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About The Corvallis gazette. (Corvallis, Or.) 1862-1899 | View Entire Issue (Dec. 11, 1885)
BABY'S NAME. Then father took the Bible down, And in his clear old fashioned hand Upon its Record pages brown Ho wrote the name as it should stand. But protest came from all the rest At gi'in?such a little fairy The dearest, sweetest and the best, That antiquated name to carry. And aunts and wecond cousius cry "A name so worn and ordinary Could not be found if one should try As that same appellation 'Mary.' " And o'er and o'er again they laud Her yellow cur's, her baby grace, "Oh, call her 'Kthelind,' or 'Maud,' Or 'Christine,' for her angel face." "But time will change this golden fleece To match the eyes in dusky splendor; Far bettor name her 'Beatrice,' Or 'Imogen,' serene and tender." "Oh, name the child for Aunt Louisa, For she, good soul, is well-to-do, 'The compliment is sure to please her, And we can call the darling 'Lou.' " "Most prudent counsel, all too late! Twist Malachi's and Matthew's pages Appears, unchangeable as fate, The name beloved of all the ages. The Ancient gem, its purity Unspoiled shall grace our latest beauty; Sometime on dearer lips to be The synonym of love and duty. And gracious womanhood adorn, However fort one's gift may vary, Till on a day like Easter morn She hears the Master call her "Mary. Columbus Dispatch. AJHDDEN HERO. J. S. Winter, in Harper's Bazar. Lord Archie Falconer was keeping his hunters to the tune of a modest couple out of barracks, and was on his way to see them, when he chanced to meet with Marcus Orford. His way lay through a poor andfor-lorn-looking district, laid out in small and narrow streets of ugly little feat ureless houses, built in rows to the cultivation of nothing but a certain air ot crushed and melancholy meek neatness, and situated about midway between the barracks and the town of WarnecliSe. It was peopled chiefly 'by such of the Benedicks among the rank and file of the Black Horse as were not on the strength of the regi ment. Marcus Orford was laughing as Lord Archie approached him, and he felt his own face expanding into a broad smile instantly. "What are you laughing at?" he de manded. J'I found yesterday," the other an swered, "that Arnitt was down with a severe attack of congestion of the lungs a very serious case, his wife told me the doctor had pronounced it. I sent him a basket of things down this morning ice and grapes and jelly and so oii, you know for, poor devil, it must be hard lines to be ill in such a hole as that" jerking his stick over his shoulder to indicate a row of squal id little houses behind him "and Moore brought back word that he was very bad as bad as he could be. So I thought I'd come round and hear how he is to-day. 'Tis a tidy little place, but terribly bare and comfortless, and "1 found half a dozen youngsters all : 3quatting about the doorstep, and evi- dently expecting every minute to hear that the end had come. 'Hollo, my man,' said I to the biggest boy, a lad of 7 or 8, 'are you one of Arnitt's boys?" 'Yes, sir, we're all his'n,' he piped out. 'Oh, are you?' I said, thinking Arnitt may well look as hun gry as he generally does. 'And how is your father this afternoon?' 'Very bad, sir mortal bad as bad's he can be,' the youngster piped out in reply. 'An' t he doctor says if father lives till morning, there'll be some 'opes; but if he don't live till morning, he won't have no 'opes at all.' " Lord Archie laughed outright, and Marcus Orford continued: "But I ion't believe Arnitt will live tillmorn ing, poor chap; and if not, what his wife will do with all those youngsters is rather a hard question." "Yes; decent fellow, Arnitt; I had him with my horse3 for a time. Pity he married without waiting for leave; it's such a drag on a man, unless the wife happens to have some business of her own; and, Arnitt, poor beggar, is so overridden with children, and his wife's line of business not of much use to her." "'What was it?" "Oh, she was a circus -rider, and a ripping smart girl, too. I remember seeing her the year I joined. She had a pretty little face, and a pretty little figure too, and a lot of light crinkling fair hair that seemed to wave all over her head in shining flecks of light; I never saw such jolly hair." "She's a pretty little woman now," Marcus Oxford remarked. "Well?" "We were all more or less gone on .her," Lord Archie continued. "The ilittle favorite, we usedtocall her. Her -circus name was Mademoiselle Favor ita her own, God knows! However, none of the fellows could make any impression upon her whatever, not the very smallest, and one afternoon, about 6 o'clock, I met her going down to the circus with Arnitt and then I knew why. And, sure enough, very shortly after that she and Arnitt got married. If he'd put in for leave, and waited till he got it, which he would have done, they might have got on very well, but he married her straight -out ol hand, and there they have stuck ever since. Arnitt ought to ha.ve got on, for he's a gentleman a 'Varsity man, too; but he's been un ilucky, unlucky all round." "You don't mean it," Orford cried, In huge surprise, "that he's a gentle man and a 'Varsity man?" "Oh, but I do, though an Oxford man. I remember his face distinctly as a man of Brazen ose when I was at Paul's, but for the very life I couldn't then, and have never been able since, to put a name to it. And yet I al most fancy and I think of it every time I get a fair look at him that I've seen the face with a tuft above it." "A tuft! you don't mean it?" Or ford cried. "Yes, I do. I get back to a certain point, and then I seem to come to a dead-wall, which blocks me complete- ly-" "Oh, you must be mistaken, or be mixing him up with somebody else," Orford declared. "It couldn't be, you know; somebody would be sure to rec ognize him." "Well, I may be," Lord Archie ad mitted "I may be, but still I've had the same impression ever since I have been in the regiment. Still, as you say, I may be mixing him up with somebody else." "Why don't you ask him outright?" "I did hint at it once. One of the horses was sick, and we had a good deal of trouble with him; and one af ternoon I was watching Arnitt put a bandase on, when the conviction that I had known him before came upon me stronger than ever. 'This is not the first time you and I have had to do with a horse together, Arnitt,' I said to him. He looked up at me quickly, a flash of a look as if I might be a detective who had been tracking him for years, and had hunted him down at last. 'For God's sake, don't my lord,' he said, all in a hurry; 'it's no use pretending that I was once a ' 'An undergrade at Brazenose,' I put in; when, poor beggar, he gave such a cringing shiver that I felt sure I'd put my hand on an open wound, and wished I had let him alone. '1 want to forget all that, my lord; I sunk that life and everything connected with it long since,' he said, desperately. 'I wouldn't have joined the Black Horse if I'd ever guessed you would have been gazetted to it.' 'Oh, it's all right. I'll not remind you of it again, Arnitt,' I told him; for, of course I didn't want to make his burden any heavier for him to carry. I knew his face, but could not remember his name, and should not try to find out. 'Only,' I said' 'I do remember perfect ly well that you didn't call me "my lord" in the old days.' 'Don't talk about the old days,' he burst out. 'I forfeited all that made them worth having, and I can bear it; but don't remind me of them, if you know what pity is don't.' So of course I told him I wouldn't, and no more I did. I never tried to find him out, but I've often thought about it, and tried to fix the name I knew belonged to the face, but I never could; it has always eluded my memory just as a dream often does. Yes, there is a queer story at the back of Arnitt's hard life, I know that. It's a strange fate for a man to have been a tuft at Brazenose, and then a private in a marching regi ment, with a wife picked out of a circus. And he's fond of her, too; oh, yes, for she is not a bad sort, and was always pretty. Yes, it's a queer story, very. Well, I must be getting along by-by." "By-by," returned Orford, and went on his way. wondering much about the story bs had just "heard. Mean time Lord Archie went further along the street, and turned in at an arch way between two of the little feature less houses, which brought him into the stable-yard. He just cast an eye over the animals, and then inquired of the groom which was Arnitt's house. The man pointed it out, and Lord Archie crossed the narrow, ill-paved little street, and knockedsoftly on the panel of the door. It was opened by the pretty, fair-haired wife, who look ed worn to death, and had a baby in her arms; two other children, yet lit tle more than infants, clung to her skirt s, and the bigcer ones stood in t he background looking shyly on. "Good-day, Mrs. Arnitt. How is your husband?" he asked. "Oh, my lord, he's very ill," she an swered with quivering lips and eyes brimming over, not because she had been weeping much, but because the sympathetic tone went straight to her heart, and made it quiver like a harp swept by a strong hand; "he's very ill, indeed; and Dr. Granger scarcely gives me any hope at all." "Who's attending to him? Have you got a nurse or anybody to help you?" Lord Archie inquired. "Yes, my lord; Mr. Orford sent one in as soon as ever he heard Arnitt was ill very ill, that is. But he will never get over it, my lord never." And lowering her voice almost to a whisper. "He's got something on his mind; I know it; I'm sure of it." "What kind of a something?" Lord Archie asked. "I can't tell that, my lord," she an swered; "but something there is, for certain. Arnitt is a very quiet, close sorb of man, and though he's one of the best husbands that ever drew breath, and has never given me a cross word since we were married, and has never raised his hand to one of the children and they are trying at times, there's no deny ing it he's never told me a word about his past life, never a one. I don't know anything about him, my lord, not even where he was born, or whether he has a relation in all the world. But he isn't like me, my lord; and though he's no better now than a common soldier, he's a gentleman, Arnitt is; and sometimes Icouldfancy he was even more than that. Lord Archie's conscience pricked him a little that he was obliged in honor to keep from this distressed little soul, with her pretty fair hair and blue tear-drownded eyes, the fact that he knew the truth of much of what she was saying. Then a sudden thoueht-came into his mind. "Would he like to see me, do you think?" he asked. "I feel sure he wou'.d, my lord," she answered. "Well, you might ask him," he said, for he had no desire to disturb what probably were his ex-groom's last hours by recalling painfully to his mind the incidents of the past inci dents which he most likely needed no stimulus to remember, and which would now be crowding back upon him, as the past does when we have nearly done with the present. So she went up the creaking little stairs with the baby in her arms, leav ing Lord Archie standing in the midst of the group of aw-stricken and be wildered youngsters. He spoke to one or two of them, the eldest boy amongst them,and found that Marcus Orford's little anecdote had been liberally doctored in the matter of pronuncia tion and accent, and that he in com mon with all others, spoke very well indeed, and if not quite up to his own standard, still very much above the average of a better class of children than those living in that part of War neclifle. And then Mrs. Arnitt appeared again, and said the sick man was very anxious to see his lordship if he would go up. So Lord Archie went up alone. It was a poor little room in which he found himself when he reached the top of the creaking stairway, but it was clean and orderly. The quilt up on the bed was white, if coarse, and there was a pleasant-faced middle aged nurse in a white cap sitting be side the patient, who rose and made her obedience when he entered under the low doorway. Arnitt made asign to her to leave them, and Lord Archie advanced to the side of the bed. "Why, Arnitt" he said, "I'm very sorry to find you so ill; what ever have you been doing to get like this?" "I've about come to the end of the journey," said the sick man in a painful undertone, scarcely more than a whisper. "Oh! I hope not, I hope not, put in the officer kindly. "You must keep up your heart. You know while there's life there's hope,and a man just in his prime, as you are, mustn't think of giving in yet awhile. Besides, there are others to think of, you know, Ar nitt there's your wife, and there are your children you must make an ef fort and do your best to live for their sakes." "Poor souls, God help them!" mur mured Arnitt, feebly. "I've never been much good to her, and she's been the best and dearest of wives to me; but there'll be a provision for her and for them, never fear; and, Lord Archie it was about that I was anxious to see you when INellie told me you were down below." "Ought you to be talk ing so much?" Lord Archie asked.gen tly interrupting. He had noticed the change in Arnitt's manner of address ing him a change from "my lord" to Lord Archie and it made the man more familiar than ever. "Oh, yes, yes what will it matter in the end; impatiently. "Just a few minutes more or less. I must tell you some things, and get you to help my boy into the rights and position which I had to forego and give up. 1 know you will, when I have told you my story, beginning from the time when vou were Archie Falconner, of Paul's, and I was Studham, ot Braze nose. Lord Archie uttered a sharp cry of recognition and surprise. "Studham, of Brazenose, and the ranks ot the Twenty-fifth dragoons! Good heavens! what could have possessed you? You must have been mad mad!" "No, I wasn't mad, not in the least; I was only the victim of circum stances," answered the sick man, with a sad smile; "But , tell me, didn't you know all along?" "I never guessed it. I never suspect ed it for a moment. Ionly knew 1 had known you long ago in tha old 'Varsi ty days. Yes; of course you are Stud ham; but, heavens!" how you are al tered." "Fourteen years of the ranks do make a change in a man, and the Studham you knew was very young and very foolish," the other answered. "Then what can I do for you? Why don't you claim your own, and take your own place in the world? It's ab surd to think of you, Studham nay, but you are not Studham, but Man nersleigh, now, since your father died dragging out such a life as yours must of necessity be. It's absurd, and we must get you out of this at once." "No, no; it's a poor little hole, but I've been happy in it. I'll stay here to the end of the chapter. We've got to the last page, I fancy. Still, my children have rights, and I have kept silence long enough." "For Mannersleigh that is, for your brother Taff." "Yes, Taff; do you ever hear any thing of him? Have you any idea what kind of a life he is leading?" Lord Archie laughed. "Oh, he has turned over a new leat; he has given up the old ways with the old name. But how came he to prove your death? He must have done it to claim and gain your father's title." "I don't know; I have not heard a word of him for years never since the day when I last saw him, when I told him I had proof, proof of his guilt for which I have borne the blame all these fourteen I0..2 wearv vears past. 1 gave him the opportunity of flying the country, which, he scouted, declaring J. must he mad, crazy, idiotic lu ucwiu of suspecting him." "Of what?" "Murder!" the sick man answered. "He foullv and cruelly murdered my mother's niece, our cousin, because he had made. But what am I saying? I am wandering in my head, that I go babbling out the secret I have kept all these years to my own hurt and ruin." He looked anxioiislv at Lord Archie as he spoke, as if he thought he would rush out of the room and pro claim the whole of his secret to the world at large; but Lord Archie soon set him at rest. "Don't worry yourself. You didn't mean to tell me? Well, I shall never disclose it, don't worry yourself about it. And now tell me what steps shall have to take to secure your son's rights. Have you made a will, and left vour papers in order? Evervthina! Thev are all in that little tin box. As to my will, that is made, too; but I should like to add something to it, if you will consent.' "I? Oh, of course; what is it?" "To act as trustee to my children and their mother. I dare sav she will marry again, and I'veprovided asuit- aDie income in case 01 it. I'll do it, of course; but,tell me Stud ham, tell me," reverting instinctively to the old name of their 'Varsity days, "why, when you had the power to take everything and provide properly and suitably for your wife and children why did you bury yourself in the ranks, and let that young ruffian Taff usurp your place.?" "I'll tell you. As I said, TafE flatly refused to clear out of the way, and challenged me yes, actually chal lenged me to produce my proofs against him. I had them safe enough, and so I told him they're in that box now. I shouldn't have spoken what would have been the good? It would have broken my father's heart, and tarnished our old name; and the girl was dead, had been lying dead among the sedge and bulrushes for hours be fore we found her. All the rum that could come upon the Mannersleigh family would not bring her bactif again, so I determined to keep silence, simply because I could not see the good of speaking. '1 had been all that day sitting with my lord, but I happened to be the first to find the poor girl, lying face down in the water, and as I turned her over I tore open the bosom of her gown, in doing it, when there fell out a letter in xan s nandwrit ing, asKing her to meet him in that place at 4 in the afternoon.. I concealtd it instinct ively, and seeing her hand clinched up on something, forced it open and took from it a locket which he had worn on his watch chain at luncheon. I knew it, because we had all noticed it. There was a bit of broken chain attached to it, evidently where she had clutched at it in the last agony of her struggle with him. 1 showed the letter and the locset to him that very night, and then,, owing to the gossip of one of of the servants who had seen me take the locket, or, rather, had seen me take something out of her hand, I was put up on the trial as first witness. As soon as 1 saw in the report that it was known I had the iocket, I made up my mind to clear out of the way at once, tor, though I could keep silence, 1 could not give false evidence. I could easier bear rum and social extinction tor myself than I could break my father's heart by putting a rope round my brother's neck. So that night I bolted, and then I got over to Ireland and en listed in the Twenty-fifth. But I didn't know, I never heard, he was dead. When was it?" 'About a year ago," Lord Archie replied. 'Ah, I never heard it," sighing; -ana you say Taff has turned over a new leat?" "Presides at philanthropic and re ligious meetings, and so forth. I be lieve he's quite a shining light among the unco' guid." 'Ah, he'll need it all," dryly. 1 fear though, there's iot much real good in him. He was always a bad lot, but my father loved him best of us all. Well, my time is gettingshort, and if you will get me a lawyer here at once, I'll settle about the trusteeship; the sooner the better, there's no time to lose. For the rest, it will soon be over. I shall not see to-morrow; of that I am certain. As soon as you hear of it, I want you to go and see Taff, and tell him all I have told you; tell him that you hold my written word that it is all true, that unless he admits my boy's claim, and allows him to take his place without delay, you have my orders to disclose every thing everything! But you will have no trouble; and I should like to lie in the old churchyard at home beside my mother. You'U do all this for me, Archie?" anxiously. "1 11 do it all to the best 01 my power, said iora Arenie, witn a great lump in his throat and a white mist oancmg oeiorenis eyes, so tnau the sick man and the little meagre room were blotted out from his vision. "I didn't know that he had gone, or Ishould have done it before. I always meant to put mv children in their own place, but I didn't know the old man was dead. I oniv kept out 01 the way for his sake; it was all for his sake." Lord Archie rose to his feet. "1 11 go for a lawyer at once; but Studham, old tellovv, can t you maKe an enorx and get well? I wish you would." "It's too late now, Archie; but thank you all the same." "It seems such a pity, regretiuny. "It can't be helped," patiently; 'and I kept it from him." And that night Private John Arnitt died, and a week later was buried as John George Aimed, tenth Earl of Mannersleigh, when Stephen, his son, reigned in his stead. A Talk About Murderers. New York Letter: One of the moat jxperienced members of the detc:tivo iorce of New York was talking a day or two ago about murderers. "The old superstition," he said, "about murderers being unable to sleep in the night has more truth in it than people may imagine. I've had a great deal of experience in murder cases during the past thirty years, and I know what I'm talking about. With out and out murderers the ability to sleep conies strangely enough, as soon as they have been tried and found guilty. I am inclined to think that the fear of being caught has more to do in pre venting them from enjoying repose at night than their disturbingeonscience. I once caught aclue that led to the con vict ion of a woman in Brooklyn named Allen, who had never been suspected of the murder of her husband until I chanced to get on to it- The old man had been dead twoyearswhen the wom an first began to attract my atten tion. I was a patrol-man then on the Brooklyn police force, and I got home at 3 or 4 o'clock in the morning. My room was the fourth story back of a house in Henry street, and I noticed that the lights were always burning when I got in in a solitary windo w in the back of the house on the next street. At daylight the gass was turned out, and the shade raised. This went on lor a long time, until the summer months came. By this time I had grown in the habit of watching the window carefully- The program, was never varied until the hot weather set in. Then the light went out with the same regularity as soon as dawn ap peared. A woman slept in the room, and after she had turned out t he-gas A Story Of Arthur Gilfnnn. From the Boston Evening Record. A number of architects were talking the other day of tne peculiarities of the fhfi-irnfp4sion in Boston. and thev agreed that the late Arthur . - 1,1 jt?i TT11 Oilman, who designed tne uity ami, AT.iinr,t-,n KrrpAr. rhnreh and Horticul tural Hall, took the palm for dashing seltconhdence. .ine way in niuoi u practical humor cropped out amid seeminglv adverse conditions was re- called with two good stories, iiiougn l, .o,1q n rrnrid dpn.l of mOlieV he lie iinvuv l f- ' . managed to spend a good deal more, and the result was tnat ne appueu uu a certain oceasion to take the poor debtor's oath. To be able to take this oath a person has to satisty tne mag istrate that he is not worth $20 in the world outside certain exempted ar ticles of property. The questions put a -ir ;iTv,f.n Viv the counsel for the LU -'1 l . "J creditor elicited the fact that he was boarding at the Tremont iiouse, men kept by that prince of landlords, Pa ran Stevens, at the rate of 40 a week "Is not this a high price for a man who hasn't got $20 in the world? asked the lawyer. The architect hesi tated about answering this trouble some question, but on being told by the judge that he must reply to it, he exclaimed: "Yes, your honor, I have often told Mr. Stevens that he was charging me a great deal too much, and I wish your honor would present the matter to him in this light." The coolness of this speech convulsed its hearers, and the judge, who knew Gilman well in his social relations, could not refrain from joining m the merriment. The witty architect was allowed to take the oath. she always raised the shade and open ed both the upper and lower sash She always looked heavy eyed and ! to hecQme hi ownJ alter uayngnt nau got inorougiuy in to the room she would throw herself on the bed and fall asleep in an in stant, as though from sheer exhaus tion. That's the way I came to get at the points in a poisoning case that earned "me my first important promo tion. Leave murderers out of the question and take men who have killled other men either in self defence, during a sudden spasm of insanity, or as a means of justifiable revenge. Do you think they sleep well at night? Not a bit of it. I know an officer who was standing one day on the corner of his street with his brother, when a saloon keeper came out and shot the brother through the back of the head. My friend whipped out his own revolver and killed the murderer, before he could fire a second shot. That justified the homicide, of course. Well, sir, that man is only thirty-six years old and he looks fifty. He can't get up before 10 o'clock to save him, because he never sleeps until daylight. Take a case like that of Ed Stokes. Isn't he the latest of the late rounders. He doesn't seem to enjoy standing up to a bar and drinking and yet at 3 or 4 o'clock 111 the morning he is always to be found in some public place, with a friend or two. He does not seem happy, and he moves restlessly all the time. There'a more in the old traditions than the know-it-all young men of the year '85 are willing to admit." Jefferson Davis. A correspondent of the Globe-Democrat who recently talked with Jeffer son Davis, says that he conversed pleasantly upon matters of a literary and philosophic nature, to which he devotes much study. Both Mr. and Mrs. Davis inquired affectionately of many Georgians whose memory they cherished; of the peerless Gordon, the "right arm of Lee;" of Gen. Colquitt, of Gen. Henry K. Jackson, whose bravery as a soldier in the Mexican war Mr. Davis well remembered; and ?specially of the eloqueut Hill, whose memory is a precious sentiment in the family. "In the days," said Mrs. Davis, "when friends were needed, Mr. Hill 1 came to me so tencieriy, aim onereci i his assistance with such considerate- ness, that 1 can never rorget it. "l think," she continued "that his statue should be in a recumbent position, it is so dignified and represents his sleep ing power." "Ah," replied Mr. Davis, "a statue in action, such as that of Patrick Henry in Richmond, cannot be surpassed for expression." "And yet," resumed Mrs. Davis, "the eye becomes fatigued as it looks upon an active posture which is never changed, while you can look upon the recumbent statue of Lee for hours." "Very true," said Mr. Davis, "that j is the statue of a man at rest, whose work is finished. That of old Patrick I Henry is at his work, appealing to the people. In looking upon either, my ! mind runs back to the occasion.." Mr. Davis' favorite author is Sir I Walter Scott. Scott's great power of describing objects in motion, and the scenery in which his plots are laid, are I so truthful and realistic as to make : their recognition easy to the traveller i who visits them. Among poets he re I gards Byron the greatest. "The I striking feature of Byron is that when i ever he renders a quotation from the classics he always improves it so much Other authors have always failed in this regard. Moore is the perfection of harmony, while Burns expresses human feel ing. The three Byron, Moore and Burns make a complete com bination. Bulwer, among modern novelists, is perhaps the greatest. He is the only novelist whose style changes with age his 'Last f the Barons' being as different in every re spect from 'Pelham' as though writ ten by different persons. The only connecting link between the successive works is the retention of the alchemist. The greatest danger to the country in the future is the vast aggregation of wealth in single hands. Primogeniture was abolished as a remedy for that evil in times past. Now large fortunes beyond the power of the owner to spend can be accumulated in one life. The opposite evil agrarianism is the great est. There is a difference be- j tween education and wisdom. I have known," said Mr. Davis, "wi 'men who were not learned and earned men who were not very-wise. Aman's discretion can not be gauged by his knowledge. The Scotch are a people of great knowledge, yet in many parts of Mississppi where book knowledge is lacking, the people are always wise in their conclusions, not always able to give the reasons therefor, yet not the less wise." A Bird Study. From the Atlantic Monthly. The mocking-bird's emotions were so intense and so originally displayed that he was a constant source of in terest. A hand glass lying face up gave opportunity for an amv.sing ex hibition one day. Leaning over it, he puffed out every feather, opened his mouth, and tried the glass with his beak at every point. Meeting no sat isfaction, he turned to leave it, but first peeped slyly over "he edge to see if the stranger were still there, no doubt unable to get over his surprise at seeing a bird in that position and ready to meet his bill at every j lint. The same glass standing up brought out a different demonstration. He stood in front of it and swelled himself out, while the feath ers of the shoulders and breast were erected. Then he opened his mouth wide and attacked the A Strange Community. A correspondent of the Wheeling Register, who has recently visited the settlement of Viorle, in the extreme southwestern part of Kansas, says of it: The valley is some ten miles wide at this place, and soil is very fertile. It has a population of one thousand. Viorleis a distincttown. It makes its own laws, passes sentence of death, regulates all matters of equity and dic tates the religious and social status. Viorle has no hotel, no place for a stranger. He could get nothingto eat only at private houses. Viorle won dered at us getting there, and sterniy discussed the propriety of ejectment. It had been a long timesince strangers were in their midst. However, after a long parley and due deliberation, we were permitted to remain. The town was laid out and settlements com menced by a company of religions bigots in "the spring of 1808, since which time select families have been added. In the beginning it was decreed that all things should be held in com mon, houses, however small, should be built of brick, and extravagance, finely, fancy work should not be tol erated. The people are plain, siraple- reflection. but was astonished to meet 1 minded and verv common the glass. He touched the bill of his To see good brick buildings with double with his own, and moved all j loopholes for windows and doors hewn the way to the bottom of the glass, out of timber, to see people lie on the not takingit away, but. apparently try- j pround (for these houses have no ing to seize the one which opposed his. ; floor), and repose 011 skins, and to see He lowered his head as though to take j no furniture, not even a dish or stove, hold of the enemy's foot, then pulled j was not only odd but interesting, timself up as straight as a soldier. ; Their theory is to buy nothing and wings and tail constantly jerking with sell nothing". AH must go to work excitement. After indulging for some j very early in the morning, and work time in these proceedings, he dodged I just so hard and long as they choose, around behind the glass, plainly ex- j unless an edict is issued by the pru pectingto pounce upon his opponent, dent for more diligence. Now, thepru nnd siiinrised not to do so. Several j dent consists of twelve men selected times he drew himself up, swelled out I by their own body when vacancies . . -1 11 a. 3 i,c.. - - mi 1 u - i:c 4. nu,. liia hreast. and blustered betore tne Once he flew up with the reflec arise, luey noid a me tenure. j.ney settle all disputes, regulate all indus tries and divide the crops. The du ties of their office wouUl seem enor mous, but it appears they have little tion in the manner of a. quarrelsome cock, and upon reaching che top of the class naturally went over and landed behind, without an enemy in to do. sight. Upon this he stared a moment, j There are really no stores, but there as if dazed, then shook himself out 1 are three large buildings used astare and flew away in evident disgust. houses, where the different products The deliberate, leisurely dressing ; are nicely kept. In one of these were of plumage with which many birds pass ' stored vegetables,, corn and other awav the dull hours is an oc-1 thincs, in another were stored -woven cupation m which the mock ingbird never had time to indulse. He was a bird of affairs; he had too much on his mind for loitering. A few sudden, thourough shakes, a rapid snatching cf the wing and tail feathers through the beak, or, after a bath, a violent beating the air with both wings while holdingtightly tothe perch with his feet, sufficed for his toilet. Not withstanding his apparent careless ness, his plumage was soft and exquis ite in texture, and when wet thedowny breast feathers matted together and hung in locks, like hair. Through a common magnifying-glass each tiny fabrics and tanned skins and robes; in the other was whiskey. Pierre Lorillard has expended $18, 000 on a kennel for his dogs at Jobs town, N. J., and the cost of the ani mals, salaries and houses for the Super intendent and his assistants runs the outlay up to $60,000. The exercising ground is ten acres, and 200 acres, are used for breaking the dogs in on game. Two setters cost $5,Q00 each. Mr. Howells, Mr. James and Mr. rKl ... . ; w ft Oficl iir.Vi fnr their se- 1,0 .-Knl.! waci coon tn hfl rinapd with' i j : : i. , r,, t , . .... oa gray and silvery white, so finely that j much more for the right to publish the rings, could hardly be seen. I thejr Tories iw book form.