Rensselaer Republican, Volume 21, Number 49, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 8 August 1889 — Page 6

A RUSSIAN ADVENTURE.

BY ROBSERT C. V. MEYERS.

Wallace, an American, was walking in • part at Si. Petersburg where there werl many pretentious houses, but little travel; lie had met no one, save a lighter of tW . street lamps, for a quarter of pn hour, f Suddenly from out the shadow of a porch young and prepossessing man wh4 1 ”1 think you arrived in Petersburg lasi Evening!” said he to Wallace, in perfectly good English. * • r » The American stared at him. > The stranger followed up his question bf another: . ' •. 1, . ' > “When yon were about to enter yout hotel last evening, perhaps you picked up a (fan a lady had dropped!” , WaUaoe started; he had been thinking o! the lady of the fan. 1 The evening before had been exception hlly warm for September, fn the glare oi the hotel entrance, as he was about to enter, • lady and gentleman in evening dress passed by. The lady dropped her fan. The American stooped and picked it up ! She was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen; nature and art had done marvels for her. Her glittering eyes encountered his, while a delicate eastern aroma emanat-1 log from her garments was almost Intoxicating. There was a heightened bloom on her rounded cheek, a disclosure of whits teeth, and her little gloved hand want out to take the fan. | Another instant and her companion had grasped the toy from the American with so much rudeness that the latter looked up into his scowling face. Tbs lady laughed a low laugh, and bestowing a quick glance at Wallace, moved on beside her escort, evidently bound for some grand antertainment Wallace looked after

the two. “That woman is an arrant coquette,” he said to himself. U I should not be surprised if she dropped that fan purposely to annoy the Jealous wretch at her side in having me pick it up Heaven, bat she Is beautiful!” He entered the hotel, and having no luggage, and scarcely believed when he said he would leave in two days, as he had only come from Odessa, where business took him, merely to see the capitol, was regarded auspiciously, and was very carefully watched. He knew little of this suspicion, how* ever. He went to bed and dreamed of the beautiful woman he had decided was a coquette. -* ' .: _ In the morning his first thought was for ban She was uppermost in his mind all day. In the twilight of the evening he i went out for a walk- He went farther than he intended. He found himself alone, when up came the man with questions. Wallace, not averse to finding out if this were an enigma, said: “It would be difficult to forget so lovely • woman.” I The Russian eyes Sashed. “Good!” he said; “of course one must remember her having onoe seen her. lam her cousin, Ossip Dostoyevsky. I cams from her with a word for you.*' ‘•For me!" cried WaUaoe. ■ “She accused herself of rudeness," re* turned the Russian imperturbably. “She wishes to thaak you in person for the small Service you rendered her. If you will conbent—and the Americans area proverbially jgaHant people—” he bowed low; Wallace 'looked at him for a hidden sneer—“you will be good enough to follow me to the Countess Anna Ivanovna.” Reseating something in the man’s manhot, Wallace with the rashness of youth replied r* "The Countess Anna Ivanovna honors 108.** i The Russian bowed and stepped a little In advance. This should have appealed to him as odd, but Wallace was curious to know how the matter would end. Though •bey had gone thus only a hundred yards of ■o, he began to think he was making a fool cf himself—how did he know but there was some trickery at hand! The Russian knew all about his nationality, must likely know he was a stranger in the city, probably was not unacquainted with the fact that he knew no one in the plaoe, and might not be Ignorant of the bank notes in his pocket, and the diamonds he was carrying from Odessa, home to his fair Aihmki fiancee. Tho idea of a countess acting in this fashion 1 He was about to cry hall, when he found that the man had ascended a flight of steps in frost of a marble residence and noiselessly opened the leaves of a wide hall door. The spirit of adventure predominated over caution. The next minute Wallace found himself in a long hall of marble, the polished walls inlaid here and there with onyx and malachite, a brass lamp suspended by chains from the oeiliug partially illuminating the apartment and disclosing the only piece of furniture there, a tripod upon which burned an incense. The Russian flung open the door to the right, and there was a flash of light from many candelabra within. “Please to enter," he said, quite like a grand chamberlain. The affair was piquant now. WaUaoe was no coward; but he could not help thinking of those at home, especially of his fiancee, in the manner attributed to men on the point of drowning^ [ The drawing room be entered was a •largo, luxuriously-furnished apartment, albeit with a touch of barbarism in its splendor. Heavy curtains of maize-colored satin draped the five long windows; there wore malachite tables, artistic bronzes, marbles, carved furniture of ponderous oeauty, skins of animals upon tbs flow, a brass ,«n> in a corner holding a bushel of vivid rod i Ho was about to address the man who had ushered him into the house, when •he found that he was alone In the room. ' He was alone only for a minute, though. For a curtain at the extremity of the salon was pushed aside, and clad in a long robe of rose hued velvet, stiff with embroidery Of metal, tho beautiful creature of the evening before approached him. t The blue eyes were bright as the brilliends upon her snowy neck; her. arms, against the bhwhing velvet of her gown, were like Ivory, and ana of them wee otasp<ed by a bracelet in the form of a snake whoso diamond eyes set upon quivering spirals of fine wire moved as though the; - - r n - * She extended her hand t 1 -You wore moat Und to me," she sold •4 regret that 1 have but time for a fen words, as I«o due at a department reoep won. T wlah to apologias far an uninton tional rudeness on my part. I thank you ?or restoring my fan to an" Wnlisok tenths btozsjaf J»er beauty, re mered a few words sad knew that he had never been more awkward. His confusion 'appeared not to displease the lady-ltwai evidently complimentary to bar. SKI.

“Pray be seated" said she, “and let me give you some tea." _ _ •; i ;i: , * = “She went to- the samovar and returned with two smoking Sevres cups. : • She placed herself beside the Ameri can upon a sofa and began to talk as though she had long known him. He never rightfully knew what she said to him at fi ret, but after awhile his wits cleared and ho found that she was familiar with his country ana institutions, glancing every now .and then toward the door leading into tho hall, as though she expected some one. Then all at once she said: “You evidently consider my sending for you a rather bold proceeding.” She smiled. Timid souls hero in Petersburg have said that I am the boldest woman this side of Siberia. Siberians may yet call me a not unbrave dweller in their midst." “Political, thought .Wallace. “But now we will be conventional," she went on. “We will be namby-pamby and speak about musio. Do you know Mozkowsfry!” - " In five minutes Wallace was captivated—he had never oome across such a woman. In ten minutes 3ho had bewitched him; that the same subtle perfume he had smelled last night had something to do with it That the diamond eyes of her snake-like bracelet charmed him as those of a natural ophidian might have dona Her tea cup was empty; he arose to relieve her of it when she started to ter feet and toe porcelain fell to toe ground with a crash. She swept ter train over toe fragments. “I will tell you more later on," she said hastily, “and then you will allow me to ask your pardon for the use I will have made of you. Surely, you will, will you not!" Her eyes upon him, her lips appealing to him. Wallace, although he thought of toe Ittle fiancee, over in America, felt like throwing himself at her foot and telling her to command him, make use of him in any way her whim suggested. She noted tne effect she made on him, and laughed a low sweet laugh that was like musio.

“Thank you,” she said, as though he had granted her a request in so many words. “And now, quick! I hear someone on the hall pavement!—pray obey my caprice —go Into the room, there beyond the ourtain, the room I came from, and from a little window there, almost concealed by the curtain, look on the comedy you will witness in this.room. You will understand then. Do I ask too much?" Did he obey her, though he kuew not to what he wentl Her beauty, her voice, the aroma of the strange perfume rendered him helpless. The room into which he made his way was dark. He found the little window of which she had spoken, nearly covered with the amber portier ea of the entrance. He wiped his forehead, aad with a sigh of relief to be out of her presence, looked more calmly into the apartment he had just quitted. She stood with a smile on her perfect lips watohing the door that led to the halL That door was posted open, aad Wallace recognized in the man who entered, him who had been her companion the evening before, and who had so roughly grasped the fan from the hand of the American. He was frowning, his face ablaze. “Serge, my dove,” said the beautiful creature, standing in the middle of the room, “you have come to take me to toe ball where I shall see all the tyrants at their best.” “Anna Ivanovna,” he said where is toe man?” “The man, sudarina moja," she cried innocently, “the man, my heart’s soul!” “The mau you made eyes at last nignt The American—tell me where he is?’ ’ Again she laughed her pretty laugh. “Do you see him, beloved?" she said. “And now for the balL Will you ring for my cloak!” j _ He strode up to her. “Who has drunk tea with you!” he demanded, pointing to the cup Wallace hud used. “I have drank a cup of tea, to be dure. Should.! have had it in a glass?” she returned merrily. “Now, dear one, ring for my cloak. The lions will be uncaged when we reach the ball.” “Whose cup is that brokenrheneath youi train!” he asked. She had moved a little, and the splinters of the cup were qnito plainly exposed. -“Oh, little' fatter,” sue cried, clasping her hands in simulated distress, “if so jealous before marriage, what will it be after !” “Anna Ivanovna," he said, “tho American has been here. I have stood much for a year. I stand uo more. Your secrets are safe with me, your political intrigues. Adieu 1" “Serge," she laughed, “poor Serge! my white slave Serge!” “Adieu!” he said. “Serge. Serge,” she went on, as thougk she were charming him, her hands locked before her, the eyes of her bracelet quivering. “Serge!" The man looked at ter. He gritted his teeth. He ran from her, only to rush back, to clasp her in his arms and press a hot ki—on ter lips. Then he turned to the door. ‘‘Serge,” ate said, “Serge, who dares not leave me, as I choose not to leave him! Serge P With a cry like that of a wounded animal he ran back to ter. “Do your worst," he said, “denounce me at the ball to-night, if you will. I will not ■ay what share you have in my plans, but I will treat you as I would treat a mujik who had presumed to walk betan me. Thus!" He raised bin hand and smote ter upon the smiling face. Then he was gone. She stood there as though turned to stone, There was a red mark on her cheek. Nothing about ter moved, even the jewels on ter neck seemed not toactntOlate—only the eyes of the snake on her arm, flatted aad flashed. She must have remained thus two or three minutes, when a second man entered the twnrhg-iw. It was he who had accosted Wallace hi the street, and brought him to the house. He looked about him. “Ah, my Cousin Anne," ho said, “so to* Aminas Is gone!" She did not ans wer him. “Anne," be anU, in a startled tone s« telee, “wbetls 111 Surety Serge Ormaatnff tee net rotasod to Join you in your ttetefftojSl* fhentane work wen—* “What d&l you tell Serge Onnankofl wbenyuu detained ten at the door tela “Only what you bode ms,” he answered, “thsa tbs American you admired last even lug, bad pflft you • vhfl" “Did you toss fata that I was playing t practical Jake that 1 was teasing him be eanaa es Me fantasy that will yet wreck ui aad our plana P

.: • ——T- -y~.. -f “I left that for you to tell him. Has hi been here!" “You know that he has. Look here !* She raised ter hand and pointed to the re 4 mark upon her face. ♦' ~ “Weill" he asked. “Serge Ormankoff’s seal of refusal to bt of us any more. He struck me. ” “Struck you!” he cried, struck you! Struck the woman he toon from me—tb* woman ha hmiMlraS t/, frw> hi a nyjfft | f flavf long vowed to do him harm, and now—” “Hush !” she interrupted, “and heed me. Do you still love me as yon used to boast that you did!” The man seems overcome by ter question. . , “Boast!” he cried. “O Anna! Annusehka!” “Serge Ormankoff* through your failure to te more explicit with him at the door, bas left me and my plans forever,” she went coldly on. “Do you still love me?" “Love you! Love you 1” be cried, a light teeming to break in upon him -‘Do you mean that you would revenge yourself upon him?—that you would become my wife ia order to punish him who cannot live with out you—Serge Ormankoff? O, my white

love, my angel? Love yon! I worship you, I—" n “And it was your loro that caused you to tell Serge seriously, what I told you to toil him ia jest? I refer to the visit of the American. And do you know that hie refusal to assist me keeps Russia still undo* the sway of tyrants?” “Ah Anna," he cried abjectly, could 1 help it—l who adore, I whom you havl promised to marry before ever Serge Ormankoff offerred to aid Russia in exchange for your hand? Anna, my Btar, duschingka moja, I have as keen an intellect as his. J will free Russia far you—an, with thil lhail the red mark on toe face of m; wife can forth a redder stain above th 4 heart of the Count Serge Ormankoff.” He tore a glittering knife from hi! pocket. She looked sharply at him. “Ossip Dostoyevsky," she said, “you have taken Serge Ormankoff from me as pou have long threatened to do. In exchange for him whom you insist, I cars nothing for, and only used for his power to perfect my plans for the amelioration of the condition of my native land, do you give yourself to me?” “My life, all that I have and am, or can So is thine. O beautiful one," he cried, rapturously. ‘•Your life 1” she said, and something of her old gay manners returned. “Your lifei Boaster!”

He walked to her. He put the dirk into her hand. ; “Anna," te said, “Serge Ormankoff denounce you to-morrow. To-night that knife shall find Its way to his heart. ] kwear it! But lam yours—if you doubt that my life, my soul, belongs to you, Irive toe steel Into my own heart that hat ko long been tortured by its want of you,” “Very pretty. And yet you must owi that you would kill Serge Ormankoff because he struck me, not because of the fear that he will betray my plot in whict he had a share!” “It is so," “Because I read you, Ossip, and I know that it would have been you who would betray me, had not Serge left me to-ntgbt rod forever, eh! Do I not know your heart rod that you would have sent me to Siberia rather than that 1 should become Countosi Ormankoff?” Hia face was crimson. “I love you,” he answered doggedly. “And I swoar that I will this night havt the life of the man who raised his hand kgainat you—l swear it by the Obrass, thfl picture of the Virgin! Besides, does not pour safety demand the eternal silence of

that man?” She laughed her beautiful laugh. “Too true,” said she. “I know thal khould Serge live until to-morrow I shall not be safe. Come a little nearer, Ossij Dostoyevsky, a little nearer.” “To embrace you,” he cried. His arms out, te sprang at her. SKI raised the dirk. His eyes were on hers. “I do not fear, Annuachka,” te said, “my dove.” “Nor I,” ate shrilled. There was a flash, a plunge, and without k groan te fell at her feet, toe knife buried to the hilt in his breast. Serge fell llfeiesi to the floor without a movement or a tro tnor, and the crimson stream that poured from his breast attested the fatal accuracy »f the fair murderess’ aim. Her aim had ~teeS~~sure, for the knife had found hit Heart. She looked at the dead body in all the perfect composure of her complete selftontroL She did not change color, she did tot faint or scream, and an observer could kot toll, from her countenance, that anything unusual had happened. And Wallace, the spectator of all this! Be ran from the little room, down the length of toe splendid salon, past the dead nan, past the resplendent creature in pink relveb She did not look up, she did not tear him—she had forgotten him. But at the door of the drawing room he paused for an instant and glanced back. Anna Ivanovna stood above the body of the man who had loved her, and wiped i trimson stain from ter soft white finger UP|n her delicate laoe handkerchief, that wafted through the apartment the intoxitating perfume which seemed a part of hei dangerous charm. Her face was pale, hei lips pressed tightly together. WaUaoe’* tervous hand rattled toe knob of toe door. She slowly raised her eyas and saw toe American. - She stiffened tesseif. * “You did this," she said, “I will inform kn you this minute." And than her shriefces resounded through the plff* Wallace encountered no one in the marble tall, although te heard a seurying of feet sear by. Then he was out in tha night, Basing for his Ufa He was in the railway station, on the Iraki, and her cries were still ringing in his Bare. He did not feel safe till he was onoe moms |u America, his little flanoee listened with sated breath as he recounted his Russian id venture. Yankee Blade.

Different Patient, but Same Treatment

In i hospital in one of the large titles of oentral France the physiciao-In-chiof, in the oouroe of his round of Inspection, approached a cot and after feeling the patient’s pulse, renjarkodi •‘Hum—he is doing Very nicely; his (raise is mnoh better.” “It Is as you tay. doctor,” replied the nurse; “bull ft is not the same man. Yesterday's patient is dead, and this one has been put in his place.” “AhT said the doe* tor, “different patient, eh? ••Well, same treatment’' And walked on.

THE ROCKY MOUNTAINS.

Some Start! tasr Plsuns as to Timber Stealing*—Extant and Influence of Irrigation Works, Tho Secretary of Agriculture has issued a lengthy report on the “Forest Conditions of the Rocky Mountains,” in which munh information of an interesting character is given. The forest area of the Rockies includes large portions of Idaho, Montana and Wyoming Territories, and also of Colorado. There are also smaller tracks in Utah and New Mexico. The importance of the districts surrounding these forests has largely Increased. The pioneer days are rapidly disappearing before the energetic push and advancement of railroad building and settlements, and, to use the words of the report, “with the changed conditions of life in communities instead of in isolated log huts, a change in the manner of life and its adjustments to the demands of civilized existence is called for." In point of population, the Rooky Mountain region has grown vary rapidly during the last seventeen

years; in 1870 the inhabitants numbered only 263,286, whereas in 1886 the total exceeded 900,000. The assessed valuation, exclusive of mines, increased during the same period from leu than $100,000,000 to over $330,000,000. The growth is largely attributed in the liberal Government policy in reguard to railroad grants, mineral claims and land entries. About one-third of the total grants have been for educational purposes, and under the desert land act 1,193,548 acres have been given up at $1 an acre. Under the timber oulture act, about 400,000 acres have been entered. In 1887 the Commissioner of the Land office instituted a service of special agents, and in 1878 a special appropriation of $25,000 was made “to meet the expenses of suppressing depredations upon timber on the public lands." Yet during the seven years ending 1877 nearly $87,000,000 worth of timber was stolen. Of this loss about half a million dollars was recovered by the efforts of the special agents, who collected from depredators $23,000 more than they drew for salary and expenses during the period. Much of this stealing was from the district covered by the report, and the losses are regarded as especially serious from the fact that the climate of the region is not naturally favorable to tree growth, at any rate not to the germination of seeds of coniferous trees, which form there the natural growth. These u nfavorable conditions

Are moreover Increased by wholesale clearing, which lays bare the thin soil to the influence of drying sun and winds, and by the frequency of fires whioh destroy the seedlings. Under the circumstances the rapid selling and granting of timber lands is not regarded as good policy, and the consequences of a similar course in Franoe, Switzerland, Spain and Italy are quoted in support of the argument The forests of the Rocky Mountains sustain an important relation to the western half of the United States, if, indeed, their influence is not more widely extended. They are mostly Bituated on the lands of the General Government, and are not subject to State or Territorial control. Tn the opinion of the department, the measures in foroe for their maintenance and protection are “extremely ineffectual." The Rocky Mountains themselves include all the mountains in North—America between* the Great Plains and the Pacific Ooean, extending to the Artie Ocean on the north and to Mexico on the south. The greatest expanse is between the thirtyeighth and forty-second degrees of north latitude, where the system has a breadth of 1.000 miles, chiefly in Utah Colorado and Nevada. The highest peak is Mount St- Elias, in Alaska, which rises to an altitude of 19,500 feet above the sea level The mountains are generally massive and rugged, with vast solitudes and deep canyons in their midst The average elevation in Montana is 3,000 feet; iq Idaho, 4,700; in Wyoming, 6,000; inj Colorado, 7,000, and in New Mexico, 5,600. ——~ Lai d in this region appears at first sight to be worthless, but experiments prove it to be extremely fertile. On the great Columbia of Eastern Washington no wheat was sown a few years ago, and no one thought of sowing any, but now some of the finest wheat fields of the world oan be found pa it The arable lands of the Rooky Mountains are mainly in the valleys, which have gathered the detritus of the mountains for ages. The soil is therefore very deep and fertile, so much so that two crops can be obtained in one year. The extraordinary mining de▼elopexnent of the region uid its immense grazing resources are widely known and appreciated, but its agricultural possibilities are not at present generally appreciated. In some tonalities in the mountains farming operations are carried on successfully ia the mountain districts, out, as a rule, the aid of irrigation has to be sought, and always'with gratifying results. Colorado has 1,000 miles of main Irrigating eanats, 3,600 miles of second-class canals and 40,000 miles of ditches. Wyoming has over 300,000 acres under irrigation. In Utah there are 2,810 miles of main and 7,750 miles of tributary irrigating 656,000 aores. New Mexico has aa much land under irrigation ae Utah, with projected ’ttorim of fv greater extant. t^lm . O’ - ......... ...... ..

aad Montana have both considerable works of irrigation. Throughout the region the cattle-grazing interests are very larg9, and in 1887 there were about 5,000,000 head- on the grazing lands. At the same time there were over 7,ooo,ooo.sheep.

It Was the Cook.

Percival sat upon a hammock in the back yard of the country boarding* house. His little slippered feet patted i the grass gleefully, and the book, in his hand hung lazily athwart the gunwales of the swinging net-work of the aerial couch. There was a cynical expression upon his innocent face, and his Titian mustache curled like the tail of a full-blooded pug. There was a titter. It oould not be called a laugh. There was a distinctly audible titter swashing against the leaven of the locust trees above'him. It came from the door, of the kitchen. No human being in sight; and the parrot had never been taught to-titter nor -to-twitter. The ugly-mouthed bird lazily winked his watery eyes as he stood upon his swinging perch. The titter was not his’n. Percival wondered where the titter came from. He determined to investigate. Slowly he knocked the ashes from his malodorous cigarette. Gradually ho permitted his angular and attenuated form to elevate itself into perpendicular longitudinosity. Carefully adjusting his eye-glasses, as a confirmed detective is wont to do, he ambled gracefully towards the kitchen. Some one was behind the door. He pushed it, said “Peekah-ah-booah,” and grasped the embroidered white skirl which protruded. A voice tittered and giggled, and then ejaculated: “G’way sum dab, Massa P’siV’l. Ain’ you ’shamed flirtin’ wid a yallar gal like me?” Lo, Tillie the cook came forth and clamped two glistening yellow arms about his Adams-apple-throat and glued two watermelon-loving lips to the thin compression of mouth of which Percival was so proud. Just then Blanchie, his fiancee, came across the lawn. Percival has returned to his counter la “The Fair,” and will not leave Chicago again during the summer.

"Helen's Babies.”

Mr. Eugene Field, the author of the “Sharps and Flats” column of the Chicago News, has three boys who, if they do pretty nearly as they please and do it in a highly original manner, ire only chips of the old block. One day in mid-winter, when Chioago s far famed lake breeze had driven the thermometrlcal mercury down into the bulb and was sitting on it to keep ife down, the three Field boys did not come home at the usual hour for returning from school. Dinner was held oft tor them until almost 8 o’clock, and then, as the rest of the family sat at the table, one of the boys came softly in, wearing on bis face and all over his manner the most positive evidence that he had been up to mischief. “Where are your brothers?" asked the father. “They’re down stairs,” said Pinney, “bringing up the fish,-’ “What fish?”"” “The fish we caught.” “Where have you been fishing?” “Down to the lake. You see it was this way, papa. We was awful cold and we saw smoke coming up from the lake and we went down there to get warm.” Thef bad seen the steam rising from the watar and had. gone nut about a mile over the ice to “get warm." Presently, when it was thought Pinnoy had satisfactorily explained their absence from home and established mace, the other two boys, Melvin and Sugene, jr., came in looking as blue as whetstones and as stiff as frozen mackereL Melvin held in his hand about two yards of tow string, the end of which was tied around the body of a solitary smoked herring. “See,” said Pinney, lifting the fish from the floor, where Melvin was dragging it In a shame faced manner —“See, papa, we thought we’d like to >ring something nioe for your supper, so we caught this fish; and it’s all for you, papa."—Washington Post

Popular Fallacies.

It is a mistake tofebor when you are hot in a fit condition to do so. To think the more a person eats the healthier and stronger he will become. To go to bed late at night and nse at daybreak, and imagine that every hour taken from the sleep is an hour gained. that if a little work or exercise is good, violent or prolonged exercise is better. To conclude that the smallest room in .the house is large enough to sleep in. To eat as if you had only a minute to finish the meal in, or to eat without an appetite, or continue after it b» been satisfied, merely to gratify the taste. To believe that children can do as much work as grown people, and that tM more hours they study the more they learn. Xo imagine that whatever remedy causes one to feel immediately iMtter (asatoohoHeetimulaato) is good for the system, without regard to the after affects. To take off proper clothing out of season because you have become heated. To sleep exposed to a direct draft at any season. To think any nostrum or patent medicine Is s specific for ail diseases the flesh is heir to*—American Analyst

Friendship. Love builds on reeds, • Friendship on timbers strong,— For he who heeds _ Ne’er builds on reeds; But Love is blind, t—--And trusts the wind, — Who ne’er can rest, Will shun his nest; But f riendship, who endureth long, Upholds his roof with timbers strong,— W hile Loye, Love builds on reeds. Love builds on reeds. Friendship on timbers strong. Now comes the wind, To war inclined. He sees the reeds, - And though Love pleads, fc- r With gibe and jest He rends toe nest; But friendship, who endureth long, Upholds his roof with timbers strong! 1 was Love that builton reeds. —L. F. S. Barnard, St. Louis Magazine.

NO GREAT MEN WANTED.

A Parisian Barber Who Does Nol j i Desire Thefr Custom. Hugo was once one of you* patrons, I believe,” said a .french writer, M. Planche, to Brassier, a bar* ber of Paris. “Alas! yes,” answered the barber. The word and the accent surprised the inquirer. * it not agreeable, then, to have the greatest :man in France—the greatest poet of his century, perhaps—for a customer?" The barber shrugged hia shoulders.' “Ah, monsieur, it is one of the worst tilings that can happen to you, to have a great man for a customer. You see, they are not like other men,” Then, in order to justify his paradox, he related* a chapter of personal experience. “One day a great lady, Mme. de X whose hair 1 had dressed, and who was much pleased with my work, said she would recommend me to thirty or more of her friends; and in a day or two she sent me a pape r containing all the names and addresses of the people, with her recommendation of me at the bottom." “The recommendation of Mme. de X ! why, that was as good as a fortune to you, my good man," said M. Planche. “It might have been, StrTbut Tor ®C _ V ictor Hugo. He was here the day I received it; he had sat down in the very chair you are sitting in now. , I had just put a towel round his neck, when he seemed to be seized with some great thought and beckoned me to let him alone. He drew a pencil from his pocket, took a sheet of paper from this table here and began writing. “He had been writing about five minutes when another customer came in. My men were all busy, so, seeing that M. Hugo had stopped writing to sharpen his pencil, I stepped up to him and said: * “ ‘M. Hugo, if you will permit me to begin with you—l am in a hurry.’ “Um! I'm in a hurry, too,’ said he. “Then he got up all at once, paper and pencil in hand, and started out of the shop. I called after him that he lad the towel round his neck, and he took it off. But I didn’t mind tho paper, because I did’t know what it was. “But iu the afternoon I wanted the japer which Mme. de X had given me, and couldn’t find it. One of my men said it had beeu lying there on the table. That was the paper that M. Victor Hugo had taken for his notes! “ ‘Ah, yes,’ he said. ‘I remember; I lad no sooner got into the house than !' had another and much better idea, and as I had, therefore, no further need, of your paper, I— ’ - —— “ ‘Threw it into the fire?’ “I am sorry to say I did!’ ”

Mrs. Kate Chase Sprague.

It would seem at last as if fortune was once mbre returning to Mrs. Kate Chase Sprague, says a Washington letter to the Albany Journal. Mrs. Chase, as she now calls herself, had perhaps the greatest social career in Washington that any woman ever had, except Mrs. Dolly Madison. When Chief Justice Chase died his estate was not supposed to be worth $30,000, and Mrs. Chase, who inherited the bad head for managing her own money affairs which distinguished her father, managed to get rid of her share of it long ago, exoept the chief justice’s oountry place, Edgewood, near Washington. Lately an electric street railway has been extended out there, the suburban farm has reached the neighborhood, and Mrs. Chase finds herself the ownei of one of the most valuable properties in the district Her son, Willis Sprague, who went with his father in the Sprague domestic trouble, and afterward married a sister of the woman his father married, has separated from his wife and returned to his mother. He is a young fellow, not much more than 21, and there is hope for him. ▲ report was circulated some time ago that Mrs. Chase intended suing the estate of Mr. Conkling for some money that Mr. Conkling had made an investment for her and had been lost Mr. Conkling, .so it was said, had regularly paid the Interest on it, but when he died there was no provision made for the prinolpaL It la known that Mrs. Chase and Mr. Conkling had not been on speaking terms for some time before the latter’s death. Mrs. Chase, although older aad somewhat broken, is still the same imperial woman. “Age oan not wither or custom stale her infinite variety.” But she bas to a great degree given up society an* ievgtee herself wholly to hqr children