The McCook tribune. (McCook, Neb.) 1886-1936, May 20, 1886, Image 6

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Miss MAMIE DICKENS , tUe eldest
daughter of the novelist , has written ,
a brief biography of her father.
TCNKIB CLAFKIN'S husband , the
Visconde do Monsorrala , is a rich
dealer in India shawls in London.
Gov-Etucr FOUAKEII is reported as
sayin < r "that the American public
must have cither a hero or a victim. "
VOGIthe famous German tenor ,
hsis a farm in the Bavarian Alps on
which somo far-famed clioeso is made.
autograph seekers
are never disappointed. His pen is
alwaj's ready to satisfy the applicant.
ico , has hud articles of impeachment
presen'ted njraiust him in the Mexican
THE Countess de lloolifoucjiuld and
the Countess de Botluino appear on
tho real estate assesuieut rolls in New
Orleans for § 100,000.
Mil. BLAINE is reported to have once
said , in reply to a remark : "In poli
tics there is no gratitude. Politics
means ambition and success. "
Ex-Gov. CUKTIN , of Peiinsylvania ,
has as mementoes of his residence at
tho Ilussiau court line half-length , life-
size paintings of Alexander II. .and
GortsclmkoiT , presented to him by the
FKHDINAND WAHU , according to tho
Boston Transcript , received his finan
cial education at church fairs where
returns of two or three thousand per
cent on the original investments are
uot thought at all remarkable.
ELIZABETH , Empress of Austria-Hun
gary , is building a marvellous mansion
in the forest of Schoenbrunn. a mero
hunting ; lodge. 011 which millions of
money will bo lavished , but , then , it
will cose Elizabeth notbmga,3 the peo
ple will paj' for it.
IP a man wants a handle to his
name he should go ta Ge riuauv and
discover a iie-.v microbe. Before he
came across the cholera microbe Dr.
Koch was simply Dr : Koch ; and now
ho is Horr Gehcimer "Medicinal-ruth
Prof. Dr. Robert Kouh , with several
counties to hear from.
Sn : JAMES PA GET has traced the ca
reer of 1,000 English medical students
to discover that only twenty-three
achieve supreme success in their pro
fession , sixty-six considerable success ,
507 make a living , fifty-six fail utterly
and so ou. But isn't this about the
record in any pursuit or profession ?
MINISTER JAUVIS writes fromEio de
Janeiro that he and his wife composo
a class taking lessons in Portuguese ,
and that he is at Ihe foot of his class ,
as liis wife can talk better , faster and
more at a time lhau he can ; but this
is scarcely sufficiently unusual iu the
experience of most married men to
call for especial mention.
CAPT. Bunro.V. the great English
traveler , speaks all modern tpngues ,
is a superb and delicious conversa
tionalist , is cheery , frank and simple.
In personal appearance he is not unlike
John A. Logan , and his long residence
iu foreign climes , under hotter suns
than ours , has lined his face and
browned it to a very parchment-like
but agreeable color.
THE last thing at which Gea. Mc-
Clelliin worked on the day of his
deatli was an account of the battle of
Antietam. Ho was preparing a series
of articles for The Century Alagazine ,
and the first of them was to be one on
Antietam. It was not finished. From
between the leaves of a book lying on
the general's table when ho died pro-
. truded numerous pages of manuscript.
The book was Jiu authority the gener
al had been consulting , and the man
uscript was the half-written article on
lus most famous battle.
Philadelphia , was ouco negotiating a
treaty with the chiefs of a certain
tribe , and wished to impress on. them
tho fact of his confidential relations
with tho president : " 1 have , ' " said
he , as the interpreter rendered his re
marks , sentence by sentence , into the
Indian tongue , " 1 have the ear of the
Great Father. " "Stop ! " exclaimed
one of the chiefs , impressively ; "I do
not believe that" "Tell him" to
tho interpreter "if he 1ms the Great
Father's ear to produce it. Show it to.
us and we will believe him ! "
AN American lady in Paris , de
claring in company that she never
would return home , and finding her
self opposed , turned to the late Wil
liam Henry Huntingtou , who was
present , and asked him if he thought
ho would ever wish to come back to
" " heafter
this country , "Well , said ,
YOU have lived here three or fcur years
there will come to you a great rush oi
remembrance of old friendsand
places , ami a great desire to see them
once more. And then then you will
bo so glad to think that you are not
to sail next week ! " _ „
O'S citi-in > .
Trar > Iitfd ] iyKo\v in
.Iniinml. '
' My sou ! tlriiikN in il future life.
l.lko Mxiuo mroiHnri'ht tliticuotiLlo\vn
\YhiM > , Hhi > obj < ! " ? % the nMiiiufti strife ,
Ami fkyuurii tpreul ii
IM.s my ucrc-tl Sicii'l.
And biiitcouhru-lh'-i'.iii"siii.vroo0 | ! ,
Tho Iiinihs of Ci. ! l thiirsult lifihi h-hud.
Anrl distant void : ; : ui : iiifrstood.
Sny not my M U ! is but a clod.
liwttil.'int nl my burtyNiiowors :
She jilunios her wing. * lo ily to Goil ,
Ami iill iiutrcbtoursicli/liis boners.
Tho winter's snows arc on my
But sumniiTBUiis more brightly glow ,
And violots , lilacs , roses now
Seem bxvei'tcr titan longyears ago.
As'I approach my earthly end
Much plainer cun I hear afar
Immortal symphonies which hlcnd
To welcome me from star to star.
Though marvelous it still is'pla
A fairy tale , yet history ;
Losing earth a heaven wo gain ;
With death , win immortality ,
For fiity years my uillini ; pen ,
Jn history , dr.ima and romance ,
With satire , sonnets , or with men
JIas llow'ctl or danced its busy dance.
All themes I tried ; and yet I know
Ten thousand time * as much unsaid
llenmiiis in me ! It must be so ,
Though ages should not find me dead.
When unto dust we return once more ,
We cansay , "Oneday's work is done ; "
We may not bay , "Our work is o'er , "
For life will scarcely .have begun.
The tomb is no Win endless night ;
It is 11 thoroughfare a way
That closes in a soft twilight -
And opens in eternal day.
Moved by the love of God. I find
That I must work as did Voltaire ,
Who loved the world and all mankind ;
But God is love ! Letmono despair !
Our work rtn earth is just begun ;
Oiir monuments will' later rise
To bathetheirsunimits in the sun
And shine in bright eternal skies.
A Study Jn Psychology.
In society they used to speak of him
as ' 'that , handsome Signolles. " His
title was Viscount Gontran-Joseph de
Orphan and master of a large for
tune , he made a conspicuous figijre in
tli3 fashionable world. He had a fine
appearance , a good deportment , a fa
cility ot speech sufficient to gain him
the reputation of a wit , some natural
grace , an air of noble reserve , a brave
mustache , and soft eyes lust what
women admire.
lie was in demand at receptions , a
desirable partner in a waltz , and he
inspired men with that sort of confi
dence enjoyed by men who possess en
ergetic faces. lie lived happily , quiet
ly , in the most absolute good moral
standing. It was known that he was i
a good swordsman and a better shot.
"When we have to light , " he would
say , "I choose pistols. With that
weapon I am sure of killing my man. "
Now , one evening , after having ac
companied to the opera two young
married ladies of his acquaintance ,
with their husbands , he invited the
whole party after the performance to
take somesupper at Tortoni's. They
had been there only a few moments , j
when he observed that a gentleman
fceated at a neighboring table was
staring steadily at one of the ladies
in the party. She seemed to feel an- *
noyed. embarrassed , and kept her
head down. At last she said to her
husband :
"There is .a man over there who
keeps staring at me. I don't know
bim at all do yon ? "
"The husband , who had not noticed
anything , turned to look , and replied :
Idon't know him at all. " j
The young woman continued , half-
Bmiling , half-angry :
' It's very annoying. The man
spoils my supper. " s
Thchusband shrugged his shoulders : 1
"Nonsense ; pay no attention to him. t
If we had to worry ourselves about
all the insolent people we meet , there
would never be an end of it. "
But the viscount had suddenly ris
en , lie could not permit that individ
ual to destroy the enjoyment which
he had offered. The insult was to :
him inasmuch as it was through
his invitation the party had entered
the cafe : therefore the affair concerned
no one but him.
lie approached the man and said to
him : ,
"Sir , you are staring at those ladies
in a manner which I can not tolerate.
Will you be good enough to cease this
staring at once ? ' '
The other replied :
"You keep your mouth shut will
you ? "
The viscount setting his teeth , ex
claimed :
"Take care sirj You may compel
me to violate politeness. "
The stranger uttered only OUP word
one filthy word , that resounded
from one end of the cafe to the other ,
and made every one in the house
start as if they had been set in motion
by a spring. All who had their backs
turned looked around ; all the rest
raised their heads ; three waiters simul
taneously whirled upon their heels
like so many tops ; the two women be
hind the counter started and twisted
themselves completely about , as if
they were t\yo puppets pulled by one
There was a great silence. Then a [
sudden dry sound clacked in the air.
The viscount had slapped his adver
sary's face. Every body jumped up
to interfere. Cards were exchanged.
* * - * t
tnat er the viscount returned home
night he bezan to walk up and
down his room with sreat. cmick
strides. lie was too much excited to
th nk about anything. One solitary
idea kept hoveringin his mind a duel
although the idea itself had not
yet awakened any special emotion.
He had done just what he ou ht to
have done ; he had behaved as he ought
to have behaved. He would be
spoken of , would be approved , would
be congratulated. He repeated aloud :
"What a vulgar brute the fello'wis ! "
Then he sat" down and began to
think. He would have to procure
seconds in the morning. Whom would
he choose ? He thought of all themost
celebrated and most dignified men of
his acquaintance. Finally he selected
the Marquis dp la Tour Noire and
Colonel Bourdin ; a great nobleman
and a great soldier that would be
just the thing. Their names would
have weight in the newspapers. He
suddenly discovered that ho was
thirsty , and he drank three glasses of
water , one after another ; then he be
gan to walk up and down again. He
felt full of energy. Ey showinghimself
to be plucky , ready for anything and
everything , and by insisting upon
rigorous and dange'rous conditions
by demanding a serious , very serious ,
terrible duel his adversary would be
probably scared and make apologies.
He took up the man's card , Avhich
he had drawn out of his pocket as he
entered and had flung on the table ,
and he read it over again , as he had
already read it in the cafe with a
glance , and as he had also read it in
the carriage by every passing gaslight.
"GEORGU LAJIIL , 51 Hue "Moncey. "
Nothing more.
He examined the letters of this
name , which seemed to him myster
ious full of vague significance.
George Lamil. Who was the fellow ?
What did he do ? What did he stare at
the women in that way for ? Wasn't it
disgusting to think that a stranger , a
man nobody knew anything about ,
could worry a man's life in that way ,
just by taking a notion to fix his eyes
insolently upon a woman's face ? And
the viscount repeated again aloucl :
"What a vulgar brute thefellow is ! "
Then he remained standing motion
less , thinking , keeping his eyes fixed
upon the card. A rage arose within
him against that bit of paper a fury
of hate mingled with a strange sense
oi uneasiness. It was a stupid mess ,
all this affair ! lie seized an open pen
knife lying beside him and jabbed it
into the middle of the printed name ,
as if he were stabbing somebody.
So he would have to fight ! Should
he choose swords or pistols ? for he
considered himself to be the part } ' in
sulted. With swords ho might run less
risk ; but by choosing pistols , he miaht
be able to frighten his adversary into
withdrawing the challenge. It is very
seldom that a duel with swords is fatal ,
as a reciprocal prudence Generally pre
vents the combatants from fencing at
such dose quarters that the blades
can inflict a very deep thrust. With
pistols his life would be seriously en-
d.ingered ; but again , he might be able
to extricate himself from the difficulty
with honpr , and yet without an ac
tual meeting. He. exclaimed :
"I must be firm. He will show the
white feather. "
The sound of liis own voice made
him start , and he looked around him.
lie felt very nervous. He drank an
other glass of water , and began to un
dress in order to go to bed.
As soon .as he got into bed , he blew
out the light and closed his eyes.
He thought : "I have the whole day
to-morrow to arrange my affairs.
The best thing I can do is to take a
good sleep to "settle my nerves. "
He felt very warm between the
sheets ; and still he could not sleep ,
lie turned over and over remained ;
for five minutes on his back then for
five minutes on his right side then he
rolled over on his left side. He felt
thirsty a ain. He got Up for a drink.
Then a new anxiety came upon him.
"Is it possible that I could be ]
afraid ? " - :
Why did his heart start to beating
so wildly at the least little familiar
noise in his room ? When * tho clock
was about to strike , the click or the
little spring rising up caused him a
riolent start , and lie felt such a weight
it his heart for several moments that
IIP had to open his mouth in order to I
Ineathe. He begrfii to reason with
liimself on the possibility of the thing :
"Am I really afraid ? "
No. certainly ; how could he be afraid
since he was firmly resolved to carry
out the affair to tho very Cud since
lie was fully decided to fight and not
to tremble ? But he felt so profoundly
ilisturbed inwardly that he kept ask
ing himself :
"Can become afraid in
a man spite '
of himself ? "
And this doubt , this suspicion , this
terror grew upon him. Suppose that a
orce more powerful than his will , an
irresistable and mastering foroeshould
overpower him , what would happen ?
3f course he would appear on the
ground , as he had made up liis mind
to do so. Yes , but what would hap
pen ? What if he should be afraid ?
SVhat if he should faint ? And he be-
an to think of his position , his repu
tation , of his name.
And a strange desire suddenly seized
liim to get up and look at himself in
the glass. He relit his candle. When
lie saw his visage reflected in the mir
ror , he could hardly recognize himself ;
and it seemed as if he had never seen
liimself before. His eyes looked enor
mous , and he was pale certainly he
ivas pale , very pale indeed. He stood
there in front of the mirror. He put
out his tongue , as if to certify the state
of his health ; and all at once this
thought shot through him like a bul
let :
"The day after to-morrow , at this
very hour"perhaps I shall be dead ! "
And his heart began to thump again ,
'The day after to-morrow I shall ,
perhaps be dead , This person here
before me this T that I see in that
will he no more. What ! Here
am ; I look at myself ; I feel that I
liv.e ; and in twenty-four hours I will
be lying in that bed , dead ; with eyes
closed cold , inanimate , gone from the
world of the living. "
He turned to look at the bed ; and
distinctly saw himself lying there , un
der the very same covers he had just
left. His face had the hollowness of
dead face ; his hands had the limpness
of hands that will never move again.
Then he became hfraid of his bed , and'
in order to escape it , he went into his
smoking room. He took a cigar , me
chanically lighted it , and began to
walk up ami down again. He felt
cold. He started to ring the bell , in
order to wake up the valet-de-chambre ;
but stopped suddenly , even while his
hand was raised to grasp the bell-
"The servant swould see that I am
afraid. " And he did not ring. He
made the fire himself. His hands
shook a little , with nervous tremblings
whenever they touched a 113thing. His
mind wandered ; his thoughts began to
lly in confusion , brusque , painful. A
sort of drunkenness came over him ,
as if ho had been swallowing liquor.
And over and over again he kept ask
ing himself :
"What will become of me ? "
His whole body shuddered with
spasmodic quiverings , lie rose , and ,
going to the window drew aside the cur
The dawn was breaking a summer
diwn. The rosy sky made rosy the
city , the roofs and the walls. A great
glow of soft light enveloped the awak
ening city , like the caress of the sun-
vise ; and with its coming there passed
into the viscount's .heart a ray of hope
merry , quick , brutal ! What a fool
he was to allow himself to be worried
by fear , before anything at ail had
been decided ; before his .seconds had
seen those of George Lamil ; before he
so much as knew whether he would
have to fight at all. He made his toi
let , dressed , and walked out with a
firm step.
* # * * # *
As he went along , lie kept repeating
to himself :
"I must be energetic very energetic.
I must prove that I am not a bit
afraid. "
His witnesses , the marquis and the
colonel , put themselves iit his dis
posal ; and , after a 'hearty shake-
hands , they began to discuss Ihe con
ditions. , .
The colonel asked :
"Do you insist upon a serious duel ? '
The viscountreplied :
"Very serious. ' '
Tho marquis asked :
"You wish pistols ? "
"Yes. "
"Well , we leave von fres to regulate
the rest. "
The viscount articulated in a dry ,
] erky voice :
"Twenty paces to fire at the word
t o fire on the rise , instead of on tlu.
fall ; balls to be exchangad until one
or the other be seriously wounded. "
The colonel exclaimed , in a tone oi
satisfaction :
"These are excellent conditions.
You shoot well , and all the chances
are in your favor. "
And they departed on their errand.
The viscount returned home to wait
for their return. His excitementtem-
porarily appealed , now began to in
crease every minute. He felt all along
his legs and arms , in his chest , a sort
of sinking a continual quivering ; he
found himself utterly unable ro remain
quiet in one place , whether sitting or
.standing. His mouth felt dry , as if
wholly devoid of saliva.and he clacked
his tongue loudly every once in a while
as if trying to unfasten it from his
He wished to breakfast , but could
not eat. Then the idea came to him
to take a drink , in order to give him
self courage : and he ordered a decanter
of brand } ' brought in. from which he
helped himself to six small glasses.pne
after another.
A heat , as of a burn , passed through
him followed almost immediately by
a sort of mental numbness. lie
thought : "Here's the remedy. Now
1 am all right. "
But at the end of an hour he had
emptied the decanter , and his excite
ment became intolerable. He felt a
mad wish to roll upon the iloor , to
scream , to bite , livening came. A
sudden pull at the door-bell gave him
such a sense of suffocation that he
could not find strength to rise to re
ceive his seconds. "He did not even
dare speak to them not even to say
"Good evening , " or anything else
through fear tliat they might discover
everything from the alteration of his
The colonel-said :
"Everything has been arranged ac
cording to the conditions you stipu
lated. Your adversary at fiist claim
ed , as the insulted party , his right to
the choice of weapons ; but he almost
immediately after waived his claim ,
and accepted everythingas 3-011 wished
't. His seconds are twomilitary
men. "
The viscount said :
"Thanks. "
The marquis exclaimed :
"You must excuse us for 01113 * com-
ingand going out againi but we have
still a thousand things to do. We
must secure a good surgeon , since tho
duel is to end only on tho serious
wounding of one of the principals and
you know bullets are not things to
joke about. Then we must settle up
on a good place near some house or
other , to wlnVh we can carry the
wounded party if necessary and all
that sort of thing. In short , we've
got two or three hours' work before
us. "
The viscount * the second time artic
ulated :
"Thanks. "
The colonel asked :
"Well , you feel all right ? you are
cool ? "
"Yes ; very cool , thank 3-011. "
The two men retired.
* * - , * *
When he found himself all alone
again he felt as if ho were going mad.
When his servant had lighted tho
lamps he sat down , at the table to
write some let tors. After haing trac
ed , at the head of a blank sheet of
note-paper , the words : "This is my
last will and testament"he rose to his
feetavith a sudden start and walked
away , feeling incapable of putting two
ideas together , of making any resolu
tion , or decidingabout anything what
So , he was going to fight. There was
no getting out of it. now. what was
the matter with him ? He wished to
fight ; ho had the firm intention o
fightint ; ; he had resolved upon it ; ant
' nevertheless he clearly felt , in spite o
his utmost determination , in spite o
the utmost tension of his will , that ho
could not possibly find the force neces
sary to enable him to go as far as the
place of meeting. lie tried to picture
the scene in his mind his own atti
tude and the deportment oi his ad
From time to time his teeth chatter
ed with a little dry noise. He wmited
to read , and took upChateauvillard's
"Code du Duel. " Then he asked him
self :
"Does my adversary frequent the
shooting-galleries ? Is he known ? Is
his name published anywhere ? LIow
can I found out ? "
Ho remembered Baron de Yaux's
book on the expert pistol shots ; and
he went through it , from one end to
the other. George Lamil's name was
not mentioned in it. But still , if that
man was not agood shot , he would
never have been so prompt to accept
a duel under such fatal conditions , with
so dangerous aweapon. .
As he walked up and down , he stop-
lied before a little round table , on
which lay one of Gastmne Kenette's
well-known . lie took
- pistol-cases. out
one of the pistols , placed himself in the
position of a man about to lire , and
raised his arm. But he trembled from foot , so that the barrel of the
pistol quivered and pointed in all di
Then he said t o himself :
"It is simply impossible. I shall
novelbe able to light as I am now. "
He looked down the muzzle of the
barrel , into the little , deep , black hole
which spits out death. He thought
of dishonor , of whisperings in the sa
lons , of laughter at the clubs , of the
contempt that women can show , of
allusions in the newspapers , of the
open insults he would receive.
Still he stared at the weapon , and ,
pulling back the hammer , he suddenly
observed a cap shining under it ; like a
tiny red llame. The pistol had re
mained loaded by some chance , some
forgetfulness. And the disco very filled
him with a confused and inexplicable
If he could not maintain before the
other man the cool and dignified de
portment which behooved him , then
he would be ruined forever. He
would be stained , branded with
the stamp of infamy driven out
of society ! And that calm , fearless
attitude ne uonld not be able to
have ; he knew it ; he felt certain of it.
Yet he was brave enough , since he
wanted to light ! He was bravo , since
But the half-shaped thought
never completed itself in his mind ; for
suddenly openinc his mouth asvidi ;
as he could , he tin list the muzzle of
the pistol in. back to his very throat ,
and pulled the trigger.
When the valet dechambre startled
by the report of the pistol ran in ,
he found his master lying on his back
dead. A gush of blood had spattered
over thevhitu paper on the table ami
formed a great red blot immediately
undeineath the words :
"This is my last will and testa
ment. ' ' Times-Democratic transla
tion from the Fiench of Guy de iJau-
An Afterpiece in a Circus.
A New York special to the Philadel
phia Press , says : Amon-r the animals
on exhibition at the new Grand street
museum in Brooklyn are a large ele
phant , which formerly belonged to
Coup's circus , and a magnificent lion ,
which , for some time , has occupied a
cusp adjoining that of the elephant.
The fact that the lion had already
killed two keepers within as many
years had caused the proprietors to
construct a cage which they consider
ed much stronger than any of theoth-
ers. The elephant never seemed to
like his black-maned companion and
often evinced his dislike byputting his
trunk through the iron bars of the
cage in which the lion was routined
anfl literally fulfilling Representative
Itichclicu Jiobinson's advice by twist
ing the hitter's tail.
The elephant repeated this perform
ance several times , and the man
agers feared that he meant mi chief.
When the exhibition was closed the
elephant was removed to another part
of the building , where the lion could
not be scon. Keeper Goons * Goodwin
remained in the building after the gas
had been t-hut off , quietly smoking a
ciiiar. Suddenly hiwas startled by ;
the clanking of chains on the lower
iloor , and. hurrying d-own stairs and '
glancing in the direction of the ele
phant , he found that he had snapped
the chain A\hich held him , and was
carrying on just as he pleased.
He was trying to batter down the
bars of the lion's cage. In the dim
light Keeper Goodwin could see the
crouching foini and glaring eyes of tho
lion no he sprang forward against the
bars. Jlehnd sei/od the elephant's
trunk and a fierce lijih1ensued. The li
on suddenly released his hold and theel-
ephant quickly grasped his opponent's :
leg with his trunk in a vain attempt
to pull him out of the cane. In the ;
meantime all the animals were aroused
by the iU'ht and their roars wereplain- ,
ly heard a block away.
Seizing his sharp steel hook , Good
win sprang at the elephant and , strik ;
ing him again and again , succeeded in )
forcing him back from the cage ; Anj j
other keeper rus-hod at the case to j
beat back the lion. The great beast (1
ou.the outside was not. however , to
be quickly subdued. \ \ ith a power
ful lunge he again dashed his massive j -l
weight against the bars. Keeper Good
win was thro'.Mi down and badly )
but. se/ing : his prong again .
10 forced the hook into the elephant's i
'aw. which bO enraged the animal that
t at once t rrued upon the keeper , >
who with difficulty escaped beyond )
; he reach of the huge tu ks.hich :
were forced into tho wall behind him.
The elephant was finally secured by
rope > and chains , but notbefoie both
hi tusks had been broken and his
trunk and head severely lacerated.
The li'n's leg is thought to be broken ,
and he lay bleeding and unablo
to stir. Goodwin is confined at home
from the bruises which cover every
part af his body
A wall-to-do
. - -
> rf-
best counties of Middle Teuulssee | , , ,
owned ? a large number o ? slaveandjg. .
among them a negro about his \\TBi ;
age. 'The latter was ono of the "olW
familynegroes" brought from Vh iniav
His name was Sam.audhcwasafaith- * *
ful , docile creature , a great favorite of. '
his faster , and rather a privileged- ;
diameter on the plantation. *
ir - Avas very industrious , and 'ex- -
emplary in his behavior exeeptingdur.f
ing that period dating from the time
Avlieii roastingears began to ripen , and
the first appearance of frost. At this
peripd Sam was always seized with an
uncontrollable desire to "run away. "
It recurred as regularly asatir of "hay
fever , " was as incurable , and , like that
disorder , could only be treated by
change of air and locality. Sam de
clared that he "jess couldn't help .his-
sef , " and it became a settied and un
derstood arrangement that he should
go , and that the neighborhood should
condone his raids on corn-fields and
potato-patches. After many such es- "
capades , his old master asked him on
cue occasion , when the matter was
in id or discussion :
"Sam , do you really enjoy running
aAvay ? "
"Deed , Marse John. " said Sam , "I
does. Hit's de moas' fun in de Avurl' .
Coon-huntin' aint nowharstohit. " -
"Well , then , " said Marse John , "just
let me know the next time you take a
notion to start , and I'll go Avith you ,
and try it awhile myself. "
Sure enoughin dueseasonSam came .
up , saying , "Old Marse , de time's
mighty nigh when I'bleegedto lite out.
Ef you gwine Avid me. you better begit-
tin' reddy , for when de times 'cornea I
got to go quick. "
Old Marse kept a bright lookout , and
when Sam started he Avas on hand.
They had a delightful time. They
fished occasionally caught possums1 ,
picked blackberries for recreationand
haunted the greenest and shadiest
nooks of the forest , all of which Sam
knew well. "Old Marse" had never en
joyed a summer so much. In fact he
was so much pleased that regularly
afterward he accompanied Sam Avhen
he Avcnt into annual retreat. At length
Sam died. The old Master griovedfor
him sincerely , lie Avas sad also over
the reflection that his summer pas
time would in future be denied him.
But. to the amazement of all his
friends , and not less his own , . AA'hen
roasting-ear time cameagain.the fitoE
rest Ie.-Mie.-s seized him as strong as
ever , and he ran away by himself.
Southern Bivouac.
An lutcrstiii ? Point in Timber
Mr. W. W. Gellett , a Connecticut
namractnrer who uses largo quanti
ties of oak and hickory annually in
his business , has contributed to the
October Outing some very interesting
statements regarding the cultivation
of timber. With regard to the amount
of growth to allow before cutting
timber , he says :
There is a proper time to cut a tree
as there is a proper time to harvest a
crop of corn or grass. If any one , in
cutting an aged tree , will obst-rvc the
concentric rings or grains , ho will usu
ally notice that there has been a peri
od of rapid growth succeeded by a pe
riod ofery slow growth ; and , "in the
case of a very aged tree , it often hap
pens that , for the last score or more
of years , growth has come almost to
a standstill , the grains being so fine as-
to sliow that the tree had but little
more than held its own for a long
time. Xow , for all purposes requiring
strength , this fine-grained timber on
the exterior of the tree the growth of
twenty or thirty years , perhaps is
about as nearly worthless as anything
could well be. And when wo consider
that the interior of the tree , which
twenty or thirty years ago was vigor .
ous and strong , has been waiting all
this time to be put to use , until its vigor-
is exhausted and its strength decayed ,
ir will be seen that it would have been
better to cut the tree and obtained
Ihe benefit of its good qualities years
igo. Much good ink has been wasted
in deploring the destruction of our
-primeval forests ; " but there are acres
upon acres of trees in Conneticut that
iiavebcen allowed to stand until their
usefulness , has been greatly impaired ,
sometimes destroyed , because we have
iot given sufficient attention to the
proper time to harvest the crop after .
iu have got it raised. Our hope of a T
'nture timber supply does not lie in
rho direction of preserving the old ,
ivhich cannot be preserved beyond
certain limits , but in producing the
ami Ills Soldiers.
IVoi center ( Mass * . ) Spy.
That he was'a gallant , high-minded ,
ourteous gentleman all who knew
lim personally Avill testify. He had
he afl'tction of his soldiers , and
irouscd their enthusiasm as no other
ommander of the army of the Poto-
nacever did. One reason for this
vas his uniform courtesy and the ll
jracious manner of its manifestation.
\n example of this is related by an
ye witness. Takinglcave of thearmy
f the Potomac in November , 1SG2 ,
General McClellan with his staff rode
apidly along the front of the armv If
Irawn up in line to greet their com-
nander for the last time. As the
Brilliant group swept bytheregiment-
il colors of the 15th Massachusetts
anght his attention. They had been
ut in many a shower of lead and had
.uffered especially at Antietam. Oi-Iv
few rags iluttered from the shattered
tail , which was patched with a band
f tin rudely nailed on where it had
een broken by a shot. No other
olor. in that part of the line at least
vaaso badly torn. Hiding rapidlv'
kfcClellan had passed the regiment be-
tfre he could check his horse , but then
le wheeled , returned , and halting
Diluted the color , pathetic symbol of
alor and sacrifice , by slowly raisin"
us cap. The thunder of cheers that
icknowledged this act of gracious
ourtcsy revealed one of the secrets of
ilcClellan's popularity with his army