Rensselaer Union, Volume 8, Number 16, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 6 January 1876 — Page 8

A Fine-Art Experience.

Into one of the large jewelry and fancy goods stores of Boston walked, the other day, one of those customers that theholi? day season sometimes brings to town. He was a hard-handed, loose-jointed, broadshouldered individual, Carefully dressed in a new suit pf baggy, ready-made clothes, a home-lanndded shirt,aim a hat which, although perfectly new. was three seasons behind the present fashion. Sauntering tip to one of the salesmen with a very obvious attempt at being at home among the glitering splendor of the salesroom, and a general air of “ Not to be astonished or done by you Boston fellers,” he inquired: “ Got any brunzes ?" The clerk answered in the affirmative, and led the way to a bewildering stock, of bronze statuettes, clocks, etc. The visitor stared at them for a moment as an interior African might have at the first white man he had ever seen, and then, setting his hat a little more firmly on his head, asked: “ Which o’ them Aggers might be the Venus of high low ?’’ " The trained salesman, with plicid countenance, quietly replied: “ I do not remember any by that title; are you sure that was the name?” The patron of the fine arts drew a large, yellow silk handkerchief' from his hat, and, mopping his face uneasily, said: “ It moot ha' been ace high, but I think it was high low; Mariar sed that efl thou’t of seven-up 1 shouldn’t torgel the name. The tact is,” said the puzzled pur chaser, with a sudden burst of confidence—- “ the fact is. Cap. 1 hev just put up a new tenment down to South lligginsboro', and Maria ’lowed she'd like a brtinze in toe Jceepin’-room, suthin’ like what she seed once in Cousin Sam Stiffner’s parlor on Beacon street. Cousin Sam he writ the name on a card, 'n praps I’ve got it now;” and, diving into his breast pocket as if he was to unsjieatli a two-handed sword he lugged out a long pocket-book, from the depths of which he plucked a card and handed it to the salesman. “Ah!” said.the latter, “the Venus of Milo. Yes, sir. here is a fine copy, a reproduction by Barbidienue.” The customer surveyed it earnestly for a moment, and then said: “Ye hain’t got a perfect one, hev ye, Cap? This 'ere one has lost both her arms and got dents all down her back.” The patient salesman explained that the statuette was a copy of the original that was found in that condition. “Shell!” commented the othjr, and then hesitatingly. “ don't any of them have any more close 'n that? - This ’ere one’s nightgown -’pears to have kind of slipped off on her.” Again the shopman, despite his twitching muscles, explained to his attentive listener that it was an imitation of an ancient statue, He, however, cocking hfehead on the side, inquired: “ Wall, now-, what’lT* you tax fur her, Jess as she stands ?’\ rapping his bony knuckles on the bronze as if it were a buzz saw. “One hundred and fifty dollars for that size,” said the clerk. “Wfia-a-t!” almost shouted the astonished would-be natron of the arts; “a hundred ’n fifty dollars fur a brunze gal ’thout any arms, and skearce a rag to hetback! Venus ot My Low! Venus of Your High, I should say. A hundred ’n fifty dollars! Why, that’s half the mortgage on Brother Jim’s farm. Guess Mariar must thought my name was William B. Astor, instead of John Higgins;” and, fixing his hat a little firmer? he made a hasty exit from the store and struck a straight line for the Eastern Railroad station. — Boston Commercial Bulletin.

How Tiger Jim Escaped.

Old Job Dawson had been duly elected to till the responsible position ot a Justice of the Peace, and this was the first case which had demanded his attention. Job was an old veteran mountaineer, and had lived in the shadow of the lofty peaks, hunting, trapping and fighting Indians, to use his own words, “ sense Adam war a kid.” In that rough region an accusation of a great crime against anyone is but a forerunner ot a ‘‘hanging bee,” and a trial even is seldom thought of. But in the present instance a wild “cuss,” who had been frequenting the settlements, had appropriated a ‘‘broncho” ilndian pony) belonging to a neighboring ranchman, and had been pursued, captured and brought back. Old Job was summoned to try the culprit, and -a spot in a rocky gulch near the ’Squire's cabin was selected as the site for the investigation. A motley crowd of hunters, trappers, miners and rancheros had assembled. Some were lying upon the ground and others sitting upon the rocks, all anxiously awaiting the ’Squire's coming. Job soon came from toward his cabin, and with a dignified air seated himself upon a boulder, took off his bear-skin cap, and said: “ Fellers, the Court ar’ readyto git down to biz; an’l want ye all to' cheese yer racket an’ let up on that chin-music according to law. Throw yer ha’r in sight and pay ’tention to the Court.” Every hat came off at his command, and ‘‘His Honor,” glancing around the circle, said: “ Whar is the thiev’n cuss’” Three mountaineers, armed with Henry rifles and six-shooters, stepped forward With the thief, a young man wearing a bold,' devil-may-care expression. His hands were securely fastened behind his back with buckskin thongs. Clad in buckskin from head to foot, he presented a picturesque appearance as he faced the •Squire. “W’atdo they call you when yer at hornet” asked the Court, “Ain’t got enny home, leastways in these parts,” sullenlv replied the prisoner. “Ain’t, hey’ Well, wat’s the name you tuk w’en you left the States, then “The boys hyer on the hills call me Tiger Jim.” “Wall, Tige, yer spotted as a boss thief, an’ I reckon thar’s sumthin’ in it or the boys wudn't a brought you in. You can’t expect a toney trial like you’d git down to’ Laramie or' in eny o’ them towns along the road. We hevn’t eny paper, pens or ink, or eny o’ that sort o' foolishness up hyer in the hills, an’ thar ain’t one o’ us as could engineer ’em es we had, so we’ll jist grind her through,an' do the best we kin for you. In the name o’ the law I now ax you did you collar thet boss—but stop ’er rite thar; doggone it. I forgot to swar you. Cum mitey near forgittin it. Hold up yer right han'!” “Holdup nuthin’. How kin I when they’r tied titer’a blazes?” ‘‘That’s so. Ter k’rect, Tiger, but gess eny member o’ the bodv ’ll, be cordin’ to law in ’xtreme cases. Stedey him a little, fellers, ao’s he kin hold up his right foot.” “Tige” raised his moccasin-covered foot while a guard on each aide held him in position. “Now, then, I ain’t fly on them ’ar lawyers’ affydavys, but I’ll make her stout enuff to hold a Mexican mule.

Tiger Jim, do you swar by the holy Moses, accordin’ to the- laws of Wyoming Territory, that every time ye chip into my racket ye’ll give uathe squar’ truth ? An’ et you don’t do you hope that ye may git chawed up by a grizzly, chopped to pieces bj’ Sioux, strung up to a pine with a rope ’roun’ yer thiev’n’ neck an’ fail to connect on heaven we’en yer lite goes out, to the best o’yer understand in* as provided by law,s’helpyer God, eh?” “ That’s jist w at I does, pardy.” “ Now, Tiger, yer under oath, an’ ev’ry time yer speak yer want ter hit the bull’seye. Did you nip thet hoss?” “ Wall, Uncle Job, there's nd use o’ lyin’ about it, an’ I’ll tell you jist how it war. Laa’ night, you know, that war a jamboree over to Al Wilkins’ ranch in Miller’s Gulch, ah’ I war that. Al had been in to Laramie City an’ got a keg o’ good old budge, an’ we all got purty full. Arter the dancin’ war over I pulled out fur Bowles’ ranch, whar I’m bangin’ out, an’ as I was staggerin’ down round Mountain Cat Hill 1 runs right onto the broncho that war picketed out grass, an’ I war jist drunk enough to mount him an’ lite out. I know I'm going to swing for it, an I’ll die game, too. 1 gin’t woth a cuss anyway. an’ es it wasn’t fur my good old mother back in thd States (here the tears began to roll down his bronzed cheeks), who never closes her eyes ’thout prayin’ for God to semi me back tb her, I’d laugh at death, an’ help yer to fix the rope; but when 1 think o’ that darling old soul 1 get weaker ’n a wounded antelope. I tell ye, fellers, I’ve bin a tuff cuss eversence 1 struck out for these meunt'ins, and I s’pose the world’ll be better ’thout me in it. My old mother’ll suffer, I kaow that, I for I'm her only k'idfan’ hev sent her every ounce of dust- that I could spare, an’ it's all she's lied, to live on. She's bin a good un to me, God bless-her, an I’m ' sorry I hevn’t lived so’s 1 can camp with ' her up thar (raising his tearful eyes ' toward heaven), and, boys, won’t some I o' ye write to her —Tom Kirk that knows wliar she lives—an’ tell her I got let out by an Injun; or pegged out nat’rally? For God’s sake, don’t let her know I war strangled. The news’ud kill her;- But then I'll cheese this jab or .you’ll think I’m weakening, an’ the man don’t live as can sheer Tiger Jim. Elevate me, boys, just as quick as you please. I’m ready when jou are.”

During this recital Jim’s eyes were filled with tears, and a close observer would have detected silent weeping on all sides. That magic word “ mother” had awakened tender recollections in the of every one of those hardy mountaineers. Men who could face death in any shape without a particle of feeling did not try to hide their tears at the mention of that sacred name, mother! How sweet it sounded in their ears. It carried them back to the happy days in the past when they were blessed with toe love of parents, -before the insatiable tjiirst for gold had led Jhem. into these mountain wilds. Not a ivord was spoken for a few seconds, and then old Job drew his horny hand across his watery eyes and said, in a husky voice: “ Tige, ye w’undn’t break an oath, wm’d ye?” “No. Job Dawson, not for friend or foe. Thar ain’t a boy in the' hills as can say thet Jim ever went back on even his given word. I'm a rough ’un, an’ do sum mitey wicked things, but when I say a tiling ye can gamble every dollar you’ve got on it’s bein' straight.” “ Wall, Tige, we had intended to swing ye, an’ ye deserve swinging, but I can’t git rid o’ that 1 mother’ chinnin’ ye give us. I ’spect toe old lady’s set her heart on seein’ ye agin, an’ is wearing her old eyes oiit a lookin’ for ye. I’ve got an old mother myself, an’ too’ 1 hev’nt sot eyes on her sense ’49 her picter’s right hyar in my heart, an’ it’s a pleadin’ fur your old ’ooman, Tige. It's rough, Tige, ruff, an’ —lemme see—yes, darned es I don’t du it. Jack, cut them ar strings so’s he can git his han’s loose. Thar, thet’s it. Now, Tige, hold up yer right hand, and es ever ye swore strong do it now.. Do you swar by the great God an’ yer blessed old mother, that es this Court discharges ye ye'll light right out fur the States, an’ go hum to the old lady an’ luv her and comfort her as long as she stays out o’ heaven? Do ye swar to this, Tige, before Almighty God' an’ this court?”

“Ido, Job, an’ lhar’s my fist on it. Put 'er thar. I swar it an’ll pull stakes rite off.” “ Then ye're released on them terms, an’ the boys’ll help ye get your traps down to the station, but mind, I tell ye, Tige, el yer ever caught in the hills agin ye’ll go up a tree. Fellers, the court’s over, an’ the prisoner discharged.” And big Comanche Bill, who stood back in the crowd, drew his pistol, and said: “Amen! and any snoozer that says Job's law ain’t level has got to fight me right hyar.”— Detroit Free Press.

A Girl’s Adventures in Male Attire.

In Recorder Parsells’ court-room, in Astoria, yesterday, sat a rosy young woman of eighteen, the picture of health, wearing a rough suit of men’s clothes and looking like a nice boy. She was arrested in Long Island City Saturday evening, and yesterday she told her story with composure. Her maiden name is Alice Holmes, but she has borne several aliases, among them Jennie M. Doten. She was born in Wareham. Mass., although her relatives now live at Mario*, Mass. Her father was English, while her mother was a ndtive of Massachusetts. Up to the time she was fourteen years old she remained at home and. attended school. During a vacation she made a visit to the West, where she made the acquaintance of a telegraph-operator named Bastable. The acquaintance ripened into intimacy, and they concluded to get married clandestinely, she being in her fifteenth year and he in his sixteenth. After a brief experience of married life, however, they separated, and she retarded home, while he remained in the West. The fruit of this marriage was a child which is now in its third year. Alice got employment as a book-keeper for Messrs. J. E. Luscombe & Co., at Plymouth, Mass., where she was known as Nellie Archer; her child, meantime, being placed with her brother, with whom it still remains. Her father dying left considerable property, of which her brother has persistently refused to give her any portion. She finally had some serious difficulty with him, and had, as she expressed it, “a chbice of ,M*ving the State for a few months or being placed in confinement.” She accordingly left home on the 13th of February last, wait to Attleboro, Mass., and worked at the straw business. Here the idea struck her that she would adopt men’s attire, and, donning a suit, she went to Providence, where she was engaged in the coal yard of Hopkins & Pomeroy. Tiring of this, on the 17th of April she went to Clark's Falls, Conn., where she was gaged on a farm, ana remained until the last Monday in June, when she returned to Providence, and found employment

.upon a small river steamer called the Shtiltz. After a few days, becoming dissatisfied, she went to Newport, where she shipped on board the United States steam frigate Powhattan, being enabled to pass examination by the surgeon, as she alleges, by the connivance of two young fellows of her acquaintance who shipped with her, who knew of her sex, and who each paid the surgeon twenty-five dollars to pass her. She shipped under the name of Albert B. Clifton. The Powhattan went to New London, and subsequently came to the Brooklyn Navy-Yard. Orders coming for the Powhattan to proceed to Port-au-Prince, and not desiring to go so far away from home, “ Albert” deserted and made her way to New London,-where she shipped on board the wood-scliooner Jamestown, running to Virginia. She made two trips, when she returned to New London ami shipped on board a coalschooner, the William H. Baker, Charles B. Baker, commander. After two trips she left this vessel at New London and, being short of money, smuggled herself on board the steamer City of Boston, and arrived in New York on the 7th of No, vember. TTie next day she shipped on board the coasting-schooner Czar, Capt. D. W. Hammond, running between Boston and New York. At the end of a month she left this vessel in New Fork and went across the river to Long Island City, where she was employed by Mr. Pirz, proprietor, of the Camdia Chemical Works at Dutch Kills, who agreed to pay her $8 a week,' with board and clothing, until spring.She boarded with Alfred Hahn for a week, when she- left, as she alleges, on account of the bad order in which the house was kept, and went to board at the company’s boarding-house. While at Hahn’s there was a suspicion that she was a woman. She’was detained and taken to the First Precinct -Station-House at Astoria. Site had an examination before Recorder Parsells, who decided'’to discharge her on her promise to resume her propfir attire and to leave the city. She says she likes the sea, is never sea sick, and prefers men’s clothing because she can see more and learn more as a man than hs a woman.— N. Y. 'World.

Miss Green’s Romance, Disappointment and Despair.

In the West End of the city, not a thousand miles from Everett street, lives a respectable and hard-working seamstress named, we will say, Miss Green, although her real name is another coldr. She is middle aged and neat in dress, and is not particularly fair to look upon; but she has accumulated a little.property, and she has matrimonial longings in her. About two-weeksago a “ Personal” in a morning paper caught her eye. It stated that a highly-respectable gentleman of means and business position wished to form the acquaintance of a somewhat similar -woman r with-a-view to matrimony.—MissGreen meditated, and (he result was an answer to the “ Personal,” stating to the effect that Barkis was willin’. In a day or two her anxiously awaiting heart was cheered with a well-written letter, informing her that Coelebs was in search of a wife, and asking for a speedy interview. The letter requested Miss Green to write at once to E. Howard, Room A, second floor. No. 4 W. Third street. She did so, and inviteqi Mr. Howard to call that evening. Then she arrayed herself like the lily of the field, and sat endeavoring to still the beating of her virgin heart while she awaited the coming of the loved unknown. He came and saw and conquered; he was all her fancy painted him, and the rosy-footed hours sped swiftly away in his delightful company. He came again, and again, proposed and was accepted, and all went merry as a marriage bell. Christmas Day was fixed for the wedding. But Mr. E. Howard seemed to be pressed with business last week, and failed to come to time one evening. Ai Then Miss Green wrote fijm a tender note, complaining of the neglect of her fiancee, and saying she was “ lonely tonight, love, without you." But another evening passed, and he “came not; oh, he came not, when evening’s shade drew nigh.” Then the devoted Miss Green (very .green) determined to visit her lover’s place /of business, and betook herself to No. 4 West Third street. At the door she met her true love and asked him why this was thus. He said he was in a great hurry; he was just going out to have some deeds recorded, and—“ Ah, by the way, my pet, have you ten dollars? It will just take that amount; and if the deeds are not recorded immediately I shall lose SI,OOO. and I can’t get the monev except by going away down to the bank.” Then the heart of Miss Green was made glad by an opportunity to do him such a tavor, and she promptly handed him the money; after which he lovingly bade her good-by, promising to come again in the evening.

He came. Again the course of true love ran smooth. She told him how happy she was, and what beautiful clothes she was buying for her wedding; I such embroidery, and dimity ruffling and things, and he clasped her" to his heart and called her picked up a costly photograph on which was written “Miss Green,” in her delicate, feminine handwriting. “Ah, my pet,” said he, “this will never do. No more Green; it is Howard now,” and borrowing an elegant pearlhandled penknife from her, he care/ully cut out the fly-leaf upon which was written the same, saying: f ■■ I wih take the album home with me and have your name, ‘ Mrs. Howard.’ handsomely printed in gilt upon it,” and he laid the album aside and thoughtlessly put the knife in his pocket. Finally he arose lo go, and then complained that he had a bad cold; whereupon the fond Miss Green took a valuable shawl and wrapped up the throat of her future hubby to protect it from the harsh breezes while he wended his way to his place erf business at No. 4 West Third street. Then he took the album under his arm, and, borrowing a beautifullybound book with which to spend some of his leisure moments, he went out into the night, and out of the life of the fond and trusting Miss Green forever. Two days passed away, and yesterday came; and still he came not, and again her loving heart was pained with anxious fears, and again she sought the place of business of her beloved. She climbed the stairs to that second floor and sought that room “ A No. 1,” which she fondly hoped contained her loved one. He was not there, and she anxiously inquired for him, and was met with the stunning information that he had “jumped the town” and- was a swindler in a small way. And now Miss Green mourns over blighted hopes, and crushed affections, ana lost faith in humanity, and over the expense of those ruffled and flatted and embroidered wedding things, and wishes

she had back those ten dollar?, r and that book, and that album, and that penknife, and that shawl; but she should be thankful she got ofi so easily, and be wiser and more caqtious in the future, and not answer “Personals” again, even if they are signed “ Honest.”— Cincinnati Times.

The Thermometer Man.

He was a wayworn man from the East, and he had thirty-seven thermometers in a basket on his arm. After standing on the afreet comers for two or three hours without making a sale he staffed for the eastern part of the city, hoping to do. better among the private houses. He seemed to gain confidence from the cheerful look ot the dwellings,-apd he bore himself like a banker as he ascended the steps and pulled a door-bell. “ Nothing for the poor,” said the lady as she opened the door. “ I am not soliciting for the poor—l am selling thermometers,” he replied in a balmy voice. i “ Don't want any—bought our stock in the fall,” she said, drawing ini her head. “ I said thermometers, madam,” he called in a despairing voice. “ I know it; but we’Ve got all the vegetables we can use,” she called back, and the door struck his toes. Going into the saloon on the corner the man addressed the proprietor with a swefit smile, shying: "Would you like a thermometer tpday?” “By de pushel?” inquired thesaloonist. “ No—a thermometer—a small instrument tor telling you when it is cold or warm.” “ Any music-box in it?” inquired the saloonist. “No. It records the weather.” “ What wedder?” f “ Why, the weather we have every day in the year. When it is warm this little bulb runs up; when it4s cold it sinks down.” , ■ “Umph ! Vhen it ish warm I dakes my goat off’; vhen it ish gold I but more goal in der stoaf. Go mid sell datto some schmall poy as knows noddings!” The thermometer man entered a carpetweaver’s, and a bow-backed man nodded kindly and Cordially welcomed him. “ Accurate thermometers for only twen-ty-five cehts,” said the peddler, as beheld one up. “ New thing?” asked the weaver, as he took one in his hand. “We have had thermometers for many years. People have come to consider them a household necessity.” • ‘ Zero ? Zero ? Who was Zero ?’ ’ asked the weaver, reading the word behind the glass. The thermometer man explained, and the weaver, after trying to get his thumbnail under the glass, asked: “Where does the blamed thing open?”- ‘ ‘ Thermometers are not made to open, my friend,” was the reply. “ Well, I don’t want no thermometer around me that won’t open!” growled the weaver. “ I thought it was anew kind ot stove-handle when you came in, or I shouldn’t have looked at it.” The thermometer man next tried a dwelling-house. In answer to his ring the door was instantly and swiftly opened by a red-faced woman, who hit him with a club and cried out: “ I’ll learn you, you young villain!” She apologized and explained that several bad boys had been ringing the doorbell, and he forgave her and said: “ I have some accurate and handsome thermometers here. Would you -” “ We never haVe hash for breakfast,” she interrupted. “My husband detests hash, and so 1 don’t want to buy.” ‘ ‘ Hash! A thermometer has nothing to do with hash!” he exclaimed. “Well, I can’t help that,” she replied, slowly closing the door. “ We haven’t any lamps to mend, and you shouldn't track mud on the steps that way.” There was a portly man crossing the street, and the thermometer man beckoned to him, hailed him, and when he got near enough asked: “ Can I sell you an accurate thermometer to-day?” “A what?” “A thermometer!” “ What do I want with a thermometer,” exclaimed the portly man, raising his voice a peg. “ Why, to note the weather.” “ You blafmed idiot! Do you suppose I run the weather?” roared the fat man, growipg purple in the face. “ But you want to know when it’s hot or cold, don’t yotf?” . ‘ 1 Am I such an old fool that I don’t know when it’s summer and when it’s winter ?” shrieked the fat man. “We all know, of course,’’ replied the stranger, “ but every respectable family has a thermometer nowadays.” “ They have, eh! 1 never had one, not I wouldn’t have one, and do you dare tell me that lain’t respectable?” screamed old portly. “ I didn’t mean ” “Yes you did, and you’ve made me miss the car, and I’ll cane you!” The thermometer man waded across the muddy street and made his escape, and at dusk last night was backed up against the soldiers’ monument, his basket between his feet, and w r as squinting sadly at the clock on the City-Hall tower.— Detroit Free Press.

—“Matron” writes to the Cincinnati Gazette: " I hope that a few facts of which I am cognizant may be of avail in inducing our retail merchants to be more considerate of the votfng women who are in their employ. Not long ago a lady shopping in one of our dry-goods stores inquired' at one of the counters for Miss of the others. ‘ Hush! he will hear you!’ pointing to the shop walker, and then leaning over the counter she said in low tones: ‘ Miss is lying on the floor at our feet. She dare not Complain of fatigue and weakness lest she should be dismissed, she is so utterly exhausted that she cannot stand.’ This speaks for itself. It is known, moreover, that female clerks will, in some instances, declare that articles inquired for are not in the store because, and only because, one additional step is suffering and distress to, them. From the bottom of my heart, and in common with many others, I hope that so sjmple and humane a concession as that cd allowing these women to sit, when not actually employed in waiting upon customers, may at once be made by our merchants, who only need, I am sure, to have the matter brought under their notice, in order to insure their acting upon the suggestion.”

—President Grant and Secretary Belknap have ordered Dr. Linderman, Superintendent of the Uhjted States Mint, to coin appropriate , medals of the cannon captured during t|e Mexican war for the purpose of presenting one each to the veteran soldiers of the Mexican war who may congregate at Philadelphia at the Centennial celebration, July 4,1876.

Freaks of a Crazy Prisoner.

Robert Burke, the unfortunate possessor , es a disordered intellect, who has been closely confined in the Counfy Jail since his crazy onslaught on Mrs. Raible, is an object on which no amount of pity would be wasted. He sleeps or dozes sometimes during the day, but never at night. His nights are spent In walking—walking in a circle around his cell, a circumscribed promenade indeed. Every evening, before entering on his pedestrian duties, he divests himself of the few clothes he wears and heaps them up in the center of the cell. When walking or running he steps high, and his footfalls ring on the cell floor all night long. Sometimes he increases his gait to a lively run, and keeps it up till, tired in muscle and short of breath, he drops from sheer exhaustion, but only until he can recover strength enough to renew the race. The other innrate? of the jail complain that their rest is broken by this monotonous and unceasing exercise. Burke is in a fair way of Starving to death it he persists in his obstinate refusal of food of any kind, as he has done since last Friday. On that day he took his last nourishment. Since then he has scorned to receive or accept a bite of anything. If he still refuses officers will try and force him to swallow some nourishment. He says he is fasting five days for his sins. Every day he receives one or two, and sometimes half a dozen, telegrams from Rothschild, the Jewish Midas. A piece of newspaper, a tag from his clothes, or anything he can put his hands on, he uses to representthe imaginary dispatches. sages are both of a financial and religious nature —that is, he is negotiating large loans through Burke, and, moreover, looks to him for spiritual comfort. Burke said, the other day, very blandly, that he had hopes of relieving Rothschild of his financial embarrassments, but spiritually he was a goner, as he would persist imealing meat, and that would send him to perdi,ion sure. He thinks a place in Satan's dominions awaits eveiy man who eats meat or wears leather shoes, or sleeps next to blankets. Jailer Bright brought him a pair of gum shoes the other day. He rejected them disdainfully, telling the jailer to “put them on and walk for his sins.” Burke told the officers yesterday he thought he could save most of the other prisoners, but he had just received a message from on High “ that the inside sentinel would be eternally damned.” Burke ought to be shipped to some asylum.— Denver Neas.

Alligator-Hunting.

Alligator-steak being a choice delicacy in the lean larder of the South American Indian, the hideous saurian is hunted with zest for the pleasure of the sport and the food it will bring. The common method ot capturing the monster on the Madeira and the Amazon, as described by Mr. Keller, is with a simple pole and sling. strong loop of rqwhide fastened to the end of a long rod furnishes the Indian with his'sole weapon, and, seizing this, he creeps through the shallow water near the shore and slowly nears his intended prey. The logy alligator regards the approaching enemy with apathy, making no movement indicative ot life saving an occasional lazy flap of the tail. It holds the apparition of the redskin steadily in its eye, but with a dull, unsuspicious curiosity. As the fatal sling draws nearer and. more near it continues its motionless stare, as if under fascination, until suddenly the noose is over its head and slipped tight with a dexterous jerk. Now the Indians hitherto waiting on tlie shore rush to the help of their companion, and, seizing the pole, drag toe ugly monster to the land. The struggles of the brute are furious, and it lashes the sand with its powerful tail and shows the jagged rows of its cruel teeth; but, when safely landed, a few vigorous strokes of the ax on die skull and the tail prove an effectual quietus. “ If,” says Mr. Keller, from whom we borrow these incidents, “ the alligator were only to rush forward boldly to the attack of the Indians, they would, of a certainty, leave pole and sling and run for their lives; but this bright idea never seems to occur to toe uncouth animal, and the strife always ends in death.” The first movement made with the hunter’s knife is to cut out the four m uskglands that lie in pairs, one under the jaw of the alligator, and one on the underside of the body near the beginning of the tail. These glands are about an inch and a half long and as thick as a finger, and art filled with a greasy, brown liquid of a penetrating odor. Left in the body but a few moments after death, they ruin the flesh by diffusing through it their offensive taint. » - ■

Oriental Names.

he Orientals are as fond of calling people by nicknames as Westerners could possibly be, and these names, suggested by some peculiarity of feature or manner, are often exceedingly appropriate: Sixfingered; Half-mustache; Shovel-nose; Liquor-jug, a drunkard; Catch-no-jack-als, an unsuccessful hunter-; Son-of-golden-hair, a red-headed man; Son-of-the-night-ingale; Laughter; Come-and-go, a busybody ; Bon-of-a-fox; Son-of-a-cat; Sonof-a-wolf, a sheep-thief; Son-of-Thunder; Son-of-the-Devil, and many similar, are but examples of the appropriateness of these names. The designations of gfrls are supposed to be expressive of all those charms which will aid them in securing a fortunate alliance in matrimony, the chief end of an Eastern woman's life. Often the names of the most brilliant stars are given them, as Venus, and others; the word Esther means a star, and was a favorite name for Jewish girls. They werenamed Light, Dawn, Twilight, Moonlight, and the. names of favorite trees were also given them, such as the Pomegranate, Almond, Date Palm. They were also called after precious metals and gems, and given the names of fleet and graceful animals and birds, as well as of moral qualities. Diamond, Emerald, Pearl, Brilliant, Gem, Sugar-Lip, Princess, Gazelle, Dove, Sparrow, and among the moral attributes, Well-Spoken, Love, Affeeticn and the Holy One.

A little girl came into her mother’s presence in great glee, holding up a large orange, whieh she said the “ drocery man” gave her. “ I hope you didn’t beg for it, Dolly?” said the mother. “No, mamma, I dus tole ’e man would it make me sick to suck it, an’ he said no, ap’ I said I dess so too, when I didn’t have no money to det it, and he dus said, tate it and do, an’ I tooked it an’ doed.” —Brunswick (Mo.) Newt. —■ T "V .4 he father of E. S. Stokes, who muruSred Jim Fisk, died suddenly in New York city a few days ago. Mr. Stokes Was an old gentleman-of great activity and had amassed a large fortune. His son was allowed to leave Sing-Sing Prison for twenty-fourt hours to attend the old man’s funeral. TwEED-has been found—wanting <

Snicide in Paris.

“ Grace Greenwood” writes from Faris to the New York Times: “ A week or two ago there was in good society a singular double suicide, caused by a little family unpleasantness. A gentleman whose wife had left him some months previous, on account of his proclivity for rttmous speculations, called at her lodgings, accompanied by her son, a youth of eighteen or nineteen, hoping, with the good news of a lucrative Government appointment, to effect a reconciliation. But toe lady was inexorable, and persistently refused to admit eitjipr.pf.her visitors, whereupon th® heart-broken husband drew a revolver and blew out his desperate brains. It seems to have been a family liberally provided with the means of self-destruction, for immediately the son, with a filial piety essentially Parisian, drew another revolver and shot himself through the heart, falling dead on the body of his father. Even then the wife and toother, who had held a parley and witnessed the tragedy from an upper window, and who had literally the death of .husband and son at her door, refused to open that door until 'summoned by the police—more powerful than nature, humanity or womanly pity. Gendarmes rushed in where angels could not tread. “ The Column Vendome is again a favorite point for the leap into eternity. The present guardfian of the column is humane, for a soldier, and never allows a suspicious, melodramatic-looking person to mount to the Summit alone. One’afternoon, lately, a young gentleman having a somewhat wild and melancholy aspect, hair rumpled and cravat awry, presented himself to the Sergeant, who, after having vainly attempted'to dissuade'him from ascending the column, on the ground that it was late and the weather not favorable, slyly sent after him two soldiers, with strict injunctions to keep within grasping distance of the unhappy young Monsieur’s coat-tails. The stranger seemed not to notice them, but stood sadly looking out over the world of roofs, spires and towers, most of the time through a veil of dreary drizzle, for an hour' and a half. It was then time sor 0 the poor' fellows .to return to their barrack/; they hurried ,dow r n and the Sergeant hurried up, hardly expecting to be in. lime to avert the suicide. Near the top of the stairs, however, he met the young man, safe and sound, and, profound mystery of human nature, was a little disappointed. When they were both fairly down, he laid his hand on the shoulder of his charge and said: “Now, confess, mon ami, when you first came you had the intention to throw yourself off the monument.’ ‘Ah, yes,’ replied the melancholy gentleman, giving the inevitable shrug, • but you see, on looking down, I noticed those ugly, sharp spikes of the railing, and reflected that in falling on them I might hurt myself. Bon, jour, Monsieur.’ “ There is really no need for toiling up. all those steps in order to push on bloody death. One has only to attempt to walk slowly across any one of the narrow business streets or broad boulevards of -the city, and a furiously-driven witure or gigantic omnibus will do the business tor him. Pedestrians have no rights which French cochere are bound to respect. Neidier does toe law protect or avenge them, for if one is run over on the street he is actually .liable to be fined for causinga sensation, collecting a crowd and obstructing the sidewalk. Some months agoa poor man whose child escaped from his shop, ran into toe street and tell in the way 'bf an omnibus, arresting it and travel for a while in a very disagreeable way, was obliged to pay a fine of twenty francs. The child was killed. At the crossing of the streets, where there is an open space, there are certain round, slightly-raised _ places called ‘ where one is safe from the chariots and the horsemen. They are like islands-in the midst of the rapids of Niagara. Having reached one we ‘ linger on the brink and fear to launch away,’ thinking with.a home-sick longing of the sturdy, gallant policeman of Broadway, our modern Santo Christofero. The most noble promenader is at the mercy of the most vulgar charrelier. In the times of the Bourbons it was the aristocracy who tore through the streets of Paris at full speed, without even shouting '■gars!' driving over the people. Now it is the people who drive over the aristocracy. So toe world advances. * Marchons!'"

Shaking Hands, Bowing and Saluting.

Acts of courtesy may be merely conventional, or they may be the outward maniifestation of the highest inward courtesy. The grasp of the hand had, in all probability, two significations. In the times referred to, when war was the normal state, and man little better than a fighting animal, some mistrust naturally accompanied proffered friendship; each’, therefore, grasped the weapon hand of the other as a security against treachery. The other idea of clasping hands was undoubtedly that of “ fastening together in peace and friendship,” as Tyler expresses it; and.he goes on to trace the etymology of the word peace to this action, finding in it the Sanscrit “ pac,” to bind. It is now a piece of conventionality ..to take off the glove before shaking hands with a lady; but this custom began in the days of chivalry, when the glove was a steel gauntlet, a grasp from which might be painful. The bow and the courtesy are but abbreviations of signs ot submission, but a humanized form of the cowering of an animal before its master's rebuke. At present it exists in all gradations, from the Chinese “ko-tow” to the slight bend of the head in token of recognition and respect. To uncover the head meant originally to remove the helmet, thus laying aside the chief and placing the person at the mercy of those present. Women do not uncover the head, never having worn a head-dress as a means of defense. The courtesy shown to women, dating from the age of chivalry, arose not merely from the tenderness of the strong tow’ard the weak, but also from the recognition of something divine in womanhood. A something that set her apart from the sordid, self-seeking and hardness of heart too prevalent among those whose work lies in the camp, the forum or the mart. Would that this ideal could be sustained. It is only this elevation of the sex that can give it a claim to that courteous treatment that has always been considered its due. —J'As Argosy. Under a recent decision of the Maine Supreme Court the Governor and Council have declared Leonard Fisher elected. Commissioner and Ignatius Sargent Treasurer of Washington County, both Republicans, instead of two Democrats, who lose their election on account of their misfortune in having onlv the initials oft their Christian names printed on the ballots returned. , No one can be happy without a and no one can tell what friends he has until,he ia unhappy. ...