H. A. LONDON, Jr.,
EDITOR AMD morBIFrOR.
TERMS OF SUBSCRIPTIOM;
One ery ono year, Mo
Onoeoiy .sli montlm . ..... 1.00
nopy, (bi-M moutlu, . . ,M
or
ADVERTISING.
On mute, one Snsartton. "
OmaiDkN.twoluiorttoni). .... t.W
ODtMloara.niio mouth, . - - . 2.W
VOL. VI.
PITTSBOllO', CHATHAM CO., N. C, APRIL 24, 1881.
NO. 33.
n iMgar 4TrtlMmeMIKieml coftrt -vrtlt-
The Impassible,
Men cimmit draw wnli': lYinn mi I'liiply well,
Or Iiucp iliitnrii-n tli;ii gui-sip-i lill,
Orjpilher tlw M'iiii-1:. iiI'ii iiNilin li II.
Mini nei nan 1 tin- liitlmvs' rum'.
Nit i ll. lin lliruiihU lill tiny Men no inuri1.
Nit iliivo tnh' lnvi- from uiiiaiili lis doer.
Atell 0 lill. 'I u'cilaki' 11 Ib'cmig lin,
( limi' ln ulir-a ion liell i'I'iji',
Or call Ii.ii k year- III il Imvr luiirf gone li".
Mull never can lirilii1 (iltl I VtluT Time,
(.lill llii' lii;;lil I' u . k III it he cannot climb,
Or tru-t f liti lutnd llml hath iU.nu it ciiiuv.
Mini "iniiot n cruel word neiill,
rcllcrn tlmiilit, lie it "lent orsinull,
Or liiini'j- extract from it ilrni ulfrilt.
Mini can never hiukwnrd turn tin1 tide,
Or cninit ilic stiiro 1 1 n t mc (-cat'ercd wide.
Or find in a fmil it trusty guide.
Mnnoimmii rtutp ltiit Imm woilhtt! .ecd
liclv I'rr slieiij.'lli on (lie broken rcij.l,
Or fciiu il licnil lie li iili i ini-cil li'l'lfi'd.
Mull never cm hope Iiii.- pc ico to win,
I'kw-uif itli'iiit mil jy within,
I.ivin;; ii thought if. lift! ul' win
BEYOND HIS INCOME.
'Five pounds of grapes!" said old
Mis. Mddmay, in astonishment. "Are
you ijiiito sun that vim understood
your luifitri's tinier, Hester? White
grapes aiv sixty cents a pound, and
surely lor so small a dinner-party as
this
'There's nu mistake, nia'ain," said
Jlc.-ler, fitly. S. rvants will soon
learn the spirit of their superiors, and
Hester knew that young Mrs. Mildmay
as n it particularly par ia! to her hus
band's stepmother. "1 tool; the order
myself, and it ain't liktly that I should
be mistook."
"Hester is .piiie right," said Mrs
Kufus MiKmay, vv ho came in at that
tnoiuent.a handsome lrune!te. in a pink
cashmere morning-dress, trimmed with
hands, a In niiUhiiri, of Maek Velvet
rather a e.ndrr.sl to the neat, calico
gown which In r iiiother-in law was ac
customed to wear ahottt her morning
avocations at home. "And 1 do w ish,
mamni.i, you wouldn't interfere!"
The old lady's serene hrow Hushed.
"My dear,' she remonstrated, "I tlo
not w ish 1. 1 meddle with your concerns;
hut I really fear tint Kufus' income "
"Kufus' income is his own, to spend
rs he pleases," interrupted the voting
lady. "Anil you seem to forget, mamma
that pt -ople don't live nowadays as they
did when you were a girl."
Mrs. Mil lin iy said nothiiicr more.
It was not t he fust time, nor yet the
second, that she had been riven to un
derstand, hy Mrs. Kufus, that her in
tcrpositi"!! in household affairs was un
welcome. The stepson, whom she loved with as
fond a devotion as if he had heen her
own i hil l, hud married a beautiful city
girl, and settled in New York.
so far. all was well, although Mrs.
Mildmay had secretly hoped that he
would love sweet Alice Acton, the
clergyman's daughter at l'ole Hill, and
settle down on the old farm, as his
father lieiure him ha I done.
Vet if Kufus was happy! Ves, there
was the question. And sometimes
Mrs. Mildmay feared that ho was not,
in spite of his smiles and his assumed
cheerfulness.
It had heen his fondest hope that his
mother might he one of his household
after his marriage. Mrs. Mildmay had
hrped so, too; hut after this, her lirst
visit, she felt th.it the dream was ill
vain.
"il and water will not mix,"' she
said to herself, with a sigh. "And I
bebng to a past generation."
As she left the store-closet, where
Kosamond and her cook were holding
counsel as to a proposed dinner-party,
she went slowly and spiritlessly up to
the. break fast-room, where Kufus was
reading the morning paper before the
tire.
"Kufus," she said, a littlo abruptly,
"I think I had better go back to the
Hemlocks this week."
"Mother," he remonstrated.
"1 don't think that Kosamond wants
nie here."
Uufus Mildmay reddened.
"I hope, mother," he said, "she has
not said anything to"
"It is not natural that she should
need my presence," said the old lady,
gently. "I might have known it; now
I am certain of it. Home is the best
place for me. Hut remember one thing,
dear Kufus. Do not outspend your in
come. Kosamond is young and
thoughtless. You yourself are inex
perienced" "Oh, it's all right, mother," said the
young man, carelessly. "But I did
lre that you could be happy here!"
Mrs. Mildmay shook her head.
"I shall see you sometimes," said she.
"If ever you are in trouble, Kufus
you or Kosamond, either you will
know where to come."
So the oM lady went away from the
pretty bijtm of a house in Farubule
l'la:e, witluts bay windows, its Turco
mail portitrm and the boxes of flowers
in alMte casements.
Br?auiond,"8aid theyoung husband,
as ha studied over tho list of weekly
bills a short time subsequently, "I be
lieve my mother was right. AVo are
outrunning our income."
"Pshaw!" said Kosamond, who was
sewing a frill of point lace on to tho
neck of a rose-colored satin reception
dress; "what has put that ridiculous
idea into your head, Kufus V"
"Facts and ligures," answered Kufus
"dust look here, Kosie."
"15ut I don't want to look!" said
Kosamond, impatiently turning her
head away, "and 1 won't so there!
( if course one can't live without money,
especially if one giws into society."
Kufus whistled under his breath.
"Hut, Kosamond," said he, "if a man's
incoinu is a hundred dollars a month
and he spends two hundred, how are
the accounts to balance- at the year's
end ?"
"1 don't know anything about bal
ances and accounts," said Kosamond,
with a sweet, sportive laugh. "How
do you like this dress, Kufus?" holding
up the gleaming folds of the pink
satin. "I shall wear it on Thursday
evening."
"I'o you think, Kosie," said tho
young man, gently, "that it is wise for
us to go so much into society on our
sh'nder income?"
"That arrow came from your mother's
quiver, Kufus!" said Kosamond. with
another laugh. "She was always
preaching about your 'income.' "
"And, after all," said Kufus, "what
do we care for the fashionable people
t whose houses we go, and who:n we
invite to our patties? Thev wouldn't
j one of them regret if we were to go to
the Kocky Mountains tomorrow."
i "I would as soon die at once as live
without society!" said Kosamond. "lo
! leave off lecturing me, Kufus! Society
is all that makes life worth h.ixing foi'
i me."
i And, with a deep sigh, Kufus held
! his peace.
That was a lon.r, hinely w inter for
: Mr.. Mildmav, senior, at The Hemlocks.
i
j Snow set in early; the river froze
over, as it it were sheeted with iron,
J except in the oiip dismal place down in
I the ravine, w here a re:.tli ss pool of ink
; black water boiled and bubbled, at the
fool ot a perpendicular ma.-s ol gray
: rock, under the shadow of gloomy cver
; greens; the Mtnshiu" glittered with
! fro en brightness over the hills, and
the old lady was often secretly sad at
j heart as she sat all a'one in the crimson
parlor, by the big lire-place, when the
i logs blaze I in the twiiight.
j And as the New Year passed, and
1 the litter cold of .1 an nary took pt.sses
I sioii of the froen world, a vague np
; prehension crept into her heart.
I "Something is going to happen," she
said. "1 am not superstitious, but
; there are times when the shadow of
Joining events i.tretciies unruly across
the heart. Something is going to
happen!"
And one afternoon, as the amber sun.
set blaed I ehind the i call ess trees,
turning the snowy fields to masses of
molten pearl, she put on her fur-lined
hood and cloak.
"I will go and take a walk," said
she. "I shall certainly become a
hypochondriac if I sit all the time by
the lire and nurse my morbid fancies
like this."
She took a long brisk walk, down by
the ruins of the old mill, through the
cedar woods, across the froen swamp,
and then she paused.
"I will come back by the Klack Pool,'
she thought. "It is a wild and pictu
resquespot in winter, with icicles hang
ing to the tree-boughs, anil weird ice-
t'ffects over the face of tho old gray
rock."
It was a dark and gloomy place,
funereally shadowed by the hemlocks,
w hich grew there to a giant size; and
when Mrs. Mildmay got beneath their
boughs, she started back.
Was it the illusive glimmer of the
datkeningtwiligh? or was it really
a man who stood close to the edge of
the Klack PoVl? J
"Kufus! Oh, Kufus, mv son!" !
she w.-ts barely in time to catch him I
in her arms and drag him back from
the awful death to which he was hurl- j
ing himself. j
When they reached the cedar wain- j
scoted parlor, where the blazing logs ;
cast a r tidily reflection on the red i
moreen curtains, Mrs. Mildmay looked I
into Iter stepson's face with loving eyes, i
"And now, Kufus," said she, "tell i
me all about it. The Lord has been J
very good to you for saving you from i
a terrible crime." j
"Mother, why did you stop me?" he !
said, recklessly. "I am a ruined man! !
I shall be dishonored in the sight of the j
world! Death would be preferable, a j
thousands times, to dissrrace. I
Kufus," said the old lady, tenderly,
"do you remember when you used t -get
into boyish scrapes at school? Do
you remember how you used to confide
your troubles to nie? Let us forget
all the years that have passed. Let us
be child and mother once again."
So he told her all -of the reckless ex
penditure on Kosamond's part hisown,
nlsn tin fun femi.l wliii'li 1i:iil wm ell
, . . , ... r ,
ttsell like a fatal web about his feel
of tho unpaid bills, tho clamoring
tradesfolk, tho threats of public expo-
sure, which had driven him at last to
the forgery of his employer's signature,
in order to free himself from one oi
two of the most pressing of these do
mands.
"And if my investment in F.rie bonds
had proved a success," he said, eagerly,
"I could have taken up every one of
the notes before they came due, Hut
there was a change in the market, and
now now the bills will be presented
next week, and my villainy will be
patent to all the world! Hi, mother,
mother! why did you not let mo lling
myself into tho Klack Pool?"
"Kufus," said his stepmother, "what
is the amount of the.;e - these forged
bills?"
"Ten thousand dollars," he answered
staring gloomily into the lire.
"Exactly the amount of the (iovern
iiient bonds which your father left nie,"
said Mrs. Mildmay. "They would have
been yours at my death. They are
yours now, Kufus."
"Mother, you don't mean"
"Take them," said Mrs. Mildmay,
tenderly pressing her lips to his fore
head, "(to to New York the lirst
thing to-morrow morning and wipe
this stain from your life as you would
wipe a few blurred ligures from a slate.
And then begin the record of existence,
anew."
And up in tic little room which he
had occupied as a child, Kufus Mild
may slept the lirst peaceful slumbers
which had descended upon his wt ary
eyelids tor many and many a night.
In the midnight (rain from New
York came Kosamond Mildmay to The
Hemlocks, with a pale, terrified face
and haggard eyes.
"( ill, mother, mother!" she sobbed;
"where is he- my husband? He has
left me, and the letter on the dressing
table declared that he would never re
turn alive! Oh, mother, it is my fault!
I liaM- ruined him! Help me, comfort
me, tell 1 1 it- what I shall do!"
Mrs. Mildmay took her daughter-in-law's
hand, and led her softly to the
little room where her hudiand lay
sweetly sleeping.
"Hush!" said the old lady: "do not
wake him. He is worn out, both in
mind and body. Only be thaiikfuj
that (lod has given him hai.k to you,
almost from the grave."
And as the two women sat togtther
by the blazing logs in the crimson par
lor, Mrs. Mildmay told Kos.iuioiid the
whole storv of the meeting at the
Klack Pool.
"Mother,'' said Kosam ml, with a J
quivering lip, "it is my doing. You !
warned n.e of this long ago. Oh, why
did I give no heed to your words? Il
deserve it all!'
You will do lnrtttT for tl.i- luture.
my dear," said the old lady, kindly.
"Only be brave and steadfast."
So the young people went back to
New York and commenced the world
anew.withdrawing from the maelstrom
of 'society," and living within them
selves. Mrs. Mildmay, senior, came
with them, and Kosamond is learning
the art of houstkei ping under her di
rection. "Mamma is an angel!" says the
young wife, enthusiastically. "And if
1 could only be just like hei, I should
have no higher ambition.
The Spirit of Discontent.
The other day we stood by a cooper
who was playing a merry tune with
his adze round a cask.
"Ah!" said he, "mine is a hard lot
driving a hoop."
"Heigho!" sighed the blacksmith on
a hot summer day, as ho wiped the
perspiration from his brow, while the
red iron glowed on the anvil; "this is
life with a vengeance, melting and fry.
ing one's self over a hot lire."
"O! that I was a carpenter,"' ejacu
lated the shoemaker, as he bent over
his lait-stonc. "Here 1 am, tlav afte
day, wearing iny soul away, making
soles for others cooped up in this
littlo seven-by-nine room. Ili-ho-huin!"
"I'm sick of this out-door work!" ex"
claimed the bricklayer "broiling
under the sw eltering sun or exposed to
the inclemency of the weather. "1
wish I was a tailor."
"This is too bad," petulantly cried
the tailor "to be compelled to si1
perched up here plying the needle all
the time. Would that initio were a
more active life."
"Last tlay of grat e banks won't dis
countcustomers won't pay what
shall I do?" grumbles the merchant.
j "I had rathe" be a truck, a dog, or any.
thing else."
"Happy fellows?" groans the law
yer, as he scratches his head over some
dry, musty records "happy fellows! I
had rather hammer stones all day than
puzle my head on these tedious, vexa
tious quest ions."
I'EAULS OP TIIOHJHT.
One of the sublimes! things in the
world is plain truth,
1
1,,,Jini borders upon our birth, and
. ''"' ' tamls in the giavi
AVhoso keepeth his mouth and his
tongue keepelh hi - m. nil from trouble
We never injurs mir own characters
so lunch a.i whiM we, attack those of
others.
Satire often proceeds le;s from ill-
nature than from the desire of dis-
playing wit.
All tho whetting in the world can
never set a razor edge on that which
hath no steel in It.
Avoid ciri'timl.'C ttUm in language.
Words, like cmni balls, should go
straight to their mark.
To look forward profitably we must
look back. Experience of the past is
the best light for the future.
Prosperity tries the human heart
with the deepest probe, and draws
foith the hidden character.
A lions;' kept to the end of display
is impossible t i all 'utt a few women,
and their success is dearly bought.
Everywhere an I always a man's
worth must be gauged to some extent,
though only in part, hy his domesticity.
The man that w orks at homo helps
wieiely at large with somewhat more
certainty than lr who devotes himself
to charities.
When a mi.-d'nrtuno happens to a
friend, look forward and endeavor to
prevent the saint thing from happen
ing to yoiir-elf.
I.aziiie.-s grow on i ople; it begins
in cobwebs and ends in iron chains.
The more business a man has to do
the more he is able to accomplish, for
he learns to economise his strength.
Ileal merit of any kind cannot be
concealed; it will be discovered and
i nothing can depreciate it but a man's
showing il himself. It may not al
ways be rewarded as it ought; but
it will alwavs be known.
A Vile f'oiiipirary.
lehiel.I.'isp'.'r-t rolled into the grocery
store of on.- f our back country vil
lages, i-Niinr-lay. and after shunting
around with his back to the fire until
he was pel mrutcd w ith caloric, s lid:
"Well, I guess I'll read the news and
get a'otig toward home. Squire Per
kinses' papers come yet?" and he step
ped behind the post-oilices boxes, as
was his custom, to take it out and read
it.
"Can't let you see it, .Tehiel," said
the postmaster, "government has is
sued orders that any postmaster who
allows a non-subscriber to read a sub
scriber's paper w ill lose his position."
"No! You don't tell me? Well, if
that ain't a groat iuee? It's a put-up
job a conspiracy between these news-
! ami the g-s 'incut to keep
the
multitude in ignorance, so that they
can domineer it over the community.
And they talk about this 'ere bein a
free country. It's driftin' right into (
despotism jest as fast as it can. How's I
a man to know what's goin' on if he i
don't rea I, and now the gov'inent's set
tin' down on all ideas of eddication, an
takiu' away that privilege."
"Oil, not so ha I a that, dchiel," said
the postmaster. "The government
doesn't say anything against your sub
scribing for the paper yourself, you
know."
"Subseribin' for it! What d'ye take
me for ? D'ye suppose that I'm goin'
to subscribe for a paper that I've read
j for fourteen years right hero by tho
stove without costing me a cent? No,
' sir. I ain't agoin' to help 'em to op
press me iiy Keepin nie in ignorance.
Xo, sir-ee." And having got a supply
of cheap plug tobacco "put on the
slate," he mugged home a thoroughly
oppressed citizen.
I'ntio the Strings.
Said one of the most successful mer
chants of Cleveland, ()., to a lad who
was opening a parcel: "Young man,
untie the strings; do not cut them."
It was the lirst remark that he had
made to a new employe. It was th
first lesson the lad had to learn, and it !
involved the principles of success or
failure iu his business career. Point '
ing to a w ell-dressed man behind th ;
counter, he said: j
"There is a man who always whips ;
put his scissors and cuts the strings ol .
the packages in three or four places.
He is a good salesman, but he wilj
never be anything more. 1 presume
he lives from hand to mouth, and is
more or less in debt. The trouble with
him is that he wits nev' r taught to
save. i toiu Hie uoy just now to untie
the strings, not so much for the value
ol the string as to teach him that i
everything is to bo saved and nothing J
wasted. If the idea can be firmly im.
pres-ed upon the mind of a beginner in
life that nothing was made to be
wasted, you have laid the foundation I
of success."
HOUSEHOLD SUPERSTITIONS.
Soma of the ucrr I niiclm IClKrrl.lilril
hy lioutt I'toplft
A favorite superstition, in many
parts of this country, says the W. Loiiii
UMw-lh mni rnt, is the one concerning
new houiies; that it is unlucky to build
a new house, since the coilin of the
builder will be the liM one carried out
at the door. Hence, in many parts of
the Southern slates additions will be
; luade to the old house as long as prae.
' lit able rather than resort to building
an entirely new structure. The super
' stition, perhaps.nrusc from the fact that
so many retired merchants erect lino
houses only to die in them as soon as
they are finished. This is often the
case, but no supernatural reason is
needed to account fur tho occurrence.
The merchant has up to that time been
engaged in active pursuits, has never
been idle in his life, and as long as his
new house is building he has occupa
tion, even though he may have retired
from business. Kill w hen the house
is done he has nothing to do and noth
ing to think of but his ailments and
infirmities, consequently thinks of
them a great ileal, soon loses his cour
age and dies.
Spilling the salt on the table is a par
ticularly bad omen, and, contrary to
most of these superstitions, has a deii
nite reason for its own existence. Salt
is the emblem of hospitality, of friend
ship, of good-fellowship, and w hen salt
is spilled on the table the friendship is
supposed to be in danger of being
broken. Liko other superstitious
fancies asiiilieieiit number of instances
of the verification uf the ill-omen have
been found and recorded to inspire
popular relief in the reliability uf the
sign, and it is therefore respected even
more than most others of its kind.
So far iis number is concerned, the
most numerous class of superstitions
are composed uf tho.-t; which
cluster round the family candles.
The origin of these probably dates far
back in antiquity, when the world was
full of superstitious fancies about light
in general and caudle light in particu
tilar. When we come down to the
(any days of the Christian church
however, we liud that not a lew of the
ordinances of religion wcr; neeum
patiied by ceremonies, in which lighted
candles played an important part.
Candles tvero lighted at birth to keep
off evil spirits, at marriage to prevent
the evil eye from alfecting th-happy
pair, a id at death to drive away the
demons who were thought to be always
on the lookout for the soul of the dy
ing man. Naturally then, as candles
played so important a purl in the cere
monies uf religion, 1 1 to ii became accus
tomed to regard them with something
of a superstitious eye, and to look to
them for signs ami wonders which
were not to be elsewhere found, so a
peculiar appearance in the caudle, for
which no reason foul 1 be given, was
always regarded as indicative of some
remarkable event about to happen. A
collection of tallow round the wick, is
still known as a winding-sheet, and is
believed to foretell tho death of one of
the family, while a bright spark is a
sign of the future reception of a letter
by the person opposite whom the spark
is situated, and the wavingof the flame
without any apparent cause is supposed
to demonstrate the presence of a spirit
in the room. In addition to these fanci
ful notions there are some others which
are founded on natural facts too well
known to admit of dispute, such as the
candle to light readily, which indicates
a state of atmosphere favorable to a
coming storm.
In Ireland, where household super
stitions, and indeed superstitions of
almost every other kind, grow as if by
magic, the house leek is a lucky plant,
which, if planted in the thatch,
will preserve tho inmates from all
dangers brought about by unfriendly
fairies, while the four-leaved clover is
considered certain to give its possessor
success in love, and is consequently
much sought after on this account.
The Esquimaux.
lr a lecture niton the Esquimaux de-
li vt red iu London, Dr. Kae expressed the
opinion that this people wits originally
an Asiaticrace.wdiocrossed from Siberia
by Kehring's straits. From Labrador
to Alaska they speak but one language
with slight dialectical variations.
They are physically strong, have great
affection for their children, and are in.
telligent and faithful. The tallest
male measured by Dr. Simpson, near
Kehring's straits, was live feet ten and
one-half inches, and the shortest was
five feet one inch; the heaviest wcigh-
eu i:. pounds, an t mo ngntesi l.i
pounds. An Esquimaux often eats as
much as eight pounds of seal or twt he
pounds of fish at a meal. The clothing
of the people is made almost entirely
of reindeer skins, and their dwellings,
usually snug and comfortable, consist
of stone and mud kraals, wooden huts
aud snow houses, according to locality.
THE FEAST OF Ill'SSEIX.
Ilorrllile Prune, nt a .Vlolinntmrilan Uf
IIuIoiik Ct i rniiuiy.
A Constantinople letter to he San
Francisco ( 'hroHi l- describes in graph
ic language the horrible scenes wit
nessed by the writer at a religious cer
emony. Says the correspondent; "There
was the sharp stroke of a bell .and tho
whole band fell on their knees, and
bending touched their foreheads three
times to the ground. The crowd also
bowed their heads. Then the priests
in front, rising, commenced a low, mo
notonous chant, accompanied lyanod.
ding motion of the head. Ono after
another the follow ing Ides took up the
strain and the mot ion, and the whole
body began slowly to advance, keeping
perfect time to the music of
the chanting. The chant had studs to
a harsh, guttural whisper, and the
crowd, which had been gathering al
most 'as much excitement as the aco
lytes, now began to lake a hand in the
proceedings. Everywhere in the great
court heads and bodies were swaying
and bending, and fresh voices were
intoning the chant, "al-Iah! al-lah!"'
throwing the emphasis strongly on
the second syllable of the word. As
tho priest commence I the story of
Hussein's prophecy and death the pro
cession suddenly opened its ranks.lcav
ing spaces of several feet between tho
tiles. At the same time all the young
er priests rolled up the sleeves of their
tunics above the elbow on their right
arm. The chant changed to "allah,
all. ill, (iod and the prophet!" and tho
rate of speed was quickened. The
crowd pressel heavier and closer
against the mpes. The faces of the
devotees contorted -almost convulsed.
There was it shout from the priest, fol
lowed by sudden .silence, during which
time every man raised his sword above
his head. Another shout, and with
the resumption of the chant and a
perfect roar from thei rovvd.the swords
came dow n, every man striking him
self wir.Ii the sharp edge a-toss the
head or forehead, making wounds
from which the blood iluwcd freely.
The swords were immediately raised
and again came dow n a before. At
lirst everything was methodical, and
the cutting was done togd her. Hut.
as the : byte-- caught the era'. ine-s of
the spectators, all discipline ceased.and
each iran slashed and cut himself as he
saw lit. In many cases the wounds
crossed and re-crossed each other till
the w hole head, was a mere lacework of
cuts.
It was a horrible and sickening
sight. At one point at the first blow
struck by one of the derv ishes the blood
spinted from the wound and struck
line of the soldiers at the ropes direct
ly in the face. lie fell as if he had
been hit by a bullet. The shock sick -filed
him and he had fainted. Such
an exhibition could not last long. The
limit to human endurance ev en w hero
strengthened by religious fanaticism
is very narrow. Picture the procession
ha I gone the length of the square many
of till! devotees Were leeliug and stag -gering
like drunken men. Their faces
were gh astly pale, and their long white
cloaks were si n aked and stained wit h
blond. Then a man stumbled and
fell forwaid and was carried away by
the attendants. The strokes of the
swords grew feebler and the chanting
sunk to a husky w hisp. slower and
slower they went, and new men were
reeling and dropping at every step. The
head of the column reached the steps
and turning up them disappeared
within the building. Kut of the actu
al devotees not half had the strength
to go by themselves. The crowd be.
gan to disperse before the last v ictim
had been carried away. The servants
commenced to extinguish the lights on
the altar, the great court gradually
emptied itself of people, and the feast,
of Hussein was over.
Straw lor I'tiel.
"Yts, I've lived out West ten years,''
said a traveler, who was bearded like
a forty-niner, "I mean on the perairies
of Xevvbraska. (Jreat country, too."
"What did the folks do for fuel?"
"Well, nowadays we're following af
ter the Honshu ns, the Kooshun Men-
nonites, you know, in the fuel busi- i
ness. They are right smart and in- J
getiious in some things, and this is the j
way they gel over .the fuel ditliciilty:
'They build their houses of four j
rooms, all cornering together in the
center. Kight there they put up a
great brick oven, with thick walls.
From the furnace door back to th0
backyard is a passageway. Every
morning, noon and night they lug a
jag of straw in from the stack and
burn it in the furnace. The thick
brick walls get red hot. and stay so for
hours, warming every room in the
house. Even in the coldest weather
three lires a day in the furnace w ill
keep the house warm. For the conk
ing stoves we burn cornstalks to get
meals with, and thus our farms raise
our fuel as we go along. Pretty good
scheme, ain't it?"
Sunken (iobl.
In d in Rrcnn dcpllis rut iiignt-liit''ii slii'.
W hilo gold ilniililooiM that lieiu tilt; drowned
luinil jell
Lie ncilli'il in llio ncwin fl'iiverV lu ll
Willi l.i.vc'- j-cniiiicil ring, unci' ki -cil hy now
ili-a.l lips.
Ami round .-unit, w roiilit-' dd cup tlifi ecu.
niss iiliif.
And hides ,,. .i-iii , near pciinVa ill in their
sli.'ll.
When' sea-wced l.nt -ts lill ein li v enn dell,
And sfi'k dim tiniliylil, wilh t' fit cuuiitlosH
tips.
Sn lie the tvaslcl frills, tin' Imcj-lo-t liui'iis,
IteiK'iitli I lit- now liiislu-d siu lai e of myself,
In lonelier deptlis tliiui wlicir tlio diver fjrupes.
They lie deep, deep; lull I lit times lichold.
Iu doubtful glimpse-, on mhiip reefy shell',
Tho fjlenin of irrccuveiiililc gnld.
- l.cc Hamilton.
IIF.MOKOrs.
Koliing stuck--Cattle trains pitched
down an embankment.
"I fear no man!" he said. And about
that time his wife came along and led
him off by the ear.
When you see a counterfeit coin on
the sidewalk, pick it up. You are
liable to arrest if yon try to pass it.
"Mother, limy I go out to pep?"
'Ves. in y darling ilanlilcr;
II ion 1'nil this y em yuil must .-ilml upl-liop.
You've kepi luit-er tliuti you oil or."
An exchange speaks of "the leading
oand of tho country." It is a brass
band, and it may be first-class; but tho
hiit-band is generally at the head.
"Yes," said the boy, ! might just as
well be at the head of my class as not.
I!ut 1 don't mind being at the foot, and
the other boys do, so I sacrilice myself."
"Your father is entirely bald now,
isn't he ?" said a man to a son of a mil
lionaire. "Yes." replied the youth,
sadly, "I'm the only hfir In- has left."
Mrs. Home-pun, who has a terrible
t iuie ev cry limming to get her young
brood out of their beds, says she cannot
understand why children are called tho
rising generation.
There is luck in being the first baby.
In England, if of the male sex-, it be
comes the heir apparent, while in freo
America it usually escapes more spank
ings than the second one.
"There is a single sentence in tho
Knglish foieign enlistment act which
contains tjm.t words. A longer sentence
was that of a New York judge the
other day. It contained twenty years.
"Is your wife acquainted with tho
dead languages?" asked the professor
of a New man man. "Maybe she is,"
was the reply, "but th language she
uses is entirely too warm to have been
dead very long."
' Ho you paint yet ':" asked an old
friend of a feminine artist whom she
had not seen before for many years.
"Yes," was the answer. "I still paint.
I paint the children red and I put it on
with my sl'pper."
When a small boy appears in new
clothes he is afraid to meet his com
panions for fear of being ridiculed.
Put when a girl steps out in new gar
ments she makes it a point to go where
her acquaintances may see and envy
her.
A young lady recently received a
.ote from ,i young man of her acquain
tance, st dicit ing her company to church,
and as he had never offered to take her
anywhere else she accepted his kind
offer and closed the note with the
solemn declaration that "salvation is
free."
First Stent of the Caspian Sen.
(no of the most singular mental ef
fects 1 noticed on mysilf was that pro
duced whenever 1 walked on the quay,
and saw the large fleet rucking in the
port. Shelley's Alastor had from early
youth haunted my memory, and given
nie the impression that the Caspian was
a weird, half-ideal sea, with shores ten
anted by the ghosts of dead empires!
with a coast w hich was a reedy morass
trodden only by the bittern and crane;
with waters gray with the haze of per
petual twilight, a vast, mysterious sol
itude. Such in part it is on the eastern
shore, but at llaku the Caspian conveys
no such idea. Square-rigged ships
ride at anchor by scores; tho port is
busy with wherries and sail-boats dart
ing hither and thither, and sharp,
heavily-sparred steamers of live hun
dred to one thousand tons are constant
ly entering and leaving the docks. The
only peculiarity that distinguishes
these ships from those of other seas is
the rig, which curried me back to my
boyhood. Two-top-sail schooners with
very raki-h masts abunnded.thoroughly
piratical, and altogether liko vessels
common elsewhere thirty-fiveyears ago,
but not longer in use except on the
Caspian. llrigantines, with a small
topsail, and other obsoleto rigs were
to be seen on this sea which has fash
ions of its own; which has no relations
with any other sea; which is neither
fresh nor salt, and also enjoys the
freak of lying over one hundred feet
below the level of tho ocean. Jlan-Umttnn.