Rensselaer Republican, Volume 27, Number 26, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 21 February 1895 — Page 6

> A FLAG DAY. , The stories of battle and raid. In the times when om flag was made, Oh, let them be often told. And the stars and stripes we'll raise, ” In token of tlianks afld praise “-- - To one, in the grand old days, Most patient and wise and' bold. In honor of truth, and right. In honor of courage and might. And the will that makes a way. In honor of work well done. In honor of tame well won, In honor of Washington, Oar flag is floating today.

A RIDE FOR FREEDOM.

Fred M. Colby in Golden Days.

HERE! I do believe that boy will be the V 0 ruin of rr.e. He ■I t ,. '- JjA, never knows how to fe&T do anything right- . And now here he’s **3 ;been and cut down

all the maples and saved the basswoods in that wood lot in my absence, and I found the oxen mismated, and everything was—alb wrofig. A boy that don't know enough to tell the difference between soft and hard wood won’t ever amount to much, in my opinion. I was so provoked that I told him he could go to bed without his supper. Perhaps it will teach him a lesson.” Old 'Squire Holton was emphatic in his criticism of the .ignorance or the thoughtlessness that characterized the daily doings of bis farm help. To him there was nothing excusable in such conduct. He had taken pains to tell the boy just what trees he wanted felled, and it was an essential matter to him whether the maples were cut down or left standing iiitliatfiEf'Uew lot he had recently bought of Maj. Jackman. “I half believe the boy did it on purpose to bother me,” he concluded,as he sat down to bis supper of hot porridge and milk and fried doughnuts which his wife had just placed on the table. “Oh, no, father! John wouldn’t do that,” said kind, motherly Mrs. Holton. “John means to do right, but his mind isn’t on his work.” “No, that it isn’t, I’ll be bound,” muttered the 'Squire, between his mouthfuls of warm porridge. “He hasn’t had a mind for anything over since thaCday General Wash in jz ton and. his soldiers rode by, a mon th ago. It waft only the other morning, when I supposed he was busy watering the stock at the barn, and I happened to open'the door for something,"and there he was, marching up and down the floor, a turkey’s tail feather stuck in his cap band and a pitchfork at his shoulder, and be giving off orders as tbouglilie was“a corporal; I almost wish the continental army was sunk.” “Why, father!” exclaimed his wife; “and then we should lose our liberties, and* the battles of Lexington and Bunker Hill and Trenton would have to be fought over again.”

“Well, it would be better, any wav, for John if they w >re farther off than Valiev Forge,” answered the'Squire, testily, attacking a huge doughnut that was as crisp as frost. .? And, overhead, in the large, open garret, where bundles of thorough- | wort and pennyroyal hung down 1 from the long, slanting rafters, and which was warmed only by the heat ascending through a ventilator from j the kitchen below, the subject of the'Squire’s wrath lay listening to every word. He was a tall, fair lad, strong and active, with steady, gray-blue eyes ■ and a shock of wavy brown hair that had a knack of always falling into his eyes. John Russell was sixteen years old ■ ♦d was. an orphan. Mrs. Holton as his father’s Sister, and the i >quire, being without children of bis own. had cheerfully consented, when it was first proposed, that the fatherless boy should come and live with them. He had lived there now . for three years, but he d.d not take] kindly to life on a farm. The boy had an imaginative tcm- , perament. inherited from bis mother, j and to drive the slow oxen day after j day, do the milking and the drudg- ; ery incident to a large farm, were I not the most congenial employments. He honestly strove to do h’is duty, though, and the 'Squire, if rough, was kind in his way. A shade of deep thought overspread his face as he heard his uncle's words, and two or three tears rolled down his freckled face, which were bravely dashed away. “He did tell me tocutthe maples," he said to himself, “I know he did, and, as for playing soldier, what hurt did it do? 1 had turned out the cows and done just as I do every day. I wish I was a soldier in Washington’s army, ard 1 will be when lam older, unless we .whip the British before. But Ido hope I shall be able to do something for my country. If I only could —if I only could!" He lay for a long time, his mind full of conflicting thoughts, but at last he sank to sleep, and forgot alike his trials and his ambitions in the sweet refreshing slumber of boyhood. In the morning when he went down-stairs into the kitchen the 'Squire spoke to him as t hough nothing had happened, and he-went out and fed the cattle as usual. At the breakfast table his uncle said. over to Gongin's mill to-dav, John, and get a load of corn ground. Mother says we are out of meal, and I’ve no mind to“give up my johnny-cake in the morning. You may the gray mure, and

while the corn’s being ground you can call on Major Frye, just beyond,, and ask him if he can pay the interest ,d ue on th at note. It is two poundsand sixpence. Don't now, and don't make a blunder. I’ve got "the corn put up.” “AU right,” answered John, cheerfully. £3 And he went out and saddled old Suke, the gray mare, andTh half an hour was ready to start. “Here’s, some cheese and doughnuts for your luncheon,” said Mrs. Holton, giving him a small parcel which he placed in his coat pocket;' “and here’s a new pair of "mittens that I knit for you. You'll, need them to day, for there is a raw, cold air.” - = —« ■- ———-

“Oh, thank you, aunt! They will keep my hands warm as toast.” replied John, with a good deal of feeling. “Tell Googins to take good toll, and gbvback before dark if you camj’ This was the ’Squire’s parting injunction as this “boy of seven ty-six” started on his journey to the distant grist mill. It was not exactly seventy-six, but it was the 22d day of February, 1778. Going to mill m those days was a different affair from what it is in this year of grace. John Russell, dressed in a coarse homespun, with knee buckles and shoe buckles, and a coonskin cap on his head, and wearing his thick woolen mittens, mounted upon the staid old farm horse, a bag of corn behind his saddle and another in front of him, presented a picture that is nottikclyToTrave its counterpart in modern times. He whistled merrily as he rode forward through the cold February day on his journey, for it was a pleasant change from driving oxen and felling trees. Googins' mill, so called after the proprietor, Who was a German of the name of Hans Googins, was eight or nine miles' from 'Squire Holton’s place, down on French creek.

About a mile this side of the mill the roacl branched, the left hand leading on to the mill, the other taking one to the American encampment at Valley Forge, which was four miles distant. John would have liked nothing better than to have gone to the patriot camp, but his orders were imperative, and he dared not to spend the, time, so he reined old Suke to the left and kept on to the mill. The miller, a short, stout German, with a broad, good-humored face, greeted our hero with a hearty “Goo t morning, mine young frient!” “How's business?’’ asllnd John. “Peautiful,’ ? replied Haps. “So goot vat nefervas.” “That is good for you. I should like to have ray grist ready by 2 o’clock. Uncle says you must take toll enough to pay vou well." “Yaw. Mynheer Holton ish von fln e man, uhUTHFhows' it." said the miller. “Veil, I vill grind dat grist right avay quick. Maype you vill go in unt see Katrina unt der chi'.drent. De leedle ones vill pe glad to see you, I dells you,” said the hospitable Hans. “Thank you,” answered John, “but I have an errand to do at Maj. Frye’s, and I brought a luncheon in my pocket." “Dat Major Frye ish von rascal, unt don’t you forget it! Veil, I don’t vant to shpoke apoud him any more.” And, with a shrug of his thick shoulders. Hans pulled up the gate and set the great wheel in motion. John remounted and rode slowly a wav from the old m i 11, whoso picturesque situation was heightened by*lts winter garb of white. , It was about noon when he ap,pr a 'bed the house of Major Frye, who was an old militia officer, and had served in the French and Indian war.

As he rode into the yard, he was surprise 1 to see two horses standing near the door, on one of which sat a -British orderly. Before he could dismount, the owner of the house', Major Frye himself; appeared in the open doorway, ushering an officer in guy uniform without ~“You may trust me, sir,” the Major wis saying. “There will be no mistike. The General is to be here at eight precisely, this evening.- It will be your fault if you don’t secure him.”

Then, seeing the new comer, he hesitated, and, as his countenance changed, he whispered something to his English visitor, who, with a slight inclination of the head, muttered the one word: “Remem and then hurriedly remounted his horse an J rode away with his orderly. “Well, young sir, I am glad to see you,” said the Major, with wellfeigned cordia itv, addressing John, j “I know the errand Vou have come for, and have got the, money. So lead your horse into the barn and come in. I have reckoned up the interest on the ’Squire’s note, and it is two pounds and four pence,” he remarked, as they entered the house, “Uncle called it two pounds and I six pence."said John,“and he told me | tp collect it." “Oh, that isn’t much difference. I guess it’s all right, anyhow. I don’t j know as I should have had themoney ' if I hadn't just sold, some fat cattle |to the British. They offered me a littl? more than the Americans did, and I let them go." i “I wouldn’t have done it!'declared j John, with emphasis. “I hated to. But. you see. I knew I the 'Squire would be after the money. ‘lt was due yesterday, and he's as regular as the sun. Besides, lam going to let Washington have a yoke of fat oxen tonight. It’s his biftf,hday, and the Commander-in-Chiff is going to make a feast for the patri-

ots. He is coming himself “tonight to get them, as he wishes to surprise them.” i. John felt all his nerves tingle with thought. Was this man a traitor, and had he bargained with the British to betray Washington? The suspicion was strong ih his mind, b'ut he said nothing as the Major turned over the money in brand new English pieces. “Ydtt may sign this receipt,” said Frye, as he took a folded paper from his pocket, jdre'lt in two, and scribbled a few lines on one of the pieces.. The boy looked over what bad been" written, and wrote his name as requested. The silver pieces he care, fully stowed away in the inside pocket of his woolen spenser, and after Suke bad eaten her generous foddering of hay he started on his way back to the mill. —h His grist was ground and waiting for him, but, before he loaded the bags, he looked once more to see that his money was all right. As he pulled it from his pocket, a piece of torn paper fluttered to the ground. It was the companion piece of thatqn which the Major had written the receipt, and Jobn had put it in his pocket with the silver. He stooped to pick it up, and as he did so his quick eye caught a name, written in a clear, bold hand, that was famous just then throughout the American colonies. .-r With a swiftly-beating heart and a flushed brow, he glanced over the few lines that preceded the autograph. The first part of the letter was on thepiece on which he bad receipted for The money, but there was enough to make his young blood thrill in his veins. This is what he read:

“ received. If you mean business, I think the plan can be successfully carried out. My aid-de-camp, Maj. Singleton will ride over to-mor-row to see you and arrangb the details of the capture. He will nay into your hands half the money you ask —fifty pounds. If we succeed in our enterprise and capture the gen - eral, the rest shall be paid you down. You may trust Major Singleton as you would myself. “I have the honor to be, yours, for peace and,unity, Gen. William Howe. “To Maj. Daniel Frye.” It was all clear as sunlight to John in a moment. Maj. Frye was a traitor, and the plot in whichjhe was engaged was nothing less than the seizure of the Commander-in-Chief. There was no time to be lost. Washington must be warned, and he was the one to do it. “What time of day is it?” he asked the miller. Hans pulled out a big silver watch. “Vel, it pe tree minutes past two o’clock,” he said. “All right! Now, you take this money and beep At-tiULI. call for R. I am not going home with the grist—at least, not just yet. Good-by.” The next moment he was on the back of old Suke and galloping down the road at a wild speed. “Mine Gott, dot poy ish drazy!” exclaimed Hans, as he stood in the doorway, his hands in his pockets, gazing after the retreating figure. “I gifs it hup, es he hain’t gone stark mad. Dot vas all!”

Meanwhile John,-rode on, without a halt, till he reached the American camp. He inquired of a sentinel for Washington’s headquarters, and an orderly was dispatched to conduct him to the Potts house. That was two miles further on, and it was nearly 4 o’clock when John and his escort arrived there. He was ushered by the orderly into . a room where three or four officers I sat at a table, one of whom rose and turned his attention to the newcomer. “You wanted to see me, my lad? I am the Commander- in-Chief.” John gazed for a moment with silent awe at that majestic presence, with the grave, worn, anxious face, j before he could answer. He then I placed in the General’s hand the pie e of paper he had found. “Read that, sir,” he said. “Where did you get this?” asked Washington, after he had read the lines. John told his story in a straightforward manner that vouched for his honesty, and when he had concluded | Washington turned to his officers and said, sorrowfully: “Alas! who would have thought it? Whom shall we trust?" He asked John a few more questions of minor importance, which were answered readily, then he said: “My lad, the intelligence you have brought me is of the greatest imj portance and value. Probably your thoughtful action has been the means of saving my life, and perhaps the liberties of the colonies. What can I do for you?" I “Make me a soldier," was John's answer, as he thought of his one ambition. | The pater patria looked gravely at the slender boyish figure and earnest face of the speaker, but did not smile. « “You are hardly old enough for the rough life of a soldier, but I would like you to care for mv horses. I need a boy for that. Will you come?” “If uncle and aunt will only let me,” replied John, so pleased that he could scarcely refrain from turning a somersault even before that august presence. “Yon may come to-morrow, then, and here is your salary for the first quarter. ” Washington placed in his hands a ( couple of gold pieces. John thanked him as well as he was able. “Be assured, my brave boy/' said Washington, as he aeeoinpun-hid him to the door, “that the service you

have this day performed will not b< forgotten: I tremble when I think what might have befallen our couw try if it had not been for your fortunate discovery and intelligent action. I was going to visit that man’s house to-night, and he A like Judas, had bargained to betray me to my enemies for a few paltry pieces of silver and gold*. Washington thanks you now; in the future he will do more.” Y' '■ And he bowed him put of the door. It was quite dark when John returned to the mill, where the wondering Hans was waiting for him. Before he was half way home he met th e 'Sq ui re. who had become anxious at his protracted absence. John-explained this satisfactorily, and there never was a manmore, surprised than was ’Squire Holton when his nephew related all the ad* ventures of the day. The next morning he accompanied the lad co Washington’s headquarters, and saw him enter upon his new duties. Before the war was over John Russell was a bona fide soldier. He did good service at Yorktown, and won the commendation of Washington for dash and courage. In after years he became a Virginia planter, and was a welcome visitor at Mt. Vernon as long as Washington lived. The 22d day of February was always observed by him with peculiar solemnity and good cheer.

GEN. LEE’S SURRENDER.

Interesting Reminiscences of Appomattox by Gen. Porter. New York Special to the Globe-Democrat. * “Appomattox” was the title of a lecture which Gen. Horace Porter delivered in the Seventh Regiment Armory. As a witness of the surrender, he was able to give all the details, many of which are not generally known. On the platform from which Gen. Porter spoke were chairs and tables arranged in the same positions as those were in the McLean House at Appomattox at the time of the surrender. Gen. Lee, he said, was dressed in regular Confederate uniform, and the handle of his sword was studded with jewels. Grant had on an old faded blue blouse and a pair of private’s trousers. He wore no sword, as be had thrown it in a wagon a few days before. Gen. Porter had a souvenir of the event, which be exhibited. It was a pencil with which Gen. Lee had written the acceptance of Grant’s terms of sufrender. He also had a large flag with several bullet holes in it, which, had-floated over Gen. Grant’s headquarters during the entire war. In closing, Gen, Porter spoke of Grant’s first words after Lee had left them after the surrender. Grant’s officers were wondering what would be the first words said by the man who had just gone through one of the greatest events of his life, and were surprised when he looked up and said to one of his staff: “Do you remember that old white mule we used to ride in Mexico?”

Why Some Women Do Not Marry.

Rebecca Harding Davis In the Century for February. One such woman was used to attack a new science or language every year, and, failing, from her lack of tetvher orcompa'- • io i, would j ile le text-books iq neaps until walls pt dusty shut in everv room of the house.' She fell at last into a state of semiidiocy, and wandered like a ghost around the village, jabbering scrap.} of foreign tongues-which she did nut. understand. It is a hereditary habit in certain families for the women who have q grief to shut themselves into a rooty and remain there for ten, twenty o.; thirty years. Nor are the morbi 1 fancies of these women al way I gloomy and sad. They live sometimes in an enchanted land of ther? own. One whom I know, a woman c| sensuous temperament and motherly instincts, refused to marry a maq whom she loved because he had gon) to live in another town, and shj would be forced to leave the' o’ | house and half acre which were thj Renter of the world to her. Th» courtship went on for forty years, but she was true to the house! Another d'-ove her lover away on the day of the wedding because sluj could not bring herself to change the name of tWonson for any other. He was rich and she was poor; he remained faithful and ready as long as she lived. She died at seventy, q maiden Wonson still. Could pride o( blood go further?

Literary Notes.

A flying machine that actually flew —not wisely but too well, ot rather, not exactly when but dis* tinctly before it was required tolly —is described by Hiram S. Maxim in Harper's Young People for Jun. 2 >, A weight of eight thousand pounds, lifted from the ground and carried along through the air, in opposition to the will of the designer and in spite of the mechanical restraints which he had contrived, ponderously emphasizes the claims of this invention to be seriously no longer lightly dismissed ns a mi rc mechanical toy. Professor Maxim's failure in the instance now describee is the sore, of failure that proves strength and promises future success. ‘ . The volume of water that flows through New York city every dav Via the new aqueduct is equal to a river a hundred feet wide and three feet deep running at the rate of s' mile ah hour. If the full capacity of the aqueduct were used it would represent a similar river one hundred aud sixty-five feet wide.

LAST RAID OF THE WAR.

A Rebellion' Within the Lines Aftel Globe-Democrat. ~'' ' Col. J. C. Rathbone, of Kansas, at the Laclede: My command in the late war, the old West Virginia Eleventh Union Volunteers —we always wanted the Union part mentioned —was kept on duty, almost continuously in the mountain country comprehended by Roane, Wirt, Jackson and Ritchie counties, in that State, and it was a hazardous, bush wack ing sort of warfare that gave none of us a chance to make a record, but it was war just the same, and much more risky than fighting out in the open. We hunted rebels just as we did rabbits and squirrels, and they hunted us the same way. It was a war of assassination and of rapine, Sometimes I had 2,000 men under my command, and again they would draw men away from me to adjacent commands till I would have mnlvJiOQ. Qne,of mv companies I

lost permanently. It was a fine, rugged body of men, eighty odd strong, every man a marksman, and most of them “sang” men and deer hunters. They got farther and farther away, till they got brigaded finally with a lot of Jerseymen and New Yorkers in Sherman’s army. They were in the Atlanta campaign and in the march to the sea, and they saw Joe Johnson hand over his sword. When the grand review came off at Washington in 1865 they were there. The order went out the night before that every man in the great army should be supplied with a paper collar and a pair of white cotton gloves for this last and grandest dress parade of the war. There were only twenty-two of the eighty odd left—the others had fallen- in action. They were commanded by Their surviving Second Lieutenant. The order for collars and gloves went against the grain. It was said; that the Lieutenant was the only man in the outfit that had ever wore a biled shirt. Linsey-woolsey store, flannels and corduroy had been their accustomed body wear. They rebelled to a man against the paper collars and the woman’s glove finery, and the same night—about tho blackest time before the day—the little _ band broke camp and struck out toward Rockville an the wav across country to their! mountain homes in Clay, Roane an I Kanawha counties, The war was aver, anyhow, they argued, and why, should they stay in camp and let q lot of fool generals make them ridiculous by making them march with paper collars on? They foraged as they went, and for the last time raided the Door country that bad been so often ravaged by the men o! = Yla’^s(Th7--McClelhvn--' : an d Meade and Hooker and Burnside. This was as heroic a progress as thq famed retreat of the 10,000 in history, tnd the little band got home safe and sound and in time to plant corn. Whetrthe Blair disability pension law was passed some of these old veter-i anS tried to get pensions, and then they found Out to their astonishment that they bad been branded by a little Jersey brigadier as deserters. When Gen. Nathan Goff was in Congress he tried topass a bill setting the men right. I never heard how it turned out. I have been a wav from that country now, located in Kansas with my three sons, some eight years.

MISCELLANEOUS NOTES.

Millot is prehistoric in South Europe, Egypt and Asia. Except wandering priests, there are few beggars in Japan, and most 3f these are fat and rosy. If a man strikes another with a weapon in Madagascar there is but one law, and that law is death. x There were very few paved streets in any part of England before the year 1853,. when the streets of Lonion were lirst laid down. Every one who smokes or chews iclps to support the government. In 1892 the* government revenue.' from tobacco were $31,000,077. The Big Sandy, in Kentucky, tool its English name from its sandbars The Indians called it the Chatterol, meaning “the sandy river." In a tree cut down on the Faul ’oner place, in Spottsylvania, Ya., three pistol balls and a carbine ball were found imbedded in the heart. The people of Great Britain consume less tobacco per head than those of any other country—only twenty-three ounces to the inhabitant. One inch of rain falling on a square mile of land represents 22,000 horse power. The power of a longgeneral rain over a wide area would be almost incaculable. The taste is often the last faculty to be impaired by old age, because it is most needed for the protection of the individual against the use ol unwholesome food. In the early days of the last century there was a fashion prevalent in both England and on the continent of writing poems in the shape of various objects. Hearts, wings, altars, true lovers’ knots, gloves, spectacles, shears and other articles were thus utilized. Tokio knows no lawn mowers. When the lawn grass gets long it is invaded by a cheerful company of old ladies with pairs of shears, who clip and clip all dav long, drink tea or smoke under a t’ree and final* i Jy charge for the job no more than a | lawn mower would in Brooklyn.

A BRIGHT STAR.

SKETCH OF THE MAN WHO LED MARY ANDERSON TO FAME. i Also Played Leadin" Roles with • Booth, Barrett and Thorne. IFrom the hit. Louis Chronicle.) One of the most conspicuous figures in the Stagelaud of America to-day is John W. Norton. Born in the seventh ward Bt New York city forty-six years ago, the friends of his youth were Thomas W. Keene and Frank Char.frau. We find Keene a star at the age of 25 and Norton in the flower of early manhood! the leading man for Edwin Booth at the famous Winter Gardea Theater. He was starred with Lawrence Barrett early in the ’7o’s, and alternated the leading roles with Charles Thorne at the Variety Theater in New Orleans. Early in the Centennial year, in Louisville, Norton met our Mary Anderson, then a fair young girl who aspired for stage fame, took her under hii guidance and, as everybody knows, led her to fame. Mr. Norton is now the proprietor of the Grand Opera House in St. Louis, tlie Du Ouesne Theater, Pittsburg, and one of the stockholders in the American Extravaganza Company. One afternoon early in June he hobbled into his New York office on Broadway and encountered his business manager, George McManus, who had also been a rheumatic sufferer for two years. Nor-t-:i rded hiscane. —Who cured -yen-?he— asked. “1 cured myself.” replied McManus, "with Dr. Williams' Pink Pills." -T was encouraged by Mr. McManus* cure, and as a last resort tried the Pink Fills myself,” said Mr. Norton to a Chronicle reporter. “You have known me foi five years, and know how 1 have suffered. Why. during the summer of 1893 I was on my back at the Mullnnphy Hospital, in this city.-fonr weeks. I was put on tha Bid system of dieting, with a view to cleaning those acidulous properties ip my blood Ttiat medical theorists say is the cause ot my iheumatism. I left the hospital feeling stronger, but the first damp weather brought with it those excruciating pains in the legs and back. It was the same-old trouble. After sitting down for a stretch ' of five minutes, the pains screwed my legs into a knot when I arose, and I hobbled as painfully as ever. After I had taken my first box of Pink Pills, it struck rue that the pains were Jess troublesome. I tried another box, and I began almost unconseiously to ha ve f nitlr in the Pink Pilis. I improved so rapidly that I could rise after sitting at my desk for an hour and the twinges,of rheumatism that accompanied m.y rising were so mild that I Scarcely noticed them. During the past two weeks, we have had much rainy weather in St. Louis. But the dampness has not had the slightest effect in bringing back the rheumatism, which I consider a sufficient and reliable test of the efficacy of Pink Pills. I may also say that the Pink Pills have acted as a tonic on my stomach, which I thought was well nigh destroyed by the thousand and one alleged remedies 1 consumed in the past five years.”

MISTAKES IN GRAMMAR.

Every Day Blunders Pointed OutHow They May Be Avoided. Faults are pardonable in converse- • * 'A tion which are not pardonable in written compositions. But wo must be careful not to take too much leeway in this regard, and not to make many mistakes in grammar or pronunciatioti. b ome people are guilty of grammatical blunders, through sheer carelessness. Xhus, a.lady, of my acquaintance, .who understands —trigonometry, and can translate Virgil, often says to mo, “you w s, ” and yet she knows perfectly well that this is an inexcusable mistake. Other people who ought to Know better, say “he don’t ” for “he doesn’t,” “I don't know as I do,” instead of “I don’t know that I do.” “Aft't" and “lain’t” are not often used now by educated people, unless in a jesting way. It is ah unwise thing, however, to be careless or inaccurate in one's pronunciations or use of ran gunge, sinee t ricks jf speech are easily caught and very hard to get rid of. Thus, when one is talking to servants, or other uneducated people, one is often tempted to adopt their phraseology, in order to be readily understood by them, but it is better to withstand the temptation, even if one should be obliged in consequence to take more trouble to express i>ne!s meaning clearly. What shall be said or the woman who says “I done it?" She has certainly placed herself between the horns of a dilemma. Her hearers will infer, either that her education was neglected, or that she associated with imeducated people during her childhood. And yet this is a grammatical fault which seems bard to get rid of. Persons who never say “1 seen it," or “he has went,” or “them things,” will occasionally betray themselves by letting slip the fatal “I done it.’’ It is quite an incorrect co use “he” md “1” for “him" and “me,” or vice vessa, as it is to say “I done it," and jet the rirst-named class of faults that of using the wrong pronouns—is sometimes committed by educated people. Indeed, I have heard the phrase “it U me,” justified on the ground that it was a literal translation of the French * e’est moi." But our English grammar, does not, like its French namenike, justify the employmentof certain pronuncial forms, merely for theYalue >f euphony. “He is older than I" may not sound as well as “he is older than me,” yet the former is the correct form, it is a very common mistake to »ay “between you and I,” nnd yet a moment’s reflection should convince iny one who ever studied grammar, I hat he should say “between you and me.”—Ladies.\ Journal.

Wrongly Translated.

Tho story is an old one of tho part] of tired travelers who entered a house decorated by a peculiar sign and demanded oysters. “This is not a restaurant,” said the courteous gentlemen who met them. “1 am an uurist." “isn’t that an oyster hung outside the door?’ 1 “No. gentlemen I it’s an ear.” A body of gallons fronuan American Vessel stopping ait Samoa went to ths German consulate and demanded dinner. “This is not a hotel,” said the offendtd domestic official who met them. “Well, if it jsn’t a restaurant what’l that,black fowl hung out for. An’t it a sign?" inquired the spokesman. The “sign" was the Gorman eagle, the oonoilar coat-of-arms.—Youlh’i Companion.