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About The Eugene City guard. (Eugene City, Or.) 1870-1899 | View Entire Issue (Dec. 10, 1881)
SlYID BY STRATEGY. "Strange! what can this meat? Ii thii a stupendous fraud, a trick, or what?" And Dr. Tomoroy stored moat vacantly at the closoly-writtou sheet ha hold in his hand. He read: "Dr. Pomeroy, I will notapologize for the unparalleled serrioe I am about to ask of you; suffice it to say I hare heard your history, heard of your struggles, and realize how hard a tank it is for one so young in tbo profession and without f Honda in the great wilderness of houses called a city. Also permit me to add, I have been informed of the cruel blow you received from the hand of one you loved, who was unworthy of youj and vet I am not acquainted with you, nor you with wo. Indeed, we hare never looked upon one another's face. Never theless, 1 am ubout to request you to do me a great favor. Will you come to South Street Church to-morrow at eight o'clock? Come privately, unattended, and aever repeat that which takes place there. Will yon give me, a stranger, a awful olaim to your name, and yet not eek to know wliom you marry? If you will do so, I will make over to you fifty thousand dollars, payable to your order at the city bank, as soon as the ceremony is over. Trusting that the money will be a temptation to you, I shall anxiously await you at the appointed time." That was all. There was no signature nothing to give any clue to the writer's address or abode. Indeed, It was so terse and un feminine in its .details that be was half tempted to believe that some of bis male friends were playing a oke on himsolf. "J will not go I will not be fooled 1" he said to him. He flung the missive down, then he picked it up, folded it carofully, and thrust it in his pocket. He remembered that he had a patient to visit, and went out; but everywhere the content of that strange letter were ringing in his ears. He then went to see his mother. She was suffering even more than usual, and a number of dun ning bills had been left to his consider ationbills which he had not the most remote idea how he was to meet. He threw them down and buried his face in his hands. "Poverty is a curse, mother, he moaned. "I do not know which way to 8ho tried to cheer him, but in vain. Everywhere he turned, hopoless chance seemed to envelop him. "Ah, if that letter was only real," he thought. "Fifty thousand dollars would make me rich." And so ho fretted and worried until the appoiutod hour came one moment vow ing he would not go near the place, the next greatly tempted to see the "farce" out. Eight o'clock found him stealing in. He saw two ladies closely veiled, and a gentleman, standing in the upper part of the building, while the minister sat in a chair. There was but one gas jet lighted, and he could but just distinguish the forms. As soon as he entered, the gon tleman spoke to one of the ladies and she advanced to meet him. "Are you Dr. Pomeroy?" she asked in a low tone. "I am." She led him to where the gentleman stood, and he extended his band. "How do you do, Pomeroy?" he said; and Pomeroy recognized in him the presi dent pf the citv bank. "I am hereby the request of this young lady," pointing to the one who had not moved or spoken, "to inform you that if you ajrree to her proposition, I am authorized to poy to your order the sum of fifty thousand dollars. Pomeroy tried to speak, but his voice was choked. It was no fraud; it was reality. He stood motionless for a mo ment; then advanced and offered his arm to the silent lady. She took it without a . quiver, and went with him to where the miniHter awaited them. The ceremony was quickly performed . Dr. Pomeroy registered his name, and then looked with considerable curiosity at the bold, plain signature, "Ellen Latour," which his bride wrote down. The minister hastily filled out a certifi cate, which ho had brought with liim by request, and winch the maid and the banker Rigned as wituesses. The bride took it, kissed it and thrust It in her bosom. One moment and tho two glided swiftly away from sight. Dr. Pomeroy wiped the perspiration from h's brow, and then asked: "Who wos she?" . "I do not know," said the minister. "I was reouested bv letter, and paid to perform the ceremonv and keep it a secret. It is perfectly lawful." "And I," said the banker, "did not see the lady's face. She deposited the money with me, and requested my attendance tiere to assure yon mat iter pruuuso should be faithfully fulfilled." The three men separated: the cos was turned out; the enrtain fell on the first act. Thn next dav Pomerov tried to realize what he had dono. ' He had sold his namo tn thn nnknown woman but he thnncrht t.lmt r-nnl.1 not im'iire him. She must have been in deadly peril, to pay such an exorbitant price for a sim nlA naiiiA He took an office further up town, and moved Lis mother to a nicer home. Pa tients came pourine in; a different class employed the rich Dr. Pomeroy than those who had employed the poor one Five years had passed away, and he had gained a reputation and auded con siderably to his bank account. He had been an indefatigable worker, and now he felt that he needed rest for a while. "We will take a trip to Europe, mother," he said. "It will do you more pood than von can imagine." A great many gentle hearts felt a pang to see the "good doctor" leave, although their endeavors to eaten mm bad ncen in vain Ha fait un nrpfprencn for the Op posite sex. He had rfoovered from liis disannointment. and he ceased to remem hnr that h was married man. or to think kindly of the unknown woman who bad so radically changed bis wo. They traveled leisurely through the tnnr lhv hail mark Ail ont before thev had started, and one night found them in a French village. About the middle Of the night the doctor was awakened by some one tapping at bis door and calling for him to coma out. Ha tM an. TTa fnnmt thn landlord who told him in broken English that one of his countrymen had just fallen down tair In tt flt Anil rtti aaAini 1 ta ttamai registered M. D., they called him up. lie went into an elegantly furnished room, where a man, some fifty yeara of age, waa lying in a dying condition. A I i. - i r i J uung lauj us uj me uea xanmng mm. The doctor hastily examined the patient and found that it was impowiible for him 11 liwrt lilt tlia L naaaa.1 an1 atlltl wv imv Milk tu uaj ;aom-U taut another, before he drew hia last breath. He never recovered hia consciousness. lhe lady told Dr. Pomeroy that be was her father. His name was Eugene Sydenham, a native of England, and she would like to have him buriod where he died. They were traveling for her health, she went on to explain that ho was a wiuower. Her only remaining relative was a yonng sister, who was being educated in the Convent of the Sacred Heart of Paris. After Mr. Sydenham was buried. Miss ftvilnnhftin wont nndnr thA cam ftf tliA doctor and his mother, to Paris. She . .1 .. . 1 l - .1 V 1 insisted on tneir using up tneir aixxie ivhnrA uliA anArtmnntfl anil an tint A day paRsed, but bhe was with Mrs. Tom- eroy. 'ltie old lady got warmly attacuea about the time they should have to be separated. Silitt tnhl tlmm Annfhlnntlv Tint tn wnn. derthat she did not mourn for her father, for lie bad endeavored to wrong ner deeply; that it was not love that held her to his side; and in all her life she had never been so happy as now that she was free. Dr. Pomeroy watched her. At first ha was verv callant. but at last began to be reserved and cold. A feeling he dared not cherish was growing in his heart, and it alarmed him greatly. "I dare not love her," he muttered to himself. "I am bound." TUa. r.p ilia flrut rimA Iia VAftlizAfl how heavily were the fetters he had forged . , . r. . . . .1 . -I Lt.. lor nimsen. ue noticed tue onange. dub tried to beguilo him to forget the grief that was evidently wearing on him ; and at last, in a fit of desperation, he told her all. I am a married man!" he said, im petuously. "I love you; and yet I am not free to love!" She recoiled, but bade him tell her all. "It waa cruel, unkind of her to bind you so," she said. "No, no!" he ejaculated. "She saved mo Bhe blessed me and I shall always . . . . , i .. respect ber, out never uid my uouun hurt me until I met you. Now I shall be miserable forever. "You may moot her. "Improbable!" "But possible," she said, with a sor rowful look. "I know your Ellen Latour. She lives, and I must give you up." "You know ber "Yes; to-morrow I will introduce you to her. She is anxious to see you; she trnntra vnn arA nArri. Ana she believed you loved me, and wondered if you were as upright as she had always thought you to be." lie bowed nis lace in urn uauus, buu Miss Sydenham left him. The hour had come which he bad Hoped tor in oygone days he was to learn whom be bad wedded; but it gave him no pleasure now. . At an early hour the servant told him that Miss Latour awaited him in her private parlor, and he was ushered into a strange room. He scarcely lifted his eyes as he entered, but wheu he did, they foil upon Miss Sydenham. 1 am n.uun jjuiuur, dud wm, osimj.j. TKn a mxf foal nam . thoucrh I never anticipated revealing the truth to you. Listen to my etory oeiore .vuu uiiuu me," she said. "The man whom you saw die was my ll, TIa marrind HIT mother when I was but five years old, and sister Ada a uaoy. aij moiuer wuo mcumj, and she died a few years later, leaving all our father's property in that mans bands, tie was our siuo ku,u,"" hold our property under his control until we wero married or become of age. He placed me in the Sacred Heart, and kept me there until I was sixteen, and then he took me out, and proposed to marry me to a friend of his. I rebelled. One night I heard a conversation between tuem, and iouna that he was selling me for twenty thou sand dollars, that was to be paid down to him out ol my property tue uiuuicu Turner became my huBUand. 1 was shocked. I had no friends to go to, and was totally at a loss wnat to ao. did not allow me to go into society; I made no acquaintances, and instead of ii utnw in iiv mothers allowing iuo i "v , . 4i house, he kept me traveling about the country. "kt lck T iirnnnsed to compromise father to take me to America, and whon I returned I would f.ion.l TTa eomnlied. and I got my maid to gossip with one of tbe C V . . i .1 1 I,. nlinniA aha servants iu toe noiei, buu vj inhl hr vour history, as her sister worked for your mother. Just before I n 1 , ....1. r t m XT starteu iur fus1""" , , .u iff ,a tiftv thousand dollars 1BUIUCI ic V , , , in my own right, which my step-father . i ... T 11 Ik ....... f,fn, could not toucu. i uu i to New York, and determined to Bave myself with it. Hearing oi you, x -.i ,.i ti.a nion nf ffnttinff vou to marry me. Whon we returnoa to tiURiB"", "j step-father commanded me to iuiuu mj n.i t MhnwAfl him mv marnaife UiUIUIBt'i nuu " , . .oio TTa svore. but he saw bis case was lost. I had outwitted mm. i did not leave biro, but remained to pro tect my sister Ada from a similar fate. I never expected to meet you. I in tended to have you sue for a divorce a soon as he should die, and it would not endanger my safety." "But this intention will never lie carried into effect!" Dr. Pomeroy ex claimed. "You will be mine forever, Ellen!" "Yours forever!" she answered. And when they went to see his mother, there were no three happier people to be found in the whole world. Years have passed since then, and Ada finds a homo with her sister, who never repents that she was saved from a fate worse than death by strategy. ' T John Btetaon one evening met a mali ager "Im gna made an jnquirj o w wo . .MawABA.i ima mtniirir. wo had J600 in last night." "Honest usher, T. , t.v, TT.Hart hnnAat! What that! the deuce are you talking about?" "Well, 1 1 AAA in as.mhutv fnnit hlTO if you had 600 in, somebody must have . J i.ui r k. nl nna of the dropped w in u niuer found it. IPetiox Free Press. THE rirn-DOLLlR BILL Mrs. Dean sat alone In her little kitchen. She never used ber parlor. Tnore was the extravagance of an extra Hrm twi AnnaijliiM.1 th fftflt that tha best rag carpet, woven by ber own skill- a . l 1 a, A ful hands, must not bo worn ont too recklessly, the dread possibility of sun shina fadincr out these chair covers. Mrs Dean was an economist. She believed in making everything last as long as it possibjy could. Aud ao she made the kitchen her headquartors, aud sat there knitting, with ber feet comfortably bal anced on the ktoue hearth, tha saucepan of apples bubbling softly away at the back, and tho sound of her husband's axe ringing from the back shed ss he out aud split the kindling wood, piled up there in WAfl.uniuimiAil loutt. KIia waa a little, wrinkled-faced woman of fifty, with Btiflf ribbon bowa to her cap. hair that socmcd dried up instead of silvered, and koen, blue eyes that twinkled as if they bad discovered tno secret of perpetual motion. To save money was her chief end and aim in life. The very mittens she was knitting wore to be sold at the village store in ex change for tea, sugar, ipices aud all necessary groceries. A ponny saved is as good as a penny earned, was mo golden rule by which she shaped her life. "I'm glad I took that money out of the savings bank yesterday," said Mrs. Dean to herself as tue brignt neeuies ciicsed merrily away; "people aay it isn't quite safe. And one can't be too care ful. But, then, again, there's the danger of burglars though, to be sure, no burglar, she added, witu a complacent inwaril rhiicliln "wonld ever think of looking in the folds of the old Clinker ville Clarion nowspaper in the pocket ou the wall. It's the bureau drawers, and the trunks, and tho locked-up chests that they aim for. A fifty-dollar bill! a clean, crisp, new fifty dollar bill I And all savings, too, out oi tuo iiouso monev." Just then there sounded a knock at the door, and in came old Dr. Bridgman, rubicund with the touch of tho March wind, and muffled up in the furs of the wild animals which, from time to time, he himself had Blot. Good day. Mrs. Dean, good day! said he. "No, thank you; I can't sit down. I'm a deal too busy for that. But I heard yesterday that you took ?50 out of the savings nana t "Yes." said Mrs. Dean, her face invol untarily hardening, "I did!" "We are taking up a siiuscriptiou w o i;fia lamA Dink Hodlov a cart and donkey, so that he can go around ped dling tinware, said tue doctor. in pretty hard for anv one afflicted as he is to get along, and if you can help us a little" ... "But I can't." interposod Mrs. Dean, breathlessly. "The monoy was an in vestment. I don't propose to out it up into litMo bits." "It's a deed of charity, Mrs. Dean, said the good old man, "to holp lamo DickBodley." "I dare say," said Mrs. Dean, a little irritihlv. "But I never pretended to be a charitable character." "The old doctor went away, and tuo next visitor was Helen Hurst, a rosy girl of eighteen. "Excuse me lor interrupting yuu, Mrs. Dean," said she, "but Larry John son was at the bank yesterday, and he tells me that yon drew out your money!" "Was all creation there?" thought Mrs. Dean. Tint alia aid nothinff. Only knit away nntil her needles seemed to glance and glitter like points of fire. "I am trying to got a boarding place at Mrs. Swipes'," added Helon.coloring, 'so as to be near the district school, where I am to teach this spring. But Mrs. Swipes requiros payment in ad vance by the month, and, unfortunately, U'A hftVA nsed no all our slender means in providing my outfit. A teacher, you know, must ue aresseu, ueceuuj w man.l thn rpmiPft of her Pupils. But if vou would kindly lend me $10 " . . . i i r "lt ... 1., tl . "1 never icnu, said airs, umuiwi'j' it ;n iw eri-A in nnv it nn when I re ceive my first quarter's salary," ploadod . " . . -T -r ii 1 . Af n . Ann Helen. "And l uon t aoow u "j else to go to. 'Tt'a oUnfToihor acainst mv princi pics," said Mrs. Dean, with her face as II It Uau uoeu uurTou u. u, Helen Hurst crept out, feeling hu miliated and disappointed beyond all ex nrAssion. xrm TWn ehnckled at ber own .l...1noua hnf. aliA hardlv had time to stir up the apples in the saucepan, before . 1 '.k. lAfltl,AH. Mrs. iirauam enioreu wuu mcniu ..W,i mnmnfttrwiiim iinnk and pencil UUVDIOU UlVUivi huu "I am looking for charitable people, Mrs. Dean," said the Squire's wife, with a laugh. "Then von've come to the wrong place," said Mrs. Dean, frigidly. 1 Our l avrjua w u" " j- - terdayin the machinery of the rolling mill, said Mrs. uranam, iguo4uB ui neighbor's response. "He has left a wife and eight children, totally desti' tute " "And whose fault is that?" said Mrs "Will you not contribute something iuii o . nranA Mm. Graham, opening -...i rolinvinc t huir destitute cou- the book and holding the pencil ready for use. rwtnlnlv not "said Mrs. Uean. i ve no money to spare. ' I "Oh yes about the money that was .1 - ..f nt iha uavintTH haOK! BS1U Mrs. Dean. "But I intend to keep mat money for myself, Mrs. Graham. .u ti,t mBh to the ooor lendeth to the Lord., somy spoxe m. wu.u. .. ... 1. 11 I 1 nn iVu coa I know said Jurn. icu. Tint nobody interprets the Biblo liter ally, nowadays." Mrs. Graham took ner ueparl'"n i .. i : , within hpraftlf that her cr ..,! a fftilnre: and Mrs. Dean, left to herself at last, indulged in a nap, with the knitting-work in ner iap- uj wherein she dreamed that the fifty-dollar i.n i... i i-n tn itunlf Ihps and was run- Dill uau Mtivw . . " - ning away from a crowd of pursuers, her self among the number. When she waked up, roused liy the noise ol coal being poured upon the stove, a candle waa burning and Mr. Dean waa laughing at her. .... "Why, Betsy," said he, "I thought von never was going to wake again. Here you sat with the fire dead out, and Fve had to kindle it up agam. "Blew m!" aaid Mr. Dean. "I must tiava been asleeo nnlte awhile. But." as aha started up she saw that the old wall-pocket, opposite, waa empty "where is that old number of the Clinkor- ills Clarion?" "It was last week a paper, said Mr. Dean calmly. "We have both of ns read it, ao I jutt took it to kindle the ArA "You burned it up? "Ye," said Mr. Dpan; "I burned it np. by shouldn t Z? For half an hour Mrs. Dean sat silent and never spoke a word. Her first utter ance was: "It's the Lord s judgment upon me! Mrs. Dean was a resolute woman, full of character. She went to her tablo drawer, took out a sheet of paper and wrote to Dr. Bridginau.inclosiug a dollar toward lamo Dick Bodley's cart aud horse. She sent another dollar to Mrs. Graham for tho poor little O Haras, aud nrntniiuut to lllltlllto it liamil of rUSBotS. S bushel of potatoes and some of ber hus band's cant-off clothes to cut over for the nhihlren. And she sent for Helen Hurst to oome and sco her. "I can t lend yon flO.my dear, said she, "because I haven't got it. But I'll (aII vnn what I'll do. I'll lot vou make your home here as long as yon please. There's a nice spare room, and it's an eighth of a nulo nearer than Mrs. Swipe s to the district school." "Oh, how very, very good you aro! said Helen, her eyes swimming with grateful teara. w .... r w-y nvi. ! l "Uoodr cried Mrs. uean. -1 m just beginning to see what a selfish, greody KrA.lnM T'va twwn all mv life, lint you're welcome, my dear, and it shall not cost you a cent. ShA miAned her parlor, shook out tho curtains, and built a fire in the air-tight wood stove. Dean likes the parlor, said she, 'ImommA it has such nice south win dows, and I don't see why we shouldn't enjoy it." She baked a fresh batch of ginger broad and sent a loaf to old Mrs. Mmlgo; she took out a basket of hickory nuts for litthi Hurrv Jones, who was trvintr to crack dried-up pig nuts on tho stone by the roadside; sue renewed ner buu scription to church charities. "I can t be vory noerai, sue said, but I am determined to do what 1 can." "Thut'a ricrht. mv dear that's riffht!" said hor husband. "We shall be pros perous, never fear. I'm awfully Borrv about burning up your fifty-dollar bill; but, if it's going to open your heart like this, it's tho best thing that could have happened to ub. Mrs. Dean was sweeping out the kitchen. Sue looked around with a smile as she moved the wide-leaved table which always stood under tho wall pocket, and took down the pockot itsolf, a rude structure of splints, lined with red cambric aud tied with cords and tassels of red worsted, to dust it out. "Yes," she said. "I am afraid I was getting to be a little miserly, and why, what's this?" Mr. Dean stopped and pioked np a slip of crumpled, dark-green paper, which had lallen out irom tue waii-poea aa hia ifa tnrnod it UDside down and tapped her finger against it to remove all possible dust. ..... .. .. .. 111,11 !1 1. . "It s the nity donar oiiu " arith mmith unil ovea oneninii in unison. "It must have slipped down from the folds of the newspaper and lodgod bore." "The Lord has sent it back to ns," said Mrs. Dean, reverently; "and He has sent a lesson, wise and raonmul, with it." "Well." said Mr. Dean, after a mo- of silence, "there's a losson in almost everything He does, if we did but know it. Ami all thn theoloorians in the world could not bave improved upon the faith of this simple, unlettered old farmer. Disinfect lour Trees Thore is no doubt that the planting of . . ... . . ' L i .. 1 .inu rali a vurinllCB OI Halt trei-i nuu vines will be greatly extended in this county the present and in succeeding seasons. The stock for the extendod plant is likoly to oome from nurseries ami viiiAvnrila in districts abroad that are more or loss infested with scale insects, red spider, aphis, codling worm, pnyi- loxera, and otuer pesis, wuu muiuu vet we have not been extensively " ..... . at 1... troubled, tuongu Bonie oi mem ru tn hrt habitats with us. and will inevitably Rive us a great deal of trouble. To contend with the natural increase and dispersion of the fruit posts we now have in our alroady planted orchards and vineyards will Buflloiently tax our efforts and resources, aim wo should take care, by proper treatment of imnnrtn.l nnronrv trees Bud vines or cut- tings, to dostroy any insect lifo thero may be upon mem, oeiore mujr ,.i..nta.i on.i Iia vrunnini7s or boxes in which they may be packed should also o i u.ii Iia i AHtrovad ov nre. or iuur- ii? iiiuinfnrtnd bv the same treat ment applied to the trees and vines or cuttings. The lye, wusie-nu mmy uu -i,,i. nr nthnr washes, that are mnnrnmnmillll KH Sftfl) Bnd efftfCtUal. CM be conveniently and thoroughly applied beconveuiontiy ana iuoruun"'j aj.i. to fifty or a hundred nursery treta piled toKethor,bofore planting. Conti a Costa ' Gazette. Hardly Consistent. The following incident floating in the press of the country illustrates win m' consistency of human nature: n "Do you believe in predestination, in a M iuuinHintli caotain of a clergy man who happened to be traveling with him. , , nf nmirHA T do." was the reply. "Then you believe that whatever is to be will be. "Certainly." "Well, I am glad of it." "Why?" . . "Because I'm going to pass that boa. ahead in just fifteen consecutive min utes, if thore is any virtuo in pine knots and safety valves. So don't be alarmed ; if the boilers are not going to burst they wont; that's all." T7.,nn thia the divine beaan to put on his hat and looked as if he was going to back out, which the captain observing, remarked: "I thought yon believed in predestina tion?" . . ..... "So I do, but I prefer being a little nearer the stern when it tskes place. It was very nngallant in the old bache lor who was told that a certain lady had "one foot in the grave," to ask if "there wasn't room for both feet" The Salvation Arm? ana the Rough In ... . ingisiiu. Fnr tn vAara. or tharealiontii. our towns have bad frequent opiortunitios of witnessing an cxiuoition not to every- lwvlj'a IiimIa M'ha "SuUatinn Arniv." as far as it can lie kuovn to the uninitiated, consists of bands of men marching through tho streets, generally toward nhnr.-li limn " with bannera. devices. and aometimes emblematio helmets and other accoutrements, singing aonsational h,vmns,and by thoir gestures invitiug all whose eyes they succeeded iu catching to fall in and march with them to some headquarter or rendezvous of those who are to be saved. The worship they con duct under cover is not quite of tho sober aud monotonous character that finds most favor with English re spectability. The confident heirs of a newly-assured salvation sing hymn after hymn with emphatio refrains, iu an ascending scale of devotional energy. At intervals exhortations wuicu are at least simple, intelligible and frequently re iterated, restore their tlaggiug energies for fresh multitudinous utterances. Tho sense of numbers amounting to an army, if not on the spot, yot in faith, everywhere present, feeds the strength of the indi vidual. Tho devotees are told, very libnlv with tmth that hundreds of thou sands are at the same moment marching towards Zion, scouring ner uuiwaras, ascending her steps, and even entoring hnr irot.ia lliniiluin that tli A enthusi asm does not always dio away when those provocativea are wiindrawu. it is piain, inn Hint thn mnviimntit has not lost the attractiveness of novelty and youth. The army is still found on our streets, xi is not. in Iia ATttAfttAil that even so much of a good minority of a settled and well- regulated population snouid tase part in such a movement, or like it, or oven re card it with indifference. A very large part of our own population, on one ground or other, ociieve uieuiseivei auvAil alreadv. and therefore under no noed to go out of their way for a new call. A large part are vory wen sausnod to be in a fortunate minority in this respect, aud take an exclusive view of the celestial circlo. About the last thing they desire is to mnot tlmir nniirhhnrs there, esnociallv if they are not clean, or talk broad, or can not distribute their b s properly, a large nart. ar . niiita content not t6 be saved: lndoed, think there is no such thing. If . . a m w .1 these various olasses be addeu togetuer, thov will constitute an immense majority against the "Salvation Army." Most of these people, however, are ready to loave it alone. They will be neitbor for it nor against it. But thero remain the irre pressible "roughs." It is unnooossary to describe thorn, lor tney promise to ue nnr tnnla and masters. Thev are the present tyrant, whose function it is to test the sincerity oi tue virtuous buu mio gratitude of tho brave. It is with them that the "Salvation Army" is now waging its only physical warfare. English people generally would leave it to the fuat. nf tim Thfl 111 On that Stftiffffir OUt of the public houses, or that bave not yet recovered from tuoir ctaturuay niguts narnnun nr that dread some possible in terference with their own ways, molest these harmless soldiers witn insulting ories, mockery, and more serious annoy-1 ances. luo niiiu oi tuo niuiuntj, wio good taste of tho educated, and the nni versal sense of dooency aro outragou un dnr Uia nrntAnsa of interrupting the ex oeptional methods of a fewv But it is evident mat ii me - rougim w w u in.i,l tn .In what tlinv like, the streets can no longer be called the Queen's high way, or the land of her realm. tionnon Times. A Eelio of the lie volution. it tha hint mnntincr of the Vinrinia Historical Socioty, iu Biobmond, Va., a ourious anoiont document was reau uy the Corresponding Secretary. It is tho handwriting of Col. Thomas Waring, of Goldberry, Essex county, va., an aroont rebel, who was with Washington at the of Trenton and l'riuceton. It is entitled. "The Last Will ami Testamont . . a 1 V A ii. of Old linglond, and is uaum at tue li.l,.n. nf Mni-nuuitv. this lUtll daV of i niHvq w . - - ' April, just four years from the fatal day on which my last opportunity win liv ahaddinir the blood of Amerioa at Lexington, in the year 1779. The follow ing are the beqnosts made: "I, Old England, holm in a very weak ....1 I..r,niiu1iinir atata thrnriirh volnntU- aiiu u(ji...o 1 u ousness and loss of Blood, do mako and ordain this my last will anu testament, in the manner following viz: Imprimis I do give and bequeath unto the Bishops of St. Asaph and Peterborough, to be equally divided among thorn, all n taa1inlln '"1 I iriva all mv sincerity to the Worthy Members of the Minority in the "3. I give all my knowledge in Poli ticks to Lord Camden ana Jjoru Aoing don and those other noble Lords who opposed tbo Ministry in their Misohiev ious and Cursed war iu America. . "4. I give to my sister Scotland all my Pride and Haughtiness. u, i jhu w mj in. ..v.. half of my Poverty, Distress and Bum. "0. I give to the Earl of Bute and t t xt..h. .11 Wmnnlinrv anil Tvr- r t : . i. mw a.utnr TrAluml thA nnA Lord North all my Treachery and Tyr n lmannallv iliviilnd amonoT .them "7 t irivA tn T.nrd Hnwo and General Howe all my Cruoity as a reward for tiiATVmitmeutof the American Prison ers. "8. I give all my low cunning to ixird Mansfield and Lord Uoorge uormau. "9. I give all my Stupidity and Ob u.'nn.. tliA tirnflunt tninlHtrV. "id T iriva mv Power by Sea and T nml 4i M.a Prnn.h KiniJ. "11. I give my Integrity to the King of Spain. "11. I give my Trade and Commerce to tho State of Holland. M l T rrivA thnA alliflct Mortals. tU6 Tories of America, one Ton of Hemp, to be equally distributed among tuem Dy t n "14. I give my Bight ami litlo in tnat most glorious tract called Magna tnana to the United States of America, to their Holrs and Assigns forever. "16. I give unto my Colonies in 1 vi Panada. KoVB Scotia. v..t on.i wat Florida tha West Indies AJtM BtJV V the other bslf of my Poverty, Distress - . a - a. at. TT.Ii.J andltuin; and l do appoiat tuo nmwu States of America to be guardians of my said Colonies. Ad elephant in a North Carolina circus ranantlv drank s Dailful of whisky. The trnoksn beast. A Osseous (iejier. The last well put down by the Rarnia Association was on the farm of Peter Lambe about three and a half milog to the southeast of the town. At a depth of 600 feet thore were some indications ct N oil, but the prosecution of the work was stopped last Tuesday night at about 12 o'clock by tbe flow of gas from the well nati.hinn tfr frnm a tnrph in tllA hands of one of the drillers, who at the time was at a distance of io feet from me well, the wind blowing at the time in his direction. The ignition of gas iu an oil well is by no moans un common, but this particular blase soon developed sown unusual featurea. The gas, instead of burning quietly in a small circlo around the eutlot, seemed tn lui fnrend ont with extraurdinarv power, and the volume of vivid, silvery .1 - .' j..n .i i.:i. il uiiinu is iuiit luirij IOUI mgu. uuv tuo muni rnmalfalilA Avhiliitinn la that at in tervals of exactly fifteen minutes by the . .1. .i . : i . . i r . wttu u iiioro is yrnuu Hrujuiuu ui wbm which mingles with the flames, nd bo far frnm ATtincrniuhltiir tliAtri ilrivAa thnm in sheets above the highest trees and falls in showers for a considerable distance around the well. This eruption of wa ter, which lads about two or three min utes, is proceeded by a gradually in ereasinir roar, aacomnanied bv a serins of powerful gasps like strokes of some niiguty engine, ine miqtnre oi water which, by the way, is said to be stromrlv impregnated with sulphur with the flames pro duces effoots in color which aro uazsling In tliAi'r hrilliannv and twiautv. variuna shades of yellow and purple predomi nating. iue rpecwcie, enpeuiauv it wiv nossed at night, is indescribably beauti ful btiil ita nfTni't ia tiAicrhtiinAil hv a alight dash of weirdnoss caused by the unusual color of the flames and the cor responding rolloction which it throws on the foliage of the surrounding trees. The birds seem to be almost paralyzed ov tue nnvnntAil illnminatinn. All nichl fonir. so the drillers say, they skim around the names, uttering sunn cries oi aiarm, sen become either so frightened or so bold 41. a. (!. nlii.li, .lmimi.lii lit. m.n tiv bum IUCJ liugim Riungnius uv ucu, uj whom they are frequently caught. Every effort has beeu made by the drillers, Messrs. Fair Brothers, to shut down thia brilliant show, but thus far without sue cess. Twenty loads of sand were turown nn tint withont f(Tnot. Afterward a number of tarpaulins were placed over the vent and sand turown on top, out tue flames belchod out with apparently un surpassod vigor, throwing these impedi ments aside as if they were so many feathers. The drillers came to the con clusion to try, as a last resort, to invert a heavy iron tank over the flame and surround it with sand, so as to exolude the air. The opinion of most of those who have seen the phenomena is that the subterranean power is so great that this plan will share the fate of those whioh preceded. Large numbeis of people have visited the woll. It is a sight that baffles description, and once seen will never be forgotten. ISarnia (Canada) Observer. That Uia Brandy. On a reeent night at the Davenport agister before going to bed, and aaw in House, 'loocoa. we tooa a 100a at tuo . urge 1 lanra business hand the name of M. L. Bonham, Columbia, 8. C. We wondered if it was our old friend, Governor Bon ham, or one of his grandsons. We al ways arise early, and on entering tuo hail the next morning we saw a gentle man aa atmiirht aa an arrow, with the old military carriage of a General, and . anow white beard, it waa our oia iriena XfillAilcA. whom we voted for os Maior- Generai of cavalry when we were only 16 v . ii. "I--- years old. in tnose uays ooutu vru lina was truly a military Stato. Only a certain nnmber of calvary was allowed.' I rode fourteen miles to muster in cav alry before I was o: the age required by law. and thon they could not transfer me to the infantry. I attended camp-mus ters undor iionham, at oneoi wmou ue and General Froderick Garvin were considered tho best ridors on the en campment, and in trying the speed of their horses, General Garvin was thrown and seemed to be as "dead as a door nail." Tlnbrigado anrgoon could do nothinir for him. and Bonham said to Aibon whn waa then Governor: "By G . unless we can stimulate him he will . .... .ti-ii never oome to. uot a oottie oi tuat om brandy." A servant soon brought it.and ltnnham nnt waiting for a corkscrew. broke the neck of the bottle with a horse pistol, flllod the tumbler three-fourths full nf nmllnw ta?entv-vear.old brandy. forced Garvin's mouth open, and poured .. V li. I 11-..1.1 it down him. in uau an uour tun uiu fullnw waa lniiahinir and oraokinoc iokes. Those wore glorious days! Ga. Sun. Woman's Work. At. intervals one is shocked by reading of the suicide of some poor woman who cannot find work to do, and prefers death to dishonor, This is very sad ; but need it be? Throughout our broad land suroiy there is plenty of work for women's nim ble fingers if she looks for it in the right place. But unhappily buo i eiuom suqwb how to set her skill and energy in the right groove. In the cities you find hundreds of thousands oi women strug gling for work as shop girls, hair dress miners, etc.. and failing. simply because they stay where thore are thousands 01 tue same traua iu iuujiioi,i i; n tiiAv wnnld co to some village or inland town, where taste and fashion are beginning to create a oemanu tor their work, and where living is cheap, they could be sure in the end of compe- tonoy u not xortnne. ud iiw oiuer uuu inland towns and farms you find hundreds of thousands of other women, anxious to make a living, send ing poems, novols, pictures and uign art embroidory literally by the ton for sale into the cities, which are already swarm ing with unsuccessful authors aud artists; and blind to the fact that thoir noighbors really want a first-class milli ner, embroiderer, saleswoman or hair dresser. Oood servants, too, are needed ; but Chloe and Bridget are the queens of our kitchons, and enjoy a comparatively easy life, while women who could fill their places remain in the cities to starve. M. M. Molesohott and Fabini find rea son to believe that the elimination of carbonio acid from animals increases un der the influence of light, and that light acts not only through the eve, but over the whole surface ef the body. 4