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About The Eugene City guard. (Eugene City, Or.) 1870-1899 | View Entire Issue (May 1, 1880)
RHODA'S HOLIDAY. x. .,1 shouted tlio conductor, ''lumped up. Bailing a little.to . ..a 1 bodaiumpeu F . .. . " ,if as tine marsmuou t.-- - "? .nd wrap, and satchel, and made nfheruXella. Lakewood it was; "rt0f.i Greeted hor for a freshly ? .Tsiirn above the station door as Ptfld i down on the platform, the E fJSSJK would sLm for that W fTi..i. inktinahon. In an IB the train was whizzing on its way and then round the end of the S came a pretty wagonette, and a rter of blue ribbons anu g P",; 1ear" cnod Luoy, rein- ... ta W horse P"1 M sLe .l00ke?.T' at her cousin. "I tSo good to believe! Let me have Je umbrella, and now I can kiss you! glad too," says Rhoda, in her crave voice. , , They make a marked contrast, sitting . fhov roll awav down the ffjed country road-Lucy with her .m ne, aei . . !Tt colors and gnlisn adornment. Moda dark and pale, and serious, clad . heavy mourning from head to foot, a Prions pathctio look of resignation in ?u a.. ti.miMit.fnl face. Her eves lnce right and loft at the hedge-rows e . . yar,lpnH anil far over the ml uiw""" o-; ; - - , - iunlit fields, and again at the tender, eentle face beside her, with a deep, filent eloquence of her own. "Msmuia thought he would not come, i nr.rTA thought VOU WOllld not. but f knew you would' says Lucy, quite elated by this triumpn oi ner own .,.n "You know we were so often flisftppointed, but this time something gecrned to ten me. a-uu mo hid uumu weU-and your mother?" "The children yes; but mother com plains a good deal. I didn't want to leave her, it seemed hard, Lucy. I can t l.i nniinrr it is wroncr. somehow, or at least selfish in me to take a pleasure they cannot suare. "Oh, nonsense, Rhoda. loud been working in that horrid shop all the year, and only think of what privations you've bad-losing your father and giving np gchool and everything, and then to grudge yourself a few day's rest especially when it is partly to make others happy! I should be miserable to if you had not come. You don't know how I plan and lix things in my own mind for you, Rhoda. I often lay awake and think if only Caddie and Julia were married, then pappa could adopt you, and you could go to school and graduate, and then if you wanted to earn your living yon could teach, you know. Oh, I think if some kind philantropist could know about you. how clever you are.and all that, and give you as much money as you need for your education, wouldn't that be splendid? Oh, I wish things would happen when he want them to!" "Look at the butterflios, Lu," says Rhoda, quietly, but her eyes were full of tears. For an instant the bright-winged atoms of color sailing along the roadside look like flowers dancing through a mist. Ehoda leads back against the cushion, her arm around Lucy's shoulder. How sweet the fresh green lanes smell, and the blossoming clover fields; how much sweeter than any dream of beauty is the tender blue glimpse of sky above the rustling tree-tops. Now and then a shrill bird song breaks from the hedge row, or a cow bell tinkles from the grassy meadows. Along the wayside a merry, talkative Btream looks out between the bushes here and there, as if in friendly recognition of the two young faces flitting by. It is like a new world to the weary city girl, all this freshness and stillness, the warm, dreamful, loveliness of shadow and sunshine, and slow, fra grant wind. s On and on, up the long country road, through slender belts of woodland.whose dim, vistas open into, sunny distances, past mills and over rattling bridges until the wido level of the lake comes suddenly in view, sparling like a million diamonds, or one great diamond with a million sparkles. "0 Lu!" cries Rhoda, clutching at Lucy's arm. Lucy laughs, for she had not told her of this beautiful surprise. "And here we are at home," rejoins Lucy, gayly, as she turns in through an open gateway.where a low brown cattage, all doors and windows and veranda, greets them, nestled under pines and maples. Julia and Caddie came spring ing off the porch.although they are quite grown-up young ladies now, and the air rings with Rhoda! Rhoda! Rhoda! The noise of kisses, laughter and glad voices, is welcome enough for a dozen girls. Round the corner of the house comes George, with his hands in his pockets, whistling and taking his time, but nodding kindly to Rhoda, who suddenly remembers the faded blue jacket he used te wear when they went to school to gether, and a penknife he gave her for an apple once. She wonders if she -ought to kiss him now he has grown so tall. "Hello!" is George's comprehensive greeting. Then he walks up to the horse and be gins to pat his neck affectionately, only glancing with the corner of his eye at liboda's slim, black figure. Rhoda turns a wistful look on him. She can find no trace of her little playmate in this sturdy, grown-up handsome boy, with the small beginnings of a mustache on his shy brown face. ''flow you have changed, George," she sys, pensively, and George replies: " 'Changed?' " do you think so? Whoa, Dandy ! Get round, old fellow !" And then Rhoda is whisked away into the house, and is presently seated at a comfortable dinner watching Aunt Mar pie as she carves chicken and dispenses salad. Everywhere around her are the dear faces of her young kinsfolk, the ger, noisy chatter of . their voices as they talk to her all at once in excess of kindliness. The girl's heart swells strangely. She is divided between the keen appetite of youth and a wild desire to rnn away from every one and cry her self satisfied for very joy. The golden days of her brief visit pass all too soon for Rhoda. Like the magic beads of the captive princess, they are all told but one before she really awakens from the enchantment of sweet idleness, the longed-for rest and freedom of those summer hours. To-morrow she must turn ber face homeward to the daily toil and care the heart-wearing routine aha has left behind. Poor Rhoda! It seems only like yesterday that she stepped off uie train at Xjaxowood station, yet two full bright weeks have slipped away, and now she is tying on her hat for a last row on the lake, and wondering, sadly, why a; id i i - time must uy bo quiCKiy, "Oh, come, dear," cries Lucy, from the veranda. Ju is gathering roses, and stops to fasten one on Rhoda'i sombre dress, as they meet in the pathway. Lucy and Caddie go skipping on before. It is not far, tbrough the orchard and the stubble field to the float where half a dozon boats are moored. The road is in full view a carriage is rolling by, some children are playing on the beach, the sunset light lies warm ana tranquil across the lake, and against the brown hills on the far ther shore. A gruff old man, rather roughly dressed, who barely nods in answer to Ju's pleasant salutation, is pushing out his boat, while the girls un fasten theirs. Ju is evidently used to his grunness. hue smiles, as she looks after him. "That is old JohnTrenck, the million aire. He lives alone in that funny stone house just above ours. Mind your dress Rhoda. Now, Caddie, push, push ; that's it. He scarcely ever speaks to us, or in deed to any one, except those little John son children. See them throwing pebbles at his boat. They are always like that, rageed and happy. Pull on the left, Rhoda; gently, gently." "Perhaps George will think we ought to have asked him to come," says Caddie, trailing her slim fingers through the water, and looks up conscience-stricken. Poor old George ! He has been so kind to hor, and now she had forgotten all about him. "Shan't we go back?" she asks, frank ly. The others laugh. "Make your strokes a little longer, dear," says Lucy. "Oh, George won't mind. Resides, we can't stay out very long. The Ransoms are coming to spend the evening. Did you forget ?" Dip, dip, dip, go the oars; the silvery drops fly in little showers, and a trail of curving foam ripples behind. The girls are chatting and laughing and bursting into sons, sending their fresh voices echoing along the shore. Rhoda joins them, too, but her voice is subdued, her heart is full of the lovely scene to which she is saying a silent silent good-bye. They pass Mr. Trenck's boat; he sits smoking with his oars at rests, and never turns his face. Rhoda's dark eyes stare at him solemnly as the boat drifts by. Of what is he thinking, this lonely old man. with no companion but his own mute fancies? When they draw home ward again he is still in the same place motionless. The girls pass him this time with quick strokes. They are in liaste, now, for a new pleasure, and soon their boat bumps in against the float. They have been cone scarcely half an hour. The sunset still flashes in the west, the happy, raerced children are still at play, romping and racing on the long, slender pier, that juts out past the float into deep water; waiting, pernaps, tor me nrst sight of Mr. Trenck's returning boat. "Little savages!" says Caddie, philo sophically shaking out her flattened flounces. "See them race and tumble I often wonder " But the subject of Caddie s wonder ment will be unknown forever. Splash! goes something heavy in the water, and loud shrieks of dismay resound from the end of the pier. "Maggie s overboard!" The four girls bounded like deer to the spot. Help! help!" cry Lu and Julia wildly; and "Help help!" echoes pitifully across the lake again. "It's the little one the baby!" gasps Caddio, with white lips, and she rushes away toward the house in search of aid. Up comes the little struggling body, the brown arms tossed above the water, the little face blanched and drawn with terror. "We can't see her drown, says Rhoda, pale and quiet. "I'll try to save her, Lucy. I must! Throw me an oar; any thing to hold by." "Rut you can t swim, itnoaa, itnoaa: Yes no I don't know. I will try!" and before her cousin's arms can stay her, Rhoda's slim figure jumps over the parapet with a loud plunge. "Help! help!" cried Julia's agonized voice once more. Lucv has bounded back to the boat- house for an oar, and is at the pier again almost in the same instant, and in time to see Rhoda disappearing for the second time. Rut she has clutched the child by its clothing. Lucy can see them sink to gether. With heart-wrung pangs she stends w aiting, ready to launch the oar. A boat is flying down the lake toward them; sha can hear the oars pumping in the row-locks but she dares not even turn her head. How long the time seems! she is catchinflr her breath in passionate, despairing sobs, when Rhoda's pale, sweet face gleams at ner again, insianuy she throws the oar; it strikes within a foot of her cousin's trrasp. Rhoda catches at it, misses, catches again; her fingers close around it, and she smiles at Lucy, as she lifts the child's unconscious head upon her shoulder. 'Help is coming, darling Rhoda. Hold fnt " savs Lucv. shudderinsr. and reach ing out imploring hands to the boat that is pumping along like mad to the quick strokes. it is Mr. Trenck's boat, and Mr. Trenck's rough voice is roaring words of cheer over his shoulder to the brave, strusclinK irirl. In another moment danger has passed her by. Mr. Trenck has taken her half-drowned burden from ber shoulder, and she is holding to the gunwale of his boat, saying: "Oh. that's nothing. I could not see the baby drown, yon know." Mr. Trenck does not express nis opin ion very freely on the moment, but when thev have reached terra firma, he wraps little Maggie tenderly in his rough, warm cloak, and then says, bending his pierc ing gaze on Rhoda, who stands shivering in her wet black dress, with her drenched hair clinging about her neck: "What do you mean by such out rageous conduct? You ought to be ashamed of yourself, risking your life for a little ragged brat you never saw be fore! I suppose there's people at home that love you, eh T And would miss you if you went mnder, eh? I should not wonder, yon silly, reckless thing. You noble, lion-hearted girl! Give me your handr , And the stern reice breaks suddenly, and Rhoda feels her wet, trembling hand lifted to the rough lips like a queen : After thai Mr. Trenck shoulders the still unconscious baby and tramps off toward her homo, the other two children patter ing along by his side. About a month after her return from Lakewood, Rhoda received a very unex pected letter, She comes in from work in the late evening, tired and dusty, but with a cheerful smile for her mother, and a kiss apiece for each of the little ones, and is at once presented with a large, square missive, boldly snporscribod in an unfamiliar hand with her name and andress. This is what it contained: "Miss Rhoda Raymond: We, the un dersigned, are authoaized to inform you that the sum of five thousand dollars ($5000) has been legally placed in our hands for your use and benefit, a free gift, to dispose of as you think proper, the name of the donor being, for the present, withheld. You are requested to call at this office at your earliest conve nience, and make known your wishes. Rospectfull, Grat & Brapon, Attorneys and Counselors at Law." "God has sont us a friend at last," she says, faintly, as she lays the letter down. "It is Mr. Trenck, I know it is. Mother, I can graduate now, and then I can teach. Father wished so, and I need not work any longer; you will be cared for. Oh, mother, mother! " and for the first time in her long trial, the brave girl's heart fails her, and she faints away on her mother's bosom beneath the weight of happiness too great to bear. , Dot Mad About It. A few weeks ago, while several citi zens of Detroit were surrounding a hot stove in a Gnswold street tobacco store, in came a stranger who had been on a 'big drunk. His eyes were red, his back all mud, his clothes ragged, and his sreneral annoarance was that of a hard -up and played out old soaker. One of the group was telling a yarn about a hog, and he was going on with his story when the old fellow interrupted: "Souse me, but I'm an old soaker who wants to reform." "Well, as I was saying," continued the story-teller, after a glance at the man, "that hog was about forty fods away when I first saw him. I got my gun ' "Say, interrupted tne drunkard, "isn't there somebody here who wants to help reform me?" "You go out?" replied one of the men. "I won't do it! I'm an old drunkard, and I want somebody to take me by the hand and hope I'll reform." "Go on with your hog story, put in one of the group. "You shan't do it! exclaimed the drunkard. "I want some one to feel sad because I drink up all my earnings and misuse my family." "No one here cares how much you drink or how soon you go under ground!" said one of the men. "You don't, eh? Don't any of you want to give me advice?" "No, sir! "Don't you feel sorry because I am degrading my brilliant intellect?" "lirilliant bosh! lou never knew any thing, anyhow!" " Won t any man Here pity my ramuyr "No, sirl" "Nor shed one tear ovor my degraded condition?" "Not a shed! You'd better be going we want to hear a hog story." "Had you rather hear a hog story man to try and save me? "You bet we had!" "Well, now, you hard-hearted and selfish-minded old liar. I know I'm worth more than any hog, and I'll prove it, too! If you won't save me I'll save myself hanged if I don't! Yes, sir, I'll show you whether I am of more account than any of your hog stories or not! You needn t pity me nor advise me nor talk with me I can run my own grocery!" No man in Detroit has led a more sober and industrious life since that day, and there is every reason to believe that ho will stick. Road Locomotives. Tim EnMiali road locomotives and wagons that a few days ago arrived at Nflw York. will, after thev have reached their destination, Wadsworth, Nevada, be at once put to work on certain central ton in that State. The lending char acteristics of the engines brought by the Erin are described as follows: They weigh about seven tons each, and are rated at 12 to 14-horse power. They have horizontal boilers, which are fitted with large fire-boxes for burning almost any description of fuel, and water tanks are affixed capable of holdinpr a supply for three or four hours. The engines are so arranged that they can be used for turn ing fixed machinery. The driving wheels urn 7 fppt in diameter and 12 inches in width, and the steering or front wheels are 4 feet in diameter and v incnes wiue. An important advantage in the road lnnnmntivA in that in case of need the road wheels can be replaced by the ordi dinary flange wheels for running on rails. Those brought by the Erin have an im portant addition in the shaiie of a wind- f . A - .1 .1 J 1 - ing arum, nuea w vuo umiug mie, capable of holding from 50 to 100 yarda nf oilr1 rnne. which can be employed in hoisting heavy weights and in hauling the loaded wagons up otnerwise imprac ticable grades. One engineer and two lflhnrpr are all the manual force neces sary for the management of each train, and on moderate roads, witn grades not exceeding 1 foot in 12, each engine of the size sent to Wadsworth will haul from 10 to 12 tons of paying load, and travel at an average speed of miles per hour. Two or three wagons, each capable of containing from five to six tons' weight, and the engine form the train. Ibe wagons are coupled together and to the locomotive by strong coupling bars, and tl.A whole train follows exactly in the track of the engines, even when turning sharp curves, ine total cost oi naming by the road locomotives, it is estimated, will range from 5 to 10 cents per ton per mile, varying with the condition of tbe road and load. This is probably not one fourth of the cost of doing similar work with mules. The ordinary mule team, consisting of 16 mules, with heavy wagons capable of holding six to ten tons, will not averagtf more than two miles an hour. The first cost of the locomotive, with ita train of wagons, compares favorably with the flM cost of tha mule team and wagons. Manuac turtr and Builder. 1 TmL.m w ttit fmliinriM.T iiow u'". J physicians must redact their charges or JOM ueir psuenw. The True Story of Morgan. "This village, my friends," the fat pas senger continued, "is also the home of the late lamented Mr. Morgan. Mr. Morgan, in his day, was a goat rider of considerable celebrity. Rut he went back on the goat. Here is the office of the l(roci, one of the weekly papers of Ratavia. In this print shop, in the days of the Adrocate't ancestor, Mr. Morgan printed a book and toldlall about the bad habits, the deceitful tricks and tho bad ways of the goat. He gave the frolic some animal of the lodge away, bad. He doscribed his amusements; he told how he did it and what he called it. He just told all about it, and literally took the goat by the horns, which, Mr. Morgan averred, were not the only kind of horns taken in the lodge. "The dejected auinial brooded over his wrongs. He felt that Mr. Morgan's offense was rank. It couldn't have been much ranker than the goat, but the goat didn't think of that. He only thought of revenue. He had his revenge. One summer night the goat backed out of his closet, got out of a window in the lodge room, and slid noiselessly down the lightning rod (we can see the same lightning rod a few4blocks farther ou). That very night, the doomed and rocreant brother Morgan wps out takiug a walk in the starlight. The great exposer strayed carelessly down one street and another, his hands clasped bo hind his back and His head bent in thought. As he walkod. with an unoven gait, his back swayed to and fro with an ordinary goat might consider a challenging gesture. He did not look around, and so he did not seo a terrible figure that followed him. , A gloomy, threatening, fearful shape; a part of the night, but not of it. Now and then, as it come close to Mr. Morgan, it would raise itself iu tho air with its head bent down, as though in mockory of its vio- tim s attitude, and for a brief second it would retain this attitude, looking in the gloom like a shadowy letter S with legs. Then it would let down, and pauso to eat a circus poster, and having finished this frugal lunch, it would hasten on after the doomed Morgan. "13y and by the traitor stood on the bridge over the Toanda. He folded his arms, crossed his legs, and leaned easily upon the parapet. At that instant the goat ran to the short rango, uu limbered, and went into tho battery, action rear. He straightened himself up like a lightning rod, then he curvod him self into an interrogation point, then he shot himself out straight, horizontally, and came down in ono time and two motions. He butted Mr. Morgan. He only butted him once; but once was all the bill called for. It was an immense suc cess. The doors worn't oponod ten min utes before the house was crowdod; standing room all gone, and the last man came in had to leave his cane outside. The goat's nock cracked like a torpedo with the concussion, and it is on tho records of the lodge that he wore a porous plaster on his back for the next two weeks. Nothing like it had ever happened in his family since his great grandfather hired himself out to Angus tus Ctesar for a Roman catapult, "As for Mr. Morgan, he was amazed and pained, and disappointed. Disap pointed because he couldn't die right away and be done with it. He was at a loss to know just what had happened, and was surprised that no one else had felt the shock of the earthquake. When he landed against the side of a mountain, about four miles the other side of the creek, he began to realize the terrible truth. He was seizod with an intense, sickening fear of all goats, and no won der. The next day, when he was stand ing at the mantle-piece, eating his din ner, he laid his hand on his hoart, which had been knocked clear up into the lyick of his nock, and took a solemn oath that he would go where ho never again could see, hear, feci or smell a goat. Espe cially fool. Mr. Morgan seems to have been a man who didn't have any too much regard for the sanctity of an oath, but circumstances assisted him in keep ing his vow. Ho started to escape from the presence of goats the next day. "Naturally, when he hid himself from the nod of the headstrong and erratic goat, ho disappeared from the eyes of men. He couldn't help it. Wherever lie found mou, there were goats. If he slept in tho stablo, the gout was there, breathing sweet perfume from his cash mere locks. He found them on the dreary mountain side, fattening on the dried moss of centuries. If he went to the crowded cities tho goat, while he solemnly chewed bits of twine and tomato can labels, looked at Mr. Morgan convincingly, as who should say, 'Brother Morgan, you has my eye. If he went out into tho pathless desert, the goat met him and hospitably invited him to 'have a actus.' And so he fled, speeding with wings of fear and bones oi aching memories to spur him on, far from the haunts of men and goats. And he never was seen again, and he never came back. This is the true story of Morgan's disappearance, for are we not here in the very villago whore he lived ? Are we not standing on the very ground where it all occurred ? Do not we know, since we are here ? It has been said that Morgan's fate was an awful one, that may not be told. It has been said that the Free and Expected Masons ate him up; that they run him through a straw cutter; that they bought his boy a tin horn; that they told his wife his gun wasn't loaded, and then buried him at a lonely spot in the dark forest, where two cross roads meet, with an ash stake driven through his heart. Many are the wild and unreal stories told of his disap pearance, but'' The sad passenger paused impres sively. "Rut ?" the sad passenger said inter rogatively. "Butt, the sad passenger said conclu vely. A Yakkee Romasce. Way back in the early paitof this century one of the loveliost girls of the town of Norwich became engaged to a dashing young En glishman, apparently 'of great wealth, who claimed to have been a naval officer. He went away ostensibly for a short visit to England and waa never heard of in Norwich again, although tradition has it that he was a pirate by profession and that he was hung as such soon after leav ing Norwich. However, tha truth may have been, his affianced bride was faith ful onto death and believed in him to the last, when she faded away, a very sweet, gentle, aad old lady. Buddha and his Religion. Mr. Edwin Arnold, whose poora, "The Light of Asia," has passed through two editions hero and eight in America, has received the following lotter from the King of Siaiu, together with his Maj cjsty.s Order of the White Elepliat: Grakd Palace, Bangkok, Deoember 6, 187H.--S1B! My father devoted much limo to tho study and defense of his re ligion, and although I being callod to the throno while young, had no time to become a scholar like him, I too have in terested myself in the study of sacred books, and take a great interest iu defend ing our religion and having it properly understood. It seems to me that if Eu ropeans beliove injthe missionary preach ing that ours is foolish and bud religion they must also believe that we are a fool ish and bad people. I therefore feol much gratitudo to thoso who, liko your self, teach Europeans to hold our re ligion in respect. I thank you for tho copy of your poom, "The Light of Asia," E resented to me through my Minister in ondon. I am. not a suillcieutly good scholar to judge English poetry, but as your work is based npou the similar source of my own information, I can read it through with very much pleasure, and lean say that your noein, "The Light of Asia, is the most oloqueut defense of Buddhism that has yet appeared, and is full of beautiful poetry; but I liko Hook Second very much, and am very much interested in tho final sermon. I havo no doubt that our learned men would argue with you for hours or for years, as even I can see that some of your ideas are not the some as ours. But I think that in showing "love" to have been tho eminent characteristic of the Lord Buddha and Karma, in Siamese "Kam," the result of tho inevitable law of Dharma, tho principlo of existence you have taught Buddhism, and I may thank yon for having mado a European Buddhist speak beautifully in tho most wido-spread language of tho world. To mark my opiniou of your good feeling toward Eastern peoples, and my appre ciation of your high ability and tho serv ice you have done all Buddhists by this dofonso of thoir religion, I have much satisfaction in appointing you an officer of our most exalted Order of tho White Elephant, of which you will soon hoar further from Mr. D. K. Mason, my Con sul Genoral in London. I am youra faithfully, Chulalonkorn, King. Edwin Arnold, Esq., C. S. I., etc. London Alheno'um. The Origin or the TIow. Tho origin of tho plow and the wheeled carriage was tho subject of a paper lately read by Dr. Taylor before the London Anthropological Institute He beliovod that the first agricultural implement was a pointed stick, w hich at a lutcr stage of development was bent at the end into tho form of a hoe and had the point har dened in the tiro. After tho lapse of ages a larger implement of tho same shape camo into use. It was not employed like the hoe or "hack," but drawn by nion or oxen. Among our own Indians, in tho traditional lore of Swodon, in Egypt's pictured pages of a romote past, thore are more or loss distinct traces of the above transition. Greek, Egyptian, Chi nose severally possessed the germ, so to speak, of the modorn plow. Tho spur was next shod with iron, the more effi ciently to fulfill the purpose of tho vomer or share. Virgil lived at a time when the plow had reached a very high stago of perfootiou. It was then constructed with a whoel and an upward projecting handle, like the bost form of plow in use in Europe in the eighteenth oentury, and, it might well bo added, liko the plows still employod near Mantua and Vouice at the present day. Dr. Tylor is unwill ing to concede that the plow was the pro genitor of tho vohicle of to-day; he assigns that honor to tho sled, as is more probably just. It would soon be found that the introduction of rollers boneath the sled would facilitate its traction. But as it was not necessary that every part of the roller should rest on the ground, the diameter of tho middlo was roduced with obvious advantage. Slowly in this way tho wheel, solid throughout and rigidly attached to tho axle, came into existence. The wheel and axle of tho Scythians ro volved together. Even now some of the picturesque carts ef Italy and Portugal have drum-wheels fixed on axles which revolve in bearings like forks open be low. From the rude harnessing of the yoke attached to the horns or wethors of oxen at first, the advance to the present method was also gradual. But it is easy to follow this and the other improve ments in the plow and wheeled vehicles up to their existing condition through the aid of recorded history. Damon and Pythias. Mr. Hayden's most intimate friend, previous to his ar rest, was a young man of lino culture and education, a graduate of the Wes lcyan Univorsity, and the son of a promi nent physician in the town of Clinton a large village contiguous to Rockland, where the Stannard tragedy was enacted. The struggling Methodist minister and the young man of fortune were like Damon and Pythias in thoir friendship froquont visiters of each others houses, and capable of great self-sacrifice in each other's interests. When Hayden was arrested for the murdor of Miss Stannard, the young man seemed at first dazed by the event, raved wildly against the minister's accusers, and ex cited suspicion that his violence might lead to another tragedy in which some one of the witnesses against his friend would pay the forfeit with his life. Sub sequently be became calmer and more tractable, and passed his time, hour after hour, in walking up and down his room, wailing, "Herbert will be hanged! Herlert will be hanged, and I can't save him!" The mania finally assumed a form so violent that medical interference became necessary, and the young man was removed to a private asylum in Middletown, where he remained for several months under medical treatment. He has recently returned to his father's house, convalescent, but apparently without recolloction of the tragic episode, which is never mentioned in his presence. The young man is described as a person of fine intellectual capacity, and is known in tbe musical world as the composer of a number of popular songs. N. Y. Times; A man whn ilidn't cre Ml V thin IT about the newspapers rode fourteen miles through a fierce tnowstorm to get a copy of weeklr that looks of him a a "promlneat citizen." A Dor Story. Before the train loft Bay City yester day morning for Dotroit, a woman nearly six feet tall and having acomploxion like a fresh burnod brick, entered the depot followed by a dog almost as big as a year ling calf. Having purchased a tickot, the woman stood beside the train until tho conductor came along, when she led off with "You have been pinted cat to me at the boss of the train. "Yos 'm," was his modest reply. "Well, I'm going to Detroit fur the old man." "Yes." "And this dog is going along with me. no goes where I go every time in tha y?.r.: . ..... "los, no can go down in tuo baggage car. "Not any he can't! That's what I stop ped yon for. This 'ere dog is going 'long in this 'ere car and nowhere else! " "The rules of the road " "Rules be hanged! My old man can bo banged aroung by everybody, and he never demands bis rights; but Lucinda hain't Thomas not by a jugful!" ' iMadam, let me- "I don't want no clawintr off 1 " she in terrupted, as she peelod a pair of black mittens off her big red hands. "I'm go ing and the dog's going, and what I wont to know is whother you want to ruiso a row on tho cars or havo it right now and hero!" 'the conductor lookod the dog over and was about to shake his head, when tho woman began untying her bonnet and quietly romarkod "1 s pose, being as 1 am a woman, it would bo no more than fair for tho clog to sail in with mo. Come here, Loon idus!" "Madam," replid the conductor, as ha felt a shiver go up his legs, "take your dog and got aboard!" "Honest Injun? "Yes." "No, not after tho cars start? " "No." Then that sottles that, and I'm much obleeged, though you did kinder hang off at first. Ijoonidiis foller mo and be have, yoursolf." Mroit Free Vcm. Is Life Worth Lhlng 1 York, signed by one of tho Aldermen, ii ii.- i...iM. UCSirou Uie opinion ui Dniuiur uuiuiici on .the query, "Is lifo worth Hying?" The Vri'diilnnt Raid lift would liko to hear ex pressions from the club, as it was a query of importance to all persons in the habit of living. Slammer Stevens said he didn't roally feel Buro whother life was worth living or not. He thought much dopended on the size of tho woodpile and the contents of the flour barrel. Shodbite Smith knew that lifo was worth living. Ha had put in fifty-two years of it and had had a mighty good time of it. He thought the more pop corn and cidor one had around the house the longor they wanted to live. Diogonos Fullor, A. ii.t sometimes thought he was living in vain. Ho had inrns all summer and chilblains all win- tor, with a run of bilious fever in April, but tako it on tne wnoie, it was unuouut edly worth any man's time to make a business of living. f Jnm'lnn " said the President, after a scoro of opinions had boon advanced, . . . ... .. i. i: i.l "do man wno nus ao son ouiuo uo nmnnt he should wouldn't be tuckerod out ef he put in a fousan y'ara ob it on dis moondane spnore. v&r was no noon ob lino fencos whon NoaU lef do ark. T)nr war' no lawsuits in de days whon good old Liior was fod by de ravens. Ebery man s mo am mosny as ue ujuo it. A choerful spirit, wilhn' hands, an' a ilnHirn to rio nullt Will miUO 1U0 iwom an' pleasant. Monnnoss moy pay 400 cents on ae uouar to-iiay, uuv uo bvuu. falls flat to-morrow. Findin' fault an' m-nwlii.' round won't bur shinclo nails. Wishin' we was rich won t hunt up new jobs of white wasliin nor Koop ae uauy s foot off de floo.' It am only de man not mittin' lifn iiitnr in ile fust nluce. .mi ruvMu - . . who says lifo hain't worf libin'. It am now time to disrupt, an x ueiuur uia mootin' disrupted." De'oit Free Press. A Picture of Hr. Jcnks. T . tha iqnitnl RAVR a 111 U lULOUt lil. W VV . ' . .. j . f J - Washington correspondent of the Boston 1Tnl.l mv Attention was directed to lady who was first brought before the publio in connection wuu anuirs m Louisiana. I mean Mrs. Agnos Jonks, tho wife of Captain Jenks, who com mands, I understand, a coast steamer. She is a woman you would turn and leok .1 Knt that there is any thing in her manner to mark her as dif ferent from others, out because nor ap pearance is distinctive She is tall and slendor. her face is oval and exoessively pallid, her nose long and straight, with dolicatoiy-cut nostrus, wmcn county anil Avnnnil w itli flvnrv breath. The chin is curved and the mouth vory small. . . it . 1 1... & Her lips are iuu anu rareiy ciesuu, uu half nnrlntl if thnr expressed con tempt. This gives a haughty look and a llinv tmilrA Ann. winflA. Thar .ire stool iUJ 4A4tw wuwv " J blue cold, clear, unflinching, merciless eyes. Tney are screened oy uara jasuen, and she glances over one in a way calcu into.i tn nnnnnnr. I remember seeinir her first a year ago, and I was so fasci nated by ner lace mat i iorgon proprwij l nn ..... . i n n 1 1 nnnn lipr think- nuu w no Kiw.iii k mwuwj - . ing how high-bred hor features, wonder ing as to ber past ana tuoonzwg s w l.t tnnnra opyiwlnnf hml mud life tum so for her, when suddenly I found my stare returned witn piuicss sevcruj, wu although my thoughts were of the most irin.iiv T fnlt on if detected in some guilty act. She dresses with great cara and simplicity, ana avoids gianngcuiura. Her hair, which is of light brown, is braided and confined by an arrow at tho back of her head. Her hands are the mint not ri m a n T Aver saw. lonir. slender and white. She eschews jewelry, and impresses tna casual ouserver u a wouiau whose natural graces and refinement of .hit It and mental clear- i.v...n, .. J , ness have been by some strange combina . . i i tioa oi circumstances not oi ner u making, turned into a channel very dif ferent from that originally intended. A crack-brained young man who was slighted by tbe females, very, modestly asked a young lady if she wouldn'Met him spend the evening with her. "No. she angrily replied, "thafa what I won't." "Why ha replied, "you needn't be ao fussy; I didn't mean this evening, but some stormy one when I can't go any wbert else. '