(ft
i mi ji
aa am a a
A QUESTION.
Joy Monies and goes; hope ebba ind flow
v.ke the wave;
Chaste does unknit the tranquil strength of
men.
Xovo lends life a little grace,
A few sad emiles, and then
Both are Jaid in one cold place,
In the grave
Dreams At m and fly, friends sKilo and die
Like -ipi-ing ilowers ;
Our vaulted life is one long funeral.
Men drg graves with bitter tears
Forfcfceir dead hopes; and all
Mazrd with doubts am! sick with fears
Ount the hours.
We ecunt the hours. These dreams of ours-
Falso and hollow.
Do We go hence and find they are not dead?
Joys we dimly apprehend,
Paces that smiled and fled,
Hopes born here, tE(l born to the end
Shall we follow V
Matthew Arnold
MIL TEST.
She was thetmbodiment of beauty.
None could twe thought otherwise,
seeing her as she sat there alone on the
piazza, herJorely form slightly inclined,
her hands clasped on her lap, and one
small and 'lapely foot lightly tapping
the floor; -the long, sweeping lashes
drooping languidly over her dreamy,
lustrous yes, and a sweet smile play
ing aroanil her scarlet month, which
was open 1 just enough to exhibit the
even tipe cf her pearly teeth.
The restless, crimson tide 'coursing
beneath ' the pure, transparent skin
would occasionally suffuse her cheeks
and then pass gradually away, only to
surge iback again and mantle : face and
neck -with a burning blush.
Yes.-Minerva Lambert was' beautiful,
and never did she look more so than
now,e.s, flushed with .apparent excite
ment and totally unconscious of the
charming picture she formed, she sat
there where the long trailing vines
swayed to and fro on onio side, casting
fantastic shadows on the ;floor. and on
the titer motley flowers codding lazily
in the gentle breeze that lifted sweet
fragrance from their 'ccroform crests,
whEe the slanting beamsof the evening
suciested like a kalo -joh her bowed
head.
Minerva had two "lovers that is, two,
riiy one of whom she could think of ac
epting as her companion through life.
"Literally, she had at least a dozen,
ifofll only two dared hope for her hand.
These were Leroy Beaumont and
Mark Spencer.
ILieroy was thesen of wecithy parents.
IHark was comparatively poor. Leroy
was very handsome, witliiilirk, flashing
eyes, black, glossy heir ant! fierce-looking
mustache; Mark was not, though
:hi3 bright aud ee?-Kmiling eounten
.ance wore anything but ta disagreeable
-aepect.
They were not friends,' 'bt it was be
aase of their rivalry. Tbey had never
heen personally : acquainted. Leroy,
"thinking that features aueh.&s his were
.essential to any one who, .world win the
hand of that beauty, was, ccnsequently
icnfident of his ability to- -gein the vic
tory, and, perhapc, was iinprejudiced.
Mark's opinion was different. Al
though not nearly wo confident of suc
eess as his competitor, he was too noble
a nature to allow hatred" -cr even jeal
'ORrsy to be excited w ithin i liiiQ, and he
"believed tltat Minerva Lambert would
mat judge by personal appeaiance which
s most deaervingidf theiEindi-coveted
hand.
Hint Minerva, it aimst be aaid, had a
f romantic not io. tit in herhad. Her
father, knowing thevreputation of Mark
Spencer, advised berto accept him in
preference to the other, .but rshe hesi
tated. Mr. Beaumont mo ihari'dtiome, so
tall and graceful, :and he had such
bright and flashing eyes,.,and then that
captivating mustache was an adornment
that Mr. Spencer could not boast of.
Jt&i she love Leroy Beaumont ? She
thought she did, though when in the
society of Mark Spenoer she was in
doufei. She was not .capable i read
ing her own heart.
IfaiiV. they had both proposed. This
very.Say they had both been ai her
feet.,;jiiring forth the -story of their
love, and begging for hers in return.
CMeourse they did not do. this at the
same time, but at different hours of the
day, and neither knew .of Ahe other's
proposal.
She , 'djj?. not give them 'her answer,
but dismissed them both with the infor
mation ;tht they mnst wait until to
morrow, and thus give hex time to de
cide. Theji she set her witeito work.
Whioh should she accept ? She was
in a dilemma. She was a little partial
to Beaumont, but then she knew so lit
tle of bis charu cter. Spencer she knew
to be a 'true gentleman, but jthen he
lacked tfhat iiattractiveness of feature
which, sue thought, would have made
him look so much more noble and manly-She
hit mpon a plan which -pleased
her, and Sue immediately began the ex
ecution of it.
She wrwte twe notes exactly alike,
and sent ftne of Ahem to each of her
lovers.
They ran fhus.:
"Meet me at 8o.'0l&3k this evenfcg -at
She old elm tree on .the river bank,
near my father' house. "
Jt was all she wrote. She knew they
wpuld both be at the appointed spot at
the appointed tuae. each thinking him'
.self the favored ssstor.
She was thinking of this as she sat
alone on the piazza., whete the long
evening shadows were creeping across
the filter, and the rays of the setting snn
were smuggling through the network
of vines ta kiss her blushing cheek.
She comM think of no better way of
finding out whether Leroy Beaumont
was a true gentleman or not.
it was to see now ne would, act on
finding his rival at the place of meeting
that she had concluded to make this
appointment with both.
If her plan failed, she would contrive
another, for she had resolved that no
man should become her husband unless
he was in every respect worthy of her.
Mark SpefiWer stood beneath the
wide spreading branches of the old elm
tree, leaning against its huge trunk
with his arm folded on his breast.
It was just the night for a meeting of
lovers. The moon looked down with
modified splendor from her starry
throne. Her image was reflected in
the limpid stream. Her tempered
light flooded the little gable, and
stealing through the rustling branches,
fell upon the face of Mark Spencer.
Though the features were not reg
ular, there was something attractive
about the face. It was so open and
candid, and there was such a good na
tured smile on the manly brow. The
verdict of one capable of reading the
heart in the face would undoubtedly be
good, and even a casual observer would
he struck with the gentlemanly appear
ance of the young man.
Just now the countenance was bright
with hope. "Would not Minerva Lam
bert soon be in his arms telling him
ho much she loved him?
This, he thought, was the reason
why he had been requested to meet her
there, preferring that romantic spot in
which to tell him of her love.
He heard a footstep behrn d him.
turning hastily, he beheld the hand
some Apollo, Leroy Beaumont, walk
ing briskly along toward him.
He was much surprised to see him ap
proaching, and so was Leroy to find
Mark there, for he stopped short and
held up both hands, exclaiming:
"Mark Spencer!"
"Mr. Beaumont," returted the other,
with a slight nol.
"Why are you here?" cried Beau
mont. "What right have you to ask ?" calmly
retorted the young man.
His rival colored.
'""Sir, you are invpuderftj" said he, an
grily. "'I deny the charge, Mr. Beaumont,
and you have no cause to speak thus."
""Again I ask you why you are here?"
Again I tell you that it does not
concern you, and vou have no right to
ask."
"Then, sir, will you please leave this
place, as it is here I am to meet a cer
tain person."
And with a haughty look the osten
tatious fellow consulted his heavy gold
watch.
"Minerva should have been here ere
this," he muttered, as if to himself, but
with a furtive glance t Mark Spencer
to see what effect his words produced
on him.
Mark was supprised ; but, pretending
that he did not hear the words, he said:
"No. sir ; I will net leave this place,
for I, too, am waiting for a friend."
"Do vou mean Mies Lambert?"
"I do."
"Then, sir, you speck falsely!" cried
Leroy, fiercely. "Sho did not ask you
to meet her here."
"I beg your p&rden, but "
"Cease! Hold your tongue !" thun
dered the handsome anan. "Audacious
scoundrel! know you not that Minerva
Lambert is soon tc become my wife?
She cares naught for you. Your jeal
ousy prompted yot I to come here and
witness our meeting,- eh ?"
'"Tis false!" replied Mark, quietly.
'I kneiv not that euch a meeting was
in con tempi at iosa But, sir, I have no
desire to bandv words with you; there
fore I wish you good evening."
He bowed and wnssaboat to withdraw
iS.'oni the spot when Leroy produced a
pistol and pointed .itt him.
Mark was no coward. He folded his
srms and looked icalmly into the dark
anuzzle of the weapon.
"Shoot," said he; "shoot, Leroy
Beaumont. I ana unarmed.''
"Peace, gentlemen' cried a silvery
mtice.
'; Thev looked srmHltaticouslv and be
held Minerva Lsumberl standing there
iin the moonlight, .her tall, queenly
Sorxi clad in spotless rtihite.
Mark lifted lue hat politely, while
his rival stood astockrf -till, staring at
her.
Mirero'e steppaS prort51y forward.
"Mr. 3eaumonit;'" sate she, confront
inguhat . 5entlenut.11, "I .have witnessed
yoar proceedings tince.iou came here,
and i have overhemd tthn conversation
carried on. between you iitind Mr. SpeE
cer. Sir, you hare , proved yourself a
villiac ant I a cowar.fi. '-Yigu reviled Mr
Spencer w itiioat eauee. "-i.Ta were going
to sheet hi m even a&ter he told you that
he re ui iarmed. Jlnd, I t-esides, voa
told him that I was yioii promised
wife, 4iuch (you know is;' false.
"Yoil. ask ed me fchliEikiyffcr my heart
and has d. : is also did jla---Jpeucer. I
gave rtti their of var. an ..answer, be
cause I wished- to carry out,a little plan.
I knew ootbing ol your ipaailife, sir,
nor whtf&er you at psesent had the
reputation of being gaodopr bad. I
could noi thi. it of joining ,xj life to
that ol one wl to, compasativelj speak
ing, is unkaowi t to me.
"I plansed this mesrfih'.g -with the
hope that itnnigh t give m ;aai insight in
to your tru.; chai acter, aaita.I hoped not
in vain. I ,esiri xl to see sjsour , actions
on confrontacc your rival hrase. 3 have
ing you to meet rne here is accomplish
ed. Good evening, sir."
"Stay, Miss Lambert. Shall 1 call
to-morrow and receive your answer, or
can I hear it now?"
"Kot now. To-morrow if you wish,
you may see me at home."
And on the following day Mark
Spencer, with throbbing heart, sat be
side his love.
"When she felt his strong arm stealing
around her trembling form, when she
felt his litis pressed to hers in a sweet
betrothal kiss, and heard his low-murmured
words of endearment, Minerva
Lambert felt a sweet feeling of rest
coming over her, aud she laid her head
on his breast, wondering how she ever
could have thought that she loved
Leroy Beaumont more than she did
this noble-hearted man.
HOW QUININE IS USED.
PKESESTED AT COURT,
Made the Basis for More Than Three
fourths of the Prescriptions Fat Up toy
Drug'g'ists.
New York Mail and Express.
If all drugs of the pharmacopeia, ex
cept opium and quinine could be
dumped into the sea, I balieve mankind
would be the gainer in more ways than
one."
It was in this strain that an old-school
physician expressed his disgust for the
healing art in the presence of a report
er for the Mail and Express.
"Then you consider opium and qui
nine the staple drugs.
"Assuredly. Quinine especially so.
More than three-fourths of all the pre
scriptions written to-day have for their
basis quinine. It is used as a tonic, as
a sedative, as an irritant, as an antiph
logistic, in fact, I can not say what it is
not used for. Why, the advertisement
of the druggists show conclusively that
it is the most important drug known.
You can read everywhere, 'Great re
ductions in quinine.' "
"And have these great reductions
been made in price, the quality or the
weight?"
"In the price without doubt. You
can buy the best article now for $1 an
ounca. Ten years ago the same article
sold for $5. Half that sum has been
paid for it within the past five years. "
"Then the demand is falling off?"
"On the contrary, the demand is
greater than ever. The real cause of
the reduction is, I think, the throwing
of immense lots of the drug upon the
market. When Congress removed the
ten per cent, duty, the surplus of the
foreign market was rushed over here.
Then, too, the failures of Alexander
Bochringer & Co., the largest manu
facturers of quinine in the world, and
G. C. Myer & Co., the largest dealers
in chinchona bark, have had much to do
with lessening the prices. In conse
quence of those and other failures there
is no less than 100,000 pounds of quin
ine in London which will soon be forced
to a sale by brokers who have advanced
money upon it ami took the drug as
collateral. "
"Then quinine wJIl be cheaper still?"
"I think not. Bottom has been
reached and before long poor 'fever'a
ager' patients will have to pay for their
quinine. The estimated product of
quinine of the world, I believe, is 1,
000,000 pounds a year. Counting that
it takes thirty-six pounds of bark to get
one pound of quinine, this would neces
sitate the gathering of 36:000,000 pounds
hbf bark. I understand, however, that
there is a Mexican bark which yields
the same amount of quinine to one
half the amount of bark, and if this is
so prices may not go up so quickly as
tbey otherwise would. Though called
the Peruvian bark, that from which
quinine is made does not necessardy
kcorne from Peru. Much of it comes
.from Ceylon, Liberia and Java, and it
is hinted that before long it will be
successfully cultivated on the United
.States."
"Is the bark expensive.?"
"It varies in price from 25 cents to H
: ounce. But besides quinine, which
is the fifth essence of the bark, cinchona,
(Caachenidea and other products aro got
ten from it. Until Eeoently Germany
and Italy were the greatest producers
of qsiinme but at present the leading ;
manufactures in the world are located
ic JPhiladelphia."
seen. Iam atisned. Go, si? ! isever
speak to me gain nor allowyonr foot
steps to wander toward my heme,
which you Itase so often vkated ;r.s a
wo in sheep's idothing."
Pele and tressSbling, Leroy Baumout,
listened to this speech, coweru&g before
the accusing gaze of those flashaatgayes
like a.criminal reeeivinji; his sentence.
When she hadfiBishe.ilie stooderect,
So Soon Forgotten.
'Ivwas looking through a scrap-book
only a little while ago, and I ran across
the aaame of a man who but a very short
time back was the leading feature at
jLong Branch, whose store on Broad
I way was a palace, and who had the
handsomest place in Philadelphia and
was known in all the realms of display.
I refer to H. T. Helmbold, who paid
Trillion of money to the newspapers of
the land, nine-tenths of whom turned
TBpon'htm in hie time of sorrow and
tSaulaticn, giving him the tones of
ridicule ffor the neturn of the bread of
patoenage he had so recklessly thrust
upam -jthe waters of eadeavor in
otlter dSays Where is Helmbold
to-i&ay.? The lar I knew lie was
in &n Ibtsane asit'.nm in Europe. I
couliiriitttfcH to save my life where he is.
Last -week was six yaars only since the
death off JSfcratague, JVfr. Wallaek's lead
ing man. He died iin San Francisco,
Aug. 12, S78, of hemorrhage of the
lungs, a lelaver fellow, a bright, cheery,
sun beamy Jaiaa ot peuon, an enornaous
A. Woman's Story of a Presentation at a
Royal Drawing: Room.
Do you think you can go to a
''drawing room" without learning how
to make a proper reverence? No, in
deed. You must go to a cozy little
house in the West End, where a very
elegant and quaint little old French
lady will show you all you have to do
for a guinea a lesson, and then on the
afternoon before the great day you go
to see the lady who is to present you
to get the important tickets, and to
receive explicit instructions as to your
line of conduct, for, as the lady belongs
to the diplomatic circle, she will be in
the room with her royal highness, and
you must enter alone. At her house
you meet some gentlemen, and one
tells you that when he was presented
was the only moment in his life that he
has known what fear was, and that he
was in agony lest he should trip over
his sword, and you think of your
three or four yards of train, and you
are sure that it will be much worse
than a sword. And another tells you
that the youngladies usually are white
and trembling with fear, and that often
they make a terrible fiasco; they tell
you of one poor unfortunate, who, in
stead of kissing the queen's hand when
it was extended to her, shook it vigor
ously, then realizing what she had
done, lost her head completely, and,
forgetting all the great line of person
ages, t urned her back and incontinent
ly fled.
By the time you leave your instruct
ress' house, you are trembling in every
limb, and you spend all the rest of the
evening making courtesies to the chairs
and sofas, and fervently hoping that
you may not disgrace your country
on the morrow.
Your landlord's daughter devotes
herself to you for the next day, and
makes thi most helpful and obliging
of little dressing-maids, and at last
you are ready, all pearls, lace and
shining silk. It is quite a longdriveto
the park, hut suddenly you see the
Horse Guards and then you know you
have arrived, and inside the gates
you find hundreds and hundreds
of people waiting to see the car
riages pass and standing on tiptoe to
catch a glimpse of you. All the way
up the long drive the Horse Guards, in
their long plumes and brilliant scarlet,
are stationed at right and left, and in
side the palace gates is a long row of
horsemen standing close together, and
you alight to the sound of martial
music. When you have left your wrap
in a room near t he entrance you go up
a very grand stairway, past men with
spears call "Beef -eaters," dressed in red
and yellow; you hand one of your
tickets to the queen's page, and are
ushered with a great many ladies into
a huge room, all red and gold, and
there you sit for quite a long time gaz
ing at the lovely views of the park
through the wide windows, and study
ing the dresses.
As you pass the door to the presence
chamber you drop your train from
your arm, and the two chamberlains
or whatever they are called quickly
and deftly straighten it to its full
length as you walk slowly forward, at
the door of the throne room some one
takes your second card; and then you
hear the lord chamberlain pronounc
ing your, name in a very loud voice,
and now you are bowing to the
princess, you wish the ladies behind
you would not come quite so fast, for
you feel hurried and are conscious you
are not making your reverence the way
you were taught; you courtesy to the
ladies next the princess; but how many
there are, jr what they look like, you
haven't theleast idea;you see the prince
quitedist inctly, and you walk sideways
and make a series of little diminish
ing bows to the row of dukes or prin
ces or whatever they may be, but of
them you retain not the faintest impression-
Suddenly you feel your
train hustled on to your arm, for in
your confusion you have forgotten to
hold your arm out properly, and the
great deed is done! It has lasted in all
about fifteen seconds; you haven't
seen anything very distinctly, and you
retain only one idea, that her royal
highness was dressed in light yellow
but you have been presented at court,
and surely ought to be satisfied. The
next day your name appears in the
Court Circular. Christian Union.
I t remained un
and foi a moment a bitter retort 3emed!.' favorite. I .was showicg his picture to
young may ritmn a weeK;, a wostan
i 9 years old, a great theater-goer within
the past three years, ant she had nerer
heard of him 1 And yet six years ag
his photographs were in e very girl's al
bum, and he was as wJl known on
Fifth avenue and our chisf places of re
sort &r any man who could b-a named in
the city of New York. New York Letter.
to tremble on his lips.
spoken.
He said not a word, but turned ab
tuptlv ot his heel, with a contemptu-
eoas toss of his head, and walked promf-
tg away.
When h was lost to view in the dark
ness, Minerva turned to Mark, who had
been a silent spectator of the little
drama that kad just been performed,
and said, in a trembling voiae;
"Mr. Spencer, I hope you will for
give nay making a tool of you or the
execution of mystratacrem. and subject
ing you to the insults of that man. "
As to that, Mfes Lambert," he re
plied with a respectful bow, "There is
nothing to forgive,"
" l iianJt yon, sir. Unt I cannot stay
longer
The deepest sea-sounding ever made
was in the Pacific Ocean in 1871, near
the entrance to Behrings Sea. The
depth was 4.G55 fathoms and the cast
was mace from the United States ship'
Tuscarora. The shallowest water in
the middle of the Atlantic, 731 fathoms,
My sole purpose for request- j mountains 10,556 feet nigh.
A Thundering Big Organ.
Letter in San Francisco Alta.
The organ has 2,704 pipes and fifty-
: seven stops. Some of the pipes are
thirty-two feet long and large enough
: rto admit the bodies of three men.
! the towers that rise on either side are
forty-eight feet high, with a niche left
i between them for the Goddess oi Mu
sic. This immense temple of music,
which is nearly as large as a cottage,
is elaborately carved by hand,
j It is impossible to estimate the cost
of it, as it was built in early days,
when freighting was done by ox
teams across the plains, and many of
the workmen only received provisions
for their labor. But they are a people
who will not be outdone, and when the
Episcopal Church built their beautiful
organ here the Mormons at once be
gan to improve theirs, which was all
show and framework, and have
already expended $10,000 on it.
Sitting rn that vast auditorium, 200
feet long by 150 wide, where the acous
tics are so perfect you can hear a pin
drop from one end to the other, amid
the cool aud silence and solemnity of
the vast amphitheater for it is circu
lar in its formation, with the melo
dious, rhytliiiiical, silver-toned strains
of that powerful organ, underthemas
ter band, one as exalted for the time
being, and feel, as I imagine be will
when brought to face the.great Master.
When listeningto the grand offertore
((in D) by Baptiste I imagined I knew
what Dante's "Memo" was; pandem
osium seemed let loose, when a low
voV-e in a minor strain began to sing,
aud one could only think of the wail
of a lost soul, and the tears unbidden
startso sad, so sweet, eo far away
is this voice, which after all is no voice
at all, but only the effect of the organ.
Then comes a burst of melody, like a
hallelujah chorus from athousand ser
aphim and cherubim. The effect of the
"Cornelius March," by Mendelssohn,
on this superb organ, played by this
brilliant performer, can be more easily
imagined than described.
Deaths of Distinguished Men.
The Boston Herald has collected ac
counts of the deaths of several eminent
men which are peculiarly interesting at
this time.
Napoleon I. died of a cancer in the
stomach. He underwent all the rise and
fall of health and hope, depression and
despair which have marked Grant's
illness. But the cancer, being in the
stomach, caused much severer pain
than Grant's. Toward the last he
could not digest his food. He was t or
mented by a constant thirst. His
pulse beat with feverish quickness. He
was fully aware of his fate. "The
monarchs who persecute me," he said,
"may set their minds at rest. I shall
soon remove all cause for fear." His
days were almost given over to spasms
of pain, to vomiting and intolerable
thirst. During the intervals of rest
he would talk occassionally. He said
he was going to meet his subordinate
generals. "They will experience once
more the intoxication of human
glory. We shall talk of what we have
done with Frederick, Cffisar and Han
nibal, unless," he added with a pe
culiar smile after a pause, "unless there
should be as great an objection in the
upper spheres as there is here below to
see a number of soldiers together."
On the 3d of May he became delirious,
and amid his ravings these words were
distinguishable. "My son. Thearmy.
Desaix." His sufferings contiued until
almost the last moment when he sunk
into unconsciousness. The day before
the death of Frederick the great, al
though feeble and confined to his bed,
he went through with all his cabinet
work, dictating to his clerks clearly
and intelligently, but with feeble
voice. The next day was spent in
a stupor and occasional opening
of the eyes. He knew, how
ever, of his condition, as he asked
what the doctors had said about him.
In the night he asked what o'clock it
was, said he should rise at 4, told an
attendant to throw a quilt over one
of his dogs that was shivering with the
cold, and after coughing and clearing
his throat said, "We are over the hill.
We shall be better now." This was
his last speech and two hours after he
was dead.
Oliver Cromwell struggled with his
last illness for ten days. Toward the
last he was heard to say among other
things: "I think I am the poorest
wretch that lives; but I love God, or
rather, am beloved of God. I am a
conqueror, and more than a conquer
or, through Christ that strengtheneth
me." But most of the time he was
speechless.
Blucher, who saved Wellington at
Waterloo, said to the Kfng of Prussia,
who visited him during his last illness,
"I know I shall die. I am not sorry
for it, seeing that I am no longer of
any use."
General Grant's Last Speech.
At the annual meeting of the San
itary and Christian commissions, at
Ocean Grove, August 2, 1884, General
Grant was present. He was introduc
ed to the large audience and said:
"Ladies and Gentlemen: Under all
circumstances it is a difficult matter
for me to speak, and how much more
difficult under the present circum
stances. An hour ago I might have
said something about the Sanitary
and Christian commissions. I wit
nessed the good done. They did a
great deal by way of consolation,
writing letters to friends at home for
the sick and wounded, and found where
their dead were buried. I hope you
are all having a good time hert
day. I appreciate," and
the voice of the great general
hushed in sobs, and he sank into his
chair weeping profusely. He was still
a great sufferer from the broken tendon
of his leg, and the financial crash on
Wall street, which had just swept away
all of his life's savings and imperiled
his good name, over which he was very
sensitive, and this his first cordial
greeting since his calamities was too
much for the manly heart to endure
without tears of gratitude. It was
the only time the "hero of many bat
tles" was known to shed tears before
an audience though often called to
speak. The audience wept like children
and for some moments silence brooded
over the vast aesembly.
This .was General U. S. Grant's last
speech before a large public assembly.
It will be remembered by thousands
for years to come.
to
here
was
Tasted of the Staves.
1 like to talk with boys about 60
years of age and get them to telling
their reminiscences. By boys I mean
those hearty old fellows who, though
their hair has turned gray, have as
much young blood in their veins as
they had when they were one-and-twenty.
"I suppose you all have
heard of old Farmer Allen," said one
of these jolly patriarchs the other day.
"He was a great temperance man,
you know. Well, thirteen years ago
we all went to camp at Portland, and
Farmer Allen belonged to my com
mand. One terribly hot day we had a
clambake, and in the tent was a big
barrel of champagne punch, strong
punch, too. Allen came along very
hot and very thirsty, and looking in
the tent saw the barrel of punch.
'Hello, boys! got some lemonade,
haven't you?' said the oldman. 'Yes,'
replied the boys, winking at each
other, 'help yourself.' The farmer went
in, took one glass, smacked his lips,
took another, and liked it so well that
he wanted more. In a little while he
came out of the tent looking very rosy
and very unsteady in his movements.
He r fleeted a moment, and then said:
'Shay, boys (hie), thash almighty fine
(hie) lem'nade in thash bar-(hic)-rel;
but (hie) don't you think (hie) it
tashts (hie) a leetle mite of the staves?' "
Boston Saturday Evening Gazette.
.. .. ..
Rich Actors and Actresses.
Little Lotta is declared to be the
richest woman on the stage. IheaW
her fortune put a day or two ago at
$1,000,000. This is, of course, ex
travagant. She is, however, worth
all of 250,000, and I dare say, some
where near $500,000. In her earlier
years on the stage Lotta experienced
no end of trouble keeping her money.
Somehow or other it all went. Bat
as time wore on Lotta contracted"
business habits, until she is now asca
pable a business person as anybody
She has money invested in about every
way stocks, bonds, real estate, and .
I know not what. She is now 38yearS
old,. I believe, but she is full of anima-'
tion and always a wonderfully happy
little body. She succeeded on the
stage because she could not help it
It is perfectly natural for her to cot
the capers that she does, for she cuts
them off the stage as well as on.
The richest man on the stage is'
doubtless Joe Murphy. He is worth a
cold $500,000, if he is worth a dollar
He was a poor Irish boy, and started
as a variety singer and dancer. His
one ambition has been to make mon
ey, rather than fame as a distin
guished artist. He has stuck to
Irish dramas, and he has always .
played to big-paying business, while
other shows have languished and
died on all sides. He has sung ;
"Only a handful of Earth from My
Dead Mother's Grave" until it wrings
tears from even him tears of agonyj '
The song, however, touches the hearts
of his audienceevery time without- fail.
The women boo-hoo and the men de
mand a repetition. Players who are
satisfied with modest positions in the
profession like to go with Murphy.
He expects them to do all that their
contracts call for, but he treats them
faily and pays them fairly. Nobody
begrudges Murphy his prosperity, for
the reason that he is known every
where as a square and upright man.
The poorest person in the profession
aggregates in the total nine-tenths of
the whole. Lillian Russel is, perhaps,
as badly off as any of the conspicuous
ones. She has received a great deal
of money, but never has kept any of
it, and it is said she has debts without
end. Fanny Davenport, I hear, has
invested some money in one of the
dramatic papers. She has accumulated
a fortune, and a very substantial one,
too. Sheis probably worth $75,000
to $100,000. Brooklyn Union.
- -
"Grant's Cadet."
"Another case in point," said an old
West Pointer, "is that of Sergeant
Griffith of the old Twenty-second lowa
In the assault on Vicksburg it will he 1
remembered that a part of theTwenty
second Iowa Regiment crossed tine
ditch and parapet of a rebel outwork
In the hand-to-hand fight that follow
ed every man except one was shot
down. This one man was Griffith, aud
he went down with the others, stunned
but not seriously hurt. On his re
covery he found a rebel lieutenant and
sixteen men lying in the outwork still
unwounded, but exposed to the fire
from both Confederates and Unionists.
"Griffith rose and asked the rebelsto
follow him out of the place. They .
signified their willingness to obey, and
calling to the troops outside to cease
firing Griffith took his prisoners ova
the parapet under a storm of rebel,
shot. As soon as he heard of this ex
ploit Grant promoted Griffithto a lin-st
lieutenancy and afterward sent himt
the Military Academy at West Point, ,
where he was known as Grant's cadet.
He graduated in 1867 the fifth in. his
class, and I happen to know that
Grant never lost sight of him, and in .
every mention of that battle of Vk-k-burg
written by Grant, Griffith receives
as many lines as do some of thegeneral
officers."
Bees in a Church.
Fairfield (Conn.) Special.
For more than a year bees have ap
peared within the Episcopal church-,
here in large numbers. During the
winter, whenever the- janitor started
the fires, hundreds of the busy ham
mers would creep out of their hiding
places and ny about the edifice. Ear
ly this spring steps were taken to dis
cover their habitation. Twelvepouuds
of honey and a quantity of honey
comb were taken out between the raf
ters supporting the roof. It wan
thought then that the industrious in
sects were driven oft'. Recently, the
first warm Sunday, during servi
thousands of bees were crawling and
humming about the chancel. TheKev.
Mr. Lombard conducted the service,
and when the organ and choir rolled
out the morning hymn the insect
poured 111 millions from the rooL
Evidently the bees were preparing to
hive and mistook the organ for the
conventional copper kettle which the
knowing farmer whacks with gwsto
"when the bees hive." The Rev-Mr..
Lombard, after a few short re-markfv
interspersed with slapping his head,
said he would have to dismiss thecon
gregation and dispense with the com
munion service, "as the reason was
obvious." The good people left the
ehnrch, but even the straightest faced;
could not help laughing.
Gigantic Lilies Worn by English Girls.
From the London Truth.
We went recently to the coiiver1
saione given by the Academicians at
Burlington House. The crowd was
something terrific; nevertheless, the
sight was highly effective.
As to the dresses, they were of aI5.
sorts and descriptions; a few only, 1
am thankful to say, being noticable
by their absurdity.
The show of diamonds and pearls
was a show indeed, Lady Henry Len
nox being especially conspicuous.
The show, however, of the evening
was provided by a couple of young
girls. They were apparently alone,,
but, in order that their twin solitude .
should not pass unnoticed the one
wore a bunch of gigantic lilies, which
stuck straight up in the air from her
waist, while the other had her left
shoulder completely obscured by a.
enormous poppy.