Terre Haute Weekly Gazette, Terre Haute, Vigo County, 9 August 1877 — Page 4

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WM, O. BA tiL & C0., PrtP's. I I A I WM. O.BALI

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23 AND 25 SOUTH FIFTH.

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riersac. 3uc per fortuijat. By%nail$8.00per year *4,00 for si month* 12.00 forB months, The WUICKI.Y GASKTTE is issued every Thursday, and contains all the best mattor of tho six dally issues. The Www Mr GAZXTTX IN the largest paper printed In Torre If auto, snl Is sold for. One copy per •oar, fit, six months, $1* throe months, B0«. All Biitwc.rlptlon* must I«J paid for in advance. No paper discontinued until all tho arrearage* are paid, unlet* at the option of the proprietor a failure to notify a tll*coutinuiinco tit the cml of the year will considered nftew engagement. Address all letters.

WM. a BALL A CO., T'jrre Mnut«, Intl.

THURSDAY, AUGUST 9,1877.

TKRRE HAUTE in gaining an unenviable notoriety for grout crimes.

A I A I O N ban learned how to scold tolerably well for a coy and shy maiden of fortv

A ciucub,—one like Barnum's for instance—is a pretty nice thing to have around town, now isn't it?

I N IS has not yet pummclcd Jay Gould for lying to him. Wc begin to think that the blood of a "forty-niner" does not course in the veins of this recreant Californian.

T»iit"strike was not without its effect on the finances of the Pennsylvania railroad. On Wednesday of last week the Board of Directors met and decided to pass the usual quarterly dividend on the stock.

IT is a pity the Council did not act promptly in the Howard matter. lie was displaced without any sufiicicnt cause and should be reinstated. The petition for his reinstatement is as formidable a document oi the kind as was ever presented to the Council.

Ui* at Omaha the muddy Missouri is threatening to wash away that town. Its tortuous intelligence has taken another crook and the strong current is setting towards the Nebraska shore, tnking out big hunks of the bank. Efforts arc being made by the rip rapping to prevent this threatened calamity.

IN view of the great Independent victory in Louisville, the GAZETTE would suggest to Claridge, Sap., Backus, Os good & Co. ti gather together their oodlums once more in the "Public Square" and whoop things up. A genicral division of everything is what is needed jvst now. Every one of them in their separate capacities as employees should demand higher wages from themselves in their capacity ns employers.

PERVAPS Mayor Fairbanks sees iliore people in want thai, most other persons, but the GAZETTE is not impressed with the idea that there is much real distress in Terre Haute just now, not the resul* of sickness, shiftte&sness and crime. Any number of people are not as well off as thev wish they were and as the GAZETTE 'sincerely trusts they may be, nevertheless the actual «uffering is very small. iWith potatoes at thirty cents a bushel

,,, starvation is qot "will work

sible to any one who to anyi Hft! tt,.

BRICK POMEROY must look to his laufrV^jrela. Old man Maynard of the Indianapolis Sentinel has stepped to the front ranks as a sanguinary slinger of gory is literature. The editorial page of the I'!mSentinel contains more "red hotness" to the square inch than the La Crosse

Democrat did to the square foot, when Brick was in the prime of his powers and at the zenith of his fame. Brick should -drink some hot blood and go in on his ... muscle, unless he is willing to take a re- & tjred pCw in the synagogue. j&spjg

WITH all due deference to Mayor air banks, the GAZETTE would beg leave to

-,fcs differ from him on the general proposi-

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tion that "winter is almost at our very idoors." If hi^ Honor will stand on the sunny side ol the street at any time between 6 a, m. and 7 p. m. his brow will be fanned by flery simoons and not boI real blasts. Asa matter of facts it is midsummer, the palate tickling watermelon is as yet uneaten, and the succu-

tent green corn is not out of season. Wc shall swelter two months yctj before we |V hunt for the sunny side of the street,

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REALLY now if England does not stop

r^ot* K^e

ruin her credit, She must

preserve peace vithin her borders if she expects to place any of her loans on the American market. It is all very well for her to claim the stability of her institutions and say that she will pgr

her

debts, but really now if these riowcon tinue in h«r borders American capitalists beg to be excused from lending her their money. What excuse, we should like to know, has she for permitting the state of affairs related in the subjoined dispatch:

Belfast, August 6.—The Nationalists, to-day, held a demonstration celebrating the birth of O'Connell. Disturbances occurred in several parts of the town. Some houses were wrecked and a number of persona mounded. Up to a late hour the military and cavalry, wei patrolling the streets.

NEWS of the murder of Dr. J. B. Armstrong has sent a thrill of horror tingling

through the blood of every good citizen in all the town. Death, in whatsoever guise it come# is shocking always. When insidious disease has laid tctge to a frartie worn and wasted by years, even then its final victory, tlwugh not unexpected, is freighted with sorrow. But a sudden death like this is horrible. 1.®^®

The dead man whose murder we chroniclc was in the full vigor of mature manhood. Strong and powerful to an unusual degree there was no reason to expect his death, in the course of nature, for years to come. Waylaid in the darkness of the night, there was no eye t» pky and no arm to save him from the murderous attack. It is hard to conceive the depravity which could perpetrate so foul a deed. He was a man of remarkable evenness of temper, genial and kindly to all who came i) his wav, and faultlessly jscrupulous in all his dealings, just as well as generous. Any motive ot personnl malice is incredible, And it is inexpressibly horrible to think of so valued a human life sacrificed for hopes of persona^ gain by the robbery of his person. His bereaved family have the sincerest sympathy of the

whole

community, which has

itself suffered an almost irreparable loss in the murder of a public spirited citizen and most txemplary man. As lor the Iawp which have been outraged and trampled upon, they must be avenged. No efforts must be spared to trace the perpetrators of this infamy and bring them to punishment. A crimi' like this is a lasting stain upon a community, unless the laws are vindicated.^

O N E of the dangerous results of tic lato strike is the clamor that will prob ably be raised all over the country in fa

vor of an increase of the regular army, jown

Why mi^y not tfie militia of New York, for instance, include a permanent regular nucleus of its own, to serve upon occasion as a moulding and toning centre of growth and organization for as large an occasional forcc as might be needed? High authority declares the true plan to be that of havingj during peace, skeleton regiments, so to speak, to be filled up at need but, being a regular institution, to keep up at once a framework nnd a leaven for a sufficient force, including especially a trained, professional corps ol officers, Let New York have a nucleus of twenty such skeleton regiments, each consisting of ten companies ot twentyfive men each, besides the full officerial staff. Of these, six regiments (1,500 men) to be in New York city, four (1,000 men) in Brooklyn, three (750) in Albany, three (750) in Buffalo, two (500) In Elmira, and two (500) in Utica. if

There should be no nonsfcrtS'e in the matter. It is certain that it would neither cost more nor be more difficult in any respect for each State to do Its share of what increased regular soldiering there is to be, than lor the United States to do all the shares together in one lump. There can be no question but that with this nucleus system each state could protect itself, while the good old American principle of home rule would thus be more certainly guarateed than under anv really efficient regular army controlled at Washington. Twenty regiments maintained as above would doubtless, when filled up to 1,000 men each, form a better protection than the a8,000 men recently under arms in our State. Ot course, these numbers arc only those which I myself estimate. ,More or less, according to the iudaement of the authorities, should be

drilling of men and long training of offi- .... 11,2a aM JitU AiJ aT c.ers.

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served "as they do it ido give it your endorsement and support.

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She ran off, a.id soon returned, looking so neat in her wnlking garb that only an ill-humored man could have found any fault in her. But aR they walked away together down the street there was a cloud on William's face, and presently he spoke out his grievance. "Why don't you get a stylish hat, Fanny, instead of wearing \hat eyerlasting bonnet? I can't think how ii is your things last so long one never sees you in anything fresh and new. For my sake you ought to be a little smarteV in vour dress." r* A

Fanny did riot tell him that !vei*y sixpence sneearned was upent on the common necessaries of life, and that all her savings had gone to pay the doctor's bill but she looked up lovingly into the handsome, gloomy face. William was her first love she could not wish him changed, even when his magnificent notion caused her some inconvenience. The ornament of a meek and quiet spirit ii not always duly valued, and many people might have blamed I^bnny lor her tameness. But she was one of those women who would rather hear fcirsh words than speak them.

THE TEKRE HAUTE WEEKLY GAFLMIK.

WHAT HE LOST BY If.

CaMell's Family Magazine. ,, CHAPTER I.

The evening was warip and still, and all the doors aud windows in George street were set open, and everybody who could escape from indoor occupation was out for a stroll. The people living here were decent, hard working men and women, earning enough to keep their families in comfort, and taking an honest pride in themselves and their dwellings. Meet of the windows could boast of clean curtains, and the doorsteps were as white as hard scouring, could make them. There was one house, however, whose doorstep could ill bare a comparison with its neighbors and as to its curtains, they were drab and dingy, and had been up all the win ter. "Miss Kennaway don't regard appear ances that's certain," said one matron to another, as they took their evening walk together.

I were her I should be sick

oi the sight of those trightful drab cur tains. And she with a smart young beau coming often to the house." "Poor thing!" sighed the other woman a good-natured soul, always ready to find excuses for those the world was hard up on—Poor thing! she can't have a minute to call her own. What with her dressmaking and her mother's long illness she must be pretty nearly at her wit's end." "Well, if young Parr don't mind the curtains, and" that dfsgraceful doorstep of hers, I am sure I don't," responded the first speaker sharply. "And here lie comes, looking as pleasant as you please, and walking as if the ver^ ground wasn't good enough for his feet!'

William Parr, the promised husband of Fanny Kennaway, was one ot those men who are said to be above their station, and are sometimes so very much above it that there is no keeping them in it. William, however, was industrious enough to find tavor with the merchant who employed him. Out of the count-ing-house he held his head hi|h, ami

upon

It would be one of the most unfortunate never ceased to wonder why such a lofty fellow should have courted an humble little dressmaker in George street. But very few men of taste would have been

effects of the strike it it should secure increase of an army already too large

Earnestly hoping as I do that the people will heed your vigorous protest against the fallacy into which so many are being frightened by the railroad troubles—the fallacy, namely, that because the State militia, as heretofore established, have not all come up to the standard ot a reliable guard, therefore there is no resource but to rely hereafter on the Federal "regular army," largely increased for the purpose—hoping. I say, that this dangerous doctrine may be "nipped i' the bud." I beg your indulgence for a suggestion.

his fellow clerks, who

very lew men 01 laste wouiu n.ivc ucen

The strike nnd O'c troubles which grew surprised ut Purr's choice if they had »t.4 MAf (h* fllttif.lhl!* fioiltl 1T 11 tt IVfl 1H h**l* 1"V tilt' out of it, demonstrated, not the desirabil ity of a larger regular army, but the necessity of a large and available militia force in all the states. This is a matter which deserves attention and should receive it at once from the Governors of all the states. The matter is very well put by Charles Francis Adams in a letter to the New York Sun. The letter touches the point at issue so clearly that we reproduce it entire. Omitting the introduction.the letter is as follows:

seen Fanny Kennaway in her scat by the window that evening After a long day's work, she was resting her eyes and her hands for a few minutes, and watching for William's coming. Her's was a delicate, clearly-cut face, pale as a lily, and serious almost to sadness—a face that seemed to have little in common with the needles and pins and gay stuffs around her. And yet, in a general way, Fannie worked cheerfully enough at her trade* It was only when nursing hs well as dressmaking fell to her lot, and a heavy doctor's bill wns added to ordinary expenses, that her little body felt itself weary of this great world. But there was no weariness in the smile that greeted William, as lie entered the humble room. Like a wise woman, as she was, Fanny always met her lover with a bright look and a cheery voice. "Come, Fanny," he said,'"won't you go for a walk this evening? Your mother is better, so that you can surely be spared." "Oh, yes mother can 'spare me Mrs. Marks is sitting up with her. But there is a dress that must be finished to-night, William." "I wonder why we can never enjoy ourselves as other people do," muttered Parr, crossly. "You are making a regular slave of yourself, Fanny." "Well, then, I'll go," she answered, after a little pause, "and I won't be five minutes getting ready."

Instead of chiding, she patiently set herself at work to bring her companion to a letter frame of mind, and she succeeded so well that William almost forgot the old bonnet. And yet, when he had left her at her own door, and was

jUUgCiVl61H Ul UIC imutcnatci ui nci wwu wwvij had but some regular nuclcus there going back to his lodging, he began to .1 1,1 Th« mnal WtilllHl* r»mitt*ntil (tilnl I\f it mmin If \ffl« humiliatrhink of it again. It was quite humiliating, he said to himself, for a man in his we have are tnose wnicn, inrougn me mg, ne said to nimscii, tor a man in spirit of members, approach most nearly position to have been seen in the coropato the regular constitution, in constant ny of such a bonnet as that. "How are you, Parr?" cried a loud

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should be. The most reliable regiments we have are those whi«h, through the

If you approve ol this method of voice. "Splendid evening, i&n't it? Come improving our defenses without laying home and have supper, will you?" The ourselves open to McMahon-Hke Presi- speaker was a dashiog young fellow, son dents, by whom "order" would be pre- of an auctioneer who was reputed to be

CHARLES F. ADAM*.

A lady of this town, savs the Seneca

tilled with usefbl 'articles such as sugar, tea, coffce, etc. The inference is thi the girl's sister was in the habit of wca ing it away from the house occasional!

Kentucky preachers certainly will not find their money a bar to their entrance into heaven, A minister at West Liberty last week said that he had been trying to get his wife a pair of shoes for a month but his salary or that time had amounted to only 19 cents, and he was .afraid it would be* winter before he could buy them. She would not let him go in debt, and when he tried to work in a harvest field he was offered as pay a broken washing machine or a jug of whisky.

A woman need never despair of rendering herself attractive ur.til she hasn't enough hair left on her head to fasten a switch to.

MIIIUAA iMMtltMA l«IMM tUil /I MAt IMIM

in France." please making a fortune. It was the first invitation that William had ever had from Tom Derry. "Thanks," he answered promptly, "I

shall

Falls Courier, had occasion to go to the the two set off together, and Wilhan was room of her servant girl a few days since by no means ill-pleased to walk with a while the latter was absent, and discor- well-dressed acquaintance, who nodded ered there a bustle of an entirely new in- familiarly to one or two men in a sphere vention. It was a veritable panicr, and above hi in..,1, n.i 1. .. Th* Tie

be very happy to come.'' And then

The Derrys lived in a pleasant villa, with coach-house, stables and green,houses. Voices and laughter were heard in the garden Ms the young men approached the gate.

'•iwi

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William caught sight of light dresses fluttering about on the lawn, and remembered certain rumors of the beauty of the Derry girls.

After George street, and Fanny's little work-room, it was no wonder, perhaps, that Gloucester Lodge seemed almost an earthly paradise. Julia Derry, the youngest and prettiest of the sisters, was supposed to be very gracious to William. She wore plenty of jewelry, and her costume was made in the latest sty le. After supper she played and sung several fashionable songs, with William standing beside her to turn dver the music leaves. It was very pleasant, he thought, to see a girl with rings on her white hands, and

without the tell'talc roughness on the left forefinger.

9

It was the old, old story. AHer thai evening spent at Gloucester Lodge, William's visit to George street grew rarer and rarer and little Fanny drooped visibly It is not so very hard for a woman to bear up under life's burden# when she has the strong prop of a man's love to lean upon. But if the prop breaks, it is well for her if the burdens do not crush her altogether. Fanny, however, was not without a certain quiet fortitude She fcltlhat her prop was giving way and nerved herself to do without it. "Fanny," said Mrs. Kennaway, one evening as the young dressmaker sat sewing in her old window seat, "you are not louking well, my child I wish William would come and take you out. He hasn't been here often lately, has he?" "No, mother, not often.' "I think you are working too hard,' continued the poor woman, sighing. "I get well very slowly. Fanny and the beef tea and port wine cost a great deal. I've made up tnv mind, child, to write to my brother at last," •'But, mother, you'll be dreadfully distressed if he doesn't answer. And you often said that he would never forgive you for marrying poor father." "I've been a widow for nearly five years, Fanny. Surely Stephen can bury the old grievances in tuy husband gravel" "You know best, mother. But latner alwavs spoke of him as a hard man." "Well, at any rate I shall make an attempt to soften him. Don't try to take me out ot it, Fanny, 1 believe it is the right thing to do."

Fanny held her peace, but she had little hope tha* Uncle Fenwick would reply to his sister's letter. She knew that he was a rich merchant, but she had never seen him, and had founded her opinion of his character solely on her iatlvjr's dislike to him. The late Mr. Kennaway had been one of those men who have a natural turn for borrowing money, and arc generally severe

011

those

Who refuse to lend. Perhaps Mr. Kennaway had taken some pains to hide the father's faults from the child's eye, for Fanny bad never discovered them. "Now, Fanny," said honest Mrs. Marks, bouncing into the little room, "to-morrow's Saturday, and you arc going to have a whole holiday. Everything's planned, so you may leave off shaking your head. Mary Baker has promised to come and sit with our mother. My man and I have arranged to take you right off to Durrant farm, where my sister lives."

Mrs. Marks and her husband were tbe Kennaway*' next-door neighbore. They were a childless couple, aud instead of wasting their affections on d«gs and parrots, they looked out for young people who needed love and symDathy. Fanny had 110 idea they knew all «bout her sorrow. She did not realize how easy it is for shrewd eyes to read the signs ol a sick heart.

Early the next morning, a hired chase rattled out of George street, containing Fannie and her two friends. Ol courte it could not be quite a perfect holiday without William but the girl enjoyca fiesh air and rest, and was grateful for kindness. It was a long drive, and when they reached the farm house, Mrs. Marks declared that Fanny had licked up wonderfully. A day or two in the couniry, she said, would put a little color into those pale cheeks, and brighten the eyes thai were dull with watching and working. Ah, poor Fannyl

Dmrrant farm stands upon the outskirts of a wood, which has always been a favorite haunt for picnic parties. The fates had decreed that the Derrys should give a picnic that day it was early in September, and the townsfolk wanted to make the most of the waning summer. Missjulia Derry wore an entirely new costume, bought for the occasion, and a charming rustic hat adorned with poppies and wheat ear#. It was very agreeable to be admired, even by a "mere merchant's clerk, and she lavished her sweetest smiles on William Parr.

Arm and arm the pair strolled

ft^ay

from the rest ot the party. He talked nonsense, and she laughed, and listened, and led him on, without a thought beyond the hour's amusement. She was wiser in the world's ways than foolish William, whose vanity had been tickled until he reai'y believed he had made a conquest, lie was bending down to his companion with flushed cheeks and sparkling eyes, when a turn in the path suddenly brought him face to facc with Mrs. Marks and Fanny Kennaway.

Even then things might have turned out well, if William had only been true to himself. But there was Fanny in her shabby every-day gown, and the bonnet that had gone completely out of fashion and thtre was the »uperb Julia hanging on Parr's arm/and quiszing his betrothed with haughty eyes. The worst part of the young man's nature came uppermost at that moment. He gave one quick glance at Fanny, and then swept on without even bestowing a bow ol recognition on the little dressmaker. "Well," said Mrs. Marks, drawing a long breath "I only wonder that the earth don't open and swallow him upl'V

A

CHAPTER 11.

i* I

Fanny took her lover's desertion in a very quiet way. She knew (hat the end had come, and did not try to get any comfort out of a dead hope. W nen the fire has gone out, she is a wise \voman who r.ets herself tp rak® away the ashes and clean out the grate, even when she knows her hearthstone will be cold for many a year afterward. Our little dress maker went on sewing and snipping as usual, saying never a word about her trouble.

Meanwhile the houseliold burdens were lightened. Mr. Fenwick wrote a kind reply to his sister's letter, and inclosed a sum large enough to supply her with all that she required. "Yon can get yourself a new gown, now, Fannie, said her mother, cheerfully. "It has. made my heart ache to see you wearing that old gray tiling. I Uk® my girl to be well dressed,"

Brave Fanny. If a sick heart whispered that it didn't matter what she wore nowadays, she never heeded the voice. She chose the material with as much care as if it had been the stuff for her wedding dress, and set about making it up in her best style. When it was finished, Mrs. Marks came in and resolutely cleared away all signs of work, and then sent Fanny up stairs to put on the new gown and go out walking in it.

It was getting late in the afternoon when Fanny returned from her stiolL, It seemed to her as she entered the little parlor that it was full of people her rfiothcr eat by the window, looking ner^ vous and tearful, jet happy withal, and

*hy her side wa« on elderly jenjletuau talking earnestly. A little apart from these two was a voting man, sitting at the table and turnin over the pages of a, little volume of giems whlch'had been a gift from Will pom Parr to his affianced wife. Both gentlemen rose quickly as Fanny came in, and the Slder introduced himself at once.

"I am your uncle, Stephen Fenwick,

le said, 'aking her hands. "Give You This is iny son

me a "kiss, my dear. "You arc like the

daughter I have lost. your cousin Walter." The young man came forward, and asked it Fanny was willing t» make friends with an unknown relative. His manner was natural, his voice very gentle, and Fanny ff It at once that he treated her with as much deference as if she had been a peeress instead of a poor little dressmaker. What he thought of her she did not learn till long afterward but certain it is that the ima^e of a sweet, pale girl, in a brown dress, haunted Walter Fcnwick's mind for many a day. "Your uncle wants us to go and live with him, Fanny," said Mrs. Kennaway tremulously, "lie is a widower, and has only a housekeeper to take care of him shall we go?" "Will you come and be my child, Fanny?" asked Mr. Fenwick. She turned and looked steadfastly at htm for a moment with her eyes full of tears. And then, slowly and gratefullv, she answered yes.

Only a fortnight afrer Mr. Fenwick's visit, the inhabitants of George street ran to their doors to catch a glimpse of the Kennaways. Tre two women came very quictlv out of the little house and1 entered a Ay that waited tor them and their luggage. Mrs. Marks waved a tcarfnl farewell her husband stood on the pavement, smiling broadly to hide his real feelings, and then the vehicle rattled away, and the folks went indoors again, saying that they supposed the rich uncle was going to make a lady of little Fanny.

And how was it, meanwhile, with William Parr? 1 lis intimacy with those gay triends, the Derrys, had come to an end with the summer. Julia pot tired of his attentions, and snubbed him. Her elders said to each other that young Parr's frequent visits were becoming quite a nuisance. Even i'om at last gave him the cold shoulder. They were a heartless set, he said to himself, feeling abominably ill-used. And then it suddenly occurred to him that he was only getting the very same measure that lie had moled to another. "It serves me right for treating Fanny badly," he mused. "She was worth a hundred Julias. And she is such a good, forgiving little thing that I almost think shed muke it up with me if I went back to her again."

It was a chillv evening in late autumn when William Parr once more took his way 10 George street. A host of old recollections came crowding round him as he drew near Fanny's home he began to wonder how he could havu stayed away from her so long, and to be eager for the first glimpses of her sweet lice. He knew just how she would look his fancy pictured the glow and brightness that would welcome him. There was light in the parlor--a warm, cheery beam, that told him lie should find her sitting as usual at her sewing. "I won't make a dozen wretched excuses," thought the young man. "I'll just ask her to forgive me, and tell her I could not live without her."

He knocked at the door, and stood waiting with a throbbing hear: tor Fanny to open it. A lew seconds passed away, and then he heard the inside latch lifted, and stood face to face with a tall, hardfeatured woman in a widow's cap. "Is Miss Kennaway within?" he faltered. "She doesn't live here," responded the woman slowly. "Not live here?" said William. "Then wheie is she? Can you give me any information?"/* "1 don't know anything about her. I've heard that some people named Kennaway lived here before I came, but that's *111 can ttll you."

WilMatn turned away from the door like one half stunned. It was all so different from the pleasant and pathetic little scene he had been picturing, that he could hardly believe in the stern reality. And then, as he still stood dreaming on the pavement, he bethought him ot Mrs. Marks. She hatf been the Kennaway's familiar friend, and would surely kno# something about their change of residence.

Alas! Mrs. Marks' house was quiet and dark. The shutters were closed not agleam of light could be seen within and Wiyiam'jS knock remained unanswered. "That house empty," said a girl's voice at his elbow, and looking around he saw a decently clad lassie with a satchel under her arm. "The Marks are gone away to live somewhere in the country," she added. "Can you tell me what has become of Mrs. Kennaway and her daughter?" William asked eagerly. "They're gone to London. Some rich gentleman found out that they were his near relations, and he has taken 1 them to live with him."

Without another word he walked away, hardly knowing what direction he was taking. Until that moment he had never realized how strong was the tie that had bound him to little Fanny. He had neglected her—trifled with himself and his best feelings—and well nigh broke her heart but had he really ceased to love her? She was gone she had quietly vanished out Of his way, and made no sign.

Three years passed away. William Parr had stepped into the place made vacant by the death ot a senior clerk, his salary had jen raised, and he had moved into better lodgings. Perhaps if he had sought to renew his intimacy with the Derry's he might not have been repulsed, but he was now a sadder and wiser man. The sense of loss had not entirely left him nor had he as yet found any one whocould.be what Fanny had been. No tidings of her had ever come to her old lover in the days of her intercourse she had been silent about her uncle Fenwick, and William had not even heard his name.

One day it happened that William Parr was dispatched to London to transact some business for his employer. It was winter, but the weather was clear and sunshiny, and when he arrived at the great metropolitan station it wanted an hour to noon. Among the numbers waiting on the platform, one figure attracted William's eye at once it was that of a lad/ richly dressed in velvet and

sable, who was evidently looking out eagerly for some one 00 tnc train. As she caught a glimpse of the face she was watching for, ner own brightened and flushed in a way that William well remembered, Just so nad she greeted him when he had been wont to pay hit evening visits to the little, Jiousc *in George street long ago.

A quiet-looking gentleman stepped out of a first-class carriage, and was about to draw her hand through his arm. But William, yielding to a powerful impulse, approached and spoke. "Fanny—Miss Kennaway," he said nervously her color deepened, and then she franklv extended her hand. "Not Miss Kenwaway now," she answered, smiling. "This is my husband, Mr. Fenwick—Mr Parr,"

William scarcely knew how he returned the gentleman's salutation. A moment more and Walter Fenwick and his wife had passed On, leaving him standing on the platform, trying to collect hm scattered senses. Both had seen so plainly that he was far too confused to enter into conversation. "Poor fellow!" said Walter, looking down tenderly into his wife's facc, "1 do not wonder that he was agitated by this sudden meeting with his lost love. He is a great loser and I am a great gainer, Fanny."

GAZETTELETS.

"Down

Sony of the watering cart: with the dufct."

It is ndw known that forty persons were killed in the Pittsburg riots.

Theodore Thomas exacts swallow-tail coats from his entire orchestra,

Tartar women havo pretty eyes, at least the cream of Tartar Women have.

"Summer drinks." Does it? Well, we don't blame it any this hot weather.

This hot weather mav not make dogs mad, but men are highly indignant about it.

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Ladies should not wear green silk tt^at comes from Paris. Paris green, ^you know, is poisonous,

There is a reaper whose name Is death but none of the agricultural warehouses advertise it,,

A cynic descries marriage as an altar on which man lays his wallet and woman her affections.

Now that it is all over we can put on our white pants and go to a picnic and enjov ourselves.

Chicago thinks her street cars are safo from lightning because they carry such had conductors.

Mme. Mantilla, wife of the Spanish minister, is one ot the most elegantly dressed ladies of Saratoga.

President Grant had an Interview with Herr and Mrs, Wagner at Heidelberg, where all chanced to be stopping.

"Gracious me!" exclaimed a lady in a witness box, "how should I know anything I dou't know anything about."

Altogether about twenty-six hundred cars were destroyed by the fire at Pittsburg, over one-half of which were loaded.

At watering places New Yorkers complain of Boston stiffness, and Bostonians complain of New York's vulgar excessof style.

It is said that the devout Mohamfnedan always carries an odor of sanctity about him. An odor of mosque would express it better,

"The difficulty in life," says Arthur Helps, "is tbe game as the difficulty in grammar—to know when to make the exceptions to the rule."

Clara Morris's favorite saddle horse Theo, who was.struck by lightning the other day, has since died, much to the grief of his fair mistress.

Wherever there Is much to offend, there is much to pardon and where there is anything to pardon, be assured there is something to love.

Ladies' dress is taking on masculine styles again. Linen shirts with gold studs and Marseilles vests form part of the newest summer toiletts.

WHAT STRIKES CO^T THE LOCOMOTIVE ENGINEERS.

From tho New York Tribune. Strikers, under the rules of order, are entitled to

$60

a month until emptoyed,

and as there nrc now 390 of this unfortunate class on the payrolls, it costs the Brotherhood $23400 a month to sustain them. A special assessment of $5 a member was levied last week, in addition to the regular dues, to help support the unemployed. This assessment is made payable on demand, under penalty of expulsion, and of course is promptly met. This has created an ill-feeling toward the Brotherhood among many engineers, who deem it a hardship to be compelled to contribute towards those who are idle, without just cause, and they particulary object to being further assessed to pay the grand chief $3,000 a ear for incenditry speeches and provoking needless strikes. The brotherhood is regarded as about broken, "lor," sflid the detective, "It is nearly bankrupt, and the members are resolved hereafter to study the welfare of themselvea and families, and not participate in any more strikes."

Mr. Arthur recognizes as an inevitable result the do onfall of the locomotive brotherhood, and he is now busily employed in perfecting an organization which he believes will prove much more formidable than either of its predecessors. It includes engineers, conductors, brakemen and firemen, to receive degrees in the order named. *'The object of this trainmen's union,'* stated the _detective, "is shown in a private circular issued by Mr. Arthur, a copy of which we have. It is proposed to form an alliance of every branch of railroad service, and bind them together by the most solemn obligation to stand by each other and make a-m general strike in the fall if their demand, for higher wages is not complied with. The employ es of thii teen roads are kirown to be enrolled in this new society: The Pennsylvania, New York Central, Erie. Lehigh Valley, Delaware, Lackawanna and Western, Lake Shore and Michigan, Northern Central, Pittsburg, fort Wayne and Chicago, Cleveland, Columbus, Cincinnati and Indianapolis, Indianaooli* *nd St. Louis, Cleveland and Pittfeburg, and Philadelphia and Eric. A membership of 1,200 in the United States is claimed.