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About The Eugene City guard. (Eugene City, Or.) 1870-1899 | View Entire Issue (Sept. 18, 1880)
A SCIXEB'H FOLLY. . DT XTHKUKD BAT. f , t ' ' Hnm th Portland Telegram, f A soft, " pale, opaline sky, with snow white clouds floating over it; gold and crimson waves lingering amongst the blue at the top of the mountains behind which the sun had just sank peacefully to rest; crickets and katydids chirping gud contradicting each other, (and per haps making love who knows?) in the tall, green grass; a far-away sweet-voiced robin trilling in the woodland; a sweet, fresh breeze kissing the flowers and car rying their fragrance up to the wide, cool piazza on which Constance Arling ton sat with her hands clasped idly over her head, and her dreahiy, dark eves wandering over the peaoeiul Bcene be fore her. It was all so different from the restless, exciting life in her city homo, where all her hours were passod in gay, fashionable pleasures and idle flirtations. Here, in this quiet, cool, old-fashioned farm-house, she had spent ono short, peaceful, quiet, blissful summer among the roses and butterflies, and sho was thinking it all over this evening as she Hat here alone listening to the katydids. In a few moments the furm laborers would be going home their day's hard toil, and behind them, last of all, would come their young overseer, the owner of all these broad lands, and of this house Laurence Devon with his broad, straw hut pushed back from his white brow and waving hair, und the light of a new found happiness shining in hie honest blue eyes. Constance knew very well jnst how he would look, and wli.it .m;r l.e would be singing "Annie Lumo" his favorite song. He was her cousin, In r second or third cousin, but she bud never seen him until sho ciune hero this summer for her health, and now, in one shut sum mer he had fallen in love wiili in r. Presently tlu furm laborers came along, and scarcely had they disappear ed when another step runs ulouj; the hard road, the gate clicked loudly and Lau rence Devon came u;i the walk. "I am a little early this evening," he said, sitting down oh t'uu steps and fanning himself with his broad hat. "Would you like to take u boat ride after supper, Connie?" How sweetly her name sounded from his lips; it had never sounded half so pretty before. "I would like nothing better," sho answered with a little Bigh, as she glanced down at the tranquil river flowing at the side of the lawn. "It will be moonlight, too, Laurence!" A young girl leaning out of the window just above them, heard the, words, and she drew back with burning cheeks. "Moonlight!" she muttered bitterly. "Ah, yes! it used to be moonlight for me to go boat riding and to take long walks with Laurence Devon; he used to sit on the steps with mo; and when over the fields of golden wheat the dear old song of "Annie Laurie" floated to my ears, I knew he was thinking of mo; but now" and the red lips were pressed tightly together for a moment "she has come and it is all changed. 0, God! my cross is heavy, yet help me to bear tili, in Thine own good time, and Thine own good way, it is removed!" The girl who uttered this passionate prayer was young, and though not pretty she had a'pure, sweet, attractive face; sho was a pure, sweet, attractive girl; one who could be loved and trusted for herself alono, for the truo, noblo soul, that looked out of her eyes. It was just as she said. Lawrence Devon had once been her lover; her futhcrs's farm adjoined his, and ho had been wont to spend a great many of his summer evenings on farmer Goodwin's good porch, listening to Mury's sweet cheery voice, or silently watching her as she flitted about her household duties and thinking to himself what a bright, lovable little thing she was, and how her presence would lighten any homo, "even his," he added to himself sometimes, with a little smile. And yet he had never seriously thought of asking Mary to be his wife; marriage was a far off bliaa in the future to Lawrence Devon until Constance Arlington came, with her rare and radient beauty, her wondor ful toilets, milk-whito hands that did not even understand arranging the soft, golden hair which had always been the work of a moid. Laurence, not boing a "man of the world," did not know that her jowels alone were worth moro than his whole farm his home, all he had in the world. And so he learned to love her with a strong, pure, passionate lover-such as men only know once in their lifetimo; and when the dear old song of "Annie Laurie" floated across the fields his thoughts wandered to Constance, and. in imagination, he could see her lying in a hammock out under the trees, m her cool, white wrapper and delicate luces, idling tho afternoon away, and lontriiiL' for the coolness and fragrunce of cveninc: and then his loval heart would throb more swiftly and lightly in his bosom, and his eyes would glance often aud impatiently at the sinking son. In the afternoon of which we write, Mary bad come over to assist Laurence's sister with some sewing, ana remained alone while the latter was preparing supper, as she did not particularly enjoy Miss Arlington's society. The flush died out of her face as she listened to the conversation on the veranda aud her eyes filled with tears as Bhe remembered the sweet dreams that bad once visited her. but which had las! died with the coming of summed It seemed so hard that this beautiful, indolent uirl who could count her city lovers by the score, who had every thine wealth could buy who had noth' ing to do but flirt and enjoy herself should come, and scarcely with an effort take ono from her true heart she had ever cared for, the only prize she had ver coveted, and onlvfor amusement, only for a pleasant way of passing the summer. The supper-bell rang, and she went dn, pale and quiet as she always was now. "You look very weary, Miss Goodwin," aid Constance, with well-bred interest. "I hope Mabel baa not mvle you sew too much. I would have offered to help yon, but to tell the troth" with a frank (ittle smile that was truly fascinating "1 never tewed a stitch in my life, and afraid to trr." "We did not need any assistance," id Marv. cold It. "Mabel and I were Miss Arlington favored her with a look of quiet surprise, as though the sarcasm of the remark was beneath contempt, and turning with superb indifference, made some careless remark to Laurence. Alone in her room, a few minutes later, Constance threw herself in a chair by the open window, and leaning her head on her hands, looked thoughtfully out into the twilight. She was trying to make a decision which she felt should be made this very night. If she went boat riding with Laurence she knew he would ask her the question that was always trembling on his lips, and which she dreaded to hear, because sho knew not how to answer it. She loved him ah 1 God alone knew how passionately but how could she marry him ? How could she leave her gay, luxurious life, the fashionable city, and settle down as a common farmer's wife? do her own sewing, live cheaply, dress plainly, and perhaps raiso a large family of children to wear out her life having no more balls, or conquests, or flirtations to lend excitement or pleasure to her life. For the twentieth time sho read and re read tho letter she had received that evening from a friend in the city. "My Dear Conhtancb: Why don't you come home? We are all dying to see you, and we have waited so long our pa tience is all worn out, and we have de cided that you must have fallen in love with some country fellow whom you are teaching a few accomplishments before daring to brave our sarcasm by intro ducing him. If our surmise is correct, I give you fair warning we shall give you the 'cut direct,' so take heed. But, meanwhile, my dear girl, you are losing your very best chance. Jack Strycblor, is very devoted to that pretty Miss Wheeler, and it is rumored that they are engaged! Alt revoir, and do you give my lovo to the country fellow. Maggie Wilkinson." "Good by, sweetheart," muttered Con stance, with a little sob, as she folded her letter, "I must, oh! Laurie, my darling, I must givo you np. Jack Strychler is waiting for my answer; if I say no, he will marry Georgia Wheeler, and I must have wealth and power. Farewell, dear love, farewell sweet blissful dreams!" Ten minutes later, she joined Laurence on tho piazza, as calmly, indolently graceful as usual, her costly lace shawl thrown over her shoulders and half hid ing the jewels flashing on her bosom. No one would have guessed that sho had just made the greatest decision of her life just cast from her the sweetest, truest happiness she had ever known. Out on the bosom of the peaceful, nielifluous river, with the stars smiling softly down, and tho katydids gaily chirping as if in mockery, Lawrence Devon tenderly told his love, and was rejected. And Constance Arlington told him the truth told him that she loved him better than life itself that the sweetest dream of her life had ended, and yet she was so weak, so foolish, so cowardly she could not say yes. Ono moment she was clasped to the truest heart that had ever beat for her; one long, almost painful passionute kiss was pressed on her lips, and thon her dream was broken. One sweet summer evening, ten years later, a carriage drove slowly along the pivot rrut.l hv tlm T)nvnn furm. and a pale, sad-faced woman leaned from the window, and looked wearily over the scene it is our friend Constance now Mrs. Strychler. The fields were goldon with grain, the fragrance or flowers floated in the win dow, tho river flowed along its green banks, and the crickets and katydids chirped in the green grass; from far over tho fields of golden grain floated an old familiar soncr "Annie Laurie" and Constauco listened to it as she had lis tened ten years before, and a look of passionate longing and bitter regret came into her face. It was not sinful to remember that dead summer that dear happy time now, for her husband was dead and she was free. Free ! Ah t Sho wondered if her fraA.lnm lmd prune inn late. She was SO tired of tho world and its empty honors. If she could only find one true heart the ono she liad thrown away long ago how sweetly, now peacefully nor nie could glide here in this quiet home. " What a weak, miserable fool I was," sho said bitterly, as Bhe left tho carriage and went up the old familiar walk; "but nli ! T have been nunished enoucli : sure ly I nni not too late. He loved me once; I know lie loves me still. A little bov with brown hair and swoet blue eyes was sitting on the piazza steps. " Whut is your name. dear?". Con stance asked Kindly. " Con-stan-uus uevon, lisped nie little fellow, wondoringly. " They call me Connio !" Constance's face turned deathly white. "What is your father's nauio?" she asked. T.annn mamma calls him: and mam ma's name is Mary; but papa calls her Pet!" said the child, sweetly. Constanco stooped and kissed the fair brow. "For his father's sake," she murmured l, i.or tMr And tfkimr from her throat a co3tly chain to which was at tached a locket containing ner picture, she threw it over the child's head, and un(Afintt farrm7A drove aWSV. God pity the woman who will sacrifice lovo to wealth and power ner goiueu mi-o will linor lmnvilv noon her. And this was tho result of a 'Summer's Folly." Literary uletle. A Joke on an Actob. Mr. Sol Smith it tlm ai'tnr who was in Oregon last winter, is the subject of a pleasant little story in The Wvixled (Conn.) Frew, which says that Mr. Russell has been o.rwlinc H. few weeks in Pine Meadow. Being given somewhat to sketching he wont out one day and curled himself np comfortabl on a rock beside tho high way, and while engag-d with his pencil was seen by a passer, who hastened to one of the selectmen of tue town anu M,,nrtn,1 that he hod discovered the escaped lunatio from Middletown, for whose capture a rewarunau ueeauuereu. ti.o uwtmin hastened to the spot and began to ply Kussell with questions as to his birthplace, hu Dusiness. dm age, uu to on, all of which questions were to lucidly answered that the official became convinced that hit man was no judbuu. RnQOflU returned to his lodtrings and un- i.nnu.innal-r tnnuxl the ioke on the hv ftlMcribiDtr . visit he had mat trnvi el from a lunatic who asked him all sort of nonsensical questions, ALL FOB A LADY'S HAND. ' I n an artist. I was baptized Smith Jonet.'( There was some little disagree ment incoming my odd Christian name until there occurred to my mother tho unhappy jjoa of adding to my surname her mMjen patronym. This idea pleasod my father exceedingly; he said it was "simple and unique. My mother was a jer8o 0f considerable tact. Dear soul! slujjj n0t survive my infanoy. Smith Jones. Body of Bacchus! What nunc for an artist! But I bore it stoically, though it frequently caused me a litilo mortification. At first I painted foi mere amusement; ultimately I was compelled to resort to it as a source of maintenance. My fathet had set his heart upon my marrying Estelle St. Clair, the daugh ter of his dearest friend. I had never seen the young laxly in question, and, besides, had no notion of marrying. I lookod upon marriage with horror, aud fairly detested women. At tho age of twenty one I was a confirmed bachelor. My father coaxed, threatened, scolded and implored, and finally, with more vehemence than good manners, I told him that Miss St. Clair might go to a very wicked place; and thereafter he was silent, and I congratulated myself that, becoming wearied, he had alto gether abandoned his pet hobby. He died soon after our lust interview on the subjoct, and when his will came to be opened, it was found that 1 was solo lieir to his large fortune on condi tion that I would marry Miss St. Clair; but until I became lier husband I could not touch a penny. Preferring independence and poverty to winning a wife for tho sake of wealth and luxury splendid misery I began my career as a professional artist. In the bogin ning it was slow work, but persovering industry will accomplish wonders, and I soon found myself becoming quite a man of note. An exhibition of paintings was held in the city in which I resided and I sent thither a painting which I had just finished, the portrait of a hand was perfectly crazy on the subject of the human hand; it was one of my bizarre notions. I had painted a man's hand and now the desire possessed me to paint a woman's; bat a living model was necossary, and ou account of my natural dislike of the lair sex, 1 had perfectly abandoned the idea. It was one afternoon, if I remember aright, that I was in the academy, stand ing behind my painting, which rested upon a largo easol, when my reveries were disturbed by the accents of a musi cal voice. I caught the words, "it should have been a woman's hand," and a lody placed Iter own hand on the frame of the painting. My eyes were riveted upon it. As I tape to live, it was perfect. Im plied by some irresistible impulse, I o.'spped forward without looking up, and seizing tho hand, covered it with kisses. in an instant a sense of my tolly flushed through my mind, and, covered with Bhame and confusion, I ruihed wildly from the building, not daring to lift my eyes a flurried to my studio, and threw my self hot and breathless, in an easy chair. "O fool! dolt! blockhead!" I muttered in anguish; and if anyone had happened in at that moment, I would have consid ered it as a personal favor bad he kicked me down stairs. To think that 1, Smith Jones the calm, doliborate, the cynical Smith Jones should act the idiot in one of the most public places of the eity! I paced up and down the room muttering some very hard words, and laying my self open to the imputation of having broken the third commandment, and finally lay down on tho sofa aid fell asleep to dream of all sorts ol haMs, of a horewhipping by the father of tl in sulted lady, and may bo a elinllen( from her furious brother. I awoke about five o clock in the afternoon, and concluded that it would be wise to absont myself from the city for a couple of weeks, until this affair had blown over, and accordingly I hastily packed my valise and took the first train for D Springs. It vas early in the season, and I know tie hotels would not be half filled. Arriving nt the Springs, I found it rather lonely, and became very weariei during my exile there. I was out walkinz one evening just before dusk. and had made np my mind to return tl the citv. "But would it bo prudent?" 1 asked myself, half aloud moment me: she lady, unaccompanied, passed lu H"- ..v" 7 had JoceededbUashortdis.;01''1'0 flapped l's hut.ds ,m her hand attracted mv atten-!nd rourod like u fog horn. No mat tnnce when her hand attracted my atten tion. I walked hastily after her, but perceived that she also had quickened her pace. "Ah!" thought I, "it is un doubtedly Bhe, and I huve been recog nized." Although she was now almost running, I was rapidly approaching her when I saw that Bhe had overtuken a middle-aged man and heard her exclaim: "Oh, John! that horrid man" Though the remainder of the sen tence was to me inaudiblo, I saw that John looked very uninviting; yet his looks did not in the least deter mo from my purpose, for John was a very small man; so I drew near and stood before them. "Sir!" said tho little man, fiercely. "Sirl" I replied, modestly. "Ah!" said the lady, fiercely. "Sir!" reiterated tho little man with the big voice. Turning to the lady, I began calmly: "Madam, I beg you will excuse me, but you will rememlwr " and here I blushed and looked at her hand. Great heavens! It was not the hand after all. I turned sharply ou my heel and Btrode away. When the littlo man had sufficiently recovered from his as tonishment, he followed me, saying something about satisfaction, but I paid no attention to his remark, and when he saw the futility of making his steps commensurate with my own, he turned back. Utterly disgusted with myself, I proceeded to the hotel, repacked my valise and started for the city. I breathed freely when I found myself nni'fl mr.re in 10 Studio. The davs pawed by, and nothing was said concerning my piece of folly in the academy. It was evident hat my friend hf d not heard of it, and I regained my and serenity of de- m pan fir One afternoon I received an invitation to attend a masquerade party at the par lnra f mi friend and patron. Madam . I decided to go but in what cos tume? Smith Jonee could hardly cut a fine figure as a Roman or Othello. Fi nally I conoluded to personate a Turk, and, on donning my costume, saw that I made a very respectable Oriental. The party proved to be a very largo one, and I listlessly wandered through a mass of figures attirod in every variety of costume under the sun. I wot standing beside a tall Roman, who happened to be my friend D when the hand of a passing gypsy girl arrested my attention, and I attempted to follow her, but sho plunged into the crowd of guests and disappeared. "What on earth is the matter, Jones?" asked my friend the Roman in a very nn-Romanlike manner, too. "Thehaud!" I replied breathlessly; and at that moment tho gypsy passed just behind us. Leaving 1) too untonished for utter ance, I followed h r. Tripping through several rooms, she gained the door which led out into the arbor and, seeing me Btop for a moment, lierkoncd mo on. I was not slow in following her, and soon we were conversing merrily togothor, soated upon a rustic bench. I observed that her form was shapely and graceful, and her hand ah, that 'beautiful, jew eled hand! I blushed behind my mask as I gazed upon it, for I knew it to bo tho one which I had so vehemently kissed. In the course of tho evening I was introduced to tho fair gypsy and ere sho departed I had received" an invitation to call on her. Estelle Loraiuo was her name, and sho was a very leautiful young lady. For three days I wandered rostlossly about the city trying to persuade my self that I was in no hurry to call upon Miss Lorraine. Of courso, I did not caro a snap for tho lady; it was her most exquisitely molded hand that fascinated me. The fourth day I called, and was ushered into the presence of an elderly may who proved to ne nor aunt, t'res ently in tripped my gypsy with a mis chiovous smilo on her face, and cordially extended her hand, which I fear I pres sed slightly, for it was quickly with drawn. Tho conversation was rather stiff at first, but presently Miss Loraine's aunt excused horsolf, and left us together alone. I began manfully by making an hum ble apology lor my shocking behavior in the academy, which was accepted with many blushes, it appeared that no one had notieod the rash act, not even her aunt. It is needless to state how frequently I callod upon Miss Loraine and her aunt, and how well acquainted we became ino lather ana mother of .csioiio were traveling upon the continent, aud she had preforred to remain at home with her aunt. Tho oonvictiou gradually dawnod upon mo that it wus the heart and not the hand of Miss Loraiuo after which I was seek ing and one day I asked her to be my wifo. She blushed painfully, and eva ded my question by saying that she had wronged me. I have been tho innocent causo of your futhors fortuno being withhold from you, she said, with tears in her beautiful eyes, "and I have been de ceiving you iu regard to my name; it is .bstelle iioraine St. L'lair. Estelle St. Clair!" I exclaimed, starting buck in astonishment; but the noxt moment sho was clasped in my arms. On tho return of Estello's parents from Europo we had a joyous wedding, my dead father's wishes were finally ful filled, for I married tho daughter of his dearest friend. I am now tho possessor of a large fortuno, a prosperous profession and a beautiful wife, and am, withal, a very happy man. My wifo bus been leaning over Bhouldcr, and Hays, inquiringly: my 'All for a laity s hundr "Say, rather, for a truo woman's heart;" I tenderly responded. The Secret of Successful Oratory. They were holding an outdoor ward meeting tho oilier night, and a speaker hud just commenced to warm up to his work when a stran ger with all his worldly "duds" in un old sheepskin on his buck, boots gono, hut going and a dyed in-lho-wool trump air about him, hulled on ibo outskirts of iho crowd. Tho uout. i BpCt!C, 80on cuught him, and ho bo At that ' . i , i .t, ,wi ,f ter whether the speaker "hit 'em" tt not, tho stiungcr never failed to onio down wilh tho applause, and 10 carried u good shuro of tho crowd vitb him. Alier tho speaker had fciished, and whilo ho was wiping Is hcutcd brow, tho trump up pouched him and said: 'That 'ero speech was ono of the bet I ever heard in ull my lifo." 'A hi I'm fclud it pleuscd you." Pleased me! Why it lifted me liit offn my feet! I tell you, you're u arn orator, und I just wish I cot.i "tuy in this town und hear yoiJunke a speech every night." Mes, 1 wish you could." ''hit I can't. 1 urn on my way We I shall, however, think of youispeeoh u hundred times a day. I cuifecl tho electricity of it yet, and'-iay can't you lend 1110 half u dolla 10 help me on?" "Hi, I don't know you. Why shoulI lend you half u dollar?" "OU'Oiiks now don't try to ride uny h:li horse over me; you know how I'.l I hollered, and you kiiow us weds I do that if I hadn't put in my nt licks you'd have fallen us flat a lsbinglc! You are a greut orator, xr, and that was a great speech, ul if you don't know that hoilerihfis whut does the business, you'd leer hung right up." The or or pondered over the mat ter for a ; seconds, and then prob ably conudod that .the reasoning was soun m he passed over the money. Prut. When a togman and an undertaker meet and k one another, "Well, how's trad it excite quser and perhaps gru emotions in tkt by Under. . Lola Hontes. The adventurous career of Lola Mon tea it toll in the September number of The !c(ie Monthly, and the story is one well told. This brilliant, erratic woman was born in Ireland while her father, an officer in the Forty-fourth regiment, was stationed there. Her mo ther was of Spanish descent, and the young girl was partly reared in India. She lost her father while she was yet a little child, and hor mother, re-marrying, sent her daughter to Scotland to be reared. From that country Dolores, or Lola, went to France and thou to Rath, to finish her education in a fashionablo school. Her visit there was a crisis in her life, Ry nature she was fierce and passionate, and education did not modify tier temperament. Her mothor was am bitious, unscrupulous and vain, and did nothing to correct the faults of her child. She was anxious to bo rid of her daugh ter, and arranged to marry her to a gouty old judge of sixty. The girl objected, the mother insisted, and un elopement with an officer, a Captain James, fol lowed. For a time the couple lived in Ireland, but later he was ordered to In dia, and his wife accompanied him. Hod he been her equal tho world would never have heard of Lola Montes, per haps, but he proved to bo tho gilded shell of a man, and her exacting nature could not bocontent with him. They wero divorced and Lola returned to Europo. She was expected to make her homo with somo of her late husband's family, but she preferred her lilerty, and when she reached England sho hud determined to be an actress. Her deficient English led her to ho&daiiseuxe, and after hard study sho mado hor debut at4Ior Majosty's The ater. She was not a great success as a iM.if., but her charming manners aud impulsive style won her admirers in every city, and gained her iu Paris the acquaintance of tho talented Dajarnier, and eveutually placed her in power at Munich. The political ability of Lola Moutcs has over been underrated. Sho was wise and able, and she had great ca pacity for appreciating and' giving prac tical effoct to great political ideas. Her disposition was generous and her sympa thies wore large, and her position being assured, she would have retained tho power sho gained in Bavaria, and boon a worker in tho causo of radicalism. King Ludwig was passionately fond of her, and raised her to the ruuks of the nobil ity, with the title of the Countess of Landsfuldt, aud gave her an estate of tho same name, with an income of over AT), (KM) per annum, aud certain feudal privileges and rights. Popular disturb ances drove her from Bavaria, and her estates wore confiscated, nhe was vain and wayward, and injured hor own inter ests by her willfulness. The description of her personal appearance ut this timo was as follows: "In person sho was of middle height, with a moss of raven black hair, and largo lustrous eyes of a doep blue, al most approaching black, with long black lushes. The lowor part of her fuce was symmetrical, the upper part not so good, owing to rather prominent chock bones. Her chin was somewhat ungracefully sharp, hor nose was delicately fashioned, with thin, mobile nostrils, whose vibra tions betrayed every emotion of anger or pleasure. Her complexion was pule and dark. Seen in repose, she did not merit her great reputation as a beauty ; but when in motion or speaking, her vi vacity and the oxprcssivenoss which lit up her mobile features and magnificent eyes mado her undouiubly fascinating. Sho was a charming and eloquent tulker, and displayed in hor conversation a wido and koen intelligence and a mental grasp unusual in a woman." From Havariu Lola was taken, under arrest, to Switzerland, from whence sho camo to Loudon. Whilo there a young lieutenant named Hcuhl fell madly in lovo with her, and, much to tho annoy auco of his friends, married the beautiful but too notorious daiiewe. The couple left England and went to Spain, and traveled in that country ami Franco. They wero ill matched, howovor, and eventually lloald left Lola and returned to Englaud, where ho obtained a divorce. The restless spirit of the womun led hor from ono end of the world to the other, and sho was heard of in quick succession ut the theaters of tho United States and of Australia. Sho returned to America and delivered a series of lectures in Now York, written for her by the luto C. Cliuuncey Burr. Sho mado money but wasted it, and was nevor rich again. Hor health was shattered, and her life, away from old 'associates, became wretched. Sho fortunately mot an old schoolmate in New York, und in her society enjotcd moro rest than sho had dono since her childhood days. The last few months of Lor life were spout in charity work in that city. Sho died of paralysis, ut the age of forty-thrco, Janu ary 17, 1901. blio wus buried in Ureon wood Cemetery, and a marble tablet in scribed with her name and tho date of her birth and decease. The remains of her property the gavn to the Magdalen Asylum near New York. Thus lived and died Lolu Montes, a woman whoso pas sionate, enthusiastic and loving nature was her strength, which, by fascinating all who came in oonUet with her, was her weakness. Ccbiositikb ok FiotiKEH. nero's a curiosity of little students, The multi plicatii n for 'JB7054:J21 by 45 gives 44, 44 t,444,4ri. Reversing the order of the digits, and multiplying IZHMlti'J by 45 we get a result equally curious, 5,f55, 555,505. If we take 1WMHD as the multiplicand, and, interchanging the ligun s of 45, take 5-1 as the multiplier, wo have another remarkable product, G,fM,WS.WH. Returning to the multi plicand first nsed, 'JH7054321, and taking M as the multiplier again, we get 53,-.3:W.:tt4-all three except the first and last fignres, which read togethor 54, the multiplier. Taking the same multi plicand and 27, the half of hi, as the multiplier, we get a product of ati.CWJ, GXj,C07, all sixes except the first and last figures, which read together give 27, the multiplier. Next interchanging the figarc in the number 27, and using 72 as the multiplier, with U87G54321 as the mnltiplican.., we obtain a product of 71, 111,111,112 all onea except the first and lat figures, which, read together, give 72, the multiplier. Never be afraid of a man who chal lenges you to fight a 1 net. He will feel all that you feel, and more too. A man who rashet vni mith a tpade it the ehtp to look out for. Postal Cardt. In a long article on the history and manufacture of postal cards, the New York Smuiay JVVir says that the Ameri can Phototype Company to whom the contract for making the postal cards of tho United States was awarded in 1877 carried on the business in that city for two years, but to savo the expense and risk attending the transportation of paper from the mill at Holyoke, Massa chusetts, the business was removed thither in the spring of 137'J, a new building being erected for its accommo dation.' The main portion of the build ing is divided by a partition through the middle. One side is used by the con tractors for manufacturing cards, and the other by the Special Agent of the Post Ollice aud his subordinates in the trans action of the Government business per taining to making up of orders and for warding cards to the various Post Oflices ordering them. No business of whatever nature is transacted with moro systematic precision than is maintained in both de partments of the postal card agency. On entering the contractor s side, tue first thing noticed are tho large piles of paper, which are delivered to the con tractors by the Parsons Paper Company in loads of 3,000 sheets each. The works consume on tho average about threo tons daily at present. The pro cess of manufacturing cards is neither lengthy nor complicated, bnt is at onee so novel and interesting that a brief de scription is worth recital. Tho sheets aro about thirty by twenty-two inches in size, and are just fitted by the plates from which the cards are printed, each plate covering forty cards, fonr in width aud ten 111 length, the printing is dono on two Hoe super-royal presses, by skillful pressmen, and as each sheet passes into the press the number of curds is unorringly recorded by rogis- lHtera attached to the presses, and which are carefully locked every night to prevent turaperiug. Tho sheets are then piled up and allowed to dry, in order that they may not be dumaged by future handling. Incident to the rapid ity with which this work is performed, now and then a sheet is misprinted, but this occurs only rarely, tho number of cards being spoiled in this way being not over one-tenth of ono per cent., or one in 1,000 on the average. After drying thoroughly the sheets are then passed through tho rotary slitter, a machine fitted with circular knives, which cuts thorn into strips of ten cards each, and trims tho edge of the outside Btrip. Thoso strips are then passed trans versely tLrough the rotary cross cntUrs, tho mechanism of which is similar to the "slitters." Tho cross cuts divide the strips into the single cards, which drop into a rotary hopper containing ten com partments. As soon us each compart ment has received twonty-flve curds the hopper revolves and throws tho cards out upon a table. A number of girls thon take thorn, and, afterthrowing aside all damaged cards, bind the perfect ones into packs of twenty fivo each. Other girls then take tho packs, and, recount ing them, put thorn in pasteboard boxes containing twenty packs of 600 cards each. Tho boxes" are mado entirely of ono pioco of pasteboard, without seam or pasto, and, after being fillod, are all weighed. Each box is supposed to woiuh threo pounds aud two ounces. In ho rear of tho building is a large fire proof vault, with a cupaoity of storing 25,000,000 cards. By tho stipulation of the contract Iho American Phototype Company is required to keep at least 10,000,000 in store all tho time. So rapidly has the popular demand for postal cards incroasod that the works havo lately been run night and day, em ploying in all nearly fifty hands, and pro ducing nearly a million of cards a day on tho average. Tho Government por tion of tho work is no less interesting than tho other. Here tho business is carried on in a manner similar to that in tho gouoral Post Office in largo cities. Every Post Offico in the country roqnir ing postal cards sends its order, togethor with a requisition for other supplies, to the ollice of the Third Assistant PoHt-mastor-Genoral at Washington. There tho orders are separated, and all the or ders for postal curds are made up in one gonorul order to tho agency at Holyoke, the names of ordering Post Offices being put down alphabetically. An order is sent every day, and often includes the orders of several hundred Post Offices, and requiring all the way from a few thousand to two, threo and evou fonr million cards to Ull it. During tho first month in each quarter tho orders averogo much larger than at other times, for, at a rule, a large number of offices order supplies in thoso months to last for the quarter. As an example of this there wero ordered during the month of Jan uary last, 3G,4KH,500 domestic cards, while 10,582,000 filled the orders for Feb ruary. A large portion of all the cards made are used in the Eastern and Middle States. Now York alone uses about ten per cent of the entire production. Chi cago stands next to New York, using more cards than Boston. Tho Southern States take but few cards. Tho total number of cards issued dur ing tho fiscal year eliding June 30th, lHti!, was 221,807,000. Tho Department estimate for the year ending Jane 30th, 1880, was 450,514,100, an increase of sev enteen per cent over the previous year's issue, but if the number issued for tho first eight months of the year should be continued proportionately till the close, the year's consumption wonld amount to 275,83'J,050. If a like increase were to be presumed from year to year, before 18'JO the yearly issue of cards wonld ex ceed l.odo.ooo.ooo. Congress passed an act March 3d, 1879, providing for the istue of international cards at a postal charge of two cents each. It was not, however, until De cember 1st, that the first was issued. The demand for them has not been as large as was anticipated. Up to March 1st, this year, three months from the first issue, only 2,500,000 have been or dered, and of this number 1,000,000 went to New York City. Little Rkd Ahts. C. R. writes: I have found by experience that little red ants cannot travel over wool or rag car pet. I covered tar floor with coarse wool or rag carind. I covered my floor with coarse baize, tet my safe on that, and have not been troubled aince. Cover a shelf in your closet or pantry with flannel, tet whatever yon wish to keep from the ante on it, and they will at one disappear. I hart tried it. tUU 10 depend upon ourselves."