Ligonier Banner., Volume 15, Number 5, Ligonier, Noble County, 20 May 1880 — Page 3

e Ligonier Banner, : | J. B, STOLL, Editor and I!ropl‘letor. iy LICONIER, : : .: INDIANA

. AT THE PASTURE BARS. . Returning lonely from the field s She met me at the pasture bars; ‘ The moon was like a golden shield, The firmament was lit with stars. As morning dawn, her face was mild, x As evening, 8o her limpid eyes; God never gave a sweeter cnild i For weary man to idolize. . 8o winsome seemed her artless mirth, - Her sott caress, and ardent kiss; A I thought, of all delights of earth, The anigels surely covet this, : I know ‘hey mean to do no ill, 3 _But whom they love they lure away: : ;’ Good angels, love her as ye will,: But leave her with me while 1 stay. Just as she is; for [ would set The hand of time behind an hour, i If that would stay a little yet The bud from blooming to the flower. And when at length we homeward went, | ‘l'he fragrant azure shone so clear, i ‘The great familiar firmament, ‘ 1 thought, had never seemed 8o near, 8o near, the moon above the trees An airy glove of silver swung, = .. - And in the dewy tops of these The stars in mellow clusters hung. 7 8o near, that I could scarce forgo ! {_ The thought that one who longing waits, - ! Might hear a whispetr sweet and low Across the golden-portaled gates. — Washington Capital.

' WALHALLA. j A few years ago a young English artist, named Reid, who was traveling through this country, stopped fora day or two at Louisville, having found an old friend there. . He urged this gentleman to go with him Into the mountainous region of Tennessee and North Carolina. : ‘ “The foliage,” hesaid, *“ will be worthstudy in September; and besides, I have an errand there for my brother. Heis a house-decorator in London, and when he was in the Alps last summer, he was told that a wood-carver, whose work he saw in Berne, and fancied, had emigrated to America two, or three years ago, turned farmer and joined a small German colony in these mountains. lam to find this colony if I ean, and, if there is any workman of real skill in it, to offer him regular work and good wages in London. My brother is in immediate need of a panel-carver.”’ . **He could have imported a dozen from Berne.” - “ Certainly,”’ said Reid, with a shrug; * but Tom has his whims. ‘He fancied thathe detected a delicacy, a spirit in this man’s work—an undiscovered Bewick, in fact. Where do ou suppose the fellow is hidden. Pomeroy? {)o ou know of any such colony?” - “{‘lo, and I hardly ¢an believe that there are any thritty Germans among those impregnable mountaing. Why, access to many of the counties is only to be had on mules, and at the risk of your neck., Your Geermans must have a market for his work; he would find none there.” v They were talking in the breakfast room of the hotel. A man at the same table looked up and nodded. G 2 Beg pardon, but couldn’t help overhearing. Think the place %'ou want is in South Carolina. Name of Walhalla. Village. Queer little corner. Oconee County.” ‘O, thanks!” said Reid, eyeing him speculatively, as probably a new specimen of the | American. ‘ Any Swiss there, do you know %" “That I can’t tell you, sir,”” said the stranger, expanding suddenly into theé geniality of an old acquaintance. ‘‘“They’re Germans, I takeit. Bhut out, of the world by the mountains as completely as if the place was a ¢ hall of the dead,’ as they call it. There it is, with German houses and German customs, dropped down right into the midst of Carolina snuffrubbers and Georgian clay-eaters. Ifound the village five years ago, while I was buying up gkins in the mountains. I'm a fur dealer. Cincinnati. One of my car%:s gentlemen?’ ***o e L * To Walhalla, therefore, Mr. Reid and his friend went. They tried to strike a bee-line to it, through a wilderness of mountain ranges, by trails only known to the trappers ; taking them as their guides, and sleeping in their huts at night. After two weeks of climbing among the clouds, of solitary communion with Nature, -of unmitigated dirt, fried pork and fleas, they came in sight of Walhalla. : They had reached Macon County, North Carolina, where the Appalachian range, which stretches like a vast bulwark along the eastern coast of the continent, closes abruptly in walls of rock, jutting like mightsy promontories into ‘ the plains of Georgia and South Carolina. | . Reid and Pomeroy stopped one morning on. one of these heights to water their mules at a sfiring, from which two streams bubbled tl rbuih the grass and separated, one to flow into the Atlantic, the otherintc the Gulf of Mexico, so narrow and steep was the ridge on which they stood. The wind blew thin and cold in their faces; the sun shone brightly about them; but below, great masses of cumulus ¢louds were driven, ebbing like waves, out - toward the horizon. Far down in the vafiey ‘rain-storm was raging.. It occupied but smag space and looked like a motionless cataract of Fray fog, torn at times by yellow, jagged i%xtuing. : : : ot far from the spring a brown mare was tethered, and near it a stout younpir, man in blue homespun was lying, stretched azil?’ out on the dry, ash-colored moss, his chin in his palms, watching the storm in the valley. -An empty sack had served as a saddle for the mare; slung about the man’s waist was a whisky flask and a horn, He was evidently a farmer, who had come up into the mountains to-salt his wild cattle. Reid took note of the clean jacket, the steady blue eyes, the red rose in his cap. “‘“ Swiss,”” he said to Pomeroy. ‘ Where is . Walhalla, my friend?”! . i The man touched his cap, and pointed to a wisp of smoke at the base of the mountain. As they rode on, his dog snuffed curiously at their horses’ heels, but Hans did not raise iis head to look after them. : : “ That is the first man I have seen in America,” said Reiil, *“ who took time to look at the world he lived in.” When they were gone, Hans lay watching: the cloud below soften from a metallic bhci mass into pearly haze; then it drifted up into -films across the green hills. On the mearer plain below, he could now see the white-bolled cotton-fields, wet and shining after the shower; threads of mist full of rainbow lights traced out the water courses; damp, earthy scents came up to the hei%]ht from the so&keg forests. After a long while he rose leisurely, his eyes filled with satisfaction, as one" who has Mz 8 good visit in the home of a friend. He mounted the mare and rode down the trail; the sun shone ruddi(lfl on the peaks above him, but there was a damp, shivering twmght in the gorges. Both seemed holiday weather to the youtx;g fellow; his mare whinnied when he at her neck; the dog ran, barking and {umgieng upon him; it was a conversation that ad been fioing on f%yeara among old friends, Mr. Reid reached Walhalla »?ust before sundown. As bis mule went slowly ‘down the - wide street, he looked from side to side with pleased surprise. it ; “It is a street out of some Germgan village," he said. “I have not seen such?l?filt or homely comfort in this country.” . - } ‘lt is only the sudden contrast to the grandeur and dirt behind us,” said Pomeroy. ‘lt Zou miss the repose and exaltation of tge loft; eights which you talked of, you will flnz scrubbed floors and flealess mdz a solid cont so}fitgin.” . s | sleepy hamlet consisted of but omne broad street, lined by (i:,mint wooden houses, their stoops covered with grape-vines or roses. Back of tmue houses stretched trim gardens, gay with dahlias and yellow wall-flowers ; back .of these, again, were the farms. AJon‘g the middle of the .tfmt, at intervals were shaded w üblic scales, a platform for town meetings. zl‘he‘ peo&lee were gathered about one of ~the wells, in their old German fashion, the lknne‘r: Jm their pipes, the women with their ! “x- Ty Ty ShoSp i o Reid remained in Walhalla for two or three days. He found that there were several Swiss . families and that many of the men had been wood-carvers at home. He hit upon a plan

to accomplish his purpose. ‘He gave a subject for a panel—the Flight into Egypt—and announced that any one who chose might undertake the work; that he would return in a month (he had found there was access to Co-’ lumbia by railway through the valley), and| would then buy the best panel offered at a fair price, and, if the skill shown in the work satisfled him, would send the carver to London free of expense, a#d insure him high and steady wages. - : ’lghe day he left all the village collected about the well to talk the matter over. Here was a stranie gust from the outer world blowing. into their dead claim! Most of them had forgotten that there was a world outside of Walhalla. They tilled their farms and bartered with the mountaineers. Twiee a year Schopf went to Ch%rlotte for goods to fill his drowsy shop. London? Riches? Fame? The blast of a strange trumpet, truly. The ‘blood began to quicken. Such of them as had been wood-carvers felt.their fingers itch for the knife. - >

" “No doubt it is George Heller who will win it,” everybody said. * That fellow has ambition to conquer the world. Did you see how he followed the Englishmen about? He could talk to them in their own fashion. George is no ordinary man!”’ e . ‘““If Hans had but his - wit now!” said one, nodding as Hans on his mare came down the street. “ Hansisa %OOd fe ow. But he will. never make a stir in the world. Now George’s fingers used to be as nimble as his tongue.” Heller’s tongue, meanwhile, was wagging nimbly enough at the other side of the well. ‘He.was a little, wiry, red-haired, spectacleg fellow, with a perpetual movement and spdgrkle about him, as if his thoughts were fldme. ‘“That’s the right sort of talk. Fame-— profit!. Why should we always drag behind the world here at Walhalla?- X’low and dig, plow and dig! The richest man in New York left Germany a butcher’s son, with his wallet strapped on his back; and what is New York to London? Just give me a foothold in Lon-don-and I'll show you what a baker’s son can do, let Hans Becht laugh as he chooses!”’ For Hans, who had come down to the well, was listening with a quizzical twinkle in his eye. He filled his pipe, laughed, sat down and said nothin%’. Everybo% knew Hans to be the ml’)rslti silent man ix; alh};flla.;l L e pretty girls thered s closer ;o Heller ;pand }c,hég'm boys%firust their annds in thiefr pockets and stared admiringly up at him. Hans was their especial friend, but what a stout, common?lace creature he was beside this brilliant fellow ! ! ‘“ A man only needs afoothold in this world !”’ George said, adjusting his spectacles and lookiwg nervously toward a bench where a young girl sat holding her baby brother. The child was a solid lump of flesh, but she looked down at him with the tenderest eyes in the world. The sight of her drove the blood through Heller’s veins almost as hotly as the smell of a glass of liquor would do. ‘O. if I win, I’ll take a wife from Walhalla!”’ he cried, laughing excitedly, looking at her and not caring that the whole village saw his look. “T’ll come back for the girl I love!’”” He fancied that the shy eyes had caught the fire from his own and answered with a sudden flash. : Hans thou%alt 80, too; his pipe went outin his - mouth. When she rose to go home he took the heavy boy out of her arms and walked beside her. Heller’s shrill voice sounded behind them like a vehement fife! ! Success—money—money ! ‘ Hans looked anxiously down into her face. ‘“ They are good things,”” she said, ‘‘ very good things.” ‘ o Hans’s tongue was fied as usual. He dropped Phil in the cradle in the kitchen, and then came out and led Christine down to the garden of his own house. ' ; What was London—money, to home? Surely she must see that! He led her slowly %ast, the well-built barn and piggeries, past the beehives hidden behind the cherry-trees, and seated her on the porch. He thought these things would speak for him. - Hans clung as closely to his home as Phil yonder to his mother’s breast.: But Christine looked sullen. |

Hans said nothing. . S ¢ A man should not be satisfied with a kitchen %arde'n,.” she said sharply. : They sat on the porch steps. The night air was warm and pure, the moon hung low over the rice fields |to the left, throwing fantastic shadows that chased each other like noiseless ghosts as, the wind swayed the grain. To the right, beyond the valley, the monntains pierced the sky. They were all so friendly, but dumb —dumb as himself. If they could only speak and say of how little account money was, after all! It seemed to Hans as if they were always just going to speak! , But Christine did not look at sky, or mountains, or sleeping valley. She looked at the gravel at her feet, and %?ve it a little kick. “No doubt George Heller will succeed. I. hope he will, too!” she said, vehemently. “Ifa man has the real stuff in him let him' show it to the world! I’ll go home now, Mr. Becht.” That evening Hans’ violin :was silent. Hec used to play until late in the night; but he was sharpening his long unused knives, with a pale %ace. ' He, too was beginning a i"‘l’ight into pt. .%’uring the next two weeks a tremendous whittling went on in Walhalla. Some old fellows, who had never cut anything but paper knives and match boxes, were fired with the universal frenzy. | Why should not Stein, the cobbler, or Fritz, the butcher, chip his way to wealth, fame and London? There is not a butcher or cobbler of us all who does not se-, cretly believe himself a genius equal to the best—barred down by circumstance. Georfie Heller kept his work secret, but he was nightly stirred b% it in soul and body.. Twice, in a rage, he broke the panel into bits, and came out pale and covered with perp)piration; he walked about muttering to himself lil’e‘ one in a dream; he went to Godfrey Stéin’s !inn and drank wine and brandy, and then more brandy, and forgot to pay.. Genius is afit to leave the lesser virtues in the lurch. e kicked the dogs outlof the way, cursed the children, and was insolent to his old father who still fed and clothed him. 1 e ‘“He’s no better than a wolf’s whelp!’’ said Stein. ‘ But he’s got the trueiartist soul. He’ll win!” Now if anybody knew the world, it was Godfrey Stein. o ' : Nobody thought Hans Becht would win but his old mother. She was sure of it. She sat beside him with her ‘knitting, talking all the time. thv did he not give himself more time? The rice-tield must be flooded? Let the rice go this year. He spent three hours in the cotton this morning. . And what with foddering the stock, and rubbing down even the pitfis ——. What were cotton and pigs to this chance?- It would come but once a life-time.

Meanwhile, Hans, when free from pigs and rice and cotton, sat by the window and cut, cut, and whistled softly. The door of the kitchen stood open, and the chickens came picking their way on to the white floor. A swift stream of water ran through the millet field and across the garden, shining in the sun. The red rhododendrons nodded over it, and the rowan bushes, scarlet with berries. Beyond the millet field, there was a rampart of rollin% hills, bronzed with the earlg frost; but here blazed the crimson leaves of the shonieho, and there a cu¢umber tree thrust its open golden fruit, studded with scarlet seeds, through the dull back-ground. Beyond this rising ground were the peaks, indistinct as gray shadows, holding up the sky. : Sometimes Mother Becht caught Hans with his knife idle, looking at these far off heights, or at the minnows glancing through the brook ll;jear at hand. ' There was a great pleasure in 8 eyes. : ¥ gou are a fool to throw away your time,”’ she cried. “ Can gou cut that red weed or thesgy in’t,o your wood? Youcouldnot even paint them.” . s ‘“ God forbid that anybody should tryl” thousght Hans. ' i ¢ Stick to your work! work counts. . The things that count in the world are those which push you up among your neighbors.”’ Hans be%an to cut a tip to Joseph’s nose. ¢ The things which count in the world—" he queried to himself. He did his thinking very slowly. His blind father sat outside in the sun; hecame in every hour or two to hear how the work was going on, and then went to Schopf’s shop to report. His wife told him ‘t.ha(ti there was no doubt that Hans would succeed. : - ¢ Joseph is d, and Mary is very fine,”’ she said. “%ut ti?aomule is Inclt;ymparaber. ir you could On(lly see the mule! When Hans goes to London do you think he will take us at once, or send for us in the spring? I think it would be safer to cross the ocean in the spring. But it will not matter to cabin-passenfi(lars no steerage for us, then, father! He will be taking three of us—"’ ; . “Eht How’s that? . Three?” : * Christine,”” she said, with a significant chuckle. “ O, she’ll be glad enough to take our

Hans, then! SBhe's had to work her fingers to.the Bo_ne. She knows the weight of a full purse. ; * Hans is welcome to bring her home whether he wins or not,”’ said Father Becht. ‘‘ He earns the loaf, and it’s big eno‘lyl‘gh for four. There's not a sweeter voice in Walhalla than Christy Vogéel’s.” : ' ‘“She’s well enongh,” said Mrs, Becht, cautiously. *'Vogel’s tobacco brought half ace .t in the pound more than ours, and it was Christine’s raisinF;and drying. Her beer’s fair, too. I've tasted it.”” She went in and talked to Hans. “Onlfv win, and Christine will marry you. Bhe’ll follow the full purse.” ¢ She’ll follow the man she loves, and that is not I,”’ thought Hans, and he stopped whistliiqg'l; His mother’s voice sounded on, click, click. : ; ‘ When we are rich—when we are in London —when we drive in a carriage—-" ‘She, too?” he considered, lookln% out thou§htfully above him at.the fat farm-lands, the pleasant house, the eheer{ fire, and then away to the scarlet rowan burning in the brown undergrowth, and the misty, heaven-reaching heights : : Even his mother counted these things as nothing beside fame, London, money. Was he then mad or a fool? Nobody thought he would win. Yet, everybody stopped to look in the window with * goodluck, Hang!”’ : ‘¢ See what a favorite you are, my lad,” said his mother. *¢There’s not a man or,’a woman in Walhalla to whom %ou have not done a kindness. Do you think the Lord does not know you deserve success? If He does not give you the prize instead of that drunken Heller, there’s no justice inheaven!”’ . At last the Englishman returned. The decision was to be made that night. Hans had finished his panel that very day. He did not know whether it was bad or good. He had cut away at it as faithfully as he had rubbed down his pigs. He wrapped it up that evening and went down to the inn, stopping at Vogel’s on the wa{;. The old people were at the well; Christine had, cooked the supper, milked the cows, and now she was up in her chamber singinfi little Phil to sleep. er voice came down to Hans below full of passion and sadness. ‘ Who is it she loves in that way?”’ he wondered. He stood in the path of the little yard, listening. Heller, coming across the street eyed the square-jawed, heavy figure. What an awkward figure it was, to be sure. How the linen clothes bagged about it! He glanced down at his own natty little legs and shining boots, and tossed his head jerkily. He carrie his panel wrapxpeu in cloth, and came in, bangi@g the gate after him. . ¢ls that {lpu Becht? Been whittling, too?”’ he said, with an insolent chuckle. Hans looked at him steadfastl{, not hearing a word that he said. Was it Heller she loved? If he were sure of it, he would not speak a word for himself. Mo matter what became of him, if she were content. He was hurt to the core. |

Christine came down. She wore some stuff of pale blue, and had fastened a bunch of wild roses in her bosom. She was so silent and cold with both the young men that one could hardly believe that it was.the woman who had sung with such passionate longing over the child. : : ‘ Now you shall see my panel!” cried Heller, nervously adjusting his spectacles. He set it on the bench and dragged off the cloth. - “ Ah-h!” cried Christine, clasping her hands; then she turned anxiously to Hans. . Hans was not ready with his words. His eyes filled with-tears. He laid his hand on Heller’s shoulder with hearty good-will. The work gave him keen pleasure. In the face of the mother l%ex;ding over the child there was that inscrutable meaning which he found in the quiet valleys, the far heights. But Heller, oddly; did not seem to see it. - #*Yes, very nice bits of chippixig there!” pulling at his red moustache. “I shall ask fifty dollars for that.”’ : ' Cyhristine turned her searching eyes on him. ‘“Yes, fifty,’” he repeated, feeling that he had imfiressed her.. ans, too, looked at him wondering. How could this paltry sot compel the secret into his work, which to him was but a holy dream? Cliristine was watching him anxiously. | ‘ Is that your panel?’’ she said at last. Hans nodded, hesitated a moment, and then broke the thin bit of wood in two and flung it into the road. . e Tt was nothing but a passably cut mule,” he said. : : : Heller laughed loud. ¢ Well, time to be off. Wish me good luck, Christine |” ) ; She smiled and walked with him to the gate. Hans followed, but she did not once look at Hans. As she opened the gate Heller laid his ‘hand quickly on hers; a rose fell from her dress, he caught it and pressed it to his lips. His breath was rank with liquor. Hans thrust him back and strode between them. “This must end. Christine, you must ehoose between this man and me.” ¢ T can easily do that,”” she said quickliy. : Hellg laughed. Hans gulped down a ump in his throat. A ‘* Not to-night,” he said. = ; . By to-morrow, no doubt, Heller would be knowu as successful, the man whose purse would always be full. Christine must finow firecisely what she was choosin%. It was like ans to think of these things. If—in spite of it all—she came to him— :

‘‘ There is another rose on your breast. Send it to-morrow to the man fiou love.?? . “T will.”> She did neot look at him. She was as pale as himself. He went down the street, leaving her with Heller. Two hours afterward he went to the inn where Reid was, and sat on a bench at the door. Half the village was inside waiting to hear the decision. His heart beat rebelliously against his breast. What if, after all, there had been great hidden merit in his panel? It was only natural that Christine should be won by claptrap of success and monéy—she was only a woman. “But no,” he answered himself, ‘““what I am—l am: I want no varnish of praise or money.” Out came the crowd. - ) ‘I knew it!”? ‘ The most worthless lout in Walhalla!”? ‘A drunkard for luck!’ ‘He goes to London next week.”” Then he must come back for his wife,’’ said Stein. ‘‘ He told me to-night he was betrothed to Christy.” : ; Hans stood up, and nodded good-night to them as he pushed through the crowd. %Ie did not go home. A damp breeze blew up the valley. Down Yonder were the far-reachin meadows, the lapping streams, the great frien(g ly trees. He went to them as a child goes to izs mother in trouble. About six miles from Walhalla lies the trunk line of the Atlanta & Richmond railroad. At ten o’clock that evening, the moon being at /the full, the engineer of the express train going north, saw a man at & turn of the road signaling him vehemently to stop. Now, a way train in that leisurely region will pull up for any signal. But this engineer looked out in calm contempt. : “Reckon he don’t know the express!” he said. A little child in the cars saw the man gesticulating wildly and laughed at him through the open window. : The man disappeared over the brow of the hill. - The road made a long circuit around its base. When the engine came around this bend the engineer, Hurst, saw on:the track in front a prison hand-car used to transport the conviet laborers from one division to another. The convicts had been taken to the stockade for the night, and the driver of the car was ingide of it dead drunk. y

Hurst had been twentygears in his business; he understood the condition of affairs at a glance. He knew it meant death to all those fieople in the erowded cars behind him, to him 18t of all. He whistled down brakes, but he knew it was of no use. The brakes were of the old kind, and before the train' could be ;}.mckened it would be upon ‘the solid mass in ont. ! 7 “ We're done for, Zack,”” he said to the fireman. Hedid not think of jumping off his engiue. It is noticeable how few common-place men try to shirk death when in the discharge of their duty. ik ] The brakes were of no use. The engine swept on, hissing, shrieking. , Suddenly Hurst saw that the car was backing!—creeping like a snail; but assuredly backing. : : “Y-hal” yelled Zack. ' Hurst saw the man who had warned him standing on the flatfoxfm of the car, working it. Now,itrequired at least four men to wor that car. i i 3 % hiln another minute the engine would be upon m, : : “ God! You’ll be killed!” shouted Hurst. The terrible hardihood of the man stunned him into forgetting that anybody else was in dan-

ger. At that instant from the train came a irightful shriek—women’s voices. The vassengers for the first time saw their danger. It was but a point of time, yet it seemed like an hour. The train did not abate its speed. The man, a short fellow of powerful build, threw the strength of a giant into his straining muscles, his white face with its distended eyes was close in front in the red glare of the enfime._ : . , urst shut his eyes. He muttered something about Joe—Joe was his little boy. - ’ The train jarred with along scrunching rasp, and—stopped. They were saved. ‘“ Great God !’ prayed Hurst. ** Tight squeak for your life, Zack,’’ he said aloud, wetting his lips with his tongue. ~ The people Foured out of the train. They went up to the car, some . lau{ghing, some swearing. But every man there felt as if Death had taken his soul into his hold for a moment, and then let it go. | : ‘Three stout men tried to move the car. They could not do it. ‘“ Who is that fellow ?” ‘ A workman on the road?” “ No,” said Hurst. / ‘“ Where is he?? asked several. ; For he had vanished as if the earth had swallowed him up. ‘‘He was a youngish, light complexioned fellow,” said Zack. ‘‘Most likely a q)eutcher from Walhalla.” i ‘* Whoever he may be, he saved our lives,” said a director of the road. ‘I never saw such.d;a?,pex‘ate courage. I vote for a testimouial.

The American soul exults in testimonuials, and the Southerner is free with his money. There ha{pened, too, to be a delegation of New Yotk merchants on board, who valued their lives at a pretty figure. Morve than all, there was a widow from California, the owner. of millions aud of the pretty boy who had looked out of the window. ‘‘FHe saved my baby,”” she said with a sob, as she took the paper. ' The testimonial grew suddeunly into a sum which made Hurst wink with amazement when he heard of it. * That fellow will be king in Walhalla,” he said. : It was near morning when Hans came home. He went to his room, said his prayers, and slept heavily. The nextanorning the village was on fire with excitement. The inn was full of passengers from the train ; the-story was ins everybody’s mouth. The director of the road had driven over from the station. When Hans went down to the pasture that morning he saw a playcard stating the facts and the sum subseribed, and requesting the claimant to present himself at the station that evening for identification by Hurst. : Hans went on to the pasture. When he came back and was at work in the garden he could hear through the palings the people talking as they went by. ; ‘“ He will be the richest man in Walhalla.” ‘‘ The director says the company will give him a situation for life. So the’{ ought!” Nothing else was talked of. The eontests of yesterday and all the Flights into Egypt were forgotten. ; . ¢ Ah, how lucky that fellow is,’’ he heard his mother say on the sidewalk. ‘‘ And there’s Heller! Some people are born to Inck !’ looking over the palings with bitter disappointment at Hans diggin%}potatoes. But blind Father Becht listened in silence. Heknew but one man in the world brave enough forsuch a deed. ‘‘l give that lad my blessing!” he said, striking his cane on the ground. He, too, turned toward Hans digging potatoes. ) “ Heller is. packinrlg to be off to London,” somebody said. = ‘‘They say Vogel’s pretty daughter is to follow in the spring.”” Hans stuck in his spade and went to his ‘mother. ‘‘lam going to salt the cattle on the north mountain,’’ he said. ; ‘ Very well. Hedoes not care to know who this brave lad is,’’ she said to his father. ¢ He’s a good boy, bul dull—dull. They say there is a woman from California at the inn. She satys she must see the man who saved her boy’s life. She is rich and has her whims, no doubt.’” Night came, but the man did not present himself. The next day the director, who was of a generous, impatient temper, otfered a reward to anybody who could make him known. 1t was certain he had told nobody what he had done, or they would have come forward for the reward. The excitement grew with evefi' hour. Hans returned late in the next day. e went to his spade and began to dig the rest of the potatoes. His mother followed. ] “Well,” she exclaimed, ‘‘he is not found! The story is gone by telefiraph to all parts of the country. Here are fame and riches waiting for him. Some geople certainly are born on lucky Sundays. There is Heller, the drunken beast, gone off to London. ‘And you must dig potatoes! There’s no justice in heaven!” ghe clicked away, knitting as she went. . |Now I may as well say here that although [this happened years ago, the missing man is 'not yet found. He is the mystery and pride of all that region. The director put the money out at compound interest, but it is yet unclaimed. e .

Concemin% Hans, however, ;who digs his potatoes in the same patch, we have something more to tell. When he had finished digging that morning he went into the house. The stout fellow had lost his ruddy eolor, as though he had lately gone through some heavy strain of body or soul. He'sat on the kitchen steps and played a soft air on his violin. The earth he had been digging lay in moist, black heaps. He liked the smell of it. How like a whispering voice was the gurgle of the stream through the roots of the sumachs! Yonder was a Peruvian tree, raising its trunk and branches in blood-red leaves against the still air; far beyond were the solemn heights. He had just come from there. He knew how quiet it Wg;ondep near the sky—how friendly. All these things came, as he plsayed, into the music and spoke through it, and a great stillness shone in his eyes. yAnd at that moment—he never forgot it in all his life—a woman’s hand brushed his cheek and a red rose came before his eyes. ¢ You did not come for the rose, so I brought it to you,” said Christine. ! - Laterin the morning they went to the well together; all their neighbors were there, and it was soon known they were betrothed. Everybody took Hans by the hand. He had never guessed he had so many friends. * There is ‘no better fellow in the world,”’ they said to one another. ‘‘He deserves luck.” ‘“That is why I was impatient with you,” whispergd Christine. ‘‘ I could not bear to see that miserable Heller carry away all the praise and the money.’”’ : “These are not the thingsin the world that count,’’ said Hans, quietly. ‘ tPreésently an open carriage drove through the street. ‘“That is the lady who was in the train,’” the people whispered. ‘‘ That is her boy. ‘She says she will not go until she finds the man who saved them.” - The lady, smiling, held her baby up that it might see the women. She was greatly amused and interested by the quaint German village. When the boy caught sight of Hans he langhed and held out his hands. The mother nodded kindly. * The brave man who saved us also ‘wore a workman’s dress, I am told,” she said. “ My boy saw him as he passed.” Hans took the ¢hild in his ayms for a moment, and kissed him. 'When he %‘ave him back to his mother his eyes were full of tears. Then the ctmiage drove on. ' : He stood at the door of the home that was so dear to him. "Christine held his hand, the _sun shone cheerfully abont him. : *To think,” said his mother, ‘‘that we are not to know who that brave fellow was.”’ m}l%s blind father took Han’s other hand softly 8. 4 God knows,” he said. 1% : But no one heard him.—Scribner for May.

A Curious Relic. We have been shown a curious relic, ficked up last week in the Spring Valey Range, some twelve miles from town. In shape it bears a stron% resemblance to.an elephant. It is of stone, about two and a half inches long, and set on a base in the shape of a hal% moon. The trunk of the elephant is hollowed, and on the back is a%owl. It was no doubt used as a pipe by some aboriginal sachem of a date Further back than tEe‘ Sheshone, as that tribe shows no aptitude or taste for stune-working of any description.— Eureba (Nev.) nfwden 4 —lf truth be left unfettered, error will not long walk the world without being combatted. , v

- Hor Poung Leaders. PUSSY'S LESSON. e Now, Pussy, I want your‘ attention, ' I've something important to say To you, that { want you to mention, You know, just bg way of prevention, To the kittens'about their play. Now listen to what I am saying, ' Pussy cat, and remember my words, (You look as'if you were weighing | Them well.) In ail of your playing, sl You must not play with the birds! § Last summer (I don’'t mean to scold you; I know it won’t happen again)— Last summer, you kmiw what I told you, (li%vyou don’t keep still, I shall hold you), hen you killed the poor little wren? (Don’t you think it is rather damp weather For Bob to play under the gate?) What’s that in your mouth, Puss, a feather? Oh! deary, I do wonder whether I'm speaking a little too late. ' —@eorge Morris Stroud, in N. Y. Independent.

SIM VEDDER’S KITE. The kite fever visited Hagarstown every year, and caught all the boys over five before it subsided. It generally crept in slowly, a boy and a kite at a time; but this year it came as if a big wind brought it. ' Yesterday there had been three kites up at one time in the main street, and Squire Jones’ pony had been scared into a canter. The Squire and Mrs. Jones, and the three Misses Jones, and Aunt Hephzibah had all been in the carry-all at the time, and they had all screamed when the pony began to canter. So the Squire had tol% the boyvs he “‘ could not have any more of that dangerous nonsense in the streets,”’ and they had all come out to Dr. Gay’s pasture, on the side-hill, to-day, and they had eight kites among them. ‘“Sim Vedder's coming, boys,” said Parley Hooker. ¢ He’s been making a kite.”’ e “He?” exclatmed Joe Myers. ¢ He's a grown-up man. What does he know about kites?”’ ‘*‘ There he comes now, anyway.”’ They all turned toward the bars and looked, for not one of them had sent up his kite yet. s ¢“Oh, what a kite!” *lt’s as tall as he is.” , ‘“No, it isn’t. He’s carrying it on his shoulder.” ¢ It's just an awful kite.” Sim Vedder was the man who worked for Dr. Gay, anc he was as thin as a fence rail. So was his face, and his hooked nose had u queer twist in it half way to the point. He was coming with what looked like an enormous Kkite trying all the while to get away from him. All the boys wanted to ask questions, but they didn't know exactly what to ask, so they kept still. : : «Kiting, are you? Well, just you let me look at your kites, and then you may look at mine. One ata time, now. Keep back. Make that kite yourself, Parley?” : “Yes, I made it.” ‘« Had plenty of wood around your bouse, I guess. Your sticks are bigger than mine, and your Kkite is only two feet high, and mine’s five. l.ook atit.” He turned the back of his kite toward them as he spoke, and they saw that the frame-work of it was made of a number of very slender slips of what looked like ash or hickory wood. - ¢¢ Mine's made of pine,” said Parley. ¢And yours’ll break, too.” ‘ ‘“No, it won’t. Well, maybe yours’ll fly. Set it agoing. There’s plenty of wind.”’ :

Parley obeged, and, mainly beca,usel there was, indeed, a good deal of wind, his heavy—made kite began to go up. “Joe,”’ said | Sim Vegder, “%a.nd me that kite of yours.” ) ; “Mine's a di'mond. I don’t know how tomake any other.” ‘“ Do you suppose it'll stand steady, with those forebands so close together? ‘ No, it won’t. Up with it, and see how | it'll wiggle., Bob Jones, is that yours?”’ , : } The third kite was meekly handed to him, for the more the boys stared at Sim’s big kite, the more they believed he knew what he was talking about. ¢ It isn’t a bad kite, but those forebands are crossed toolow. It'll dive all over.” ; ¢ There’s plenty of tail, Sim. Itcan’t dive.” «¢Taill—and a bunch of May-weed at the end of it! How’s a kite of that size to lift it allP I'll show you,” replied Sim. { He was unfastening the forebands as he spoke; and now he crossed them again over his little finger, and moved them along till the kite swung under them, almost level.. *“That’ll do. Now I'll tie ’em hard, and you can cutoff your May-weed. There’ll be tail en‘m’lg_h without it. When I was in China --"’ * ¢ Was you ever in China?” - “Yes, I was. Thaj was when I was a sailor. I saw kites enough there. They spend money on’ém, just as wedo on horses:'make ’em of all shapes and sizes.. Don’t need any tails.” ¢ Kites without tails?”’ “Well, some of ’em have, and some of ’em haven’t. It's a knack in the making of ’em. I've seen one like a dragon, and ‘another like a big snake, and they floated perfectly. Only a thin silk string, either.”’ - 392 \ < String’s got to be strong enough to hold a fiite,” said - Parley Hooker, “Loek at yours.” i iag ' +Yes, mine's strong; it’s made of fine hemp. But it isn’t any heavier than yours. What do you want of a rope with a kite of that size?” = ‘lt isn’t a rope.”’ r _““lt’s too heavy, thbgfih. Besides, iou‘-ve tied pieces together with big nots in them. You can’t send up any travelers.” : . i 1« What's that? = : «T’ll show you. Some, call ’em messengers.”’ el e S Just then Parley exclaimed, ‘Si}n! Sim! mine’s broke! it's comin% down!* ““Broke right ‘in ‘the middle; where you notched your big sticks together.” ¢ Just where it needs to be strongest,” said Joe, knowingly. ‘ ¢ No, it doesn’t look at mine.” It was the ’b%est kite they had ever seen, and it ‘came down square at the ‘bottom; but it was not a great deal ~widerthan Parley's. 'The curious 'part of it was the cross-sticks and forebands. What did he need of so many? “So many?’ said Sim. * Wh&, the bands take the strain of the wind. If you put it all on the sticks, the{"d bend or break. Don't you see? There's a

band-tied every two inches, and®fuey all come to!f'qéther out here in the center knot. It just balances on that.” - ““Your tail's a light one.” - “It's Jong enough, and it spreads enough to catch the wind. It isn't the mere weight you want in a tail, if your kite’s balanced. - The wind - blows against the tail as hard as' anywhere else.” Ao L *“ Won't yours ever dive?” «Of course it will, with a cross puff of wind; but it "1l come right up again. That won’t happen very often. I'l send her up. You wait and see.” The other kites were all up new, except Parley’s broken one, and : most of them were cutting queer antics, because, as Sim explained, ‘their forebands were tied wrong, and their tails ¢“did not fit them.” ~ -¢*The Chinese ‘could teach us. But, the way we make kites, there's as much in the tail as in anything else.”’ ¢<Qh, but our kites are covered with paper, and you’ve put some old silk on yours.” , e . “Of course I have. It isn't much heavier. = The Chinese use thin paper that’s as good as silk. It won’t wet through.”” * “Wet? Oh, Sim, it looks as 'if a stormis coming now."” ~ So it did, and Sim’s big kite was going up, up, up very fast, and he was letting the strong brown string run rapidly off from a sort of reel he held in his hand. »

- ¢ Pull in your kites, boys,” shouted Parley. ¢ Let’s cutfor home.” . “I want to see Sim fiy his.”” “You all ;i)ull in yours, and we'll go into the cattle shed. It’s-only a shower. I can fly mine from the door.” The shed was close at hand, and the door was a wide one. Inthree minutes more, just as thefirst drops came down, there was quite a crowd of boys behind Sim, 'as he stood a. little inside, and watched his kite. His reel was almost empty now, and the big kite looked a good deal smaller than when it started. ¢« How steady it is!”’ - *¢ It pulls hard, though.” . ““There comes the rain."” ‘“’l'hunder and lightning too.”” Sim had fastened his woodéen reel against the door-post, on a hook that was there, but he kept his hand on the string. i ~ ¢¢] declare, boys! Feel of that! The string’s wet, and it’s making a liglgningrod of itself.” ‘ Parley, and Joe and Bob, and two or three others, felt of it at once. ¢ Lightning? Why, Sim,”’ said Bob, 1 know hetter than that. I've had an electric shock before.” b ‘“ That's all it is,”’ said Parley. | T “Well,”” replied Sim, ‘‘didn’t you ever hear of Dr. Franklin? We're doing just what he did. He discovered electricity with a kite. A wet kite string was the first lightning-rod there ever was in the worlc%.” 0 “Lightning?"’ exclaimed Bob. “Don’t you bring any in here. I won't touch it again.”’ . e : «“Did lightning ever strike anybody when he was'flying a kite?’’ asked Joe. ““Not that I ever heard of,”’ said Sim. - “But it's beginning to pour hard. I’ll reel in my kite till the storm’s over.” o - He unhooked his reel as he spoke, but it was well he took a good strong hold of it. The wind must have been blowing a gale up where the kite was, and the string was a very strong one for its size. . I declare! Why—" ; ' But the next the boys knew, Sim Vedder was out in the rain, with that kite tugiing at him. He would not let go, and he could not stop himself, and the sloping pasture before him was all down hill. On he . went, faster and faster, till his foot slipped, and down he went full length. He held on, though, like a good fellow, and there ke lay in the wet grass, with the rain pouring ‘llillmn him, tugging his best at his big ite. ;. ‘ ; : The wind lulled a little, and Sim began to work his reel. Slowly at first, then faster; and about the time the rain stopped, the wind almost died out, and the wonderful kite came in. @ = ¢ There isn’t a stick of it broken,” said Sifn, triumphantly, ‘‘nor a foreband. That’s because they were made ri%lht, and put on so they all help each other.” . ¢“Oh, but ain’t you wet!’ exclaimed three or four boys at once. Well, yes; he was, indeed, very wet. —W. 0. Stoddard, in Harper's Young People. . i :

A Demonstration of Curved Pitching. The question of curved pitching has attracted the attention of scientific. and philosophical gentlemen for the past two years, and there have been those who stoutly affirmed that it was an utter impossibility for a pitcber to curye the sphere in the manner so often described in the reports of ball games. A special ' committee of the: grovidence Fl;'anklin Society, appointed to investigate the question . in relation to alleged curves in balls thrown by skillful hands, made a report to the society at a recent meeting to the effect ¢ that after three stakes were placed in a direct line, at a distance of about thirty:feet apart, the ball was thrown by a person standing behind the first stake in such a manner that it passed to the right of the first, to the left of the second and to the right of the third. The'ball was then so thrown that it passed to the left side of the first stake, the right of the second ‘and the left of the third, thus demonstrating the fact that the pitcner has the power to cause the ball tocurve to the right or left at pleasure.” The committee give a scientific explanation of the curvilinear motion. The society should receive the thanks of the fraternity hereabouts for thus intelligentl solving the mystery, and amateur ;ba.l{tossers can begin to ‘gram.ice'at‘ ‘once with'a fair glmspeot of success if the rules are followed.—Providence (R. 1.) —The Directors of the Connecticut River Railroad have passed an . order instructing . the Superintendent ‘‘to ‘summarily dismiss any employe on any train who is known to use intoxicating Iliquors while on ‘duty, or who is known to have heen intoxicated while on duty,” and similar rules are now g@ifiig@j out on alarge per. cent. of New England roads. - . » Pl g e B : el - P ol BicYCLING is’ now the favorite pas‘time with Detroit's young bloods. ©