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About The Oregon scout. (Union, Union County, Or.) 188?-1918 | View Entire Issue (Jan. 20, 1888)
TOLL'VER'S NELL. Sho's n llttlo mlto o' croetur, llnr'ly linco high tor a iluolc, Hut tor sight neuter, owector Fnco hni nevor been my luck. Hn'r n mtclillin' norrcl color, Y.vck tliat roalco thu shy look dullor; "Thct's her stylo and suit mo woll Kz tho rest o' Toll'ver's Noll. l,nws! ftho woulitn' rach my shouldor, Boosted upon tippy-toe! Yet I feel er rlstht smurt bolder Wen she nln't so vo'y close. . Cur'us thot n got sh'u' dnzo mo, Won no man cr beast kin fnzo mol ""Peers llko Its a k'nd o' spell t No ono lies 'cep Toll'ver's Nctl. V 1 nm not much U9C" ter takln' Any word off any tnan: Hut I sot plu" " scart an' shakln' ' Won slic caslon'ly boz; "I)anl Itow long 'foro ye'll'low It's truo , Thot I ho v no uo for you t" Sho's n master hand to toll Cuttln' things, is Toll'ver's Noll. Thar bo men 'ud git orfandod Hy sech plaln-out talk, yo sayf 1 Woll, It 'pears cz of I'm londod V Strcn'th tor stan' It thls-a-way; Tor I'm boun' ter stick till sho Takes mo tor Rlt shot o' mo; To kin wear out any gel, Tho shu's sot as Toll'vor's Noll I Era Wilier Mctllauon, in Tid-nUtt MR. CLOVIStt'S GIFT. Tho Thanksgiving It Mado in tho Deacon's Houao. Two smiling middle-ngnd faces looked nt ono another across llio libra ry table. Mr. Clover win recounting lo lils wifi tho prospects of success that had opuned in his business this fall. "Yes, my dour," ho said. "wo must do something unusual hy way of n Tlnviksivliifr offering this your. What nhall il b ?" II w much shall it ho? lirst," said Mrs. Cover. "Woll, say a thousand; weeansparo it as woll as not." ,"1 know what I'd llko lo do havo tho church ro-frosoood and soino now carpets put in. That stained ceiling mid that worn path up tho contor aislo do distress inc." Kcry llting in Mrs. Clover's house ivas fresh a id shining. Her eyos were spoiled at homo for shabhy things abroad. "Woll. I'd likn to hoaulify the church." said Mr. Ciovor. I'll speak to some of tho coininllteo after prayor moiting and toll lltoin what wo pro pose." "Will (hoy lot us?" 4Lil II-? " Well, I guess so." "And let us havo some choice about colors and carpets, I hope?" "O i, you'll see; you'll have it all your own way." Mrs. Ciovor looked beaming. In fact, two vorv happy people went lo jiritver-meetlng that night. "Nice folks." said Kboni..: r Grist, the sexton, as hosawthoin pass nptho jiislo; "but sometime there's a loello of (he 'strut and crow' about 'inn, loo!" Indeed, good Mr. Clover was that mlniilo nuHlllating a Utile Thanksgiv ing speech In tho mooting, which per haps might haVo had tho echo of tho "crow" only too audible in II for cap tious oars. Hut tho speech never was mado; for ho had not been live minutes in moot ing before there oamo some words out of tho Now Testament, which soeincd to pull his heart right down from lis place of j ibllatiou and stick il full of thorns. A shadow foil over his ruddy face, and his wife, who did not In the least, understand it. immediately co llected It in her own. The words which had this unhappy Effect were llicsn: "Therefore, if thou bring thy gift to the altar, and (hero rememberest. that thy brother hath aught against thee, leave there thy gift before the altar, and go thy wnv; lit"- I be reconciled to ihv brrthor, ami then (tome ami oiler thy gifi." Ami there sat, across (he aisle, nearer the door, but still within reach of every uuousv side glano '. a brother who had something agai ist Mr. Clover. It wits oulv poor old D.taeon S moil. His face was thin and severe; his hands shook; his hair w as white; his clothes were shabby. II t ha I Icon made dea con because of lil- burning .gal; but the s 'verity of his spirit had not made him popular in the church, lie was often el odils with his brethren. He o'Utcd heresy In every broey. lie mourned wr a church whoso mem bers Huuetimes allowol dancing and i-sird-playlng in their homes, and evou took drives on tho Sabbath. Pour Deacon Simon, who often stood atone testify lug for old wavs of righteous ness, and whose sensitive spirit was so r.miicd by the Indill'erenco with which his testimony was received! duly last month he had objected to ti children's October Sunday where there should be autumn loaves and kindred frivolities brought Into t'lturch. Then llrolher Clover, who looked so good-natured, but had u choleric temper of his own upon occasions, had tired up and spoken Iiimty words to the good doa noi, words as rude as a blow. They had b 'en received in slloium; they had novel been upnlogivswd for; ihoro had buon liltle inli icoiirse butwuou tho two inc'lnilCC. "I won't apologise. " said Mr, Ciovr now to himself. "I tulU him i he iriitli. a. id nothing cite would have slopped hio talk, ami nerved our turn." "If thy brother hath aught against tlu.,." luinimud tho uuwelooiue words in his mind. , Ho ns going to spoil a good thing. Wc couldn't stir hand or foot In tltia chuiuh If somebody illdu't pin down Ids dniulnuorlug spirit. I'm Kind I did II." "If thy brother hiith aught against thee" repeated tho echo. "Jlu'd no business U luy It up against mcl Ho ought to thank ino for tolling him tho downright truth." "L-nvo thcro thy gift before tho altar" ropoatcd momory again. "Stop a good thing hccatiso I" don't ploaso an old curmudgeon llko that I" "F.rst ho reconciled w.lth thy broth or" sang tho inexorable verse. "There's no such thingl Might as well try to bo reconciled with an old boar. There's no use wasting words with him." "Thou thou como and offer thy glfi." "I'diawl pshaw! What a fool I am! 1 haven't heard a wo- d Dr. Par s uis has boon saying. Now who's going to ofler prayer? D.jarl if il isn't Simon!" There wero fow of tho customary greetings botwoon the Clovers and thoir neighbors whon tho mooting was over. Without waiting to sco any member of tho business committee. Mr. Ciovor hurried headlong out of the church. His wifo lost no timo in asking for an explanation. "Oh, I'm all upset; I'm such a fool!" "What Is it?" II i know ho would havo to toll hor In tho ond, and besido it was roally a relief to him to do so. Sho askod somo close questions. "Tell mo just what you said," she demanded. "Well, ho said wo wore just teach ing tho children to make play out of worship. That made nn mad, and says I: 'D.iacou Simon, if you'd been tlK-re when they brought tho children for Christ to bless yod'd havo been ono lo rebuko them in sure as fate' Thai's j ist vour (-p!rit right through!" "What did ho say?" "Not a word; though ho kinder flushed up. Ciiicss be was mad. You soe, I was. Tho way I spoko was as bad as tho words. " "You've got to ask bis pardon." "Yes." groaned her husband. "You might as woll do it now. I'll go tho rest of the way alone; you go right back and Hud him." "It won't he a might of use, Ellen. Tho niinuto ho hoars of the church be ing ivdocoralod, ho'll ho mad again. Ho can't abide any thing now." Hill you'll have done your duty. I'd go right o IV." Mr. Clover turned, slowly but obediently. There was nothing of tho "strut" or "crow" in his manner now. Ho looked quite cowed and humbled. Doacon Simon lived quite out on the edge of, thu town. There ho had in herited a farm and homostoad. He had toilo.l hard over his stony acres, and they had yielded him but a scanty living, yet he was deeply attichedto the old place, as everybody know. Mr. Clover was surprised as ho en tered the old-fashioned hall to find llm carpet taken up, and only a big pack ing box ready to be nailed upstanding Ihoro in place of furniture. Tho par lor, too. was baiv. except for some chairs piled up, two-and-two, as if for removal. O.io of these was gl von him, and he was asked to wall for a few moments. Piosonlly, In hoard the deacon's well-known voice at evening devotions In tho next room. And I lies ii were the words that trembling old voice was speaking; () Lord. wo thank Theo that Thou host blessed to us the shelter of this home so long. Now, go with us. its we go from hence. Thy will h i done. O. Lord, Thou hast been our dwelling place In all In all" and hero there was a break, and, in the silence, the sound of a woman sobbing was audi ble. A new idea broke upon Mr. Clover's inlml and greatly agitated him. ' Cm il be thai Martin has foreclosed that mortgage?" he thought. "Yes, it inusl lie; I heard the deacon was hard pressed to raise his interest. Not hint: else would havo moved him out of his old place. 1 declare it's too had! It's awful!" His errand was forgotten; he was In a fever of d 'sire to do something help ful. When Diacoii Simon o line in, he , went, toward him with extended hand and such earnest sympathy In his face as no troubled hearl could have re fused. "Brother Simon." he said. "1 hadn't heard when I came, but It's just roine to mo that you're going to irlvo no your home." "Yes; I'm obliged to. It's tho Lord's will." Oh. no." said Mr. Clover; "I can't believe It vol. Wail- wall; I want to talk to you." D.'acon Simon drew another chair from the corner, and sealed himself. "1 onine." said his visitor, "to ask your forgiveness for tho riulo way I spoko at I ho meeting last month. I'm ashamed that I spoke so; ashamed thai 1 showed suoh a temper. Do for give mo!" The deacon looked bewildered for a moment, thou he Miomod to. recollect. Oh, lliat." he said; "I didn't lay it up against you. I might, perhaps, if 1 hadn't hud so much trouble since; but oilier things put it. out of my mind. 1 haven't any thing against you, brother; I'm tisud to lindiug tho church folks dill or from mo." 11 1 looked m meek, worn ami patient the old man who had boon some times sieru and severe -that Mr. Clover's heart was broken. "Tho Lord forgive me!" he nald. "And nun, too." said obi Simon. "I know I've been too dorfuuitlo.ll with in'y Judgment, and tried the brethren. 1 can mo it all, now I'm gohuf to leave." "To leave! You don't moan you'ro golujr to leave llio churehP" "Why, yes; wj'ro koIuj; up oonutry to my wlfo' folks, fur u while, at least. Wo'vo lost our homo horu, you know, and I don't soo Just how to bogln again, yul. I'm an old man to bogltt again." "Hut wo can't i parol Wo crm'l spare you out of tho uhuralw Wo can't pparo you out of tho prayer meeting." Doacon Simon looked soarchlngly at Mr. Clover's Honest, earnest face, and presently tears dimmed his oyos. "You roally moan it; you'n sayinir it in oarnesi!" ho said. "Well, thank the h rd! Seoms to mo now I can go in peace. I mado sure' overbod v would ho gl 1 1, and it hurt mo most of all just now. I I have loved the church. Nobody prayc I deeper out of his heart for it than I." No; and I toll you wo can't spare such praying; wo won't, cither, if I can holp it. Ciuie. I .want to talk this all over. 1'vj gtsoim monov to Invest. This is the very placo I'vo bo -n looking for to put it in; near to the town; rising in tho valuo every day. Mirtin's going to put it in the market; I'll buy it from him. if you'll stay her i and kocp it for mo." The deacon could not keep the light from rising i' his face, but ho sal I stoadih: "Tho farm won't bring you tho interest of your money. I'vo done my boston it and I unow." "Never mind, it'll bo trebled in nluo in ten years for building lo's, and besides 'wouldn't it pay if there was somo capital put in, you know fertilizers, and now machines? Wouldn't I llko to try the cxperi monll Hit I couldn't do it alone. Won't you s. ay and help mo out in il?" Doacon Simon had boon a proud man. lie had never nsked sympathy or help in his life. To have them poured upon him unasked in this hour of his desolation was vory sweet to him; swocior than ho had words to express. His heart clung to the old placo. Hi could not refuse tho friend ly oiler thus made to him. "What a Thanksgiving t his will ho for us!" ho said, as ho bade his visitor good night. "You won't mind. E'.lon," said Mr. Ciovor to his wifo that night, "if llio church is not re-decoralod this year, will you?" "No," sho roplied "it can spiro tho pnlnt better than it can Doacon Simon's pnryers." "You don't, think I'vo fetched tho gift off tho altar changing my plan Willi il?" "No;" a'id presently sho ropoatcd: "Inasmuch asyo havo done it unto one of tho least of theso my brethren, ye havo douo it unto me." 1. E. Jim-nctl. AN INCREDIBLE STORY. A Blory Tliut Diiublii Discounts Klilor IliiiCijio'il' lrl notions. 1 'The great domiimi at present for im probable stories loads lo the belief ibat tho following yarn will bo vory popular: It was night. A horseman slowly wound his wa at a mad gal'op up tho hill road which led to Cookport. A ride of three or four miles brings him lo his destination in Iwo minutes and a half. II i stops bef ro a hiimblo vino-clad collage, tho palatial marblo rosidenco of Miss Agatha Hiiugorford Snipps. Agatha is tho only daughter of hor narcnts, who manage to liv.i sumptu ously in hard-working retirement on an income of lift'.' dollars por year. Mr. and Mrs. Snipps nro both dead. Although Agatha is an orphan, she has been roared to know no want. Her education was a finished ono fin ished this very year, in fact; and, in crodiblo as it may s"om, sho not only knew as much when sho left collogo as when she entered il, but she had actu ally loarnod smoothing. She hiul learnod that it is not proper to ask for a second plate of soup un less she is vorv, very hungry. "Agatha." said Mrs. Snipps. "who is thai woman alighiiug at tho galei' "That woman," observed Mr.Suipps, without giving Agatha time to reply, "is Mr. Montgomery Dighy Jonos, and ho has como to see our Agatha. He loves her. but he does not like to pro no o, knowing she is the heiress of all those vast estate. Ho hesitates of incuinbir himself with so much prop erly, as well as with a wife. Hut, Agatha," turning to the girl, "treat him well. Ho will make a good sou in-law." "The old folks withdrew as Mr, Jones rang the hell. II was soon ushered into the parlor where Mil tho blooming Agatha, a tall, willowy girl of four feet high and weighing two hundred and seventy-two pounds ton ounces. Agatha and D gby were ongaged. although tho girl's parent's know It not. They had been betrothed for two da vs. "Kronlii'," said Digby, as he stopped within the doorway. "Howtlv," replied Agatha. She kept hor seat by tho window while Digby seated himself across tho room by the door. After some desultory conversation Digbv remarked! "Agatha, 1 hoar that thov have funm oxojllont loo croam at Ilrown's o iiifeotlonory. LjI us go mid got M.1H." "No," replied Ajratha, "1 never ont lea cream. ' lul-lUU. Far Too Mistrustful. "What luck did yoti hv at tho farui-houisur" nakod ono tramp ot ait other. Nin nt nil. 'llio woman was too blamed mistrustful" How wts ihnl?" "When I askud her for something to nut blio al?m mo It i oouui saw wooit 1 told w 1 could." Yes. whnt then?" "Why, I'll bo dog-gourd if sho didn't wnnt w to provo It." Mcrchanl irau efer. HIS FIRST WALTZ. The Maiden Kffort of a Yonnj Man on tho Light rnntnatlr. A norular voting business man con fided tho deta.ls of an amusing though snmewhat dclicato situation to a re porter tho other day, and tho latter is making a base betrayal ot tnnt con fidence in giving tho story to the pub lic, but. "murder will out" "It all camo of my not having learned to dance," ho began, "ion see, when I was a kid, and tho girls (my sisters) went to dancing-school and wero brought up in tho way they should go, I did not caro for such things, and hooted at tho confounded bobbing and twisting and turning, which even now seems rather absurd to nie. I volun tarily left school rather young and wont into business life, and havo sinco had neither timo nor inclination for dancing. As tho girls grow older, wo had a number of little social hops at tho house, but I always managed to got away. I never hail any dtsiro to dance until tho othor evening. A certain young lady, whoso black oyos I had admired from a distance for somo time, was present at ono of our little gather ings. I usually managed to got out of tho way when tho dancing began, but I was so engaged in conversation with hor that tho music had struck up be fore I was aware of it. I lot tho first danco pass without saying any thing, but I know my companion was a lino dancer and vory fond of the amuse ment. 1 think that tho first danco was an "octogettc," or somo thing of that kind, for thcro woro eight people in it. Whon that was over tho musicians struck a livclj jinglo which I imagined I recognized. That is a polka, snro, thought 1 now is my chance. 'Miss Dlank,' I said, growing as red as a tulip, 'my sisters havo often tried to teach mo to dance, but have given it up as a hopeloss case. Is is the thing they arc playing a waltz or a polka, or a utiruianu mug, or w iniu is it?' She laughed, but did not an swer. After tins confession 1 resumed: Will 'you dare venture a turn?' Sho was only too ready; sho evidcn.ly did not know what was beforo her. 1 placed my hand timidly on hor side and grasped her waist in a vice-like grip. Then I began the polka to tho best of my ability, and, to my horror, sho began to waltz. I tried to wait, too, but made a dismal failure of it. Tho room was small and ovorcroded with dancers, and though our career was short-lived wo managed to como into collision with almost every couple on tlie lloor. My sister rescued her friend, who took tho matter as good naturedly as could bo expected with her torn dress and bumped and crumpled condit'on generally. 1 sneaked away into otitor darkness, and hereafter will never attempt to imitate the 'Heathen Chinee' by playing a game that I do not understand. I am a fool and 1 know it, but to have the fact intimated one, two and three times a dav for a week by the members ol one's own familv is not at all consol ing. Rochester Post-Exp rcss. A POWERFUL REMEDY. Why I'ncln John KoIiisim! to Swnlloir Mil Own Mrdlrlnc. In the village of O , in Contr.il New York, lives a sharp-tongued old bachelor whom I havo known for twenty-live years as "Uncle .John." Undo John is something of a character about town, and not destitute of Yankee wit and shrewdness. He used to make and vend in an amateurish way a certain cough mixture, the mer its of which he preached to his friends with great enthusiasm, warranting the remedy to euro any cold in twenty-four hours "or no pay." One of his old friends, whom we will call Ike, being alllicted with a severo coughing cold, Uncle .John used his best efforts in argument, persuasion, and finally vehe ment and profane scolding, to get him to try the remedy. Hut Ike could not be induced to "chance it." Not long after this Uncle John caught a hard cold himself, which was accompanied by n most distressing cough that shook his poor old frame uuniorcifiilly. It did not, however, prevent his coming down town' and "settin'," as ho called it, in Ike's market. The cold hung on for a week or more, and tho cough had grown no better. Finally, one day Ike resolved to bravo Undo John's sharp tongue, and tease him a little about his failure to rid himself of the cold, and the following dialogue ensued. You arc to understand that Uncle John's replies woro interrupted with violent coughing. John?" "What yor want?" "Cot a bad cold, 'ain't yo?" "Yes; got tho wust over had'n my life." "Hangs on prottv bad, don't it?" "Yes; boats all." Hesitatingly: "why don't you try some o' y'r cough inod'eino you, want ud ter sell mo?" "1 thought mobbo y' was fool 'nough tor ask that question: d'yer s'poso I w ant tor live jorevcri" Harper's JIag uiine. The Regular Thing. An old gentleman of Detroit was pasuiiijf tlutmyh the n ii mony of taking liU fourth wifo the other day. At tho impiKiilve climax ot'uuigood pruaoher mail's part iu tho performance tome body was heard otjling in an ad join ing room. "My goodness!" exclaimed one of the gtieate in a dramatic whisper, "who on earth it that crying on this festivu oc casion r" That?" ropllojl a inieh!ovoiis mntn bor of tho oxpoiiouced bndogroom's family; "that's no tHdy but Km. Sho always boohoos whon pa's getting mm" iriod." Detroit i'rc 2Y - PATAGONIA'S FATE. ' j How a houlli American Conntry Was Ab sorbed by Its Jfelchbor. There used to bo a place called Pata gonia. It appears on our geographic. now as a drear and uninhabitable waste, upon which herds of wild horses and cattle graze, that aro hunted for their llosh by a few bands of savage Indians of immense stature." I am quoting from a school-book published in 1886, and in common use in this countn. Tho samo geography gives similar information about "tho Argen tine Confederation." It makes the Argentines roar with rage to call their country "tho Argentine Confederation." It would bo just as polite and proper lo call this the "Confederate States of America." A bitter, bloody war was fought to wipe that name off tho map, but our publishers still insist upon keeping it there. It is not a confeder ation; it is a Nation, with a big "N," like ours one and inseparable, united wc stand, divided wc fall, and all that sort of thing tho Argentine Republic. To call it any thing else is an insult to the patriots who fought to make it so, and a reflection upon our own intelli gence. Several ears ago Patagrnia was di vided between Chili and tho Argentine Republic, the Ministers from the United States to tho.-e two countries doing the carving. The summits of the Cordilleras were fixed as the bound ary lines. Chili took the Strait of Magellan and the. strip along the Pa cific coast, between the mountains and tho sea. and the Argentine Republic tho pampas, tho urdiipelago of Ticrra del Fuego being divided between thooi. Sinco tho partition ranchmen havo been pushing southward with great rapidity, and now the vast territory is practically occupied. There arc no more wild cattle or horses there than in Kansas, and the dreary, uninhabited wastes of Patagonia have gone into oblivion with tho "Great American Desert." The remnant of a vast tribo of aborigines still occupies tho interior, but the Indian problem of the Ar gentine Republic was solved in a suiu iiury way. There was considerable an noyance on tho frontier from bauds of roving savages, who used to como north in the winter time, steal cattle, rob and ravish, and tho outposts of civiliza tion were not safe. General Roca, the Sheridan of tho River Plate, was sent with a brigade of cavalry to the frontiet to prevent this sort of thing. East and west across the. territory runs tho Kin Negro, a swift, turbid stream like t lie 'Missouri, willi high banks. Fifty miles or so from tho mountains the rivet makes a turn in its course, and leaves a narrow pathway through which every thing that enters or leaves Patagonia by land must go. Across this pass ol fifty miles General Roca dug a ditch twelve feet deep anil fifteen feet wide. Tiic Indians, to the number of several thousand, wero north when the work was dono, raiding the settlements. Ai spring came they turned to go south ward as usual, in a long caravan, witn their stolen horses and cattle. Roca galloped around their rear, and drove them night and dav before him. When they reached tho ditch they became be wildered, for they could not cross it, and after a few days of slaughter tho rem nantthat survived surrendered and were distributed through the army as sol diers, while the women were sent into ii semi-slavery among the ranchmen they had robbed. The dead animals and men were buried together in the ditch, anil there has been no further annoyanci from Indians on the frontier. The few that remain seldom conu northward, but remain around Punta Arenas, the only settlement in tin Strait, hunting the ostrich and ot hot wild game, tr.-ding the skins for whis ky, and making thenisches as wretched as possible. The robes they wear an made of the skins of the guamico, a species of the llama, and the breasts ol young ol riches. There is nothing prettier than an oslni'li robe, bill caci one represents the slaughter of fron sixteen to twenty onng birds, am. they ate getting ram hmI expensive' u tho birds are being exterminated, iu our'bulValoes have been. William E. CurliA, in Jltu'iicr's Mnyazinc. A Spider's Fatal Mistake. A small gardener spider had spin, his web in a corner where a perpendic ular column and a horizontal rail ii.ct. and from the ambush of a hidden crack awaited his dipteroii- prey. A hand some cllow vap p.i-sing that way e pied the graceful trap and made foi it. Setting his feel lightly on two oi three of the mohi he started up h great buzzing, which shook the wd from cud to end. Tho watchful spiih-i ran out a little way, stretched forth;, delicate foot to make sure of the locu tion of the siipp.MMl Hy, ami thci, rushed for it, alighting on the w.i.-;. with a gleeful jump, and no doubt u grin of hideous triumph. Hut Mr. Spider had ieckoiit without his hi-t Like a Ihudi of llgh niug the wiup's six nimble hr eo..-d up. in him, the gr.-uv ful body bent n.-arly doiiLlo, and omv twice thrice, again and again, tin sharp ting picr. ed Uk luck'w npidcr. A hi Mi'ugglo grew fainter, mm linulh ceaaed, the wasp, with a pricg, disentangled hiiutdf from the silken net and bore an ay his spidery victim in triumph. Albany Journal. Wifo "What absurd nonsense, that to rniM.' an umbrella in the Iioums is an omen of ill luck!" Husband "Not at nil. Didn't Mr.- Hobson, to whom joh lent ytnir uinhrolla a ooaple of woks ago. open it In the hallway?" Wifo "I boliovoahiMltd." Husband "Woll, havo you swn the umbrella blnce?" .V. 1". Sun. TWO LITTLE MINERS. How Thejr Kppt Their l'arents Supplied With Plenty of Fuel. Nearly a quarter of a century ago a man who lived in an Eastern State, ovcrtaknn by the American passion for the hardships of pioneer lifc.moved with his family to tho then unsettled Wo3t, Tho family consisted, besides the husband, of a wifo and two little daughters, and tho journey westward of many hundreds of miles was made in a covered wagon. After numerous hardships the little household at length reached wfiat is now the great State of Illinois, but what was then an almost unbroken expanse of wild forest and prairie land. The country pleased tho adventurer, and he built a rtido log house upon tho edge of a prairie bounded on ono side by a wooded bluff, and watered by a small stream. It was a promising sito for one of tho great farms of tho future, and even the first year of tho settler's occupation saw an abundant crop of, corn and tho family safe from privation, so far as food was concerned. Winter came, one of the severest over known in the Notthwest, and the only want felt in tho household was for fuel. The settler discovered, too late, that he should have built his hut close to the wood, or havo provided plenty of fuel before winter arrived. He had rea soned that it would bo the easiest way to haul wood to the houso upon the snow, and his plan would have been all right had he been able lo do the work. Unfortunately, just as the hitter cold weather set in, the hither broke his leg. He could do nothing, anil upon tho mother, who was herself ill. and upon tho two little girls, devolved the hard task of supplying wood for the fire. Many trips were made to tho bluff, and many an apron full of dead twigs and bark" was brought to the cabin, but the little girls, who had to do the work, nearly perished on their journeys. Fi nally came a great, snow four or five feeUn depth, and further trips were impossible. It seemed certain that tho family, far removed from all help, must die of cold. There wa a rude cellar to the cabin and into th-N, for greater warmth, the family moved. A few twigs and pieces o.' bark remained at this time, as the result of the children's last trip to tho bluff, and with those a fire was built upon the cellar lloor. It burned well enough, but as the wood was consumed there was noticed a grca: deal of crack ling anil sputtering, and tho ground beneath and around the lire turned red. It attracted the curious attention of the family, and it finally dawned upon them that the lire had been built upon a bed of coal. In digging for the cel lar the pioneer had stumbled upon an outcropping coal seam, but ho know very liltle about coal and hail not deemed tho circumstance of any con sequence. Now he changed his mind. There wa no longer any danger of freezing to death. The family moved up-stairs again and tho two little girls becamo coal miners. They had only an old ax and a shovel, and I hey wero small person ages and not very strong, but they did not have a great deal of difficulty in getting out a sullicient number of pail f tils of coal a day to keep the lire go ing. Rofore spring came they had a big hole dug into the bottom and into the skies of the cellar. They made it quite a roomy place, probably the largest cellar in Illinois at that time. The family prospered, and those two little girls aro now middle-aged women anil mothers of families who often laugh over the hard winter's experi ence of many years ago. And you can not tell either one of those two middle-, aged, comfortable-looking women any thing about coal mining. They will toll you that they know all about it; that they, in fact, started tho industry in this part of the country. Natiomd Labor Tribune. THE MALE FLIRT. What lie Is, Who II.' U, mill llovr IIh MlllCTM His ('llllltl'-tt!l. The male llirt is an individual not confined to our own days, nor yot oven to our own century. From tijno im memorial thK terrible yet fascinating person has scoured society just as the pirates ami bucciiieers of old aro said to have scoured the sc. is with their powerful and irresistible charm. There is a weird aitraetion about him, a fear ful joy at his approach, a horrible and unnatural delight at the hare mention of his naine. Like the vampire of Gor man fairy lore, he subjugates the senses and curdles the blood at one and tho same time; he is delighted and yet alarming, enticing ami yet appall ing, all at once. The male llirt is the terror of mothers and tho detesta tion of the whole race of elderly aunts, and chaperoues of all kinds. Wo have all in turn been warned against him, all cautioned to steel our hearts to his advances and to barricade the por tals of our souls against his erpent like depredations. " Yet so contradic tious ami so foolish is the nature of woman that there is not one of its, young or old, who has not at somo ti.ne or another of our lives fallen a Mlling victim to this seductively dau giious individual. Tue male llirt is made no neither by practice imr yet by education he i born no; just as genius, or cooking, or miitlio'ii'iiics is born with u man, so in Hiriing in its higher blanches, implanted within him by nature. He is not ofteu a handsome man. although he i invariably u pleas aifl one, and ho is not, as a rule, popu lar among his fellow men? Fathers and brothers eyo him with suspicion as soiuelhing which thev do not wholly comprehend, while husbands turn cold shoulders upon his blandishments, or at Inibt troit him with freezing nolitonoss. Men, in short, look upoii him askance, and ono and all iiuiK in running him down hut. per haps, that is only buoaiiso they are jeal ous of him. Loiulou Ssciilu.' -