Bloomington Courier, Volume 16, Number 10, Bloomington, Monroe County, 21 December 1889 — Page 6

The Saturday Courier.

BLOOMINGTON., : INDIANA.

UNHEEDING.

Summer wind lightly wavo ( The grass above your grave; f Summer rains softly weep O'er your lonjr, silent slgep, ; Fair Ilowors hud and blow, t Sweet birds sin eleur and low; Yet, unheeding thrush Sons, or roses blushesSun, wind or falling rain Unheeding. tooT my rain As I sad vigil keepIn pence you softly sleep. There was do unheeding Once, each other needii'. We thought .we scan could part One brief hour. Mtt from heurU And at -y lightest word, You r uiti your heart was stirred J''i.h love s sweet, tender thrill. Now, listen as I will. I hear no sound or sigh Or heart-throb, as I cry : "Oh love, my love!" and weep While you, unheeding, sleep

Yet these tears falling rust, In that dear, far-off past -You would have wipe away With gentle kiss. To-day With lips ah unheeding. With ears deaf to pleading. And eyes dry while mine weepHow calm your endless sleep i Springfield (Maw.) Republican. A GOEILlXhUNT.

How tb Pans Attack Their Powerful and Dangerous 3Foe. In my trading expedition into Central Africa I had at diif rent times many native servants, and through them I had opportunities to see the natives hunt according- to the time-honored methods of the tribes. In this respect I did not

follow the practice of the ordinary traveler, Who conducts his hunts after his own fashion, taking: the horns or skin of his quarry for himself, with the glory, of course, and leaving the carcass for his native help, who are well satisfied with that and a few beads for recompense, and are willing to take a subordinate position in the hunt. -. One of my men was named Oshupu. He was a Fan, a fine specimen of humanity, and, like most of his race, remarkably intelligent. In fact he was a cannibal gentleman: that is to say, although he, like the rest of his tribe, had a liking , for human flesh, he never in

truded, tuftt horrible craving upon my notice by word or deed, and from his appearance and actions I should never have imagined that it existed. . , , No matter where he was, even when near the European settlements, he never adopted the garb of the white man, but adhered strictly to the native dress, which was complete when he had painted his tattooed bod v red. nuns- a niece of

bark cloth around his loins, and decorated his head with the scarlet feathers of the tauraco. His teeth were , filed to points and stained black, and his body

lets. ..... His nation is a fierce and warlike people, brave to a fault, and magnificent in spirit and physique. Oshupu would

Sometimes get tired of riding tamely in the slbwly-moving ox-wagon, and, seizin? his snear. would dart off with it and

run for several miles in advance of the team, or perform feats of dexterity with the weapon around the wagon for my especial edification. He was forever wishing that we had reached his country, and he would talk to me by the hour of elephant and

gorilla hunts, until I longed to get away with him to join a hunting party of his people. Accordingly, when we neared the Gaboon river, it did not need much -persuasion to induce me to out-

span the team for two weeks and go with Oshupu to his village. ... . 'Through this hamlet as is the case with most equatorial villages ran one ong street. The houses were square frames, with sides of . neatly woven wattle, and were thatched with the same material coated with mud. The eave of

the roof was carried forward some, dis

tance, and supported on two posts, forming a rude stoop. Under this welcome shade the village people squatted, gossiping and waiting for something to interest them. I was that something! We entered the village from the side, land were in the street before our coming was perceived. As if pulled by a single string, every native arose, and, quietly forming a ring around me, the population gravely inspected me. While Oshupu was, as it were, introducing me, I felt fingers touch my clothes, my rifle, and even go into my pockets, all of which examination I, knowing the habitsof these people, pretended not to notice. The natives seldom steal until taught to do so by a corrosive intercourse with the civilized whites. When it was known that I had come to hunt the gorilla, their" joy was unbounded, for, strange as it may seem,

iflcse waniKe. people, meet nose 01 many other tribes, are much afraid of this ani

mal, and the awe with which thev re

gard him prompts them to make a gorilla skull the principal ornament on

.their fetish-huts After resting for two days, our hunt

ing party was formed, and we journeyed

a long day's march'to the home of the gorilla. ... " What a journey was, and how vividly I remember it! There were about thirtv of us. the natives all armed with

Inner ftrwtiaQ ?Tvnf aot-on foaf- i-rt .larkr- V

terminating in an iron head, with large barbs at either side. These spears are seldorm thrown, except'at very close quartei'S. Although painfully afraid of the gorilla at the commencement of the hunt, the natives, as soon as their, blood gets up, throw caution to the winds, and rush in upon him on all sides, trusting to the multiplicitvof the assailants and their

own agility to enable them to get away unbanned Each native was armed with three spears, and I was armed with my heavy double eight-bore express rifle; About noon we halted, and rested until nearly dawn the next morning. Then we set out in sin gle file, Oshupu . leading, myself second, and the others of the troop following in the order of. their rank; as successful hunters.. , In many oiaces we could" scarcely

move for the dense vegetation. On all sides of us stretched vast forest avenues, in which the height of the trees was lost in the dense overgrowth? that stretched like leafy clouds above us, in front the stems grew close and thick, with intertwining vines and creepers, stunted bushes, and pendant masses of "monkey ropes" that curled like snakes in countless thousands. ... . The stillness at times could almost be felt, and then again - a patch would be struck where birds' with harsh voices peopled the trees, but could not be seen, or the chirp of a grasshopper, the sharp hiss of a serpent, the shrill sound

01 a locus&rose irom mo manea grass No other sounds could be distinguished,

except the chatter of a stray monkey, or

the hoot of an owl.

We seemed tp enter into a ', region of semi-darkness, where the light was of a faint greenish black. I could feel the

mini !s of mv eves dilate in an effort to

condense the faint light filtered from

above through the green, tightly-drawn curtain overhead, so . that I might dis

tinguish the tree-trunks from Oshupu, fer in .that strange light every thing

Seemed to move, and if I stood still I became dizzy. At about the third hour after sunrise-, as nearly as I could judge, the light either became stronger, or my eyes became more accustomed to the gloom, and I could see better than before. , IVCy guides, apparently, had found no difficulty in seeing well all the time. Thu greatest caution and silence Were "observed, for our aim was to catch a gorilla asleep, t Wished the natives to hunt him in their own style; and hr-ld my "double eight" as ft nwtft Ye force to ns'S in case of ftcsft$o$ts. I. am an M stalker, yet my skill was mtity krisd in that labyrinth, in which vivsivd branches lay thickly about under foot. After a time the undergrowth became less dense, and Oshupu whispered to me that this circumstance indicated the presence of water, and that the ani mats coming and going in ull directions kept, the undergrowth more or loss trodden down. Suddenly my frnidp stopped short, hud holding up his finger, croaked it OVer his head, pointing to the loft. I turned my head in the direction indicated, and at a distance of about three hundred feet away saw an immohse ape fctowly moving through the trees on all fours swinging to and fro in a manner not unlike the plantigrade movement of ft grizzly. Oshupu reached his hand behind as a signal for me to move up to him, and when I had dono so, he said: "The gorilla has fed, and is lazy If ho sees us, he will run, and we shall never catch up with him in this tangle. We must rest here, and wo will drum for his mate and sleep. Then we shall catch him." Accordingly we all sank down, only Oshupu watching. Presently the muffled sound of drumming was heard, as if a hand were beating a hollow tree. The natives say that the male makes this noise tocall his mate: this theory naturalists do not authenticate, but affirm that it is only when the gorilla is excited and angry that he drums, and the natives say that he drums upon a hollow tree-trunk, and not upon his chest as is currently believed. I am not able to give an opinion on this subject. All I know is that I heard the sound. After , a time, at a given signal, the natives spread themsel ves out, and making a long detour, surrounded the spot where it was believed the gorilla had stopped to rest. They were not mistaken, for on the edge of a small glade the big brute sat fast asleep, with his back against a tree. With his head fallen to one side on his shoulder, his legs crooked in front of him, and his long arms hanging by his side, he looked like a drunken, misshapen satyr. There was no female gorilla to be seen. We waited patiently for some minutes, until my attention was drawn to some bright spots on the edge of the small clearing, which proved to be the spear-heads of the Fans, who had made the circuit, and were ready for the attack. It was deputed to a young chief to open the encountervand after a pause he emerged from cover as near as he could get to the gorilla, but the thick undergrowth compelled him to enter the glade at a point farther away from the brute than he wished. He poised his spear in his hand in readiness to throw it, and, step by step, approached until he was within thirty feet of the. gorilla, when suddenly the animal rolled his head from one side to the other. . Quick as a. flash the young chief dropped to the earth, and lay motionless among the rank grass. The beast breathed heavily, opened his eyes for one second, in a dreamy, leery way, seeing nothing, hearing nothing, but dimly conscious that mischief was around. Slowly the chiefs head rose above the grasses, and his leg was drawn up under him to move, when "crack" went a rotten twig beneath his hand or foot. The ape was thoroughly aroused, and leaping forward raised itself into an awkward, partly erect attitude, with knees bent, body stooping and feet turned in, and balanced himself in this position by swinging his, heavy arms as a rope-walker does with his pole. The gorilla invariably charges on all-fours, and not in an erect attitude, as so many authors have said, and this ape had

raised himself to look around, and not

with any idea of charging just then. If the young chief had lain still, all would have been well; but he was desirous of showing off before mo, and accordingly rose to his feet, dashed his spear at the brute, and made for the cover of the thicket. The spear went through the arm of the gorilla, which instantly, tore the weapon out bodily, savagely pit the wound and dashed on all-fours after his assailant, with a horrible scream of rage. All the Fans on the .opposite side of the clearing now boldly dashed in, throwing their spears, or, as they got close enough to him, thrusting them into the brute's body. Wounds inflicted with such weapons could not prove immediately fatal, and could only kill the creature by causing loss of blood, as the vital power of the gorilla is so great that even a rifle-ball seldom arrests at once his headlong course. If it had not been for the danger, 'this spectacle of the contest, -between the Fans- and the ape would have been amusing, as the men threw spears, and crouched or dodged, and the ape backed slowly away from them, making horrible grimaces, and gradually working himself up into a blind fury. This state of affairs did not last more than a minute, and then the ape was at the edge of the clearing, about forty feet from where 1 stood. Here another volley of spears : met' him, and after standing amazed for a second, . he rushed headlong at his first assailant, seized him by -the leg, and before" a hand , could be raised; he swung him around his head, bringing the poor fellow's skull in contact with a tree-trunk, and cracking it like a nut. It was a terrible sight, but it was done before I had the power to prevent it. I raised my rifle, and was about to shoot, but Oshupu said, ."Not yet," and sprang into the arena, right in front of the blood-stained beast, who came at him with a terrible roar. ; . Oshupu leaped to one side, and shortening his spear thrust it clean through the body of the ape, which, turning, grabbed at his daring assailant. ..He missed his grasp at the leg, but gripped a coil of vine in which Oshupu' s foot had got caught. ...... The beast almost smiled, and drew the vine in, hand over hand, as if he knew his advantage. Oshupu struck him again with the spear, which broke in two and placed the hunter at the ape's mercy. I saw that none of the Fans moved to help Oshupu, and quick as thought sent two bullets plowing their way through the ape's head, tearing the top of the skull clean off. He reeled and fell, rose again, clenched at the mass of vines, and rolled over, still convulsively twitching and tearing at the undergrowth, while Oshupu got his foot clear, and coming to me placed my hand on his head in token that bis life henceforth belonged to me. There the brute lay, a strange sight, and one . of which the stuffed gorilla skins of the natural history collections can give but a faint idea. The face was hideous; the breadth of chest was grand, the arms and hand were massive; but the huge trunk dwindled into a pair of legs, thin, bent and decrepit as those of an old woman. The native may be well excused for entertaining a superstitious 'awe of the animal in i,ts freedom.

.. , Their idea is that a man is sometimes transformed into a sylvan demon, Wild is like a gorilla-, and can hot bo killed by a black man, unless the spears have been specially treated by the medicindman. I had wished to preserve the skin, but before I could prevent their action, the natives had thronged around the body, making a perfect sieve of it With spear thrusts. T!ie head was destroyed, so . I siniply took measurements of the beast he was live feet four inches in height and cut off the hands and feet for trophies. We buried the young chief, after carrying him back to the village, but no funeral rites were observed as he had been killed by a gorilla, and so was bolie Ved to bt bewitched. When I left the village ! brought away some line specimens qf native work. One of those specimens, an axe-blade, was covered Willi the most delieato tracery work, although the tools used in its construction were of the rudest possible pattern. To work out the figure on this axe occupied four months. I t; has been a constant matter of regret to mo that T have never been able to return to the country of the Fans and spend a longer time with them. Wilf. P. Fond, in Youth's Companion.

THE VIENNA FRE1HAUS. A Building Containing Hot ween Twelve and Fifteen Hundred Rooms. Could you, if requested, give tho size and location of the largest building in the world? If. trying to answer such a question, would you designate the St. Peter's Cathedral', the City Hall at Philadelphia, the St. Paul's Cathedral or tho Westminster Abbey as being worthy of such a high-sounding title? Not one person in a hundred would go outside tho above list to find an answer for the question. Yet it would be necessary to do so before a correct answer could bo given. There are many large buildings both in the United States and in Europe; many hundred roomed structures of stone and iron, glass and brick, livery American. European and Oriental country has its scores of public and private mansions, yet Vienna. Austria, has the giant of them all. The Freihaus" (free house) situated in Wieden, a suburb of the city just, mentioned, is the most spacious building on tho globe. Within its wall a whole city of human beings live and work, sleep and eat. It contains, in all between 1,200 and 1,500 rooms, divided into upwards of 400 dwelling apartments of from four to six rooms', each. This immense house has thirtoer courtyards five open and eight covered. and a large garden within its walls. A visitor to the building relates that ho once spent two hours in looking for ?. man known to reside in the house. Scarcely a trade, handiwork or profession can be named which is not represented in this enormous building. GoH and silver workers, makers of fancy

articles, lodging house keepers, book

binders, agents, turners, hatters, officers, locksmiths, joiners, tutors, scientific men, government clerks, three bakers IS tailors, 20 shoemakers aiuU many other tradesmen live in it. The house has 81 stair cases, and fronts on three streots and one square. In one day the postman's delivery hail amounted to as many as 1,000 pieces to this singlo, but titanic house. To address a letter to the house and to the person it is intended for does not assure the sender that the person to whom it ill addressed will ever receive it. In orde.j to "make assurance doubly sure,', all letters addressed to the "Freihaus" must bo provided with both the given and the surname of the person for whom it is intended, the number of the court , tho number of the staircase and tha number of the apartment; otherwise it b as apt to go astray as though addressed to a city unprovided with directions? as to street and ntimber. At the present time 2,113 persons live in this immenso building and pay an annual rental o? over 100,000 florins. St. Louis Republio.

HISTORIC EARTHQUAKES.

Shocks That Destroyed Entire Cities anil Thousands of Persons. One of the most remarkable earth quakes of antiquity overthrew many cities of Italy, but did not interrupt tho battle of Thrasmine, which was raging at the time. This was in the year 21'? II. C. In 305 A. D., the greater part of the Roman -world was convulsed by an earthquake, which was followed ,bjr tidal waves. For a long time afterward the city of Alexandria annually com mem orated the fatal day when 50,00)) citizens lost their lives in an inundation. Two centuries later the Roman Empire again was shaken, and credulity. is staggered by the statement that 250,000 lived were lost. ...... One shrinks from enumerating manjr of the great earthquakes of history, fo; to attempt the task is to sup full of hor rors. In the early history of America the disappearance of whole cities wart not unusual. In 1450 60,000 persona were killed in Naples. In 1750 them were destructive shocks in Syria, and at Balbec 20,000 perished. In 1783 Guatemala, with all its riches and 8,000 families, was swallowed up. In Sicily and Calabria, from 1788 to 1780, the victims reached, a total of 80,000. China's capital was destroyed in 1S33, and ..multitudes were killed in a series of shocku that were distributed through ten years. And so on until the statistics become sickening. The great Lisbon earthquake of 1772 will be remembered as the one in which the good Dr. Johnson refused to believe, although he pinned his faith to the story of the Cock lane ghost. This shock extended over a' surface of the globe four times greater than that of Europe, destroying the cities of Fez and Mesquine?. in Morocco, with 15,000 persons; and alfecting tho coasts of Green land, tho Isle of Madeira, and tho West Indies, nearly 4,000 miles away. In Lisbon it was All-Saints' Day, the hour of high mass, and all the churches were crowded. There were three shocks, and then the city was in ruins. The earthquake was followed by the horror's of a conflagration. In the Caracas earthquake in 1812 the people were praying, like those of Lisbon, when the desolation oame upon them. It was Thursday of Holy Week, and great numbers were in the churches. At least 4,000 people perished in the downfall of the sacred edifices. Qno cathedral only held out. Notes and Qiieries. Fire-Proof Houses In Buenos Ayres, They build fire-proof houses in Buenos Ayres and Montevideo without thinking of it, and while using all the wood they can afford to, and they use neither iron nor the arch. Trees are scarce in the neighborhood and timber has to be brought clown from the upper waters in hard woods. Being dear, a little of it is made to go as far as possible. The floors , and the roofs are supported by joists of hard wood as among us; across theso are laid flat rails of the same, and tho spaces between theso are bridged over by thin bricks thirteen and onehalf inches long, with their ends resting on tho rails; another layer of bricks is then laid with lime, and generally on this a layer of tiles. The doors and windows have no boxes, but simply frames, which are set up when tho walls are going up and built in. There is no lathing and wainscot or skirting of tho

bottom of the walls. A house thus bailt can not be burned.-. 0. Pica yune

AN ANSWER WITH HIS PRAYER.

HH Squire sat in his

(Town or gray Clos to ihii brartli, while a ruddy glow From the blazing lr.gs illlofl tho quaint old room, And hi thoughts went tack to the lon-r afro, To many a winter afternoon

Whn the sumv on

tho hilMcps lay.

" --f 1 fl

-nrj

, v. it. -O

:Ji8t3? ; Mvsi N Visions or child(APWW'm Peasant &33ir3 I-li Came lioatimr in

from the dreamy

past As he sat and

mused on the days of old. lie was young no more, for time had cast

Silver threads among the gold Si nee the early Christmas days. lie sat aud counted the blessings over That had come to him from the Father's haud; He measured his bursting cribs of com, His well-filled barns and fruitful laud. And the heart in his breast grew soft and warm As he t hought of the helpless poor. He thought of the widow across the way, And said to himself: "I have goods to spare, The Lord has been very Kind to me, 1'U lighten a little her load of care; If I'm alive to-morrow I'll see That she has a happy Christmas Day." Then he called to his wife, in the other room; She was busy baking tarts and pics. "While a turkey lay stuff cd on a table near. And he said: I,cl us give Widow Gray a surprise; It will make our dinner taste better, my dear, To-morrow afternoon. "Fill a basket full of something good, - Christmas comes hut once a year: Send what you think she will like the. best; Here's a ten-dollar bill her heart to cheer; Send a pair of chickens among the rest. And John can leave her a load of wood. What we send to her we shall never miss, For a gift to the poor is a loan to the Lord, And He's powerful prompt in paying back; We have our security here in His word, In the keeping of which He is nover slack : So 1 guess we can take His promise for this.

Jim wtf

"'OR A GIFT TO Tin: POOU IS A LOAN TO THE LO HO." Thcn to-morrow morning early, wife. Before the neighbors are stirring about, Send the basket over the way with John. 4 'Twill he heavy you say. Well, John is stout. Let him take a bag of potatoes along, And a 'grist" of Hour it's tho staff of life," That night the widow read the Psalm : "The Lord is my Shex&crd, I shall not want." Aud then she bowed her aged head, While Faith look wings for an upward mount As she prayed "Give me my daily bread; Oh, Lord, Thou knowest how poor I am." Next morn she was busy laying her plan For a little feast of her own that day; A slice of toast and a cup of lea, When a step was heard in the passage-way And a cheery voice saying: "It's only me:. The folks have sent you something down To make you a dinner, Widow Gray ; And best of all there's nothing to pay. This ten-dollar bill don't stare so hardSquire said you could use it, he kueyou could: And this isn't all, for out in the yard There's tutors and turnips and Hour and wood." Then the widow knelt and meekly said: . "Lord, I have more than ray daily bread," And John, as he turned to go away, Saw her pale lips rove and heard her say: "It's just like him God bless tho man 1" That night the Squire sat in his chair - Reading a chapter before he prayed, While an unseen One stood with book and pen And . wrote, while a smile on his visage played: "Blessed is he who loveth his fellow -men, And sendeth an auswer along with his prayer." J. Alpha Mullin,

A QUEER VISITOR. Bessie Succeeds in Getting a Check Out of Her Uncle.

NCLE SILAS HARKS was eating dinner with his favorite sister, Mrs. Marshall Van Felt, and her family. As it was nearing tho holidays, they had an uncommonly good dinner, and when the old man pushed his chair back from tho table and wiped

off the last vestige of currant jelly from

his quivering chin he said: aI wish ... every poor man had as good a dinner to-day as I've had, and that's saying a good deal." "Poor man!" echoed his wondering nieces and nephews, in chorus. "Why, Uncle Silas, you ain't a poor man!" Uncle Silas chuckled a hard, oh inky laugh that might have been tied with a string, it so resembled his own precious money-bag3 in the hollow jingle it made. "He's right," said a fresh, young voice that had not been heard before; "Undo Silas is a poor man." "And how do you know, missy?" asked the old man, without anger and apparently quite amused. "Because you never give any thing away to make you rich," was the cool, calm answer of Bessie Van Pelt, his oldest niece. Sho was digging into a badly cracked pecan nut and munching the meats with great zest. "Oh, that means, Miss Pert, that I do not help the Busy Bees or Silver Thimbles, or.. some other philanthropic club, for promoting good fellowship among tho poor. 1 do give something away, even if you don't seom to know it." "I don't believe it," answered the girl, quietly. - "Bessie! Bessie!" they all shouted, in chorus, "yon have been rudo to Uncle Silas you must ask his forgiveness." "Bessie," said Mrs. Van Pelt, with that extreme eagerness with which many good people smite their children for oxpressing honest opinions, "you can leave the room." v "No! no!" said Uncle Silas, who liked the little girl she was only fifteen "Bessie doesn't mean to bo rude. So sho thinks I'm a miser, does she a Shylock, because I don't give my hardearned money to professional beggars. My dear, if I did I could not give you tho pearl and ebony writing-desk you wanted for Christmas. Hey, my pot!" "I don't want it," said Bessie, with spirit; "I would rather have that old one of grandma's up in the attic, the one sho signed many a check on at Christmas to go to the poor."

J ley! is it there? Is m m other's desk up" In th' attic, Sophie? I 'member it quite well:" "Yes, and it looks lonesome tip there, too, but it is old-fashioned and clumsy,' answered iliS sister. "1 like old-fashioned things; and old fashioned people if they have good hearts like hers and do good with their money as she did," said Bessie. "Well, well, let's have some games and music." said the old man with gruff good nature and soon the entire family engaged in a game of blind -man s-bu It to wind up tho evening. "Bo very careful of yourself, Silas," said his sister; "3011 may be robbed or murdered some of these nights going home." l haven't a cent about me," said the old man, hastily, but not without a shudder. "Do you want me to see you safe home, Undo Silas?" asked Bessie, who had recovered her good temper. "No, Miss Spitfire, not to-night. Your old uncle's got some fight in him yet, It's only two short blocks to my house and 1 have a good cane in my hand," "I wish you would rent that house and come live with us," remarked his sister. She was in independent circumstances herself, but not rich. She wanted hor brother's money when ho was done with it, not sooner. But sho never saw a mill of it, and his fine offer of the writingdesk to Bessie was all bravado and sho knew it. He had never given the child a present in his life. But he talked poverty, poverty, all day long, and declared that tho handsome house in which he lived alone, aud where his wife had died as somo said for lack of the necossaries of life was mortgaged to its full value. Bessie had often gone to him knowing that he had colters of gold and begged money for some Christmas tree or charitable entertainment, and it always pleased him he liked so well to deny her. When he was gone and the door closed after him, shutting out the awful chill of his presence, which seemed to intensify the cold night air, Bessie sat down and waited patiently for her mother's lecture. Sho felt sure it would come and was not disappointed. . The younger children had gone up to bed, so there was no interruption. "It's perfectly disgraceful!" her mother began; "you know your undo expects to leave his money to us, and you treat him in such a manner that he will go and endow a charity with it." "I wish he would, isamma," answered Bessie; "I'm sure his money will never do us any good. Ho will hate to see anybody spend it. I asked him for ten dollars for our Christmas tree for tho poor, and he danced up and down and declared he hadn't so much money in the world. Mamma, ho is very poor." "Poor! Your Uncle Silas poor? Why, child, ho owns blocks of brick houses on the avenues and he has enormous sums out at interest." v "What does that do for him? When he wants a good dinner ho comes here and gets it. Every Sunday and every holiday ho eats at our expense, and when I ask him for a paltry ten dollars he denies having it. I hate Uncle Silas." , "Go to bed, miss," said her mother, angrily: "you are wanting in respect to your Undo Silas and to me." "Not to you, mamma, dear," said the child, softly; "there is another crow'sfoot let me kiss it; every timo that Uncle Silas comes here he leaves crowfeet and wrinkles, if not on our faces in our hearts. vSilly child," said the mother, but in a softened tone. There was a look of hor dead father in the girl's face that disarmed the mother of her anger. Then she was such a brave little thing, daring to speak the truth and do the right. Thoy parted with another caress at the foot of tho stairs. Silas Marks went homo looking at every shadow, peering into dark places, and with his stick clubbed in his hand ready for any raid from the highway assassin. Nobody molested him, and he ran up the steps of his house just as tho sonorous tones, of tho bell in tho city tower rang out ten. He was a little confused, missed counting the strokes and wondered what the bolls were ringing for that night. He rattled his latch-key in the door of his house and then he stopped to listen. Steps inside the house, coming slowly and draggingly down the stairs to meet him! "Pshaw!" ho said, whistling a cracked tune to keep up his courage, "it is the echo of somebody walking next door. Fol-de-rol-do-ro-de-rol-do!" He struck a match on the wall. Nobod3T there. The dismal, faded hail and stairs looked just as thoy always did. He lighted tho candle that stood on the hat-rack gas was too dear for him tolmrn and then he locked and doublebarred the doors and fastened the burglar alarm. Once upstairs in the room that he always used for. his parlor and sleeping apartments ho felt at his ease again Pirst ho inspected a strong box that was all right. Then he unlocked the great iron, safe all right there, too. Money, bank bills, gold, securities, bonds he gloated over them and petted them with fond appreciation. The door-bell rang and startled him terribly; once, twice, then , ting-a-ling in rapid succession. "It must be his man of business. Ho locked up his safe, cast a careful eye around the room and went down-stairs. Undoing the latch but not the burglar chain he peered out into the night. Nobody there. He looked down

1 I i I

" OUv I AIN'T GOING TO 1IUKT YOU."

and saw something that in tho lamplight looked like a miserable child. "What do you want, olf ?" he asked, angrily. "Soinethin' to cat, please. Pm most starved." "Nonsense! How dare you come around here disturbin' folks at this hour of tho night?" "Mo mother's very sick an me little sister has a broken back." "I don't believe it. What does your father do?" "Please, sir, he drinks. "And you expect me to help you, do you? Well, Pm a poor man myself, and I don't drink, an' I won't help any man that does." "He's blind and begs for pennies in tho saloons, an the nico geutlomen like yourself gives him drinks to make him sing," Every time he tried to close the door the elf, as ho had called hor, thrust a miserable, ragged arm in and prevented him. "I'll rinnr for the police," he said, savaely, "if you don't go away.'

"Oh, please, sir, give me a little somethin' to keep us from starvin' a bit of bread that's fit to eat, or a dime to buy a loaf; the sliops whdre I livo are open, sir, yifc. fjate passers-by heard tho curious diaj Jogue and loitered. Silas Marks jerked the door open and laid a rough hand on tho child. Sho cringed at his touch. "Oh. 1 ain't goin' to hurt yon ye beggar's brat. Come inside and let me Sec' what's in that basket. Pll give ye neither nickel or dime, but if thore's a crust left 1 may throw you that." The child stood inside the hall, and by tho flaring light of the candle seemed to bo about nine years old a wan, childish little creature, dressed in rags; hor long, thin legs encased in torn, black stockings, and a miserable apology for a shawl thrown over her head: her straight, black hair hung in ragged locks over her white face and that looked almost ghastly in its setting of black shawl border. "If that bread ain't no good I don't want it. All our food is n. g. You kin keep it." "Well, baggage, do you expect mince pie and s plum pudding?" asked Mr. Marks, in high sarcasm. "Oh, sir, wouldn't that bo bu flnej Wese folks don't never get no thin' like that we don't." "An you won't git it here, and if you won't take a loaf of bread that's good enough for mo you kin get out at once." He opened the door cautiously, but sho made no attempt to move. Instead of going out sho dropped her wretched baskc t on the floor and drew her tattered shawl closer about her. "You won't give mo nuthin'? You, a rich gentleman, offer me a loaf of stale bread. There is a whole family starving in tho row where I came from. What have jtou to give to them?" Silas Marks was frightened; he looked into the face of the uncanny child and his dry lips formed one word: "Nuthin'." "Your Master, yes, Mr. Rich Man, your Master said: Tho poor ye have always with ye.' And Ho said: Peed my lambs.' Have you dono it?" The voice seemed to have risen into the air above hfs head. Every note was as clear and distinct as a bell. "Shrouds have no pockets," continued his strange guest. "When you go and it won't be long, Silas Marks, it won't be long you will have to leave all your houses and lands and gold. And when you go to the judgment they won't ask for your rent-roll, but there'll be questions hard to Answer. Can you answer when the King shall say: 'I was a-hungerea and ye gave me meat; I was thirsty and ye gave me drink; I was a stranger and ye took me in.1 " "Get right out, I tell you!" shrieked Silas, but ho did not lay tho weight of his lean finger on the beggar child. "How will you meet that dear mother who fed the hungry and clothed tho naked, and that other I seo her now your poor, unhappy wife?" Silas Marks turned in such mortal fright that the candle fell from his trembling hand and went out on tho floor, "You have time to repent," came the voice, and it sounded supernatural in the dark. "Come down to tho narrow river streets to-morrow and find the

" IT LOOKS IjIKK THIS," SAID UNCLE SILAS. people who have no food and no fire the little children with not enough to eat and shivering in their wretched homes the sick and deformed and wretched, whom God gives to you and such as you for an offering, in the name of Him who was once a homeless child. It is only what you give that you can take with you beyond this life." The door closed and all was silent. Trembling in every limb, Silas Marks hurried to relight the candle. Yes, sho had been there. The miserable, rickety basket with a crust of bread and a sodden potato in it was left behind. The next day Bessie Van Pelt was laid upon the sofa in the library at home suffering from a slight cold when Uncle Silas walked in. "How bright an eh erf ul you do look," ho said, warming his numbed hands over the light coal fire. "What's to hinder?" laughed Bessie. "Why shouldn't we bo warm and cozy and comfortable?" She was reading a new book and turned the leaves with lazy satisfaction. "Well, that's so, I s'pose; but then there's ahem some folks that don't seom to have the wherewithal," drawled Uncle Silas, . "Oh, there are lots of good people in the world who at this timo of year remember the poor. Let me see. Where was I , reading Oh, yes! Ho gave her a check for fifty dollars, and told her to buy a load of coal, a barrel of flour, a quarter of beef and some bedding for tho poor family in the alley. Uncle Silas, what does a fifty-dollar check look like? I never saw one." "It looks like this," said Uncle Silas, taking out a strip of lavender-colored paper. "See! This is one, signed and ready to be indorsed." "Why, Uncle Marks, that 5s my name! cried Bessie. 4Yes, and you must indorse it right here, and Pll go with you to 'dentify you." "But what am I to do with it?" "Whatever you want to, miss. Here you'vo badgered my life out for money for your poor folks on Christmas trees, an' now you want to know what you'vo to do with it. If that ain't jost like a woman," "But, uncle" "Yes, I know. I'm a moan old curmudgeon, a skinflint, a raiser, but I've got a heart somewhere, and I guess Pvo found it Don't ask mo any more, child." Bessie's eyes drooped, a flush came into her cheeks. Sho rose from tho sofa and put two loving arms about her gruff old unclo's neck. "You are a do ar," she said, as sho kissed his rugged cheek, "and you shall just see for yourself tho happiness you have made." "There, there, child, get on your things, and we'll go and get the cash. I feel as if somehow I want to spend the whole day in tho open air." And wicked, wicked, designing Bessie gave him another hug before sho wont to got ready, singing under her breath: ' What T saved 1 spent, What I spent 7. lost, What I gave I had." Mrs. h, M, Bayne, in Detroit Prea Press.

chubby;.

ED, whiovor became of -the MartinS' "Ugh l , It . was a cross between a grunt of dissatisfaction and a snarl of anger, the Sound uttered by my usualfjr even - ternpered friend, when Imentioned thenanie of a family with whomt we had both boarded sGtne twelve years before. "Just put that ex

pressive but not very, intelligible explosion Into plain United States, and let me know what you mean by it!" I said. "Well, Martin, the poor,, shiftless devil, about two years after you left actually did do something for his family." "You're joking I'V "No, I ain't he died."- . , "Right you are, then, old boy. That was tho very. best thing he could do for them, only he postponed it unnecessarily long." "Just so. And, Lord ! These women 1 Why, that poor, over-worked slip of a wife of his, she took on as though he had been the model husband of the nineteenth century, and every other century since husbands were invented. She became thinner than ever, and worked harder, if it were possible, than before, and got so ghostlike that I used to wonder why she took trouble to open the doors when she could just as easily havecome into a room through the key-hole." "And little Chubbyl" 'Bah." Rage and disiyust blended. 1 looked up. Ned was pulling furiously at the old pipe, with teeth set as though he were trying to bito through its cheVry stem. " . ' "I haven' t laid eyes on Mother Martin for four years," he continued, after a little time. "1 tried to keep track of the remains of her body and soul after she and her house were ail broke up together;' but she shrank from me and from every one who had known her in what she called her happy days,' (God save the mark for happiness) and finally she succeeded in hiding somewhere and Pve never been able to trace her. I wish I could, if she's not under tho sod, and I hope she is, for she'l have peace and rest thero at all events." "But Chubby!" I persisted. Again there was a pause, and Ned puffed smoke like a volcano. MChubby" was the daughter, the only child of the Martins, and if - the father were neither ornamental or useful, and the

mother just such a worn, washed out hit of a woman as Ned described, Lizzie had health and spirits and good looks enough for ail three. She was a thoughtless, merry girl; good, plump and pretty as a white pigeon, with winning ways that were natural and charming. Somewhere about thirteen years of age she was when I left the houso and city. To all the boarders and to all who knew her she was "Chubby," and the pet name well suited her. ."Fire away, Plannigan 1" said I ; "I want to hear about Chubby." Ned laid down his pipe; a sign of surrender. "Remember little old Gimpt" he growled. "Lived next door, little chap, big voice, big swagger, big wife, eh? Oh, yes, I remember him." "Remember Gimp's Cub?" "Chuckle-head, yellow hair, red cheeks, big, over-grown, over-fed lout? Yes, I remember him, too." "Well, old Gimp, the mean little herriug, had just started to make money when you knew Of him, and ho was either very sharp or very lu 'ky, for he kept piling up the surplus, and he's at it yet, curse him !" "Skip hard words, laddie, aud go on with the story." "Gimp sold out his little haberdashery in the five cent section and opened up on the ayenue in rath era big way. Lizzie Chubby was by that time nigh sixteen, if not all of it, and she and her mother thought it a great thing when that torn-tit of a man condescendingly gave her a place in. his store, to work about twelve hours a day, for four dollars a week. "The girl spent every cent she made on dress, and her blessed, good, fool of a mother went without sufficient clothing oa her own body to put peacock feathers on her one silly chick. "Tho first summer after Chubby had become a saleslady, when I used to be sitting at my window like a lonely, surly old house-dog, I began to notice that the girl always had an escort home in tho evening, and that escort was Gimp's Cub. Every time I. saw. him I felt like going down and wringing his worthless neck, and I've never ceased to regret that I didn't do it." "Why, what was it your business?" I ventured. ... 'If you want to Imow what yon want to know, just allow me to tell this story my own way, will you," snapped Ned. Then he continued : . f ".When winter came the Cub was in the house every evening, except when he had Chubby at the theater or a dance, and she grew prettier and more lively than eve r though gaining not a grain in solid sense; and even poor old Mother Martin would perk up every now and then and hint of the time coming when Lizziowould have a house of her own, and a carriage and servants, and take care of her old mother. , "I didn't say any thing what would have been the use? But X used to swear at them

In giving Christmas presents bo suro and keep your presence of mind. Don'fc he extravagant.

"FIKE AWAY, FLANNIGAN."

all by the hour, and theu swear at myself for bothering about what did not concern me. I didn't worry about the girl, she was safe enough, there wasn't a bad streak In her, but I knew trouble would come, for old Gimp kept making money faster, j aud faster; had a factory now in connection with his store, was enlarging all the time and putting on no end of extra swagger and frill. I'd meet him now and then, and each time he grew more insufferably vain, purseproud and domineering in style. His big wife was worse yet, would pass me in her carriage and let onto never sec me ; forgot all about the time before shocaughtGimp, when she thanked me with tears for paying hor over market-price for some shirts she made me; and tho Cub, I used to seo him coming out of pool-rooms and bars, all taiior-mado in rig, and a face unduly red eveu for a shrimp oxcept when it's dead and boiled, which unfortunately ho was and is neither. "But he showed up at tho Martins as usual, nearl3y every nisrht, and I could easily seo that it was tho old, old story with Chubby, and tho mother's hints of coming : wealth and ease were more frequent than ever. , ... "One Sunday morning Chubby was not at breakfast. Tho Cub had not been at the house the night before, and Mother Martin looked as though all the sins and sorrows of ..the., world had settled in a lump on her poor, weak .shoulders. ... Before noon-timo she camo slippi n g in to my room. Lord rest her soul! I guess sho had to talk over her troubles with somo one, or just lie down and die. Sho had no one else to go to, aud Pd been with her so long it seemed but natural sho shon Id come to mo. "Then tho murder came out. The Cub wanted Chubby to marry him without knowledge or consent of tho parental Gimps, and the girl had actually sense and pluck to refuse , to take him in that way. Sho contrived, too, to waken sufficient spasmodic manliness in his hulk to make him promise to tell his lather and mother of the engagement and to ask their consent, "That he so did in certain, and, in consequence, tho. girl hud come homo the night

before with Her light wages in her pocket J

and hor heart a great heavy lump of lead in her brea t and a bmtal disnns' I from hor employment.

"What could f do? Twonldn't have done ? any good for me to kill the Cubby knocking old Gimps' . brains out with him. That WOtiMn't have cured the child, then shut in her room, dead sick and heart-broken. All I could do was to swear, to lie and say ' -itifljbe Iff1, all come right and such rot, and to Offer that poor mother any-money she might want , T ;-;. ... , She turned on me savage when I did that, offer money. , 'Mob ey !' said she ; will money mend my Lizzie's heart? Would all the money in the world brinfiT back my happy little girl?' Then she broke down 5

and, faith, so ; did I, almost; for, loneiy grum old bear that ! am, and always have

been, I did care, a heap fat, that girl, and I never knew how much I : did care for her ' until then, when she was in the worst , of troU iM aud I powerless to help her. "She was iriok for several weeks-came out the shadow of 'Chubby. No sunshine, no strength ; didn't go out of the house. Sat every evening at the window straining, her eyes for what she would never see again. ;. Shis met the postman on the steer-step a' . his every round, but he . never handed hew the letter she longed for, and Pd sicken ti see her startle and tremble at each iln& p I the door-bell.- ... . . . -v 4 At last she went to work again ; not in v store, but in a quiet place. But employment

of mind and body did no good ; there was too ,v , . much of her mother iu her; and, just as her mother had tied her faith to a man of no t ; manliness, so had Lizzie lavished all' her hope and love on a cub. - . i-- -;.

I made and caused to be made, inquiries about the junior Gimp and learned that ha had been shinned, in a ereat hurry, to do

Europe and acquire the true English: . form,1 for the old shell-back was rolling up i . ducats galore, faster and : faster. The younger insectwas so delighted with liberty . , and plenty of cash that he never even wrote vto I doubt if he ever thought of twicerthe 1 honest girl that was grieving her heart out for him, and the elder villain, when asked ;,f about the younger, would shrug his shoulders, and drop ono mean eye-corner and talk: . about young fellows and wild oats, and add that ho had sent his chap over to Yurrup . ' v because of some 'boyish nonsense,' etc. and Madam Gimp still sheds tears behind

ner lace uituunciuiuei 09 iuo wua w ubi friends how her Freddie was entrapped into; a flirtation with a low working-5irK : 'good-' ness knows who: and thathe hd to bev

Slit

." Willi MONEY MENU ITT IJZZtEfe JOXXpV? ' sent to Europe to be rid of ltho creaturef and the persecutions of her and her family. Oh, I've heard it repeated often and often."' j "And Chubby little Lizzie?" I sai$; onca more. , - -. ; "Man alive 1 Can't yon understand? The girl was heart-broken. She tried nobly to. fight out her sorrow, but she just couldu' do it. In four months we pu t . her in her grave. That's where Chubby is Now do you understand?" . ; .; Ned was (fighting; mad.. I said nothing; just smoked on. In a little while he spoke again, more quietly : . . "I've told you how the old mother brok up. lost heart and drifted away. She rc seated, in her feeble way, my hunting her up and trying to help her, but it racks, my soul to think of her. I do hope she is dead, dead and at rest. .,-

"The Cub is back now more of a cub tfeaa j ever, but quite in the swim, a high-roller ' with no end of cash. . Old Gimp about con- J 1 trols the market in his line, the madame w . a leader in the blue-bloods. Both tho eldeBVT " Gimps are pillars in a big, up-town church. I went there awhile back with my rich aunt, her pew is just back of that' held by -.V these shoddyites. When I stood up and saw r that old woman, vulgar in person, as in remind, I shut my eyes and tried to remember where I was ; but when the responses cantfe . and I heard Gimp' s pompous voice booming out: Lord be merciful miserable sinners I know he -.didn't say : , Merciful to us -miserable sinners ;' he don't believe he is rated with that crowd, and his tones were patronizing, even to the Lord. . When heard that noise I grabbed my hat and left: I wasn't in a proper frame of mind to be there. 1 thought of that sweet, good girl, of all she had been and might have . growu to be, and of what Gimp and his had brought her to, and I had tp get out or Fd a-strangled him.- - ; -.i v. .-.v"Now you've heard all there is to tell about Chubby. . .. . . - "Don't stay here with me now. old fellow.

I'm not good company when I get into my present mood. Come in to-morrow, any time, come of ten. But, just don't ever men tion Ohubby's name to me any more. Good night!" Alex Duke Bailie,

if-

What NasRlus: WIH Accomplish. . . . "We can nag a man into any thing," said! ' Aunt Margaret, one evening. "You fcnowf Mary, that your Uncle Frank was a very hard-headed man. No one could iuduce him to do any thing but me. I never ar gued with him. When he got eranky andW forbade any thing, I always agreed With him. and then proceeded to make things as unpleasant as I could ;" and I would tell him - -

about a aozen times a aay xnat pewustj judgment' was at ;f aulttho had brought ; t

trouble oa us by his bad advice and commands. - You know," Mary, no man can stand that sort of thing many days.' He soon gets tired and gives up:- Men like to have ease at their homes, if nowhere else. Now you know that I was always opposed to theaters and night amusements for your Uncle Frank. But?whenever: an occasion arose so that it seemed necessary for him to accept an invitation, I would tell him . to certainly go and enjoy himself. It only happened once, in a month or two, and " finally he gave it up altogether. :Wheri he would come homo at night, I would- throw, all the windows open, and either give him a cold, or else give myself a cold, and I'd.

say: 4 You horrid thing, you smell -like a. bar-room ! Don't come near me l"; Oh !' vh Vf

do you have to come home in this coiuiitibu

Then rd cry, and cry until 1 teu-asieep- -The poor, dear fellow didn't find it conducive to. his pleasure to go to the Heater. . I wouldn't let him kiss me nor come near me tor a week after his theater parties. I tell you, Mary, you can master, any man if you just make him uncomfortable enough at home, and cry enough in his presei: Mary followed her Aunt Marppires. advice and suggestions. Her -hu'sbantl be came thoroughly miserable. He is now living with a more agreeable woman, who is not his wife. Mary says: "Marriage is a failure." . Poor thing. Some men are built differently. . Bo Bought Thara Hinis! . ; " Wife (sarcastically) John, that's a big ' trunk 1 saw the men put iutp:. the baggage" car just as we started. ? I suppose it has your bathing outfit , in it, and you want to show you r cis?ar smokin g, beer-d viuking friends bow large it is compared with the little hand-bag that has my bathing suits. That's an old joke, John, and you ouht to be ashamed of it, -. ; Husband This hand-bag, Maria, has my bathing ou tfit. In that bi trunk you wilt find two new bathing suits for yourself that just about fill it. I bought them myself, and icl t tho ones you selected at home.

Help, here, quick, somebody J Shtfs fainted! ; Too Literal. , , "eo here, John," said Mrs. Smith, laying' aside the paper, "this ball play ing , U barbarous. I never heard of any thing so cruel.!'. " 4 4 What's wrong, Mandy?" .,, "f -"Whj iho paper says thaiuine men were whitcwashed.seven times in lessthan two hours. I'd think the lime in the whitewash would eat all the skin of? them. I'd ratlier bo tarred, and feathered, and dear '-mows that is bad enough."-Arcola Record.

Could Hav Bcu Worso. John (to Jim, whose wife has . been drowned)--Cheer up, olo feller, it could havo been wu ? s, you kn ow. . . . H.. JimYes, thot's so, fer ray hosahe swum ter shore all right. Epoch.