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WHAT DID THE PRIVATES D0
BY J. B. ELLIS.
ITIl dailies fwm
witt
dnring deeda,
And books are filled
with lame;
HrflHK bonds will plaj
and cannons ronr
In honor of the nam
Of men who held com
missions and
Were honest, brave,
and true:
But Htill the question
comes to me,
What did the privates do?
v"hc were the men to puard the camp
When foes were hovering rounn?
nW dugr the graven of comraden dear?
Vho laid them iu the ground?
Jjo tent the dyinK mo.-sage home
.'otheKe he never knew?
officers did nl! of this,
Vhat did the privates do?;?
... j .'
.10 wore the men to fill the place
ifc)f comradea slain in srri eY
'ho were the men to risk their own
To save n comrades lile?
tlho whs it lived on salted pork
e Vnd bfend too hard to chew?
officers did this alone,
e: Vhat did the privates do?
w.o laid in pits on rainy nights,
eAU eager for the fray?
r ho marched beneath the scorching sni
" Throuph many a toilsome day?
iho paid the sutler double price.
And scanty rut ions drew?
f officers cret nil the praise.
Then, what did privates do?
All honor to the brave old boys
Who rallied at the call!
Without regard to name or rank,
We honor one and all.
They're pausing over ono by one,
.And soon they'll all lie gone
To where the books will sim-ly show,
Just what the privates done.
m BETWEEN TWQ FIRES.
'fi f -
fey JAMES FRANKLIN FITTS.
ABEL shaded her
es with her
hand and looked
toward the hills.
The sun was half
way down toward
the western hori-
zon, shining from
an unclouded sky,
nd everything was brought into full
ilief.
t) "Look mother!" she cried, with
it-stretched hand.
"Whatisit?"
,1 "A man. He is coming this way."
The widow presently saw him. He
in nae rapidly o;rer the crest of the
h 11, looked back, ran a little way
dwnthe slope, and then at a more
leliberate pace descended to the level
meadow. This he crossed without
stopping, climbed the fence,, came
across the road, and made for the
house, where he saw the women in
the doorway.
' le took off his cap and spoke.
"May I come in? I am tired and
thirsty."
"Yes," said Mrs. Gorton. "Come
in."
He followed them into the trim
and tidy sitting room. He hesitated
at the door.
i "I am dirty and dusty," he said.
'4I am nojc fit for sonicea room."
Mabel eyed him furatively from
-the kitchen doorway. Her mother
went straight up to him.
"You are a soldier of the Union,"
rhe said; "I see that by your dress.
Vou have been fighting "to-day in
the battle over yonder. My hus
band was killed at Fort Donelson
Tou are welcome to all I can give
vyou."
He looked his thanks; but under
V ose powder-stained lips and dust
f nd sweat-begrimed features it was
i? npossible to tell what kind of a face
r 'as hidden. .Yet Mabel observed that
j.iseyes were blue and brijrht, and
that his hair, Avhero not- matted with
sweat and dust, was brown and cur
ly. Thewidow noted withswift com
passion the rugged sleeve of his blue
blouse.
"Are you wounded?" she asked.
"O, no; but 'twas a narrow escape.
A hot piece cf shell tore blouse and
shirt-sleeve, and killed the man next
. me; but I'm not hurt."
"Come upstairs," said Mrs. Gor
ton. "I'll lay out a suit of Aimer's
summer clothes. Yrou shall take off
this hot, dirty flannel, wash yourself
clean, and put on a cool suit. Come,
' my boy; I'll see to you."
In a few moments the widow came
down again. Sudden shocks still
agitated the air, but they came from
points more and more remote, and
near sunset all sounds of firing had
died in the distance. It seemed quite
Slam, the widow observed, that the
nion army had the better of it.
The table ha d been set for tea, when
the soldier again made his appear
ancel Neither of the women would
have known him had he entered the
room from asy other quarter than
the stairway. He had a slight, boy
ish figure and still more boyish face,
ruddy cheeks, laughing eyes and
. mouth, and brown hair that ran in
curls all over Ws head , Not eyen t he
raiment of the late Abner Gorton, !
decidedly large for him, could de
tract a particle from the manly
beauty of this Union straggler.
He sat at the table with them, and
as he ate and drank they heard his
story of the battle. A flush covered
bis face as he eagerly sought to dis
claim the character in which he feared
they would regard him.
"I'm not a deserter not I! and
hardly a straggler; or, if lam a strag
gler, there were hundreds more like
me, and I couldn't help it any more
han they could, I belong to the th
Iowa Regiment; I have been in the
service more than a year, and this
Isn't my first battle, nor my second.
My regiment was on one oftheflanks
over there, and was harder pressed
tban it could stand. We fought for
more than an hour, and broke when
we couldn't help it. When a regiment
breaks in battle, it's mighty hard to
get the pieces together, now, I tell you!
I wandered off this way, wanting to
take a breath and get a drink of
water, and I got here before I knew
where I was. I shouldn't have
thrown away my gun but," and he
laughed, "the best of soldiers get
demoralized sometimes. A good
night's rest
will do everything for
me,
if you'll be so kind as to give
me a bed; and then I'll brush up my
soldier-clothes, and, perhaps you'l1
mend my ragged sleeve, ma'am
and I'll hurry along after our army,
and take one irom the report ol
'missing.'
He sat up late with the widow and
her daughter that warm summer
night, talki lg with them about the
war, about the dead soldier of this
little lonely family, about his
home and mother and sisters
Burlincrton. in distant Iowa.
own
near
lit
talked well and pleasantly; he dia
most of the talking; and after he had
retired, it was Mrs. Gorton whosaid,
with a sigh:
"It seems too bad for that dear boy
to go back to the army to-morrow.
How beautifully he talked aboutyour
poor father!"
. Mabel was silent.
"But I suppose he must."
The widow thought ithard; yet she
slept with her accustomed serenity.
But Mabel's thoughts kept her awake
till well toward midnight.
The morrow came; breakfast
passed, the soldier dusted his uni
form, the widow insisted upon wash
ing it out, and when it was dried,
carefully mended it. Dinner-time was
then at hand, and the guest remained.
Gorton's face was serious, Mabel's
was more than serious, as they
thought of the parting at hand; but
the guest lingered. lie talked to
them of his duty, of how glad and
surprised "the boys" would be when
they saw him come back unharmed;
but he made no motion to go. The
hearts of the two women were glad
ened as he stayed. ,
This branch of his story need not
be prolonged. For a week he fought
out with himself the stem battle be
tween love and duty and then he
yielded. Mabel burned up his uni
form in the kitchen stove; thewidow,
with her own hands, altered over
the dead husband's clothes for him;
to the few and scattered neighbors of
that section who remarked his pres
ence, it was given out that he was
the son of a Kentucky cousin; and in
a fortnight from the day when he
entered this house as a fugitive from
the battle, the soldier and Mabel were
united in marriage.
For the next year unceasing tor
ments of soul were his.
Dearly as he loved his young wife,
the reproaches of duty were ever in
his ears. He heard them, waking
and sleeping. He worked the little
patch of ground about the house,
and marketed its produce with a
mule and cart in the city ; the theater
ofwarinthis State was now far re
moved from this vicinity; there was
nothing but conscience and memory,
and the frequent Nashville papers
that he read, to remind him of the
war and the part that he ought to
be playing in it. In silence he suf
fered j ever maintaining to Mabel and
her mother a cheerful, satisfied de
meanor. They never knew, never
suspected the stings of disregarded
duty borne in silence by the ardent
Northern volnnteer; and when Mabel
gave him an infant son she and her
mother deemed that his allegiance
to this humble home was fixed be
yond change.
And so it might have been, but for
one of those incidents, suddenly oc
curing, with which the war was filled.
One of General Morgan's Confed
erate cavalry raids was threatening
the railroads in this part of the State;
an infantry brigade from the Union
front was hnrried back to the ex
posed point. It ho happened that it
embraced the regiment of the fugitive
soldier. Disembarking from the ca rs
at a point several miles down the
road on which Mrs. Gortoft's house
was situated, the brigade marched
past it on its way to the threatened
point.
In the back yard, so close to the
i house that he had seen nothing of
this, our fugitive heard the crash of
brass music. His wife, pale and agi-
tated, beckoned him in.
"Thay are Federal soldiers," she
said. "Don't let them see you."
He went into the front room and
peered through the blinds. With
wildly throbbing heart he recognized
his lost comrades. He saw the dusty
ranks marching by with company
front, each stalwart soldier whom he
had known and loved with a musket
on his shoulder. His face was white.
"Mabel, its my brigade, my regi
ment!" he cried. "Let me go. I
must join them." .
j For answer she placed his baby in
I his arms. The chubby hands patted
his cheeks and played with his hair
The soldier s head drooped on the
window-sUl
j ... . . . . : -
I
Tetch some water, Mabel," said
Mrs. Gorton. "He is faint
He was dead!
A Reminiscence of the Rebellion.
r ' ' S ENVAVERILL. the
TSJV Ji KJ( dashing trooper,
raided up the valley
with Sheridan and
endeared himself to
two generations ol
Virginians by the
homestead he saved
from the torch. As he swings down
Broadway to his office on a frosty
morning he is a soldier every inch ol
him, barring gray hairs. General
Averill was introduced to a young
man named Rudd a day or two ago
and, it reminded him of a curious inci
dent in his military career. He was at
West Point with a Jack Rudd, who
afterward became a Major in the
Confederate army. On a raid into
West Virginia some cavalrymen were
about to pillage a farm which proved
to be no other than Jack Rudd's. It
was a tight little patch of arable land
right under the mountains.- As soon
as Averill heard the name of his old
classmate, he set a guard over the
place, and not a straw was touched.
That was in August, 1863. Just a
year afterward, at a noted mountain
pass called Callahan's, just twelve
miles from the White Sulpher Springs,
a Confederate prisoner was brought
into General Averill's headquarters,
which were in the ambulance, where
he slept and re&d dispatches, Cap
tor and captive looked long
and hard at each other, and
knew each other once more as
"Rudd" and "Averill." And, after
ward, when a friendly nip h.i d thawed
out twelve years of absence, and Av
erill had told Rudd how he saved hie
farm from being pillaged, Rudd ex
claimed: --My , man! why, I came
within an ace of shooting you dead!
I was in ambush on the mountain
side and drew a bead on the officeT
who rode into my front gate, as 1
thought, to fire the house. I soon
saw his kindly intention, though,
and am now doubly thankful foi
what we both escaped."
A Funny Bill of Fare.
IT was quite the
thing a few years
ago for the South-
rf . j em people
to en
sure General Pem
berton for the sur
renderins: of Vicks-
On burg to Generaj
Grant, and some of the secessioniste
went so far as to denounce him as a
traitor to their cause.
But the facts of history will prove
beyond all chance of cavil, that dur,
ing the whole of that terrible contest
the Confederate troops always not.
ed for. their splendid courage never
showed a. greater daring, npr more
capacity for suffering without com
plaint, than during the siege oi
Vicksburg.
I had myself the honor to serve
with the Union army during that
stirring campaign, and a few days
after the fall of "The Gibraltar of the
Mississippi," as Vicksburg was then
called, Dr. J. B. Early, surgeon of
the Seventeenth Iowa Volunteers,
gave me a copy of the following bill
of fare, which he picked up in a camp
that the qpemy had just vacated,
and I have kept it among my war
curios ever since.
While it is a capital specimen of
burlesque, it is no less a melancholy
reminder of the straits to which
Pemberton's men were driven when
they had to live on mule meat during
the last days olthe siege:
Hotel de Vicksburg.
Bill of Fare for July, 1883.
SOUP.
Mule tail.
BOILED.
Mule bacon, with poke greene
Mule bam, canvased. ,
BOAST.
Mule sirloin.
Mulo bock, stuffed with soldier buttons.
VEGETABLES.
Peas. -
Other green things all in your eye.
EXTEEE3. -
Mule bead, served a la mode.
Mule beef, jerked a la Mexicana.
Mule ears, IricasBeed a la gotch.
Mule side, stewed, new style, hair eo
Mule spare ribs, plain.
Mule liver, hashed.
SIDE 1)13 II E3.
Mul salad.
Mule hoof souspd.
Mule brains, a la omelet te.
Mule kidney, stuffed with pt-as.
Mule tripe, fried in pea meal butter.
Mule toungue cold, a la Bray.
JELLIES.
Mule foot.
PASTBT.
Pea meal pudding with mule sanee.
Cottonwood berry pie without cruet.
Chin a berry tart.
DES8EBT.
White-oak acorns.
Beech nuts.
Blackberry leaf tea.
Genuine Confederate co3ee.
LIQUORS
Mississippi water, vintage of 1492, $ 3. '
Limestone water, late importation, rery
fine, $2.75.
Spring water, Vicksburg hand, f 1.50.
Meals at all hours. Gentlemen to wait up
on themselves. JLny inattention on the part
of the servants will be promptly reported at
the office. Jefe Davis & Co., Proprietors.
Cahd The . proprietors of the justly cele
brated Hotel de Vicksburg. having enlarged
and refitted the same, are prepared to accom
modate all who may favor them with a call.
Parties arriving by the river or Grant's in
land route will find Grape, Canister & Co. 'a
carriage aj the landing or any depot oa the
I -usuey-" v
r ?fc
B of lo trench men t b. Back. Ball& Co., takf
sharge of all baggage. No pains will h
ipatdd to make the visit of al aa interesting
M possible.
The Colored Sentinel.
Daring the organization of colored
troops in Kentucky, considerable
(rouble was taken to perfect their
knowledge of their duties as sentinels,
and to this end many expedients
were resorted to. Approaching one
of the dusky wafriers, on camp guard,
one bright moonlight night, I wag
challenged and responded in due
form, but a few moments after, ex
pressing a desire to see if his musket
was not a rebel one, it was unhesitat
ingly handed to me, Wishing to
impress upon ilia mind how indis
creet he had been, and the necessity
of caution, I stepped quickly back,
and bringing the piece to a charge,
the bayonet, near his breast, I said:
"Now, sir! suppose I was a rebel,
what would you do?"
After; scratching his head for a
moment, in the meantime evidently
considering the question, he replied.
"Well, massa, I doesn't know
bnt I spects I'd run."
This was too much for my gravity,
and, I need ,hardly add, for that
time he got off free. The lessor
was not lost on him, however, for
when, a few nights afterward, a
very stormy one, by the way, Lieu
tenant L. intentionally gave th
wrong countersign, he was ordered
to mark time, dar!" and the ordei
being complied with, the senti
nel, unconcernedly resumed the
walking of his beat. Lieutenant L
soon tired of this exercise, however,
and offered to give the proper counter
sign, but it was of no use; everj
time the Lieutenant relaxed his
exertions, down would come tht
bayonet, and with it the reply, ii
tones not to be misunderstood:
"Mark time, dar, I tell yer! Mark
time, dar! No such man as yot
got de countersign."
This was kept up for fully hal
an hour, and the relief was nevei
more heartily ' welcomed by weary
sentinel than it was thaw night b
Lieutenant L.
His Journal.
The following funny extracts art
from the diary of a Confederate whe
was captured during Morgan's raid
into Kentucky, in the summer o
1863:
"24th da otjuli,18G3. Crost moun
ting at big Kirk gap.
"25 juli. To Williamsburg, driv in
piket found they was the dam 44th
O.
"26th juli. To london, skimished
sum with yanks.
"27. Crost big Hill, driv in sum
more pigkits, attakt en'my near
richmond at da lite, sint em Kitein
from posiah.
"28 the juli got to Windshester,
piki op sum mules, ditto some bosses.
"Juli 29, 9 Klock, was gobbled by
yanks, feel jist lost this time radefi
into Kaintuck don't pa no how."
How Ifew Tork Doctors Ride,
The doctors of New York have
adopted a special vehicle. They
now drive in carriages that are simi
lar enough to have been manufactur
ed from one pattern. It is a buggy,
with a top or hood which is a com
plete protection from the weather.
It differs from a light trotting bug
gy, as the box is big, roomy, and
comfortable, and the hood is arrang
ed in several joints so 1 hat a portion
of it may be pushed back at a time.
The wheels are almost heavy enough
for a light T-catt. The doctors
drive two horses, usually hand
somely matched, well-built and styl
ish animals, with docked tails. The
coachman is uniformly in snug live
ry, with corduroys and varnished
boots, As the horses are harnessed
well to the head of a long pole and
the harness usually silver mounted,
)the whole outfit is decidedly hand
some and impressive. There are at
least ten or twelve of them in town.
They have, entirely superseded the
brougham among the. doctor, be
cause, in the first place, the buggy
can be driven much faster than a
heavy brougham, and, in the secoud
place, there is no slaming of doors
and drafts from windows if they are
open. The doctor gets the benefit oi
the fresh air, going from one place
to another, and, as the distances in
New York are very great in the prac
tice of more celebrated physicians,
speed is of importance, The physi
cians seem to have struck the right
thing in vehicles, and uudoubtedly
the doctors buggy has come to stay
New York Sun.
tm-o-
An Ancient Chair.
What is probobly the most vener
able piece of furniture in existence
has just been deposited in the British
mnseum. It is the throne of Queen
Hatasu, who reigned in the Nile val
ley some 1600 years before Christ
and twenty-nine years before Moses.
This now dilapidated object seems
to be of lignum vila?, the carving of
the legs being inlaid with gold and
those of the back with silver.
Archdeacon Farear has sent his
son to this country to be educated
as a civil engineer. The archdeacon
prefers American schools to those
of England , because he thinks them
more progressive. He says that en
gineering in England is twenty-five
yea,ra behjnd. that ot this, country.
AN INDIAN'S WRATH.
- 8everal years ago my husband
bnilt and eonducted a hotel for the
accommodation of the miners and
teamsters at the terminal point of
one of our California railroads.
Like many other small towns in the
northern portion of the State, it
boasted of an Indian rancherie, or
settlement, within its environments,
the half-civilized inhabitants of
which played a more or les3 impor
tant part in its local history. With
few exceptions they were a moder
ately peaceful, industrious commu
nitythe men spending their time in
hunting and fishing, and the women
doing the drudgery, such as procur
ing fuel for their fires, the laundry
work of their white neighbors, etc.
Every now and then, however, the
wild nature of the red men, cither
through the medium of 'fire-water
or intense passion, would become
aroused, and at such times crimes
of varying degrees of enormity were
almost certain to be the result.
We had one child, a bright little
fellow about two years old, who by
reason of bis cute, babyish antics,
had become a great favorite with
the patrons of the hotel; and they,
as a token of sheir affection, pre
sented him on his second birthday
with a diminutive iron bank, ,n
which, each of the miners and team
sters had dropped a silver dollar.
As day after day came and went,
dollar after dollar found its way
into the little treasure box, till it
became so heavy that baby could
no longer lift it, and I placed it for
safe-keeping upon a bracket in my
dressing-room.
One evening, after old Julie, the
Indian woman who did 6ur laundry
ingonce a week, had performed her
usual hard day's washing, it occurred
to me that I had done a very care
less thing in permitting her to go
into my room for the soiled clothes,
and, knowing the propensity of her
race to steal, I at once proceeded to
ascertain whether anything was
missing. Baby's bank was gone!
Old Julia had stolen it.
It was too late to do anything
that day, but early the next morn
ing we had their hut searched, with
the result that fragments of the
broken bank were found, but no
money. They were bountifully sup
plied with provisions, however, and
inquiry at one of the stores elicited
the fact that a large bill of goods
such as had found had been pur
chased there the evening before by
old Julia and her spouse. The wom
an was accordingly arrested, and,
after being convicted, was sent to
the county jail, in the adjoining
town for a term of three months.
Many predicted that this would
not be the end of the affair, as the
woman's husband was a dangerous
character, and might seek to avenge
his wife's imprisonment; but neither
my husband nor myself shared their
fears, and the matter was forgotten
after a day or two.
One day, about a fortnight after
Julia's conviction, I was assisting
the dining-room girls to prepare the
table for luncheon, when suddenly
the sound of a low, guttural, threat
ening voice at the window drew my
attention. Looking up, startled and
frightened, I beheld a savage, hideous-looking
Indian glaring in at
me. It was Indian Jack, old Julia's
husband.
Seeing my frightened look, he ad
vanced still closer, pat his swarthy
face in at the open window, and,
shaking his fist at me, grunted out,
"You no give me back my Julia, me
kill you pretty soon?"
I had him driven off at once, and
as I watched him slowly making his
way back to the rancherie on the
river bank, half a mile to the rear of
our house, and saw his threatening,
angry gestures, I confess I was badly
frightened. This feeling soon wore
off, however, and as my husband was
inclined to think it no . more than u
game of bluff, his visit was quite for
gotten by the timelunceon was over.
That afternoon the table-girls went
out in the woods foi ferns; the cook
also was out, and as my husband
was seldom about the house except
at meals, I was for the time being
alone. To while away the time I
picked up a paper, and was just be
coming interested in spine article,
when I was startled by a loud,
frightened scream from my little boy
who way playing in the back yard.
Springing up I run to the window,
just in time to see Indian Jack
snatch up my child in his arms, and
hasten away in the chaparrel. A
terrible, frightful thought instantly
flashed through my mind. He was
going to avenge the incarceration of
his wife by taking the life of my poor
innocent boy!
There was no help at hand; if he
was saved, I alone must save him,
and with a desperate hope spurring
me on, I bound out of the door in
frantic, determined pursuit.
Believing his movements had been
unobserved the Indian had not made
as hurried flight as ho might have
done, and before half the distance to
the rancherie had been traveled, I
was close behind him.
"Bring back my boy!" cried I in
frantic tones. "Kill mo if you will,
but spare my child!"
An angry grunt wai his only reply
upon finding me in pursuit, a nd plac
ing his hand over the baby's mouth
to still his piteous cries, he quickened
his pace so as to keep out of my way:
Still I ran on, begcing in sobbing
tones for my child, but it it had any
effect at all upon the fiendish brute,
it was to encouraqj him in his hor
rid, purpose, fop 'now wid. then e
would pause, look back with an ex- -ultant,
develish expression upon his
hideous face, and then swagger off
again with a low, gloating chuckle
that pierced my heart like a dagger.
In this manner the race was kept
up until his hut was reached, when
he bounded inside, closed the door
with a bang, and then locked it. In
vain I pounded upon the door,
begged, wept, and pleaded; the brute
was as immovable as a rock, and I
could hear my poor baby pleading
in plaintive, . wailing accents for
"mamma, mamma, mammal"
The sound of my lamentations
attracted the attention of a score
of half-naked, sleepy-looking Indians,
who rushed pell-mell from their ca
bins to learn the cause of the unus
ual commotion, and to them I re
newed my pleading. "No sabe!" ,
was all that I could get out of
them, and I returned to the door
again knowing that Jack could at
least understand me.
He gave me no answer, however,
contenting himself wit h holding ah
animated confab in his own dialect
with his comrades on the outside.
What they were talking about of
course I could not tell, but I was not
to be kept long in ignorance; for I
was suddenl yseized, dragged to an
adjoining hut, and rudely thrust in
side.' With the sound of the key
turning in the lock as I was made a
prisoner, and the feeble wail of . my
child ringing in my ears, I fainted,
the intensity of my mental anguish
was more than I could endure.
How long I lay thus I do not
know, but when 1 awoke to consci
ousness all was silent. I listened, but
I could not hear my child's plaintive
cry in the adjoining hut. A horrible
thought flashed into my mind: Had
the demon Jack killed him?
My distracted mind had not yet
found the answer when the sound of
my door being unlocked was heard,
and the next moment Jack entered
my presence, locking the door after
him. I rushed toward him, and
frantically grasped his arm. "My
boy! Where is he? What have you
done with him?"
The Indian shook me rudely away.
"Ugh!" grunted he. "Boy no good!
Too much yah! yah! all time, d
boy!"
I would not be thus put off,and still
assailed him with my entreaties. He
endured it with stolid indifference for
several moments, and then, as if
, prompted by an uncontrollable im
pulse, took one hasty stride toward
me and rudely clutched my arm.
"You tell jail man let my Julia come
back!" demanded he savagely.
I told him I would do all I could,
but that, it was now beyond my pow
er to effect her release.
"You tell Injun lie!" cried he. Jail
man let her go, you tell him to!"
I again told him as I had before,
that I was powerless to do as he
asked.
The answer seemed to . goad him
on to greater fury; his grip tighten
ed upon my arm; his dark eyes emit
ted a fiendish, wicked glitter, and,
drawing from his belt a keen-edged
dirk, he leaned over me and hissed.
"You lie, and Jack kill you!"
I saw the gleaming blade ascend
and hang trembling "above me, and
then, with a loud, piercing, despair
ing shriek, I lost consciousness.
When I opened my eyes, I found
my husband bending over me, and
a group of familiar faces all around
me, whom I at once recognized as
the regular patrons of the hotel.
The flight of Indian Jack and my
frantic pursuit had been observed by
some men working in a slaugter
house near the rancherie, and, fear
ing something was wrong, they had
notified my husband, who, with sev
eral miners, had rushed to my relief.
My baby-boy was . found fast asleep
in Jacob's cabin, which accounted for
my not hearing lrim when I recovered
from my swoon some time before.
As for Jask, after leing mauled to
the heart's content of the indignant
miners, he was given notice to leave
the community at once, which he did,
making a bee-line for the foothills ly-
ing beneath Mount Shasta.
The noble-hearted miners and
teamsters, not satisfied with ridding
the neighborhood of Indian Jack,
donated a larger and stronger bank
to my boy. and showed no relaxa
tion in their generosity until it was
even heavier than the ono old Julia
stole. 1
As for myself well, I am no longer
a resident "of that part of the Statt r
and though I were to live a thous
and years, I should never forget the
horrors of that eventful day, or how
nearly I became the victim of an In
dian's wrath. Mrs. A. S. Burroughs,
in Overland Monthly.
A Clerical Error.
In a country church the curate had
to give out two notices, the first of
which was about baptisms, and the
latter had to do with a new hymn
book. Owing to an accident be in
verted the order and gave out as
follows: I am requested to give no
tice that the new hymn books will be
used for the first time in this church
on Sunday next, and I am also re
quested to call attention to the de
delay which often takes place in
bringing children to be baptized;
they should be brought on the
earliest day possible. This is parti-
cularly pressed on mothers who
have young babies. And for the in
formation of those who have none,"
added the rector, in gentle, kindly
tones, and who being deaf had not
heard what had been pi e viously said,
"for the information of those who
have none I may state that if wished
they can be obtained on application
in the vestry immediately after the
service to-day. Limp ones 1 shilling
each; with stiff backs 2 shillings."-?
London Figaro, - '
H .
fit
