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ELIZABETH CITY, W C, TUESDAY, JANUARY 14, 1879.
NO.. II
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I - ' . " "- - '
AT SET OF SUN.
At set of sun I watched for 70a !
The sheep bell's tinkling note I heard
Naught else! the harvest-boy passed through
The gate, with jest sod wort! ;
And till I watched, nor spake, nor stirred.
At set of son!
How far it seemed, your great fair town.
Where sweet rir'-looka lore ever new;
Where rose-leaf lips rain sweet speech down
Oh jealou heart I Oh lore, be true !
I need hot yon I need but yon I
The son goes down !
Kay 'twas s passing; breeze-tossed cloud ;
A epriDging step comes down the lane ;
Oh heart, be et.h beat not so loud ! -
Dear ejes look into mine again.
And tender looks and kisses rain
From that dark cloud.
Too soon it set, that April sun , '
With atar-lit eteps Eye stole sway ;
Nor came there e'er so bright a one.
Nor e'er s kiss so sweet as they ;
1 aay it now In life's last day "
Atse of sun!
Ursula's Love.
- : (T ...
It was a dark, stormy day without;
but inside all was warmth and light,
aud as 1 sat in my arm-chair and looked
at the girl before me. I felt that not
withstanding all the warmth and light,
how much pleasanter ray home might
be. I had just recovered from a long
illness which had left me as weak as a
baby, so I had advertised for a compa
nion, and here before me was the thir
tieth applicant for that position. A
young face seemed almost out of place
in my lonesome house, .where I, Miss
Dorathy Morbrey, spinster, had been
the sole occupant for so many years.
How Stella did oppose my plan of a
companion. She seemed to want to
t ome to me herself I suppose thinking
that as Ilarold, her step son, was my
chosen heir, it was the proper thing.
But I didn't agree to that; not for the
world would I have to live with a per
son like Stella. Vanity and arrogance
were, her chief characteristics, and
" those qualities I detested.
- a 1 ti,i4
rnis young gin, wuu uu jno.
as 1 had begun to despair of ever fin
ding what I wanted, had a strange fas
cination for me. Her small childish fi
gure was clothed in mourning; her face
was fair and sweet, though very sad,
and her deep hazel eyes had that ten
der, longing look we see sometimes in
the little ones early called home.
So I questioned her, and was pleased
with her timid answers, aHd before
long I said;
"Well, my dear, I think if you feel
like living with a cranky old woman,
I shou'd like to have you. What is your
uarae?"
'Ursula."
"Ursula what?"
The sweet lace paled as she answered:
"I have no other name."
Here was an enigma. I rapidly ran
over -my mind all that Stella
Would say if 1 should tate this girl,
who could give me no recommendation,
and not even her name; but as I
glanced up at the soulful eyes wateh
iug my -face with eager anxiety, my
hesitation ended. She should be my
compauion ; and I rang for Martha to
show her the room she was to occupy.
I am , afraid if any one could have
read my thoughts that night, they
would have set me dovn for an old
fool, for many were the romantic sto
ries I framed for my companion . Her
- pure delicate face and lustrous eyes
fairly haunted me. '
At last 1 had an interest in my life,
and as time rolled on, each day I be
oame more attached to my little Ursu
la. I cannot describe the thousand lov
ing graces by which she had won me.
After a while the grief which I had al
ways noticed in her face softened into a
quiet resignation, and the footfall,
which was, slow and weary at first grew
more buoyant. And then sometimes
shesang; floods of melody rang through
the old bouse, and it was a surprise to
me that that little white throat could
"hold such a volume of sweet sound.
Then one day, my nephew George
wrote me he was coming to make me a
visit. -
George was the only child of my
brother, and wealthy In his right, and
be, as well as his cousin Harold, Were
to me as my own, I welcomed him
with great pleasure, and it was not long
until 1 saw ray old house had found
a new Interest for him. I noticed how
his eyes followed constantly the light
figure which flitted with quick, gentle
movements round my chair; I saw, too,
that Ursula was unconscious of this re
gard. It went on until George confided In
me, and received my earnest wishes for.
'his success, and as I looked at the man
ly young man, I did not doubt what
that would be when Ursula once knew
he loved her.
But "the best laid plans o' mice and
men aft gang aglee," and one day
George kissed roe good bye, his frank
eyes suffused with a man's painful
ears. ,-
"It it not Ursula's fault, Aunt Dor
thy," he said. "Do not blame her she
has told me why she cannot love me."
I must say I was indignant. In my
eyes, either one of my nephews was fit
for a princess love, and here this girl,
whom I had taken unknown and fiiend
lesslnto my heart, had embittered my
noble boy's life, J
.1 went to her. She was in her room,
and as lentered I knew my face showed
my thoughts, but before I could speak
she threw-her arras around ray neck,
and hid her face on my shoulder.
-js I. felt the supple young form
-" . -
pressed close to mine, and the touch of
the soft cheek, my. arms folded invo
luntarily around her, and my.anef va
nished, "v
Together we sat down, and then tur
nlng the tearful face from against my
shoulder, and looking straight Into her
said eyes, I asked her :
"Ursula, why were you so cruel?
Why could your heart fail to respond to
one so worthy in every way of a wo
man's love?"
A deep burning flush passed over her
face, and for .a moment she hesitated,
then drawings little away from my en
circling arm, she told me all her story,
and I learned why it was The young
eye had always seiued to mournful.
"Oh, my dear friend," she said.
"You cannot help me; but you have
been so kind, I feel as if I had been
wrong in keeping a secret from you.
From my early childhood I was reared
in affluence, with every care an indul
gent father could lavish upon me. My
father was a lawyer, and just as I grew
to womanhood he took into his office a
young clerk, the on of a widow lady,
who he knew well. We met," here the
sweet face dropped low, "and we grew
to love each other. His noble, true na
ture made me give him such an adoring
love that ills shared with him would
have seemed but pleasure. We were
betrothed with our parents' full con
sent. But then ray dear father died,
and in a little time, while my grief was
still fresh and poignant, his lawyer
called to tell me, he whom I so loved
and mourned, was not my father. I was
a foundling who had been taken by his
charitable kindness into his home. He
had intended me to be his heiress ;"Tmt
death came so suddenly, no will had
been made. Almost stunned, I liste
ned; the ground seemed cut from un
der my feet, and In that state my be
trothed 's mother came and found me.
Involuntary I drew my Ursula closer
to me. I knew instinctively what she
was about to say :
"Then, oh 1 then, the waters of bitter
ness completely overwhelmed me. She
came to me to beseech me to release her
son, telling me if I married him a would
utterly ruin his prospects, as his aunt,
whose heir he was would surely disin
herit nlm if he married a girl without
a name. i
"Crushed as I was, my pride aroused
and haughtily I answered back her
son should be free, and I would go
where he should never hear again of
the girl who had been "p!cked up no one
knew where." So I wrote a cold little
note to my Harold, and then, without
one word to my friends 1 left my home.
I have never heard from him to this
day, but, oh ! I love him still ! I long
to see him once more; but" her voiee.
fell to a pathetic undertone-p-"that will
never be." .
Softly stroking the dear head, I said :
"Ursula, what wa3 your Harold's last
name?" .
"It was Kent."
For a long time we sat quietly, then :
"Ursula," I said, "do you know who
sends trouble, and why He sends it?"
The pure face lost its mournful look,
and surely the angels must have some
such expression, as she answered fre
vently: "Those -whom the Lord loveth, He
chasteneth- "Ol Miss Dorothy, that
has been my greatest comfort."
I folded the sweet girl impulsively to
my heart. 'Here was the faith that
"moved mountains."
That afternoon I mailed one of my
rare letters. " ;
I think Ursula felt happier after her
confidence in 'me, and every day
brought us closer to each other until I
shuddered as I thought of what my
bouse was before she come, and what it
would be if she ever left it.
a
A few days went by: we were in a
library in' the twilight Ursula and
I I sitting in my favorite easy chair
by the window, while my knitting j
dropped from my hands as I listened to
the bird-like, voice singing that sweet
old-fashioned ballad : "Auld Robin
Gray." The window was open, and
the soft air fluttered through the room,
wafting in the fragrance of the roses
and honeysuckles. Just then the gar
den gate opened, and a man's figure
slowly cnmejip the path.
He paused. Sweetly the young voice
sang out its . pathetic strains. Then
swiftly ascending the steps he came
th sough the open hall door. Uncons
ciously Ursula sang on, and I, in my
window did not move. j
Attracted by the magnetism that
there always is in a steady gaze, Ursu
la looked up. "
There was silence in the room for a
moment, and then wi h one 'quivering
cry, like a bird who has found its mate,
she was clasped in her Herold's out-,
stretched arms. Then he spoke.
"Oh my darling! my little lost Ursu
la I Why did you leave me so cruelly ?
I have searched aud searched for you
knowing from my mother what caused
your note and departure, but all in
vain, until I received your letter from
Aunt Dorothy, telling me to "Come,
you were here." Oh, little one, how I
have longed for you !"
; Then I stepped forward, and Ursula
turned still In her lover's arms, and
looked at me a moment. Then she un
derstood all.
' "Yes,, Ursula," I said, "I am the
aunt whose heir Ilarold Kent Is; and
now my darling, the wish of my heart
is gratified ; there will be no need cf
your leaving me," !
" Then I left the lovers' to themselves,
So' all this happiness oame through
my talking a homeless girl and gUfng
her a friend and a home.
a i
My great house now Is none too large
for jtbe little restless feet that patter
everywhere up and down the broad cor
ridors ; while my heart is freshened and
ray youth renewed by the love of my
nephew and his precious wife and wee
children. -
Coffee-Tea.
Coffee-Tea Is something not absolute
ly unheard of yet, certainly, quite new
to English nomenclature, llerr Tschu
di. In his work setting forth his travels
in South America and the East, speaks
of a beverage which is prepared by the
inhabitants of the Indian Archipelago,
particularly the Island of Sumatra, and
is regarded by them as one of the ne
cessaries of life. Fresh cut tvigs of
the coffee-tree are exposed to a slow-,
clear fire, until the'leaves have turned
to a dark brown color. The latter are
then picked from the stalks, and these
again are roasted uutil the bark, which
is used as well as the leaves, eel easi
ly from them. Hot water is poured
upon a sufficient quantity of bark and
leae8 thus prepared, and, 'with the ad
mixture of a little sugar, the beverage
is ready. This Coffee-Tea was brought
forward for the first time publicly in
Eufope, at the convocation of natura
listiheld at Bremen in 1844, and at the
London Exhibition where some speci
mens were tried, it was shown to con
tain a considerable quantity of teaine.
YeL although numerous experiments
hae proved the exellence ol the bever
age, only small quantites of the roasted
coffee leaves are imported from Brazil
for private use. This leaves have a ve
ry laromatic smell, and, with the right
proportions of mixture, the flavor of
the! extract is very agreeable as well as,
peqular, singularly resembling the best
Chinese tea and the rarest Mocha cof
foej, at different styles of preparation.
Its! effect upon the system is like that
Droduced by tea. only less Dowerful.
Prices i will form the turning point of
itsigeneral introduction in the Western
world. I In Samatra, a pound of roasted
coffee-leaves cost about 10 cents, but in
Brazil,! it could be procured at much
less rates, since the method of prepar
ing is cheap and easy. Even should
prices, however, approach those of the
real coffee, Dr. Tschudi recommends
the coffee-tea for general consumption,
not .merely because of its cheapness,
bub for Its pleasant properties. Only
one-half the quantity is required for a
decoction that we usually take of the
coffee-beau, and there are kinds that
could be sold considerably cheaper than
the finer sort Above mentioned. . When
thk need of aromatic beverages and
condiments is so great that 2,600 mil
lions pounds tea, and 759 million
pounds of coffee, are annually con-f
suhied, not to speak of otherrsimHar
substances, there is something in this
fresh rescource worth the attention of
Oriental and South American traders.
I i
j j An Unhappy Bridegroom.
A French manufacturer of imitation
gojd awd silver jewelry for exportation,
and consequently made in styles which
are not in favor in France, sometime,
since found that he was being robbed,
and he was trying to trace the thief and
manner of theft when he received a
telegram from a friend who is spend
ing the summer in a village in the en
virons of Paris. The friend acquainted
him that, having been accidental! r
called that very morning to the mayor's
office of the village, he saw the mar
riage procession of one of the manu
facturer's workmen, and noticed 'that
bride and bridesmaids wore a profu
sion of jewelry, which unmistakably
had. come from the manufacturer's
workshop. The manufacturer at once
remembered that some time before this
very workman had quitted him, saying
he was going to marry and set up for
himself in the country. He had no
ticed the embarrassed and confused
manner of the workman, but attributed
itjto fear of meeting with a disagree-
able reception. Several other inci
dents confirmed his suspicions. He at
once took the railway, reached the vil
lage at nightfall, called on his friend.
went to the head of the police, and all
three went to the restaurant where the
marriage feast was spread. When they
entered the dining-room the bride-
eroom turC 4 pale as death -and everv
limb convulsively trembled. The bride
fainted. The guests fled. The bride
groom's lodgings were searched and a
great many stolen goods were found in
them. , Ue was carried oft' to prison,
there to spend his marriage night. It
will be long before he rejoins his poor
bride.
: .... -' The Tropics. . '
j. ; : y - . . - . -. "-. -
flf one could the tropics as they
really are, he would certainly be dis
enchanted The common impression
that flowers are a prominent feature of
tropical forests is a mistake. Indeed,
as thegeneral vegetation grows more
and more luxuriat, the floral display
diminishes. One explanation of this
fact is suggested by the truth of the ex
clusion from the forest of light, whose
presence and action are so essential to
floral production. The rule is oy no
means : an-aosolute one, however, ior
ttfe; climbers, which reach the top of
the forest, do often blossom, and the
explorer does indeed sometimes stumble
upon flowering shrubs of great beauty;
but it is true, we are told, that "one
may travel for a hundred miles and see
nothing but the varied green of the
forest foliage and the deep gloom of its
tangled recesses."
A Wonderful
Tree.
- A tree well deserving cultivation.
which exists in Morocco, is mentioned
with favorable comment by Consul
Drummond Hay In his trade report on
Mosrador for the past year. I his re
markable tree is th "argan " It only
grows in the province of HakaShiedma
and Sooz, and in times of scarcity afford
nourishment both for the natives and
their flocks. It Is utilized In the fol
lowing ways; In the first place the
peasants ext ract an oil from the nut,
which is useful both for burning and
cooking purposes. When the nuts ri
pen and fall Off the trees they are col
lected by the natives, who are aided in
the harvest by their goats. These ani
inals swallow the -fruit for the rind, but
being unable to digest the nut they
throw it up again, and.it is then added
by their owners to the store for making
oil. For their private consumption the
peasants rarely make a large quantity
of oil at a time, but crack open a hand
ful of nuts with a stone, and after toast
ing the kernels In an earthen dish,
grind them into flour. The oil is ex
tracted by addinsr water in a small
quantity to the flour, which is stirred
in a bowl. As the oil is being formed
by this process the Aour hardens into a
cake, which is finally squeezed, leav
ing the oil perfectly clear and fit for
use. This kind of oil cake then serves
as an excellent food for cattle, as also
the dry rind of the nut, which is gen
erally given to them with the cake,
forming together their principal and
most nutritive food during the year,
and is invaluable to the natives in time
of drought, for the argan tree is very
hardy, and a dry year has little or no
effect upon it. Even the empty husk
of the nut, whn broken, is not thrown
away by the . peasants, but is used as
fuel. The best charcoal is made .from
the argan tree, and the dry timber is
excellent firewood. The goats feed
also upon the leaves ot the tree, and
when browsing in the argan forest may
be seen climbing among the trees,
plucking and nibbling the nuts and the
leaves. V x
A Cat Story.
I knew by the sympathetic glow upon
his bald head I knew by the thought
ful look upon his face I knew by the
emotional flush upon the strawberry
end of the old free liver's nose, that Si
mon Wheeler's memory was busy with
the olden time. And so T prepared to
leave, because all these were symptoms
of a reminiscence signs that he was
going to be delivered of another of his
tiresome personal experiences, but I
was too slow ; he got the start of me.
As nearly as I can recollect, the inflic
tion was couched in the following language:
"We were all boys then, and didn't
care for nothing, and didn't have any
trouble, and didn't care about nothing
only to shirk school, and keep up a re
vivm' state of devilment all the time.
This yah Jim Wolf I was talkin' about
was the 'prentice, and he was the best
hearted feller, he wns, and the most
furgivin and onselfish I oversee well
there could not be a more bullier boy
than he was, tako him how you would,
and sorry enough was I when I see him
for the last time.
Me and Harry was always pestering
him, and plastering horsebills on his
back, and putting bumble-bess in his
bed,, and so on, and sometimes we'd
crowd in and bunk with him, notwith
standing his growling, and then we'd
let on to get mad and fight; across him
so as to keep him stirred up like. He
was nineteen, he was, and long, lank1
and bashful, and we was fifteen and1
sixteen, and tolerably lazy and worthless.
So that night, you know, that my sis
ter Mary gave a candy pullln', they
started us to bed early, so as the com
pany would have full swing, and we
run in on Jim to have some fun.
Our winder lookt out into the roof of
an ell, and about ten o'clock a couple
Of old Tom cats got to raain' aad char
gin around it, and carryin' on like sin.
There was four inches of snow on the
roof and it was frozen so that there was
a right smart crust of ice on it, and the
moon was shinm' bright and we could
them cats like daylight. First they
would stand off and e-yow, yow, vow,
just the same as if they was a cussin'at
one another, you know, and bow up
their backs and push up their tails, and
swell around and spit, then all of a sud
den the gray cat he'd snatch a handful
of fur out of the velier cat's ham, and
spin around him like the button on the
barn door. But the yaller cat was al
ways game, and he'd come and clinch
and the way .they'd gouge, and bite,
and yowl, and the way they'd make the
fur fly was powerful.
Well. JiJn got disgusted with the
row, and Jlowed he'd climb out there
and shake him off'n that roof. He had
reely no notion of doin'. it, likely, but!
we eyerlastin'ly dogged him and bully
ragged him, and Mowed he'd always.
bragged how he would not take a dare.
and so on, till bimeby he highsted up
the winder, and lo and behold you, he
went went exactly as he was, nothin'
on but a shirt, and that was short. But
you ought to see him. You ought to
see him creepin over th'at ice. and dLx
gin' his toe nails and finger nails in to
keep from sllppin', an' above all, you
ought to seen that shirt tail a floppln'
in the wind, and them long, ridiculous
shanks of his a gllstenin' in the moon
light. Them company folks were down there
under the eaves, the whole squad of
them under that ornery shed of old
Washin'ton Bower's vines ail settin
round abouf two dozen sassers of hot
candy, which they'd set in the snow to
cool. And they was laughln and a
talkiu' lively, but bless you they didn't
know Jiothin bout the panorama that
was goin on over their heads. ' Well,
Jim,he went a sneak' n up unbeknown
to them cats; they was a swishin their
tails and yow-yowin' and threatenin to
clinch, you know, aud 'not 'payin any
attention, he went a sneakin' right up
to the comb of tbe roof, till he was in a
foot and a half of them, and then all of
a sudden he made a grab for the yaller
cat! But by gosh he missed fit e and
slipped his holt, and his heels flew up
and he flopped on his back, and shot off
of that roof like a dart went a slash! n'
and a crashin down througli them old
rusty vines, and landed right in the
dead centre of them company people !
sot down like a yearthquake in ' them
two dozen sassers of red hot candy, and
let off a howl that was hark f 01 the
tomb! j Them gals well, they looked,
you know. . They see he wasn't quite
dressed for company, nnd so they left.
All done in a second ; it was just one
little yar whoop, and a whish l of their
dresses, and blame the wrench of 'em
was in sight any where."
, : Jim, he was a sight. He was gormed
with thatbilin' hot molasses candy
clean down to his heels, and had more
busted sassers hangin' to him then if
he was an Injun princess and he come
a prancin' up stairs just a whoopin an'
cusgin, and every jump he gave shed
some china, and every squirm that he
fetched he dropped some candy.
And blistered! Why, bless your
soul that poor cretur couldn't reely set.
down comfortable for as much as four
weeks." !
riaylug OUt Mas.
; A Sixteen-Feet Snake.
This monster is kept in a house in
New York. Its owner is a circus per
former, and he brought the reptile
with him at the close of last season's
travelling through the West and South
" When you buy these snakes from
snake dealers in New York," said he.
" you Duy a cat in the bag. They ar
rive lu this country in the boxes they
are packed in in Africa. From the
time the natives catch them and box
them until the retail customer pur
chases them, the boxes are not un
packed. I On the outside of the boxes
are marks indicating the kind of snake
and its length. When it is boaght the
dealer sells it for what he purchased it.
No guarantee is given that the snake is
alive, ahdthere is no telling that the
snake does liveuntil the box is un
packed. When this snake of mine was
unpacked it jumped wildly from the
box, and it was some time before we
could secure it. It still 1 has its teeth
and fangs. On the second joint of the
middle of this hand the snake bit me,
but there is no danger. They do all
their execution by crushing. The
muscles in their body are very power
ful. It eats once in about every three
months. - Then it sheds its coat. 1
give it live pigeons. All I do is to put
it in the glass case. The snake watches
its chance and crushes the life out of
the pigeon against the glass. This snake
is modest in its way, and won't do
much killing if anybody stands near to
watch. After the pigeon Is crushed
the snake swallows it whole, feathers
and all.!, The snake gets into a coil'
and has the pigeon's feet pointing
toward its tail. The bird is swallowed
head first. From five to seven pigeons
make a meal. When the snake once
commences to swallow the pigeon it
won't stop, no matter how many peo
ple are near it. After it has eaten
enough it will be still for nearly three
months, scarcely ever moving. - They
have a good time of It In their own
way. All they want is plenty to eat at
the proper time, and the snake is all
right. It sheds its coat with- every
meal, or. in other words, gets a new
suit about four times a year. That's
more1 than a good many get, and it
don't cost the snake anything. Just
now its skin is as soft and glossy as
black velvet. When it sheds its coat I
sometimes help to take the old skin off.
When its feeding time comes around it
becomes j lively and angry. It is as
thick as a stove j pipe, and weighs
nearly one hundred pounds. I will
keep j the snake here until we start
again on the road next season."
Seeing Under Water.
Vision under water Is attended with
some peculiar consequences the result
of what is termed "internal" reflection.
An eye placed under perfectly still
water, as, for instance, the eye of a
diver; will see external objects only
through a circular aperture, as it were,
of 96 degrees, 55 minutes and 22 seconds
in diameter overhead. Bat all objects
down to the horizon will be visible in
this space those near the horizon being
much distorted and contracted in di
mensions, especially In height. Beyond
the limits of this circle will be seen the
bottom of die water, and all subaqueous
objects reflected and as vividly depicted
as by direct vision; and, in addition,
the circular space above mentioned will
appear surrounded with a rainbow of
faint but delicate colors, in the eyes
of fishes, the humors being nearly of
the refractive density of the medium in
which tbey live, the action ot bringing
the rays to a focus on the retina is al
most entirely performed by the crys
talline lens, which Is-nearly spherical,
and of small radius In comparison with
the whole diameter of the eye.
He seemed, at first glance, to be a poor
old man one of those you read of, now
and then, as wandering up and down
the world and patiently watlng tor the
summons from the other shore. But
when one came to see tbe feathers In
his hair, the straw In his whiskers, and
tbe dirt on bis face and hands, one
could not resist the conclusion that he
was waiting the summons to stand up
and. be known as the boss vagrant of
Detroit. He had heard of Bijah. He
had heard how the old janitor opened
his purse to the poor and unfortunate,
and he walked up and down In front of
the station, and took great pains to
shiver and make out that he was suffer
ing for the waut of raiment.
Here Bijah came to the door and in
vited him in, and he ceased his song to
wipe his red eyes and reply :
"May the angels bless you for your
kindness to one who has, not long to
stay on earth." . -
When he had been seated in the re
ception room Bijah looked him over and
kindly asked: "
"Old man, are you sorrowful ?"
"Very very sorrowful, aud I've got
a lame back, besides," was the reply.
"And nobody seems to care for you,
eh?" .
"No, nobody. I'm a poor oldman,
without a friend oh earth."
"I will be your friend," observed
Bijah, after looking him over again.
"Will you? -Thank Heaven! Oh!
how my heart swells up !"
"Yes; I will be your.friend. 1 will
cut off your whiskers and hair, and fur
nish you with water and soap, and in
an hour from this you'll feel like a two
year-old colt turned loose under a 8 warm
of bees!" .
"You'll cut offniy whiskers ?" shriek
ed the old man. '"
"Yes, I will .""'
"And wash me with common bar
soap?" "
"The same the very same."
"No, you won't I'll die first!"
shouted the old man as he made for the
door.
Bijah intercepted him, placed him in
a chair, and by means of certain words
and gestures prevailed upon him to re
main there while he hunted up the
shears. The old man begged and en
treated, but two clips of the shears re
moved whiskers and straw from his
chin.
"Kill me if you wish, but don't cut
my hair," begged the victim, as the
Fhears passed his ears.
"This is only the beginning of the
end," was the solemn answer, and a
handful of feathers, hail, burrs, straws
and autumn leaves slid down his back
to the floor. In five minutes he hadn't
enough hair on his head to build one
end of a canary's nest, and instead of
looking to be seventy years of age and
ready to become an angel, he seemed a
fat, heaLhy vagrant of about forty-five
and ready for a free lunch.
"It doesn't make any difference
whether you spell soap with a big 'S
or a little one," said Bijah, as he put
up the shears; "it's the medicine to
help your case."
"Oh ! great guns ! great guns !"groan
ed the vag "I do not care how soon I
die!" . ' : . ;
He. was conducted to the bath-room
locked In for half an hour, and when
Bijah looked in he fell back In amaze
ment and cried.out:
. "Are you the same man ?"
The same, and now let me go out
and be run over and killed!", grunted
the old chap.
He was clean. He iooked white. He
had used up half a bar of soap and a
barrel of w'ar, and he couldn't play
the old man business again for a year.
Bijah had intended to present him with
an old hat and four paper collars, but
he suddenly rushed out doors, leaped
into the rear of "a farmer's wagon, and
never ceased shaking his fist at the sta
tion house till he was Out of sight. "
Alligators In Australia
, 1 '
Sergeant Higgins was driving two
horses across a creek, when they were
charged by two open-mouthed - alliga
tors, one of them apparently about
twenty-five feet long. The shouts and
other noises upon the bank scared the
monsters and the horses crossed in safe
ty. From the Norman river there comes
a more tragic tale. In that riv sr the
alligators are so numerous and daring
Mtbat they will not leave the- steamer's
path until they are actually disturbed
by the motion of the floats. As the
steamer "Pioneer" was on its voyage, a
Kanaka belonging to the vessel was
standi n on the margin of the river un
fastening a rope, when be was charged
by one of these terrible saurian s. The
people on board who saw the danger,
cried out to alarm the man ; but before
he could make his escape, the alligator
seiz d him by the thigh. The unfor
tunate man throw bis arm round some
mangroves, and so held on until assist
ance came from the steamer. Six men
quickly seized him, and then there was
a horrible trial of strength between hu
man muscles and jawa of the alligator.
The captain struck the brute a blow on
the head with an axe, which forced him
to let go his hold, and Che victim was
dragged away. The all igatorr however,
made another charge up the bank, but
was repelled with difficulty by repeated
blows of the axe. The poor Kanaka's
leg was taken off below the knee. Med
ical assistance was near at hand, but
excessive loss of blood rendered recov
ery hopeless. The man died within fif
teen minutes after he had reached the
doctor's dispensary.
FOOD FOR THOUGHT.
Never associate with bad company.
Have good company or none. -
Never appear to 'notice a scar, de
formity or defect of any one present.
, Never arrest the attention of an ac
quaintance by a touch. Speak to lilmt
Never punish your child for a faul.
to which you are addicted to yourself.
Never answer questions, In general
company, that have been put to others.
Never exhibit auger, i Impatience or
excitement when an accident happens.
Never call a new acquaintance by the
Christian name unless requested to do .
so. . - '
Never lend an article you have bor
rowed sinless you have permission to do
so. ! -
Never exhibit too great familiarity
with a new acquaintance; you may give
offense.
Never, when travelling abroad, be
over-boastful in praise of your own
country.
Never attempt to draw the attention
of the company constantly upon your
self. 1
Never pass between two persons who
are talking together without an apology.
Never forget that If you are faithful
1
in a tew toings, you may oe ruier over
many, 1
Never enter a room noisily; never
fail to close the door after you, and
never slam it.
aaF wilt VAntlAman .11i.fl.
. v w . ....... avvu a.vu..u niiuuo bv U 1 1 -
quests which he may have made with
Jadies. v !
Never send your guest who Is accus
tomed to a warm room, off to a cold,'
damp spare bed to sleep. 1
Never neglect to perform the commis
sion which a friend entruitffl
m w mm aavw wa V. Ve i
Never fail to offer the easiest and best
seat in the room to an invalid, an elder-
ly person or a laay.
Never be guilty of the contemptible
meanness of opening a ; private letter
addressed to another. 1
Never enter a room filled with rwv.nl
without a sllsrht bow tn th o-onorui
company when first entering
Never fall to answer an invltattnn
either personally or by letter, within a
wees aiter tne invitation is received.
Never cross the leg or nut out on
foot in the street car or places where it
win trouble others when passing by.
In general, there is no nn with
whom life drags sodlsagreeablv aa with
him who tries to make It shorter.
Never accept of favors or hosnitalitia
without rendering an exchanct of pIt.
iltles when opportunity offers..
Never borrow money and neglect to
niV. If VfYM HA Trll will anAn k. lr.sx
trj . - v otvu isr iiuvn it
as a person of no business Integrity.
We do not believe Immortality be
cause we have proved it, but we forever
try to prove it because we believe u
Never fall to tell the truth. If truth
ful you will get ydur reward. You
will get your punishment if you de
ceive. Never write to another asking for In
formation, or a favor of any kind, with
out inclosing a postage stamp for the
reply. v
Never fail to say kind and encour
aging words to those whom von met in -
distress. Your kindness may lift them .
out of their despair.
Never refuse to receive an anninirv
You may not receive friendship hut
courtesy will require, when an apology
is offered, that you accept of it.
A guide professed to exhibit Balaam's
sword; upon which a gentleman ob
served that Balaam had only wished for
a sword; to which it was answered,
"Precisely so. and this is the sword for
which he wished !" -When
placed under a microscope the
sting of a bee presents a polish of daz
zling beauty, but when placed in the
end of a man's nose it takes on the sem
blance of a rat-tall file dipped in vitriol.
and brings out words as rough as a
grindstone.
A member of a church being particu
lar about the new minister is said to
have prayed aloud at the late meeting
of the kirk elders, "Send us not an old
man in his dotage, nor a young man in
his goslinhood but a man with all the
modern improvements."
It Is better not to ask too many ques
tions about the future. A curious hus
band that is a husband who was too
curious asked bis wife, "My dear,
what kind of a stone do you think they
will give me. when I am gone?" She
answered cooly, "Brimstone, John I"
The tongue does large business on a -small
capital; it raises a mighty storm
on the most trivial occasion. There is
not a family, or school, or single village
tn all the land, which is fireproof; they
are all in momentary danger of this lit
tle member.
When misfortunes happen to such as
dissent from us in matters of religion
we call them judgments; when to those
of our own sect, we call them trials;
when the persons are neither way dis
tinguished, we are content to attribute
them to the settled course of things.
Have you ever been tbe gainer by hav
ing your own way, when your will
came in conflict with God's will? Have
you ever known of one who felt or far
ed the tetter for going In a direction
mntrarr tn rh nnvlitlnnl of duty
a mm v ww aw x mm Va m w mm -w mm w
Lord. ,
To write a newspaper article
every idea in the brain has take
to make one's Sunday suit over
as new, these things make co
us all, and yet tbe obsfic.i
overcome In every day life are gener
ally no longer no more important than
these.' . . f ; t , j-
There is a Russian - proverb which
says that misfortune is next door to stu
pidity, and It will generally be found
that men who are constantly lamenting
their 111 luck, are only reaping the con
sequences of . their own neglect, mis
management, improvidence, or want of
application. - f
Avoid idleness, and fill up all the
spaces of thy time with severe and use
ful employment; , for lust easily creeps
in at those emptinesses where the soul
Is unemployed that the body is at ease,
for no easy, healthful, Idle person was
ever chaste If be could be tempted. But,
of all employment, bodily labor fs the
most useful, and of the greatest benefit
for driving away the Devil.
rrtrerr
flight.
Si mvwl I
Wards of J
"we have to V.