TlfK RIGHT SORT OF A tillll.
Just fair enough to be pretty,
Just gentle enough .to be sweet;
Just saucy enough to be witty,
Just dainty enough to be neat.
Just tall enough to be graceful,
Just slight enough for a fay;
. J ust dressy enough to be tasteful
Just merry enough to be gay.
Just tears enough to be tender,
Just sighs enough to be sad,
Just soft enough to remember
Your heart tho' the cadence may glad.
Just meek enough for submission,
Just bold enough to be brave;
Just pridj enough for ambition,
Just thoughtful enough to be grave.
A tongue that can talk without harming,
J uat mischief enough to tease;
Manners pleasant enough to bo charming
That put you at once at your ease.
Generous enough and kind-hearted,
Pure as the angels above;
Oh, from her may I never be parted,
for sue is the maiden I love.
BOTH IN EEEOB.
"Your fare, please?"
The daintily-attired lady addressed
glanced up in surprise to the familiar
face, whose brown eyes had a mirthful
gleam as they met her own.
"Mr. Carroll!"
"Conductor of Number Four, and
very much at your service.Miss Hamil
ton," said the young man, doffing his
cap with a bow that would havegraced
a. drawing-room.
"You are surely jesting?"
There was something in this that
-roused the warm and hasty temper of
our hero.
"It isn't likely to be much of a jest
to me. What a pity it is that I should
be reduced by the misfortune of a
friend to such a necessity as this!"
"That depends on how you look at
it," said the lady icily, "you know my
father's position "
"Certainly," interrupted the young
nun; "and now that you know mine,
our little romance, which was very
pleasant while it lasted, will have to
end. I suppose?"
"Very well; let it be so."
The car, which had only a few in it
when this conversation commenced,
was now nearly full, and Arthur Car
TOll turned away to attend to the
duties of his office.
But as he passed around to collect
his fare, his eyes rested more than
once on the partly averted face, which
looked strangely pale in the dim twi
light. A feeling of yearning tenderness
swept over him, and passing by the
place she sat, he said hurriedly:
"Ida Miss Hamilton, I fear I have
spoken too harshly; if you will suffer
me to explain "
"There is nothing to explain," said
Ida, rising to her feet. "I think I un
derstand you fully. Please stop the
cat", I get out here."
Arthur mechanically gavethe signal.
The silken robe swept past him with a
fair:? rustle, leaving upon the air the
perfume of the rose upon her breast.
With a dazed, bewildered feeling, the
young man watched the erect and grace
ful figure, which never vouchsafed him a
srlance. until it disaianeared.
"Can it be possible for me to be so
-deceived in her?" he thought. "I would
have staked my life on Ida's love for
me, and that it was for me alone. But
what am I to think now? Before the
dawning of another day I will know."
As Arthur stood upon the steps of
Mr. Hamilton's stately mansion he saw
that there was no light from any
part of it except the library.
"I fear Ida is not at home," he
thought.
But she was, so the servant said wrho
answered the bell, ne gave the man
his name and errand, who returned
almost immediately, saying:
"Miss Hamilton is busy and begs to
be excused."
'It is better so," muttered the young
-man, as he descended into the street,
rhe scarcely knew how. "Had I seen
her I might have been fool enough to
let her know how baseless her appre
hensions were."
Passing swiftly along Arthur turned
into a by-street, where the houses were
few and scattered, and, pausing in
front of a wooden building, he went
in.
Ascending the stairs, he found him
self in a plain neatly furnished room,
where a young man sat, about his own
age, his arm in a sling and a plaster
-on one of his temples.
"How do you find yourself to-night,
old fellow?"
"So nearly recovered that Ishall re
sume my duties to-morrow." respond
ed John Ainslie with a smile; "which,
3l think, you will be glad to learn."
"Well, I don't know. I'm glad to
have you up again, but I've enjoyed
the excitement and novelty on the
whole, especially the astonishment
among such of my acquaintances as I
chanced to meet. It has certainly
given me a revelation in one direction,
which, however unexpected and pain
:ul, will prevent my making a lifelong
mistake. I don't want you to do so
until you are strongenough, but if you
think you are able to go back, I be
ilieve I will leave town for a few weeks."
Arthur put his resolution into effect
early the following morning, telling no
one of his design or destination. In
.f net . he scarcely knew or cared whither
1he went, his sole motive in going at all
being to escape from the wounded and
bitter feeling at his heart, and which
at times seemed more than he could
bear.
He had been gone about two months
when he received a letter from John
Ainslie, on the envelope of which were
various postmarks, obtained in follow
ing his erratic movements.
It was as follows:
"Friend Arthur I have been thinking a
aood deal lately about what you told me
in regard to Miss Hamilton and wondering
if you knew of her father's failure, and
which occurred, as I have learned since, the
'day I was hurt and you so kindly took my
.place. It seems that Mr. Hamilton lost
everything; even his house was attached
SkMA fl.ll liia hpa.llt.iful furnit:ir maM tv aim.
tion. His daughter Ida, I'm told supports
them both by teaching, her father being a
a good deal broken in body and mind since
misfortune. She teaches in a school a few
miles out, but was in town yesterday, and
getting on my car in leaving the boat I
chanced to see her. She was dressed very
plainly, and so altered that I should not
have known her but for her beautiful hair
and eyes. It seems to be the general im
pression that you broke your engagement
on account of her father's loss of fortune,
and knowing how farfromthe truth that is;
and believing that you were entirely igno
rant of the fact at the time you left town, I
thought I would write and tell you of it.
Your friend truly,
John Ainslie."
Arthur was not long in reaching
town after reading this. He went di
rectly to his rooms, finding on his desk
a small package and a letter.
"The letter came the day you left,"
said the landlady, "and the package a
few days after; but as you left no di
rections about sending anything I
kept them for you."
The package contained some letters
and a ring, whose costly diamond
sparkled like a dew-drop as it fell up
on the desk.
How well he remembered placing it
upon the small white hand, and all the
slowing hope that made his heart beat
so high!
By the date of the letter Arthur saw
that it was written tl.a morning after
his attempt to see the writer. It ran
as follows:
"Mr. Carroll. Owing to an unfortunate
blunder, the servant did not give me the
right name when you called last evening.
"I have been thinking that perhaps I was
too hasty in the conclusions I drew from
what you said at the last interview, and
which occurred at a time when I was feel
ing wounded and humiliated by my altered
circumstances, and so more prone to take
offence.
"I infer that you have also met with r
verses, but if you think any change in your
outward surroundings could make auy
change in me you do me a great wrong.
"If there is anything to explain I shall be
glad to see or hear from you. Failing to
do so, I will return the letters and the ring
you gave me, glad to know, ere it was too
late, how worthless was the love you pro
fessed to feel for
Ida Hamilton."
The writer of the above letter sat
alone in the rustic school house to
which she had been confined many
weary months, with but brief seasons
for rest and relaxation.
There had been a dull, throbbing
pain in her temples all day, making
the shuffle of little feet on the bare floor
the murmur of childish voices almost
unendurable.
But they had vanished now, and she
sat alone in the gathering twilight,
alone with her troubled thoughts and
mournful recollections. Never had
life seemed so wearisome to her, so void
of all joy and brightness.
The hardest thing to bear was the
consciousness that, in spite of his un
worthiness, her thoughts would turn
with regretful tenderness to him who
had obtained too strong ahold on her
heart and life to be easily dislodged.
"I would never have forsaken him
thus," she murmured through her fast
falling tears.-
"When misfortune came, I would
have clung all the more closely to him."
Hearing a step upon the threshold,
Ida raised her head and the object of
her thoughts stpod before her.
"Nay, do not turn away from me,"
he cried, as the bewildered girl shrank
from that eagerly extended hand. "I
have only just received the letter you
wrote to me so many weeks ago. Nor
did I know until recently of your
father's failure and the consequent
charge in your circumstances."
"It was all occasioned by my own
stupid blunder," said Arthur,afterthe
mutual explanations that followed,
after the two were uitting together in
loving and happy converse.
"Oh, no," smiled Ida: "Icannotlet
you take the blame. We were both in
error."
m HUNDRED YEAES AGO.
LONGFELLOW'S SONGS.
The Inspiring Source of Some of the Poet'!
Best-Known Verses.
I was once invited by Mr. Longfellow,
says Hezekiah Butterworth in Good
Cheer, to spend an evening at his home
in Cambridge. He wished to interest
me in the writings of a young author
to whom he thought I might prove
helpful. My influence could be but
small in the matter, but I was glad to
have him consider it worth offering me
an interview, and during the evening I
asked him about the origin of some
of his poems that had been set to
music.
His reply was substantially as fol
lows: "My 'Psalm of life' was written at
Cambridge one summer morning in
1838. I regarded it as an expression
of personal feeling, and did not publish
it for a long time.
"I was once riding in London," he
said, "when a laborer approached the
carriage and asked me if I were the
author of the 'r'salm of Lille. 1 re
plied that I was. He asked me if I
would shake hands with him. No com
pliment ever nleased me more than the
grasp of that man's hand."
The "Footsteps ot Angels has refer
ence to a domestic affliction. Mr. Long
fellow's first wife, a lady of great lovli-
ness ot character, died at Kotterdam
in 1835.
The being beauteous
That unto my youth was given,
More than all things else to love mc,
And is uow a saint in heaven.
"Excelsior" was written on a late
autumn evening in 1841. The poet
had just been reading a letter from
Charles Sumner.
"The Bridge" was written at aperiod
of dejection, and has reference to the
old bridge over the Charles river that
connected Boston and Cambridge. The
old Brighton furnace is gone, and a
new bridge has taken the place of the
old, but the clocks strike "the hour"
as then, and the water Scenery is now
much the same as it was then.
Day and night the incessant pro
cession of travelers goes over the bridge,
their faces now bright with the sun
rise, now vanishing into the midnight
darkness. It is delightful to linger
there on summer evenings and recall
the poet's experience and his immortal
rhe People of the United State at the
Close of the Revolutionary War Striking
i Contrasts With the Present.
The second volume of John Bach
McMaster's "History of the people of
bhe United States from the Revolu
tion to the Civil War," is even more
, interesting than the first volume. No
such vivid presentation of the life of
: our ancestors at the beginning of this
:entury has ever before been made or
' sven attempted.
Heis never weary of contrasting the
j past and the present of American life,
1 and many are the striking compa risons
' which ". is enabled to make in the pro-
?ress of his work. Here is an example
; which is particularly interesting: "On
: the resignation of Samuel Osgood in
1791 the office of postmaster-general
' was bestowed on Timothy Pickering.
Ho insignificant was the place and so
j light the duties that officer was to
1 perform that Washington did not
' think him worthy of a cabinet seat.
I Yet there is now no other department
j of government in which the people take
so lively an interest as in that over
I which the postmaster-general presides.
; The number of men that care whether
j the Indians get their blankets and
; their rations on the frontier, whether
: one company or two are stationed at
- Port Dodge, whether there is a fleet of
j iiinboats in the Mediterranean sea
i is extremely small. But the sun never
sets without millions upon millions of
: our citizens intrusting to the mails let
ters and postal-cards, money-orders
and packages, in the safe and speedy
delivery of which they are deeply con
cerned. The grow; h of the postoffice
in the last ninety years is indeed amaz
ing. In 1792 there were 26-4 post
offices in the country, now there are
49,000. The yearly revenue which
they yielded then was $25,000; now it
is far'above 45,000,000. More time
was then consumed in carrying letters
ninety miles than now suffices to carry
them 1,000. The iostage required to
send a letter from New York to Sa
vannah was precisely eighteen times as
much as will now send one far beyond
the Rocky mountains, into regions of
which our ancestors had never heard."
This passage is a very good example
of Mr. McMaster's style. It will be
seen at a glance that all the informa
tion might have been given with one
half the number of words. Wecan al
so see hdw the contrast has been
heightened by rhetorical devices, but
the passage attracts our attention, it
interests us, we read it, and we proba
bly remember it, when if put in a more
condensed and statistical form it
would leave no impression.
Mr. McMaster has a good deal to
n.v at different times about the dim-
culties of travel and communication in
! the early vears of the republic. This
i made negotiations with foreign go vern-
ments peculiarly difficult. At the
j time the British treaty of 1794 wras
; under discussion Monroe was minister
at Paris. The proposed treaty was
i naturally most distasteful to the
I French government and Monroe was
! informed that "the moment the treaty
I was approved, that moment the di
j rectory considered the alliance with
1 America at an end. The next day he
; dispatched the news to the secretary
! of state. The letter was stiil upon
j the sea when Washington proclaimed
i the treaty thesupremelaw of theland,
j and sent a copy to the house." Trav
el at home w-as done by the stage
coach. This "was little better than a
huge covered box mounted on springs.
I It had neither glass windows nor doors
nor steps nor closed sides. The roof
was upheld by eight posts which rose
from the body of the vehicle, and the
body was commonly breast-high, in
this uncomfortable conveyence a man
might travel some four or five miles
an hour. With the exception of some
parts of New England, the wayside
accommodation which the trav
eler found was miserably bad.
Strangers were put together in the
same room and the same bed.
The bed clothes were changed not for
new arrivals but at stated times. All
sort's of extortions were practiced tip
on travelers. The genealoeist who
studies the history of American fami
lies has frequent occasion to note the
compactness of those families up to
about fifty years ago. For many gen
erations the members of a family, with
very few exceptions, will be found to
have lived and died in about the same
place, spreading somewhat in t he man
ner of a thrifty plant which slowly in
creases its area rather than that of an
animal which roamed freely about.
Many of these families which are the
most widely scattered lived, previous
to the introduction of the railroad, to
gether in the sameportion of the same
state. We have given us many facts
of interest concerning the early history
of the steamboat. Fulton's Hudson
river success was by no means thefirst
occasion upon which American waters
were navigated by steam-propelled
vessels. The idea had been working in
the minds of a few men for a number
of years. As early as 1787 a rudeplan
of a steamboat had been presented to
the constitutional convention. In
1789 a boat was constructed which
traveled a mile in seven minutes and
a half. A few months later a steam
boat began to run regularly as a ferry
in Philadelphia.
Agriculture, at the beginning of the
century, was a simple matter. "Agri
culture as we now know it can scarcely
be said to have existed. The plow was
little used. The hoe was the imple
ment of husbandry. Made at the
plantation smithy, the blade was in
formed and clumsy; the handle was a
sapling with the bark left on." In Vir
ginia horses were driven overthegrain
in the open field to thresh it, and it
was ground with a rude pestle and
mortar. "For a hundred years the
farms, of precisely the same size, had
been kept in the same families and
cultivated with the same kind of im
plements in the same way. Year after
year the same crops were raised in the
same succession. When a patch of
land became exhausted it was suffered
to lie fallow."
On the subject of amusements Mr.
McMaster has much matter of in
terest. Here is a picture of gay life at
Louisville: "The favorite pastime
was billiards, and every morning num
bers of young women, escorted by the
young men, gathered about the one
billiard ta' le in the town. If a Stran
ger of note put up at the only tavern,
and gave out that he was come to
stay some time, he was sure to be
called on, as the phrase was, to sign
for a ball. When the night came the
garrison at Fort Jefferson would fur
nish the music, and the managers
would choose the dances. The first
was generally a minuet, and, till his
number was called, no man knew
with whom he was to dance. This
over, each was at liberty to choose his
own partner for the first 'volunteer.' "
With New Y'ork peoplethe battery was
a favorite place of resort for amuse
ment. There were other places of pop
ular outdoor resort in hot weather
without the city. New York seems to
have been as uncomfortable in the
summer time as it is now. In Fhila
delnliia the assembly and the theater
provided for amusement lovers. "The
assembly-room was at Oeller's tavern
and made one of the sights
of the town. The length was
sixty feet . The walls were papered in
the French frshion and adorned with
Pantheon figures, festoons and pilas
ters, and groups of antique drawings.
Across one end was a fine music gal
lery. The rides of the assembly were
framed and hung upon the wall. The
managers had entire control. With
out their leave no ladv could quit her
place in the dance nor dance out of
iier set, nor could sue compiam u mej
placed strangers or brides at the head
of the dance. The ladies were to rank
in sets and draw for places as they en
tered the room. Those w ho led might
call the dances alternately. When
each set had danced a country dance
a cotillion might be had if eight ladies
wished it. Gentlemen could not come
into the room in boots, colored stock
ings, or undress."
One of Mr. McMaster's long chap
ters is devoted exclusively to the sub
ject of the ordinary life of town and
country, and is a rich storehouse of in
formation concerning this very essen
tia! part of history. The matter of
dress is treated in highly interesting
fashion. "Dress became every season
more and more hideous, more and
more uncomfortable, more and more
devoid of good sense and good taste.
Use and beauty censed to becombined.
The pantaloons of a beau went up to
his arm-pits; tc get into them was a
morning s work, ana wnen m to sit
down was impossible. His hat was too
small to contain his handkerchief, and
was not expected to stay on his head.
His hair was brushed from the crown
of his head toward his forehead, and
looked, as a satirist of that day truly
said, as if he had been fighting an old-
fashioned hurrieanebaekward. About
his neck was a spotted linen necker
chief; the skirts of his green coat were
cut away to a mathematical point be
hind; his favorite drink was brandy,
and his favorite talk of the last
French play. Even these ab
surdities were not enough, and when
1880 began fashion was more extrava
gant still. Then a beau was defined as
anything put into a pair of pantaloons
with a binding seived around the
top and called a vest. The skirts of
the coat should be pared away to the
width of a hat-band, and if he was
doomed to pass his time in the house
he wouldrequireaheavy pairof round
toed jack-boots, with a tassel before
and behind. Women were
thought worse than the men. To de
ter n i in e t he s ty 1 e of t h eir d ress , fash io n ,
decency, and health, the statement
was, ran a race. Decency lost her
spirits, health was bribed by a quack
doctor, so fashion won." Thetheaters
sought to provide for all t astes. We
read of an occasion when the perform
ance consisted of the "Beaux Strat
agem," the "Federal Bow-Wow." a
comic opera called the "Poor Soldier,"
a hornpipe, slack-rope tumbling, and
the pantomime of the "Death ofCapt.
Cook," all in one evening. "In the
theaters at the north it often happened
that the moment a well-dressed man
entered the pit he at once became a
mark for the wit and insolence of the
men in the gallery; They would begin
by calling on him to doff his hat in
mark of inferiority, for the cus
tom of wearing hats in the
theater was universal. If he
obeyed he was loudly hissed and
troubled no more. If he refused abuse,
oaths, and indecent remarks were
poured out upon him. He was spit
at, pelted with pears, apples, sticks,
stones, empty bottles till he left the
house. As the blades in the gallery
were poor marksmen the neighbors of
the man aimed at were the chief suf
ferers. On one occasion the orchestra
was put to flight and some instru
ments broken." In New England the
puritan sabbath still had a strong
hold, although it was rapidly under
going modification. "Pious men com
plained that the war had been a great
demoralizer. Instead of awakening
the community to a lively sense of the
goodness of God the license of war
made men weary of religious restraint.
The treaty of peace had not been
signed, the enemy was still in theland,
when delegates to the general court of
Massachusetts boldly said the sab
bath was too long. Country members
demanded a sabbath of thirty-six
hours; town members would give but
eighteen, and had their way. The ef
fect was soon apparent. Levity, pro
faneness, idle amusements, and sabbath-breaking
increased in the
towns with fearful rapidity. What,
the sober-minded cried out, is to
become of this nation? Be
fore the war nobody swore, nobody
used cards. Now every lad is pro
ficient in swearing and knows much of
cards. Then apprentices and young
folks kept the sabbath, and, till after
sundown, never left their homes but to
go to meeting. Now they go out on
the sabbath more than any other day
in the week. Now the barber-shops
are open, and men of fashion must
needs be shaved on the Lord's day.
They ride on horseback; they take
their pleasures in chaises and hacks.
How much better, they say, is this
than sitting for two hours in a church
hearing about hell? Who would not
rather ride with a fine young woman
in a heck than hear about the devil
from Adams's fall? Equally interest
ing passages might be multiplied in
definitely from these pages, but enough
have already been given to show how
different is the conception of Mr. Mc
Master's work from that of ordinary
histories and to convince our hearers
that the book is well worth reading
from first to last. Beginning about
where the work of Bancroft leaves off,
it carries on the narrative of our for
tunes well into the national period,
and has the fascination of a romance.
Railway Stations in England.
From "iinglish and American Railways," in
Harper's for August.
In the management of stations the
English and American termini are
about on a par, but their minor and
country station are incomparably
better managed than ours. The bar
and refreshment counter is a promi
nent feature of every station of note
and has been wrought toa degree of
importance that is wholly unknown
under similar conditions in America.
It is a great convenience to travelers,
and conduces to much drinking, and
to eating that is of a character quite
as favorable to dyspepsia as anything
known in America.
The country stations look for the
most part like comfortable homes of
favored and stalwart station-masters.
There is generally some space about
them that can be used as a garden,
and this, however small, is frequently
kept gay with flowers. Two of the
great companies offer rewards for the
best-kept stations and signal-boxes,
and on these lines flowery stations are
naturally most common, but on the !
other lines you may often see attempts
to get rid of the inherent hideousness
that clings to a railway. The usual
garden is a narrow strip between the j
platform for passengers and the in- '
closing railing. It is enacted by Par
liament that no post, rail or other ob
stacle shall come nearer than six feet
from the edge of the platform, and this
makes it necessary to inclose quite a :
wi'le space. Between the six feet of
platform and the fence is the j
station-master's garden. The flowers
that he grows differ according to i
the soil of the district. In a
rich clay be will have standard rose
trees as the principal feature; in a
warm, light soil his strong point may ;
be the chrysanthemums tied back :
against the palings. But as his object
is to have plenty of color all the year
round, you will generally find that the
main part of the border is filled with
fresh plants in each season, such as
the gardener uses for his spring and
summer beds. In the spring there are !
double daises, red and white, that
blossom from February till June, blue
forgen-me-nots (Myosotis dtssitiflora)
that keeps gay almost as long, pan
Bias, wall-flowers and the yellow alys- j
sum and white iberis hardy crucifer- 1
ous plants that grow in big clumps
against the edging of tile or ornamen
tal stone, breaking the stiffness of the
line, and bringing a mass of flowers in
early spring. In May or early June, !
when all danger of frost is over, he
will plant geraniums, calceolarias lo- 1
belias and such like tender peren
nials, and his sweet peas, convol
vuli, nemophila, and other annuals j
will come into blossom. But the gay-
est time of all is in late summer and
early autumn, for then his garden is
full of dahlias, nasturtiums trained up
the fence, China ; asters, marigolds
(French and African), phloxes, and all
the gaudy flowers that come into blos
som after the kindly influence of a few
warm months. These and many oth
er plants are to be found in most of
the gardens; but as all gardening that
is done lovingly shows individuality,
you will notice as you travel that each j
station has some particular flower by
which you can remember it the roses
at Halton Junction, the dahlias at ;
Milcote. There has beennothingmore
welcome in American railroad manage
ment than the imitation of our Eng
lish brethren in their treatment of
their stations, and nothingis regarded j
with a more lively or sympathetic in
terest than the horticultural ambitions
and struggles of the station-masters on
some of our leading lines.
Miscellaneous Matters.
! In order to prevent their books from
being stopped at the Russian frontier,
; or even wholly confiscated, German
I authors are now obliged to submit all
! their proof sheets to the red pencil of
the arbitrary Russian censor.
Nathaniel Ropes, one of Cincinnati's
pioneer merchants and manufacturers,
who was a native of Salem, in this
State, died a few days ago in his nine
j ty-seconrl year. He went to Ohio in
! 1819 and settled on a farm, besides
1 conducting business for Boston capita
lists. One of his sons is living at the
I old homestead in Salem.
Trow's Directory of New York City
for the present year contains the
names and addresses of 310,746 per
sons and increase of 10,717 over last
year. The ga:n of population is esti
mated at not less than 50,000 per an
; nam, and the population of the city is
not far either way from 1,500,000.
I Men about to be hanged almost in
i variably eat a hearty breakfast on the
last morning, and those who use to
bacco always top off with a final cigar.
A Philadelphia reporter, whose ex
perience embraces 21 executions, has
observed that the doomed men are al
ways careful about their attire, and
specially anxious about being well
shaved.
The son of a naturalized citizen who
came to this country with his father
before he was of age becomes a citizen
with all the privileges of a naturalized
citizen when he reaches the age of 21
years, and without any legal process
or form. His father's citizenship con
fers the privilege upon the son under
these circumstances when he becomes
of age.
Alluding to the late Chicago news
paper, "Enterprise," the Philadelphia
Bulletin says that "it is true that
American journalism is developing the
most dangerous kind of 'enterprise;'
that its calling is being degraded; and
that the papers thrive as common
carriers for vicious gossij). But the
patrons of such stuff are primarily to
blame. While so many of ourreform
ers are busy pursuing the press, it is
high time that some one should try a
hand at purifying the public."
Another scandal, and a very ugly one
it is, is the latest Washington society
sensation. A very showy marriage; a
muehtnlked of belle, nieceof Gen. Sher
man, who gavethe bride away, has ap
plied for a divorce from her husband,
a gay young man. The man of the world
files countercharges if the tenth either
alleges is true, societ y has plenty to go
on in the way of gossip. Maiden name,
Mary Francis Hoyt. Man of the world,
James R. Raymond.
The great bridge across the Frith of
Forth, Scotland, has now been in
course of construction for two years
and a half, and the most difficult
part of the undertaking has been ac
complished, that of building the piers.
These are of granite, and extend as
much as 48 feet below the bed of the
river and 90 feet below high water.
They will be carried up 160 feet higher
before the bridge is completed. All but
one of these are either completed or
are making good progress. The bridge
when completed (live years hence, ac
cording to the estimate,) will be over
a mile and a half long (8,091 feet), and
its two main spans will be 1,710 feet
each. The height of the rails above
high water will be 150 feet. The esti
mated cost of the bridge is $8,000,
000. Two thousand men are employ
ed in its construction.
Snake Story.
"I'll tell you a sight I saw in Hin
doostan," said a truthful traveler. "It
sounds wild, but it's as true as that I
exist. The railroad from Bombay to
Calcutta is only second in length to
that crossing the American continent,
and stretches in a line across a level
plain 2,200 miles long. The train
hands are all Englishmen. One day I
was riding on the engine when far
ahead there seemed something on the
track like low, brown, undulating
waves. The engineer looked through
his field glass and said it was snakes.
This was their migrating and breed
ing season, when they were peculiarly
vicious. He had seen them twice in
fifteen years out there. They were the
cobra de capella, a poisonous reptile
that opens its mouth 2 1-2 inches
when excited. They are four or five
feet long when full grown. Down-their
side is a folded fin that projects hall
an inch when they are angry. We j
were running 25 miles an hour, and
raised the speed to 40 and dashed in
to the mass. They were crawling four
or five feet deep on each other, and
covered the track for half a mileJ
Ugh! It sickens me yet when I recall
their crunching under the wheels. We
ran over them in patches for an hour.
The wheels got so covered with grease
and blood they slid alongthe rails, and
we just had to stop in a clear place and
wait for those ahead to pass. They
clogged the wheels, and pretty soon
began crawling up the train. We had
to shut ourselves into the engine room
and wait for them to crawl off. Not a
brakoman or passenger dared stir.
And there we waited four hours.
When I say there must have been a
million it is with no idea how man;
there were."
An English mastiff, the largest dog
of the kind ever exhibited, sold not
long ago for the sum of $1,500.
How Cadets Keep Their Trousers
Clean.
In its account of the exhibition evo
lutions of the West Point embryo offi
cers, the New Y'ork Times says: It is
a constant source of wonder to civil
ians here how the cadets manage to
keep their starched leg-gear so spotless
ly clean. A cadet comes out to guard
mount, runs around the barracks for
an hour or two, sits on dusty benches,
and then walks into the recitation
room with his white trousers as free
from dirt and creases as though they
had just come from the ironing-board.
"Why," said one lady recently, as she
saw the cadets marching to dinner,
"my boy wouldn't be fit to be seen
after he had worn such trousers five
minutes." As it is a punishable of
fense' to wear dirty trousers, the cadets
are somewhat careful, and each one
changes four or five times a day if
necessary. Three pairs a day is con
sidered economical. Every cadet has
anywhere from thirty to fifty pairs of
white trousers, and he is allowed
fourteen pairs in each week's wash.
The cadet adjutant, who is called
upon at times to make a little
more display of himself than his
comrades in the ranks, is permitted to
send eighteen pairs to the washerwom
an every week, and he doesn't have to
worry about the wash-bill either.
There is a curious etiquette amongthe
cadets as to the disposal of their white
trousers when they leave the academy.
If a young man is at all popular, some
of his comrades bequeath him their
trousers as a token of respect and re
membrance. The shortest cadet in the
graduating class has an accumulation
of one hundred and twenty pairs which
have come to him in this way, and he
has to hang them all up in his room.
As the trousers seldom wear out, ex
cept at the bottom of the legs, they
are sent to the commissary's depart
ment to be treated after a fashion cus
tomary in families where growing boys
overbalance a limited income. The
littlest fellow in the corps at pgesent
is Jose Victor Zavala,f rom Guatemala,
who is very popular for his patience
and his peculiarities. As a mark of
their regard, the entire first class are
talking of giving him their white trous
ers next week. Should they really do
so, the little South American will have
to find pegs for nearly one thousand
pairs of trousers.