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About The Eugene City guard. (Eugene City, Or.) 1870-1899 | View Entire Issue (July 5, 1879)
IJTTLS BRO WIT BANDB. Ttaey drove boa h tout from tbt puture, I'd ihiouih lb loot; ariadf lane, .Si tb. qolll wliUUea loud In lb wheat fieldi, . . Tht r yellow with rlpenltif t 'In, They Ond Id lh into waving Wbara ib lblo-lippd m brry grown; Thejr iihrlb urileit nuowilmp And to Ant oriauon bad of IU rue. Ther lou the new bay In tbe meadow. Tbey father Ibe elder-bloom wblie; Tbey And where tbe dnaky grapee purple, In tbeeoa tinted Ootober Until, Tbey know wbere tbe epplra taans npeil, And are eweetar then Itiy' wlnee; Tbey know wbere tbe fruit bnum tue tblcke On lb long, tboroy blackberry vine. , Tbey rather the delicate ma weede, And bolld tiny caatleei.l ud; Tbey pick op the boeuiiful w-ebHU Fairy barki tbey bare drifted to land. Tbey wave from the tall, roeklnj ln-e-top, Wbere tbe oriole' beiuinork-neet twinge; And at nlbt time are folding In aluratxr By aong tbat a fond mother alua. Thna who toll bra rely are atronceal : Tbe bumble and poor become greet; And eo from tbe brown-baoded children Hball grow mlglily mien of Hiaia. Tbe pen of tbe author and alat-aman Tbe noble aod wine of the land The eword, and tbe chlwl, and palette Hball be bald In Ibe little brown band. ( THE BlBI'8 PICTURE. Miss Arcthusa Peppard was out of temper. She said ho was "mad." But it must bare been a mild kind of madness, for her pleasant voice bad only a dash of sharpness, and do fire flashed from her soft brown eyes. But she was out of temper; no doubt about that, and no wonder. She bad left her mite or a cottage early that April morning, and gone over to New ' York to shop, and in tbe very first store sho entered a store crowded with people buying seeds and bulbs and plants her pocketbook, con taining her half monthly allowanco, bad been stolen, and she bad been obliged to return to Summortown without the young lettuces and cab bages and onion sets and parsley and raddish seeds tbat she bad intended to plant the next day in bor mite of a gardon. And evory day lost in the fardon in early spring, as everybody nows, or ought to know, is a loss in deed, and there's nothing in tho world so exasperating to an amateur gar dener, as everybody also knows, or ought to know, than to bear from a neighboring amateur gardener ; "Good morning, Miss Peppard; how back ward you are this yearl Your rad ishes are just Bhowing, and we've bad at least a dozen a day for three days past. And our parsley's up, and our onions doing nicely. And you used to bo so forward! So Miss Peppard, who was a dear little sweet faced, wonderfully bright old lady, living in Jho nicest and comfortublo niannor on a small in come, with a faithful colored servant a few years younger than herself, a rolly-poly dog, a tortoiso-sholl cat, and three birds, bad two reasons for boing soroly vexod tho loss of her money and tho loss of tho days which sbo expectod would start tho green things a growing. "All tho money I had," sho said to Poteoua called Ona for short us sho rocked nervously buck and forth in her rocking cliair, her eyes spark ling and her checks flushed. "I only witth I could catch tho thief. I'd sond him to jail as suro as grass is green. "Dat'ssho" cnuf, Miss Pcppar' " Pctcona always dropped tho "d" "an it d sarvo em ractly right, w on dey was kotchod, to bo drug to do lock-up by tho heels." Then, after a slight pauso, which was Ona's way, sho added an after-thought: "Dono, dough; 'sposo dey might as wolltako do poor wretch by do head." "AH tho money I had," repeated Miss Peppard; "five and twenty dol lars; and 1 can't get any more for two wocks, ior borrow 1 never did ana never will. And thero's tho gardon all luid out, and ready for planting, and Mrs. Brown sots out hor lettuces and cabbage plants to-morrow morn ing, and sho'll bo sending thorn hero with hor compliments hor compli merits indeed ! before ours have be gun to bead." "If sho do, I'll frow 'em ober de fence, said Gnu. "Hotter eat cm, dough, I guess; hor compliments can't hurt em. "And, oh! my conscience!" Miss Peppard went on (sho could inroko bor conBcionco thus lightly, dear old lady, becauso sho had nothing on it), "baby's picturo was in that pock etbook. And I can't got another. Polly said it was tho last, and tho photographer don't como that wuy but once a year." "Well, well, you are a poor soul," sympathized Petona, "to go an' loso dat ar pictor dat lubly thing jus' liko a borncd angel. An' yer sinters' onliest chilo 'cept fivo. Wish I hud dat robber yore dig minit; I'd box his ears so couldn't set down fur a week." "He wouldn't bo here long," said ber mistress. "Of all things in the wide world I hate, is a thief. I'd bavo him put where he steal nothing ior a year at least. "Might bo a sho; dar am sho rob bers," suggested Ona, "an dey's all wusa den caterpillars. Catorpillars takes things right 'afore yo eyes ..don't sneak in yo pocket. Take a cup of tea, Miss Peppar. Dar is no use frettin' no mo. An' de cat's boen keltic' on yer skirt for half an hour, wantin you to notico her, pore thing. She jus cams in off de poch a minit ago." Miss PcpparJ took the tea and spoke to tbe cat; but she couldn't help fretting; and she slept but little that night, and awoke the next morn ing almost as rexed as ever, and denounced tbe thief at intervals of about half an boar from breakfast until dinner, although Peteona em phatically remarked: "Dar's no nse oursin' an' swearin', Miss Peppar'; can't do no good. Wish I had dat robbin' dobbil here, dough!" But alter dinner, for which Ona served a soothing litllo stew and a cooling cream custard, the old lady became a little calmer, and retired to her own room to write a letter to ber sister Polly, who lived away off in Michigan; and she had jaat writ ten: "And I can't mako a strawberry bed this summer, as I intended, and dear! dear! how I shall miss baby's picture!" When Peteona opened the door tans ceremonie, as she always did, and walked in with a mysterious air. "Pusson want to see you, Miss Peppar' man pusson. 'Bout a boy's age, I guess." "What docs ho look like, and where dilyou leave him?" asked tho old lady, laying down ber pen, and looking a little alarmed. "Out on do po'eb. I lock de do. An' he's a dirty, ragged feller dat looks jus' like a dirty, ragged feller. Shall I broom him off, Miss Peppar'? Looks as dough he ought to bo broomed off or gib sumfin to eat pore, bony, dirty soul." "I'll como right down," said Miss Peppard; and down sho went. And there on tho porch stood a dirty, ragged, forlorn looking boy of about twelve years of ago, looking exceed ingly "bony" and half starved, sure enough, lie pulled off his apology for a cap when Miss Peppard opened the door, but said nover a word until tho old lady asked him, in a mild voice she never spoke unkindly to dirt and rags: "Well, my boy, what do you want? "Then you lost your pocketbook, yistordayr he blurted out. "Yes," said she eagerly. "That is, it was stolen from mo; for I folt it in my pockot a moment beforo I missed it. Do you know the tbiel f "I'm him," was the answer; and he raised a pair of dark eyes, that looked like the eyes of a hunted am mal, to her face. "My conscience!" explained the old lady, and fell into a chair that stood near, whilo Potcona darted out and soizod him, shouting: "Golly! got yo' wish mighty soon dis timo, Miss Peppar'. Itun for de constable I'll hold him. Could hold a dozen liko him or two orfreo." "Let him alono, Ona," said her mistress, wbilo tho boy stood with out making tho slightest resistance. "Ain't ho to bo drug to do lock up?" asked Ona, with a toss of her turhanod head. "Wait 'till we hear what ho has to say, said Miss Peppard. Then, turn ing to tho boy, sho asked, as mildly as ever: "Of courso you haven' brought mo back " "Yes, I have," interrupted ho "Here 'tis, money and all, 'cept what 1 had to take to fotcb mo out hore I found your namo in it on a card, and whore you lived. "But, bless you!" exclaimod tho old lady, moro and more surprised, "what mado you take it ifyou wore going to bring it back? Come into tho kitchen and tell me all about it Ona, give him a drink of milk." "By tho Lor' Harry!" rolling up her eyes until nothing but tho whites were visible, "nebbcr hear of sieh a ting long as I lib gibbin huilsalo robbors drinks of milk in my clean kitchen! An' I shan't do it. Spoct robbors gits thirsty as well as older folks, dough. And sbo handed him tho milk, which he drank eagerly. "Now, go on," said Miss Peppard "Why did you steal my pocketbook! and why, having stolen it, did you bring it backf Aro you atuiew "S'jiobo I am," ho stammered; "but I don't want to bo no moro. I wouldn't 'a took it a year ago, when my mother was alive; but sho died, and lather ho went to prison Boon after for beating another man; and I hadn't no othor friends; and its hard gittin' along whon your mother's dead, and you hain't no friends, and your father's in prison." "'laint Bolt, dat s do fao," said retcona, gravely. "So I foil in with a gang of bad fellers, but I nover stolo nothin' but things to cat till yesterday. I como out of tho Houso of Hofugo two weeks ago" "Houso of Kofugo!" exclaimed Peteona, holding up hor hands. "An' a settnr in my clean kitchen, on my clean oil clot' I Wot nox'?" "I was thoro for breakin' a windor and sassin' a cop," said tho boy with a show of indignation, "and nothin' else, though they did try to make mo out a regular bad un." And then he went on, under tho influence of Miss Peppard's steady gazo: "And tho fellows said I was a softy not to bavo tho game as well as tho namo, and so I went into that store, 'causo I seen a lot of folks there, and I stole your pocketbook, and" dropping his eyes and his voice "there was a pictcr of a littlo baby in it." "Mr sister Polly's child!" cried Miss Peppard, her wrinkled cheeks beginning to glow. "Her onliest child 'cept five,', aid Peteona. "And it looks like," continued the boy, bursting into tears "it looks like my little sister." "Your sister?" repeated Miss Pep pard, hor own eyes filling with tears. "Is she with her mother?" " 'S to be hoped .be be," said Ona with a sniff, "or some odder place whar she'll bo washed. Her brud- der's dirty nuff for a bull family." "She's id a place ten miles or more from here," said the boy, "with a woman who used to know mother. Mother gave ber 850 just afore she died. She managed to save it and hide it from father somehow, to keep Dolly till my aunt in California could send for her; but my aunt's dead, too, and I'm afraid Dolly will have to go in tho Orphan Asylum after all. Father don't care nothin' about ber. But if she docs, if I'm a good boy, I can go to Bee her; but if I'm a thief And when I saw tbat picture I said I will be good. It seemed as though the baby was a-lookin' at mo and wantin' me to kiss hor. Nobody ever kissed me but my mother. Here's your book." Miss Peppard took it from bis band, opened it, found its contents as he bad described them, and then sat full five minutes in deep thought. "You want to bo a good, honest boy," she said at last, "so as to be a credit instead of a shame to your baby sister?" "Yes," answered the boy. "It's mostly yes, ma'am, in de parts," corrected Ona. "Well, I'll try you," said Miss Peppard. "You!" starting from bis chair. "Yes, I. I want some plants and seeds from tho store where you sto took tbe pocketbook, and I am going to trust you to get them for me. But before you go there, do you know any place where you can buy a suit of clothes, from shoe to hat, for a very littlo money!" "Yes. ma'am," answered tho boy, in a voice that already had a ring of hopo in it. "Second-hand Hobby's." "Well, go to second-hand Kobert's, buy the clothes. By-tho-by, what ib your namer' "Dick Poplar." "And, Dick," continued tho old lady, "do you know any place where you can take a bain:" " 'S to be hoped he do," said Pctcona. "Yes, ma'am." "Tako a bath, put on tho now clothes, throw" with a slight mo tion of disgust "tho old ones away " '"S to bo hoped he will," said Pctcona. "Then go to tho seed store and give them the noto I will write for you. And here are two $5 bills." "An' dar money is soon pari" ex claimed Peteona. " No matter 'bout do fust word." But tho boy foil on bis knees be fore Miss Peppard and sobbed out right. "An' ho'll nebbcr como back no mo'," sung Ona, at tbo top of her voice, us bIio wont about her work that afternoon after Dick's departure "no, ho'll nebbcr come back any mo." But he did. Just as tho sun was sinking in tho west, a nico-looking, dark-eyed, dark-haired boy, dressed in a suit of gray a little too largo for him, and carrying a package in his arms, camo up the garden path to the door of tho mi to of a cottage. It was Dick, so changed Peteona scarco ly know him, and the packago con tained tho socds and onion sots and young lottuco and cabbages, and bo fore dark bo bad planted them all, under tho superintendence of Miss Peppard, in the mite of a garden, and Mrs. Brown had no chanco of Bonding her "compliments" that sea son. "And now, ma'am," said Dick, after supper, "I'll go. I thank you ever so much, and I wish my mother had known you." "P'r'hups sho know her now," said Ona. "And I will be a good boy I will, indeod." "With tho help of God," said Miss Teppard, solemnly. "With tho help of God," said tho boy, in a low voice. 'But I guess you'd bettor stay here to night," continued Miss Pep- Eard. "You can sloop in tho wood ouso. Pctcona will mako you a comfortablo bed there." "Shan't do no such ting!" said Po tcona, dofiantly. "Ona!" reproved her mistress. "Till my dishes is washed, I mean, Miss Peppar," said Ona. "And then to morrow morning you can start for that baby. Cats and dogs and birds are well enough in their jrj, but a baby is worth thorn all." "Golly! now you'ro talkin', Miss Peppar," shouted Ona. "1's always wauted a baby a wite baby too. Nigger babies ain't much account. Jus' as valablu to dar mudder, dough, I s'pobo. Niggers is such fools." "And ifyou choose to stay in Sum mortown," said Miss Peppard, "you may have a homo here until you can belter yourself- There's plenty of work for you; and the youth upon whom wo have depended for errands and garden help, etc., is " 'A drefful surnrt, niee.pcrlito boy," chimed in Ona; "as lazy and sassy as ho can lib. And I II tall you in de morning, wen do birds arise, and we'll hab dat aro angel here in a jiffy; and won t do cat and dog and birds look w'en dar noses is outer jint? But dar noses '11 be as straight as ebber." Tbe very next night a sweet baby with great blue eyes and fair curls sat upon Miss Peppard's lap, looking wondering! about, as she ate her supper of bread and milk, at Peteona, and the dog and tbe cat and tbo birds, whose noses, by the way, were as straight as ever. And bofore long Dick Poplar be came the most pop'lar dreadful, I knew, bat I couldn t help it boy in that neighborhood, he was bo clever, so obliging, and not a bit "sassy." "De Lord works in funny ways, sbo' cnufr," said Peteona, one April day, about a year after the return of Miss Peppard's pocket book. "Who'd b'lieve me and Miss Peppar ebber wanted Dick drug to de lock-up by do heels? And all do time be was a bringin' and Miss Peppar de lubliest chuuck ob sugar, de sweetest honey bug of a chile dat ebber coaxed old Peteona for ginger-snaps. She shall hab mo', do Lord bress and sabe her!" pouring them from the cake-box into the little uplifted apron. "Pete ona'H bako dem de bull liblong day, for ebber and ebber, for do blue-eyed darlin' wid a little timo lc out for bor udder work." An Amerlcau Girl's Adventure la Ut derground Paris. Miss BeHHie Darling, an American ac tress, has had a serious and almost fatal adventure in the catacombs of Paris. These catacombs contain, in numberless galleries extending under nearly half of the city, the bones of nearly three mil lions of people. On each side of these weird avenues, from the floor to the ceil ing, are piled bones and skulls. The bones of tbe arms, legs and thighs are piled in tiers along the walls, their uni formity befng relieved by three rows of skulls and cross-bones arranged in fan tastic patterns, and at intervals, cut out of these gypsum of the caverns under lying Taris, are little chapels or altars. At 10 o'clock one morning a few weeks ago, Miss Darling, who was one of a party of thirty, descended the steep stair case of ninety steps leading to the cata combs, and, preceded by guides, entered the galleries, whose tortuous winding and ramifications have all the perplexi ties of a labyrinth. Miss Darling, with the independence of an American girl, quitted her party and set out to explore the underground horrors alone. Among so many she was not missed. A little of this sight-seeing satisfied her companions and they returned to the light and to their dinners. In the meantime Miss Darling was hurrying through one gal lery after another. Unfortunately she had not provided herself with a supply of candles, and when tbe one she carried was burned out and Bhe was left in utter dark ness she began to roalize tbe horrors of her situation. It was then, so the story runs, that " she did what every other woman would have done in similar circum stancesshe fainted away." How long she remained insensible she does not know; but when she came to herself she made throughout the remainder of the day and through the night the galleries echo with her shrieks for help. For tunately for her, at ten o'clock tho next morning a workman, while passing along a neighboring gallery, heard her cries, and hnrried to tbe rescue. He found her in one of those galleries that have no thoroughfare and are simply side pas sages, and two yards from the spot where he encountered her was the mouth of an exhausted shaft, down which she had only escaped falling by the sudden ness with which she remained on the spot where she fell. When at tbe end of eighteen hours, she was brought to tho light sho fainted again. But, "all's well that ends well," although for a short time her situation appeared to be criti cal. There is a moral in this true story which it behooves adventurous young women to heed. In foreign travel, whether among the Alps, or the Roman or French catacombs, or in strange cities where the dangerous classes abound, too much independence or championship is perilous, apart from the conventional ism abroad, which looks askance at young women wandering about alone. Were There Ever Such Fools I "Yankee" Hill, a famous actor in the first half of the present century, used to tell a story (w Inch Mr. J. B. Matthews re-tells in his article on " The American on tho Stage" in Scribner's for July), of the early days of the theater in this country. Hill once " showed " to use a professional phrase-in a town in the western part of New York where no theatrical performance had ever been given. He found the audience assembled with tho women seated on one side of the hall, the men on tho other, exactly as they were used to sit in church; and throughout the play the most solemn silence was observed. They were atten tive, but they gave no evidence of ap proval or displeasure; there was no ap plause, no laughter; there was not even a smile; all was solemn stillness. Ho did his utmost to break the ice; he did everything a clever comedian could do, but in vain. He flung himself against their rigidity; it was no nse. The audi ence was evidently on its best behavior, and the curtain came down at last amid a silence oppressive and almost melan choly. After the play, Hill, worn out by his extra exertion and mortified at his want of success, was passing through a public room of his hotel, when he was stopjKHl by a tall countryman with the remark: " Sav, mister, I was into the play to night.' " Were you ? " said Hill. " You must have been greatly entertained." - "Well, I was! I tell you what it is, now, my mouth is all sore a-straining to keep my face straight. And if it hadn't been for tbe women, I'd 'a' laughed right out in meetin'." lion to Make Cologne Water. Any one can make, in her own store room, a better article of cologne than th:it which is usually bought, by thoroughly dissolving a fluid dram of oil of berga mot, orange and rosemary each with a half a drum of nereli and a pint of recti fied spirits. As good as can be made out of cologne itself, however, is also quite as comfortably prepared at home as at the chemists at no much less than the chem ist's prices, that one feels warranted in using it freely simply by mixing with one pint of rectified spirits two drams each of the oils of beramol and lemon, one of the oil of orange, and half as much of that of rosemary, together with three quarters of a dram of nereli and four drops each of the escence of ambergris aod musk. If this be eubeequenty distilled, it makes what may be called a perfect cologne, but it becomes exceedingly fine by being kept tightly stoppered for two or three months, to ripen and mellow for us. Power ef Memory. In bis recent lecture on " Memory," Ralph Waldo Emersom gives many most interesting facta. Among the other things he said : Nearly all of the world's most remarkable orators, poets, sUtesmen,wits, soldiers, philosophers, scientists, etc., were men of tenacious memory. Quin tillion bad said that bis memory was genius. While this was true in the main, it did not always follow that men of genius possessed it. Isaac Newton was a remarkable exception. He could not re member oftentimes his own great works without trouble, and Newton's genius was undoubted. Themistocles, on the other hand, remembered everything. " I would rather teach you how to forget every thing." was the reply. But this was wit, and not reason, said the lecturer. It has been said that tbe affections or feelings were the greatest incentives to memory. The senses or passions lead men to re member. Napoleon cared nothing for Alexandrine verse, but not one line of his army returns was ever absent from his mind. Scipio knew every man by face and name in his army. Seneca could repeat 2000 words of a poem once heard. Mittendates, who commanded an army made up of all nations of the glotie, con versed in (all their representative lan guages. The Prince of Orange on one occasion saw Grotitis standing by out of curiosity during the roll-call of one of his regiments. Having beard much of Grotius, he asked hi ui if he could remember tho mumes he had read. Grotius astounded the Prince by giving all the names in re verse order. A great scholar had once been deprived by an enemy f a much loved book. His enemy thought be had conquered, but the scholar rewrote the book from memory, and defied the enemy. As a further illustration of the memory being strong when the feelings are en listed, tbe lecturer said a man never for gets a debt due himself, nor, as Dr. John son savs, who kicked him last. The late John Brown, of Ossawatnmie and Har per's Ferry fame, was fond of sheep farm ing, and had at one time 3000 sheep, each one of which he could single out from any other flock into which it might have strayed. In his own town of Concord his neighbor, Able Norton, who dealt in horses, was very fond of them, could and remember at a "glance any one of the hun dreds of animals that he had ever seen. Horses which had been sent years ago, to various parts of Massachusets by Mr. Norton sometimes came back to Concord, and were at once recognized by him as tbey were driven along the street. i How lo Pay a 1'oniplluicnt. To pay a compliment is to tell the truth, and to tell it as though you meant it ; and the only way to do this is to mean it. If a girl is pretty or accomplished, if she plavs well, or sings well, or dances well; if, in a word, she pleases, why in the namo of common sense shouldn't she be told of it? Don't blurt it out before everybody. Tbat will only make ber feel uncomfortable and mako you appesr ridiculous. Say it quietly when opportu nity offers, but say it strongly. Convey the' idea distinctly and fully so that there may be no mistake about it. liut don't say it " officially." Formality is about the coldest thing known. More than one maiden has been made happy say for half an hour by a man's taking the trouble to eay a pleasant thing about a toilet that he liked, and many of fashion's follies have been given up by girls when they noticed a discreet silence concerning them on tbe part of their gentleman friends. A bewitching blick-eyed beauty once said to a gentleman, "I like to have you say sweet things to me, it seems to come so easy and natural." In general terms, it may be said it is always better to say an agreeable than a disagreeable one, better for all parties. The gallant who, when a young lady stepped on his foot while dancing, and asked pardon, said, " Don't mention it; a dainty little foot that wouldn't hurt a daisy," not only told the truth, but doubtless felt more comfortable than tbe boor, who, wheu his foot was stepied on, roared out : "That's right; climb all over me with your great, clumsy hoofs." Lobster Catching. The lobster is often caught in a kind of trap or " lobster-pot," as it is called. It is made with narrow strips of board or lath, nailed upon strong hoops, so us to give it an oval form upon the top. Inside are placed stones to sink it to a certain depth. At each end of the hoop is a network of cord fastened to a small hoop in the center of tbe net. Through this hoop of six inches diameter, perhaps the lobster struggles to get the bait placed inside the cage. But when once he finds himselt a prisoner; for he cannot retreat at the same door by which he entered. The situation of the trap is marked by a buoy, and is visited at intervals to remove the game and make room for others. They are sometimes caught with merely a piece offish tied to the end of a string the lobster conveys the bait to his month with his claws, and will let you draw him to the surface, if you do it (juietly, so as not to alarm him, but if he is frightened in tho least he is off like a flash. You must grasp him the instant bis horns are out of the water. In this country the lobster is found from the coast of New York, northward; the best are taken on the rocky shores of New England, north Cape Cod. Fishermen at Mansfield and Plymouth, Mass., catch from 50,000 to 100,000 a year, which are sold to Boston dealers. "Great nnmbers have been put up in cans and shipped abroad. Tbe packing houses at Portland, Me., send large quantities to England. It is said that the demand for canned lobsters in America equals the supply. Clothes Moths. " Clothes moths are always worse in the summer," writes tbe Rev. J. G. Wood, " than in any other part of the year ; but there is one plan by which they may be battled. It is simple, and can be expressed in two words ' brown paper.' There is no such protection against the clothes moth as brown paper. Years ago I pur chased an enormous rug of white wolf skin, which has been an inestimable benefit to the whole family. Every sum mer I wrapped it up in brown paper, and not a moth has attacked it. Why the clothes moth should have so great an aversion to brown paper I cannot tell, but such is the rase. I find that the profes sional furriers employ the same plan, bnt do not disclose tbat very simple secret Annually thousands of sealskin furs are handed over to the dealers for preserva tion during the summer, and nothing is done except wrappiug them up in brown paper, and letting them be nntil tbe dawning of autumn. There are, of course, instances where furs and other similar articles must of necessity be left exposed during the summer time. Let every price of wool or fur be violently shaken every morning, and not a clothes moth will har bor in them. i Serving a Writ, Somo forty years ago there lived on it, western shores of Ireland a certain li tleman. who was by profession an atto?" dey at law and a member of Par!im-r Previous to sotting out for LomtoS 2. "l tend his Parliament duties. he Z tho.handsofabailiff.wrWicrheheM against a gentleman who resided In a 2 mote part of the country and .; . but on his return some months afterward he was not a little surprised to learn thi the writ was not or could not po8iby bl served, Inasmuch aa the party whom i was issued kept himself cC confined to his house, and furthermore ft being found highly dangerous for a stmn ger to appear in the neighborhood as two ,r-o!r?e Bt,lrdy feIl0W8' "ned with shillalahs, wero constantly prowling about the place, whose intentions were doubt to thrash the first unfortunate bailiff whom they could lay hands on IhOiM. r. had a tenant nnm t Macuamara, a very shrewd fellow quite an adept at minor matters of la and who was usually called on to decid litigious disputes between the tenantry by whom his opinion was considered ii good as the Lord Chancellor. Tho M P having sent for Tom, made known to him the failure of the bailiff to serve tbe writ and thecause assigned, and asked him if iuoicvuo uuujciiituiun coum not enable him to devise some plan by which it could be accomplished. For a few moment Tom aDpeared to be in a deep meditation then, taking a sudden start, he ex.' claimed : " By jingo, I have it! Give me the writ and he must be either the devil or Dr.Iaustus if I do not shove it into hia mitten." Having the w rit, he proceeded on his .journey. On bis arrival in the neighbor h jod, he made his way towards the police barracks, which was situated within a half a milo of the gentlemau's residence against whom the writ was issued, and' concealed himself behind a fence, where he had a view of the barracks. After a short time he saw two of the police com ing toward him, but as soon as he was aware of being seen by them he went in side the fence again, and appeared to hide himself ; but when the police came opto the place, they looked over the fence and saw Tom crouched up against it. They took him into custody, and, on beinj questioned as to the cause of his hiding, lie said that he had always a horror of police, and wished to avoid them by every means. He was next interrogated s to his phv:e of residence, and in answer stated that he belonged to a certain dis trictnaming one which at that time was infested by "Terry Alts," and where four of the police had been killed a abort time pre ious and on being asked as to hit. destination, replied that he was on hit way to Galway to take shipping for America. The police at once came to the conclusion that he was a " Terra Alt," who bad committed some depredation and was about to escape the country, and they decided on taking him before a m igistrnte for examination. The nearest at hand happened to be a gentleman whom Tom was in quest of. The party set out, and on their wav they encountered two men with shille lahs. who expressed their sympathy for the "poor prisoner," and muttered im precations airainst the police. On arriving in front of the house, the magistrate put bis head through an upper w indow, and was informed by the police that they had a "Terra Alt" in charge, who was about to escape tbe country when they appre hendd him. The magistrate ordered bis domestics to admit the party. It was not long before he had mado his appearance, and after eliding from Tom the infor mation which he had already given the police, he informed him that he had no doubt whatever but that Tom had com mitted some heinous crime and intended to escape, but tbat he could not commit him to prison until further proof could be had against him. " Indeed, your Honor," said Tom, " I never did harm man or mortal. I am a poor, honest, laborin' man, as the charac ter which his Reverence, Father Meehan, tho priest of the parish, gave me, will show; and his Reverence has known me since I was the height of your Honor's knee." " Have you that character about you?" said the magistrate. " I have, your Honor," said Tom, tak ing from his pocket the " character," and handing it to the magistrate, at the same time saying that his Honor would get ill the necessary information therein. When the magistrate unfolded the "character," he became deadly pale, and glanced about the apartment as if looking for some weapon, which Tom seeing called on the police for protection until he got clear of the house and neighbor hood. "Take the rascal out of my sight," ex claimed the magistrate "he's more rogue than fool." "Do you mean to acquit me, sir? "in quired "tho tanstable, who had not yet comprehended the affair. "Of course," said the magistrate; " don't vou perceive that he has been play ing a trick on us in order to serve me with a writ?" "Service acknowledged, your Honor, said Tom. Then the party left the house, and on their way they met the "shillelalis,"who were overjoyed when Tom informed them that his Honor had liberated him. Tom, having thanked tbe police for their service, put on a fair quantity of steam until he got out of that locality ; and as he approached the house of bis master, he heard tbe "sounds of revelry at night." for the M. P., who was an ad mirer of the social board, had been en tering a party of his friends at dinner, who were at the time doing honors to the merry God. On being informed that Ton) had returned, the M. P. summoned him the nresence of the nartyjind their laugh ter made the welkin ring as Tom, in Ins own peculiar humorous way, related the means to which he had recourse in order toserve the writ. ar. Bcecher's Horse. An amusing Incident is related of the recent visit of Henry Ward Beecher to this city as chaplain of tbe Thirteenth New York regiment. The horses for the field and staff of the Thirteenth were iur nished here, and when the stout and soiia looking bay selected for him was led oai Mr. Beecher inquired whether he was periectiy sate, ine siaoie prup"" -- Li.- j . u or. "Perfectly safe and reliabler asked tie chaplain. . . , reneciiy ao, repueu wo y -r - . , "He will go anywheie. and U not iW of the military or cars. There Isn t a mean thing about him." , . , Jir. ieecner looaeu mc uu" "-y t a moment and then quietly remark J : ' wish be Deiongea w my cuurcu. ford Con. Xev York Timet.