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About The Eugene City guard. (Eugene City, Or.) 1870-1899 | View Entire Issue (May 8, 1880)
The Engineer'! Story. n . sunny October day, according to 9 nations 1 Ld received rom the offi. ""L.Zt Engine No. 32 a lottor the e?"2 of nesting that I accom Khta?oi the engine aa a .bettor Pn7forthe observations along the rails been commanded to make . 1 AfterYeadingit.'he touched his hat, .d respectfully bade me welcome, ar m.?.J, nnmfortable a seat for me as teonld provide for the long ride which lv before us. It was a novel experience for me, and . hVlilv exciting one, as we seemed to !i!ave'the sir, the train Sundering w,ind ns: and 1 couiu out iook iy fit the man who stood so on Be was a tall, handsome fellow, whose iJen gi? CJ03 EeTflr Btirrod rom tis lt either to right or left, but whose Jker'ry laugh often rang out on the clear morning air as we chatted together. By noon we had become friends, at which hour we stopped at a small sta tion where there was a delay of twenty :na to take on coal or water. As slowed up, I noticed on the platform . mnntr woman, holding a neatly- basket, and clinging to her gtirts a little child, sonio three year f ace. "Papa! papa!" the little one screamed :. AMtrU: and glancing at my com' psnion's face I needed not to question if be were the one tnus coiiou. Another moment, we had stopped, and -ifo and child were pressed to his breast, while a look of wonderful tender L .'h(a Via airAfl ' ness erepnuiu u "AW wife and child, sir, he said turning to me. "I have only one day a week off with them; but Mary always meets me nere wuu my aiuuer, uuu nuw and then I get an hour or two with her." 'Tt is a hard life," I said. "You must miss them sorely." "Ko matter where I am, sir." he re i;k1. "thev are with me. I hear the iiftlii ono's voice above the loudest wind, nd I see my Mary's smile in the darkest night, although I stand alone on my en gine, with my life in my hand. It's a hard life, maybe, sir, but I ought not to eomplain. It gave me happiness, since it won me my wife. When we were on our way again, and I had seen the tears fill the wife's bright blue eyes as she fondly kissed her hus band good-by, while I had slipped into the little one s cnuooy nana a goiaon gift from the strange gentleman riding with papa, I asked my companion what it meant. "I don't know as you'd care to hear, sir, and there not many as' I'd care to tell. You read so many book stories of the people who make up your world, Hint tou have not muoh time to look down to mine. There are people who think such as we have no time to love, but you have seen Mary and my boy, . 1 1 . x a.: o and you u tou me 11 1 ure you r I was a careless fellow enough six Tears aeo. not neglecting my work when at ar nost. but fond of a good time with my companions when off duty, always ready to accept a friendly glass, and somotimes with my head not quite iteady when I mounted my engine, though the air always set me right be fore we had gone far on our way. One evening, at a dance, I met Mary Morton. She was the prettiest girl in the room. sir. and a little bit of ooquetin those davs. though no more than was natural, with all the young fellows try ing their boat to turn her head. I was not long behind the rest. I couldn't get her out of my thoughts, but it did not take me a great while to find out the truth of the matter. I had lost my heart. The only question was, Would she turn me adrift or give me hers for the one she, has stolen? It was many a week bofore I got up my courage enough to determine to ask her to be my wife. Every moment off duty, I would spend with her, until I grew to fancy she used to watch and wait for my coming. But I was not without my jealous hours, for all that. How did I know how she spent the time, I was so con stantly away from her? At last I heard of another dance, to be given on the night I would be off duty. I could not Boo Mary until then, but I felt sure sho would know that I would come for her, and would go with no one else. But when the evening arrived, I found when I called for her, that she was already gone. Perhaps, sir, in your rank of life, you know, too, what it is to be jealous, and how many a man de stroys future happiness by it. My first words to Mary were those of reproach, while her smile at my entrance died away and her face grew white. "I did not know you were coming, John. How could I?" "You might have waited then!" I ex claimed. "And stayed at home, perhaps, to have Had you laugh at me, with the rest. Besides, I am quite satisfied with my es ort, and believe I am the only person to be consulted in the matter." "As you will," I said, turning on my heel, muttering the word "Coquet!" be tween my teeth, and unheeding the little pleading glance she sent from time to time across the room where I stood. She was not without pride, and if she suffered from my coldness, she only wailed the brighter on others, until I grew mad with jealous anger. That sight began a series of dissipations ith which I employed every leisure mo ment I drank more deeply than I had ver done in my life not as before, for jo-called good-will and good-fellowship, but to drown memory. I did not go near Mary for near a month. To me it seemed a year. Once, fter a night's carousal, I passed her on the street; but not until long after did I learn of the bitter tears my haggard face and dissipated air had cost her. Finally, my better nature triumphed, and I went to her, repentant, to ask her forgiveness, nd perhaps her love. j On a long, lonely night ride I made up my mind to do this, though like a thou sand mocking devils, memories of the momenta that I had spent in the last few eeks crowded arouad me, as though taunting me in contrast to her purity; but with Gud'i help, I would make my elf worthy, I aaid aloud, and I thought h hours would never drag along, until I could find myself one mors is her presence. 6he came is to sea me, held out her hand with sweet smile of wel oome, as theugh we had only parted yes terday, and yet and yet there was a change. Ah, I learned it, all to soon! In those first few moments I told her the story of life for the past few months, of what it had been before I knew her of what it should be if she would give me the assuranoe and promise of her love. Then I paused. For a moment silonco foil between us; then she spoke. A bright nusu was in ner chocks, ner lips trem bled, her lashes veiled her eyes, but her lips faltered not. "John," she said, "I am only a girl, it is true, but the man I marry must be a man. remaps l mignt have loved you here a little tremble crept into her tone "but I have almost ceased to re spect you. Were you my husband would fear for you, and fear and love cannot go hand in hand." "Stop," I said. "Do you want to drive me back to the life I had hoped to have left behind me ? Oh, Mary, do not be so cruel. Be my wife, and let me prove the stuff that is in me." "No, John," she answered, softly; but tne blue eyes she now raised to me were swimming in tears. " If you have seen the wrong, surely you will not return to it. Rather, if you indeed love me pvre yourself a man. It does not take a bat tle-field to make a hero." "Prove yourself a man." These were the words that haunted me in the weeks that followed, saving me from the ruin I would else have drifted into, but tortur mgme with their Hopelessness. What hope had I in my daily routine of duty of chancing Mary's mind? Yet, spite of her words, something in her eye had told me that she loved me, and that something gave me strength to live, and to withstand the daily temptations of my life. So six months passed, when ono morn ing I mounted my engine to take the ex press train to c . we were going along at the rate of thirty miles an hour, when, suddenly right ahead of us, it seemed, a tiny speck of red nattered on the track. I strained my eyes -I blew my whistle What could it be? Merciful heavens! Another instant it was made clear to me It was a little golden-haired child, play ing in the very face of the huge monster of death my hand was guiding to its de struction. I whistled "Down brakes, but as did so. know it was of no avail. Before the order could be obeyed, it would be rendered useless. Then sometning with' in me said: "Your life is worthless. Give it for that innocent life if it must be, but save it at the peril of your own. Had you been a better man, you might have had a little child like that praying for you at home." It takes a loner time to tell all this, but in reality not one second had passed. At such times men think quickly. One bit ter siirh rose in my breast. I would never have a chance of proving to Mary my manhood by some great deed in the future, or long years of penance. But it did not make my duty any the lens clear. Bill, the fireman, was oenina me. "Take the engine, I screamed out to him. "Good-by, Mary, I whispered low to myself. The next minute, hardly conscious of what I was doing. I was down upon the cow-catcher of the train, clinging by one hand, the other ou Wretched to grasp the child, now paralyzed with terror, men we were upon it. It was killed, crushed, mancled no I 1 lookea aown. n was safe, hold within one strong arm, its red dress fluttering in the wind, its gold en head closely pressed against my shoul der. How was it done? I cannot tell - 1 1 A. 1 A von. sir. liod. tnev say. aoes noi lei tlie sparrow fall. Then the train onockea us speeu; itouned. The passengers came crowding about us, men took me by the nana, wo men cried over me. and I stood dazed, bewildered in thoir midst, the child hold tight ithin my arms. It was such a simple thing; yet, sir, they gave me this (throwing back his coat and showing a gold medal.) 1 wear it in thanksgiving ior iue mue life I saved. They raised for me a purse of gold to a large amount, but the gift which seomed to cleanse my heart was the poor mother's grateful tears. The papers rang, next day, witu the story. You see, sir, it seemed more to them, looking at it, than to me who had no time to think; but something more was in store for me. I was off duty the next night, alone in my lonely, desolate room, thinking it over, when some one whispered my name. In another mo ment some one was sobbing in my arms, some one who had come to me of her own sweot will some one. who, from that moment, has been the sunshine of my home and heart. That is all, sir. It is a simple story. trust I have not tired you. Bnt I. as I grasped the noble fellow's hand, whose speech had so unconsciously betrayed the grand, true heart within, could only echo his Mary's words: "It does not take a batue-nem to mane hero." Felicia Hemaks. At sevens years old, an aire when most girls' ideas are limited to dons, romps ana new irvcio, x euu a delight, in the bright summer days, was to climb up into an apple tree with a volume of Shakespeare in her hand and lose herself in a world of imagination among the "Rosalinds," "Imogens" and "Beatrices." All that was strange, weird and romantic had an irresistible fascina tion for her. Gwrych. as every respect able old mansion should, had its spec ter, and on moonlight nights the child, all trembling yet eager, would creep out into the long, dark avenue, fearing, yet hoping: to get a sight of the goblin. At other times, when she was supposed to be in bed, she would rise, dress herself and steal out the house down to the sea shore to listen to the moaning of the waves, and to indulge in a twilight bath. She was never sent to school; her educa tion was purely desultory; all the world of poetry was thrown open to her; but from systematic studies, beyond French, English grammar, and the rudiment of Latin, she was wholly exempted. At 7 she began to compose verses, and at 11 volume of these was published. A young lady in Chicago, when asked by the officiating minister, "Will you love, honor and obey this man as your husband, and be to him a true wife?" said plainly: "Yea, if be does what he promised financially."' THE ROMANCE OF A FOCKETBOOK. I was just twenty-five when I first met Alice Thorne.the daughter and heiress of George Thorne, tho great banker. I met her at Long Branch, whether I had gone for two weeks' vacation. A lucky enough young fellow I had thought myself when I started on that trip, being cashier and book keeper at Messrs. Overton & Co., in receipt of a goed salary and valuod by the firm; but, after I once knew Alice.all seemed to be changed. I fell desperately in love with the charming girl, knowing well all the time that such love was madness. Not that anything in her demeanor made me despair, on the contrary I was all the more miserable for tho conviction that, had I dared to Bcek it, her heart might have been mine. I did not dare. I knew too well the folly of my passion, the bopclossncss of my dream. Her father was reported to be a very Erond, ambitious man, who would look igh for a son-in-law. I felt that he would not so much as give mo a hearing to my suit; and as to winning her with out his consent, what would that bring hor but misery? I had nothing with which to pay or compensate hor for the sacrifice of a marriage with my poverty. No, I might be doomed to unhappiness myself, but 1 would not drag Alice down to it. So we bade cood-bve witoout a word of explanation, though X know she read tho anguish in my heart, and tears were in the soft eyes averted from mo. I kissed the trembling hand she placed iu mine, aud turned away and bade farewell to her and hope forever. There is no depth of suffering I sup pose, but has a lower depth still. scarcely tad l got back to town, ana was striving earnestly to urown vain regret in tho bustle and interest of busi ness, when a terrible misfortuno fell upon me. Mr. Overton had given me a check for $20,000, desiring me to go to tho bank and get it cashed. Having executed the commission and returned, imagine my horror on discovering that the pocketbook containing tne money was gone. Gone! I felt as if I were going frantic. I tore off my coat searched through my pockets like a mnnman, then fell into a chair with ono wild, despairing cry; the money was gone. Whether stolen by villains or lost by my own carelessness, what matterod it? It was gone and I was utterly ruined. I hardlv know what passed after I proclaimed my loss. My conduct and antecedents were such that my employers had no right to doubt my Honesty, nev ertheless I seemed to read in their man ner somothing terribly wounding. What I suffered in the next few days God only knows, and when, after being dismissed, 1 returned to my own room, i was very nearly desperate ; not only hod I lost a lucrative position, but my future seemed to be irretrievably blasted, for there are suspicions which are as fatal to a man morally, as would be physically the wound of a rine ban. But I was young and of a hopeful na ture, and I beiran to realize that I had been loniently dealt with. On recalling all that had happened after leaving the bank, and utter impossibility of the pock etbook being taken out of the pocket of my coat, I came to tho conclusion that 1 must have dropped it, and thereupon I resolved to have recourse to all means in mv power to recover the money. I had saved during last few years a considerable portion of my salary, and determined now to devote to the purpose I had in view. I advertised daily in all the prominent journals, not offering the customary reward, but describing my unfortunate position, my honor lost ana my future blighted. For two weeks I kept my loss before the public, and had almost began to des pair of any favorable result, when, one morning, a stranger came to me a tall, dark, stern looking man, who regarded me with a pair of kindly brown eyes, that had something familiar about them. In the midst of my anxiety I caught myself wondering where I had seen them before. The stranger declined the soat I offered him, and began at once, speaking brus quely and to the point: "1 have heard oi your loss, saia ne. I have read your advertisement in the papers, and I feel interested iu and for you. 1 nave just ion your late employ ers, and after the satisfactory manner in which all my inquiries were answered, I became your security for the $20,000." "What?" I sprang towards him in tho wildest excitement. "Oh, sir," I began, but he stopped me. "Let me finish," said he. "I have done this because I am convinced that you are an upright, honest man, and the greatest proof of my confidence that I can give you is that I am about to offer you in my banking house the position as cashier. My name, sir, is George Thorne.' George Thorne, the father of Alice, the girl that I loved! Ah, the mystery was solved! It was of her his eyes reminded me; it was to her I was indebted for his help! I know not how I thanked him, or what I said, but when, after some fur ther conversation be disappeared, and I asked myself if it were all a dream or reality, the tears which I had so long re-, strained flowed frtely, as I laughed and sobbed in my new found hope and hap- pin ess. Fifteen years had flown since the day I lost the pocketbook. I had now be come a prosperous man. surrounded b; all the luxuries which wealth affords. had found in Mr. Thorne more than a patron; I had found a friend; under a brusque manner he had a heart of gold. From the first day of our acquaintance he had evinced towards me the liveliest interest and affection. I was soon made a partner, and when, on a certain blessed day I became the husband of Alice, and his son-in-law, he presented me with the receipt for the $20,000 that he had paid Messrs. Over ton for my loss. So time went on. The banking house known as the firm of Thorne tC Wallace was in a thriving conditio!. I had a beautiful wife and two lovelf children, and yet with all these sources of happiness I was not quite contented there was a crease in the rose leaf. For some time past I had been vainly endeavoring to account for the extraordi nary interest which my father-in-law had first taken in me, because I discovered, as I grew older and saw more of this self- ish, egotistical world, that vorv fewanoh gonerous actions wore porformod without i ' , u,e "option of this, to me, thonghte frequently occupied my At first I had attributed it all to Al oe a influence, but I knew now that it noa been as great a surprise to hor as to U1JSVU. w ,ut Un" bmo Dr. Pollard, one of air. inornes most intimate friends, ar- reu iu new lork, and one morning, whilo sitting at breakfast, exwreasod great surprise at the numerous advertise- nionia in uie papers relating to money lost and found. 'Well,' said he, 'I have not the least sympainy for those who lose money they are generally careless, stnniil pie, not fit to bo trusted; although I re- mvuiuvr uaving heard of a young mau who lost a pocketbook some years ago containing sju.ipuuj and 1 declare, when I read his piteous aimoals. which worn in all the papors, my heart fairly ached for mm. isut, continued he, addressing my father-in-law, who had become very pale, 'you ought to romember the oircuuistan oes, for it occurred just at the timo of the great iauuie in Philadelphia, by which juu ure ho neavy a loser. Yes, I recollect the affair,' replied Mr. Thorne, who appeared to be suffering. 'I never heard.' continued tho Dootnr. 'what became of the poor devil, and yet i Buouiu line to know.' 'Should you ?' said I, laughing; 'then let me gratify your curiosity. I, Arthur Wallace, am that poor devil. Doctor," saved from rum and despair by my ben efactor hero.' And then I related all the events of the lost fifteen years. The doctor then sprung to his feet and grasped his old friend's hand. 'Well and generously done,' said ho; bnt Mr. Thome interrupted him. 'I am not well,' he said faintly. 'I suffer great ly; let me go to my room.' The next day he sent for me to his pri vate office.' I found him looking palo and haggard. 'Sit down my dear Ar thur,' said he, in a low voice, 'and listen to me. For a lorg timo I have had a confession to make to you, ono that now weighs on me so heavily that I must ease my conscience of its load. I can hotter boar to do bo now that I have in a meas ure mado you some amends for the trouble I once caused you.' 'The trouble you caused me,' I criod. 'You have been the most generous of men to me. It is through your kindnoss I occupy my present position.it is to you owe my happiness, and more than all, my honor.' Mr Thorno opened his desk and took from it a pocketbook. Do you remember this? said he, as he placed it in my hand. 'ies, replied 1, 'it is the one 1 lost; but how ' I could not finish my question. The truth started me in the faco. I sprang to my foot in dismay. 'Great heavens,' l cried, "you fouad the money?' Ay, and kept it, he groaned, with an guish in his voice. 'Hut oh! do not con demn without hearing me. Yesterday you heard Dr. Pollard allued to the great losses I had sustained by the failure in Philadelphia. I did not dare to make my embarrassment known, as that would have hastened my ruin my ruin ! God knows that it was not for myself that 1 cared, but for Alice, my darling' child. It was on the 11th of December that you lost the money. Oh! I shall never forget the date. It was on that day that I med itated suicide. I was short $20,000 to meet my indebtedness maturing on the 15th. I was overwhelmed with despair; the air of the office seemed to stifle me, and I rushed into the street. I had hardly gone ten yards when my foot struck something. It waB your pocect book. I opened it, and the sight turned me giddy and faint. Then commenced within my breast one of thoso moral struggles which even to tho conqueror is fearful, but in which, alas, I was misera bly vanquished. The noxt day I satisfied all claims upon me. To the world I was George Thorne, an honest, upright man; to myself I was nothing better than a malefactor. You know the rest. Through my guilt you passed two weeks of inde scribable anguish. I have sine endeav ored to make reparation for the misery I caused; but I also suffered. Moral atone ments are the most cruel, because they are eternal. I have known and yet feel the bitterness of expiation, bay, my son, can you forgive my crime ?' Could I forgive? I looked at the pallid face, anguished eyes. What were my sufferings of those two woeks, compared with the secred pain and shame this man had borne for years? this man, the vio tim of one solitary deviation from recti tude, so upright in all else, and whose life since had been one long atonement. I grasped his hand, tears filled my eyes. 'Father.' I cried. 'Alico's father and mine, all is forgiven, forgotten. Do I not owe all the happiness of my life to that same lost pocketbook?' Pbofessor akd Beab. He f the bearl had also observed me, and I did not ven ture to return to the boat, but went straight toward him, supposing that he would be frightened and run away, as I had always previously seen polar bears do when a man approached them. I had miscalculated; the bear came nearer, ad vancing slowly in a half circle, and we wnrA noon so close together that I could have touched him with a stick. He stood somewhat higher up on a block of stone, hissing and tramping with his lore icet; I stood somewhat lower, crying and hoot ing all I was able, and threw big stones at him with little apparent effect. At length a big stone bit one of his fore paws resting on a stone, and the pain, or perhaps satisfied curiosity, induced the animal to retreat. Arlio Voyage XordentkjoUl. A Bashful Bridegroom. A young gentleman of Harmony, Ga., whose name is kindly suppressed, is the most bash ful bridegroom known. The hour for his nuptials approached and was at hand, but the bridegroom tarried. The bride, who apparently knew his character, sadlv remarked that bis courage had "gin out. It was suggested that if the dinner-horn wu blown he would probably answer. Somebody else probably knew his char acter, for no sooner was the horn blown than an answering whoop was heard from the dense thicket hard by, but etui tiu eometh not," said th bride. Finally a scouting party brought him in by force, and when ha was confronted wiia am bride, bis fear was so great that ha was married before ha knew it. Beheaded Fur Elopement. Theollkiul beheading of Pra Pecclia.a prominent dignitary or Msru, as an nounced yesterday in a dispatch from Singapore, is a very singular proceeding, and the causos leading to it are so remark able as to be worthy of mention. The circumstances, as narrated in private let tersfrora Bangkok, are substantially these: Thomas O. Knox, until recently British Political Agent and CoiisuUGencral sta tionod at the capital, has resided there for many years in an otliclul capacity, having married, soon after going into Indo China, a native woman, who bore him two chil dren, both daughters. They were edu cated in England. One of them is repre sented as particularly bright and attrac tive, and, after returning to her own country, she was greatly admired and had many suitors. Some months ago the young woman, who has probably reached the age of 20 or thereabout, astonished and enraged her father by eloping with l'ra l'eecha, and coming back fast married according to Thai law and Buddhist lorm. Consul Knox, who had intended her for the British matrimonial market, wss so incensed t her husband that ho formally complainod to the native government of lVccha's connubial misdemeanor, which, in his wrath, he is said to have pronounced a violation of international law, a heinous political and social crime, a deadly affiont to John Bull, as represented in his proper person, and a direct assult on the British Constitution. Hyperbolical and absnrb as such as-sumption was, it is not un fre quently tho method adopted by British officers abroad when dealing with people whom they are pleased to consider but half civilized. The Siamese (iovernmei.t seemed to regard Feccha's offense as ser iously as the British Consul hud done. It ordered the new husband's immediate ar rest and trial on the grave charges, high treason, we believe, being one of them; and, in duo time, he was to the amaze ment and horror of his father-in-law aud his bride, condemned to death. This was more than the British Consul had bar gained for. Notwithstanding his wrath, te did not think that a runaway match deserved capital punishment, and he swore by his consular seal and the estab lished church that the sentence snou.d not be curried out. Tho Government, however, remained firm as to its decision, whereupon Knox threatened it with tho vengeance of his nation, declaring that ho would order up the British Gunboats lying near the mouth of the Meinam river and cause the bombardment of Bangkok unless the sentence wus revoked. The menace was, as may be supposed, idle, intended merely to intimidate the King and his Cabinet. But they would not be intimidated, and soon after Knox was re called by his Government. This is the story as told by the English and Americans in Sinin, but it is not at all likely that l'ra Peccha bus been beheaded simply for his elopement. He must have been found guilty of more momentous otlenscs to justify such extreme measures. Still, as binni is an absolute monarchy, the uov ornineut can do what it likes without ac countability to its subjects. The whole thing, as reported here, is most extraor dinary, and. but for its tragic termination, would read like the libretto of au oprea boull'o. If a man can be officially behead ed for marrying a pretty girl In Slum. mattimony. especially under romantic as pects, will scarcely be regadred there with encouraging lavor. Mw low unnei. A Revolutionary Dramatist. Tniinnl fliA nlnsn nf 1702. OlvmnS d Gouges addressed a petition to the Pres ident of the Assembly offering to assist M. de Idalesherbos in tne defense oi Liou is XVI., and her proposal being rejected, nnnniilnd hnrnnlf for the disaDMointmeut by the the production of a drama called IjttS t f tuf(iir7 to, 111 WlllUU DUBJUUUUUVCU General Dumouries and other notable tinrnnndiros of the timo. This nioco wholly without literary merit and mainly consisting of a succession of battles and military evolutions was represented at the Theater Francaiso, (thon Theater de la Republique), in January, 17D3. and received with minglod hilarity and disap probation. After the fall of the curtain, one or two voices having ironically do mamlflil 1.1m author's name. Mile. Can- doille, coming forward to announoo it, was interrupted by a gaunt and strangely attired female starting up from her scat in a box, and exclaiming: "Citizens, you desire to know the name of the author, behold hor in me, uiympe ve uouges. If yon are not pleased with the pioce, you tnnv thank the actors, for they could not possibly have played it worse I" This singular declaration oeing receiveu witn a storm of hisses, Mile. Candoille pro tAHt.A1 that Hha and her colleagues had done their bost, and the audience, siding with her. pursued Alme. vo uouges throngh the oorridors out of the tlicater, anma nf tllAm AVAII inHIHtinff that tllOir money Bhould be roturned. Nor was this all; scarcely had sue reacnea neruomo, when a mob assembled before the door, ami with lmn1 nries denounced her as an accomplice of Dumouries, then an object or suspicion to tno popular wany. un daining to concoal herself, she answerod l,n mmmnnii in Dprsnn and boldlv faced her assailants, one of whom seized hold of her, tore off her head-dress, and shout ed for tho benefit of tho bystanders: Going for 24 sous, the head of Citizen Gouges! Once, twice, at 24 sous!" "My good friend,' she replied witu tue utmost coolness, "allow me to bid 80 for it, and in itnn it on m shoulders!" This cour ageous sally was greeted with a murmur of approval, the crowd gradually dis- Iicrsed, and she was saved for a time. All the Year Round. Mrs. Hayes' Cat. Several years ago I knew a gentleman from New England, who used to be very fond of talking of "high-toned" fumilies and their habits. He frequently aaid that no "high-toned" family of Boston would be without a "Venetian cat," and he meant no joke thereby, but simply to overpower those who could bring for ward no such proof of aristocracy. If what he said was even measurably true, I take it for granted readers of the Her ald will be interested in a still greater feline curiosity which has arrived in Washington. About a year ago there ar rived at the White House, one day, a box marked for Mrs. R. B. Hayes, which contained a Siamese cat of a dark ma hogany color, which soon became a great pet in the. family. Mrs. Hayas had no idea whence it came until Mr. George Emory called last spring with bis par ents, Gen. and Mrs. Emory. He had just returned from a ten years' sojourn in China, a he is agent for a steamship line at Hong Kong. Through him Mr. Sickles, our Consul in Biam, forwarded the cat to Mrs. Hayes. He told ma thtt even in Slam such cats are very rare, and that this one was especially remarkable in evincing a friendly disposition, ior usually this species is very suvoge, and bites if approached. This ono used al ways to enter the room when Mrs. Hayes had visitors, and I was present when Mr. Emory called and saw his amazement when the walked in, and showing no hesitation, though the parlor was full of strangers, went directly up to him. He said that ho was as much surprised as If some ouo raised from the dead hud come to greot him, for when he abippod the cat, after keeping it a month before he had an opportunity to send it, he, of course, never expected to Bee it again. That was nearly a year before, yet the cat evidently recognized him. This au tumn, while the President and Mrs. Hayes were in Ohio, the cat sickenod and diod. Mrs. Hayes was sincerely sorry to lose the cat, to whom she anil all tho family were much attached. What a Child's Kiss Could Do. Iu a prison at New Bedford. Mass.. there now is a man whom wo shall call Jim, and who is a prisoner on a lifo sen tence. Up to last spring he was regardod a dosporato, dangerous man, ready tor re bellion at any hour. He plannod a gen eral outbreuk, and waa "givon away" by one of the conspirators. He plotted a gonoral mutiny or robellion, and was again botrayod. Ho then kept his own council, aud, while never refusing to obey, ho obeyed them like a man who ouly needed backing to mako him refuse to. Ono day in Juno a party of strangers came to the institution. One was au old ' gentleman tho other ludios, and two of tho ladies had small children. The guide took one of the chihlron on his arm, and tho other walked until the party began climbing the stairs. Jim was working near by sulky and morose as ever, whon the guide said to him: "J un, won t yon help this little girl up Btairs?" . Tho convict hositated, a soowl on his face, and tho little girl hold out her bands to him and said: "If you will, I guess IU kiss you." His scowl vanished in an instant, and he lifted the child as tenderly as a father. Halt way up the stairs Bhe kissed him. At tho head of the stairs she said: "Now, you'vo got to kiss me, too." He blushed like a woman, looked into hor innocent face, and then kissed hor ohoek, and before he reaohod the foot of the stairs again the man had tears in his eyes. &ver since that day he has been a changed man, and no one in the place gives less trouble. Maybe in his far away Western home ho has a little Katio of his own. No one knows, for he nover ' reveals his inner lifo; but the change so quickly wrought by a child proves that he has a heart, and gives hope that he may forsake hia evil ways. Music In Stouc8. It was 2 o'clock when our riarty roach- ed "Ringing Rocks." Tho air of the afternoon was sharp and crisp, the ground well frozen, and most of the snow of winter had disappeared. We had oome to ring a ohime on the strange and wondorful metollio rocks that Na ture has se mysteriously placed hero in a group, llieso rocks are on tne form of Abraham JUensoh, of A'ottsgrovo i own ship, Montgomery county. They cover a space of about three-quarters of an acre. Our party consisted of ladies and gentlemen versod in music. Each solocted a rook suitable to form a scale of eight notes. The loading gentloman took the rock known as the "State House Boll." He struck it with a hammer, and it rang out very like tho old Inde pendence bell in Philadelphia before it was cracked. The tonos of a numbor of stones were tested bofore each moraber of the party had solooted ono with a tone corresponding to his note of tho scale. Finally eight rocks were chosen, and a few tunes, such as "Old Hundred," "Home, Sweet Homo," were givon with considerable clearness. Some of the rocks gave forth a rich, full tone, which would vie with the best metal. The "State House Rock" at one timo was ono of the largest. It has been broken off several times, but it still prosorves its strong, full tono. The sound produced by striking the smaller rocks resombles that made when a blacksmith's anvil is stiuok, some being clearer than othors, but no two are aliko. Many sound as though car-wheels are boing tested by the hammer-strokes of the station-man. The "ringing rocks" have been visited by thousands. On the surface of many of them are marks resembling footprints of horses and othor animals. Fao-similcs of human footprints are also to be seen. Drinking Students at Lclpslc. Ridiculous duels, says a Leipsio letter to tho Boston Advertiser, are very fre quent, and against the law, but as they are not attended with danger they are winked at. It is said that these duels increase the sense of honor, etc., an idea for which I cannot see one spark of justification. Each additional scar on a student's face increases his swagger and insolence, the only increase visible to me. Fights occur very seldom, and when they do happen amount to nothing. They push and scratch and shout a good deal, and that is about all. A few days ago, together with a Western friond, I was watching one of those pushing matches, when the gentleman in question observed, in a distinguished tone of voice: ' "Out in Chey-anne, where I live, when, fifty men got together you have to sweep . up tho eyes and noses afterward, saying which he jumped down into tho middle of the crowd, doing the only business reported. Of course the students drink a great deal of beer, but they loave whisky and brandy alone. I Lave known a man to drink fifty-two glasses of strong beer, in a little less than twelve hours. A feat which equals it waa performed by an oflicer here, famous only for his drink ing abilities. At dinner ono day, a com rade offered to bet him a large sum that he could not drink a quart bottle of champagne out without taking the bottle from hia lips. The challenged man thought a moment, and said: "Give mo half an hour to think it over." He went out, camt back in half an boor, accepted the bet, and won it, amidst great ap plause. Soma ono asked him why it took him so long to accept the bet. "Well," ha aaid, "I waa not quite sure that I could do it, so I went home first and tried it, and found that I could do it, and then cam back." A