Daily Wabash Express, Terre Haute, Vigo County, 30 August 1885 — Page 4

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Jnat StUlthb Haver &*•£.»-,*1 Oft oomea fari^" BujliM bnsL'"'

I•urence's

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& Weseek,— jt gun gun,—

In September.

Brfloizuoi chilly are, and damp, Karljr lighted is the lamp Fira bonis, and kettle sings, Bmoke asoandain thin.blne rings Oaibe rugthe children lie In tb» west the soft light* die From Uta elms a roblm's song Bings oat sweetly, lingers long,—

Io September.

•-[Elisabeth Cole, in 8t. Nicholas for Septem-

A DESIRABLE HOUSE.

Mr- and-Mre. Laurence Ijjranklyn had got tired of life in the country. Of coarse, wild roses, strawberries and fw«m| ajid the song of blackbirdi and linnets before dawn were very enchanting, but they had their balancing disagreeables. The gothic roof leaked under 5ta braided greenery of wisteria vines and honeysuckle the kitchen stood an inch •leep in water whenever there was a trifle Jiesrier rain than usual, and the halfmile walk from the depot, however —in flowery time, gave Mr. Pranklyn the jumpiDg neuralgia when traversed in a grizzly equinoctial. The batcher forgot to call just when his wares were needed most, the next-door neighbor charged a little more than city prices for |lis milk, eggs, and. butter, and the cook •nd the ohambermrid left at the end of the first month.

So that life in the rural districts was Sot altogether without trials to Mrs. Laurence Franklyn, and about the time that JSew York houses break out into a harm.^Jsai erysipelas of bills having the legends:

Let" and "For Sale," she said to her husband: sgj.' "Don't you think, dear, it would be 'fell enough for us to return to the city?" "Yeij I do," said Mr. Franklyn.

Miss Julia Lesiardi, Mrs. „Franklyn's retty 18-year-old sisters clappted her

"GgfcJ I good cried she. Now I shall some sort of chance at morning con^oerts and the opera again!"

And house hunting commenced in good earnest But it flagged after the first edge of enthusiastic enterprise was worn ofi. None of the houses suited exactly. Mrs. Franklyn declared that it was of no nee wearing out one's shoe leather and ^temper loo lung for what couldn't be fSSound.. Mr. Franklyn said it was^a pity -Jthey hadn't found that out before?- Mrs. ""Franklyn said that, as far as she was concerned, she wouldjust as soon stay where they were. Mr. Franklyn retorted that anything was better than an indolent woman. Mrs. Franklyn burst into tears. lMr« Franklyn went out of the room, ^banging the door behind him. Miss

Leeiardi declared that all men were Ihrntes, and that she for oue never intended to be married. "I don't Care," sobbed Mrs. Franklyn. ."It was all Laurence's fault, taking this liorrid, damp hole." "Oh, Bee, pow can you say so? said Miss Lesiardi (Mrs. Laurence Franklin's baptismal appellation was Eeatrix). "You were as wild after it as he was." "And," added Bee, ignoring the interTaption, "if we have to live on the grass under an umbrella I shall make no further efforts." Mr. Franklyn said the Bimr thing, and Miss Lesiardi was just Snaking np her mind to another season of frogs, "Samp kitchen, and fresh eggs at eight orate apiece, when Bee came exultSngly back from the city one evening. "Oh, Julia," cried she, "I've seen the sweetest little gem of a house I" "Been house-hunting, eh?" asked Miss lartftrdi. "Well—no, not exactly house-lranting,

ob know. I wouldn do that after Shameful behavior! But I •aw the bill and I went in. Double parSon, and frescoed dining-room in the and cold water, gas, range, fiaths—everything, in short, and the hall floor laid in those delightful mosaic pattern* of tasselated marble. The neighborhood^Ulighful, the park handy jp "And the rent?" eagerly demanded

Mi* Lesiardi, with eyes like blue moons. ""Oalr eighteen hundreds year." "Oh," said Julia, "but isn't that a great deal? "Not when yoa consider the prices of in generaL I'll go back to-morrow secure it but mina, it's a secret. I n't want Laurence to know that I

Ve taken any trsuble, after his hateful

sites/ "I don't qnite believe in secrets'between husbands and wives," said Julia Lseiardi "But, of oourse, I'll keep your

Mrs. franklyn had retired to bed when her husband came home. Miss Lesiardi, t: however, was up to pour his tea. "Well, Julia,'' said Mr. Franklyn, trinphantly, "Pve found the very house

*»attL" hirrn 1 "jfihtrfTii|i with almost .^aSaerion in her face. "You haven't taken it, Laurence 1" "No but I shall to-morrow." "I wouldn't do anything without suiting Bee," pleaded Julia. "I shall give her a pleasant surprise," ffM Mr. Franklyn, buttering a muffin, "Remember, Ju, this is between you and

a scared

"Oh, ef course," said Julia, beginning to feel a little embarrassed by the amount of confidence reposed in her.

Early next morning Mr. Franklyn vent to New York. Bee followed in the Mjct train while Miss Lesiardi breathlessly awaited the crisis. "We shall have to live in two houses, mm sure as the world," said she to herself. •'What idiots these young people are!"

Mm. Franklyn returned rather-earlier that her sister expected herewith a bright, flushed face. "Well V' said Julia, breathlessly. "I've agreed to pay $2,000 a year for It," said Mrs. Franklyn. "Two thousand!" echoed Miss Lesiardi, "I thought it was only $1,800 "Well/so it was, but there's another party, it seems, very anxious to secure the house, and "Oh, nonsense!" exclaimed Julia. "That's only the professional landlady's rose." "Oh, but it's true." persisted Bee, "for I saw his hat on the sideboard, and I caught a glimpse of his legs walking about in the upper story to see if the paint was in good order on the second floor. So I said I'd give her $2,000." "But I really think, Bee, darling, you'd

?will,"

»ak to Laurence." said Bee, "this evening.

Be will see that his wife is something More than a dead letter in the family. Sat I want yon to go aad see the house this afternoon, Julia." "This afternoon 1" cried Miss Lesiardi. "We've no time." "Yes we have," said Beatrix, 'Must exactly time enough, if we hurry down to Ihe cars and return on the last train."

The level rays of the soft April sunset I wen »t»inli»g into the pretty little double drawing rooms of the house on Millard.

Bee led her sister exultingly

,t look at those marble mantels," she and the pattern of the cornices. .d the pier glasses and the gas fixtures with the house "Oh, I beg your pardon, ma'am, I'm sure," said a falcon-nosed, elderly lady, who advanced bearing with her a wmell of dye bombazine.. "I'm sorry to disappoint you, but

Beatrix Franklyn looked aghast. "You have not let the house?" "Yes, ma'am, I have. A poor lone widow like me has has her own interests to look to and the gentleman offered twenty-five hundred a year if,I'd sign the capers at once, which," with a reflect i'vp look at her pocket-handkerchief, "I did." "1 told you so," said ulia, sotto voce.

Mrs. Franklyn rose in great indignation, her voice raising accordingly. "I really think," Baid she, "I should be justified, in placing this matter in the hands of the lawyers, and "Why, Bee, my darling!" ''Laurence!"

The folding-doors slid back,_ and Mrs. Franklyn found herself vis-a-vis with her husband. "Here's the gent himself," said the ancient female, who smelled as though she had stepped out of a dye tub. "Which he can explain!" "You have never taken this house, Laurence!" almost shrieked Mre. Franklyn. "Yes, I have, my dear." "But I offered $2,000 for it?" "And I have signed a three-years' lease at $2,500," said the husband, somewhat sheepishly.1'

Misa Lesiardi burst out laughing. "So," said she, "your profound secrecy has cost you just $500 per annum."

Mrs. Fianklyn began to cry—the elderly female looked as if she thought the lease might be vitiated by this matrimonial misunderstanding. Julia's eyes sparkled roguishly. "Never mind, Bee," said Mr. Franklyn soothingly. "It's a gem of a house, anyway, and we'll be as happy as the day is long in it I only wish I had confided you about it." "And I wi—wi—wish I hadn't been so obstinate and hatelul," whimpered Bee. "Come," said Miss Lesiardi, "let's make haste, or we shall lose the 7:50 way train." BEATEN AT HIS OWN GAME

Benedict Kirk's Sad Experience "With a Countryman from Indiana. Philadelphia Times.

Old Benedict Kirk, the king of the Mississippi river gamblers, received his first lessons in cold decking and stripping at the quaint old town of Washington. Ky. His career was a most eventful one, and he died poor. Ode of his favorite- pastimes was to down a fellow^gambler, usually by combining with him to fleece an outsider, and then giving away the game.

Once he found himself in Louisville, after a protracted siege at faro, without a dollar. He became disgusted with the Falls City and boarde4 a down-river steamer. It touched at some little town on the Indiana shore and a genuine jayhawker about emigrating to Kansas came aboard. He displayed plenty of money, and Benedict selected him as a victim. He formed the fellow's acquaintance, and the iayhawker was delighted with his new friend. It happened that there was another gambler aboard the boat, and he, too, cast enviodB eyes upon the Indianian. He knew Benedict Kirk, and called the great gambler aside. "Benedict," he said, pointing to the Indianian, "your friend seems to have money. "About $5,000," answered Kirk, "Why don't you get it? "I would, but I lost my last dollar at faro in Louisville." "I'm prettv well fixed," cried the gambler, eagerly, displaying a large roll of bills and a sack of coin. "You play and I will stake you." "Agreed! said Benedict. "Give me one hundred to Btart the game."

The gambler placed in his hands the requiied sum, and Kirk rejoined the Indianian. When they 'were alone h'e leaned forward and said: "My friend, you are a good-hearted fellow, and I like you. Can you play poker?" "A little." "Well, suppose we play a game. I am Benedict Kirk, and that^ fellow forward there," nodding toward the other gambler, "wants me to fleece you. He is and after we you and dollar

four kings, draw another.

Thep bet ever

you have, and I'fi see you with money that I'll borrow from my friend up forward. You'll win and we'll divide up."

The Indianian had heard of Benedict Kirk, and he agreed to go into the game. The gambler who had staked Kirk sauntered up to the. table where they weie playing, as though out of idle curiosity, and stood so that he could see Benedict's hand. For a half hour the game moved along slowly, the bets being small Finally Benedict dealt, and when he raised his hand the gambler saw that it contained four aces. The Indianian made good his ante and called for one card. Benedict drew one. Then they began to bet^cautiously at first. Finally, when it was Benedict's turn, he hesitated and said: "I've got a hand here that I would back with a million if I had it. I hate to call you, but I'm afraid I shall have to."

This was the gambler's cue, and he was quick to take it up. "I'll loan you any sum to back that hand, my ftiend," he said, and laid down a roll of notes.

The betting proceeded, and finally when nearly every dollar of .the gambler's money was on the table Kirk called the Indianian's hand. "Four kings!" cried the jay hawker, spreading out his hand and reaching for the pot. "Hold.on there!" interposed the bier who had been backing Kirk. "This hand beats yours. Four aces!"

Kirk turned up his cards, but to the surprise and disgust of the gambler there were three aces, a five and a seven spot. "Confound the luck!" cried Kirk, in well stimulated astonishment. "I discarded the wrong card."

The gambler not daring to accuse Kirk of double dealing, but confident that he had been made the victim of one of the great gambler's shrewd tricks, turned on' his heel with an oath and retired to his state room. The Indianian gathered up his winnings. "Now comes the funny part of the story," said Kirk, who told me this incident himself several years ago. "When I got an opportunity to see my jayhawker friend alone and asked him for my share of the winnings he laughed at me.' "I won the money, and it's mine," he said, "but as you are broke I don't mind giving you back $100." I saw it was no use arguing the question with the countryman, and I took his $100. I never saw him afterward, but he was the only man that ever got the best of me at my own game.

A trustful contemporary remarks that the fact of R. Cable's taking a trip on the Northern Pacific does not necessarily imply that he designed coming back with the road in his pocket.

James Allen, sr., one of the pioneer settlers of Putnam county, died at his home north of Greencastle, on Sunday, at the age of eighty-four.

THE SUICIDE AT THE ASTOR HOUSE.

Mr. Bllren teaves

a

Note Saying He Dies

as He Has Lived, a Gentleman. New York Sun.

Charles H. Bliven, of Philadelphia, registered at the Astor house on Monday night, and was assigned to room No. 332,

Broadway

dow of his room. The night clerk quieted him. About midnight on Wednesday a detective was sent for, and he told Mr. Bliven that if he did not behave he would be turned out. The detective reported to the hotel manager that they -had a queer customer, and they had better get rid of him. All day Thursday, however, Mr. Bliven behaved so quietly and appeared so little like the madman of the night before that he was not asked to leave.

About 9 o'clock yesterday morning, as Mr. Bliven had not appeared and could not be aroused, the room of his door was burst open. On the bed, grasping a revolver in his right hand, lay the dead body of Mr. Bliven. He was fully dressed, and had been dead some time. The pistol was a small six-chambered revolver. Only one shot .had been fired from it. That had entered the right temple, causing instant death. On the bureau was this letter, addressed "To my dear mother and sister:"

I want to tell yen that no matter what von may hear, anything of an infamous character is absolutely false. Do not believe anything bad of me. I shall die as I have lived, a gentleman.

On the dead man's person were a gold watch and chain, some memoranda, and about $30 in small bills and silver. Deputy Coronsr Jenkins gave a burial permit, assigning insanity as the cause of the suicide

Mr. BKven's insanity, it is believed, was occasianed, or at least aggravated, by tho theft of'$9,000 from the cashier's office in the New York custom -house in February, 1862. The-money was one afternoon at ihe close of accounts, but how it disappeared was never exactly ascertained, although Collector Robertson employed secret service agents and Pinkerton detectives for weeks in trying to find out. When the discovery was made the cashier, James Hoffman, who was responsible to the collector for the moneys of the office/ became ill from worry and the failure to fathom the mystery, and died within a few months. Suspicion pointed to.George A. Bennett, one of the tellers, who had been speculating in Wall street, and although there was no proof to warrant his arrest he was removed by the collector. He died in a lunatic asylum.

When Cashier Hoffman was taken ill, Bliven, who was chief teller in the office, and nominally assistant cashier, teok charge of the office, but the collector appointed Auditor Triechel acting cashier. Bliven considered that he was distrusted, and resigned, but immediately afterward, seeing that his resignation would be misconstrued, he sought to revoke it, and to return to duty. The collector would not consent, but appointed another man in his place.

It is said that the belief that he was suspected of stealing the money grew in Bliven's mind and made him morose. In February last he wrote for a recommen dation to President Arthur, whom he knew, and who had appointed him in the custom house in 1872. The president's secretary replied-that the letter could not be given. Bliven's despondency became more marked after this, and his entirely erroneous impression that he was taken for a thief,, many of his friends believe, led him to end his life. He was a little over 40 years old.

He leaves a mother and several Bisters. One sister is married to John Shotwell, treasurer of a rubber company at 57 Maiden lane. Aftother is the wife of William A. Shawj wholesale crockery dealer at Chatham and Duane streets.

Over a Coffin I id

Detroit Free Press. She— was—a—good —wife— to—me! A good wife, God bless her!

These Words were spoken trembling accents over a coffin-lid. The woman asleep there had borne the heat and burden of life's long day, and no one had ever heard her murmur her hand was quick to reach out in a helping grasp to those who fell by the wayside, and her feet were swift on errands of mercy the heart of her husband had trusted in her he had left her to long hours of solitude, while he amused himself in scenes in which she had no part. When booh companions deserted him, when fickle affection selfishly departed, when pleasure pulled he went home and found her waiting for him. "Come from your long, long roving,

On life's Bea so black and rough, Come to me tender and loying And I shall be blest enough," That had been her love-song—always on her lips or in her heart Children had been born to them. She had reared them almost alone, and they were gone! Her hand had led them to the uttermost edge of the morning that had no noon. Then she had comforted him and sent him out strong and whole-hearted while she stayed at home and—cried. What can a woman do but cry?—and trust?

Well, she is at rest now. But she could not die until he had premised to "bear up," not to fret, but to remember how happy they had been. They? Yed, it is even so. For she was blest in giving, and he in receiving. It was an even partnership after all! "She—was—a—good—wife—to—me."

Oh, man! man! why not have told her so, when her ears were not dulled by death? Why wait to say these words over a coffin wherein lies a wasted, weary, gray-haired woman whose eyes have so long held that pathetic story of loss and suffering and patient yearning, which so many women's eyes reveal—to those who read. Why not have made the wilderness in her neaxt blossom like thg rose with the prodigality of your love? Now you would give worlds— were they yours to give—to see the tears of joy your woraB would have once caused, bejewelling the closed windows of her soul. It is too late.

Train Talk.

Chicago Herald. "If you write stories for the paper," said a Rock Island railway freight conductor, "let me tell you a true one that came under my observation last winter out near Dee Moines when I was runnii on the Iowa division. This is no railroi yarn, but a fact. I saw it with my own eyes.

One

day were running along and

I was in the engine. As we began to cross abridge we looked ahead ana there was a little girl about six years old clambering over the timbers. She had, some school books in her hand, and was evidenly on her way home from school. The engineer whistled, when she turned he^ face toward us. IH never forget that face as long

as

I live. It was just as

white as the snow on the ice in the creek thirty or forty feet below her. But she didn scream, nor try to jump, nor do nothing. She just looked at us with^a steady glare as if she'd stop the train with her eyes that we were unable to do with our brakes. At first we were all so broke up we hadn't any idea what to do, and I believe we'd of stood there like posts if she hadn't suddenly stretched out her4ittle arms toward us in a mute appeal for help. Well, sir, tAat that broke the charm, and we all started up wildlv. I

swung

way out as far as I

could, holding by one hand, and with the other motioning her to

between the timbers.

down—down yoo believe

it? That little thing follawfed my direotions as if she'd been a man. And she took her time to it, too, and climbed down as deliberately as if. she'd been at home. She was none oo quick, though, .for her little brown hood, with a red ribbon fluttering^ from it, had no sooner appeared between the timbers than we thundered over her. 'Let her out, Bill,' I shouted to the engineer, 'let her out lively, or that little

L! -_!11 ..mvo* tut AHIA 4M nitMV

on the top floor, facing Broadway.' Viil never able "to stick down About 2 a. m. on Tuesday he rushed

we

ggt

over

through the halls shouting that some one was trying«to shoot himjthrouRh^the win- ii ha let her out, "but she'd no sooner reached the bank than I jumped

I'll quit the road. I never want to see that bridge agin.'" "And you have quit the road?" "No, I'm at the old business. She got well, and all the spring used to watch for my train as she would for her papa coming home from work. We never passed her house unless she was out waving that little brown hood at us and making that red ribbon dance. Our engineer used to whistle for her regularly, and she go so she could tell that whistle as far as she could hear it. Once in awhile, when not in a hurry, we'd stop our train and talk with her. She said she loved us all, even the old engine, but she has ne^er set her foot on the track since that day she fell through the bridge. This is a true story, and the little girl's name is Lily."_

$£ A Good Story, uvChicago Inter-Ocean. "Some ef the best stories of the Grand Army boys are held in leash, as it were. One escaped when I was up in Minnesota some weeks ago. General Blank, it appears, was to make a speech at a reunion at Winona. He has the reputation of being a temperance man, and, as this reputation came to him without his asking, he is somewhat proud of it and doesn't want to lose it. But it is very difficult for him to speak without stimulant of some kind .and he has devised many ways in which to take a drink on the sly. "On this occasion at Winona the general arranged with one of the inmates than when he had 4een spoakiug half an hour the friend should bring him a grink ol whisky in a coffee cup and satTcer. The theory was that if presented in this way the audience would suppose the 'oiator was resorting to his old army beverage for encouragement $nd that they would carry away with them high notions as to his adherence to temperance principles. "The plan worked well up to a certain point. The general at a signal from his friend paused in his eloquent address to take his coffee. He turned and saw his friend standing before him with a cup and saucer in one hand and a glass of water in the other. One glance at the audience told him that the cat was out of the bag, and that his over-zealous friend had given him away. He made the best of a bad break, and proceeded to take his stimulant, the Grand Army boys in front celebrating the event in roars of laughter." A Scratch on the Hand Results in

Death.

Washington Special. Mrs. Lyles, wife of Mr. Henry Lyles, the contractor, died this morning. The circumstances attending her death are of a singular character. About one month ago a traveling agent called at Mrs. .Lyles' residence and oflered for sale a small water filter for attaching to the nozzles of hydrants or kitchen sinks to purify the water. Mrs. Lyles was induced to purchase the filter, and several days afterward, in adjusting it to a spigot in the kitchen, she scratched the inside of her right hand with the filter just enough to draw blood. No attention was given the scratch until about two weeks agp, when the hand began to swell and inflammation set in. Last week an abscess formed on the back of the hand and Dr. Cook was summoned. The abscess was immediately lanced by the doctor, but the accumulation of pus afterward increased and blood "poisoning set in. Dr. Stanton was called in consultation with Dr. Cook in the case, but the skill of both physicians was futile, as Mrs. Lyles died last night in intense agony. The metal seems to have been made from composition of brass and zinc.

THE EXPRESS, TERBE HAtPttS, fitflSTbAY, ATOTTST$6, 1884.

bridge. Turn

off and went heels over head in a Bnow bank. I got back to the bridge as'soon af I could, and Waited for our long train to get by. Don't mind tellin' ye that as I stood there I did something I never did afore—yes, sir, I stood there and prated that that little one might be able to suck it ont till I could get to her. But I guess my prayers are no good, for wheffthe train was by I rushed ont on the bridge, over timbers by the dozen, expecting every minute to see that little red ribbon But it never showed up. Tears began to fill my eyes so that I could hardly see the crosspieces—I'have a little girl of my own, you kdow—but on and on I wenfc and no brown hood or red ribbon could I find. Then I turned and looked to the ic^ below, and there she was. Yes, she had fallen thirty or forty feet through the bridge. "How I got down to her I don't know, but I got there. I lifted her up in my arms. Her eyes were closed, bnt she opened them, looked at me a second, and said: 'How did you get down here?" "This question would have made me, laugh if I had felt ^ure she wasn't hurt but as it was I hurried up the bank and to the caboose. She said the wasn't hurt much, but I knew she couldn't tell, and we started for the next station. "'I'm going home, ain'U I?' she inquired, after we had fixed her up in our bunk. "I told he 'yes,' knowin' that minute we were going right by her house. I was in such a hurry to 'get a surgeon that I thought it right to deceive her. Pretty soon she went off to sleep, and she looked so deathly lying there that all of us went to wipin' our eyes like women. 'Boys,' says I, 'if she never wakes up

A Dog* Peace Offering.-'

Alta California. ""A remarkable instance of canine sagacity came under the observation of the Aita reporter yesterday. Walking along Post street, pretty well out of the business

Ettle

)rtkB

of the city, he chanced to notice a child some three 'years of age at play with an immense .Newfoundland dog on the lawn in front of an elegant residence. In the rough and tumble sport of the two the child hurt his dumb playmate so that he snapped rather angrily at the infant A lady, who stood

baby? Go away, you bad dog. Nero slunk away whining and irresolute suddenly he sprang toward a flowering rosebush, bit off one of the fragrant blossoms, and with many extravagant capers laid it at the feet of the little child, and then bounded toward the mistress to receive the caress of forgiveness.

A Water Spont on the Niagara. St. Catherines Journal. Last Friday afternoen on the Niagara river two gentlemen who were out in a skiff fishing saw a very peculiar looking cloud, small and black, whose movements were such as to attract attention. Fearing a thuqder storm, they started for shore to seek cover. After they reached land they saw, about a mile below Falconwood, the water of Che river rise to the clouds, forming water spout It moved doyn the river, the gentlemen watching it until it disappeared. Water spouts on the lake are rare, bnt on Niagara river rarer still. The spont seemed about five feet in diameter.

HOKORA'8 DECISION send you soine things-from the house to make yon man i^ipifirtahl«. Your.huaan am It was a pretty- picturesque sight that "Black, ma'am—Bel tun Black. We've met Bel ton Black's gaze as he paused badluck, and we though* perhaps

among the clustering birches of the wood. Nora Leigh was seated on the grasB, with one rosy child on her lap and two or three others scattered around, her fair chads crimsonLand the braids of bronsebrown H»ir shining beneath the cottage bonnet that she wore. She looked np radiant as her lover's shadow fell across the tangled ferns of the woodland glade. "Belton, is it yon?" she cried. "Send the children away," said he, impatiently. "I want to talk to yon." "They will not disturb us." "They will disturb me."

A look of pain came over Honora's sweet, submissive face. "Charley," said she to the eldest lad, "take Katie and Nell to where the blackberries grow. Johnny can carry the basket, and see how many berries you can pick before I come."

Charley obeyed without a word but the defiant glance which he bent on Mr. Black from beneath his knitted brows showed that he fully comprehended the situation of thingB. "I hate that man!" he said to Katie. "Oh, Charley!" cried out the innocent child, "that is very wicked." "I can't help it," replied Charley "He'scross, and he scolds Nora andi hate him I"

In the meantime Belton Black had seated himself on the grass beside Honors Leigh, and thrown one arm carelessly around ner waist "Nora," said he, "I've made up my mind." "As to what?"

She loked up fondly into his dark, handsome Castilian face. "As to the propriety of our being married next month. Jennings says that am to have a partnership, -and I see my way clear at once. I've spoken to the agent about the little house on street, and—" "Oh, Belton, do you think that the house will be large enough?" interrupted Honora, with a troubled lace. "Large enough for what?" "Fo» the children. There are four of them, you know, and "No." said Mr. Black, abruptly. "I don't think that it will be large enough —I didn't -meau that it should. You surely cannot intend to burden our household with your aunt's four children? They are nothing to me, and they should be nothing to you. I dare say I can find some excellent institution where-—" "I promised my aunt, on her dying bed, that the children should never lack a mauler's care," said Honora, who had grown very pale. "And you have kept your word," broke in Mack, impatiently. For two years yon have fed, clothed, and supported them out of your slender earnings. It is all nonsense to keep up this sort of thing any longer. The boys are big enough to work the girls can easily be# provided for in an orphan asylum." "Oh, Belton—never!" "Just as you please," said Mr. Black, his face growing as nard as adamant "But remember one thing, Nora—you must choose between them and your lover!"

Honora uttered a sobbing cry. "Belton, Belton!" wailed she, "how can you be so hard "I am only sensible and practical." "They are so little, so helpless. Oh, I cannot turn them- over to the cruel mercies of the

wnrld,"

pleaded Honora.

"That must be for you to decide." She sat. for a minute looking at the tiny child-figures that flitted about on the edge of the wood, listening to their innocent laughter then she looked up into his face. "I have decided," said she, "I cannot leave the children."

Belton Black's brow grew black night. "Very well," said he, rising to his feet "you are aware what that implies? "Yes," in a low, tremulous voice. "Are you willing to abide by it? "Yes/' "Good-by, then," extending a cold hand. "Good-by, Belton."

And her eyes followed him with a vague, fascinated gaze, as he strode out of the green glade and was lost to view. "Have I done right she asked herself, with a sharp pain at. her heart, and then, as little Nellie came up, crying out: "Nora, Nora, me got a forn in me finger!" and holding up the tiny digit, with tearstained cheeks she caught the child in her arms and sobbed out: "God help me! Yes, I have done right, {or these little ones have no one but me."

So Honora Leigh went back to her life of patient drudgery and ceaseless toil once more. And the rich gentleman on the first floor, who saw her go in and out with her little music-roll, asked the landlady who she was. "It's Miss Leigh, sir," said the woman "a daily governess, and one of the sweetest, most self-denying young ladies as ever gave up her life for the benefit of Othsrs." "Humph!"said the rich gentleman "There are not many such in the world." "No, sir, indeed there's not!" said Mrs. Moore.

How the rich gentleman on the first floofbecame acquainted with the daily governess—how the children began to run in and out of his room and ask him to tell marvelous stories of America, from whence became—and how at last pretty Nora went back-to America with him as his wife, would make too long a recital in detaiL Suffice it to say that such was a fact "God bless the little ones!" Mr. Bon field said "there's room and to spare for them in my house. And to my thinking there's no sweeter sound about the house than children's voices."

And it anything could have made Nora love her husband more dearly than she had done before it would have been these words of his.

And the years went by and the little children grew np into health and beauty, and Nora, in her satins, had almost forgotten the sore straits of her early girlhood, when one day the past was recalled to her by a most unexpected accident "If you please, Mrs. Bonfield," said the cook one day, 'Tim says there's a fam-

and tiiey nothin' to her.' Says I: 'The hand of her was never closed agin the sick aad the poor, and I'll tell her, Tim, if yon don't"' "You are right, Mary," said Mrs. Bonfield, "I will go this evening and inquire into the case.

And with Charley carrying a basket was piled a goodly supply pf jell home-made bread, ana hothouse

which was piled a goodly wine, home-made breat], Nora walked to the ruined cottage at dusk.

Alas for the squalor and poverty of the wretched placet A candle burning on the hearth, a gaunt form stretched on a heap of straw, with fever-plowing cheeks and eyes rolling restlessly in their sunken sockets, while by the door sat a faded woman, rocking a child to and fro in her lap. 1 hope we're not intruding, ma'am," said she, with something of a lady's courtesy and accent "but my husband could go no farther. We are on our way to Omaha, where he thought he could get employment" ''You are quite welcome to stay here,

Mrs. Bonfield, gently "and I will

I VA lOlffht QQ QOttef nitfrlrrt tnA

we might woman. "But stayed in England."

Nora

here,"'sighed the

I heartily wish we had

Bonfield's heart beat violently as

she advanced a pace or two toward the wretched heap of straw where the yellow flicker of the can41e faintly illuminated a face which she would scarcely have recognised—-the face of Belton Bwdu

He died the next day, and never knew that the eyes of his old sweetheart had rested pityingly upon him in his last hour. And the simple headstone that was reared over his remains in the cemetery -was placed there through Honora Bonfield's charity. t: "TO HELL OR HALIFAI."

Lut Words of a Sea Captata Before His Ship Went Down. ,. New York Special. r~~

The steamship Zaandam, from Amsterdam, arrived at this port last night Among her passengers won the crew of the disabled bark Brinniga, of Windsor, N. S. The" Brinniga was bound from Pamville, N. S., For Liverpool. The story of the disaster was told by one of the crew to a reporter to-day. "On August 9, when sixteen days out of port, the bark encountered a strong wind from the southeast. It shifted to northeast and blew great guns in the afternoon, and at 4 p. m. the sailors began to shorten sail. At sunset the bark was plunging into the tremendous teas in the teeth of a roaring gale under lower'top-sails only. She was on the port tack, but at 11 o'clock all hands were called to get the bark on the starboard tack. It was as dark as a pocket, and the wind was blowing nard eneugh to split the sails. The vessel had on boara a load of spruce lumber, so she did not plunge as heavily as she would otherwise, but for all that the spray went over the topsail yards every time she pitched, and now ana then a wave would board he? and sweep the deck clear of everything movable. The crew managed to ware ship and get on the starboard tack. Hendricks Sauvola was at» the wheel. The bark gave a lurch and seat the wheel spinning. The spokes caught Sanvola, threw him to the deck, broke one of his arms and injured the other. He was taken below and Henry Hakeim was sent to take the helm. He managed to steer the vessel for a little while, and then the wheel got away from him, .knocked him down and broke his leg. Two men were then put at the wheel and the bark was got before the wind. She ran before the wind with her lower foretopsail clewed nn for a while, when suddenly the wind aropped almost to a calm.

It was then found that the bark was leaking badly. "The pumps were -manned with the hope of keeping her free, when suddenly the wind sprang up again. The lower maintop sail was blown from the bolt ropes and the sailors set the fore topmast staysail. That was also away and the bark was laid on.her beam ends. She lay on her starboard eide, and the lanvards of the mizzen riming were cut on tlie port side, letting Uie mizzen*mut go by the board in the hope of righting her. But that did not do so, ana the main mast was cut away. Then she lighted. The upper and lower foretopsails were set and sne payed off before the wind. But the topsail yards could not stand the strain and as the bark buried herself in a tremendous sea they snapped on amidships and hung dangling oy the sails. The wreck of the topsail yards was cut down and the crew rigged up a jury mast anc. got some sail on it It was now 3 o'clock in the morning and the wind hauled to the Westward and dropped to a light breeze. About this time Charles Peterson fell from the foretopmast to the deck and broke his left arm, besides injuring himself badly otherwise. For eight days the bark drifted about seeing no sail. On August 17 th Captain Geitzler called the crew aft and made a speech. He said that there were seven feet of water in the hold. They were 1,400 miles from St Thomas and 200 from Halifax. They could run to the southward, or beat to the northward and get in the track of the steamers. After some talk the crew decided that it would be better to go to the northward, The bark began to beat up, and soon after sighted the Zaandam. The captain called the crew aft again, and asked if anybody would stay by the ship with him. The mate, boatswain and steward agreed to stay. The Zaandam saw the wreck and sent a boat off. The captain sent the three wounded men off to the steamer first, and then the rest of the crew, all ex cept the three who had agreed to stay on the bark. There were eight men ail told who went aboard the Zaandam. The steamer's captain offered Captain Geitzler a tow, but he would not take it nor would he leave the bark. Some provisions were put aboard the wreck, and the Zaandam boat left her. As she pulled away the captain shouted that he would go to h—1 or Halifax. From the condition of the bark when I left her I don't think it possible that he can get to Halifax," said the sailor in concluding his story. The Brinnega was a bark of 526 tons, built in Maitland, N. 8., in 1872, and was owned by A. W. Smith & Co., of Windsor, N. S,

Suggested From the Scrap-Book. Medical World. .. i"

.1

Equal parts of oiiof cajuput ahd oil of peppermint, applied locally, relieve the pain of neuralgia and gout.

If croton oil be shaken up with alcohol its irritating properties are dissolved, and it acts as a powerful but benign purga tive.

Strong black tea, used cold, forms an excellent prophylactic against common "sore throat" A solution of table salt, one dram to a pint, is also efficacious.

The injurious actions of coffee on the organs of digestion is said to be obviated by the use of sugar with it, and in this case it is not only harmless but absolutely beneficial.

An alkaloid derived frofii the ihher bark of the pear tree has cured cases of intermittents which have resisted quinine, arsenic, etc. The alkaloid is called "pereirine, and is riven in quantities of thirty grains per day. Dr. Gerreira, of Brazil, considered that it may become a rival to quinine, and Dr. Baker, of Brazil, thinks that it is destined to become a great blessing to malarial regions.

The depression of spirits and nervous exhaustion for the relief of which many persons fly to large or repeated doses of alcohol, may be much more effectually combated by salvolatile (aromatic spirits of ammonia) in suitable doses, say a dram. This restores the spirts and rouses the energy in a remarkable manner, and is free from the pernicious effects attending the use, or abuse of whisky and brandy.

Sheridan's Nickname.

General Phil Sheridan has been given a name by the Indians which, abbreviated, seems likely to follow him through life. During his recent visit to the far west the Indians dubbed him "The Chunky-Man -Who-Means- Business." The soldiers have condensed it, and now little Phil is known in army circles as "Old Chunky-Biz."

An Italian member of parliament has recommended the farmers of his country to look to Uncle Sam for tools and implements. Let us hope they will take this excellent advice and act on it

A medical authority says that a judicious use of lemon juice will enable one to dispense with blue pills and quinine.

A YICTIM OP THE SEA.

P*ri8 Corittpyu]#»ce Philadelphia .Times. Just off the' Bound Point of the I Champs Elysees, ten or twelve steps beyond the Summer Circus, there at the corner of the Hue, Ponthieu- and the

Avenue de Matignon, directly in front of the celebrated "Marchande de Gaufres," •or shop where waffles are cooftted, sugared and served up by a neat little woman of 25, whom all the gallants of this swell part of Paris have long tried in vain to spoil there, in the house without balconies, I have seen lights shining behind window-curtains of an apartment in which nobody has lived these fifteen years. "Cest la dame mort qui rivient chez elle,"*8ay the good women of the quarter.

But, in truth, the dead lady will never come back again, even though everything in the apartment is kept ready for her immediate use. The furniture is dusted weekly, the carpets are swept, the portrait frames are kept clean, and the clocks wound up just the same as if she werestill living there. She stipulated in her will that it should be so, and faithfully have her wishes been carried ont.

Here was a strange destiny.- A romantic godmother gave her the name of Ludivine it was difficult to pftraounce and she was called Cecile, and sometimes it was Celine. Mile. Cecile Houssaye was bright, a good horsewoman, a clever comedian, and very handsome she was also a very capricious woman. She did not like the home of her parents, and after she married liked that of her husband less. Her passion was traveling in order to be certain of frequently changing her residence 'she married a sousprefet, a man of talent and an amateur sculptor, fle was no sooner appointed to represent the ministry of the interior in one provincial town than she forced him to work for a change of post. Finally he fell a victim to cholera at Toulon in 1864 while making an official tour 3 inspection in the poorest wards of the pesti lence-strickencity. Mme. de Bonnemain then went home to her parents, then back to Toulon, then to visitjher dead husband's parents her grief pursued her every, where, and what she seemed to regret more than all else was that she had no child to mourn over and to love.

Of course M. de Bonnemain had left her poor a sub-prefect's salary is about $500, and he is expected to live at the rate oi $5,000 a year, and her dot did not last them many seasons. After his death her father, M. Houssaye, gave her some more money, and this sum, added to the special pension allowed to her by the emperor as the widow of a public officer who had "died in the heroic discharge of his duty," enabled her to come to Paris and set up a home of her own. Already her brother was a great man in the literaryand theatrical world, and she wanted to be near him. So she left her father and mother and rented an apartment—the same mysterious apartment I mentioned at the beginning—where once a week she gave dinner parties to her friends. With the exception of her sister Caroline's two sons, a few officials—old cronies of her husband—and an occasional stranger, the visitors to her house were all litterateurs, among whom were such persons as Theophile Gautier, Albert Second, her brother, Arsene Houssaye, etc.

She always said-she would marry again when she got the right chance. "Not because I was so uncommonly happy during my husband's life," said she, with a peculiar toss of her pretty head, "but because widow's weeds are quite unbecoming in color. I hate them.' There were plenty of suitors two in particular suited her. One was enormously wealthy and quite intelligent the other was poor, Witty, and ambitious. She selected the poor man, promised to marry him, repented her word, and ran away from Paris to her mother's home to escape matrimony.

Then came the Prussian invasion of 1870. There are women who are not afraid of anything, but who fear the horrors of war. The widow de Bonnemain was such a woman. In spite of her old mother's appeals she fled before the allconquering Germans and again took refuge in the capital. "How pale you are, sister you look frightened nearly to death," remarked her brother, as he kissed her welcome. "I am dead already," she cried. "Those detestable Prussians would kill any one." She refused to remain in Paris. The wife of a departmental prefect was her most intimaie friend, and she was down in Brittany. "I will go to Julia," said she to her brother. "If I do not meet the Prussians you will see.me again some time. But if I do meet them I will abuse them so much that they will be sure to kill me."

From the town where Julia lived they all went to the sea shore. A sail was proposed, but Cecile refused, and when pressed for a reason told the following Strange' story: "When we lived at Toulon I started out one day with 6ome friends to go yachting. .On the quay an Italian for-tune-teller warned me not to ever leave dry land. 'Carissima donna, lamer vous sem nauvais' (darling lady, the sea will be bad for you), said she, but I paid no attention and went on board. Hardly had our littlefyacht got away from land before a sudden gust of wind upset it, and it was with difficulty that I was rescued. The next day I sent for the fortune teller when she had looked at my hand she predicted that the sea would yet prove fatal to me, and this is why I desire to remain on shore at all times."

Madame's friends gave up the proposed sail, and an excursion to a famous promontory in the neighborhood took its place. This promontory of Penmarch is celebrated because it is covered with those cyclonean masses known as druid stones, and the name is a Breton word meaning a horse's head. The waves of the Bay of Biscay dash unceasingly and with relentless fury at its foot, into which they long since wore a deep, dark cavern that ho man has ever entered.

The party consisted of the prefect, his wife, daughter, two nieces, ana the poor widow. When they had reached the top of the promontory the prefect left the party and went to smoke a cigar with a painter friend who had« studio hard by. After wandering up and down the rocks for some time watching the waves dash gainst the land the prefect called to em finally, and the ladies were for starting home at once, but when Mme. de Bonnemain begged for just five minutes more they were then' standing on a ledge of rock tolerably well down on the face of the cliff, but high above the point to which the. waves had been reaching. Suddenly an enormous shingle of water lifted its shaip crest higher than any of those which had dashed before it. It bent toward the rocks, and it swept all five of those poor unfortunate beings from the ledge into the watery gulf.

The prefect had started to go to meet his family and their lady friend. He saw the wave dash high and take all up in its horrible embrace. Only one cry reached his ears it was that of "Mother!" and she who had made it was the widowed Cecile. Months afterward the ocean yielded up four of the bodies bnt that of poor Cecile it kept forever. The Atlantic ocean beats its eternal de profnndis over the poor woman whose lartment is always ready up yonder by

ap: th«

Summer Circus.

a?"*

A King's Ruler.

W. Carleton in Boston Globe. "Yes I know Lola Montez very well, te was more of a Spanish woman, I think, than anything else. She was

ISCk

brought to my store by old Henry" Bohemian editor. I had read so much about ths woman that I was delighted to see her. She put her feet upon thesala, took her tobacco bag out and made a cigarette and began to talk in a delightful way, and that was the beginning of. an acquaintance with her for rail two years. She talked to me of the King of Bavaria, whose favorite she was, ana over whom she had much influence. She was an affectionate woman, bnt had been great deal through the world and took :e philosophically. It is sad to reflect that she died in one of the charitable institutions of Xew York, on Randall's or some ether island here."

Fashion Notes.

New York Son. Tinsel will again be worn. Polonaises are to be revived.

-2

Sed veils are as popular as ever. Bedingotes are the rage in Paris. The days of flounces are no more. Sashes area feature in fall toilets. All gray greens will be much worn. Plumb, or lead, is a leading tall color. Belts to be fashionable must be very wide.

Huge bridal bouquets are no longer in vogue. Short and long waists are equally fashionable. ...

The shaped corsage is very popular in Paris. White frocks are worn to excess in England.

Olive and reseda shades of green are very popular. -. Black silk will be more worn than black satin next season.

The tailor-made cloth suit will be more worn than ever this fall. Stripes must be horizontal, not vertical, in a fashionable frock.

The hat is not correctly Worn for visiting at the theater or casino. Borders in lieu of flounces and tucks will be all the rage next season.

Short jackets and long redingotes of velveteen will be much worn this fall. Tailor-made jackets and frocks are considered indispensable at the seaside.

Mantles and short visites are worn by young girls as well as by older women.

Jingle of the Dollars.

W. W. Astor has given $1,000 toward the national monument to General Grant Senator Sharon's Palace hotel, San Francisco, is said to be assessed $1,260,000.

Mr. Sloan, of New York, Mr. Vanderbilt's son-in-law, has purchased the residence and farm of Mr. Goodman, at Lenox, Mass., for $75,000.

Burlington Free Press: A cook in Brooklyn died the other day worth $200,000, and the papers say she left no heirs. Have they looked in the butter?

It costs about $8,000 for a Aanily to spend the season in Newport—that is, it costs $3,000 for a cottage, $1,500 for servants and marketing, and $2,000 for clothes. It is really a millionaires' watering place.

The late C'harles^palding, of Norwich,' Conn., left an -estate of $60,000 to $100,000. He left $25,000 to $30,000 in special bequests to friends, and the balance in Irust for his.wife for life, then to go to the deserving poor of Norwich, pieference being given to widows.

New York World: Is it not disgraceful to the city and the state that in the first two weeks of the existence of the monument committee, when the death and burial of the Union commander was likely to open men's hearts and purses, if they ever are to be opened, a paltry $37,000 only has been collected And this is a city where people build residences at a cost of $2,000,000 or $3,000,000 and pay $400,000 for a yacht! Is there no patriotism and public spirit among the wealthy

Of Interest to Women.

Bret Harte is forty-six years old. Roscoe Conkling is a grandfather. Baron Tennyson is seventy-six years' old this month.

Chester A. Arthur has forty-five public dinner engagements on hand. Koscoe Conkling is taken for a Saxon at Carlsbad, owing to his blonde complexion.

Prince Louis of Battenberg is a practical printer, and frequently uses the stick and rule for amusement.

Henry Irving agreed with an English photographer not to have any pictures taken during his American tours.

Edward Everett Hale says he has cured eight of his children of whoiping cough by taking them to the gas factories of South Boston.

Judge William T. Crow, of CarnesviiJe, Ga., has all his six children and fortrseven grandchildren living within'a mile of the old homestead.

Speaker Aldrich, of the New Hampshire house of representatives, is so like President Cleveland that he is sometimes addressed as Mi*. President.

Of Interest to Men.

Patti is writing a book of metaoira. Mrs. Mackey's sappheirs are the finest worn in England.

MiRs Nellie Arthur is said to be growing prettier- and .more charming every day.

A daughter of E, P. Eoe, the novelist, who is yet in her teens, has already begun to write stories.

Margaret Weston, Dakota's weather prophet, is 110 years of age. She is old enough to know better.

Sarah Bernhardt is said to be seised with a laudable desire to get

Emma Nevada is to be married in the English-speaking Soman Catholic church, in the Avenue Hoche, Paris,, where she embraced. Catholicism two years ago. Two of hpr bridemaids-wili be American school friends. She will take her wed* digg tour in a special boudoir car.

A Mormon Find.

El Paso (Tex.) Special. The important announcement comes from Corralitos, Mexico, to-day, that the Mormon colony which recently located there have discovered a silver bonanza in several old mines which they ppmped out The colony was located as an agricultural colony, and the colonists wereselected with this view but a* few oldi miners aaiong them took poorly to agriculture and bought five abandoned mines that were worked over a century aso. After clearing away the debris in the largest mine, and following the dip of the vein, they claim to have uncovered an immenre ledge of very rich ore. Following* this vein they estimate nearly five millions of silver already in sight. Word has been sent to Utah, and a great influx of Mormon miners is anticipated.

.Halcyon Days in Florida.

Palatka (Fla.) Herald. We have some of the laziest nagroes io the world right here in Palatka, and in summer they live on catfish and melons. We saw one of these lazy creatures theother day. He had his fishing line tied to bis dog's hind leg, and when a fish, would bite he would give his dog a kick.

$

0ut

of debt.

Sarah is evidently becoming a real goed girl. Lady Coleridge, the bride of the lord! chief justice of England, is a blonde, with a rather pretty oval face, and is said to be musical in her tastes.