Rensselaer Union, Volume 7, Number 9, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 19 November 1874 — Page 3

RENSSELAER UNION. JAMES A HEALET, Proprietor*. RENSSELAER/ - INDIANA.

A THANKSGIVING STORY. BY N. 8. KMEBBON. I JSK'. Ont in the beautiful country when the harvest moon was high, When the autumn fruits were garnered and the winter nights were nigh, 'Old Farmer Pratt was counting his herds of lowing kine, , His sheep with growing fleeces, his lazy fattened swine; And as he reckoned slowly, the calm and frosty night Called him to barn and sheep-fold, to see if all was right. Under a sheltering hay-rick he paused to muse awhile, When two young voices near him awoke a passing smile; • One was his only daughter, Priscilla, speaking low, And the other was one of the neighbors, he guessed, but he did not know “ I can’t!” Priscilla was saying, “ I can’t, it’s going too fur, For mother would cry her eyes out if she found jue deceiv in’ her, And father ’’ he teit the shudder that he could not hear or see. And he said: "I b lieye Priscilla is fairly afraid o’ me. She’s a skeery thing, like her mother, but I vow I didn’t suppose The‘Words I've said so keerless was goin' home so . close. I’ve laughed about Reuben, and called him a sort of a shiftless lad, But I didn’t suppose the fellow was anything very badIt seems he’s been cdaxin' and teasin’ my Prissie to run away; It can’t do no h’arm, I’m her father, to listen to what they say. If he gives her up ior her fearo’ me, I don’t think much o' him. And I wonder, should she lose him, would it make her bright eyes dim.” "Priscilla, darling,” ’twas Reuben’s voice, speaking soft and slow, “I’ve waited in hope and patience two weary years, you know, And loved you as only a man loves the woman he means to wed. And only for your sake, Prissie, no word have I ever said To any one on this subject—but to-night—now listen, dear! We must have this matter settled; I can’t wait another year. I’ll talk with your father to-morrow, andlearn his * objections to me ” "Oh, no!" said Priscilla, in terror, "for then he would t hink that we — That I—had been—talking about him, and that makes him angriest of all.” Then Reuben’s voice grew firmer and seemed to clearer fall; “Your father is not an ogre, I do not dread his wrath, ’Tis better us to be honest and keep a straightforrerd path; But I know what a faint-hearted chicken you are and have always been. And though I believe your father one of the best of uieu, If he hates me as bad as you think for, of course he’ll refuse outright All consent to our future wedding, and leave us no chance for flight.; For you never would dare to marry right in the fact; and eyes Of his plain commands against it, though they be neither kind nor wise. I’ve nothing to say of your parents. They’re honest. and kind, and good, And you’ve served them, and loyed and-obeyed them, as a dutiful daughter should. But I’ve made up my mind to one thing, if you, persistently say That 1 mustn’t speak to your father, why, then, we must run away.” “Oh, Reuben!” “Now, Prissie, darling, I leave it to you to choose,I’ve lost my heart and my patienqe, but my wife . I'm not w illing to lose;--'--- ...........I 1 Shan't. discuss the subject by another word to-’ night. But the day before Thanksgiving, if everything's fair and bright, I’ll hitch up my roan colt, Major, and drive to the village and see If old Parson Emerson’s willing to do a favor for me, And then, when the stars are shining,—” the young folks moved away, And Farmer Pratt stared dumbly, with his head analn.-i tin- bay. Next morning he watched Priscilla, her blue eyes were swimming in tears, And her quivering chin told plainly that her heart was full of tears; Sometimes she'd look so earnest, as though she had something to say, Then the tears would seem to choke her, and she'd turn her head away. But the day before Thanksgiving dawned crispand bright aud clear, And every farmer’s kitchen was crowded with good cheer. All day- the big brick ovens were kept at pic-bake heat, And tempting pies, with flaky crusts, gave out their fragrance sweet; All day the golden cider slow trickled from the mill. And all day long good Deacon Pratt was thinking, thinking still; Toward night he jammed his hat on with a most unusual vim, And went across the meadow at a rapid stride for him, And then, ten minutes later, he panged beside a door That he left, in bitter anger some fifteen years before. Out stepped a cheery matron: “ Why, Brother Pratt! You here! I’m sure I’m glad to see you; walk in and take a cheer. The weather's getting chilly. How is your wife this fall? I often see your boys ’round, handsome, and strong - and fall.” And so she-chattedlightly, with deft, unconscious’ air, And never even hinted ’twas strange to see him there; But while he questioned t* himself if she’d take Reuben’s part, The outer door swung slowly, and in walked Deacon Hart; No angry words were spoken, but Deacon Pratt learned then That the plan he had discovered was all unknown to them; The young folks asked no favors, they knew an old feud lay Smoldering between the fathers, so they would run away; But when the two mew-parted besidethe meadow stile. Both-faces wrinkled kindly with a grim and sober smile. Hours after came the roan colt, shaking his handsome head, The bells were off the harness, and he seemed to lightly tread. Priscilla hushed her sobbing, and hurried down the stair, But just as she was stepping out into the frosty air The kitchen door flew_qpeu; two tallow dips ablaze Filled her with sudden terror, and Reuben with —7 — amaze: But her father’s voice was calling, “ Here, David, ■ . hurry now — ■ Go get the ewe and cossets; drive brindle cow; Roll out that barrel of apples, and the white Chenangoes fine; And bring a keg of cider, and a jug of currant wine. Stephen, tie up the feather bed, and put the pillows in; And. mother, where's the pillow-slips, and sheets, "and quilts and things ? Bring Out the new rose blankets that in the clothes-press lay<, Prissie must have her setting out —she’s going to run away.” »*** » » * » Imagine all the wonder that from this was sure to cotae 1 Imagine tears and kisses thrown in ad libitum! And two shame-faced young people waiting another day. . • And then concluding quietly they wouldn't run Sway. ■ The happiest Thanksgiving that e’er New’England knew Dawned on the village homes next day, where hearts beat warm and true. Old feuds were all forgotten—old troubles lain aside— And Reuben lived to bless the day he wbn his happy bride.

MRS. FRYER, DEACON WHIPPLE, AND AUNT SALLY.

The sisters Jennie and Harriet Millfungus occupied a third-story room in a human hive together with some twenty •other families in various stages of_distress, ignorance and bestiality. Like many others, they lived in a moral solitude as profound as that of any moun-

tain-top. Companionship with what was about them was impossible, and there was do man or woman outside to meet them with even a look that acknowledged them. They were desperately poor. And again, like thousands of others, they stitched all the minutes of seventeen working hours, and just did not starve and freeze.’ It seems incredible that any human being in a world of, resources like ours should be condemned th such a life. LJyen an animal hunting its food enjoys a pleasurable play of muscle and prompting of instinct. An oyster in its bed, a sponge rooted fast, yet thrills to the electric stir of wind and wave. But these step-daughters of the Old Woman in the Shoe, these Hagars in the great city wilderness, in mind, heart and body —look and you will find them not only in the alleys of the poor, but at your own door by thousands. It was on one of those early nipping days, bleaker than those of the later winter. Each sat by her little window, sewing in hand. Each was not cold, but quietly and entirely qhilled, as you are when caught under a long sermon in a damp and” fireless church. There was only a glimmer of fire in the stove. They had made a breakfast on weak black tea and bread with almost no butter at half-past five, and had been sitting since almost motionless, except foF the right hand and arm. And in trying to realize their state (and I am very anxious that you should realize it, and not think of them in the vague, picturesque way, for example, that we think of the people of Antigua, chanting prayers for mercy between the shocks of earthquake) this fact is to be remembered: We, a party of seven, once took summer quarters and a course of amateur starvation together, and discovered to our astonishment that one “ square meal” after such a course was not sufficient to do away with the sense of hunger and waste. We were still in arrears to Nature, and it required a “ square” series to bring the body up to its normal state. So in this instance these poor girls were bending under the exhaustion not of that day only, but of the many such days preceding, the weariness and dejection of many such breakfastings and long stagnations. Each, as I told you, sat by her window, though' there was little enough to see. A jumble of roofs, a prowling cat, some pigeons in consultation, a mound of rubbish, a battered roll of tin roofing. But there was a bit of sky, cloudless and clear, and, thought Jennie, “ somebody stood among pines on some mountain; top and saw it just as she saw it, only in all its breadth.” The notion pleased her. It gave her a share in the pleasant world outside, at least as large as this bit of blue was broad. She sat looking and her hands dropped in her lap, and the little half-finished boy’s jacket slid gently down on the floor. “ Harriet,”_slie asked, so abruptly that her eldest sister started, “do you think you love old Mrs. Fryer better than yourself?” Harriet stared, bewildered. “ What do you mean? You have such a habit, Jennie, of going off to mental Cochin Chinas and Perus without a word of warning to your friends! Now, what ever made you think of Mrs. Fryer ? And if you will do it, do; don't, please, jerk me after you, without any warning, either; it is so unsettling to the nerves! And the idea of loving old Mrs. Fryer at all. not to mention better than one’s self! Ridiculous!” ~“T thought so,” answered Jennie, composedly. “ And Deacon Whipple—have you a sincere esteem for him?” “ Esteem! Do you remember the night he made that beautiful prayer, and how the next morning he turned the widow Gobbins out of doors? and when he wanted Mrs. Winkle to taste his cherries he broke one in two and handed her the half? Gracious! Jennie, what ails you?” “Never mind that, but just answer me. There is our Aunt Sally —should you like to run your trains on her tracks, and switch off just when she gives the signal?” “ Jennie Millfungus! who knows better than you that Aunt Sally is Lot to our Abraham, and the land refuses to bear us both? It is my deliberate opinion that Solomon had her in mind, and nobody else, when he preferred the house-top to a brawling woman.” ‘.‘ And these are really the only persons we know!” continued Jennie, musingly — “our world! the only people who, hearing to-morrow that we were both dead, would even say, ‘Ah, indeed! I wonder, now, what they died of?’ No one else could be said to have forgotten us, because no one else ever remembers us. Mrs. Fryer, Deacon Whipple and Aunt Sally are our Public Opinion.” “ I am sure,” said Harriet, feebly, and looking uneasy, “ I always thought that public opinion was—well —was the whole United States.”

“ Very likely,” returned Jennie, indifferently. “ But I have been thinking. We have had no meat in a fortnight. We shall not dare to have one good fire this winter. Our shoes are as thin as paper, and in holes. We have not had a new corset in a year, either of us. We have three pairs of stockings between us, and two underskirts, and one thick shawl. We might as well be cannibals for all that we know of literature and art, although there is a picture-gallery four blocks away, and ten minutes’ walking would bring us to two libraries and a training-school for women. Such facts make one think. Are we really intruders in this glorious world, prowling about like vagabond cats and dogs, because no provision has been made for us? I do not believe it.” Harriet bristled. “ Now, Jennie, there is one thing I will' not listen to. When you come to fly right in the face of Providence, and reflect on His ways, I shall not hear you. / am going to acquiesce in the will of God.” “So am I,” said Jennie, with sparkling eyes. “To live in His Will, and .carry it out, too, is my intention, for I do not believe that our present life is of His will, but against it. You poor idolater, in what chapter is it written that two ablebodied young women are to work seventeen hours a day for the privilege of slowly starving mind and body? No, Harriet, your gospel is the Gospel of Gentility, and th* 3 God in whose will we have acquiesced so long is the dread of Mrs. Fryer, Deacon Whipple, and Aunt Sally.” “ How you talk!” said Harriet, more and more shocked. “It is not right to mjx things up like that, making light of sacred things.” “ How we h'ce/” retorted Jennie. ll To say that would be more to the purpose, I think. And why? Dig straight down to the root of the thing. As we must earn money or starve,, we work; but it has never occurred to us that it was possible for us to work for it after any other fashion than we are doing at present, for in that case what would

people say?—meaning Mrs. Fryer, Deacon Whipple and Aunt Sally, the only neople who could say anything about it. Though a large part of the world regards the tribe of sewing women with profound contempt, still the sewing woman in turn may sneer at the woman who goes publicly in and out of, the labor market, and earns her bread by force of muscle and drudgery; and that possibility turns the edge of the dispensation in the Fryer and Aunt Sally mind. Is not that what it amounts to? Gentility is the round of the ladder above some one else, and to stand on that, though only one remove from the bottom; we have slaved and starved without a single question about the possibility of doing anything else. Could we have done more for our God? Was there ever such a Moloch as this gentility, in whose outer court thousands of women like us are starving now?” “ There never was a Millfungus,” said Harriet, slowly, “ who was nol careful to keep up the gentility of the’ family. There was a Sir Something Millfungus in the days of Elizabeth, and there was a Col. Millfungus in the Revolutionary times who raised his own regiment; and our grandmother’s sister married into the Preston family—the Prestons of Philadelphia—and they say the Preston mansion is magnificent." “And they say,” broke in Jennie, “that the two "Millfungus sisters are living in a tenement-house, and sewing on little boys’ jackets by way of being genteel and emulating the Preston magnificence.” And here she laughed wildly —laughed, indeed, till tears of terror stood in Harriet’s meek eyes. “I am not mad, most noble Festus,” quoted Jennie, perceiving her sister’s apprehension; “only a little hysterical at the notion of bearing all this misery for Aunt Sally and old Mrs. Fryer. Do try to see reason, Harriet, Gentility backed by a bank account can stand alone; but gentility, worn thin and faded by time, is a drug in the market all over the world. Look at the two English advertisements that I cut from that English paper that fell in our way. You remember? The governess was to teach five children and assist in- the house-work and sewing. The servant in the family of three would be allowed the services of a boy tq perform the drudgery, the servant to receive half as much again as was offered the governess. And is there not much the same scale of values here?”

“Which means,” observed Harriet, doggedly, “ that you think of going out to service—a Millfungus in service! —and are trying to talk me over. But I never will consent. Never. I may be poor; but a mistress! to order me about! to go and do as one is bid! Jennie Millfungus, I wonder at you.” “ What is the woman who gives out our work but a mistress, and a hard one? Does she not tell you when to come, what you must do, and reprimand you sharplv into the bargain? I wonder at you. If there was a large demand for potatoes, and thejnarket was overstocked with apples, would you still persist in bringing apples? And yet at this work there are twenty to take our places tomorrow, at lower wages, too, while you surely are not deaf to the demand for good servants. And who is a better cook than you? And what is to prevent me from acting as a waitress? And why should we not take situations together in a family where there are no other servants? And why should you not receive sixteen dollars a month, and I twelve dollars—twenty-eight dollars a month besides our board? Where could we earn anything like that by sewing? We could re-stock our wardrobe,” “ I won’t hear of it, ” protested Harriet, obstinately. “No need of hearing, my dear, if you will only do it. Think! Besides the money, we should always be sufficiently warm, and get plenty of nourishing food. The exercise would build us up in health. There are evening schools ” “No, no; I won't! — I say I won't!" cried Harriet. “Every soul we know would cut us.” “There are so many we know!” retorted Jennie. “We see them so frequently, and then are so uplifted and gladdened by our intercourse! Oh, sister, can you not see that our life and its motive are weak, fictitious and diseased, and therefore we are cut off from all re sources? It is inconsistent; it has noth ing in common with the healthy ordering of the universe.” “To-spend our days in somebody’s greasy kitchen,” muttered Harriet. “ Put an apple see'd in the ground. Does it spend its days there? Ways will open if we but begin in the right place, like the apple seed. Come, sis, get on your bonnet.” Harriet recoiled. “Oh, not now! To-morrow, Jennie. You are so precipitate!” “ Yes, now, at once, while the iron is hot.”

We are honored by the friendship of the house of Baxter and know that there have been tribulation and friction therein—constant collisions of the Baxter nature, ideas, and requirements with the Power before the Range. But yesterday we met the mother of the house and, behold! she was beaming. “Congratulate me,” she began. “I am a happier woman than thp mother of the Gracchi! I have two gems of servants, American girls! a cook and waitress!—sisters! One is thirty; the other eighteen, and so handsome! And they reason about their work and plan it out beforehand. At her first dinner my waitress asked me for the name and chair of every member of the family and tlie proper place of everything. Fancy it! And she never made a single blunder! And they are refined! They have Tennyson and Mrs. Browning and Ruskin on their table, and one of them expresses herself so well! Such a sense of rest and peace has taken possession of us that I am not sure that we have not all died and gone to paradise. Their names? Oh, it is an odd name Millfungus— Harriet and Jennie Millfungus.”—Harper's Bazar.

Locking the stable door after the horse is stolen has a new illustration at Milford, N. H., where the bank directors are putting on a lock that would have absolutely prevented the recent great rbbbery. It is made on the same principle as a clock, and cannot be opened until a certain hour, by the cashier or any other man. -> . - < • —The Salt Lake Newt computes the number of polygamists in the Territory at 1,000 men, 3,000 women and 0,000 children, and the cost and loss by the punishment [of all at $2,000, and that the courts would have around them 3,000 crying women and 9,000 crying children. Marriage—The altar on which man lays his wallet and woman her attentions.

Wrecking on the Bahamas.

A writer in Harper's Magazine says: “ Wrecking is a branch of business for which the Bahamas have long been famous, owing ito their intricate navigation. At one time this was very lucrative, but it has been falling off of late years. Formerly everything saved from a wreck was sold at auction in Nassau; now till goods not of a perishable nature, and undamaged, are reshipped to the port of destination. Collusion between shipmasters and )the pilots was jHlso frequent; but increased vigilance on the part of the insurance companies has interfered with this nefarious business, while the numerous lighthouses recently erected by the Government with noble self-sacrifice have operated in the same direction. The uncertainties attending .money-making in this precarious way leave their effect on the character of the people, as is» the case when the element of chance enters largely into business; the prizes in the lottery are few, but are occasionally so large as to excite undue expectations, and thus unfit many for any pursuit more steady but less exciting. For months they will cruise about, watering and hoping, and barely kept alive on a scant supply of sugar-cane and conches; then they fall in with a wreck, and make enough from it perhaps to keep them going another year. It is not a heaithy oT ~dcsiTable state—of affairs. One Sunday morning a commotion arose quite unusual in the uncommonly quiet and orderly streets of Nassau. There was hurrying to and fro, and tire sound of voices shrill and rapid, caused by some sudden and extraordinary excitement. The wharves of the little port were thronged and positively black with eager negroes, and great activity was noticeable among the sloops and schooners. Some were discharging their cargoes of sponges, shells, fish, and cattle in hot haste; others were provisioning or setting up their rigging; others again were expeditiously hoisting their sails and heaving up their anchors; while the crews, black and white, sang songs in merry chorus as if under the influence of great and good tidings. What could it all mean? It meant this—another vein in the Bahama gold mimes had been struck, another lead discovered, and the miners were off to develop it, each hoping to be the lucky one to turn out the largest nugget and.retire on it for life. In other words, news had just been brought of the wreqk of a Spanish vessel on the Lavadeiros Shoal, one hundred and fifty miles away. She was none of your wretched colliers or fruiters, with a cargo valueless to wreckers, but a ship whose hold from keelson to deck beams was packed with a thousand tons of choice silks and stuffs fertile black-eyed brunettes of Havana, just enough damaged to oblige them to be sold at auction in Nassau, where all wrecked goods must be brought for adjudication. Verily, we thought, ‘it’s an ill wind that blows nobody any good ;’ the misfortune which has wrung the soul and perhaps ruined the happiness of one or two in far lands has made glad the hearts of several thousand darkies, mulatto, and whites in the Bahamas.”

Why Should Not Women Swim?

Is there any reason why women should not swim? Miss Bennett, the instructress of the free swimming baths, seems this year to have had no end of promising pupils, and at Newport and Long Branch the number of ladies able to buffet with the waves was notably,Qnthe increase. Boston is prominent in producing ladies who are admirable swimmers. Many of these ladies, in case of an accident, could not only take the best care of themselves, but they have gone as far as to instruct themselves how to save those ignorant of swimming. This spring a notable case occurred where a young woman from an interior town in Massachusetts saved a lad of seventeen from drowning, plunging into a swiftrunning river, “ accoutred as she was,” and diving twice under water beiore accomplishing the rescue. It is worth recording that, the fact having been reported to the officials of the town where the accident happened, it was proposed to have a medal presented to her. Taking the whole thing in a matter-of-fact way, the young lady refused, not wishing to attract any notoriety to herself; but the ladies of the village—her weaker sisters in a physical sense—in lieu of a modest toilet somewhat damaged by the immersion, gave the brave girl a handsome dress and an entire new wardrobe. We are inclined to think that we could dispense with a trifle of botany, or physics, or chemistry, providing our daughters could better breast the waves. One pleasant day this summer, standing among a group of ladies on the boat-slip at Lake George, the wind was blowing freshly, when suddenly a lace shawl was whisked oft a pretty girl’s shoulders and carried by the breeze into the lake. Now, had it been a lily ‘ much desired by our lady-love, we might have, twenty-five years ago, waded into the water (first having assured ourselves of its depth), or, by means of a long pole, obtained the coveted flower. There was not a boat on the slip, and feeling provoked at the accident, and our want of gallantry, we watched that drowning scarf, now drifting fully fifty yards away from us. “ It’s really dreadful ;” said the fair owner of the lace, “ there goes the horrid thingy It is sadly out of taste to mention what it cost, but that stupid scarf cost—dear me! all my savings of six months, to purchase at Stewart’s. Provoking thing! I’m going to have a good cry over it. There, now," and she speaker did indulge in a few genuine tears. “It was $75,” she added, between her sobs.

“Is that all?” said another lady in a most unsympathetic way, “ I declare I thought it was cotton lace.” “That is a remark quite uncalled for,” replied the loser of the shawl, “ and is adding insult to injury. There.” “1 only did it, dear, to teach you to use a pin or something to hold the’ scarf with, and not to wear expensive lacejust after breakfast. But it’s all right.” “What is all right, madam?" rather sharply retorted the aggrieved one, considerably nettled. “It is all right, for I am going to get your shawl for you, since nobody else will," and here the speaker looked at us. “ Oh, you are excused; men of a certain age are not expected to be herpic,” and saying this, before we could stop her, she had gone down the slippery boatsteps, had w-aded up to her waist, and now was out of her depth, and was swimming as lustily as a Sandwich Island girl toward the shawl. Presently she was up to it, when she caught it, and with a woman’s coquetry, swimming with one hand, with the other had converted the lace into a turban, which she wound round her head. “Here is a practical nineteenth century nereid for you,” she cried out, laughing, as she came in hand over hand. In a moment she stood drip

ping on the slip. “Now, sir, will you be good enough to go to the hotel and send me ihy maid ? And here is your scarf, my dear yoting lady; it is not much hurt; you will spread it out evenly and put it between folds of blotting paper, with a weight on it; and of course ysu will kiss me—if you don't mind being wet- for having been your Newfoundland/you know. It was a real frolic! Catch cold? not a bit of it. Learned the noble art of natation when I was eight years old. It is a pretty shawl, and such a rich, flowing pattern, and real Jaee; of course I knew that all the time, for if it had been cotton or imitation I give you my word I shouldn’t have tried to rescue it. You see”—this was addressed to me—“a woman swims at first, with all her clothes on, lighter than a man, but after a while it’s rather heavy work. But I really think had I married a Turk and my jealous. lord had put me in a sack into the Bosphorus he. could not have drowned me. By the way, ladies—l should not like you to mention it—l am very unhappy. lam married to a man, fate has so ordained it, who can’t run or swim, or play cricket or shoot, except in a most languid way. I am, then, his natural protector, and he knows it. But I am chattering here. Pray now run to the house and send my servant.” On that We hurried up to the hotel, and that important functionary, the lady’s maid, soon sped on her errand “ My mission on this earth,” said the lady to us that evening, “is to induce women to improve themselves by means of physical culture. Why did not Canon Kingsley lecture on it when he was here, for no one has written so sensibly on the subject? Women’s rights movements fail signally in this particular: How are women who are always whining and ailing to take any higher position in the human family? I tell you, much as we may despise materialistic ideas, and hold aloft the immaterial—brain over body—fists are too often trumps. Now to the case in point: I should by no means have gone overboard after that young lady’s shawl if I had not been in my morning dress. That, you say, is a nonsequitur, but our actions are mostly relative. A precious scolding I received in lieu of a reward from my lord and master, and perhaps I deserved it. But don’t you think if more of the young women could swim, or even walk decently, or shoot bows and arrows, or skate more, they would be better off ? Don’t you read now a great many books written by intelligent women which have sick-headache and dyspepsia sticking out in every line? Of course now it is too late to cure them. But suppose in early life if only two energetic male friends, her brothers, had tucked that intellectual girl under their arms, and clapped on her feet a pair of thick-soled shoes, and taken her a spin of three or four miles a day over the fields—don’t you fancy that young person would have been wonderfully improved, physically and mentally?” “Of course we do,” we replied. “Are you not rather stronger in the theory than in the practice?” the lady rather maliciously inquired. “ You write about these matters occasionally, I suppose ; but do you carry them out in regard to your daughters?” “We can criticise a three-legged stool,” we replied, “ but if our life depended on it we could not make one.” “I will tell you what I will do. Tomorrow morning I will wager you just a pair of gloves that I can take my husband in a boat, and you may take any lady you please, not under 110 pounds, and I will row you half a mile into the lake.” How could we decline the wager? That evening, however, we telegraphed to New York for apair of Gigloves. We came in a glorious second. We might have won had our young lady coxswain trimmed boat, but she insisted on seeing the reflection of the clouds in the lake, assuring us it was a naunce she was anxious to fix in her mind, in case a dresspattern of similar hue was ever put before her. We were beaten a good many boat’s lengths. Our competitor had every advantage. The lady’s dead weight —her husband —sat motionless in the stern reading a book. He had certainly been well trained. — New York Times.

Alligators in Florida.

Sailing back, writes Edward King in Scribner's, we were treated to the sight of an alligator, fifteen feet long, sunning bin:self on a hammock of yellow grass. The wrinkling under his lower jaw gave him a good-humored look and seemed actually to smile as the bullets hissed around jiim. The alligator is by no means a trifling enemy; and the Floridian tells strange stories of the creature’s strength, fleetness, and strategy. An alligator hunter in Jacksonville gave me an idea of these characteristics, somewhat after the following fashion: “ The ’gaiter, sir, is ez quick ez lightnin’, and ez nasty. He kin outswim a deer, and he hez dun it, too; he swims more ’n two-thirds out o’ w’ater, and when he ketches you, sir, he jest wabbles you right over ’n over, a hundred times, or mo’, sir, ez quick ez the wind; and you’re dead in no time, sir. When a dog sees one he alius begins to yelp, sir, for a ’gaiter is mighty fond of a’dog and a nigger, sir. Nobody can’t tell how old them fellows is, sir; I reckon nigh on to a hundred years, them biggest ones. Thar’s some old devils in them lagoons you see off the St. John’s; they lie thar very quiet, you sfee. but it would be a good tussle if one of vou was out thar in a small boat, sir. They won’t always fight; sometimes they run away jery meek; the best way tokill ’em is to put a ball in the eye, sir; thar’s no use in wasting shot on a gaiter’s hide. When the boys want sport, sir, they get a long green pole and sharpen it; ’n then they find a ’gaiter’s hole in the marsh, and put the pole down it, then the gaiter he snaps at it, ’n hangs on to it, ’n the boys get together, ’n pull him out, ’n put a rope aroun’ his neck, and set him to fighting with another ’gaiter. I reckon’t would make yo’ har curl to see the tails fly.” -

A Michigan Hermit’s Life in the Woods.

A few days ago Sergt. Bachmann, of the police force, had leave of absents and went to Lansing to visit friends and* have a hunt. One day while huntiing on the Cedar River, about five miles east of Lansing, the Sergeant came upon a little log hut erected upon the bank of the river. The curious architecture of the hut attracted his attention, and drew him nearer than he would otherwise have gone. The builder had cut .poles and slanted them up in the shape of an Indian lodge, with an opening at the top for the smoke to pass out, and had then plastered mud over the holes, making a snug and warm house. Supposing that he had come across the house of a lone Indian family the Sergeant looked in,

and great was his surprise to discover that there was but one occupant and he an old, gray-haired man. When the occupant became aware of his visitor’s presence he shrank back, as if inclined to hide, and the Sergeant invited himself in to see what sort of a den it was, anyway. The old man would not speak when first questioned, but when Bachmann threatened to arrest him as a suspicious character he found his tongue. He gave his name as .parius Green, and his age as fifty-nine. He stated that he had lived in seclusion in St. Clair County for several years, but having been greatly annoyed’ by parties who wanted to drive him back to the world he had changed quarters and had been on the Cedar about two months. He said he would rather drown himself than mingle with the world again, believing all men liars and aE women hypocrites When he was about twenty-three years of age he became engaged to a young lady at Medina, Ohio, and in dne time all preparations were made for the wedding. At the last moment his fiancee ran away with another lover, leaving Green feeling about as flat as a defeated candidate. He tried his fortune again in a year or two, and the girl of his heart died a few days before the time appointed for their nuptials. These affairs, together with the loss of some property, turned the young man’s disposition, and he went from the active world into the woods and built himself a home. Drived out after several years, he came to Michigan, and has changed locations four or five times. He has several tunes been sick, but he is his own doctor. He lives mostly on cornmeal cakes and vegetables, and never moves away from his hut until hunger forces him to. He has a few dollars in specie—enough, he thinks, to last him during the remainder of his life. The old man had no companion—not even a dog or bird, no books, no way to pass the long hours but to sit and brood and think and sleep. His hair is down on his shoulders and his beard long and matted, while his clothing is in rags and his feet wound up in cloths. £Juch a life must be lonely beyond what one can imagine.— Detroit Free Press.

Blabs.

The blab belongs to the very worst class of talkative people. He can neither guard his own secrets nor other people’s. When he goes abroad he keeps his eyes open and his mouth in the same condition. It would simply be a waste of time to endeavor to convince him that a still tongue - showeth something more than a wise head, to-wit: a considerate nature. As a rule he is one of those stolid, unimpressionable people whose self-consciousness is such that they can never be induced to depart even from an evil course. Fond of a joke, he is utterly careless at whose expense he gets it. Proud to be the retailer of news which at once gains him an attentive hearing, he is by no means particular who suffers so long as his vanity is gratified by his being regarded as an interesting person. Go abroad with a party of which he forms one and his eye will not cease to follow, detecting your movements in the most remote and gloomiest of corners. In the event of your speaking civilly to Brown’s wife he will gleefully dance about, declaring that if he were Brown he would look after her, and you too. Have the smallest bit of a “tiff” with your better-half and he will rejoice at being afforded some slight ground for saying that you and she had a terrible cat-and-dog life, and that it would not surprise him if there were an application for a judicial separation

before long. Let young Smith hand Miss Robbins a plate of bread and butter or a cup of tea and he is on the qui mve at once; While, if that gallant gentleman goes so far as to inquire of the lady, in a seemingly confidential manner, whether she is warm, or cool, or what not, his state immediately becomes one of not a little excitement, and he is afterward acutely on the alert to detect the further acts of enormity into which those who are the objects of his disinterested scrutiny may be led. If they will but slightly detach themselves from the main body of the company they may happen to be in, and appear as if they are a trifle interested in each other, his raptures and Jocosity rise to an indescribable pitch. Right willing he squares the circle of his acquaintances, and inquires of them, after he has gayly poked their ribs, whether they have noticed this, that and the other, his queries being accompanied by a series of suggestive winks, significant gestures and entertaining gnmaces. He seems to deem it his duty to report all that he sees to people whom he meets long after the occurrences related have grown old, and it is a curious thing that the oftener his reports are retailed the more florid they become, until, at last, one might be excused for thinking that they had no connection, remote or otherwise, with the affair they related. "When matters have reached this amusing state, blab number two, in the form of one of those goodnatured friends of whom the world is so Tull, steps in and does his best to make matters worse. The unhappy young niran is informed of a great deal that has been said by blab number one and other people ; also, of a great deal that has not been said. He is told in a roundabout fashion that he is thought to be a fool or a villain, as the case may be; further, that the impression is that he is making an ass of himself or being made an ass of —he being kindly left at liberty to choose which view of the case he deems most flattering to himself. All this is confided to the hapless being’s ear as if it were a profound secret, but it is a very great mistake to suppose that the blab will do otherwise than bis best to make it common property. It appears to be his aim to make people thoroughly uncomfortable by confiding to them what he declares, confidentially, other people say, and there is good reason for believing that he does not always content himself with mere humdrum reporting, but frequently makes his powerful imagination do good service. If you are on bad terms with any individual he will take care to let you know that this individual is ih the habit of avowing the greatest contempt for you; if you have written a book, painted a picture, or made a speech, he will kindly lead you to understand that many persons are laughing at you on the score of what you have done. —Saturday Review.

There is such a thing as being “ too smart.” A Detroit thief went to the door of a house, rang the bell and asked the servant to call her mistress, as he had particular business with her. The lady came, when the strangler informed her that Mr. , naming the name on the door-plate, had sent him to the house to get twenty dollars which was due him. But for one thing he might have got the money. The lady’s husband had been dead seven years. .