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.