Rensselaer Union, Volume 9, Number 42, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 5 July 1877 — Page 6

WE TWO.

" FortMM Iwtep la mww *>o»i» tlut *n ■*« It's jus* a bit of » story, sir, that don’t sound inch to atnwgers. but I'd like to tell you about it, if you have time to Hatea, for fcey’Te all tor gotten Bobbery down hert, except me; they’re poor folks, you see, and things drift out of folks' iieads when poverty drifts in. Bobbery ? yes, air. that was his name—leastways the name we gave him down hew. As to a father or mother, we never had any, I think; never had anyone in the wide world to belong to, except our two selves—Bobbery and me. I waa the eldest, two long years older than hint; but then I was blind, you see, so tha two years didn't count for much, and Bobbery grt ahead <4 me after the time when the long days of pain slipped into long nights, and 4#od abut me out of the world; not that 1 grumble, sir—l’ve given over that; and Bobbery was always such a good lad to me, that perhaps I didn't miss so much, after all. I grew to fancy things, and made believe I saw a great deal, particularly after Bobbery took to working at his tradeshoeblack, sir; and sometimes, when I became accustomed to being always in t'ue dark, I went out with Bobbery, and held the money that he made. Well, not much, perhaps, but enough for us two, and the little room we had down at Kingstown, oyer against the river; only Bobbery was an extravagant lad—not in drink, air—we were always a sober lot —but in oranges. They were almost his ruin, sir—those oranges. Ho used to come up-stairs sucking them softly, so that I might not hear, and thinking to deceive me; but I forneliow unfit oranges, and it always made me sharper to catcli Bobbery whistling little tunes to himself on the way up, just to put me oil. He made a deal of rec, did Bobbery—•long of heine blind, you see—and so did the neighbors: but I was rare proud of him. You don't know what it is, sir, to sit alone in the dark all day, and then, on a sudden, to hear a fellow cail out: “Here wc are again! Come down and feel the sun set. and we’ll count the copper'-!” It would make you love anyone, sir. who had a voice like that, let alone a fellow like Bobbery. Perhaps you didn't happen to be in Kingstown,'sir, last spring, wher the Hoods had risen, and the land was under w ater for miles round. Bobbery used to ■wade a little going down to bis work, but he rather liked it, he said: and he used to tuck up his trousers, and call back tome and laugh as the water crept round his feet; and he said folks wouldn't want their boots blacked, he feared, for the water would soon take off the polish. I used to sit on the window-sill to feel the sun, and if I .listened very hard 1 could hear the ripple-ripple of the shallow water at eveiy step that Bobberv made, and it had a pleasant sound, and made a kind of company feeling; but wbeu he was out of hearing, and it still kept rippling up against our walls, the company feeling went away and left me lonely, and sometimes I thought the water hateful because it lay for so very long between me and Bobbery. Well, once I was sitting alone on the window-sill, and the diy was very quiet—so quiet that F “did not even hear the little rippling waves—and in the quiet I grew frightened at last; and in the quiet I stretched out my hands across the fiill, to teel my way down. I felt something that made me shiver and draw back out of the sunlight—that made my whole dark life grow suddenly a beautiful and precious thing—l telt the water rippling almost up to the level of the sill, and I was quite alone, and Bobbery woqld never know. I did not call out, or go mad with fright, as T thought at first I might do; only I crept away, in my everlasting darkness. from the' warm sunlight, and sat dow non the bed where Bobbery and I slept together, and put my hands over my ears, to'shut out the roar of the waters. How long I sat there I don’t know, but I thins it must have been hours, for 1 felt the sunlight slanting on my face, and the water rushing round me before I moved again. I was hungry, too; but when I tried to get down and reach the cupboard, the water took me oft my feet, and I crept iback to the bed, and on to the shelves of the dresser, to be out of the way. I said my prayers two or three times, and I said some prayers for Bobbery, too, for I knew he would be sorry when he found me some day, where I had died all alone* and in the dark. And then I tried to think how tilings looked from our window, with the -water sweeping up to the very sill, and the red sunset lying on it—and’ beyond, the pretty town, and the steeple with the clock; and 1 thought it was better for me to die than Bobbery, after all, for he could see, wnile I— I had no pleasure in my life. And yet I wanted to live;’ 1 wanted to hear Bobbery’s voice again; I wanted the waters to go down, and somebody to remember me at last—lorTwks afraid. ' ' 1“ " ' " Well, sir, God answers our prayrrs sometimes in a way that is terribly just. It takes us a long lime to find out that everything is very good, I think, but we come to learn it at last—and learn, too, to leave our prayers as well as the answers to God. Somebody did remember me at last, and came back —somebody whose laughing voice across the waters was nearer every minute —somebody whose hands were on my shoulder, whose eyes I felt, were on my sac who had never forgotten me—Bobbery! “Bobbery! Bobbery!” I cried, and 1 stretched out my arms to him. Bobbenr said: “ I came over in a tub only think! such a lark! but. as 1 climbed in at the window our tub drifted away, and how we’re to get over I can’t tell.” “You must think of something,” I said. •“ Bobbery, it was a long day.” “ Why, of course it was,” Bobbery answered, “ without me. Come along* the river’s rising like fury.” “ Is it very wide! ” I asked. “ Oh, not more’n a good stretch from here to the dry land—but deep; over six feet, I should say—and rising.” “ But the bed. Bobbery,” I said, f ‘ and the other things?” “ Well, we must just leave them until it’s all right again.” “ Will it ever be all right? ” I asked. “Why, yes, .of course,*’ said Bobbery. He was such t splendid chap, sir, was Bobbery, and to clever! He took the two -chairs that were drifting a Paul the room, and tied them close together, and then we waded across to the window, and stood .upon the sill. “ I think it’s jolly good ftin,” said Bob'bory. “If you could only see how your beat's bobbing up and down in fibnt here! Get in quick, or I can’t hold her. Here! port her helm, or something! Are you all Tight?” “ It’s splendid,” I said; “ come along.” But when Bobbery put his foot on to the unsteady raft, she went down on one side with a plunge. “ Never mind,” be said; “you’ve just got to push yourself

ashore with this pole, as straight as you can,go, and I’ll follow.” law oar to you, air. I thought that it was true, or I never would have left Bobbery. 1 took the pole he gave me, and went out on the restless waters, that I felt were blood-red where the setting sun had touched them. People on the opposite aide cheered and cried and called me, and Bobbery behind cried out once or twice, “ Ship ahoy!” in a shrill voice, that I knew and loved better than anything on earth, and once I heard him say, laintly—he seemed so far away—” In portkt last.” At last! The people on the shore had ceasrd their shouts of excitement and encouragement, the light had diod utterly away. In an awful silence, and an awful darkness, 1 jumped to land, and held out my two hands. Bobbery! Bobbery!’’ I cried, “ I want to thank you.” Did Bobbery hear, sir, do you tliiuk? Do people hear anything, do people understand anything, after they nave gone away? I only know that the awful silence was turning me to stone, that the awful darkne s was rising like a wail between me and Bobbery—and I was afraid. When I called, no one answered me, and I was glad. If his voice was sileDt, any other voice would have maddened me just then, And I wanted, nothing more to tell me all the truth. I learned through the silence on land and sea how God had answered my prayer. * They*told me afterward how the plank he was launching to help himself to tlic shore drifted away from his hand, and was out of sight directly; how they would have saved him if they could, and how, when they began to shout to him directions, he made a sign for silence, and and stood straight upon the sill, with the sunset creeping all about him, and the waters washing at his feet. They wondered why he had made no effort to reach the shore with me—they used to wonder, for long after, why he had stood so silent, with his eager eyes and restless feet so strangely still. / knew, of course; but what right bhd anyone else to come between Bobbery and me? It wouldn’t have done anyone else any good to know what I knew —that Bobbery wouldn’t let me lose life fain Vest chance"; thought my blind, helpless '’life quite as well worth saving as his own. I would have done the same for him, sir, any day—for, Bobbery and me, we were always fond of eacn other. The story’s been longer than I thought, sir; but just the evening, and the floods again, and your wanting to know about the cross, brought it back to me like the same evening, somehow—and it’s company, like, to talk of the lad. And Bobbery? he just died, sir; and the folks thought such a deal of him that they collected a bit to set me up, and I took half of the money, just to put up tins little cross by the river-side—for we always divided the coppers, sir; and I haven’t forgotten him—not in these two years! =============== ; - That’s all, sir—just all about Bobbery. —Harper't Bazar.

Luminous Flowers.

Many flowers, especially those of an orange color, as tke sunflower, marigold and been obeerved to give off light on warm, SHIV eVgßtngs—sometimes in the form of sparks, sometimes in flashes, and again in a steady though feeble glow. Certain species of fungi, particularly those growing in warm, damp and dark places, as iu mines, emit light from all their parts, but chiefly from the young growing shoots. This extrication of light, is probably In part due to the conversion of oxygen into carbonic acid, which is actively carried on, in flowers and in the entire substance of the fungi, and constitutes a sort oi slow combustion. It is said that the daughter of Linnaeus was surprised, while in her garden one sultiy evening in summer, by seeing lhminous radiations proceed from a group of nasturtiums. She afterward observed several repetitions of the phenomenon, in the months of June and Julv, 1762. Dr. Phipson has given an interesting resume of the observations made by different naturalists upon luminous flowers, which we quote at length: “ The Swedish naturalist, Prof. Haggem, perceived one evening a faint flash of light dart repeatedly from a marigold. Surprised at such an uncommon appearance, he resolved to examine it with attention, and, to be assured that it was no deception, be placed a man near him, with orders to make a signal when he observed the light. They both saw it constantly at the same moment. The light was mast brilliant upon marigolds of an orange or flame color, but scarcely visible on pale ones. The flash was frequently seen on the same flower two or three times in quick succession, but more commonly at intervals of several minutes. When several flowers, in tbe same place, emitted this light together, it could be seen at a considerable distance. This phenomenon was remarked in July and August at sonnet, and for half an iiour when the sky was clear; bus, after a rainy day, or when the air was loaded with vapors, nothing of it was to be seen. On the 18th of June, 1857, about ten o’clock in the evening, M. Fries, the well-known Swedish botanist, whilst walking along in the Botanic Garden at Upsal, remarked a group of poppies (Bapaver Orientate) in which three or four flowers emitted little flashes of light. Forewarned as he was by a knowledge that such things had been observed by others, kb could not help believing that he was suffering from an optical illusion. However, the flashes continued showing themselves, from time to time, during three-quarters of an hour. Mr. Fries was thus forced to believe that what he saw was real. The next flay, observing the same phenomenon to recur at about the same hour, be conducted to the place a person entirely ignorant that such a manifestation of light had ever been witnessed in the vegetable world, and, without relating anything concerning it, he brought his companion before the group of poppies. The latter observer was soon in raptures of astonishment and admiration. Many other persons were then led to the same- spot, some of whom immediately remarked that * The flowers were throwing nut flames.’ It is chiefly in the summer months that the emission tof light from flowers is seen, and generally during twilight. It is said, however, that flashes have also been noticed in the morning, just before sunrise. The light emitted is always most brilliant before a thunder-storm.” —Chicago Tribune. —Lucy Hooper says that, a Frenchman will dress better when he intends to suicide than on any other day of his life. Re likes to make things pleasant for Coroners and reoorters. —George Francis Train has abandmed liana-shaking on the ground that ne cannot afford to part with his magnetism, electricity and longevity in any such wasteful way.

SUFFERING ST. JOHN.

TheCUr •rn.Jobm W. Nearly »e----■Crojrod by gir» Fifteen to Twenty Thousand People Hendered Hoaao-leso-Uroat Lon of UTe and Property. From the dispatches of June 21, we glean the following particulars in regard to the terrible fire at Bt. John, N. 8., on the night of the 20th; - The fire was discovered in a building owned by Mr. Fairweather, on the south of York's paint-shop, next to McLaughlin’s boiier-sliop. To the Utter building the flames had spread before the firemen had reached the scene. The engines arrived and did their best to stop the flames, but all efforts were iu vain. Nothing could be done. The flames then spreaa to various buildings on Howe’s Wharf, which were quickly consumed, and tbe fire broke out with a roar, into Smith street, carrying everything before it. From there the flames spread into Drury lane and Mill street, following that into Dock street, taking both sides. Ere this, however, the rear of the London House and adjacent buildings had been attacked,

MAP SHOWING THE BURNT DISTRICT.

The barnt district is represented ia tbe black space: 1. Fire started. 2. Bank. 8. Old Trinity Church and school. 4. Varley School. 5. Postothce and Bank

when it was seen that the first fire would | inevitably sweep along Dock or Mill streets. Aid came frbmTortland in the shape of the town engine and firemen. The tinder boxes on fire, aided by the wind, formed a combination too much for the gallant workers, and almost in despair they saw the flames advancing upon them with a rapidity that appalled the stoutest hearts. The buildings were a mass of flames at the end of Smith street and Drury lane, and while the workers were vainly endeavoring to have the fire end there a momentary gale took the flames across Union street to the opposite houses, and then they receded, but their touch had been fatal, and in less than five minutes the buildings were doomed to destruction. Both sides of the street were soon in the grasp of the devouring element, and the men were soon obliged to drop their branch pipes and run up the street, dragging tbe hose after them. Another lot of men were working at the foot of Union street, and by placing boards in front of their faces managed to battle with the flames until their clothing became singed. Proceeding along Smith street in a southerly direction the fire soon reached Nelson street and then Robertson’s place. It then extended to Robertson’s Wharf, and then up couth Wharf. As it gained Nelson street, on the south, it met Atones coming up that street, and the combination made such terrific heat that, allied with the strong wind from tbe northwest, it did not take long for the entire wharf .to be in a blaze. Half a dozen wood boats at the head of the slip were, in a quarter of an hour, on fire in so many places that it was impossible for each outbreak to receive attention before the vessels had been well on fire. The flames passed above their masts, that soon offered a stepping-stone to the shops on South WhartV Not sac of these west of Ward street was capable of withstanding" the intense heat and sparks, all being of wood, but the schooners in front had been hauled to a place of safety. Many of the occupants of stores were off helping their unfortunate brother merchants, and some arrived just in time to save their books. Others were just enabled to witness the destruction of their stocks. Some of the embers lodged in the steeple of Trinity Church, on Germain street, and the flames were left to pursue their own way. As the news spread that some wooden houses on Horsefleld street, as well as others on Duke street, near Victoria, were on fire, it was soon seen that the fire was spreading north, south, east and west, to Germain, Charlotte, Duke and Horsefleld streets, everything going down before the unrelenting flames. In naif an nour all but the Germain street side ot the square was in ashes. About the same time St. Andrew’s Church took fire and was speedily consumed. The buildings at the southern corner of Dock and Union streets, and on the opposite corner, caught almost simultaneously. It also spread along the western part of Mill street, crossing over to the opposite side, and igniting Rankin & Sons’ biscuit manufactory, then following onward toward North street. From South Wharf the flames entered into Ward street and extended to Peter’s Wharf. Then they proceeded to Water street, and from thence soon made their way to the southern part, the Market Square, making a jump up to Prince William street. A wooden house on Canterbury street took the flames, and Church street buildings were soon imperiled. Then the flames advanced to Princess and King streets and Germain street, and the front of Trinity Church began to take fire very rapidly. The stores in the Academy of Music were occupied, and toe Knights of Pythias had a hall in front, up-stairs. The fire entered King street on the western side from Germain to Canterbury streets, extending near thereby on Chester street to St. John Hotel, bnraing Trinity School in its course, went up the south

side of Laing’s Square, leveled to the ground the Lyceum, destroying tbe marble works of 8. P. Osgood and Messrs. Milligan, proceeded to Robertson’s stables, across to St. Malachi’s Hall, up Linster street, and then back to King street east down nearly to Pitta. From there all the buildings south of KTng street have been burned. In the other part of the city the conflagration was stopped about North street, having exter ded as far up Union street as Messrs. J. & T. Robinson’s. The Bank of British North America was saved. Tho police office and Btation-house opposite were burned. The shippingffioated down the harbor to places of safety at an eat ly stage of tbe Are. No losses of shipping by fire except tbe schooners in Market slip. During the early part of the day the Western Union Telegraph Company’s office was burned. The following newspaper offices were completely swept away: Freeman, Evening Globe, Daily Telagraph, Daily Newt, Watchman, and Religiovs Intelligencer. The Globe, Telegraph, Newt, Intelligencer and Watchman bad job-offices attached.

6. Bank; Ritchie Building; Academy of Music. 7. Gi rmain-Street Methodist Church. 8. Custom-House. ■ !l, 10. 11. Hotels. 12. Old Kirk. 13. Baptist Church. 14. Military Building.

The following are among tbe list of public buildings burnt: Tbe Postofflce, Bank of New Brunswick, City Building, Custom House, Maritime Bank Building (in which are this bank, that of Montreal and Nova Scotia, office of School Trustees, etc.,) Bank of Nova Scotia, Academy of Music, Victoria Hall, Odd Fellows’ Hall, No. 1 Engine House, Orange Hall, King-Street Temperance Hall, KingStreet East Dramatic Lyceum, Victoria School House, Temple-of-Honor Hall, Barnes’ Hotel, Royal Hotel, St. John Hotel, Accordia Hotel, Brunswick House, Bayview Hotel, International Hotel, Wiggins Orphan Asylum, and the Deaf and Dumb Institution. The churches burned are Trinity, St. Andrew’s, Germain * Street Methodist, Germain Street Baptist, Germain Street Christian, Duke Street St. James, Leinster Street Baptist, Centenary, St. Phillipi, Carmarthen Mission, Methodist, Pitts ’ Street Mission, St. David’s Reformed, Presbyterian, Sheffield Street Mission House. Several persons are reported to have lost their lives in the fire, and many others are still missing. The entire business portion of the city is destroyed. Not a leading establishment has escaped. Forty odd blocks, or nearly 200 acres south of King street have not six buildings remaining. There are no regular postal headquarters iu the city proper. Every street, square and alley is filled with furniture, aud thousands of people are without either food or shelter. The International Company’s steamer New York sheltered and fed 1,000 persons, last night, and vessels in the stream have large numbers of people on board. Thousands had to get away from tbe lower part of the city by boats. In 1871, the population of St. John was 29,000, and the outlying suburb of Portland, 12,0Q0~

A Boa and a Bulldog.

A correspondent in Sunghie Ujoug, gives the following account of a remarkable encounter between a boa fifteen feet long and a bulldog. The boa had been confined in a cage for some days, but having been disposed of to a Chinese doctor for its gall, to be used as a medicine, he was hauled out of toe cage to be taken away. “The boa was immediately attacked by the dog, who had formerly had a passage of arms with him. For some time the boa was quiet, and only now and then made a spap. The dog got hold at last, and seized the snake by toe head, but the tables were soon turned. In an instant the boa caught toe dog by the upper lip and held firmly on, the dog backing vainly and trying to get away. In less than halt a minute the whole of the snake’s body had enfolded the dog in so close an embrace that the head only could be seen. Before choppers could be procured, blood was gushing from the dog’s mouth, and I heard his bones give one crack, and it was only by chopping the boa to piec< s that we saved the dog. I found, on examination, that the boa has very strong, sharp, recurved teeth, not only in the jaws, but also in the palate bones, which accounts for toe dog being unable to extricate himself in the first instance, for the teeth being like the Vacant beeche of South Africa, the more he struggled backward toe tighter he was held by the boa. I may add for the information of toe friends of the dog that he is none toe worse for his squeeze.” —Ann Eliza, who recently advertised herself as “nineteenth wife" of Brigham Young, proposes hereafter to conform to toe decision of the Court and advertise herself as “late menial servant of a prophet." —lt is said that Wade Hampton is to mtrry the widow of toe late Gov. Pickens, of South Carolina. —-

A Peculiar Cue-A Detective's Story.

There is a case that I call to mind now that is rather a peculiar one, and that never was' published yet. One day when I was in the office a tine-looking woman came in and said that her house tind been robbed. Hername, she said, was McLond, and she lived somewhere near Lefferts Park—Macon street or Monroe street, I don’t know which—anyway, it was in the locality of Lefferts Park, and she, her husband and two children, lived there in pretty good style. She reported that her bedrooms bad been visited by a thief, and that the bureau had been robbed of nearly $2,500 worth of jewelry. This jewelry was all her own—presents that she had received from her husband and when she whs married—and tbe jewels were kept in a little Japanese cabinet, which was also a present, and which for safety she locked in one of the upper bureau drawers. Well, I went to work on it, and supposed some second-story thief had been at work there, and, obtaining a full description of the jewelry, I started of to New York aud Brooklyn pawn-offices trying to search up the goods; but it was no use. Mrs. McLoud was so anxious after the property that I did really make extraordinary efforts to secure the goods, but I couldn’t find a trace of them. At last I suspected this Mrs. McLoud herself. I can’t explain to you why; but there was too much earnestness about her to suit me. She was always so anxious to find out if I had recovered any of the articles or if I had got on track of them, and yet I observed that she seemed to be relieved when she was told that I couldn’t get a trace of the jewelry. I thought that I had no right to suspect her; she was pretty well off, lived in good style, her husband seemed to be in excellent circumstances, and I couldn’t conceive what reason I should have to suspect her, or, in suspecting her—what reason I should have for her being the thief; hut somehow or other I could not get it out of my head that she knew more about it than she cared to toil; and at last I set to work to theorize the thing down. I came to the conclusion that she knew the thief, and that for some reason she wanted to hide him or her, or whoever it was. Then I commenced to work on that idea. I found out who her friends were, whom she associated with, etc., but not the faintest speck of light on the case did I get. Bhe used to suggest ideas, too, such as (after I had told her I had been all over New York and Brooklyn) “Don’t you think that these thieves would be too clever to take such property to New York; wouldn’t they rather sell it in some other town ?” I had almost given up the idea of making anything out of the case, when it struck me that the only servant that they had—a young girl—might have been the thief, or had sofne crooked man on the outside who had put her up to steal the jewels. As a last resort I went for the servant and accused her point blank. She denied all knowledge of the theft, said that she never had been accused of such a thing before, cried like the mischief, and. there was the deuce to pay generally. I had previously inquired as to the girl’s character and found it to be exceptionally good. I at last said to her, and some good angel must have prompted me, “ When did you see these things last ? You sav that you clean up Mrs. McLbud’sroom, and sometimes find jewelry on the dressing-case, where she has left it.” The girl told me that the last time she saw them was when Mrs. McLond was in thejoom, one afternoon, about to dress. She had occasion to go in for something and Mrs. McLoud was putting several articles of jewelry in a piece of chamois leather, and there was cotton placed between the different articles. This was the last the girl saw of them. Soon after Mrs. McLoud went out. I found out, on further questioning, that this day was just one day before the robbery was reported to me, and a new light struck me. I was satisfied, from the information in connection with Mrs. McLoud’s action, that she had robbed herself. What for I couldn’t divine. What she had done with them.l couldn’t tell. I was in a quandary and) yet I felt sure that I was right. After telling the girl to say nothing of my interview with her to anyone, and assuring her that she was not under suspicion, 1 determined how to act. I told her to tell Mrs. McLoud I wanted to see her. In a couple of minutes I was sitting alone in the back ‘parlor with her. “ Oh! I hope you have brought me good news,” she said, but with an expression on her face that I was satisfied meant that she hoped I had not. “ No, I can’t say that I have as yet,” I returned. “ Mrs. McLoud, I want to ask you a few questions about that jewelry. (I watched her face closely, and saw an anxious and nervous expression take possession of her features, but pretended to be ignorant of it.) When did you wear them last?” Apparently relieved, slie said: “ I can’t tell. I hadn’t worn, at w*ice, the half of my jewelry for some time. I am not in the habit of being flashy.” -“ Well, you are sure A. was all In' this little cabinet?” “ Oh! yes. I always kept my watch and rings, and everything there, you know, and locked it up. and then locked the drawer for greater security, and botn locks had been broke** open.” “You had ton jewelry distributed in these cabinet dni were.*” “ Yes. I couidn’t keep all ot it in one.” “Yes,” I said, “ 1 think 1 can producu your property for you.” She gave a start, but recovered herself and sam with affected composure, “ Can you? I hope so, so much.” “ The thief,” said I, boldly hazarding all my suspicions on this assertion, “ broke the locks of the drawer and broke the lock of that cabinet, too; I think the thief was a woman.” “A woman!” she said nervously, and very much excited. “Yes,” said I, for I knew I had her, “by a, woman, and by a woman who knows this house and that room very thoroughly, too. This woman stole the jeweliy ana carried it off in a piece of chamois skin, the different articles being laid in cotton, so that they would not be damaged. Now I can get you the articles and arrest the thief. Do you want me to do it?” I shqjl never forget the look she gave me; she nearly fainted and for a minute or so never spoke a word. “It all rests with you,” I said, with a smile. "If you persist in your efforts and want to make a charge against the thief, why, 1 mu t do my duty. ’ ’ The result of the whole thing was just this: I had made a bold stroke and was right. She confessed the whole thing. What do you suppose induced her to do this?” “ I can’t tell,” said the reporter. “ Well, she, simply wanted to dress as well as, and must likely to outshine, other of her female acquaintances, and her husband, who was a steady-going, though prosperous business man, didn’t give her enough cash to be luxurious, and she ran up milliners' bills and dressmakers’ bills, trusting to economy in her household ex-

penses to defray them. She couldn't fetch' it, and she planned this robbery. She broke the locks on the drawers purposely, to give a color of theft to it, and she sold the jewelry for $675 to a high-toned jeweler in Broadway, N. Y., and with this money paid the indebtedness that she was afraid to inform her husband of. She begged me not to tell him. , I did not, but I guess she had a pretty severe lesson.— Brooklyn (N. Y ) Eagle.

Cavalry in Action.

Original!/? horses were only used in war for tbe purpose of bringing the Chiefs fresh into action, and this was effected by means of chariots, from which the warriors descended and fought on foot. Even when cavalry proper first came into use .the horsemen aid not charge in organized bodies, or engage in hand-to-hand encounters, their arms being only bows and arrows or javelins. In fact, the first cavalry were but mounted skirmishers. When Xerxes invaded Greece, the Persian host comprised cavalry, who were accustomed to charge in regular formation, and fight hand to hand with the enemy. Alexander the Great was apparently the first among the Greeks to understand the proper use of cavalry, and to derive full advantage from their momentum. His cavalry were of three sorts: Heavy, with coats of mail, helmets and brazen greaves, swords and short pikes; light, with lances sixteen feet long, used mainly for out-post duty; and dimachi, genuine dragoons, accustomed to fight either on foot or horseback. Alexander organized his cavalry in troops 250 strong, with eight ranks. Between the troops he placed fight infantry, a practice which has found favor with commanders who lived 2,000 years later. The early Roman cavalry used neither saddle nor stirrups, wore no-cuir-ass, and had only a shield and helmet. Their arms were light lances, javelins and swords. They sat on a pad, kept in its place by a girth, a breast-plate aud a crupper. The Roman cavalry, as-such, were forsome time only used for rcconnoitering purposes, and to pursue a beaten enemy. As late as the battle of Cannae, the Roman knights leaped off their horses to fight. Hannibal introduced great improvements in the Carthaginian" cavalry, and the Romans, ever ready to ready to learn from an enemy, followed his example, and raised the mounted branch to a high state of efficiency. The Germans formed their cavalry hi deep order, with sometimes as many as sixteen ranks. Their method of fighting was by riding up to the enemy without charging, and, upon arriving within range of their pistols, they fired two pistol shots each, and then the front rank wheeled to the right or left and unmasked the second, which took up the fire while the leading rank were retiring to the rear, where they formed up in reserve, and recharged their pistols. Each rank did-this in turn, until the whole .force had .discharged their weapons. A practice arose among the French cavalrv of charging at speed, sword in hand, and the result was always the overthrow of their opponents. Yet gradually the French adopted the vicious practice of the Germans, and soon all over Europe the lance and sword were abandoned for a pistol, and the pace of the charge reduced to a trot. Hence, for some time, cavalry was of little use in war. Gustavus Adolphus was, perhaps, one of the greatest military reformers that ever lived. He reduced the depth of the cavalry to three ranks, retained only the cuirass and helmet in the heavy cavalry, abolished defensive armor altogether for the light cavalry, and ordered the cavalry to charge at speed, and after a single discharge from the pistols of the front rank to dash in with the sword. His successes caused his practice to be adopted all over Europe. Frederick the Great improved bn the lesson of Gustavus Adolphus, and brought the tactics, the organization, the drill and the individual instruction of his cavalry to great perfection. The Austrian regular horse still depended much on their fire, and were cumbrous in their movements. The French either attacked, without squadron intervals, at a trot, or at speed in dispersed order, Both Austrians and French were easily overthrown by the Prussian cavalry, who charged at speed in excellent order, sword in hand, and always, if possible, took the initiative. Frederick also introduced horse artillery. In the Wars ot the Revolution, at first, the cavalry of the French were distributed amongst the infantry divisions. Hoche, in 1797, on being appointed to the command of the army of the Sambre et Meuse, perceived the evils of this system, and united the cavalry in separate divisions. Napoleon, in Italy, adopted a similar plan. Improving on it he, a few years later, formed separate corps d'armee of cavalry and horse artillery, only lea vine a weak proportion attached to each infantry corps d'armee. — Athenaeum.

Strange Discovery of the Colors of a French Regiment.

A recent discover}'at Strasburg recalls an incident of the battle of Froschwiller at the outbreak of the Franco-German War. The colors of the Eighth Regiment of French Cuirassiers, which were supposed to have been lost upon the field of Battle, have been recovered. It appears that a non-commissioned officer of the regiment, finding that the battle was lost, tore the colors from the pole and folded them round his chest. No sooner had he done this than he was mortally wounded by a shell; but he had time, when carried to an ambulance, to confide the colors to another soldier, who promised to restore them to the regiment. The latter failed to fulfill his promise, and, not understanding the value of the colors, he sold the red and blue strips of the flag at Strasburg, having in the meantime tom off the white strip to make himself a necktie. It happened that an Inhabitant of Btrasburg, who is in the habit of purchasing curiosities, heard of the matter, and he at once obtained possession of the two strips sold, which he has rejoined, and upon which are embroidered in gold letters, “The Emperor Napoleon 111, to the Eighth Regiment of Cuirassiers,” and upon the reverse side, “Eckmuhl —Wagram—La Moekowa—Hanau!" The collector, when he ascertained to whom the colors belonged, lost no time in forwarding them to the Colonel of the regiment which had lost them—Pa# Mall Gazette. —A singular occurrence at Norwich, Conn., has excised much attentibn from all parts of New England. A rough-look-ing tramp appeared, at a house for food. It was furnished, and when eaten he waa handed a sickle and requested to cut the grass iu toe yard. He took the knife and actually worked three hours in toe hot sun. The family were so overcome that they gave him a good dinner, twenty-five cents, and a pair of pants. —Mean souls, like mean pictures, are often found in good-looking frames.