WEEKLY COB V ALUS GAZETTE
CORVALLIS. - - - - JUNE 18, 1880
THE DEVIL FISHING.
The devil Bat by tbe river's side
The stream of time, where you'll always find
him
Casting bis line In the rushing tide.
And landing his fish on the bank behind him.
He sat at ease in a coy nook.
And was filling his basket very fast.
While yon might have seen that his deadly
boos:
Was differently baited for every cast.
He caught 'em as fast as a man could connt;
Little or big it was all tbe same ;
One bait was h check for a round amount,
A Congressman nabbed It, and out he came.
He took a Jem that as Saturn shone,
It sank In the water without a sound ;
A woman caught It who long was known
As the best wia purest for miles around.
Sometimes he would laugb, and sometimes
sing.
For better luck no one could wish ;
And he seemed to know to a dead sure thing
The bait best salted to every dsn.
Quoth Satan: "Tbe fishing is rare and fine !"
And he took a drink, somewhat enthused ;
But now a parson swam 'round the line.
Who e'en the most tempting of baits refused.
He baited with gold, and with flashing gems;
He hung fame and fortune upon the line,
And diessing-gowns with embroidered Hems
But still the Dominic made no sign.
A woman's garter went on tbe book,
"I have him at last," quoth the devil bright
nlng. Then Satan's side with laughter shook.
And he landed the preacher quick as lightning.
A TRAMP.
That is just it. I was a tramp! In the
light of to-day I hate to admit it, but I
must. I had been a machinist, with a
pretty, gentle wife, good wages, a pleas
ant home; and then the hard times came.
Hard enough they were to millions be
side me, but I did not think of them. I
had more means than many others I
knew food, if it was coarse, fire enough
for warmth but whit I wanted, cried
out for, raged that I could not get, was
delicate living and luxuries for Annie,
for she was dying. I know now nothing
could have saved her; consumption is
helpless and hopeless; but one day when
I went down to the Charleston steamer
the day she sailed, to adjust some little
matter in the machinery that they
thought out of gear, I saw the wife of
one of the firm for whom I worked up
town brought on board to go to Florida
for the winter.
She looked a little like Annie; her eyes
were clear and gray too, and her face
wan and sweet. She was wrapped in
soft shawls and lying back in a chair car
ried by two servants; a kind-faced nurse
was with her and her husband beside
her. I had a glimpse at her state-room
as I passed through the cabin, for they
were arranging it so that she might be
settled before the rest of the passengers
came' aboard. It was like a nest, crowded
with comfort. If I could have stolen
that fur-lined cloak and that swing-chair
I would have done it; as it was, I swore.
What had this woman done to have all,
and my patient wife to have nothing ? I
kept thinking of all this; brooding day
and night as wages grew lower and work
less, and Annie faded away. She was a
good woman, that wife of mine, and not
a bit afraid to die; but she was afraid to
leave me in the furious bitterness of my
condition then.
One day I came home and found her
paler than ever. I had brought her an
orange, but she could not taste it. I sat
down by the lounge and she put her
thin, white hands in mino.
"Prank," she said in a whisper, "when
I am dead try to be good; try to know
God. I couldn't talk about it, dear; but
I have prayed. God is good, Frank. I
know it. I am going borne."
I could not bear this. I did not be
lieve in it. God good, and Annie dying
while that other woman was saved by the
money I had as good a right to have as
Jim Lawrence! I knew afterward that
all the luxuries he lavished on his wife
were as useless as the coarse shawl and
common food I gave mine. She died
before Annie, and away from him. I
stooped down to kiss my wife and stop
her from such talk. Her lips were cold;
her hot hand grew chill in mine; her
great gray eyes looked at me with one
bright look' of love, and then closed.
Annie had gone away.
Wei!, why should I work after that?
I went to hear Communist harangues,
and learned the stale old story that
property was robbery. Why was Mr.
Lawrence rich and I poor? It was an
outrage! Society owed me a living, and
I would have it as well as he. I did not
stop to consider that he was once poorer
than I, and had worked successfully for
his money, or to ask why society pwed
me a living. I took the specious argu
ments of demagogues for what they were
on the surface. They suited my fury
against man and my ignorance of God
too well not to be adopted. It was May
when tbe Iridion Works closed but I
had not worked there for two months. I
had lived on what few dollars I had left
after. Annie was buried, and now and
then I got a porter's job, for I was as
strong as a horse. Still, I always ex
pected to go buck to the Works if' the
worst came to the worst, and when they
closed up for want of orders I felt as if I
had nothing to stay in the city for, and
like a great many others, I made up my
mind that, since I was born into the
world, it should give me a free living. I
went on the tramp.
I can't say I liked it at first; it was a
great while before I could sleep well in
a barn, or under an old musty hay-stack,
but I had grit enough left to persist, and
the lazy life, the fresh air, the trees and
grass and creatures, all so different from
the grimy shops and dirty streets, did
seem amazing pleasant. I suppose this
sort of life changed me inwardly, too. I
got to feel more like a wild beast. I
liked to see women shut and lock the
door when I came into the yard, and
hand out the food I asked for through
the window. How I used to scare them!
I don't wonder. I was big, dirty,
ragged, and full of bad thoughts that
showed out at my face and ran over at
my lips. I would not have stopped at
knocking down any man who came
across my way, but they generally let
me alone. After awhile I got a revolver.
It was never loaded, but it was just as
good to frighten women with, and many
a one fetched me warm food and drink
when I let them see it. I did like to see
them turn white and shiver. I was so
angry with everything that I liked to
terrify and hurt everybody I could.
"Hateful and hating one another." That
is about as near my state then as I can
tell it.
So I tramped all summer. I did not
think often about Annie. I didn't like
to, for good enough reasons. By Sep
tember I had got 'way up into Vermont,
among the hills, and began to think I
must work back to the city, when one
day I stopped at an old red farm-house
between Tyson and Ludlow to get some
dinner.
There was a little sort of stoop built
out under the roof of the ell part, and
the kitchen door opened into it. There
was a row of bright milk-pans standing
against the wall, to sun, and a bunch or
two of herbs hanging up by the door. A
great yellow cat ran away when it saw
me, and eyed me from under a bench in
the wood-shed. It was a poor place
enough, but looked thrifty and comforta
ble. I knocked, and a young woman
opened the door directly. I never saw
such a steady face; her eyes were brown,
and looked straight at you like a robin's;
her mouth was as pure and clean as a
child's, and her firm cheeks showed a
healthy, even color of pink. Her hair
was so tidv. so shining, her calico gown
and check apron so perfectly neat, that
she seemed somehow as if she was just
new, every way. I did not say anything
at once, for I felt so dirty and so bad the
minute I looked at her.
"Well?" she said, in a cool sort of
voice, "do vou want anybody.'
"I want something to eat," said I
arrufflv.
"We never give to tramps," she an
awered. without any chancre of tone.
"I've got to have it!" said I, as crossly
as I could.
"We have nothing for you," said she,
anite unmoved.
"Come, hurry up! I've got to have my
dinner, and you d better get it ior me
pretty quick," I called out with an oath,
taking out my pistol and handling it as a
threat.
Her eves srrew a little darker at that,
and she smiled; she was not scared a
mite; she only said, very quietly
"If a man will not work neither should
he eat."
"That may be your opinion, miss, but
it isn't mine. The world owes me a liv
ing and I'm bound to have it," I growled
' 'How so?" she answered. "What have
you done for the world to put it in your
debt?"
I couldn't answer this question; it was
like a blow in the face; so I swore again
and demanded some dinner.
"I shall not give you any," she said,
quite as calmly as ever. "If you were
sick, or feeble, or crippled, helpless in
any way, it would be different; but you
are a strong, likely man, and you can
earn your living just as well as can.
I looked at her slight straight figure.
"Do you work for a living?" I asked
"Yes; I have worked ever since I was
six vears old. 1 was bound out then,
and I worked at whip-braiding. I
haver 't any relations any near ones I
mean; there is nobody to rase care oi
me. I have to work, and I am glad I
can."
I swore a very common oath, calling
on God to punish me if I would stand
that, if I were she.
Her face flushed.
"Don't do that again !" she said. "If
you want to be lost call upon Satan; he
hears such requests gladly. God is your
Father; he does not like to punish you
even if you ask him to; he'd ever so
much rather forgive you.'.
I never was so taken back.
"Look here," I said, after a moment,
"don't you think it's outrageous that a
pretty-behaved girl like you should be
working for a living when there's thous
ands of women no better than you be
rolling in their carriages?"
"No. God put me here, and them
there. God knows best."
"Well, you seem to think God knows
a good deal. I claim to know some
things myself; and I believe folks all
have equal rights."
"Do you?" she said, "so do I; some
rights. Bights to get ready to die and to
serve God while we live."
She stepped out of the door and
picked up a red leaf from the grass.
"Can you make such a leaf as that?"
she asked, holding it out to me.
Why, I knew I couldn't ; and so did
she.
"Till you can, I expect you had better
believe God knows more than you do."
I turned and went out into the yard.
I couldn't stand her talk, but I could not
eret away from it.
I never seemed so mean to myself be
fore. Here was I, strong healthy, even a
skilled workman, tramping about the
country begging ! I never had called it
begging before, but I knew now what it
was, for I seemed to look out of her eyes.
About God : well, if there was a God
he must know more than I did or he
couldn't be God ; perhaps I had made a
mistake after all.
Jim Lawrence must be a rich man be
cause he had more brains than I, with
the same chances; and who was to blame
about the brains ?
I sat down by the little pond there was
near by, and fell to thinking, when all
of a sudden I looked down into the
water and saw a tramp ! a big, dirty,
ragged tramp.
Good Liord ? it was me !
I wondered that the girl had spoken to
me at all, and then I thought what An
nie would have said to me like that.
The blood seemed to come to my head.
I tried to be honest inside, and look
things square in the eye. I could not
help seeing how little good I had done
myself by leaving work. I used to be a
good-looking sort of a fellow when I
cleaned up of a Sunday, not like this
great brute staring up at me out of the
still water.
I couldn't do much that minute, but I
could wash my face, and I did.
It was just a beginning, you see; then
I got up on my feet and tramped off
toward Ludlow. An old woman a mile
further on gave me some bread and
milk, because I asked for it civily, I
suppose, and by night I had got on to
the next station below Ludlow, and see
ing some hands at work loading up a
freight car, I put in and helped. One of
them gave me my supper for that, and
let me sleep in the barn; it did seem bet
ter than begging.
The next day I sold my revolver and
got a jacket, and before long I got a
place on the freight line where I could
work my passage, I knew, for I had two
dollars left after buying the jacket.
I found the Iridion Works shut up
still, but I hunted out Mr. Lawrence.
I told him all about it all but that
girl and he gave my hand such a
grip!"
"My wife's gone too," he said; and
then he sort of choked. Somehow, for
all he was a rich man with a great house
and I a poor devil of a tramp, there
seemed to be something we had to
gether. I remembered his wife's great sad eyes
and her tired face; money hadn't saved
her after all, and his business kept him to
home; he didn't have hold of her hand
when she died. i
Well, he sort of cleared his throat
then, and he said:
"I'm just going to dinner, Reed;
come around to my office on Front
street in the morning, and I'll find you
a job."
And he said it so hearty like I knew he
meant it.
He was as good as his word. I got
work from him right off, and after a
while, when I could buy decent clothes,
I took to going to meeting; for I could
not get what the girl said, when I swore,
out of my head.
I have got a Bible, too. I knew Annie
would like that; but I had to shut it up
quick one day when it opened at a sen
tence about "the horrible pit and the
miry clay." 1 had been there myself, you
see!
Sometime when I have laid up a little
money and I guess it won't be long
first, for when it is all said and done I
never was one to drink nor yet to gamble
I mean to go up to Vermont and find
that girl, and maybe I can have a home.
I hope she wont know me again. I hate
to hide anything from her clean, clear
eyes; but I don't see how 1 ever can tell
her I was that tramp. Christian
Union.
Fuss and the Sparrows.
The other day a number of gentleman
were sitting in the detectives' room in
the City Hall when an English sparrow
flew near the window, peeped in, and
darted away again. Capt. Holzworth,
who saw the little fellow, said that when
ever he saw a sparrow it reminded him
of a little scene which occurred in his
yard one cold day last winter. The
sparrows, it seems, ascertained the fact
that there was a knot-hole in the gable
of his house and took advantage of their
knowledge by taking possession of the
hole and a portion of his attic, where
they passed the winter as snug as bugs
in a rug. The Captain's wife has a warm
spot in her heart for birds. So when the
ground was covered with snow, and the
little fellows ran a risk of starving to
death, Mrs. H. would sweep away the
snow and spread upon the ground a fine
repast of crumbs. The sparrows soon
learned to depend upon her, and told
their friends what a fine landlady they
had. In consequenee hundreds of them
congregated daily about the Captain's
house and partook of his charity. Uiose
to the spot where the birds were usually
fed was a pile of bricks, and upon this
pile the Captain s cherished mouser used
to station herself for the purpose of
watching for prey. As soon as the birds
would get comfortably settled about
the crumbs the cat would pounce upon
them and invariably get a tender spar
row for dinner. Finally the birds be
came accustomed to the cat's mode of
procedure, and would be on the watch
whenever they were feeding. They were
so alert that "the cat would hardly get
ready for a spring before they were up
in the air and out of danger. One day
they were eating as usual, and the cat as
usual was watching them. Like a bolt
of lightning the mouser jumped into
their midst, but they were too quick for
her, and escaped unhurt. Miss Tabby,
not discouraged, mounted the pile of
bricks again and awaited their return.
The sparrows, after flying about for
some time, finally settled upon the fence
at the foot of the lot, where they held a
long and interesting confab. After chat
tering away for several minutes, they
cautiously returned to their crumbs and
resumed their eating, keeping all the
while a sharp lookout for the enemy.
After the cat had become satisfied that
they were too much interested in satisfy
ing their appetite to think of her, she
made another spring. The birds were
up in an instant, and instead of flying
away as usual, they formed themselves
into a hollow square and charged upon
the foe. Some got upon the cat's back
and scratched and picked with all their
might; others flew right into her face,
while the balance made it interesting in
the rear. The cat was so surprised at
first that she stood unable to move. The
birds became more and more infuriated,
and fought such a savage battle that
they drove the foe down the garden path
on a full gallop and under the barn.
They returned to their feast and were
left to themselves the balance of the win
ter, the cat making herself scarce when
they put in an appearance. Cleveland
Leader.
The Guileless Witness.
"Do you know the prisoner well?"
asked the attorney.
".never new him sick, replied the wit
ness.
"No levity," said the lawyer, sternly.
"Now, sir, did you ever see the prisoner
at the bar ?"
"Took many a drink with him at the
bar."
"Answer my question, sir," yelled the
lawyer. "How long have you known
the prisoner I
"From two feet up to five feet ten
inches."
"Will the court make the"
"I have, Jedge," said the witness, an
ticipating the lawyer, "I have answered
the question. I knowed the prisoner
when he was a boy two feet long and a
man five feet ten "
"Your honor"
"It's a fact, Jedge; I'm under my
oath," persisted the witness.
The lawyer arose, placed both hands
on the table in front of him, spread his
legs apart, leaned his body over the ta
ble and said:
"Will you tell the court what yon
know about this case ?"
"That ain't his name," replied the
witness.
"What ain't his name?"
"Case."
"Who said it was?"
"You did. You wanted to know what
I knew abont this Case his name's
Smith."
"Your honor," howled the attorney,
plucking his beard out by the roots,
"will you make this man answer ?"
"Witness," said the Judge, "you must
answer the questions put to yon."
"Land o' Goshen, Judge, hain't I bin
doin' it ? Let this blamed cuss fire away.
I'm ready."
"Then," said the lawyer, "don't beat
about the bush any more. You and this
prisoner have been friends."
"Never," promptly responded the wit
ness. "What ! Wasn't you summoned here
as a friend ?"
"No, sir. I was summoned here as a
Presbyterian. Nary one of us was ever
Friends he's an old line Baptist, with
out a drop of Quaker iu him.
"Stand down !" yelled the lawyer in
disgust.
"Hey ?"
"Stand down."
"Can't do it, sir. IU sit down or stand
up-"
"Sheriff, remove that man from the
box,"
Witness retires muttering : "Well, if
he ain't the tbick-headedest cuss I ever
laid eyes on." f Pes Moines Register.
An exchange praises a very large egg
which it says was "laid on our table by
the Rev. Dr. Smith." Brother Smith
seems to be a layman as well as a
preacher.
A HEROINE OF ROMANCE.
His hair was white as snow, but his
round visage was rudy still, and his
black, beaxj-iike eyes glittered as with
the fire of youth.
"Capt. Dulnare, will you never grow
old," said his friends, which saying in
terpreted, meant that he would be hale
and hearty to the last, when death would
take him suddenly, with no worrying
prelude of lengthened helpless decline,
as might reasonably be expected, as he
had already passed his allotted term of
three score years and ten.
The beautiful girl at his side was
known as his daughter and prospective
heiress.
Virginia Dulnare was shapely in figure
and not too tali. Her features wei e ex
quisite, her lips scarlet, her eyes large
and brown, and her silky hair like a
fleece of gold.
Just now the young and flushed face
was hidden on the old man's knee.
"Do you really love the poor fellow
whom they call Hugh Girard?" asked
Captain Dulnare, in a fond, disappointed
whisper.
"Very dearly, papa," was the smoth
ered reply.
With both his white withered hands
he lifted the dainty, blushing face, and
looked steadfastly into the big, wistful,
brown eyes.
"Virgia," he said, in those firm, stern
tones that no man ever dared to disobey,
"it is my wish and will that you marry
Sextus Weldon. You think you love
another, but at your age love is but a
lightning flash of passion and fancy. I
know best what will make you happy.
Therefore I have chosen your husband
for yon."
"I distrust and dispise Sextus Wel
don," returned the girl, passionately,
springing to her feet. "It is your money,
not me, he cares for,"
A strange look wavered over the
round, ruddy visage of the old gentle
man. "Another romantic hallucination, my
child," he said. "The young man idol
izes you. Do you think your old father
does not know the signs of love. And,
my pretty lamb, Sextus is very rich, and
I would like to have you the wife of a
worthy man when I am gone."
"I had rather be poor and contented,
papa," sobbed the child.
Then the old man's eyes grew stormy
with the anger she feared.
"You ungrateful girl ! how ungrateful
you will never know till I am dead.
Have I not been kind to yon ? Have I
ever asked you to do anything that was
not for your welfare? Have you not
been happiest when you pleased me
most ? What is the experience of twenty
compared with seventy ? Virginia, prom
ise me that you will give up Hugh
Girard, and pledge yourself to Sextus
Weldon when he asks you V
"I promise," answered the awed and
weeping girl, and then with a tender
kiss Capt. Dulnare sent her away, being
well pleased.
What varied and momentous events
are oftime crowded into a single hour of
a lifetime. Before the sun of that day
set, Virginia wore on one lilly-white,
rose -tipped finger a magnificent diamond
ring the symbol of her betrothal to
Sextus Weldon. And scarcely hajl the
cold, yellow circlet grown warm on her
finger before Hugh Girard came for the
decisive answer he had expected for many
weeks.
There were passionate words on the
bearded lips of the handsome, blue
eyed man, but a single gesture of that
sealed hand stopped that utterance.
He looked into her face. That face
was icy white, and the brown eyes were
like the stars of fire.
"I understand, Virginia," he said
slowly, "they have sold you for gold.
You loved me, but you were weak. God
help you, darling !"
And so Hugh Girard went his way, and
Virginia Dulnare fell on her knees,
weeping piteous tears in the twilight
dusk.
A strange sound aroused her.
They were calling her to her father's
chamber.
Trembling, shivering and heartsick,
with a strange, portentious dread heavy
on her heart, she obeyed the summons.
Capt. Dulnare sat ao she had left him. in
his easy chair; but the frost-white locks
that straggled over the crimson velvet,
framed in a bloodless, rigid face.
Capt.. Dulnare was dead.
L There was a mournful time the
necessary inquest, the death watch, and
the rather pompous funeral but it
passed as all things of anguish and de
light must pass into the world of chances.
Then came the reading of the dead
man's will, and the settlement of his
financial afiairs.
And with these gross matters of busi
ness and lucre, mere came to tne paie,
stricken Virginia, a terrible disclosure.
Captain Dulnare s large liabilities,
secured by heavy mortgages, and his
floating debts swallowed up everything.
The heiress m prospective was utterly
penniless.
But that was the smallest sorrow.
For by papers of proof left, Virginia
was proved to be a child of adoption.
She bad been left when a baby on tbe
rich man's door step, and he had reared
her as his own.
And after three weeks of grievous 'em
barrassment, Virginia was thrust out
into the world with no hope except what
she had fixed upon Sextus Weldon. He
only came once, and his tones were
altered and too supercilious.
No matter what he said.
But Virginia's sweet face flushed, and
she tore the betrothal ring from her
shaking hand and gave it back to one
who was not loth to receive it.
Then she went into the world to win
her bread not an easy task for one luxu
riously reared.
She thought she could do dress-ma King
nicely; but to every store and shop to
which she applied she was greeted with
the one answer:
'Work is rather slack just now, and of
course, what we have to give is given to
the employes who have been with us
longest."
It was from the doors of one of these
palatial places that she tottered one day,
weak from hunger, and on the. marble
steps sank down in a deathly swoon.
A lady in velvet and silk with, plumes
of gray sweeping over her silvery hair,
had just ascended from her coupe. She
saw the prostrate form, and looking into
the drawn, white face, started.
"Put this child into the coupe and
drive home," she said, abruptly, to the
liveried groom.
The man obeyed, thinking that of all
the mad freaks of his honored mistress
this was the maddest.
So, when Virginia awoke from her
long still swoon, she found herself in
quaint, old-fashioned chamber, and not
alone.
"Where am I, and who are yon?" she
asked faintly, of the statelypman who
bent over the conch.
"You are with one who will never for
sake you, my child, even if you had
known sin and shame before I found
you," said the sweet-faced woman, hold
ing close the quivering hands.
"I have never sinned; but I have been
shamed to the soul by the frowns of pov
erty," answered Virginia, while the
hectic grew hotter on her cheeks.
"Be calm, dear, and listen to what I
have to tell you. When I saw yon first
lying like one dead on those cold, granite
steps, I loved you. You looked, Vir
ginia, as my husband looked when he
lay in his coffin. I found you name
marked on your clothes. It was the
name of a little child stolen from me
years and years ago. While you have
been lying here ill I have made a happy
discovery. Can you guess what it is ?"
Virginia could not mistake the expres
sion of the fond, sweet, handsome face
bent so close to her own.
"You are my mother," she said.
"I am your mother, my darling," an
swered the lady; "and henceforth, for
Virginia Champney, there shall be no
more toil nor trouble, if I can pre
vent it."
And only for the memory of Hugh
Girard, she would have been quite
happy.
As the daughter of one of the wealthiest
and aristocratic ladies of the city, she
was perhaps more admired and sought
for than Virginia Dulnare had even been.
And so it happened one day that Sex
tus Weldon came to woo her.
' 'It was very cruel for you to refuse
me as you did. Why did you break our
engagement, Virgie ?" he asked, with
mock sorrow and humility. "I want you
for my wife, dear."
And with scorn in her eyes and disdain
on her lips the girl rejected his suit.
"The impudence of the fellow is
amusing," laughed Mrs. Champney.
"When Capt. Dulnare chose a husband
for you, he should have chosen more
wisely. I think I shall be a better match
maker, Virgie."
"Are you so anxious to lose me,"
asked the girl, with humorous naivete.
Mrs. Champney smoothed her grey
tresses, soberly.
"Virginia, you must marry sometime,
you know. But there is no reason why
you should not still remain my daugh
ter. I only hope that your future hus
band may prove as good and tender and
faithful as your father was. And now
put on your hat and shawl. I am going
to take you to see a hero of romance. He
is the son of one of the old friends of my
school-girl days. Once upon a time we
made a foolish compact, that our first
son and daughter should become hus
band and wife."
"Oh!" gasped Virgie, thinking of
Hngh Girard, and wondering, with a
shudder, if she was to be the victim of
match-making all her life.
"Well, this poor fellow fell in love
with a beautiful girl, who loved him,
but she rejected him for a richer lover.
In his despair he left his native place,
and in California - - that land of gold he
made a fortune. But with money came
misery also. He came home, and it is
said to die. Virgie, you are so sweet
and winning that I guess you can catch
this desolate heart in the response, yon
know. Then the old compact will not
have been made in vain."
Virginia listened with a sinking heart.
"I cannot marry this man unless he
asks me," she returned, bitterly.
"He will ask you," was the decided
response, as the big piebald roan was
reined up before the house.
Mrs. Champney led her daughter to a
beautiful room on the second floor.
"Listen," she said, pausing before the
door, which was slightly ajar.
"Virgie, my lost love! Virgie oh, my
Virgie!"
The color flew into the white cheeks of
the astonished girl.
"God bless you for this, mother!" she
said, rushing into the room where Hugh
Girard lay sick almost unto death.
"I am here, Hugh," she cried.
What words were said in that chamber
of illness, may not be told.
Virginia came out after half an hour
with a contented smile on her sweet
young lips.
"He will live?" said her mother, kiss
ing the blushing girl.
"Yes, he will live for me," answered
Virgie.
And somebody who witnessed the
grand wedding that occurred a month
later, spoke of the lovely bride, Virginia,
as a heroine of romance.
What was Paid fob Illinois. The
Chicago Tribune prints an old document
of considerable historic interest. It is a
deed of conveyance of land bearing date
of July 20, 1773. The parties of the first
part are ten Indian chiefs of the differ
ent tribes of the Illinois nation of In
dians, representing all of them, and the
parties of the second part are twenty-two
white men of Philadelphia and Pittsburg,
Pa., and London, England. The con
sideration for an immense tract of land,
including the whole of the State of Illi
nois and a good part of Wisconsin, is
thus expressed in the deed : Two hun
dred and sixty strouds, AM blankets, ooU
shirts, 150 pairs stroud and half-thick
stockings, 150 stroud of breech-cloths, 50
pounds gunpowder, iuuu pounds ieau,
one gross of knives, 30 pounds of vermil
lion, 2000 gun flints, 200 pounds of brass
kettles, 200 pounds of tobacco, 3 dozen
gilt looking glasses, 1 gross gun-worms,
2 gross of awls, 1 gross of fire-steels, 16
dozens of gartering, 10,000 pounds of
hour, 500 bushels of Indian corn, V hor
ses, 12 horned cattle, 20 bushels of salt
and 20 guns. These articles having been
"paid and delivered in full council, the
deed was signed and executed before a
French notary public at Kasaskia Village.
She Could Not bb Bought. A miser
who had "struck it rich" in one of the
Colorado districts put up at a Chicago
hotel a few days ago. He evidently had
journeyed East to see the world. He
was about thirty years of age, rough and
uncouth, like most miners, and dressed
in the permanent style prevailing in
Western mining towns that is to say,
he wore high-heeled boots, a pair of
pantaloons "picked a year too soon," a
wide-brimmed, soft felt hat and a red
flannel shirt. During his first meal at
the hotel a comely young woman who
sat opposite won his heart completely.
The miner went directly to the proprie
tor of the hotel and said that he wished
to propose marriage to the young woman.
By skillful manosuvering the latter was
informed of the romantic turn of affairs,
but, like a good girl, she wanted nothing
to do with a stranger. Taking another
tack,, the miner then approached the
girl's father, who, seeing that the miner's
proposition was in every way well in
tended, showed no resentment. The girl
was called to the room. No sooner had
she entered than the lover placed 50,
000 in money on the table, with the re
mark that if "the little girl would have
him thar's her wedding present." But
the girl refused point-blank and the dis
consolate miner went to another hotel.
Sara Bernhardt's Whims.
When Sara Brenhardt left the convent
it is recorded in The Theatres of Paris,
she hesitated between being a nun or an
actress. When she was at last an actress,
and perhaps the most notorious in
France, she suddenly felt that she had
missed her vocation, and that she was
really intended for a sculptor. She
called for the modelling clay and the
tools of the trade ; she took a few les
sons, and at the annual art exhibitions
s '.nee she has exhibited various pieces of
sculpture of varying merit not as ama
teurish and quite as startling as one
might expect. Her latest attempt was a
statute for M. Garnier's new Opera
House at Monaco, which that clear
sighted architect peremptorily rejected.
She passes all her days in her studio
when she is not rehearsing or riding rap
idly on horseback; but already, in spite
of her success as a sculptor, has she
turned her ever-restless intellect to the
sister art of painting.
In all this there is a certain savor of
merely meretricious sensationalism. The
very thinness of which Mile. Bern
hardt complains is sometimes exagge
rated willfully by the costume she
chooses, and gloves too full are deliber
ately wrinkled along the arms to increase
the attenuated impression. In all the
recklessness of character, in the sudden
freak for sculpture and painting, in the
balloon trips described by herself at
length in a volume profusely illustrated
by M. Clairin, in the hastily dictated ar
ticles contributed to newspaper, in the
eccentric caprices which give rise to
strange tales of a skeleton in her studio,
and of a coffin in which she sleeps, in the
willingness to sacrifice to the impulse of
the moment the demands of art, which
must be steadily sought and long wooed
ere it be won in all this there is evi
dence of conscious self-advertisement,
not to say a distinct trance of charlatanry.
Why His Fine Was Remitted. There
is a good story told about town, in which
Governor Blackburn figures quite prom
inently. A Marysville saloon-keeper,
Martin Grimes, was fined $250 at a re
cent term of the Criminal Court for
keeping a pool table, on which he al
lowed minors to play, in violation of a
city ordinance. Martin was a Federal
soldier, and lost a leg in the service of
his country. He has supplied the miss
ing member by a cork imitation, which
is so perfect that none but intimate
friends know that he is maimed. Acting
under the advice of his lawyer, Martin
visited H rankf ort to appeal in person to
the Governor for a remission of his fine.
Before going to the Governor's mansion
he unscrewed his cork leg and left it in
the care of a friend, and with a cane and
crutch hobbled into the Gubernatorial
presence. He told his story, showed his
honorable discharge from the army "for
wounds received on the field of battle,"
and was reading a long list of names of
distinguished Marysvillians appended to
his petition for a remission, when Mrs
Blackburn entered the room. Discover
ing that her husband and the one-legged
man were discussing business matters
she apologized and started to leave the
room through a door at the time elosed.
Martin Grimes is a shrewd sort of fellow,
and withal something of a cavalier.
With none of the grace of a Chesterfield,
but with all the instinctive politeness
which a courtier shows his queen, he
hobbled to the door, and with a Louis
XrV. grace swung it open for the wife of
the Governor to pass out. Dr. Black
burn noted this, and as Martin hobbled
back to the table, rose to his feet,
grasped the old soldier's hand and cried
enthusiastically, Grimes, 1 shall cer
tainly remit your fine, and my only
regret is that I have not the power to re
mit the Commonwealth Attorney's fees
also. Corr. Courier-Journal.
Profits op Poultry Keeping. A
correspondent of the Poultry World gives
"facts and figures " as follows, to show
that poultry pays : "One of my neigh
bors has for several years been experi
menting largely in poultry. His stock
consists of White and Brown Leghorns
and Light Brahmas. lie started at the
commencement of last year with 108 fowls.
He kept an accurate account of the re
ceipts and expenditures. They produced
7879 eggs. His total receipts in eleven
months for eggs and fowls sold, adding
what he had consumed, amounted to
$244 96; cost of feed and other expenses,
8117 85; leaving a clear profit of $127 11.
He had ninety-eight fowls on hand De
cember 1, which he considers worth
more than the 108 fowls he had at the
commencement of the year. He has a
pair of Brahmas that weigh 26 pounds.
Keeps his fowls shut up all the year
round. Has a large hennery, the house
fronting the south. Gives a variety of
food, such as corn, oats, buckwheat, all
in grain and wheat screenings, coarse
feed and corn meal. Also, feeds once a
day beef scraps, and three times a week
with onions and turnips chopped together."
JOB PRINTING.
-THE
Gazette Job Printing House
IS NOW PREPARED TO DO
Plain and Ornamental Printing,
As neat and Cheap as it can be done by any
Office on the Coast.
till Heads,
Letter Head
Mote headH,
stu euientn,
P. Ojcrammea,
Ball Tiefceta.
Invitations
Circular, r.
Boat aei rd,
VlaUlnff t arda.
Labels.
Dodger.
Small Poster.
Kuvelopes,
l.eical Blank1
Bank Hates,
snipping- Beceipis,
Order Books,
Dun,
Tag-.
Me., Ete
-Orders by mail promptly filled,
mates furnished.
Esti-
$15
TO $6000 A YEAR, or $5 to $20 a day
in your own locality. Ho risk, wo
men do as well as men. Many make
more than the amount stated above.
No one can fail to make money fast. Any one
can do the work. You can make from 50cts to
$2 an hour by devoting your evenings and spare
time to the business. It costs nothing to try the
business Nothing like it for money making
ever offered before. Business pleasant and strict
ly honorable. Header, if you want to know all
about the best piying business before the public,
send us your address and we will send you full
particulars and private terms free; samples worth
$5 also free; you can then make up your mind
for yourself. Address GEORGE STINSON
CO., Portland, Maine. l:31y 1
Rupture
From a Merchant.
Dayton, W. T., Feb. 10, 18T9.
W. J. Home, Proprietor California Elastic
Truss Co., 702 Market street, San Francisco Sir:
The Truss I purchased of you about one year ago
has proved a miracle to me. I have been ruptur
ed forty years, and worn dozens of different kinds
ot Trusses, all of which have ruined my health,
as they were injurious to my back and spine.
Your valuable Truss is as easy as an old shoe, and
is worth hundreds of dollars to me, as it affords
me so much pleasure. I can and do advise all,
both ladies and gentlemen, afflicted, to buy any
wear your modern improved Elastic Truss imme
diately. I never expect to be cured, but am
satisfied and happy with the comfort it gives me
to wear it. It was the best $10 I ever invested in
my life. You can refer any one to me, and I
will be elad to answer any letters on its merrits.
I remain, yours respectfully,
D. B. Bunnell.
Latest Medical Endorsements.
Mabtinez, Cal., Feb. 17, 1879.
W. J. Heme, Proprietor California Elastic
Truss Co., 702'Market street, S. F. Sir: In re
gard to your California Elastic Truss, I would say
that 1 ha'-o carefully studied its mechanism, ap
plied it in practice, and do not hesitate to say
that for all purposes for which Trusses are worn
it is the best Truss ever offered to the public
Yours truly, J. H. Carothebs, M. IX
Endorsed ly a prominent medical In
still te.
San Francisco, March 6, 1879.
W. J. Home, Esq. Sir: You ask my opinion
of the relative merits of your Patent Elastic
Truss, as compared with other kinds that have
been tested under my observation, and in reply I
frankly state that from the time my attention
was first called to their simple, though highly
mechanical and philosophical construction, to
gether with easy adjustibility to persons of all
ages, forms or sizes. I add this further testimony
with special pleasure, that the several persons
who have applied to me for aid in their special
cases of rupture, and whom I have advised to use
yours, all acknowledge their entire satisfaction,
and consider themselves highly favored by the
possession of the improved Elastic Truss.
Yours truly, Barlw J. Smith, M. D.
Proprietor Hygienic Medical Institute,
635 California street, San Francisco.
A REMARKABLE CURE.
San Francisco, Oct 26, 1879.
W. J. Heme, Proprietor California Elastic
Truss, 702 Market street, San Francisco Sir I
am truly grateful to you for the wonderful CURE
your valuable truss has effected on my little boy.
The double truss I purchased from you has PER
FECTLY CURED him of his painful rupture on
both sides in a little over six mouths. The steel
truss he had before I bought yours caused him
cruel torture, and it was a happy day for us all
when he laid it aside for the California Elastic
Truss. I am sure that all will be thaukful who
are providentially led to give your truss a trial.
You may refer any one to me on this subject
Yours truly, Wm. Pbbu,
63S Sacramento Street.
This is to crtify that I have examined the son
of Wm Peru, and find him PERFEC ! LY
CURED of Ileruia on both sides.
L. Dkxter LYFORn, M. D.
Surgeon and Physician.
Trusses forwarded to all parts of the United States
at our expense on receipt of price.
Rend Stamp for Illustrated Catalogue
and Priee .ni.
Giving full information and rules for measuring.
California Elastic Truss Co.
702 Market Street, S. F.
HALL'S
SAFE AND LOCK CO.
CAPITAL, $1000,000.
General Office and Manufactory,
CINCINNATI, OHIO.
Pacific Branch,
211 and 213 California St., San Francisco.
(H AS. H. DODD St CO., PORTLAND,
Agents for Oregon and Washington Ter
II ALL'S PATENT CONCRETE
FIRE-PROOF SAFES.
Have been tested by the most disastrous confla
grations in the country.
Thoy are thoroughly fire-proof.
Thoy are free from dampness.
Their superiority is beyond question.
Although about 150,000 of these safes are now
in use, and hundreds have been tested by some
of the most disastrous conflagrations in the
country, there is not a single instance ou record
wherein one of them ever failed to preserve its
contents perfectly.
HALL'S PATENT DOVETAILED
TENON AMD OROOVK
BURGLAR-PROOF
KAFES.
Have never been broken open and. robbed by
burglars or robbers.
Hall's burglar work is protected by letters
patent, and his work cannot be equaled lawfully.
His patent bolt is superior to any in use.
His patent locks cannot be picked by the most
skillful experts or burglars.
By one of the greatest improvements known,
the Gross Automatic Movement, our locks are
operated withont any arbor or spindle passing
through tbe door and into the lock.
Our locks cannot be opened or picked by bur
glars or experts, (as in case of other locks), and we
will put from $1,000 fo $10,000 behind them any
time aeainst an eaual amount.
THEY ABE THE BEST SAFE
Made in America, or any other country.
One Tliousiiiul Dollars
To any person who can prove that one of Hall's
patent burglar-proof safes has ever been
broken open and robbed by
burglars up to the
present time.
C. W. Pool, Traveling Agent.
Office with C. H. Dodd A Co., Portland, Oregon
C. B. PARCELLS, Manager, S. P.
AUGUST KNIGHT,
Cabinet Maker,
UNDERTAKER.
Cor. Second and Monroe Sts.,
CORTiLLH,
OUWI.
Keeps constantly on band all kinds of
FUBNITUaE.
COFFINS AND CASKETS.
Work done to order on short notice, and
at r-iiMOiiall- rult'ii.
Corvaliw. Jan. 1. 177. W?lK