■ft JE TELEPHONE THE TELEPHONE. líEMOCUATIC. RATES OF ADVERTISING. MEMINNVILLE, OREGON, NOVEMBER 18. 1887 One square or less, one insertion............... $1 00 Ono’‘quare, each subsequent insertion.... 50 Noticesof appointment and fiuolsetilenient 5 00 Other legal advertisements 75 cents for first Insertion and 10 nta per square fur each sub sequent insertion. Special business notices In business columns. 10 cents per line. Regular business notices, 5 cents perline. Professional cards, >12 per year. Special rates for large display “ads." PUBLISHED FRIDAY EBY MORNING. PUBLICATION OFFICE: Door North of eor er Third and K Eu , MiM’NNVIL’F. OR. SUBSCRIPTION RATES; (IN ADVANCE.*) •ar tenths • • I months $2 00 I 00 50 VOL. II STOVES! 6ONNET. S. A. MANNING C-A-H-Edi-ilS THE FITTEST LI1TE OF "OVES I11 ^le county, the new acorn . ese stoves, without doubt, are the best e manufactured. One of these stoves will given to the new cash subscriber to the LEPHONE who guesses nearest its weight. R nn Stove iriven away. lUiUU COME AND SUBSCRIBE $1,50 A YEAR. Schofield & Morgan, 87 Washington St., Portland, Oregon. all and Ceiling Papers Of all Grades and the Latest Eastern Styles------ 8AMPLE9 .'tÆJVIT.ETi OJST APPLICATION: 3NS0RIAL PARLOR, ying, Hair Cutting and- - - - - - - - Shampoing Parlors. C. H. FLEMING, Prop. 11 kinds of fancy hair cutting done in latest and neatest style 11 kinds of fancy hair dressing and hair ig. a specialty Special attention given Ladies' and Childrens' Work also have for sale a very flue assort- t of hair oils, hair tonics, cosmetics, etc t I have in connection with my parlor, • the largest and finest stock of CIGARS • E v A in the city. fitiRD S treet M c M innvillx , O bimon J. SMITH, Tall Oaks From Little Acorns Grow. With brains and skill and patient will. Winch shows them great painstakers! The Wagon that has pleased the world. Was made by S tudebakers The Country grew with rapid strides; The West with teeming acres. Was in a quandry what to do! Till relieved by S tudebakers . So, with Iron and Wood and labor good, Though they have many Imitators; If you want the Wagon that’s best on earth ! Just buy of S tudebakers . The’moral is plain, which you may know* And if you look, you may see also, That the largest daks from Acorns grow; The same as the S tudebakers . New Blacksmith Shop! AMITY, OREGON. 8AM LIKENS, Proprietor. Blacksmithing and carriage ironing of every description. ---- AGENT FOR----- RANK BRO'S. Implement Co. Horse Shoeing AT And plow work a specialty. ITH’S Machine Works Also manufacture the be found a complete stock of £flT"Celebrated Oregon Iron Harrow, H ford plows, including the Carbon- GIVE ME A CALL. 60tf g .QI aa I nlruv <inrl SMITH .Q M IT M ’ ' S Traitant ■ Steel plow, and Patent Hiking Gang. These plows are some- jpg new and useful and it costs M c M innville gibing to try them. Also the new HA- ANA Press Drill, call and look before lying elsewhere. I am also prepared >furnish eastings and steam fixtures lahort notice. sep23tf Cor Third and D streets, McMinnville ill LOGAS BROS., & HENDERSOY, THE OLD RELIABLE Proprietors. LLOWAY & GOUCHER, Props. warehouse has been thoroughly reno ted and overhauled, and new accom modations added. lest Cash Prices Paid for Grain. Iroct Shipment« to San Francisco. 1. but standard Calcutta Sacks kept tud let on the moat reasonable term«. Honest Weight. Fair Dealing. TORAGE 3 CEZCTTS. WM. HOLL, Proprietor of the II mile talrç ta, The leading 1WELRY ESTABLISHMENT, —OF- The Best Rigs in the City. Orders Promptly attended to Day or light. CITY STABLES, Third Street, between E and F McMinnville, Oregon. Henderson Bros. Props. First-class accommodations for Commer cial men and general travel. Transient stock well cared for. Everything new and in Firet-Claes Order Patronage respectfully solicited ltf Mrs. II. P. Stuart, THE LEADER IN---- Third Street. McMinnvi'.'e Or. “WHEN” You want any thing in the line of ob Printing MILLINERY, Hair wealing ami Stamping. Opposite Orange Store McMinnville. Or. Call at the office of the WE«T We SIDE TELEPHONE will guarantee you IT WORK, LOWEST PRICES. Wa make a specialty ot Fine ik and Card Printing. Flour and Feed —Goods sold at— The Lowest Cash Price —And— S, A. YOUNG, M. D. Phyaioiaa 4 Surgeon. IwirriiLC, —Dealer in all kinds of— Delivered F ree ! G reson I To all persons residing witliin city limits. lc. and residence on D street. Ail promptly ausw.red day or night Lyle AVrit<ht Dealer in v. PRICE, PHOTOGRAPHER. Stain in Hass’ Bailding. Harness. Saddles. Etc. Etc. Repairing neatly dona al reasonable tstiss Wright’• d « w building Coraer Third and F siTMgt, MeMkanrlBte. dr. Love make« the solid grossness musical; All luelteu in the marvel of its breaths. Life’s level facts attain a lyric swell, And liquid births leap up from rocky deaths, WiLchiug the world with wonder. Thus, today, Watching the crowding peep e in the street, I thought the ebbing anti the flowing feet Moved to u delicate sense of rhythm uiwuy; And that I heard the yearning faces say, “Soul, sing me this new song!’’ The autumu leaves Throbbed subtly to me an immortal tune; And when a warm shower wet the roof8at noon, Soft melodies slid down on mo from the eaves, Dying delicious in a mystic swoon. —Richard Realf. A NOBLE VICTORY. The waves break on the shore of the North sea. A sharp wind from tho north sweep« over its surface, driving the waves high be fore it. On their crests rises und sinks the white foam. How the water surges forward, if it would rnsh far into the land. But again and ap/Jn it retreats from the white sand, only to return iu haste the next morn ing. On the shore lies stretched out thefvillage of Husom. Every little house stands by itself, often separated from its neighbor by a wide space of perhaps fifty feet, which is generally made into a garden, in which a few feeble plants draw a scanty nourishment from the ground. With no less difficulty do the inhab itants of Husom manage to get their living. They are all fishermen, und the sea is their real home, on which they go out for miles to cast their nets. When the sun shines on a smooth surface it is uu exhilarating occupa tion, but when a sudden storm springs up while the boats are far from land and a fog settles down upon the water liko a broad, heavy mantle, then one understands how hard are the conditions and the perpetual danger attending the labor by which these men earn their bread. The sea runs high and most of the boats have pulled in to land. Two men are still working to save their property in the same way. They are both young, large, vigorous men, with sun burned faces and toil hardened hands. At last their boats too rest on the shore firmly secured. “Lars,” said one of the men, straightening np and buttoning his short jacket, “this will be a fierce blow to-night.” The other nodded: “It is lucky tbut none of us are out.” Meanwhile they have started homeward, and stride along together in silence. The only street of the village is quiet. It is dark, here and there a faint light gleaming from a little window. They are passing a small house, and, almost as if by a secret agreement, they approach and glance through the lighted window to the inside. An old man with white hair aud beard sits in a large arm chair; his head has fallen forward on his breast—a pict ure of the life fast sinking to rest. At the table, on the opposite side, sits, in bright contrast, a young girl, sowing—a fresh, lovely face, with round, rosy cheeks and luxuriant, fair hair. Kato Mason is the prettiest girl in the village, and the most industrious, on whom many a young fellow looks with earnest glance. Early and late she is busy, supporting herself und hep aged father by her own hands. The loiterers at the window have turned and gone on their way. At last Lars said: “Good night, Christoph,” and crossed the street to bis home. He had heard the reply to his greeting, and now waited and listened, standing by the fence that inclosed his little tract of ground. Christoph had not gone on, but bad turned back—for what? Lars felt a misgiving. He, too, hastened back. The wind drives full in his face, but he does not heed. Now he bears Christoph’s steps before him, but cannot see, for it is very dark. There stands the little bouse where Katie Mason lives. Christoph stands by the win dow. Lars sees him plainly in the light of tho lamp that falls full upon him. lie hears a tap on tho window, and now Christoph has bls hand on tho door, and it opens before him. “Thou, Christoph? What brings thee so late?” asked Katie, holding on to tho door, which tho storm was shaking. “I was passing und suw thee sitting, so I stopped to bid thee ‘sleep well.’” “Thou dear!” sho said, putting out her hand. The wind seized the door thus set free, and flung it wide open against tho wall. But Christoph, using all his strength, drew the girl into the ball und closed tho door. Lars grew hot under his coarse jacket; hot in spite of the blustering wind. He stepped close to the door and heard speaking within, but could not distinguish anything. He waited, bis heart filled with the pangs of jealousy. How long ho stood he knew not; it seemed an eternity to him. At last the door opened and Christoph stepped out. “Sleep well, dear girl,” ho whispered. „“Goodby, dear Christoph.” Tho key was turned in the lock. Christoph went home, tho joy of love requited in his heart. The other, too, turned homeward, but a long time parsed before he reached the little house. They had grown up together-—Lars, Chris toph and Katie. The three bad played to gether continually as children, and Katie would 1)® carried by no others or drawn on the sled by none but Lars or Christoph. When they grew larger they went to school together and were confirmed together in the lit lo church of the neighboring village. No strife bad ever come between them, never bad tho girl shown whether she bad pre ferred one of the luds to the other. As these developed into strong men, Kat io bloomed intJ still greater boauty, ns was apparent to other young men of tho village, and Rob Steffel ventured to intimate as much, in a rough fashion, to the girl. Tho following day his place in the boat was empty; he wag sick, his father said—the truth was, Rob would not show his discolored face. From that time the young fellows held themselves aloof from Katie Mason. But iWt veen Lars and Christoph the old intimacy began grad ually to diminish. They went with Katie to her first dance. Who should be her first partner? They disputed long over it out of the girl’s hearing, and at last, with heated faces, appealed to her to clioore between them. Katie looked at them, and for tho first time felt a misgiving that if the chose on® the other would l>e deeply hurt. R*> she said: “It. make* no difference to me which I dance with first, but if it is of so much ac count to you draw cuts.” They did so, and Christoph was the lucky one. While they were settling the matter Katie looked on with apparent indifference, but her heart beat fast under hfir txxlice, and when it was decided sb® almost unconsciously smiled with evident pleasure. Lars saw it, and from that day jealousy began to take root deeper and deeper in his heart, and there was no lack of occa sion to develop it. Margrit Hermenseu, Katie** best friend, went to th® altar to plight lier faith. Katie was chosen to cany the wreath, accotnpani *d by Christoph. When Lars beard of it lie opposed it vehemently. Both young men grew violent, and onlv Katie’s prewen -e of mind iu declaring she did not wish to go to the wedding prevented per baps the very worst outbreak of Lar/ pa- sionate storm of anger. After that the two avoided «acb other as miK*b as possible, but •ought to be with Katie. Ea*-b knew that th<- çtDu teTed ths girl, aud beta felt secret;; conscious to whom Katie’s heart inclined. Cnristopb, the calmer und more self possessed, felt a silent, blissful happiness taking posses sion of his heart when the girl l<x>ked at liimj with her blue eyes so sweetly and kindly.' Lars, more vehement, believed at times that4 Kutio loved him, her manner was always so cordial. But, again, wbeu he saw her with ChrLtoph, a voice within told him that he was not the favored one, and ho suffered bitter torment. So it bud gone on till th® evening when the young fishermen returned together from the shore. Christoph’s heart beat last at the quiet, peaceful scene in old Mason’s cot tage, and it drew him back with irresistible power to leave a greeting for the beloved one But after he bail entered the hall, in bis effort to close the door, so violently flung open by th® storm, he suddenly became conscious of Katie in his arms. And while it raged and stormed without bo kissed her, and in wild happiness he whispered: “Katie, do you love me?” She did not answer, but her lips pressed his. Thenext morning Lars stood on the shore mending liis boat, when Rob Steffel came by. “You are early, though you came home late. Were you with your sweetheart?” Lars looked at him, red with anger. He struck the wo<xl with his ax, and the chips flew far around. “Hobo!” continued the other, “you did not have good luck, it seems.” “Keep still!” cried Lara. “What is it to you whether I have good luck or not?” ltol) Steffel stepped nearer. “You are un just to me,” he said. “A big fellow lite you should not take it so meekly. Christoph has plainly taken the fish away from you.” Lars made no answer, but his hand clasped the ax convulsively. “You and I have no love for Christoph,” continued Rob; “let us join together against him,” and he held out his hand. “I want nothing to do with you,” replied Lars, and t lrned away, resuming bis work. Rob Steffel laughed scornfully, and went away, but the sting that his words contained remained in Lars’ breast. When the other was out of sight he flung down his ax, and went back to the village. Slowly, with down cast head, he walked. Before the house of old Mason be paused, then with a sudden resolution ho entered. But, as if bound, he stood in the doorway—in the room stood Katie tenderly embraced by Christoph. A painful silence prevailed for a moment, then Christoph stepped toward Lars, put out his hand, and said: “Katie is my betrothed since last evening. 1 intended to come di rectly to you and tell you.” He did not answer, only a bitter smile quiv ered on bis lips. It was excessively painful to the girl. She felt what a blow she had given him, though blameless herself. She longed to say something to him, but could not find the right tvord. So she only looked at him, and without speaking held out her hand to him, but. he turned away and left the house. Toward noon tile shore was alive with men. The seu gleamed in the sunshine again, th® waves played gently, and u soft wind was blowing. The day was favorable for a large haul. All the fishermen of the village were gathered together, the nets and oars were put into the boats, the sails spread wide, and the litt'e fleet sailed far out into the broad, beautiful sea. Katie stood on the shore, sending greetings to her sweetheart as long as bis boat was iu sight. Then she went home, smiling happily to herself. She had ninch to do. After she had seen to her old father, who sat quietly in his chair and smoked a short pipe, she went about her work. How it flew under her hands today, though frequently she stopped, gazing down lost in uweet dreams. Then she worked so much the faster again. So hour after hour flew by unheeded. At last tho day’s task was ended and Katie went to the door. But the weather had changed, tho sun had» disap peared b'diind thick clouds and the sky hung in gray folds over the sea. The fishermen also bad finished their work. The rich booty lay in tho boats, promising a fine reward for their bard labor. But in tho east it wus black and threatening. They must reach horn® l»e fore the storm camo on. The little sails spread out, the ships flew over the water, causing the foam to break over the deep drip ping sides. Then came tho first blow .strong against the sails; the load<l boats threatened to upset. Tho men were forced to take in sails and trust wholly to tho oars. It grew dark, and tho sea lifted itself restlessly into huge, far rolling waves. Then tho storm broke loose with wild force; it howled and lashed tho sea till it reared in short, foam capped waves. Tho men rovvad with all their might; tlio shore could not be far away, though it was not visible in the darkness. Ahead ot all the others shot Christoph’s boat; close behind him was Lara’. It seemed as if the two were running a race for the safety of the shore. A wave seized Christoph’s boat, lifted it high and flung it with its broad side against the end of Lars’ vessel, breaking it in. Lars saw it sinking before him. A thought shot through Ids heart, frightful and vivid: “Let the waves bury Christoph and Katie is yours.” But the thought was gone in a mo ment; in the next he had leaned far out, grasped tho constant friend of his youth, now struggling with death. But he lost his own balance, sitting on the extreme edge. He flung out liis hand to catch hold of something, but found nothing, and plunged headlong. A huge wave*seized the boat, threw it far from the place, and iu the roaring of the waves a last, despairing cry was lost. At last th® fishermen had painfully reache« 1 the shore. Women and old men full of an guish stood waiting the returning ones. ••Katie,” cried a voice from the darkness, and tho girl felt herself embraced by two arms. “Christoph! thank heaven that you are hero’” She led him to her bouse. II® was silent, all th® way, only bolding her fast. 8he, too, hardly spoke. When they reached the house, she noticed for the first time that bis clothet were saturated, and nskod the reason, Then his mouth quivered with repressed pain, while he answered: “Kasi*, the storm destroyed my boat. Lars ¿natcbct) mo from tho waves, but bo himself fell into the sea and'*— “What?” Ebe asked, breathlessly. “I could n^t save him,” be »id, almost in audibly. ♦ ♦ ♦ • ® ® After a few days the sea washed the body of Lara ashore. It was th® only sacrifice it bad demand«*«! that day. Lars had no pa rents living, but even j»rents could not have sued more burning tears than Katie and Christ ph when bo was buried in the little churchyard. The thought of him, th® con- sciousneS'« that his sacrifice had secured their liappincNs never left them. Long after Katie went to th® altar with Christoph, and ®h«n tl»ey camo from the •hurcb their first step» were directed to th® grave of Lars.—Translated iron» the German by L. V. Htur. Th® Cnlversal Cn«fom Th® only custom which reetns to b« uni versal, according LO a gentleman who has just conimen<*ed a trip «round th« world, is the use of tobacco. In many places be saw the weed u«ed by women a« much as by men E* rybody found smoking on tba street« of Sangutock, Mi* h., during the dry spell was liable to be ai reel «1 under tbe orders ot the NO. 30 ( BILL SOJOURNER TRUTH Gives His AN ACCOUNT OF HER INTERVIEW WITH PRESIDENT GRANT. Por»«kiiHl Appearance of tlie “Lybtan Slbj 1”—Mor Words at the Cupitol«*«An IiHroduction to Grant—An Impressive Interview—The Parting. I knew Sojourner Truth moro than forty years ago in Now England. Hhe was then 70 years old, but seemed hardly beyond the prime and glory of her womanhood. In those days Harriot Beecher Stowe described her us “the Lyl>ian Sibyl,” gifted with prophetic insight aud tall and erect like a strong and | graceful African palm tree. She would do . more housework of the heaviest kind than ■ two ordinary women, and yet l>e one of the • best watchers by a sickbed at night. A sick ! man she lifted to the best place on his bed as easily and tenderly as a mother would lift her baby, und the touch of her hand smooth ing (he pillow and stroking the fevered brow was health and quiet, while her wail, “There, honey, you’s easier now,” had a strange power to give ease and calm. Untrained in grammar or rhetoric, never able to read or write, there was a quaint dis regard for set rule of s;»eech in her public and private discourse, but. no fine rh.-torician coul<i make his meaning plainer and few could equal her in power of expression or ex uberance of imagery. A few years after the close of the civil war 1 went, with her to the senate reception room in the Capitol at Washington. She stood beneath tho center of its arched ceiling and tho deep look of her wonderful eyes seemed to take in tiie beauty of pictured forms and glowing colors on its walls, as she said: “Dis is liko the picture chain I lei's of <le New Jerusalem dat dey read about, in de Book.” Then she looked out of I the window and saw the poor huts *»f the freed p?ople not far nwav, and raid in tender tones: “But they don’t have dem over there.” A gr»‘at gospel of divinity and of tender hu manity seemed spoken in two brief sentences. Great souls can move other souls. “AS THE SPIRIT TOLD HER." In the winter of 1871-72 I sj>ent some time in Washington, and about midwinter learned ] that Sojourner Truth was in the city. Had I not known her ways this would have been a surprise, for the long winter’s journey 1 from her home nt Battle Creek, in the cen ter of Michigan, was a serious undertaking for a woman near her 100th birthday. But 1 knew that she always went “as the good spirit told her,” and that some strong feeling of duty to lie done led her to tho capital city. Her wav opened, not long after, for some good service among the freedmen at the hospitals. I soon went to see her and she said, with great earnestness: °I believe de good Lord sent you, for you are de very one 1 wanted to see.” Asking what was specially wanted, she said: “I want to see President Grant, and you can get me there.” I told her that was easier said than done, but I would try, und the next day wrote a note to him, suying she wished to see him at some fit time, took it to the White House, sent it in to the business office, and a verbal message soon came back to me in the waiting room that any morning would suit. In a few days Sojourner, with two ladies, a venerable friend of Quaker birth and my self, went to meet the appointment and I sent in a card, “Sojourner Truth and friends,’’ which brought back in a half hour a messen ger to escort us to President Grant’s office. He sat at the end of a long table in the center of the room, with documents piled before him, and just closing an interview with other persons. I stepped forward to introduce the party and to bring Sojourner beside the table. She had met President Lincoln, und he, u born Kentuckian, could call her “Aunty” in the old fumiliur way, while Grant, though kindly, was reticent, and all was not quite easy at fii*st. But a happy thought camo to her. Not long before the president bad signed some bill of new guarantees of justic« to tho colored people. S.ie spoke of this with gratitude; the thin ice broke and words came freely from both, for Grant waa an easy am fluent talker, but had the wisdom of silence until the fit time came to sp?ak. Standing there, tall and erect while stirred in soul by the occasion, her wonderful eyes glowed as she thanked him for his good deeds and gave wise counsel in her own clear and quaint way. FINE AND SIMPLE DIGNITY. Her words came in tones full of deep j>ower and tenderneM, and ho listened with great in terest and respect, and told her that he “hoped always to be just to all und especially to see that the poor and defenseless wer< fairly treated.” His voice and manner toL bow bis heart was touched, and his softenet tones showed how “the bravest are tho ten derest.” Hhe told him how his tasks am trials were appreciated and bow much faitl was placed in bis upright doing of duty t< the oppressed, and be quietly, yet with mucl> feeling, expressed the hope that he might over be wise and firm and never forget the inalien able rights of all Only great souls can comprehend true greatness, and these two undeistood each other. Nothing in the illustrious career of Gen. Grant gave me a fuller *ras* of Ids largeness of heart and mind than his unpre tending simplicity and appreciative r**pect*in this interview, while the fine and simple dig nity of Sojourner Truth also gave me a fuller sense of her largo womanhood. Hhe said tn him: “I have a little book here that I call my book of life. A good many names ar® in it, aud I have kept a place on the sain® page with Lincoln's for you to write your name.” He 1 eplied: “I am glad to put it there,” and wrote his autograph in her little book. Rhe then said: “It will do me good for you to have my photograph," and with evident pleasure he thanked her and selected on® from several laid on the table. The conversation hud lasted beyond the usual time, others stood by, waiting their turn, yet listening with great inlerest. and the fit timo ram® to leave. Th® president rose from his chair and gave Sojourner hi* hand with a parting word of good will. This mutual respect ami appreciative sympathy between the president of a great republic and a woman born a slave and represent!ug an oppressed jx'opi* was admirable and inspir ing—G. B Stebbins. Strange Control of Vlori«®«. Hine® boyhood I ba/e always had a strange control of borsrw. I can no more explain it tlian I could tell you why my eyes are b ack; but it is a fart thnt bsfors I have handled a horse long he will follow me hko a dog and mrwer my command. 1 one® bad th® four horses that pull the engine at Broadway and Almond under such control that nt »he dis tance of a block they would answer my whis tle and race like th® wind to which could reach rrx* firat. An old fir® bores was one® sold to an ashman. H® was hitched to a post a block away, and I thought 1 recognized him, and 1 whistled. I had not sp « hi him for two years, but b® recog mas* i my whistle, and, breaking th® bitching strap, h® cam® tearing to in®, with th® cart rattling behind him. A few minutes later the exritsd owner cam® up and thanked me warmly Cur catching bis runaway bora®.—Assistant Firs Chief in | Glut® Dvmocj at NYE V« h * m A«> h of tlie Story of Char lotte Corday. A constant- roador of The Globo has writ ten to know something of Charlotte Corday. and as the letter has been referred to me, 1 take great pleasure iu stating briefly, anc in glowing terms, what I am able to recall of this eccentric young woman's life. Charlotte Corday was born on a foreigi strand, now known as Normandy, named ir honor of the large speckled gray horst» with thick, piano legs and gross necks, tbal come from there to engage in hauling beci wagons in the land of the free and the houw of the brave. Here Charlotte was born in the year 1703 Like the record of Mr. Spartacus, who, ii 8i>eaking of bis own experience, said that hb early life ran quiet as the clear brook bj whWh he sported, the childhood of Char lotto Corday was almost devoid of interest, being monotonous and unanimous, as ft sell made man said to me not long since, refer ring to the climate of the south. She early turned her attention, however, to the matter of patriotism, hoping to ob tain a livelihood in the patriot line some day. She investigated the grievances ol France, and gave her attention almost ex clusively to the invention of some way bj which to redress these grievances. Hom« of them had not been redressed for oentu ries, ami they ought to have been ashamed of themselves. According to all accounts, the grievance» of France were, at that time, in full drew and short sleeves, ready for the ball t< open. It fell to <he lot of Charlotte Corday t< open the ball. She was a beautiful girl, with clear blue eyes, placed at equal distances from a tall, light colored nose, which was pale when in repose, blit flushed delicately when she wai in tears. Her ripe and ruddy French inoutt opened and closed readily wbeu she was en gaged in conversation, and her white and beautiful shoulders, ever and anon, while sh( talked, humped themselves like a hired man on his way to dinner. She had, also, tresses of hair of that pecul iar Titian variety which is supposed to g< with freckles and a high temper. The his torian says that her hair looked black as it divided over her fair forehead and hung back across her shapely head, but at night, as it was drain'd across the richly carved frame of the an revoir where the fire light or the Norman Hose company could play upon it, you would have thought it a bright and inflammatory red. Charlotte Corday was tall and graceful, and when her elastic stop and heroic foot followed the light meas ure of some gay French tune at an Octobei pumpkin peeling, she could dance on foi hours without jarring the glass in th« win dows very much. Her costume was simple and did not. cost a great deal. It consisted of a Normandj cap made of cheese cloth in shape like the tail of a setting hen, and trimmed in front with real French lace from the ten oenl counter. Iler dress was all wool delaine with a pin stripe in it and trimmed with th same. Her other dresses were different. Iler stockings were toll and slender as seer hanging on the woman clothes line at Caen, but her heart was gay and happy as th« day was long. Charlotte Corday was one of a larg» family whose descendants wore called Cor duroy. They were the instigators of a style of road that has done more to shorten th» spinal column and jolt the jejunum int< chaos than any other line of inventions throughout the United States. Charlotte Corday had a voice which ac oompanied her in all het* rambles, and it if said that it was very musical and standed first rate. Her parents were poor, so she had very few advantages, ns will be noticed at. one» by the careful student who reads her MH8. to-day and notices where she has frequently spell««! cabbage with a k. She spoke FroooL fluently, but was familiar with no other for sign tongue whatever. She took a great interest, in politico, but did not indorse the administration. Sb« felt more os|M»rially bitter toward a gentle man namal Marat, who was rather literary in his habits and who also acted as a kind of chairman of the National Central oom mittee. To his other work he had also ad iled the tedious and exhausting task of pick ing out people and indorsing them as suite ble persons to be beheaded. Being a jour nalist he had to write hard all the Evening to get the hook full of red hot political edi torial copy, and then when ho should have gone to bed and to rest, he had to take the directory and pick out enough people for a mess the following day. In this way Marat was kept very busy, with the foreman on his heels all day and the guillotine on his heels all night, aw1 every man was afraid to see the deput sheriff coming, for fear he had a subpoena for him. It was no unusual thing in those days for a Frenchman to turn off the ga« and go to bed, only to find his shirt collar all bloody where the guillotine had binged his hair just, above his Adam’s apple in the morning. Those were indoefl squirming times, as M de Lamartine, ft humorous writer of Franco, has so truly said. No man felt perfectly safe when he saw Marat at a sociable or a caucus. It was impossible to tell whether lie had come to write the thing np for hlw paper or pick out *ime more people to be killed by the administration. They got v that. Marat could induce any of them to sub scribe for his paper, and people advertise*. in his columns for things they did not wan* in order to show that they felt perfectly friendly toward him. It was at this time that Charlotte Corday called one morning fit the apartments of Mr. Marat with ft view tn assassinating him She sent in worl that a young Indy from Caen desired to see Mr. Marat for the pur- powof piying her rabitcription. Rhe was- told thnt the editor was taking a bath. Rhe laughed n cold, Incredulous laugh, for sin had «eon a groat many French journalists, and when one of them sent word to her that ho was bathing she could ill repress a low, gurgling langh. Finally she was admitted to his privet* apartments, where ho was indeed in th* bath with an old table cloth thrown over him, engaged In writing a scathing criticism on th* custom of summer fallowing old buckwheat lands and sowing Swedish tnr nips on them in July, when the country was v> crowded for cemetery ronin. Charlotte apologized for disturbing th# great journalist at such a tim*, and remark ing thnt we were having rather a backward spring produced a short stab knife with which she cut a large overcoat button hole in th® able journalist’s thorax. Kha then passed inte th* office, and leav ing word to have her paper stopped sb« went to the executioner. Ix*t ns learn from this brief bit of history never to ««ressinnt* any one unless it be done I in relf defense —Bill Nye In Boston Globa. i?olora«ln’s Peculiar Winds. “Well, no,” said the Coloradan, “we don’t have any winds to amount to anything, but it blows a few min Utt's there now and then. The winds are peculiar, too; I never saw any thing like them anywhere else. They are what you might call discriminating breezes. I’ve seen a man go aloug the street, and it would be blowing a hurricane on one «ide of him; and on the other side it would be a dead calm. I’ve seen a mule stand bra***d against the wind blowing behind her, with her tail blown rigid up straight) and one ear put away ahead of her nose, while the ear on the other side would be in a natural, calm posi tion, and that side of the boast would be sweating! It will take the skin off one side of your face and not touch the other. I saw a man with whiskers get one side of his face shaved bv a wind like that, as clean us any barber con hi do it. A small boy and a dog were walking up the street with him at the time, and they each lost on« ear. I’ve seen a man lose one leg of his pants and a coat tail, ami get his hat knocked all over on one side. They don’t do any particular daniogtf, those winds, but they are ns peculiar ns can be!”— Descendant ot S. VV. in Sait I Ake Tribune. The Wolf aud the Peasant—-A Fable. A peasant who was on watch while bi, flock of goats were feeding discovered a wolf prowling about and fired upon him. The wolf, who narrowly escaped being hit, ad vanced in great indignation and demanded: “By what right do yon fire upon me with out having seen me commit some overt act?" “My dear sir,? replied the peasant as he proceeded to reload his guu, “the best time to fire a! a wolf is before he has killed your goats.” MORAL. Armi your burglar liefere he burgle. Detroit Free Frees. Art in Chicago. Two gaudily attired la<lies were observed recently inspecting tJte colossal statu« of Schiller, of which Chicago is pardonably proud. “What a remarkably large man he must have been,” said one, craning her neck and gazing up at the flowing locks and prominent nose of the figure. “Yes,” replied the other, with the conde scending air of one imparting knowledge, “The Scotch are always large men.”—Detroit Free Press. Example» of Tenderness. Fogg— I really lw»g a thousand pardons. I fear 1 stepped on your dog. Little Miss Marigold—Oh, it doesn’t matter! the dog Isn’t mine; ho belongs to tUp other little girt TOUCHING DEVOTION. Estelle—And uro you going to leave me so soon, Augustus? Augustus—My Jove, I would willingly give ten years of my life if I could stay longer. But if I don’t go I shall be fined for being late at a card party.—Chi cago Rambler. I He W hs From Minneapolis. “Have you beard of that interesting care down east of a woman who was cured of paralysis by the miraculous power of a relio of Ht. Pauir “Yes, I have; but Pm from Minneapolis, and I wouldn’t touch a relic of St. Paul with a ton foot pole.”—Chicago It ambler. A Hurt llnblt. The hniiit of abbreviating everything one writes is a bud one. The Woburn Advertiser tells of seeing a communication width spoke of a lady appearing at the theatre iu ova. cua- tuinu.—I.ynn Item. Brevities. Inconvenience is the father of invention.— WhiteliHil Times. A hit tn time saves the nine on many a ball field.—Newark Call. Tolmcco chewing is so popular in Illinois that a movement has l>een inaugurated to ( hang® the name of th« lake city to Chew- cago.—Life. Th® superintendent of a county fair in Ohio economized time, Ry>ace and paint, by putting up the sign, “Gr& Ht&." That's good ,n sense.—Burdette. It is h sight to make angels snicker to see a fish jrnian pull out of the water a two-inch sucker with an outfit that caste him $25 or $30.—Boston Transcript “Garments without buttons” are advertised. Evidently the cast-off clothing of bachelor* who don’t know how to handle thread and needle. — Norristown Herald. If the genius who informs you now that the days are growing shorter is not careful he will stumble over the equally valuable fact that the nights are growing longer.—New York Graphic, Boston Girl—What do you think of Emer son, Mr. Wayoffl Mr. W. (from Cincinnati) —Well, Billy used to sing pretty well, but he never was hr tunny to me as Billy lUee or Charley Backus.—Chicago Ila in bier. Extract from a young Newport swell’s note to a friend: “Horry i Can't bee introduced two your sister Tills afternoon, mi Valett left mi Tiiree o’clock Huit in naw York and 1 kouldent Go out iu a Checked suit Then. Or- fuMy sorry. Faithfully youra, Algernon Bertie Hilly.”—New York Mail. 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