The Corvallis gazette., July 30, 1880, Page 4, Image 4

WEBkLY CORYALLKS (jAZKTIF.
CORVALLIS.
- JULY 30, 1880
THE OLD RAIL FEttCE.
How well I remember the old rail fence
At tbe foot or the narrow lane,
Where we never stopped to let down the bars,
Or to put them In place again.
Bat scrambled through, though the space
Ij t wood
Was hardly an Inch too wide;
And laaghed If we happened to low oar hold,
And go plump on the other side !
And oh. bow Jolly it was when we '
Those barriers high could scale,
And perch like roosters, and flap onr wings,
And crow on the topmost rail I
And the smallest one of tbe merry group,
A gay little girlish elf,
Would cry If the bars were let down for her.
For she wanted to help herself.
In all the frolics, tbe games, and plays,
So dear to the children's heart,
They are learning lessons that serve them well,
when the days ol youth depart.
And those who fearlessly climbed tbe fence
at the risk of beholding stars.
Will never delay at a task, nor wait
Till some one lets down the bars.
AFTER LONG YEARS.
"What is this, Burt ?"
"That is the mortgage of an estate
called the Derby place, Mr. Faxon, fore
closed more than a year, I believe."
"Well, its what I have been looking
for. I will take charge of the papers,
and attend to the matter soon. Down
East, isn't it?"
"Yes. air."
Mr. Faxon nut the papers into the
breast pocket of his coat, came down the
stairs, and stepped into the glittering,
nurme -lined phaeton, beside nis wue.
The delicate Arabian, Mrs. Faxon's
horse, sped away out of the city confines,
and soon tossed hie jetty mane along the
open roads, lined with gardens, ornate
cottages and villas.
"Going away again to-morrow, dear ?"
asked Mrs. Faxon, suddenly lifting her
fair countenance, as she interrupted her
husband. "You seem to be away all the
time lately. Take me with you.
"Not this time. Violet."
And Violet Faxon's husband fell into
a fit of abstraction, from which her
smartest chatter failed to arouse him
They came at last to the Faxon man
sion, grand and simple, and fulfilling its
promise of a beautiful interior.
Amid the white lace and crimson silk
of her chamber, Violet was brushing out
her loner, fair hair, when her husband
paused in the doorway, and looked at
her sharply. Then he came slowly across
the room, and lifting the oval face in his
hand, looked closely at the roseate cheek,
pearly ear and curved lashes.
"What is it?" asked Violet "a
freckle f"
"No," he answered, smiling faintly
and strelline across the chamber. "You
looked like my sister then that was all
"Your sister, dear? You never told
me about her ?" said Violet.
"No." beanswered, and said no more.
Mr. Faxon bore no resemblance to his
delicate patrician wife. A little less than
thirty dark, strongly built, active,
vigorous, he impressed one as a strong
character. If, with a remarkably rich
comUness of countenance, there were
some sensual lines, there was also a cer
tain evidence of strong good sense and a
look of deep experiences. Mr. Faxon
looked like a man who carried weight.
He was up and away at daybreak the
next morning. An early train bore him
eastward, and nine o'clock found him
landed at a little station called Seabrook.
The dismal little building was set in a
field of clover, around which a road
wound away among the mounds of ver
dure.
After a glance around, Mr. Faxon took
this road, and walked slowly along. The
robins hopped across it : the bobolinks
sang in the trees over it. The unassum
ing white clover among the grass per
fumed the cool moraine air.
He paased only a few houses, but he
observed them attentively. They were
all old and humble farmhouses. Appar
ently this property which had, by the
foreclosure of a mortgage, lallen to Mr
Faxon, was not situated in a very rich or
enterprising neighborhood.
When he had walked nearly a mile, he
came to a green dooryard, among wide
spread apple trees, with a well-sweep
among them, and a residence, though
plain, more pretentious and comfortable
than the others.
There was a narrow, well-worn path
among the short grass and buttercups to
the porch, where a bitter-sweet twined its
strong arms. In a corner, under the ver
dure was an arm-chair with a book on the
. aeat. and a cane lying' across it a
gnarled, twisted cane of hickory, that
Mr. Faxon looked twice at. The book
he saw was abible.
There was an old lady with a sweet,
faded face, and snowy cap-strings tied
tinder her double chin, knitting at a
window near by, but his quiet stop had
not disturbed her.
He had put his hand to the knocker,
he took it down again as he caught sight
of this placid face. He stood there
quite still for several minutes. A gray
cat came and rubbed against his leg.
Some apple blossoms, floating down
ouched his oheek.
At length the gentle lips moved.
"Father," said the mild old lady, "you
had best lie down and take a rest,"
"Such old people ! and I have come
to take their homes away," said Mr. Fax
es. There was strong pain in his dark face
now as he stood looking down at the
porch-floor.
After a moment, he stepped off the
porch on the farther side, and walked
away under the apple trees.
When Mr. Faxon came back from his
brief stroll, his presence, as he crossed
the yard, was unobserved.
A white-haired old man who had come
to the open door and taken up the
hickory stick, turned back hastily, with
a few hurried words and the aged woman
dropped hey knitting and rose up, with a
paleness dropping over her tace.
Bat, while Mr. Faxon hesitated on the
porch again, both came to the door. Sad,
startled faces they both had, but they
were civil. Their greeting was kindly, as
to a friend.
"My name is Faxon," said the visitor,
I'
"We know who you be, sir," said the
old man "we know who ye be, though
we never seed ye before. Will you
come in?"
Mr. Faxon stepped across the white
hall floor into the quaint, cool and com
fortable sitting-room.
The rough bine paper, like chintz, on
the wall, some "honesty" and dried,
grasses in obaque white vases upon the
high, narrow mantlepiece, unconsciously
struck his eye, while he took a seat, his
mind occupied upon other thoughts.
"We've been long expectin' you, sir,"
aid the old lady, gently.
Her hands, crossed on the spotless
gingham apron upon her lap, trembled a
little, but the serenity of her manner was
not much changed.
But the old man's eyes swam in tears.
He rested both hands on the hickory
stick between his knees, as he sat in a
corner, and bending his borehead upon
them, partially hid his face.
"Yes, yes! but it comes sort o' sudden
now," said the old man.
Mr. Faxon sat in speechless sympathy.
After a little pause, old Mr. Derby
looked up and met his eyes.
"Of course, it's all right, sir We
don't question your right to the place,
but we ve been sort of unfortunate. I
think so, don't you, mother?" ;
The old lady lay back among the
cushions of the dimity-covered chair.
She had a look of physical weakness Mr.
Faxon had not observed before. She did
not speak.
Her husband looked at her attentively.
A sudden flush went over his thin face.
"It is not for myself I care it is her!"
he cried, striking his cane violently upon
the floor. "She helped earn this place,
when she was young. There was no
kind o' work but what them hands you
see lyin' so weary now in her lap, sir,
was put to. She was up early an' late,
always a-doin, a-doin' fur me and the
children. God never made a better wife
an' mother. And now, sir, it's hard, it's
hard, that she should be turned out of
her home in her old age!"
"Hush, hush, Daniel!" said the old
lady, softly. "The Lord will provide:
and it's not long we have to stay in this
world you know.
"Will you tell me the history of the
place Mr. Verity ' asked Mr. J! axon
How did you come to lose M
"It was mortgaged, sir," said the old
man, at last, "to pay the boys' college
bills. You see, we had three children
Selwyn, Boscoe and little Annie. Mother
an' I didn't have an eddication, but we
said all along that our children should
have; an' they went to the distric' school
an' then the academy an' by-an-by we
fitted them oft for college. .Bright
smart boys they were everybody said
my boys had good parts, though Bocwas
always a little wild. I tmnfc motner
there, loved him better for that. He was
more trouble, an she clung to him
closer because others blamed him, at
times. Annie, his sister, was always
a-pleadin', too, for Roe. He played tru
ant, and he whipped the boys who told
on him; he was always puttin' his bones
in peril, an twice he was half drowned
vet in suite of all he was ready for col
lege when Selwyn was, though Selwyn
was steady as a clock. Mother an' I had
been scrapin' together for years and at
last we fitted them off.
"We went on denying of ourselves, for
it was just the one hope of our lives to
have the boys graduate with all the hon
ors; an' time went on, but many of the
crops failed an there came disappoint
ment here and disappointment there, an
failing to .get together the money the
boys sent for especially Koc we mort
gaged the farm for five nundrea dollars
"They were nearly through you see
an' mother and Annie thought that Sel
wyn might be principal of the academy
or something when he came home, an
Boc would' be a lawyer, 'cause he could
argufy an speak so smart in public, an
the money would be paid back easy.
"But from time to time there came ru
mors I didn't like, as to how Boscoe was
up in his old wild ways; and at last it
came like a thunderbolts toc was sus
pended and had run away to foreign
parts. Well, I pass over that, sir; I tried
not to be too hard on the boy. Tfien
Selwyn came home. He had graduated
well, but he had a cough. He didn't
complain, but he was thin an' pale, an
soon mother an' I saw that the son we
had meant to relay on was an invalid
upon our hands. The thought struck me
dumb. But mother was all energy. We
traveled here with him, we traveled there.
We saw all the noted doctors East and
West. -We borrowed more money on
the old place, and we never paid any
back. I had made one or two payments
at first, but they were but a drop in the
bucket. At last we brought Selwyn
home to die.
"Don't, Daniel," said the mother,
softly.
"He wants to hear the rest. There's
only a little more, but it's no better
Annie was like Selwyn good an' patient;
delicate-like, too. We didn't mind it at
first, but her cheeks grew thin an' too
red; a cough she had from a child grew
harder, and though the best doctor we
could get came early an late, it was only
a year after Selwyn died before we laid
Annie down among the snows. Thank
ye, sir, for your pity! Mother an' I have
shed most ot our tears.
Mr. Faxon put his cambric handker
chief back into his pocket.
"lour other son, Boscoe, Mr. Derby
did he never come home t
"Never! It's nigh eight years since
we have seen Boc. Me knew he disap
pointed us; but that was nothin' was it
mother?
"I never think of it," said Mrs. Derby,
shaking her head. "Perhaps I don't
know we took the wrong course with
Boc. He was restless an' active; he was
wild but he was lovm
Her voice broke.
"Mrs. Derby," said Mr. Faxon, "I
find I know something of your story al
ready, lour son, Boscoe Derby, who
ran away at nineteen years old, is proba
bly living, and it may come in my way
to obtain some information of him for
you."
The old people had risen eagerly
from their seats, but he went on,
quickly:
"Meanwhile, be at no inconvenience
regarding your stay here in your old
home. Your right to occupy it is un
questioned in my mind, and let me assure
you that you will never, during your
lifetimes, be required to go hence. There
is the mortgage" he placed some papers
on the table "the Derby place is your
own.
He rose, putting them gently back, as
tbey pressed toward him, Vying to ex
press their gratitude.
' ' W o no thanks ! .Believe me you owe
me nothing nothing!"
He took his hat.- Tfie old man, wbo
was voiceless, wrung his hands. Mr.
Faxon turned to Mrs. Derby, and taking
her soft, wrinkled fingers in bis strong
palm, bent low and kissed them. Then
he turned toward the-door, but in a mo
ment he had come back.
"Mother father," he said, "I cannot
go, for I know you have forgiven me!"
And the next instant the strong man
was kneeling with his head on his moth
er's knee. .
"After long years, mother," he said, as
she stroked his temples with fond fingers.
'1 am but twenty-eight years old, but
sorrow for my early faults has brought
some gray hairs about my temples.
"And you are not Mr. Faxon, after all,
Boc?" said the father, with a puzzled
sinile. 1
"Yes, I am, dear father. Five years
ago I had the good fortane to gain the
good will of one of the wealthiest Ameri
can shipping merchants then in London.
He gave me a good position, and I de
cided to return home with him, and
served faithfully in his employ, until
just before his death, when, having
formed an engagement with his only
daughter, he gave his consent to our
marriage, with the proviso that I would
take his name and carry on his interests
exactly as they had been. To this I con
sented, for in spite of settled habits and
ideas, I felt an alien and alone; but
mother, I have a good wife and the best
of sons a little fellow two years old,
named Derby. Does that not please
you?"
Ah, indeed! What loving old woman
is not pleased with her grandchild? Soon
the house was graced by the presence of
Violet Faxon and the lovely boy, whom
grandfather could not praise enough and
grandmother could not fondle enongh;
yet it was sweeter, perhaps, to Boscoe
Faxon to hear his mother's voice whis
per: "I like your wife; and do you know,
dear, I think she is very like Annie?"
Saturday Night.
IiONGSTBEET AS A CoTJNTBX Post
masteb. aTSt many "months ''ago an En
glish visitor ''to the United States hap
pened to find himself passing throngh a
little town in Ueorgia, to which he had
left instructions that his letters be ad
dressed. The stranger repaired to the
humble Post Office, situated in a wooden
building, through the flimsy roof of
which the vertical sun of the south beat
with almost uninterrupted intensity, and
mentioning his name asked through the
narrow wicket whether any letters
awaited him. In the interior of the
little office was seated a grave, elderly
man, with a long white beard, and with
a paralyzed or, at any rate, helpless right
arm hanging feebly by his side. His
face, air and manner seemed to betoken
that he had known better times and had
been familiar with the experiences of a
stormy life. As General Liongstreet, for
he was the- Postmaster referred to, rose
from his seat and thrust his left hand
into a pigeon-hole to search for the let
ters inquired after by his visitor, it
flashed through the mind of the English
man that he had seen a photograph of
the remarkable man in whose presence
he found himself. A few sympathetic
questions drew from General Longstreet
the avowal that he had, nearly twenty
years ago, been a commander of a divis
ion in the army of Ueneral Kobert Hi
Lee. f G. A. Sala in London Telegraph
A Brand New Office Boy. He was
a brand new office boy, young, pretty
faced, with golden ringlets and blue
eyes. Just such a boy as one would
imagine would be taken out of his
trundle bed in the middle of the night
and transported beyond the stars. The
first day he glanced over the library in
the editorial room, became . acquainted
with everybody, knew all the printers
and went home in the evening as happy
and cheery as a sunbeam. The next day
he appeared, leaned out of the back win
dow, expectorated on a bald headed
printer's pate, tied the cat up by the tail
in the hallway, had four fights with An
other boy, borrowed two dollars from
an occupant of the building, saying his
mother was dead collected nis two davs
pay from the cashier, hit the janitor with
a broomstick, pawned a coat belonging
to a member of the editorial staff
wrenched the knobs off the doors, upset
the ice-cooler, pied three galleys of
type and mashed his finger in the small
press. On the third day a note was re
ceived saying, "My Mother do not want
I to work in such a duU place. She says
1 Would matte a (jood preacher, so Do 1
my finger is Bettor; gone fishin'. Yours
Till Deth do Yank us." Boston
Uourier.
The Nhsht Before the Battle of
Watebloo. When the Duke of Well
ington came from the Congress of Vienna
to take the command of the allied forces
before the battle of Waterloo, General
Van der Meere, who lately died, aged
eighty-three, in Brussels, was aide-decamp
to General Van Geen, then at
Lou vain, from whence he made his es
cape to Brussels as often as he could get
away. It was on one of these occasions
that he was asked by the Duchess of
Bichmond to assist her in making out the
list of invitations for her ball on June
15th. He, of course, was present and
witnessed the departure of the Prince of
Orange, the Dukes of Wellington and of
Bichmond, and Lord Hill, at 10 o clock
nobody having the slightest notion of
the cause of tneir withdrawing till at
midnight the drums were beating and
all was in commotion. Van der Meere
did not lake part in the battle of Water
loo, but was dispatched at 1 o'clock on
the 18th, to the Duke of Wellington's
headquarters, and had the good fortune
to bring back to Brussels news of the
result of the day.
Pbince Boland Bonapabte. Prince
Boland Bonaparte, it is announced, is
going to marry the daughter of the late
M. Blanc, the famous proprietor of the
gambling tables at the Monaco. As the
bride's sister married Prince Badzivill.
the daughters of the old gambler may
be considered as having had their fair
share of luck. Blanc died intensely
ricn, ana nis daughters were esteemed
the best matrimonial catches in Europe.
It is said that they are as good and beau
tiful as they are wealthy; and since the
younger branches of the Bonapartes are
famous for their lack of money, Prince
Boland ought to be happier in his mat
rimonial venture than was his father,
Prince Pierre, who married a seamstress
without the consent of Napoleon III.,
and had to submit to having his marriage
declared null. After Napoleon's fall
Prince Pierre again married his wife in
Brussells, and thus legitimized the chil
dren which had been born to him in the
meantime. Boland is, therefore, a Prince
of the house of Bonaparte, though his
uncle, Cardinal Lucien Bonaparte, re
fused tc recognize him as such. He is a
Sub-Lieutenant of the Thirty-sixth
French Regiment of Infantry.
Keep Young.
Don't grow old and rusty and cross.
afraid of nonsense and fun. Tolerate the
lollies and crudities of youth. Gray hairs,
and wrinkles you cannot escape, but you
need not grow old in feeling unless
you choose. And as long as your age is
always on the outside you will win confi
dence from the young, and find your life
all the brighter for contact with theirs.
But you have too many grave thoughts,
too many weighty anxieties and duties,
too much to do to make this trifling pos
sible, you say. The very reason, my
friend, Why you should cultivate fun, non
sense, lightness of heart because you
need them so much, because you are
"weary with thinking." Then, do try to
be young, even if you have to be foolish
in so ucing. One cannot be wise all the
time.
JUDE CAXTON'S WORD.
"I never break my word!"
That was Jude Caxton's boast. He was
a rich man, a proud man and he had
four beautiful daughters. At home and
abroad his integrity and his pride in it
was proverbial.
He had made a large fortune, and he
had made it honestly, without tricks or
evasions; and it had given him a solidity
in the social as well as the shipping
world. He was well aware of it was
proud of it; and with, perhaps, a pardon
able weakness, was notedly averse to
having any member of his family form
connections with any person not making
a very near approach to perfection.
Not one of his daughters had been al
lowed to marry, though, attracted by
their beauty and charming style, many
suitors had sued and sued in vain. A
father or brother who was tricky or
knavish, a sot or a gambler, would ban
the lover, even if his own hands were
immaculate; and people said the pretty
Caxton girls, in spite of their prettiness,
would be old maids. And everyone agreed
that that would be a pity.
Linda, Lucia and Cora were sparkling
brunettes; but Althea, the third daugh
ter, had a sweet, oval face, full of cool,
faint tints, pale brown hair, with a
gleam of gold in it, and deeply-fringed
dark gray eyes, beautiful beyond ex
pression. She was slight and graceful,
while the others were buxom and bounc
ing, jolly, romping girls at heart under
the careful training of dignity. Althea
was different, and I think she was a lit
tle better in being gentler and tenderer.
At any rate, Vaughan Moxan thought
so, and was so sure of it that he declared
to himself that he loved her with his
whole heart and soul; and Althea knew
it as well thanks to his eloquent dark
eyes as if he had declared it to her.
But there is always a but in a tale of
true love Vaughan had a very disrepu
table old father. He was a splendid
young fellow, but his father was any
thing but splendid. In fact, he was a
living disgrace to his son. Drink he
would, and get drunk he would. He
looked like a sot, and he was a sot; and
there were stories told of his getting a
great deal of money by some fraudulent
proceeding when he was young, and
spending it all before he grew old, so
that his children were forced to look out
for themselves.
Vaughan had looked out for himself
very weU earned his own education
studied law and had been admitted to
the bar. He was not rich, but he was
going to be; and Jude Caxton, I think
ought to have given him his daughter
But Jude Caxton would not think of it.
on account of Vaughan's father.
If anything eould be more pathetic
than the fact of having such a father, it
was the patience with which Vaughan
bore with his father's faults. He was
never disrespectful to him never un
kind. He paid a respectable family
who had known "old Moxan," as he was
called, in his better days to feed and
clothe his father, and keep him as much
as possible in his right mind.
The latter was not naturally an in
ferior man, and was far from being an
ignorant one. In his youth he had been
talented, brilliant, generous to a fault.
You could see then where Vaughan
got his good sense and penetrating eyes
and could not help puzzling over the
problem why this ruined man had not
done as well as he knew.
But there he was, an unalterable fact
and everybody knew he would never be
any different or bettor.and that Vaughan
would bear with him to the end.
Althea knew it, and, sweet soul, she
was willing to help Vaughan bear this
burden, or share it'with him. So, you
see, she dearly loved him and loved
him very hopelessly as to ever marry
ing him.
Vaughan thought so, with a feeling
of profound dejection, which no other
misfortune he had yet known had ever
shadowed with him. Every summer he
came home for a few weeks as he called
the town where he was born and every
season Althea was lovelier and more
loveable.
They had been mutual friends. They
met and her blush answered the con
fession of his eves; both knew that
words were useless.
Althea loved her father. She was his
favorite child, and something in her
nature made it impossible that she could
disobey him. Vaughan knew it. He
could not suggest what would be to
Althea a deep affliction.
He returned to Havenside the pleas
ant old shipping town the very summer
that Althea was twenty. The Uaxton
barouche glittered by him as he came up
from the depot, and a roseate face, with
dimpled chin and sweet eyes, bowed to
him from the cushions of amber satin
Althea!
His heart leaped; the blood rushed to
his cheek; but his face was grave enough
before he reached his hotel. How more
than beautiful the girl had grown! The
eyes of other men must see what was so
evident, if was not likely she would re
main UBWooed forever. Some one would
be successful in smiting the Caxton
pride, and she would be lost to him for
ever.
He was not in the best of humor, as he
dropped his valise into a corner of the
chamber assigned him, and went down tot
H streets, to see his father. For
once old Moxan was quite sober, and
had been for several days. He sat in his
room examining a box of papers, and re
marked to his son that he should like to
go into business again, and thought he
should.
What did this portend? Nothing. He.
after this, entertained himself with
reminiscences of his old speculations,
and flattered himself that he could re
peat them. Vaughan sat moodily in an
easy chair, looking out of the window.
"I on re not well, my boy. said his
father, suddenly.
JSiot particularly well in mind, an
swered Vaughan, moodily.
Eh? What? Oh, these boys! There's
a woman in the case, of course. Con
fess now, isn't it so, Vaughan?"
it was odd that Vaughan should have
given his father his confidence. I know
of no reason why he should but because
it was his father, and blood is thicker
than water.
"I should like to marry Miss Althea
Caxton," he said, "and it seems impossible!"
"TJmph! Why why. Vaughan. mv
boy? Ain't you as good as Judge Cax
ton's daughter?"
Vaughan did not explain that if he
were. nerhaDs his connections were not.
He only responded, absently:
"It seems not.
But the old man's bloodshot eves
watched him narrowly, and he was plied
with questions, from which he rose at
last to etaape.
Stop, Vaughan! There s to be a pic
nic down on the Point to-morrow. Be
sure you go, Miss Althea is to be there I
with her Sunday school class. Be sure
you go, and tell her that you love her, if
you get a chance. Yon shall be a match
for her, if you've a mind. Mind what I
say!"
Vaughan closed the door, and went
down stairs to pay his father's quarterly
bills. But as he passed down the stair
case he heard the old man muttering and
talking violently to himself.
The Point was a pleasant, woody place,
stretching into the blue water. 'Vaughan
had spent many a pleasant hour there,
when there was no sweetheart at all in the
case, and now he was doubly eager to see
it again.
He could, see Althea, could speak to
her, and look into her eyes once more ;
and the next forenoon found him among
the pines of the Point.
He went with his friends, the Hether
leighs, as he found it rather a select af
fair, being a sort of festival given to
Jude Caxton's only son, on his return
from Europe.
There were bountiful tables, plenty of
servants flowers, music and dancing.
Basil Caxton had been an old school
fellow of Vaughan Moxan's, and shook
hands with him right heartily.
"How do you do, old fellow? It seems
good to be home again. Isn't it pleasant
here? There is Althea, looking for you,
I believe."
And unconscious of the blessing he was
bestowing upon the two, he caught his
favorite sister's hand aa she was passing,
and put her into Vaughan's care.
She wanted to ascend the rocks and
look down the bay, and when they had
come back from half an hour's pleasant
converse, Vaughan suddenly became
aware that his father was present.
Old Morgan was carefully dressed, and
he was not under the influence of liquor.
His general appearance was unusually
good, as he stood talking with a little
knot of gentlemen.
As Althea went to find one of the chil
dren in her care, Vaughan approached
the group, and found that they were
talking of wines.
On this subject old Moxan was au
thority, and was listened to with attention.
"Yes, yes," he was saying, "there is
but one description of port-wine. Lively
and clean on the palate, dry-flavored,
with an enticing bouquet, color varying
from pale rose to bright purple, perfectly
transparent, and mellowing with age ;
the rose becomes tawny and purple ruby
both of which colors are durable.
Nothing different is worthy the name of
port, and if, as you say, you want my hon
est opinion, Mr. Caxton, I think you have
been confoundedly cheated in this case
just imported."
"What will you do, father?" asked Basil.
"I wouldn't pay the fellow a cent!"
"There can be do doubt that our
friend, Mr. Moxan, is right," replied his
pompous sire, with his habitual marked
politeness when speaking to an inferior.
"Bui, since I was foolish enough to or
der of a petty dealer whom I did not
Know, I must take the result of my touy
I never break my word. The servants
will like it, I dare say." carelessly.
"You keep your word, then, under all
circumstances?" said Moxan, who was
at his elbow.
"Always!" distinctly "always, Mr
Moxan!
"Ahem! In view of this statement
which I believe you all hear, gentlemen
I wish to recall a little incident to
your mind. Mr. Caxton. There was a
time when you were not a rich man
There was also a time when I was a
richer one. This is not the place to
speak of my faults and follies they are
bad enough and hopeless enough,
heaven knows but penuriousness was
never one of them. At a time when
money came to me very freely, you were
working very hard for it, Mr. Uaxton.
You went into trade; you failed. You
were quite ruined for the time undone
in health and hope. In fact, you were
led to do what many a wiser man has
been led to do by disappointment and
accumulated trouble you threw your
self off of old Benson's wharf into the
water. You recollect that ?"
Jude Caxton, with a pale face and
compressed lips, nodded. He was taken
completely by surprise, and, not being
a man of quick resources, saw no escape
from these unexpected revelations, and
stood quite at the other s mercy.
"I was in a boat, with a company of
other young men. I heard the splash,
and, seeing that you had disappeared,
divined what had happened. We rowed
rapidly to the spot and picked you up,
quite insensible. The others thought it
an accident; I knew better. I went
ashore, called a carriage, and took you
to my lodgings. There I nursed you
back to strength and hope, supplied yon
with money, and thoroughly set you on
your teet again.
"You did ?" pronounced Caxton, show
ing signs of feeling.
"When you went to New York, your
pecuniary interests all revived, you
shook my hand, and said that if ever I
wanted a service which you could render
me, no matter how great, to let you
know of it. and it should be done. You
recollect that, too ?".
Mr. Caxton was in general a wary
man. Ordinarily he would have seen
that some important issue was pending,
but now, surprised, deeply affected. he
saw nothing but the simple connection
of the narrative, and confessed without
reservation that he had thus expressed
himself, having a deep appreciation of
the benefit done him.
"You never break your word; and that
leads me at last to demand of you a great
service, and demand it with confidence,"
continued old Moxan.
"What is it. Dougald?" said the other,
forgetting for the moment all his im
portance and superiority over the "old
soaker," as he called him behind his
back. "Do you wish to reform your un
fortunate habit? I will give you a chance
in my warehouses. I know you have
great ability. I will trust you cheerfully
if you wish to try"
"No, no; my habits wiB never be re
formed. I am too fa gone for that. But
I have a son who is as good as I am bad.
A nobler fellow never stepped. He loves
your daughter Althea; she loves him.
Mv eyes are not too bleared too see that.
I want you to do me the service to as
sent to their marriage."
Jude Caxton grew quite white. His
children were his tender point. But un
der all the eyes upon , him, wherein he
read quiet sympathy with the inter
ceding father, he saw that he had no
chance of escape, even if he had thor-
ougniy wisnea it.
He did not thoroughly wish it. He
realized suddenly that he heartily liked
Vausrhan. and with one hist gulp of in
convenient pride he came grandly to the
front.
'The service is yours. No, I neve I
never break my word. And, appreciating
the fine qualities of your son, I have no
disposition to do so. I will do all in my
power to make the young folks happy' i
"Thank you!" responded Moxan, nod
ding, briefly. "Thank you, Jude! And
I will bring a bottle of port tothe wed
ding that is port."
Vaughan had stood near, with his
back turned upon the company, and
heard all. He slipped away before he
was noticed, a prayer of thanksgiving in
his heart, and such love for his besotted
old father In his breast as did not seem
possible.
"Oh, father poor father!" he mur
mured, "this is my reward that I have
refrained from any reproaches, though
so sorely tried. You love me; I love you.
Heaven must must, poor father, forgive
the rest!"
It all ended happily. Vaughan and
Althea were married. The wedding was
beautiful; congratulations sincere.
And Vaughan's father, everybody's
bete noire, having revived his better days
when he interceded for his son, liked the
elevation so weU that he never quite f eU
back into his depraved habits. His
weakness less seldom overcame him, and
his last days were spent in comparative
respectability.
The Front Yard.
It is a very correct observation that the
front yard is an index of the home and
the home life, it may not be so com
pletely an index of the style of farming
which the owner practices, because the
hard work of the farm is one thing, and
the beauty of the home surroundings is
another. A man may be an excellent
farmer, have good cattle, keep his fields
in trim condition, and yet have no par
ticular idea of neatness about the front
yard. The spirit which manifests itself
in beautifying the grass plot at the front
door, setting out a few rose-bushes, and
sowing a few papers of flower seeds,
usually resides within the house, but it
must be reciprocated from that without,
or little can be accomplished. Some
hard work must be done, which the wife
and daughter cannot do; there is dress
ing to be provided, spading to be done,
and some cleaning up about the prem
ises, which is of too heavy a nature for
the "women folks" to perform. This
must be done by the strong arms of the
men. An hour or two after supper, for a
few days, will work wonders at this gar
den preparation, and, with the heavy
work out of the way, that of planting
out, sowing seeds and after care, can be
almost wholly attended by fairer hands.
Do not put this off as of no consequence.
It is the one thing about the farm that is
sure to pay. There is an actual money
value to a neat- yard, a little lawn, to
climbers, to roses, to a bed of verbenas,
to geraniums. You may not eat them
yourself, they may not help feed your
cattle, bnt they will feed the soul, and
the mind and heart under their refining
influence will be improved, elevated and
made better. A single front yard neatly
kept, and holding a few beds of pansies,
phlox, carnations and gladiolus, is a
good missionary station for an entire
neighborhood; and sociability, gentle
ness, refinement and love will flow out
from such a home and such a garden as
naturally as warmth from a heated stove.
It will be the center of attraction and
good influence all through the summer,
and the home itself will be happier, and
the inmates better for the pure influences
of plants and flowers.
Don't neglect to trim up the front
yard, provide a few flower beds, and
keep the home surroundings in neat con
dition all the time. One of these days
you will find yourself loving and caring
for flowers, and a better farmer for it aU.
2V. Y. Farmer.
A Kansas Woman's Fabm. Mr. Hoad
ley showed us yesterday some heads of
wheat, a sample of forty-five acres, now
growing on the farm of Mrs. Mary
Macutchen, situated about five miles
from this city. It promises to yield
twenty bushels to the acre. This Mrs.
Macutchen is a somewhat remarkable
woman. She was left a widow with
fonr children more than ten years ago.
In 1874, when half the people were
scared out of their wits by the grasshop
pers, she contracted for an unimproved
farm for $1800, which she gave to one of
her boys. She has since paid for the
land from the surplus products of her
own farm of 120 acres. Last year she
bought the Bob Allen farm of 150 acres
at the price of $2500, one-fourth of which
she has already paid, and will pay over
another fourth from the crops of this
year. She runs her farm with the aid of
her two sons and without much hired
help. This is a good example of what
has been done in the midst of what are
called hard times in Kansas, by a widow
left with a family of children, and no re
sources but a farm of 120 acres. f Law
rence (Kan.) Journal.
GabfieiiD and the Welsh Bards.
CXart CXa-vficAi if. id nil in tit Tvrosirlfi
over a gathering on the Scranton Eistedd
fod, in this State, the trial of competi
tive Welsh bards being claimed as of
Wolali avfratfinn Viimsfilf. This ex
plains why he has retired to Mentor to
get rested enough to write his letter oi
acceptance. It is to be in the Welsh
lam7-na.ee ('anil it hasanrior claim in
point of time over the other invitations
to the -.fresidency) naturally it requires
time, seclusion and careful study. When
that is nublished it wiU be in order to
look out for the other letter. It is to be
honed, however, that the General will
not get his dictionaries mixed and
exm-ess his willingness to grwyn yrbd to
the wrong parties. It would have been
safe, however, to nave written me
English letter first. Philadelphia
Ledger.
Pliinntnnn avo Tint, nprhiirva m ATP (TOR-
sipy than otuer people, but they are taiN
Dearers.
Rupture
From a Merchant.
Daytoh, W. T., Feb. 10, 1879.
W. J. Some, Proprietor California Elastic
Truss Co., 702 Market street, San Francisco Sin
The Truss I purchased of you about one year ago
has proved a miracle to me. I have been ruptur
ed forty years, an3 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 da 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 glad to answer any letters on its merrits.
I remain, yours respectfully,
D. B. Bunnell.
Latest Medical Endorsements.
Maktiukz, 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. Carothbbs, M IX
Eadorsed by a' prominent Medical lu
tlnte. 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 adjustibilitv 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 touse
yours, all acknowledge their entire satisfaction,
and consider themselves highly favored by the
possession of the improved Elastic Truss.
Yours truly, Barlow J. Smith, M. D.
Proprietor Hygienic Medical Institute,
635 California street, San Francisco.
A REMARKABLE CURE.
San Frakcisco, Oct 20, 1879.
W. J. Heme, Proprietor California Elastio
Truss, 702 Market street, San Francisco Sir I
am truly grateful to you for the wonderful CUBE
your valuable truss has effected on my little boy.
The double truss I purchased from you has PER
FECTLY CUKED him of his painful rupture on
both Bides in a little over six months. The steel
truss he had before I bought yours caused him
cruel torture, and it was a happy day for us all
wnen no lam it aside tor the California Elastic
Truss. I am sure that all will be thankful who
are providentially led to give your truss a trial.
You may refer any one to me on this subject.
Yours truly, Wm. Pkbv,
638 Sacramento Street.
This is to crtify that I have examined the son
' of Wm. Peru, and find him PERFECTLY
j CURED of Hernia on both sides.
L. Dexter Lyfobd, M. D.
Surgeon and Physician,
i Trusses forwarded to all parts of the United States
at our expense on receipt of price.
Head Stamp fur Illustrated Catalogue
aud Price .isi.
Giving full information and rules for measuring.
; California Elastic Truss Co.
702 Market Street, S. F.
$66
A WEEK in your own town and no
capital risked. You can give the
business a trial witnout expense.
The best opportunity ever offered for
those willine 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 as much
as men. Send for special private terms and par
ticulars, which we mafl free. $6 outfit free.
Don't complain of hard times while you have
saeh a chance. Address H. HALLETT 4 CO,.
Portland, Maine. 18:31yl
HALL'S
SAFE AND LOCK CO.
CAPITAL., 81 000,000.
General Office and Manufactory,
CINCINNATI, OHIO.
Pacific Branch,
ail and 213 California St., Han Francisco.
Cf 1 AS. M. DODD St, CO., PORTLAND,
Agents for Oregon and Washington Ter
HALL'S PATENT CONCRETE
FI11E-PROOF SAFES.
Have been tested by the most disastrous confla
grations in the country.
They are thoroughly fire proof. .
They are free from dampness.
Their superiority is bc-yond 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 imtance on record
wherein one of them ever failed to preserve it
contents perfectly.
HALL'S PATENT DOVETAILED
TKNON AND OROOVK
BURGLAR-PROOF
AFE.
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 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 wa
will put from $1,000 lo $10,000 behind them any
time aeainst an eaual amount.
THEY ABE THE BEST SAFE
Made in America, or any other country.
One Thousand Dollars
To any person who can prove that one of Hall's
patent burglar-proof safes has over been
broken open and robbed by
burglars up to the
present time.
C. W. Pool, Traveling Agent.
Office with O. H. Dodd 6 Co., Portland, Oregon.
C. B. PARCELLS, Manager, g. F.
JOB PRINTING.
$15
TO $6000 A YEAR, or $5 to $20 a day
. , l -. ht : 11T
in your own locality, no. "v-
tnon rln aa woll an men. Manv make
morn 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
hnaineaa. Nothing like it for money making
ever offered before. Business pleasant and strict
ly honetisBle. Header, it you want to Know an
ohnnt th hat. ravine business before the public
send us your address and we will send you full
particulars anaprivabeww iree, ouiupies nu
r 1 rjr. r. ftan a Ir A ..n l-rtlir mini!
yourself. Address GEORGE STINSON
QQ.fOm, Maine. 16:31yl
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 tbe Coast.
Kill Beads,
letter lleatls
ImmhI.
P Oif rnt mra,
DI1 llr !
luvilaliooa
Jtrcnlara,
Bualuc-a ard.
Visit i uk card,
Labcia.
Uodffrra.
ausall Postt r.
I.eaal Hlanka
Bank Bat.
tkalnplua; Receipts,
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IMUa.
Taga.
-Orders by mail promptly filled,
mates furnished.