul,” she said. "Oh, I never
! J d hope for such happiness as this!"
They were quietly married, the next
week, and Kate entered raptiously
into the congenial occupation of a
farmer’s wife, while Helen went back
to New York, well satisfied with the
turn that things had taken.
“Kate is tho dearest little sister in
all the world!” said Helen. “And Paul
is so happy that the thing is absolute
ly contagious! And as for grandma—
one can’t tell whether she loves Kate
best or Kate loves her! Heigh-ho! I
wonder if I shall ever find my ideal?”
Which, considering that Miss Romer
was only nineteen, was a strange sort
of thing to wonder about For, soon
er or later, do not all girls find their
“ideals?”-— Ruth Ransom.
A Plucky Minister.
Day before yesterday, while riding
along a mountain road, a certain
preacher, who occupies a pulpit not a
thousand miles from Chico, was “held
up” by a road agent. The highway
man had disguised himself by throw
ing a grain bag over his head, and in
his hands he carried a rifle. It was
evident the outlaw knew who his vic
tim was, for he remarked in a very
sharp, loud tone of voice; “Here, you
old Gospel sharp, don’t move a finger
or I’ll let daylight through that pious
head of yours. Step out of that buggy
fnighty quick and produce your wad,
likewise your watch and chain.”
No matter how much courage a
man usually has, his bravery just
oozes right out of him when he looks
into the muzzle of a gun, behind which
stands a desperado. But our minis
terial friend was made of “game stuff”
and did not show the least sign of
alarm. He politely told the man to
lower his gun, else it might accident
ally go off and hurt somebody. His
seeming courage somewhat nonplused
the highwayman, and he complied
with the parsons request. The minis
ter then argued the point about giving
up his money, lectured the man for
being an outlaw, and finally told him
he would not, even under the circum
stances, separate with a cent of money
or his time-piece.
“Now, look here, my dear friend,”
said the highwayman, “your talk is
pretty smart and your advice is kind,
but this is my regular business, and
I’ll be eternally smashed if I’m going
to let a pulpit-pounder like you injure
a fellow’s trade. Proceed to shell out*
and be quick !”
The minister said nothing reply,
but quickly snatched a shotgun (with ;
which he had been hunting) from un- I
der his buggy robe, leveled it at the
road agent and told him to drop his
gun. This was done without a second
bidding. The minister then compelled
the man to climb down an embank
ment, after which he dismounted from
the buggy and took possession of the
rifle. A note from the reverend gen-'
tieman requests that his name be left
from any newspaper comment, hence
it does not appear in this article—
Chico (Cal.) Chronicle.
Arctic Explorations.
From 1496 to 1857 there were 134
voyages and land journeys undertaken
by governments and explorers of Eu
rope and America to investigate the
unknow region around the north pole.
Os these sixty-three went to the north
west, twenty-nine via Behring Strait,
and the rest to the northeast or due
north. Since 1857 there have been the
.notable expeditions of Dr. Hayes, of
Captain Hall, those of Nordenskjold,
sent by the Swedish Government, and
others sent by Germany, Russia, and
Denmark; three voyages made by
James Lamont, of the Royal Geograph
ical Society, England, at his own ex
pense; the expeditions of Sir George
Nares, of Leigh Smith, and that of the
ill-fated Jeanette; the search expedi
tions of the Tigress, the Juniata, and
those sent to rescue Lieutenant
Greely; further, all the expenditions
fittted out under the auspices of the
Polar expedition—in which the Greely
expedition was included—and a num
ber of minor voyages, making a total
of some sixty exploring journeys in
these twenty-seven years.—Truer-
Ocean.
Singular Hindoe Superstition.
The police at Hyderabad have suc
ceeded in arresting four pariahs
charged with desecrating graves on a
large scale for a singular superstitious
I purpose. The graves of children
j freshly buried were the special objects
of their operations. The bead of the
band, a Poojaree named Appawoo.
used to .cut out the large blood vessels
connected with the head and neck of
the disinterred children, and subse
quently employ them in the concoc
tion of an ointment which, he told his
‘ dupes, when applied to the eyelids
conferred the powe.* of seeing hidden
| treasures. The detection of the ruf
fiins was caused by the visit one night
♦f a mother to the grave of her child,
, buried only that day. She surprised
I them al their work, and at once
> brought the police.—St. James Gazette
SINGULAR SELF-MURDERS
Remarkable Instances of Pre
meditation and Nerve.
A. Man Who Turned an Old Scythe-Blade
into a Guillotine.
Some of the methods employed by
the unfortunates who are weary of life
heve been sensational. Many of them
have shown a wonderful nerve and a
remarkable determination, while oth
ers have been so carefully planned as
to very materially shake the theory
that all suicides are the result of a
disordered brain. A few of the most
notable instances are here presented.
L. Fenner was a young actor who
lived at 1634 Ward street, in this city.
While laboring under an attack of
dementia, the result of intense physi
cal suffering, he arose early on the
morning of June 9, 1883, and saturat
ing his garments with a can of coal
oil, went into the yard and applied a
match. He had eluded his father and
some friends, who had been watching
him, and they were startled by his
unearthly yells. They found him en
veloped in flames wildly declaming
passages from the last scene of Mac
beth. Shortly after the fire had been
quenched he began declaiming another
passage and fell over dead.
Old soldiers tell of a man named
Francis, who served during the war in
one of the Pennsylvania regiments
In one of the engagements he was
shot in the head, and was insane after
his recovery. One day he managed to
get a handful of powder and a fuse
about a foot in length. He swallowed
the powder and then forced the fuse
down his throat. He lit the fuse, in
tending to kill himself by exploding
the powder in his stomach. The fuse
did not burn, however, but sticking in
his throat strangled him.
One of the most remarkable cases
which have come within the jurisdic
tion of the Coroner’s office in this city
is the following: A few years ago a
German tailor lived in a couit off Pop
lar street, near Second. His wife was
a perfect vixen, whose dreadful tem
per harrassed the poor tailor to such
an extent that one day he charged a
guu with powder, and, filling the bar
rel with water, placed the muzzle tn
his mouth and fired, with the result
that he blew the top of his head off.
The widow retained the weapon. In
about a year she threw aside her
weeds and again donned orange-blos-
iking to her boaom and her late
husband's board another ninth part of
a* man. Soon the termagant, by her
vixenish practices, drove her second
spouse io the same desperation, he us
ing the same gun, and, using water
instead of pellet, he, too, blew his
brains against the ceiling.
Suicides do not always take the
readiest or easiest means of shuffling
off. . Thus, a barber in Frankford cut
his throat during a freak of insanity,
but instead of using a sharp razor
for the purpose, took a hacked and
rusty blade resembling more a saw
than a razor, and lived through two
hours of terrible agony after gashing
himself. Others have used pieces of
tin and glass which are sometimes suc
cessful in producing a wound that
makes the suicide bleed to death. An
other case is that of a servant girl,
who, a year or two ago, turned on the
gas, removed the burner, applied a
light and let the flame burn in her
mouth until she fell insensible. She
died next day.
Three years ago a German tailor,
living on Olive street, below Thir
teenth, took a pair of the scissors used
in his trade, and, locating his heart by
feeling the beat with his hand, placed
the point of the blade against his
breast, and, with the opposite end
against the wall, pressed until the
weapon penetrated to the heart and
pierced the lower lobe, when he fell
dead.
A Connecticut man, intending to de
capitate himself, invented a guillotine
with an old scythe-blade sharpened to
a fine edge for the knife. The knife
was fixed at one end of a bar of wood,
which was balanced on an upright
post On. the knife end was about 200
pounds of old iron, balanced by a
bucket of water. A. small hole was
bored in the bottom of the bucket to
allow the water to escape, and when
the intending suicide had completed
his arrangements, he lay down under
the knife, with a sponge saturated
with chloroform to his nose for the
purpose of producing insensibility.
When the water had escaped from the
bucket the weighted knife was brought
down forcibly on his neck and com
pletely severed the head from the
trunk.— Philadelphia News.
Pomenade is a new Southern drink
for which rare virtues are claimed in
the way of tastefulness and refreshing
quality. It consists of the juice of half
a sour pomegranate, diluted with
water and sweetened.
A Japanese Fairy Tale.
A poor stonecutter lived well con
tented with his lot, although his work
was hard and his earnings small. He
broke stones from the side of a high
mountain, made them into' doorsills
and gravestones, and then sold them.
The saying went that where he work
ed there lived a mighty spirit of the
mountains, who sometimes appeared
to men and helped them to prosper;
turned to his hard work with a sigh.
“Were I only rich, I need not plague
myself so, and could, like others,
but the stonecutter had as yet seen
nothing of this spirit, and always
shook his head when he heard him
talked about. One day, as he deliv
ered a stone at the house of a rich
man, and saw how finely the rich live
and what a good time they have, ho re
on a bed with red silk curtains and
golden tassels.” Thereupon a voice
sounded through the air which said:
“Thy wish is fulfilled; thou shalt be a
rich man!” and when he reached home
the spirit of the mountain had changed
his hut into a stately and luxurious
mansion. He entered and made him
self at ease. But one day, when the
sun was so hot he dare not venture
out, he saw a gorgeous procession pass
by. In the midst of a group of brill
iant knights a costly litter was
bourne by liveried servants, and in
the lilter sat a prince, over who»e
head was held a changeable gold um
brella, that the rays of the sun might
not strike him. Discontented, the ter
mer stonecutter looked after the pro
cession, and, as it disappeared from
sight, he cried out: “Oh, would I
were a prince I then I could be carried
thus and have a golden umbrella to
protect me from the rays of the sun.”
As he uttered the words there sounded
again the voice of the spirit of the
mountain: “Thy wish is accomplish
ed; thou shalt be a prince!” And now
he was a prince. Many riders pro
ceeded his litter, and as many followed
him; he had honor, splendor and riches
abundantly; in fact, all he desired,
and, of course, the golden umbrella
j with which to protect himself. Nev
ertheless, he was not contented; he
continually looked about, and sought
wherewith ha could make his condi
tion still pleasanter; and he saw how
the mighty sun burned around
1 him, and in his rays the
| grass dried up, and even his
own face, in spite of the golden
umbrella, turned from the heat of the
sun a deeper brown; his life pleased
him no longer, and angrily he cried:
! “The sun is mightier than I; I would
like to be the sun.” Again spoke the
spirit of the mountain: “Thy wish is
given thee; thou shalt be the sun.” So
he was the sun, and scorched the grass
of the earth and the skin of the princes.
But, as he saw that the clouds placed
themselves protectingly between him
and the earth, he acknowledged the
clouds as mightier, and was now, with
the spirit’s help, changed to clouds.
He received the beams of the suu, and
let the earth grow green and bloom,
and then, to show his power still more,
he sent the rain down for days and
weeks. Streams and rivers swelled,
dams and dikes broke and all the fields
were devastated. Only the rock stood
tranquil and looked scoffiugly at the’
powerless floods; all this confusion
troubled him not, and of not even a
little bit of his hard stone could the
raging element rob him. The cloud
cried, “What! the rock is stronger
than I? No one shall be mightier
than I, and therefore I should wish to
be the rock.” The sprit fulfilled his
wish. Become rock, grown strong
and fast together with the earth, he
needed not to trouble himself about
the blustering of the elements. How
ever, one day he heard a remarkable
sound at his feet, and, as he sought
for the cause, he saw an insignificant
stonecutter, who drove iron wedges in
his stone and loosened great pieces
which fell thundering to the earth.
As he saw this he cried out exasperat
ed, “So a little human being is might
ier than I, the strong rock? That
shall not be; then will I rather be a
man.” The voice of the great spirit
resounded anew—there he was, the
stonecutter of the old time. By the
sweat of his brow he earned his scan
ty bread, but he was therewith con
tent, and never desired another posi
tion in life than that which had been his
from earliest youth; and, as he fostered
no more presumptuous wishes, and de
manded nothing further from fortune,
he also never heard again the voice of
the great spirit of the mountain.
Short, Sharp and Decisive.
“How much shall I make of this ?”
said a reporter to the city editor, re
ferring to an attempt at burglary
when the midnight marauder was
‘ frightened away by the screaching of
a parrot
"Four words,” laconically replied
the man of brevity.
j When the report was handed in it
read. “Parrot yelled; burglar pell-mell-
• ed.”— New York Journal.
CHILDREN’S COLUMN.
Fire: Fire!
Oh, Birdie, fly!—for the maple-tree,
Where your neat is hid so cunningly, ’
With scarlet flames is ablaze, I see.
For Autumn, that wanton, gold-haired boy,
Roams wild, with a flaming torch for a toy,—
And he fires the trees with a reckless joy.
•
On the maple’s mantle the bright sparks fell,
On the creeping woodbine along the wall;
On the sturdy oak-trees, stanch and tall.
Oh, Birdie, fly! to the Southland hie,
For the woods are blazing beneath our sky,
And your home is on fire, —Birdie, fly!
—Either B. Tiffany, in St. Nicholat.
{jetting the Worst.
A boy came to the door of a lady’s
house and asked if she did not want
some berries, for he had been all day
gathering them.
“Yes,” said the lady, “I will take
them.” So she took the basket and
stepped into the house, the boy remain-:
ing outside, whistling to some canary!
birds hanging in their cage on the
porch.
“Why don’t you come in and see
that I measure your berries rig
said the lady. “How do you know
but I may cheat you?”
“I am not afraid,” said the boy, “for
you would get the worst of it”
“Get the worst of it!” said the lady.
“What do you mean by that ?”
“Why, mar’m,” said the boy, “I
should only lose my berries, and you
would make yourself a thief. Don’t
you think that would be getting the
worst of it?”
The boy was right. He who steals
or does anything wrong or mean just
to gain a few pennies or a few dollars,
loads himself down with a sin which
is worse than all the gain. “Let this
be borne in mind: The one who does
a wrong to another always gets the
worst of it.”
A treneroui Girl.
He was a bouncing big turkey, and
they hung him by the heels, so that his
nose almost touched the walk just out
side the butcher’s shop. A little girl
was standing there watching it. You
could see that she was a hungry littldi
girl, and, worse than that, she was
cold too, for her shawl had to do so!?
hood and almost everything else. No
one was looking, and so she put out a
little red hand and gave the great tur
key a push, and he swung back and
forth, almost making the huge .
hook creak, he was so heavy. '.<s |
“What a splendid big turkey!?* ”
The poor little girl turned round,
and there was another little girl
ing at the turkey too. She was out
walking with her dolls, and had on ft
cloak with real fur all arouhd the
edges, and she hadja real muff,
with little black spots over it. »
“Good morning, miss,” said
butcher man. You see, he knew the
little girl with the muff
well.
“That’s a big turkey, Mr.
“Yes,” said the poor girl timidly;
“he’s the biggest 1 ever saw in my life.
He must be splendid to eat.”
“Pooh !” said the little girl with the
muff; “he isn’t any bigger than the
one my papa brought, home for Thanks
giving to-morrow, I know.”
“Could I have a leg if I came for lit
to-morrow?” asked the poor little girl
softly.
“What! hpven’t you a whole tur
key?”
“Never had one in my life,” said the
poor little girl
“Then you shall have have this one
said the little lady with the muff.
“Mr. Martin, I’ve got some money in
my savings bank at home, and my
papa said I could do just as I wanted
to with it; and I’m going to buy the
turkey for this little girl.”
The poor little girl’s eyes grew so
very large you would not have known
them: “I shall love you always so
much—so very, very much; and I’ll
go home for Foxy to help. Foxy is
my brother, and I know we can carry
him.”
I have not room to tell you all about
it; but the poor little gill got her tur
key and papa bis bill.
"What’s this?” said he—“another
turkey; eighteen pounds; three dollars
and sixty cents.” I
“That's all right,” said the little j
girl who had the muff. “1 bought 1
him, and gave him to a poor little girl ■
who never ate one; and the money ’s ■
in my iron bank.” ■
The bank was opened, and there ■
were just four big pennies in it-
A very generous little girl was
of whom the New York Tribune tells|||x
us this story; but. like some others
us, she was generous with the money
of some one else.
Centipedes, such as abound in New I
Mexico, make their attacks at night. V
They are armed with about 200 little
lances lashed to the toe of each foot— f
of which they have several —and at
the base of each lance is a tiny sack of
venom. , ; |
1