Indianapolis Journal, Indianapolis, Marion County, 11 August 1883 — Page 10

2

THE YOUNG FOLKS’ COLUMN. the puzzle department. [Everything relating to this department must be addressed to W. 11. GralTatu, West doaruorou eh,Cumberland county, Maine. Original contrunnion* and answers to each week's pUftZle* ere solicited from all.l Answers to Puzzles. No. 788. BUBLIM E N E 3 • T E R I INIS T REAC H K R O (’ H R E N I N G TAW HENNA ELFB O L T NEWCASTLE 8 H I P BREAKER No. 789.—A new broom sweeps clean. No. 790.—Pit pan. „ _ No. 791—1. Pip-erin. 2. Rial to. 3. Pin dar, t. Shor-ax. 5. Lur-don. No. 792.—Aldrich. No. 793.—'William Bbakepeare No. 794. P-L A I—D E-L I ri-u R-H Y M—E No. 795.—George Edward Bulwer L/tton No. 790.—0a-ort-as-eu, Original Puzzles. NO. 809. CROSS WORD. In church, not in stable; In chair, not in table; In early, also in late; In rug,* not in slate; Tn bear, not in bold; In young, not iu old. My whole is a iruit. TOPSY Goodland, Ind. NO. 810.—SQUARE. 1. A small American animal. 2. A fetid ulcer lu the nostrils. 3. Words or phrases. (Obs.) 4. Powerless for an effect. 5. Courts held iu the marshes of Kent, to levy tiiten for Deserving the marshes. Marshall, til. Flying Dutchman. NO. 811.—SILENT-LETTER ACROSTIC. 1. Convex; 2. Peaceful; 3. Dextrous movement; 4. An insect; 5. A large oven for drying anything; G. To complain; 7. To feign; 8. A sap imported from Arabia. Lovely Hero sat repining, with its fragrant boughs above her; Vainly called, and without hoping, louced for her denar .ed lover, Till her signings reached the ear Os a florist passing near. Who, thinking of the flower alone, gave it the name which he did hear. Take one silent letter from each word in order. Attica, Ind. Wi Lla. NO. 812.— ACROSTICAL BEHEADINGS. Behead the following words and leave abrevlailons of the States of the United States. 1. To heap up. 2. A bird. 3. A Pope's title. 4. Au elevation of land. 5. A Turkish military title. 6. To tie, or fasten. 7. A girl’s uarne. 8. A drawer. 9. A Greek deity. 10. To bite, or eat In. 11,. One. 12. A bird. The initials denote a regular order of arrangement. Star. Salem, Ind. NO 813.—BEHEADINGS. 1. Behead room and leave a gait. 2. To halt aud leave au offspring. 3. A weapon aud leave a fruit. 4. A coin and leave a chest. 5. A sandbauk and leave to dedicate. 6. A sandbank and leave to possess. 7. To nip and leave uutortifled. 8. To fasten and leave a sharp side. 9. A abaft and leave an elevation. Eastwood, Ky. Old Kaintuck. NO. 814.—HALF-SQUARES. 000000 00000 00000 0000 0000 o o o 000 o o o o o o First—l. Acril; 2. Avery hard white substance; 3. One who opposed the revolution; 4. To reflue; 5. An island; G. A letter. Bkcomd—l. Not stale; 2. Think; 3. A contraction; 4 A measure; 5. A letter. The top lines combined spell the title of a poem. Wi Lla. NO. 815. —ANAGRAM. (To Frank C. Lucas.) YES, TRUE, VIC. DAW, I TELL NO ERROR —GREAT REBEL OF THE SOUTH FLEES AND THEN RESTS! Au historical event. Amos QUITO. Silver Lake, Ind. [Answers in Three Weeks.] Our Prize*. 1. Wo offer an interesting book for the first complete list of answers. 2. We offer a pack of pretty address cards for tlie next best list. Puzzles Auswered. Rv Flying Dutchman, Marshall, 111., Nog. 789, 790, 792. 793. By 8. A. M.. Indianapolis, Nos. 789, 790,791, 792, 794, 796. By Faith, Indianapolis, Nos. 799 to 79G Inclusive. By Rboda, Cincinnati, 0., Nos. 789, 790, 791, 796. Prize Winners. 1. Faith—A Sorrow of a Secret, 2. 8. A M.—A pack of cards. 3. Flying Dutchman—A magazine. Foot Notes. Topsy—Matter nil used. Call again. Flying Dutchman’s square will prove pretty Intricate. Wi Lla—'We thank you for the new specimen Os puzzles. Amos Quito’s anagram cannot fail to attract attention. Star, anew and welcome contributor, says: “I send you these puzz'es wishing to aid you in the amusement of the youth. Some men ridicule puzzles, but. some of our greatest men—Newton, Franklin and Watts, lor example—indulged in them.” _____________ A 11ARK AND RADIANT ROMANCE. The Awful Contest Between the Moccasin and the Water-Dog. Louisville Commercial. “The water moccasin is dead,” said Lucien Alexander, the well-known druggist and make-fancier. ‘‘lt died yesterday, and I wouldn’t have taken the whole Tenth ward, with the school trusteeship thrown in, for it.” “What killed it,” asked the reporter, to whom Lucien was pouring out his grief. “He was scalded to death. I had the moccasin and a water-dog in the same jar together, but somehow or other they couldn’t get along with each other. They were continually fighting over the food I gave them, and yesterday they concluded to settle their differences forever. They sparred around in the water for a while, neither one seeming to have the advantage, but finally the waterdog executed a Hank movement on the moccasin and swallowed about throe inches of his tail and body. Instead of the moccasin trying to free himself, lie laid perfectly quiet and commenced pumping himself full of wind like a bellows. A3 he swelled up the water-dog tried to back oiT, but it was too late. It was like trying to pull a boot off a swolleen foot. The moccasin kept on pumping and the water-dog continued to expand. As he spread out you could hear bis ribs crack, and I expected tvery moment to see him fly into a thousand pieces; but suddenly the swelling ceased, for the moccasin had gone the full length of his expansive powers, and he commenced to contract. Reduced to his ordinary size, the water-dog lost no time in slipping off, but he was so weak from the terrible strain he had received that for a moment or two he was powerless. The moccasin took advantage of this, and, turning on tho dog, swallowed him whole. Then followed one of the most remarkable occurrences ever witnessed. The dog evidently scared almost to death, began galloping back and forth the full length of the moccasin. By the waving ridges on the snake every movement of the dog could be told. Back and forth lie went until the friction inside the snake must have been terrible, for the water began to get warm from the heat of the moccasin’s body. Every time the dos would gallop toward the head of the snake, the snake would close its mouth, causing the dog to turn and run I way. This performance was kept up for fully au hour, during which the water grew

boiling hot, and the whole skin peeled off the snake. Then the flesh got soft, and the first thing I knew lie weut all to pieces like a chunk of soft soap in a wash-basin. The dog soon shook of the remnants of the snake which adhered to him, but he, like the moccasin, was scalded to death also. You see that grease on the top of that jar of water? Well, that’s all that’s left of my moccasin aud water-dog.” EMANCIPATION IMMORTALS. Carpenter, the Artist, Describing Eminent Men Whose Portraits He Painted. New York Star. “And so the last of your emancipation immortals has gone?” said a reporter to Frank B. Carpenter, the artist. “Yes.” he replied, with a semi-sigh; “they are all gone now. Montgomery Blair was the last. He had a splendid intellect, but was deficient in sympathy and humor. There was none of that kindly smile playing around the corners of bis mouth and radiating good nature and fun in the twinkles of the eye which made Lincoln such a favorite. I never heard him tell a story, and if he laughed at a joke it was in a grudging, ha-ty way. But I thought him a remarkable man. Os superb intellect, great executive force, quite equal in those respects to any member of that cabinet. Bates, of Missouri, was a strong and fine character. He was less determined than the others, but what he said was wise and always had point. I noticed that Lincoln deferred a good deal to Bates, and had a great respect and liking for him. “I think Gideon Welles is underrated. He was a little too effusive at tinie9, sometimes almost garrulous. His manner was somewhat against him; it lessened him in the estimation of men lie talked with. I think he had a good deal of that native common sense and sagacity which seized on the strong points of situations and stuck to the main issue. He was not obstructive. He knew he was one of the smaller planets in that solar system, and had no ambition to set up for the sun on his own account. Lincoln liked him I think, because he was honest and faithful and made no pretensions, but did his own. hard work well. Chase was a great man: he knew it and wanted other people to know it; that was his misfortune. But for that streak of vanity he might have been President. Seward had a more diplomatic, calculating mind than any member of the Cabinet; he was more flexible, he carried his point sometimes by appearing to give it up. He always felt that he was the brains of the establishment, and, though deferential to Lincoln, regarded him a good deal as a charge he was responsible for. In executive force he was inferior to Lincoln and Chase and Blair; but Lincoln recognized his sterling worth in other directions.” “You have painted the portraits of many eminent men, Mr. Carpenter,” we added, at the first pause. “Yes; I made a portrait of President Pierce, and I tell you he was not only a capital subject but a very smart, able and gentlemanly man, and I came to admire him very much. He was underrated by people who got their impressions of him from hostile newspapers. I enjoyed making the portrait of Secretary Marcy very much. He was a statesman of the old type—genial, dignified, manly, but kindly. Gen. Cass was a heavier man every way than Marcy, but he was ver} T companionable. I have made portraits of twenty or more Presidents and Cabinet members, from John Tyler to Garfield, und have many interesting recollections of them. By the way, I never heard a man laugh more heartily than Mr. Marcy when one day his colored man wanted to see him about some small matter. He looked in the library but the Secretary was not there. Coming out he met another servant, and in his rich voice, full of the music of fun, he exclaimed: “ ‘That Marcy I toothers show, That Marcy show to uie/ “Mr. Marcy heard it and was convulsed. He was fond of good stories and told good ones himself.” TIIE ROMANS AT OSHKOSH. Disposing of the Claim that the Town was Once a Roman Resort. New York Times, Somebody has dug up near Oshkosh an alleged Roman coin of the Emperor Hadrian, and the people of Oshkosh are now beginning to boast that nearly 2,000 years ago their town was a popular Roman summer water-ing-place. It*is a pity to undeceive tne Oshkoshians, but the truth of history demands that no false inference shall be drawn from the finding of a so-called coin at Oshkosh. It is hardly necessary to say that there is no mention of the town in any work written during the existence of the Roman empire, unless we assume that Oshkosh was originally called Ostia. That no Roman ever visited Oshkosh and left money there is, however, absolutely certain; for no Roman could have traveled that distance and still kept any Roman coins in his pocket. What money the New York “confidence men” did not take from the Roman tourist would infallibly have fallen into the hands of the Niagara hackmen, and the unhappy tourist would not have had enough left to reach Oshkosh. Assuming that any ancient Roman ever did visit Oshkosh, he undoubtedly carried his money in the shape of drafts on the Oshkosh bank and not in Roman coinage. What the Oshkoshians believe to be a Roman coin is probably a brass campaign medal of the period of Lincoln and liamiin, and it is the name of the latter that has been mistaken for that of Hadrian. It might be pointed out that the description of the alleged coin aloneshows that it is not a Roman coin, but niceties of tiiis sort would probably have no effect upon the Oshkoshian mind. The idea that the ancient Romans used to visit this country is, of course, an interesting one, but it cannot be regarded as a fact on the unsupported authority of asiugle alleged coin. Ttiad. Steven’s Prediction. Interview with Admirer of the Old Commoner. “Did Stevens predict the w r ar?” “He did, eleven years before it came, on the floor of the House. He said, looking at Robert Toombs: ‘Do you believe that the North, tame as she is when so often trod upon, will never turn? And if the issue shall be made the result cannot be doubtful. I know your answer will be that then you will vindicate yourselves by a separrUe Confederacy. I see and feel that this- is the tendency of your movement. You could And no nation who would enter into a treaty with you for the extradition of your fugitives from labor. You would be iu constant collision with surrounding nations, and war would ensue. Some Spartacus of African blood may arise, and in such a conflict every attribute of the God of Armies would be upon his side, and he might bury his chains beneath the ruin of your empire.’ Think of these words being uttered before Charles Sumner had taken his seat in the Senate, and seven years before he was assaulted by Brooks for words not so bold. Indeed. Stevens scared his own district, and he was left out of Congress from 1853 to 1859. He had six years to be a quiet observer from Lancaster, where Buchanan lived, and he watched Pierce and Buchanan from that point. He arrived in Congress again almost at the eve of the war, and you know’ how quickly lie beenma a leader. He did not enter Congress till December. 1859, when he was sixty-seven years old. You know what hia itiflii' nee was when lie did re-enter Congress. Not a man of organization at all, his boldness seized that House, and lie held it by the power of his lofty principles, and he, almost alone, is the author of negro suffrage and of laws to secure the black man in bis civil rights, which are not so much respected now as they will be.” Mrs Joseph M. Faurkn, Loeanaport, was cured of neuralgia ul luo stomach by Brown's Iron Bitters,

THE INDIANAPOLIS JOURNAL, SATURDAY, AUGUST 11, ISS3.

STORIES ABOUT BEN. BUTLER. The Troth About the Spoons—A Brace of Readable Anecdotes. Interview with Senator Bock. When Butler was in Congress he was sent to Nova Scotia, one member of a committee to look into a fisher}’ question, and Mr. Beck was a Senate member of the same committee. The trip occupied some weeks, and the tw ? o became exceedingly friendly. On their return from Nova Scotia, Beck stopped at Butler’s residence at Newburyport, and there for the first time heard the origin of the famous “spoons” story, as related by Butler himself. There is a tinge of romance in it which is quite creditable to the better feelings of Butler, and presents him in the attitude of having endured a great deal of opprobrium rather than tell the true story, and thus by acquitting himself, plunge the family of a neighbor into grief and shame. Senator Beck asked Butler for the origin of the scandal, and it was told as follows: “When I was in New Orleans there were a numberof complaints broughtto me of private houses being entered by soldiers and plundered of fine plate, pictures and any other valuable adorumeents that struck the fancy of the marauders. I referred these complaints to e young- officer on my staff, with orders to investigate them strictly. He reported to me that the complaints were greatly exaggerated, and had originated from the impudence and trespasses of private soldiers. Complaints continued to come in, and, on investigation, were similarly disposed of. One day, while I was in rather a bad humor, a prominent citizen of New Orleans came to my office and renewed the old cry. His house had been invaded aud stripped of all its valuable ornaments, and he came to me to recover them. ‘lf the United States.’ said he, ‘has sent an army of robbers down here, and robbery is their object, very well; 1 can put up with it; but if robbery is not authorized; then I want my property restored.’ “Being out of temper, 1 answered him rather gruffly and told him I did not believe a word of his story; that I had numerous cases investigated without finding any truth in the reports, and that I thought it was a system of lies to annoy the Union forces and attempt to awaken sympathy. In considerable passion I then ordered him away and said I did not want to hear any more such tales. To my surprise he said lie did not care a who I was or what I thought; that his valuables had been stolen and ne intended to complain whenever it was necessary. He was so much in earnest that a thought struck me, and I concluded to test him to the utmost.’ “‘Get out- of my office, * said I, in feigned passion, and stop these lying complaints or I’ll have you taken out and shot.’ “ ‘You may shoot and be ,’ responded the indignant Creole; ‘but I shall complain as long as a band of robbers and thieves plunder me.’ “ ‘Orderly!* I cried, and an offictr appeared, ‘take a file of men and shoot this rebel immediately.’ “The orderly went out and soon returned with a file of men. In the meantime the Creole was expressing his opinion of the government, its troops and myself in language so earnest, and sincere tiiat I could not doubt the truth of his complaint. He continued it even after the orderly had roughly seized him and was pushing him along to execution. At that moment I called him back, dismissing the file, and explaining the nature of the preceding investigations, asked him for minute details as to the robbery of his house, aud told him I would investigate it myself. “He identified the hackman who bad brought the robbers to his residence and removed tha booty, and acting on this clew, I soon found the hackman and compelled him to tell the whole truth. He admitted that he had driven an officer and soldiers to a number of houses on similar errands, and finally took mu to a bouse where the plunder was stored. It was overflowing with fine pictures, plate, silver spoons, valuable ornaments and bric-a-brac. He then told me who the plundering officer was, and to my surprise it was the young staff officer to whom I had intrusted the investigations, and in whom, up to that moment. I had imposed every Confidence. He was the son of a man I knew well at Newburyport. I had the plunder removed to my warehouse until it could be claimed and restored. Then the staff officer was arrested, tried, sentenced and shot. I never sent any word home as to the manner of Lis death, and bis family thought he had died or was killed iu the service.” “Why have you never told this story before and cleared yourself of the offensive char res?” asked Senator Beck. “Oh,” said Butler, relapsing into his usual humor, “they would get up some other lie on me if I did.” When Chief Justice Chase was a candidate for the presidential nomination in 18G8, Judge William Brown, of Ni?holasville, Kv., well known about Washington as a successful lobbyist and claim agent, under the familiar title of Bill Brown, went to New Y r ork to assist in managing Chase’s opportunities. There one day he met Butler on the street, who said: “You had better let Chase alone. He hasn’t cot sense enough to make a good President.” “What!” asked Brown in astonishment; Chase, Governor of Ohio, United States senator, Secretary of the Treasury aud Chief Justice of the Supreme Court, hasn’t sense enough to be President!” “No,” said Butler, coolly, “why he’s a poor man to-day. If it were not for his salary as Chief Justice he could not support himself in Washington. When he was Secretary of the Treasury lie handled immense sums of money, and let J y Cooke and a lot of fellows make forty or ufty millions and he did not get a cent. If I had been Secretary, Cooke would have got less, the Trersury a great deal more, and I would have tuade plenty myself.” A prominent Washington official who was some years ago a reporter on the Worcester Spy, tells a good story of Butler’s readiness. He was attending a Republican State convention where the org.nization was against him and had kept him down as long as possible. At that time there had been some insinuations tiiat Butler’s father had been one of Capt. Kidd’s crew of enterprising buccaneers. Butler at iei£ ill obtained the floor and in a tremendous and elqouent plea succeeded in holding the attention and interest of the convention. It was almost turning his way. and at last he came to speak of his father’s traducers. He walked down to the footlights, and in broken voice, the tears running down ilia cheeks, defended his father’s memory with such touching eloquence that he fairly won all opposition. As he stood over the footlights waiting for the applause to die away, he put up his hands as if to wipe away the tears, and shading his eyes, looked down at the top row of reporters in the orchesiru and said: “That was pretty well done, wasn’t it boys?” Profitable Inventions. St. Louis Post-Dispatch. “The stylograpbic pen,” said a prominent deaierin stationery, addressing the Lounger, “seems to be a very simple invention, but the man who originated the idea has made sl.000,000 out of it; the marking pen for shading in different colors has already brought its inventor $100,000.” This reminds me of men who have invented articles of a seemingly trifling character and have made fortunes thereby. The once favorite toy that made its appearance about fifteen years ago and is known as the “return ball,” being a small wooden sphere with an elastic string at-

tached to bring it back to the hand, after it has been thrown forward, yields the inventor nearly $50,000 a year. The rubber tip on the end of lead pencils has made an independent fortune for the owner of the royalty; the man who invented gummed newspaper wrappers is so wealthy that he has enough left after paying his plumbing and gas bills to make an annual trip to Europe; and the fiend, from whose flaming brain the rollerskate originated, has a bank account of over $1,000,000, for which he must thank his invention, A BEAUTIFUL REPTILE. A Python That Has Cast Its Skin—A Miracle of Glittering Colors, London Tslegraph. In the Zoological Gardens can now be seen in all the velvety sheen of its first splendor, a python that has just cast its skin, and the great snake is a very miracle of reptilian loveliness. Not even the birds of paradise can compare with its purples, blues and gold, while an infinite interest underlies those iridescent charms, from the fact that its coils, soft as a butterfly’s wings, and shot with colors like a dove’s breast, can crush the life out of a strong man, can hold the tiger in its rage, and slowly squeeze it into pulp. Watch the breathing; it is as gentle as a child’s'. And the beautiful lamia head rests like a crowning jewel upon the softly heaving coils. Let danger threaten, however, and lightning is hardly quicker than the dart of those vengeful convolutions. The gleaming length rustles proudly into menace, and, instead of the voluptuous lazy thing of a moment ago, the python, with all its terrors complete, erects itself defiantly, thrilling, so it seems, with eager passion in every scale, and measuring in the air with threatening head the circle within which is death. Once let those recurved fangs strike home, and, though there is no poison in t em, all hope is gone to the vicLm. Coil after coil is rapidly thrown round the struggling object, and then, with slow blit relentless pressure, life is throttled out of every limb. No wonder that the world has always held the serpent in awe, and that nations should have worshipped, and still worship, this emblem of destruction and death. It is fate itself, swift as disaster, deliberate as retribution, incomprehensible as destiny. Gods and heroes alike held victory over the snake as the supreme criterion of valor. They graduated to divinity by slaying serpents. Indra and Vishnu conquer snakes, Hercules and St. George have their hydra, Apollo his python. It is over the body of Lade j, terrible progeny of a terrible parentage—Typhon its father and Echidna the dam—that the hero steps to gather the golden apples, and across the dead coils of Fa fair that Sigurd reaches out his hand to the treasures of Brunhild on the glistening heath. What more fearful in oriental myth than Vritnr the endless thing that the gods overcome, or Kalinak, the black death, or Ahi, the throttler? Jason and Perseus, Feridun and Odin claim triumph over the snake as their chiefest glories, and it would be tedious to recapitulate the multitude of myths through which “the dire worm” has come down to our times dignified and made awful by the honors and fears of the past. The python in the Zoological Gardens, however, though it may stand as the modern reality of the old-world fable of a gigantic snake that challenged the strength of gods to overcome it, presents to us only one side of snake nature. It possesses a surprising beauty and prodigious strength; but it is not venomous. Probably the more subtle and fearful apprehensions of men originated really from the smaller and deadlier kinds, and were then, by superstition, poetry, and heraldry extended to the larger. The little basilisk, crowned king of vipers: “the horned cerastes dire,” a few inches in length; the tiny aspic, fatal as lightning andi as swift, and the fabled cockatrice, that a man might hold in his hand, first made the serpent legend terrible; their venom was afterward transferred, and not unnaturally, to the larger species. It was the small worms, that carried in their minute fangs such rapid and ruthless death, which first struck fear into the minds of the ancients, and invested the snake with the mysterious and horrid attributes whereto antiquity, from China to Egypt, hastened to pay honor. Os the venomous snakes the Zoological Gardens present many very fearsome examples, and painful deaths, such as science is as yet powerless to arrest, lurks within half the cases of the reptile-house. Eminent among the most deadly is thesurucuru of the Brazils. Everyone knows of the fatal daboia of India ami the cobra-di-capel-lo, the rattlesnake, the ophiophugus, and the other more familiar reptiles with poison fangs, all of which are to be seen in Regent’s Park; but the stranger from South America is tlieir rival in the certainty and rapidity of the death that it inflicts. It and the python, therefore, may take rank as the representatives of the two aspects of the snake idea in nature. A WAR STORY. Stanton’s Opinion of Lincoln, in Which th© Latter Concurred. Denver News. Among all the sturdy heroes of the war who were mentioned in speech and song at the late reunion of the Grand Army, all mention of Edwin M. Stanton, Lincoln’s Secretary of War, was omitted by orators and writers. As an evidence of the high esteem in which he was held by the President, it is related that during the early part of the war the western men, as they were then called, had a ppor opinion of the fighting qualities of the men of the east, and, headed by Owen Lovejoy, of Illinois, devised a scheme, which they thought, would prove this theory, and be at the same time of immense service to the army in the East. Armed with all the details of the plan, a committee, headed by Lovejoy, proceeded to Washington, and, calling upon President Lincoln, unfolded to him the wonderful scheme of transferring 50.000 Eastern troops to the army of the West, and supplying tlieir places with an equal number of Western men. Tlieir eloquence and plausible arguments convinced the President to the extent that he gave thorn an order to Secretary Stanton 1o carry out the details of the plan ns proposed. On entering Stanton’s office he was found busily engaged in writing, and without looking up he desired to know’ the object of their visit. Lovejoy explained the scheme as he had before done to the President, but was met with a fiat refusal by the Secretary. “Bui we have the President’s order, sir,” said Lovejoy. “Did Lincoln give you an order of that kind?” quoth Stanton. “He did sir.” “Then he is a fool,” said the irate Secretary. “Doyou mean to say the President is a fool?” asked Lovejoy in amazement. “Yes, sir; if he gave you such an order as that.” The bewildered 111inoisian betook himself at once to the President and related the result of his conference. “Did Stanton say 1 was a fool?” asked Lincoln at the close of the recital. “He did, sir; and repeated it.” With that peculiar far-away look for which the President was noted, he looked up aft£r a moment’s pause and said: “If Stanton said I was a fool then I must be one. for he is nearly always right and generally says what he means. I will step over and see him.” This he proceeded to do, and Stanton convinced him in a very few minutes that the plan proposed would be taken as an insult by the whole East. Her soldiers would stop enlisting and her capitalists.withhold the solid assistance they had been previously furnishing the North, thus adding largely to the confidence which the President had previousreposed in him.

A BUCKING MULE. Th© Nantucket Man’s Adventure In the Early Days of California. Correspondence Hartford (Conn.) Courant. In 1850 a whaling mate from Nantucket was fitting out for the mines near our back door in Sacramento. He wa9 a tall, serious, large-featured man, probably the head of a family at home, and might have had handsome daughters if he had any. He was particular in his outfit, and was a long time getting ready. He couldn’t easily find a mule to suit him because be wanted an extra large one. Meanwhile he was gathering his traps and attending horse auctions on K. street. After about a fortnight he came down street with a big mule in tow that sold cheaper, he said, because there was no sufficient mate for him in the country. There was considerable sloping deck-room on him and great capacity for pack saddles and the hanging on of camp and mining furniture. The Nantucket mate had a tent, a gold-washer—the latest improved pattern, in sections—two picks, two shovels, a fryingEan, a box of salt meat, a box of bread, a ox of clothes, some sort of a long fire-arm. and a little demijohn of choice liquor that I remember, and I doubt if I recollect half he had. for he was a great provider and skilled in stowing ships against the chances of a long voyage. The mule was a goodlooking one. No .bystander suggested anything against him. and I guess in ordinary service lie was kind. The mate appeared to have no suspicions of the animal, since his size was all right. He may have been thinking of some pet old farm-horse in Nantucket tiiat he knew would carry all the boys that could pile on him. In those early California days very few people of New England birth realized the compressed energy in a mule. As I have hinted, the big mule himself might not have been aware of his latent powers. But there is no telling. He stood grave and still as a church among the chips near the wood-pile at our back-door, while the mate, an expert rigger, with plenty of voluntary help, was packing. I was just then laying the soup-bone keel of a dinner and cleaning up the kitchen after breakfast. There was one pack-saddle and one ridingsaddle on the mule, strung along midships, I remember. The reader must understand that a bucking mule or horse can develop a perfect hinge in his back that is not reckoned in ordinary equine osteology. I have thought since that this mule’s back hinge must have come between the tw’o saddles, for at the post-mortem examination of this particular mining expedition it was discovered that the girths of the saddles found upon the ground were neither broken, unbuckled nor untied, but simply shed or shucked off. Os a score of observers no one saw' exactly how this was done, the movement was so rapid and such a dust was flying. The mule w’as for a minute the invisible center of a storm-cloud, from which radiated, as from an explosion, the fifty or sixty articles I have enumerated. But I am getting ahead of my story. A bucking animal, you see—and as I write and reflect and recollect, it seems after all. as if this mule must have been an old hand at it—can swell himself up by taking in wind, so as to burst the girths, or lie can shrink and collapse so as to loosen his straps, and then, by that hinge in his back, he can drop the seat of a saddle plum perpendicular and jounce it over his head or tail as the ease of the case may be, to the ground by tremendous stiff-legged force against the earth, The bucking mule, at his greatest height in mid air, doubles his head and heels together by that hinge so as to look like a pair of saddle bags or wet trousers flung over a lariet. In that position there is absolutely no seat for a rider, and most people in such a predicament feel a willingness to alight aside from the attraction of gravitation, and before the arrested battering-ram force of the mule's legs against the ground shoots the rider out of his stirrups as from a Not much mule was to be seen between ears, tail and hoofs when the mate had knotted the last tie of his hampers, belayed the spar line, ship shape, and swung his long leg like a derrick from our big choppingblock over the artimal all ready to make sail. He had on a pair of weighty Spanish spurs, and some declared afterward that the mate would have got safely under way if he had not grazed the mule’s belly with the flukes of one of those anchors. But this will never, probably, be known. In one instant the mass of hard and wooden ware with the bags was in fearful motion aud shot up into the air. I thought the whole concern would tumble down through the canvas roof of our kitchen and spill the dinner of forty people. But I guess the mule had canvassed the whole business otherwise. As the dust settled and our wits gathered from amazement and afright, the mule, clean as he was born, was seen calmly cropping w’eeds that grew where we flung slops; the mate, with surprise and bruises struggling for the mastery on his face, was gathering himself out of our woodpile. A spare boot, parted from its fellow.* first fixed his wandering gaze, and a smell from thewrecKed demijohn helped to restore his senses to his quarter of an acre of scattered property. He said, simply: “I guess I’ll sell that mule,” and we heard afterward that he chartered an ox team for his freight. A DUKES TRAGIC DEATH. Story of the Stabbing in a Theater of the Count de Chambord's Father. St. James Gazette. The circumstances of the Duke de Berri’s murder were very dramatic—not only by their theatrical surroundings (for the performance still went on while the Duke was expiring in the manager’s private apartments). but also by the striking manner in which his whole life, with his double marriage and his two families, was concentrated in the last few hours of his existence. The opera or operetta of the evening was at an* end, and a portion of the ballet had been played, when the Duke accompanied the Duchess to her carriage, intending to return to his box in order to see the remainder of the performance. Then it was that the assassin grappled with him and pierced him to tlie heart. The Duke was carried to the director’s room, aud, in accordance with the practice of the day. was at once bled in both arms. The internal he morrhage was still so great that it was thought necessary to widen the orifice of the wound, and the operation is said to have afforded the patient some temporary relief. By this time the Count d’Artois (afterward Charles X) and the Duke and Duchess of Angouleme had arrived. “There,” says a chronicler of the scene, “lay the unhappy Prince on a bed hastily arranged and already soaked with blood, •surrounded by his father, brother, sister and wife, whose poignant anguish was from time to lime relieved by some faint ray of hope, destined soon to be dispelled. When Dupuytren, accompanied by four of his eminent colleagues, arrived, it was thought for a moment that the Duke might yet be saved. But it soon became evident that the case was hopeless. The Duke's daughter had now been brought to him, and, after embracing her several times, lie expressed a desire to see the King (Louis XVIII.) Then arrived two other daughters, the children of the marriage, formal or informal, that he had contracted in England. The Duchess, seeing them now' for the first time, received them with the greatest of kindness, and said to them: “Soon you will have no father, and I shall have three daughters.’ ” In a neighboring room the assassin was being interrogated by the Ministers Decase and Pasquier, with the bloody dagger on the table before them; while on the stage the ballet of “Don Quixote” was being performed in the presence of an enthusiastic public. In the course of the night*the King arrived, and his nephew expired in his arms at 6:30 the next morning, begging that his murderer might be forgiven, and entreating the Duchess not to give way to despair. The theater on whose steps the crime bad been committed was now demolished, and it

is said that the Archbishop of Paris exacted a promise that it should be so dealt with when he consented to carry into the profane building the holy sacrament, which was, in fact, administered to the dying Prince at the hands of the Archbishop himself. The other theaters were not pulled down, but they were shut, up for ton days; and there was general mourning in France, not only because a prince of the blood had been murdered, but also because the direct line of succession had, to all appearances, been brought to an end. It was not till more than seven months after the tragic scene at th opera that the prince who was to have saved France—the “Enfant du Miracle”—was born. THE FUNNY MEN. Can the policeman who chases and catches a Chinese criminal be said to be the Asiaiic colarer? City sponge: “I like the country a hundred per cent, better than the city.” Victimized farmer: “Yes; that’s about what you save!” A tailor was startled the other day by the return of a bill which he had sent to an editor, with a notice that the “manuscript was respectfully declined.” When Pat was sent to the lobster-pot to see if there was anything in it, he said upon returning: “There was no ripe ones, sor—only grane ones, and I tossed them all overboard.” In reply to an inquiry as to which is the best way to tell a rotten egg. a Rochester paper says: “If you have anythin* to say to a rotten egg, the best way is to use the telephone.” The Utica Observer snv9 that when Boston girls get lost in the woods they don’t shriek “help!”—no, indeed. They exclaim in a high pitch, “Three ladies in this direction are in urgent need of assistance!” He slipped quietly in at the door, but, catching sight of an inquiring face over the stair-rail, said: “Sorry so iate, my dear. Couldn’t get a car before.” “So the cars were full, too!” said the lady. And further remarks were unnecessary. The electrical current: The craze on electrical study is beginning to bear fruit. “Are y*Ai the conductor?” asked a lad on an excursion train. “I am,” replied the courteous official, “and my name is Wood.” “Oh, that can’t be,” said the boy, “for wood is a non-conductor.”—Boston Bulletin. “Have you anything to say against the testimony of the witness?” asked a Texas judge of a man accused of horse stealing. “All that I have got to say is that the witness lias got a prejudice against me and is determined to ruin me. I introduced him to his present wife, and advised him to marry her, and now lie is playing for even.” “Perhaps he has cause,” remarked the judge, gravely. “No, Bob,” said Willie, generously, “that’s the largest piece; keep it yourself,” and he pushed it back with the expression of a lad who has performed an act that deserved to shine in a dark world. “Willie,” said Bob, casting a peculiar look at bis companion from between the half closed lids of his left eye, “I know what’s the matter.” “What.” asked Willie, serenely. “Why, this water melon ain’t ripe.” FOR CORRECT INFORMATION GO TO FRETS. COT RATE TICKET OFFICE, No. 128 S.lllinois Street Railroad Tickets bought and sold. Telephone connection. RAILWAY TIME TABLE. Trains marked thus, r. c.. reclining chair car; thus, 8., sleeper; tints, p., parlor car; thus, h.. hotel car. Jeffersonville, Madison A Indianapolis. DEPART. AKKIVi; So’tli’n Ex. d’y, ..I:2iam j Ind. A Mad., nri..lt):o9anr. Lou. and M. ex. 8..7:40am | I. & Chi. ex., dy...li:osani Lou. £M.a c, m’l..4:2Qpm N. Y & N. F. ex... Lou., ac., dy, r c...o:lupin | St. L., C. & D. F. L. I d’y k\4spm Vandalia Line. Mail Train 7:3oam I N. Y. ex., daily... 4:Hsam Day ex., d’y ph 12.Hpm | Ind. mail and ac..10-.uoaia Terre Haute ac.... 4:oopui I Ciu. A Lou. F. L.. 3:2-<pni Pacific ex., d’y —UtUOpm I Si. Y. ex., d’yli.... 4:55pm (Bee Line) C. # C., C. est Indianapolis. N. Y. & B. ex, dy s s:loam I L.N.O.&St.L. ex,d fi :55am Union acconi 6:loriu | Elk’rt A Gosh. cx.IO-.soam I).Col. & N.Y ex,cclO:2sam I (South lJend ex 2:lspm Anderson acconi..ll:Uoain | Union acconi t>:lopm Louis. 1 & Gosh 5:55pm Bos.,lnd. £• S’thex ti:Uspnt N. Y A B. E. £ M. N.Y.& St.L. ex,dy 10:55pui ex, dy, sac 7:lspm | BRIGHT WOOD division. Depart daily 4:35am Arrive daily 4:ooam ** 6:lsam “ 6:(mm “ ll:osaui “ 6:55a m “ 2.15 pm “ 10:5onm •• 5:55pm “ 3:.spni *• 7:lspm “ 5:25pm “ f.rOpm “ lu*.v.pm Cinein'ti, Ind’ap’lis, St. Louis & Chicago. CINCINNATI DIVISION. C. AL.F. L. dy.ee 3:3Uaiu Indianapolis uc...Ji:(sam Cincinnati accoui. 4:3oam C. A St. L. mail.pell:Khun Cincinnati accom. 11:05am Western ex s:ospm C. A L. mail, pc... 3:4opm C. A St. L. F. L., Cincinnati acconi. 6:55pm dy. b.cc U:(spm St. L. L. ex., dy...io:4upiu CHICAGO DIVISION. Peoria & Bar. ex.. 7:ioam I C.dr L.K.L.dy, css 3:lspm Clii.ASt.L mail,pcll:ssam I Lafayette accom.. 10:45iuii Western ex s:2opm j C. .V L. mail, pc... 2:2' pm O. F. L,, dy, a, r a.ll:4opm | Cincinnati acconi. 6:4< pm GhicagS, Sst. Louis A Pittsburg. N. Y.,P.,W.,8.& P. j Ki'-hmond ac., ev, ox, Ur. 8 4:35am Sunday ?:55atn D. C.ex, ox. Sun 10:55a>u | N.Y.,1*.,VV.,P.& B. Richmond acciui. 4:lUpm | ox., daily 11:50am N.Y.,P.,5V.,8.£P. C.&D.ex.. ex. Sun s:4opui ex., dy, ih s:ospm | N.¥..P.,\V.,8.a B. Dayton ex., ex. j ex., daily lC:3spm Sunday s:ospia Dayton ex., ex. | Sunday L :25pm CHICAGO PIVISION—'VIA KOKOMO. Lou A Chic ex.pc .11:15am I Chic A Lou f‘t ex. Lou £ ( hie f Bt ex dy, 4:lsam dy,s 11:00pm | Chic £ Louex.pc... 4:o^pm Wabash, St. Louis A Pacific. No. 30 7:25am j No, 3L. S:oopm No. 32 2:lspm | No. 4*. 2:lsam No. 34 11.40 pm | No. 35 10:45am Indianapolis and Vincennes. Mail A Cairo ex.... 7:20 am I ac 10:.V>nm VineeuneH ac 3:55pm Mail A Cairo ex 4:55pa Moeißrtvillo ac 6.00 pm | Muoroiiville ac 7:3opm Cincinnati. Hamilton and Indianapolis. Western e\... 4:lsam I Conneravillo ac... . £:4sam Indianapolis ex. ..11:05am | Ind £• Western 12:15pm < nn*!*villac 4:45pm I ludiaiipoli A St. Ind A Wfelrn 6:55pm Louia 10: 55pm | Ind A Western 7:lspm ino.ana, Bloomington <ft Western. I’ac ex A mail 7:45am I East A South ex.dy Kao £ Tex F L I:3opm | r.c 4:loam li&Kox.d y r.C....11:15pui I Cincinnati spec Hc .oain | All ox £ mull 6:3upin BT. LOUIS DIVISION. Moore field ac 6:3oam I Night ex. d’y 4:loac Mail £ Dav ex S.2oani Mail A Day ex s:4'<pu, Night ex d’y r.c....l 1:10pm | Mooratield ac 6:25pm EASTKUN DIVISION. Rant ex. m’l c 4:2onm I Pacific ex 7:o'aut Dav express 1125 am Bur kli I ex,d 10:50pm Atlantic ex 7:mipm I Western ex l:osnn Indianapolis and St. Louis. Day ex. r.c.d’y 7:25am IN YA B ex, daily. Pari rex 4:(>spH) c.c 4:55ft in Boston a St. Louis ! Local pm, p 10:4.iih ex p B:4spm j Indianapolis ex.... 3 3Upin N Yd St Lex, d’y. Day ex, s.c, d’y 6: t >pm s.c.c.c 11:10pm | Louisville, New Albany <ft Chicago. (Chicago A Indianapolis Air-lino Division.) Frtisht B:66am I Freight 7:-V.pm Mail 4:36pm I Mail 1 >:svaiu Cinein’ti, Wabash A M oh iga n Rail way (Over the Bee Line.) 1 ndianapolia AGd Cincinnati A IKarid4 s:2satn diiinapolis tv j... 2.3liprr Michigan ex ll:15am. Indianapolis 4. ar Louis X ll.iupn