Evening Star Newspaper, July 4, 1891, Page 14

THE EVENING STAR: WASHINGTON, D.C. SATURDAY, JULY 4, 1891—SIXTEEN PAGES. ‘A WHEEL IN IRELAND. From Killarney to Kilkenny On a Bicycle. THOUGHTS ABOUT TIPPING. One Person Who Declined to He Rewarded— In the Pléturesque Lake Kegion The Deso- late Path-of Evicting Parties—The De- erence of Population —Kilkenny's Cat May 21, 1891. w= THE AMERICAN GOERS ABROAD he finds that the tipping «ystem as it ex- fete at home is not a circumstance to that pre- vailing in European countries, and whieh has grown into so nnalterable a custom that.| Bowever opposed he may be to the principle of the practice, he cannot ignore it entirely. He | finds that servants at hotels, for instance | whose duties bring them in contact with the guests of the house, are a! ployed at a nominal um k seems to be under a “chance” contract of for emerges from bis obscurity tosee the traveler Off with the rest of the attaches of the hostelry. employment, At the very ndertaking to see the world, if we of the regular transatlantic English line of steamers, he in| confronted with the information that it is customary to fee the wait.-, who is dignified by the euphonious title of “table steward,” to nt of the equivalent of #2. Then there | ab ri.” more plainly the indi- | performs the of chambermaid. if you oceasionuly dr some of the swag. Next, | ‘smoking p into the PRAT CART. room to enjoy a chat and a “weed” after dinner. you are likely to fall «prey to the “smoke-room steward,” the individual whe jears away cigar debris to vour wants if you be biba- Voanly inclined. Lastly, some reprehensible persons place a subscription paper in cireula- tion for the enrichment of the chief steward, the king bee of the stewards of lower degree, and a committee of the ring- leaders corral you areaware of their deadly purpose, and you are forced to the al- ternativeof a flat refusal or transferring a por- tion of your wealth to « person of whose ex- istence you may not heretofore have been aware. Being neither a Midas nor a Crasus, And it being nite. powible to find the bottom of your pocket without throwing the lead (« nautical term acquired on shipboard), you wonder where it will ail end if this is only the beg-nning. PAYING THE COMPANY'S SERYANTS. You have paid what seers to you a quite lib- eral price for yonr passage, and proper and usual care for your comfort en voyage was necessarily inchided. Yet. in addition to the sam required by the steamship company, you find yourself called upon, by a custom, to the company's servants. If you become an in- valid the moment the vessel ‘reached open sea and thereafter required special care and atten- tion you would not object to properly sub- sitizing a steward or two, but tosalarving wev- eral men who have come in contact with you sim- pir im the perfunctory performares of their du- You may well have serious objection. It is said that these steamer stewards are very in- adequately paid. Perhaps they are. It is also @tated that the officers, more particularly the captains, of the ocean grevhounds (term used by those who have been across) are very in- adequately paid: but no subscription papers are circulated in their b nor do they stand expectantly about with’ soulful eyes speaking whole moroceo-bound volumes as the time draws near for your disembarkment Even the pedestrian or” bie: tenting himself with more modest xecomtoda- tions than those generally required by the great American tourist, finds that he can very nearly maintain the average per diem extra tips in- stituted on his six or eight-day voyage across the Atlantic if he sposed to follow custom liberally. The system has other fields than that in which the tourist finds it. An English commercial traveler told us that it is not unusual for the manager of a mercantile house to expect a “present” from the commercial man with whom he has placed And * it goes, condemned on all et holding with the grasp of an oc- it place in the business life of the oid TIPS FOR EVERY OxE. One is often puzzed to know whom to tip or Father who not to offer atip. Yet in all ourex- Tience we have not found more than a single ‘ b clined with thanks which an appropriation order to refuse @ tip. e ever should by chance discover such a, p ortalize Lim in some imi #4 of tipper th It was near upon the rapacious set ening. for she the term fait S ; she was 4 little bit over first-class fairy. However @eribed alongside Joan of A We don't know her na ‘Ae We wheeled al road the principal we! wall ou either b: r name be in- ‘=. But we forget; over as the hanting es, seen Shrough an aisle of wu burst ape Dismoanting. our “press the button, &c., forthwith trained upon the scone it occurred to us that we should not introdace ae the leading feature of the ture the bars of the intervening closed gate. iF momentary perplexity was removed by the appearance of our hervine from the cottage ad- ming, and in a jiffy the gate was open, afford an unobstructed view. We had chosen to regard people about gates as mercenary char- ‘acters and on this occasion were dispused to be laberal—but you know the rest. KILLARNEY'S POPULARITY. A great deal bas been said about the Killar- ney lakes, and they are certainly attractive and Pleasing in their surroundings But there are Very many lakes as picturesquely situated of which one hears much less. However, they are one of the popular sights of Europe and aiarity to make a Of the three lakes composing the Sain “She eapallest, the Upper lake, i the most while the largest, the Lower is | ecclesiastical wrecks may fairly wallow in ial to earth, still stands and grows taller and wider of girth from year to year—wherein it differs from man. who simply gets wider of girth. A person who dotes on ruins, old castles and m2 in Ireland. They are to be found alrfost any- where, in various stages of decay, the castle generally, of course, having "PI ropriate le- gends and the monasteries and abbeys long ac- counts of saints and bishops who had some- thing or other todo with the founding. Prom- iment among the ecclesiastical ruins are ur round towers, some of which, however, have been more or less “restored,” that ix ‘to say, repaired, patched up. These towers, some of which are as high as 125 feet and 60 feet in circumference at the base, are y to be found in conjunction with ehureh ruins, and evidently served the double pur- pose of belfries and watch or beacon towers. The peat bogs, the most extensive of which we saw just east east of Killarney, are the coal fields of Ireland. The peat or turf, as the Irish call it, 2 mass of matted, partially de- posed Vegetation of a rich dark-brown Dug out toa depth of three or four feet below the surface of the bog, in chunks of the size of a brick, a convenient size for throwing at the pig or a neighbor when hot pass, itis firet piled up to dry in the sun and wind before carting to market. What the peasantry will do for fuel when the peat supply is exhausted we will leave to solution by greater minds than ours, DESERTED COTTAGES. Deserted, roofless cottages grew common as we advanced eastward toward Dublin, telling of the eviction and the demolishment of the wellings to prevent the return of the evicted. he Trish qu . % nence that it does in British politics, a = the British government to act well and y to render ireland what it is naturally io be—-a happy home of a happy, pros- perous people. On every hand one meets peo- ple with sons, daughters, brothers or sisters in ‘Ameriky.” the land of milk and honey to the Irish people. One man said his sister was a “place calfed Brooklyn, near New York.” there, Brooklyn! Ench’ one who retarns for a visit to the old sod generally takes back with him to his new home some other mem- bers of the family, or a friend, perhaps his best girl, who changes her good Irish name for | another equally as good. From a single county some three hundred persons recently, within a period of a week, set out for the land of ti star «spangled banner. We may look for #01 new faces on the police force soon. THE DECREASE IX POPULATION. Since 1845, at which time the population was over 8,000,000, there has been « steady decrease, until it is now about 5,000,000. A decrease of 37:4 per cent in population in forty-six years! An average decrease of over 60,000 per year! Tipperary county, for instance, re- garded as one of the best agricultural coun- ties, from a population of 435,553 in 1541, has decreased 55 per cent. What hope can there be for prosperity when, as is fre- quently the case, the obtaining of land by lease costs nearly as much as the property is fairly worth at sale, and when rents eat up profits; mannfacturies, notably the woolen industry, virtually driven out of exi vantage of England, and chroni trade and business in general. WIG STREET KILKENNY. Yet, notwithstanding Ireland's troubles, chickens, geese and goats are plentiful, at least we have been kept busy shooing them out of the road, which seems to be their only feed- irg ground. Groups of shaggy. disreputable- looking donkeys, too, are frequent. Standing fenerally, batters front, as it were, a alight .ckward inclination of the earsand a peculiar guileful glance of the eye show that, like many other donkeys, they are pre- d to kick if excuse and opportunity offer. he donkey isthe only horse of the poorer classes, but, to use & popular expression, gets there and seems able to haul or carry most as much as the average able-bodied horse. The cow, particularly in the west and south- west, is generally of the Kerry breed. black, and no larger than a young heifer of the ordi- nary breed. A Mcppr war. Old soldiers of the Army of the Potomac may have had their famous—or was it infa- mous—“mud march,” but it could hardly have excelled ours to Kilkenny. From Mallow we were urged to continue down the valley of Blackwater, the water of which has a literally black appearance owing to the bog stream by whicheit is fed. The valley was so beau- tiful, they said. Well, perhaps it was beautiful, but we were kept so busily employed watching the road and keeping ourselves and steed right side up that we saw little scenery but the mud and puddles through which we labored. And did it rain? We longed for friend who accompanied us on a former tour and who possewed the happy faculty of being able to say a good word or two appropriate to such occasions. How we missed him! The inhabitants of Kilkenny and vicinity seem to breathe the spirit of the Kilkenny cats of old. Bantering remarks shouted at us as we pass are common, and there is even a disposi- tion among drivers to race us on the road, something not heretofore manifested. RACING THE CONSTABLES. We created a little excitement just below the town by racing a horse and cart, bearing, as it happened, two constables in all their war paint. Fortunately we had dry road ut last, else we should not have been in it. The driver whipped his horse into # gallop as we passed and away we went pelmell for a mile or more, gradually but surely drawing away from our competitors for road honors. People stopped to look, and seeing the constables jumped to the conclusion that we were wanted. Their sympathy was evidently on our side, and one old Biddy doubtless voiced the sentiments of all shen slle waved her arme frantically and shouted as though to speed us on, “Roon, ye divils! Roon, ye divils id Kilkenny is an interesting old town, with a modernized castle, but the Kilkenny cat seems rather scarce, and it was only after consider- able exploration of narrow, crooked streets, leading nowhere im partie lar, that we obtained & view of that classic anit we E. STEVENS. we > Pearls Saved #y Change of Climate. From the Atlanta Constitution “Did you know that pearls get sick?” said » well-known Atlanta jeweler recently. “They do, and like babies, they require « change of climate when their health is bad or else they cramble or die. I knew of a case once where a lady went into a jeweler’s witha magnificent set of pearls that were losing their luster and beginning to look dead. ‘These pearls are sic said the jeweler upon examining them, ‘and unless you take or send them toa decidedly different climate at once they will become worthless.’ They were sent off, and within’a mouth were as bright and pretty again as they had ever been. . a All Because of the Prevailing Styles. From the Chicago Tribune It was all the fault of the prevailing styles. ‘The two young men stopped in front of a counter that was piled up with neglige shirts, carefully folded, and began an inspection of them. There's about what you want, Jim,” said gre, pointing to a shirt witha pretty blue stripe it. But Jim shook his head. “Too much blue,” he said. Now, there’s one that's something like. How much is that?” ‘kee venty,” responded the dapper youth ine the counter. “Cheap enough!” said Jim. “I didn’t know you could get one for less than $3 or €3.50." “We have “Ob, yes,” returned the clerk. them as low as 69 cents. Will you take this one? t pr ‘Fifteen and a—excuse me. . What is the size “OLD FORTY’S MASTER.” From the Overland Monthly. I HAD NOT BEEN THOROUGHLY GOOD- natared about this journey from the very outset. Fifty miles of staging in January is not to be desired st a@erminal to travel in any country, but lumbering over a ‘dirt road” in this remote region of Virginia seemed a dismal climax to my discomfort and ill humor. Any mark of confidence evinced by Cam- mache & Cassen, attorneys-at-law, in selecting me for this business was quite balanced by the very decided disinclination of everybody else to undertake it. “There are many reasons, Mr. Crofton, why ‘we especially desire to confide this matter to you,” Mr. Cammache had explained, with the delightful plausibility of an astute lawyer. “Our former client, Basil Crofton, has not been heard from in twenty years. He wasa man of Jarge fortune when the war brokeout, What he may = = whether he is even living, we cann ver. Repeated notifications of & legacy from his aunt fail to bring = response. If he is dead reverts to another family misfortune im refuse all communication with his old compan- ions and the outside world. You are to use your own discretion in the means of communi- ei swith him. You are a relati dma} teaucy eee aga Sa it new ed bequest of his aun' When:the seuior member of our law firm had said this he had summed my instructions and the motive of this wintry pastoral. it was three days agone, but my journey, somewhat fatiguing and altogether novel to oné accustomed only to the human sights and sounds of large city, would absolutely end in a few hours. van had gone down, the dusk gathered, the stars gleamed and the moon crept up, all in the self-same stealthy, breathiow nce. I wondered if anything here ever be- came ncisy, boisterous or severed this spell of profound serenity. The driver dispelled my speculations. “If young mastah’s lonesome p's you'd Father ride on the box 'long wid me,” he T betook myself to the proffered seat most willingly. In default of matters of greater in- terest, I noted that the driver was a si elderly mulatto man, unmistakably well- and naturally philosophic. Apparently, he felt no curiosity in reference to myself and an Utter indifference to all the world out of sight tage route. “How far are we from Crofton Arms?” I in- quired at last. For the first time in the desultory conversa- tion the driver answered with some show of animation. “Five mile, sah—five good mile. But ef you be er gwine to git out dere it's er pow'ful po’ pla ‘Taint er patchin’ to what it ‘usen to be,” he explained favoring me with a scrutin- ziing glance, as if somehow 1 suddenly became of interest in his sight. “Your master was the landlord, I suppose?” was my careless comment. “No, sah, my master was de Crofton which owns Crofton se Basil Crofton, sah, en anybody tell, you dis yere little tavern ‘longs to de Crofton “state,” replied the driver, cracking his whip savagely, but without the smallest effect in accelerating the speed of his horses. “‘My Marse Blaise was de richest man in dis whole bressed country ‘fo’ de war,” he went on, in evident pride, “end ‘fo’ de trouble up'n tuk him; but he'd nebber had to hung his head ef he'd er listen to Forty—dat's me, sah—name's Forty-two, sah.” “Fortescue, I take it.” “Yes, sab,” he interrupted upon this subject, which it fell to encourage. “Oh, yes, sah, Crofton was er gran’ place in them days, wid lots ob niggers to jump ef Marse Blaise or ole miatis so muc! esuquinter eye at’em. Our family wur de werry fustest in de land,” continued Forty, straightening himself in conscious aristoc- racy. “De bes’ ob quality was my Marse Blaise. Come ob er mighty heap ob gran'fathers en madams, dressed in wigs en ruffles, en diaments on 'em, en ebery las’ one ob ‘em sot in solid gole frames, en cotched up 'n er row on de Coaches full ob comp'ny use 'n ter roll up from de big gate by de dozen, en dere room fo’ ebery las’ head ob “em,” be added, while something like exultation illuminated his solemn countenance. “Ef it wur eummer dey'd set on de po'ches, or de walks, unner de trees, en Marse ise he'd call fo’ me: ‘Hello, Forty, you rascal! Bring me de mint julips, you scoun- drel!’ Christmas times dere’s aj toddy, en egg-nog. en wine po'ed out fo’ eberybody. en de niggabs flyin’ 'roun’, much ez dey could do ter wait on de comp'ny. Our white folks allers et wid silber dishes on de table. Yes, young maetah, dere was sheep by de hundred in de pasture, en hosses by de dozen in de sta- ble, ‘fo’ de war, but we'll neber be wuff dat much agin, Forty sighed with a regret that would have been gretesque if it had not been pathetic. “My Marse Blaise was er big, gran’ man, wid pow'ful gran’ ways,” exclaimed Forty, an was wonderful how his eves kindied and bent old frame straightened, “en so's his cousin, Cunel John Crofton, only dey wan't noways er like—noways at all.” “How did Col. John differ from. ter?” I inquired, noting a depreciativ “Cunel John wur de oldes’ en de de two, but all ¢ wunst peared Ii of er notion ob stayin’ at de lodg. Blaise en old mistis, Nobody knowed why de cunel up ‘n’ stuck to de family like, which he'd nebber done in his » ‘ceptin’ and savin® sther places!" ‘the reason of this sudden rly, garrulous with my pur- g Be our mas- ith the tip of the whip and started them into a spasmodic briskness by sho, sah—it all come out in de ernd, when it tw'a'nt er bit o' use how much we knowed. "Iwer all erlong of pretty Miss Chev, ez wur gwine ter marry Marve Blaise. Dere was crowds ob ladies trippin’ up and down dem big, broad steps inter de hall, but de gayest and sm: t was Miss Chevellen—quer name, wa'nt it? ‘Longs to de breed, though; she's ole mistis’ niece, en dey called her Miss Chev, jes’ ez dey done my ole miss in her time. She wur pow'ful beau- tiful, wid dem brown eyes, en yallar-brown hair, en straight en supple ez a willow saplin’. Ef she jes’ guv yo ‘good morning.’ dere way er kinder sing in it, ez hung by you longer'n de bes’ chune on de fiddle and de banjo. Marse Blaise wot or awful store by his cousin, and Miss Chev could coax de debil out’n him when his blood was up, by one look ob her eye, or touch ob her pretty white hands. ‘De wuddin’ was sot for Jinuwa’y,en de house wur chock full er comp'ny, way back when de fust fallowin’ fo’ wheut was jes’ "bout done; en de fust frost pry open de chincapin en chestnut burrs. "Long wid de fo'most ob de fall hunters come Cunel John, pow'ful anxious to git er shot atter rabbit, er pat'idge—only he didn't keer pe'ticler to go fur from de house ta look fo’ it. “Atter Marse Blaise would be donc gone out 'n de chestnut woods tother en’ er de place shootin’, all de yether gentle'em long wid bim, heah’ ud come Cunel John, whistlin to nisself, en evingin’ his gun, what was ez fullez when he started cut wid Marse Blaise, in such a bilin’ hurry to shoot so'thing. Miss Chev she's ullers some’ere conwenient, en Cunel John he'd tote her out’en de shrub- bery, er inde big drawin’ rooms, en they'd stay talkin! eraralkin’ de whole bressed long: » Towamdsjevenin’ Marso Blaise en his comping (ed i ait See bate ciieok fal er. years. or scra, en 2 he'd ug’n tax ’em wid leavin” him. dyou fellows go? he'd say, pre- tendin’ to be pow'ful put out. I Icok for ou tell sundown, den I guy it up an’ come “I ‘gins to notice as Miss Chey nebber said nothin’, en nebber tole nothin’, long er whur she'n de cunel had bin befo’ Marse Blaise. As fo’ old mi wa'nt er noticin’,en ef she was Cunel John war dat glib talkin’ eahe'der made : these last miles the ‘domain of his mas- ter. In the winter moonlight his dark face seemed to wear an expressjon of intense pa- thetic regret. “I tuk notic ez things wa'nt all right, en one hen dey was mostly er laffin' in de big drawin’ room I see de cun'el set his glass er Fos Dated en kinder hore! = do’. in’ egg nog en tode company. Miss Chev’ was sick ob er headache, but i knowed by de look of him ez Cunel John wa'nt atter no good, so I up'n seta de tray full er handy to Marse Riaise, an’ slips atter “Cunel John struck ont fo’ de rose garden, ich were lonesome nuf in winter. Twa'nt no time befo’ Miss Chev herself com down de walk, wid = white scarf ober ber heed. De Canel jes’ put his arms roun’ bos drawed — vy close = i) <a tty slick ler-l 7 Bair, I "nctved ‘Maree, Blaise nebbor “dar. sent She nebber fo’bid him wuns' done fo'got my Maree Blaise. “ My darlin’, says cunel John, ‘when is this toend! Do you think Iam made ob stone? When will you go away wid me?’ “She Jes” look up at him wid dem pretty eyes Base on mays en pott on owect ox of Suis in or as “It must end soon, Jack—I cannot bear it— Oh, Jack, I cannot be so false to everybody.’ be. de cun’el kiss her agin. If. Marse Blaise could jes’ er cla; eyes on him he'd = heart clean out, but he didn’t spicion nuffin.” “Will you go tomorrow night, love?’ still holdin’ her in his arms, like he's kinder used ter it. ‘I have it all arrai to have horses pad here at the foot of the garden tomorrow night at 10. Youknow there are people coming and they are to dance, #o nobody will observe our absence. Consent, my precious darling. What does it matter about Blaise? He can never love v looked jez’ ez lovin’ at de cunel ‘el did to her. “«"Do you think so, Jack” says she. ‘Perhaps he will not care much, and Iam so miserable,’ 8 she. ‘I am sure of it. Chev, my beautiful. Blaise cannot love as Ido. We must go and be happy,’ says de cunel, wid dat mighty smoov — er his'n. “So dey fix it up to run away ‘cross de line into Norf Caroliny de next night at 10, whe: der dancin’ was gwine cn, en de fiddles en t brines 6p banjos would keep der white folks en niggers from er hearin’ ob ‘em. “1's hind ole mistis’ boxwootl en heard ebery word ob dat business. I knowed af Marse Blaise cotch er bref er Cune! John’s doin’s wid de lady he's so sot on havin’, en was goin’ ter marry him come dat Chuesday two weoks, I'se sartain en sho’ dere wouldn't be hyar er hide lef er Cunel John top 0” dis seth. “Dey went on back to. d+ house; Miss Chev slip inter je back do’, en I’s handin’ apple- jack roun’ agin when da cunel walk hisse'f inter de room, mighty ancousarned like, en lowed he'd been chattin’ ole Simon long er de wedder tomorrow night. “I's kinder oneasy in my mind all day, en atter de white folks hed et dinner I ‘gan to see ‘Miss Chev wa’ i "ny come dat day, mostly gwine to stay till after de weddin’. Miss Chev's cheeks were red ez hot couls, en her eyes wur shining like diaments. Dar wa'n't neber nuffin ez could hole er candle to her in de state, but she beat herself dat night. She's so pow'ful pretty, dancin’, ez gay ez er bird. Marse Blaise mos’ beside hisse'f, he's dat pleased, kuse she's 60 soft en kind to "him. Atter bit I’gins tose dat de Cunel war droppin’ back to de side do’, but Miss Chev she was er dancin’ wid Marse Blaise. All twunst she flung her frock agin er chur en to’ er gret long slit in it. “There now, Blaise,’ she says, er holdin’ it up, ‘see what you have done. I must go and have it mended.’ Wid dat she run off upstairs, en I tuk notice dat de cunel had done drop -higse'f out'n de do’, en was gone, en I tuk no- tice, too, ez it wur ten minutes to 10. “Well,” Isez to myself, ‘Forty, you'y to be ene ef you tree dat coon.” I jest’ steps up to de major— Miss Chev’s father—en ax him tostep out. Marse Blaise, he's er calling’ to me, ‘Forty, you rascal, where are you?” I nebber let’onez Iheerd. Me’en der major went out, only he’s slow en grand like in his motions, en I's turrible feared dey'd git er start on us. Now, you see, de major wur er gret hunter, so I sneak Marse Blaise’s gun out et 1 go. a. What the devil are you after, Forty?" says ‘Why, sab,’ says I, ‘don’t you ‘member dat big gum ‘tree back er der rose garden? Ef we kin creep up ter it, dere’s de biggest ‘possum sittin’ up in dat tree.” “The devil there is,’ burst out de major. ‘Give me that gun, Forty, en go ahead ata double quick.’ “Weil, sah, I didn't lose no time er gettin’ dere mighty quiet, so’s not to skeer dat 5 We come out'n de bushes spang 1 John jis er helpin’ Miss Chey on de critter’s back. She'd done got inte ber bes’ trabling dress. “De major, he ‘gins to cuss de cunel, en claps de gun ter he shoulder, en swars he'd kill him. Miss Chev she turned white ez deff. She jump down from de saddle, en hung on to de major, er beggin’ pitiful fo’ de cunel. “Vell, sah, ‘tween de gun en de cussin’ de major made sho't wuk er dat runaway bisness. He make Cunel John clar out dat minit aback er de critter he'd fetched, en he tole him ez he'd shoot him on sight, if he eber sot eyes on him in Virginia. Den he tuk en made Miss Chev promise to marry Marse Blaise; ef she didn’t he was er gwine atter de’cunel en shoot him anyway. “Miss Chev knowed he'd do it ef he said so. en he'd done said it. She shack en trimbled like er leaf, but de major wur in er towering rageen dere wa'n’no foolin’ with him. So she gin in en promise to ma ise; but it wur mighty faint, 's' if she's about to die, en she look turrible struck down, en white en skeered. “De major carry her straight back to de house, en sh 's glad ‘nuff to sneak up ter her room widout nobody er ketchin’ ob her. “Well, sah, de wust er it was, dat no sooner had de major done shet de do,’ den he called fo’ me ter come en show him dat possum. I tole him de scrimmagin hed done driv off de possum. “You best not tell this cussed affair to po’ Blaise,’ says the major to me. ‘It will all come right, an the po’ boy would be badly cut up.’ ‘T won't aay nothing” sue 1; ‘but, young anas- tab, 1 wish to Lord I he'd tole my Marse Blaise, but I dida’t—no, sah, I didn’t—twa'n't no use den; but I wish I'd er tole hm.” Forty stopped abruptly. “My Marse Blaise” evidently held the fore- most place in the affections of the old servitor. He forgot to crack the aged whip, rejuvenated by a new horsehair lash—neglected to turn the lank mail bug or remark on the signs of the moon as to the weather. “Well, you see, sab,” he began again, “Cunel John he jes’ cleared out, en nobody ‘couldn't tell why, ‘ceptin’ en savin’ dat he'd done it afor’ en nobody hedn’t time to was'e on him. Miss Chev she kep’ to her room purty much tell de weddin’. Dey said she's ailin,’ and twur de trufe. She done tu’n white dat night, when de major pounced down on ‘em,en she kep’ er tu’nin’ whiter en whiter. | Her pretty eyes grow’d bigger en bigger. It seemed like she done guy up singin’ en latin’. Marse Blaise wur skeered out'n his wits long er Miss Chev. He'd hang er roun’ her en watch tell she'd get wor- rited’en say, ‘Do go away, Blaise; you will have me always; why can’t you leave me in peace? “Marse Blaise set it ali down to her bein’ sick, and didn’t pester Ler no way, but lef’ her ter herse'f en got as patient ez a lamb. Come to think ob it, dunno how sech er maste’- ful man, nebber ‘use'n ter be crossat, like Marse Blaise, could er been so bumorin’ en mild like, but you see he's so mighty set on her, dat wur it. “All de fust famblys in de state come to dat weddin’. Our white folks was mighty gran’ | any in dem days. Dere was feastin’ in de ouse, en feastin’ in de kitchen, en feastin’ down in de cabins, and feastin’ eberywhar, but de bride, young mastah, she wur mo’ like er ghos' den befo’. Marse Blaise war happy ez er king, savin’ fo" Miss Chev er lookin’ 's if she's gwine inter her coffin. Dat wur jes’ befo’ de war. Po’ Marve Blaive!” “I suppose she didnot go into her coffin,” I commenced ns a reminders “and no doubt ‘she was very happy.” “You dunno nuffiin’ about our white folks, young mastah, ef you has any such er notion. Dey'd been married "bout er year when de baby was born. "Twur called Chevellen kase twa'nt no boy. Marse Blaise hed done tuk his regi- ment to de war, en o' course I went erlong wid him. he! to look sorter lively after de baby com Blaise wur de cunel of er critter regiment wid Stuart, en dey couldn't nebber have ft de notf if dey hadn't er had my Marse Blaise. Me'n Marse Blaise whepped de norfern sogers every time we fit ‘em. “De soufern confede'acy wouldn't nebber tuk aback seat ef de heart hadn't been clean squashed out er Marse Blaive. Like ez not he'd er gone squar inter New York en whi de whi norf ef it hadn't er bih fo’ what tuk de life out’n him.’ “Why was it that he did not whip the whole north?” I asked the question without the “He ‘smallest scintillation of a smile. Forty answered it in equal gravity. had de heart squashed out ‘n him, my Blaise had. Yas, young mastah, "twar ‘erosst de k’entry, we heard ‘bout riders from de norf er makin’ er raid in dis yere section. Marse fas’ ez I could set hoofs to de pike. ‘Watch de Forty,’ says he, ’en p’otec’ yo" mistis. T'll get a squad of cavalry from the station and come down on them. Mhere 1 am; kee You scound’el you,’ says he. “Well” ead, T ride. Kt ‘or fall gallop, but J wa'n’t no mo’en safe inter de Lodge fo’ niggabs en white folks was runnin’ roun’ like mad, skeered to deff kase de norfern cabalry hed crosst de ribber ‘long by de olelimekiln en was er comin’. ). done he's was mighty mild en not kind in’, en 80 mons‘ous beautiful az I couldn't he'p er gapin’ at her. “All twanst de pike tu’ned blue wid dem norfern so} big gate wur flung open, en dey Het pe ares ‘en ober de shrub- bery clean round de main house, hind en front, €n sidgs en wings, like de whol creation am oy . ‘Bein’ ez Marse Blaise tole me ter p'otect ole mistis en de fambly, I run out ter ". _Twan't er bit er use—de big do’ wur ‘open en dere in de middle ob de hall was Cunel John. His saber drug on de flo’ en what wid de long cabalry boots en pistols en big obercoat be lone lock mos’ ez gran’ ez Marse Blaise ine’. “Dere he stuck, a callin’, ‘Chev! Chev! mighty loud en onsultin’ like to de balance ob us. But in er minute Miss Chev came er run- nin’ down de steps, eyes shinin’, her curls er flyin’, en her cheeks flamin’ red ez wur when he seen em dat las’ day, en ex dey hadn't nebber been since. : «Jack! Jack!’ she screamed, en flung her- self inter ‘ms. “He up'n carry her inter de drawin'’ room widout takin’ no count er nobody. “I've come fo’ you, Chev, my love, my dar- ling!’ says Cunel John. ‘I've risked my life fo" you, en this time you must go with me,’ says dat'cunel, de wickedest Crofton in de breed, young mastah, en no mistake. “She jes’ lay her head agin his shoulder en let him kiss her en hole her in his arms, en sbi done flung her arms roun’ his neck, er cryin’ itiful. Nea, yes; I'll go this time, Jack,’ says ‘love only you, and it breaks my heart. Take me with you, Jack! Don't leave me.’ ‘Den he tell her dat he nebber leave her, nebber part wid her him wunst, now he'd tuk en all,en’ dey hed only demselves to thank. "Twan't no time befo’ dey rid on back to de ribber, en when dey went, young mastab, Miss Chev rid on er big black horse. out'n our own stable, ‘long side er Cunel John. “De cunel keep er smilin’ to hisself dat sly, nasty smile, like he'd done de bes’ t'ing on God's yerth. Miss Chev wur ‘ginnin’ to turn red en white, but twur easy ter \e wa nt gwine ter leave Cunel John, en wa'nt nebber comin’ back-—-nebber, nebber. I seen it den— she war desput, en "t keer fo’ nothin’ ceptin’ dat she's er gwine wid Cunel John. ‘Sho done fo'got Marse Blaise, en fo'sook him en de baby, en sho didn’t nebber want ter seo him But she did—yes, young masta, she did see my Marse Blaise agin.” 5 “How did it happen that she sawbim again?” Tasked. ape epee “It happened jest’ dis way, sah,” he re; dejectedly. ‘Dey started back to de ribbur er gallopin’ like ole Nick war atter ‘em. De fordin’ place was mighty bad, but Cunel John had mos’ ‘spatched all de men befor’ him; dey was er fordin’ de ribbur, which is mostly dangerous when folks dunno its holes. At twunst, wid er mighty yell en er fishin’ ob sabers en er firin’ ob’ guns, Marse Blaise hisse’f wid er company of soufern rs aback dere critters, come er tearin’ en er junderin’ out'n de pine timber right down on ‘em. Cunel John en Miss Chev wur jes’ er wadin’ der hosses in. I'se long en seen it, young mastah, kaso done met Marse Blaise sbon after he happen ter fall in wid dis yere troop on yether pike, enI sent ‘em down de dirt road to de ribber. “Marse Blaise wur pale ez deff, but he wa'nt no paler’n Miss Chev. He didn’t see nobody ‘ceptin’ her'n Cunel John. He flung hisse’f on Cunel John like er tiger, en Cunel John stood up ter him like another tiger. De cunel knowed it wur deff fo’ one er’em. He knowed dere wa'nt no mo’ chance fer him, lessen he firstkilt my Maree Blaise. “De sun was jes’ "bout gone, but it tuker las’ shine on dem ‘two long sabers crossin’ one snoder, ener flashin’en er quibberin’ roun’ in—dey tuk her from x from dem fo’ good dem two heads. ‘I’wur a turrible fight twixt | |i dose cousins, wid debbils, en tigers, en deff, en dere desput white faces. Den Cunei Jobn flung up his arms. his saber fly high in de airen he fell face forward down on de wet sand, wid ‘Marse Blaise saber run clean thoo and thoo his heart. It wur done in no time,while de men fit en yelled. “Er minute atter Cunel John fell on his face dead, I seen de black hoss ez Miss Chev rid er gailopin’ down de road home, wider empty saddle en de rains er swingin’ loose roun’ de critter’s neck. Marse Blaise seen it, too, en like ez not he seen all I seen, but he ain't neb- ber said de fust wo'd yet long er what his eyes lit on dat sundown. “Miss Chev seen Marse Blaise en de Cunel when dey flung onter each odder. She knowed dat it wur dere las’ fight, en she look like sho wur dyin’. She toss de reins ober de beau'es head, tak her foot out’n de stirrup, byt she nebber move dem big shinin’ eyes from dem two cousins. She nebber seen nor hearn de bullets er whiz: roun’ her. “Miss Chev jes’ looked at ‘em "bout ez long ez you moughi fotch er couple er breffs, den Iseen her swing de critter roun’ out’n de ford and fling herse’f down inter de ribbur. Miss Chev nebber come up no mo’. She'd drawed de hoss to one er de wust places en toss herse'f in. 5 “Like ez not de critter, strugglin’ en strainin’ to save hisse’t fromer gwine down, tromp on her. Like ez not she tangle up in her long ridin’ dress. Leastwahs, Miss Chevy's white face were smit wid deff befo’ it went down under de water. “Kase why. young mastab? It nebber come up agin. Dem eyes were de beautifullest evber I seen, but dey nebber look at my Marse Blaise no mo’, en dey nebber want ter. No, young mastah, dat's de trufe, dey nebber want ter.” Just then a light far down in the distance betokened our proximity to the wayside inn known as Crofton Arms. Forty cracked his whip; the horses quickened their slow trot, as if the gleam of the lamp vivified their small energy. +: “war gwine on to fo’ days when we foun’ Miss Chev, en put her in de fambly graveyard wid her grandams. Like ax not dey nebber foun’ out what she done, en kep’ comp'ny wid her in hebben, but dem ez comes atter won't nebber ‘sociate wid Miss Chev en Cunel John, tho’ dey is de bes’ ier quality. “My Murse Bla ve pass by de Lodge gate wid- out tu’nin’ in. He halt his critteren says to me: ‘Forty, tell my mother I have gone back tothearmy. Ican't see my home now. God knows I wish I may be killed and never see it. You stay here a few days and do what you can for her.’ sez my Marse Blaise, en pinten’ ter de ribbur, but nebber looking dat wey. “I scen what he meant, en I staid till after I beyard. foun’ Miss Chev en laid her in de When I went to camp en ‘gins to tell h wave his hand en mys: ‘Forty, be s cannot bear it” “L gins to notice ez his hyar be tu’nin’ white, en he nebber smile, en nebber blaze out wid, ‘Forty, you rascal! Forty, you ‘fernal scoun- T knowed den de heart wur clean gon’ out'n him.” $ Drawing 9 Cracked horn from under the seat old Forty suddenly trilled a few whéezy notes, which, echoing among the hills with an un- earthly screech, must bave rudely disturbed the repose of the birds and sent the rabbite scuttling through the leafless underbrush in sheer fright. “Your%uaster has fared badly to have such ca misfortores and become poor, too.” The quaintly told tale had awakened deep sympathy tor Rasil Crofton. Moverthelens, may remeck was # mistake. “Who said my Marse Blaise war up Forty in indignant weorn. “He ain't po’, sab; he ain't got sech er host of niggahs roun’, but he lib iu de ig house, en hez gran’ doin’s, en hez wine ebery day, en he'n Miss Ellen ‘ain't nebber et on nufin ‘ceptin’ silber dishes, en de stables is full er horses. Marve’ Blaise an’t po’; no, sah; he lib like er lawd yet, sab, wid dae ‘mutton en ole hams—en 2" bristled de big | inc! libin’ er Mise Chev herse'f; but white folks ain't po’, sab, dey still flings money roun’ en libs gran’ en sum| - The stage came toa haltin front of one of those diminutive wa; inns found at long distances in the secl: portions of Vi “T'm er gwine fo’ miles furder, sab,” confided in a low tone, “‘but I jes’ went er say datef he was all shot up en crippled in de war, my Maree Blaise ain't po’, en he libs gran’, en flings his money roun’, en drinks de best er wine. Good night, sah—hope you'll get ter yo" folks tomorrer; dere ain't no fix sent up ter meet you here tonight, ez I see.” ‘The stage lumbered on down the road, van- ishing quickly out of sight. The altogether comfortless aspect of the a induced @ swift adventurous re- ve. Touching up my toilet somewhat, I set out. Te m me wa fica A 7 neither nor circuitous. a great gate an "ak soon loomed n sight. The one fovusnd totes fallen lame in its hinges long ago. The other had evidently been unoccupied for years. No one interfered with my entering the long ave- nue, or, indeed, wandering wherever my will ined. Ithad been a fine broad drive in ite day. Ancient oaks stood like gigantic senti- on each side, but the wash and dash of storms and that indefinable subtlety of utter neglect had marred the graveled surface. house came into full view with premedi- tated abruptness. As Forty had averred, it was 8 gran’ big house” in dimensions, Never. spacious and imposing as it was, and only fitted for the residence of a rich planter, such as Forty described his master, — aye see reek desola- mn and neglect pervaded mises. Shutters flapped loosely or were quite, minus, porches: ted from the stone walls and seemed to balance themselves on one foot pre- paratory to toppling over. The crazy steps creaked a warning as I went up on the pi and lifting the brazen knocker made im- mense drear old house resound with my blows. No one answered. Apparently the place was held ‘under magic. spell of silence or the more promie one, of forlorn abandon ment. in and again brass dragon's head had thundered on the heavy oaken door ponel, wholly in vain. Fora man of wealth, thought Crofton’s household very limited. Strolling aimlessly around the main building to the rear of wing, I looked “across at the stables. They might have sheltered a score or twoof horses in the old days, but the roof had fallen in, doors van- ished and their torn and abraded sides related thelr own history of wreck and disuse. Neither hunter nor racer, thoroughbred nor draught horse, tenanted the broken stalls. But for Forty's assurance of ample wealth, I must have succumbed to @ conviction of Basil Crofton's abject poverty. In despair of admittance or even discovering a trace of the master, I was about to return to the inn, when I observed the glimmer of light ins remote window of = sinall wing, Passing under the window to the nearest door, the subdued tones of voices drifted out to me—then a low laugh, sweet, musical, ee ti e door opened in zesponse to my knock, and a young girl stood in the doorway. Her ical figure and proudly poived head, with ite shining folder: rown hair, was dis- tinetly defined in the light of the room. Behind her a large, handsome man sat in an invalid chair, upon’ which a pair of crutches rested. His snow-white hair and unrelaxing ity gave the impression of advanced age. it was Basil le He read my letter of introduction and re- ceived me with that fine courtesy and genuine hospitality charming and novel in this work-a- day age. “‘1his is our cousin, my dear Ellen,” he said, in his pleasing,sonorous voice, through which, ‘a melancholy’ minor chord always oc “Ob, papa, Iam so glad!” exclaimed Ellen, with engaging candor, while she glanced at me from under very long lashes. “I have never seen a dozen strangers in my life, and I am so giad that you are my cousin.” Never had I found myself so bent upon es- tablishing the tie of consanguinity. I traced our pedigrees to their remote point of unity with a patience and perseverance surprising to myself at least ‘A new compassion began to me for Basil Crofton. The won loveliness of Ellen was but s reproduction of beautiful Chev, the woman he had loved and trusted and the woman who had deceived and forsaken him. How could he forget the charm of the bril- liant, changeful face and sweet, winsome man- ners, “Give your cousin some tea, Ellen,” be minded her. ay aT cea The dark eves traveled to the clock, and for an instant a faint anziety overcast the glowing brightness. “Forty is late tonight,” she enid in an irreso- lute tone as she passed out into an adjoining room. The door remained ajar mainly beeause the knob had disappeared and the latch w: broken. I listened to her moving about lightly and rapidly in evident preparation for tea with her own hands. The opportunity now presented itself for business. Drawing ont my letter from Cam- mache & Casson I handed it to Basil Crofton. His face flushed violently; he gazed at me with strange intentness. “Why I read this?” he asked severely. “Because it is important business,” wasmy nse. “T hhave all the other letters,”” he went on in pained Perturbation. “They are unopened. I ave no business If they are inquiries from my old friends and relations I cannot answer them. If they desire to see me again I cannot face them. If that is the purport of this letter oe = “It conveys intelligence a juest, and must have an answer,” I assured = Basil Crofton glanced at it in an_absent- minded, dejected way His high-bred counte- nance neither changed nor brightened. “T hope you will pardon a broken-down old he began ina reluctant, half-convinced “if I leave you long enough to read this g his crutches Basil Crofton hobbled away, the letter in his hands, the seal unbroken. I stood on the faded rug, luxuriating in the heat of blazing logsrestingon brazen fire dogs in the great open fireplace. ‘The thump of Basil Crofton’s crutches bad barely died away when a door opened and some one came into the next room. “Oh, Uncle Forty, I'm so glad you have come!” Ellen Crofton exclaimed in her sweet mezzo. “Tooby sho’, missy, en I's brung you mo’ meal. Co'n bread is pow'ful po’ eatin’ fo’ my Marse Blaise,” Forty said, in a deprecating, sympathetic tone; “but dey owe me er dollal ‘at de stage office ‘en I had to make out : it _no count jes’ now, but I knowed 't wur de dollab’s wuff er flour ez my white folks "ud have to do widout. Heab’s some tea and sugab, missy.” & “Oh, you always bring just the right things, Uncle Forty! What would become of us but for you!” Ellen returned in alow grateful toné, ending in a merry little laugh. “Papa don’t know the chronie state of emptiness from which our larder is always suffering,” she added with a pathetic “and only think, has a visitor.” ulated Forty 10, missy? “A cousin from New York,” she expldined; “the very first relation I have ever seen, and he is 80 me and pleasant.” “sho’, missy, he am de Crofton breed, en dey am de ‘fust in de land; but cousins ‘nebber fetch Marse Blaise no luck. But like ex not dis one aint crossed with no bad blood. Now, missy, if dere's company, you jes go in en set down im you’ chair like eF gran’ lady, en say et tea, TL ‘upen bev de cook ‘am gittin’ sommat on de table.” “But you ure so tired, Uncle Forty. Let me help you and I'll be a grand lady afterward,” gently remonstrated Ellen. “No, mo, missy, tain't quality not to hev ser- My | his crutches oyst n—en—— Forty paused in the enumeration of luxuries which veemed to afford him intense delight in | these ‘Pardon ‘ “I merely Judged so because ae were im- Poverished by the war, and you are not with jm. g i=} iH) smile dawned even upon Basil Crofton’s hab- itually grave countenance, expecially when Forty suj ted his apologies by an eager. “En we done lock up de silver dishes in de —- dey're so mighty gran’, you know, “Forty, your efforts to maintain our > ability Wil’ not require each. arblobing mendacity in future." his ‘master said warmly: “It bas been years since the luxuries you name, or any luxuries, have found a place on my table; but we will have them again, and the silver, too, for my aunt purchased the family plate when it had to be sold yearsago. She Festores it as a part of her legac’ “Fo' God!” burst out Forty. in momentary forgetfulness. “My Marse Blaise rich again!” “Yes,sufficiently rich for you to give up your cold drives, and come back to me, my faithful Forty, to take your ease and grow old with the master you never deserted.” That was nearly four years ago; Crofton Lodge is now the pleasant, hospitable mansion of yore. The fields are again verdant with wheat and tobacco and abundant crops. The prestige of the fine old place is somewhat re- Stored. The master is unchanged, and al- thongh Ellen is my wife, we have never pre- upon him to spend a winter in New York. He absolutely refused to quit Crofton Lodge | before the first of visits. Forty holds his accustomed place as valet to “Maree Blaise,” but resents the imputation he ‘once sought of being a stage driver for love of or lying. young mastah,” he asserted with a ve Tse Blaise’ Y eustained in every other d master's history. “I done drav dat atage coach Kase my white folks hadn't nufin to lib on. I wan't gwine to let on dat my Marse Blaise war po’. I'ser lyin’ fo’ sho’, kase I knowed de mos’ ev his silber wur in his hairen de bes’ ev his wine war in de spring,en he hadn't no in him; my Marse Blsise won't nebber no mo’ heart.” ———+0- _____ POWEK FROM AKTESIAN WELLS. Utilized in Jacksonville for Getting Rid of Troublesome Sewage. From the Florida Times-Union. The great economic value of the sulpburetic force lying beneath Florida's flat soil was yes terday afternoon practically demonstrated by the board of public works at the Water Works decided success. The pump is for the purpose of lifting the sewage of the lower parts of Springfield to the higher sewerage system of the city. This is effected by an ingenious and simple piece of machinery. The crude force is in the big artesian well back of the water works. Few people appre- ciate the immense power in one of these wells. For instance this, and, in fact, every one of the artesian wells along the St. John’s develops a power of twenty-two pounds to the square inch. Near this well is a spherical cistern of 10,000 gallons’ capacity sunk in the ground. To the cistern runs a pipe conveying the sew- age of Springfield. ‘This sewage is deposited in this cistern by gravity. The problem now is to make the force of the well lift these 10,000 gal- Jone through an eight-inch pipe over Hogan's creek to the sewer on Laura street. Upright in this cistern is a centrifugal pump. There is « wheel in connection with this pump which if turned will do the pumping. Ten feet off {sa turbine wheel inclosed in an iron box. The revolving rod of this wheel has another wheel on the outside of the box. An eight- inch band connects the centrifugal pump wheel with the turbine wheel's wheel. Running from the artesian well to the turbine wheel is an eight-inch pipe. Turn the water on and you've got the whole business operating as pretty as can be and the water or sewage in the cistern is thrown out at the rate of sixty-six gallons per second, four hundred gallons per minute or the ten thousand gallons in twenty-five min- utes. The turbine wheel developsa ten-horse power, and more than one can be placed to a well, and each wheel adds ten-horse more to the power. The whole machinery runs almost ab- solutely without wear and tear, and any farmer who needs a force to grind his cane or corn can bore a well for £1,300, and have a turbine wheel and machinery for say $500 more. The centri- fugal pump, turbine wheel, well and all, cost the board of public works $1,900. How His Excellency Got Even. Berlin Letter to the Philadelphia Times. A funny story is told at the expense of Dr. Wekerle, Hungarian minister of finance. His excellency has a country seat at Pilis, near Buda Pesth, where he is in the habit of spend- ing his Sundays. His only piece of luggage on these occasions consists of a small handbag, which never contains anything else but the regulution bottle, four handkerchiefs and a traveling cap. Returning on Monday to the pital the uninister met a friend, a gentleman med Von Fischer, who was carrying « bag exactly the counterpart of his excellency s valise. Herr von Fischer smiled theughtful smile as he noticed t ity of the bags and then he winked at the minister. “Why, my dear baron, what's up?” queried the minister. The baron leaned forward and whispered: “Why, any bag is tilled with smuggled Turkish tobacco. You will be good enongh to shield me against the custom house spies, I hope?” The minister looked serious. | “I will do nothing of the kind,” he said, and when the two gentlemen arrived at the Pesth depot the Minister and said: “My friend desir Jot of Turki 4 tobacco he bi to pay duty on « in his bag.” ‘His excellency is j cried the baron, who mean} ¢ bags with the minister. ¢, [have uo contraband articles about me,” and he opened the bag in proof of what he said. ‘The minister looked perplexed for a moment, then he resolutely grabbed his friend's bag and said to the official: “Well, assess me for the tobacco, but be quick about it. T have no time to lose.” ‘The official quickly acted on the suggestion, and the minister paid 3 florins and 50 pf into the treasury of his own departun he jumped inio the carriage and drove off, shouting out his thanks to the baron for his prevent of twenty pounds of excellent tobacco. Polly's Fourth. From Smith, Gray & Co.'s Mouthly, ‘Polly want a cracker?” Bet ver life! Isit a cream water or 3B beckoned to a custom house official | | NATURAL HISTORY FALLACIES. Most of Them Completely Exploded, bet Some Still Survive. From Forest and Streain. Less than century ago, in the time when men had not penetrated so deeply into the stady of nature, there was a great deal of Poetry and romance connected with animal life that had been slowly but surely driven out ae the study advanced. Travelers returning from unexplored re- ions told strange and incredible stories sbont the wonderful wild animals they had encounteted; but in bas rent asunder these fanciful fales ‘and left only cold facts in their places. * Tam the owner of a natapal history written by one Riley and published about the year 1789, I+ isa quaint old book and ite yellow leaves and odd type furnish the reader with a number of strange accounte. Ai othe re may be found something like the followin, “The digestive apparatus of the ostrich is a1 to be very strong indeed, that bird not only being able to digest such things as stones, bite of glass and iron, but it ie even said that it akes « good meal of a bed of live coals.” We laugh at such a statement, but no doubt atthe time of publication it was stated for @ fact. What right have we to laugh? It is not long most cvery one believed the porcupine juills like arros nid able to defend itself te nimal well | offensive Little creature that curls iteelf ina i proach of an enemy, trusting solely to its ‘overed skin for ton. Men who have lived only a short time before us did not question but what the prett, fal swallows that skimmed so lightly o'er blue waters in summer buried ves im the mud at the bottom of our rivers and ponds when the season was over to await the return of spring. It has been buta gation has shown ti family made up of the owl and the rattle appy fam first idea ferent since investi- bappy e dog, the burrow- is not only not a ts, lived in perfect harm: yy families of the modern cit- but our faith in this belief is somewhat n by the following. which may be found in Wood's * According to popular belief, these three creatures live very harmoniously ‘together, but obser ha ‘l sh | te poor ow An easy subsistence on the young prairie d We were satisfied with this for « time, judge is rut the astonishment created when Elliott . in one of his latest writings, makes the statement in speaking of the burrow- “Lhave found colonies in Kansas and hier states, in all cases occupying the deserted burrows of the quacruy th at play lyzed with fear for the time being; artic Published Jevery day in our ornithological Papers and magazines which go to prove that Owls cau ace equally as well Uy day af by night. still an undecided question whe 2 ir prey or not. Trerterm backwoods these old stories a ieved in; ignorant classes cling wi fondness to them end will mot leart any- thing different, and down in our own hearts do We not all of us cling to them, more or les? Do we not bate to give them up, and is it not | with little regret that we are forced to ac~ knowledge that the porcupine does not shoot his quills, that the bird of paradise really has feet and lege, and that our national bird, the White-beaded eagle, is far from the noble bird We ouce thought him to be? —-—_ +e+ — ‘The Fallacy of Fish and Brain. From Temple Bar. Asa result of personal experience, I may state that some years since I lived for a period of forty days, so far as what is called salid food is concerned, solely on fish, with, of course, the addition of bread (no potatoes were eaten during the period); but I cannot recommend that mode of living. I discovered before the forty davs bad expired that fish was not the staff of life. In the course of my it I not only, yn acter, Sloe fat head clearer or my thoughts and feelings alert than when subsisting on more food. Whilst living upon fish only, one feels a kant,” a craving for “something you don't kuow what”—that is to say, you canno’ give a natne to your desires: nor does the wear off as You continue the dietary; at all event, in my case, “custom came not to the rescue,’ | after forty days had expired, 1 returned | flesh pots, not all at once, though, being con- | vinced that caution was necessary. |__Oue popular fallacy in connection with fish | may be noticed, namely, the oft- ae |sertion that the eating of thet food | increases brain power. No one who has studied the subject can possibly believe the assertion. Awan might eat a huge portion of fish ever day of his life, and on the day of his death, the quantity ‘of phosphorus (the brain in- Vigorator) consumed were to become visible it | would not amonnt to more than might prob- ably suftice to tip a couple of lucifer matches. Communities bave existed that lived almost solely on. fish, but these ichthyo- phagists were certainly not famous for intel- ctual attainments. Nor are our fisher vil- jages. in many of which much fish is presum— able consumed, the seat of any great amount | of brain power. None of our fisher folks are remarkable for genius, or even what is called common sense: their views of life and ite re- sponsibilities being shrouded in e baze of superstition, which they lack sufficient strength of mind to see through. No fishing community, so far as is known to the writer, has given to the world great man. Men of mark—poets, preachers; lawyers, war- rors, philosophers and physicians have ema- hated, in Scotland at any rate, from all clasees except the fishing class. ——_<er—____ Dashing the Hopes of the Church. From the Chicago Times. ‘Three years ago a wealthy old hoosier farmer died leaving will which provided that his entire estate should go to the Cumberland Church at the end of five years from the tes- tator’s death. unless in the meantime his only son—a lusty bachelor of forty—should marry and bave issue, in which case the property should revert to the new heir or heirs. The son married a few months after the old man's faueral, and last week a young doctor was called ‘yy to officinie at a happy of “The ‘pon event which ruined the financial hopes littie Cumberland Church congregation. ~ new sou and heir.” remarked the physician the other day after recounting the f¢ ng facte, “is about the smallest boosier who ever aw the light of day. But the proud father is the happiest man in all cbristendom. A‘ter survey- ing the little visitor for the ‘first time, be stopped dancing about the room long enough to ead, gravely, “Pretty small, eb, Doc?” “Oh, I don't know about that,’ I replied hesitatingly, as if somewhat in doubt. “But not too small, eb, Doc?’ |. no; certainly not.” jot too small to live, you know, Doc?” ““Lcertainly see no reason why the should not live and thrive.’ jonest?”