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HomeMy WebLinkAboutThe Exeter Times, 1886-11-25, Page 604, 1410VE .AND,IVE1%.TOP4NCE :AMMO TgE, .61Y41:1.001M,RS.,' Tug, MOM FeatnNstarata Oegate Roasalsois SINOP, ME 14111i U0.01,B11, aNn avastnraTT. CHAPTRR X.—(CoNTaNtrama 1 terioue hints concerning the fate ef the Am - ",A1, yoess4o yue, to the, seeeh Anu erioam veaSels, Sereb. Assn—I cherge 7tsa now: an you will have to answer before the jsffig- as beim,-in regard to that Veeeel soy ineesa e moot seat of Ileevea for acts done in thie here ; sio as to being on board of her. 0J1, would I Lad—would. I had I" hfe, to speak A strange, hissing sound only came from "Yes, wuuld you had." the lips of the old man. "Toll inc all you know of the Sarah r, „ amPsasn, ausarten moaned his head close to Aum" "1a, hal and kill my soul—and kill my him to hater' if lie uttered articulate words' Water ! water 1" he gasped. soul !" "Do you think that if there be aught of " Yee I yes 1" evil or of crime in what you know, that for CHAPTER XL 8,11 its consequences it awaits your telling., miserable man,? It may be that your tell- THE WAIF Fnoae Tug Wilma. ing me—that your disburdening your heart Captain Morton hastilyglaneed round the to me—may lighten '1'65 hma: hut it amulet little boat -house and found a small barrel in a,dd to it. one corner with a wooden ladle and found The old man glared in the face of the cap- that it contained water. He brought it to tain and shuddered. eel:me seid : the lips of the dying man, but with a querril- " Are you an angel'?" „ oils cry he dashed it from him. "No, I ana mi mom eton as yourself. .1. do tt poismi poison you would and ought not know if, in truth, the hand of death ie to poison rise, and with such p oi , too, az now on you; but if it be, yon will pass with may produce the slowest tortures. Leave a lighter soul into eternity if you will reply ! Leave me, now ! Let me die in peace I" to me truthfully on a' matter that deeply "You have not answered me." concerns ray peace and possibly yours here- "Answered you—of what? Of what?" after. Do you understand me "The Sarah Ann." " I do—i. do," "Mercy, mercy I" " Then listen to mo; and let me beg of "Yes, infinite mercy. But you must an - yon to consult your own happiness by such ewer um. What know you of the Sarah replies to me as shall bear the impress of Aim?, truth and possibly bring peace to me and "Hush, huh! Who knows who may be hope to you." even now listening at the. doors. Have you " Hope—to—me ?" drawn the bolt ?' "Yes, hope even to you. Why do you. a etteim Thom There the door is dos - despair ?" ed." The old man shuddered and held up his I will speak—I have always wished to hands, striving to look at them by the dim speak. The words that I will utter have light of the lamp- and then, with sighs and always been welling up in my throat and solos, and now and then a half scream, he like to choke me. I will speak them now— said : I will speak them now I" " Oh ! so steeped in crime—oh! so stain- «i listen." ed with innocent blood I—oh ! so contamin- "Ten years ago—it was February—and ated with offenses against heaven that the wild wind of such a storm as eyes of dare not join them in prayer! Who and man had scarcely seen and ears had not what are you, sir ?" heard, was raging from the southwest. Ten ".A stranger to you and to all in Eng- years ago here at Falmouth—that is near land." to here—at St. Just's bays—the smugglers' "You are a clergyman ?" cavern. The secret, you know, that has " No—a sailor.' been for all that time so well kept—the se - "A gentleman ?" cret—yes,the secret cavern. I will not "1 hope so, in the true meaning of the tell you ;but the storm raged mid the false word; but you are better now. beacon was on the cliff-top—for Dolan was "lam dying."a, wrecker as well as a smuggler." By the flickering light of the little oil "Yes—go oue, lamp, Captain Morton thought that he could "The beacon slowly revolved, and it was see a visible alteration in the countenance so like the light at the Lizard, that fleets— of the old man ever since he had found his whole navies—might have been lost in the way into the boat -house. It seemed to him blind security of their onward course. I lit as if some strange shadow hadpasseci it and itea that all the features had sunk, leaving the a you outlines sharper and more distinct than "Yes, I lit it! It was my duty. I they had been. thought it was my duty and I lit it. Oh, "Yes," added the old man, "1 know I God—God! I hear the shrieks now—now am dying. I have been before sick, almost ringing through my brain 1" unto death, but I never knew that I was a yes hat shrieks ?" dying until now. I feel it here—here.— " Hush—hush ! There was a ship—there here 1" He feebly struck his chest as he srke, ancl then Captain Morton addressed hun in a voice of deep feeling and emotion: "With that conviction, then, upon your mind—with the idea that you will soon -- perhaps even in a space of time that may be counted byminutes—be in the presence of God, I conjure you to answer me truly that which I shall ask of you. "Will you pray for me, then ?" "1 will." " Intercede for me?" "Alas I do not fancy that human inter- cession can avail aught against Almighty justice, or add one jot to Almighty mercy. But I will pray with you. "Yes—that is it. I will tell alL Who shall say how heavy it has sat upon this poor soul? I will tell you all. You will not let them drag me forth to die on a gib- bet? Aeything but that --oh I do not let them do that!' " I will not." "Then I rest on you—I re,st on you," "Rest on heaven." " Yes—yes ; and on you. I am weaker. Did you say that I was to tell you some- thing ?" "Yes. Listen: Ten years ago there set sail from the United States of America, a ship named the Sarah Ann." The old man groaned. "She was bound for Lisbon; but from the time when she was spoken by a vessel in mid-Atlantic she was never heard of. There were wild. storms raging then almost all over the world of waters; in every sea, on ocean the tempest raged; and the boat was supposed to be lost, with all on board, for she was never beard of since." "The Sarah Ann?" "Yes." "Go on—go on. Tell me more." "On board of that ill-fated vessel was the joy of my heart. I had lost one who— who— " Captain Morton rested his face upon his hands and the struggle with deep emotion shook him to his heart's core. Then he spoke again quite calmly. He was a victor, as he had often been before, in the fight with his own feelings and his deep-seated grief. "1 had lost one whom I loved in America. She was an English girl and she left me with a little child whose only friends resided at Lisbon. In the midst of my desolation I thought I would send the little one there. The Sarah Ann itas.'my Own ship. it was a - fearful epidemic that had timed off the young mother and I was anxious to get the child into new and fresh air. Therefore areal it that, in charge oaaakind. and trusty nurse, sent her before I* ceuld myself leave Am- Irica,. Affairs of allaorts debarred me, and ehe Sarah Ann started 'on the voyage it never completed. From that day to this not a spar, not a vestige .of the ship seems te have met human eyes." The old man groaned, "And now I want to read to you this pa- per, which I have cut from a Falmouth news- paper, and something seems to tell nm that you can give me the information I seek. Listen to me. Do you hear ?" Slowly amid distinctly, and in a deep meas- ured voice, Captain Merton read the extract from the newspaper, which the reader is al. ready in posseesion of. As word after word came slowly and solemnly from the lips of Captain Morton it would almost seem from the soleran stillness that reigned in the little boathouse, that the breath of lifes had, ita deed, left the old marl to whom he read it. But euch at not the fact. The atheetion of the dying plan was so painfully excited that all his criee aid all his groans were sub. merged in it s ad he could, only glare at Captain Mortoft with an eapreseum that evelently had a doubt in it of his mertelity. Thoti the eaptaiii pouted, and, in a vomo hs which there was more emotinn that: he had allowed to be manifest While he was reading the extraet front the papet, he eald If you know aught of this transactions—. plundets AS X Ifielied,and BO 40 0** herr" " YOU- dia iat t41,'Aie." " Pid. I net 2 My old. baisine Set con, fnsed. Well, it Was ave41114; and 1 Wo's '114' oantented, •went to my Was 414 atul I drank 4eep and was ferocious and strisolts lier Vaud she sat still and oily uttered ehert oriels as I gave, her blow after blow, And the I lay damn. 01 si)re ham' snook—for I had one slung for myself in the hut, What is tls.et ?" "I heard nothing," Some one smoke 1" ISTO---110 1" "Yes—it was a soft, faint voiee and it pronounced my MIMS I ant not inad inad—it was the voice thet I have not heard for years—the voica ef my wife, Did you not hear it?" " I did not." "She is here I know that she is here and listening to me 1" "It may be so, but I pray you to tell me all." "1 vvill. 1 don't know how long I slept; when I started awake and I heard my wife singing in a very low tone and at times as she sang I heard the whimpering, wailing cry of a little child. I had no child. I thought I was dreaming at first and I listened. again ; andtheu 1 was sure it was not. She was singing to and nursing a child." Captain Morton had his hand upon the arm of the old man and shook him as a mute demand for him to proceed in what he was saying; for he had come to a pause end was muttering something inarticulately. "Yes, spirit Yes," he said. "Go on—go on I" "I will. But you are a spirit. It is so good of you—you who know all—to come to me, so that, when I appear before Heaven, you will be able to say that I did not die without confessing my iniquities." "As you please. Oh, think what you please, but tell me alL" " Like a savage—or like a. snake—I shruuk out of my hammock; first one foot, gently, and then the other; she did not hear mile. Some of the wood from the wreck was slowly burning on the hearth and now and then it sent up a little flickering blue flame that lit up the walls of the hut and the wo- man and the child." "The child?" "Yes. There sat my wife—there was blood upon her. cheek, where I had struck her ; but there she sat--orouching clown by the fire with a little child on her lap. She was chafing the little limbs and singing to it that low, sweet song. I was mad—mad." "You did not—you could not—fiend You dared not harm that little one I" "Hush, spirit, hush! I will tell you all. I was mad, I tell you. There was fury in my heart and the hot liquor still held my brain. I raised a shout and was about to spring upon her. I don't think I knew what I meant to do or that I meant anything in particular; but she answered that shout of mine with a scream of fear and then she flung herself at my feet, and clasping the child to her breast, she spoke to Inc in a wild, screech- ing voice that was awful to hear. " 'From the wreck 1—from the wreck,' she said. I saved it in the early dawn. It is a little child, Philip—a, very little child. It lives, you see. Oh, spare it, spare it. was a ship ! Do you hear me ?" No harm—it can do no harm to you. We a dot, are childless—no little eyes to look up to "She was deep in the weltering trough of you, or to me --no little lip's part to utter that wild sea, but yet she fought with the the name of father or mother to us. I saved storm. I saw her—I saw her a and she made to the east, as the seeming Lizard light beckoned her to do. I saw her by the flashes of the broad light that she burnt on the capstan -top before she struck. Her main -top -sail yard adrift, sails in ribbons. Her flapping sheets had torn the eye -bolts from her deck; her masts bending like straws, and still she fought the storm and neared the shore." "Go on—oh, go on 1" "Fluttering in the gale was the ensign of the new nation—the American flag, and still she drove on—on to the shore of rock and drift. She struck! I heard the cries of those who were mangled in the wreck—of those whose limbs were mashed up with the crashing, parting timber, and then the wreckers went down the beach." "Were all lost?" " All --all. Yon shall hear. All but one." " One?" " Hush—oh, hush! I would not have those drowned souls hear us. Do you know that at times when the wind howls, and the cruelsea beats far up upon the beach, and sends its spray clashing over this poor house, they come—they all come—with their pale, dead faces, and their swollen features, and strive to drive me to madness? Hush! is that the wind now ?" "It is; but there is not not much of it. It only wails sadly over the waves. Tell me more. "The ship was a ship no more. There was not a spar or plank six feet in length that held together so that you could say : This was pert of a ship—except one mass which had some cordage hangingeto it, and that is still in the cavern by the cliff—Del- an's cavern. You know that I" "No—no V! "You do—you do! Because spirits know all things. That portion of the ship held together and drifted to the shore. It was the bit that had the name on it." "The ships name?" " Yes—yes 1 The ship's name." " And—and ? Oh, go on! Tell me What was the name ?" "The Sarah Ann, New Bedford." Captain Morton uttered a cry and tthen, by a violent effort, recovered his composure sufficiehtly to say: s! Then ram to -understand that the ship was lured to a lee shore by a false beacon and struck and went to pieces at once!" "Yes—yea. And as the poor, weak, faint, struggling wretches who reached the shore crawled up through the misty froth of the sea they were one by one struck down." "Horrible I—oh, horrible I" it from the wreck. There was a tangled heap of cords and. a basket, Philip, and I found the child. I thought it dead, but I have nursed it close to my heart and by the fire here; and it lives now. You will let it live, Philip, husband—you will spare this life.'" "And you? And you?" "I will tell all. It was with much more like this that she prayed to me and clung to me, and implored me, and I saw that she was madly bent upon the child, so I let her have her way, and the little girl—" "The little girl?" 'ezei Suffielea 00111.1)Q411a, to enable him te epe84,0wri en,dbellthtes, 44' yo4 ."'ara • op yot,ir deathbede—a fact of which you, feel assured M Well es I do -1 be of you to tell tae li and te tell me the eXieeirtuth," ' Wilalt 1" th0hi1d "With Dolan." Where, though ?—where Iwa litabte ocnayvgni "You knew it well. It is not hidden from you—you have eyee that mortals have not, Oh ! you know it well—unless he has taken her to sea with him tu the Rift." "The Rift ?" "Yo; the pirate," I heard that narne from some one on the shore only a aliort time ago in connec- tion with some supposed expedition of as king's Yowl called the Spray, which is in pursuit of it. Tell me if I am right. Is this man where you name Dolan in command of the Rift ?" " rie ie—He is I" "And he is the same who has the child?" "Yes, Captain Dolan. Too late—too late! Rush—oh, hush !" "What do you hear?" "The service." "What service?" "The funeral service. I see the coffin on the grating and the fiag is over it. I hear the service being read: 'Dust to dust— ashes to ashes!' The name is Thomas Hutch- ins. I am dying! 1 am dying—oh, save me I Help nie 1 I did let the little one live, and never, oh, never in my fiercest anger dicl I raise a hand against her. I was kind to the child—I did let it live. Oh, spare me now 1" A loud knocking at the door of the little boathouse at this moment startled both Captain Morton and the dying pirate. (TO DB 0oNTIN1711:D.) " Yes 1 She throve and liaed, and grew, and my wife died. It was soon, then that I fell, and struck against the main hatch, and was half a cripple for life. Then, while I lay upon my hammock, Captain Dolan came to me—the fierce,* bad man came to me. I saw that there was danger in his look. I could seezeely speak to him." "That is the captain of the gang of wrecks - ere you mean, Dolan?" "Yes I That is the man." " Does he still live 2" "He does 1 he does ! It is upon what he calls his bounty that I, too, have lived. It is no longer wanted—it is no longer want- ed." " Go on, pray tell me all, and if you should by any chance recover from this at- tack of illness, you will have no necessity for again appalling to CaptainSDolan. I will see to you.' "That will not be wanted. I know that I ant dying—I know it too well. " "The child ? Go on and tell me what be- came of the child ?" 1101P A-0 AXERIOOS14WO, A, BabRI, the so -Called ao4oy Pianist wbo faile4 tO feel NOW York, is. tuchibiting in a ten -cent sunSenni 111inneapolis. 10101' Azarcr P 14ittle Maiclon.3/40411, not very Old pr Iffis ,i3 1604618 against the window-sili with hia tease in her eyillS, Thore have been shipped frons Maine this wwitt here. and there and yonder the feathery eeeee yeas' 200,000 tams of me, which is 84,000 bike fieltriselohwt,trrytag to a diuxe, are rtattorin to oar, ge r annuners, has been senteueed t9 two years' imprisonment in a Michigan jail for steal- They filitoe,tevire':71 like a diamond, and 1101v aro like a tons more than were ohipped last year, iug. Miss Lone rairhanlis, a midden of thirteen Nor of the flying Goose -Woman plucking down from She doesn't see how beautiful the pure snow. she has no pretty tanoies of eland -lambs and their blossoms are, troe.00. No, x1,141107.4 secs the brown fields turning fast to Watch meana somebody that she levee may npt come to.night ; .6 Alldblgstbeeald:tettsini_'t," says the (Mild—and down her " Thanksgiving Day will just be spoiled, and, be ne good at all 1" Bat little maiden Muriel has a moth 't wise, Whose tender kisses dry the tea in the ehildish eyes • • Puttinrgeboty:her sewing -work, sheXnalces her arms a Wherein a, little birdling with drooping wings can nest The old story of the faithful dog comes anew from North Sydney, N. S., where a pt dog followed the remains of its dead mistress to the gray° and stayed there imtil starved to death. A Milwaukee werrian hid thirteen five - dollar gold pieces in the sugar -box, and in the hurry and worry of canning fruit forgot about them. She afterwards found them it all in the preeerves. A Minnesota man says that Indians don't get' drirnk because they like liquor, but bes catiltothey think it an honor. 1.f this is true, the average red man takes great pains to dieguise his dislike for fire water. The Canadian Indians at Whitefish Lake and Lac la Biche are dyiug in large num- bers from an epidemic of measles. So vire- lent is the cliseaee that the a,gents have not dared te pay the annual treaty money. Charles F. McLaughlin of South Wash ington looks so much like President Cleve- land that whenever he appears in the vi- cinity of the Capitol or the White House he is besieged by office seekers anxious to shake his hand. Wild geese are being slaughtered by the thousand at Beaver Lake at the North West. Two men recently killed 1,000 and dried the meat for winter :lee, and it is not unusual for the local gunners to bag 54 and 100 in a day's shooting. John . Hill of Long Hill, Conn., had a Autumn Thoughts. beautiful and valuable pointer, which disap- There can be nothing sadder than the peared the other day. Hill searched high solemn hush of nature that precedes the and low, and at length fauna the dog death of the year. The aeolden glory of I dead in the woods with one fore foot se - autumn, with the billowy bron.ze and vol. curly caught in the roots of a tree. vet azure of the skies above the royal robes I They are laughing in Lewiston, Me., at of oak and maple, bespeak the closing hours' the boy who, when the teacher asked if Any of nature's teeming life and the 'silent fare" one could tell what the word "gender' well to humanity's gauze underwear. meant, snapped his fingers, and to the ques- Thus while nature dons her regal robes of tion, 'Well, what is it, John ?" answered : scarlet ancl gold in honor of the farewell "Please mum, it's what goes with geese." benefit to autumn, the sad eyed poet hies away to the neighboring clothes line, and Charlie Starr of Danbury was rather skep- the hour of nature's grand blow-out dons tical about the power of electricity, so he the flaming flannels of his friend out of re- just touched. his finger to a well -charged spect for the hectic flush of the dying year. wire, and was instantly knocked down, and Leaves have their time to fall, and so has didn't recover for several hour's. 1.1 he had the price of coal. And yet how sadly at vari- grasped the wire he'd undoubtedly have ance the decaying nature is the robust coal been killed. market. Another glorious summer with its wealth A Spring Hill, N. S., man thought would be a fine thingto nelson. his neighbor's of pleaasa,nt memories is stored away among the archives of our history, Another hens, which were damaging his garden. The gloomy winter is upon us. These wonder- result was his arrest and a fine of 85. He ful colors that flame across the softened sky yeas earning 81 a clay, but rather than pay of Indiau summer like the gory banner of the amount of the liise and costs, $7, he royal conqueror, come but to warn us that in served out a twenty day's term in jaiL • a few short weeks the water pipe will be ' During a severe thunder storm at Wells - busted in the kitchen and the decorated ville, Mo., last August, a vivid flash of wash bowl will be broken. ; lightning photographed on the smooth, We flit through the dreamy hours of ; white ceiling of the Methodist church the summer like swift -winged bumble bees amid face of an old man with long flowing hair the honeysuckle and pumpkin blosoms, stor- and beard. It is described as a wiercl and ing away perhaps a little glucose honey and shadowy portrait, and the superstitious say buckwheat pan -cakes for the future, but all that it is the photograph of the Storm King. at once, like a newspaper thief in the night, the king of frost au d ripe, mellow chilblains Eight months ago George W. Davis of is upon us, and we crouch beneath the -win- Norfolk fell about ten feet and injured his try blast and hump our spinal column He went on with his work, though into the crisp air like a Texas steer that has up spine. suffering much, until six weeks ago, when thoughtlesly• swallowed a few cactus. he becaine paralyzed. He died on Saturday, Life is one continued round of alterna- ' and the post-mortein examination showed -Live joys and Sorrows. To -day we are on that he had lived eight months with a broken the top wave of prosperity neck, the third cervicle vertebra being and warming fractured. ourselves in the glad sunlight of plenty, and to -morrow we are cast down and de- I A Montreal doctor who had an acccount pressed financially, and have to stand off, with a job printer agreed to take his pay in the washer -woman for our clean shirt or stay ; work, After he had had all the printing at home from the opera. I done that he needed there still remoaned The November sky already frowns down , balance, and, ae his wife was very sick, he upon us, and its frozen tears begin to fall. Idecided to ha-ve some blank funetal notices The little birds have hushed their lay. So ' struck off with her name on them. He lock - has the fatigued hen. Only a little while, ed them in his desk, his wife got well and and the yawning chasm in the cold, calm' found them, and now she talks of getting a divorce. John Smith of Vallejo was attacked by a big buck in the Napa valley. Smith was unarmed and thoroughly surprised when the deer, instead' of running away, ran at him veal cutlet goeth to its long home, and the full tilt. The two had a tremendous tussle, ice cream freezer is .broken in the wood- but Smith at length threw the buck into a houses. creek and made his escape. He walked to the nearest house, borrowed a rifle, went bEick, found the buck still full of fight, and put a bullet through its head. "I vrill—I will. She grew to be a pretty, gentle creature, with a thousand winning vaays about her; and, as I told you,- Cap- tain Dolan. 'came to me when I was lying al- most at the point of de,ath—and I did not want to die then. He asked me about the child, and I tried to make him believe that it was mine: but he had heard. differently from the wives of some of the men, who had the secret from my wife ; so he told me he knew all, and meant to take the little girl to himself—as he said that the day might come that she might be of good service to him, if hp should.want a friend. And then I' said that she might, too, be of good ser- vice to me, if I Wanted a friend—for then some inquiry might he made as to who she was, and I could take the credit of having soared her, And upon this he swore a ter- rilsle Oath, saying that the only condition on which he woad help me in my then con- dition was that I should entirely give her u " features of the Thanksgiving turkey will be filled with voluptuous stuffing and then sewed up. The florid features of the poly- gamous gobler will be wrapped in sadness, and cranberry pie will be a burden, for the And guessing how te win her ear in quite the easiest way, " Mother knows a story, dear " begins at once to say. "Mother read a Story one() about a certain king Who made his servant Lokrnan do a funny sort of thing. " He waited at his table, and when tho master dined', As faitlifid as his shadow, the servant stood behind ; So oftentimes it happened when they two were alone That Lokman got a tidbit, as a dog might get a bone. "There were many dainty dishes set before this king, Potted meats and sweetineats—the best of every. thing ! Grapes and flg,s and pine -apples in golden dishes Sne Silver pitchers hill of orean and Basks of ruddy wine. " And Lokinan every now and then would get a share of these— A glass of wine, a dish of fruit, a aloe of mellow , cheese ; It pleased the kifig to see him take with simple gratitude Whatever gift he offered, and always find it good. . . " 13u5 once, for curiosity—or in an idle jest—. He chose to try his servant by another sort of test. He cut in two a melon that seeined to suit his mind, And scooping out the fruity part, gave Lolcman the green rind. "Then watched to see ,him eat it7-at Bret with laughing eyes ; But as he saw it disappear, with much more of sea .prise ; For aoirman ate the melon -rind in such a placid way, That whether it were .:sour or weet 'twould puzzle .. one to say. • , " ' UPon my word,' the king cried out, astonished and amused; 'It' I were you, I should have said I •beg to be ex- cused ! But you take down the bitter dose, and keep a sniii. ing face— . I never saw a foolish thing done with a better ereee. Why foolish ?" Lohman answered. 'You gave it me to eat With the same hand that has bestowed many a mor- sel sweet; Should,' refuse to take it—or take it murmuring— Bemuse you choose to give me, for once, a bitter thing ?' "The king heard this with pleasure. Upon my word,' said he, ' There's wisdom in your aTgument that's quite as wise for Me. - I'm far too apt to grumble at G;IT7nymicster's will, And think when He sends troubli. that I am treated 111. He Was a Cynic. "She went straight up into the air, 500 feet, and tell you, sir—" "What," I exclaimed, "she went up—" "Yes, sir," replied the quondam dude, "she clid." "What was the matter with her ?" "Boiler exploded." " Great— I" "Do not be surprised,' sir," the quond'am dude interrupted. "The lady—she was a lady—to whom I refer did not have a boiler attached to her person. At the time of the explosion she was .on a steamboat of which I was the captain. She was—I mean the lady —as pretty as a picture and elegantly dress- ed. The force of the explosion sent her straight up into the air, 500. feet: When she came down on the, return trip, she fell into my arms. I thought she'd say, if she was alive: Thank goodness, I wasn't kill- -ed. l' but she 'didn't.. She said. tOh any' goodness, just look at that big bole in my dress a So it goes, sir, so it goes, the. world over. The gentler sex is controlled by one central idea, and. that is dress." Better Whistle than Mine.. As I was taking, a wale, I noticed two little boys on their way to school. The " And you did ?" small one tumbled and fell, and, though he WaS not much hurt, he began to whine in a " Dolan did it—Dolan clid it ! Not a ' "Not just then. slifhtly threatened ' babyieh way, not a reg•ular roaring boy cry, rnan of those who are novv with hint wore him, and told him that had dangerous I as though he was half killed, but a little then of the gang, excepting one Gasket—he secede ; and then a peculiar look MIMS from i crross whine. is there still. They have all perished in his eyes, and he said to rne : 'Hutch- The older boy took his band in a kind, them. You will not betray inc I" fatherly way, and said: different faehions. There were eight to "Oh, never mind, Jimmy, don't -whine ; "1 will not. Go on—go on !" it is a great deal better to whistle." ins---' " "Ah 1 is your name Hutchins ?" " It is." "In the moriiing—in the dim morning, Shinny tried to join the whietle. when the light of day struggled with the remnant of the storm, and when a faint gleam of simlight fell upon the sea, we all cleared the beach of the wreck. It was piled up in different cottages and caveres, and before the warmth of the Surainer was felt it had been all buret, The bodies were all dragged high up and buried, in the satid arid shingle of the beach." " But you spoke of one—of one who was Saved I" will tell you—I will tell yeti of that. My wife was alive then. I don't know how or why it wee that she clung to me in all my evil life, but she did—she did. We lived on'o of the onall hats up the beach, not a mile froni thie spot by water mid ivuidy for the bay, es I was one et Dolatiag mem ready for any Wickedness—tor smug- gling, for piracy, foe Wrecking., Well, as I told ou, it was everting again after the "Then you are the man mentioned in the ravings of the woman Cole, winch are par- "1 can't whistle as nice as you, Charlie, tially recorded in the scrap of newspaper I eaid he " my lips won't pucker up good." have read to yeu ?" "Oh,'that's because you have not got all "1 am—I am. Mit that is not correct. the whine out yet," said Charlie ; "but you I am not—I never was quite so bad as that try a minuta, and the whietle will drive the would seem to make Inc. Oh 1 no—no-- whine away." "Well—well ?" So he did ; and the last I saw or heard Of no I" "The captain—that is, Dehtn--theretipot She e6alittntleestfieyltths , otulgielay wilelarte wwhaiss tltic azrhiaay tom nte how he only that morrient epated end of life. my life because be had a teuderness for ell that sailed under the blatik flag with him ; but that he eould get rid of inc as easily as S Sak the words. And I felt and knew if you earl throw any light upon; these my- Wree , Still Promising. , First Fisherniais—Whatts the matter, old t at, us so epaknig, be epoke the tteth, man, did you forget the linoe and beat t and so I let him have the chili:I.,' asatead Fisherman—Confound roy forget, sing vour Song like 0 1119'n , A ehoking kind of sensation seemed to fsmlnees f Yea. ' rAgne4 1.-laWaclara, tha Yffings gio_whoinr- come over Captain Morton for a few seconds Viet Fieherman—You remembered tha ie6ously clieuppeared fronahe Onroe and he could not speak. ; cards and flask it's to be hoped, et Otteava, a, foe daye ago after intima,tbsg The ding man rolled restlessly to and ; Second isherman--Yes te haend that ahe *mild drowsr hereelt, fro on hie humble had anti groaned in egeny Fitst, Fisherman—Oh, wen, ; guesis sta -changed her °mind, retuanedth hel. beseadieg. and / had not had so ' mtioh of the f b 1,` • , d aoinehow. „liatifsn, azd Milt% at(' ' Mrs.. Ed. Morris, of Chillicothe, Mo., put $85 in bills under tke bedroom carpet, for- got about it at housecleaning time, carried them out with the straw that was under the carpet, and made a fire of the armful. She remembered about the money after the fire was out. On the surface of the little bunch of ashes where the bills burned were plainly visible the figures "10" and " 5 " and, the word "dollars," as printed on the national currency. Jonathan Bass of Cambria, N. Y., is a solid man. In 1848 his joints .began to stiff- en and grow into solid bone ; m 1857 he took to his bed, and there he lies perfectly stiff, every joint solid., unable to stir, unable to masticate food, and blind. Yet he eats the heaatiest feed by duelring it into his mouth and thWallowing it whole. His con- stitutional health is good, he Iteepa himself informed on current topics, and is likely to live many years yet. He is now 56 years old, and weighs' but 75 pounds': A .aemarliable Oginoidene,e. Gilhooly is quith intimate with the Mose Schaumburg family, so flinch so that he frequently is a guest at- the Schaumburg mansion on Austin avenue. One day last week while enjoying the hospitality of his Hebrew friend, Gilhooly remarked : " Tomorrow will be my birthday." " So it vash mine," said Mose Schaum- burg, junior. " Mine doo," chimed in Rebecca. " What a singular coincidences!'" ex- claimed Gilhooly. "15 vash mine doo," said Isaac. Mine doe," observed Rachel. "Mine deo," corroborated Solomon, " Mine doo," piped Levy, the baby. "1 dells you, Misther Gilhooly, hoes dot iah. Ven der yeah so nusny birthdays dot family in, yott makes fifty per shent yen you hag dem all dot same clay on," explain- ed the head of the family. „ — A public siager who was intolerably af- feetea in his style, was utterly "take " 'You've set me an example that, though I am a king, And you a slave, good Lokman, is worth the copying. Take this for thanks' And gave him a jewel of his own, A golden ring that eparkled with a precious ruby stone. " Then who so glad as Lokman 1 The proudest in the land Might well have envied such a gift from such a royal hand. But modestly he wOre it, and not with foolish pride, And served his master lovingly until the hour he died." • "Is that all 7" little Muriel 'ashewhen n,other's tale is done. " Bow short the story is ! It seems as if you'd just begun. I wish you'd tell another." But mother shakes her head: " Not now, dear; you shall tell me what this one means, instead." "15 means" says little Muriel, "it means—oh ! I don't know See there how white the ground is, all covered up with snow ; It's just too bad, I do declare, when I expected May— Tbere will not be a bit of fun for my Thanksgiving Day 1" "But that's the lesson, darling, I wanted you to leam," The gentle mother answers. "God sends us in its turn The sweet thing and the bitter, the pleasure and the pain, Sometimes the inerry • sunshine, sometimes the snow and rain "We ought to learn from Lokman to take what may befall With willing spirits, knowing our Father sends it all. I wish, my little Muriel"—but Muriel suddenly Cries, " Listen, listen, mother I" ,and jumps up from her knee. She rushes to the window and seee through flurrying snow, And all the gathering darkness, a moving, thing below, That nearer comes and nearer, until a welcome sound —The trampling of the horses' feet—rings from the frozen ground. " 0 mother 1" screams the happy child. " 0 mother, it 0 May I She's come at hut 1 Now, won't we have a good ThanksgiVing Day 1" And down with flying feet she goes the welcome guest to greet, While mother fonows—thinaing of the bitter and the sweet. She's not quite euro that Muriel has understood the thing She tried to teach her with her tale of Lokman and the king But glad in all her gladness now, she hopes to see the day .When Muriel will bear trouble in Lokman's gracious way. OH Relies. . Thrilling with that euriouspleasu e which comes to those Of us who are roni . tic when turning over the relics of the' past, with what interest we handle old letters, yellow with age, but still tied' with the true love ;knot of blue ribbon ; volumes of poetry with inscriptions of the enthusiastic sort, now out of date, written in an elegant hand on the fly -leaf, and with the tenderest verses mark- ed with rose -leaves, • silken scarves to which time has given meliow tints no buyer wets of; quaint garmente that make one smile, yet which may have set off dimpled beauty rarely; a sword on which the rust of a cen- tury has gathered; great watch that still has power to tick, though its maker and he who tv,ore it have been ashes for generations. And. suddenly, in the midst of our enjoy- ment, a thought will ereep over us that makes our hearts stand still. The time must come—will surely come, if we leave any- thing behind Us—when gay young folk, whew grandmothers are yet unborn, will some day find a treasure in some queer old things they have diedovered just fit for the next masquerade ; and those "queer old things" will be our present best clothes -- down" when he anaeltred in Dublin, by an and the botmet that was thought a " euditgar veheseried,out at hania ," Come out in Paris. They will peep into our lettere, f behind your nose you, sniveller, and and try to /Mlle 16‘,0-StOrMS out of them, aild tamaler at our taste in. beolte. • and we well, at least, we mat be l'Seve. The earth will be oura 010 %tore .Lis pleasant pleacs or ita Alnidom,A, its griefs or its de; lighta., As the rose we pluck, the Odour we inlude, we shall be gone, , as those ath over whose relies we pore to -day. 4.