Evening Star Newspaper, June 28, 1879, Page 3

E p or steigh-tiding. or down to supper, ot, in fact, contingent.” oe ne eee “He Is sure to be at the Nevilles’ ball to- bight. Perhaps you may be able to test your cpinion on that subject. Ue “If he ts there, I certainly shail.” « Provided you have an opportunity. ‘Hand- some Dion’ is tn great request, but then yours is. quite @ new face,and a debutante ts always sure of a certain amount of attention.” Carrie’s tone was a little piqued, and pretty Margery Heywood felt that it was just as well to drop the subj Fortuna Broadway af- fords plenty of conversational resources, and some imported costumes in a window supplied & topic of interest quite equal to me e! largery’s mind there was an un- acknowed connection between the two. Dion and dress were not so very far apart; for 2% man who attire? himself so elegantly was hot likely to be indifferent to the toilets of the J apo whom he delighted—or condescended— r. Thi poe int settled in herown mind, Margery was of confidence. She had been brought ap in @ world where the milliner and tailor “Are — powers, and share the general state.’ Her own dress was always perfect; her ribbons hever chifonne, her gloves new, her genera postume Mke & morning-giory before twelve "elock—it had no yesterday. Indeed, she really nsidered negligence in dress one of the deadly ins among respectable people. So that, uader ny have prepared barefully for the Neville ball; but it wascertain- ly worth extra trouble when she was hopeful of byes that could apprectate colors and combina- ms. Her reward was with her, for she had a i success that night. Her toilet was the farest and richest in the room, and Dion Har- fington signified his approval by the honor of three waltzes. After such a mark of distinc- jon, Margery could repose, as it were, upon the sense of her own perfections. In fact, netther men nor women are as tll- had all her sons would have been just like Dion. e old woman loved him, in her quite a8 much as the young one. fair and happy summer at let came PPY mer at length toaclose. Dion found the ladies one morning in trunks and toilets. A suddeo frost had set in. and’ Aunt Heywood missed the comforts of her own home. Dion lingered, stleat and sorrowful, till after lunch, and then he asked Mareery to into the we for a walk with him. He a confession to make, he said, if Heywood permitted it. Miss Heywood thought he might have spoken Without her permission. « Sar nh onan too much courtesy,” she whispered her own heart; but she signified her assent by a little or of her head, and a set, steadfast look into water. “Miss Hey wood—Margery—I want to confess to you what a foolish waste I have made of my life and fortune. Hitherto I have squandered — in the silllestot Lettie “ aus. largery began to tap her foot restlessly. “T bave been so vain of my ¢00d looks.” She looked half shyly and half admiringly through her eyelashes at him. “And Tam sorry to say that, in order to do them justice, I have been very unjust to others. Tam very deeply in debt, and”— “Deeply in debt” Was that what he had to confess? She colored violently, and rose. “ Mr. Harrington, your debts do not concern me, ua- Jess—unless—” “Lexpect you to pay them? 1 suppose that is what you think I mean, Miss Heywood. How Can you misjudge me so cruelly. I beg pardon for presum! to ie that you could feel any interest elther in the past or future of so worthless a life as mine has hitherto been.” He rose to £0, and some dumb, evil spirit po3- sessed the girl. She longed to smile, to speak. to Co alD ; Dut she could not permit herselt to do It. “Good-by, Margery—dear Margery. Wheal venture to ‘speak tO, you again, T hope to bo more deserving of a hearing.” He put out his hand, and she would not see it. Ob, it was hard that he would not understand the love and longing and disappointment in her heart! She had a right to be angry with a man so blind; and as she could not for very shame go into a good, womanly passion, she gave vent to her feelings in a very unwomanly exhibition of sar- eastic indifference. But when Dion had really gone, she fell with patured asthe general bill of accusation makes | passionate sobbin; ea the ground, until the them. There was a great deal of genuine ad- Biratiow for so beautiful a couple. ~,“* He fs like some young Greek god, with his fear face, and grand stature, and clustering curls.” said his chum, Harry Lake, almost with We enthusiasm of a woman. “* And she ts far lovelier than any Greek ever | pines talked soughfully among themselves, and wailed back to her in those melancholy tones they lears I know not where. Aunt Heywood was as broken-hearted as ber niece. She brooded on the loss of the gay, beautiful youth, with something of both a mother’s and a lover's anguish; and when, a dreamed a goddess could be,” said August Ber- | week later, they heard that he had satled for ners. “Don’t talk to me,’ Harry, about my classical Venus; I prefer the American beauty, With ber little, irregular, mobile face, all ligat and color, her restless, swaying figure, and her ravishing toilets. I teil you those grand women Spy te at jarry;” an¢ of admiration toward tue couple they had been discussing. They were sitting chatting t er, and there was a look on Dion’s face which absointely | indicated that he nad forgotten himself, and Was admiring some one else. Margery was cer- tainly doing her best to charm bim, and she had instinctively found out the best way—she was making Dion talk ina manner that really amazed himself. se men he was @ very sensible fellow, with plenty of his own opia- tons; but among ladies he generally relied on eipdsidea his object was to conquer womea ol rather than to amuse them, and he had gener- ally found a few sighs and glances a very effec- tive method of subjection. But this night he ‘Was actually tall to Margery = every kind gan his usual routine remarks: “We have had very bad weather lately, have we not?” did not assent according to rule and recedcnt T wonder mt, but said, “Realiy, I you Should think so. ‘Itis always changing. What more would you have? There was once an old phew all bad. “Lockhart had a large fortune left him last retWhat an enviable position! How does he ‘spend it?” ae ee ee an “ Does he lend it, then?” «Poet is contrary to his sense of duty toward = does he do with it, then?” “ He has sunk it allina life-annuity. Is he not an idiot?” prises interest he care Roout—nis own. Besides, don’t you think it Sepnacr uar ets aae “Well, Mr. ee does not ooo Took to Carrio La 2 that his wife has zy “That ought not him; many women possess tem even the eat san ae looked at this a the coast of Africa as supercargo of a friend's ship, all the sunshine died out of the two lives at Heywood Park. A year later old Miss Heywood died, and Margery was left sole mistress of her person and fortune. There were some rumors of a Strange will made by Miss Heywood in her last hours, which it was thought that Margery would fd But the rumor died, and the [rene Bee apparently settled down to a monotonous life, which nothing of youth seemed left her but the “having loved.” In the second year a little ripple was made in Heywood by the advent of Harry Lake. Harry bad been Dion’s great friend, and was probably even tuen in correspondence with him. Mar- ry had alwaysavolded Harry’s uncle hitherto, it now, with a sweetness that no old man could resist, she inquired after his health, his ereps and whatever other subject seemed of im- Pporiance to him. In fact, she quite won the old bachelor’s heart. It was a great grief to him that he could not hope to wed her for himseit, and he half dis- liked his nephew for his chances. But at any rate he determined that sucha nice girl—and such a rich girl—should not go out of the famt- ly; and he soon let Harry know that the pros- en his mee Macey. Moss much upon ry. Flgteen do the young lady will not have me, »“*You are not to suppose faliure, str, In any- thing. You have no rivals here—but me,” the old man coe, not very pleasantly. Harry in a dil and he sat thinking- long over it that. jut he was endows with a nature si ly honest, and at this Otherwise inexpressible prophecy of suffering and contempt. It is easy to profess indifference to such tll- natured talk, but people can not be indifferent to the results of it In thiscase the rumors e1 aunt at Heywood, and she order for her niece’s returao 'y- ‘order Margery was very cross. She aid not want to ‘go Dack into the country, and did think that, In some way or other, Dion might have prevented people’s remarks. And his little effort to talk the matter over with her only made her more angry; for her loving, anx!- ous heart was waiting to hear something more sweetly personal than: “1 can not imagine, Miss Heywood, what Neasure ne fh gossip.” me You Ean" not™ snapped Margery. “Well, then, let me tell you that all pleasures are short-lived except that of watching the mis- takes of our friends, and Comparing them with our own virtues. ~ T suppose 50, “Oh, you do? “ Yet Harry Lake said, last night, that of alt ridiculous proverbs, that one, ‘Say no ill of the dead,’ is the most absurd. ‘It ls seversing the natural order of thin; Miss He; (wood, and Ought to be, ‘Say no tll of the living. : “Harry Lake is right. I lke his sease. When a lady is in hergrave, how can it matter to nex what a set of silly people say about her on the venue or in the park?” i ane Lire lve while It may.” “And dissect the deceased. If society must cut up somebody, I make our set a present of Boadicea or of Hannah More. They can us their initials any way they like. But I mus’ Did you farewell. I leave for Heywood tn the morning.” Cy here shall we meet again?” “1 am no divizer.” She was pale and angry, but the tears were tn her eyes. She knew that he loved her. Why could he not—why would ot—say so? ety al She asked herself this question alt during the next summer. For Dion, having discovered that Miss Heywood was with her invalid aunt in a small village in the Peansyi- vania mountains, abandoned at once the delights of fashtonable hops and@ drives, ana devoted himself to Miss Heywood and Miss Hey wood's aunt. It was a summer to date from all of life after- ward. Such glorious mornings by the trout streams! Such evenings in the mooniit hills! Such walks, and talks and rides! “A young mah so bandsome—so very handsome—a young Man so clever and polite, and so respectful to age,” Aunt Heywood had never seen. Forty years before, she had bad a lover, egos and never 3 Hevea moth ty exactly him. Yes, she juncture it helped better than intrigue. He simply wrote a little note to Margery, asking to see her next day at noon. He-re- cetved, as he @: ted, @ cordial assent; and go, putting Dion’s letter in his pocket, he went almost confidently over to. He Park. It was avery pleasant , but Harry was not to let the conversation drift into generalities. ‘Miss Heywood,” he es ee soa ee oe lar favor. I—I want you, In short, I want you “fergery could not, help a smite at Harry's readily divined that he had important od a to ol anes he had, eagerness Perfe: about it, Degun at the end instead of the beginning, ‘So she said, “1 shall certainly refuse you—when ask 6. “Oh, that of course! No fellow Nke me ex- pects to get a hearing, after re Dion could not succeed. trai boy) this: my you 0 much that he threatens to are nothing unless I you.’ leave me * Pati you prefer to be ‘dSinhertted, or course ?” ‘ “No, no, no; but, Miss Heywood, I am dead tm love with the dearest. little girl, and I am over head and ears in debt also; and if I vex uncle, he be ting ts" money—and don’t you Not exactly. Now what am I to do? Tell me Pit Weil, { shall write you a letter to-morrow— —_ old-fashioned Sir Charles Grandison let- gestions and ee “ Yes; and then I am to—” . “To answer it, justin P hated loftiest style, Miss Heywood. If you say a few words a littie down on Lakes, I don’t mind it at all, and it will finish the matter, Of course, I shall be cut up, and all that. If my poor Dion was here he would find some clever way out of the scrape; and instantly put out hertwo hands with a to Dion. 4 i while, in a minor under-tone, Margery was sobbing: “Dion! Dion! Dion! You have nearly killed ‘he! How could you, Dion? You don't know that yon broken my heart. Yes, you hive. And there upou the ground lay the Reva‘and Bnd Marger ped righ! oa it. and never saw anything pe Dut just one deautiful face. ‘Then re was such an explanation to b2 ne through that at 10 o'clock tha; night they only got as faras their unfortunate part- And this seemed to remind Dion of some- for he said:—“‘Oh, Margery darling, 1 an I must tell you the same old story. orked very hard, and all taas, baz Iau in debt.” Thave something to te'l you, also. Aunt Heywood left you alt her Money, provided you claimed it within five Years after her death; if not, 1¢ was to be miae.”” “Tt will still be yours, Margery.” “No, Ido not want both you and the money; Thave enough of my “Then I shall get out of debt at last.” “No, you will not, sir. of three years of my life. You will never be out bt, and you will never be out of my “T don’t want to, sweet Margery; and they who are deep in love can afford tospend twenty out of an income of nineteen; for you know th> old proverb:—‘There was a couple who lovel one another, and they always took what they | ey never wanted. “No, you are not. You owe me the price Green Covers and Browns A STORY OF “THE DESERTED VILLAGE” PRE- SENTED IN A LITTLE GREEN-COVERED VOLUME, When J was a very small boy, I was rummag- ing one day in a closet in my mother’s house, n a little book with bright green covers. I thought that must bea treasure In- deed; for there were not many books In the house of any kind, and there were none at all that would be specially attractive to a child. This seemed to-be just about the right size for a eee boy, and its cover was certainly very of covers, I learned better than to k from its outside, by a severe les- Son Which came a few years later. A lady «1 ing at our house asked me what schoo’ tended, who was the teacher, and what were my studies. In answer to the last question I mentioned, among other things, philosophy. “What philosophy do you study?” said she. Now it happened that the particular book | which I used had been covered with brown | paper to keep It neat, and this. of course, con- cealed the title, for which I had never troubled myself to look, So I gave the lady the only description in my power, by answering “Brown- covered.” The family | my simplicity, and { have not yet heard the last ; of my new science of Brown-covered Patlos- | 1b; AWell, to go back to the little green book. It Thad been attracted by vee enews a | my delight on opening to the title-page. vinel that no. sibject could be so ro. | Mad re greatly amused at seemed to me mantic for a bok a3 “The Deserted Village,” | and no nameso beautiful for an author as Oliver | Isat down on thé floor and turned over the leaves, but was disappointed. It was poet Thad an idea that poetry was always very dif- ficult to understand, and I took it for granted that it would be great folly fora little boy to I did not even try to reada single line, but promised myself that when I giew up and was learned enough to under- bat poetry I would read that little green 00) I did not know then, what I have learned since, that some of the finest among the simplest things most easily comprehended and longest remem- bered. This very poem fs a case in point. 1 had grown up, and had read it a great many ittons, when one day, as I was sitting in my office, the little try we have is the lanzuage, times in other my bi the old house searched for it, but it could not befound. Then I wrote to a sister who had moved to a far western stat joy she found it among the t ried to her new home, and sent it to me. When it arrived my first Was at the bottom of the title-p: little book had beer ‘int that very office five years before I was bori, and by the gentleman who had occupied before me the chair in which I was sitting. The little green covers are sadi: the leaves are yellow with time; but it is the rized of any volume on my shelf ime cannot dim the beauty of the ‘poem, and the memory of its author will be for- ever n. ‘He was born about three years be- ‘ashington and has bee! century; but the number of his readers has never diminished. He was very much laughed at and ridiculed for his personal oddities, and his life was unhappy and unsatisfactory; but to make other: He would give away his money, whenever he saw anybody in dis- ie wrote some of the most enjoyable books that over were printed. 0: and to my great ‘lance inside of it mn dead almost a ne reason why bers Ae didn’t write long you nig! tet thro inning before you reach es Fae fr geography at the map ot d put the point of your in the ‘centré of that isiand, i wit he scene of “The Deserted Village,” T hope you will all read without wali uy poem Hs ave to sit up’ever so - fh, and forget the if you open your ;” but its true name was “ Bissoy;” and it was the place where the poct ved in childhood.—{Rossiter Johnson, in St. Nicholas for July. A Coincidence of Critics. (‘Model Journalist” in an Oration by the Editor of the Tribune, June 18.] le like well enough to see a hearty, ven, but they hate a pel ily diet of snarl and sneer ste. The editor who commands and persuades their judgment Brot to thelr respect but I can never think of anything Dat Just go- ing to headquarters, as I have come to you.” "It isthe best way. A straight line ts just a. But though the final letter was delayed as a8 le, Uncle Lake at last got impa- tent.“ fhad spent part of every day at Heywood for four months; and girls did not know their minds in that time they never would.” So the old gentleman wrote the pro- If, stated frankly what lands and money he intended to give Harry, and solicit for the young man the hand of his fair neigh- bol r. ‘The answer had been carefully prepared by the two youn; ple. It was exquisitely polite, but yeu Comerived to hit delicately several points on which Uncle Lake was very sensitive; and, in anes it absolutely declined any alliance with his house. ‘The effect was better than they had dared to hope. Uncle Lake was ‘tly offended, and for Margery’s sake very worst of the stereotyped flings at women and women’s hee i generally famillar to bachelors, young and o) “However, he was very sorry for me, Mar- gery,” said Harry, one day, a week afterward, “and he has shown it in a way that I thor- oughly appreciate.” “A check?” « Yes, for ten thousand dollars.” Did you pine much, Harry?” “No, I could not manage it; and. do you know, that pleased uncle. He praised my spirited: behavior, and said that was just the way he took a saucy woman’s No thirty years ago; and then he gave me the check, and told me to £0 to ane for a season.” you go, I suppose?” just ag Soon ag the dearest little girl t3 ready to go with me.” a a you have enougt, after paying your jebts?” * | shall naturally consider my wife's comfort Meri He) creditors’. “Oh, Harry! i “Well, Margery, I never could keep out of debt aud out of love. The men I trade with and the girl I love always have a Men on me.” After Harry left, letters were long delayed. Addresses were lost or changed, and week after week and month after month passed without bringing any word from Dion, about whom he bad promised to write. In the third summer Margery was so lonely that she determined to join some friends ina European trip; for she was sure by this Ume that Dion had quite for- gotten her. So she wandered all summer in the sunniest laces of the earth, and was so charmed and ppy that she really believed her love and her Tegrets were buried deeper than any memory could reach for them. In fact, she had another lover, an estimable, learned young clergyman =a very apostle in the collar and single-breasted coat of the nineteenth century. ‘That he was in every respect the antipodes of Dion was, she thought, an advantage. Plain, pious lovers might turn out better than the gay and handsome ones. She was si one lovely afternoon, on the top of Richmond Hill, with a letter from him in her hands. That she was in no hurry to open it Was not remarkable; the rama of natural beauty before her, and the succession of lovely women and splendid equipages, suf- ficiently amused and interested her. But as she sat, musing, with the unopened letter in her hands,@ome one suddenly stood between her and the suasbine, She looked up, ‘must keep his temper. ‘The ** Model Cook in Punch,” June 14.) Why did ane leave your last place?” mum.” n I'm put out my- eok.—“ Oh, I don’t mind a m’rose timper, m’um—a revingeful Umper I likes; but a tim; aggin’ mornin, noon Lady.—‘ Term} or I show that I as @ nag-nag- night, won't do with A FRIEND of mine, coming from New York lately, was a fellow-passenger with a Yankee who hever by any chance, except when he was ig or sleeping, had acigar ot seen a smokers,” said my friend to this individual, “but I never saw such an incurable chimney as you the reply; “I am fond of my Havana, live without my Havana, and I have left tn- structions that one is tobe pu' ‘my 1 interjected another you won't have mut of his mouth. 5 e38 ht, anyhow?” ted in the presence of two specimens, ing female generation, one evidently ed, but the other looked very solemn tn- When they got to; she of the serious turn of mind said to her com- “That was a very naughty tale that your uncle told. I know that there are all sorts of nice things in heaven, but Iam sure there are no cigar-lights there” minaed child, that.—[ Whitehall Review, THE LAND OF MIpIAN.—The words “Midian” and “Midianites” are, of course, familiar to every reader of the Bible; even the little school- girl knows that {t was to merchants of this nation—Ishmaelites—that Joseph was gold. But we doubt whether many not advanced ge T out of the room rgons Who are eographical students have at all clear idea of the situation of this country, and whether they know that it was in lent times resorted ‘old and copper and for the highly- “blue-green stones” —i. Midian, the Madyan of the Aral art ofthe Arabian Desert which of the northern portion of the Red Sea, a narrow strip of country extending from the head of the Gulf of Akal It 1s mostly barren and mo: and, although under the dominion ‘till In the possession of the children of isi the wandering Bedouin.—[The Spectator, SEASONABLE CoMForT.—The meditations of an aged colored person In Georgia may be of advantage to many people who are disposed to grumble at the hot weather and other things: “I nebber allows myself to ‘tlect on de bad tinzs dat happen to me, nor de good tings dat I neb- ber had; and, when I tink about something to call my own, it seems as if I had a big treasure right here, dat 1 don’t owe any man for. When all de rest ob the world are saying, ‘Dat is my sugar mill,” sere 18 my great dere is my Saviour;’ and, when I own de Lord Jesus, it ceems as it I owned all de rest; for de earth Is de Lord’s, and de fulness dereo! air is mine, and I can breathe It; de sunshine is mine, and I can sit in it; de earth is mine, and I can le down on It to sleep.” A GENTLEMAN, wishing to obtain board for his wife and family in the country, was di- rected to @ neat-looking farmhouse kept by an farmer and his wife. A brief ins} led him tbat the place Ww the term: drawled the farmer, Xtew moments and ther I took children at halt pi to by the Egyp- é., turquolses, house,’ ‘Dat is m cotton patch,’ », ‘you have six childs ’ The old man retlect rep! Do you see them rees and berry bushes? Waal, this year throw in your wife and yourse! {Portland Advertiser. §2"Charies Wade, the Chinaman who was ae cree egy Gog ed Sam] an: an American girl. §2-The Marquis of Lorne has been play! Partisimeatary teams on the side of Ottarn ment ol wa. inings he made a duck’s egg, his ‘at the second ball, In the second he was out for three runs, id for nothin.” — In the first in) THE PEDESTBIAN CHAMPIONSHIP Who is the Coming Man? “You'll see the Englishmen all over he-e in the fall,” said a gentleman who 1s usually vel! informed as to 9] ing events to a repo-t>r of e New York . “Rowell didn't enter the match for the belt, simply because be wauted to save himself for the next march in care It Rak eee te this city. He undoub‘ed'y knew that Weston was in form, and would make it lively for Brown, and he expected that Ennis would be a strong competitor. In fact, he said when he walked here that if Ennis had not been sick the first day of the race in Gil- more’s Garden, he would have been a dangerous competitor. ‘Yes, very dangerous,’ echoed Mr. Atkingon of the London Sporting News, who stood by. Well, knowing that two.good Ameri- cabs were to walk, knowing how little money was to be made by winning the mate ta Lia- don, and how much was to be made by winning itin New York, aud Knowing aiso uast aman can’t recover in a few days from the effects of such a stralu on bis system as is galned by a six days’ walk, the little Englishman decided not to walk 1n London, but to reserve ail bis strength for the next match in New York. So, in my opinion—and f guess you'll flad I'm about right—the ‘peg-In-his-heel’ story was simaly a good excuse for not walking. Of course, it wouldn't look well for him not to eater for the belt which he hitmnzeif hetd. He couid afford to forfeit $500 of the $20,000 which he made here, especially as he runs a good show of maxing a pile here in the fall.” “and the man that wins the next mateh fo: the belt,” continued the speaker, “especially it Weston 1s tn good form througnout the six days will Win a pot of money. Way, It there was a place in this town large enough to hold 25,000 people, they could All it if the walk was close; and if Weston hasn’t hurt nimseit by this effor it will be close. The little fellow hag jast foun: out what he can do. He lias always tried to walka square heel and toe, and yet he isa’t a square walker, Whenever he tried to walk fast, he skipped. But tn these go-as-you-piease matches he 1s at home, and if he don’t hold that belt it will be because something give away. He 1s getting pretty old, to be sure; but he has always led a temperate, quiet life, with the exception of when he undertook big watks, and his powers of recuperation are wondertul, So Just tell the Britishers to look out aad noi count thelr chickens before they're hatched, ‘They may not be able to win back the beit and the big gate money quite as easily as they think they cau.” It has seemed to be a generally credited rumor,though where it origiaated is not quite certain, that Weston, Roweil, Browa, Panvaot, and possibly Corkey and O'Leary are to be in this city in September, and compete fur the Astley belt and the long-distance cuamblonahip of the world. It was rumored that $5,000 been offered for the lease of Madison Square Garden (Gilmore's) for the last week in Septemn- ber for the purpose of giving the match then. Another rumor was that O'Leary had leased 1: for October, with the promise that no pedes- trian match be held there in the meantime, and consequently the match would probably take place in the American Institute Kink, at Taird avenue and Sixty-third street, where Westou le his 115 miles in twenty-four hours in 157. It was even proposed to build a temporary struc- ture where tie Rink now stands, that suould hold many thousands of people, and where hundreds of thousands of doilars could be made. It is not true, however, that O'Leary’s lease contains a stipulation thas no 0 con- teats are to take place in the Garten prior wo October.” = ‘The Pie Eater. Among other topics of conversation among the New York sporting men the coming maa in |= the match was much discussed. “He's got to be a runner, of course,” said one, “a fast runner and astayer. I have my doubts as to whether 55 miles 1s made, but they ll come pretty near it, and may be make more. Nodody knows what that Iittie Rowell can do. There's one ee Td like to see try for it, and that’s the ‘Pie Eater.’ ‘The Pte Eater is Norman Taylor, the Vermont runner, one of the most remarkable men of the day in peculiarities, Hecame to New York Jast fall unknown, and _has attracted much at- tention a8 arunuer. The Sun reporter found him at his hotel in Sixth avenue. He isa tall, spare man, with full rd, closely trimmed, brown curling hair, just getting gray, and the general appearance of a Vermont farmer, with all his Vacieetss of §) Le “Ww 1 don’t know about it,” he said slowly when the reporter broached the subject of a six days’ walk to him, ‘I don’t know about it. You see I never have run more than twenty-five miles at a time, and haven't the remotest idea what I can stand. Now, I'll tell you just my condition, and you can form your own opinion. Jt was several years ago, when [ was 42 years old, that I running. I am 49now, I lived up in Plymouth, Vt., right at the foot of the Green Mountains, and I used to run over the country roads between the towns there, and £0 I found that I could run fast for short dis- tances. [ once ran from Plymouth to Wood- stock, sixteen mntles, in two hours six minutes, That's good time over country roads, up hill and down. The best time lever made was on a half-mile track, when I made twenty mule3 in two hours three minutes and six seconds, When J made my twenty-five-mile ran I had run two ten-mile races the two days before, and made I in three hours two minutes. Well, I feel bette: to-day, and am a better man, mentally and physically, than I was when I'began running seven years ago.” “Couldn’t you run say twenty miles, then rest, and then auother twenty, and soon, thus making one hundred miles a day, with lots of Ume w rest?” asked the reporter. “No. If I went into a six days’ race, I'd take @ jog, and go at a rate of six or seven miles an hour. Ican do that pace easier than I can walk three miles an hour. Of course, tn a spin of twenty miles, there must be a good deal of ex- ertion, A man couldn’t keep ituplong. Yet! never trained for a twenty-mile race, and never had apy extra care after. I don’t know that I ever felt the effects of a twenty-mile run the next day. But if I went intoasix days’ race, fully. Tago into that. partot It torougaly, fully. I'd go tn' of roug! though I don’t know anything about itnow. 1 Lever trained in my life. But i think I could trot six or seven miles an hour, as long as the average man could walk three or three anda half. I used to walk from the town where I lived to another, nine miles distant, and it toox me three hours. After a while I found that I an nearly so tired. Well, supposing I could stand it for six days, I believe I could run six miles an hour for seventeen hours. That would make 102 miles, with seven hours for rest. Now, lam avery ilght sleeper. It makes no difference where I am, I never sleep more than four or five hours out af the twenty-four. So seven hours’ rest would be abundant. Then, I don’t eat but two meals a day, never do, and s0!'d be all ai roy u live on pie, as they say?” “But do you liv “Well, 1 do eat & Cee deal of pie. I don’t want many po gene never eat meat. Some- umes J eat fish, but usually my meal consists of bread and butter, apple or custard ple, cheese, and tea. ‘They make a great deal out of the pie, but I think most of the cheese. It is, I believe, the richest foed aman can eat. I eat a large plece,-a regular slab, after each meal, It agrees with me completely. It I was going toenter for the belt I'd have custards made—they are nour- ishing—and eat cheese.” “How about your feet?” “My feet are ali right. I run always in my stocking feet, and the bottoms of them are as bard as leather. Of course, in a long trampI'a have to wear some kind of a soft shoe. I don’t think my feet would bother mea bit. There is one curious thing about me, and that is my ulse. It usually, when { am perfect quit ats 48 to the minute. You know (21s the usual pulse. After I have run ten or twenty miles it ets up to 70 or 75. I remember the first time I found tout, 1 was up at Dartmouth College, visiting a cousin, who was in the graduating class, and the boys wanted me to run at their athletic sports. Iran ten miles in 53 minutes 55 seconds, and then went to my room. Presi- dent Smith’s son, a young physician, followed me, and wanted to feelof my . It wag 73, He was surprised, and wanted to know what it usually was. I didn’t know, 80 the next day, when I was perfectly quiet. he came in. My pulse was 48. I have a theory that I don’t wear out as fast as a man whose heart beats 72 to the minute, and in a long walk or run certainly 1 wouldn't feel {t as much as one whose heart was pumping away twice as fast as mine, “But will you enter the match? “I don’t know,” was the answer. “I haven't thought about it; I am pretty slow to adopt new ideas. A while ago I never thought of doing more than 20-mile runs, now Iam anxious to get Ina 24 or 36-hour go-as-you-please match, and see what I can do. But about the six days walk I don’t know.” Afl of Mr. Taylor’s statements were made modestly and in answer to many questions. He had evidently not given the six-day walk much consideration, and yet with his many physical pecultarities in his ‘favor, those who know him belleve he may prove the greatest six-day run- ner of the age. “Sprert PaoToGRAPHY” Is thus explained by a Rochester photographer:—“I take a piece of glass and on Ye I paste the photographed heads of such ‘spirits’ as I wish to reproduce in hazy Outiines pout the head of the sitter. ‘Inery center of the glass I put ear but arrange the ‘spirits’ ina semi-circle. Then from this prepared plate I take a negative, and afterward @ positive. When a sitter comes for photo- graphs I take a negative just a3I would any one’s. When the pre ig done I place the postive plate of the sitter under the positive late of The ‘spirit,’ and allow the sun to print {pte iie ot end ina epee the fnish tograph appears as ter was surrounded by heads i the air,” MONROE SHEFPLEMAN’S DRUNKEN Fon in Wa- 190, Ill. consisted in frightening women. He mout laugh when. she fainted. His next ous Explor. hilari ‘Was to try how close he could fire oman’ ee hon a ic pitting Der, s ined the result was A him with a single biow of & heavy cup, Brigham Young’s Estate. THE SUIT OF THE DISSATISFIED HEIRS—CURIOUS COMMENT OF 4 MORMON PAPER. On Saturday afternoon a sult was instituted in the Third District Court by Emeltue A. Young, on bebalf of herrelf and the heirs-at- law and k €s and beneficiaries under the last will and testament of Brigham Young, de- ceased, plaintity, against George % Cannon and Albert darringtsn and Brigham }oung, execu- Yorsof the last will and testament of Brigham Young, late and Jonn Taylor, Joun Sharp, Edward Hunter, Horace 8. Eidridge, George Goddard, Leonard W. Haray, Theodore McKean, Joseph C. Kingsbury, and Angus M. Cannon, delendants. ‘Tne matter has been talked about fora long time, but was kept qu'et, and though the compiaint was fled in the court early on Saturday afternoon, for some unac- countable reason only certain parties were al- lowed any information on the subject. The complaint Is a very long one, and sets forta rievances too humerous to mention, charging executors with frauds of every description | U capable of ~— perpetrated under the office held by them. It charges them, also, with col- lusion with President John Taylor and others, ‘the purpose of the colluston belog to rob the heirs of a portion of the property and money aileged to belong lawrully to them. The amouat sued for and caimed to have been frauduleatly teken from the heirs “is not less than $1,009,099." ‘The complaint is very specific, and is one of the Taost complete articies of tne kind ever gotten up In this territory, In this conuection au ap- en ‘was made for an injunction restrain ig the executors from further pursuance of their duties, and asking the appointment of re- celvers to take charge of the property pending the trial of the suit, and, without hig: A the defendants an opportunity to be heard, the in- junction was granted, a bond of $1,000 being illed, and Judges Sutherland and McBride be- coming the sureties. W.S. McCornick, Esq., and Marshal Shaughnessy were appointed re- ceivers, the bonds aod Tixed at $100,000. Mr. McCornick has not yet filed his bond, and as Marshal Sit poe! is not io the city of course his bond is not filed; he is not expected to return until the last of the month. Tilford & Hagar and Sutherland & McBride are the at- torneys for the plaintiff. Up to last evening the defendants had taken No action in the matter, though it had been ex- pected that some course would be followed; and iis not yet known what the line of defense will be, The trustee in trust has employed Richards « Williams, of Ogden; Aurelius Miner, e3q.,of this city, and Judge Dusenberry, of Provo, as his counsel; on the part of the executors, Sheaks & Rawlins and Bennett & Harkness are engaged, while it 1s anticipated that some eminent lezai abllity will be brought from the east to defend the case for the latter parties. The peculiar circumstances of the case, and the position occupied by the deceased, made 1t | desira' le to the people of Utah that this fight Should not occur; and a disinterested person would paturally think that the heirs and chil- dren of Brigham Young would be the last to drag his affairs into the courts to be commented upon by attorneys and the public; the last to | want his actions mfade the subject of lawyer's | animadversions and popular criticism; the last | to piace their father’s name in what may be cailed a false light, and cast a shadow upon his memory. It frequently happens in post mortem quarrels Of this kind that actions that were all right and proper, and could be so shown were the persons alive to explain them, are, by the courts and lawyers, made to look very dark when the parties and means for giving correct explanations have passed away. It 13 hoped Uthat this will not prove such a case, and that no attempt will be made go throw mud or wash dirty linen for the delectation of anybody. It should take more Lopes, than President Young left to induce childrea to try to bring his name into disrespect and put a stain upon his memory.—[satt Lake (Utah) Herald, June 17. - A War Reminiscence, HOW GOV. MORTON GREETED THE CAPTURED G: SOBL A. BATTLE. The complimentary mention of Morton’s name by Senator Thurman the other day brouzht to our mind a reminiscence of the war wile Mor- ton was governor of Indiana, and had acquired a name of very unenviable notoriety iu the south. It was just after the disastrous second day’s fight at Sbilob, and all the glory of John- ston’s first day’s fight had been lost by the time- ly arrival of Buell. In that fight tt will be re- Taembered that the late gallant .JoelA.Battle had lost the two noble suns who fought side by tide with him, and he himself was taken pris- oner, The peculiar situation of the old man ex- cited the keenest sympathies of every one. Under the circumstances, he recelved from the lon of respect in their power. «he boat on which he was confined was anchored in the middle of the Tennessee river, and though the other prisoners with whom he was crowded were closely guarded, he had the freedom of the boat, and was furnished with a comfortable state-room. After remaint Aft ing near the battle-ground afew days the boat moved | down the river and up the Ohio, landing the prisoners at Cincinnati, and theace they were | taken to Camp Morton. A day or two after thelr arrival Gov. Morton paid the prison an official visit. As soon as he came into the inclosure and. saw the array of sorrowful Leip Syre 3} ole nd = - the commandant, wl leading ‘way, brouzht him up and introduced him to Gen. Battle. When the general saw them approaching he naturally thought he would be ited or up- braided for being found in a company of young- sters, and 80 fened himself up to meet the overnor in as haughty @ manner as possible. ut the thought was from Morton’s mind, for, with the frankness and courteous bearing of a thorough gogo came quickly up, lifting his hat in the most ful manner, ete the old general by the hand, and with rat words ‘broke down all barriers of southern yor assured him of his heartiest sympathy in his great misfortunes—told him he had the pleasure of knowing one of his sons who had attended the state institution, at Oxford, Ohio, and assured him, foe as he was, he would upon him. The governor then took his leave, begging him never to hesitate to call upon him for any favor, and if need On him at any time, telling him it should not be dishonored. He did met content himself with idle professions of service, for during his short iinprisonment, he sent many messages and tokens of friendship in the shape of baskets of isions, &c., and it was his influence at Gen. Battle was includea the earliest batch of exchanges. During his life he ever spoke of Gov. Morton in the friendliest of = and never failed to do justice to his kindness o} heart, Tne writer heard him on many occa- ‘sions recount this adventure, and say that no better or truer man lived than Oliver P. Mor- ton, whatever he might say or do in the heat of Leute gd Gebate.—[{Nashville (Tenn) Banner, fune 20. ONE OF THE Most EXTRAORDINARY EScarEs from death ever recorded occurred recently at Melbourne to L’Estrange, the aeronaut. In the presence of thousands of 3 ‘tors he made an ascension from the agricultural grounds, on the St, Kilda road, in the balloon Aurora, the patches during the Franco-Prussian war. the balloon had attained the nititude of 8 mile and three-quarters it suddenly collapse, the gas bursting ugh its side; but the para- chute came into play, instead of the wreck falling like a stone, it came down in a zig-zag course, and finally struck a tree in the govern- ment domain, thus breaking the fall, and L’ Estrange reached the ground half stunned, but alive. ‘The excitement when the balloon came down was intense. Women screamed and faint- ed; some fell on their knees with their Brgy ce in prayer, while hundreds of men rush- ed into the government domain expecting to find a mangled body, but to their great aston- ishment they discovered L’Estrange allve and almost unhurt. The escape was certainly one of the most marvelous on record. The balloon used was an old one, and L’Estrange patched up some rents in the morning; but the direct cause of the catastrophe was the inexperience of the aeronaut, who did not allow for the great ae of gas consequent upon his rapid GROGRAPHICAL PROBLEM SOLVED,—Within the present [Seige and mainly during the present decade, nearly all the great geographi- cal problems left us by our adventurous ances- tors have been solved; all the great lines of ex- ploration have been taken up and worked out with a success that leaves to the future only the details to fillin. The northwest passage was completed more than a quarter of a century ago; the Australian interior has been crossed and recrossed within the past few years; several bright lines now break up the oncve mysterious darkness of the “Dark Continent;” the sources of the Nile have been traced, and the course of the Congo all but laid down; the Russians have filled up many important’ blanks in Central Asia; there is how no mystery to speak of for geographers on the North American continent, and none of any tude on the South; even the great outlines of the ocean-bed have been | till chertered, and now at last, after a stru; gun more than 300 years 5 Ue norekeast passage has been made with an tmakes one wonder why It was not dome long ago. A er-of-fact Sweedish Professor has shown. that with a suitable ship at the proper season this long-sought-for passage to ‘Far Cathay” 48 a question of only a few weeks. Of Arctic feats there now remalins only the “dash at the Pole,” and that the North Pole will be reach Sone or later there can be no doubt.—[London §2-A June bug invaded Mra. De Jones’ pew, pelagr ai Mrs. De J. sald to the usher: “Ush’ ea Exchanges are about big eggs, farmers are laying On fi caiteriat aes asit were. By and by some granger will burst a hen and then there will be an end to that foolish striLe.— (Stillwater Lumberman, AFTBE THB WEDDING. All alone in my room at last! I wonder how fur they have traveled now; ‘They'll be very far when the night is past, And eo would If I knew but how.” How calm she wse with her eaititlike face! beyond the hill; hey wust *k to this place agaia. I'm alme so atill. If it we ihten, and rain! Oh, 10! for ae may not be at rest; ‘Some one, perhaps, is trav, to-night, in T hope that the moon may shine instead, And heaven be starry and earth all brizht. It is only one summer that she's beon here ; ‘It has been ms home for sevente-n years! ony x ot Ty NOW I8 THE TIME TO BUY. Saved and eplit Wood and {atone my?tr and cor. Pa OaLi COAL! Coals vides Siiceting repeal congas of Kate, Ketan | which wil! be sold at bottom prices, ‘Call early and leave your orders. Moved him more than she underst | LL WM. GUINAND, For him prayed for my sou! For him Lam kheeing witl | 683 La. av. and lst st., To lay ut his feet my shattered youl. i Between Band One I loved, and T love. Clove htm etal, Wharf foot of 34 st.a0 myt-ly aelgre than father, motiier, of live: Coax. My hope of hopes wa to bear his name, Sty Meaven of heavens to be hits wite JOHNSON BROTHERS. pame that ange!s breathe, ‘The words shal. not critason my cheek with shame. *Twould have be glory the name to wreath | In the princely heart from which # And the kiss I gave to the bri¢ His b: iL life and ight wrow God only knows how I pressed hy ‘That the kiss to her mizht be Cine { 2 wmerciat. The Execution of Solovictf. { The Paris Figaro contains an accoant of the | execution of Solovietl, the would-be assassin of | the Czar of Russta,’The prisoner (says the writer) was pale, but collected, and his expres- sion was that of deflance. Round hits neck was hung @ small black placard beariog in white letters the inscription “State criminal.” He WOOD. TELErHoNIC Coxnecrions, OOAL. With unequaled incites ana ‘edvantaycea for eo- arves, factory, extensive yards = & bout Rigo throughout the city, amd all in ne eam Fr to offer to our best varieties of at the very lowest Remember. we insure a strictly pure coal, f 2,240 pounds to the ton. ices avers nataepet ‘7th at. and 22] Pa. coat. Beat Quality woop. ‘wood sed trade, ' down unaided from tne cart tn which he been conveyed to the scene of execution, and looked fixed!y at the te2ffold, witch he immediately afterward ascended. The authori. | Ues took their place in front of him, and the troops presented arms while the sentence of | death was being read, the hangman holding the prisoner's night hand the while. Ivaa Froliot, | the executioner, is a murderer, who was col gemned to hard labor for 16 years, but whose | Sentence was commuted upon its acceptance of tbe office of executioner. His assistants were robbers, who gladly exchanged their prison life be, to draw a draft for temporary work of a more active and ex- citing nature. No sooner had the senteace been read than the beating of 30 drums reader- €d all other sounds inaudible. But a pope, cross in hand, was seen to advance toward the prisoner and address a few words to him. Solovieft merely smnlied, and mede a sign of the hand showing that he did not desire the approach of the Ras- Slan priest. The latter retired, blessing the prisouer, who bowed, turning his Lead aside the while, ard muttering the words, heard by the hangman alone, “Ido not want him; it would be useless.” Solovieff was thea covered with a long white dress, to which a cap was at- tached for the head, his hands were tied be- bind bis back, a stool was brought, and the prisoner stepped upon it. The executioner im- perigee greece Tope round the neck of the would-be regicide, and withdrew the Btocl The cord thtened with a sudden jerk, but the drop being very short, more than seven minutes elapsed before life was ex- Unct. During these awful moments the violent Contortions of the arms and legs of the miserable TD An gave signs of the death strugzie that was Powerful escort of gendarmes and Cossacks, took away the bedy and the crowd dispersed. DELAWARE ?EacHES.—Delaware, the land of ITS REMARKABLE VIRTUE and greet rnperiority over the common s'ow ‘Tous plaster and byrobe lester au at aber exer et bel the world over Cinos, Chemist iste, the ‘and the Public at LAMENESS AND WEAKNESS OF WOMEN. KIDNEY DISEASE. peaches! the land where during two months of be ag of the ad ae Se wy l~ where—in erate, in box wag- ons, At every station of the railroad that verses the of the Delaware water-shed one sees peculiar ge DOWD as wagons, square, C d roomy, unloading ‘thelr luscious contents. At the more co! nolge, tmubbub and confusion. One by one the peach Wagons come rumbling up to the the shout veamsters,and the cracking of whips. Alohg the roads in all direc- “dons rumble the peach wi each ina litue cloud of dust, like a thunder storm, way station. of treight cars, hanging around and talline after which is w luscious Odor of most luscious a In ‘New York the Delaware in Harper's Magazine for July. THE Most REMARKABLE Love Stoay of the summer is told by The Port Jervis Union. Four years ago, a gentleman of twenty-three won ances of Sit pens boar te us was not connected with any church, Tooked with a feeling akin to horror on anything ap- iat het lover was-a delst; coat be error, but he was not satisfied with her argu- ments. She finaily wrote to him a tear-stained letter bidding him good-bye ferever. The lady .. Hancock, @ citizen Ye,“ Sia pertain ee Pieter ret relieved ins few hours, and in @ ‘was perfectly hikes new A DISTRESSING COUGH. Qapcine Porous » oe Sree the morning soreness: WHOOPING COUGH. two of were in fore than one hour Then tried’ it'on the ANOTHER TUMBLE IN PRICES! mourned, bul tried to satisfy herself that ag a Two years tnsde. her more liberal thau she had been. The more she ogg ty me distrusted oer former de- el ally became = lover she had he lover tne, of religion took place in the city in which he was engaged in Suffice it to that he united with the Church, and ina shore time became a zealous member. He thought over the action of his former sweetheart in discara- ing him for his infidelity, and wrote her a brief note asking the privilege of once more calling on her. When she timidly ay for her revious dismissal of him, he, to —— fended her conduct, said she’ had been right, and in her place he would do the same. Her heart sank at these words. She confessed the great change in her sentiments; from bel a firm believer inthe Bible, she had discai “ne with roe in any revealed religion. leaded. 4 everything he et a sutra a i so. He feit that he not be yoked with an unbeliever, ——_______ is gi 8 and gave up. NATURE'S ANASTHETIC.—Several evenings Talgia, "After resorting t Bete Cotta eae Tr cold applications, etc., without obtatuing any Teller, Ilay upon my bed trusting that sleep might ing pain a, aad while T col sufle le the “tortures of the sce damned,” undecided tle of chloroform no he ft (wt or chop my off (with a decided preference, however, for the chloro: t me of what 1 had Hence. you see, I was not sim} temporart ol but get Bo - I wish, ouner SI 78 Woul is and report results.— (A, Forst in ‘Lowineille Medveal peg A Morrnine EaTer's Pet.—A lady offered $100 reward for the recovery of a pet white rat in the Syracuse Courier Sati . The re- porters learned that she was a morphine eater, and on a visit to her father, a respectable gen- — of Syracuse. The drug was taken to unger the influence of opium, the pet rat fell out of the bosom of her dress, where stie was in the habit of carrying it, and was killed by she has rat, New York to ol one. Her father says the was perfectly tame and devoted to Its mis- tress, who is rational all other subjects except this pet and morphine or opium. She says she was robbed of valuable rings while under the influence of the drug, but added: “I can buy more but will give $500 to regain my darling rate ttee He June 23d, §@ Don’t buy your a ir of gloves until after the 4th of uly. ig may need only one glove then.—[Ne Ww aera es r eight days wore re- '@~During January only corded in wi es, sunshine was registered during fourteen, daye of Peordary thers was Deve.” in December there were only 143 hOUrs of eunshine. forvistown He vention, wa iy exained np liadel. oe in Pi - nhs on Wedd . jessages sent through It ire-soom. WHITE PINE SHINGLES, No. 2. per 1000, 81.75 CLEAR SIDING, 3 inch (without a knot), DOr 100 ft. reeeneseeesereee eee: VIRGINIA PINE BOAEDS.......per 100 ft., 61.00 WE ARE NEVER OUT OF THESB! WILLET & LIBBEY, OORNER SIXTH AND ¥. ¥. AVENUE 3.W., myBtr Wasgmoron, D. 0. Newspaper Advertising Bureau. Sei TonSrin cer beac Eas: Newspapers. 10 SPBUCE 8T., HN. ¥. HE CELEBBATED AURORA LAGER BEBE, CBESCENT BREWING CO. I take pleasure in to my = the public in = Se tee Bu semhees ™ aa : mg am_DePet, 9-89 Frecgent ae, (SE CELLULOID TRUss AND sUFPORTE 8 aniae