Image provided by: Yamhill County Historical Society; McMinnville, OR
About Yamhill reporter. (McMinnville, Or.) 1883-1886 | View Entire Issue (Feb. 14, 1884)
THE HELLS OF LYNN. [Temple Bar.] When the eve is growing gray, and the tide is rolling in. I sit and look across the bay to the bonny town of Lynn; And the fisher folks are near, But I wish they never hear The songs the far bells make for me, the bonny bells of Lynn. INTO THE UNFORGOT TEN LAND. interrupting her; “sit down, please; I've something to tell you.” She sat down and he told her altout. Jiie’z death and his reading of lr r letter. He could not reach the necessary pajiers for a day or two, he said, and in the course of a week would bo obliged to visit Jersey City; if agreeable, he would be happy to wait upon her there. “Taught by tears and calmed by time,” there was little more said on either side. Mrs. Okill was summoned and chattered for about fifteen minutes, after which her brother-in- law atteuded Miss Southmayd to the little rose-banked station, pressed her hand, and bade her good-bye. Miss Southmayd’s parlor was not gorgeous; it was simply a cozy nook in which to do or to dream great or lovely things. Sitting there, with roseate lights and violet shadows flitting over face and figure, “Empress Ermyntrude’s” heart beat true, but she was on her guard against this much-married lover. Not so he. Seeing her still so rarely beau tiful, so like the queen of life’s unforgotten May, memory failed to produce a record of the hard and bitter things written and sealed against her; later loves and ties were ignored, and, although self-controlled and apparently cool and at east», he felt the passion of that earlier, better day blossoming redly in Ins heart. They parted as they ha 1 met, old acquaint ances; that, seemingly, vias all. It was, nevertheless, odd what a vast amount of “red ta|ie'’ Mr. Okill managed to wind about this bit of business. It became necessary he should call again. During this interview, he dashed into the subject nearest his thoughts and heart in a manner which might strike one as abrupt, awkward, but “very human.” “I think I never saw you look so well in anything as you did that evening in the red dress. ” She knew to what he alluded. They had quareled over a dress, which, when she dis played it in triumph as the one she was to wear at a coming party, he said would “extinguish” her; it was too much the color of her hair and eyes. One word brought an other, finally she flashed out: “If the way I dress don’t suit your lordship, perhaps I don’t suit you either, and we may as well break our engagement.” “As you please,” he had replie 1, 1 -ftily. Two days afterward they met at the party and did not speak, so the affair became com mon property. Following close this heart tragedy came the Southmavds’ removal, and that seemed to be the end of love’s young dream. “You mistake,” she replied; “it was not red, it was cinnamon-brown. They would call it terra-cotta now.” There was a moment’s silence. Each had opened the page of life’s past and was reading their stories with strained, pained hearts and eyes. They stood near the breeze haunted bay window, over which a woodbine strung her scented garlands. Somewhere, a swee - voicedgirl sang “Home, Sweet Home.” When the last note died lingeringly on the summer air, Arthur spoke: “Nor is there in life anything so sweet as the honey of young love. One may roam the world over, drinking at every spring; might even banquet with the gods, and never find, nor hope to find, such nectar as ho first drank from love’s golden clialise.” Errnyntrude, gathering some fallen white and creamy blossoms, murmured something about flowers that never freshen, and they s U mx I in silence again, looking into the unfor gotten land of youth. — (“Madge Carrol” in Arthur’s Magazine.] Arthur Okill sat in his deceased friend’s office, perusing, in the capacity of executor an epistle directed to Joseph luiuX, and signed Errnyntrude Southwayd. Although The folks are chatting gay, and I hear their addressed familiarly ‘ ‘Dear Joe,” and over merry din, flowing with sentimental reminiscences, it But I look and look across the bay to the was a business, not a love letter, else he would bonny town of Lynn; not have read it. It appeared that the He told me to wait here writer’s father left Thornton twenty years Upon the old brown pier, previous, owing Joe—who had then just en To wait and watch Into coming when the tide tered man’s estate—money for house rent. was rolling in. Having but recently discovered this fact, the Oh, I see him pulling strong, pulling o’er the lady, being now possessed of considerable bay to me, property, desired in justice to pay both And I hoar his jovial song, and his merry principal and interest. face I see; Such was the sum and substance of this And now he’s at the pier. letter, read in the golden after-glow of one of My bonny love and dear! And he's coming up the sea*washed steps with June’s fairest days. There was, however, hand outstretched to me. one line over which Arthur Okill pondered seriously. It ran thus: O my love, your cheek is cold, and your hands “The story so sweetly begun and so sadly are stark and thin! Oh, bear you not the bells of okl, the bonny broken off under that roof you know well.” Yes, of course, Joe Laux knew. When bells of Lynnf queenly Errnyntrude Southmayd broke her Oh, have you naught to say Upon our wedding day ! engagement with Arthur Okill, all the gos Love, hear you not the wedding bells across sips in the village got hold of this racy bit of the Bay of Lynn! news and rolled it like some toothsome morsel 0 my lover, speak to me! and hold me fast, under their tongues. The elders remembered it to this day, although the discarded lover mine own! For I fear this rising sen, and these winds and had at different times honorably wooed and waves that moan! won two of their daughters and had buried them, and children with them, under^the red But never a word he sai l! and white clover bloom in Thornton’s little He is dead, my love is dead! Ah me! ah me! I did but dream; and I am all green graveyard. Folks seldom forget things of this sort. More’s the pity. From aloue— Alone, and old, and gray; and the tide is his rose-draped window he could see across rolling in; the way the moss-embroidered eaves under But my heart’s away, away, away, in the old which they parted so sadly and so coldly long graveyard at Lynn! ago. Since that memorable evening he had SOJOURNER TRUTH'S SAYINGS. written all sorts of hard and bitter things against this beautiful, imperious creature, Iler Powerful Outburat at a Woman's and had closed and sealed the pages time and again, only to open them once more and re Itiglita Convention, write, although for nearly twenty years her [Chicago Tribune. ] step had never crossed his path. Mrs. Frances D. Gage has recorded light Now at last, as the day died in amber reds one of Sojourner Truth's impressive along the gentle slopes of Thornton, he fell outbursts on the public platform in the to reading between these fiery lines penned “History of Woman Suffrage.” It was with his heart’s b«st blood, and to wondering at a woman’s rights convention at Akron, whether if he had but refused to have taken Ohio, in 1851. During its sessions old that rash girl at her word she would not have Sojourner—for she was 80 years of age been touched and have melted like wax under then—“sat crouched against the wall love’s indomitable flame. Sitting there in on the corner of the pulpit stairs, her the crimson and amber sun-glow, with white sun-bonnet shading her evts, her el and pink rose-leaves floating in at the open bows on her knees, her chin resting on window like scented, tinted snowflakes, he her broad, hard palms.” Few dared wished, vaguely, that this thought had oc to have her speak, many implored curred to him then, and that he had acted it. As it was, it was too late. Even Mrs. Gage, who was president upon the asbes of that old love were scattered. He of the convention, to prevent her would sooner expect to behold those whom from speaking. They didn’t want he hail kissed and laid away come forth in their cause “mixed with the abolitionists fleshy habiliments than to find that and niggers.” But the timecame when annihilated passion clothed anew and dwell Sojourner Truth felt it borne in upon ing in his bosom. her to speak : “She moved slowly to “What in the world are you doing?” ex the front, laid her old bonnet at her claimed Mrs. Seth Okill, opening the door of feet, and turned hergreat speakingeyes the office from her parlor adjoining. “I to me.” Hisses came from the audience. thought you were going out.” “No, I’m attending to a little business,” re But she looked the disapproval down. Nearly six feet high, her head was plied her brother-in-law, hurriedly seizing some legal documents and making believe to thrown back, and her eyes “pierced the upper air like one in a dream.” At her look them over. “Say, Cad,” recalling her she was about retiring, “you remember first words there was a profound hush. as the Southmay ds, don’t you?” She spoke in deep tones, though not “To be sure I do. What was that beauti loud, which reached every ear in the ful daughter’s name? Glenwood? Elfen- house. Here are some of the words she hood? No, that don’t sound like it either.” said, and they will show how powerful “Try Errnyntrude,” suggested Arthur, and original a character was this full- drily. The Hairpin Craze, blooded African woman, and how justi “Sure enough! Errnyntrude. I used to [Milwaukee Journal.] fied her fame was: name all my prettiest dolls after her. Nice “A crank.” “Dat man ober dar say dat womin family, but awful poor and proud, weren’t “What breed?” need to be helped into carriages and they? What about them?” “A very common one just at this time. “She’s written to Joe from Jersey City, He’s a hairpin crank.” lifted ober ditches, and to hab de bes’ and is coming to see him on business. ” place eberywhar. Nobody eber helps “What do you mean?” “Poor Joe! And he dead and buried this me into carriages or ober mud piles, or “Why, simply what I said It’s a new two weeks! ” sighed Cad Okill. “ She ’ s craze that has struck all in a heap those pecu gibs me any lies' place!” And raising pretty old now, isn’t she? I’m twenty-eight, liarly rattle-pated individuals who have been herself to her full height and her voice and she was grown up when I was a little wont to burn the midnight lamp composing a to a pitch like rolling thunder, she girl.” sonnet to my mistress’ eyebrows. As the asked, “And a’n’t I a woman? Look at “She’s thirty-nine,” replied Okill, running small boy used to gather postage stamps and my arm ! ’ (and she bare I her right arm Ids shapely fingers through his own thickly to the shoulder, showing her tremen powdered hair and beard, wondering the the wee girl fill up her button-strong, so do tender-hearted youths collect hairpins. dous muscular ]>ower.) “I have plowed while how “Empress Ermyntrude’s” rare these They watch the ladies as they pass along the and planted, and gathered into Irarns, auburn braids stood the test of time. streets, at parties, balls, and in stores on “Thirty-nine and not married!” exclaimed shopping excursions, and when a hairpin and no man could head me. And a’n’t I woman ? I could work as much and Mrs. Okill, as if compassing the round of works loose and falls to the ground or floor eat as much as a man—when I could get human misery. “Is she after our dear old it is quickly picked up, the lady’s name it—and bear the lash as well. And bachelor Joe?” discovered if possible, and the hairpin, “Nonsense! You know all about Joe’s love properly labeled, therewith goes to swell a’n’t I a woman ? I have borne thirteen affairs. Any way, she always held her head the collection. The bolder of the hairpin chilern, and seen ’em inos’ all sold off to slavery, and when I cried out with my too high for such as In, or, indeed, any one, collectors will succeed in picking a loose for that matter. Now that she’s rich, she one from a lady’s back hair without her mother’s grief none but Jesus heard me. doubtless holds it higher yet.” knowing it. I was invited the other evening And a’n’t I a woman ? “Yes, I recollect, she was called the Em “Den dey talks ’bout dis ting in de press, wasn't she? She was so beautiful and to inspect a collection of these relics of beauty head—what dis dey call it? (“Intel seemed to be so grand, I really thought she gathered together by a Seventh ward young He had 300 of them, and they all bore lect,” whispered some one near.) Dat’s ruled a kingdom, and often wished 1 could man. the naniG of the charming wearers, it, honey. What’s dat got to do will slip into the house and see her crown and including all the changes of fore womin’s rights or nigger’s rights ? If throne. When is she coming?” and aft on the name Smith, from “To-morrow noon.” my cnp won’t hold but a pint and yourn Arabella to Zola, and from plain Smith, The morrow's mid-hour found Miss South to Schmith and Smyth. One of the pins, my holds a quart, wouldn’t ye lie mean not mayd alighted at the pretty vine engarlanded to let mi' have my little half measure delectable companion informed me, was from full ? Den dat littlo man in black, dar station, and rapidly pursuing her way toward the head of one of the leading society belles the well known intersecting streets, on one —he says womin can't have as much of the city, and cost him $5 to secure it, a rights as mon, because Christ wa’nt a corner of which was Joe’s office, and upon rival collector having obtained the precious another the rambling, tree-girdled structure trophy and sold out to him.” woman ! Whar did your Christ come she once called home. “What do they do with them?” from?” Bolling thunder could not Despite the changes nearly twenty years “The same as the boy did with his postage have stilled that crowd as did those had wrought, “Empress Ermytrude,” al deep, wonderful tones, as she stood though she pulled her gray traveling veil stamps, or the girl with her button-strings— there with outstretched arms and eyes over her face, half determined neither to see keep them to look at and to admire. The craze* has just struck the west. It originated of tiro, liaising her voice still louder, nor lx» seen, recognized a familiar residence among the dudes of Boston about a year ago, she repeated: " Whar did your Christ and bit of woodland green and emerald and has just arrived. In all prolmbility it come from? From God and woman! sward. She had not come with any intention will die out in a single season, «as it seems too Man had nothin' to do wid him!” of remaining even for one day. There were foolish to endure long.” painful memories connected with the Makes ’Em Rewpect a Man. place other than those interwoven with Heath on a Vale Horae. [ Rockland Courier-Gazette. ] “love’s young dream.” Then, too, there was [New York Cor. Chicago Journal. | “What's this Dead Scott decision about.3 “Death is on a pale horse, racing really no one she cared or dared see, except queried Mrs. Wigglesworth, looking up from right alongside of Foie," said a man at ing Joe Laux. The remaining member of the the paper. “Dread Scott—not Dead Scott,” only family whose acquaintance she had kept my elbow. We were at the Brighton up removed some three months previous, and corrected Mr. Wigglesworth, with a man’s Beach races. were now her neighbors in the city where she patronizing smile of superiority. “Well, The speaker was a physician. Tlio made her home. Dread Scott, then. What is it?” Mr. Wig visible horse that he referred to. Foie, Still, strive as she would, bitter-sweet glesworth was stuck, but he looked wise. was the property of Freddie Gebhardt, memories crowded in upon her, and when at “Something to do with the Mexican war,’’ he the Langtry-famous young man, and length she met Arthur Okill face to face, hers explained. “Gen. Scott, you know, was a was winning the race. was rapt, dewed like that of a rose in the terrible fighter, and the Greasers got to refer- ing to him as the Dread Scott. Some decision “What do you mean about seeing flush of dawn. The ripe, red lips still disclosed their seed or other he made about a battle is what the Death as a rider in this run?” I asked. “Simply that he is contesting with pearl rosary; there was no thread of silver papers mean.” Mrs. Wigglesworth, with a the jockey who is mounted on F.ole," among those chestnut braids, no trace of a satisfied air, folded the paper back and was the reply. “That fellow's name is wrinkle on those rounded cheeks. While far turned to see if any new people had been while Mr. Wigglesworth winked to McLaughlin, you say? Well, I was younger women, such as Cad Okill, aged un born, der the matrimonial yoke, and “child-birth himself at his having got out of it so smoothly. over at the weighing stand when ho pain left its traces on heart anti brain,” she “All a woman needs,” he mentally remarked, was preparing to ride. A jockey has retained her splendid health, and, “is to have a thing explained one way or an to be a light-weight, for horse owners although she had earned her bread and met other. Don't matter what you tell ’em, so don't care to weigh down their beasts. many trials, was even more regally beautiful long as it’s something. It’s a mighty sight This u a dreadfully cold day. We're than in the olden time. In early maidenhood easier than having to answer a hundred ques shivering in thick overcoats, with the critics had pronounced her “too fat and too tions. Makes 'em inspect a man,’ too” collars turned tip. McLaughlin has red.” The tendency of over-ripeness had California Cotton Raising. nothing on under his thin silk jacket. been checked, that tropical richness of color [Chicago Herald] He hasn't allowed himself an extra ing toned down, and criticism on that score Cotton raising in southern California has pound in flannels. To all intents he is was disarmed. “Arthur!” she cried, not flushing in the not proved as profitable as was expected, and exposed naked, not only to the low th« chief trouble seems to be inefficient labor temperature, but to the tremendous least, yet with all the light of her countenance and its high price. Most of the planters en wind made by tho speed of tho race. dying out and a strange gloom overshadow- gaged Chinese to do the work for them, but Every time he rides unclothed like that, the warm, brown eyes. one season’s experience has proved that, “Errnyntrude!” exclaimed he. ho takes a big risk of pneumonia. That's while the Chinaman demands almost as much One instant these two, who had wrecked for his work as the white man. he cannot why I say that Death is running a pale horse by his side, and is just as likely each other’s hope, clasped hands, and eye met pick one-third the amount of cotton. A num eye in searching, yearning gaze; then the lady ber of negro’s are to is? engaged to take the as not to beat him to-day.” said, quietly enough outwardly: place of the Celestials. “This is an unexpected meeting. I regret Arkansaw Traveler: liar's some lit being so pressed for time; I am obliged to Among the 50,000 postmasters in the United tle truth eben in do bigges* lie, oben seem abrupt. I came to see Joe on a matter StaU*. t&,000 a year is the highest salary, ef it is no more den de fack dat it is a of business. Is—” and 5 cents the lowest. There are forty lie. “I know, I know,” replied Arthur Okill seven who receive fl a year salary. RURAL ENGLAND. CO.1LWC.V/N.1/ IN BUS3U. THE PRISONER'S TASK Till: GOVERNMENT OF THE “Milt’—WHY Hearty Old Fashioned Politeness and Frosh Unaffected Country Girls. (London Letter in New York Sun.] Almost the first thing you are told when you take up your temporary residence in Blankshire, is that your comments must be guarded and your conversation diplomatic, as all the families within a visiting radius of twenty miles are related to each other. And so they are, for a death puts all the country side in mourning, while a wedding calls < >ut universal sympathy. Along the route of the bridal cortege, every cottage or farm house hangs out its little decoration, and in the town every tradesman has his flag, his bunch of flowers, or his bit of bunting, for has he not catered for the wants of the young couple from their christening upward? Visitorsand invitations promptly flow in upon the new comer with a hearty old-fash ioned politone*. Dinner jiarties are not pop ular. In the summer other gatherings are preferred; and in winter or autumn the male portion of the community, the men who have been shooting and hunting for seven or eight hours, refuse to don the tail coat and white tie and drive ten miles for a ceremonious meal. Moreover, coachmen and grooms, bard worked by their attendance on the ex acting hunter (meaning the quadruped), turn crusty at being kept out till the small hours for social duties, although they are oyer rearly to turn out at 1 a. m. when it is ne cessary to ride eighteen miles to be at a meet for club hunting at 5 in the morning. The girls—the strong, fresh, healthy, un affected girls of Blankshire—seem to exist on lawn tennis, with an occasional trial at cricket, in which manly sport they are no mean adepts. But tennis is the inevitable, the universal, the all-engrossing game. In front of the low, broad, many-windowed, creeper-grown houses of the gentry, spread the well-kept lawns, smooth as carpets, soft and springy as moss, and across their green expanse are stretched as many nets as the accurate measurement of the courts will allow. There from morning till sunset the balls fly, sent over by strong, supple wrists while the air echoes to reiterations of the tennis slang. The men of all ages and de nominations are clad in their flannels, and, like the girls, wear the flat India rublier soled shoe, for on no account must the ad mirably kept turf be cut up. While the game progresses the strangel's and the non players are plied with tea and the thonest of bread and butter. At no hour between 3 and 6 can you pay a visit in the country without the neat silver service being brought in, and the ri’es of 5 o’clock tea complied with. Then you are shown over the house by the kind hostess, and gladden her soul by genuine admiration of the rare bits of china, the quaint-carved balusters of oaken staircases, odd recesses, curious old engravings, older and more curious books in gigantic bindings and colossal type. Among these, in strange dis sonance, and yet unmistakably the index to the keynote of courtly minds, shines the red binding of all the peerages and volumes ded icated by Burke, Debret and others to tho nobility and gentry. Some are in three volumes, others fat and voluminous like a commercial directory, others only pocket editions of the same. Each family knows its own lineage and descent of every other. What the New Testament was to the old Cov enanters, the printed record of his ancestors is to the British landowner—his vade inecum, his guide, his fundamental dogma. Some times of two brothers one only figures iu the “Landed Gentry.” The other has lost his claims to appear in the “Livre <l’Or,” for ho has embraced trade and become a broker or brewer. KnailM for tlie Table. [Paris Cor. San Francisco Chronicle.] Another “delicacy” in this country is the escargots, or snails. For my part, I don’t like them, and after having once screwed my courage to the tasting point I have ever since been wondering where was the pleasure of chewing at a little piece of gristle that bore a close resemblance to boiled sole-leather. However, the French consider the snail as an edible mollusk, and the nasty, slimy, I crawling creatures are sold on the street corners just the same as oysters and at about the same prices. They are served up in their shelLs, into which is stuffed a com pound of butter, parsley, and sometimes garlic, and you are supplied with a soil of picker, with which to extract them. The finest come from Burgundy, but of late years a number of departments have turned their at tention to t.he breeding and fattening of snails for the Paris market; now it is the department of Ander that slops the greatest quantity. Toward the end of summer the escargots are collected into little inclosures, arrange»I in the comers of the fields and gar dens, the spot selected being cold, damp and shady. In this corner all sprt.s of aromatic plants are cultivated, and it is frequently vis- isted to see that the snails do not stray too far away. Toward the end of autumn dry moss and leaves are scattered in the inclosure, and when the snails have built up the opening of their shells and gone to sleep for the winter they are gathered into boxes and shipped to market. Tlie Habit of Hurry. [London Daily News.] The whole of modern life, whether in the centres of pleasure or the centres of business, is dominated by the desire to do too much, and the consequent necessity of doing it with precipitation. It is a horrible habit—a detri mental habit; we hail almost said a vulgar habit. The whole world is in a conspiracy to double, to treble the pace. And what is gained by it? Iz®s of temper, deterioration of manners, injury to digestion, increase of nervous diseases—these are the natural and inevitable results of that high pressure to which we nearly all expose ourselves and subject each other. Who is made better by it, who wiser, who even richer? Everything is relative in this world; an I if everybody gallops nobody is better off than if every body walked. But who will consent to alter it? It would require a universal consensus; and this is not attainable. Tin: NIHILISTS HAVE LEFT THE PEAS ANTRY. Translation from Parla Figaro. Everv commune, every niir ih RJJ v * erned just the wav it wants to be. i lie Russian niir is the perfect realization of the perfect commune dreamed of by certain occidental Socialists. , propertv of the commune is indivisible, and as each has always more land than it is possible to cultivate, a regular con ference is held every year and a decision made as to what part of the soil shall be planted, and what products shall be cultivated. Every soul in the village is employed in the work, and after liar vest the profits are equally divided. The “niir” has the privilege of banish ing lazy or worthless characters. If a crime be committed all the inhabitants are held responsible until the guilty party is found. In the same way every member of the community is held re sponsible for the payment of taxes. But in practice things do not run so smoothly by any means, as the theory of the system might lead one to sup pose. There are plenty of lazy folk, turbulent and dangerous characters, ambitious men; and over all these tower the employes of the central gov ernment who rule tyrannically and make the peasantry pay them heavily for overlooking certain things or pre tending to ignore deficiencies. Yet, after all. what better condition of affairs could the revolutionary party promise to the peasant? In reality, none. But the revolutionaries did find one vulnerable spei through which the peasant brain might be reached and excited to dissatisfaction. Alexander II. had given a part of the seignorial lands of the peasantry. The Nihilists have persuaded the peasants that the gift was given only as the first install ment of a larger one; that all the lands really belong to them, and are due them: that the lords have succeeded in devising means to keep the emperor from giving the peasant all the landed estates. They have thus taught the peasant to believe that the nobility are the their natural enemies. Thus have t!.„ seeds of social war been sown by the Nihilists. But the Nihilists have not thus been able to win the poor people to the causo of political reform. Consequently the Nihilists have ceased their propagandism among the peasantry. They at first made it a duty "to go among the people," as they called it; and they really did minglo with them, lived with them, identified themselves with the masses. But they were soon disillusioned. It is now chiefly among the educated classes, tho intelligent classes, that they seek for converts; and tl|ey make a great many. It must be confessed that their journal. Land and Liberty, is still published iu spite of all efforts to suppress it—pub lished irregularly, it is true, but still published in the teeth of all opposition. THE AMENDE HONORABLE. Bill Nye in Detroit Free Press. I remember an incident which oc curred last summer in my office while I was writing something scathing. A large man with an air of profound per spiration about him and a plaid flannel . shirt stepped into the middle of the room and breathed in all the air I was i not using. He said he would give me four minutes in which to retract, and pulled out a watch by which to ascer tain the exact time. I asked him if he i would not allow me a minute or two to go over to the telegraph office and to wire my parents of niv awful death. I He said that I could walk out that door when I walked over his dead body. [ Then I waited a long time, till he told | me my time was up, and asked me what I was waiting for. I told him I was ■ waiting for him to die so that I could walk over his dead body. How could I I walk over a corpse until life was ex- I tinct? He stood and looked at me, at first in astonishment, afterward in pity. Finally tears welled up in his eyes and ploughed j their way down his brown and grimy I face. Then he said that I need not fear him. "You are safe,” said lie. “A youth who is so patient and cheerful as you are, one who would wait for a healthy man to die so that you could meander over his pulseless remnants, ought not to die a violent death. A soft eyed I seraph like vou who is no more con versant with the ways of this world than that, ought to be put in a glass vial of alcohol and preserved. I camo up here to kill you and throw you into the rain water barrel, but now that I | know what a patient disposition vou ; have, I shudder when I think of tho crime I was about to commit.” PHYSICAL EFFECTS OF COLOR. John W. Root in Inter-Ocean. Certain effects of color on domestic animals (ruminants, fowls, etc.) are well known. It is only within a very few years that anything like systematic investigation has been made of color effects on men, but, as far as they have been made, it appears that they can be recognized and rudely predetermined. In the case of certain lunatics, and other persons of deficient mental con trol, red and yellow was obviously ex citant, blue and green soothing—as with those of us who are not lunatics; while all savage tribes manifest for red and yellow, and for all brilliant and After the Porpolsea. glittering things, a marked and [Exchange.] A company has been organized by persons passionate fondness. living in Philadelphia and Cape May to catch jxjrpoises, by means of a net invented for that special purpose, and convert them into oil, leather, and fertilizers. Those products of the sportive porpoise are said to be par ticularly valuable, but hitherto the difficulty has been to catch the porpoise. The new net with which the company is to make war is capable of accommodating 150 of them at a time. Mone Additional Nigna. A COSTLY RESIDENCE. [Swinton’s Story-Tiller | He passed the first ten yesrs of k imprisonment without doing anrtk- just time to turn himself round’ down and get into tho wavs 'of place. ' Then, as he still had twenty vess, serve out, he said to himself" o’ue s morning that it was sliauioful to 1 i so lazy a life, and that he nllw I” some occupation worthy—not of * man, for he was a prisoner-butsm i of n man. ““ply He devoted a year to retleetinr o weighing the different idem »k;, passed through his head, and ing what should bo the definitive^ jeot of his life. To train a spider? That was ven old,well known! Copy Pellison,X flat plagiary! To count on his fingers tho wrinkl. on the wall ? What! that was a ridicu- Ions urid useless amusement; nothin, worth while. He said to himself: “I mas| « , something which would be at o°s curious, profitable and gratifying to deaire for vengeance. 1 muHt iuvent: task which will make the time t)lss which will produce some benefit uj which will tiave tho value of a protest’ A fresh year was spent on this Jls. covery, and finally success rewarded much perseverance. The prisoner lived in a veritable dungeon, where the sun entered onlr for half an hour a day, and then onlvbv a thin line like a single hair of ¡¡X The wretched pallet on which the im foitumite man rested his cramped limbs was lite, ally nothing but a heap of damp straw. "Now, then,” he cried with energy,'■[ shall i other my jailersand bluff' the law. 1 will dry my struw!” He first of all counted the stalks which formed his bundle. There were 1,:.U7. A poor bundle. He next made an experiment to find out how much time it needed to dry one of the straws. It needed three-quar ters of an hour. This made then, altogether, for tie 1,307 straws, a sum of U8U hours and fifteen minutes; or—taking it at half in hour sunlight a day 1,961 Jays. Assuming that the sun shone on u average, one day in three, he ar rived ut a total of sixteen years, ok month, one week and six days. At the end of six months this was w hat remained for him to do. Ho set to work then. Every time that the sun shone the prisoner held one of the straws in the ray and thus utilized all his sunlight. The rest of the time he kept warm beneath his clothes what ho had been able to dry. Ten years passed away. The prisoner had now only a third of liisdamp bundle to sleep on, and hail his chest stuffed with the two other thirds which had gradually been dried. Fifteen years passed. Oh! joy, only 136 stalks of damp straw left! Four hundred and eight days more and the prisoner would be finally able to stand erect, proud of his work, victor over society, and cry with the vengeful voi« and satanic laughter of insurgents: “Ha! ha! You condemned me to damp straw in your dungeon! Then weep with rage! I lie on dry straw" Alas 1 cruel fate was waiting in am bush ior its prey! One night when the prisoner was dreaming of his future happiness, in lus ecstasy he made furious gestures, knocked over his pitcher, and the water fell on his chest. All the straw was wetted. What was to be done now? Begin again the Sisyphus task ? l’ass another fifteen years iu getting bits of sun into bits of straw. And his discouragement! You, the lucky ones of the world, who give up i pleasure if you have to take twenty-tire steps to get it, dare you throw the first Btone at him ? But, you will say, he had only » ye« mid a half to wait! Anil do you reckon for nothing his wounded pride, his alrortive hop« Wliat. this man shall have worked fif teen years in order to sleep on a bundle of dry straw, and then consent to lea« his prison with bits of damp straw» his b air! Never! There is nothingbe tween self-respect and lyiDg downm the gutter. Eight days and eight nights ‘'e-e' bated in anguish, struggling with spair, trying to find a footing the annihilation which overwhelm« him. He ended by surrendering and fessing himself vanquished. Hehadlo» the battle. . . __ One evening lie fell on lnskM* crushed, despairing. , "My God!” he said with tears, 1 Thv forgiveness for ljeing witnoa courage to-day. I have suffered thirty years, 1 have felt my limbs-decay my skin witl er, my eyes wear away^H blisxl become pule, my hair and tee fill out. I have fought against hung«, cold, solitude. I bad one desire w sustained my efforts, I bad oae ject in my life. Now mv desire c possibly be satisfied. Now my ? ' has fled forever. Now I am dis ored. Pardon me for post, for leaving the battle, for run . awav like a coward. I can no more. Then in a fit of indignation »e nr snnies: , “No,” he cried, “no, a thousand no! It shall not l>e said that lost my life for nothing. No: 1 a conquered! No; I 8^aT-n°r «illnd No; I am not a coward! No:l lie a minute longer on the damp ■ of the dungeons! No;, society not get the better of me! ’ And the prisoner died dnr'*.- night, vanquished like Brutus, gr Millionaire Flood, of San Francisco, is about to begin the erection of what he says will lie the handsomest and most costly private residence in the I nited States. It will be of brown stone brought from eastern quaTries, and the cost when completed is esti He had died of an heroic indigas«* mated at $3,500,000, not including the value of the ground. He had eaten all his straw. [Courier-Journal. ] .1 GORGEOVS SCREEN. Lord Racon's signs of short life are quick New Orleans Times-Democrat. growth, fair, soft skin, soft fine hair, early All the best needle-workers in New corpulence, large head, short neck, small York are engaged on a gorgeous screen mouth, fat ear. brittle, separated teeth. The for the A anderbilt mansion. It is being other signs ar»: Going into a saloon at made at Mr. John La Farge's studio twelve intervals a day. sitting on a railroad under the supervision of Mrs. Tilling! crossing, a.id writing original poetry. Force of Habit. [Milwaukee Sentinel.] Photography is being termine the height of photographers cannot break the habit, aml.when they point hast. The gold thread alone used in eras at the sky they A whaling company with 11,000,000 capital this embroidery cost >30,000. Such a “Now, look pleasant, please, screen as that should cover a multitude Stir.” has been started in San Francisco. of sins.