(V
EXTREMES.
L
Two rival spirits roam the worldr
And tarn the scales of fate ;
One through the potency of lore,
The other, hate.
n.
Two forces are at enmity,
Divided by a breath:
The victory of one is life,
The other, death.
William H. Hayne.
TEE GRAND DUKE.
What is it that Fauvette sees? The day
is cold and bleak ; Fauvette gathers the
blanket more closely around her thinly
clad form and over her head as she looks
down the road and discovers far away,
in the direction of her own home, a
cloud of dust. It is not the dust of the
diligence, for that went by an hour ago ;
Fauvette noticed it particularly, because
it was going fast. The horses were gal
loping, and Baptiste wa3 urging them
on as though something were coming in
pursuit. Had Baptiste been running
away from that which made the clouds
of dust? and was that which made the
cloud the German army?
Fauvette's heart stood as this
thought came to her. She knew there
was war in the country, but as yet it had
not come anywhere near Champvillers,
which was the village where Fauvette
lived. Had it come near so soon? When
she left home that morning with Bebe
there had been no thought of the Ger
mans; had they arrived already? She
looked around at Bebe, who was trying
almost vainjy to get some pasturage out
of the stubble of the field. Then she
looked again at the cloud of dust. It
had lifted a little by this time, and un
derneath Fanvette could see the glimmer
01 bayonets ana the forms of horses ana
men. Yes, it was the German army
mere could be no doubt of that.
At the first thought she started to run
JJut where should she go? The soldiers
were between her and the village; she
could not leave Bebe, and Bebe would
not willingly go in the opposite direc
tion from home. Even if Bebe consented
the soldiers would very soon overtake
her. But if she staid would they not
take Bebe and herself, too? of, if they
let her go, would they not carry Bebe off?
Fauvette's heart now beat quick and fast
The soldiers were coming rapidly nearer.
Indeed, she could distinguish their
faces. The man in lront on horseback
was old and ugly. Could that be the
Count Bismarck, ahc wondered. Fauvette
crept up to Bebe's side and laid her
arm over the cow's neck. For the first
time Bebe looked up, and seeing the sol
diers, gazed at them with a look of
gentle surprise.
Bebe was Fauvette's special care. Fau
vette's elder sister, Lucie, looked after
the children, and helped the mother at
home, while Fauvette brought the cow
to pasture, and in these troubled times
staid with it all day. At this season it was
cold work, and there was little in the
fierd for Bebo to eat. Pretty soon her
task would end, and the cow would live
at home with the rest of the family, hav
ing better quarters, indeed, than they
had themselves. Fauvette now wished
that it had ended beiore to-day, so that
she might not have met the soldiers in
this exposed place.
The officer at the head, who, though
Fauvette did not know it, was only a
colonel, eyed the cow, as he rode up,
with grim satisfaction.
"Ah !" he ' exclaimed, in his own
tongue, "this will make fine steaks.
Leave the cow, girl, and go back to your
village. No one will hurt you."
Fauvette stood still. She did hot un
derstand German, though she guessed at
what he said.
"Ach !" exclaimed the officer "who can
6peak this detestable tongue? Where is
there a man who knows the French?"
The colonel looked up and down the
line. Several of the men appeared ready
to answer, when the attention of all was
attracted to a young aid-de-camp, who
came galloping up the road, and de
manded to know what was the matter.
The colonel pointed to Fauvette and the
cow.
"I am just about to tell the girl to go
home to the village and leave, the cow,"
he said, "but unhappily I am not ready
with foreign languages. When I have
something to say in French, I require
help."
The young man smiled. Then turning
to Fauvette, he said to her, in her own
tongue: "My poor child, the colonel
wishes me to tell you that you must
leave the cow and go home. You live
in the village we have just passed, do
you not?"
Fauvette gazed at him calmly. She
was terrible afraid, and her face was
pale, but otherwise she did not show it.
"Oui, monsieur," she said; "I live in
the village, and I should be glad to go
back, but I cannot leave Bebe." ,
The young aid de-camp he was, little
more than a boy looked at her pitying
ly. "But you must," he said; "the
colonel says so."
Her eyes flashed. "What do I care
for the colonel" she said. "If he kills
Bebe, he must kill me too."
"Oh, he won't kill you," said the boy.
"We don't fight children. But he wants
the cow, don't you see."
"What does he want it for?" asked
Fauvette, gravely.
"Why, to eat, I suppose," he stam
mered, not wishing to hurt her more than
necessary, but yet telling the truth as,
from habit. t
"To eat!1. exclaimed Fauvette. "My
Beautiful Bebe ! If she was yours, would
you let anybody kill her?"
He looked admiringly at Bebe's mouse
colored velvet skin and large soft eyes.
"Well, no,I wouldn't," he said, frankly.
"Well, I won't, either;'' and she
clasped her arms tightly around the
creature's neck.
The voung man walked helplesslv over
to the colonel. "I can't seem to per
suade her, sir," he said.
The colonel laughed. 4 'Oh, well then,
we'll use force," he said. Turning to his
men, he ordered two of them to take the
girl away from the cow.
"Are you going to kill the cow ?" the
young aide-de-camp asked.
"Certainly," said the colonel. "Pray
explain to the prince the cause of the
delay, and say we shall be moving di
rectly." The young man, with another look at
Fauvette, turned around and rode rap
idly off, while the two men, at the col
onel's direction, stepped up to the child's
side.
"Cornel" one of them demanded in
German.
Fauvette did not move. Her hold of
Bebe tightened, and she looked up at the
rude soldiers with defiance flashing from
her black eyes. '
"Sol" exclaimed the man; "then I
must make you." And he proceeded,
not very gently, to loosen the arms that
were clinging to Bebe's neck. Fauvette
screamed loudly, while she tried to hold
on, but her strength was small compared
to the men's, and in a moment one of
them had dragged her away, while the
other was trying to pull t cow in an
opposite direction. But for tnce Bebe's
stubbornness served her a good turn.
Whether she understood their designs or
not, the cow would not move one step;
and when they tried to drag her, she
planted her feet firmly on the ground,
put down her head, and Uttered a gentle
but decided "Moo I" The men looked
helplessly at the colonel, who was very
angry. For the sake of a cow the whole
detachment had been detained fifteen
minutes. A less forbearing man than
himself would have shot it at once.
Presently the aide-de-camp would be
coming up again to see why they had not
moved.
"Shoot the cow!" he cried, passion
ately.
in order to raise his gun, Fauvette's
captor had to let her go. Quick as
thought the girl rushed back, and, while
the guns were pointed at her, threw her
arms once more around Bebe's neck.
"Now fire !" she cried, stamping her
foot; "fire and kill me too."
It was this tableau that the young man
saw as he came dashing up again ; the
angry colonel on horseback, the soldiers
leveling their guns, and the patient cow
protected by the child.
"Good heavens!" he cried, riding in
between the soldiers and Fauvette, and
making himself the target for their fire,
"do you mean to kill the child?"
The men, who had no wish for the
business, lowered their muskets, while
the lad saluted the colonel. "Here is
an order from the prince," he said, pro
ducing a bit of. paper, "permitting the
child to take the cow back to the village.
I am directed to see that it is executed."
The colonel, with an angry frown
upon his face, turned away and gave the
order to advance. Presently the regi
ment was in motion. The dust had
arisen, and, freed from her persecutors,
Fauvette was left alone with the
young man. The soldiers were
marching by, but she did not mind
them now. Bebe, too, was quite
composed, and had resumed her feeding.
Fauvette would never comolain again
that Bebe was stubborn. If Bebe had
noi been stubborn to-day, where might
she not be now? But Fauvette had not
yet thanked the young man who was
waiting on horseback by her side.
"I thank you very much," she said,
timidly, looking up into the boy's hand
some face. "If they had killed Bebe
they would have killed me too."
"Oh, they wouldn't have done that,"
he said. "Only their guns might have
gone off. accidentally."
' 'She hesitated a moment. ' 'Yes, " she
said, "they might have gone off when
you stood before them.V
He colored a little. "I am a soldier,"
he said. ' 'A soldier does not think about
such things."
Fauvette looked at him admiringly.
"You are very brave," she said.
The aide-de-camp smiled. "Oh. no,
I'm not," he hastened to say. "Why,
the other day, when I went into battle
for the first time, it was just a? much as
I could do to keep from running away.
I expected that every bullet would hit
me. and every time I heard one of theui
sing, I said good-bye."
"That was the first time," said Faur
vette. indulgently. "You wouldn't feel
that way again. My grandfather fought
with Napoleon, and he says that is the
way he used to feel."
"Did your grandfather fight with Na
poleon?" the boy asked. "How I should
like to hear him tell about it !"
"Oh, that's easy enough," said Fau
vette. "If you will come back to the
village he will tell you anything you
want to know. But I forgot," she
added hurriedly: "you are a German."
He nodded. "Yes," he said, "I'm a
German ; but I'm going back to see you
safe to the village all the same."
The soldiers had now mostly passed
by, and a number of elegant persons on
horseback -were bringing up the rear.
Riding up to one of these, the aide-decamp
held a brief conversation. Then
wheeling around his horse, he came back
to Fauvette,
"Yes," he said : "I may take you back
to the village. There is another detach
ment of our men there, whom I am to
order forward. Will the cow go?"
Happily Bebe had forgotten her stub
borness, or else she understood that
home was the safest place for her. She
made no objections when Fauvette told
her to go on. and even allowed the
young man, who had swung Fauvette
up into the saddle, to urge her forward
with his horse. The cow could not go
very fast, however, and it took some
time to reach the village. Half a mile
away they heard the sound of firing, and
off to the right, where Fauvette told the
boy another road ran, hung a cloud of
dust such as she had seen before that
morning. . When they reached the vil
lage, how still it was! Not a soldier was
to be seen. What had become of them?
the aide-de-camp wondered. There
was no time, however, fe-r him
to be either frightened or sur
prised. Hardly had his horse's hoof
sounded on the street when out of every
house rushed a troop of soldiers, half a
dozen of whom grasped the lad's bridle.
For an instant both he and Fauvette
were too much astonished to speak. The
girl, who recognized familiar faces, was
the first to recover herself.
"Ah!" she cried, let him go. He has
saved my life and Bebe's."
At the same moment an officer came
out of the inn door. "Your name and
rank, monsieur, ' he demanded, briefly.
The lad drew himself up proudly
until his slender figure seemed that of a
man. His frank, boyish face glowed,
and his blue eyes flashed fire. "Carl
Ludwig von Schomberg," he said, in
French, "lieutenant in the German army,
and grand duke of Hoenstauffen-Stein-metz."
The officer bowed. "Thanks, your
highness," he said. "It is unfortunate,
but your soldiers, whom I presume you
expected to find here, have evacuated
the village, and you are the prisoner of
the French."
Fauvette's lip trembled. She was
still on horseback, protected by the
young officer's arm. "But he came
back to bring me," she cried. "If it had
not been for him, I would have been
killed."
"That will be considered," said the
officer, "but at present Lieutenant Von
Schcmberg is our prisoner. Will you
please dismount, sir?"
The boy let one of the men whom Fau
vette knew take her down and then dis
mounted himself.
"Now, sir," said the French officer.
"if vovj will conis uito ctsrct you
will find there some ol TC::rcw'pSHloD8'"
The lad turned to where Fauvette
stood crying on Bebe's neck. "Do not
cry, my child," he said; "it is only the
fortune of war."
"But it was for me," she sobbed. "If
it had not been forme you would be with
your prince now.
He smiled kindly. "I should no
doubt have come back anyhow," he
said. Don't vex yourself, little one;
and adieu."
Her face lighted up through her tears.
"Ah, no," she whispered, looking
hurriedly around to see if any one over
heard "Au re voir."
What did she mean? the duke had
wondered as the officer led him off to
the cabaret. He would hardly see her
again, for the next day, if not earlier,
they would surely take him off to Metz,
or .wherever else the French kept their
prisoners. It was an inglorious ending
to his military career, but he had served
the little peasant maiden and saved a
cow's life; and he was sure he would
rather have done that than kill someone
in battle. His rank enabled him to have a
room to himself in the upper story of the
cabaret, and left alone, with a sentinel
outside the door and another beneath the
window, he had time to reflect upon these
things, and to wonder what the prince
would think when he did not re
appear, and whether they would send
back for him. They would hardly do
that, he concluded, since they were anx
ious to get ahead as fast as possible. He
was unwilling to admit it, but there did
not seem to be any very good prospect
of his immediate release. All the after
noon he wa3left undisturbed, and when
the darkness shut down there were no
gns that he "was to be removed that j
SJ
m
lit. At midnight, however, thekev
turned in the lock, the door opened.
and some one stood in the room. j
"Are you awake?" whispered a soft j
voice. i
It was Fauvette's voice, and the boy's
heart gave a thrill of hope.
"Oh, yes," he answered, "I couldn't go
to sleep, you know."
She came up to him and" laid her hand
on his arm. "Listen," she said. "The
soldiers are all asieep. My uncle, who
keeps the inn, has drugged their wine,
and my father holds your horse before
the door. There is nothing betweer
you and your army. You must go al
once."
He hesitated a moment. "And you?'
he said.
"Oh. Iam all right," she answered.
"This is my home, no one will harn
me."
lie could not see her face in the dark
, "V; oco i rtl u " VZ,
, but he guessed that the black eye
ness,
were full of tears, "louare a gooc
girl," he said. "Tell me your name
You know I did not learn that."
"My name is Fauvette," she said, 6im
ply Fauvette Marets."
"Ah,"he said, "I shall always remem
ber the brave little owner of that name
Then taking her hand he lingered a mo
ment in the door.
"Adieu," she said quietly.
"Nein," he exclaimed; "it shall not
be adieu. I will surely see you agaiE
some day." He leaned over and kissed
her forehead. "Auf wiedersehen, Fau
vette," and clasping her hand, he passed
swiftly out into the hall and down th
dark 6tairs.
In a moment Fauvette heard the muf
fled clatter of the horse's hoofs on th
hard road, and then, with the tears ic
her eyes, she crept down the stairs her
self, and went to her own home. Elio;
McCormickr in Young People.
While the pastor in a Florida church
was in the midst of the most impressive
part of his discourse a great commotioc
was noticed near one of the entrances.
In the middle of the aisle, thickly
crowded on both sides with men, women
and children, lay a monster rattlesnake,
seven feet long, with ten rattles and 8
button.
The Stupid Camel.
The camel appears to be so completely
unintelligent, and withal so perverse in
Its dullness, that in the East the word
'camelishness" is a synonym for thick
headed obstinacy. To contend success
fully tfgainst this prodigious, persistent
and invariable stupidity constitutes,
therefore, the whole art of camel riding.
That it calls for no special ability
on the part of the rider is obvious.
but nevertheless the beast often succeeds,
Bimply by the cumulative influence of its
exasperating want of sense, in breaking
down both temper and patience.- The
British soldier in Afghanistan was com
pletely beaten by it. He had never en
countered such stupidity before, and
failed to grasp it. Whatever he did to
it, the camel roared at him. Whatever
he tried to make it do it refused. If he
stopped pulling at its nose-string for an
instant the animal .stopped at once. H
he left it for a minute the brute wan
dered slowly away in the Very direction
in which it could get into most mischief.
The aimlessness of his conduct utterly
baffled Thomas Atkins. He succumbed,
collapsed, went down before such incon
ceivable obtuseness and perversity. It
was one of the commonest sights of the
march to come across a. soldier standing
with a countenance of utter despair by
the side of a loaded dromedary, gazing
up at the supercilious brute with an ex
pression of the most comical help
lessness. He had exhausted every
device he could invent to make the beast
understand what it ought to do, but all
in vain, and there he was, utterly
staggered and dumbfounded by such a
miracle of stupidity. He was too far
gone in a hopeless bewilderment even to
His vocabulary 1
t i
us 3 strong language.
had been used up over and over again
There was nothing within miles to beat
it with. He could not reach up to its
body with his foot to kick it. Pummeling
It with his fist had no appreciable effect
upon the beast; he might as well have
thumped the ground. His helmet was
battered out of shape with repeated
hurling? of it at the sassiye monster. So
he ?s at his "wits' ends, and his dis
comfiture waS as obvious as it was
ludicrous. He looked as if he were go
ing out of his senses, or would like to
down, as women say, "and have a good
cry." As for the camel, it paid no more
attention to the puzzled soldier than if he
had been one of the thirty-nine articles. It
stood there, exactly where it had stopped,
gazing into space with a look of
silly loftiness, as if it saw the north pole
in the distance, and with a complacency
that would not have been inappropriate
if it were beholding a vision of angels.
That it was falling short of its duties had
obviously no interest for the idiotic
quadruped. It never so much as winked,
hut simply stood in its tracks with its
head high up in the air as if awaiting a
revelation. There was, therefore, noth
ing to be done except to wait till other
camels came along, and then to tie its
nose to the tail of the last "ship" in the
line. The sight of the hind legs of the
animal in front of it moving, and the
tension of the string in its own nostrils,
were the only hints it could understand.
London Standard.
A Bear-Man.
This is the name given to an extraordi
nary youth who has been exhibited in
Paris, Berlin and other continental capi
tals. His peculiarities are an extraordi
nary growth of silky, fair hair, especially
on the face, and an equally extraordinary
deficiency of teeth. Unless it may be in
th? color of the hair, there is not the
slightest resemblance to a bear in the
bov. The errowth of hair on the face, es-
Peally about the eyes, nose and ears,
uyes' "owev", sirongiy suggest me as-
four teeth also suggests the resemblance
to a dog. Professor Virchow, of Berlin,
it is said, has likened him to the terrier
monkey.. The name bear-man has been
given to the boy to distinguish him from
his father, a man with similar peculiari
ties, who some ten years ago was exhibi
ted on the Continent as "the dog-man.'
According to his guardian, a Mr. Forster,
the father and this lad, then about tw
years old, were discovered in one of thf
Russian government forests. The man,
who is now dead, was a thorough savage
and nothing could be ascertained froc
him to throw light on his antecedent or
the history of the boy. The lad has been
given the name of Theodor Jewtichejew.
He is of an amiable disposition and i3
quick to learn. He has received some
education in St. Petersburg. He speaks
German and knows a few words of French
' and English. He dances and plays the
, s , . , J wllon
he evokes applause. He is to be exhibi
ted in America.
The Petrified Wood Industry.
The petrified forests near Holbrook,
Arizona, have been purchased by a com
pany. They have commenced the ship
ment and manufacture of the petrifactions
into tables, tiles and various ornamental
articles in building and finishing. In
this connection the Prascott Miner has
the following: "Governor Tritle informs
us that while in San Francisco he in
spected an establishment recently started
for the cutting and polishing of petrified
wood taken from the wonderful forest of
petrifactions existing along the line of
the Atlantic and Pacific in this Territory.
The parties engaged in this work state
that the petrified wood is rapidly driving
California onyx from the market as a
material for mantels, etc., as it is suscep
tible of a much finer polish and is also
more permanent and lasting than that of
the onyx. Several companies nave al
ready been formed for the purpose of
getting possession of portions of the for
est by pre-emption," thus promising te
further push the manufacture. Scientific
American
SCIENTIFIC AND INDUSTRIAL.
The Edison Electric Light company
has three farms in Japan devoted to rais
ing bamboo for carbon.
According to the latest results of the
! finest instrumental tests as to the propa-
ganuu vi eiecincuy, an electric signal
travels at the rate of 16,000 miles per
second.
Cotton waste is now used in conjunc
tion with straw and asbestos in building
houses. It is formed into a paste which
in a very short time becomes very hard
and makes a durable slab or block for
building purposes.
Recently the dome of St. Peter's, in
Rome, was reclad at an expense to the
Vatican of $40,000. The old sheathing
required such continuous repairs that it
was deemed better to replace it. The
sheets of lead which now cover the dome
weigh 708,610 pounds, and would extend
over more than an acre and a half of land
if they were spread out flat.
Another danger is added to modern
housekeeping. Dr. Austen has discov
ered that water containing organic mat
ter will, when under pressure, dissolve
compounds of lead, zinc and copper
more rapidly and in much larger quanti
ties than when pure and under ordinary
conditions. He claims that many cases
of dysentery result from drinking such
water that has stood all night in lead or
zinc pipes.
A Boy's Ambitions.
Eearly everybody who is now a man.
?vs he Throu9 Mail, was once a boy.
All these lTOwn-nn nnra rpm-mhpr hnnr
they felt the first time they ever Saw a
brass band. They felt that the President
of the United States was not to be com
pared to the editor of the base drum, and
that the drum-major was at least six:'
inches above George Washington in the
temple of fame. Oh! how they did
yearn to belong to a brass band, until a
circus came along, and then, how they
longed to be the fearless equestrian or
the man in the lion's cage. Congress
had no charms for most of its prSsenr
members when they were boys. To be
a barewac rider or drum-major was in
finitely greater than to be a member of
Congress in their youthiJil eyes. -
Then came a time when Jhcir hearts
were set on becoming a brakcmaJJ on a
railway train, and when the vision ,of
promotion to the conductorship of a tram
floated across their dreamy optics they
were in the fifth heaven of delight.
Time wore on, only to rub the glitter of
the railway service off, and supply its
place with grand aspirations for the po
sition of umpire of a baseball game,
which was rapidly succeeded by an inor
dinate ambition to be the victor of a
prize-ring. After being knocked out in
one round by nearly every boy in the
community, ambition again underwent a
metamorphosis, and the one thing of all J
things desired was to be the reigning
monarch of a barber-shop, or the un
trammeled commander of a volunteer
fire-brigade.
In due time all the tinsel of these high
callings was but dross to them, and to
die on the battle-field, breathing some
patriotic sentiment as the sands of life
ran away, was the one high aim of exist
ence. Alter one encampment with the
home militia, with beans and hardtack
for menu, and hardtack and beans for
desert, and a finger accidently shot
off for fun.no further 'anxiety to spill
blood by the gallon for their country
was manifested, and thev longed for
more agreeable pursuits incident to the
tranquil surroundings of peace.
At about this point their desires took
a different turn. Their hearts glowed
with a nobler impulse, and there was a
trifle more of a determination to do in
their composition. One determined to
teach school, and did so. To be sure,
he was surprised that life was not one
continual round of uninterrupted joy in
his new calling, but he worries along,
and the next spring enters a law office
and becomes a disciple of Blackstone.
The next autumn he reverts to- school
teaching, and school-teaching is sand
wiched into his life in various ways and
at numerous periods afterward, until he
becomes an editor, and the prize-ring
experiences of his youth are repeated
again. Some years later he is elected
to Congress, and then the old ambitions
are forgotton and give place to designs
upon the Senate. Only a few of them '
ever get there, and they at once feel the
humming of the presidential bee in their
bonnets, and eventually become candi
dates before the national conventions of
the great parties, and all but two get
left ; and when the election is over one
of those two is also left.
An Electric French Girl.
M. Arago, Dr. Cholet and M. Victor
Meunier are responsible for the following
extraordinary account of an electric girl.
The girl, a peasant of thirteen, called
Angelique Cottin, was, 31. Meunier tells
us in his weekly scientific article, work
ing in a factory, when a small table next
to her was violently upset without, os
tensible cause. Subsequently, in the
'presence of M. Meunier, she sat on. a
chair held by several people, when the
chair was hurled from their hands. This
was tried more than once with Vik re
sults, the chair being in one case broken
when its holders were strong enough ot
to let it go. When isolation from the
ground was produced by glass, none of .
these effects occurred. The only dis
comfort which the girl ever feels is a
pain in the hollow of the elbow. Before
a commission of engineers none of these
experiments succeeded, but it is alleged
in explanation that the electric proper
ties of her system have through repeated
discharges lost their force and finally be
come exhausted. Pall MaJl QaicUt
I