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About The Corvallis gazette. (Corvallis, Or.) 1862-1899 | View Entire Issue (Dec. 18, 1885)
in ACCEPTED. How macv years it's lain away, Unknown, unread, unseen, The little song I sent one da; To that great magazine 1 Tor I was very young, Indeed, With hopes of rosy t'nt I thought I e'en might live to eee My little song in print. But only now, when I am gray. And life is fleeting fast, The longed-for after long delay "Accepted" comes at last. And in the joy it brines to me There lurks a mournful doubt If I shall ever live to see That little song "come out." For magazines are fresh and strong. They grow not old and pray; And though it's true that "Art is Long," 'Tis not so long as they. But we we fade ! With bitter pain I learn that well-worn truth. Alas! I shall not live to tja n The chedsbed hope of youth. I shall not hear my little song By others read or sung ; 1 leel I can not live fo long I am no longer j-oung! The Century Magazine. PAUL PERKINS PASSES. But there was one within sight and bearing of these rare intellectual pleasures who was very miserable. The parted draperies at the windows revealed to him the guests of General Standish at the very height of their lymposiac, the General himself at last the acknowledged symposiarch, but this view seemed only to increase the melancholy of this unknown onlooker. He turned and paced gloomily, medi tatively under the great elms, on the lawn of General Standish's residence n Leverby-by-the-Sea. Once in a while he glanced at the open window, hoping to catch one glimpse of her tte yearned to see, whose voice he now and then heard with pangs of passion. At length a fair woman came to the porch and seemed to be about to ven ture out, and Paul Perkins rashly stepped forward, as quickly to draw back again into the shadows. For he had seen one with classic brow and breavy gold bowed spectacles step be side the young woman, and he heard the philosopher say: "Be prudent, lady; the dew is fall ing:., if you speak in this night damp let your lung air vibrate the local chords in your larynx gently, that in flammation set not in." "Dew!" she said gently. "Surely there is no dew, professor. That is dud the license of poetry. It is the exhalation of vegetation to which you refer. How beautifully the moon functionates tonight' Leave mo, pro fessor, for awhile. I would meditate." The scholar did as he was bid, re turning to his fcl.ows. Then sudden ly the fair woman rushed down the Heps, out upon the greensward, her face strangely passionate in view of the recent calmness of it She clench ed her hands as though in agony. Young Perkins saw her; heard her agitated breathing, and, unable longer to restrain himself, he came from his concealment. "Minerva," he moaned. She heard him. She gave one quick glance at the window that she might know if any one saw her, and, seeing doom, with impassioned manner she seized the young man's hand and fiercely dragged him to a place of concealment Then she wildly turn ed upon him, and iie saw her beauty, that it was marvelottsly enhanced. "Paul," she said, "I'm flabbergas ted. Go back not on me, "No, how is it .said? Don't you go back on me." He gasped. "Drop that," she said, fiercely. "uu, there must be reaction, or or I'll fly fly off the handle. Stand there, Paul Perkins, and let me talk slang to you until I bring Minerva Standish back to earth again." And she did. When the reaction came she said to the wild-eyed young man: 'If- you ever talk anything more to me but downright Yankee dialect I'll let you slide off away no, I'll let you slide; that's it. Oh, how much good that does me! Now, that pop's won and is at last crowned one of them, let me be a frisky girl again; and you, you up brace no, brace up, for mv sake, Paul." The young man became himself. In place of -melancholy there was al most frenzy of joy. "You make me pleased, Min. You're worth my life, but hang me if I could have kept up this cultured-mugwump rccket another month. It would have killed me. But the old gent will sour on me worse than ever, now he's high-cock-alorum among 'em, after trving so hard, ever since Blaine was nominated. I swear, Msn, I ve tried the culture and mugwump dodge on him for all I know, but it wouldn't wash." "That's it, Paul. Talk to me some more like that. It does me good. " "But, Min, how am 1 going to fetch the old man round? I've played my last card." "No, you haven't. I'm just Boston girl enough to tell you how you can work a noise no, racket ah! I like that that'll fetch him. First make him break all up no; what is that term, Paul?" "Break him all up, you mean." "Yes; splendid. Break him all up by joining the the oh, the Prohibi tion party. Tell him that's the evolu tion of mugwumpism. That'll make him swearing mad, and when he swears you can handle him. He hasn't sworn since ho's laid on this no, been on this lay; that's it. Then tell him he's got to be a consistent mugwump, ana as you are an applicant for the office of son-in-law, make him exam ine you, give you a certificate, and send you to me. That's the way the commission does, and I'm the appoint ing power in this business, commish or no commish. Then for taffy, just praise his horseback riding. Tell him there isn't a mugwump in Boston that has a better mount than he. Now, if I'm worth having I'm worth bam boozling pop out of his nonsense to get." "But, Min, 1 can't praise his mount. Everybody laughs at it. It's like " "A pair of andirons describing a circle. Yes, I know; tut that kind of taft always washes pop no, that caff will wash with him. There's the pro fessor looking for me. So long." And, resuming her intellectual cast, she returned to the parlor. The next evening, dressed for the first time in six months in the most precise garb of fashion, Paul Perkins called on General Standish. "I'm here on business, old man, and don't you forget it," said Paul Perkins in most elegant though peremptory manner. General Standish looked inquiring ly upon him. "Have you been dining with the St. Tobolphians?" he asked. "No. But I want to say you've worked your little racket for a year and have at last won. You're in the cult, and are a boss mugwump. I worked my racket and it's no go, so I'm oing to try another. I'm a pro hibitionist, gone to join Faxon, and I'll get an interview in the Advertiser, telling how your mugwump business drove me into it, and how you are getting ready to take the mugs into MRS. BROWX, PUCK. She is pretty as a fairy, And her voice is soft and low, And her chatter, light and airy, Like a babblitas stream doth flow. As she walks the long verandas Of our watering-place hotel, All the rustic Jane Amaudas Wish that they could be bo swell, And her presence is so sunny, As she flits about the .place, You'd suppose the bees for honey Would go hunting on her face. And you'd think, if she'd invite you Just to call on her in town. How immensely 'twoulddelight you That's Mrs. Brown. As your eyes in admiration Trace her flitting here and there, You are lost in admiration Not unmiagled with despair O'er the happiness unbounded That the lucky Brown has got, And you wish the chap confounded When you think what you have not. Oh, she's very, very pretty Yet, my friend, there's not a case Of scandal, gossip witty Or the lib;e. around the place, Not a case of wicked chatter. When you come to sift it down, But you'll find that she's the matter It's Mrs. Brown. "LITTLE MRS. HAYNES.T BY MARGARET VERNE. I. It was an eventful era in my young life when my father announced his in tention of renting the light, airy, southern chamber of our old brown house to a young portrait-painter who was about becoming a resident in our village during a few weeks of the summer. Never before had an event so stirring and exciting in its tendency broken over the monotony of my ex istence. Never before had my childish imagination been furnished with so wide a field of action or my little heart throbbed and palpitated with such a strange mixture of wonder and that party yourself if you don't give j delight. A portrait painter under our own brown roof, within the walls of my own home what a rare chance for my inquisitive eyes to draw in a new fund of knowledge! What an object of envy I should be to my little mates, and how daintily would I mete out to them what I learned from day to day of the wondrous man of the wondrous employment. I had heard of portrait-painters be fore, it is true, but only as I had heard and read of fairies in my little story-books, or listened to my father as he talked of kings and courtiers in the great world afar off. Upon our parlor walls from my earlirst remem brance had hung portraits of my grandfathers and grandmothers, but I had no idea how their faces came stamped upon the dark canvas, or when or by whom their shadows had been fixed within the heavy gilt frames. Like the trees that waved by the ' door, and the lilacs that blossomed j every year by the old gate, they had ' to me always been so. j But now my eyes were to rest upon the tace of one whose existence had been like a myth, a fable! What a ! wonderful personage he would be! : What a dark visage he would boast, j and what a monstrous, giant-like i form! How entirely unlike every per ! son that I had ever seen or known would be this portrait painter. While these speculations were at their height in my busy brain, the hero made his appearance, scattering them mercilessly to the four winds. There was nothing giant like in the lithe,grace ful figure that sprang from the village coach, or dark in the pleasant, boyish j face, shaded by soft masses ot brown j hair, and lit up by a merry pair of i blue eyes, running over with mirth ' and mischief. His name, too, quite i like the generality of names, had nothing wonderful of striking by i which to characterize it. He j was simply Frank Haynes, nothing ! more or less, and when, with a pleas- ant, eai' grace, he sought to win my ! childish favor I should have been ! quite at home had not the stunning i knowledge of his art overpowered me. i It was a strange freak for a child of ten summers, but somehow it crept my me a fair show. "Perkins, you've been dallying with the wine glass." "Not a bitof it. I'm myself again. " "Then, it, get out of my house!"- "That's right. 1 knew old Adam was in you. You've been playing the cult, for all you are worth and have won. You can afford, between us, to let up a little. Now, examine me or I'll expose you. I'll give the whole racket away. By the shades of Eaton himself, if you don't examine me for the office of son-in-law I'll expose all your mugwump pretensions and give the whole suap away."- "Sh-h-h! Not so loud, Mr. Per kins." "Now, General," said the young man, more gently, "1 want to say one thing. Yesterday I was seized with a fierce determination to win Minerva. Why? Well, I saw you out riding on Hannibai fine horse what grace, what dignity, what command and I said to myself, What philosopher can ride like that? The daughter of such a superb horseman must be the most noble, splendid girl in Boston. I will win her. i want her, but 1 want to be able to say when any one sees you riding by: 'Doesn't that man ride superbly? He's my wife's father.' That's the reason. Now I want to be examined." General Standish smiled a knowing smile. "What are you worth?" "Five thousand a year." "A very satisfactory answer. Are you going to be a Prohibitionist?" "Not if 1 get the office. If I get the office I'm after I'll be mugwump enough to let parties go to the devil. " "Very satisfactory. What is th aim of the higher culture?" "To put on lugs." "What necessity is there for the ex istence of the independents?" "Nothing succeeds like humbug." "Does my daughter love you?" "That's for her to say." Here (Jen. Standish took up his pen and wrote. The he read what he had written, as follows: "I certify that Paul Perk ins. having been exam-, i irtr ined for the olliee of son-in-law, has been marked 100 in all departments. Ho is, therefore, recommended for appointment to the appointing pow er." Then, giving this certificate to th-e young man, he added: "Here, take it, sir. You'll make a go of it; if you don't she will tor you. She has served me well. Here, let me send for a bottle, that I may drink your health. You've done me good. I may want you by and by to help me set the whole lot of mugs and other frauds by the ears. But, Paul, don't give me away. Be circumspect" baby brain that I must not like him, although the while, in spite of myself, a preference for his opinions, ways and looks, grew up strong with in ne. If he spoke to me when any one was observing him I was silent and shrank away from him timidly, but when we were alone I chatted and jhirruped like a young robin. I think he must have noticed this, and from it takei; into his head the boyish idea of teasing me. To him, he said, I was little Phebe Lester no longer, "now that he knew now much I cared for him. For the "mture he should call nie Mrs. Haynes little Mrs. Haynes and should be very angry it everybody in tlie house did not follow his example. I must nrt. tfnrfir Hn.ve n.nv little lieonv nmnni, A half-hour later Paul, with daik uBnw,ihni ilud: mVntn.l! some face, gave the certificate to the fair Minerva. "I'll- put you on probation for six months, Paul," she said, sweetly. New York Sun. The Difference. "What becomes of men who deceive their fellow men?" asked a Sunday school teacher of her class. "They lose the confidence of good people," was the prompt answer. "Very well, indeed. Now what be comes of women who do the ?.ie thing?" The question stumped the class for a minute and then a little girl piped out: "They usually catches the man foi a husband. " Omalw, Herald. ;hanged; but I must be prim and prop 5r like any married woman who was faithful to her husband. "Would I agree to this?" he asked. I glanced up from the hem of my white muslin apron, which I had been wisting about my lingers, to meet my mother's eye fixed laughingly upon my face. In a moment my lips were closed resolutely, while he, seeing at once the :ause of my silence, reached out of the window and plucked a rose from a running vine that crept nearly to the mossy eaves. "Little Mrs. Haynes must wear the rose," he said. "It would never do lor her to toss her head atid throw his rifts carelessly by. All women wore lowers which their husbands :hem. Would I wear the rose?" I glanced about the room again. My mother was nowhere to be seen, gave and so I said that I would wear it, if he wanted me to. "And would I consent to be called little Mrs. Haynes?" "Yes, I would consent." "Then it was all right. He would never look about for a wife, nor should I ever look about for ahusband. We were Mr. and Mrs. Haynes. Did that suit me?" "Oh, yes, that suited me! I like that!" "Well, then, he should have to buy me a little gold ring to wear upon my third finger, to iet folks know that some one owned me." "No, I didn't want a ring!" "Tut, tut, tut! That would never do. People who were engaged to be married always gave such pledges. He should speak to father about it, so that it would be all right. If he was willing would I wear the ring?" "No, I didn't like rings." "Wouldn't I like a ring that he would buy?" "No I wouldn't like a ring at any rate." During his stay, which was protract ed to months instead of weeks, he strove in every way to change my de termination about the engagement ring as he termed it. I was inexora ble. A ring I would not wear. Not even when he made ready for his de parture, and told me that in a few weeks he should be thousands of miles away from me, nor when he piled up before me pictures that he had drawn at his leisure, during the long summer hours that hung heavily upon his hands, would I revoke my decision. I would take the finely ex ecuted drawings, and prettily framed portrait of himself, but I would have no rings. At last he went away from us. I shall never forget the morning, or how cold, dull, and cheerless it seemed to me. How dreary and desolate every thing looked because he was going away. It was no every-day grief that bore down on my young heart, no childish promise that assured him, as he kissed mv quivering lips, that I would never forget him, and that I would always be his little Mrs. Haynes. "Would I write to him and sign that name?" "Yes, I would." "I was a good girl, then, and he would never. forget me. Good-by!" "Good-by!" My voice trembledand fluttered upon the word. In my short life they were the hardest I had found to speak. During the next two years no lady love could have been more faithful to her absent knight than I was to Frank Haynes. The brightest moments of my life circled about the reception of his letters, the greatest joy of life was in answering them. Among my school mates I had no childish love.no juven iles to wait upo.i me to sleigh-rides and parties that the children in the neighborhood delighted in. If I could not go and come alone I would remain at home, whatever might be the in ducements offered to tempt me fiom my unswerving course. I was little Mrs. Haynes, and little Mrs. Haynes I was bent upon remaining. But while I was in the very midst of my heroic devotion a terrible rumor reached my ears, a rumor that Frank Haynes, my self-appointed lord and master, was engaged to a young and beautiful lady in the city. It was a dreadful blow to my precocious hopes and plans, though for a long while I battled against crediting the report. Hadn't- Frank told me that he would never look about for a wife? That I was the only little lady who should bear his name? Didn't he write me regularly every fortnight, commencing his letters "Dear little Mrs. Haynes," and telling me to be faithful to him? And and would he do this it he was engaged? No, not a bit of it! Some one had maliciously lied about him, had manufactured the story from their own wicked imagination. I would nob belilve it, though the whole world stood up before me and testified to its truth. As it to reward me for my faith, and set my prejudiced little mind to rights, the next couch sat Frank down at out door. He thought he must come and see his little wife once more, he said.as I went timidly forward to meet him, though he thought it very bad taste in me to grow at such a rapid rate. He was afraid I'd grow out of my engagement; he should have to put a loaf of hot bread on my head to keep me within bounds. We had been engaged two years; I was 12 years old, and a head taller than I was at 10. He was going to Europe to stay three or four years; what would i oe when ne returned? tie cuci not dare to think. He believed I would be as tall as he by that time Wouldn't I? "I hoped so," I answered, tartly, thinking the while of the story of his engagement. "Whew! You are taking on the airs of a fine young lady already, my little Phebe. he answered, laughing heartt ly. "You wouldn't give me one of your brown curls to-day, if my heart should break for it, would j-ou?" "No, I have none to spare." "Not one?" "Why?" '"Cause " '"Cause what?" "Because she has heard strange re ports of you, Frank," broke in my mother, mischievously. "She hasn't any idea of letting you rob her of her curls while she doubts your sincere al legiance to her. She is a lady of spirit, you see." "On my faith, she is!" he exclaimed, gayly, fixing his blue eyes upon my face. "And I trow' I'm in love with her for it. Never mind ' reports, my little lady." I answered only by a curl of my lips, while he reached out his hand to draw me to a seat upon his knee. "No, I won't sit there!" I cried, push ing away his hand, while the tears, which had been crowding their way into my eyes, gave a sudden dash down my burning cheeks. I'll never sit there again, never!" "My dear little Phebe!" There was a real pathos in his rich, manly voice, a quick, penetrating, sur prised look in his clear, blue eyes, as he uttered these words, followed by a rapid, wondering expression of tender ness, as he repeated them. "My dear little Phebe! May God bless you!" I stole quietly away from him out of the house, with that fervent bene diction lying fresh and deep upon my childish heart, and threw myself down in the shade of the old orchard trees and sobbed out the heaviness that pressed upon my spirits. For hours I lay there in the meUow September sun shine, brooding over the little romance that had so silently and strangely grown into the woof of my almost ba by life. I wept before my time for the delicious griefs that forever cling to a sweet and. conscious womanhood. When I ret urned to the house Frank had taken his leave, but in my little work-basket he left a small pearl box, which contained a plain gold ring! Did I wear it? Are you a woman, reader, and ask it? n. "Phebe, Phebe! mother says come down-stairs! There is a gentleman in the parlor who wishes to see you." The words broke harshly into my pleasant dreams which I had been weaving all the long, golden July, afternoon, in the unbroken stillness ot my little chamber. At my feet, upon the carpet, with its leaves rumpled and crushed, lay my neglected Virgil in close proximity to a huge Latin dictionary, while upon my lap, in a wrinkled condition, my sewing was lying, with a needle hanging by a long line of thread, nearly to the floor, as if escaped luckily from a round of monotonous hemming, which as yet boasted but two stitches at its com mencement. "Who can it be that wishes to see me?" I exclaimed, rising hastily and calling after my little 6-year-old brother. "Who is it, Charlie?" "Don't know; it's somebody. Moth er says come down." "Who can it be! An hour since I had seen a gentleman with a heavily bearded face come up the walk, but I was too busy with my dreams to notice him very particularly. Still, as I recalled his face and figure, and his quick, springing step, there seemed something strangely familiar in them. Wh,o could it be? My heart beat rap idly. Surely I had seen that face and form before, and a name that was sin gularly dear to me trembled upon my lips "Frank Haynes!" But I could not go down to meet him, though I was summoned a thou sand times. I did not wish to see him; why should I? There was no occasion foi it. I was not the foolish little girl of 12 summers whom he had left five years ago in short frocks and curls, but a full-grown woman instead. No, I was hot the same. I would not go down. Besides, a sudden headache was nearly blinding me. Mother could not ask it of me when I was hardly able to sit up. But what would he think? Would he care? Would he still remember tenderly the little Mrs. Haynes of five years ago? Little! I repeated the word as I stood before the long mirror, which gave back to me an accurate picture of myself. A slender, passable form; a dark, clear complexion; large, gray eyes; a mouth whose redness seemed to have robbed my cheeks of their color; white teeth; a forehead broad, but not high; large, heavy braids of chestnut-brown hair, was the likeness framed before my eyes. I turned away with a sigh, and glanced down to my hand. Upon the third finger of the left was a plain gold circlet. The hot blood rushed up into my cheeks as looked at it . I would wear it no long er. He should never know that I had worn it at all. Just then my brother came again to the door ot my room, crying out a new message. "Mother says little Mrs. Haynes is wanted down-stairs. "I have a terrible headache. Charlie. Please tell mother so," and I sank down upon a chair close by the win dow, and leaned my head upon a chair handle. "Dear, dear! if they would butforget me!" I murmured to myself, as the hum of their conversation came clear ly to my ears. An hour passed away and I heard the sound of voices in the hall, then steps in the walk below. I did not glance eagerly from the win dow, or peer carefully from the half- closed shutters, but clasped my hands tightly over my eyes till the sound of footsteps died away in the distance, then I crept stealthily downstairs and stepped softly into the silent parlor, where so lately he had been. I was half across the room before I noticed that I was not alone, and then, before Ic3uld make a hasty retreat, a glad, merry voice, rich with its golden music, exclaimed: "My own dear little Mrs. Haynes, as I live! How hanpy I am to seeyou!" and a hand clasped mine tightly, while a pair of bearded lips were bent down to mine. I drew my head back haughtily. I was a little child no longer. I would not accept, even from him, the caresses that he had bestowed upon me five years be fore. "Ah, Mr. Haynes," I said, bowing in a dignified way, "I am pleased to see you." My manner chilled at once his warm, genial nature. Stepping backward from me and releasing my hand he said, with a curl of his finely cut lips: "Your pardon, Miss Lester; I had quite forgotten that you had grown to be such a line lady!" I bowed him back a reply, flashing a quick, impetuous glance upon him as I did so. But there was no pleas antry attempted on his part, and when my mother entered the room a few moments after and referred, laugh ingly to our engagement, he answered her in a few evasive words, as though the subject was not anagreableone to him. Affairs had taken an unhappy turn, but it was too late to remedy them, and day after day passed away, leav ing Mr. Haynes as cold and distant as he had been from the moment I first repulsed him. I would have given worlds to have recalled my unlucky words; yet, since they were spoken, I would not unbend a moment from my calm, cool dignity, though 1 was as miserable and wretched as I could be, and knew that Mr. Haynes shared my wretchedness. All the time that I could spend in my chamber without being absolutely rude was passed there till my strange unusual appearance was noticed by my father and mother, and my mood commented freely upon before our guest. "You appear so strange, Phebe," said my mother one morning. "I really do not know how to understand you. I'm afraid that Mr. Haynes will think you are not pleased to see him. Every chance that occurs you resolutely avoid him, as though he were the veriest monster, instead of a dear friend. What is the matter?" "Nothing. The strangeness of my appearance is but a reflection, I can not help it, Mr. Haynes hates and de spises me now," I said, burying my tearful eyes in my hands. "Phebe!" My mother's voice was stern and reproachful, but I did not heed it. "He does hate me, mother! hates me with a- " "Your pardon, little Phebe Miss Lester but he does not!" broke in. the clear, rich voice of Mr. Haynes. "Of all persons in the world " He paused, and in a moment more I heard my mother step lightly from the room. "Iamnotcold,haughty,andproud,'r I said, excitedly, looking up into his face, "and I do like you just as well as well " "What, little Phebe?" he asked, eagerly, a quick expression of joy lighting up his blue eyes. "As well as everl did!" I faltered. "And how well isthat? So well that during all these weary years you have not cherished a dream of the future that did not encircle me? So well that every strong, passionate hope of your womanly nature has reached out constantly to me? As well as I have liked, ay, loved you till every pulse of your heart beats for me? As well as this, Phebe?" I covered my face that he might not read the whole expression of my love in my tell-tale eyes, and be shocked that it had grown to be so near a wild, passionate idolatry. "Will you become Mrs. Haynes h truth, in earnest, Phebe?" he asked, drawing me to my old seat upon his knee. "Yes." "And will at last wear the ring?"" I held up my finger before his eyes. "My own darling little wife; at last my little Mrs. Haynes, in good faith!"' he exclaimed, covering my lips with i kisses. That night there were sly looks and I glances cast toward me at every turn, and at the supper-tab'.e my father quite forgot himself, andtfcalled me "little Mrs. Haynes" again. Reader, I have been a happy wife for some three blessed, sunshiny years, and -as you may have already conjectured,, "my name is Haynes!" Skeptical About the Telegrapfi. A Government surveyor engaged in exploring some portions of the public domain had for his guide an Indian, named Black Beaver. Beaver had visit ed St. Louis and the small towns on the Missouri frontier, and he prided himself no less upon his acquantance withthe customs of the whites than upon his knowledge of the country then being traversed. He never seemed more -happy than when an opportunity was offered for him to show his superior knowledge in presence of his own peo ple. The following, from the journal of the official, shows varying degrees of credulity among the natives: It so happened, upon one occasion, that I had aComancheguide who biv ouacked at the same fire with Bea ver. On visiting them one evening, I I found them engaged in a very earnest, . and apparently not very amiable, conversation. On inquiring the cause of this, Beaver answered, "I've been telling this Comanche what I seen 'mong the white folks." "Well, Beaver, what did you tell him?" "I tell him 'bout the steamboats, and the railroads, and the heap o' houses I seen in St. Louis." "Well, what does he think of that?" "He says Fze heap fool." "What else did you tell him about?" "I tell him the world is round, but he keep all 'e time say, 'Hush, you fool! Do you s'pose Fze child? Haven't I got eyes? Can't I see the prairie? You call him round? He say, too, 'Maybe so I tell you some think you do not know before. One time my grandfather he make long journey that way (pointing to the west). When he get on big mountain, he seen heap water on t'other side, just as flat he can be, and he seen the sun go straight down on t'other side.' I then tell him all these rivers he seen, all 'e time the water he run; s'posethe world flat, the water he stand still. Maybe so he not believe me?" I told Beaver it certainly looked ' very much like tnat. l then asked him to explain to the Comanche the magnetic telegraph. He looked at me earnestly, and said, What you call that magnetic tele graph?" 1 said. "You have heard oi JNew Yoik and New Orleans?" "Oh yes," he replied. "Very well;- we have a wire connect ing these two cities, which are about a thousand miles apart, and it would take a man t hirty days to ride it upon a good horse. Now a man stands at one end of this wire in New York, and by touching it a few times he inquires oi his mend m fiew Orleans what he had for breakfast, His friend at New Orleans touches the other end of the- wire, and in ten minutes the answer comes back ham and eggs. Tell him . that, Beaver." His countenance assumed a most comical expression, but he made no remark until I again requested him to repeat what I had said to the Com anche, when he observed, No, captain, I not tell him that, for I don't b'lieve that myself." Upon my assuring him that such -was the fact, and that I had seen it, he said, "Injun not very smart; sometimes he's big fool, but he holler pretty load; you hear him maybe half a mile. Yon i say 'Merican man he talk thousand miles. I 'spect you try to fool me . now, captain; maybe so you lie." i r