St. Joseph County Independent, Volume 17, Number 33, Walkerton, St. Joseph County, 5 March 1892 — Page 2

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BWZfUfiST HP W 'J " ... ■,. li. kOybfi * ' .. 1 ““ “ [COPYRIGHTED BY THE ACTHOS, 1830.] CHAPTER IX—Continae'L With this the two forms dissolved back into invisibility- The young man could have been none other than old Ben’s master, and if that .venerable h;a :k had been on hand he coaid have had the pleasure * embracing his real “massa” instead of a pers .n who resembel him. 1 went up stairs, and seeing the door of one of the forbidden rooms ajar, I entered. Upon the floor in the corner of this room stood a small Iron safe with its door partly o en. pulling this door

wide upon its hinges. I saw within a bunch of papers. Draw ng this forth a glance satisfied me that it was the last will and te lament and other papers of the late Montln.nl Securing these, I t :rne<l to withdraw from the room, when I was startled by a slight rust e or the gauze curtain around the couch, for the room was a bedchamber. I stood lookin t at it for a moment, and was turning away again, when the curtain w^s drawn a-ide by invisible means There, stretched upon the couch, prone and rigid, the bed for a bier, lay the body of Senor Montinnl, in as perfect a state of preservation as if it»hadbeen embalmed that morning. The curtain fell back to its natura rest and I walked out of the room. When I reached the hall the door closed, seemingly of Jts own accord, and 1 heard the key turn in the rusty old lock. _ CHAPTER X. AT THE SICK MAX'S BEDSIDE.. I went down-stairs, after the adventure des ribed in the previous chapter, and stepped into the sick man’s room to give a few words of cheer. He put out his hand feebly to me, and taking It in mine 1 sat down by his side. His deepsunken eyes and wan, sallow look; the damp upon his lips, scalding and parching the tender skin, and the hot steam that ame forth as breath, indicated that dread disease of the South, yellow fever. Friend Burton, thought I, thou art near to the sleep that knows no waking, but which gives to such as thee *the everlasting dream of paradise. Thy spirit will break its earth.y bounds to wander unrestrained in those ceiest a! U fcas heretoforeseen'but

■I by wedding march wilt be ddwri**TWf vistas nf-thw Happy Land, wham than r.eeJst not set k •furceas • of sorrow, for namrlit but joy is th re “Hat.” said I’.nrton, ‘ I Via e been tellmother that ju»> would lx? a. ’ton to l»« r when I am gone. W W - her for my sake, won’t w you, Hal?” I assured h m that, so far as I was able, I would help and baa friend to his mother Then his mind began to wander in deiirium, a peculiarity of his disease, and in a rambling way he told how-dis-appointed he was when be came to the 1 spiritual festival, where ail the people who have been congested with the proprietorship of the estate were to be, and found that his Zeyna was not of the throng; how he had many and many times come and dwelt for weeks in the* old house, alone in its awfu! dullness, ♦ hat he mi ht catch but a glimpse of her, but all in vain until he had seen her in the Mbrary th" night before; how Montinni had appeared to him when I ; was sick in the hospital, -and told him I that I was to work out the problem of the hiunted house; how his almost constant habitation among supernatural beings had cast a shade of the supernatural over him-e.f, so that he teemed unlike his fellow-mortals, and was oft -n the object of wonderment and dismay to superstitious people; how he sometimes questioned himself as to his destiny, a- to the niche he was to fill in the grand sum of the Creators handiwork, as to whether he was really a mortal, or a spirit apparently c othed in j flesh; how his tastes and thought? so differed with those of others that he mingled not among men, but, sought the grand and beautiful scenes of Nature and smothered in golden reaches of imagination the hankering grief for his loved one. Then his worrying delirium seemed to pass away, and he straightened down upon the couch and >aid quite^till for several hours, during which t me*l | Prepared a letter to Montlnni’s heir, to be sent, ,to him to Venice by telegraph and cable.

CHAPTEK XI. THE LAWYER’S GHOST. The morning sun smiled placidly through the fast evaporating fog that a' light breeze was lifting from its night’s rest upon'the bosom of the bayou, and the usual «o umn hush reigned about, the deserted old house -four days had elapsed since the arrival of the Senora Arold. These four days ^ere uneventful in Interest Dull monotonous days they were, of watching by the sick man’s bedside and examining legal documents belonging to the estate Upon the morning in question Old Ben had come nois essly to the door and handed in a sealed envelope directed to me. It contained a telegram -from Montinni’s heir, str ting that he would most gra iously submit to my demands in behalf of the Senora Arold, and that he would ship for New Orleans by the steamer Don Juan, due at that port in fourteen days. After absorbing this intelligence I went to Burton’s room, an i after his mother had withdrawn for a moment, laid the whole matter before him. The sick man : raised himself to a sitt ng posture In the ] bed and extending his hand for a glad | shake, said, with a pleasant smile upon i his lips “Hal, I’m the happiest man In ■ the world, although I am on my t death bed. My only" trouble was about mother. Now I know that sho will be able to live comfortably. ” He laid down j । again and I called his n other 'back, -so that I could retire and think matters i : over. I always like to saunter about i wham In a reflective mood, and upon this ' i occasion I went out and walked around j <

the shade and fruit trees that surround- : ed the house. After a »half hour of walking and thinking I turned toward the house when I felt a touch upon my arm, and upon turning around saw a dapper little gentleman, who tipped hiS bright silk tile to me Jauntily and said: “This is Senor Ma a, I believe. Well, business Is business, whether it’s a wholesale funeral or a chattel mortgage To be candid with you, I am a ghost—a downright spook—but you've seen plenty of them lately, so you won't be scared. I was formerly the lawyer who settled all the little legal quibbles arising? on this estate. The worthy proprietors, who are in another state —or rather territory—of existence, want a little busi- ’ neas done It will p Thapa be agreeable to you to learn that there are five corpses up stairs that need to be interred down there in the burying ground. They are those ot El Muza and wife. El Zega' and wife, and Montinni. The whole family diel of the yellow fever epidemic some years ago. myself among the rest, as I came down with the di-ease while up here on business. Nearly al of us were buried, but

we were dropping off so fast the niggers alt got scared. and ran away, leaving the persons whose names I have mentioned to pass away in a lonesome sort of style that was very unpleasant the participants. The bodies? ware laid_ out and embalmed by the spir-^ its that had inhabited them’ in their original existence. The bodies have been here ever since, and things were left in such a, dire state that wo have had to stay around here and guard, the place and frighten people away and resort to ail manner of schemes to preserve the secret of our dead all these years. Until we founu you we knew of no medium that we could consult with to the end of getting our dead taken care of and the estate straightened up. As soon as these remains are buried the house ceases to be haunted. Gid Ben can dig the graves, and with your aid as a medium we can do everything ail right Have the graves and caskets ready by to morrow night at twelve o’clock. We'd have buried these holies long ago, but it was impossible for sprits to d^ in the ground. Excuse me n I haven’t handled this subject quite so delicately as you mortals customari ydo. We of the spirit world attach no romance or sanctity to the matter of death. With us It is something that has past, and therefore of little consequence Good day.” ’ CHAPTER XII. THE WEIRD FCS ER AL. Five rusty-hinged doors swung creaking open on the north side of the old hall upstairs, and shadowy formsin sable covering‘floated to and fro in the rooms of mystery. ’ ; In each room a pale corpse lay still -1 and e/Wd awaiting to be

dark casket that sat au ' ■ pathy as this weird funeral. Ti e mouTrT i ers wore happy smiles and -p' ke cheerful ’ vrorHA O.r *%»ny w< r i.r»t t.ll TrH.il t>«s inuM known ai mortah. 1-acii j ( Lag eu^erguue the earthly ffcattp and ■> the spirits-of' the corpses then undbr « charge were present with the throng. ’ El Zegal and his wife,‘whom I had not' j seen -before, came vforward from the , ■ crowd, greeted me k nJly. and thanked me for my solicitude in behalf of their daughter and her lover. They had don 1 wrong in partin' the two, but earthly judgment s ever ap v to err All sorrow between them-wouiu soon be over. El Mu a anp his wife also came to me an 1 spoke g ad!y of the means which/werebringing about a reconciliation between > them and their eldest dau?ht?r, and weie pleased at the provisions being made lor her maintainance. Burton and the Senoraknew nothing of । the arrangements going on up-stalrs, ’ and w-re both sound asleep when mid- । night had arrived Precisely at 1' o’clock the spectral procession filed silo tly out of the old house, and bearing the coffined dead wended its way to the cemetery in the valley. Old Ben had performed his work well; ; the five graves were ready. Down into ‘ them the caskets were lowered, and the starting, hoi ow sound of the falling dirt as the faithful old negro plied the shove.', looking around dared and scaled । upon the phantom crowd, awoke the j solemn echoes of the night When all was done, the Senor Mon tinnl stepped forward and warmly ■ | thanked us for our help, assuring us that we would not lack in reward: then j bade us good night, and di appeared with all the rest. It had been dark and cloudy, but as I O d Pen and I turned to go from the I spot the clouds*iu the zenith broke away I as if cut in twain, and the full round ' moon and twinkling stars illumined the I whole landscape round, and revealed to us that the new-made graves gave no sign of fresh earth? but were covered

with moss and grass growing Sowers. Did Ben looked curiou-ly at me when iie had noticed th s, and said: “Massa, dis j 1 am queeah,” I answered: “I like it; it is ■ well. ” C HAITI K XIII. THE MYSTIC MARRIAGE. The Villa Montinni was a haunted house no more. Every^door and window was open, and the pleasant air and sunshine wandered 'through the h< .se as if searching out the gloomy corners to brighten and cheer them u;. There was one rad shadow though that a r and sunshine couldn’t brighten up. The shadow of death was resting on the brow of the widow's son. Not that he saw it,- for he looked beyond to a scene brighter than poor earthly sunshine; but the mother, she saw and feit that cloud. It was in the fore part of the day and I had sat at the head of his couch for some hours keeping the cooi, damp i cloths upon his brow, that they might fill as much as possible the grateful mis- j slon of soothing the fever in the brain. His mother sat unon the couch by his side holding both his hands In hers and watching every movement of his pale । thin lips as each breath went forth upen its last mission. Ho had not spoken for some time, and we were a- - startled when his feeble voice gently broke silence with the exc amatlon: “Mother, Hal see!” He had raised his head from the pillow and was pointing toward the large folding doors' 1 at the end of the hall. We followed his direction'and as we gazed the great.

- , ———— । doors swung abroad, and a breats . of flowers floated in; then gent e , music, such as we hear in dreams. ! came whisperi g along the air as If it > were too Holy glad to speak its happiness ■ aloud. '— | A haze of perfume! atmosphere filled i the room, lighting it with a phosphorescent glow that rendered delicately throughout the rainbow's almost inimitable tints. “She comes, mother.’’ whispered Burton, as he raised still higher, and stepping upon opposite sides of the couch we held the piLows tc his head. “Sen ora,” said I, “the hoar is here, •the spirit and the bride say come.’” A bright and happy light cAme to his eyes as heard me say this, land lie stretched out one hand tome He turned his face toward his mother that she might take the farewell kiss, and a- he did so the fairy vision floated in that was to bear his so il away upon its upward flight We saw not the deatn gasp, we heard no moan,^for the perfumed, rainbow-tint».d vapor sett ed dense about the couch, and the muSift of an angel host swelled sweetly in, to charm away the anguish of that last mo nent We knew the soul had left its earthly house, the body, for there u der an an hway, festooned with roses a d hung with dreamy drapery we saw standing, smiling h :ppily uporx each other, the spirit forms of the lovely Zeyna and noble Burton Aro’d, surrounded by the host of angels and spirits fair that had gilded so beam^ully through that very room'on the night of mystic revelry. Me minglv in obedience to a mot on

K.Ux Ixi 1 1A iJr J4l vUU A. ** from Berton, the fair Zeyna bent forward ani kissed the brow of the mother, whose saintlike beauty as she gaaed upon the : sappiness of her son was a true representation of her kindness of heart, inexpressible in its hoiy s gnificance* 'I his fond salutation done, the iovers joined in spiritual marr.age floated out with their anael escorts, and ud to the realms that knew no death or shadow.’ CHAPTER XIV. c >sccrsiox. It is fit to end this story now, as I have fol owed the two chief chara ters to the end of my knowledge of them; but tnere are a few things 1-ft in connection with the haunted house of which the reader may demand to know as to the conclusion of affairs concerning my mission there. They can be told in a few wobds. The legal payer-.of the estate were in a bad plight. I employed an honorable and competent attorney to help me straighten them out and get them in order. At the end of my stipulate! time 1 opened- the roll of parchment which had been placed in my charge by the phantom lady, and found that it contained a will bequeathing to E Muza or his heirs the disposal of a Tine-eighth portion of an estate near Madrid, Spain. The Senora had been disinherited by her father, but the attor ey. who was a good Spanish scholar, upon looki ig the matter up, found that in Spain a man cannot without act on o the Government disinherit the last heir in his legitimate family line, in a matter wherein any considerable reai estate is concerned. We communicated with our minister plenipotentiary at Madrid con erning the matter, fully ! ' establishing th s Senora s identity. he

1 ‘ receied aa»Wvx . that , tie: propert/, 1 "wh do estate to ww ch . t fault of munv year*’ tarr- ,, , cuuu her c aim she time ’• demand and got the ba ance, which would yield her an ample competency for life. A settlement was soon effected / and the Se. ora given her portion. The Bon Juan‘landed in New Orleans near the tim : expected, and Montinni s heir came*up to see his property. He was a gentleman and a business man, and we soon settle 1 everything satisfactorily. The young man had not been there a week before he had lumber upon the .grounds, and carpent- r-, mason-, . aud painters fixing over the old house. Somewhere or other he picked up an energetic farmer and installed him as overseer, and in less than two me iths the I erstwhile haunted villa and weed-grown plantation was all bustle and life. The Senora has a fine home at the villa, and kind friends and attendants among whom to spend her declining years Her only care is to attend to two 'vine-hung 'graves down in the valley burying ground, a .d her joy is to make h r presence a pleasure In time of health and a comfott in time of illness to every tenant of the ria e, and to meditate up- ■ on the time in the future, life when she will be with her boy and his spirit bride. [tre esd. ] Theory and Practice. It is quite likely that many an observant person has witne sed a similar . scene to the one described below, since the character^ are types that are d stributed world-wide. In this case the dialogue occurred In a thriving Western city, and the particular place was a corridor of the' postoffieo. A large, fleshy, indo ent-looking man came in, opened his lock bo", and was glancing over his mail when his attention was attracted by a wordy dispute among a group of men : near by. A very small, bright-looking, and chip- ; per man was doing near y all# the*talking, and evidently having ’everything his own way. “The situation is like this,” said the small man, with great vigor. “I care -not "how much money a man makes, he I must use brains in investing it or he will die poor. Isn’t that so, Colonel?” The large man nodded indolently. “Any fool can make money, but it takes a wise man to keep it,” observed i the small man, oracularly. “A man must ! read up and keep posted on finance and business, especially if he ventures on I speculation. ” “Yes,” assented the large man, mak- ’ ing a movement to go, but the small man would not permit it. He backed the large man up a a'nst the wall, took him by the button of his coat, and held him there for several minutes while he gave his view’s on business an'l ^finance. During the disserta-I tion the large man was manifestly uneasy, answering “Yes,” “No,” and “I shouldn’t wonder,” almost at random. When he finally escaped, the small man marched away with an air of importance, and* a stranger inquired who he was. । “Oh, that,” replied a bystander, “is Pen Storms'. He’s a shoemaker, and a mighty poor one. Rich? Oh, dear, no! Failed so many times that he can’t fail any more, because no one will trust him” “And the large man?” “That is Colonel Duval, Vice President of the D. G. R. Road, owner of the marble quarry, and one of the biggest capital- j Ists in the State.”

WASHINGTON GOSSIP. THE GAMUT OF GASTRONOMY RUN BY STATESMEN. secrets of the r.eCanrant-SolonvWho Eire on Bread and Milk -Dbttnn^ Politician* Who Regale Themaelve. on Twkey—The Pork and Bean Eaters. ■ Senatorial

UT a knife to thy throat if thou be a man given to appetite," said Solomon. Some of the people who live in this year of grace do not think the advice good. Neither suicide nor eating with a knife is good form in these j days. It must be ’ evident even to the । casual visitor at - the Senate rehtau- • rant that the wise I man was not ad- ' dressing his remarks to I nited States Senators.

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I No self-respecting Senator ever allows i his knife to get within a foot of his jugui lar. Memb-TS-of the House may, perhaps, elevate their pork and beans to the mouth level without the assistance of a fork, but the dignified Senator never permits the glittering steel greater altitude than the third button on his vest

The day for eating with your kniie was cut short by that happy invention the in sen»n, 7 iner^. in a greater ratio than does the number of those more or less distinguished bgtelatore. The thousands of visitors who daily tramp through and around am. al out the Capitol delight in prying into X. WMtortS «!»»»«; the, the Senate floor until removed by the onenin" of the session and the energy of severalemployes; they surv ®?' from the galleries and criticise their respective ami generally respecU.i.e ap»‘earan e; th-y p-P though na.rrened committee-room doors and reach the apex of the tourist’s bliss when they behold a Senator engaged in the consumption of food. , -He’s eatin’ raw oysters, said a stranger to his wife the other day. In< couple had, from afar, followed one ot the Senators who represent their bta to the Senate restaurant The male tourist watched the alleged legislator commence feeding, and then reported to ■ the waiting but equally curious female. The Senate restaurant is an intereriktg place. Business do s not really commence until noon, but for haE an hour thereafter there is no rush, inen comes the crowd of hungry ones, and from 12:30 until after two o'clock the waiters hardly have time to perspire. Everv table has its quota of Occupants, and the string f humanity that leans up against the long count r is tolerably continuous. It is a good place to find almost any lost one, whether Menate or i li ~

■ W* 11 1 - i ill SENATOR COKE IS A PIE EATER. Senator employe, to say nothing of the liberal sprinkling of newspaper men who hurry in and out, combining the hasty pleasure of eating with th»- business ’of gathering information. To feed all I these hungry ones Mr. Page has to employ about thirty people—twelve of them in the kite-hen —and they all have reasonable opportunity to earn their recompense. Three dusky retainers attend to the customers at the lunch counter, transmit orders of waiteis to the kitchen and hand <'Ut.the .tangible responses. Os these James Lewis is chief. He is invariably designated "Lewis,” and he probably would not know that he was being spoken to if otherwise addressed. His business-like silence is as marked as his businesslike ability. But it was no* the average luncher that a Washington Star reporter became interested in. He had both eyes ■ i on Senators and on the men who" do . , their bidding in the private dining- I ! rooms—from Head Waiter Dick Shaw, | i portly, suave and solid y respectable’ ' j down to the latest of Mr. Page’s ap- - ' pointees. There is’ abroad in the land a vague impression to the effect that I Senators subsist principally on terrapin I and champagne.. It .may be .necessary to state that this impression is erroneous. Senators eat just about as do other men whose circumstances are on i about the same financial level—they । seem to have in them a great deal of 1 human nature. More democratic, broadly speaking, i and more simple in his stomachic appetite than any other Senator is Senator I Coke of Texas. He is a regular caller । at the restaurant, but when he does put ! in an appearance his invariable desire is for pie—piece of pie and a glass of water. He might enjoy these life sustainers in the comparative privacy of the senatorial rooms, but he prefers to stand right up against the counter and there wash down large chunks of highgrade pie with the assistance of clear spring water. Senator Blair used to do the same thing, but he did it regularly ' and perhaps a little more stylishly; he always drank milk with his pie and the pie was eith» r apple or custard. Many a geo I news paragraph has the author and finisher of the education bill given away while rubbing < Ibows with a newspaper correspondent at that restaurant counter. Mr. Blair’s departure from the Senate leaves Senator Coke in undisputed possession of that counter. But there are good feeders-in the Senate and the kinds of luncheon they daily dispose of could not be served on the counter. Perhaps the most consistently “good” are Senators McMillan, Washburn, Hoar and Squire. McMillan and Washburn generally lunch together,-and

thev eat steaks and ch< ps and sala.3 and such like solid goods. Senator i Squire believes in the same sort of foo l. Senator Hoar once excited mu h i popular commiseration by stating that ■ codfiish was his staple article or diet. I That may be the main scarce of his ■ nutriment at home, tut in the Senate ; his tendencies are toward tarrapin or i broiled oysters; none of the waiters ! ever heard him mention codfish. Bl^tki burn's favorite dish is deviled ham. I Teller manages to get along very nicely with a modicum of cold tongue or corned beef Sawver is devoted to custard pie and milk; he likes a liberal sprinkling of cheese with his pie. Another lover of pie is Wilson; the variety is apple, and it must te hot. Frye believes trolled ovsters to be satisfactory, tut Stanford prefers iamb chops or calves’ liver and bacon. Fulton is very fond of pork and beans. Sanders, like marly ail the other Northwestern Senators, consumes oysters; he likes them raw—the rawer the better. Davis lives well; sirloin «teaks are his weakness. Manderson Is also properly fed; oysters are a specialty, and a chaffing dish stew is the fatorit.e. Hawley consumes oysters. Wison thrives on craham bread toast and a pot of tea. Hale wants a bowl of custard and a glass of milk. Gorman figures out the moves on tee 1 national chess beard while disposing of cold turkey. Harris has an affection for ovst rs that have be»n broil'd. Nance > eats but little. He is satisfied generally । with a sandwhir h, a glass of milk and, ’, sometimes, an apple. Faulkner devours the raw oyster; Blodgett, the sirloin steak. Cockrell is an infrequent visitor. I

y •- ' • •— »- —a G j A—FELTOX LIKES FORK AXDJBEAX-^ ne eats the simplest fare. M< Ph'er=r-.n is very regular on bake 1 apple t.u.i pling. Dawes delights in a corned be f sandwich and a glass of milk. Do.ph wants, and gets. I roiled oysters and custard pie. Mitchell loi'esoj.-ter stew, Pro tor eats oysters. Sb does hyle. Palmer favors lamb chops. Brice leins ' toward ovster patties. Colquitt has three menus. Sometimes his choice is ■ col l turkey, so netimes corned beef, i sometimes a glass of milk ar.d a bowi ot ' cu-tard Ransom is of opinion that nothing is so good as quail on t< ast. Vice President M rton sti I man with raw or broile 1 oysters at times: occasionally he is sati-fled

Lilli* V’ ». «*■ *‘-'** 4 *‘* * — with a pi -e of pie and a glass Icf milk. Sherman is a pie anil milk t onfUßSfast. but onoe m a while he tries -- . .j, h sit rn. * from the city most of th<‘ time since he left the gul ematorial chair at Albany; he has been in the restaurant, however, and his preference so far seems to he for cold turkey and a pot of coffee. Keen-witted political prophets may do well t> note the fact that Gorman ami Hill both eat cold turkey—turkey th t might properly be termed "stuffed." Jones of Nevada swears by broiled bla -k bass. Berry likes broil* d oysters. Cameron has to have the largest raw oysters that are available; occasionally he partakes of a chafing-dish stew. | Quay, like Gorman and Hill, is all right , when supplied with cold truk*-y and coffee. Sto kbridge’can get along very nicely on pie and milk, with broiled oyst .-rs for a change once or so in a wet k. l’ow* ris an oystt r man. Higgins consume’s baked appl s and cream. Wolcott keeps up ids avoinlupois on hot fo<.-t turk**v and broiled »*v-ters. Casev smiles through the day with the help of raw or broiled oysters. Chilton, too, likes raw oysters. Shoup is a firm believer in the virtues of br- ad and milk. Dubois iikes cold tongue or cold roast

I I PROCTOR AND KYLE EAT OYSTERS. beef. Carlisle, who has not been around very much this session, is enamored of chops. Voorhees is a light eater; a sandwich is his average. White wants a good porterhouse steak and is sunplied. 1 George indulges in broiled oysters and a glass of milk. Walthall is another oyster lover, and Warren and Carey are like-minded. Stewart pays Cashier Birnsfor a stew or a reasonable quantity of either corned beef or roast beef, cold; he drinks a pot of tea. Oyster stew is Turpie’s favorite beverage. Paddock devotes himself to raw oysters or to baked apples with cream. Chandler lives well; a chafing-dish stew suits his complaint most days; occasionally he prefers a bowl of bread and ’ milk. Pettigrew does not starve; he eats steak or chops. Hiscock ’is not a regular luncher; when he does go down he rarely eats anything but a bowl of bread and milk. Platt is a regular boarder; he, too, likes bread and milk, but not'always; sometimes it is a bowi of custard or a select stew. Daniel eats raw oysters. So does Perkins. Likewise A est. W hen Vest wants raw oysters he eats them at the oyster counter. AS hen his appetite is not oyster struck he goes into the private diningroom and waits while a cook broils a large slice of cold roast beef. Very few of the Senators eat dessert when their luncheon is of the solid sort; very few of theriThave ladies to lunch with them. i

A FROZEN SHIP. SIIB WFoanfl in the Aretie Sea» by a Brit «ti Wh» er. One evening in the middle of August. 1775. Capt. Warren, the master of a Greenland whale ship, found himself becalmed among an immense numbers of icebergs in about 77 degrees north latitude. They were of immense height and wedged together, and a succession of snow^-vere 1 peaks appeared beh.-J them as :ar as the eve could reach, showing that the ocean was completely bl CA.-d up ia , that quarter. Capt. Warren did n t fee, a ’ - geth- r sati-fled with hi- ^ituati >n. but there being no wind he c ull not move, and he therefore kept a strict ■ watch, knowing that he w- u. 1 -afe as long as the bergs kept their <tualion. One night, after a violent storm, the captain found that his ship had sustained no -ericus injury, and that the accumulate 1 icebergs had liecome disarranged and separated, and that a kind of canal had been formed through which h:s -tup cou 1 pass. After he had proceede 1 a few miles a ship made its appearance about midday. The sun shone brightly at the time. At first the bergs prevented the captain from seeing much of hvr but her masts, but be was struck with th -strange manner in whi h her sails were disrxjs» d and witn the disman-

tled aspect of her yards and rigging. She continued to go 1 Tore the wind, and then grounded and remain -d motionless. The captain's curb sity w; 3 so much excited that he immediately jumped into a boat with several of the crew and rowed t ward her. On approaching her he olserved that sh wis considerably weatherbeaten, and not a soul appeared on deck, which was covered with snow to a considerable d pth. He then haib d her crew several tim, - but no answer was returned. Pievi- us to stepping on board an open port-hole caught his eye. and on bxikimr int > it he perceived a man rdining ack in a chair with writing materials on a table bob re him. but th b bb-ness ■ of the light made everything indistinct. The party went upon deck, and. having removed the hatchway, after a few moment's pause they descend-1 to the cabin. They first came to the tpartment which Car t. Warren had viewed from the port-hole. A tremor seized him a- he entered it. Its inmate -till retain- 1 the <ame p^ition and wa- ins-nsible to the entrance of strangers. He was found to Ite a corpse, and a green, damp mold had cervered his cheeks and forehead and veiled his open eye-kills. He had a jen in his hand, and the log b's,k lay • in front of him. The last sentence in its unfinished page ran thus: "November 14. 1762. We have now been inclosed in the ice seven

yeai-. The fire went out yesterday, and the master has been many hours 1 trying to rekiudi •it. but without I His wife died th:-ni'ituinj. ’ There is no relief.” ("apt. Warren hurried from the sp t without uttering a word. On entering th-' principal cabin the first ibject that attracted his attention was the dead bo<!y of a woman reclining on a bed in an attitude of deep interest and attention. Her face retained the freshness of life, but the contraction of her limbs showed that her form was inanimate. Seated on th*- floor was the corp-se of a young man holding a steel in one hand and a flint in the other, as if in the act of striking tire upon some tinder which lay beside him. In the forward part of the ship s »me sailor.? w- re found dead in their berths, and the .. fa I ■ . ■ ■ . .■ ■he ttom of the gangway stairs. Neither fuel nor food could be found anywhere, and the captain tvas prevented by the superstitious prejudices of his seamen from ex raining the vessel as minutely as ha

could wish. He. therefore, carried away the log book, returned to his own ship, and steered to the southward deeply impress - I with the awful example which he had ust witnessed of the dangers of navigating the Polar seas. On returning to England hemace inquiries respecting vessels that had disappeared, and by comparing results with the documents he ascertained the name and history of the frozen ship, and found she had been there thirteen years previous to the time of his discovering her.—Shetfleld Telegraph. Tim Cc a ix onderlul of snipll. It is not to be wondered at that the cat was so highly esteem -d by the ancients, for in addition to possessing nine lives and being able to see in the dark, its sense of smell is much more hi'.thly developed than is generally known, as the following experience ot <i I ulton Aiarket fish dealer will show. While the man is the owner of a stand, Le never handles the fish himself. as he is very careful not to carrv evidences of his calling outside of business hours. He would probably succeed very well if it were not for cats, which persist in following him wherever he goes. Cats, it is well known, are wonderfully fond of fish, and can smell it as far as they can smell anything. It did not matter how hard the man scrubbed himself and put on clothes that had never been near any IDh, as soon as he entered a house where there was a cat the animal would scent him out and begin rubbing against him, at the same time uttering that plaintive cry which the cat uses when asking for food. Being a man of some social aspirations all this was ven- humiliating to him. The climax came one Sunday when, just as he entered his church pew. a double meaw was heard, and, looking in the aisle, what should he see but two hungry cats crying to get in.