The Columbian. (St. Helens, Columbia County, Or.) 1880-1886, May 18, 1883, Image 1

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. G. ADAMS, Editor and Proprietor.
E. G. ADAMS, Editor and Proprietor.
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The years bare tnrned over and over,
bo ft April and aew-drippiug May.
fcince all where a tank of red clover.
Half ground and half sky stretched away,
A little maid sat at her milking,.
And sieging a loveliitiog lay.
Up out of the daify-draped edges
That bordered the green mi iking lane,
Up ont of the tops of the edges.
To list to the li!t of her eu&in.
The brown littleheadvorthe wild bird
Were lifted sgata and again.
A fair stpht it was to behold her.
No anadow of creou her brow.
The grlieh arm bare to the h mlder.
That leaned on the flank of the cow;
Oh. MayJtue, mr beautiful Maytimi!
eay, how hast thou come to her no?
. Draw back from the window the curtain.
.Look In ou tne bed where f-be hen;
The lhadows are cold and uncertain.
The inn goto out of her skies.
Thetlok sul aweary with waiting,
Comes up to look ont of her eyes.
She turns the year over and over.
Clear back to the Maytime gone by.
Clear back to (tiat cloud ot red clover
That shimmers half grouud and half fky:
And she cries from tbe depth of ber anguish,
' My Lord and my liod! is it 1?"
When Helen Vinton was twenty-one,
' the great mills where her father had
made the bulk of his fortune become her
absolute property.
A heavy charge for a girl, and many of
her friends questioned the wisdom of the
will. But it had been understood that
before that time she would be the wife
of her cou3in Victor, to whom sho had
been betrothed almost from her cradle.
And besides this, between her and all
care regarding the mills stood her fore
man, Stephen Walker, the strong, calm
man whom tne men ootn lovea ana
feared, and whose father had been fore
man there before him.
And though the marriage had been de
layed from time to time, and Victor had
ppent most of the two years since sho
reached her majority wandering over
Europe, she had never known the re
sponsibility of her position until this
autumn day, when she sat amid the rich
surroundings of her library, herself the
fairest object there, bending wearily
over the long columns of figures that
represented to ber the state of her busi
ness. There was a qnick step in the hall,
and Stephen Walker entered a tall,
rugged man, with kindly brown eyes,
and a smile that redeemed the plainness
of his features, and with strength and
determination in every line of his face.
"You are examining tbe accounts, Miss
Yinton. I trust you rind no difficulty in
understanding them?"
"Oh, L dare say they are plain enough,"
she replied, with a forced laugh, "but I
was always stupid about figures. This
is a heavy burden you have thrown on
my shoulders, Mr. Walker how heavy
I scarcely realized until I attempted to
go over these dreadful books.
Stephen Walker grew very pale, and
bis voice sounded harsh and strained as
he said:
"I hope there will be no trouble, Miss
Vinton. I suppose Victor will be home
in the spring, and I think Brown will be
quite capable of taking charge of them
until then."
"I dare say we will do very well, and
I cannot blame you for wishing to go. I
know you have talents that are quite
thrown away here. But Stephen" with
a little break in the sw et, proud voice,
and extending her little hands to him
"I will miss you sadly."
He took her hands in hi.s. and bent
over them, with a great sob in his voice.
"Oh, Helen don't you know? Can't
you understand? It id not because I want
to better myself that I must go, but be
cause to stay here, seeing you every day,
and knowiDg, as I do, that you can never
be mine, is madness for, oh, Nell, my
queen, I love you!"
"Stop!" she said, passionately, her
face white, and a steely gleam in ber
eyes that would have daunted a weaker
No; you must hear me. I never meant
to tell you this, but now you must know
why I desert the charge your father left
me. I remember the first day I saw you,
when your father brought you down to
the dusty old mills a tiny, golden
haired fairy, who seemed of liner clay
than I, a rough boy and left you for a
wholo bright day in my care. Helen,
from that day I have worshipped you,
madly, hopele&sly, I know, but as man
never loved befor, and now to stay here
and see you Victor's wife, is worse than
"Have you quite finished?" she said,
ddlv. as he paused. "Iben go. Jt is
you have cuosen
And never dare
to leave here at
to oomo in my
presence again!"
He turned, without another word, and
went wearily out into the autumn even
ing, where the wet wind, sobbiug through
the leafless branches of the trees, seemed
a dreary echo to his thoughts.
And inside, prone on the floor, her
golden hair trailed "Over the rich carpet ,
Helen Vinton laj struggling, with the
great sense of loss and pain, as she
listened to the sound of his footsteps
down the broad path and out of her life,
realizing that Stephen Walker had loved
her no longer or no better than she had
loved him, but knowing, too, that be
tween John Vinton's daughter and the
foreman of her mills was a gulf that not
even love could bridge.
The winter that lollowed was a trying
one to Miss Vinton. Brown, the man
whom Mr. Walker left to till his place,
fell ill soon after his departure, and tbo
burden of responsibility fell upon her.
She was a proud woman and had never
made friends among her employes. Mur
muring and discontent on one side, and
scornful implacability on the other, cul
minated in a strike, involving a heavy
loss to Miss Vinton, and much buffering
among her people.
In the spring Victor returned bright,
handsome Victor with his happy heart
and tunny smile. And with his coming
the trouble vanished as if by mag e. The
men loved him, and subdued by tbe
sharp lesson of the winter, were quite
ready to come to terms.
He was eager for a speedy marriage,
but on one pretext and another it was
delayed until the summer faded and au
tumn was upon them.
Onoe or twice during the summer Vic
tor brought her a newspaper containing
favorable accounts of an invention of
Stephen Walker's an improvement that
t . j" '
liaa oeen in operation m uer mius long
before it was patented. ,
The paragraph stated that he had ac
cepted an offer to superintend; the erec
tion of some mills in South America and
was eoing far away. !
And then the restraint she had put up
on herself suddenly gave way, and she
fell down unconscious at Victor's feet,
who, in all his alarm and anxiety, did
not dream of the true cause.
A few days after this she was engaged
in some household duties, looking very
beautiful in her morning dress of soft
muslin, when Victor's bright face ap
peared at the window. j
"I want you to come down to the mills
by-and-by, Nell," he said. "The addi
tion is almost finished, and I, want vonr
approval before we remove the scaffold
mg. "Very well, Victor, I will; be down
presently," she said, laying her hands
on bis shoulders and looking down into
the frank, handsome face, with a secret
regret that she could not love him as he
deserved to be loved.
'And Nell," he continued eagerly.
"the men have been working like beav
ers to get it finished, and I have prem
ised them a half-holiday to morrow, and
a picnic up ut fie quarries. Could not
you lay aside your dignity, and honor us
with your presence for a while.' It would
be so much better for all concerned if
there was a batter feeling between you
and your people." i
"No, thank you, Victor," she said
haughtily. "If there i3 anything in this
Loase that will serve them, they are wel
come to it. But to go up there and play
the Lady Bountiful, nurse the babies
and listen to the endless accounts of last
winter's rheumatism and this ; summer's
lumbago, is too dreadful for contempla
tion. " j
"What a thoroughbred little aristocrat
you are, Nell ! You were born a hun
dred years too late. But I think I love
you the better as you are," raising the
taper fingers to his lips.
Yielding to a sudden impulse, she
bent forward and touched her lips to the
bright, bojish brow. J
And Victor went down to the mills with
a lighter heart than he had known for
months, for ho loved his cousin, and her
coldness and indifference troubled him
sorely. i
Just then the morning train thundered
up to the little station, half a mile dis
tant, and left a single passenger a tall
man, in a gray tweed suit, who nodded
familiarly to the few bystanders and took
the path across the fields to the mills.
Victor was standing surrounded by
the men, looking like a young god. His
straw hat wa3 in his hand, and, the wind
ruffled his bronze curls. j
He was telling them of his arrange
ments for the pionic, amid bursts of ap
plause and peals of laughter, for the
young master was "always ready with
his joke."
On the outskirts of the little group,
unnoticed in the excitement of the mo
ment, stood a tall man in a gray tweed
Suddenly he raised his eyes to the
scaffolding above Victor's head, and then,
no one knew quite how it happened, but
strong men were thrown right and left
as by a giant's strength. j
There was a sickening crash, and Vic
tor was thrown, as though he were a
child, far out of harm's way. j
But where he had stood a moment be
fore lay a man t hey all knew, pinned
down by a heavy beam across j his chest.
Ard while they stood, horror stricken
and appalled, a graceful woman's form
was in their midst. ;
"Men," she said, in a voice so unlike
her own that those who heard it never
forgot, "can you do nothing but stand
and stare like idiots? Victor, he has
given his life for you. Can you do noth
ing to relieve him? Qo to the house and
see that a room is made ready to receive
him. John Stiles, saddle the fleetest
hors9 in my stable, and ride for Doctor
Jackson as you never rode before; and
the rest of you, put forth all your
strength and lift this beam." j
And they succeeded in rescuing the
man, and before him slowly and silently,
with all the strong vitality crushed out
of him, np the road he had trodden so
often up the broad walk j that hri
echoed so drearily to the sound of his
footsteps less than a year ago into the
house he had been forbidden to enter
again; and before them walked a woman,
with wild eyes and white, drawn lips.
When the doctorcame out of the room,
after all was done that he could do, she
met him at the door. i
"Is there any hope, doctor?"
"I cannot tell yet. He has a strong
constitution, and we will hope for the
best," said the good old doctor, while
the tears stood in his eyes. j
For he had known and loved Stephen
Walker all his life.
"Doctor," she said, grasping his arm
with passionate force, "you must save
him you must, yon must! Take all I
have money, lands, everything but
save his life!" j
"You forget, my child, that the issues
of life and death are not in my hands. If
any skill of mine can avail to save
Stephen Walker's life, I think you know
I need no bribe." j
"Forgive me, doctor! I scarcely knew
what I was saying. I know you will do
all you can, and I am a good nurse
papa always said so."
"Helen, you must not think of nursing
him. This strain on your nerves is too
great;iyou are ill already." j
She laid a slim, cool hand in his.
"Put your finger on my pulse, doctor.
It beats evenly. I must be brave and
strong for his sake. If I gave my life for
him it would but poorly requite what he
has done for me."
The doctor looked into the white, piti
ful face, in which no trace of the old
pride remained, anil read her secret.
"It shall be as you wish," he said,
briefly; "but you must let nurse help
you. It will be a terrible ordeal even if
ho recovers." i
She went into the darkened room,
where he lay in a heavy stupor, and
knelt beside the couch. Presently he
opened his eyes and saw her there. A
glad smile lighted his faoe. (
"Nell, Queen Nell!" ho said, softly,
and then, "Victor is he safe?"
"Safe and unharmed, Stephen; but at
what a cost!"
"It is better so better and easier to
die thus for your happiness than to live
through the weary years of exile 1 looked
forward to."
"Do not talk of dying," she moaned.
"You must live for my sake; for, oh, my
darling. I cannot live without you!
A sudden eladness transfigured his
"Do you know what you aie saying,
Helen? Did you care for me a little, after
"So much. Stephen, that if you are
taken, there will be no good thing left
in life for me but to lie down, and die,
too so much that I could never have
married Victor, though like a coward I
shrank from telling him so."
"I must live, dear," he said "I can
not die now!"
And then he drifted away into uncon
sciousness. It was long days before' he knew her
again long, weary days, while the iron
constitution did battle with the fever
that consumed him, and often vthen it
seemed that the battle was hopeless.
And through it all she never left him.
In that dark timo, all that was best and
sweetest in He en Vinton's nature came
to the surface. She had no thought, then.
of concealing her love; but her whole be
ing went out in one passionate prayer
that he might be spared. And when the
crisis was passed, and he was pronounoed
out of danger, there seemed to be no
room in her heart for her great joy and
They wer married at Christmas, and
I don't think the most fastidious of
Helen Vinton's friends ever looked upon
her as having made a "mesalliance." for
Stephen Walker won both wealth and
horfor, and never did wire glory more in
her husband's success than she in his.
Victor took his sore heart away to
Europe as soon as Stephen was out of
danger. But his trouble was not incura
ble, for he has just brought a fair young
English girl home, to be mistress of the
big house he is building.
Buying a Girl.
Yesterday, though the weather was
bitterly cold, there was a lull in the
storm, and word was brought over to the
saloon that there was going to be a horse
race between the Indians and half-breeds
on the other side of the Elbow. There
was a general stampede for the foot
brigade, and I made my way over in the
company of a cow-boy, whom I had
known only as "Shorty." As we were
crossing the stream he handed me a
handful of nuts, remaring that he was
taking a pocketful over to "his girl."
"Where did you get a girl?" I asked. "I
bought her over here at the Blackfoot
camp last night." "What did yeu give
for her?" "Thirty-five dollars. Oh, here
she is," he added, as a little six-year girl
came capering down the bank to meet
him and take possession of the nuts. The
little one had a new dress, warm stock
ings, new shoes and a little black blanket
all of which had evidently come out of
the store within the laBt twenty-four
hours. After loading her with nuts,
Shorty allowed her to start backward
toward tbe lodge, but thinking her blank
et did not fit her closely enough, he
called her back, and taking off the empty
cartridge belt which held his own .over
coat in place, he belted her liltlo blanket
snng around her waist and then sent her
off, the happiest youngster in the Black
foot camp. "What will you do with
ber?" I asked. "Her mother will keep
her till I get back from Montana, and
then I'll take her down home and give
her to the 'old woman' (his mother), and
then," he added very seriously, "she's a
nice, innocent girl now, but if she stays
here she'll starve till she grows up, and
then she'll go to the bad. I'll take her
home and mother will make a woman of
her." I could not help thinking, as I
went back to the saloon, that Shorty and
his mother were likely to accomplish
more than many a more pretentious so
oiety of wealthy philanthropists might
do during a prosperous career of several
years. Fort Golgarry letter in Torronto
. Fashion Hints.
When ladies go. what is popularly
called "a shopping," they generally do
so without any fixed ideas of their re
quirements. This dress strikes their
fancy, and that bonnet; a wrap in the
window attracts their admiring gaze,
and gloves, they think, are very pretty
of a particular color. These purchases
are made, and the result is lamentable.
The dress is pink purple, the wrap is a
blue purple; the bonnei, is rude, and the
gloves are blue. Each article is hand
some in itself, but when worn together
the "ensemble" is frightful. A little
thought before going to "shop," regard
ing the harmony of colors and the grada
tions of shade, and this blunder would
have been avoided.
They see on a lay figure, or some
friend, a dress that they admire exceed
ingly. They go into a pattern store, pur
chase the paper pattern, and, full of
ardor they make np the new silk dress.
The result, as in the previous, is lamenta
ble, and they throw all the blame of
Jtheir grotesque appearance on "the hor
rid people that sell such dreadful look
ing patterns."
They forget that what suits one figure
does not suit all. An immensely fat
woman cannot wear with impunity the
same styles worn by a graceful, slender
one. A short, stout, clumsy woman
ought not to loop her draperies after the
manner of a tall, lithe one. It is to suit
all figures that there is so great a
diversity in these patterns, and the
range being so wide, there need be no
blunder committed in the selection.
The Cleveland Herald ushers in the
season of outdoor 6ports in the following
poetic style: "This is the dawn of the
season when even the ladies begin to
discuss home runs and foul tips, when
the street gamins flip pennies on the
record of their athletic favorites; when
the disgruntled umpire faces two altern
atives, each seeming to involve a lynch
ing, and when the male biped, from the
national phenomena at the popular game
down to the toddling youngster, regards
the mangled right hand as a badge of
godlike glory."
A novelty for gentlemen is a plush
oovered eigar box, that has a lining of
perforated zinc, and is supposed to keep
the oontents in a favorable condition.
"Well, great Julius Caesar's bald-
headed ghost, what's the matter with
yon," said the grocery man to the bad
boy, as he came into the grocery on
crutches, with one arm in a sling, one
eye blackened, and a strip of conrt plas
ter across one side of his faee. "Where
was the explosion, or have you
oeen in a tight ur nas your
pa been giving you what you de
serve, with a club? Here, let me help
you. There, sit down on that keg of
applejack. . Well, b the great guns, vou
look as though you had called somebody
a liar. What s the matter, and the gro
eery man took the crutches and stood
thftm tin Acrainat t.Vir-. how ' .
Oh, a not laactede tatter with
r o v . tf -4
me, said the boy, in a voice that sounded
all broke up, as he took a big apple from
a basket, and began peeling it with his
upper front teeth. "If you think I am a
wreck you ought to see the minister.
They had to carry 'him home in install
ments, the way they buy sewing ma
chines. I am all right, but they have
got to stop him up with oakum and tar
before he will ever hold water again."
"Uood graciom. you have not had a
fight with the minister, have you? Well,
have said all the time, and I suck to it,
that you weuld commit a crime yet, and
go to state prison. What was the fuss
about?" and the grocery man laid the
hatchet out of the boy's reach for fear he
would get excited and kill him.
"Oh, it wa'nt no fuss! It was in the
way of business. You see the livery man
that I was working for promoted me. He
let me drive a horse to haul sawdust for
bedding, first; and when ho found I was
real careful, he let me drive an express
wagon to haul trunks. Day before yes
terday, I think it was (yes, 1 was in
bed all day yesterday) day before yes
terday there was a funeral, and our sta
ble furnished the outfit. It was only a
common eleven-dollar funeral, so they
let me go to drive a horse for the minis
ter you know, the buggy that goes
ahead of the hearse. They gave me an
old horse that is thirty years old, that
has not been off of a walk since nine
years ago, and they told me to give him
a loose rein, and he would go along all
right. It's the same old horse that used
to pace so fast on the avenue, years age,
but I didn't know it. Well, I wa'nt to
blame. I just let him walk along as
though he was hauling sawdust, and
gave him a loose rein. When we got off
of the pavement the fellow that drives
tbe hearse, he was in a hurry, 'cause his
folks were going to have ducks for din
ner, and he wanted to get back, so he
kept driving along fide of my buggy,
and telling me to hurry up. I wouldn't
do it, 'cause the livery man told me to
walk the horse. Then the minister, he
got nervous, and said he didn't kuow as
there was any use of going so slow, be
cause he wanted to get back in time to
get his lunch and go to a ministers' meet
ing in the afternoon, but I told him we
would all get to the cemetery soon
enough if we took it cool, and as for me
I wasn't in no sweat. Then one of the
drivers that was driving the mourners,
he came up and said he had to get back
in time to run a wedding down to the
one o'clock train, and for me to pull out
a little. I have seen enough of disobey
ing orders, and I told him a funeral in
the hand was worth two weddings in the
bush, and as far as I was concerned, this
funeral was going to be conducted in a
decorous manner, if we didn't get back
till tbe next day. 'Well, the minister
said, in his regular Sunday school way,
'My little man, let me take hold of the
lines,' an-l like a darn fool I gave them
to him. He slapped the old horse on the
crupper with the lines, and then jerked
up, and the old horse stuck up his off
ear, and then the hearse driver told the
minister to pull hard and saw on the bit
a little, and the old horse would wake
up. The hearse driver used to drive the
old pacer on the track, and he knew
what he wanted. The minister took off
his black kid gloves and put his um
brella down between us, and pulled his
hat down tight on his head, and began to
pull and saw on the bit. The old crip
ple began to move along sort of side
ways, like a hog going to war, and the
minister pulled some more, and the
hearse driver, who was right behind,
be said, so you oould hear him to
Waukesha, 'Ye e-up,' and the old horse
kept going faster, then the minister
thought the procession was getting too
quick, and he pulled harder and yelled
'who a,' and that made the old horse
worse, and I looked through the little
window in the buggy top, behind, and
the hearse was about two blocks behind,
and the driver was laughing, and the
minister he got pale and said, 'my little
man, I guess you better drive,' and I
said 'not much, Mary Ann; you wouldn't
let me run this funeral the way I wanted
to, and now you can boss it if you will
let me get out;' but there was a street-car
ahead, and all of a sudden there was an
earthquake, and when I come to there
were abont six hundred people pouring
water down my neck, and the hearse was
hitched to the fence, and the hearse
driver was asking if my leg was broke,
and a policeman was fanning the minis
ter with a plug hat that looked like it
had been struck by a pile driver, and
some people were hauling our buggy
into a gutter, and some men were trying
to get the old paoer out of the windows
of the Btreet car, and then I guess I
fainted away agin. O, it was worse than
telescoping a train loaded with cattle.
"Well, I swan," said the groceryman,
as he put some eggs in a funnel-shaped
brown paper for a servant girl. "What
did the minister say when he come to?"
"Say! What could he saj? He just
yelled 'who-a' and kept sawing with his
hands as though he was driving. I heard
the policeman was going to pull him for
fast driving, till he found it was an acci
dent. They told me, when they carried
me home in a hack, that it was a wonder
everybody was not killed, and when I got
home pa was going to sass me, till the
hearse driver told him it was the minis
ter that was to blame. I want to find out
if they got the minister's umbrella back.
The last I see of it the umbrella was tun
ning up the minister's trouser's leg, and
the point come out at the small of his
back. But I am all right, only my
shoulder is sprained, and my legs bruised
and my eye black. I will be all right.
and will go to work to-morrow, 'cause
, the livery man said 1 was the only one
xu. wo urowu tuai naa any sense, l un-
uorsiauu me mi d later is going to tace a
vacation on account of his iiver and ner
vous prostration. I would if I was him
x never saw a man that had nervous pros
tration any more than he did when they
usuea mm oui oi the barbed wire fence.
after we struck the street :ar. i Bnt that
settles the minister business with me. I
don't drive for no more penchers. What
I want is a quiet party that wants o go
on a waiic, and the bby got up and
nopped on one foot towards his crutches,
filling his pistol pocket with figs as be
hobbled alojg.
"Well, sir." said the crrocervman as he
toolc a chew of tobacco ont of a nail, and
offered some to the boy. knowing that
was the only thing in the store the bov
would not take, "do you know. I think
some of these ministers have about as
little sense on worldly matters as any-
oodyf now. the idea of that man lerk
iug on an oid pacer: jx uon t maKe any
1 - i I
difference if the pacer is a hundred years
old, he would pace if he was jerked on."
Ion bet, said the boy, las he put the
crutches under his arms and started for
the door. "A minister may be scund
on Atonement, Dut he don t want to saw
on an old paoer. He may have the sub-
jeci oi imam uaptism aown nner tnan a
cambric needle, but if he Las ever been
to eollege he ought to have i learned
eaougu not to "ye-up to an old pacer
that has been the boss of the road in bis
time. A minister may be endowed with
sublime power to draw sinners to repent
ance, and make them feel like getting up
and dusting for the beautiful beyond.
and cause them, by his eloquence, to see
angels bright in their dreams, and chari
ots of fire flying through the pearly gates
and down the golden street of the New
Jerusalem, but he wants to tarn out for
a street car all the same when he is driv
ing a 2:29 pacer. The next time I drive
a minister to a funeral, he will walk,"
and the boy hobbled out and hnng out
a sign in front of the grocery, "Smoked
dog fish at halibut prices, jood enough
for company." j
A Singular Career.
Mrs. Mary
L. lielyea, a public school
teacher, with
an unusual personal his-
tory, died at the residence ! of her
brother-in-law, Mr. Coggeshall, at 37
Sydney place, leaving an eight-year-old
daughter. Mrs. Belyea was the sister
of Mrs. General Hugh M eil, who won
fame during the war. She was in her
maidenhood the belle of I Brooklyn, her
beauty resembling that type of which
Mrs. Scott Siddons is a n teworthv ex
ample. She was married to Mr. Rocke
feller, brother of J.s. KockefeIler,of the
Standard Oil company, add went with
him to live in Montana, wbere he held a
state office and lived in 1 lxury. They
had a costlv home and abt ndant means,
and life was most happy with them until
his health broke down. I.e felc that if
he could breathe the air of his native
place, Bound Brook, N. J. , he would bo
better, and he and his wife started
aoross the plains. He died in a stage.
She carried his body for several days
with her in the stage, but at length, at
the request of the passeng rs, she left it
to be shipped east. ler husband
possessed a, largo estate when he died,
but his western agent i? said to have de
spoiled tbe widow of it all, and she was
left so poor that she became a pupil in
Peter Cooper s school of telegraphy
When she was a girl she had a most
ardent lover in Mr. Belyea, whose life
was almost blighted by the disappoint
ment occasioned by her first marriage,
and he broke up a prosperous oareer in
New York to go into the stock-raising
business in Montana. W
hen be heard
she was a widow he started east and re
newed his suit.with poor success at first;
but his persistence ended in her second
She experienced then a transition from
poverty to affluence, and went again to
Montana, she oame east altera time
for her health, and after the birth of her
child her husband sold his ranch, pock
eted the proceeds, amounting? ! to over
S20.000 in cash, and started oast. He
has never been heard from Bince.and she
believes, as do her friends, that he was
murdered and robbed on the way east.
William Orton, president of the Western
Union Telegraph companyLbecame much
interested in her. and as she oould tele-
crrauh herself, he placed all of the West
ern Union telegraph linos at her dis
posal, and she searched by wire every
where for some trace of he r husband, but
in vain. She was then given a ' position
as a telegraph operator, and until
William Orton's death he provided
pleasant positions for her.bnt her health
succumbed to arduous wc rs when her
protector died. At length, through John
Williams, president of ths Fulton bank
in Brooklyn, she secured a position as
teacher in Public School 32,at President
and Hoyt streets, where she taught until
a few days ago. 8he died of pneu
monia. N. Y. Sun.
Daniel Webster's Marketing,
A Washington correspondent gives, in
the followmsr sketch, a pan-and-inK por
trait of the great man as he appeared
while doine his family marketing:
The next morning, alter - one oi nis
wonderful speeches in the senate cham
ber, Mr. Webster might h ive been seen
in the old "Marsh Market" at an early
hour, for he was no sluggard. With
him was a servant carrying a uuge
market basket, and he kould go from
stall to stall, often stopping to chat with
a butcher, or a fishmongeiLor a nucKsier
and delighting them with tho knowledge
he displayed about meats, nsn and
vegetables. Selecting witbj care a supply
of provisions for two daysL as the market
was only held on Tuesdays ,xnursuayB
and Saturdavs. Mr. Webster would re
turn to his house, nexti the unitarian
Church, and see that the meat was
properly hung up and the vegetables
put away. On his way to tne uapuoi,
or there (if his table as not already
full) he would meet a friend and say to
"Come and dine with me to-day. I
have a noble haunch of veaison which I
bought a fortnight since, and have kept
hanfirin? until it is exactly fit to eat. or
"I have received a fine salmon from the
- "L -
Kennebec: come to dav and help me eat
Every spring he would join the Satur
day parties of oongressmin and officials
who used to go down the Potomae on
the old steamer Salem to the fishing
grounds and enjoy freshly caught shad,
opened, nailed on oaken boards, and
cooked before large wood fires. On one
of these occasions Mr. Webster had ob
tained from Boston some rock cod,
uiacaera auu sajt porit, -ana ue made a
chowder. He had a large kettle, and
having fried his scraps, he deposited the
successive layers of fish, crackers,
potatoes and onions over and over again
until there was no more room. Then
pouring in a half gallon of milk, he
run bed he hands, exclaiming
"JNow for the fire. As Mrs. Macbeth
said, 'If tis to be done, when 'tis done.
then tis well 'twere done quickly.' "
1 quote from memory, but I shall
never forget his joyous expression of
countenance and tbe merry twinkle of
his deep set, burning black eyes. The
chowder was a success.
Made a Profit Anyhow.
mi . , i m , ' oiuer day a gentlemanly appear
ing individual entered one of our
prominent drug stores and presented a
prescription over the signature of a well
1. 1 Tl 1 ...
auowu paysician. xne aruercist imme
diately proceeded to put it up in accord
ance with hieroglyphic directions. When
ha had finished he handed the minute
package to the purchaser with a pleas
"Twenty-five cents, please."
The man received the prescription.
went down into his pocket, pulled out
five cents, laid it on the counter and
started to go out.
"Stay, there!" said the druggist:
"you've made a mistake; twenty-five
"All right," was the reply: "five cents:
there it is."
'That's only five cents." was the re
joinder; "I want twenty-five cent."
"I tell yon there it is five cents
there it is!" and the man walked toward
the door.
Then the druggist, getting angry, came
from behind the counter and, tapping
the man on the shoulder, yelled:
"JVly friend, the price is twenty-five
"What do you take me for?" was the
response; "I ain't no fool! There's your
five cents on the counter. Five cents
there it is."
One more attempt wa3 made to explain
the difference between the cost and the
price paid; but it was no use; the strang
er repeated:
There a your five cents, and left the
Then the druggist, using words like
"confound it," "blockhead," "nuisance,"
etc., returned to the arms of a crowd of
friends in the rear of the store, who were
laughing themselves sick oyer his great
"Why that's old
said they; "he's
You are sold this
as deaf as an adder
"Well, I don't care," replied the drug
gist; "I've got his nickle and made three
cents on the prescription, anyway."
Lettuce for Young Chicks.
All kinds of stook like green food, and
it is especially desirable for young poul
try. Where the fowls have plenty of
range it is no trouble to have them sup
plied in that direction, but there are
breeders who have but little room and
keep several varieties, who are compelled
to keep their birds yarded all through
the breeding season, and all poultrymen
know how soon the fowls will clear up
every vestige of grass in their yards. To
keep them supplied with fresh sods is a
good thing, but it either necessitates
going some distance for the daily supply,
or soon disfigures a plot of ground by
taking so much sod from it. Raising
cabbage for them is desirable, but it
takes some time to get it. The quickest
growing thing to raise is lettuce. In very
early spring a small hot-bed will start
enough to last until the sowings in the
open ground have-grown large enough
to feed. Small beds can be sown; and if
a good growth is kept up at first, the bed
will last quite a while as the tops can be
cut off as wanted for the poultry, the
roots being left in the ground to sprout
more leaves and tops, which they soon
do if well cared for. The expense of
keeping up a small bed of lettuce is not
very great, and from it the fowls can be
supplied wito good, wholesome "greens"
at a time when other "garden sass" is
yet in its infancy. It is one of the best
things for pigeons in confinement, and as
many of our readers re pigeon fanciers,
as well as poultry breeders, the advice
above given will be of two-fold advan
tage to them. Breeders, try it. South
ern Planter.
Russian Colokizatiox. The Russian
government has begun to execute its
scheme for oolonizing tbe lower part of
the Amoor Province, adjoining the Chi
nese frontier, by dispatching from
Odessa eight hundred and ten emigrats,
constituting two hundred and fifty fami
lies. If the project, which contemplates
the removal of 100,000 persons to the
new settlements, is carried out on tho
scale on which it was begun the ex
pense will be enormons, not less than
$10,000,000, in the opinion of the Mos
cow Gazette. The colonists already
dispatched were already supplied with
flour, oats, agricultural implements,
forty mill stones, 2000 wagon wheels,
several thousand pairs of boots, and
other articles of clothing, nails, screws,
axes, saws and window glass, and eoch
family received fifty dollars with which
to build a hut.
A File in a Banana. Last Saturday
afternoon Edward Holman, who was
confined in the city jail under .a three
years' sentence to the penitentiary for
burglary, was visited by his wife, who
brought him a basket of delicaoies,
among them several bananas. The
guard on inspecting the baskets discov
ered that the skin of one of the bananas
was broken. Examining it closely, be
found a small file run through tho cen
ter of it. Two files were also found in
the basket. The woman was placed un
der arrest and her husband notified of
the fact. Holman confessed that he had
been plotting to make his escape, and
produced five small saws from his cell,
which his wife had smuggled to him. He
was taken to the penitentiary yesterday.
St. Louis Globe Democrat.
Two children were poisoned at Shelby-
ville. 111., by a dose of morphine given
by mistake for quinine by an intoxicate J
M. W. Gillis, the proprietor of a small
bank at Clifton Springs, N. Y., put into
circulation about 825,000 of forged drafts
and then decamped.
A gentleman of East Mod way, Ma&s.,
83 years old, on Monday shot a wild goose
with a gnn which was used in the revo
lutionary war.
Don Carlos, the pretender to the
Spanish crown, lives in Venice, whdte
he is causing much scandal ' by misbe
havior. The aristocracy generally shun
A minstrel traveling thrcngh Vermont
sings "home, sweet nome so eueot
ively tbat most of the audience get up
and go home before he finishes tho first
verse. .
A story comes from Canton, China, of
a woman who, to punish a female slave
who had stolen some food, cut a slice
from the girl's thigh and made her cook
and eat it.
In jewelry is shown a very novel laoe
pin in the form of a locust with sapphire
eyes, the body oi a Jignt coiorod lapis
luzuli, the legs of gold and wings formed
of tiny diamand chippings.
Curious fact in the grammar of poli
tics: When statesmen get into place they
often become oblivious of their ante---cedents,
though they are seldom forget
ful of their relatives. The Judge.
The contract for building the York-
town monument has been awarded to the
Hallowell granite company, of Maine.
The work is to be completed by October
18, 1884, the anniversary of the surren- -
General Sherman kisses every girl to
whom he is introduced. Teoumseh
always was a reckless cuss, much given
to outting away from his base and de
pending on the country for his supplies
as he went along. Hiwkeye. .
"Mr. Jones," asked Smith of the par
son, "don't you tmnk the wicked will .
have an opportunity given them in the
next world?" "Yes, certainly," replied
the parson, "an excellent opportunity to
get warm." Boston Transcript.
The hammer and anvil of Powell, the
"harmonious blacksmith of White-
church, England, have been Bold at auc
tion. The anvil, when st. uck with this
hammer, gives two notes B and E. Its
sound suggested the melody named after
the blacksmith.
The newest brocaded Ottoman silks
are in designs of fruits and flowers, and '
the scissors of the dressmakers will make
. !i 1 1
as great navoo witu appies, piums,
oranges, grapes and various buds and
blossoms as they did last season with
heads of beasts and birds.
John Chinaman does not taokle to base
ball. In Philadelphia a nine of "pig
tails" was formed, and the first bull
pitched struck the batsman square in the
stomach. He yelled, "Him hurtee belly
muchee," and threw up tbe bat, the en
tire nine following suit. Eartford Pout.
Ginger Cakes. Three eggs, three cups
of molasses, one half a cup of sour milk,
(small cup) lard or butter the size of an
egg, one tablespoonful of sifted ginger,
two teaspoonfuls of Boda, and a little ,.
salte. Make in a soft dough and bake
Orange Pudding. Two large oranges
parred and out in pieces, an inch square,
put in the buttom of a pudding dish,
ponr over them one enp of white sugar;
then make a plain corn starch pudding
without sugar and pour it over the
orange and sugar. Let stand and oool.
Cooking Hog's Head. Strain and
soak the head in cold water 21 hours,
then boil till tender; pick out every bona .
and all gristle. A few pieces of lean
meat are good boiled with it. Chop all
very fine; season with sage, pepper End
salt. Put in a deep dish when warm;
squeeze under a heavy weight; slioe off
and lay in vinegar over night.
Curd Pudding. Heat two quarts of
milk, and add to it half a pint of wine;
let the curd separate from the whey, and
then drain off the latter; mix the curd
smoothly with quarter of a pound of but
ter, half a pound of sugar, a cupful of
finely sifted cracker dust, six eggs, well
beaten, and half an nutmeg, grated.
Put this mixture into saucers, and bake
light brown in a moderate oven. When
the puddings are done, turn them care
fully from the saucers upon a platter,
pour over them a little wine, and dust
them with sugar. Or they may be served ,.
in the saucers, and any good pudding
sauce used with them.
A Utah Fish Story.
They sat around the White House
stove yesterday swspping lies, and when
JackBon had exhausted his store Jones
opened his sample case and began:
"I was do" wn in Water Canon, south
east Nevada, last fall, near Mormon
Spring, where the water rushes through
and under a mountain thirty-five miles
across "
"Tunneled, perhaps," said Jackson.
"No, it's a natural water course, and
comes out boiling on 'tother side, then
runs off in a big stream."
"How does it perforate the mountain?"
said Jackson.
"There's a series of beautiful falls,
with nice steps leading down, then a
deep pool as clear as crystal, with plenty
of mountain trout sporting at the bot
tom. One day a band of Apache In
dians pitched their wickiups near the
stream, and an old buck and his squaw,
hearing the rushing waters below, went
down tbe natural stairway to the stream.
The old buck seeing tbe trout in the
bottom, made his squaw dive for thorn."
"And did she do it?" asked Jackson.
"You bet, for Indian bucks won't '
stand foolishness. But his squaw didn't
come up. She went clear under the
the mountain and came out 'tother tide,
thirty five miles."
"Did it drown her?" said Jackson, who
had become very much interested in the
fate of the squaw.
"No; she came out dripping Vet with
a two-pound trout in her mouth and one
in each hand." Salt Lake Tribune.