THE RIPPLED CLOUD.
I looked upon the sunny sky.
Where lay one still white cloud.
Rippled as though some tide on high
Had broken long and loud,
And left its traces there to teach
Its carving of that heavenly beach.
So have I seen, above some life,
A cloud of trouble rest,
Filled with the sunlight, freed from strife,
And shading o'er the breast;
"While, carven on its fairness, lay .
The trace of tides now passed away.
ACBOSS THE MERIDIAN.
Kortlandt drew his horse to a halt as
he breasted the brow of the hill, and
lifted the cap from his head that he
might enjoy to the full the soft, delicious
breeze. Perhaps only one who like him
self had newly come from the crowded
amphitheatre of the lecture-room of a
medical college, and from daily witness
of mental and physical sufferings by the
bedsides of its hospital wards, could have
felt, as did he, intensified by powerful
contrast the stillness, beauty and peace
of what he looked on.
It was the field of one of the great
battles of the late war, ground made
holy by heroic blood heroic, whether
the hearts which throbbed it forth were
bursting with triumph or breaking with
defeat.
So thought the young physician as his
eyes wandered over the scene, discover
ing few marks to indicate that once this
valley had seethed with fire and smoke
and struggling human forms, and the
whole air had been a shriek of agony and
strife. Twenty years had done their
work, - and nature, which permits no
desolation, had sown the furrowed land
with grass and blooming flowers which
swayed and swung in the spring air as if
in unison with the humming of the bees
above them. But as he dismounted and
led his horse down the hill he discovered
traces of the battle which had escaped
his eye from above. Now and then his
horse's hoof struck the rusty metal of a
dismantled gun, buried beneath its bram
bles, and further on he found himself in
a wilderness of little mounds, marked
here and there with a wooden slab, its in
scription effaced by the rains of years.
As Kortlandt rose from a vain attempt
to decipher one of these, a figure ap
peared from the woods near by, and,
after the momentary pause of the first
surprise of seeing him, continued steadily
to advance along the path which leel
within a few yards of his side. The
'figure was that of a woman, poorly clad,
but tall and graceful, and moving with
peculiar strength and freedom of motion.
-Kortlandt waited until she was near him
And then said :
"I beg your pardon, but can you i n
form me what graves are these ?"
The woman stopped abruptly as the
tones of the clear Northern voace reached
her, and suddenly turned upon him her
face, until then concealed beneath the
broad brim of the coarse straw hat which
she wore. It was that of a girl, brunette
ind brilliant, illuminated with a pair of
glowing eyes, which now fixed them
selves upon him. v - - .
"You must have come from very far
way not to know whose are the graves
that you" are standing on," she said, in a
voice which did not owe its peculiar in
tonation to the Southern dialect in which
she spoke.
"You are right," he replied, surprised
it her beauty and manner; "my home is
ts far away as the snows of winter from
these Southern flowers."
A look of intense bitterness entered
the girl's face. "You are from the
North," she said. Her eyes flashed. "I
will tell you whose are the graves upon
which you are treading. They are those
of the "Rebels' you defeated," proudly;
'they are those of the martyrs, the
'heroes, who starved and froze, who gave
up home, family, wealth, and life inpro
tection of their rights and freedom, and
whom you of the North in your over
i powering strength of wealth and num
bers conquered and killed. Yonder upon
the hill are those of my father and mother
he killed by your bullets and she by
the agony of his death. And all these
are mine, mine, since I own the sacred
arth in which they rest. Oh ! that I
(possessed the power te protect their resting-place
from the insult of a Yankee's
.presence !"
Kortlandt looked into the srirl's flusehd
and flashing face in a very maze of as
tonishment. But her concluding words
aroused his anger, and he drew himself
up with the color mounting to his brows.
Controlling himself with an effort he
lifted his cap, and, bowing, said with
cold courtesy, in singular contrast to her
fire, "That being the case, Mademoiselle,
I shall not linger to bid adieu. But per
mit me to reassure you; you possess
power to protect your heroes' resting
place in a two-edged sword," and, with
another bow and a straight look into her
angry eyes, he drew his horse's bridle
over his arm and led him back to the
road.
As he mounted and rode on he found
to his surprise that his hand was shaking
with excitement. He was very angry.
Jle had never before been insulted by a
'woman, and the feeling of helplessness
with which it affected him was irritating
in the extreme. He felt this to be a weak
ness, and endeavored to throw it off.
But that evening at supper he could not
resist giving a crisp little description of
bis late encounter on the old battlefield
; to his neighbor at the table, ending with
an inquiry if such violence of feeling and
-expression were usual.
"Hardly, now," was the reply. "But
this girl's is a peculiar case. Her name
is Ellen Evrestt. Before the war her
father was the richest planter in the State.
He put every dollar he- could command
into the cause, and finally was killed on
the field over there fighting for it. They
carried him to his house, which stood on
the hill above, where his wife, who had
remained there despite everything that
could be deplored or commanded, receiv
ing his body and tended it. "While she
was doing so the house was fired by a
shell and burned to the ground. She had
her husband's body carried to the quar
ters, and there that night her baby was
born and she died. Before she died she
gave the child to the old house-steward,
having made him solemnly swear never to
desert it."
"Did he do so?"
"No ; he stuck to it through everything,
and when the other negroes left the plan
tation he and his old mammy staid and
took care of it down in the quarters."
"Did none of the relatives claim the
child?"
" There were none who could. Unlike
most Southerners Evrestt had no con
nections, and his wife few. Those were
so impoverished that they were glad to
escape the burden of supporting it."
"How did the negro do so?"
'"Oh! by cultivating as much of the
most fertile land on the place as he and
his mammy could manage. But here
comes the most interesting part of the
story to you as a physician. Three years
ago the old man, who is over seventy,
became so crippled by rheumatism that
he could not work, and what does Nell
Evrestt do but turn to and work the
place herself."
"Do you mean with her own hands?"
"Yes, by Jove! and handsome ones
they are, too, though they are hard and
brown as nuts."
"Why didn't she teach?"
" She has no education."
"Or sew?"
" She might have done that, but she
is proud as Lucifer, and said that she was
willing to work for herself and her
mammy and Uncle Jake, whom she
adores, but would not consent to be a
servant to any one."
This account of the girl's history af
fected Kortlandt powerfully. He no
longer wondered at the intensity of the
hatred with which she regarded all those
of Northern blood. How could it be
otherwise, when every day of her life
she had read afresh thi3 story in those
hillside graves, those unplanted fields,
and the charred ruins among the cedar
trees? The anger which had moved him
passed away in wondering admiration
when he pictured to himself that strong,
beautiful ' young figure, which had con
fronted him so defiantly, taking upon
itself and performing, in its pride of in
dependence, the labors of a field-hand on
the lancV were her forefathers had com
manded in absolute supremacy the labor
of hundreds.
The weeks passed by and Kortlandt
found his health, which had been some
what impaired by his professional labors,
and which he had come to the South to
recuperate, entirely restored. Yet ho
was in no haste to return to the work
which he had been so loath to leave.
Indeed, the heat of the summer was upon
him In its utmost intensity, and yet he
could not break the spell which held him
in the South. "What was this spell?
Was it the occasional glimpses he caught
as he rode by of a girl's figure at work
in a strip of cotton or corn down in the
rich bottom-land? Or the glances he had
two or three times received from a pair
of defiant eyes under the brim of a broad
straw hat as he encountered their owner
in the road? k
At any rate, he said to himself one
night as he entered his room: "You are
a fool ; this has got to end ; you start
North to-morrow."
He had passed the old Evrestt planta
tion returning from his evening ride; the
night was 'brilliantly moonlit; he had
left his horse in the shadow of some trees
and walked up the long cedar-shaded
drive which formerly led to the house.
A shorter, shaded path led to the quar
ters, and this he had followed till he
came where he could see the door of one
of the cabins, and before it in the light
of the moon a young girl seated at the
feet of a white-haired old . negro, against
whose knee she leaned her head while
they sang together she in a fresh, sweet
contralto, he in the quivering tones of
age an old plantation ditty, simple and
plaintive.
He had stolen away unnoticed, and
had ridden slowly home, with a feeling
in his heart that was something like de
spair. It was the consciousness of this
fteling which had elicited his sudden ex
clamation and resolve.
It was near daybreak when a knock at
his doors aroused him, and a frightened
prayer took him to the bedside of one of
the servants of the house. It was yellow-fever.
That settled the question , of his de
parture for him. He remained where he
was, and in the terrible davs which fol
lowed no help that he could give was
withheld. So faithful and efficient was
he that soon the " Yankee Doctor's"
was a name on the lips of every one, and
never uttered without a word of com
mendation and gratitude.
Alone for the old physician who had
long held the practice of the little place
in monopyly had early succumbed to
the fever he fought the terrible disease,
battling with a courage which inspired
others and kept them from despair
through all.
One rainy night after the epidemic had
passed its crisis Kortlandt, returning
from a visit at a distance, and dis
mounting from his wearv horse at his
door, found a women's figure standing by
his side, which he knew even 'in that
dim light. The voice which addressed
him was so stifled as to be almost in
audible. "Forgive me," it said: '
was insane I did not know; you are
noble and good. They have the fever
Lnclo Jake and Mammy. Oh! for God s
sakt!, come."
Kortlandfs heart throbbed so violently
that it was a moment before he dared to
trust his voice to sneak. Then he said
quietly. "I will go at once;" and re
mounting, he rode away with as much
speed as he could get from his jaded
beast:
But she was at the cabin almost as
soon as he, eagerly and efficiently help
ful despite the agony of sorrow and help
lessness which possessed her as she saw
how little science and love could prevail
against the relentless death that was
fighting for possession, of the poor, old
black bodies ,he loved so well. For it
was in vain that he expended all his
knowledge, and she all her tender care;
the second morning, with a last, faithful
loving look from his dim eyes, and a last,
gentle murmur of "Good-by, little Missy;
do'n you go to cry for me," Uncle Jake
had fallen asleep, and a few hours later
old Mammy too had passed away.
That evening Ellen Everestt stood be
fore four graves, two of them freshly
made ; for she had lain the bodies of the
old blacks here, "beside her other par
ents," as she said. In the utter, stillness
which falls with the setting of the sun
she could hear, far down the road, the
departing footsteps and voices of the
men who had borne her only friends to
their resting-place at her feet. She lis
tened to them until they had faded away,
and then stood listening still for one
more sound. No ; they were gone, and
she was alone, alone, alone forever.
bo she cried, wildly, as she threw her
self down among the graves, casting to
the winds the self-control which had
never wavered until now.
But she was not alone, for hands
stronger than her own took them and
held them in a ciosc, steady grasp, and,
in a frightened glance, she saw the strong
sympathy in the manly face which she
had learned to trust and turn to in the
last two days. As naturally and thank
fully as a child she accepted it, and lay
ing her face upon his arm wept out the
first bitterness of her grief there. It was
not long before she had wept herself
quiet, but did not raise her head for some
time, and when she did so perceived that
the night had almost fallen.
Gently disenrracinjr her hands from his
she rose to her feet, then again extend
ing them to him as he stood by her side.
"Good night," she said, "You cannot
know how I thank and bless you. Good
night."
"Oh! child,' he cried, retaining her as
she would have turned away, "I cannot
leave you here. I cannot let you go back
to that lonely cabin alone."
"I must," she said 6adly; "I have no
where else that I can go."
"Nell," he said eagerly, "if you will
have it so you need never return there
you and I need never part ; if you will
be my wife, Nell."
She uttered a low cry, and drawing
her hands away buried her face in them
and turned from him. "Oh!" she cned
bitterly, "you say that because you pity
me. You would never have said it
else."
"I say it because I love you. I would
never have said it else."
"But you are so wise, and good, and
great." ,
"And you are so brave, and beautiful,
and true. You asked me the other night
to forgive you. How can I, if you tram
ple on my heart - and make f it .such a
wreck of weeds and desolation as the
Northern soldiers never made of that
field below there? How can I, if you re
fuse the prayer that a man's heart never
but once makes to a woman a prayer
for the complement to his .being which
her love alone can give? Nell, there is
but one chance of happiness in this world
for me, and it is that which I am asking
of you."
He saw her face in the clear light of
the rising moon as she turned it toward
him, and it gave him all the answer that
any man's heart Ihould have required.
But he waited for her words.
"There is nothing of which mv life
has been deprived," she said slowly, "of
which it is possible to read in those
wasted fields or in these graves before us
that your words have net repaid to me a
hundred fold. And I I give you all I
have to give; I love you." Frances Ten
EycJc, in Chicago Tribune.
Living, Yet Dead.
In Germany, every man. from the
lowest to the highest, is obliged to serve
in the army nominally for twelve years,
ne must be in tho standing army for
seven years, from the close of his twen
tieth year until he ii twenty-eight. Of
these seven years three must be spent in
active service, and the remaining four in
the army of reserve. After, leaving the
army of reserve he must form a part of
the Landwehr or practically, the militia.
After his active employment in the army
he can engage in civil life. But if war
beeaks out, he is again called upon to
resume his place in the ranks. The
theory on whieh this law rests is that
every citizen ought to aid in defend
ing his country, and that to do this effi
ciently he requires the training of a
soldier.
A young Prussian doctor, having served
his time in the ranks, was placed among
the "reserves." He went to Paris, and
in a few years built up there a lucrative
practice. In the height of his prosperity
Prussia engaged in war, and the doctor
was summoned to return home and fill
out his term. of service. After much
trouble he hired, for a large sihn, a man
to serve in his place. The substitute
was killed on the battle-field. A few
years after this event, the physician re
ceived another summons from his govern
ment to return and engage in military
service. He protested that as he had, in
the person of his substitute, died once,
the government had no more claim upon
him for additional service than it had upon
any other dead person. The case was re
ferred to high authorities, and after long
and learned discussion it was decided
that in the eyes of the law the physician
J was dead. Youths' Companion.
MULE LIFE IN THE MINES.
A2TXMAXS AS SAGACI0U3 A23D SEN
SITIVE AS THEY ARE USEFUL.
Their Usefulness as an Underground
Motive Power A High Tribute
Paid to their General Intelligence
A Pottsville (Penn.) letter to the Phil
adelphia Press says that the recent order
of the Girard estate trustees prohibiting
the use of locomotives in the mines on
the immense coal tracts bought years ago
by the sagacious and benevolent old
French sailor's son restores the mine mule
once more as an underground motive
power, a position he formerly occupied
with undisputed honor. It is probable
that in Schuylkill county three thousand
mules are used at the mines, and as a
coal operator paid over $1,000 for five of
these deep-voiced Kentuckians a few
days ago, an idea of the immense outlay
in that . direction in the anthracite coal
regions may be formed.
A mine locomotive will do the work of
ten mules, but it will throw off much
noxious and asphyxiating gas. The
miners, therefore, are reasonably opposed
to it. They are sometimes, also, the cause
of mine fires, but a majority of operators
seem willing to assume that risk for the
increased amount of work at the dimin
ished expense.
Kentucky used to be, and still is, the
principal breeding ground for mules,
though of late years Illinois, Missouri, 1
lowa ana other Western States have bred
just as good stock. The earlier breeds
were the offspring of Spanish jacks and
thorough-bred mares. The get was
nimble-footed, strong, h'andy and will
ing, but light. The substitution of Nor
man mares for thorough-breds produced
a grade of mules better adapted to heavy
work and just as spry and spirited.
A mule is considered fit to enter the
mine after he has reached three years of
age. The latter is considered .rather
youthful, and preference is given to ani
mals that, by reason of a larger experi
ence with the world, are better qualified
to contend with its trials and tribulations.
The length of bis stay after he enters the
mines it is impossible to forecast. He
may be removed, but he seldom dies, and
is not often, comparatively speaking,
killed.
From the day he enters he is com
pelled to exercise every faculty of which
he is possessed to prolong his career. He
finds numerous natural enemies all work
ing assiduously to shorten his days, but,
in spite of them all, he gets fat and
round, his coat becomes sle,ek, glossy
and mouse-colored, and twenty years of
servitude may find him somewhat calmer
and more inclined to meditation, but
scarcely less keen, nimble or willing.
The nature of his employment inside is
to draw cars in the gangways. It is a
rare case when he requires more than a
few days to thoroughly understand what
is required of him, and thenceforth he
performs his duties with unwavering,
uncomplaining zeal. As 6oon as he has
been harnessed he will take his place at
the head of a "trip of cars." ne will
6tart at the right time and stop at the
right place. If the driver be a new one,
and by a mistake command him to stop
short, it is probable he will be unheeded,
or that the mule, having stopped, will go
to the rear and with his shoulder push
the cars to their proper place.
He learns the ropes very readily, and
no well-regulated horse would ever
dream of attempting things a mule does
without a thought of its impossibility.
To a mine mule nothing is impossible.
Experienced drivers say mules may be
taught auything, and the incredulous
would experience a shock on witnessing
some of the feats they are compelled to
perform in the mines.
At night the mules of a colliery are
stabled in a cavern off the gangway.
This is boarded up around to hang up
the harness, and, probably, also to keep
alive the memories tof the stalls of youth
and verdant pastures. They are liberally
fed, and require , and receive but little
other care. From year to year they live
in darkness and gloom. Sunlight and
fresh air are unnecessary to their thrift.
Their vision is sharpened by the per
petual night, so that they acquire the
gift of the owl to penetrate far into the
inky blackness of the deep, damp pit
ineymay Decome color Diina, but
always able to discern an object or
their way in the deepest shaft they li
ever worked in. And thus they
(barring accidents) ten, fifteen, twd
years aye, one mule is known to 1
spent the greater part of thirty-five y
underground.
The most frequent cause of i
mules' death is being jammed betv
cars. "While standing on the gang
railroad at the head of one trip of
another dashing suddenly round a ci
may catch him and crush out the 1
spark, but if there is a means of es
he will take it. It is only when the
not room enough by the side of the td
for him to jump into that he loses
lite in this way. l wentv norscs wd
be killed that way before one mulVrjrf
Really there is only one other way in
which I remember to have ever heard of
a mule meeting his death, and that is
when the mine is suddenly drowned
out. .
This is not always sure either. Not
long ago seven mules were unable to es
cape with the men, when the accumu
lated water in an old working broke
through into the one in which they were.
The water filled the gangway to within a
few inches of the roof. Hours afterward,
when the pumps had reduced it suffi
ciently, the stable-boss swam in to the
mules and found them propped up gn
their hind legs with their heads up, and
their noses elevated above the flood.
Fastening the halter of one to the tail of
another, and taking the lead mule by the
head, he swam them to the foot of the
slope, up which they walked with only a
shake and a whinnying for feed.
A colliery employing 200 men will find
use for thirty mules. They will average
150 apiece. " Half a sillion dollars in
vested in mules entitles that often-despised
animal to consideration. Indi
vidually he fails to receive it. His name
is an epithet. To be as ' 'dumb as a mule"
implies an almost superhuman depth of
ignorance, whereas the mule is not dumb,
nor is he ignorant, but rather he is a sa
gacious, calculating, eensitive, spirited,
reasonable and brainy animal.
Strange Case of Literary Theft.
In a New York letter to the Indianap
olis Times we find the following curious
story : Brain-stealing is carried on in
various ways, and dead men are generally
the most convenient prey. One of the
saddest cases of this sort came to my
notice a short time since, and as it has
a flavor of romance about it it. merits
notice. Knowing for many years by
reputation a certain writer of plays and
newspaper stories, chance threw her in
tete-a-tete with me, and her supreme
ignorance of the very themes on which
she had won her reputation as a writer,
surprised and disappointed me. Mention
ing the fact to an intimate friend of hers,
I learned the following romantic truth:
Twenty years ago she was a mature and
handsome woman, residing with her
parents in X . They were a respect
able Hebrew family and made their
living keeping boarders. Among their
guests was a young foreigner, full
of ambition for literary fame. He con
sumed the midnight oil translating
from his native tongue plays and other
miscellaneous articles " his dreams of
youth" and with the pride of a
martyr consented to accept obscurity in
a strange land for the time being, until
he should fight the rude battle, knowing
that genius always has to struggle foi
recognition, but it vanquishes at last.,
Alas I the young man fell ill and was ten
derly nursed by the lady in question.
The hand of death was on the young ex
ile, and his heart warm with gratitude
toward the woman who showed him so
much sympathy. "That I may not die
unknown," said he, "and unread, take
all my plays, manuscripts, etc., sell them
and keep the proceeds as a weak token
of my gratitude for your attention." So
saying, he died. The fair Jewess did ac
cept all, did 6ell and did win in America
a reputation as the author of all the dead
man left, declaring them her own pro
ductions, and as such they have been re
ceived by the public, both on fhe stage
and in the arena of journalism, with
praise and censure. Yet any one of 'an
average knowledge of life meeting this
lady would question her ability and ask
how came she to be so well known, when
she has not a single quality to justify
the reputation she bears. It is not even
an honest accident to have won a repu
tation under such circumstances, but it
is nevertheless a truthful statement.
Hunting Fish With Dogs.
Captain Mayne Iteid, in St. 2ucholasr
gives the following interesting descrip
tion of a peculiar Fuegian manner of fish
ing : By this, the four canoes have ar
rived at the entrance to the inlet, and are
forming in line across it at equal dis
tances from one another, as if to bar the
way against anything that may attempt
to pass outward. Just such is their de
sign ; the fish being what they purpose
enfilading.
Soon the fish-hunters, having com
pleted their "cordon" and dropped the
dogs overboard, come on up the cove
the women plying the paddles, the menF
with javelins upraised, ready for dart
ing. The little foxy dogs swim abreast
of and between the canoes, driving the
fish before them a3 sheep-dogs drive
sheep one or another diving under
at intervals, to intercept such aa
attempt to escape outward. For
in the translucent water they can see
the fish far ahead, and, trained
to the work, they keep guard against a
break from these through the inclosing
line. Soon the fish are forced up to the
inner end of the cove, where it is shoalest :
and then the work of slaughter com
mences. The dusky fishermen, standing
in the canoes and bending over, now to
this side, now that, plunge down their
spears and fizgigs, rarely failing to bring
up a fish of one sort or another; the
stmo-rrHnrr victim shaken off into the
recipe came into notoriety by the efforts
of the commander of a steamship. He
had fallen into such habitual drunken
ness that his most earnest efforts to re
claim himself proved unavailing. At
last he sought the advice of an eminent
physician, which he followed faithful
for several months, and at the end of that
time he had lost all desire for liquor,
although he had been for many years led
captive by a most debasing appetite.
The recipe, which he afterward pub
lished, and by which so many other
drunkards have been assisted to reform,
is as follows : Sulphate of iron, twenty
grains; magnesia, forty grains; pepper
mint, forty-four drachms; spirits of nut
meg, tour drachms. Dose, one table
spoonful twice a day.
The late Lord Hertford was one of the
few persons privileged to make jokes in
the queen's presence, and he often caused
her to indulge in a hearty laugh.
o