Democratic Press, Volume 1, Number 40, Decatur, Adams County, 18 July 1895 — Page 8

NOIRAUD. BT LCDOVIC HAJLEVT. "Don't be alarmed, monsieur, yon wors t miss your train. Ire taken passengers to the station for fifteen years and no one ever missed a train, sir, never. ” "But—” “Xo use looking at your watch, sir; there is something you don't kn w and which your watch can’t tell y .1 —the train is al-vays fifteen minute- Late; there never was an occasion when it hasn-' t beer, nfteen minutes la*. This day h wever. the rule .. net hold good. The train was on time and I missed it My driver was enraged. “You ought to announce that the trains leave on time all at once.” he cried*' the stationmaster. I never heard of such a thing:*' and taking all the porters as witnesses he sa: "Was it ever heard of before? I do not wish to be at fault in this gentleman's eyes. A train on time'. Tell him for me that this is the very first time it ever happened." There was a general chorus of “O, yes; always late, always!' So I only had three long h ura to pass in this very melancholy village of the Canton of Vaud, flanked by two melancholy mountains, with each a little patch of snow on its summit How kill these three hours? I in turn spoke for assistance, and there was a general cry of “Go and see the Chaudron. the only thing worth seeing in these parts' And where wa~ the Chaudron'? “On the mountain to the right, half way up. but the path is a little c- mplicate i.' I was advi-ed to take a guide, and over t here, way over th-r- in the whit; house with green blinds. 1 would find "the t gc !e in the o n;.try. a fin-.- gi iF .: . r Sim a.” 1 went ever to the little b use and kn eked at the d or. An old w man cp. 1 ’. it. Ts Fath .- rimon in?" “He lives here—is it to go to the C n... mlrou? "Yes. to go to tie Chaudron." “Well, be hasn't been himself since this morning; his legs trouble him; he can't get about But don't be disturbed, we have some one to replace him. Noiraud, only I must warn you that Noiraud is not a person." "Not a person?" "No; he is our dog. He is used to it. and will guide you very well, as well

e J . — as my husband.” •‘As well as your husband?” ••Certainly. For years and years Father Simon has taken him a. so be has learned the places, an d now he does the business alone. He has often taken travelers before, and we have always had compliments for him. As for intelligence, don't be afraid; he has as much as you and I; he only needs to talk, tout it is not necessary for him to talk in this case. If it were to show a monument and know history dates and a speech it would be aifferent. Here are icily the beanties of nature. Take Noiraud. And then, monsieur. he is cheaper. My husband is three francs and Noiraud is but a franc and a half, and he will show you as much for the franc and a half as my husoanc' would for the three." “Very well. Where is Noiraud?” "He is resting in the garden. He has already taken some English up to the Chnndron this morning. N i.-aud! N irau..! De came in through the window vri.h r e I und. He was ar. cgiy en< ryh li’.t.i black dog. w..h long curly, woolly ham: his rooks not ;< r m .-a. but in his wl. _e ps-r---s. ......ty ... .. was a certa;.. a.r of gravity, decision and importance- He first gave me a preci e. clear, sharp glanee whicn enveloped lue rap; :ly from head to foot and seemed clearly to say: "It is a traveler; he w ishes to tee t he < haudron.” being left once was enough for that day so I was essentially careful not to exp o; er l If to a second such misadventure. I explained to the woman

that I had but three hours for the I walk to the Chaudron. ••Oh, yes,” said she; “you wish to < take the four o'clock train. Don't be 1 afraid. Noiraud will bring you back in time. 1 . rue, Noiraud; start a.ong tny bey; start along.” i But Noiraud did not appear to feel at • all disposed to start along. He sat motionless. gazing at his mistress with ‘ agitation. “Ah. how stupid I am," said the old ‘ woman. "I frgot<—l had forgotten the sugar She took four lumps of sugar from a drawer and gave them to me. "That is why he did not want to : start; you hadn't the sugar. Start up, " my boy. to the Chaudron, the Chaudron, the Chaudron'.” She repeated these words three times, speaking slowly and very distinct 'y. and 1 meanwhile examined Noiraud with attention. He answered her with little nods, which at the end showed a little impatience and ill temper. They could be interpreted: “Yes —yes —to the Chaudron—l understood —the gentleman has tne sugar—and we are going to Chaudron. Do you take me for an idiot?” And without waiting for the third “Chaudron” oi Mine. .'’mon. Noiraud, evidently wounded, turned his heels and placed himself in front of me. showing me the door by a look and saying as distinctly as it is permitted dogs: “We;!, will you come?” I followed him meekly. He kept on abend and we passed through the village thus. The children romping in the street recognized my guide. “He. Noiraud! good old Noiraud!” and they tried to play with him, but he averted his head disdainfully with the air of a dog who has no time to amuse himself, but who is doing his duty and earning thirty sous. One oi the children cried: 'Let h : m alone. He is taking the monsieur to the Chaudron—how d'y do. monsieur!” I smiled, but awkwardly, I know. ] ■felt embarrassed, even humiliated. 1 was, in fact, dominated by this animal. He was for the time my master: he knew where he was g’-.ng and 1

did not I was in haste to leave the village and be along among ■ the beauties f nature with Noiraud. whose mission it was to make me admire them. These beauties of nature were, to commence with, an awful burning ’ dusty road, under a broiling sun. The, 1 dog marched briskly al ng. I tried to I moderate his gait "Noiraud. good dog. not so fast not 1 so fast" ! N rand turned a deaf ear and fol- 1 lowed his little path until I attempted ■ to sit down by the wayside under a tree which threw a thin shade. He ' was seized by a fit of wrath and < barked with a little furious voiee. ’ throwing irritated glances at me—evi- I dently what I was doing was contrary < to the rule —and the yappings were uo ' sharp, so piercing, that 1 arose to follow the path. Noiraud calmed down immediately and commenced to trot gayly before me. I had understood. 1 Be was content. A few minutes later we came to a de- • licious road, shady, flowered, perfumed ■ and full of freshness and murmuring of spring Noiraud at once started off s at a gallop and disappeared in the green. I followed him a trifle breath- 1 less. A hundred feet and I found my 1 Noiraud awaiting me with head held 1 high and shining eye. in a sort of 1 chamber of verdure, livened by the s twinkle of a wee cascade. There was : an old rustic bench, and from this 1 Noiraud glanced with impatience to 1 my eyes, and back again. This glance said: t "Now her? is a place to rest. It is , nice here: it is eooL You wanted to < stop in the hot sun. Come now and sit ' down; I don’t object" So I sat down and lighted a cigar. I 1 almost ofxcned one to Noiraud.. but the ■ though; that he might prefer a lump ’ of sugar came to me. He caught it 1 adroitly on the fly. ground it np quick- , Iv. then lay down and drowsed at my : feet He was evidently accustomed to < make a little halt and take a little nap 1 at this place. He slept ten minutes. I felt perfectly tranquil. Noiraud had , inspired me w.tu absolute contldetiee. , I had resolv .to obey him blindly. ( lie arose, -tr.’tched nitnself. threw me a little <-• e lance ignifyingt j "-t rt np. my ir. -nd ~ and like two old , fr -nds we w n- ' through the woods. , e: joying th- < -arm. the silence and - the sweetness of the place. Presently ( we came t< a path at the left. Noir- j and hesitat- a little, reflected, and j

then continued ;r. the road, but not with. ut a trifling uncertainty in his gait; he stopped.’ He must have made a mistake —yes. for returning a few steps he led the way to the left until wc arrived in a sort of a grotto, where Noiraud.p-inting with his nose upward, invited me to contemplate the great height cf the rocks which walled it in. When Noiraud thought I had sufficiently admired it he hurried back to the little path we had been following. The road soon became steep, uneven, rough. I advanced but slowly, with great precaution. Noiraud jumped blithely from rock to rock. but did not abandon me, now and then throwing me a glance of the most touching solicitude. At last I began to hear the plashing of water and Noiraud yapped joyfully. “Bear up.” he said; “bear up: we will soon be here. You are going to see the Chaudron.” It was in truth the Chaudron. A modest enough little cascade, of equally modest height, falling in showering sprays on a slightly hollowed rock. I should never have been consoled for haring made this laborious ascent to see this mediocre marvel if I had not had the brave Noiraud as my companion. He was much more interesting and remarkable than the Chaudron. On each side of the fall in two small Swiss chalets were two little dairies, kept by two little native women, one blonde, the other brune They were both in national dress and eagerly watching my approach. It seemed to me that the blonde had very pretty eyes. and I had already

taken -vreral step; t -vard her chalet vhen Noiraud. bursting with furious Markings, barred the way Had he a preference f r the little brune? I changed my course. That was it. N* Iraul ceus.' l as though bv magic when he saw me seated at a table in front of his young protege's house. I call. : f ra glass of milk. Noirnud’s fro rd entero 1 her tiny nest and he lipned in with her. end through an «.r?r win low I followed :ny N irau-l with my eyes. Th.- irreteh! H-. ..as s —.' ’.f r me II? I. Lis ‘■ -wl of mil!: fir-t. He was bribed. N iracd s n gav» signs of agitation anti nip:. ‘ nee. I could now read his eyes like a:. open book. It was time to start I:. r-ro paid the Swiss and went toward the path by which we had ascended the mountain. Looking for my Noiraud I found he bad planted himself at the entrance of another path and was gazing seriously, severely at me. W hat progre-s I had made in two hours and how familiar Noiraud's silent eloquence had become! “What sort of an opinion have yon got of me?” said Noiraud. “Did you think I would go over the same read twice? Truly, no. I am a good guide —I know my trade. We shall descend uj auuiuCi FOad.** This other road was much prettier than the first, and Noiraud. full of sprightliness, turned to me often with a little air of triumphant joy. We crossed the village and were assailed by three or four of his dog friends, who appeared much in the mood to chat and play a little with their comrade. and they tried to stop him. but Noiraud grow led, scolded and sharply repulsed their advances. “You see I have something on hand: I am taking the gentleman to the station.” It was only in the waiting-room that he consented to leave me—aftergayly crunching his last two lumps of sugar—and this is how I translate Noiraud’s farewell: “We are twenty minutes ahead of time. lam notone to let you lose your taaia. WelL bon voyage! Adieu.”— Translated by Lucy Martin, for the Chicago Tribune.

ANNS HOME COMING. BT ELIZABETH C. «BW*AM. Fred Roberts had long .been the vagabond of the Bevinsville district of Barclay. He knew this himself, but he had never felt it so strongly as today. when Ann was coming h- me. Home! What home? He had not realized that be bad lived from house to house, s.x months at one place, a twelvemonth at another, ever since he had come down in the world, which waj so far back that he did not care to count the years. The mistress of the bouse where he was now living brought to the door of his room a pile of clean, warm clothing, and spoke to him kindly. ' Now Mr. Roberts. I want to see you go fix yo’se'f up nice and genteel. These are some things I've been gettin' ready 'gainst Ann come home. Just doyo' best to look spry, and I'll send old Vnc'e Josh in to tnm yo' hair a little bit." He murmured his thanks, his hands shaking as he took the garment-. “Don't mention it, Mr. Roberts,” she went on. coming into the res m to poke the dying fire. “I'm not forgettin' that the child started away from this house. 1 can't help thinkin' about her. She was such a peart little creature when she away. An' now you say she can just pick up and play anything she wants to” She looked at the old man to emphasize the remark- He turned one tremulous hand over the other slowly, and could think of nothing else to say than “Yes.” He was longing to cross to the man-tel-piece and take a draught from the squat, blown bottle which stood there. Then he would be able to answer, yet he knew he must not drink to-day. Mrs. Jackson saw the glance of desire, and felt constrained to speak, her voice deepening under the consciousness of solemn advice. •■Oh, pray. Mr. Roberts, don't touch a drop. It would make Ann ashamed, indeed, to see her father in drink today.” It vexed him to think Ann was coming home to a shameful father; Ann who used to love him. faults and all. as no one else could. If he could only free his tongue from its paralyzing dryness. His bent head and folded hands suggested a humility that almost turned Mrs. Jackson from her mission. “Ann. you know, is not the same child she was >ne is a young lady now. an' expects to find her father different from what he was. I don't reckon she can stand bavin bottles anywhere but on the sideboa'd. trained up as she's been by anyone as strict an' set in their ways as yo" sister Now. don't yo" reck -n so. too?"

“Y'es." he assented The remembrance of his sister came into his ■ mind and brought with it a sense of • self-abasement. But he inwardly repudiated any thought of change in An i When the door closed a man walked toward the fireplace, feeling as he went that he was bowed and shabby. A glance in the wavering Surface of his dim shaving mirror confirmed the sensation. 'baggy gray hair stood out I around a lined face, ruddy naturally, red now. and glazed from exposure and drink. He stood pulling at his loeks, at one minute deciding that they needed to be trimmer. at another striving to recall how he looked when Ann went away ten years ago. Be con’d not remember. No need to recall her face. It was before him every instant. But how did he appear in her eyes? Was he as degraded; as disheveled? Were his hands as rigid: as cesrnd: were they ashesitating: or had this come to him during the ten years? And Ann. during the ten years, had been ascending till she stood like a star above him. Her letters showed him that. Ke had one in his hand now which he opened and looked at. striving to put together the unkempt, motheny little child he had known, and these clear elegant characters. He turned resolutely to dress, and' fought down his feeling. The clothes were fresh and well-fitting, and he could not help thinking that he looked more “genteel.” as Mrs. Jackson said, j

in the white starched shirt and dark ’ trousers. A rap sounded upon the < door, and, closely following it, ap- ! peared L’ncle Josh with tne implements ’ of his trade. He gave an obsequious laugh. “Lawd A'mighty. Mr. Robbuts. suh, I 'clar 1 didn't know you You look so 1 young.” “This hair don't look so young, Uncle Josh. I reckon you'll have to give it a right good cropping. “Dat's so. suh. 'Pears lak ha r dese days tu’ns gray mighty soon.” “Seems to me like I've been gray all my life Was it this gray ten years ago?” “No. suh.” answered the old negro, emphatically. “When Miss Ann was •ent away, yo’ ha'r was as black as coak” He tucked the towel around the neck of the victim and was running his fingers through the abundant erar mass before him. preparatory to his work. L’ncle Josh had the wrinkled hide and eyes of a great lizard, but his hand was wonderfully skillful with the razor and scissors. He now combed up the locks and clipped the rough ends sc that they feH in a loose, gray rain over Roberts' lace. “Hit's tu'ned gray. Mr. Robbuts, ’case it ain't been looked a ter lak it ought to be. But hit's mighty nice ha'r. Miss Ann, now, 'll change things a right smart, I reckin. Hit'll do Tu'k good, Mr. Robbuts. Dat 'ar dawg is a heap too sassy anyway, a-dauderui’ along by hisse’f of a night, de Lawd knows wha’. Hit'H do him good to have somebody a-lookin’ a'ter him.” He had finished the clipping and now shook the towel on the hearth Then ht. gathered up the falling hair in a wad to bury under a stone, so that it might not bring bad luck upon the

owner by falling into the way of either dogs or birds “Lemme ret the sculp wid liquor, Mr. R -bbuts.” h said, p: aring out a liberal saucerful from the bottle on the shelf. "Lieu r's the life of the sculp an’ de stomach." He rubbed it in rigorously and went on: "Now jes •■tan' out Lb de sun awhile to tek away de smelL 'case de ladies cyan't bar it, an' I 'spec’s Miss Aan am lack de res' o 'em now Youse got to be mighty keerful now. suh. mighty keerful: Miss Ann is a town lady now. ’en I always hyar tell what ve'y delicate noses dey The operation was completely over now, and the barber st d awaiting his pay. a brimming glass of whisky from the familiar bottle. As he drank to Miss Anne's health, he regarded h;s handiwork with pride, the hair parted by a gleaming white line just above one ear and plastered down upon tne forehead in scooping waves D wn the back of the head was another part, from which the hair was Irushe; briskly away on either side. The effect was jaunty and ludicrou- n the extreme; but Vncle Josh looked upon it as a work of art. His parting remark was to beg his model not to ‘'muss it 'fo’ Miss Ann comes” Robert donned his waistcoat and coat and walked to the window. The trees on the horizon were leafless and black, but an afternoon haze softened their iron outlines The locusts below in the yard stretched bare boughs, and the rose bushes had only stems to show after all their summer wealth. Am >ng the dry brown leaves, which were shiftlessly left in drifts, the hens scratched industriously. A line of ducks contrary to orders were marching across the greensward on their way home after a late sw:m_ Just below the window, propped against the great chimney, lay Turk, his broad buH neck npon his outstretched paws He wa~ peacefully dreaming m the austere warmth which the afternoon sun affordei The man felt the chill from his drenched head. It crept downward and rendered the stiff shirt unbearable. Now it reached nis heart and awoke despair. Everyone, even the old negro there, warned him that he was unfit for Ann. He had always known it, but he had hoped that their love met above and annulled the unfitness How long he stood leaning against the window frame in mental numbness he did not know, but when be looked around the fire had died out and the sun was half below the inky horizon. Ann would soon be here. He could not face her. the strange daughter whom he did not know. With trembling, burning fingers he tore off the new clothes he had put on an hour before, and dressed himself in his everyday garments Thev were rough, unbrushed and disreputable. yet he welcomed them. He felt that he was himself again, the outj cast who worked long enough to buy ivViiwL-T” rx-Fizx VwirrrzaJ on.]

whisky: who begged food, shelter and clothing. He had dreamed of deliverance from without: a deliverance he was too weak t- eSect within himself, which should be brought about by sympathy, companionship and protection. But the dream was over. He was only a drag and a disgrace to the young lady Ann had developed into. He opened his door and crept down the stairsand across the hall. His fingers rattled the knob of the door so uncontrollably that he feared some one would hear, and he halted, expecting a summons to explain. No voice questioned, however. He stepped out on porch, thence to the lawn and softly whistled to Turk. The animal bounded joyously around the corner of the house, leaping and fawning about his master. The two struck westward across the lawn, and, as he went. Rob; erts heard the sound of a window thrown up and a voice crying: “Mr. Roberts, upon my soul! Mr. Roberts!’’ He gave no heed, but plunged into the orchard, feeling the cold evening air, and seeing -through the black twigs of bushes and trees the vivid thread of scarlet just above the horizon line of woods He had a stick with him. and thrust into a pocket of his coat a bottle which he had seized from the mantek As he went on and the evening feH darker, and Turk walked ahead more sedately, he could not keep weak tears from his eyes. He did not know what

they were there for. Sometimes they seemed to flow at the picture of himself. lonely, homeless, without place or worth, wandering in darkness, but mostly they rushed unbidden at the thought of Ann. his little Annie of ten years back. To his dazed mind she seemed dead, and he mourned over her as he would over a dead child. How she used to shield him: ’Vhen he lay weak from his drunken stupors, mind; here was warmth and an anovdne; then he w renehed the bottle from his pocket and flung it far into the darkness. He listened to the faint crash, an«i sat erect for a few minutes. After awhile he folded his arms and rested his head upon them. “I 11 go presently." he murmured, heavy with drowsiness. In spite of the bitter cold sleep seemed deliciously near and grateful He dozed in snatches, now and again recovering consciousness. **!♦'? hotter </-»>• Lzsw •* k-s — j —GA, AtpCOVCU, it s better for her. She's got as gcn=' tie blood as any, and without me to hinder she can go with the best. She has money, too. thank God.” He was drifting into irresistible Sieep. but through its veil he felt the dog at his side get up and run forward. He put out a languid hand; his touch fell on rough stubble and dried weeds. A bitterness that even the poppied ease of sleep eould not prevent flooded his souL He rested in desolation on the inhospitable ground, feeling the moments go by. Then the sigh he <*»uld not keep back, the salt drops forcing their heavy, unwilling wav his hds. were checked by Ann's voicenot by her voice alone, but bv her cheek pressed to his cold face. ’ “l ather." she said, and the words were tne healing words of her childish oays. “father, I came to look for vou," —Mid Continent Magaz'

IN COMMAND OF THE ARMADA. Phlhpli- - *ori;ut. Fronde in Longmans ?• - stake to which the England was the j „. ' t X da ’T , e"3us had“come at last Os the duke of Medina andwithhim.il that w«Cervantes to break her bonus_ and rt nl.ee her on her throne. 1 het had "ed into the channel in pious hope, with the blessed banner waving ove their heads decrees of To be the rXveuTor 111 - r ..ambition, but men Providence is a ion ? * in a cate of emotion overlook the precautions which are not to be daIZnX.I With, even on the subkmest of £ran is Don Quixote, when he set out to redress the wrongs of humanity, got that a change of linen ™ ! P !,t necessary and that he must take money with him to pay his hotel bills I hil p II- in sending the Armada to England, and confident in supernatural protection. imagined an unresisted, triumphal procession. * He forgot that contractors might tie rascals, that water four months in the casks in a hat climate turned putrid and that putrid water would poisou his ships’ companies though his crews were companies of angels He forgot that the servants of the evil one might fight for their mistress after all and that he must send adequate supplies of powder, and. worst forgetfulness of all, that a great naval expedition required a leader who understood his business. Perseus, in the shape of the duke of Medina Sidonia, after a week of disastrous battles found himself at the end of it in an exposed roadstead, where he ought never to have been, ninetenths of his provisions thrown overboard as unfit for food, his ammunition exhausted by the unforseen demands upon it. the seamen and soldiers harassed and dispirited, officers the whole week without sleep, and the enemy, who had hunted him from Plymouth to Calais, anchored within half a league of him. A WEIRD SEA TALE. Th, Deep Mystery of »n Abandoned Ship and It, Miming Crew. One of the strangest stories about an abandoned ship comes from the Indian ocean. In 1«22 the British corvette Lizard was cruising off Ceylon. A ship came in sight with all sail set, and making good speed through the water. The officers took a long look, and one said: “There is something wrong about that vessel. Her erojack is loose and flapping, and there is no man at the wheel, fl e had better run down to her." This was done, says the New York World., and when near it was seen that the ship had no crew, as there was no answer to the hail. When boarded there were no marks of trouble until, on raising a sail that was spread over the main hatch, the body of a man was found. He had been in>n«l to the

lock-bars of the hatch cover, and had : apparently been dead a week. i tin going into the cabin the body of i an elderly man was found. He had < been stabbed to death. On examining i the log-book was on record that the ) ship was Spanish. from the I’hillippines, 1 and named El Frey Antonio; but, i strangely, the last entry was six weeks < past, and spoke of abandoning the ship < at a point a thousand miles away, 1 bound for Malaga. Spain. She was left i on the road to China. A pitcher of i water on the table was intact. Could i the vessel have come this long journey without meeting a storm, and how had i the dead men got here? They had not : been dead six weeks, and both were ; Lascars. The Frey Antonio was taken into Madras, the Spanish government notified. and their answer only made the mystery deeper. The ship had sailed from Celebes more than a year before, with six Roman Catholic priests as passengers, bound for Spain, and had no Lascars among her crew. And this was all. And from that far awav time until now the story o f pi Frey Antonio is one of the secrete of the deep. HOW TO FIGHT INDIANS. A K-eipe Given forth- BeneUt of lllnodthirsty Boys, Jack now took off his blue flannel jumper and overaH trousers, fixed them artistically together and stuffed them ' -ut with the coarse gra" growingeverywhero around us. Then he held the dummy beyond the edge of a bowlder in such away as to look as if the bulge of his own body were protruding, says Lippincott's Magazine. Ihe old, old ruse succeeded admirably , for instantly there came from the cover, about thirty yards away, a hurtling shower of arrows; and as soon as Toro Unzl I 4! —,. .1 a «

Tom and I had fired our decoy shots a ’ ■quad of hideously painted Apaches ■ sprang up. and with uplifted toma- ' hawks and terrific yelks, rushed toward : us. But not for far. “Now. boys!” shouted Jack, and at : the crack of our rifles the three fore- ■ most braves went headlong down. For a few seconds the others stood bewildered, and then, as one after another dropped under tne storm of revolver bu..ets. fired so rapidly as to seem like the work of a dozen enemies, the surviving warriors darted off to their ponies and scurried away. Napoleon's Death Mask. The death mask of Napoleon, which was taken immediately after the demise of the conqueror at St. Helena by Dr. Automarchi, was obtained under great difficulties. There was not an ounce of plaster of paris to be had on the island, therefore the doctor scoured the cliffs in eveiy direction for a piece of gypsum. This he at last found and calcined until powdering was possible On this account the work was very erode, but this notwithstanding he hail an offer of six thousand pounds sterling (about thirty thousand dollars’ for the cast before it was a month old. Several of the replicas are now valued at twenty thousand dollars each.

—- got even with his friend Cvorgla Offender ReMut, with a Biting Kerner a. -One of the funniest things thatev, happened during my conne.-ti. a the Georgia judiciary was when I Kas first elected solicitor,” said J Ul j_ Griggs, of Atlanta, to a Constitute reporter. "The demands of my position fie. quently put me in the position of cuting a friend. It was hard, but I did it. “An ex-sheriff t-f a county in my ej. cuit —a fellow Hint 1 had kn- -wn and liked for a long while—was pr-M-cuted i for making away w ith some money, j, was an ugly charge. The evidence wag conclusive again! him. “When I went down to court he . alne staggering into my room about two thirds drunk. 'Jim.'he said.'these in. ’ fernal scoundrels are trying toprusecute me—perfect outrage. I told I just wait’till I saw Jim Griggsand we'd I fix it—l told ’em we'd let 'em knowwho : to prosecute. And we will, won't we Jim?" ‘■l looked at him very gravely and said: 'Tom, I’ve got a dead ease against you. I'm going to prosecute you. convict you and send you to the penitentiary. You are guilty. You got the money, and I’ve got the evidence to prow it.’ "He looked at me in perfect amazement. Ue was dumfounded. He said I didn't mean it. I told him I did. He straightened himself up and marched out without a word. •'His case was the first one called after dinner. The judge asked him if he had any counsel. He said no. and didn't want any. He spoke in a half drunken fashion. 'But,'said the judge, •you are charged here with a serious offense, and if you have no money to employ a lawyer I’ll appoint one fw you.’ "The defendant didn't like it. He arose vi ith difficulty. He steadied himself against a table, and, speaking in a maudlin fashion, said: “ 'Yer honor, 1 said I don't want no counsel, and 1 don't want none. I meant what I said. I don't want—hie —take no vantage of ze stale, state ain't got no counsel—what der I want with any?” SEA LAWYERS. They Are IlresAetl Mor, by th. Cam- ■ Dander Than storms. "The chief of all things on earth a > sea captain dreads is the sea lawyer,’ said an old. gray-haired commander to a Baltimore News reporter. The typhoon of the China scan and the Lurti- ■ cane of the West Indies are bad, but ■ they are not in it for raising a r.;mpua with the sea lawyer. i "The fellow I refer to a- the sea lawyer' is the one or more sailon i alm< >st sure to creep into every forecastle at one time or another, who, be- i i ing a little better educated than his I mates, becomes their leader and proceeds to make himself solid with them. • and a deadly enemy of the captain and s ofi’cers. by quoting maritime law to ) them that never existed and tilling

their heads with nonsense n re’. imaginary wrongs. He'll tell them they must have T>lnm duff' every ■ ay. according to law. and they'll believe him. and raise cain if they don't get it He'll persuade them they are worked too hard, and every man Jack of them will desert the ship at her fir-‘port of call. He'll make them believe they own the vessel before he gets half through with them, and will instigate a half dozen or more damage suits against the ship's owners among them as soon as they set foot ashore. “The ‘sea lawyer' is generally a sneaky fellow, who makes a steady practice of deceiving honest sailors and getting them into trouble and then leaving them to get out as best they can. lie is hated and dreaded by every captain afloat, and there's only < newsy of arguing with him—that's with a belaying pin. I've known more than one bloody mutiny to be stirred up by a ‘sea lawyer,’ ” WALKING EGYPT. A Curious Semt-Retigiou, Custom Southern Gevfs.a“Y’ou pretend to know enough to come to congress from Georgia, retorted the colonel, disgustedly, "and don't know what ‘walking Egypt “WeH, it's a grand Indian file pr?" cession to which the colored race girt* way once a year in its churches. They lift up their voices in a horrible the congregation does, and suddenly* negro jumps up in the aisle. “Next a sister jumps up. N ep.se® her hands on his shoulders, and there they stand jumping up and down, stiff-kneed, like you've seen sheep whe® feeling festive. “L'sually these two are a mi'fit—“ c * small, runty little fellow, she a bg strapping wench. “The singing moans on. Others g®

«it> until the whole congregation is 0 procession, hands forward rvsi.tsg <® the shoulders in front, like a lot of pe a itentiary people going to dinner“Keeping a jerky time to the moaning. the procession, l.ke a long. centipede, jumps and jerks its way W one aisle, down another,* 1 says tJ Washington Post, “until their religion fervor has cooled. "That’s ’walking Egypt.’ and I pose the rite was imported fre® Guinea two hundred years ago Freshest News. Mr. Joseph Willard, for a i"Og : - 2!9 clerk of the superior court of chusetts in Boston, relates in h> “*'j a Century with Judges and Lawyers many good anecdotes. Coh Edward G. Parker, who rather pedantic, wrote a life ’ Choate. He was relating an inc>“ e ® which happened in the third before Christ, about the time o* • . death of Ptolemy 111., and he to John 8. Holmes, who stood “Didn't he die about that time. Joim"Who's that that's dead as * Holmes. "Ptolemv III.,” said Parker. “What! What!” said Holmes. streW£ ing out his hands. “You don't say e ’ I dead!"