Rensselaer Republican, Volume 17, Number 52, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 3 September 1885 — Page 2

OUR KIND OF A MAN. The kind of man for you and me ! ,i He faces the world unflinchingly And smiles, as long as the wrong resists, With a knuckled faith and forco-like fists; He lives the life he is preaching of, And loves where most is the need of love; His voice is dear to thddeaf man's cars, , jAwrfi big face sublime through the blind man 8 The light shines out where the olonds were dim; And the widow’s prayer goes up for him; And the sick man sees the sun once more, . A"d oat o’er the barren fields he sees , Springing blossoms and waving trees, Feeling, a* only the dying may, That God’s own servant has come that way, Smoothing the path as it still winds on Through the golden gate where his loved have gone. The kind of a man for me and you, However little of worth we do, ' Ha credits full, and abides in trust That time will teach us how much is just. He walks abroad and he meets all kinds Of quarrelsome and uneasy minds. Ana, sympathizing, he shares the pain Of the doubts that rack us, heart and brain. And knowing this as we gTasp his hand, We are surely coming to understand 1 He looks on with pittying eyes— E’en as the Lord since paradise — Else should we read, though our sins should glow As scarlet, they should be white as snow 1 A feeling still, with a grief half glad That the bad are as gobd as the good are bad, He strikes straight out for the right—and he Is the kind of a man for you and me t —James Whitcomb Riley. THE MILKMAID’S LOVER. The milkmaid’s young, the milkmaid’s fair, And the milkmaid’s name is Mary, She can deftly turn a patent ohum, And she’s queen of the farmer’s dairy. The ploughman made love to the milkmaid fair, And the maiden his love rejected, But he did not swear and tear liis hair As the milkmaid fair expected. •I’m bound to heifer in peace or strife," The maiden heard him mutter; •The queen of the dairy shall be my wife, And X won’t have any but her." *Tm in love with the druggist’s clerk,” she said, “Then pray be not persistent; Tis a pharmacist I’m going to wed And not a farm assistant. ”

THE EMBALMED HEART.

BY MRS. BURTON N. HARRISON.

One evening a poor physician sat in his room in Florence, wishing that some Christian sonl would have pity upon his meagerly filled purse and fall ill where he should be forced to take the ease in charge. Not the smallest accident or the most trifling sickness had come into his hands in weeks, and starvation was staring him in the face. At this moment a xpan wrapped in a dark mantle glided into his room, addressing me —for I who writ© am the hero of my story —bv name: “I need your assistance, Doctor,” he said, in an agitated whisper, “not for the living but for the dead. My sister, who came here with me on a visit to some relatives from our home in a foreign country, has just died, and before interring her remains in this strange land I desire, according to the custom of our family, to carry away with me her embalmed heart, that so much at least of our beloved one may repose among the ashes of our kindred. My mission is to ask if you will assist me in this painful duty. It is necessary that it be done at night, and quietly, since we do not wish to start the tongues of the gossips, or to allow the servants of the house to become aware of it. Here is the certificate of her death signed by her regular physician, and as an earnest of my willingness to make the visit worth your while, allow me to lay this purse of gold upon your table.” Seeing the glimmer of the large, bright pieces in the flames of my expiring lamp, I could no longer hesitate. Besides the straightforward manliness of my visitor and his evident emotion quite won my sympathy. I followed him, and after a long walk-rdur-ing the latter part of which I consented to be led blindfolded—we Btopped at the small side gate of a large and stately palace. Opening this, we ascended in thedark a winding staircase, emerging in a dimly lighted corridor. Preceding me with noiseless footsteps, the stranger touched the spring of a secret door, which, flying back,revealed a lofty chamber lighted by a silver lamp swinging between marble columns. Here on a low couch lay the body of a beautiful young girl. “You will excuse my personal attendance, Doctor,” said my guide, turning away his face as if to conceal his tears. “It is more than I can bear, and I shall wait without until your task is finished.” After a brief examination of my subject, who lay as if disposed for burial, and noting with interest the fact of her •xtreme youth and beauty, I prepared to make an incision in the region of the heart. Quickly, but less skillfully than usual, I plunged my long, sharp knife into her breast—when, horror unspeakable ! the dead girl stirred, opened a pair of dark, imploring eyes, moaned once, as the blood gushed in a current over the 'bed, and then lay motionless as when I had seen her first. So completely did this circumstance unnerve me that my hand was paralyzed. Evidently the case had been one of suspended animation, and the hand that might have rescued the poor girl from the jaws of death had but served to hurl her into them. Dizzy and despairing, cursing the poverty that had led me to accept this fatal commission, not daring to look a second time at "my victim upon her blood-

stained bier, I dashed my knife upon the floor and fled. The door opened easily, but my visitor was qowhere to be seen. My wish now was to avoid him, and I rushed headlong down the long stone staircase into the courtyard, into the street, believing the stars above • thousand watchers sat there to taunt me. How I finally reached home I know not, but when I found myself once more in the quiet of my poor room, everything as I had left it, books in their places, the cat purring, my mother’s picture looking at me with a smile from the frame above my bed, I felt as if I had been wandering like Cain with a mark upon my brow during a century of woe. Throwing myself upon my couch, I hid my face in my pillow, trying to shut out the look of her dying eyes. Not until day broke did I fall in a tortured sleep, •wakening from which toward midd y with a start I tried to persuade myself that the event of the night was nothing but a dream. But there in the drawer, where I‘had-locked them on going ont, were the gold pieces, a‘ silent but eloquent reminder of my misfortune. Seizing the purse with feverish fingers, I set out for a long tramp in the environs of the city, determined to

bury the accursed thing <rat Of my sight forever. In a remote spot on a solitary hillside I made its grave, wishing that I too might rest beneath the sod. As I walked home, hunger and thirst overpowered me. I gave my last bit of copper to a woman who was milking her cow, receiving in return a draught of the foaming fluid. This sustained me to reach home again, and in the street I met an old comrade, who, railing me on my wild looks, invited me to breakfast. As I had no dinner the night before, poor human nature urged me to accept, and with the hot coffee, the rolls, the fruit and the omelet, a semblance of comfort stole into my heart. While talking with my friend an undercurrent of thought abbut the tragedy kept lapping up over every other subject, as the tide comes in that nothing can hold back. Then it occurred to me to wonder if the brother, finding my mission unaccomplished, would not return to remonstrate with me, and to take away the money 1 had not earned. How could I explain to him the reason of my failure and my flight? Yes, surely, he would come to seek me, and as an honest man it was my duty to face him. As to explaining to him, that was another matter. Only one person in the world could have told that my knife was plunged into a living breast, and not a dead one, and she would speak no- more. Why harrow her survivors with the unavailing knowledge of her brief return to life ? After all I had acted without knowledge, and at the instigation of the orte who loved her best,. Certainly he loved her, as brothers rarely love their sisters, it seemed to me. I recalled the shudder with which he turned from a brief glance at the bed of death, and the sob in his voice that came, apparently, from mighty grief. Assuredly, I should see him again. Even now he might be awaiting me at my lodgings. As I rose to go, my friend, who had been carelessly looking over a journsl of the morning, read alftud a paragraph announcing that this was the wedding day of Abe young Princess N——, a Russian Beauty, famous of late in Florentine society, who was to m?rry Prince L- , a Roman nobleman, as young, rich and well born as herself. “Let us go to the church door,” said Paul, my friend, “even if we are not hidden. A cat may look at the king, and all the world may admire a bride alighting from her carriage.” Excusing myself on the plea that my garments did not entitle me to a place even upon the pavement, I broke away from him and returned to my solitary room. As I mounted the steps, I walked slower, dreading the apparition of my visitor of the previous night. I opened the door to find that the room was empty and Undisturbed- But upon my table lay a parcel, and tearing it open I saw within my bloody knife enfolded in a paper on which these words were written: “I return to you your property, my somewhat careless and decidedly nervous doctor. You will probably never hear from me again, but consider your gold well earned.” A cold sweat broke out upon my brow: Now, indeed, had my feet touched the waters of a dark and unknown sea. Could it be that I was the instrument of a crime ?

I pass over the anguish of that day. In the evening, able no longer to endure my thoughts, I went out to a cheap case where I could venture to ask for a simple meal on trust, since by to-morrow would arrive the small allowance sent me by my widowed mother every month. I aslced for little, but I ate less. In my dazed state I was conscious that people around me were talking excitedly. By and by some newcomer suggested to have the story over which they were all gabbling told connectedly. Thus it was that, like a creature in a dream, I heard of the tragedy with which Florence that day was ringing—the tale of an infamous attack the night before upon lovely Princess N——, on the eve of her wedding day, by some unknown miscreant, who, stabbing her while she lay asleep, had left her there for dead. That she did not die was a marvel, but the stab, though deep, was not necessarily mortal. Clearly the assassin’s hand must have wavered ih his aim. Almost immediately the attendants, roused by some noise in the Princess’ room, had found her, and by prompt measures the unfortunate lady was restored to consciousness. Although hardly possible that she could survive, the physicians yet gave some hope. Useless to speak of the sorrow befalling the noble household of it or of the young bridegroom thus cruelly robbed of his intended. Much more was printed and said regarding the murderer, his motive, and the search for him that was to be set on foot, but for that I care little. I was ready 16 deliver myself up at that moment, if it could serve to expose the villain who had used me for his tool. When I returned home again to meditate upon the best course for .me to follow, I found another note from the destroyer of my peace, curt and mysterious as'the preceding. 1 .. . “Fear nothing. Doctor. You are safe and unsuspected. Our patient has escaped us.”

Some years later I wqnt one evening to the opera. Looking up at the array of beauties above me I saw her. Never to be forgotten was the exceedingly white skin, with the large, dark eyes and hair of raven blackness. She wore a robe of white,* with row after row of priceless pearls around her throat. “That's the beautiful Princess L,” said a gossip near me. “She has just returned to Florence with her husband ;for the first time since the tragedy that so nearly cost he? life. Do yon know there was a rumor that she had been drugged in some powerful fashion before the murder was attempted ? But the whole affair was so hushed up that little Was ever really known about it” “Strange that no clew was found to suggest a motive for the crime,” rejoined his loving, and beloved, was so attacked, who is safe? That httndsome man in the back of her bo*, who js leaning over her shonldeV—-see, he has just withdrawn into the. tshadow—is her husband, I suppose?” “No, the Prince is the slight, youthful one, who is talking with the lady in

velvet The other—yes, there he comes forward—is the Count cli S, who has been so long absent on hi? travels in the East. They used to say he was a suitor for her hand, but apparently the fancy is forgotten.” There, sitting at her elbow with an air of easy confidence—evidently the trusted and familiar friend of wife and hnsband—l saw—my 1 enemy and hers. Inter Ocean .

Bridal Charms and Omens.

The Romans were very superstitions about marrying in May and February. The 14th of May has always been considered in England peculiarly unlucky for brides. Why, tradition sayeth not. In the Orkney Isles the bride selects an evening for her wedding when there is a full moon and a flowing tide. In Scotland the last day of the year is considered lucky, and if the moon chances to be full that night the bride’s prospects in life are supposed to be brilliant. Sunday is a great favorite with brides in some parts of England and Ireland. The French demoiselle, however, thinks the first Friday in the month particularly fortunate for her nuptials. In Yorkshire, when the bride is about to cross her father’s threshold, after returning from church, a plate containing a lew small pieces of cake is thrown from an jipper window by one of her male relatives. If the plate is broken she will be bappv, but if not there is every prospect that she will get her share of this' world’s misery. In Sweden the bride on her way back -from churcli has pieces of bread in her pockets. These are thrown away on her road to her home, to insure her good luck. It is ill-fortune to the one who picks up these crumbs. If the bride lose her slipper on the way from church, she will lose all her troubles, and the one who picks it up will gain riches. In every country it is an unhappy omen for the wedding to be put off when once the day has been fixed, and in England it is believed great misfortune will ensue if a bridegroom stand, if only for a moment, at the junction of cross-roads on his wedding morn. In England, also, it is thought a sign of bad luck if the bride fails to shed tears on her wedding-day, or if she turn back to take a last look at herself in her wedding toilet.

Among the English lasses it is bad luck fqr a bride to look back or go back when once she has started for church, or to marry dressed in green, or let the ceremony go on while there is an open grave in the church-yard. When the bridesmaids undress the bride they must be sure to throw away all the pins, to make sure of good for themselves, as well as for her. If a single pin be left in the bride’s raiment, wo unto her. And if a bridesmaid should keep one of them she will not be married before Whitesuntide, or the Easter following. Therefore bridesmaids in England are not given to preserving the pins from bridal costumes. If the bridal party venture off the land they must go by steam, and the bride, to make certain of good luck, must, on the happy day, wear “something old and something new, something gold and something blue.” If she sees a strange cat on that day, she will take it as an omen that she is to be very happy; and if on the morning of her wedding day she steps from her bed on something higher than the floor and then on something higher still, she will rise in the world from the time of her marriage. To make sure of this the maiden has a chair and a table at the bedside, and steps from one to the other on rising from her slumber on her wedding-morn. On leaving her home, and on starting from the church to return, she is very careful to step out with her right foot first, and is careful not to address her husband after they are wedded without first calling him by his full name. To break the wedding ring is a sign that the wearer will soon be a widow. And there are fifty others of the same sort which are shared by our young women, who carefully follow many ot these mummeries in the weddings of to-day. Though they be nineteenthcentury maids and graduates of colleges of high standing, they are not proof against the superstitions of brides

from time immemorial.

The Weapon with Which Col. Burnaby Was Slain.

The Hadendowa spear is from six to seven feet long. The handle is of a piece of hard mimosa, or acacia, thinner than a broom-handle. There is a socket attached to the blade, into which the wood is driven and fastened. At the reverse end there is commonly a piece of twisted iron or telegraph wire, which serves the double purpose of weighting the handle, so as to counterbalance the blade, and to prevent the weapon being pulled from the grasp. The spear head, or blade, is rarely more than two inches broad by eight inches long. Going into battle grease their spears from blade to hilt, so that it is impossible to wrest the weapon from their hands in a struggle. The spears used by the tribes up the Nile are much more formidable weapons. The handle is from sever feet to nine feet long, made of male bamboo wood. It is furnished with a terrible, broad-blade dflon <x spear-head, like that of the 'Hadendowas, kept bright as a mirror and sharp as a rasior. „The blades are sometimes fourteen inches long'and five inches wide. In troth, an iron spear up the Nile looks more like an elongated trowel-blade than anything else. Shovel-heads, our soldiers used to call them. Thev make a fearful wound, and it was with one of thefee Col. Burnaby was struck in the throat and killed. Be ng exceedingly light weapons, although badly balanced, the Arabs can handle them with great dexterity. —London Telegraph.

Not in the Right Place.

Youthful Admirer—“ Did you arrive in time to hear Miss Doslry play ?" Professional Mus.cian—“lea.” “In time to hear the Moonlight Sonata, then?” “les.” “Wasn’t it glorious? I tell yotf that girl)has music in her soul." *• , “Ah! but she hasn’t got it in her fingers.”— Philadelphia, Vail.

The Cave Temple of Karli.

The temple carve of Karli is an illustration of the fearful lapse of the ethnic faiths of pagan India. The monks of Albania and other regions between the Adriatic and the iEgean sea, dug out many a cell in the early days, and’ honev-combed vast regions, where they spent their lives, and were laid, away when the long monotony was over. r - . ' t The Karli cave temple is very different in construction. It is by far the finest in India. To reach it yon take the train from Bombay, and go nearly a hundred miles eastward, on the general line to Calcutta. From Khandala to the Karli cave temple we had a ride of five miles on horseback. It was not long before we were compelled to leave the carriage road and take a path through the fields toward the range of mountains on our left, and by the time we were getting accustomed to the path we had to leave our horses and begin climbing in downright earnest. •Now, a climb in India, even to see its finest temple cave, is not a little thing. Mv white pith hat, with turban of light cloth folded about it, and then a double umbrella of gray cloth, white within, seemed to help hut little in keeping oflj the pressure of the on a late day of the Indian November. "When we reached, the cool and shaded vestibule, and threw ourselves down on the first broken stones we saw, and looked up into the face of the colossal stone goddess who sat on an elephant of stone, we were glad enough to rest The temple walls and every part of their adorning sculpture are liewn out of the stone mountain. Were there-no statuary of pagan deities, no reminders of an early worship, and were the country any other than India, one would take this wonderful structure for a superb cathedral. Not many serious changes would need to be made in order to convert it into an English minster. The nave is 124 feet long, forty-five feet broad, and forty-six feet from floor to ceiling. There are aisles on either side of the temple, separated from the nave by octagonal pillars. The capital of each pillar is crowned with two kneeling elephants, on whose backs are seated two figures, representing the divinities to whom the temple is dedicated. These are of beautiful features, as, indeed, are all the representations of deities in the Karli cave temple. There is nothing of that repulsive sculpture which one sees at Puna and in other modern Hindu pagodas. I saw no figures which were in part human and in part beast-like. Each was true to its class, from vestibule back to altar. The altar, and the place where it stands, keep up the resemblance to a Christian church. Behind it there are seven pillars, which separate it from what in a church would correspond with the ohoir. There are altogether thirty-eight columns in the temple. The grandest is the large lion pillar in front, which has sixteen sides, and is surmounted with four lions.

All this great recess has been cut from the solid rock, which seems to be nothing softer than porphyry itself. The statuary is massive relief, and consists of figures also cleft from the rock, like Thorwaldsen’s lion, in Lucerne. Thh great pillars are chastely proportioned columns, both base and capital proving that they have not been introduced, but, like all other portions of the temple, have been cut from the solid mass of which the whole mountain consists. They are part and parcel of floor and ceiling. There is an outward porch, or vestibule, fifty-two feet wide and fifteen deep, and on the heavy molding above there are figures of a man, a woman, and a dwarf. All this, too, like the whole spacious temple itself, has been patiently cut from firm rock. The only thing which is not of native rock is a wooden covering or ceiling. This has been the puzzle of all the toilers in Indian archaeology, and they seem to-day to be no nearer a solution of the difficulty than when they began. The entire immediate covering of the temple is of teak, a native wood, almost the only one which resists the white ant and every Indian insect.—Correspondence Neiv York Independen t

Ruins of the Synagogue* at Capernaum. Perhaps the most interesting spot in the world to those deeply under the influence of that charm which association lends to places hallowed by the ministrations of the Founder of Christianity is to be found in a desert, rockstrewn promontory on the northwest shore of the Lake of Tiberias; for among these piles of hewn blocks of black basalt still remain the ruins of a great synagogue, within whose walls, the foundations of which may still be distinctly traced, were collected the multitudes who flocked to hear the teachings of Christ. While modern tourists resort in crowds to Jerusalem to visit the mythical sites which are supposed, upon the vague basis of ecclesiastical tradition, to be identified with episodes in the life of the great Teacher, scarcely one ever finds his way to this remote locality, lying just out of the beaten track along which Cook leads his herds of sight-seers; and yet it is probable that the greater part of that period in the life ot Christ, the record of which is contained in the four Gospels, was at Capernaum, which the most careful investigation by the highest authorities in such matters has identified with these ruins of Tell Hum. Sir Charles Wilson, whose research on this spot led him to identify it as being the site of the City .of Capernaum, believes this synagogue was, “without doubt, the one built by the Roman centurion (Luke vii, s),*and, therefore, one of the most sacret spots on earth.” It was in this building, if that bo the case, that the well-known discourse contained in the sixth chapter of John was delivered; and it was not without a strange feeling, says the same explorer, “that on turning over a large block we found the pot of manna engraved on its face, and remembered the words: ‘I am that bread of life. Your fathers did eat manna in the wilderness and are dead.’" ' ,; Apart from "their associations, the ruins themselves are not particularly striking. They coyer an area of about half a mile in length by a quarter in breadth, and consists chiefly •Of the black blocks 6f basa tic stone which ormed the walls of the botisee. The traces of the synagogue, however, re-

— Anon.

mfein sufficiently for the building to be planned. Built of white limestone bloeks, it must have formed .a conspicuous amid the black basalt by which it was surrounded. It waft sev-enty-five feet by fifty-seven, built north and south, and at the southern end had three entrances. Many of the columns and capitals have been carried aw ay, but enough still remain to convey some idea of the general plan and aspect of the building/ The capitals are of the Corinthjan order, and there were episiylia which rested upon the columns and probably supported wooden rafters. There are also remains of a heavy cornice and frieze. The exterior was probably decorated with attached pilasters.— Haifa Letter, in New York World.

Monkeys at Breakfast.

An English gentleman who lived in India during his early life tells .an amusing story of some pranks played by monkeys. They were almost as tame and playful as kittens about his home, and says there were a great number of them. He says: “I was married in India, and engaged for our home a house fourteen miles or so from any other habitation of white Then. On the morning of our arrival my wife went to change her traveling dress, while the servants laid breakfast on the veranda overlooking the river. At the clatter of the plates there began to come down from the big trees that overshadowed the house, and up from the trees that grew in the ravine behind it, and from the house roof itself, from everywhere, a multitude of solemn monkeys. They came up singly, and in couples, and in families, and took their places without noise or fuss on the veranda, and sat there like an audience waiting for an entertainment to commence. And when everything was ready, the breakfast all laid, the monkeys all seated, I went in to call my wife. “Breakfast is rteady, and they are all waiting,” said I. “Who are waiting?” she asked in dismay. “I thought we were going to be alone, and I was just coming out in my flressing-gown.” “Never mind,” I said. “The people about here are not very fashionably dressed themselves. They wear pretty much the same the year ’round.” And so my wife came out. Imagine, then, her astonishment., In the middle of ‘the veranda stood our breakfast, and all the rest of the space, as well as the railings and the steps, l were covered with an immense company of monkeys, as grave as possible, and as motionless and silent as if they were stuffed. Only their eyes kept blinking, and their little round ears kept twitching. Laughing heartily, at which the monkeys only looked all the graver, my wife sat down. “Will thev eat anvthing?” said she. “Try them,” I said. So she then picked up a biscuit and threw it among the company. Three hundred monkeys jumped up in the air like one, and just for one inBtant there was a riot that defied description. The next instant every monkey was sitting in its place as solemn and serious as if it had never moved. Only their eyes winked and their ears tw'itched. My wife threw them another biscuit, and again the riot, and then another, and another. But at length we had given away all that we had to give, and stood up to go. The monkeys at once rose—every monkey on the veranda—and, advancing gravely to the steps, walked down them in solemn procession, old and young together, and dispersed for the day’s occupation.— Brooklyn Union.

Eskimo Reindeer-Hunting.

Eskimo dogs are used in various ways in hunting. When the weather is so foggy that a hunter can not see very far, and there is consequently but little prospect of his killing anything unless lie almost stumbles upon it, one of them will take his bow 'and arrows, or his gun, if he he‘fortunate enough to own one, and, giving the best-trained hunting-dog in charge of one of his sons, they start out reindeer-hunting. The boy puts a harness on the dog, ties the trace around his own waist, or holds it in his hands, and follows his father out into 'the fog. Of course, the older Eskimo has some idea of where the reindeer will be grazing or resting, and he soon finds out which way the wind is blowing over the place where he suspects the reindeer to be. Then, with his boy and the dog, he goes around in such a way that the game will not be disturbed, to some place where the wind blowing over the reindeer will come toward the hunters. As soon as this place is reached, the dog smells the reindeer, and commences sniffing the air as if anxious to go toward them. The boy allows the dog to advance slowly, holding on to the harness so that it shall not run away. As soon as the dog scents the deer, it goes directly toward them, and when it is quite near, it grows excited, and commences to jump and to jerk the har-ness-trace by which the boy is holding it; being a well-trained hunting-dog, however, it never barks so as to frighten the deer by the sound. The hunter now knows from these excited actions of the dog that the reindeer must be close at hand, although he cannot Bee them for tbe fog. So he tells hiß son to hold the dog and remain in that spot while he takes his bow or gun and crawls cautiously forward in the proper direction. Before ho has gone far,probably not more than twenty or twenty-five yards away, the huge forms of two or three reindeer loom up through the fog. If he is a good hunter he will i»t least bring one down, and p erhaps two or throe of them, and so have something for supper. When there is snow on the ground, the boy will generally take two or three dogs along, and after a reindeer is killed, will use them to drag it into the snow house. As the little Eskimo loves excitement, this" is good Bport, and in this way he soon learns to hunt quite well. —Lieut Frederick Schioatka, in St Nicholas.

A Cincinnati wife asked her husband to mind the baby for half an hour, while she went to the store. This was thirteen weeks ago, and she isn’t home r

Not a Corkscrew in the Place. A sad-faced man, with stooping sliouliers, a saturnine, sullen and stealthyair, entered a popular restaurant up town op Saturday evening, and. after wandering aimlessly about, sank dejectedly into a chair and stared at -the bill of fare. As he sat there, the picture of lespondencv and woe, his eyes lighted npon a row of eight corkscrews which had been polished and laid in a row on the table. The patrons of the place ire largely given to consumption of , lysters, and, as it was just before the hour when the rush from the theatres » expected, the waiters were busy arranging tables and chairs. One of them rushed up to the mournful guest, rubbed the table briskly with a napkin, picked up the catsup bottle, put it down igain, and # went through the brisk tnauauvers by which waiters usually issist eaters to make up their minds. 1 “ What’s yours, sir ?” said the waiter. “Mine ?” said the man, slowly, and with a tinge of resentiment in his voic. “Yes, sir; your order, sir.” “Stew," said the man, wearily. Then the waiter bustled up the room, and the man with a tired and blase air gathered in the eight corkjerews, bagged them quietly in a napkin, tied them up, dropped them to the floor and kicked them under "the table igainst the wall. A short time after this the waiter bore down on him jauntily with a stew, placed it on the table before him with a deft turn of the wrist, and was speeding away when the man muttered in an ill-humored voice: “S’m beer.” “A bottle of beer, sir? Yes, sir.” ’ The man humped his shoulders and began to eat the stew with every appearance of intense dissatisfaction not anmixed with disgust. But it was observed that he watched the busy waiter out of the corner of bis eye, while the busv waiter rushed around the room with a bottle of beer in one hand and no corkscrew in the other.

After a prolonged search in which all of the other waiters participated, a single corkscrew was found in the lower drawer of the cashier’s desk. With this the waiter hurried down to the discontented man.—He laid the down on the table and straightway forgot where he had put it This, too, was bagged by the solemn man, who shoved it cautiously and craftily with his foot toward its fellows in the napkin against the wall. Bright-faced women and resolutelooking men trooped in from the theaters and seated themselves at the table. There was a continual clanging of the door, and a constant influx of guests, until the whole room was filled. Some ordered wine, others ale, and many beer with their oysters. Bottles were pi: cad upon the various tables, food was served, and then the clamor began to rise; hut it 0 was evident that not a corkscrew was to be found in the house. The half-dozen waiters were berated by the guests, the caShier and the proprietor, and they flew about aimlessly, recklessly, and almost irantically; not a corkscrew could be had, and after one or two of the theater-goers had arisen and gone angrily forth, the sad and round-shouldered man rose, stretched himself wearily, yawned and sighed; then he denounced the waiter in a resentful tone, made some seathing comments to the cashier, paid his bill and departed. Only a close observer saw his shoulders shake jmd bis very ears wrinkle with delight as he cast one backward glance into the restaurant before going up the street.— N. Y. Sun.

Webster’s Audience of Two.

Here is a new anecdote of Webster. It vas told by the late Col. Munford, who was at one time Secretary of the Virginia Commonwealth, and. it has never been published: Col. Munford was in his office at the State House one day, when a distinguished-looking man, accompanied by a young lady, came in and asked if they could see the legislative chamber. Col. Munford at once recognized, from portraits he had seen, the face of Webster, and, wishing to see as much of the great statesman as possible, offered to accompany him through the State House. The young lady seemed to be a relative of Webster’s, and was very bright and piquant in her conversation. There was a constant fire of clever repartee between the two, and when the p arty reached thb Senate chamber the young lady, turning to him, exclaimed: “Now everybody says you are a great man, and can make a speech without any preparation. I want you to prove it.” As she said this she moved to the rostrum, and took possession of the President’s chair. “The House will please come to order. The gentleman from Massachusetts has the floor.” “Webster,” said Col. Munford, relating the incident, “took, as if by instinct, the most favorable position in the room, so that his voice could best be heard, and for ten or fifteen minutes he spoke with an eloquence I have never v heard equaled. He referred to Virginia's past, and, alluding especially to her distinguished sons, he pointed out their, portraits that hung on the walls, and described their traits in the most beautiful language imaginable.” Col. Munford frequently told hiß friends that it was the best speech he eyer listened to. —Baltimore American. fi> -- .

Collecting “Toddy” in India.

In (Southern Tndia they have a peculiar way of extracting juice from the cocoanut for the manufacture of an intoxicating drink called ‘‘toddv.” A cut is made at the end of the growing fruit, and to the latter a smalPtearthen pot is attached to catch the oozings. Twice a day the liquor is collected by men who climb the trees in a curious fashion. They have a sort of strap oi bamboo about seven or eight feet long,. which they fasten around “the tree and around their own bodies just above the waist. They also have a smaller strap of the same sort around their feet. They ascend the tree bv raising the strap a loot or so up the trunk, and then they pull themselves up by it, and they"climb up and down very rap-idlv-and eaeily. Helen will probably continue to be the favorite form of the name. Shoeles is more modern, though. Grant died at the age of 63. r ‘ '