Evening Star Newspaper, May 4, 1878, Page 3

Ser say thar her father (Dean taste iis Madeira en new of my friends or » just coming up Boston harbor When a man in blue flannel came round, demanding the keys of the ners, 1 wh euage was found. T paid it And sox ‘The trunk was ie people wl PRUDENCE GRAY. From: Cassell’s Magazine name, for father said there wa t a better b: than the Pru- dence, an ame he was sure there would nev er girl Poor father! ways very fond of earliest remembrances are of sit- ilier and having a ride, when he With the great cinnamon-red sail filed out by v water foaming and bul anup the river toward th lay pse together i emptying their going away and against the what v Waiting for o-hers be to think our b: uu s,meant t also to the coast—I 1 large reit Ww that passed and then it “r with pottery or hops, or e' amttell youl child living with n that barge. in a litt tiny stove :ail know i and that I never hi when I did I was frightet Back: and at last L seem “at girl, to have grow di father and I were alone, for mother had left and we had been ashore at Sheer. ness, father and 1, an me back fom the funeral and were sitting on the cabin hateh, before T conid believe it’ was anything terribledream, and tha [should not wake find that she was alive onee more, as t and cheery as ever, ready to take the til a pull ata rope, the same as I did when faiher wanted any help. F Wasa changed man after that, aud asa couple of years slipped by the work on the ¢ fell more and more into my hands T used to smile to myseif as }saw how bi red and strong they had grown. For f grew «quiet and duliday by day, and. used to fave astone bottle filled Whenever he went ashore, and then sit with it im the cabin all alone till called him to come and help with the sail Not that I wanted much help, for ours was only a smail barge, and once » with a fair wind. | could manage her Well enou: while when We had to tack backwards and forwards across the river mouth, I could al- ways lock the tiller by the rope that hung on to the belaying pin, and give ita hitch on this Side or that side, till 1 had taken a pull at the sheet and. bre the barge round on the other tack — T must have passed half my life in those days leaning back against that tiller, with its end carved to look like a great acorn, and the name of the old barge, Prudence. eut deep in the side. There I'd stand looking out ahead as we glided along over the smooth sea, pass ing a buoy here and a light there, giving other barges ad smacks je berth. and listening to the strange squealing noise of the gulls as they wheeled and hovered and swept by me. ‘so Closely sometimes that I could almost ha touched them with my hand. Our barge was well Known all about the mouth of the river and far up beyond the bridge: and somehow, I don’t know how it was, the men on the diiferent boats we passed had always a kind bailgor a wave of the hand for us, as we glided by, if we were too far off for the friendly shout to reach us. Sometimes I'd run the barge pretty close to the great ships and steamers, inward or_out- ward bound, so as to look at the ladies I saw | on board; hot that I eared to do so very often, because it seemed to make me sad. for the faces I looked on seemed to be so different to mine that I felt as if I was another kind ®f Deing, and it used to set me wondering and make me think ; and at such times I've leaned against the tiller and dreamed and dreamed ina waking fashion of how I would like to read and write and work. as I had seen ladies | sittingand reading and working, on the decks | of the big ships, under the awning; and then I had to set my dre i ave a pull at the sheet or takea reef inthe sail, because the wind freshened and my dreams all passed away. A I don't think poor father meant it unkindly, but he see more and more broke help! jay: and this frightened and made work tokeep the barge an and ship sh: come on board ai things slovenly. find fault with father and dismiss him, that I knew would break his heart. worked on, and in a dull heavy way father used to thank me; and the tinie gifded on, till one day, as we Were lying off Southend, with the sea glassy and not wind enough to fil the sails. I felt my cneeks begin to burn as k against the tiller, and would not ause I could hear a boat be- g towards us, and T knew it ing astern. * He's coming to see fathi self at last ina choking voice; and asa hail came 1 was obliged to turn, and there stood up in the little boat he was Seulling with an oar over the stern John Grove, in his dark *Tsaid to my- trousers, blue jersey and scarlet cap; and as I saw his ‘sunburnt face and brown arms and hands I felt my heart beating fast, and knew he Was not coming to see father,’ but to see Je. me had hardly ever spoken, but I had known John Grove for years now, and we had nodded and waved hands toone another often and often as we had passed up and down the river. “Heave usa rope, my lass,” he said as he came close in: and I did it dreamily, and as soon as I had done sol began to pull it back. Dut it was too late; he had hitehed it round the thwart of his boat, and was up and over the side before I could stir; and then he s'ood looking down upon me, while I felt sometimes hot and sometimes cold, and as if I could not speak. “Do you want to see father?” I said at last. “No, my lass,” he said quietly, “1 want to No, Me!" I faltered, with my face burning. “ Yes, you, my lass," he sai manly as he laid his hand on my arm. “Prudence, my gal,” he said, “we're both young yet, for I'm not six-and-twenty, but I ight it'was time I spoke to you. Spoke tome?" I said, with my face burn ing still. * Yes. my lass, spoke to you, for we've been courting now a matter of four years. “Oh, John,” Teried, bursting out hardly spoken to one another.” “That's nice,” he said, drawing a long breath. “Over again. “ Over again? hat?” “Call me John,” he replies “ Weil then, John,” I cried hastily “ That's rig to say, not sp could we, al I've been always courting of you, night day, these four years, and looking out and longing for the time when the Prudence would come in sight and I could give you a hail and get a Wave of the hand back. I could feel the color coming into my cheeks agaim as! heard him speak, and knew how amxiousiy | had looked out for his barge com- ing up or down the river; and then I began | wondering what it all meant, and soon knew. ~“ Prudence, my lass,” he said, “I've saved up $10, all my own, and our owner has just | with the barge a « and I was be quite atone in t as he sailed you live. more on the river or out at the tiller and gazing strai the gulls wailing as they w and skimmed or settled upon the water; while the soft wind gently stirred the print hood that was lightly tied over my wind-ruftted hair. Only a bargeman’s young wife living on the tide, but very happy; for John often points to the great ships that pass us, with their cap- tains in their gold-laced caps, and as he does so he whispers— les. the owners should | tain—a. and | semite Vaile: and his hand- some brown face lit up, and he lookel so ughing and apoon | more at my ease, “why, we've Prudence ; but, as] was going nto one another! Well, how yS tasking our turns at the tiller as we were? But ali the same, my ses, an given me the command ofa new barge, with | I though: Ia k sou it so be as now we've been eourting four vears, you wouldn't come to me anid be my wife.” “No,” Tsaid, “ne rok my head. 1 belong to father, never.” “But you'll have to some day, Prudence,” he said. lookiny dreadfully down-heirted and | | miserable. *Tshall never leave him: he wants me more and more everyday, and 1 | | must st you ain't “Prudence,” he said sharply, Playing with a “Playing ain't gains te take un else. and go aboard any other “he i, “won be so mean ) .. Bat, Prude dear, some day you mav have to leave him, and when you do, will you please recoliee: as Joan ‘ove loves yon better than anght else in the de works, and is waiting for you to come?" “Yes, John,” I said simply. he cried in de- “You mean it, Prudence light, as he ht my hand “Yes, John: 1 don't know anybody else. and there's no one as cares for me. “Hundreds on the river,” he said sharply. “Then I don't care for them, John,” I Said simply; “aud if you like me, IT ever do— lea ve—oh, dear! what am I saying? Isat down on a fender and covered my f. coarse, red hands, and began to ery: »ok my hands down, and looked loug y in my face, wii iS great, honest id then he couldn't spe: sevmed to choke. At last he gasped out: “Thauky, Prudence, thinky. I'm going away now to wait, for you'll come to me some day. 1 know.” Tdidn’t answer him. “For the time may come, my lass when you’), be all alone in the world: and when it does come, there's the eabi clean painied up, and wai hes master’s a-waiting too.” He went quietly over the side and cast off the rope, and was gone before I knew ( Tsai theve in the calm afternoo i, sometimes crying, sometimes feeling hopeful, and with a sense of joy at my heart such as I never had felt before. . . ‘And so that evening deepened into night, rter of a mile astern of . and no wind coming, only the tide to help ns'on our way. It musi e been about ten o'clock at night, when I was forward seeing to the light hoisted upto keep anything from running into us, when I heard fa*her come stumbling up from the cabin, and make as if to come forward to me e Be brown eye: and then T ek, and rushed towards z astern by her painer, hauled her up and climbed in; for no soouer had I answered than I heard a ery and a ave splash, and Tknew father liad gone erboard. tothe boatin a moment, allover the stern, paddling aw hat the ery ‘had come. fr ancied in those horrible hand stretehed out of the w ng as it were for help. L paddled and bout til Twas far from our barg: sank down Worn-ou! to w'ter a mou o ad sob, “Ob, father! father! what larkness, ought of whi al till it was alongside, John stretebed out his hand and took mine. save him! save y poor lass," he said, “that's a goot arter of an _hourayo, and the tide’s run- n'paddling about ever for | went up to the “My. poor Hitle I f np lite the water how if you bid me, bu at ean Ido, you know, Pridence, what ean id not answer, for I did know that h mu-t have been swept far away before them nniig to feel that I was alone— » work, Jt was quite six mouths after that dreadful night that one eveni John came ashos from his ba to the cotiage, where Tw staying with his mother an since he had brought me th him to speak to only to way. ‘That even’ ad been e without seein ¢ he came and bat little, aud nel he rose to go. ked down to his boat with him, and on the way he told me that he had got lea’ ater the name of his barge, and_ it was cal the Prudene nd then, without a word locked wis uid softly, as the tears “I never shall be waile wht my ehei my lass, never he cried. “And ve y an be my litle wife?” John, I promised you.” When I come back from this voyage? Yes, John. when you will,” Isaid, and with long hand pressure we parted, and I went to wait for another month, and then I was his happy little wife. And there Seemed no change, for I was once leaning upon izht before me, with heeled and dipped “Not with the best among them, Prue, not with the best; I wonldn’t even change places with a king. And if he is as happy as I, dear John is right. ————+02 -___ Rocky Mountain Lakes. THE GEMS OF THE AMERICAN ALPS—THE KING OF THEM ALL. (rom tne San Francisco Bulletin.) I have met but very few Californians even who have any adequate conception of the mar- velous abundance of glacier lakes hidden away in the fastnesses of our mountains. The glaciers and the snow make an impressive ap- pearance even to the distant plains, while not a single stream is visible, or a hollow where one might hope for a lake. ' Nevertheless, wild rivers are falling and sounding in every | chon, and all thelr upper branches are fairly Th bases of every Alp in the range, reflect- jug their ragged beauty over and over a jen with lakes, like orchard trees with fruit. nestle in rocky nooks around the n. From the summit of Red Moun- *s journey to the East of Yo- re less than forty-two are dis- played within a radius of eight or ten miles, and the whole number in the Sierra can bard ly be less than 1,500 exclusive of the smaller gems, which are innumerable. Perhaps two- thirds or more of the whole number lie on the western flank, and all are restricted to the Alpine and sub-Alpine regions. _Lake Takoe is king of them all, not only in size, but in the surpassing beauty of its shores and waters. It lies embosomed in lofty m>un- tains near the northern extremity of the AL portion of the range, between the main axis and a spur that puts out on the east from near the hear of the Carson river. Though twenty-one miles long by ten wide, and from about 500 to 1,650 feet in depth, its basin was filled during the glacial period from the bottom to a point high above the Bs ‘nt water level with solid ice, which, javishly fed by the snows that fell on its mountain fountains, crawled slowly like a mighty river over the northwestern rim of the basin, crushing and grinding the moun- tains that lay in its way, and it was only at the close of the ice period that this noble lake, at least in anything like its present form, came into existence. Excepting the forests which have sprung up around its shores, the post-glacial ¢hanges that have taken place are scarcely appreci- able. The sediments carried forward by the Pabadgr 2 streams have given rise to a few square miles of meadow land at the head of the lake, and the breaking through of a moraine dam three miles down the outlet has lowered the lake considoranty, leaving shore benches, and lines on the rock promontories, to mark the original level. But with these comparatively faint exceptions the lake itself and all its compassing mouniains exist to day in just about the condition they presented when they first came to the light on the re- moval of the ice ntle. w THE AMERICAN SECTION AT Parts.—The United Siates building comes next in order to that of Great Britain, Until the arrival of Mr. McCormick, ova nited Bates sone ‘al com- missioner, a few days ago, the American sec- tion has been supervised by Mr, Pettit, the architect of the Centennial exhibition at Phila- delphia. Whether Mr. Pettit is responsible for the facade of the United States building, or whether he simply carried out orders re. ceived from superior anthority,I did not learn. Certain it is, at all events, that our front is one of the least creditable in the whole array. It is entirely wanting in taste, and is simply a two- storied wooden house, wretchedly painted in imitation of stone or marble. The extremities of the ground fluor project in advance of the first story, thus forming a sort of piazza. The building simply expresses nothing at ail, and is positively hideous. The sty Props I can recall for it would, perhaps, be one of the second-rate refreshment establishments in the Central Park or on the Bloomingdale road. Mr. Pet.it has urged in apology for this carica- yure of American taste that we have no really tional or prevailing type of architecture, that it would have appeared a farce to mitate any recugnlzea foreign order.—[ Paris Cor. N. ¥. We : ‘orld. a eabin in as yeu'd ish to see: and | never leave him— | y hand to him | A £12,000 CHEQUE. | | The hour grew lat x. Bean i | his chamber in moods The ie | come in, but his messenger had not ret | and the merehant was troubled. coubled by a vague sort of doubt, whicn hans Chin ia | spr’ of his faith in Lake. ry, sober old | trader of long experien hat Late | was too young to fill the iapoctant postion | which he aeld, but Mr. Brat had never fo.1ad his trust in-Tom mispl Having heard rumors erning a | with which he had extensive dealings, tae | merchant had despa'ehed Lake to London, | telling him to make inqatstes/ sad in any ease, | to get the partners oi the firm in question to THe thet OU. So Lake had gone from Liverpool to Loa. don. ‘The time appoinied for his retara passed, and still he did no: co. . iyentered, and stole to the merchan*'s UWL sWeee face Was anxious, and hope so, Mary: but it is very late.” “ Is there no o:tier trai? “Only the night express, and_ that does not stop. except at the cen ations. ‘Perhaps he will coms, papa: he would not mind coming ten mites, even if he had to walk. ‘He should not have miss Mr. Brand, stern); ic perative duty W ty Papa, something may h todetalt him: “Nothing should detain a man who has oceurred ir pleader was silenced—her father was angry, and knowing his strictness of principle, and how inveterate was his dislike toany breach of discipline or duty, she did not venture to speak again The time drazged slowly on; Mr. Brand continued his resiless walk, and Mary sat su. dued and quiet, watehing him. She saw that he was listening as the night express weat whirling by, and from the depths of her heart. there wenta prayer that Lake would come safely home. The girl loved him, would have staked her life on his truth, and knew that he was not beyond his time through any weak- ness or wrong. Two slow, weary hours passed. Mr. Brand was reading the commer- news: but for the first time in his life i not interest him: he was thiaking of the young clerk, and the heavy sum of money thi would be in his possession should the Lond: firm have paid him. And Mary, reading he father’s countenance, felt chilled and pained the slur cast on her lover's honesty ns—her every thought was a denii ts, and as the rapid elatter of a horse it, she ran to the window |, dashing the curtains ands; “look. papa, I said he wou'd come--1 knew he would. The merchant's stern features relaxed. With a smile of pleasure: he was not emo. tional or demonstrative, but his daughter's gladness pleased him. There were a few moments of expectancy, and then Tom Lake erme in. He weit siraight to Mr. Brand, only noticing with a bow the lovely e whose glince thrilled his have paid,” he id quietly, as he book in the UN'S hink we were only just in time.” a consultation at the banker's ald Ket cash for the check.” ut | No, but Twas glad to get the money, twelve | thotisahd pounds would have been’a heavy ‘aid Tom gravely, sre considerably a ing you.” rs, placed them side by i “hi r fire, led Mary Mr. Branil sat opposite interested by the speaker's mauuer, as em he be “When I got the cheque I all might not be w | sented it atthe F's. | fold you, & consultation before th | and While the consultation was going for A I noticed a stranger looking at me intently. T knew the man in my younger and wilde | Lhad met him often at the 1 | liard-room | respectab for some } 1 tonished by the immensity of the order [ presen’ed. Lleft the bank with my poeket book full of notes, and found that T had los the train. ‘The next would be the night ex- press, so I strolled ard room. A | man is just as safe witha fortune in his pock- | fit peenlicss, so that he is wise enough to hold his tongue. There was some clev ay going on, and I stood watching the players ti some one challenged me to have a game. If T have one special vanity, itis my science with the cue: T accepted, and as I did soa stranze feeling which had been growing upon me, took a sudden turn which startled me. My challenger was the man whom T had no- ticed at the banker's. There was nothing strange in the fact of his being in the rom, one of his favorite resorts, but l was possess::d by the vague shadow of a single idea. I hid read somewhere of a man being followed and plundered in a train, and somehow I asso- ciated the story with the man before me. It was the first time I had ever paid him any par- ticular attention, but I gave him ful! observ: tion now. The more I looked &t him the les Lliked him. He was handsome, gentlemanly, with a fair form and elegant figure, full of suppleness and strength. His manner was singularly unassuming, his face frank and ge. nial, but by looking closely at him a cou! see something sinister looking in the depth and softness of his eyes. Inever liked a stranget to be affable and prepossessing, and my friend was the very pink of affability and grace. We pera for an hour with alternating suc cess; he was an amusing companion, weil-i formed, and had travelled, bat Iwas shy ¢ conversation. I left him, and, still having some time to spare, went to see a friend in the ‘emple. When, at the expiration of some thirty or forty minutes, I emerged into Fieet street, al- most the first person on whom my gize fell was my late antagonist at billiards. 1 shougnt there was something more than a mere coincidence in this second meeting since we stood together at the banker's. He was in a cigar shop opposite. Not a hundred yards from the Temple gate stood a man whom I recognized with a very welcome feeling. It was George Vixen, the detective. He was fashionably dressed, and looked an aristocrat of the first water. I wen’ We and reeting him as I should an old familiar friend, eld out my hand and said: “Come and drink a glass of wine with me, I have something to say.” He shook hands in’ the most natural way possible. I took his arm, ana we entered the publie bar of an adjacent hotel. 1 told him my suspicion, told him of the sum in my possession, and of the journey I had to perform by rail. I saw that, watching through the giass of the door, he was taking a mental photograph of the two men. ‘They mean business,’ said Vixen, quietly, ‘but I shall be with you. We must part at the door, or they will see that we have scented the ame.’ * And you,’ I said, ‘how will you act?’ ‘I shall travel to Liverpool by the night ex- ress.’ ie left me. I had no fear now—knowing him to bea clever and determined feliow. Taking a casual glance across the road, I saw my man with his companion. It was uite evident that they were tracking me, though I lost sight of them before reaching ‘St. Paul's. [strolled along the churchard, wandering nearly to Islington, then went through the city again before I made for the station; my acquaintance of the billiard room did not come in sight, though I kept well on the alert. I took my ticket, lingering almost to the mo- ment of starting before I entered the carriage, but my man did not appear. Two men were in the compartment me. I could not see the face of one, and the other was a stranger. The bell rang. The guard had just time to put a bewildered old gentleman in by my side, and we were off. The man whose face I had not seen turned toward me. I could hardly repress an exclamation There was no mistaking that io, geaia countenance, nor the lurking devil in those eyes, whose softness was so sinister. He had me then at last. Vixen had broken his promise, and I was left to travel that peril ous journey alone, with the man who had _ol- lowed him ‘so skilifully—another who might be his confederate, and an old gentleman who, after grumbiing out his indignation against all railway servants and locomotive travelling in general was fast asleep in the corner. That the intentions of my billiard player were bad were manifest by the fact. of ‘hi having assumed a false moustache and beard. ‘hey added to the beauty of his face but left tons eyes that sleepy, cruel glitter that is eharacteristic of the Asiatic. = ue 8] ket me, remarked te oad * our g travelling companions, and grew pleas- antly familiar. I Amewered him not wishin, toa rchurlish or afraid, knowing that could trust something to my own strength should the worst come. ‘We had made the last stoppage, and were rolling Ree through fe ee eae among other topics, our conve! hed on jewelry; he drew a showy ring from his idea that there was atremorin the musie of her voice, | ip think he willbe here to-night, dear | finger, feMing me it was a curious piece of workmanship, having a secret spring, which he said I could not discover I took it, searching in vain for a spring, then retueni git to him. It dropped and role ‘i 1 did he, butin tha om w do: hi vad me “ight'y byt heew the ea. .iage for. His vonfede ate was upoa me in_an instant. Teondi se-reely br st eau not stra. Je, tera neve Kn AS upoti ny vk two strong brutal Lauds were 4 life from my throat. Though the horror of the situation did not lasta minnte, it seemed an eternity t - 7 feit the rudiais’ inands poeket-book, and I sirain e 2 OF sisticies Tues. Wok wa that small space, veins in my tha; like sinuous bars, when the old gentleman in the corner aw nd came to my assina.ice. Theard a low whirr of so: ap its descent, and my first assailant ree ed from me stunned. Then the old gentleman, wih a sirength and rapidity of aetion «fal to, see ina person of we. Seized tie Seo. drel, lifted him aw. a seat. Was _powerles | There was a brief struggle, and then I heard a sharp cick—scoundrel the second had a Paiy of handeuffs on his wrists. ‘They were more prompt than I had ex- pected,’ said the old gentleman, removing his woolen comforter, with which he fastened my first assailant’s hands behind him. and a rail- way carriage does not afford much scop: for a struggle. The pocket-book was safe. The ruffians Were securely bound, and the old gentlem in by without his spectacles and muffling, stood. uit in bold and pleasant relief as the detec- tive, kept guard over them. Atthe station they were handed over into the cusiody of the police. I was.all right by that time. Vixen rode with me as far as the hotel nearest here, and to-morrow he will call io) eee if Tam any the worse for my ride by ex- The contents of the pocket-book were Mary's bridal dowry. . The detective speaks of the senior partner in the firm of Brand & Lake as the most hos- pitable and generous man he ever met in the course of his professional career. Lake was quite cured of his love for b'Miard Naying. He had too narrow an eseap2, aud he did not forget the le ———~<-e —___. A Crime Against Christianity. Once there a book. Tt was a most won. devful book. It contained history,and biog: raphy, and poetry. and rs, and essays. and a drama—in short. it, was many books in uk it was the grea written. Searcely had this book come into general when a gi eY agaiast its s formed. acy involved hisenten ted vers of them were apy ious men, from who: expected nothing but the ware Uh or doctrin e much they might be oppo: nicious they might bel A few of the more v Wanted to suppress the boo! py of it that could be rea dd, and to som” ent the. ied out this plan. Bat tha: a gross and inetfectual process, compared the one adopted by the ¢ mi tjority. ¢. While professin ndly to the to hold it in the highest esteem, and to. that all men should me acquainted event the reading ble. To this end on. BO mat” di to it, oF how per. to be. At conspirators burniag every efit by making it un hey expended a vast amount of ingenuity, and the success which has attended their ef. for’s is one of the saddest calamities thatever hefell mankind. e of the conspirators went through the book, and broke it into. litt s. from one to tea lines | k where there was no more mnina: and thea these little r tions, thi rangement has been per, very edition for three hundre | excepiional ones it is in the margin, so sirong edent, though it be mani. The conspir ber of the wo be printed in rs then caused a large num for no sutticient reason, to ies. So that nearly ev Is Spotted and defaced with them. ploughed a lane di n through the mi mach page, and filled it with microscopic figures and abbreviations, andl at the same eppered the entire text with letters and nd dag and double daggers aud Sand seciion marks, all referring to ‘hose little eye-tryng affairs in the lane. Then they loaded down the n-ble old book with a pouderous mass of foot-notes, many of them valuable, but many of them the merest tru isms; and this gave them an opportunity to pepper the text with more figures and letiers and daggers and double daggers and paraliels and section marks. With all this they passed an unwrittea law that tle book should always be printed in one yolume—a law which has been transgressed in but fewinstances. But as it contains about as much matter as Macaulay's ‘History of England,” which is generally printed in’ five volumes, this law makes it necessary either to have the book so large asto be unwieldy, or he pe So small that it cannot be read With cor 4 The consequences is what might have been expected. Though more copies of this book have been circulated than of any other, com- paratively few people read it so as to become tamiliar with it, except those who are paid for so doing. It contains some of the most im- portant history ever written: yet there are eager readers of history who know almost nothing about it. One of its contributers was the finest philosophical essayists that ever put pen to paper; yee there are readersof Bacon and Lamb and Montaigue who are wofully ignorant of his writings. There are deyourers ol etry who do not know what lyrics are buried here; and play-goers and students of Elizabethan literature who have never pe- rused a page of a certain powerful drami, three thousand years old. because it is secures behind the typographical chevauz-de-frise which I have described. But a greater loss has resulted from this con- splacy ‘an the loss to literature. It happens that from the book which is the victim of it comes the highest instruction to millions of eee ruie of conduct in life, and their hope in death—the history of the origin of our race, and the prophecy of fis sonny the promise of peace and contentment in this life. and of happiness in the hereafter. Out of all who firmly believe this those who examine the record for themselves are exceedingly few. They listen to fragmentary readings of the text, and learned disquisitions upon it by scholars and teachers who draw various and. sometimes conflicting doctrines therefrom, and they adopt one or another of these without any adequate knowledge of its basis. From its conventional form, the book has come to have a different look to them from any other book. Not only are they unable to read it with rleasure, as they would any other history 01 essay or poetry, Dut when they do read it they find it im ible to ‘appreciate it. and judge of it as they would of any other printed mat- ter. There is an atmosphere of taboo about it, which has preserved, through numberless edi- tions, in the teeth of the unanimous testimony of scholars, the most manifest errors of copy- ists and translators. If one book must be singled out and doomed never to receive decent typographical treat- ment, it should have been any Qther, rather than this. I should like to see what would be the effect of giving it a fair chance. I believe it would be read if it were made readable. We ought to have one edition of it without marginal references and without foot notes— unless in the rare cases where these are abso lutely necessary. Where the italicized words are necessary to a complete and idiomatic rendering they should be printed in plain Ro- man ; where not thus necessary, they should be dropped. Instead of verses we should have paragra hs, and all figures or other indica- ‘ions of the verses abolished. Conversation should be printed in broken paragraphs, with uotation marks, just as in a novel. Poetry should be printed ‘as poetry. Instead of be- ing crowded into one volumie, the book should be in four or five moderate duodecimo vol- umes, with large type and good paper, so that it could be at once held without tiring the arm and read without straining the eyes. Finally, this book should havea good analytical index: A cumbrous concordance is not an index, and does not serve the purpose of one. If present- ed in such a form the Bible might be enjoyed as literature and perhaps better understood asa divine authority.—{ Rossiter Johnson, in Sunday Afternoon. KILLING HIMSELF Because DINNER Was Not REaDy.—Ryan Van Mater, a farmer liv- ing near Trenton Falls, N. J., hung himself in his barn on Sunday afternoon by ascending a ladder and srining. himself off, with the use of some plow lines, fr cause of t nging. About 11.30, Mr. Van Mater went out tothe barn to “take care of the things,” and in about an_ hour returned and asked if dinner was ready. Receiving a negative aoe, he went out tothe barn ‘agains ostensibly for the Purpose of finishing up the “chores.” Having nm gone an unusual ene of time one of the family went to look tor him and found him suspended from one of the mow poles, dead. Y. World. PEOPLE desiring to communicate with the editor will please speak into the phonograph at the door, not forgetting toend the communi- cation with the pronunciation of their names —not necessarily for publication, but as an ev- idence of good faith. The phonograph will be turned upside down, like a trombone in an orchestra, every two hours.—N. Y. Herald. WAR SONGS OF ENGLAND. (From the Londen Spectator Walking through the Seven Dials you may s tle news-shops a placard an- | The Latest War s a penny seven closely which, if they were al thing like all of them, war-s 1 e itappear that no peo | face of the earth, the Montenegrins them selves not excepted, ever Were so mariial in rst of the son; | war is one conceived Beaconsfield though it is eles Lord Beaconsietd, hero of the moment. very curious i soluie.y, iu re made for the present ly in the spirit rthat Lord Derby, 1e WaY.—as showing how ab iatiun to foreign poli . | government of the day ean set the note to st educated of the populace ces: and head were sweiling | which even the lea wil! adapt their vi Sa: g for many ani many a year, prionts toast is Sti t Our course of coadaet now Is Vel nd dash sd hin dowaon | The Turkey and the Bear are “fghting you're tell th finish of But if we would maintain our inight ‘upon the main, ‘These are the words B Itannia now should say, hall harm her in the least; the Russian Czar the sort of men w FY And we mean to keep our Empire in the East. There are some who seem to say—let Russia hay er w ve the Turks from Europe evermore, But then they little dream of the very artta pu ns laid when forcing on the war, If Turkey they should beat, and take from het fleet, They'd stop our Eastern’ pathway. very p r should we be the rulers 6! Nor certain of our Undian domain. While England has her sons, ete, The celebrated note that brave Lord D. Will show them just exactly what we n They wish us to deceive, and thus the! Bur through their crafty policy w fronce more, as we did ia ance we beat thom back in the | » England has her sons, Xo we'll keep our powder dry, and keep a watehfal eye | yearnings after the Infin test and best boo's | | w | the Antilles and the That song reads tous very much more like id deliberately. in amusement. ated note whien br: as the only authority w enee fo “the cel ersons far too simple to fathom tie depths of as an argumentative ardly have expec ing without Instrue Luscovite duplici 5 tone which we show from any song-writer wr tions. The whole song ic mood intended to inculeate * * vot the slight partianship with Turkey in it. 7 posed in defense of ** British i shin feeling, as the first ently shows: erie seine birds © parted from the rest; eon trying hard to was studing ne ke And the Turkey's cage will soon belong tome. CHORSS “So the Turkey saw the B as looking from ni hi 4 you'll rem-inver p Your distance, if This aceount ofthe Turkey y had been trying hard to ki bors with a hardihood and. zes ial: and this tone of ind rter of the Turkey, as well aso} s fate (for its own preserved through the son; natic delightin the: ake at least), is | g. However, the cludes thus, with @ somewhat premature con “*8aid the Bear, “will be boll, the Lion's getting old, I-m certain I'm the stron; estof the two, Tlihave the Turkey now Iu my garden, that t ‘ The joty will be an easy on Then came out the Lion's roar, that the Bear had With grandeur in its deep and Hesald. \Touch itif you dare, 1: age. ud n ready, so be- And the Bear slunk back, a coward, to his cage."* perfect indifference to Turkey her song into vulgar irony agains r fer toa song sung by a supposed ne’er-do-weel, who bi thing “like a Turk : * My tastes have And love I always shirk, But I hold with being married, Much married, like a Turk.’ He confesses no atrocities, but men in distress” he shelters &c. Popular irony is seldom very good, for $a subtle touch, and no ‘one dan this song has any subtlety in it; but the judgment it embodies on the conduct ernment is healthy and Indeed, the only song in ‘key is taken strongly, and with something like decision, is the last inwiien all the foes of Turkey a1 boasts tha: he does every- reasonable enou, “The war Js at its height, and the Turkey's in a ight, In spite of all that honest pluck could do, Overmatch’d on every side, hispower has been de- ed And the Russian Bear isthe stronger of the two. Rowmania’s dirty slurs, with Servian whelps aud curs, Have helped to lame the plucky little bird; Buta voice is heard at last, quite forgotten in the pasts And the Lion stands erect to say a word. **Said the Lion, ‘Irm the King; I think you've ould have a word to say, You have dragg“d the Turkey out, and torn him all about, But you dare not take his body clean away.? “The Turkey didnot flinch, but struggied inch by neh. It's time that I ‘To hold the ground that ever was his own, Andat Plevna, whata sight to fill Brittoas with By Osman Pasha and his men was shown. Thor outnumbered ten to one, their duty still they” feat has crushed them far and near, They shall not want a friend a helping hand tw. lend, While the British Lion‘s voice can interfere."* The song ends with a promise to make the “six millions” sixty, if need requires: +: Every heart is staunch and trueto the red, white The colors we have fought beneath before, And our Lion“s mighty grow! will soon dispel the how! Of the Bear, when there shall come a time of war. And if money we require, each Englishman's de- ‘Would be to add his mite to swell our fame, And sixty millions we. instead of ‘To save the honor of old Englands But even in thissong the threat is limited to Russia to take “ Turkey’s bod: That is very limited aid ind there is no sort of promise to restore to Turkey what it has lost. Indeed, the lavish promises lish resources are made, not for Turkey, “to save the honor of old England's On the whole, the political tone of the “Seven Dials War-songs” is assured! and we think a little better, than the she war party in the ————— cE between the Fresh man crews of Harvard and Cornell, at Sarato ga, will be an interesting event of the sum- mer. Up tothe middle of the present month ihe Ithaca oarsmen had not been on the wa- raciice had been he Harvard men have been working steadily all winter, and have had the ad coaching, whereas the no coach atall. Too much reliance, however, Pl ing, for her men need far less work to fit them for a boat than do the Harvard men. The et been fixed. alth robable that the contest will take place within a week after the race at New Loudon. The Harvard crew are out daily at twenty minutes of 4, and pull from three to four day they take a ten-mile pull. 4g@-John Shannon, a schoolm: bellford, Ontario, six, should see, name ** war journals and of House of Commons. THE EiGut-oar Rai ter, and their both slight ane of Mr. Crocker’s ornell crew have had ‘om one of the mow poles. | An em) Lens seems to have been the | a of the race has not For a year past the city of Milwaukee has been ina state ¢ ‘caused by the aster in Camp. was not afraid to murder who would not accept his love; but out the rest of his troduction of steam motors on the stean rail- way lines. Now peace reigns supreme. An the happy ides of piucing’ a stuved mule i lea ol at i in front teach “gummy” The was a brilliant success. moves along sedately in front of the motor, aovionger tempted to taxe fright aad’ es no away ‘as it puffs along.—[St. ‘Louls Giobe Dene ocrat. * when he came to carryii gman may assist hi an is now cast in the diana, gave ay. he ul 4@-The St. Louis wom: shade. Mrs. Ke nelisville, In last. Thursd: THE SECRET OF SWATTISM. The Rev. Joseph Coo! the Cultured Concer: of Orientalism. (From a Dared Correspondentof the N.¥. World.) | —The Rev. Joseph Cook delivered one of the most im- brilliant lectures of his series. A and gentlemen prominent in our euttu-ed elrcles had invited him to speak upon “The Life, Character and Services of the As is usual when ) was crowded to Boston. April 1A this eveni portant ar nuniber of ladie Laie Ahkoond ‘of Mr. Cook speaks, the h gyertiowing by the elite of Boston society The eloquent philosopher, biologist, and di vine spoke as follows: “The eutture of the mysterio: received no heavier blow than the Ahkoond of Swat since the ds Bekr fell under the broad. batt!e-axe of Rich ard of the Lion Heart beneath the th offetise and defense rattled in thunderin blows upon the mailed head of the successor of the Prophet, and finally from that haughty neck from which ith never been hewn before, there was a dee} damnation in its taking | off" whieh still felt throughout the bazars and. car, vans of the Morningland. Upon the d cease of Abu Bekr, histor y seemed destined long to look in vain for his successor. The east was then in a low state of cu'ture ; th cient monotheism had been lost; the Califate of Bagdad and the Abencerrages had hot Yet and the appeared on the shores of the Nile: crownless Judith mourne amid the ruins of her palaces and the Night of Desola‘ion was hovering 0 gorgeous Oriental landscapes of the East (Ap pace) It is true that there weve want ug men like Avicenna and Ave: pissed their days in vain “guesses he inner meaning of the Alkoran, : ing at conclusions which might well have pat tothe blush even our modern Tiadalls, and Haeckels, and St. Mivarts, and Chateau briands—stight thinkers all." [Sensation.] As Thave already observed, culture was then at a very low ebb. but from the very death of Abu fluttering Bekr there exhaled a breath which, among the tremulous palms and ga of that far region, was borne on th morning hither and thither, this way now here, now there, until fin: against the very battlements of O. theism and obscurantism it m: every tent, palanquin dha tree ts Way . and pal Germans, wih their deep ties, call the Morgeniand. “Years rolled on and st The coun‘less hord tical propensi there came f Middle ane seventh and dells of E Supreme. The Am hits mighty chin | st cooling themselves in the b I Pacifie, length nO notice or smiled eart in the move ment. things. of er forget how, one bright sum 1 was walk‘ e Neckar. my only companion b umbelscliuitbel Sehweit ze al Faculty of the Univ ‘The fullorbed_ harve rly upon the summits of the far off Jate in uh Which was built by the Emperor Weneesias The sweet voices of th had turnes asked th the plastic might not ence to the gemuth as explained in his * Gese niss des Me hot speak for reared aloft. hi of Swat and of Swat I theught of running What would eyen ve said? I reti y nd daermined to devote a good part of my life to one long study of Swattism. Rplause } hat then, my hearers, is Swat; what is i Ahkoond of Swat, re Ahkoonds? Imigine ibed upon the ein inm + ill divide our parts, labeling one of them | Swattisn hat was the ‘Aicott's head tism., Still another Ahkoond of Swat. and the last we will call Ahko nds Ah! Tsee by your faces that you b a what I mean. But wait! stay a bit! Os. pur Way wits Cautious tread Twin and Muses Me idelssohn, x r,and the Waote fubin sts, pluige headlong gen to thegulf,as I now tear this paper iptoatoms. (Thunders of applause.) It was one of the sreatest mathematical discoveries of the Blaise Paseal that any cirele may be di ot parts, which .he called ‘q w arters,” but ich I prefer to designate as ‘quadrants,’ | Mark you, any circle may thus be divided This is no guess, but a scientifically established act. But see what follows from it, In the orollary to the Tenth Proposition of his ‘Me- anique Celeste,’ Laplace, though himself the ounder of the Nebular Hypothesis, points out he capital fact that each of these quadrants s equal to any one of the others, while each is alsoexactly one-third of all the others com- bined. This elaboration of Pascal's the: the most gigantic triumph of mathemati subtlety and Diophantine Analysis that the world has ever seen, and it shall lead us toour | roal beyond the mists of uncertaiuty aud into he glorious light of perfect understanding. I have already pointed out— “1. That one quadrant of our circle is Swat. “2. That another is Swattism. “3. That another is the Ahkoond of Swat. “4. That the last is Ahkoonds in general. “What have we now, my hearers? Eac quadrant is equal to the other, and if we can only discover what one is, we have the key to the whole mystery, for all are egual to it. What is Swattism?” ‘I ? Ahkoonds of Swat. What Ahkoonds of Swat? Ahkoonds in general. They are equal to each other. Swattism is equal to Each O her: Swat is equal to Each Other; the Ahkoond of Swat is equal to Each Other, and, finally, Ahkoonds are equal to Each O-her. Here we have all in a nutshell of Equality, and Swattism, Swat, Anhkoond of Swat an are but the symbolical Oriental doctrine of the juality of Each to h and All to All—in other words, it is the grand doctrine of the universal Brotherhood of Man.” At the conclusion of his address, the Rev. Joseph Cook received apa: and felt a proud sense of having 80! ved a great mys- tery. Little Johnny’s Menagerie. THE BREAD AND BUTTER FLY. Once me and Uncle Ned and Missy, thats a! sister, was into the garden, and there was a nd Missy she said: * meaning thay like flowers, or is pretty, or ge sech rot. Uncle read and butter fi “Wy aie thay like girls? Ned he spoke up an = “Cus its jolly good fun for to chase em, but it spiles em to ketch em.” And Missy said she got to button her boot. Bread and bntter flies is first tad poles, and then crissiliss, which is a shell with a Jug handel onone side. Biship Butier he says in his book that the bread and butter fly a bust- ing out of its crisiliss preves that men and wim- mins has got immortile soles, but my father he says: “Wot is proved by their dyin jest after? THE ANT EATER. Anteaters cetches em with their tongues, wich is long like a werm, and gum on it, same as hop todes tungs. The eater it finds a place were the ants is to work, and lies down on its belly, and pays out its tung, and shets up its eyes. Thenka ant comes there,and takes a look, and says to the other ants: “This duffer has over et hisself, and gone to sleep without fin- ishin his last werm, lets take wot is left for our own selfs.” But wen they have all got hold they stick fast, and the eater it opens one £t like sayin: “Ime reddy if you are, and then it tuches a spring, and ‘the tung is drawed in tt ick. and them ants is a stonish. And now le tell you a story wich aint true, jest fora in ui one, There was a ant eater wich had lai! out his tun, that way, and a ant come up and sald? “Hello! wots this?” The eater was so hungry he cudent wait, so he said: “Wy; dont pe peal That is a nice red werm.” he at he d to pull in his tongue for to say it, and then the ant said: “I was jest a lookin for a werm like thatn, and if you hadent erabd it so quick I would have took it my own sell.” The eater inc were there is'a the now other wei Zou fouler me and He ato, ou Sot the eater le way Wi and lade out nie ‘f back to the ant Ke, So he said: “I ng agin, and when it come the eater winked its i, ike sayin: “Do be carefie, ae St e, or you will friten the werm, ght git t him by. the tai Wen the ant had looked tt away, Cos you see I onl, ‘You cant fool me smarty; thats the same ole werm wich you have had in your mowth. Ime hungry, boddys second hand Wwittles.’ it I don't waot no- STUFFED MULES AND STEAM DumMIES— 'n in a state of turm: in- experiment straw mule Cream city are Enligh ng a Phase Gloves, Handk DRY GOODS. ea ined From Auction, 89 pieces colored siks, cheap ant pretty stvies, 1 case Pacific Lawns. 12\¢¢. 1 case Union Linen Lawns, 20. md epg Linen sar ‘bs, D0 and Be. tock of Cassimeres from 25¢. to $2, _piack Suks, 7, $1, $1.25, $1.50, splendid for the rice, Pacific Dress Goods 16c,. worth 250. A full stock Shawis, Sin Umbrellas, Hostery, hiefs, &c., all at the lewest de when Abu Li s of Aseaion. When that ponderous weayon, of 500 pieces BLACK SIL at 75 8755. $1 n_ gloom sain GRO. 3. Jou 30. J. JONSON & 00., ayS0-tr _ Tor ket ; Gieks: SILKS! N We desire to announce to our Washington pat- 8 large rons that we have in stock, from the recent auction sales held at New York— 250 pieces STRIPED. PLAID and FANCY BS) 2. LRp, at 55, 65, 75, 8758, $l and $1 300 pieces COLORED. in all conceivable at 75 87, $1, s i Shags. 8% $4 $1.25, $1.00, $1.75, 88, $2. K (exceptional b wns), yy 25. $1.50, $1.75, $2, 19 ALSo— 400 dozen JOUVIN REAL GANTS DESUEDE, Every pair warranted: 2-button at 69 cents, 3-button at 80 cents, JOEL GUTMAN & 00., ONE Prick LACE AND SILK House, 30, 32, 34 and 36 N. Eutaw st. ap80-5t Balttmore, Ma. B®gREEAD « co. | Are now offerin ry wings of | lus. among which are to be found — Courtauld’s all-silk Black Crane, 81 1 » | Agrade of Black Crape at $3 95 din of what the Androscoggat: 4 4 Bleached Gotte Th: mpson's perfect Glove-fttl | Clark's best $00-vara Spool Cotten ‘om the snow » the verdant Tangential, Continent, on the crags of Mountains, and its for none of these brass and | ng on the banks of Penna. ave , bet. 9h and 10th sts. number of extraordinary bar- Beautiful Linen Lawnsat 1c. 26 Inches wide: Fine all-wool Twilled Sammer Camelshalte 4707 Tamese Cloth, 15, yds wide. 87\9c y . iy Fiench Organdies. ac, 2° Cea ne ‘Gat cannet be matched retail under $5. c zany one wishing to buy to sell again would de one wist y ag id do well to ac Gros Grain Silk at87$, would be good ‘asols and San Umbrellas ; Buntings, 25¢,: (best mal woo! Bu c.) Ladies wishing bargains in first class sboitld cali at BRODHEADS. 2-tr 239 Pa. ave., bet. 9h and LOch. ial ‘Tee REAT SOUTHERN SHIRT,” OPEN FRONT, with Linen Sleeve Bands and Linen »som, made of Wamsutta Muslin red Linen, ready to put on, goois are made by us and A> represented. c. . MEGIN NESS, 75 W.F ; Balt gover 1002 F si Ww ans, 25c, 1 Kids, 50, a n Lawns. 10 12°15, 20, 85 conte,” rgest and cheapest Parasol stock in city. Le irain Silk at 75c. to be had. Finest $1 and $1.25 B ack Silk yet soid. Half Wool Dross Goods, $12'c. up: bargains, nest Cotaundricd Shirt from 80c, to $1 25, ‘assimere stock slaughtered to c Good Bed Spreads, BOc. = Pereaies, 8°. up, Agent for Bazar Patterns, Brussels Carpets, 85 to§1 for cash. T. N. NAUDAIN, ‘1 27-tr 709 Market ‘ed to New ¥ | _a87-tr_608 Ninth street, op) BUNTINGs, B New SPRING CARPET: New MATTINGS. ical it is Swat. What Swat? Ahkoonds in general, bockers, Silks, Cashmeres, Law: ao. res, Lawns, 5t™ STH STH OTH oTH FIFTH GRAND SPECIAL SALE or BLACK AND COLORED SILKS, We sell a Silk worth 0c, for 75. We sell a 8k worth $1 for 8740. We sell a Sik worth $1,125 for $1. We sell a Silk worth $1.25 for $1.10. We sell a Silk worth $150 for $1.25. We sell a Silk worth $1 75 for $1 40, We sell a Silk worth $2 for $1.50. Persons who wish to buy Siiks are assured that e mean what we say. . © have what we advertise, We buy all our Silks at importers’ auctions in and Pailadelphia, and we can aud we do greatest bargains ever seen in this city. CONNOLLY’S, fer th YEW SPRING ODS. PARASOLS WITH PLAIN AND FANCY LK, PARASULS WITH PUAIN AND FANCY NDLES. i i PARASOLS WITH PLAIN AND FANCY From $1. $1 25, $1.60, $2, $2 50, $3 and up, ABW SPRING DRESS GOODS, SE DRESS GOODS, NEW SPRING DRESS GOODS, From 12's cents up, BUNTINGS, PR BUNTINGS, All Wool BLACK CASHMERE, from SPRING CASSIMERKS, for Men and Boys weak from 25 cents up, LACK SILKS, 65 75_ 87, $1 and up, 'S, ‘from 25 cents up, Bargains to be had in Dry Goods, at C. M. TOWSON & 00.°S, ape7-tr 636 Pennsylvania ny —— LACK SILKS, Plaid Bilks. Chee! lack Tam! : BRED ack 2 LO) x Bilks, Bi ise, Black Silk ‘arp (Henrietta), i act Black anew sud ‘Deautifal i ‘Drees ‘aeh- ‘ington city. ARTE eye ‘B We are selling an excellent quali y Guinet make} Black Silk, real vt r Eee Wh ts See ole as Silk since F 1878, We are selling the best Finck Silke in thi Black Silk at Gc.” Welk Wenrecellag tty Bi aspecial bargain, only Cassimeres for men's and boys’ wear; prices: ing from 87c. to $1,50. Beautiful Spring Goods (woo! not corton: 3 pure si Black and Colored Grenadines at the very lor cash prices; four ag of real = Si . We jot of Colored Silks in veautite light shades, re wool, very wide, donble ~ qual- lack Castmere. oct bev wack ane 0c, About 300 pieces of Ds jtockings (woven seams) for We are selling the very best Bed Tickiny t is made yard wide, doable twilled, wr, - — PECIAL NOTICE.—We have placed sign across the pavement tn frout of our store with oor name (CaRTER'S) written on it in gold letters, Cheaport’and largest assortaent of Diy Gusas he al assortmen: Washingtov. id spiet EW SPRING ele, ¥ ilk Sun Umbrellas for Ladies and Gen! men, ranging in price from 5. ig i wo 7 ata iealiaaaeaeal . Fruit of the Loom, 96. Cambria: pURDETTE No, 928 7ru 8r.. "3° sgotad No. 706 K ST. N.W. HOUSEFURNISHINGS. RREFBICERATURS, WATER COOLERS. Li MLSTES, Assortment of good makes at ices, PUSS: GEO, WATTS & 00., my23° 314 7th st., above Pa. ave. The Best The Celebrates Coll all im) fajampurities trom the water. Has poroe- through pure block tin coli, lee rests upon the coil and the water without bel in it, ‘Ventilation perfect, ‘The Lowest Briers’ ed me Kind. EFRIGERATOES AND Wa’ be in the Market. rator. Filters; AS. 8. HAKROVER, 1406 14th street. EPP® RBEFSBIGERATOBS. Have just received all sizes of this CELEBRATED REFRIGERATOR. HARMON, BOSWELL & Co., 313 Eighth street n. w., 1s offered to eash buyers AT THE VERY LOWEST FIGURES, Stock must be sold to clove business, Call early and secure bargains, wee