Chicago Daily Tribune Newspaper, June 1, 1873, Page 11

THE CHICAGO DAILY TRIBUNE: SUNDAY, JIWE‘1 187 = ’ SOME NUISANCES: How HMatutinal Slumbers Are Deranged. street-Calls, Door-Bells, and Other Miseries. An Appeal to Mechanical Genius to Devise a Remedy. With the most serene eelf-satisfaction we es- sert the especial civilization of our age, point to our luxuries, enumerate the variety and value of our possessions, and, with it all, are victums tosnumber of nuisances which make of the first an idle boast, and take all the comfort ont of tho latter. Particularly objectionable among these are STREET-OALLS AND DOOR-BELLS. ¢ - If you do not go to bed with the chickena and zise with the lark,—2nd few people who live in the city do either,—then you are & vietira. It way be, however, that your avocations are such it you are obliged ‘to seek your pillow early, and that you also rise” &n hour or_two efter the . sun puls in an appearance; then you escape, to = certain éxtent, & portion of the infliction. If you are an attache of a morning journal, -euch i8 rot the case. No matter how pastoral the tastes may be of such an individual—no matter how ** childlike and bland " he is by na- ture,—still, deep into the night must he wake and work, in order that yon msy have at your breakfast the last murder by way of a hors- -@'cavre, thelatest scandal insociety for sn entree, the ponderons editorisl for your piece de resist- ance, nd little local news for a compote. He of necessity must steal from ‘ garish day,” if he @an, thoso hours which have been given up to midnight lsbor; sleep, to rest his woary brain and body, that again ho msy provide your menta] dejeuner. In this dayof belauded civiligation, 'WHAT 1S THE RESULT ? The morning twilight.is flushing with joy at the coming of Aurora, unless they bad & quarrel, and she has left her good clothes somewhere over in China, and wears & dull, heavy, gray garmont, weeps copiously, and is generally dis-- agreeable. If all is sereno, however, the birds bail her advent with pleasant twitterings, and & concord of sweatsounds * soothes the restiess pulso of care,” while, forgetting your * weak- ness," your * evil behavior,” sou sloep as pesce- folly 2s the flies and mosquitoes will permit,— eweetly 2s that metaphorical infant so often spoken of. ' If your bar has a sufficiently fine mesh, say abont the consistency of rather close- , woven shirting; if it is thoroughly fastened down all around, so the thin, lank insects can neither crawl through nor under; and if you don't emother for lack of fresh air, why, you fency, no doubt, that you are in the gardens of Proserpine. She who is AMore than the dsy or the morrow, The seasons that laugh or weep; For theso give oy 2nd sorrow; But thou, Prosérpina, sleep, Granted, then, that all ths conditions are perly condncive, and that you are recuperat- - Ing under the influence of the balmy restorer (warranted, like patent-medicines, ‘‘to- contain nothing deletorious to the most delicate consti- * tation ; a babe may take it without any evil re- sults, while s portion of it is of inestima- ble benefit to the strongest man ™), is it not an outrage that such a blissfol condition of things ghould be disturbed ? The restorer is doing its " best for you, when A FEARFUL HOWL rouses you from your blissful vision and the recuperating process, and you_spring up, wildly imsgining thatit is the devil insisting upon copy, and that yon have no_ copy ready. The stars have not yet quite faded, and you aro bo- coming conscions_that your apparel, if not exnctly the ‘“airy fabrice of a dresm,” I2 by no means that - which you wear in your office, when a socond shriek pro- zlaims the fact that it is’tho yenderof matutinal, bypothetical: milk. Yon lie down; you know ngt is before you. For the. next three hours your ears will be anluted- by that -same hideous Fell. Not thosame individusl.-- His howlis only |* . Dne smong many, and you will onlyhearit a few times a5 he vanishes in the distance, to be ¥uccecded by your next-door neighbor's milk- man ; then his who . lives. opposite; then your pwn; and 80 on until each family on the block have received the annomncement,in 88 many discords a8 there aro in'the-tug-whistles, that their lacteal finid awaits acceptance, You are elmost frantic, and, when your own especial pur- : yegor arrive, and, in sddition to that unearthly ow] R PULLS THE BASEMENT DUUS® SOid VIOLEIILY, and, Bridget havicg gone to 2 wake, or a wed- ding the night before, from which sho has not yet Teturned, your wife is forced to rise, and, in the classic robes of ancient Greece, over which, with a lack of appreciation of the proper fitness of things, she Hhrowy an Arab burnons, and de- "s:te&da to fla.mxt fixxgucfi]zc s crack in the door s pitcher and dirty et, you groan, you ssy something, and then she comes irnock, drops her Arsb mantle, .and once more dove-eyed Peaco. descends upon'you. For a quarter of an hour * there has been neither howl nor ring, when sud- denly and fariously the bell is TULLED, WEENCHED, AND TWISTED, g g8 if & demon in sgony had tho knob between his fingers. Again your wife rises, and you do not, open your eyes,—not 8o much because you know your esthetic taste would be shocked by that | complicated costume, a8 because you are you know you are awake; but you turn over once .more as she s down to admit the butcher. [v 8 o'clock, and you hope that she will see that itis her duty to close tho blinds and the door, and watch for any more tradesmen or other in- fl.i\-iduthmwhn seem tto ]?.E:n L3 syacé’nl epite ““sgainst the votaries of the drowsy god,—quite . oblivious of the fact that she alwaya sits up for youat night, though you wish she wouldn’t, gmly out of for ‘her health, of course. e evidently does not take the same view of her duty, and again returns, like the faithful wifo ghe 15, to yourside. You sdmire fidelity in the sbstract, have written sundry littlo moral essays upon the subjéct ; but you consider the prosent ical exposition of it better honored in the each thanin the observance. Her head has pearcely touched the pillow,—dear, patient woman I—when 2 ANOTHER STARTLING PULL -ngain ealls her up. _You wish emphatically that 4ho bell would breik, and sho groans, while this time the man is kept ringing until some slight additions ere mado to her toilette, more in kec] ing with the modern style, It ia the grocer's man coms for ordere, aud she will be obliged to see him. Again she comes back, and you mildly suggest that she had perhaps better lie on the lmmge in the next room, slthough visions of - muddy coffee, cold beefsteak, and overdone eggs baunt yon a8 you mske the fuggestion. She in - Indignant, as well she may be. In this what &l your protestations of affection have come to ? You might have gone down_yourself, and she . got up to eaveyou trouble, and is sure she never Imade the least bit of noise.” 5 THEN SHE CRIES, 2 and you, unless it is a case of very recent mat- rimony, meke vindictive remarks, while she . Gerts you to & resume of that Bridget's short- comings, Then she commences to make her : muecm and, being ‘rathers particular.woman after all, liking to look well even at breakfast, is - Just daingenp Ter back hair, when again that ob- @oxions bsll sounds, and, with an sngry jerk, €he flings down the comb, and grasps the .bur+ nous, and this time leaves the door open.. You hear her say, “Don't yon éver come hero again and esy ‘dandelions,’ a8 Jong a8 you live;” and, in a few scconds ehe re-enters with the remark . “A homid little wretch selling dsndelions | What does he suppose we want with dandeli- _ ons?" The poor littls huckster of a half-dozen ears has gone off with & dim idea that it may be 8 private inssne asylum, sod_ that he has a personal . interview with tome of tho inmates. He will mever 2gain offer his dandelions at your door, This mlkfiam wife finishes her toiletts, and, having B ;‘ off soms of hor anger, she closes the linds, kisses you, and goes down-stairs. Now, + Btleast, you will be ablo to sleep. You are just Ppir2 into unconsaiousness, when & cautions ©pening of the doar, : WHI! and s burglarious entrance makes you pee through your half-closed lids. Only dowitotor or necktio, which she has forgotten. You shut eyes tight and she, fancying- that Bhe has a 20 quiet in her movements as not to have h“? you, looks repentant and glides out; Yeaving iha door ojar, lest closing 1t might wake - Jou. Another ring, and then—two women's Joices pitchiod at upper G, snd talking in 6-8 m"f 'ET0 con spirito. Bridget has returned, It is nownear- | - monf and is exploining, while Bridge! ress is compleining. *‘\Why, ch wky, when Eve sinned, ‘was she not cursed with dumbness?” is your half-uttered query. “Can thai bo Anrpa Ma- rin's SWEET VOICE, that sounded o like the ccoing of a dove before the became Alrs. Journalist?” Even so, dear friend ; and, if you sigh for your bachelor quar- tors, where, after the night’s labors and imbib- ings, you slept 8o soundly that. nothing but an earthquake or cyclone would have aromsed you, do you not :u{qposo that she also thinks regret- ully of her little bower, whoro servants and tradesmen were mamma’s or the housekeeper’s affair, and her solo. cause _of trouble *was the ‘usnal slight, loving reproof she heard daily for beiéng h!get‘o brn:e‘(fna':; 5 The door being ajar, and yon being either azy, too mad, or too hopeful to close it, you hear all the rest of the allers. The rag-and-bottle man; tho woman ‘with poultry for enle ; the woman with vege- tables ; thoman with a patent flour-sifter ; .tho child for cold pieces ; the grocer’s boy, this time -with the grocories ; the post-man ; the ico-mun; 5 AND 50 ON, AD INFINITUM; 2 while your ears are also regaiod rgg melodions streot-scenes, including every merchantable ar- ticle that can be hawked sbout, from pie-apples to straw ; and every tinkers’ trade, from ¢ Glass putin” to “O0ld umbrellas. to mend,” 4 Tin~ Waro to mend," Wash-tubs to mend,” and oo on. Yon have tried sinco daybresk to get that nap, sbout a5 uusuccessfally a5 it was possiblo for you to do; so you Tise, 8re Cross to Anna Maria, tell her she had better discharge Bridgot; and then go down town, and write effusively upon our great and glorious country and its wonderful civilization. How can you, after such an experience ? Where are : THE MECHANICAY, GENIUSES of the conntry ? - Who i8 the man who will im- ‘mortalize himself by inventing an electric signal which can shock Bridget into consciousness of & party waiting at the lower-door, and, in case of tho Bridgetine element being wanfing, can bo transferred to your wife, and noiselessly an- nounce the fact 7 Where is the Pneumatic-tun- nel man, who shall srangon series of tubular ‘conveyances, by which the butcher’s boy may send the meat and vogetablea straight to their ‘proper g}wo in the refrigerator, the ice-man convey his commodity in similar manner, the post-man sond the letters to your bedside, ditto the carrier with the morning paper, and each and all of the necessary articles which are ro- uired to keop the household and the vital ma-~ chinery in motion thus bo guietly conveyed to theirproper places, and your sleop left undisturb- ed? Asforthehawkers, and the organ-grinders, and such people who do meke early morning ‘hidoous with their shrioks, is thore no means of sbating them? Could they not be restricted to s limited numbor of hours in which to try their ‘musical voices ? COULDN'T GILMORE at least engage them for the Jubilee-week, and, in the meantimo, let some philsnthropic lover of sex, somo Cruclty-to-Hamans Socioty, do- cide upon' remoying or restricting them? ' Do not boast of civilization while it i8 1mpossible to “sleep just becanse door-bells and stroet-calls aro & nuisance. When a_proper degree of quiet prevails, when all the business of i8 carried ‘on smoothly and noiselessly as all tho sewing- ‘machines work (vide advertisements), then yon may have samived at that state which the gontle savage, tho Modoc in the lava-bed, alresdy enjoys,—an immu- mt{ from unearthly matutioal sounds uniess provoked by themselves, and thon only an occasional rifle-crack, It is a quostion for SCHOOLS, PEILOSOPIIERS, AND PHILANTHROPISTS. We speak of the schools first, becauso, although we have placarded on our basement-door, ““No ‘calls answered until after 10 a. m.,” it doesn’t mako any difference, and we think perhaps the schools are to blamo, as it is evident these peo- ple cannot read. It isn’t of the least use to woo the balmy restorer unless other conditions can be equalized and the matter made & possibility. Give us the silent electric annunciator, the honsehold “pneumatic-gocds conveyancer, the appropriation by Gilmore of the peripatetic musicians, and_the proper_circumscription of tho street-peddlers, then shall we indeed be happy, and not feel that we are wasting breath when we urge : d ° Come, Nature's sweet restorer, balmy Sleep! TO MY LITTLE DAUGHTER, DAISY. My Daisy sweot, my baby girl, With silken tress and eyes of blue, My love's first pledge, affection’s pearl, 1 dedicate this lay to you, My darling Dalsy, pretty flower, Unfolding in thy life's first spring, ‘While hope can cheer or love hath power, My heartstrings still shall round thee cling, Thy little nemesake of the field In unassuming besuty blows, 1ts simple sweetness acarce reveslad, So meek and modestly it grows ; And thou, my child, my baby-tre: YWill that sweet flower resemblo thee When throngh the years thy steps shall messure Tho paths of life's dark mystery? Wilt thon, my pretty bud, éxpand In growing sweetness dsy by day, While peace and love with fairy wand Shed Heaven's incense round thy way 7 ‘Wilt thou, exempt from-care or 80rTow, Enjoy a length of cloudless years, And all thy future's coming morrow ‘Bring thce no freight of woes or tears ¥ i oty e, ou throngn siow stroz, 10's1l thy Bopés aid wishea bleat, 7! Safe pass thy girihood's years away? ‘thy prime's unwritten A fair and faulfless rocord show ; Thy evening sun's declining glory ‘As brilliant as thy morning’s glow? When age shall trace thy mother’s brow, And bid her halting footsteps stay, With gentle, patient care wilt thou Her fond solicitude repsy 7 YWhen death ahall still these pulses’ motion, Wilt thou, my darling one, be near, With love's compassionate devotion, My lingering parting soul to cheér Buch 18 thy mother's wish and prayer ; pSitalh ] perchanca it may not be.— ose sanguine hopes, m . B never realized to m-’; 2 ‘But still may kindly Heaven bless thee, On thes its cholcest gifts bestow ] May dark misfortune ne'er distreas thes, Wheraver, darling, thou may'st go, o. T. —_——— What One Xndustrious, Faithful Ca- mnine Can Accomplish in Three Elours. From the Detroit Free Press. For many weeks past Hiram Ripley, a team- ster living on Fort street, below the Railroad bridge, had been thinking he ought to have & good watch-dog eround the house and barn, as his wife is much of the time alone, and as bad boys frequently raid hia barn for old junk. Bo, the olher day, wwhen a farmer came along with 4. big brindle dog tunder his wagon and wanted to eell him for 85 Riploy ecriti- cised tho canine, inquired a3 to his merits, and gaid it was & trade. He tied the dog up in the woodshed, fed him bountifally, and he went into the country after a load of potatoes with l-lig'ht ‘heart, believing that no human be- ing could come fooling around his homse and livolong. He was gone over night, and it was efternoon Friday before he returned home. - He drove up to the barn and went in by the stable door to throw open the big doors. He had just got on to the main floor when a buzz-saw_began ripping up and down his left leg. He thought it was a buzz-saw, but it wasn't; it was that watch dog of his. _AMra. Ripley, deslring to go off to & relative's, had torned the dog into the bar, and he was watching a8 was his business, Ripley yelled: “onl hokey o _ ealtpeter,” as hLe felt tho grinding at Lis leg, and he made & long skip into & corner, and faced about and saw the dog. The old canine deliberately picked the woollen and flesh ont of his teeth, and was then ready for ‘business. His eyes were fixed on Ripley's lower vest button, his stump tail stood up straight, and his fore legs had an uneasy motion, a8 if they wanted to reach out after somethin N ;uxglxna old fellow 1" bagan Ripley, g to eguile the dog; *‘good doggy—nice doggy— don’t you know Ein'e ?.F e e The dog seemed to have heard the voice balomim he sat down and lost s little of his fierce Jook. This encouraged Ripley, and he started to go outf, but he had taken but & few nzs‘m when the dog took half a yard from the beck of hiscost and brought awsy a piece of flesh.. Ripley foll over the peck measure, and the dog took another mouthful, but did not pur- sue to the corner. “Qh! jewhittaker to Jerusalem!” groaned the dog-buyer as he leaned up against a barrel and :fi}v an.he dog calmly ruminating over the last .The canine eatup again and smacked his lips, snd uttered a growl which reverberated around the barn like thunder. He closed one eye and peered at Ripley with the other, and then. moved his paws around with that reckless, uneasy manner before mentioned. Ripley began - yelling for help, but he hadn't Jelled more than- three times befora the dog checked him' with & look that epoke volumes. Thnen he 'I;vhnt’nththe ‘I}eagvmung bpnm‘:;sfing\m‘ “ Here, Tiger," “he cal snappiny ingers, mten TiLar ot dog 'in. Datror—poor old doggy.” iger uttereds whine and beat Ben Butler's Dream on the floor with his stump narrative, while s tear of tender love stolo into each’ eye. The thing wasall right now, and Ripley started out again, keeping his “the exclude m. He wnlf erossed floor when he feit buzz-sews, and red irons, and pitch-forks - jobbing’ him =l over. Ho weat up and came dovwn, turned hendsprings and {’nmpp from tho trapezo, and in a momeat was back in his corner and the old dog was it~ ting up o8 bofora. Tipley couldn't sit down, and he didn’t feel like . standing up, and: 8o he Jeaned up sgainst the -bavcel and recklessly abused aud iusulted ihe dog. He ealled him an old lozfor; 8 “ring” thicf, s back-salary stenlor, a carpet-bagger, and & Aornion, and then went on and abu3ed every ono of the canine relatives, back to the great grandfather. e At leagth, after Loing.a prisoner for nonxl'v three hours, some boys discovered 'the man's gituation. By lus direction , thoy went for o grocer, who keaga 8 revolver, and -tho grocer came and relessed the -prisoner by shooting the dog. Ripley came up to townto have his wonnda dresged, and théy nnmbered twenty-three differ- ent bites, and wero impartially distributed over a largo extent of territory. - However, ‘there's nothing like keeping a family watch-dog. AN OLD-TIME TRAGEDY. A Bridegroom Murdered by the Bride’s- Brother--The ' Bride Stabs Elcrself and Falls Dead on Her ‘Hlusband’s * ody--The Assassin Strung Up to o Neighboring Tree. A writer in the Usiontown (m‘.? Genius of Liberty contributes the following article : The following acrap of unvritten_ history, re- ferring to the sonthern part of this township, wo have gathered from the most authentic source, and give it to your readors with the thought that It may proye new to most of them: _Inthe olden times thero lived. near to the \';].ln:sa of Arlington, now called .Masontown, & family by the name of Collins.-- This family had for n«ifibom and tenants a family named Rad- cliff. ese families both resided on’ what was _known, in that time, 8a the Rollins tract of land, “their houses being only soparated by & narrow stream known in these days as Fisher’s Creek. These two families were by natural inclination, oducation, and in all their tastes as. widely apposite as the poles. . The Collins family were of French descent and had inherited all the polish, politeness, and hauteur that have ever Characterized that-people. The Radcliffa were of Toutonic origin. Frugality, honesty, and_in- dustry were the German elements that still ching to them. Both families ‘were engaged in the honorable pursuit of tilling the soil for a liveli- hood. The children of both families were bud- ding into womanhood and manhood at the time ‘the ovents we are about to record took place. Ellen, the name of Miss Collins, and the heroine of this tradition, was 2 besutiful blonde, tall, slendar, comely, and queenly in her appesrancs, with boautiful golden tresses that hung carelossl; and Incinlb‘ngly over a bust weil ronnded, an as white as alabaster.. Ellen, like most heroines was possessed of & pair of bright and beautifal gray eyes and o preu:y mouth. It is not marvel- ous-that Cupid's dart, charged with gracious smiles, shaped by such & mouth and aimed by ench eyes, should have gone home to the soul and pieregd throngh and through the susceptible boart of soung Honry Radelifl. Henry, our in- formant ‘states, was of medium height, strong frame, very dark complexion, but manly in his appearance. These two young persons appear to havo represented the two oxtremes of nature —tne one being very hght and the other very dark—but this difference in personal appearance ouly served to make their attachment reciprocal and stronger; for their love for each other, aa every ciroumstance connected with the tragedy proves, was of tho purest and most exalted nature. This love; which has been glowing with tha utmost ardor, had entirely escaped the notice of the parents of either party for over a year, although . they had. their frequent places of trysting. Thus ample timo had been given for what, &t one time, might have been thought s mere attachment or regard for each other to ripen into the strongest infatuation. Notwith- standing the remonstrances of her parents and tho threats of her brother Edward, Ellen re- mained true to her love, and when asked by Henry to be his wife she quietly consented, snd the bargain was sealed by Henry imprcssixfil an affectionate kiss on the dimpled cheek of en, and tho young couple vowed to Heaven that they should be one or die in the attempt. Tho princi- pal objection of the Collinses to_young Radclift was, that he was not rich in _worldly_goods, but his habits of industry and sobriety shonld have compensated for all this; but it seoms not, for they very reluctantly comsented to have' tho wedding. at tho home mansion, after remon- strances, thrests, and every appliance known in such cacos had been exhausted. After the usual delays incident to such occasions, the day fired for the celebration of the nuptials arrived, and a beantiful day it was—one of those bright, cheery May mornings when all of God's crestures, birds, flowacs, and everything, appear to be con- spiring to render mortal beings happy. About 10 o'clock a. m. of the eventful day, the Rev. Mason, together with the members of both families, oxcept her brother Edward, who was teaching school in New Geneva, were assembled in the home parlor nervously awaiting the ap- pearance of the happy couple. -They did mot Sveit long. It was but a moment until their quick footsteps were heard descending the stairs, and, entering the parlor with light hearta full of hope for the future, the reverond gentleman proceeded at once to perform the marriage cere- mony. When abont half through with the cere- mony her brother Edward, who had got thonews of the wedding, rushed into -the parlor with Lightning spoed, and (o ferocity of a demon depicted in every feature, pistol in hand, aimed at the hoad of Henry. The ball took effect in the left temple, and the unfortunate young man foll dead atthe feet of his half-made bride. . Quick ns thought, Ellen, who appears to havehad 8 presentiment of the fearful ending of Lhmfis, er and true to her lover, drew & dagger from bosom she had concealed for that purpose, plunged it into her heart, and fall alifeless corpse across the dead body of her intended -husband. 1t is hardly necessary to state that a tragedy’ of such proportions caused the greatest excitement in the neighborhood. 1t was but &few moments until the news sproad from house to house, and the naighbors flocked to- the Geene of oamage: there to find the assassin’ motionless as & pos! and unable to mova from the presence of his victims., The sightof the dead bodies, especially Ellen, nstusally palo, now.renderod mora beanti- ful and marble-like by loss of blood, so enraged and maddened the neifil\bom that, in their great ‘haste for the blood of Edward, they took him to the nearest sapling, where his body was strung up and left to feed and fatten the ravens of the forest. Ellen aod Henry were tonderly cared for by friends, and their bodies oncircled with & Wreath of flowers and roses, aud' placed .in one grave together. i This tragedy, which has hardly a the history of any country, is said to have occnrred withinhalf % mis of the now prosperous village of Alasontown. i Reporters’ Rights. From the Loutsville (Ky.) Evening Lerald, May 22. A number of tho leading newspapers of the country have made unfavorable -comments on the exclusion of the Times reporter from a church in Chicago. From s cufsory roview of tho matter %repnrod for the Sunday Times by reporter, in “Walks Among the Churches,” we think that he might rejoice in getting off as easily as ho did, or in other words, aavini‘tha day and the place, he ought to have ‘been kicked out and then kicked again safter he got ont for being onthe street, Indeed, we think such & reporter, or the men who employ him, shonld bo Xicked for being anywhere. 1If the same sort of series of scurrilous articles had been published sbout any other class of men, or societios, tban ministers and their churches, the fellow would not have had & whole hide for & single weok. Yet Sabbath after Sab- Dath, for months, the most low, vile, and filthy - stories have disgraced the columns of the Sun- day Times about the churches, low gossips mag- nified, the eccentricities of ministers caricatured, thio personal appeazance of loading mombors exaggerated, the ladies slandered, an 2ll in such tone and spirit as to make the impression npon the nmhinflm’ g that the churches are nests of vile hypocrisy and crime. No more disgraceful or_disreputable articles ever appeared in any police gazette that ever fell under our eye. The public sentiment of Chicago_entircly ap- proyes the action of the church that so mildly excloded him from writing his vile diatribes during the hour of publio worship, in the pres- ence of ———— The Umbarell Storys. From the New York Tribuns Tt is related that on one occasion an old lady croseing the Desert of Sabarain the middle of the day, alone and unattended, with the excep- tion of an umbarell, was followed—there being no policeman in sight—by & fierce and vengefal tigor, or some such dresdful snimal—it may have been a rhinoceros or chimpanzee—it is immaterial. The animal was about to spring upon her—if it was the kind of an animal that springs, which we forgot about—when, with great presence of mind, ehe opened her umbarell sudden and unexpected-like right in his face and eyes, just as you may have seen o middle-aged ‘woman burst out of a dry goods store sometimes with an ambarell in front of her, which she opens into the face of somo gentlemanly-appearing person who fsn’t expecfinihar. The wild beest was 80 exasperated that he turned round and went away. . Since then old ladies crossing the Desort of Sahara habituslly carry ‘umbrellzs, whatever the weather probabulities are. arallel in | AT CAME OF THE-FIRE, - Uncle Dashaway rode over to Daisy Lodge in his trim little carryall. Aunt Hanoeh was sick, he said ; had been ailing for a week, and she wanted me. = “But what sball I do with my guest,” I asked, *etanding out thore im the sunshine, anklo-deop in red clover ?” . - .. 3 “Your guest! I didn't know yon had one.” ‘“Yes, my.old fricod, Blanche Heath; don't you remémber her ?” g = “ Blanche Heath? Ithink I do,” he snid, hes- itatingly, a curioits, amuséd expression in his face, and the color .camo to his cheek; * that wild little thing who rode Deacon Hide's horse that time—oh, yes, ye! . 7 * But, Uncle Dash, that was ten yesra ago,” Isaid; * 6ho was wild' then, rather. Wol, you ses I can't leave hor, andI can’t sond her home.” “Bring. her to tho. parsonago; you muet come, you know; Hannah has sot her heart upon it.” i . ;i .1 shook my lLead. Blanche bad been' iy yisitor only for o dajs, andIhad inyifed her for & month., “Would she go to the parsonage? would she remember ?—and here I laughed to myself. : LA _.“I suppose I must,” I said atlnst; “and IT gee what I can do with Blanche.” T . “All right; 'm off totown. At hal-past8 gharp "—he took ont: his great moon-facod, il- vor watch—*T'll bo back, be ready thens pray don't keep me waiting.” o T went into the hotse insome Tittle trepi: dation, ‘Would Blanche sccompany me? .o leave her by herself was'out of the guestion: There had been. a time—at least I had fancied so—when ‘a word, & look, from Uncle Dash had eet hor_pulses. bounding, but I feared sho had never been a favorite of the rector. Hehad only scen the wild, thoughtless girl, who sat ‘under his ministrations because it was the thing to attend church and behave decorously whilo there. She vexed big with hor merry, thought- Joss ways; her ready laugh snd gay sttire were distastoful to him’: the laugh, because it was so ofton out of place; the dress, bocanse he was & man of sober notions, but I sometimes thought ‘e liked her witching dark eyes, aud innocent, expressive face. t seemed he did remember her ride on the descon's horse, a slow, stupid animal, too old for activo work, Blanche had caught him once in the deacon’s pasture, and, after- dressing his ears, mane, and tail in the most ridiculous fashion, with bunches of grass and flowers, and long rings of pine-shavings, she had sprung upon’ his back, bérself in’ fantastic attire, a long red ecarf tied about shoulders--and waist, her brother’s straw hat. on her head, and urged - the' creature into a trot. Cld . Rosinante bocame frightencd .at Isst, it put Bpeed in his lesn bones, ho: began to run, and @ clung to him, terrified and screaming, until tho besst stopped short, right in- front of the rector's study-window. Of comse, .the whole ‘household was there to see, and it was a scene for & painter. . Poor Blanche came home crying with vexation, and declaring that “she hated ministers of all sorts, they never make any kind of allowance for the fun in one's nature ; in fine, sle wns 8o thoroughly mortified that she did not go inside the church- door for weeks. _ AsI entered the sunny little parlor, smiling over the recollection, Blanche turned round wit] a questioning glance. How the golden gleams rippled all over ber bair—that fine red-brown one rarely sees eave in old paintings—and her eyes wero sweeter and graver than before! enty-eight was more beautiful than 18, “If1wereaman] should fall inlove with you this minute,” I eaid, going toward her and kissing hor on the forehead. - “If yon were & man, I don't think you'd kiss me that way,” she snswered, laughing, * bunt who was it fiou wera talking with ?” ¢ Uncle Dash.” A rosy flush crept along her cheeks. ¢ Ob," she said, saucily, * the Rev. Dashaway Marriféld; I have good cause to recollect him, he doubtless, considered me the one black sheep in his flock.” 41 don’t believe it,” I said, quietly. Oh, but he did, and I don't wonder at it either, when Ilook back. Do you remember the dsy he found my Snnday-school exerciss, and what I had written “on the back? I do tothis day, it was: ‘Dash, Dasher, Dashed, Dashover, Dashunder, Dashawsy Herrifield. TUpon my word, I saw the corners of his mouth curl when he read it, black as ho looked—but what business had he with such a ridiculous name? I know he almost hated me forit; in fact, I hated myself, for I had setthe whole class in a.giggle, and you couldn't go = dozen steps after that, any dayin the weok, but you would hear some hateful boy rattling it over st the top of his lungs. Oh, I don't blame him in the least for disliking mo ; Iam sure I bave thnm‘ngh\y desplsed my- gelf for it ever since. Why dido't he come in ¢” “ Ho was in & hurry, my dear. I spoke of you, and he remembered you "—I could hardly Zpeslk for laughing—"in Copmection with Dea- con Hide's horse.’ ¢ Oh, my goodness | yes, of course ha remem- bered {hat.”. For a moment Blanche looked disconcerted ; the soft flush mounted to her templos, and sho pulled her thread earnestly till it broke. *Thab was the one thing I didn't care to be perpetusted in anybody’s recollection,” she said in & low voice. *“I never like to think of it, nor of the look he gave me that night. But it was 80 ridiculous! ~0ld Rattlobones in the moon- light, whisking his decorations as if -delighted -at having brought retribution upon my devoted head. I, with that hideons straw hat dangling over my shounlders, my curls flying, and every- body in the house at the window looking at me. I wes in such = rage! and old Grace the cock called me s little heathen. Anne, did you_ever hear of the old minister who was robuked for levity? He said he hoped he loved the Lord, he thought he did, but he was afraid the funn art of his nature had mnever been converted. st's my case, precisely. ‘What s ridiculous time it was| and your uncle—well, no matter what he eaid ; I haven't forgotten, though per- fl;' 5 thatl;‘s' Howover, it settled me for & time, it 2 ° - T think you were somewhat more settled after that,” I said, laughing at her quaint por- trayal ; “but I have an invitation for you, and from Uncle Dash, too.” | : #An jnvitation 2 “Yo Aunt “And why am I asked there ?” . 4+ Why, Aunt Hannah needs me, and I'm not goinls to leave you here.” r T 'go to the parsonage! Indeed I will mot; 71l stay and keep houss by myself.” X, ““Yon shall do no such thing, that's decided; -you must go with me; I alwayahad my way with _yon, and I'm nat going to give up now; besides, ncle Dash bade mo bring you, and I have al- ways oblfgad him as if he were my father.” “1qlike to seo myself obeying!” she said, with a epice of the old spirit; “it's no use, - Anne—I won't go.” Her cheeks crimsoned, and ghe began to sew. s if her life depended upon the completion of the work in hand. As forme, I cuddled down ‘beside her, ugant my arm . about her neck, 2nd coaxed her Il she gave reluctant congent ; and we went up-stairs together to put awsy the few things we needed in traveling-satchels. . *We can come over to Daisy Lodfio easily enough when we need anything more,” I eaid, pressing down the top of an old cedar chest where I kept what little silver I had. +T ghall need something very soon, then,” said Blanche. “I'm not going to stayat tle prsonago to bo haunted by the ghost of old encon Hide's horse.” Bhe laughed, but her cheeks were aflame, and her lips trembled. How was Ito know that, down d;;{)in her_ trunk, ina dainty crimson case, smiled the lincaments of my handsome uncle, and that the miniature was painted from memory, she not having seen himin all those ten years ? gl ; At_8 we were ‘resdy, all but our hatsand shawls, I could see that Blenche was ill at ease as aho 8at knitting on the faded green lounge— she was never idle, . “It's a ridiculous notion,” she said, balf petu- Iantly, * when I could take care of myself 80 well in this sunshiny little place.” “ButIwant you for company,’ Ipleaded. “Every moment of leisure er I sball fiy to Zon. Unclo Dash is always head over ears inhis ooks; he lovos that old study so well that I am persuaded he never will look for & wife; and there arc 80 many fino women in the parish ¢go many waiting and weiting and ready.” ¢ That's alwaya the cry, i ready,’” she answered, her lips nu;lmfi; “and just think of the gosaips, what will they say? Anne Merrifield, I won't gol” ¢ #Yes yon will,” said I, quietlr, * because you bave promised, and we sre ready—there’s the -carryall, and only s quarter past 8. Uncle Dash is more than punctual.” * ’ Blanche rose and turned hestily from mo. She wzs putting her work away when Uncle Dash opened the front-door; and, at thatmo- ‘ment, with her slender figure, brown eyes and curls, she looked so like & girl of 18, asshe met my %:mce, that I was stactled. & The sentence was or pity’s sake, Anne—'" never finished ; for the door opened, and there ou are to go to the parsonnge with me; AR e R stood Uncle Dash, as straight sod handsome a8 | 8Ver niU s pawe hiua Bwne ‘His brown faco flushiod o little. “I herdly need to be introduced,” he said, with alacrity, and his eyes lingered on her beau- tiful face. “‘ Ob, no, you had cause enough to remember me,” sha answered, airily, giving him her hand, Ler cheeks like blush-roses. ‘“And I have not forgotten—your sermons.” His eyes danced for s moment, and then Lo looked grave again. - Ifancied he thought of the ‘moonlight ride, and the deacon's crippled horse yith s caudal decorations ; but he said nothe ing more, and presently we were snugly atowed away inthe cheerful little carriage. 5 e drive was & delightful one; fields rich with grain, the wayeido flowers, and tho trees, just turnis from blossom. to fruit, .basked drowsily in ‘the' red sunshine. Every little cottage on the road was s picture with its low, sloping roof, and vines of Virginia creeper, and fragrant, yellow-dotted honey- snckle.’ The becs were very busy rocking on slender sprays, or flitting from honoy to dew. The distant homes showed white against the living wall of green hill-sides—away off beyond field, slope, and river, . the purple . top of Wam- pum Mountain -blended with the faint, mist-like azure of “the summer eky, across which floated illionsof drifting, snow-white clonds. --Nowand then n yellow-haired child made a pretty bit of color against the dark opening of Dall or room ; sometimes & rustic maiden stood among._ the flowers, smiling bashfully as sho :ecafiuizgdlherector. > 5 “ Nothing seems altered - nlon&f.hjs eleapy old road,” said Blanche, softly; and I could see that her thoughts .were busy with the past,—*at Joast nothing but the people. I suppose that grptty young woman we just passed, in tho right Fellow dress, was a little ‘thing in short rocks whon I went away,—wbat lovely eyes sho . #Yes, that was_Tilly Morton ; she was a slip of a girl, only 9, when you left the village. Bho is 19 now, and & wife. “How old it makes me Blanche. , “Yes, you look old,” I answore demaurely. I hould take you to be almost 20 if I didn't know you." “Hush! Iwon't have any of your flattery just as-I'm beginping to fancy myself improy- ing, too; there's Miss Hoxie's little red- houso by tho mill-stream, and- the bit of & wooden bridge.” +3fiss Hoxie is dead,” I responded; *left all Ther money to Bessie Trowbridge. Bessio is older than you, very rich, and people say,” I whisper- ed, ““that she worships the very shadow of—" I nodded toward Uncle Dash. T was not prepared for the look that came into the faco of my friend. She crimsoned, bit her lip, caught nervously at the ribbon that confined het hat, and I thought, as 1:turned away, my confusion almost equalto her own, that there wore tears in her eyes. We were silent after that, and Uncle Daah pointed out the new mill, the recently-built stecple, and the® various im- Ernvumenu. When we arrived at the parsonsge, o helped us out of the carriage, snd, with the words, “Take Lier into the parlor, Anne,” led the horso by a side-path to the barn. We stopped & moment in the brown, old- fashioned porch, to praise the roses hanging in great clusters from trellis and pillar; then we Went into the wide, cool hall, filled' with the odor of the honeysuckle that clung to tho garden-walls. “Nothing is changed,” bal!-hnghed, Balf- sighed Blanche; looking at the solid furniture and all its eombre. surroundings. -Oh, desr, how things do need lightening up! Anne, Daisy Lodge is paradiso to this, How I wish you Would let me atay thera! - Its cosy little rooms just suited me. I'm going back.” “ Not to-day, my dear; g0 try and be content- ed," Teaid. *Make gumelf a5 happy 28 possi- ‘ble, while I go up and see Aunt Hannah,” feel!” murmured _ “Yes, I'll read a cheerful chapter in the ‘ Book ‘of Ma ,'"” she rejoined. Aunt Hannah was very ill. I saw that ata lance. She scarcely lifted her languid eyes as went toward her. She was a little woman, an tho drapery of the great easy-chair almos hid lm_rd from sight, After a languid welcome, she said: «1 thought I heard another voice.” “Yos, aunt,” 1replicd; “my fricnd, Blanche Heath, was at my honse on & visit, 5o T brought her with me.” " Goad gracions, Anno! that horried Heath girl!" Cried Aunt Hannah, her littlo yellow faco puckering in a hundred wrinkles, and the bor- ders of her cap ehaking with suddén indigantion. 1 did hope she'd never come back. Sho ain't a- going togisy, Tirust? You know I nover could ear her.” “She must stay as long as I do, Aunty,” I said, quictly. 4 0f course ; yon always do have your wn; but T tell yon what, 1l get well in s hurry. It don't suit my notious to have her here, & young, wild thing, and sour usclo 8 single man, Ob, 1 understand it ali—the designing creatura!” “Nov, don't yon worry & bit, Aunt Hannah,” said I, determined not to be annoyed. *Blanche i quite sure of being an old maid, and I don't thihk Uncle Dash will ever troublo himself to ask any woman to havo him. Besides, Blancho is even now too young and too pretty to bo cooped up forever in this old-fashioned place.” “‘Humph! you mean it's too good for her, or ‘you ought to.” I don’t forget her tricks, or the troublo sho bronght on folks, calling the rector idi horses, and dressing liko s circus-woman, the hussy! However, as I said afore, you will have your way; only there’ll be o and back ghe sank helplesely, sdding, quoru- fously, Do make mo _some gruel. I'm starv- ing, and I can't eat & thing that Grace cooks.” _ Poor old Grace! she had outlived her useful- ‘ness, and Uncle Dash would not for a moment Tear of changing her for a more competent cook; but in this matter I was as helpless s she, for gomething I could ‘not _make. . Custards, and pies, and bread, and all sorts of ordinary cooking, I could mansge, but not gruel, 8o I hurried down stairs to Blanche. She was an adept in prepara- tiona of that kind, for sho had lived years with an invalid aunt; 8o, at my request, she went into the kitchen and donned one of Auut Hao- nah’s white aprons, turned her sleeves _over the fair ronnd arms, and went to work. She stood over the fire, stirring in the oatmesl, when Un- cle Dash camo into™ the kitchen for some paste, and stopped short at sight of her. i Anno bas put mo into bamoss " she said, Jaughing and blushing. Iwas- looking at him, “and was conscions of a quicker beating of the heart, a strange, suppressed triumph at the ex- pression of his oyes. WWhat does it mean ?” I enid to myself. 1 looked back at her ; her glance was fixed up- on the white mass she was 80 busily stirring. “T goe,” aaid Uncle Dash, resuming his usual manner—¢ useful occupation ; took down his paste-bottle and went out. ; “What could it mean ? I said tomyself sgain, an?eticnlly, for I was puzzled. * Jugt like oll the men,” laughed Blanche, a 1ittlo contemptuous fling In her manner; “if a woman is only usefal! " “T hope you don't think we were born meraly to bo ornamental, my dear ? " said I “¥ don't know—perhaps,” she snswered pet-~ tishly ; “there—tho gruel is made.” " Iearried it up to Aunt Hannah in the best _china bowl. It was “delightfal ; just the flavor exactly ; just what she been wanting so long. What a treasure I was! and now she wag sure sho should get well, for nothing had tasted liko that gruel. -Why, where did you learn how, my dear—you were never sick or with-sick peo- ple?” ¥ Sho was ot the last spoonful now, 8o I gath- eied courage tosay, as I took the bowl and turned away, that I never made a dish of eatable gruel in my lifo—that Blanche Heath mado it. ‘Her face relapsed into wrinkles. 1Youldn't a touched a mouthfal if I'd known it” said Aunt Hannah, with & disgusted air; whereapon, in my small way, and with dne dof~ erence to her superior wisdom, I gave her s lec- *ture upon the sin of prejudice, and almost won ‘her over to think well of my favorite. ‘At the tea-table that evening Blanche looked charming—not girlish, but youthful; and the gontleness of her manner would, I wes sure & ko & pleasant impression upon UncleDash. { missed the wit and sparkle of her conversation, and it was evident she felt herself in the pres- ‘ence of one who had misunderstood her, and Was &;erpetuuly on-her guard. Only once she allnded t o some little incident that lighted his Whole face with hardly-suppreesed merriment, and I was almost ceriain ho was thinking of. #Dash, Dasher,” ete., but he said nothing, and Blanche looked as if ehe wished herself away. 1 shall only stay till to-morrow,” she eaid, 28 e left the table together. *Don’t try tokeep me 5 if you do, Il run off aad go home.” 'Very well ; we'll see whento-morrow comes,” was my reply. f Grace, the old cook, came up for orders after tea. «T'm not past usefulness yit, Aunt Anne,” she said to me, ** thongh my gruel dont suit.™ “ Now, Grace!” exclaimed Aunt Hannah, with a reproachful glance. - “YLaw, Miss Hanner, don't mindme,” whim- pered Grace, who idolized -her mistress, “I'm ast 80, you know.” She went cloger to the Eedalde. and looked wistfully down into tha little care-worn face. T Liseed ye often when yo were & little one,” ghe said, & strange, yearning look in her eyes. 4 Kiss me now, Grace; just fancy I'm littlo one sgain,” said Aunt Hannah. I The oid woman bent lower, touched Aunt upon s g talk ; you know what a place this ia for gossip;” | amssiie 4 AVETOA Wi teue feft tho room. At the door sbe tarned back. - “The Lord ha'mercy onus all!” she said solemnly, and was gone. ¥ ] shouldn’t wonder,” eaid ‘Aunt Hannab, in a low voice, *“if Grace was going to die.” Teatup Iate that night reading, while Aunt Hannah slept. Tho house was very still, as houses in the country are. I heard Uncle Dash lock up the house—lie always carried the key to his study. Twelve o'clock struck ; Aunt Haonah still slept. I fell into a doze by the ride of the bed. How lonF Ihad been asleep I cannot tell, ‘but I was rudely wakened. " 4 had to shake you, dear,” said Aunt Han- nsh; ‘there's troublo—I heard a frightfal Bcream: What shall wo do?” - Isprang up; the cry waa repeated; it was the voice of ‘Blauche.” - “* My dear, there's an unusual light; it's nof the .moon—it's firel” screamed Aunt Han- nab, sitting bolt upright. ‘““The Lord have mercx on us! and we go far from the town." - - - 1 flew into tho hall. The atmosphere was stifling: - Presently Blanche met me, nearly dl'uils:(L her teg'en lrr‘:gd aald gliftering. “It's on the study-floor!” she gasped, **all that wing is on firo; FE Just brolien bt in my room. Don't for thelove of Heaven open the door! it will feed the flime. The smoko made* mo stupid. If I hadn't heard Grace! O Anne, poor old Grace!” sho sobbed. ‘‘What shall’ we do? -how ehall we get your sunt out? and whers is your uncle? O Anne ! his sleeping-room is on the atudy-floor, and wo have not heard him yet. Sarely if he bad escaped he would have .warned us. ~ Hark! Lear the flames roar! God help us! Quick, Anne, we must take your aunt down before tha firo gets through. O my God! whata night! ™ . We hurried into my aunt’s room nearly fran- tic, Blancho shouting * Firel” all the way. It seemed to me as if they must héar it at the town when her voice sounded loud and shrill from the open window.. We helped poor, be- wildered Aunt . Hancah down-stairs, the fire, following us, udid tho fasténings of tho par- Ior-windowe, nnd were soon ontside. ** Q! Anne can nothing be saved ? must the dear old house 'go?” cried :Blanche, white with terror. *And poor old Graco. burned to doath and your ‘uncle™—gho " canght her ea I flew round to the wing where the study was, Dalf_delirious with apprehopsion. The “awfal horriblo sight! The whole interior of that part of the house was & mass of whirling red flame. Whero, indeed, was my uncle? He would not Iiave gone for halp, lesving us in danger. 1 was almost paralyzed with dread—it had all come a0 suddenly. Aunt Hannah clung to me half faint- ing, moaning her brother’s name. At that moment the clang of the church- ‘bell smoto upon tho night. - “They know it now!” cried - Blanche, *Too late! too late! Hear tho firoroar! Oh, what pitiless demons the flames aro! and seo how the sparks and brands ave falling! _Carry your aunt to the field yondor ; poor soul, all is lost!” 'Aunt Hannah at theso words seemed suddenly to lose what little strength eho had ; between us, Blanche and I bore _her out of danger snd laid er upon the ground. ; “This is too dreadfull” moaned Blanche, whoso great tearlogs eyes were pirained and bloodshot, *'Seo, how the peoplo are coming. Hoy it lights their faces up!” sho added, shad- dering. ¢ They can’t save anything—the whole house is in flames—seo them work! can't we do something, Anne? I shall go mad if Idon't, Oh Anne, whero is he?” 3 *Don't, Blanche,” I said, shuddoring, and hd my face. W will, T will talk about him, now that heis gone; I'will say he was the dearest, best, most noble creature God ever made, _Oh Anne, Anne, only God Imows how I loved him!" and, with & cry'that embodicd all the bitter agony of her soul, she fell into my arms sobbing and moan- ing. “Anno, lot me take her,” said s voico that sent shuddor and thrill through every vein of my heart. I turned; there stood the rector, end Auot Hannah waa sobbing liko & child “Blanche, he is here!” I cried, joyfully; “1ook up, dear, he is saved!” but she did not ‘hear me, she had fainted quite away ; 80 I placed her in his arms, and he held her close to his beart, his lashes wet, his lips quivering s from the fulness of his heart, ho gave thanks to God, and he told me, holding her still till more help came, hiow ho fiad lot the pursonago stealthily somerwhere near the hour of midnight, and gone over to the = church-study to look ~for somo_missing papers; how, after a long scarch, he had found them, and then the whim took him o write, snd he wrote till the clock in the tower struck 1; and then he lott the church for home, and when he had gone a fow steps he saw the fire, and thought it was in the direction of the parsonage; that he .ran Dk long enough to give the fire-alarm and then hurried home. Did yon hear what Blanche said?” I whis- perod. Thad no need to ask; his face was & Tevelation. Ilesrned then that he had loved her always—had straggled in vain_to :overcomo the love which, to him, seemed almost gin, be- causo, apparently, she waa 8o different from his ideal—50 vam and worldly, 80 far away in heart sndmind. Ok, how little be had knowa of the sweotnoss, strength, and purity of the merryand arted girl { true-he: irl ! Aunt Hannah was_carried to Daisy Lelge s Blance recovered sufficiently to walk there, lean- ing upon the arm of Uncle Dash. ; ere’s another parsonage now, and Aunt Hannah, who is an invaiid still, stsys at Daisy Lodge with me. Sheis very fond of Blanche, and tells cvorybody, who will listen, that her brotber has found a prize in his wife. ‘ But who wonld ever have thought,” she adds, * that - girl 20 full of mischief. would mske such an excellent woman ?"—Appleton’s Journal. A Jewish Ceremony. - . It is from the Jewish World that wo learn the particulars of a very curious ceremony called ““Tho Burying of the Law,” which lataly took laco n tho Bpanish synagogus of Jeruaalom. t happens once every elght or ten years, and is accompanied by the following circumstances : There is in the " Talmud Torah” synagoguo & smbterranean cave, wherein overy old leaf torn O e TN Tovtetory s daporsiod o7 ible, Gemara, and P! ac €] i S Tonioh, ahabitunta of Joraalem of every Minhag. - After eight or ten years, when the cave is full, these old pspers sud book are brought ouf snd made up into’ bales. This done, the Jews begin to assemble at & given time in the afternoon. -A- , or fanltless, Sepher Torsh, richly ornamented, and joweled, ia brought by 'the Cacham Bashi, and carried by him, sad the other rabbis in turn at the head of the procession ; he is followed by the other rabbis ; next come the bales, about seventy or eighty in number, esch carried by a Jow ; 'and then the rest of thé people. The pro- cession slowly wind ts way out o tho Zion gato for somo distance along the city wall, and than doscends into the Valley of Jehoshaphat, whera the burial-ground is situated. Here is & vory doop well, whero the bales are finally thrown, amid tho snging of the joyous crowd.—Once & ‘eek. Extraordinary Frau The death of John Henry . £ e, & solicitor in extensive practico at Ross, Herefordshire, hsa causod great excitement in that locality. Aftor abont twenty-four honrs of occasional frightful convulsions, he died. In two days he was buri and the town, ont of respect, &mly civsed al shops. All tho officials of the town followed his corpes to the grave. He was clerk to the Com- ‘missioners, Lieutenant of the volunteers, etc.. ete., and every honor was paid to_his memory. Laudatory notices appeared in tho two local newspspers, with marks of mourning. He was supposad £0 bo a rich man, holding more house property in and around tho town than any other person ; as well as 8 fine Ianded eatate near the town, and a large one near Usk, in Monmouth- shire, called Court St. Lawrence. Scarcely had the grave been closed, however, before a strange revulgion of feeling ran through tho town. People began to find they were victims of fraud. Forgeries turned up at once of an astounding character—sham mortgages, sup- preseion of deeds, sales of property previously mortgaged, involvingi in to numerous families. Alady of Hereford let him have £1,700 to in- vest, and that has been embezzled. A ‘gentle- 'man of Heroford let him have every pound he was worth to place on mortgage; he has deeds, but they represent only a forgery. A brother attorney in the town is victimized by another sham moflglga. A lady bought a house, and it belongs to & builder; he suppressed one set of deeds and supplied another. The extent of the frauds can only be guessed at present. He has an overdaawn banking account of £20,000, and be owes large sums in Gloucester. The tradesmen of Ross are all more or lesa involved. His credit was good -for any amount, and now it appears that” there will pot be s penny dividend for any one. It i scarcely posmblo to adequately describe the excitement end pain and disappointment which has been caused in the town. The late Mr. Skyrme wag one of the most respected in tho placo—open- handed and open-hearted, generous to fault, ac- cesaible and pleasant, without pretension or pride; living apparently within his means, with B Foung wifs and a baby, and all sppesrod °_‘£; piness and prosperity. _3lany shook their be ‘at his wide building and other speculations, but a8 to fraud no ope dreamt sbout it. - 1t appears he made a will the d,:{nhn took ill ; and the symp-~ toms of his sndden illness, the fact that that day he had been to meet exasperated creditors in n England. = = susgoLy TIURG como to Tight, poiat fo poison as the probable: cause of BB"J.IP‘ 4 p & ——— APICTURE. - 7 Once, morn by morn, When snowy mountams famed With sadden sbafts of light that shot a flood - Isto the mals uk«;:jery arrows aimed. . nighs from mighty battlements, thero stood, Upon a cliff high-limned agalnst Aount Hood, A matchless bul frsh fozih from sable wald, 1ding so seemed grander 'gainst the wood ¢ Than winged bull that stood with tigs of gold Besldo tho brazen gates of Dabylom ofold. - . A time he tossed the dewy turf, and thea Stretched forth his wrinkled 1 o callod abovo tho far abodes of men. . 8 22 loud ‘Until his breath becane a curling clond And wreathed sbout his neck 3 misty shroud, Ho then; a8 sudden as he came, passed on - With lifted head, majestic and most proud; - And lone a3 night, in deepest wood withdrawn, He roamed in silent rage mntil another dawn. 'What drove the hermit from the village herd— What cross of love, what cold neglect of kind, OF scorn of unprotending worth Liad stirred - ‘The stubborn blood and drove him forth to ind A fellowship in mountain-cloud and wind— T ofttrme wondered much ; and often thought The beast betrayed a royal monarch’s mind, . s To Lift above the low herd’s common lot, And mako them hear him still when they had fain forgot, . .- - ~—Jeagquin Hiller, in the Overland " for June. g sceab il ity P . HUMOR. ilizing Nature's 1« T i a2 m?l X 's forces—Teaching swallows —A cynic describes marrisga a8 an altar on a};;cuh man lays his wallet and woman her affec- —Little girl at tho breakfast {ablo—" Mamma, ;E"! is very old butter,—I've found a gray hairin —Should a pickpockat u!hmp‘t- to steal watch, toll him you have no time to spare. T —Sediments make good emigrants. They are ln{; to settlo. ow can a man see the point of e iahf;ha s dumr P y B. 3 joke when —In correcting children, we should appeal ta the intellact before resorting to the other ex- me. : —A now street scholar has pnt on paper tho fact that he wonld **rather bep: !Rtlsl’g?xl and obey his mother than be & dog and obey the —Tipkins aroused his wife from a sound aleep tho other night, saying ho hed scen a ghost in tho shape of anass. * Oh, let me slesp,” was the reply of the irate e, ‘“‘and don’t be frightened at your own shadovw.” —Next boy—What is the Capitalof Lonisiana? Boy—It ham't got none; the Keliogg fellera have stolen it all.—New Orleans Heral —The wonder of science at Cambridge, Mess,, Kfimfln unremarked—A Gasis tho philosopher ere. . —A medical writer gays the healthiest ition to lay in is with the head to the mnorth. P;:ioph who own hens should besr thia fact in mind. —Little - Girl—* Oh, Mr. Beeswing, is the ‘paint you color your nose with the same as that mamma colors her cheeks with?’ Mr. B. and mamma enjoy themselves. —A Iady went out with her lttla girl and boy, pure tho latter a rubber balloon; which e&- capod him and went -up in the air. Thegirl, geeing tears in his eyes, said: Ncwermmglx Nee]g'y; whon you die and go to Heaver you' got it X People who are always wishing for somee« thing new should t-rynoun’l‘gim s —** Is Mike McCloskey in the .ranks ?" asked the Commander-in-Chief, as the army stood in line of battle.- ** Here, Gineral,” said Mike, stepping forward. * Then let the engagement belfl " 8aid the General. That is the way Mike tells tho stor ¢ 4 —What di?tha spider do when he came out of the ark ? - He took a fly and went home. —Not long since, at Sunday-school, the teacher, . after trying to impress on-the minds of & clnes of smll boys the sin of Sabbath-breaking, asked, * In Bunday better than any other day 7 ‘When the smallest boy in the class answered promptly, * You bet your boots it is,” the ans swer seomed satisfactory. B —+ How is it," asked an enthusiastic English nobleman of a Polish refuges of high rank, “ thal you regard your country’s misfortunes with such stoical indifference ?” ‘I have mar- ried a Russian lady, and am’ doing my bhest to make her miserable.” —Shooting in Decatur County, Ind., must ba nearly over for the season, ‘A paper thero saya : “30ilt Bryan went gunning tho other day, and returned home after a twenty-four hour rambla_ with 0 squirrels, 0 doves, 0 larks, 1 grasshoppez, and a ham sandwich.” —One of the fruit-dealara of Portland caught an urchin stoaling nuts, and proceeded to exe- cuto condign punishment. o boy bey to ‘be released, because he had just been vaccinated from a fresh cow. *‘ What has thatto do with it ?" shouted the infuriated fruit-dealer. *‘Sha was 8 hooking cow, and it got fnto my blood,” waa the wmm})eriniomply. —An Elm street boy, while under the painful ‘hallucination that he was a Modoc, buried A pin-. headed arrow in his father's leg, on Sat 5 very much to the surprise- of that individuel. The old gentleman recovered sufficiently, how- ever, toimpress thia scion with the balif that he had actually sat on a lava-bed. A —Some years ago a lot of fellows got out on a -little time, when one of the number was taken to the lock-up. The next morning the young man sont for o triand fo got. him Odt, 88 56 &l4 not caro to have his father know of his incarcera~ tion. The friend arrived. when the fallowing capversation ensued : * Ed, how did you coma here?” “I came by two majorit;.” It had taken three policemen to lock tho foliow =p. —A man ont West who married s w'dov has invented a device to cure her of ‘‘eternally grniling her former husband. Whenever egins to descant on his noble qualities, this in~' 5: ' Poor, Parr mant] g{enioua No. 2 merely sa iod 1" and fho - ow I wish he had not ‘mediately begins to think of somethin falk abont, i i —1In time to catch it—(Scene: Railway Ftas tion, some distance from town. Time, 11 p. m. Jongs, who has promised the wife of his ‘bosorr: that he will return horue - early that eve What time does the next train start Porter, playfully—You're in capital time, sir ; na. oceagion to -hurry, sir; 8 o'clock to-morrow’ morning |—Punch. 2 —1Is {obacco injurious? Thia question, it is claimed by the anti-tobacconists, been set~ fled at Hartford, Conn., wherea hogshead oft the weed rolled from the' dray snd broke the' teamster’s leg. —An exchange tells us that *“The ladies off Tronton, Mo., bave united to discoursge tha Ppractics of smoking in church.” “They won'tle€ us smoke in railroad car, nor in street cars, noz in private parlors, nor in theatres, and now thay, want to stop us from smoking in church. Tho thing i8 becoming really alarming. —A& gentleman at Andersonville practives mad- icine, sells coffins, and preaches the gospel. Ho is trying to secure the position of sexton, when: hawi.llpnt“? arign that will read: Persons killed, provided with wooden ovarcoats, preached: over, and planted with neatness by the nnder~' signed. Patronizo home industry.” —Boarder (revilingly)—** Madam, I never can’ sever this steak in the world.” Landlady (rev~ erently)—" What God hath joined together, let Dot man pat asunder.” r —The young men &re becoming every day- ‘more disconrteous, so the gizls say.. They teke their dogs instead of their lady friends out riding: now-a-days. There are advantages sbout & dog a8 a riding companion, we must admit. Her doean't take up much room. He doesn’t make® remarks when horses areacting in a manner whick requires your wholo attention, and get enraged. because you don't answer him. He don't wear! long veils and streaming ribbona to get into your eyes evaxl time the wind blows. Ha doesn’t grab at the reins every tima your horse shies or stumbles, and, moreover, *‘ma” don't expect him home at -past 5, —Twenty years ago the eon of o widowed: mother waa an uneducated and half-cared for- you:g. Hh?‘ went into & ka:gm as an errand-boy, saved up money, worked hard every day, lim- itod hithaelf o bt fow amusementa, prineipally: fishing and seven-up, which he indulged in on! Bunday, g0 not to injure his employer, and he is now worth $260,000. His mother enjoya a lux- urious home, with every want attended to. and the young man is now in Europe, waitiog for tho affair to blow over.—Danbury News. —A little school-girl in Daal has lately had her dinner stolen.. No clue could bo obtained of the thief, although it was songht with tears. Finally & mild plan was hit upon. A tempting doughnut with & filling of Cayenne pepper wad laced in her pail, and the resuit watched. fore noon a little boy was seen at the pump, working it in a livoly manner. It seemed as i ho had two hondred paira of arms he conld have used them. The fire waa put ouf, how~ ever, and enough of the stracture saved to taka across the kmee for & few minutes. —A Fronchman has discovered amethod of taming snd removing bees, and socuring honey by tapping on the sides and top of the hives, ‘@ remember trying that method in youthful years, before we had heard of the Fronchman. - We tapped on a hive belonging to an old farmes one night, and the bees came out first-rate, but. wedid notcare to stayto remove the honey somehow. It seemod tous as almost any place in the world would be desirable when compared to the vicinity of that hive. In this experiment, as in the one conducted by the Frenchman, the beea possessed all their nsual activity and vigor. S0 did we.—Utica Herald,