ILL^FOIS. BKrORK DKATO 1 Mr XA3QABET J. FBKSTOMf j Bow much would I care for It, conl J I knpw That whpn T am under tha praaa or mow, *»!»• raw led garment of life's brlof day Mi^UjuietlylaiJ away V-V* laiudealrr Vt" PtiUltktr. loose from mortal bars, ero nway among the stars; SMr teach do you think it would 111 attar than what praise was lavished upon me, when, Whatever might be its stint or store, It neither could help nor bann me more? St. mtdst of mv toil they had but thought ifMWtoli a linger, I would have caught r «a«h aid, to bcnr me through Idnty I had to do: i » I was dono, had I but heard . _ ^t|iad lof applause, one cheering word-- Oittf)'of "Courage!" amid the strife, 80 weighted for me, with death or life-- Sow #ould it have nerved my soul to strain Through the whirl of the coming surge again? What use for the rope, if it be not flung Till the swimmer's urasp to the rock has elongf What help in a comrade's bugle-Mast When the pearl of Alpine's lieishts is past? What need that the spurring pwnii roll When the runner is safe beyond the poll? What worth is eulogy's blandest breath When whispered in ears that ar J hushed in death"? No 1 No! If you have but a word to 8pea* it whil» I am alive to hear! --Colonial PnltntU. k, AWFUL SIN. BT WH. H. 8. ATKINSON. I Jfefar. Walter Courtright enjoyed ft Very wic!e circle of acquaintances; his friends formed a very much smaller ring, while those who appreciated him sufficiently to love him Were only two. Walter Courtright was a gentleman-- scholarly and wealthy--ret his was a nature by no means lovable. Perhaps Otis brief story wiil show that those two who could and did love him, loved so well as to make ample amends for what of af fection was lacking in others. It has been remarked that Walter Court- right was wealthy and accomplished; add to this that he was, physically, almost per stand yon." and staggered away like a mnn intoxicated. On reaching the street he bought n paper and read the heading of the paiagraph which narrated the discovery of Mabel Woodford's body: "MUBDEK OF A PorcLAB AOTBBBS NEAB HOPEDAIiE, N. J." Almost unconsciously he sannterea to* wnrd the North River, which he reached at SDesbrosses street ferry. He entered the ferry waiting-room and examined n time- card. A train left Jersey City for Hope- dale at 8:30. He glanced at his watch. It Was then 8:15 and at that moment he heard the cry, "Aboard!" He rushed throuRh the gate and leaped on to the boat, his mind resolved upon going to Hopedale. But Walter Court right did not go to lEIopedale that night--he did not even land In Jersey City. For as he stood at the front of the ferry-boat, one foot resting upon the chain, his elbow on his knee, and his chin upon his band, a man--whose only noticeable characteristic was a keen eye-- stepped up to him and wished him "good evening." " Mr. Courtright, I believe?* he continued. "That is my name," replied Walter. "Very good, sir; then you will please re turn with me to New York." "You talk like a man with some author ity, or at least as though you bad a strong reason for Attempting to direct my move ments," said Courtright. I hare both reason and authority. I am a police officer and hold a warrant for your arrest." "Arrest! For what?" inquired the aston ished Courtright, who had almost forgotten the attitude and words of the manager of the Levity Theater less than an hour before. "For murder--the murder of Miss Wood ford." For a second time Walter Courlright reeled like a drunken man, and for a second time no indignant words arose to his lips to refute a terrible charge. Two men now felt morally certain that he was Mabel Woodford's murderer. They were Manager Ooiightly and Detective Handyside. - " . many days after he lay d« borderland between life and BlgBOF PRET. on the Courtright was detained in New York over Sunday and spent a miserable day in his rooms, where the detective kept him company; On Monday morning a New Jersey officer arrived, and the unhappy man was taken to Hopedale to be examined by the Coroner at the adjourned inqueBt. feet, and it will be'readilv understood that j ^ ̂edlesH "cite, verbatim, the pro his lot was frequently envied by many men cfedmgs at the inquest. It will be suffi ir lk\ • tiaV cient to state that the following facts were developed and conclusively proven: Miss Woodford had come from the West, some four years prior to her tragic death. Her only friends were those of the theatri cal profession and--Walter Courtright. As she never received any letters either at her boarding-honse or at the theater, it was presumed that she had no relations for whom she cared, or who were at all prob able factors in the problem of her life and death. The theater was closed 011 Good Friday, hence Miss Woodford's absence passed unnoticed at the Levity; although some of the folks at the boarding-house had felt nneasy when, on Saturday morn ing, it was discovered that she had not occupied her room during the night. What had induced her to go to Hopedale could not even be surmised, as no letter, tele gram, or other communication had been found upon her person or among her effects. Walter Courtright was subjected to a most rigid and pitiless examination, for there was hardly a man or woman inter ested in the affair who did not believe, more or less, that he knew something about the sad end of Mabel Woodford. Court- right admitted that it was his handkerchief which had been used in administering the chloroform, though he insisted that he could not account for it having been out of his possession. He also admitted an inti macy with Mabel Woodford and volun teered the information that they had taken supper together at a late hour on Thursday night, after which he had escorted her home. That, he said, was the last time he had seen her alive. Then, with the aid of witnesses, he proceeded to prove, beyond the shadow of a doubt, his presence in New York City from 12 o'clock on Thurs day night until the time when he was arrested ©n the Jersey City Ferry. It looked as though justice was doomed ti> defeat, arid, when the Coroner adjourned his court, no verdict had been arrived at. Walter Courtright returned home and placed himself in communication with a famous detective, the result of his interview with that personage being the oiler of a large reward fox the discovery of the murderer of Mabel Woodford. For Walter felt convinced that the wo man to whom he had been so madly and blindly devoted, had met with foul "play, although the vast majority of those who thought much upon the matter had veered to the opinion that it was a case of mys terious and romantic suicide. The girl who had been so deeply wronged by Walter Courtright sent him a delicately- worded note, congratulating him upon the fact that he was honorably acquitted of a vile suspicion. He also received a tele gram to the 6ame effect. Locked up in his library, Courtright sat alone for many hours, apparently lost in deep thought. * * • * * # # The great city was hushed into the silence which for a short space daily falls upon it in the small hours or the morning, when Walter Courlright started from his reverie and made his way to his dressing-room. First he took from his pocket a daintily- stitched and embroidered handkerchief, •which he laid upon a small table. Then h« went to his wardrobe and thrust his hand into all the pockets of his various garments. After a thorough search he brought forth two more exactly similar handkerchiefs. His next move was to a small drawer in a bureau. From this he produced three other handkerchiefs, clean in New York City. When he was 30 years old he was still the idol of a mother who had well-nigh worshiped him since the day he was ushered into the world, besides which he was well and truly loved by Mildred Kenyon, to whom he was engaged to be married. Mrs. Courtright, like many other fond mothers, thought there were very few wo men worthy to share her son's name and •octal position; yet, even she was more than pleased with her boy's choice. Truly Mildred Kenyon was a beautiful specimen of young womanhood, and good as she was beautiful. The Kenyons and Court- sights were old New York families, and Mildred Kenyon would bring to her hus band an immense addition to his already abundant wealth. There was no question about the youner people's affection for each other, though perhaps Mildred, with only twenty-two years' experience of the world, loved Courtright with a deeper affection and more intense devotion than he felt it possible to cherish toward her. Their en- : gage stent was announced in due course in Iha autnmti, and it was well understood thai the wedding should he celebrated in the following spring. Early in the winter a popular manager entertained a number of literary and dra matic "lions" at a dinner upon the stage of the Levity Theater. Waiter Courtright, himself esteemed a savant, was one of the gneste, aud w as seated beside Miss Mabel Woodford, a new and rising star in the theatrical firmament. It is useless to attempt to arrive at rea sons for, or to seek to analyze apparent causes for such matters--suffice it to say that the cold and usually, so far as women were canoe rued, immovable Walter Court- right was completely fascinated by his new acquaintance. Perhaps it was the aetrrts' remarkable and uniaue style of beauty; possibly it was her sparkling conversation and attractive j manner--to which may be added the glamor which seems to * hover about the . stage-beauties. At any rate, Courtright then, and for many days afterward, apparently forgot Mildred Kenyon and concentrated his at tentions upon Mabel Woodford. People could not understand it--but then, as some of them would remark, "who ever did understand Walter Courtright?" Only his mother, who ardently desired his marringe with Mildred Kenyon, remon strated with him and reminded him of his plighted troth. She waB coldly repulsed and Courtright left her house to make his home in a down-town hotel. He seemed to be bewitched, for he threw honor to the winds, never went near the woman whom he had promised to marry, •nd openly paid his addresses to Miss Woodford. As for Mildred, she was too proud and high-bred to question her recreant lover, and loved him too well to take any im mediate action in the way of breaking the engagement. So Courtright followed the bent of his own wild will, until matters had gone so far that whether he married Miss Kenyon or the actress--or neither-- one or both would suffer, socially, by his reckless behavior. And ihen, when more than three months had passed since the unfortunate stage-dinner, there came an enforced and terrible check. In the early spring, on the Saturday be tween Good Friday and JEaster Sunday, the body of Mabel Woodford was dis covered in an orchard in a lonely part of , New Jersey, some sixty miles from New and folded, and laid tbein with the rest York. Medical men soon determined the I upon the table. Quietly and almost me- fact that death had been caused by suffoca- | chanically, as it seemed, he counted and 4 ...J . ... . recounted them. Six; six exactly alike and all embroidered with his initials, W. H. C. He carefully placed them all in the inner breast pocket of his coat and retraced his steps to the library. There he com menced another search, and at last was re warded by finding a note which he slowly opened and read: ' • • "OCTOBElt 10, 18--. WALTEB: This is your bi.tkday, and I am glad to congratulate you ana wish you many happy returns. I commenced to work a dozen handkerchiefs for you, but only half of them are finished. Please accept ot these with my love--the rest I will give you in a few days. "MILDRED." This note he placed with the handker chiefs and then sat down again to think. His thoughts troubled him a great deal and were on this wise-- Six handkerchiefs. The others I never received, perhaps because I never thanked Mildred for those which she sent. Six! And I have them all here in my pocket. Yet I myself could have sworn that the hankerchief found upon poor Mabel was one of those nix." Here his thought rested a moment, and taking one by one, all of the handkerchiefs from his pocket, he carefully examined tbe embroidered letters upon each. They were precisely similar--W. M. B. K. C. Between the W. and the B. was a tinv M., and between the B. and C. a small if. To a casual observer the letters M. and K. appeared to be periods, but Courtright had noticed them frequently and knew that they had been so inserted purposely by Mildred. Now, at the inquest, he had particularly remarked that the handkerchiefs in the possession of the Coroner was so em broidered. Again he placed the handker chiefs in his pocket, and again he thought: "Undoubtedly that fatal handkerchief is one of the dozen--bnt it is not one of the first half-dozen. Then, where did it come from?" There was only one reasonable supposi tion, and that led to a fearful sus picion. "Could, it ponmbly be that? Great heavens!" And the perspiration poured from Walter Courtright's brow. He •arose and paced the floor for an hour or more, until he was completely tired out. Then he removed his coat, locked it in his desk, and threw himself upon a lounge. The next morning a raging fever had taken possession of Walter Courtright, and for When the leaves were turning brown and tbe sharp air of autumn brought Che first night-frosts, Mildred Kenyon and Walter Courtright were quietly married. They took no wedding-trip, but before the close of the year they sailed together for a South American city, to bring back with them a casket containing the dead mother, who in her lifetime had sinned so grievously for love's sake. The death of Mabel Woodford still re mains a mystery to all but two people. But a country graveyard in New Jersey contains an exquisite marble shaft, bear ing this simple inscription: "To the Memory of ' F . MABEL WOODFORD, - by Her Friends, ; WAMPN AND MILDRED COUBTHIOH** ' " J i tion, induced by an overdose of chloroform. Of course "society*and dramatic critics in Aew York were greatly exercised over the tragedy, the more so when it became known that the handkerchief found upon the face of the murdered girl was that of a gentle man and embroidered with the initials, W. B. C.--Courtright's full name being vV alter Bethune Courtright! The news reached Mildred Kenyon and Walter Courtright at about the same time --Saturday evening. Miss Kenyon was not aware of the tragedy when she received ft telegram from Mrs. Courtright, who was visiting in Philadelphia, which read: -i'leane Wire uie if ltl is a fact that Miss Wood- fOm lifts been murd'-redL" Little cause as Mildred had for sympathy toward Mabel Woodford, she was none the less shocked and pained when, upon in vestigation, she was compelled to answer the message in the affirmative. Almost simultaneously with tbe arrival of his mother's message to Mildred, Walter Courtright went down to the green-room of the Levity Theater, where he was suoh a **e<jLu«a' caller that he walked direct to Mabel vVoodford'e. dressing-room without being hindered by any of the attaches of the house. Bnt when he reached the well- known door, he found it ajar and the room oocupied by the distracted manager and all ihe members of the company. Court right thought he was received rather coolly, and, in answer to his inquiry fts to what was the matter, the usually manager responded in harsh tones. "What is that, sirV" *1 asked the cause of this unusual gather ing m Miss \V oodford's room," replied A dead silence ensued, dnrine which Courtright was eyed closely by the dozen •r more assembled men and women. The asanuger broke the stillness. "Great God, sir! You ask what is the matter? Matter enough; Miss Woodford 4s dead--murdered!" Then alter another pause be added, and. you have to tell the coroner a*d ft police judge eomethina Mb'utit. " 8everal moments elapsed before Court- sight appeared to appreciate the meaning Of tfce manager's lest words; when he he only n ~ ; The Buffalo Dance. , Among the Indians of tbe northern plains is a custom called "dancing the buffalo." It if resorted to when tlie hunters Have great difficulty in finding the buffalo--a difficulty which lias been growing more pronounced every year, until of late the poor Indian finds his "buffalo medicine dance" fails univer sally and he has all but lost faith in it. And yet it has but rarely failed before, for the peculiar strength of the "medicine" lies in the fact that when the medicine dande is once started it is kept up religiously night and day until the outsiders discover buffalo, and as the Indian reasons, the dance brought them. The Crows had a dance re cently. They believe that the Great Spirit has secluded the buffalo tempor arily, but that as soon as he recovers from his sulk he will send them back again. The Crow dance did bring a half-dozen old bulls to the Crow hunters; not much meat, to be sure, but a sure sign of the strength of the medicine. Ten or a dozen men dance at a time, and as they grow weary and le»ve their places, others take them, and so keep up the ceremony. They wear the head or mask of a buffalo, which each warrior is supposed to keep in his outfit; the tails are often attached to these by a long piece of hide. Drums are beaten, rattles shaken, and the usual Indian yelling is kept up. The hunters all have their arms ready, and the outlying hills are patrolled. These dances have been kept up in certain villages for two or three weeks on a stretch without stopping an instant. When a man becomes fatigued he signi fies it by bending quite low, when an other draws a bow and hits him with a blunt arrow. He falls to the ground, and is dragged off by the spectators, who proceed to butcher him in play, much after the fashion of children; for the Indian in his sportive moods is for all the world like an overgrown boy. In all the different dances the Indians have a special step. It reaches the zenith of muscular exertion and extrava gance in the war dance, and is very quiet in certain medicine dances, the bodies seeming scarcely to move. In the buffalo dance they follow around in a circle, lifting their feet and undulat ing their bodies. Alas for the buffalo, and alas for the poor Indian, too, the buffalo dance will no more bring the countless thousands of bison to the sight of the hunter, and the only meat he will ever eat ranges between Govern ment steers and sage liens. did so, he murmured, "Ah, 1 under- Nearly two weeks passed away* before consciousness returned to the sick man. When it did, he noticed that he wxs nunwd by en old domestic of his mother's, wlifcm he frequently saw, near the door of UM darkened room, in conversation Willi ft well-remembered young and beautiful woman. At first be tried to ask what >•"' been the matter, and also attempted to in quire for his mother, but his voioe refused to utter his thoughts. Then- slo^y, it all came back to him--his bad behavior to Mildred--his mad love for Mabel Wood ford--the murder--his arrest--and, lastly, the six handkerchiefs. Strangely enough, his infatuation for the dead actress had passed away with the ! fever. The entire history of those few months seemed to him, now, like a wild dream forming no part of his present life --if so weak a vitality might be called life. And yet, the terrible suspicion that Mildred had either applied or furnished the fatal handkerchief stared him in the face like ft horrible specter as he lay upon his bed. Another week slipped by, during which Walter perceptibly gained strength, but Mildred, who often came to tbe door of his room, never' approached his bedside, and his mother, they said, was herself 6ick. One Sunday morning, when the windows were thrown open to admit the sunlight of earl}* summer and tbe fresh air which was wafted from off the city's park, Walter was seated in an easy chair when Mildred Kenyon entered. "Walter," she said,iu gentle tones which" in themselves were almost sufficient to soothe and heal the diseased mind of a sick man--"Walter, I am so glad to see you better, for you have been very sick. Let us be friends, Walter; I ihink you and I both need friendship just now," and she held out her little hand to Courtright with such grace and frankness that, notwith standing the terrible thought he harbored in regard to her, he could not refrain from accepting it. They sat in Bilence awhile, and then Mildred continued: "I am afraid I have some news which is hardly good news. Are you strong enough to bear it, Walter?" "Yes," he said, rather wearily. "Y'our mother has gone away, I do not know where--that is why I am here to take care of you; but;*his letter came for you while you were very ill." Mildred handed him a letter some days old, which bore a foreign stamp and the postmark "Vera Cruz." And this is the letter. "MY DIRUNO WALTER You have known all your life how I have loved and adcrel you, my only child. When I saw you infatuated with an actress of no naino or family I was almost dis tracted with the thought that vou might marry her and so disgrace us all. Beside*, 1 hod set heart upon bavins Mildred Kenyon for my daughter. It was all the harder to bear when I saw that it was not love, but pasBion, which bound you to the Woodford woman. I could see only one course by which I could prevent a flerious ending to your infatuation. I took that course--renumber, because I love yon, better than mv own soul. I administered with my own hands the chloroform which killed Mabel Wood ford. The handkerchief was one of six which Mildred gave me for you. "Sometimes I regret it--more often I do not. But I cannot face you and Mildred again, to say nothimj about the dreadful risk of discovery and the fearful disgrace which woti'.d follow. Sol am on my way to a distant lend. I shall not need more money than 1 have taken with, me because I know I shall not live long. "Try aniforgive me, Walter--I sinned for your sake. Forget the past as soon as you can and make Mildred your wife. "Your unhappy mother, "HESTER COTJBTBIOHT." TWO hours passed away before Mildred re-entered the sick-room and she found Walter still seated near the window, the open letter in his band. "Read it, Mildred, he said, and then added to himself, yet aloud, "Poor mother." "I have a confession to make, Mildred," said Walter, after she hadread the letter. Andhe told her of the evening before his sickness, when he had gathered together the handkerchiefs and the note,and hard formed 6ueh terrible suspicions. Mildred was very sad when she heard his story, yet with tears starting from her eyes she bent over and kissed him on the fore head. THE path of truth is as straight as an arrow. It never swerves to right OT left, and will no sooner bend to the mightiest than to the meanest of mor tals. The moment truth tries to commodate itself to eirctunstenOM' it ceases to be truth. FFC* JHo«%mUo a« !!«• I» 111 TRXM ftml Botfth- jtliHaourt. ttsfew York Times.] Ine ̂ Texas mosquito is a giant in size oompared with his Jersey brother, and he flock* more closely and in vaster elouds tlianthe later. He seldom botli- ers nioving tpjtfns, but let a passenger train come to a halt within liis domain and he simply crowds it to suffocation and desperation. He is not disposed of with one slap. He overcomes his vio- ^5«te force and numbers. A de lay of five minutes to a train will enable Uim tq transform a lot of peaceably-dis- posed, clear-skinned, and well-featured passengen Into a mob of mottled and ^ild-eyed maniacs, who fight with the desperation of despair against an enemy Vflio can only be driven from the battle field by a gale of wind. Every window is thrown wide open; towels, handker chiefs, shawls, and coats are frantically waved against the invader's battalions, but to no purpose, until the engineer has received his signal to start and the train has attained a speed of at least thirty miles an hour against a head wind. The Texas mosquito is a stayer; bp is a glutton; he never knows when h<3 has enough of blood or fighting; he is, a bore more effective than the dia mond drill, more deadly than the Inter state Commerce specialist.. . 1 Yet he has a rival. The rival dwells inj Southeastern Missouri, where game, swamps, miasma, and "shakes" abound. The Missouri mosquito has a bill like a stjletto, but longer and more incisive. He is long-limlied and lank, like the na tive, and welcomes death witli a grin, apparently satisfied that no hereafter could contain a more miserable state of existence than Southeastern Missouri. Not long ago a hunting party pitched its camp there after a hard day's work. It was soon discovered that a harder night's work was in prospect. The mosquitoes came down upon them in solid layers. Each member of the party covered face, neck, and hands with tur pentine and stood in the smoke of an immense fire that had been built as a protection against the enemy. As they stood inhaling smoke at\d mosquitoes two natives hove in sight. It was noticed that the mosqui toes which hovered about them gave them no concern. The man was tall and lean. His garments consisted of a butternut shirt, jeans trousers, cowhide boots, and ragged straw hat. The wo man was tall and lank, like her lord. Like him she was tow-headed, and her skin, like his, was mottled. He walked behind with the air of a man who was in every way worthless and he knew it. She walked with her head up, industri ously and scientifically, but not grace fully, working her "snuff-stick." She paid no attention to the man except once, when she demanded a "chaw 'f terbacker." The man was her slave as well as her husband. Yet among those who knew him he was considered able to whip his weight in wildcats, and he soon showed the hunting party that as a pain-bearer he was out of sight of any of its members unless the Bkin was fire proof. ^ One of the huntors jokingly offered him a bottle of whisky if he would take his shirt off and lie down near a log where the mosquitoes were knee deep for thirty minutes. The man looked at his wife. She nodded. He stripped and lay down on the ground, back up. The mosquitoes settled upon his bare back and hid it from sight. The hunt ers forgot their stings in gazing at the astonishing spectacle. For fifteen min utes the man never stirred. The hunt er# began to believe his skin was sensi tive to nothing. To satisfy themselves one of the number picked up a couple of live coals on a bit of bark and care fully dropped them on the man's back, between the shoulder blades. One, two, three seconds passed and the man showed no signs of life. Then a light sizzing sound was heard and the smell of the wood fire was overcome by a more pungent odor. The man lifted lifted head and looked backward. He was a small curl of smoke rising from his back. He arose with deliberation, shook himself and put on his butternut shirt. It was supposed from his Din ner that his *ense of right and not his skin was injured. This proved to be the case. ̂ He had agreed, he explained, in his frightful vernacular, to "buck agin' skeeters and not gallinippers." He was walking away in belief that he hadn't fulfilled his contract when he was presented with a bottle of whisky. He looked ftt it with longing eyes and then stole a stealthy glance at his wife. She reached out her hand. He gave her the bottle. She pulled the cork out with her teeth and took a drink. She held the bottle while her lord took a swallow, then recorking the bottle put it under her arm and resumed her march. The man who had no respect for mosquitoes followed meekly. In the gpinion of a man who has in vestigated, alwavs against his will, the mosquitoes of a\>ont thirty States and Territories, to say nothing of the neigh boring Dominion, it is a close call be tween the Missourian and Texan varie ties, and that in comparison to either the Jersey mosquito is a thing to be cherished as a balm for sleeplessness. jWttar with ovMfnrork, and to fear ft breaking down of that strength with which he is as yet blest. He makes few visits, and endeavors to accept few invitations, except from closest and old est friends. Down at his residence in Beacon street he is usually ftt home to personal friends a part of each after noon in the week, with possibly one or two exceptisns. There, in his study, among the books that, after all, are one's best and truest friends, Dr. Holmes passes the greater part of his time nowadays. His hours are like moments and his davs bnt as hours, so closely and compactly are his labors crowded into them. He has done his shore, it seems to me, and while few of us would like to see him lay down his pen, I cannot help but feel he has earned a cessation from all mental work, at least of such a nature as that which becomes burdensome. Whether as a writer, poet, essayist, or thinker, his fame has been nobly won, however, and he is, indeed, in more ways than one "the Autocrat."--Boston Herald. A Visit to Oliver Wendell Holmes. What a delightful, interesting, and positively charming little man he is! His conversation is as brisk and ener getic in tone and character as are his movements, and no one an acquainted with his age would dream of his being well nigh the four score that is more than the average age allotted to. man. As he sat, the other day, very erect upon a sofa in my sitting-room and talked of other great men whose con temporaries, he is, and has been, I could not realize that old age already claimed him for her own. In his dress he was the perfection of good taste, and even quiet elegance that descends to the fashion of dark brown gloves with heavy stitching that he wore. His tightly-buttoned froek coat, immaculate linen and fine diagonal topcoat were all in keeping with the man and his notablo career in the field of letters and his acknowledged profession. Some of his talk was of Longfellow, Emerson, Alcott, and Lowell, and all of it was filled with expressiors of thought, feel ing, and regard that I would give much could I transfer its intense interest to this column. As is well known, Dr. Holmes devotes his work now exclu sively to the Atlantic Monthly, but there are so many unlooked-for demands upon his time that in spite of himself he finds his time and taient called into requisition in other places; but who that is famous does not have to pay well for the cost of his fame? Great men whose friend he has been are taken a Way and a few lines of memoriam must be written; public buildings and hos pitals are named for him, and a dedica tory poem is expected, and, of course, received; great affairs and events tran spire, and other appropriate lines are t sought for from the gifted man Boston 1 delights so much to honor. It is little wonder that he begins to feel worn and "«rr:r' : Transylvania Marriage Customs. When the young couple go to church the day after the wedding they are met at the church door by a group of masked figures who surround them, siuging and hooting, and playfully en deavor to separate the young matron from her husband. If the}' succeed in so doing, then he must win her back in a hand-to-hand fight with his adversar ies, or else he must give a piece of money as her ransom. In general it is considered a bad omen for the married life of the young couple if the wife be separated from her husband on this oc casion ; therefore it is customary for the young husband to take his stand close by the church door while his wife is praying within and then be ready to catch hold of her as soon as she steps outside. For greater precaution, the man often holds her round the waist with both hands during the dance, which immediately takes place before the church and at which they assist merely as spectators, taking no active part, as it is not considered seemly to dance in the church attire. AB commonly several couples are married at the same time, it is usual for each separate wedding-party to bring its own band of music, and dance thus independently of the others. On the occasion of a triple wedding Ilfttely witnessed, it was very amusing to watch the three wedding parties coming down the street, each accelerating its pace till it came to be a sort of race to the church door to secure the best dancing place. The ground being rough and slanting, there was only one spot where anything like a flat dancing floor could be obtained, and the winning party at once secured this enviable position, while the others had to put up with an inclined plane or a few hillocks acci- denting their ball-room floor. The ten to sixteen couples belonging to each wedding party are inclosed in a ring of bystanders, each ri\*al band of music playing away with heroic disregard for the scorched ears of the listeners. "Polka!" calls out the first group; "Walzer!" roars the second, for it is a point of honor that eaoh party should display a noble independence in taking its own line of action; and if, out of mere coincidence, two of the banns hap pen to strike up to the self-same tune, one of them is sure to change to some thing totally different as soon as aware of the unfortunate mistake--the cater wauling effect produced by this system baffling all description. "This is noth ing at all," said the worthy pastor, from whose garden I was overlooking the scene, laughing at the evident dismay with which I endeavored to stop my ears. # "Sometimes we have eight or ten weddings at a time, each with their own fiddlers. That is something worth hear ing indeed!" -- Popular Science Monthly. Odd Antics of Birds. A relative of mine has a large marsh upOn his estate, and here the great cranes made their summer home, build ing their curious nests there and rear ing their young. The marsh was sur rounded by high grass, and it was his practice to creep through and watch the birds unobserved. The antics they went through, would be impossible to describe, says a correspondent of the San Francisco Call. Now they would caper along in pairs, stepping daintily with the winning gait of the ideal ex quisite, lifting their feathers or wings, taking short steps and gradually work ing themselves up to a bird frenzy of excitement, when they would leap into the air and over each other's backs, taking short runs this way and that, all for the edification of the females stand ing by, and finally, after a series of these exhibitions, the different birds selected their mates. Among the birds of the western hemisphere the cock- of-the-rock ranks next to the crane in the strangeness of its evolutions. The bird is confined to South America, and is about the size of a small pigeon; has a bright orange web in the male, with a plume-like arrangement upon the head. It is a proud bird, principally building its nest in rocky places not frequented by man. At the commence ment of the breeding season a party of birds, numbering from ten to twenty, assemble, and selecting a clear space among the rooks, form a ring or circle, facing inward. Now a small bird takes its place in the center and begins to hop about, toss its head, lift its wings, and go through all the strange move ments possible, that appear to be watched with great interest by the rest. When the performer is thoroughly ex hausted he retires to the circle and an other bird enters the ring, and so on, until all have been through their paces, when the pairs probably make their selection. Often the birds are so exhausted after the dances that they can hardly fly, lying panting on the rooks. Things That People Drink. * One of the chief aphorisms of Brillat Sftvarin, the philosophical gastronome, was: "Tell me what you eat and I will tell you what you are." The famous Dr. Arthaud, who wrote a learned dis sertation of vines and wines, said: "The witty magistrate would have approached the truth had he wiitten, "i'ell me what you drink and I will tell you what you are."' He insists that a tea-drinker never was, never can be, a jolly good fellow; that the poverty in musical genius of great tea-drinkers, such as the Chinese and the English, arises from no other cause. Bacchus gave up part of his empire to increase myrrh, nard, and opium, and with the introduction of these drugs art, science, and literature declined, and the civil ization of Greece passed with the vine into Italy. Dr. Arthaud was a French man and a lover of French wines; there fore he detested beer and those who delight in it, saying of the German people generally that if they had mul tiplied their wine stocks instead of hops and pies they would have com manded an enviable political position. -- The Argonaut. Bootfc,^ accompanied _ rived ftt Norfbik, Ya., from thelaland of Madeira in ft vessel, unheralded arid unknown. He made his first appear ance in Richmond, Va., and presented himself to Mr. Gilfsrtt, the manager,, and said that he wished to perform. He had no letters of introduction, and his identity was very much doubted, while at the rehearsal, which he merely "walked through," the actors looked upon him as a fraud. But at night he dispelled all doubts of his identity in the performance of "Bichard." Now, the question has always arisen why he arrived from the old country in such a mysterious manner. I think I can throw some light upon the matter. Just before Booth left England he was playing in Bath. Business was dull, for he did not draw. A celebrated gymnast was performing at the same time at an opposition theater. His name was Signor Antonio, or the "Lit tie Devil." He drew the crowd by his wonderful performances on the slack rope. Booth, after his performance, went around to the other show and commenced shouting. "Mountebank! Mountebank!! Hum bug!!! A descration of the temple of art!" ; Of course he was ejected by the po lice, but returned after the perform ance and met Antonio. A few angry words followed, and they came to blows; next day they again met and a recon ciliation took place. They then had a supper, at which wine was freelv par taken of. They parted late that'night Antonio, going home, while passing through a park, heard a pistol snap be hind him (a flint lock.) It missed fire. Antonio then turned and saw that it was Booth, who fired a second shot. The ball struck him in the cheek and lodged in the back of his head. He fell stunned, but was found shortly after ward and taken to his hotel. Booth fled from England to the continent, and this is why Booth came to this country in sueh a mysterious manner. Antonio recovered and came to the United States, where he played at the lead ing theaters with much success, and finally fixed his home in St. Louis, •where he died a few years ago, respected and loved by all who came in contact with him. In his old age he became in sane. The cause of his insanity was supposed to be the shot fired by the hand of the elder Booth. Booth" and Antonjo met in St. Louis and became firm friends, and his son, Alfonso, now has in his possession a watch seal which was presented by Booth with the letter "B" engraved upon an amethyst on the seal, which he keeps in remembrance of the drunken freak which occurred iu his father's younger days. * Booth's ancestor's were fram Spain. They were of Hebrew stock, and their family name was Cabana, which, in the Hebrew language, meaiis Booth. They fled to England to escape persecution. His literary tastes and abilities were of high order. He was a linguist, as he spoke and wrote the French. German, and Hebrew languages fluently. He was a grand admirer of the Koran and familiar with the Talmud. One day I asked him: "Are you not a Jew in religion, Mr. Booth?" "No," said he, "I am not. I was born a Jew, but if one be borne in a stable, it is no reason that he should be a horse. I am a Mohammedan." I knew he was a frequenter of syna gogues, but he had the highest respect for all places of religious worship, and never passed one without bowing his head. His charity was shown by deeds of philanthropy and humanity, not talk. "He did good by stealth, and blushed to find it fame.--SL Louis Re publican. Playing Sick for a Friend. During the war about "twenty Con federate prisoners were at Fort Mc- Henry, stored away in a fodder loft un der guard. One morning Capt. Ned Bridges was playing an innocent game of cards when the sick call was sounded the signal for ailing soldiers to re port at the surgeon's office and be ex amined. "Lieutenant," said Capt. Bridges, tuiming to a young soldier, "answer sick call for me and let us finish this game. Go down there and personate me, and tell the doctor you want another box of his liver pills." The obliging Lieutenant marched out and proceeded with other soldiers, under escort of the guards, to the sur geon's office. When the name of Capt. Bridges was called, the Lieutenant's face appeared at the little office win dow. "Doctor," he began, "them pills you I jive me helped me up considerably, but I want another box. I think another box will fix me up all right;" "Didn't them pills cure you?" asked the doctor, abruptly, looking over his spectacles at the bogus Bridges. "No, but another box will fix me, I think." "Well, well," said the doctor, half to himself. "Ill have to change the treat ment on you." Thereupon he picked up a graduated gloss, and from various bottles mixed the most infernal mess that mortal oyer saw. The lLeutenant shuddered. When the villainous compound was made up the doctor stirred it vigor ously and viciously, and handing it oat, said: ""Drink that" The Lieutenant took hold of the glass. Cold chills ran up and down his spine. "Doctor," he stammered, "I'd--l'der heap ruther take the pills." "Drink it," stormed the doctor, and in. the excitement the medicine went down the Lieutenant's throat. When the Lieutenant returned to the fodder loft he was very glum. When the game of cards grew monotonous Capt. Bridges turned and asked; , "Lieutenant, git them pills ?" "Naw!" "Well," said the Captain, "you needn't be so snappish about it. What did the doctor say?" "He said he was going to change the treatment on you, and if you don't git welHt ain't my fault, for I've taken the nastiest d--d dose for you tfiat t ever saw!"--Atlanta Constitution. Mr. Beecher's Handful of Hats. Mr. Beecher always wore a soft fur hat with wide brim. He never varied the style to any great extent. One day he went into a store in Brooklyn and found a new style of hat. He tried one on and said: "This will do; send me home six of them. There is no use buying one hat at a time." The hats were sent with the bill. When Mr. Beecher's frngal wife received the bill and the package, she immediately re turned five of the hats and asked for a corrected bill.--Hatter and Furrier. THE output of the locomotive works of the country now averages from thir- ty-six to forty engines a week. SELF-LOVE easily dupes conscience. Sng ** 2 * m.)#S > lPglish languish IT takes a sober man to walk a turist rop© ^CmTBCH-ooTNo people often meet by A PABTT question: What titoe do think they will have supper? IT'S a wise child that resembles its richest relative.--Danville Breeze. THE car-builder makes a bad brake when he makes one that will not stop * THOSE who wish to paint New York red on Sundays must use water^ooloca. --Life. - THE called bonds are bound tocoiM. Theyarono longer of interest to the holders. THE flower known as the bachelor's button must be one that does not sti# on long. Two HA BEA8-coRpfrs judges are equil to a pair of suspenders.--New Orleans Picayune. THE other half of tlie embezzler*# double life is generally a woman.*-; Pluladelphiu Times. * PAKKOTS and the dudes have much In common. They have a plentiful lack of brains and talk in polly-syllables.-- Boston Gazette. '" BROWN (soliloquizii wish all words in the _ wusspelt wish an "ah", itshssshomuch easier to shay.--Tid-Bit8. A WIDOW may not be much of a gard ener, but she always has an idea that she can raise orange blossoms from weeds.--Fall River Advance. , ,j DNDEK THE CHESTNUT TRt^ ' , J; This is my only fnrsw 11 tour-- 1 "' ' O . ... . Tbig-liug! *• »<•'• • «*> Blaa to vo met you I am BUM-- » , v L • . Ting-jingl 'j - 1 C®1*1® any day, we ilino at alx; t' ' ; Tha'j little.note of mine I'll fix. •' j I ve gona clear out of politics-- 45 "THAT makes the third time you've trod on my foot," said a man in. a crowded hall, speaking to a fellow who stood just in front Of him. "Are you certain it's three times?" replied the fellow, looking around. "Yes, I am." "Well," said the aggressor, "you seem to be botter in arithmetic than l am, and I reckon you'd better keep on with the count."--Arkansaw Traveler. FIRST Omaha man--No, sir, I'm ing to send my boy to college. No public school system'for him. Look at Jink's boy! Second Omaha man- Jink's boy has just graduated from the public schools and is a young man of thorough culture. "Yes, and half dead with consumption, and has had brain fever three times. Now look at Wink's eldest son!" "Is he a college man?" "Regular graduate, strong as a horse, healthy as a mule, and makes $5,000 ft year in a base-ball .team."--QMOJM World. -WW * BOY WITH THE BIO HBA®,' * * Yes, If Ms pa would give him r po,"J , He'd give su^Kcatious ti tli* Pope * ,'•, He thinka that nature fiavo him birth ' To twirl the axis of the earth. And when he walks alon<» the s'rcilF Ho spins the world round with his feet-- But still wo like the little dunce-- "Wo used to bo just like him onco-- Wo know how 'tis ourselv », most dread, And little boy with tlio big head 1 Ho givoa advice with generous lmnd Ana sows it broadcast o'er the land; Het ears up like a sapling shoot, . The tree of knowledge by tho root,* -J? He's never in the dark of doubt, , Ijiko Moses when the light went eiifc}*" He volunteers, though none may ciu, To show mankind ho knows it all;- ' When he dies, then is w:6dom dead-- 'The little boy with the big head I ' f* -Tid-Bitt. ,; - ,. THEBE was a. little occurence in Washington last spring which so far lisi' " kept out of the papers. It happened like this: There was a certain Senator who sittetli in the high places, led up of the spirit into the wilderness to be tempted of the devil. And the devil taketh him up into an exceeding high- mountain and showed him great wealth and the fullness thereof below. And he pointed to many sacks filled with pieces of silver and much stock, yea railroad stock, and steamship stock, and Pan-electric telephone stock, and likewise fat jobs for his family and friends and all the glory of them all. Ami saitli unto him, "All these things will I give thee, if thou wilt vote aright on my Little Measure." And the Sena tor answered and said unto him. "For heaven's sake do not get behind me, Satan. And just watch my vote tb*' . morrow and see if it isn't all righti'V-v « Dakota .Bell. ' ' ' im •M The Miracle of the Century. % Jt was at the linings, counter in:|| ;v certain store, and seven women were, -: seated on the stools in front of the counter buying linings. The patient talesman listened to &eir discussions and their monologues, answered their inquiries, and patieutly changed their orders to suit their whims. Suddenly a blithe yet quiet little lady appeared with a bit of gray cheviot in her hand. One of the salesman, who waB waiting for a lady in a black satin gown to de termine whether she would have a yard and a half or a yard and three-quarters of percaline, looked at the newcomer with an expression of mingled inquiry and relief. He evidently recognized ~ her and hoped to have the plensure of waiting upon her. It must have been a pleasure to his soul, tried with the exasperating delay with the woman !*» : •' was serving. • t "Please give me five yards of En»- glish cam brick exactly two shades darker than this cheviot," said the woman, who knew what she wanted, "and one yard and seven-eighths of the second quality of silesia two shades lighter, and half a yard of haircloth of the color of the cambric. Please take this $2 bill and I will come back fcpir my change and the things after, I ha^k/ been to the buttons and trimmings counters." * I had the curiosity to follow her to - the trimmings counter. She asked for her silk and twist, cotton, brai«), shields, and w'halebones in the same . quick, exact manner, and turned around to the buttons counter while they were . being done up. She asked for tlie card of sample buttons, picked out those she wanted incredibly soon, then. . retraced her steps, gathering up hot purchases as she went, taking a parcal from the counter of cheviots as site passed after going to the lining countef.., >. Probably she hadn't time to have the^ • things sent home, and one can casilv imagine that she had that drrss cut out and fitted and half finished before slue • went tQ sleep .that. night.--JSmiati • li&ord. ' u ' '* • •. g- y.t; • A Test for Eggs.7 - Minnesota people have found a new way to test the freshness of egga? Wipe the large end of an egg, thejf ' BUV, quite clean, and then touch tho tip of the tongue to the central part of tliW big end. If the egg is good there wilj . be u little warm spot inside tho egg; ; which will be plainly perceptible to tbsi tongue. This is ail improvement o|| the Omaha market plan of holding on|ff% ear to the egg and listening tor squeak.--Omaha World. i •• • .1 1 v' 11 irti • To WHOM you betray your secret you give your liberty. »