McCook weekly tribune. (McCook, Neb.) 188?-1886, April 24, 1884, Image 6
SHAIX KNOW. When the mists have rolled in tpleador From the beauty of the hills , t And the sunthlne , warm and tender/ Falls in splendor on the rills , We may read love's shining letter , In the rainbow of the spray. Wo shall know each other bettor When the mists have cleared away. Wo shall know as we are known , Hever more to walk alone , In the dawning of the morning , When the mists have cleared away. If TYO err in human blindness , And forget that we are dust , If we-mtes the laws of kindness , When we struggle to be Just , Snowy-wlngs-ot peace shall cover All the pain that clouds our way , Whenthe weary watch is over , And tho. mists have cleared away. WeflhallJcnow as we are known , Never more to walk alone , In the dawning or the morning , When the mists have cleared away. When the silvery mists have veiled us From the faces of our own Oft we deem their love has failed us , And we tread our path alone ; We should see them near and truly , We should trust them day by day , I Neither love nor blame unduly , If the mists have cleared away. "We shall know as we are known , Never more to walk alone , In the dawoing of the morning , When the mists have'cleared away. When the mists have risen abovenis , As our Father knows His own , Face to face with those that love us , We shall know as we are known. Love , beyond the orient meadows Floats tie gol'den fringe of day : Heart to heart we hide the shadows , Till the mists have cleared away. We shall know as we are known , Never more to walk alone , When the day of light Is dawning , And the mists have cleared away. San Francisco Call. AN EASTER EILY. I had seen her morning after mbrn- % ing.at her stand in the French market in New Orleans. A girl of about four teen , whose bright , brunette beauty would have attracted the attention of any stranger. She was large for her age , and the charming , -speaking- face bore at times all the thoughtfulness of a woman , mingled with the innocence of early childhood , I had passed the roses and camellias , the jessamines and magnolias , all that wealth of bloom and color which makes the Freneh market such a gorge ous picture , when I found myself beside Blanche's basket of violets and orange blossoms. Nothing else no other in truding color in the soft purple and white bouquets which sLe had formed with exquisite taste , and in a variety of 'forms. Some were flat , some round , others cup-shaped and pyramidal , but in all there was a grace and tasteful arrangement which could be found in no other stall in the market.- By dint of frequent pauses at her stand and daily purchases , the 'flower- girl and I became the best of friends. There was always a bouquet set aside for me of the finest and freshest flow ers , even if I was hours behind my usual time. And at last it seemed to be understood that I was never to pass so good that they help me in every way ; for they know I can attend , to but one thing at a time. " I smiled at-Blanche's "large busi ness" ; but large or small , my little flower-girl evidently thought "herself exceptionally prosperous , and was the happiest of the happy. "Where do you live , Blanche ? " was- my next question. "Oh , so far ! on the Bayou Bridge road. 1 own my place. It was left me by my mother" this with an in describable air of importance "and my brother and sister help to work it. . I have a cow , too , and such milk- and cream ! " "I would like to- taste your milk , " I said , smiling at her. . - - . . . The grave , business-like look came back tcTthe laughing face. "If madame will honor me by com ing to my house some day. It is like a nest though we are not'quite birds. Next week I shall have some strawber ries , and madame must come then and taste them. " If it had been a princess graciously condescending from her high estate , there could not have been more digni fied courtesy than belonged to the man ner of my calico-garbed little friend. So it was then and there agreed that on the following Wednesday I was to visit "Le Nid" ( the nest ) , as Blanche called her home. Wednesday was a bright day , and noon found it e in the cars with Blanche beside me , the gravity all gone from her eyes , and her lovely face dimpling and sparkling at the novel excitement of carrying a guest to her own home with her. Le Nid was a funny little place , with a small , high house , built very much like a pigeon house. The house itself was covered with a mass of white climbing roses , which made it look like A large bouquet. The yard in front was filled with orange and Japan plum trees , and the Bides and , back seemed devoted to lowers , vegetables and small - - - * " - - ' ' - w * . . * _ r'v 'TT- | fruit. Not an inch of ground was left unoccupied ; and the cultivation was wonderful , considering that it was done by three children , the eldest only four * teen. teen."Take "Take care of the steps , madame. They are a little difficult. " As the said steps were built up like a ladder and "very rickety , I thought that to call them a little difficult was a very mild way of describing them. But I scrambled up , .and found myself in a pleasant little porch , scrubbed as clean as hands conla scrub it , and a rocking chair pulled under the thickest festoons of the white roses. "You will sit here in the shade , " said Blanche , drawing me to the chair , "whilste Elodie apd Igather the straw berries. Elodie ! Elodie , come .here , you and Jean ! " There was a shout of delight as the two children heard their sister's yoice and came flying up. Both Elodie and Jean were decidedly of the peasant type , sturdy-limbed and with rather heavy faces , a marked contrast to the beau tiful , intelligent girl who stood beside me. me.She , however , saw no deficiency in "her children , " as she calle'd them , and her eyes sparkled with pride as she told me of Jean's industry and Eloilie's neatness , and of her dairy work. t "Now we will leave' madame' and gather the fruit. I have drawn your chair under my favorite"rose. . My poor mother brought it from Provence she was Provencal and , dhe nursed and loved it as if it was a child. I always wear one of those roses when they are in bloom , for they seem part of my mother. If I marry , my * couronne de noce' ( marriage wreath ) shall be made of them. But if God wills that I shall die young , then my 'couronne de mort' ( death wreath ) shall also be of these roses. Perhaps I may die in the win ter when none are in bloom , but I hope not. " "Her death-wreath ! " I found my self softly repeating the girl's" words over and over as 1 watched her flitting about among the strawberry beds. Strange words they seemed coming- from one whose exuberant vitality was so marked. A full , over-running meas ure of life seemed given to those lithe , active limbs , that glowing face and happy , joyous voice. 1 did not have to wait long for my fruit. A bowl piled up with the largest and reddest of strawberries , well sugared - gared , and filled to the brim with yel low cream , was soon before me. Blanche was a charming hostess. By some right divine she moved and spoke like a lady , and there wus no vulgar fussiness in the manner she served me. I really ate more than prudence counselled , for I could not relnsi : to gra'ify the look of delight with which she watched my enjoyment nf her treat. - But when 1 had finished , Blanche , with the grave look on her face -again her business look set to work to clear the table wild put things to rights" . "The children can do it , " she said ; "but then they are heedless , and do not sweep as well as I would wish.- They will learn in time. " "How troublesome it must be to * have such-a , charge , " I answered , thoughtlessly ; "jind at'your age too. " . "Troublesome" ! * ' " In the > extremity of her astonishment Blanche stood with her broom poisejk-iu' the air. "Why , what should I' do. without them , all -ttk ihtfieworld ? Ah ! Gpdisvery pod to give me their help my pre- otis children ! " She raised her eyes iverently as she spoke. f'Only think , madame ! He gives me 1th and strength and love of work ' the best of neighbors , and best of my mother's Bible. Does madame w that my parents were bothHugue- 3 , and my mother died holding her le in her hand ? I read in it every to my children , and they know all stories in it. Ah ! we are as happy he birds here in our nest ! " 'God keep you so , my child ! " I an- ired , feeling rebuked to my inmost .1 * hen , a beautiful boquet had been e for me , ic was time to go. nche and her "children" aocompan- me to the cars , and the last glimpse ad of my little flower-girl showed her bright hair blown. , by the wind aoout her lovely sparkling face. This spring I retur-ned to the city. It was just a year since my last visit and the very day after my arrival found me in the French Market. I went to the place where my little friend had kept her stall , but she was -nowhere to be seen. A stout , red-faced Alsatian vegetable dealer , whom .Blanche had often pointed out to me as one of her food friends , sat in her place. She new him instantly. ' "Ah ! here Is'poor Blanche's mad am ! " she cried. "Did you know that the poor lamb is dying ? yes , dying ? " I stood dumb and paralyzed , unable even to ask a question. "Ye , I see madame is shocked. Blanche had scarlet fever this winter , and it has left her in a consumption , so the doctor says. Ah ! we had the best of doctors for her. We are very poor , madame , but there is not one of us who would not have worked our fingers to the bone for our bright little bird. We shall never see her in her old place again. Never ! never ! " I hardly knew how I made my way out of the market. I did not realize the terrible news ; no , not even when I found myself in the Bayou Bridge cars , speeding to the quaint little House 1 had seen so often in memory. We stopped at the very spot where I had last seen the beautiful face smiling at me. The house , as I approached it , looked as usual. The white rose was in its full wealth of bloom , but it struck me that it was more unpruned and ran more wildly than at my Jast visit. I saw a figure sitting on the porch as I mounted the stairs , but I had to stand before it and look into the sweet , kind eyes before I could believe that bloodless phantom was really iny Blanche. A gleam of joy leaped into those eyes as they rested on me. She held out her wasted , trembling hands. "Ah ! it is my good madame I have thought of so often ! So you have come to see me , my friend , before I go away ? " "Go away ? " I repeated , question- ingly. ' "Yes. Does not madame see I am going on a journey , which will take me far away from hero ? Ah ! I have been very sick and tired -for many , many months ; but it will be all right when I meet my mother up there. " I could not restrain my tears. She laid her hot little hand in mine. "Why does madam cry forme ? It would have been hard had God called me when I was so well and strong ; but now every breath hurts me so that it will be better for me to go. " There was silence between us for a lone time. At last she said 1 shall never more sell Easter roses or lilies in the market as I used to do. Does madame think there are trees and flowers in heaven ? I know what the Bible says about the Tree of Life ; but will there be trees like those on earth ? If the earth brings a resurrection of the flowers , will not heaven also ? " I tried to explain to her the perfect life , the flawless fruitage of the Eternal Garden. I did my best to lift her in nocent thoughts up to those high regions of eternity , where the flowers never fade , but merge into new growths , each more beautiful , more perfect , than those which preceded itt Her eyes grew dreamy with these new thoughts. "I asked , " she said , "because you know , madame , I am so simple , so ig norant , that all I know'is to tend'flow ers and fruit. Perhaps the blessed Lord will give-me a little' corner in His garden , that I may work. But my mother , my beautiful young mother , who has been there so long , will tell me what to do. "AhI she was so good , my mother ! My father died when I was quite young before Elodie was born ; but he was good , too. " She-paused , , exhausted , and a terrible fit of coughing shook her feeble frame. "Ah ! my children are not back yet , " she said , when it ceased. "I sent them out for a walk. They have nursed me day and night , and they look quite pale. Oh , such blessed children they are ! so patient , so watch ful ! never leaving me unless 'I 'make them. " y&She dozed a little in her chair after this , then wakened with a start. "Have they not come yet ? I want to see them so much ! " I looked , but could see nothing of the children. "Not that I fear for them , " she con tinued. "They will have the nest and the flowers and fruit and the birds and all my kind , good friends. They will have my Bible , too , " pointing the little worn French Bible which lay on her lap ; "but above all , they will have Gid to care for them. No , madame , I do not fear to leave my children. " "How they will miss you ! " I could hardly speak , for the tears would come. "Yes , they will miss me. " Her voice was very culm. "Every year they will put their wreath of 'immortelles' on my grave. I tell them they must bring bunches of violets 'and those roses , " pointing to the flowers , overhestd- "Does madame see how' beautifully they bloom , thiff" ' spring ! JMy-burial wreath is ready' fpr me , and. Iwant them to put a few" in my hand. When my mother meets me , I wish her to rec- pgnize her favorite roses. " Another fitnf coughing , and this timea little stream of blood trickled from her lips. With the help of the weeping chil dren , who had returned , I carried Blanche to her bed. I did not leave her again that evening no , not until the tired , tender eyes were hidden by the white lids , and the wasted hands , holding the roses , were folded over the pulseless breast. My blessed little flower girl ! Methinks - thinks she has carried the aroma of those Provence roses straight up to the steps of the great white throna. In God's great kingdom my bird , which has fled from her nest , has found a ref uge where her steadfast , innocent faith will develop the glorious life of which only dim possibilities reach us here. ' ' 'A rose She blest us ; but , as bless the roses , A morning's swift , brief space. " The blooming Easters come and go. She is no longer in the flower market. Other hands deal in Easter roses and lilies. But every Easter i lay a white flower on her grave , and I love to re call her memory , and to dream of her as bne of the flowers in the immortal gardens , and to speak of her as my Easter Ijly [ Youth's Companion. Dazed by Deciphering. Evansvlllo Argns. "Did you ever hear of those men who have a mania for reading symbolic writing , secret signs and the" like ? " said a journalist to us the other day. "Are you one ? " we asked. "I am. To me a hieroglyphical nd. in a newspaper is like a glass of whis ky to a chronic drunkard. I cannot rest till I have deciphered it. " "And do you often succeed ? " "Generally , but the other day I got hold of a poser. Coming down from the office I picked up a letter , the con tents of which ran : Dear Nettie : The order is : K 3 , o , n , o , k 3 , o , n , purl 1 , n , purl 1 , u , purl 1 , n , o , k 3 , o , k 2 , o , n , purl 1. Eliza. "This puzzled my brains , I can tell you. It was evidently something crim inal. Written by a woman , too. Hour after hour I sat over the thing till its mystic figures were burned into my brain. I transposed them into every shape of vowel and consonant. The strange signs danced before my eyes until my head reeled and ached. " "Did you find it out at last ? " "Last night my wife was turning out my vest pockets for looose change. 'Why , Will,1 she said , 'where on earth did you get this direction for a pattern of lace insertion ? It must be very pretty. ' I tell you it was rough. Didn't think I could bo such a soft-headed fool. Tata ! " Whales were eaten by persons of the upper class in Europe as late at least us the latter part of the thirteenth cen tury. The tail and tongue dressed with peas or roasted were prized as choice delicacies. The Princess Elea nor de Montford paid , in 1266 , the sum of 243. for " 100 pieces of whale" to be used as food in her household. DISCONTENT. Two boats rocked on the river , In the shadow of leaf and tree ; One WAS in love .with the harbor ; One was In love with the sea. The one that loved the harbor The winds of fate outbore , But held the other , longing , Forever against the shore. The one that rests on the river. In the shadow of leaf and tree , With wistful eyes looks ever To the one far-out at sea. The one that rides the billow , Though sailing fair and fleet , Looks hack to the peaceful'rlver , To the harbors safe and sweet. One frets against the quiet Of the moss-grown shaded shore ; One sighs that it may enter That harbor never more. One wearies of the dangers Of the tempest's rage and wall ; One dreams , amid the lilies , Of a far-off snowy sail. Of all tint life can teach us There's naught BO true as this : The winds of fate blow ever , But ever blow amiss. NO FAITH IN BANES. So He Kept 8100,000 t-jlug Around 1.0080. ' New York Bap. Isaac Steele , an aged farmer living near Petrolia , Pa. , made § 100,000 from oil that was found on his farm a few years ago. Having no faith in banks it has been his persistent custom to keen from $80,000 to $100OQO ; in bank notes stowed away in different places about his house. Five or six years ago he had $100,000 locked up in a number of boxes. One day he was examining his treasure and found it damp and mil dewed and moldy. He took the notes from the boxes and spread them out in afield to dry in the "sun. This became noised about the neighborhood , and people flocked from all directions to see the novel spectacle of a fortune scat tered about. For two days the money was thus exposed , guarded by the old farmer , his wife , daughter and hired man. It was then returned to its hiding places in the house. Three nights afterward Steele woke up and found three men in his room. They were all masked. They seized the old man and his wife and bound and gagged them. While searching for money about the house they were frightened , by the appearance of Steele's hired man , who had been absent in Petrolia. The robbers fled , having se cured $1,000. This experience failed to induce Steele to trust his money out of his house. One night in April , 1881 , about midnight , three masked men broke into Steele's house again. Mrs. Steele was knocked uncon scious by a blow-from one of the rob bers , who drove the hired man into a bedroom at the point of a pistol. Both .Steele and his daughter were soon over come , but not before the masks had been torn from the faces of two of the men , who proved to be Jim James and William Macdonald , well-known resi dents of the neighborhood. The noise made at Steele's house during the struggle aroused a neighboring family , and tne robbers fled. The third was not recognized. James and Mcdonald were arrested next day , and were sen tenced to state prison for five years. Every one supposed that Steele would put his wealth in a place of safety after the second warning he had received , but he stubbornly refused to do so. Only a few days ago a neighbor who called at the house found Steele sitting in the kitchen , while the floor , table and. chairs were covered with bank notes , which the old farmer was once more drying. There were 815,000 in the lot. An oil operator from the lower country brought the news here on Saturday that Steele's house had been visited by masked burglars on Thursday night and they succeeded in getting away with $5,000 before they were forced to fly from the house by approaching neighbors. They bound the family as usual , and escaped de tection. It is said that Steele has at last decided to put his money where it will be safe. A Dying Boy's Story. Philadelphia Press. A youthful soldier had a presentiment that he should die on a certain day of the year , because it was the anniver sary of the drowning of his sister. He was taken sick , and as the day drew near he grew rapidly worse. The doc tor and nurse pooh-poohed his fears as absurd , but he said all the same he should die on a certain night. The day came and he was very low. About 8 o'clock hem called a comrade to bis m bedside and s'aid : "It is almost time , Billy. Good-bye. In an hour I shall be with my sister , and we will be looking at our mother. " "Nonsense , " said his comrade. "If you were with your dead sister how could you be looking at your mother who is"living and well ? " "It's a strange story , " he said feebly , "but if you don't mind it 1 will tell it to you ; it will make the time shorter. " "It was three years asjo my sister Jessie was drowned at 9 o'clock at night. She was engaged to be mar ried , and on her birthday , three months before her wedding , mother gave us all a party. On the evening of that party mother cried bitterly because it was the last birthday she would have sister with us. My sister ran to her , and , throw ing her arms about mother's neck , said : " 'Never mind , dear mother , I will be with you always on my birthday , whether dead or alive. ' It was a rash speech , and our good folks shook their heads gravely , for they did not like it. "We are Scotch people , you know , and very superstitious. People said Jessie had bound herself body and soul. " He paused , exhausted , and , having rested a little , preceded more slowly : "My sister was married and she and her husband went away to livo. In a few months we heard she had boon drowned while crossing a swollen stream in a nuggy with nor husband. It was a bitter bio w to all of us. Mother fretted a good deal , and father , al though he said nothing , looked old and haggard , and we * all knew ho was grieving his heart for sister. The an niversary of sUter's birthday drew near , and/mother fretted more than ever and father looked older and older. The night came , and we knew sister would keep her promise and be there. We sat in the room , waiting for the first sound of her footsteps. I heard her fust coming up the walk , and the water was running from her garments. She came to the open window and looked in. It was only for a moment , and then she was gone , and we knew we should see her no more for u year. Lost year she came again , and to-night she will come to our old homo and look in at the window , and mother will be watching for her. " He closed his eyes and lay still for so long his comrade thought ho was dead , but at last ho opened them again , and continued : "When I enlisted it almost broke poor mother's heart. On the day I left her I told her I would come back to her in the spirit. She said I never would return. I knew I should die somehow , and something told me I should perish on the same day of the year and at the same hour that sister had died. It's almost time , " he said , "and I soon must go. Don't you hear her coming and the water dripping from her dress ? See , she is putting roses in her hair. How cold and clammy her hand is , and it grows dark " With these words he raised up a little , hold out his hands and fell back dead. Poisonous Plants. There are many plants whose leaves , flowers and seeds contain virulent poi sons , which every one should know , seas as to avoid , them and keep children 'from them. Buttercups possess a pois onous property which disappears who'n the flowers are dried in hay , no cow will feed upon them while in blossom. So caustic are the petals , that they will sometimes inflame the , skin of tender fingers. Every child should be cau- .tioned against eating them ; indeed , it is desirable to caution children about tasting the petals of any flower , or put ting leaves into their mouths , except those know to be harmless. The oleander - . ander contains a deadly poison in its leaves and flowers , and is said to be a dangerous plant for the parlor or din ing room. The flower and berries of the wild briony possess a powerful pur gative , and the red berries , which at tract children , have proved fatal. The seed of the laburnum and catalpa trees should be kept from children ; and there is a poisonous property in their bark. The seeds of the yellow and of the rough podded vetches will produce nausea and severe headache. Fool's parsley has tuberous roots-which have been mistaken for turnips , and pro duced a fatal effect an hour after they were eaten. Meadow hemlock is said to be the hemlock which Socrates drank ; it kills by its intense action upon the nerves , producing complete insensibility and palsy of the arms and legs , and is a most dangerous drug except in skilful hands. In August it is found in every field , by seashore and near mountain tops , in full bloom , and ladies and chil dren gather its clusters of tiny white flowers in quantities , without the least idea of their poisonous qualities. The water hemlock , or cow-bane , re sembles parsnips , and has been eaten for them with deadly effects. The water-dropwort resembles celery when not in flower , and its roots are also similar to those of the parsnip , but they contain a virulent poison , pro ducing convulsions which end in death in a short time. The fino-'ieaved water- dropwort and the common dropwort are also dangerous weeds. The bulbs of the daffodil were once mistaken lor leeks and boiled in soup , with disastrous effects , making the whole household in tensely nauseated , and the children did not recover from their effects for sev eral days. Peculiarities of Hand-shaking. London World. The different modes of shaking hands will delineate human character better than any other single act can do , and many peculiarities of different per sons naj be noted in the performance of this social custom. Who would ex pect to get a handsome donation or any donation at all from a man who will ] give two fingers to be shaken , and keeps the others bent as upon an "itch ing palmb" The hand coldly held out to be shaken and drawn away again as soon as it decently may be , indicates a cold , selfish character , while the hand which seeks yours cordially , and un willingly relinquishes its warm clasp , gives token of a warm disposition , and of a heart full of sympathy for human ity. ity.How How much that is in the heart can be made to express itself through the agency of the fingers ! "Who , having once experienced it , has ever forgotten the feeling conveyed by the eloquent pressure of the hand from a dying friend when the tongue has ceased to speak ? A right hearty grasp of the hand indicates warmth and ardor , while a soft , lax touch , without a grasp , in dicates the opposite characteristics- the grasp of persons with large hearted generous minds , there is a "whole soul" expression most refreshing and acceptable to kindred spirits , but when a man presents you with a few cold , clammy lifeless fingers , feeling very much like a dead fish , and expects you to do all the shaking , it will naturally make you think of the hospital and other cheerful things. Contrary to this style , there is a habit among the rude class of giving your hand a crushing grasp , which is often most painful. In thes"e cases there may be great kindness and a "strong" at- fection , but itis as crude as it is hearty. If the grasp is warm , ardent and vig orous , so is the disposition. If it is cool , formal , and without emotion , so w the character. If it is magnetic and animating , the disposition is the same. As .we shake" hands so we feel , so we are. Mr. Bancroft , the historian , is a fre quent companion of the president in life leisure hours. ; Comraom Flesr th Beat. N. 7. Ban. Those intelligent persons who are now habitually rasping their digestive tracts by eating branny fooda on ac count of the gluten supposed" tx > be found only in the fourth layer of the of the grain , may bo interested to learn of the investigations of Dr. N. ' A. IJan- dolph , of Philadelphia , whjoh offer food for reflection , requiring no mental pepsin to aid digestion. The manufac- lures of specially prepared foods have always maintained , on good , scientific authority , that the gluten of wheat refa sided only in the cortical cells of the grain , the body of the grain-being com posed almost wholly of starch. Up to now , microscopical examination has upheld this dogma , although Prof. Richardson , of Philadelphia , and Prof. Leeds , of Hoboken , have pointed out / that such was not the case. Dr. Randolph now demonstrates that the wheat grain itself possesses a large amount of gluten , which forms a sort . of network around the starch. It ap pears that the gluten of this central portion was always masked by the large number of starch grains , and thus , Dr. Randolph declares , it escaped observation. By dissolving out the starch grains a network of gluten was found by Dr. Randolph , which may be demonstrated in more than one way. In fact , the starch grains mav be said to lie in a bed of gluten. It is , therefore , satisfactory to know that those who desire this highly important nitrogenous element of iood will find it in considerable quantities in the ordinary prepared flour. But this is not all. Dr. Randolph has made experiments to discover whether the gluten which undoubtedly exists in the external covering of the grain was capable of serving as food to man. The result showed that even af ter careful cooking , the hard , dense , ) \ cellulose walls which enclosed the /I gluten were unaffected by the digestive \ | juices , exhibiting no change after pro longed maceration at the temperature of tne human digestive tract. The cells were also found to be unaffected by maceration for thirty days in liquor pptassa. Even immersion in strong nitric acid for several days practically had no effect upon them. Such being the case , the use of branny , i foods for the purpose of obtaining glu- /g ten appears to be a fallacy and worse / I than a blunder ; for , in rejecting fine wheaten flour , which really contains gluten in a form easily digested , refuse product is accepted which yields up no part of its gluten , but rasps the diges tive tract , clogs the stomach with indi gestible trash , and lays a future of dys pepsia. Mrs. Turnout's Book. Washington , letter. . Alrs.'iJessie Benton-Fremont , wife of Gen. John C. Fremont , is one of the best known and moat popular women in this country. Nearly every winter she pays a visit to Washington , whera every one who is worth knowing pays her the most : > iarked attention. She is in Washington now , and will remain here for several weeks yet. I called upon Mrs. Fremont yesterday morning , and was received by her while she wus engaged in receiving a call from the favorite neice of her father , the great , Benton , with her vivacious daughter- ! in-l.-iw at her right. ' She is now engaged in writing a book , covering her reminiscences of the political periods of Benton and Fremont with notes up to the present day , for her past relations with promi nent political leaders gives her to-day a footing with the leaders of the pres ent , which her knowledge of politics and social powers enable her to easily maintain. "What will be the title of your book , Mrs. Fremont ? " I asked. "Oh , I can hardly say as yet. If I could borrow a French title I should prefer to call it 'My Memoirs. ' 1 in tend to give a fireside study of the po litical life of my time. I hope to make it something better than a mere record of personal gossip and reminiscence. You know I was with my father when he was writing his 'Thirty Years in the United States Senate , ' and was the con fidant of many of his private papers. He made his 'Thirty Years' book much more comprehensive than he would if he had been preparing it simply for public men. But he intended it should be a political bible ; it was especially prepared for the instruction of young men just entering politics. This book has certainly reached the place in pub lic consideration for which it was orig inally intended. " Mrs. Fremont then said : "I think there is one thing lacking in the his tory of our times that adds such full ness and completeness to French his torical literature , and that is the lack of recording the personal observation and gossip of a period which is so fully covered in French by the memoirs of noted people. " The Safe Part of a Car. Merchant Traveler. A party ol merchant travelers in a passenger coach were talking over their traveling experience and the danger of accidents , and finally the question arose as to the tafest part of the car. Failing to settle the question among themselves , they called up the conduc tor , and one of them asked him : "Con ductor , we have been discussing the matter of the safest part of the car , and want to know vour opinion. " "Want to know the safest part , eh ? " replied the conductor. "Yes , that's it. " "Well , " continued the conductor , borrowing a chew of tobacco and look ing disappointed because he did not set a cigar , "I've been on the road for "fif teen years , and I have been turned over embankments , busted up in tun nels , dumped off of bridge ? , telescoped in collisions , blown off the track by cyclones , run into open switches , and had other pleasant incidental diver- ttsements of kindred nature , and I should say , gentlemen ; the sifest part of the car was that part which hap pened , to be in the shop for repairs at the time of the accident. " Lately at a , dinner given by some ho- mcepathic doctors in Paris , after the memory of Hahnemann had been toasted and the health of various celeb rities drunk , Alphonse Karr was asked to propose a toast. "Your patients , gentlemen , " he said.