butoontrived * plan lor meeting, bill, «| tha foot of which Mr. , had • f ' W " . wnms's voices. * ^ - > • • • • e * • * • - * : • "V * IIH.C, BAIXABD. said. ita pabbUd bed ? Wl Htudyliit "• - - - "WkftadoB 1 K rnot the toird*t tweet toof-T Wrfted on tho winds alone? Liquid harp and feathered lyi« . wng in nature's Joyotu choir, *-' Singia harmony aad troth, " H Cl»«r the hotwfol hMrt of youth; Fill with Joy th« forma of age - On their Weary pilgrimage. %???$* • * . * *> Once, la days now far away. Where my boyhood's years were paws J, All ttw world around me lay 14ke a playground. grand and vast, Svery brooklet's song I heard, ; Every oarol of the bird ;-̂ V Fell Uke mnsto on my oar, . v . > With a cadence sweet and clear C a m e a n d f o u n d m y g l a d b a a r t t a p 1 - , To soffase withmeledy. .„•< Mow Oa brook's gad eong no moil Call* me to Ita grass-fringed shore, - 5 vi And the bird-song, sweet and wil& - That so gladdened me, a child, iteaebes not my waiting ear-- . Other heaita that song will cheer. *' / •• - Hainan hopes and earea and fears. Thicken in these later years, v : While bird and brook-song echo l|& < 4 from tlie days of long ago. -4 * - A LOVER'S REVENGE. m > - - BT A. I» o. l| L i r Welch Mountain stretches its broad, - ^ ^straight slope along one side of a Pena- "t hylvania Valley, and high hills fence it jn oil the other side. Far in the west the ranges seem to join each other, but K a sharp cleft lets the rajs of the setting f; . nun strike a long, narrow line of light up the middle of the green pastures, K t:' «£most like a moonlight line on water. * - Midway between the two ranges of I"•-' mountains, rising out of the green i plain, there is a sharp, ridgy hill, with • «turnpike over it, and by the roadude, L ,' just at the highest point of land, in full ¥ w view from all the valley farms, stands g; Jm old, blasted, hickory tree. I . At twilight, when the energetic I,: whip-poor-will, and sonorous frogs, and the clamorous katydids make the Valley cheerful with sounds, the hill lies in silence, looking down upon the fields and woods below, where the farm-house lights twinkle lik§ glow worms. At twilight the inhabitants of those houses are very likely to be looking up at the hill, as it looks down upon them, for tradition says that wandering forms have olten been seen under the hickory tree, and many a bold boy tremblingly longs to be favored with a sight of the mysterious beings who haunt it. ' The story is as follows: When the country was first settled, And the turnpike was .only a half- worn wagon road, a sturdy German farmer built himself a com fortable log-cabin at the foot of the hill, and established his family there. His flocks and herds increased, and his farm was well tilled. So he prospered until he was considered the wealthy lnan of the neighborhood He had one daughter, Lena, a merry, pretty girl of 17, the belle of the ^;<r; •countr around. She was as famous y / for her high spirit as for her lovely . face and graceful form, The rustic beau thought all the bet- £ ter of her, that no degree of , cold ri ; could keep her from a sleighing, no •/ ' fatigue embarrass her in a nutting, no ^ fear enfeeble her on the wildest horse. Also the fact that she had punished ^ it certain presumptuous young fellow v ';wfor snatching a kiss, by a hearty box sLjCm the ears; that she had silenced a / Joking old farmer with a jibe more -pointed than his own, if not so free; &iid that she had beguiled the very ;f , plergyjnan into laughing at one of her , wild freaks, which he would have re- proved m any one else; made her popu- £ larity the sincerer. She was absolutely impartial herself and favored no one snore than another. Her father's house being situated on, the main road, and there being no tav ern for three miles further on, it so happened that travelers often asked and obtained a night's lodging there, to uvoid crossing the hills at night Tall. Mr. Kesler received all such chanco Visitors as God-sends, and entertained them well, only asking in return all the news they could give him. One night, in the beginning of win ter, a traveler on a tired horse begged shelter, and promised handsome re muneration. "Come in, come in," said the old 'farmer. "Ton are welcome if yon bring me any news. Here, Joe, take the horsew Come in and rest, Mr. {Traveler, bat I take no pay, or only in tongue-money." He was a fine, handsome young man, who was thus received, an Englishman, John Wilson by name, who had arrived at Philadelphia but a week before, and was now on his way to look at some newly-purchased land in the interior. That night he was too tired to talk much, and the next day he was SI. For a month he could not be moved, and during that time his nurse, the pretty Lena, learned to love him, but not before he had manifested for her feelings far warmer than gratitude. The old man, who took no fancy to *his English guest, and had other plans for his daughter, was greatly incensed when he learned the state of affairs, and no sooner was Mr. Wilson well enough to go, than he received his dis missal, and was forbidden the houso. The snow had by this time filled all the roads, and he was obliged to give up his intended journey and take lodgings at the tavern. Lena's attachment was soon no secret, and in proportion to her former popularity was the disappointment felt at her affections being engrossed by this fine stranger, who was conse quently heartily hated in the ne;gh- borhood. A few of the girl's lovers yowed vengeance on the interloper. Among the most ardent of her lovers was a handsome, fiery stripling, not yet twenty, the son of a powerful Indian ohief. He had come to the settlement on a trading expedition, and after meeting Lena, had chosen to remain, sending bis people back, to his tribe without him. He took the name of 'Hugo Riffert, learned to speak Ger- man tolerably well, and was generally received as an equal in the German families, his father being too impor tant a personage to make an enemy of, backed, as the old chief was, by a powerful tribe. Lena had always repulsed him with a costive dislike, yet the youth nursed his passion. He now sought every op portunity to offend Mr. Wilson, and played upon him many malicious pranks, until at last the Englishman gave him, in public, a sound threshing, p; Thus Riffert had a double motive for revenge, that passion dearest to an In- £ diaD, Mid he brooded over it with in- tense hate. He was no match for the Englishman In strength, so he de- r &'• k, I ' fev' fcv f: - • fev' i' i*. f e * : ' I " P.- lived, had been cleared of nearly every tree, and was grown over with bnsh- wood. J«st uj oa the summit one large hickory tree was left standing, around which had sprung up many cedar bush«3. These evergreens grew quite close, and were dense enough to hide any cne behind them from the observa tion of persons passing along the road. Here Lena olten came to exchange a few words of oomfoft with her lover. She had appointed a meeting one even ing, and just as the full moon was ris ing she stole from the house, and sped breathlessly up the road over the hard- crusted snow. When she entered the little natural bower of evergreens she was startled bv seeing, not Mr. Wilson, but Hugo Kiffert He stood and looked at her with ir resolution, for he really loved her to tiie point of standing in awe of her. Lena was about to retreat hastily, when, remembering the enmity be tween them, she feared foul play for Mr. Wilson, since his rival was there in his place. She could not go without asking a few questions. "Hugo,* she said, gently, "did you come no the hill-road?" "Yea" v - . K ' - . y . - • ' ' "Past our house?" ' •* "No, the other wtj*,* - * v * "Did you see any dne comfng up also?" The savage ire of the Indian began to conquer his timidity. "No," he answered; "yon mean the Englishman. I did not see him, but I am waiting for him." Then Riffert advaaoed angrily to her. "Lena," he s*id, fiercely, "how dare you come here to meet that fellow ? xou will not let me speak to you, even at y our father's on Sunday nights. I will pay yeu for it! I've got you now !" He was standing before her, with clenched teeth and flushing eyes. The girl was dreadfully frightened, but commanding her fear and confidence, she said: "Well, you would not harm me?" "Look here," he exclaimed, as he seized a stout sapling, bent it over, the top doubling down to its roots; then letting it go, it flew up with great force. "Now am I strong?" he aBked. "You see that with one hand I eould hold you more easily than the tree, and have the other free. And I have a knife in that one. But if yon will do what I want you to, I will not hurt you. ?" "What is it yon want me to do. Come, tell me gently. Don't be so fierce. Don't you know I am always kindest when yon are gentle?" "I know you have never, never been kind to me, let me be gentle or fierce. But this dne thing you shall do for me, for I can make you." "What is it?" asked Lena again. "Give me your hood and cloak, and get out of the way. Run home, I mean, as fast as you can. Then I will not even frighten you any more, and you will not see me again for a long time, for I am going to my tribe. Quick, give them to me." Lena saw through his fiendish plot She drew up in indignation all fear for herself vanished. "And what do you want them for, you assassin?" she cried. "To lie in wait for my lover, with your knife and your bloody intentions? No, I will fight for them till 1 die, before you shall have them. So take care!" That instant tha wily Indian tlpew a noosed rope, which he had concealed in his belt, over her shoulders, and slipped it until it held her arms down, then he drew it. tight with a sudden jerk. "Now," said he, fight if you choose. I will tie you to that tree, and when your lover comes to meet you you shall see me dart out and stab him to the heart before your very eyes." Lena tried to scream, in hopes of assistance, but Riffert's hand was promptly on her mouth. "Wait, I have a gag," he said. "I will only keep it in until that English dog is lying dead there, and then your pretty lips shall be free for kisses." Lena struggled and found a chance to speak. "Stop," she said, desperation lending her craft, "listen one moment. I will give yon the things--I had just as Uef as not Give me time--and, Hugo, you did not tell mo whether yon met my father on your way here." "You did not ask me that" "Why, yes, I asked yon if you saw any one coming." "But you meant the Englishman, your lover." Every time the Indian said the word lover, he sneered and spat upon the ground. "It was only you that oaid him. You are always thinking of that English man. Bnt did you not see my father?" "No." "Well, then, just step out to the road and sea if he is not coming up the hill from the mill. He is going to take me home on his horse. I can't get away, you know. Just look out that is a good fellow." She hoped that if he would do so Mr. Wilson might see him and avoid him. Riffert looked very uneasy for a mo ment, then he said: "You lie, you know he is not coming. Come now, will vou give me the hood and cloak, or shall I gag you again, and let you see your lover die?" He threw his arm around her, and when she felt the strength of it, though it was but playfully done, she said: "Let me go, Hugo. Free my hands and I will give you the things. I will give them to you instantly." "Be quick, then, be quick" He loosed the rope; she slipped her hands out, took off her hood and cloak, and ran towards home, as if in desperate fright. But this was a mere ruse. She was determined to warn her lover be fore he reached the tree. So she plunged into the brushwood, and taking a circle, hoped to meet Mr. Wilson before he approached the ambush. She struggled with des perate haste through the bushes, making as little noise as possible, and at length emerged about an eighth of a mile below the hickory. She looked anxiously down the road, but Mr. Wilson had passed while she was still in the underbrush* and was al ready at the trvsting place. While Lena, with a beating heart, was still looking and listening, she heard from the spot where she had left the Indian, the sound of a blow, a fall, and a low whoop of exultation. Then the Indian bounded across the road into the wood on the opposite side. Lena ran with faltering feet to the tree. There lay her lover, fallen upon his face, the snow stained withlhis blood, and only fearfully, strangling gasps to show that he was not utterly en (girl turned or his wettnda. _ . one, by tfce blood, which she in vain to stanch; and the other by the kniie whieh still remained in it A few more spasmodic gasps, and she held in >er clinging arms only clay. She. sat still, tearless and motionless, oktog upon the stiffening of those beloved featwrea. It was bitter cold, andgradually the half-clad girl was suo- eumofngto the freezing air, but she did not head it" Some fiendish whim induced the In dian to return to look again upon his victim, and while Lena was thus watch ing her dead, he parted the bushes at the feet of the murdered man, and stood there laughing. "The Englishman came, Lena,* he said, and asked me for a kiss; I was sit ting there with the things on, and the cloak hid my long legs. He stooped down over me and said, 'My love, I am late, but Ieonld not help it; kiss me.' 'YesI will, I said; there is one--take it Lena left it for you, when she lent me her clothes, and there is another from me, with tike knife for a present' He took both in silence, Lena, except that his breast-bone cracked for an answer. Ha! ha! ha! And now, Lena, you shall give me the kiss he asked for." The Indian advanced a step. "Stop," exclaimed she, with a cold, calm voice, and pointed to the bleeding bosom. "Dare to approach." Her tone, the pallor of her faoe, her large, rigid blue eyes fixed upon him, the sharpness of outline which the moonlight lent her face, the white ac cusing finger, all started his supersti tious mind into a sudd an belief that she was a spirit, and with knees knock ing together, he stole from the spot and was never seen again by white men. Lena did not know why he left so suddenly, and through the torpidity of her feeling the thought came that he would return to scalp the corps. There fore she would not go home, but stayed to watch it, regardless of the cold and sickening at the sight of her own warm garments, which lay near, just as the Indian had thrown them off. She went, however, and stood in the road calling for help. And the people in the village below could see on the hill, against the win ter's sky, a woman's form, with bare head and in-door olothing, moving to and fro, raising its arms in supplication and uttering sad cries; but it was so unlikely thatluiy of their women should be so exposed at that hoir that they were convinced that it was an appari tion, and dared not go and see. Every one stood gazing, open-mouthed at the wonder, until all became silent, and the form was no longer to be seen. t„ Then they began to talk about it, and to run about from one house to an other gathering opinions. And so the news reached Casper Keler, whose house was not in a posi tion to see the hill-top* The old man, swearing at them for fools, set out with active step and cheerful, bold heart, to render aid to the distressed person or persons. When he arrived at the hill-top no one was there, but in the trodden snow he followed the footsteps into the bushes, and saw a young girl's stiffened form lying with her head pillowed on the breast of a man's body, whose life-blood had crimsoned all the snow around them. Poor old man! to find that the girl was his own daughter. There were others following him, and they carried the lovers home. They thought, at first, that both were dead, but Lena recovered suf ficiently to tell the sad particulars. She lived but a few hours. To make some atonement her father had the lovers buried side by side. Every since that time the people say that when looking up to the hill they sometimes see the creeping Indian and Ihb imploring maiden. Yes, and the distracted old father tearing his hair and beard and cursing himself for crossing his daughter's love.--Chicago Ledger, . . The Dog Tha? Bought Steak. , There was a fine collie, called Jforo. Like some other dogs of my acquaint* ance, he was in the habit of going to the butcher's each morning with his master, who always gave Nero his pur chase in a fish basket to be by liitn carried home. One day it occurred to the master that Nero might as well be taught to go to market by himself. So he began each morning to say the word "Butcher" very solemnly to Nero immediately before setting out, to which word Nero gravely listened, slowly wagging his tail the while. This went on for a few weeks with clock work regularity. Than came a wet day. Nero was given his basket as usual, with a note in it asking the butcher--who had been warned be forehand--to exchange it for a pound of steak, and taken to the door. Then his master said to him "Butcher," enun ciating the word even more solemnly than usual. Nero looked thoughtful and hesitated. He was then motioned off in the accustomed direction. Pres ently he went a few steps and looked back. "ButcUer, Nero, butcher," re peated his instructor; and eventually the dog, after two or three false starts, went off with a rather dejected appear ance, and my friend went indoors to await the result. In due time Nero re turned with the steak; and for a year or two afterward went to the butcher's almost daily, always bringing back his purchases without mishap.--Chambers' Journal. Humbling to Our Pride. CoL Ingersoll says: "It is not neo- essary to be a pig in order to raise one." No, no; O, no; of course not; anybody knows that, But, after all, you've got to have the co-operation of a pig. No man ever yet raised a pig until some other pig had given him a start Thus does proud man, even in a contract so homely and humble as the raising of one small, runt, sandy pig, acknowledge his dependence upon the brute beasts. What a piece of work is man. How noble is his reason for not doing anything he can't How infi nitely small is his facilities. In action, how like an angle--in his mind. In ap prehension, how eager to fly around and get bait--Burdette. Blood WM Tell. Charlie, aged 8, brought home a slinking yellow pup, bow-legged, drooping-tailed, and shame-faced. He oared for it tenderly, fixed a dry goods box in the back yard for a kennel, and on every possible occasion exhibited the animal proudly. His sister Ella, aged 18, asked him facetiously: "Where did .vou get that dog?" "I bought him from a man for 25 cents," with the pride of ownership. "Mercy! The idea of paying 25 cents for that horrible beast!" Charlie's eyes flashed indignantly. "He isn't horrid. That shows how much a girl knows. The man told me he is a full-blooded cwr.m*~Th« Port folio- LINCOLN Xtottvery. t*sehaaSk} History is all the while being oor- the aooepted traditions of cen turies are being overturned, men are proved to have beer, myths, and deeds done long ago at* known as dreams. Yet we thank the iconoclast whose weapon is based upon absolute proof, because all are concerned that history should be an accurate sum mary of events. And so we may owe a vote of thanks to Mr. Ward H. La- mon, Marshal of the District of Colum bia and Lincoln's closest friend during the latter's Presidential career. Mr. Lamon gives us a new and most inter esting version of the facts in regard to Lincoln's speech at Gettysburg, and backs his account with claims of indis putable proofs. He says: A day or two before the dedication of the National cemetery at Gettysburg, Mr. Lincoln told me that he would be expected to make a speech on the oc casion, that he was extremely busy, with no time for preparation, and that he greatly feared he would not be able to acquit himself with credit, much less to fill the measure of public expecta tion. From his h it, (the usual recep- t->fle of his private notes and memo randa) he drew a page of foolscap, closaly written, which he read to me, first remarking that it was a memoran dum of what ne intended to say. It proved to be in substance, and, I think, in hnea verba, what was printed as his Gettysburg speech. After its delivery he expressed deep regret that he had not prepared it with greater care. He said to me on the staud immediately after concluding the speech: "Lamon, that speech won't soar! It is a flat failure, and the people are dis appointed." He seemed more than ordinarily concerned about what the people would think of it I was deeply impressed by his frank and regretful condemna tion of the effort, and especially by his manner of expressing that regret, and my own impression was deepened by the fact that the orator of the day, Mr. Everett, and Mr. Seward, both coin cided with Mr. Lincoln in his unfavora ble view of its merits. The occasion was solemn, impressive, and grandly historic. The people stood spell-bound, it is true. The vast throng was hushed and awed into pro found silence while Mr. Lincoln read his brief address; but it seemed that this silence and attention to his words arose more from the solemnity of the ceremonies and the awful scenes which gave occasion to them than anything the President said. On the platform from which Mr. Lincoln mads his address, and only a moment after its conclusion, Mr. Sew ard turned to Mr. Everett and asked him what he thought of the President's speech. Mr. Everett replied: "It was not what I expected from him; I am disappointed." In his turn, Mr. Everett asked: "What do you think of it ?" The response was: "He has made a failure, and I am sorry for it; his speech is not equal to him." Mr. Seward then turned to me and asked: "Mr. Marshal, what do yon think of it?" • "I am sorry to say it does not im- ' press me as one of his great speeches." As a matter of fact, Mr. Lincoln's great Gettysburg speech fell on the vast audience like a wet blanket At that time his reputation was confess- oJly on the wane. The politicians of the oountrv.-- thoso of his own party, together wifli a large part of the press-- were oasting about for an available candidate to be his successor, while a great majority of the people were for him. I state it as a fact and without fear of contradiction that this famous Get tysburg speeoh was not received or commented upon with like hearty favor by the people, the politicians, or the press of the United States until after the death of its author. Its marvelous perfection and its intrinsic excellence as a masterpiece of English composi tion seem to have escaped the scrutiny of the most soholarly critics and the wisest heads of that day on this side of the Atlantic. That discovery was made, we must regretfully say, by dis tinguished writers on the other side. The London Spectator, The Saturday Bevieio, the Edinburg Review, and other English journals were the first to discover, or at least to proclaim, the classical merits of the Gettysburg speech. It was then that we began to realize that it was indeed a masterpiece, and it then dawned upon many minds that we had entertained an angel unawares, who had left us unappreciated. Cleverness of the Moukejr. It is odd that mankind has not more generally attempted to utilize the cfeverness and imitative faculty of the monkey. Perhaps, however, this little four-handed creature is too mischievous to be trusted very extensively. A woman in Toulouse one day locked her money in a desk and went out shop ping. On her return she m:Bsed a con siderable sum, but there was no trace of burglary. Very much bewildered, the woman was in deep reflection over the matter, when she heard a roar of laughter from her neighbor's garden. "Oh, the thief!" cried several persons. "Where has he stolen it?" The dame instantly ran out saying, "Oh, my monsy, messieurs! Where is the thief?" "He is up a tree, madam," pointing to a monkey sitting on a high branch above them, but here is the money." The monkey had been seen to climb into one of the lady's windows, had un locked a drawer, found the money, and, concealing it in his cheek, brought it to his master. No less au authority than Buffon de clares that a female chimpanzee, who went out to service at Loango, made the beds, swept the house, and so far assisted in the cooking as to turn the spit A naval officer tells of another chim panzee on board a French man-of-war who assists the cook, turns the capstan and furls sail as well as any of the sail- on. In China monkeys help in the tea- picking, and Lord Monboddo used gravely to contend that apes could talk readily enongh, but that their superior ennning told them to hold their tongues lest they should be put to hard work.-- Youth's Companion. Discipline the Eye. A very good way to discipline the mechanical eye is to first measure an inch with the eye, then prove it with a rule, then measure a half-inch, then an eighth, and so on, and you will soon be able to disoover at a glance the differ ence between a twelfth and a sixteenth of an inch: then go to three inohes, six, twelve* and soon. Soms call this guess ing: there is no guesswork about H It ; Attatk «f ' -i;. ' "'M: you see; do effexyilktng as nearly as yon can without measuring (or spoiling It), or as nearly as you can trust the eye with its present training; If you eannot see things mechanically, do not blame the eye for it; it is no more to blame than the mouth is because we eannot read, or the fingers because we eannot write. A person may write a very good hand with the eyes closed, the mind, of course, directing the fingers. The eye is necessary, however, to detect imper fections. Every operation in life re quires a mechanically trained eye, and we should realize more than we do? the great importance of properly training that orgw.-- Boston Cultivator. The Riches of Bolivia. Bolivia is doubtless the richest in minerals of any land on the globe, and millions upon millions of precious metals have been taken out of her mines by the primitive process which still exists, and must exist till rail roads are constructed to carry machin ery there. Every ounce of ore that finds its way out of the Andes is car ried on the baek of a man or a llama, and the quartz is crushed by rolling heavy logs upon it. By this method Bolivia exports from twelve to fifteen millions of gdld and silver annually, and the output would be fabulous if modern machinery could be taken into the mines. The distance from Jujuy to the farthest mining district of Bolivia is 700 miles, and it is no farther to the diamond fields of Brazil. Bolivia offers a grant of twelve square leagues of land and $40,000 a mile for the exten sion of the Argentine Northern to Sucre, and English capitalists are ready to contiuue the work as soon as the Argentine Government drops it at the bouudary line. When it is built the owners of this road will hold the key to a country which has excited the cupidity of adventurers since the New World was discovered. It has fur nished food for four centuries of fable, and armies of men have died in search of its treasures. A territory as large as that which lies between tLe Missis sippi River and the Rocky Mountains remains entirely unexplored. On its borders are the richest of agricultural lands, immense tracts of timber, dia mond-strewn streams, and the silver and gold deposits of Cerro de Pasco and Potosi What lies within is the subject of speculation. The tales of explorers who have attempted to penetrate its mysteries read like the old romances of Golconda and the El Dorado of the Amazons, where the women warriors wore armors of solid gold; but the swamps and the mountains, the rivers that cannot be forded, and the jungles which forbid search, the absence of food, and the difficulty of carrying sufficient supplies on foot, with the other obstacles that have prevented ex ploration, will be overcome eventually, and the secret that has tantalized the world for four centuries will be told by ambitious scientists.--Harper's Maga- rine. ' * Cheerfalnen. Cheerfulness is always an admirable trait, but it is nowhere more ap preciated than in a busy workshop, where many perplexities arise daily to vex the patience of the workman. A smiling face and a hopeful word act not infrequently like oil on troubled waters, bringing tranquility and peace. A growling, snappish workman is a discomfort to himself and all about him. He disturbs his own tranquility, and becomes more or less a nuisanee to his fellow-workmen. A grumbler feeding on his own discontent, and giv ing vent to ill-natured utterances, too often imparts his feelings to others, making trouble for every one con nected with the business at hand. It is not the cheerful man who creates trouble in the shop. He is never at the head of socialistic movements, and, as a general rule, is reluctant to en gage in strikes, or to favor any move ment tending to a breach of good feeling between the hands of the estab lishment and the employers. A cheer ful man cannot well be envious or jealous. He does not see in every movement of his employer an attempt to do him wrong. He dees not feel that every man's hand iR against him, and that to protect his rights he must organize an opposing and disturbing force. There is comfort in transacting business with a man who presents to you a smiling countenance, and meets you with a friendly grasp of the hand. One instinotively feels that it is safe to deal with such a man, and that confi dence in him will not be misplaced. In times of trouble, when things go wrong, and help and confidence are needed, one turns to the cheerful, pleasant workman with a feeling of restful assurance that he will indeed be friendly when the strong arm of friend hip is most needed. Such men have their value, not alone as esti mated in the scale of wages paid, but as shown in the very strength of the tenure of their position, in the confi dence which their employers bastow upon them, and in the general esteem of their fellow laborers.--Dominion Neios. "Look Pleasant, You Villain." Some philanthropists always make us think of a story that is told of Frederick of Russia. The King had a way of going around like a common mortal and holding brief conversations with his subjects, which were pretty sure to terminate in some decidedly uepleasant remark by the monarch. One day he paused to speak to a Jew, but the wary Hebrew took to his heels. The King pursued, and after a brisk chase overtook the flying subject "Why did you run away from me, rascal?" "Because," frankly admitted the He brew, "I was afraid." "Fritz" hit him a tremendous whack with his cane. "Villain!" he roared, "I don't want to be feared; I want to be loved."-- Burdette. ; Cast His First Vote for Jefferson." Josiah Graston, an old gentleman re siding in Bel ton County, Texas, is cer tainly deserving of mention. He was born at Lovelady Crossing, on the Catawba River, Bnrke County, North Carolina, in the year 1778. When a lad he went with his parents to Ten nessee, and resided in that State until the year 1865, when he went to Texas and settled there. Mr. Graston is proud of the fact that, his first vote was east for Thomas Jefferson for Presi dent, and he has been voting the straight Democratic ticket ever since. He gets about very well. He lives al most entirely in the past recounting scenes and incidents of seventy and eighty years ago as though they be longed to last year.--St. Louis Globe' Democrat. Thk first iron ore to be discovered la this country was found in ifirginii in 1715. v 'V-I"-' BMtatat Away liaalt ta ta (Bsnrlafcmt (PsJ Ban.] Uncle Abel Parmentere from "way up the North Branch,*" tells the lolletr- ing interesting story of an old-time bear fight: "Lie's big b'ar fight come off on Washington's birthday, 1826. Ida an' his dog Andy, went out that day a pur pose for b'ar. Tha had. been a big blow down o' timber the -fall afore in the neighborhood o' Riar's Creek, whar Ide lived, and pooty much the hull of the woods in the deestric' had been tore up by the roots and tossed about permisc'us. Ide and Andy struck in fur Riar's Creek, an' the fust thing they know'd they rammed slam bang ag'in a big windfall. Tha wan't no way "round it and so Ide says to Andy th' they'd whale right on through it, but the niglier they got to t'other side the further they seemed to be away, the windfall was so uncommon bad, an' they were gettin' pooty olus on to tuckered out 'fore they got the best of it Arter they got the best o' the down timber they struck another piece o' luck right away, for they found an acre or two o' the pootiest crop o' briars and brambles ez ever grow'd ten feet high, an' twisted itself together like a fish net But tha wa'n't no aewh thing ez humphx' it back over that windfall, and so Ide an' Andy shet their eyes an' pulled ahead for the open kentry. They had navigated through the smilur garden o' prickers an' stickers fer nigh onto a miled, we'n, to add to the pleasures of the sitiwa- tion, the dog began to bristle up and growl. Then Ide know'd th't tha was business to be did somewar tharbouts, an' th't the business was b'ars, fer Andy never wasted no time bristlin' up nor spent his wind in growlin' unless tha was the smell o' b'ar in the air, an' the smell o' b'ar never played 'round Andy's nose without him a drawin' some on it in. "Wall, b'ar it was, an' no mistake, for jist ahead o' Ide an' Andy an' not more'n six foot away riz one b'ar bigger'n a yearlin' calf an' another un' 'bout half ez big. Ide know'd by tho way the big b'ar growled an' knashed its teeth th't it were a she one an' that she had a family o' new cubs tucked away in a log or hole in the ground sobie'rs in adjacent parts, and that she had it in her head that Ide and Andy was picknickin' in that briar patch jest to steal them cubs, an' that she was thar to break up the picnic. Now, the matter o' havin' a hip-lock or a back- holt, or a stand-up an' knock-down with a b'ar or two was a trifle that Ide Jones was alius a hankerin' arter, and but the bavin' of it mixed up with down timber, briar bushes, an' bram bles was a leetle too much of a pleas ant prospect, an' Ide wished he was back hum chawin' gingernuts an' swiggin' cider. But thar he was. Thar had to be a fight or a foot-race. The course wan't laid out for much of a foot-race an' so Ide concluded to stay thar an' take the chances on some o' the boys running' onto his bones in the spring. Lookin' around with a come- sinner-come-an'-view-the - ground-whar- you-must-surely-lie sort of a look he prepared to take his dose. " 'Twixt the time th't the b'ars first gladdened the eyes of Ide an' Andy an' the time th't the ol' she one bu'sted through the thick briars at 'em wa'n't more'n ten second?. Ide didn't hev time to even club with his gun, but w'en the ol' b'ar clapped her two paws on Ide's two shoulders he hauled off an pasted her a good un plumb in the eye, and the fight was in. Andy taokled the little b'ar an' kep' him from interferin' in the muss, an' gettin' him on the run, kep' him thar. Ide ripped out his huntin' knife, an' with a slashin' an' a gasliin', a snarlin' an' a snappin', a chawin' an' a clawin' an' a rollin' an' a plowin', while hair an' meat an' rags an' dirt an' stone flew in the air till the sun was hid, the b'ar an' Ide cavorted around in that rich hot torn o' brambles an'logs for mor'n fif teen minutes, fust one on top o' the heap au'< then t'other. Then Ide got mad. He found the top rib of ol' Mrs. B'ar an' slid his knife clean up to the handle 'longside of it, an' then the b'ar turned the soles o' her feet to'ward the firyment on high, an' her young uns was orphans." A Wonderful Conquest. The Soudan is the great central region of Africa, extending from Sene- gambia, on the west, to the Nile, or according to a common recent use of the name, to the Red Sea itself. It is avast region, barren in some parts and fruitful in others, and inhabited by a great many nations, some of which, especially in the west, approach a con dition of civilization, and have large and prosperous cities, where trade and manufactures are carried on. While the English have been send ing expeditious to meet with terrible disasters in the Eastern Soudan, and making very little impression upon that region, the French have been making a peaceful conquest of a region in the west almost as large as the whole of France, and containing a great popula tion. The French, in their operations upon the Foudan, have in contempla tion the joining of the Sierra Leone and Senegal, which now extend far in land, and then connecting the whole with Algiers and Tunis, and thus gradually establishing a French do minion over the whole of Western Africa, and giving France a foreign possession larger than India itself. The French plans include a railway across the Sahara to connect Algiers with the river systems of the Senegal Niger, the flooding of a port of the Sahara, and the development of a great commerce with the whole region. In Love with a Harried Man. A group of young ladies were stand ing on the front steps of an elegant residence, as a gentleman in a silk hat and Prince Albert coat passed by. "Oh! what a handsome, stylish gen tleman!" exclaimed one of the number, "why, I'm just in love with him, who is he, Grace ? Do you know him ?" "Yes," answered the one addressed as Grace, "but you mustn't fall in love with him for he is a married man; and you know it is wicked to love a mar ried man 1" she added solemnlv. "Why, is that so?" inquired another of the group; "Grace, you frighten me?" ) "Why?" ) "Because I lore devotedly and unre servedly a^married man at the present time." "Terrible!" eried Grace, and the others looked interesting and inquiring. "And I will not give up loving him I" defiantly. "Is his wife living?" - j -Yes." • ' "Well yon must not< do itt It Is wrong, it is wicked," growing elo quent "I don't earel" obstinately. » "Who is he?" cried another. . "My father.*--Sunday Nationsi, -r-Th«re bank at Moaal Pulaski. •-14-It }e clafeaej tfcs SshatiaK Anqimto 125 converts si Danville. *-Terti of the Oljfeipg wsts* supply mm. reported to have proved successful. --Mis. CUbauah.a l of Oariyle, died iaU& sged < --The Clinton Op)*a HOnse fas bee* rented for the holding of the next tens ef the De Witt Circuit Court. --William Gaffiuef , han, of Paris, the caving in of a gispallbault. --Mrs. Lewis Mnsbiieh, of Coles County, mistook a small qptotflflfer of strychnine for quinine, and gave it to her little daughter, causing death. --J. £. Eddy, proprietor «f the City Hotel at Geneeeo, shot hhasslf dead e ftfw days ago. fls wes ntarly fifty fftm» old and leaves a wife and family. troubles were said to have been the of his sot --A balloon recently landed on a fans near Perry, and when the balloonist weal to get it .the farmer refused to give it up until he was paid $10 for the time wastsd by eighteen laborers employed by hisa> who left their work to look at the air navigator. --The Soldiers' Home at Qtrincy has ad mitted 524 inmates, of whom 269 axe na tives and 262 foreigners. The fffwrigmtft are divided a> follows: Germany* 110, Ireland, 95; England, 12; and Scotland. 10. Two hundred and fifty-six are married or have living children; 67 are widowers .without children, and 197 are tingle. The trades aad processions number 63, and there are 151 farmers and 192 laborers. --Four of the Jennings family, living near Oakland, are ill, and slight hope is entertained ef their recovery. The phys icians say that they are suffering from the effects of some deadly poison, bat what kind they do not say. Two of the Jennings boys, members of the striokeai family, have died within the last week. There is a bitter factional quarrel in the neighborhood, and it is the supposition that some of the Jennings' tunnies have administered poison by wholesale. --Hog-cholera is playing havoe with the swine in Henry County. It is epidemic in many townships, and is off both old and young. Phil Arnett, north of Geneeeo, has lost 100 head in the laet few days. Near Utah the cholera is a clean sweep. Hog-cholera remedies of all descriptions have been tried, but to no par- pose. Slate coal is being fed as a preven tive of the disease. Others mix kerosene with the coal. It is said that these have proven beneficial thus far. The losoae ag- giegate several thousand dollars. --A west-bound fast mail on the Wabash Railway had a narrow escape fiiiin ilealnm tion half a mile west of Tolono leeenfly. As the tiain rounded a curve the engineer discovered a cattle-guard on fire. & re versed his engine, but was too near to step until the train had passed the fire. An examination then made by the trainmen showed the entire framework ef the flattie- guard to be destroyed, the fire In ell proba bility having been burning several hours. The strength of the rails alone supported the train as it passed over. The tracl were hustled out of their beds porary repairs made before . was due. ---The Klinefelter-Dillman Company, of Joliet, manufacturers of corn-planters and check-rowers, and the proprietor of the Lock-Stitch Fence Company, all being members of both companies, ate so inti mately connected in business affairs that in these dispatches the Lock- Stitch was men tioned as the one whieh had failed, when,. as a matter of fact, it is the Klinefelter- Dillman Company. In addition to the judgments originally filed--aggregating $10,000--judgments have been entered re cently aggregating $5,003, and other large judgments are expected. What the effect, if any, upon the Lock-Stitch Company will be eannot be foretold, though it is said that the Lock- Stitch Company is all right --J. Finley Hoke, the bank forger, has been taken to Joliet This action was very sudden and unexpected, and Hoke remonstrated against the haste shown, hut finding that his remonstrances availed nothing he took it as calmly and oooOy as he has everthing else since he was brought back from Canada. It is understood that the reason fer hustling Hoke off so qvdek- ly was that action is to be taken for bring ing his case before the United Statee Su preme Court, and should that body gnat a supersedeas Mr. Hoke would be ooespel- led to reside at his then plaoe of residences Hoke would not consent to be interviewed previous to his departure further «*>-- to say that his case was now in the hands of Leonard Swett, ef Chicago. The Peoria attorneys have nothing farther to do with it. It is very generally understood In Peoria that all the vast sum of whieh Hoke succeeded in robbing the Merehanb' Na tional Bank haB been dissipated, and that the chances are decidedly In favor ef serving out his sentence. --Joliet is considerably excitsd over a lawsuit commenced recently in the Court by the California Insurance Com pany against the Lambert & Bishop Wire Fenoe Company for the recovery of money paid that company on their loss by fife in 1&83. Colonel Jones, who represents the company, said he would prove that the Lambert & Bishop Company burnt their own works to recover the insurance, of which there was about $150,000, $100,609 having been paid by tbe insurance com panies. All the companies are said to be interested with the California company hi the suit. James Whyte, Superintendent at the work* at the time, is said to have testi fied that the President of the company gne him $5,000 stock in the company, for whieh he set fire to the works, the pita get the insurance money i He described how he made a to scatter fire upon the floor, which he had saturated with oil and covered with rum bustible material. Mr. Lambert's tiHiiiihj said in reply to Colonel Jones that Whyte was a perjurer, that the stock was sold to liirn, that the company took his note fer the amount to enable them toholda controlling interest, that Whyte was discharged, aad that the Secretary of the company, Mr. Bishop, held a mortgage on Whyte's house for $4,000, which was foreclosed, and that de was actuated by revenge. Ti--hf» 4k Bishop stand hi«hin *oaiai < taring ehelsflk ^ J' ' '•* « »s" i . .