THE OLD HOME,
SARAH DOUDNEY.
"Return, return," the voices cried,
"To your old valley, far away;
For softly on the river tide
The tender lights and shadows play,
And all the banks are gay with flowers,
And all the hills are sweet with thyme;
Ye cannot find such bloom as ours
In yon bright foreign clime!"
And still "Return, return," they sung,
"With us abides eternal calm;
In these old fields, where you were young,
We cull the heart's-ease and the balm;
For us the flocks and herds increase,
And children play around our feet;
At eve the sun goes down in peace
Return, for rest is sweet."
For me, I thought, the olives grow.
The sun lies warm upon the vines;
An 1 yet, I will arise and go
To that dear valley dim with pines.
Old lotfee are dwelling there, I said,
Untouched by years of change and pain;
Old faiths that 1 had counted dead
Shall rise and live again.
Then I arose and crossed the sea,
And sought that home of younger days;
No love of old was left to me
(For love has wings and seldom stays);
But there are graves upon the hill,
And sunbeams shining on the sod,
knd low winds breathing "Peace, be still;
Lost things are found in God."
Good Words.
THE FIRST CLOUD.
"It was to meet such difficulties as
this that tontines" "Bother!" I
wrote the first sitting at my desk, and
said the last aloud, impatiently well,
there, angrily for Mattie had bounced
into the room, run to the back of my
chair, and clapped her hands over my
eyes, exclaiming:
"Oh, Dick, what a shame! And you
promised to come up and dress!"
"I do wish you would not be so
childish!" I cried, snatching away her
hands. "There's a blot you've made
on my manuscript."
"Don't be cross, sir! "she said, laugh
ing, as she gave a waltz around the
room, making hjr pretty silk dress
whisk over one of thechairs, which she
merrily picked up, and then, comingto
my writing table, she took a rose out
of a basket of flowers andbeganto ar
range it in her hair.
"I am not cross," I said, coldly,
"but engaged in a serious work of a
mercantile and monetary nature.
You seem to think men ought always
to be butterflies."
"No, I don't Dick, dear," she cried
"There, will that do?"
She held her head on one side for me
to see the creamy rose nestling in her
crisp, dark hair; but after a glance at
it, I let my eyes fall upon my desk,
and went on writing my pamphlet. I
saw that she was looking wistfully at
me, but I paid no heed and then she
came and rested her hands upon my
shoulder.
"Are you going to be cross with me,
Dick?" she said, softly.
"Cross? No!" I jerked out impatient
ly. "Only I thought I had a married a
woman, and she has turned out to be
a child."
There was silence then for a few min
utes, broken only by the scratching of
my pen. The little hands twitched a
little as they lay upon my shoulder,
find I nearly wrote down, instead of
J'The calculations arrived by the pro
jectors on tontines," "Richard Mar
low, how can you be such a disagree
able wretch?" 'But, of course, I did
not write it only thought it and then
I felt wonderfully disposed to turn
around, snatch the little figure to my
breast, and kiss away the tears which I
knew were gathering in her eyes.
Somehow'or other, though, I did not
do it only went on glumly writing
for I was cross, worried and annoyed.
I had set myself a task that necessi
tated constant application, and I was
not getting on as I could wish; so, like
many more weak-minded individuals
of the male sex, instead of asking for
the comforts and advice of my wife, I
visited my disappointment upon the
first weak object at hand, and that ob
ject was the lady in question.
"Please, Dick, dear, don't be angry
with me. I can't help feeling very
young and girlish; though I am your
wife. I do try, oh, so hard, to be
womanly; but, Dick, I am only eigh
teen and a half."
"Thirteen and a half I should say,"
I said scornfully, just as if some sour
spirit was urging me to say biting, sar
castic things, that I knew would pain
the poor gin; but for the life of me, I
could not help it.
There was no answer only a little
sigh and the hands were withdrawn.
I went on writing rubbish that I
knew I should have to cancel.
"Had you not better get ready,
Dick," said Mattie, softly. "You said
you would come, when I went upstairs,
and the Wilson's won't like it if we are
late."
"Hang the Wilsons," I growled.
There was another pause, filled up
by the scratch, scratch of one of the
noisiest pens I ever used, and another
little sigh. i
Mattie was standing close behind
me, but, I did not look around, and
at last she glided gently to a chair and
sat down.
"What are you going to do?" I said,
roughly.
Wait for you, Dick dear," she re
plied. "You need not wait. Go on, I
shan't come. Say I've a headache
say anything!"
"Dick, are you ill?" shesaid, tender
ly, as she came behind me once more
and rested her hand on my shoulder.
"Yes no pray don't bother. Go
on. Perhaps I'll come andfetchyou."
There was another pause.
"Dick, dear, I'd rather not go with
out you," she said, meekly.
"And I'd rather you did go without
me," I said, angrily. "The Wilsons
are our best friends, and I won't have
tfiem slighted."
"Then why not come, Dick?" said
the little woman, and I could see that
she was struggling bravely to keep
back the tears.
"Because I've no time for such friv
olity. There, you've wasted enough
of my time, sogo."
Scratch, scratch, went that exas
perating pen, as I went on writing more
stuff to cancel, and yet too weak and
angry to leave off like a sensible man,
run up and change my things, and ac
company my little wife to the pleasant
social gathering a few doors lower
down the road.
She had been looking forward to the
visit as a treat. So had I till that
gloomy fit came over me; but as I had
taken the step already made, I felt
that I could not retreat without look
ing foolish; so I acted with the usual
wisdom displayed by man under such
circumstances, and made matters
much worse.
"Did you hear me say that I wished
yon to go alone?" I said, angrily.
"Yes, yes, Dick dear, I'll go if you
wish," Mattie said, very meekly; "but
indeed I'd far rather stay at home."
"You are desired to go; you have a
rose in your hair," I said, sarcastical
lyoh, what a poor satire when it was
put there to please me "and they ex
pect you; so now go and enjoy your
self," I added, by way of a sting to
my sensible speech.
"I can't enjoy myself, Dick," she
said, gently, "unless you come too.
Let me stay."
"I desire you to go!" I exclaimed,
banging my hand down on the desk.
She looked at me with the big tears
standing in her eyes, and then, coming
nearer, she bent over me and kissed my
forehead.
"Will you come and fetch me,Dick?"
she said, softly.
"Yes no perhaps I don't know,"
I said, roughly, as I repelled her ca
resses. And then, looking wistfully at
me, she went slowly to the door, glided
out and was gone.
That broke the spell, and I started
from my seat, more angry than ever.
I was wroth with her now for obeying
me so meekly, and I gently opened the
door, to hear her call the maid to ac
company her as far as the Wilsons.'
The I heard them go heard the girl
return, and I was alone.
Alone? Well not exactly, for so to
speak, I was having an interview with
my angey self, asking how I could let a
feeling of annoyance act upon my bet
ter nature, and make me behave as I
had to thesweet girlish being who, dur
ing the six months we had been mar
ried never looked at me but with eyes
of love.
"Change your things and go after
her," something seemed to sav; but I
repelled it, threw my writingdesk aside,
kicked off my boots, snatched my slip
pers out of the closet, thrust the easy
chair in front of the lire, threw myself
into it, and then, with my feet on the
fender and my hands in my pockets, I
sat, morose, bitter and uncomfortable,
gazing at the glowing embers.
"She had no business to go!" I ex
claimed. "She knew I was up all last
night writing that miserable book, and
was out of sorts, and she ought to have
stayed."
Then I reviewed the past half hour,
and grew calmer as I leaned back,
knowing as I did that I had forced her
to go, poor child, and how miserable
she would be.
"She'll forget it among all those peo
ple," I said bitterly.
B::t I did not believe it. and at last
I sat there calling myself an idiot,
blind, madman, to plant as I had the
first seeds of what might grow into a
very upas tree of dissension, andblight
the whole of our married life.
"Poor little darling!" I said at last;
"I'll wait up till she comes home, and
then tell her how sorry I am for my
folly, and ask her forgiveness. But as
a man, can I do that? Will it not be
weak? Never mind," Iexclaimed, "I'll
do it! Surely, there can be
no braver thing than to own
one's self in the wrong. Life
is short to blur it with petty
quarrels. And suppose she were taken
ill to-night my darling whom I love
with all my heart? Or suppose she
went too near the fire and her dress
caught alight? There, how absurd!
Thank goodness, she is in silk,
and not in one of those fly-away mus
lins!" I sat on, musing, till suddenly there
was a buzz outside the house, and
then the rush of feet, I fancied I heard
the word "fire!" repeated again and
again, and, turning to the window,
there was a glow which lighted up the
whole place.
I dashed down the stairs and out of
the door, to find the road thronged,
for a house a little lower down was in
flames, and, to my horror, I had not
taken a dozen steps before I found it
our friend's, the Wilsons.
There was no engine, but a
crowd of excited people talked eager
ly; and just then the fire escape
came trundling along the road. It
was quite time, for the house
as I reached it, was blazing furiously,
the flames darting out in long, fiery
tongues from the upper windows, while
at several there were people piteously
crying for help.
I fought my way through the crowd,
and tried to run up to the house, but
half a dozen officious people held me
back, while the men with the fireescape
tried to rear it against the house; but
it would not reach because of the gar
den in front, so that they had to get
the wheels of the escape over the iron
railings, and this caused great delay.
"Let me go!" I panted to those who
held me. "Let me go! Some one
some one is in the house!"
"You can't do any good, sir." said
a policeman, roughly. "The escape
men will do all that can be done."
But I struggled frantically, and got
loose, feeling all the while a horrible,
despairing sensation, as I knew that
my poor darling was one of the shriek
ing suppliants for help at the windows,
and that but for my folly I might
have saved her.
As I freed myself from those who
held me, and ran to the escape, it was
to find that the man who had ascend
ed it had just been beaten back by the
flames.
"It's no good," he said; "we must
try the back of the house."
He was about to drag the machine
awav. when T heart? mv nam nailed in
piteous tones; and as I was once more
seized, I shook myself free, rushed up
the ladder, with the flames scorching
and burning my face and panting and
breathless, I reached a window where
Mattie stood stretching out her hands.
I got astride of the sill, the flames
being wafted away from me, and threw
my arms around her; but as I did so
the ladder gave away, burned through
by the flames that gushed furiously
from the lower window, and I felt that
I must either jump or try to descend
by the staircase.
There was no time for thinking, so 1
climbed in, lifted Mattie in my arms,
feeling her dress crumble in my hands
as I touched her, and the horrible odor
of burnt hair rose to my nostrils as I
saw her wild, blackened face turned to
mine.
"Dick, Dick!" she gasped, "save me!"
and then she fainted.
Fortunately, I was as much at home
in the house as my own, and making
for the stair-case through the flame
and smoke, I reached it in safety, but
below me was what seemed to be a
fiercely blazing furnace. I recoiled for
a moment, but it was my only hope,
and I recalled that the lower floor was
as yet untouched by the fire; it was
the one beneath me that was blazing
so furiously. So, getting a good tight
grip of my treasure, I rushed down
the burning stairs, feeling them crackle
and give way as I bounded fromoneto
the other.
It was a fiery ordeal, but in a few
seconds I was below the flames, and
reached the hall, where I struggled to
the door, reached it and fell. If I could
but open it I know we were saved; but
I was exhausted, and the hot air
caught me by the throat and seemed
to strangle me. I raised my hand to
the lock, but it fell back. I beat feebly
at the door but there was only the
roar of the flames to answer me; and
as I made one more supreme effort
panting and struggling to reach the
fastening, I was dragged back by the
weight of the burden I still clasped to
my breast.
It was more than human endurance
could bear, and I felt that theendwas
near; and to make my sufferings more
poigant, Mattie seemed to revive,
struggling with me for her life, as she
kept repeating my name, and clung to
me, till
"Dick dear Dick! Wake pray
wake! Are you ill?"
I started up to find Mattie clinging to
me; and, clasping her to my heart a
great sob burst from me as I kissed
her passionately again and again,
hardly able to believe my senses.
"Oh, Dick" she panted, "you did
frighten me so! I couldn't stay to
supper at the Wilson's dear, for I
could do nothing but think about your
being here alone, and cross with me.
So I was so miserable, Dick, that I
slipped away and came home, to find
you lying back here, panting and strug
gling; you wouldn't wake whenlshook
you. Were you ill?" '
"Oh, no, not at all," I said, as I kiss
ed her again and again, feeling now for
the first time sensible of a smarting pain
in one foot.
"You have burnt yourself too, Dick.
Look at your foot.
It was quite true; the toe of one
slipper must have come in contact
with the fire; and it was burned com
pletely off.
"But, dear Dick," she whispered,
nestling closer to me, "are you very
angry with your little wife for being
such a girl?"
I could not answer, only thank God
that my weak fit of folly was past, as
I clasped her closer and closer yet.
"Mattie," I said at last in a very
husky voice, "can you forgive me for
being so weak?"
I could say no more, for the hind
rance of two soft lips placed on mine;
and while they rested there I made a
vow I hope I shall have strength to
keep; for real troubles are so plenty it
is folly to invent the false.
At last, when I was free, I took the
rose out of her hair and placed it in
my pocketbook; while, in answer to
the inquiring eyes that were bent on
mine, I merely said,
"For a momento of a dreadful
dream."
By the way, I never finished that
pamphlet.
COL. CHIDESHER' S BET.
What He Won on Zacliary Taylor and Hil
Story of It.
I bet everything I had, money, house
and home, and farm, pasture land,
stock, wagons, harness, clothes, and
everything you could think of. As
long as I had credit I bet it. Then
one day I bet my hat, coat, vest, pants
and shoes, and I was five miles from
home at that. But I was sure Taylor
would be elected. I bet on his election
by different majorities; on his living to
be elected, and had side-bets of all
shorts and shapes. In those days I
used to drive round this was in Mis
sissippi a band of music and six
pounder cannon, and I tell you we had
rousing times and stirring speeches.
But my man had got elected, as I
knew he would, and I calculated when
I figured it up for I had a clerk
to keep track of my bets that I
had won $30,000 in gold. I collected
all of the bets, too. One man didn't
like to give up a mule he had bet it
was the only one he had and so I took
his mule and gave him another and a
better one, and to-day he writes me
every month and says what a good
fellow I am. And when I knew I had
won I kept open house for a week and
invited the whole county. I had char
coal made by the thousand bushels
and oxen cooked whole in trenches, I
don't know how long. I decorated
every post, flagpole, chimney, lightning-rod
and tree-top in the vicinity
with the American flag, and when the
flags gave out I sent for more. We fir
ed a salute of thirty-three guns one
for each State then every morning be
fore breakfast, and again in the even
ing, and I guess I had over 700 people
at my house for a whole week and more,
eating and drinking and making mer
ry. And after I had deducted all my
expences I had about $6,000 left.
Cor. St. Louis Globe Democrat.
Orange Growing- in Florida.
Correspondence of the New York Sun..
"How long does it take an' orange
; grove to come into bearing?"' The
i question was asked by a northern
man in an earnest, deliberate way,
; that was intended to evoke a candid
reply from the orange grower to whom
it was put.
"How long is a piece of string?" re
turned the orange grower.
If he had been disposed to attempt
an answer he might have1 said truth
fully that an oronge grove will "come
into bearing" in from six months to
15 or 20 years from the time of start
ing it, and that whether the interval
i is half a year or a fifth of a century
depends almost wholly upon the wish
of the owner.
There is a colored man in this town
1 who has in his grove a number of trees
whose topmost leaf is less than 18
inches above the ground, and whose ti
ny branches are now weighed down by
young fruit. Their trunks are about
half an inch in diameter. . Kneeling
down over one of these miniature
trees, so as to have his subject well in
hand, he said:
! "This tree is a sweet bud on a na
tive stem. The- sour stem was set out
here a year ago last spring. It was a
sprout one or two years old when I
took it from the nursery. I don't
know which. The bud was put in last
. September. In March the tree was so
full of bloom that it looked like a bou
quet. The life of a tree is counted
from the time it was put in the ground
whether as a seed or a sprout if it
is a sweet tree, and from the time of
putting in the buds if a sour tree. So
you see here a tree that was in bloom,
or 'in bearing,' when it was six months
old."
i Within half a mile of this colored
i man's grove is a grove in which are 50
or 60 sweet seedling trees that are 13
years old. The largest of them are
about 15 feet tall, with tops 10 feet in
diameter and trunks 16 inches in
circumference. Only one of them
I has ever borne a blossom, and that
one now has four oranges on it its
: first crop. This grove has never been
properly tended, and has had no fer
: tilizer worth mentioning put on it.
An orange grower of considerable ex
I perience said: "A sweet bud cut from
a bearing tree may have within itself
i 'the germ and potency' of twigs that
, will straightway bear blossoms, or it
i may not be such a bud. In the former
! case the twigs and the blossoms are
; bound to come out if the bud can be
' kgpt alive. If it could be kept alive
I inserted in the cork of a bottle I don't
know but i would be possible to show
a beer bottle bearing a full crop of
j young oranges within six months after
i it left the brewe;y. Now, if the roots
! of the sour tree are sufficient to sup
: ply nutriment in the necessary quan-
tity to the youngbud the little oranges
' may stay on andripen, otherwise they
I will fall off. If the oranges on the col
ored man's six months' old bud don't
drop off pretty soon the tree itself will
drop off. The probabilities are that
that tree, if allowed to have its own
way, will drop its fruit for three or
four years, and will then begin to ripen
half a dozen oranges a year, growing
less new wood each year, and finally
standing still a stunted shrub that
will bear maybe 50 or 60 oranges at a
;rop.
"Now about the big, sweet seedlings
that have not begun to bear," the or
ange man went on. "They are an ex
treme case, as much as the colorod
man's half-year-old bearing grove is.
They have been growing under the
temporary disadvantage of almost en
tire neglect. Fortunately the soil had
enough in it to keep them alive and
making healthy wood, though slowly.
Maybe next year, and maybe not till
three or four years later they will
show bloom. The first crop ought to
be, perhaps 100 oranges to the tree,
the second close to 500, and the third
fully 1,000. If the colored man had
Elanted a sweet seed at the same time
e put the bud in his sour stem that
is now 'in bearing,' as they say, the
probability is that he would have got
a profitable tree from the seed as soon
as from the bud, in ease the bud didn't
begin bearing so early as to prevent it
ever making a valuable tree.
"How soon would I expect to havea
grove that would pay for taking care of
itself and return a satisfactory profit
on the investment if I began making it
now? Well, in 10 years provided
oranges brought the same price then as
they bring now."
The matter of fertilizing has a good
deal to do with the growing of orange
trees in all except the few favored spots
where the soil does not require such re
enforcement. The colored orange
grower mentioned in the foregoing was
unabletobuy fertilizers; so hefertihzed
with fish caught in the St. John's river
with a seine and drawn up on his
mule cart. He conducted this work
after the manner of an independent and
original investigator.
"This yertree.said he fondly patting
the smooth yellow trunk of a fine seed
ling, "is seven years old from the seed,
and was raised on shad. Not a bit of
fertilizer but fish, "and not a fish but
shad has ever been put on it. I al
ways boil up the fish. Then I care
fully dig away the earth, bury the
boiled meat on the fine roots and cov
er it with earth. The liquid I use for
watering the roots. This shad tree
has 2,000 young oranges on it. Over
there is a mullet tree. You see it has
three trun'-s separating about eight
inches from the ground. They were
three little trees, standing several inch
es apart, and I drew the bodies to
gether with my finger and put a wire
around them. You can just see a seam
in the bark where it has joined. The
trunk must be about nine inches
through at the bottom, I reckon. Just
beyond is a three-year-old bud I am
raising on catfish, and those little nur
sery trees are fed on chowder made ol
all kinds shad, mullet, catfish, bass,
Ferch, shiners, trout, and everything,
don't guess the kind of fish has any
thing to do with the flavor of the fruit.
No; the shad tree's fruit don't have
any of the flavor of a shaddock."
LADY OPERATORS.
A. Prediction that They will Soon Handle
the Key to the Exclusion of the Men.
The telegraphic profession will, we
predict, says the current number of
the Telegraphers' Advocate, in the
course of a few years, be composed of
female members entirely. In every
large office in the United States, the
proportion of male and female em
ployes is undergoing a slow but posi
tive change. Ten years ago the ratio,
was about 30 males to one female
operator; five years ago the ratio was
reduced to about 1 5 males to 1 female,
while to-day it is less than 6 to 3 . At
this same rate of growth, in the future,
but ten years will be required to bal
ance the scales. Fifteen years from to
day willfindthefemalemembers in thi
majority, and twenty years hence it will
be difficult for male operators to pro
cure work atthekey, atanyprice. The
days of male operators are numbered.
The talk that lady operators are physi
cally unequal to the task of working
heavy circuits, incompetent to receive
press, etc., ismere bosh. They can be,
and are rapidly being educated to" meet
the requirements of the profession.
They are reliable, which at once gives
them an advantage over the male
members. The Western Union's
heaviest circuits in the main office for
years have been handled by women.
Gradually the handful of women con
fined to a few city wires in a remote
corner of the great operating room has
grown to an army, spreading its use
fulness to every section and de
partment of the company. Five
years ago 90 women were employed at
195, today there are over 275. In the
city of New York, the Western Union
force, five years ago, consisted of about
650 men and 100 women; to-day, not
withstanding the natural increase of
business, it stands about 500 men and
350 women. While the force has been
increased to the extent of 100 operat
ors, the male portion thereof has de
creased to the extent of about 150.
These figures also apply to other sec
tions to a greater or less degree. For
instance, the heavy New York circuits
in Albany are now in the hands of
women, who receive $30 and $40 a
month less than the men whose places
they so recently filled. Of course the
saving to the Western Union company
is sufficient recompense for any incon
venience to which they may be sub
jected, while they persistently dwell
upon the reliability of the women as
compared with the men as a reason for
making the changes.
A Royal Pedestrian.
The empress of Austria is noted for
her love of outdoor exercise, to which
she doubtless owes much of her beau
ty and her superb health. Robert P.
Porter, writing from Holland, tells of
her pedestrian feats in that country,
which she has recently visited:
"Ymuiden, a village of 1,500, built
within the last few years on reclaimed
land, was all agog on account of a re
cent visit made by that eccentric wom
an, the empress of Austria. One day
she took it into her head to inspect
the sea walls at Ymuiden. .She bought
a pair of wooden shoes, and, with a
dress that was short enough to reveal
considerable of a beautiful pair of legs,
she walked along the beach from a
town seven miles from Ymuiden. It
was hot; until she threw away the
shoes and gave the boatman who row
ed her across the harbor two thalers
that it dawned upon the Ymuiden
mind what an important personage
had honored the village by a visit.
Said one tall, thin inhabitant of the
place, who might have been a western
farmer, so far as looks go, "I would
have given twenty florins for those
shoes." And then added: "She was
a fine-looking woman. She tripped
along the sands as lightly as a girl of
18, and she didn't look older than
that if you had walked behind her.
Such a waist she had. Tall and
graceful, with a leg and foot any wom
an might be proud of. The only thing
I didn't like about her was her nose;
that is a little red, and her face is sun
burned." Such was the tall Ymuiden
man's description of the emperor of
Anstria's wife.
Level-Headed People.
Youth's Companion.
The custom of using the head as a
pack-horse is common among the Chi
nese of California and the negroes of
the South. On the streets of San
Francisco the Chinese washerman is
met, stumping along on his thick-soled
shoes, as if on little stilts, with a huge
basket of clean linen poised on his
head.
He swings his arms carelessly, his
fingers almost hidden from sight by
the long square cut sleeves of his queer
loosely-fittingcoat. The burden seems
to cause neither trouble nor fear.
Across streets, through mud, among
carriages, he picks his way as uncon
cernedly as if walking in a deserted
street. Occasionally, if jostled in the
crowd, one hand rises suddenly to the
basket, steadies that, and then re
sumes its easy swing.
Many of the negroes in the South
use their heads with even greater free
dom than Chinese. On their wooly
pates a pail, tub, basket, or bundle
seems to rest as airily as a swan on
the bosom of a lake.
Without endangering the head-load,
they have learned to loiter along the
way to tell a story, or crack a joke
with a friend. One day in Richmond,
Va., a gentleman met one of these sa
ble burden-bearers, and said to him:
, "Look out, Sam, or you'll let that
basket fall!"
"Not dis chile, sah! Nebber fear,
sah, nebber fear," was the grinning re
ply. "Yo' don' cotch dis chile, lettin'
'er fall. Dis head's lebel, sah; it's leb
el." '' .
And he danced a double-shuffle with
his feet, beating time with hands, while
the basket kept time with the swayins
body. It swung as jauntily on his head
as if attached t here by a ball-and-socket
joint.
Tombs of the Presidents..
The presidents of the United. States
who. are dead are nearly.-all buried in
the neighborhood of their homes which
they occupied. Washington's tomb,
at Mount Vernon, is known to all the
world. John Adamsand John Quincy
Adams lie beneath the Unitarian
Church at Quincy, Mass. The coffins
are of lead, placed in cases hewn, from
solid blocks of granite. Their- wives
are buried with them. John Adams
died on the same day with. Jefferson,
a strange coincidence itself, but stran
ger still, it was on the Fourth of July,
i 1826, just a half century after the
i Declaration of Independence which
j they had joined in making,
i Jefferson, like his compatriots, was
buried in his family burying ground, at
I his home in Monticello. He had writ-
ten on. the fly-leaf of an old account
j book his wishes concerning it.
i "Choose," his memorandum said, some
! "unfrequented vale in the park, where
: there is no sound to break the stillness
but a brook that bubbling winds among
i the woods. Let it be among ancient
j and venerable oaks, interspersed with'
! some gloomy evergreens. Appropri
ate one-half to the use-of my family,
s and the others to strangers, servants,.
etc. Let the exit look upon a small
j and distant part of the Blue Moun
, tains." These directions were substan
tially carried out. A little inclosure,
i containing some thirty graves, stands
: amid the woods on the road that leads
from Charlottsville to Monticello, and
' a granite obelisk, much chipped by relic
hunters, marks the grave of the ex
. president.
In the same part of Virginia, in a
' small inclosure near his home in Mont
1 pelier, lies the successor of Jefferson,
James Madison, fourth President.
Beside him are buried his wife, who
died in 1849, surviving him almost
thirty years, and two nephews. Two
ot her Virginia Presidents Monroe and
Tyler lie within a few feet of each
other in the fine cemetery of Holly
wood, at Richmond. Monroe's death,
, like those of John Adams and Jeffer
son, fell upon the Fourth of July. He,,
too, in 1831, five years after his great
: predecessors and elders, marked the
nation's birthday by his close. He
died in New York a poor man, and
his remains were entombed there
until in 1858 the Legislature of Vir
gina removed them to Hollywood
and placed them in a substantial
vault, marked by a Gothic temple on
a foundation of Virginia granite. Ty
ler's grave, nearby, is scarcely marked
at all; a little mound with a magnolia
tree at the head is pointed out as the
spot.
The three Tennessee Presidents were
! buried at their homes. Jackson at the
i Hermitage, near Nashville, his wife be
1 side him. A massive monument of
Tennessee granite marks the place.
Polk is buried in Nashville at the old
family homestead. He survived Jack
son only four years, dying in 1849.
The grave is handsomely inclosed,
and a block twelve feet square by
twelve feet in height bears the inscrip
tion. Andrew Jackson's grave is at
Green ville,on a spot selected by himself.
His three sons have erected a hand
some monument of marble on a base
of granite. It bears numerous patri
otic emblems, a flag, an eagle, a scroll
of the Constitution, etc., while the in
scription declares: "His faith in the
people never wavered."
Martin Van Buren lies in the village
cemetry at Kinderhook, N. Y., in a
family lot, his resting place marked by
a modest granite shaft. He died in
the summer of 1863, when the civil
war was at its height. His successor,
Harrison, was buried at his old home
at North Bend, on the Ohio, a few
miles below Cincinnati. An unfenced
mound, over a family vault, formerly
neglected, but more recently carefully
kept, marks the spot.
The dust of Zachary Taylor is now
buried in the cemetery at Frankfort,
Ky., after several removals. Milard
Fillmore's grave is at Forest Lawn
Cemetery, three miles from Buffalo,
and that of Pierce in the old cemetery
at Concord, N. H. Buchanan is bur
ied at Woodward Hill Cemetery,
j The most magnificent of all the
1 memorials to the dead Presidents is
that over the resting place of Lincoln,
in the Oak Ridge Cemetery at Spring
field, 111. It was dedicated in 1874,
and cost 250.000.
Garfield is buried in Lake View Cem
etery, at Cleveland, where a ground
mausoleum has been erected in his
honor.
Of the eighteen dead Presidents, two
only lie in the same place. Two were
buried in Massachusetts, two in New
York, five in Virginia, three in Tennes
see, two in Ohio, and one each in New
Hamphshire, Pennsylvania, Kentucky
and Illinois. Eight lie in private
grounds, or family burial places, as in
the case of the Adamses at Quincy.
The Maharajah of Travancore is
certainly worth his weight in gold. He
was recently weighed against a mass
of pure gold which was afterward dis
pensed in charity. This custom is
one of great antiquity, and is said to
be traceable in Travancore to the
fourth century. It is not unknown in
other parts of India, though, of course,
gold is only used in the caseof wealthy
persons, humbler folk being content to
weigh themselves against spices or
grain. On the present occasion the
Maharajah weighed a little over
125 pounds. The Brahmins, it is
said, wished to defer the ceremony in
the hope that the Maharajah might
more nearly approach the weight of
his father, who did not undergo the
rite until forty-seven years old, when
he weighed 218 pounds.
A gentleman in town has a trick dog
of whose intelligence he is exceedingly
proud. In order to demonstrate to a
friend the effect of training combined
with canine sagacity, he wrapped a
silver half dollar and a 25-cent piece
in paper, placed it in the dog's mouth
and sent him off with it, telling his
friend to watch the result. The dog
trotted off to the owner's father, who
opened his mouth and took therefrom
the paper, which, however, contained
only the 25-cent piece. The dog had
swallowed the half dollar. BuTala
Courier.