The Corvallis gazette., July 16, 1880, Page 4, Image 4

WEEKLY CORVALUS GAZETTE.
CORVALLIS, - -
JULY 16, 1880
THE OLD MILL.
Here from the brow ot tbe bill I look.
Through a lattice of boughs and leaves.
On tbe old gray mill with its gambrel roof,
And the moss on Its rotting eaves.
I bear the clatter tbat Jars Us walls,
And tbe rushing water's sound,
And I see tbe black floats rise and fall,
As tbe wheel goes slowly round.
I rode there often when I was young.
With ray grist on tbe horse before.
And talked with Nelly, tbe millet's girl,
As I waited my turn at tbe door.
And while she tossed her ringlets brown,
And flirted and chatted so free,
The wheel might stop, or the wheel might go,
It was all tbe same to me.
'Tla twenty years since last I stood
On tbe spot where I stand to-day,
And Nelly Is wed, and the miller Is dead,
And tne mm ana i are gray.
But both, till we fall Into ruin and wreck,
To onr fortune of toil are bound;
And the man goes, and tbe stream flows,
And the wheel moves slowly round.
Harper's Magazine.
THAT LITTLE FRIGHT.
"For my part," said Harry Sinton,
"I'rr. not particular : a good little heart.
fair sense and a sweet temper ; after that
'her hair shall be what color heaven
pleases.' Not that I am afraid of beau
ty I like a pretty girl as well as anyone
hut I don't insist on it as something I
am entitled to.
Tbe elegant Bert Dean smiled a smile
of contempt.
"My good fellow, said he, "your
powers of comparison must be very lim
ited if you propose exchanging your
thousand bachelor privileges for such a
triliina consideration.
"Well, what do you -want? Let us
hear."
"I don't know that I want anything; I
am very well contented as I am.
"But what would induce you to be
come a Benedict?"
"Let me see; I don't wish to be un
reasonable. Beauty is, of course, the
first requisite; wouldn t look at an
heiress without it. Mere beauty, how
ever, is a very slight matter. I must not
be afraid of my wife's opening lips. Of
course she must sing, speak several
languages. Given all these, and a suit
able income say twelve to fifteen
thousand a year and I might think of
it then.
"What, nothing more?" asked the
other, ironically, "I am afraid you go too
cheap.
"Bert Dean," said Harry, solemnly
"vou are a conceited fop ! A good look
ing one, I admit, and not originally des
titute of brains; but eaten up, devoured
by inordinate vanity, and I firmly expect
to see you knocked down, some a ay, to a
girl with red ringlets."
Bert Dean shrugged bis shoolders.
"May will expect me early," he said,
and retired to his dressing room.
He emerged from it an hour or so
later, in the most scrupulously exquisite
condition. He had some excuse for
making extravagant demands about a
wife. His Cousin May called him when
all things were considered, the first
young man in society, and was casting
her eyes around for a suitable match for
mim. When he entered her well-lighted
rooms, they were already quite full. He
made a tour of the apartments, bestow
ing a little languid notice on two or
three favored ones, and presently sub
sided into a chat with Mrs. Miller. Tins
lady was neither very young nor partie
larly pretty, but he liked to talk to her,
and so he remained at her side.
"Mr. Dean," she said, when half an
hour or more had elapsed, "I am afraid
the young ladies will hardly forgive me
for absorbing your attention so long.
See there is a young lady quite alone;
pray go and make yourself charming."
Bert turned his head.
"What!" he exclaimed, "That little
fright? Mrs. Miller, do be merciful!"
But Mrs. Miller did not smile.
"I beg your pardon," he said, politely.
"It was very wrong to speak as I did."
"It was indeed. I am afraid she heard
you, too."
"That is not possible!" he said, with
real mortification.
Mrs. Miller relented at the sight of his
vexed countenance.
"The only atonement you can offer,"
she said, "is to seek an introduction and
make yourself as agreeable as you can.
Perhaps she will forgive you, or think
she did not hear aright."
"Must I? Will you pardon me on no
other terms?"
"Oertainlv not. When I sea the vouner
lady smiling upon you you shall be re
stored to my esteem, and not till theu."
"Cruel! but I am obedient." And he
went in search of an introduction.
Mr. Sinton chanced to be near at hand,
and opened his eyes slightly when he
learned his friend's desire.
"Know her? he said. "Of course I
do! Prophesied concerning her before we
came, red ringlets and all. Didn't think,
though, that your fate would be down on
you so soon."
"Nonsense! Sinton, pray be serious."
"Because it is such a serious matter
with you? Very thing I was saying; how
unreasonable you are! But come on."
And Miss Pierce and Mr. Dean were
presently exchanging opinions on the
staple party-going topics.
To do Bert justice, he sincerely re
gretted his thoughtless exclamation. He
was ungentlemanly, he knew, and he
had, besides so great a horror of female
ugliness as to regard all subjects to it
with a painful compassion. The dread
that Miss Pierce had overheard his re
mark gave him just that sting of self re
proach that one would feel had he alluded
to the infirmity of a deformed person in
his presence. He determined to be so
agreeable and deferential that she
should imagine that her ears had de
ceived her.
Conversation progressed very pleas
antly between the two.
"Nice girl to talk to," Mr. Dean de
cided. "Sweet voice, no giggle, no af
fectation." Just as he made this reflection, he en
countered the eyes of Harry Sinton, and
fancied he saw them in satrical amuse
ment. Awakened by this glance to the
conviction that he was making himself
the subject of mirth, he sought the side
of an acknowledged belle, and saw
no more of Irene Pierce until dancing
began.
She was standing opposite him, in a set
where the fashionable Miss Bently was
his partner. This young lady was con
sidered a very elegant personage. She
wore a Paris dress, and the costliest
ornaments of any one in the room. "Bert
Dean's glance rested with satisfaction on
Irene Pierce. Her face, undeniably
pretty, her dress was a stranger to Paris;
and had, perhaps, been made at heme,
but it was accompanied by a smooth,
white neck and a pair of rounded arms.
As Bert made these, comments, and lis
tened dissatisfied to bis companion's
common-place remarks, he decided to en
gage his viz-a viz for the next set. He
found himself repaid for his daring, for
Irene Pierce could speak of her own sex
without malice. Her conversation was
intelligent, which assured him she was
familiar with the best books, and her
choice language pleased him. All this
he discovered in the pauses of the dance,
and she pleased him so well that he
lingered at her side rather longer than
mere politeness demanded when the set
was over. On his homeward way, in
company with his friend tern ton, he had
encountered some raillery. He an
nounced himself to have found Miss
Pierce the most agreeable girl he had
found in a long time, truly lady-like and
intelligent.
"You can't deny that her hair is red,"
laughed Harry.
"Certainly not; but it was tastefully
arranged.
CHAPTER II.
The next day, in the afternoon, found
Bert Dean standing on the steps of the
house, which belonged to Miss Pierce's
father. He did not tell his friend that he
had asked permission to call, but he did.
He found Mrs. Pierte and her daugh
ter sitting together in the back parlor,
with their work. Irene was brading a
sacque for her little sister, and her
mother employed on something more
practical. She had not been well
schooled, as the idea that she was to
leave the room did not occur to her.
Irene did not look as plain as she had
done last night, as her animated con
versation dazzled him. There was an af
fectionate confidence between mother
and daughter that he had not met in the
best society, and he found it, or some
thing else", so pleasant that he largely
outstayed the limits of a fashionable
call.
"I had better not call again," he
thought as he went home ; " but what a
delightful companion she would be ! "
A week or two went by, and Bert ad
hered to his new resolution of not call
ing, but was unable to prevent himself
from watching for her.
" May," he asked carelessly of his
cousin one evening, " who are these
Pierces ? "
"Old friends of mine," she answeared;
" excellent, substantial people; but why
do you ask?"
"I have met them but here, and that
is the last time I have heard of them,"
he said.
"Mrs. Pierce thinks home is the best
place for girls, so she does not go out
much?"
If Irene Pierce went out so little, there
was scarcely a chance that they should
meet except at her own house. And did
he really care enough about the acquaint
ance was it valuable enough for him
to take trouble to find it?
Probably these questions were an
swered in the affirmative, as the next day
brought him to Miss Pierce's door. Nor
was that the only occasion on which the
neighbors opposite had the privilege of
seeing him. Again and again he came,
but as time was going on, he grew strange
ly diffident. Drawn day by day by Irene's
side, happy nowhere else, he could affirm
even to himself that she was more than a
friend to him. There had been a time
that, to declare himself a lover, involved
some sacrifices on his part; it seemed
strange now that he should be anxious to
make such sacrifice, yet doubt, with
anxiety whether Irene would care to ac
cept it.
Some weeks of suspense went by, and
he could wait no longer. One bright day,
when favoring fate had left them a little
while alone, he spoke not very elo
quently, but still sufficiently coherently
to m ake his meaning plain .
Irene colored deeply, and refused him.
At this he grew a little more self pos
sessed, and begged to know he reasons.
She declined to state them. He per
sisted ; was there a previous attachment.
She blushed more vividly, and said no
such thing existed.
Was there not some hope for him,
then ? Might not her resolution be over
come ? Might not these reasons cease to
exist ?
Oh, no! Her resolution was unalter
able. Then he urged an explanation, and in
sisted on it as his right. His suit was
pushed with ardor, and Irene's agitation
proved that she was not insensible. But
with a great effort she commanded her
self. "I should be most unjust to you and
to myself," said she, "could I allow a
transient feeling to set aside my judgment."
"Transient! O Irene!"
But she silenced him.
"Could I allow myself to give you a
wife whom everybody you, most of all
must consider disagreeable ?"
She hesitated a moment.
"What do you mean ?" cried Bert, in
amazement.
"You cannot have forgotten onr first
meeting," she said, more composedly;
"do not oblige me to repeat your words
that evening."
The room swam around Bert Dean.
"That little fright!" Oh! the sacrilege,
the horror, of that speech! Could ho
have made it and about that angel ?
Overwhelmed with mortification, he
strove to explain, to say how entirely his
feelings were altered.
"Enough, sir, said Miss Pierce, with
dignity. "Spare yourself the trouble of
apologizing; it is quite unnecessary, and
altogether useless." And so she left him.
Surely this was an awkward situation
for a lover, particularly for Bert, who
had contemplated arranging matrimonial
affairs in such a quiet, well-bred way.
He went home in despair, could any
woman even Irene, gentlest, dearest of
women forgive such an insult to her
vanity ? If she could only see his heart,
and know how long he had ceased to re
gard her as plain, in how many ways she
was even beautiful to him! But to ex
plain this to her it was impossible! He
could never obtain her pardon. And her
love? That was too far and dear to
dream of.
Private life has its Napoleons, how
er. They rout impossibilities, and
prove them to be the merest shams. A
week from this dreadful day, Bert was
sitting very much at home in the same
parlor whence he had withdrawn so
ignominiously, and Irene looked at him
in a way that clearly showed that she had
relinquished her "resolution and sacri
ficed her judgment."
A Vermont hunter refrained from
firing at six rabbits and two foxes that
he saw, because he wanted to have his
gun all ready when that deer, which his
dogs were running, came up, and when
the animal did apper, and proved to be
a heifer from a neighboring pasture, he
sprained his knee kicking the hound that
ran it.
The Oil City Derrick very truthfully
remarks that many a young girl's life has
been wrecked on the waves of her handkerchief.
TRIED AND TRUE.
In the midst of a pleasant conversa
tion with his hostess, Harold Arleigh
abruptly paused, a sudden flush on his
face, a strange, startled look in his hand
some dark eyes.
What he had been about to say he
never knew; of his ungraciousness he
was not conscious until he saw Mrs.
Goldsby's glance of politely surprised in
quiry. "Pardon me," he said, turning toward
her with a winning and apologetic smile,
"I saw a lady among your guests just
now so like a dear friend I knew and lost
long ago, that the resemblance quite ex
cited me."
"Ah, you mean the young lady in
white silk and opal ornaments, with yel
low curly hair and cheeks like peach
blossoms. She is very beautiful there
is none like her. She is Ermengrade
Burroughs, a dear friend, who is staying
with me for a few weeks. Shall I intro
duce you?" returned the lady.
"If you wish - if you will be so kind
as to honor me," faltered the young man,
visibly embarrassed.
His hostess gave him one keen but
covert look.
"Ermengarde has made another con
quest" she thought. "If I dared I
should warn him. I should tell him
that this fair woman, with her alluring,
smiling eyes, her sweet voice and her
exquisite grace, has no heart to be won."
Five minutes later her two friends
were whirling through a waltz together,
and she wondered somewhat why Harold
had grown so pale, and why Ermengarde
seemed so haughty and cold.
"One would think they were lovers
who had quarreled," was her mental
criticism.
She was not wrong, for years before
these two hadjoved each other dearly.
They had been betrothed, and the mar
riage day fixed, when the trial came that
parted them. Harold Arleigh suddenly
found himself fatherless and utterly pen
niless; but idleness and luxury had not
spoiled his high and noble spirit. He
could cheerfully accept years of toil and
study and struggling, but he felt that he
could not happily and conscientiously
wed his wealthy Ermengarde until he
might regain his worldly equality with
her.
"The world says unpleasant things of
poor men who marry rich women," he
had told her.
"Why should we care for what the
world has said or may say?" the girl
returned impatiently. " All I have be
longs to you, Harold. Do not leave me."
Even in that trying moment, with
her dear hands clinging on his arm,
her pleading ees upon him, he never
wavered.
"I must, my darling,," he had answer
ed her firmly, though his heart was
heavy with regret and pain. "And re
member, though I leave you free, I
shall remain loyal to you in heart and
deed as the only woman I can ever make
my wife. I am not selfish enough to
ask you to wait for me for years, my
Ermengarde."
What the girl replied she could never
distinctly remember, but she knew her
words were cruelly reproachful, and she
was half mad with the agony of losing
him for even a few brief years.
And he left her with with a look on
his white, beloved face she would never
forget until her dying day.
She felt that he had wronged her gen
erous affection, insulted her womanly
pride and left her with pitiless indiffer
ence to be scorned and mocked as a
bride deserted by her bridegroom. She
had heard of sweethearts who had waited
for lovers who had never come; of wo
men who had wasted the best years of
their lives npon lovers that were false;
and her whole soul cried out in bitter,
unforgiving anger against him. Neither
pardon nor trust would she give him.
And yet she accepted the freedom he had
given her with that sort of defiant mis
ery all women feel when slaves of a love
that neither time nor anguish nor hu
miliation, nor inhuman cruelty even,
can ever lessen.
And that night at Mrs. Goldsby's
soiree they had met again met after long
years as strangers.
And during those years Harold Arleigh
had won that for which he had toiled so
faithfully. He had won an honorable
position among the most honorable men;
he was esteemed as one of the most bril
liant members of the legal fraternity;
and by travel and study he had acquired
that elegance and dignity of manner
that commands the homage of society.
If Harold Arleigh chose to wed an
heiress the world could not say he mar
ried for money and social distinction,
nor would he feel that he would barter
the noble independence of his manhood
by such a union.
But for him the wide world held only
one woman, sweet and dear, and she, it
seemed, was no longer attainable.
"Is this the Ermengarde I have loved
all my life?" he asked himself, as he
gazed upon her fair, passionless face;
the Ermengarde in whose affection and
faithfulness I trusted despite her unrea
sonable anger against me ?"
And he sighed heavily as he led her to
a seat after the waltz was over.
"I did not think to meet you here," he
faltered, as the gay groups swept by,
leaving them alone.
"We meet many people unexpectedly,
Mr. Arleigh," she answered in a cold, se
rene voice.
Her cool tranquility almost maddened
him. The years that had passed seemed
to him but the dreary dream of an hour,
and the sorrowful parting but of yester
day. He bent over her until his hot breath
burned her cheek.
' 'Ermen garde," he whispered in hoarse,
agitated tones, "are you so changed?
Have you really forgotten, or do you
quite ignore what we were once to each
other ? I have been faithful. I have
made myself worthy to ask you to be my
wife. Give me one word, Ermengarde
one word to send me from you again, or
to keep me by your side for the remain
der of our lives."
Her stony calmness was all gone now.
She trembled perceptibly and arose be
fore him pale as death.
Her lips moved with a little gasp, but
what she meant to say she did not utter,
for at that moment a gentleman came to
her side, and with a word of apology to
Harold claimed her for the next dance:
And just then his hostess touched his
arm with her fan.
"My husband is asking for yon, Mr.
Arleigh," she said, adding lightly, "Did
you not find my dear Ermengarde charm
ing? She is a lovely creature. Just the
least bit a coquette, perhaps. I believe
she is engaged to the gentleman who is
dancing the German with her."
Harold Arleigh despieed gossip and
regarded all rumors as. unreliable, but
in his present mood of suspense the
words of his hostess grieved him as the
most bitter proven truth could do.
Ermengarde had pledged herself to an
other," and this was the end of his dreams
and hopes. All that was left for him to
do was to bravely bear his disappoint
ment. But how could he meet her day
after day and look upon her fair, dear
face, listen to Her sweet, beloved voice,
and not betray the pain of his cruel loss?
Many things puzzled Harold during
the weeks that followed. Often he
found her regarding him with a singu
larly thoughtful, half resentful look in
her earnest blue eyes. Once, coming in
to the unlighted parlor at twilight, he
saw her sitting before the piano, her gol
den head bowed low, her lovely form
shaking with silent sobs. And once,
when they were quite alone, she spoke
kindly and gently of the evening, they
met.
"You asked me a question that night,"
she said, with a quiet dignity and and
delicate reluctance of manner, "it was
scarcely my fault that it was not answered
then."
"I know what you would have said,
Miss Burroughs," he returned, gravely;
"I am sorry for having so .startled and of
fended you. I was wrong and inconsid
erate, and I can only acknowledge my
fault and ask pardon for it."
She regarded him for a minute with
shy wonder, and then turned away
haughtily, her fair face scarlet, and an
unmistakable expression of scorn and re
sentment in her blue beautiful eyea.
"I fear I am hopelessly stupid," re
sumed Arleigh, in pained, perplexed
tones. "I am sure I have displeased you
again, but I cannot conjecture how. O
Ermengarde, will you never understand
that I would not willingly give you one
moment of disquiet?"
"I do not profess to understand you at
all," she answered as she left him.
"She denies me even her friendship,"
he thought soirowfully.
A long time after she had gone he
stood by the parlor window, gazing out
into the night a black, dreary night,
with the rain drifting over the roof in
sheets, and the wild wind roaring up from
the river.
"Just the evening for a cosy chat be
fore a comfortable fire," observed Mrs.
Goldsby, coming in, and after ringing
for lights, drawing the heavy curtains
with a little shiver. "I thought Ermen
garde was with you, Harold you are
not going? Mr. Goldsby wished to show
you those curious things sent him to-day.
The dear fellow has a passion for odd
and antique relics, and his study is quite
an interesting museum, I assure you.
Alan, do bring Miss Burroughs," con
cluded the vivacious little lady.
Presently Ermengarde came a slim,
elegant figure, dressed simply in black
silk, with a cluster of white roses on her
bosom.
"Here is something you would like,
Miss Burroughs," observed Mr. Goldsby,
taking from his box of relics a curious
necklace of gold with a pendant of ex
quisite pearls.
"If one could only know the history
of all these things, murmured the girl,
as she glanced over them a tiny gro
tesque bronze statuette, a few coins cen
turies old, a cup of silver fantastically
caryed. and among them all a small toy
pistol with a jeweled stock. "This, at
least, is not very ancient," she pursued,
taking up the diminutive weapon.
"Be careful, dear, it may not be harm
less, remarked her hostess.
The wise injunction came too late. As
Ermengarde turned it about scrutiniz-
mgly m her white fingers, there was a
sharp click and report; the dangerous
toy dropped at her feet and she flung up
her shivering hands with a little cry of
fright and pain.
"Oh, what have you done ?" cried
Harold, as he saw the red blood trickling
over her soft neck and staining the white
roses on her bosom.
"It is nothing," gasped the girl, and
then tottered back upon the sofa, pallid
and unconscious.
"She has only fainted," said Arleigh,
as he bent over her. "There is no cause
for alarm. The ball merely cut the ten
der flesh.
But the host had gone, evidently to
send for a physician, and his frightened
wife had followed him aimlessly into the
hall.
"Oh, my love, my love," moaned
Harold. "I had almost rather see you
lying here before me dead than to know
that you will be the wife of another."
It would seem that she heard his voice
and understood his words even in her
unconsciousness, for she suddenly open
ed her eyes and smiled like a little child
awaking from a dream.
"What were you saying, Harold?" she
asked, faintly, regarding him with a won
dering look.
"That it is agony to give you up to an
other, my darling," he rejoined slowly.
Her pain and fright were all gone now.
She rose before them proudly, her pale
cheeks growing rosy.
"Harold," she said, gravely, "if I am
not your wife, I shall never be the wife of
another. You have wronged my love and
fidelity if you have ever thought differ
ently." The spell of the sweet old love dream
was upon them; there was no need for
explanations, for heart spoke to heart and
each understood the other; all anger was
forgiven and all mistakes forgotten.
"I suppose only for my stupid accident
we should never have been reconciled,"
smiled Ermengarde, by and by; "and I
should have been angry with you all my
life as I had been for years. "
"Those years of our lost happiness
have not been lived in vain," he answered,
seriously. "Our love is tried and true,
and your husband will be your honor
and supporter, instead of a pensioner on
your beauty."
Lovely, happy Ermengarde was in
clined to test the practical part of her lov
er's argument, but thinking of his great,
manly love so "tried and true," she, with
true, womanly sentiment, began to be
lieve in his wisdom.
"After all," she confessed to Mrs.
Goldsby; "I think I should despise a hus
band who would be what my dear Harold
would have been if I in my silly fondness
could have made him so. I loved him
then; now I adore and honor him."
"And we shall send you that enchanted
pistol for a bridal present," Mr. Goldsby
assured her, laughingly. . ..
Naming Childeek in China. In
China the names of children are given
according to circumstances associated
with the time of their birth. If a child
is born at mid-night its name may be
Midnighfc if the season be rainy, the
child's name may be Rain; if birth oc
curs on the birthday of some relative,
that relative's age may be the name of
the new-born, and so there are names of
Thirty, Five, Fifty, One, and other num
bers. But there are even more curious
names. If the parents desired a boy,
and a girl is born, her name may be
Ought-to-be-a-Boy. Boston Transcript.
OLD DAN.
Farmer Henderson came in from the
barn one morning with his hands and
clothes wet and covered with mud, his
face red and his eyes flashing.
"Ned!" he shouted, as he entered the
kitchen. " Where's Ned?"
" Here I am!" came a cheery voice in
reply, and an instant after a bright,
strong boy of some sixteen years entered
the old-fashioned country kitchen from
the adjoining woodshed where he had
been cutting potatoes for the day's plant
ing. " Do you want anything?
"I want to tell you this," said Mr.
Henderson, as he washed himself at the
sink, and rubbed his weather-beaten
face with a coarse towel until it was even
more red than before. "Old Dan must
be killed! Just see the state I am in,
and all from that worthless old rascal.
I won't have him about the house an
other day. He's good for nothing but to
make trouble, and he must be shot before
night!" added the farmer wrathfully.
Ned was about to plead for his pet
when his little sister came into the room.
I'Why, papa, what is the matter?" she
cried, running to him in astonishment,
"Did you fall into the creek?"
"I might as well, he replied, half
laughing. "Old Dan butted me into the
wa tering-trough . "
There was a shout of laughter from
both children, in which their mother
joined.
"Well, Jedediah," said Mrs. Henderson,
coming into the kitchen shaking with
mirth, "what could you have been think
ing about to let an old ram, most twenty
years old, knock you into the watering
trough!" "But," explained her husband, " he
took me unawares. I had just filled one
pail to carry to the barn, and was stoop
ing to dip the other when the old rascal
came at me like the wind and knocked
me completely into the water? He scam
pered, I tell you, before I could got out.
He knew he had done mischief. Anyhow,
he's got to be killed to day, sure. He's
only a nuisance, and I'll shoot him to
night, when we come back from town, if
he's on the farm."
Two hours latter Mr. and Mrs. Hen
derson drove away to be absent from
home until night. As they rattled out of
the yard old Dan suddenly appeared
close to the gate, and wagging his tail as
if in derision, gave utterance to a hoarse
"Ba-a-a a!"
The farmer turned, shook his whip at
the fellow, and cried, "This is your last
day, my boy, make the most of it."
Ned and Carrie were the only children.
Leaving Carrie in the house alone, after
they had considered a while whether
there was any way of ayeiting old Dan's
sad fate, Ned shouldered his hoe and
marched off to his work, planting pota
toes with Cronson, the hired man, in the
"back lot."
But the little girl of thirteen had no
thought of being afraid. She had the
break! as t dishes to wash, some sweeping
to do, and the dinner to get, all before 12
o'alock.
Time fled. The dishes stood in shining
rows upon the pantry shelves, the broom
had performed its work, and Carrie was
preparing the vegetables to be boiled,
when there came a faint knock at the
door. Supposing it to be one of the
neighbors, the little girl did not rise, but
called :
t I " 111
The door was slowly opened and a man
stepped within.
He wore a black coat, buttoned to his
ehin, and very threadbare. His trousers,
too, were black and very shiny, and much
too short for him. On one foot was a
boot, while the other was graced by a
ragged shoe. He carried a battered silk
hat in his hand. His face was long and
solemn, but quite red, his eyes bleared,
his hands very dirty, and altogether he
was a queer-looking visitor.
"Is your ma at home, miss?" said he,
in a half whine, as he glanced sharply
about the room.
"No, sir," replied Carrie, wondering
why he asked; "she has gone to Under
bill. Did you wish to see her?
"Oh, no," the man replied. "I only
asked out of politeness, you know," and
he smiled solemnly at the little girl, and
winked one eye. "No, I came on busi
ness with your pa particular, urgent
business. S pose he's round, is he not?"
"No, sir; he went to town with
mother," said Carrie.
"Now, that's too bad!" exclaimed the
visitor, as he seated himself; "and I've
come so far to see him. But perhaps
your brother or sister would do as well."
"I haven't any sister," said the little
hostess laughing, and my brother's over
in the back lot. He'll be in by and by,
though, if he'll do."
" Well, I don't hardly believe he will,
after all," said the man, shaking his head
thoughtfully, "and I can't wait to day,
anyway; I hain't the time. But I'm ter
ribly hungry. If I could I'd stay to din
ner, miss. However, under the circum
stances, perhaps you had better give me
a light lunch before I go; a piece of pie
and a cup of tea and a little meat, or
something of that sort."
"Oh, certainly; only I can t give you
the meat, for we haven't it in the house,"
said Carrie, rising; "bnt I will find
something." And she brought from the
pantry a whole apple pie, which she
placed before him with a knife and fork.
"If you will help yourself 111 have
the tea ready in three minutes."
"All right, my dear, said the man,
seizing the knife and drawing tbe pie to
ward him. "X will act upon your aavice.
The last time I took dinner with General
Grant," he continued, as he cut a great
piece and began to eat, "he said to me,
Governor, governor, said he, "neverdis-
regard a lady's advice;' and I have al
ways remembered what he said," and he
chuckled merrily, and nodded his head
at the delicious-looking pastry before
him.
Carrie wondered a little at the table-
manners of the man who had dined with
Grant, but she steeped his tea, flavored it
with rich cream and sugar, and passed it
to him.
"I am not much of a hand for tea,"
said the man, as he drained the cup,
but my doctor says that I must drink
it for my digestion. Buined my diges
tion while I was in the army, you see;"
and he winked solemnly. "By the way,"
he continued, picking up the silver tea
spoon from his saucer, "have you any
more of these? They are as neat a pat
tern as I ever saw, and odd, too. I should
like to see the rest of the dozen, if you
have them."
"Mother has only eleven," said Carrie,
in her innocence, "and she is very proud
of them; but I will show them to yon."
Then she brought the little box with
the precious table-silver eleven tea
spoons, four tablespoons and an ancient
cream-jug all pure silver,- and shining
brightly and placed them before her in
quisitive visitor to admire.
He had finished his light lunch, mat
is, the pie was demolished and the tea-
pot empty. As the little girl handed him
the treasures he arose, took tho box to
the window, examined its contents for a
moment, and then, as if in joyful sur
prise, said:
"I am right! They are the very
spoons! The very same identical spoons
that my friend lost when he was a boy ?
How lucky it is that I have found them
at last!"
With these words and a very low bow,
the rascal opened the door and slipped
away with the spoons and silver cream
pitcher down the path toward the gate.
For an instant Carrie stood motion
less; then, rushing after him, she
shrieked:
"Give me those spoons. They are my
mother's spoons, and you are trying to
steal them! You are a thief, a thief!
Bring them back! bring them back!
The man, however, paid no attention
to the child's cries, but ran rapidly down
the path, carrying the box in his arms;
and the spoons and pitcher would have
been lost forever if a new party had not
appeared on the scene.
Old Dan was quietly nibbling the
grass near the gateway. Hearing his
little mistress's voice he looked up at the
very instant that the tramp passed. What
he saw about the man that disturbed him
I don't know; but, erecting his head.
with a hoarse "Ba-a-a!" he shot after him
like a cannon-ball.
The man turned to receive him and de
fend himself, but the ram struck him
fairly in the front and knocked him, half
senseless, flat on his back, scattering the
silver in all directions.
For an instant the fellow remained
sprawling in the dust, then he slowly
arose, limping and groaning, and with
but a glance at his enemy, began to gather
up his stolen spoils.
He had partly completed his task when
old Dan, who, all this time, had been
watching the proceedings from beneath
his ..shaggy eyebrows, shook his long
beard, and with another tremendous
"Ba-a-a!" dashed at him again, and over
he went a second time, his treasures fly
ing from his hands.
And now began a strange battle. With
cries of rage and pain the man recovered
his feet and turned upon the ram, kick
ing and striking at him furiously, while
Dan, accustomed to such warfare from
years of experience with the boys of the
countryside, easily eluded him, and in
return butted him to the earth again and
again.
The spoons and cream-pitcher were
knocked hither and thither, as the com
batants struggled, the road was trampled
into something like a race-course, the air
was filled with very bad language, very
angry "bass" and a great cloud of dust.
But after some five minutes victory de
clared itself on the side of the quadruped,
and bruised and bleeding, with clothes in
rags, minus hat and shoes, the van
quished man suddenly turned away and
ran limping down the road, leaving his
antagonist in full possession of the field
and broken silver.
Old Dan remained motionless, gazing
after his enemy until he disappeared
around a distant turn in the road; then,
shaking the dust from his coarse wool , he
gave utterance to a low groan of satisfac -tion,
and wagging his tail, returned to his
dinner in front of the house.
Ho If an hour later, as Carrie washed
the coveted spoons and the bright little
pitcher and laid them carefully away once
more, she told her brother the story, and
how the robber was foiled; and Ned, full
of enthusiasm, cried:
"We will not kill old Dan at all, for I
do not believe that father would shoot him
now for a hundred dollars?"
And tbe boy was right. The old ram
won more than he knew when he fought
tbe tramp and conquered him. He won
his master's regard, and a free, happy
life for the remainder of his days.
How Abtists Swindle. Hill, the ani
mal painter, whose "Grant at San Jose"
is the artk-tic hit of the California season,
tells a good story which illustrates
the complacent stupidity peculiar to
many of the wealthy ignoramuses of the
Pacific coast. When his studio was at
San Jose some months ago an alleged
connoisseur of large means came to in
spect Hill's work. The millionaire did
not permit himself to be pleased with
anything he saw, however, excepting a
fearful attempt at a marine view, painted
by a not very promising pupil of the
artist. "Now that," said the visitor,
looking through his hand very critically,
"now that is something very fine. If it
was only a storm scene I wouldn't mind
giving five hundred for it on the spot. I
have one superb storm on the Atlantic
coast and I wont a first-class Pacific scene
to balance it." While the critic was
engaged in another room, Hill's partner,
Lussier, quickly seized his brushes and
pallet and dashed a huge black cloud in
the corner of the picture in question. A
few touches of white capped the waves
with spray, a few more hasty strokes de
fined the topmast of a supposed found
ered vessel sticking out of the waves,
while a little ochre in his thumb nail fin
ished the tempestuous effect with some
streaks of jagged lightning. Hastily
hanging the canvass in another position,
the retoucher awaited results. "Ah!
this is the real sort of thing!" said the
visitor, as his eye fell upon the up
holstered daub. "This is just what I
want." And though he finally Jewed
the firm down to $400, he paid that
amount and then actually lugged off the
horror in his carriage for fear some rival
patron of the fine arts should get ahead
of him.
A wise rich man is like the back or
stock of the chimney, and his wealth the
fire; he receives it, not for his own need,
but to reflect the heat to others' good.
Rupture
$66!
A WEEK in vour own town and no
capital risked. You can give the
business a trial without expense.
The best opportunity ever offered for
those willing to work. You should try nothing
else until you see for yourself what you can do at
the business we offer. No room to explain here.
You can devote all your time or only your spare
time to the business, and make great pay for
every Hour you work. Women make aH much
as men. Bend lor special private terms ana par
ticulars, which we mafl free. $6 outfit free.
Don't complain of hard times while vou have
sach a chance. Address H. HALLETT fe CO,.
Portland, Maine. 18:31yl
$15
TO $6000 A YEAR, or $5 to $20 a day
in your own locality. No 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 50c ts 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 aonorablo Reader, if you want to know all
about the best paying business before the public,
send us your address and we will send you full
paVtSoulars and private terms free; samples worth
$5 also free; you can then make up your mind
for yourself - Address GEORGE STiNSON Sc
CO , Portland, Maine.
"-' " "life
From a Hereto nt.
T Davtow, W. T., Feb. 10, 1879.
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 havebeon ruptur
ed forty years, and worn dozens of different kinds
of 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 clad to answer any letters on its merrits.
I remain, yours respectfully,
D. B. Bunnell.
Latest Medical Endorsements.
Makti.vez, Cal., Feb. 17, 1879.
W. J. Heme, Proprietor California Elastic
Truss Co., 702Market street, S. F. Sir: In re
gard to your California Elastic Truss, I would say
that 1 have 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. Cabothebs, M D.
Endorsed by 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 furthertestimony
with special pleasure, that the several persons
who have applied tome 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 lavorcd by the
possession of the improved Elastic Truss.
Yours truly, Babl-w J. Smith, M. D.
Proprietor Hygienic Medical Institute,
035 California street, San Francisco.
A REMARKABLE CURE.
San Francisco, Oct 20, 1879.
W. J. Home, 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 hiiu of his painful rupture on
both sides in a little over six months. '1 he steel
truss he had before 1 bought yours caused him
cruel torture, and it was a happy day for us all
when he laid it aside for the California Elastic
Tiirss. I am sure that all will bo thankful who
are providentially led to give your truss a trial.
You may refer any one to me on this subject
Yours truly, Wir.lPeau,
638 Sacramento Street.
This is to crtify that I have examined the son
of Wm Peru, and find him PEKFECi BY
CURED of Hernia on both sides.
L. DtXTEK LVPOKI), M. D.
Surgeon and Physician.
Trusses forwarded to all parti of the United Stales
at our expense on receipt of price.
Send Stamp for Illustrated Catalogue
sud lriee i.lMi.
Giving full information and rules for measuring.
California Elastic Truss Co.
702 Market Street, S. F.
HALL'S
8AF AND LOCK CO.
CAPITAL, 91 O0O,OOO.
General Office and Manufactory,
CINCINNATI, OHIO.
Pacific Branch ,
211 and 313 California St., San Francisco.
( HAS. H. DODD A CO., PORTLAND,
Agents for Oregon and Washington Ter
BiLiA patent concrete
FIltE-PROOF SAFES.
Have l.r.-n tested by the most disastrous confla
grations in the country.
They are thoroughly fire proof.
They 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 on record
wherein one of them ever failed to preserve its
contents perfectly.
HALL'S PATENT DOVETAILED
T K.N ON AND 6R00VK
BURGLAR-PROOF
A IT JEW.
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.
Ilis 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 the 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 to $1 0,000 behind them any
time against an eaual amount.
THEY ABE THE BEST SAFE
Made in America, or any other country.
Ono Tliousii OoHars
To any person who an prove that one of Haifa
patent burglar-proof safes has ever been
broken open and robbed by
burglars up to the
present lime.
C. W. Pool, Traveling Agent.
Office with C. H. Dodd A Co., Portland, Oregon
C. B. PAKCULLS, Manager, 8. F.
JOB PftlNTIftC.
THE
Gazette Job Printing House
IS NOW PRE? ABED TO DO
Plain and Ornamental Printing,
Aa neat and Cheap as it can be done by any
Office on the Coast.
bill Ueain,
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Uulue-a nr.!-.
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llodarers.
fttUUll l'Sl.T-.
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Bank !".
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te., tic.
Orders by mail promptly filled. Esti
mates furnished.