THE COLUMBIAN. i " i 1 THE COLUMBIAN PUBLISHED EVERY FRIDAY AT V ST. HELENS, COLUMBIA CO., OR., - BY . G. ADAMS, Editor and Proprietor. PUBLISHED EVERY FRIDAY AT ST. I1ELENS, COLUMBIA CO., OR., E. G. ADAMS, Editor and Proprietor. Subscription Rates: Advertising Bates: One year, in advance .. 82 CO - i 0 50 mx month. - Three months, YOL. HI. ST. HELENS, COLUMBIA COUNTY, OREGON: MAY 18, 1883 NO. 41. One iquare (10 Hoes) first inaerlion ........ ?J 00 Each xubsequent insertion .....'............. 1 00 COLUMBIAN". i " i . i - AN. UNPUBLISHED POEM. ALICE CAREY. 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?" HELEN VINTON'S PRIDE. 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 man. 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 death!" "Have you quite finished?" she said, col ddlv. as he paused. "Iben go. Jt is well you have cuosen And never dare to leave here at once 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 suit. i 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 face. "Do you know what you aie saying, Helen? Did you care for me a little, after all?" "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 thankfnlness. 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 Globe. . 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. THE BAD BOY. "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, thx.ro 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 marriage. 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 him: i "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 it." 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 , ' j.ne 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 ant "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 cents." "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 cents!" "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 store. 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 trouble. "Why that's old said they; "he's You are sold this as deaf as an adder time." "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. FACTS AND NEWS. Two children were poisoned at Shelby- ville. 111., by a dose of morphine given by mistake for quinine by an intoxicate J physician. 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 him. 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- - der. 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. HOUSEHOLD HINTS. 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 quick. 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.