anaheim-gazette 1880-03-13

ANAHEIM GAZETTE. RICHARD MELROSE. Editor and Proprietor PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY. The Tangled Skein. BY RICHARD R. ARKFORE. Two men were talking by the sun. Of what had been and what might be, And as the first his hopes made known The tide upon the bar made moan. "The boon I ask of fate, is fame— A world-known and an honored name. I ask not love. Let that pass by, If fame be mine that cannot die. Those in the valley seek for love; My feet must climb the heights above." "I ask not fame," the other said. "What matters praise when I am dead? He mime the boon of love and home, From which my feet may never roam. The lowliest path will pleasant be If love is there to walk with me." Ah, strange indeed the ways of fate, The tangled threads will not come a straight! Love came to him who asked for fame, The world has never heard his name. With wife and children by his side, His neighbors think him satisfied. But by his hearth he often hears The great world's praises in his ears, And wonders vaguely which were best, The hill's wideview, or valley's rest? To him who asked for love and home, Came fame, and ever he must roam. Through all the world his name is known, But he goes on unloved, alone. Men envy him. They cannot know The human heart that hungers so For love and home. Below he sees, With longing eyes, the valley's peace. But up the hill he climbs alone; He asked for bread and found a stone. Oh, sorely-tangled skein of fate! Some time, God grant, the threads some straight. Hearts or Diamonds. "If we were only rich," Sarah sighed, "I need not do such work as this! I am tired of it! it is so disagreeable!" Lola, Sarah's widowed sister, twelve years older than the seventeen-year-old "You mean to accept it then? You know what that will imply, Sarah—such a costly gift as that?" "That I must say 'Yes' when Gilbert Lee comes this afternoon. I know! I will say 'Yes,' I am tired of poverty, and I mean to have some of the delights wealth will bring." Lola said no more. She was a woman of loving, tender disposition, full of gentle grace, and had filled a mother's place to Sarah since her sister was left orphaned. But she lacked energy and resolution, and long before had yielded the first place to her impulsive, active little sister. In her heart she feared solely for Sarah's happiness, but she had no arguments ready, no words to combat the young girl's decision. She left Sarah to finish trimming her white muslin, and admire her gift, and busied herself about the house until she saw Gilbert Lee coming up the garden walk. Then she went into the sitting room, where Sarah was folding her dress, and drawing her little sister into a close embrace, she whispered, "Be sure of your own heart, Sarah." Sure of her own heart! Sarah ran lightly to her own room to smooth her hair and slip on another dress. In her hand was the velvet-lined casket, containing the diamond bracelet. She put it upon her table, and from the vase near them rose the perfume of the bouquet of flowers. It filled the room with delicious fragrance, and Sarah bent over the vase and nestled her cheek against the tender, beautiful blossoms. "Dear Charley!" she whispered. "He knows I love flowers. How thoughtful he is, and how he loves me!" She drew herself erect with a deep, gasping sigh. It flashed over her like the play of lightning, that Charley must become nothing to her when she wore Gilbert Lee's diamonds. Life without Charley! How odd it seemed. For three years Charley had been to her like a big brother, always kind, always loving, until within a few months she realized that Charley was not her brother, after all, but aspired to a closer place in her heart. And when this truth broke upon her another followed closely—that Gilbert Lee, who had made a fortune in railway speculations, was also wooing her. They were suitors of whose attentions any girl might be proud; young, handsome, full of nature's best gifts of heart and intellect. The young three years old of my uncle, bank of this Sarah, little most winsome Your sister's stranger, they see you often allowed very easily you had offered galling power wealth to lay but a mere cage of love, bounding to win grapes were much owed. "What a life have thought ing." "Then," O'came. He grandest house and added to its outlay oft too, and hard tongue, and He saw you. I did not did not day with poverty waiting for me and to-day my private interest night, nerves find you love my wife, thus his superb bishop yet. Uncle of my cisco. The against home dollar upon he changed his own family till death of treasures diary and make a don't scream son, heir pounds!" The author despised love prise, which later on. Sarah did lips grew puff. "It is as and Lola's Lola, you have increased you a wedding sible, and keep her so But Sarah," the flowers... Hearts or Diamonds. "If we were only rich," Sarah sighed, "I need not do such work as this! I am tired of it! It is so disagreeable!" Lola, Sarah's widowed sister, twelve years older than the seventeen-year-old beauty, who was sewing and sighing, only said, gently, "We are no poorer to-day than we have been for many years, Sarah." "No, but," faltered Sarah, drooping her blue eyes, "it is my birthday, and I would like to have something pretty to wear to Aunt Kate's this evening. No matter how much I trouble myself over this dress, it is an old muslin, after all." "But it will look very nice." "Nice!" said the girl, impatiently; "I want something more than nice! I am tired of turning old dresses, dyeing bonnet ribbons, patching, darning and contriving." "We should be thankful we are not obliged to work for a living, Sarah. I know it requires close economy to make our income meet our expenses, but we have the cottage and plenty to eat and drink, with a margin for neat clothing." "But I want dresses, jewelry, a carriage! I want to try what it is being rich." "Sarah!" Lola said, looking at her sister. "What has Mr. Gilbert Lee been saying to you?" The crimson blood tinged Sarah's face and throat, and her fingers trembled over her work. "Tell me!" urged Lola. "Nothing! At least nothing more than he has said a hundred times before. But he wants to see me this afternoon, and—and—" Sarah paused again, and then said, speaking very rapidly, "I promised Charley he should go with us to Aunt Kate's this evening." "And you think this afternoon's interview will make you regret your promise?" Lola said, sadly. "I don't know." Sarah put her work aside abruptly, and took a seat at her sister's feet. "I don't know. Lola did you love Frank very, very much?" "Yes, dear." And yet he was poor. He only left you the cottage and garden when he died. Were you ever sorry that you married a poor man, Lola? Never, Sarah," was the firm answer. "No wealth could have made me as happy as Frank's love. We were poor, worked hard, and had heavy sorrow when our babies died of scarlet fever, both on the same day, when Frank broke his arm and lost his situation—bitterest of all sorrow, when Frank, too, died; but I never regretted my marriage for one moment, Sarah. If it were all to live over, I would marry Frank." There was a long silence, then Sarah said in a long silence, then Sarah sighed, "I need not do such work as this! I am tired of it! It is so disagreeable!" Lola, Sarah's widowed sister, twelve years older than the seventeen-year-old beauty, who was sewing and sighing, only said, gently. "We are no poorer to-day than we have been for many years, Sarah." "No, but," faltered Sarah, drooping her blue eyes, "it is my birthday, and I would like to have something pretty to wear to Aunt Kate's this evening. No matter how much I trouble myself over this dress, it is an old muslin, after all." "But it will look very nice." "Nice!" said the girl, impatiently; "I want something more than nice! I am tired of turning old dresses, dyeing bonnet ribbons, patching, darning and contriving." "We should be thankful we are not obliged to work for a living, Sarah. I know it requires close economy to make our income meet our expenses, but we have the cottage and plenty to eat and drink, with a margin for neat clothing." "But I want dresses, jewelry, a carriage! I want to try what it is being rich." "Sarah!" Lola said, looking at her sister. "What has Mr. Gilbert Lee been saying to you?" The crimson blood tinged Sarah's face and throat, and her fingers trembled over her work. "Tell me!" urged Lola. "Nothing! At least nothing more than he has said a hundred times before. But he wants to see me this afternoon, and—and—" Sarah paused again, and then said, speaking very rapidly, "I promised Charley he should go with us to Aunt Kate's this evening." "And you think this afternoon's interview will make you regret your promise?" Lola said, sadly. "I don't know." Sarah put her work aside abruptly, and took a seat at her sister's feet. "I don't know. Lola did you love Frank very, very much?" "Yes, dear." And yet he was poor. He only left you the cottage and garden when he died. Were you ever sorry that you married a poor man, Lola? Never, Sarah," was the firm answer. "No wealth could have made me as happy as Frank's love. We were poor, worked hard, and had heavy sorrow when our babies died of scarlet fever, both on the same day, when Frank broke his arm and lost his situation—bitterest of all sorrow, when Frank, too, died; but I never regretted my marriage for one moment, Sarah. If it were all to live over, I would marry Frank." There was a long silence, then Sarah sighed, "I need not do such work as this! I am tired of it! It is so disagreeable!" Lola, Sarah's widowed sister, twelve years older than the seventeen-year-old beauty, who was sewing and sighing, only said, gently. "We are no poorer to-day than we have been for many years, Sarah." "No but," faltered Sarah, drooping her blue eyes, "it is my birthday, and I would like to have something pretty to wear to Aunt Kate's this evening. No matter how much I trouble myself over this dress, it is an old muslin, after all." "But it will look very nice." "Nice!" said the girl, impatiently; "I want something more than nice! I am tired of turning old dresses, dyeing bonnet ribbons, patching, darning and contriving." "We should be thankful we are not obliged to work for a living, Sarah. I know it requires close economy to make our income meet our expenses, but we have the cottage and plenty to eat and drink, with a margin for neat clothing." "But I want dresses, jewelry, a carriage! I want to try what it is being rich." "Sarah!" Lola said looking at her sister. "What has Mr. Gilbert Lee been saying to you?" The crimson blood tinged Sarah's face and throat, and her fingers trembled over her work. "Tell me!" urged Lola. "Nothing! At least nothing more than he has said a hundred times before. But he wants to see me this afternoon, and—and—" Sarah paused again, and then said，speaking very rapidly，"I promised Charley he should go with us to Aunt Kate's this evening." "And you think this afternoon's interview will make you regret your promise?" Lola said，sadly。 "I don't know.". Sarah put her work aside abruptly，and took a seat at her sister's feet。 "I don't know. Lola did you love Frank very，very much?" "Yes，dear." And yet he was poor. He only left you the cottage and garden when he died. Were you ever sorry that you married a poor man，Lola? Never，Sarah," was the firm answer. "No wealth could have made me as happy as Frank's love. We were poor，worked hard，and had heavy sorrow when our babies died of scarlet fever，both on the same day，when Frank broke his arm和 lost his situation—bitterest of all sorrow，when Frank，too，died；but I never regretted my marriage for one moment，Sarah. If it were all to live over，I would marry Frank." There was a long silence，then Sarah sighed，"I need not do such work as this！I am tired of it！It is so disagreeable!" Lola，Sarah's widowed sister，twelve years older than the seventeen-year-old beauty，who was sewing and sighing，only said，gently。 "We are no poorer to-day than we have been for many years，Sarah." "No but," faltered Sarah，drooping her blue eyes，"it is my birthday，and I would like to have something pretty to wear to Aunt Kate's this evening.No matter how much I trouble myself over this dress，它 is an old muslin，after all." "But it will look very nice." "Nice！" said the girl，impatiently； "I want something more than nice！I am tired of turning old dresses，dyeing bonnet ribbons，patching，darning and contriving." "We should be thankful we are not obliged to work for a living，Sarah.I knew it requires close economy to make our income meet our expenses，但we have the cottage and plenty to eat and drink，以a margin for neat clothing." Throwing aside all coquetry，她 gave him his refusal with a truthful expression in her blue eyes，作为她 low voice said，“I should wrong you，Gilbert，和be false to my own heart if I married you.” “You do not love me?” “Not as your wife should love you.” Then，seeing his look of pain and mortification，她 added，bravely，“Had I known you sooner，我 answer might have been different；但before we met，我 had given away all my love.” “Thank you for telling me that，”他 answered，carnelily。“I shall respect your confidence.” He had gone before Sarah remembered the bracelet. “I must send it，” she told Lola，当她 sister came to her again. Then looking into the gentle，sweet face，她 whispered，“I think I was true to my own heart，Lola.” Not long after，一白水-robed little figure，在the old muslin，frilled and fluted until it was a marvel of snowy prettiness，来fluttering into the parlor for the finishing touches of Lola’s deft fingers.Upon the bosom of the white dress was a cluster of Charley’s flowers，和there were more twisted in the nut-brown curls. Charley glanced at them as he came in；但he looked grave和preoccupied.Never in three years of courting had he approached Sarah with such a solemn air.Lola，guessing what was coming，是stealing away，但Charley put his hand on her arm. “Stay！” he said in a grave voice；“I have no secret from you。你 knew long ago what I meant to ask Sarah，对于你 begged me to wait till she was older。她是 seventeen to night，和she must know her own heart.Sarah”—his voice thrilled with infinite tenderness as he spoke the name—“I love you。Will you be my wife?” you the cottage and garden when he died. Were you ever sorry that you married a poor man, Lola? "Never, Sarah," was the firm answer. "No wealth could have made me as happy as Frank's love. We were poor, worked hard, and had heavy sorrow when our babies died of scarlet fever, both on the same day, when Frank broke his arm and lost his situation—bitterest of all sorrow, when Frank, too, died; but I never regretted my marriage for one moment, Sarah. If it were all to live over, I would marry Frank." There was a long silence, then Sarah said in a low tone, "Gilbert Lee is very rich, Lola. His wife need not turn old dresses nor cook dinners." "Gilbert Lee's wife may be very happy, Sarah. He is a man for whom I have great respect—an honorable man, generous and tender; but, Sarah, his wife will not be happy if she does not love him." The door bell rang at this moment, and Sarah went out, returning with a small package and a bouquet of choice flowers. "Two presents, Lola!" she said, a flush of pleasure on her round cheek. "No name with either, only a card of birthday congratulations. The flowers are from Charley, I am sure. He always sends me a bouquet for a party. But this—O Lola! did you ever see anything so superb?" For the little package, upon being opened, was found to contain a jewel easket, upon whose cushion of deep purple velvet rested a diamond bracelet throwing forth brilliant rays of light from its cleav of pure gems. Even Lola gave a rory of admiration as Sarah lifted the splendid present and clasped it upon her round, white arm. "Gilbert Lee!" Sarah said, "and his wife may wear such bracelets with satin and velvet robes. See how it sparkles, Lola! Oh, I never saw anything half so beautiful in my life!" "It is beautiful," Lola answered, with painful contraction at her heart, as she watched her young sister's beautiful countenance, radiant with pleasure at her gift. "But are you forgetting your flowers, Sarah? Shall I put them into water for you?" "Yes," said Sarah, still turning the bracelet on her arm, "if you will, Lola. Oh, if I only had one silk dress to wear with this to night!" Charley glanced at them as he came in; but he looked grave and preoccupied. Never in three years of courting had he approached Sarah with such a solemn air. Lola, guessing what was coming, was stealing away, but Charley put his hand on her arm. "Stay!" he said in a grave voice; "I have no secret from you. You knew long ago what I meant to ask Sarah, for you begged me to wait till she was older. She is seventeen to night, and she must know her own heart. Sarah"—his voice thrilled with infinite tenderness as he spoke the name—"I love you. Will you be my wife?" Sarah, somewhat awed by his grave manner, put her hand in his, without any answer than a vivid blush and downcast eyes. In a moment the old Charley, radiant, sunny Charley—was there again. "You do love me? Oh, Sarah, I have been so wretched! Gilbert Lee was here to-day, and you are wearing his flowers. I saw him sending them to you." "His flowers? I thought they were yours." "No. I—I didn't send flowers. I have a confession to make, Sarah, if you will hear it." The three sat down cosily, as if there were no parties in prospect, and Charley holding Sarah's hand fast in his own, said: "You never heard me speak about my father, but to-night I must tell you something of him. When I was a mere boy, not more than five years old, the gold fever in California took fast hold on his imagination, and he was one of the first gold-seekers who sailed from Liverpool to dig wealth from the ground and wash it from the waters of California. For a little time my mother heard from him, but the intervals between the letters grew longer and longer, till after five years of watching and waiting, she ceased to hear at all. I was but twelve years old when my mother died. My uncle, Harold Green, took me into his own family, and educated me with his boys. He was not a rich man, and I knew I must depend upon my own exertions for support, as soon as I was old enough to work. Still he insisted on my attending school until I was eighteen, and then gave me a year's tuition at University College in London, before I started out for myself. I was clark in an office near my home until when Gilton I know! of poverty, the delights was a womotion, full of a mother's later was left energy and yielded active it she feared less, but she no words to excise. She beg her white till she saw the garden sitting room, her dress, and to a close embeated room to up on another the velvet diamond on her table, them rose the flowers. It thus fragrance, the vase and the tender whispered flowers. How now he loves with a deep, over her like that Charley when she mounds. Life did it seemed, had been to always kind, al- few months was not her aspired to a And when another foll- ard Lee, who way specula- whose atten- rroud; young, it's best gifts three years ago when through a friend of my niece, I took a position in the bank of this town. Then I met you, Sarah, little girl, but the sweetest and most winsome little girl in the world. Your sister's kind hospitality to the stranger, the poor clerk, enabled me to see you often; to love you fondly followed very soon. But I was poor and you had often told me how bitter and galling poverty was to you. I had no wealth to lay at your feet, and you were but a mere child; so I spoke no words of love, bound you by no promise, hoping to win gold to offer you before you were much older." What a fearful mercenary you must have thought me!" said Sarah, laughing. Then," Charley said," Gilbert Lee came. He was very rich, bought the grandest house in the neighborhood, and added to its attractiveness by a lavish outlay of money. He was young, too, and handsome, with a winning tongue, and gentle courtesy of manners. He saw you, Sarah, and he loved you. I did not dare urge my suit then. I did not dare ask you to clasp hands with poverty, when there was wealth waiting for your acceptance. I waited, and to-day I knew Gilbert Lee had a private interview with you. I came tonight, nerved to hear the worst, and find you love me, Sarah! You will be my wife, though Gilbert Lee offers you his superb home! My story is not finished yet. Yesterday I heard from my uncle of my father's death in San Francisco. The money hardened him against home, wife and child. To pile dollar upon dollar, to add to his hoard, he changed his name and allowed his own family to mourn him as dead. Not till death came to tear him from his treasures did he resume his own name and make a will, by which (now, Sarah, don't scream) he leaves me, his only son, heir to a hundred thousand pounds! The announcement made by the once despised lover caused the utmost surprise, which was in no wise lessened later on. Sarah did not scream, but her very lips grew pale. "It is all ours, Sarah—yourr's mine and Lola's. I have no sister except Lola, you know; and my love for her will increase if she will please order you a wedding dress as speedily as possible, and then come to our home to keep her scapegrace brother in order. But Sarah, though I did not send you the flowers, I did send you a birthday An Amazing Reprint. The duty of an grand-boy is to go and come with all possible dispatch. If he litters by the way, plays, or grasps into shop-windows, he is robbing his master of the time he has paid for. Not a few boys have laid the foundations of future advancement and fortune by their smartness in going on errands. One morning, while a resident of London, the American portrait-painter, Gilbert Stuart, sent his arrand-boy with a message to a nobleman, requiring an immediate delivery. The boy ran off, accompanied by a large dog of the artist's. As he did not return at the expected time, Mr. Stuart strolled out for a walk. Coming near where the boy's mother lived, he called and inquired if she had seen her son that morning. "Oh, yes," she replied," he and a big dog have been here, and both of them full of mischief. The dog finding the steak, intended for my dinner, seized it. In the struggle they upset the wash-tub; but the dog devoured the steak." On arriving at his rooms, Mr. Stuart found the boy ready with a mournful tale of having lost his way and not being able to find the nobleman's house. He made no reply, but ordered him to fetch the dinner from a neighboring chop-house. When it was served, the boy took his usual place, to wait on his master. The dog squatted on his haunches, as if expecting an occasional feed. "Mr. Stuart taking a piece of meat on his fork held it towards the dog. Suddenly withdrawing it, he exclaimed, with a well-feigned look of surprise, "How's this? What!" dined already? Is it possible? And on beefsteak, too? Casting a searching look at the boy, who stood trembling, the artist continued," What! a wash-tub? and upset it, too? Then laying the meat on his plate, he looked steadily at the pale culprit, who breaking into a cry confessed his guilt and promised amendment. Ever after, he showed himself a smart errand-boy. Ventilation. An illustration of popular ignorance as to ventilation is furnished by the Sanitary Engineer, and is as follows: A gentleman while attending church one evening found that his feet were jow cold so that he had to raise them What Saved Him. During the "hard winter" of 71, when thirty thousand unemployed workmen haunted the streets of New York driven to baggary, or too often, to theft, a man rang at the door of a house in one of our largest cities and asked for something to eat. He told a glib story of his discharge from a woollen mill, and said that he had a wife starving not far away. The mistress of the house made it a rule not to give alms that winter, except after personal examination of the case of each applicant. She went into the kitchen, and ordered a substantial meal set before the man who ate ravenously. He was a young, honest-looking fellow, but there were marks of dissipation on his face. Suddenly he dropped his knife and fork, and sat staring at the door. "Who's that?" he cried; "Johnny! Johnny!" The lady's little girl, a child of three, had followed her from the nursery, and stood in her white gown in the doorway, her fair carls tumbling over her face. The tramp recovered himself with a hoarse laugh. "I beg your pardon," he said. "It's your child, of course. I--I haven't seen a child for a long time." But his food seemed to choke him. In a few moments he started up again in agitation and said, "Madam, I am not a workman. I am Jim Floyd, and I was discharged yesterday from Moyamensing prison, where I have served out a sentence for burglary. I was a decent man once. I left my wife and my old mother up in Pottsville, and--my baby." While he spoke his eyes were fixed on the child with a terrible hunger in them. "Little one," he said, holding out his hands with a pitiful entreaty," shake hands with me, won't you? I wouldn't hurt a hair of your head." The mother's heart gave a throbble. The man was fouled dirty, just out of a prison; full, perhaps, of disease. But the baby (surely God sent it) ran forward smiling, with both hands out. Jim kneeled down beside it, the tears rolling down his cheeks." It is so like Johnny!" he muttered. "It is so like Johnny!"" "You'll go back to Johnny and your wife and old mother?" said the lady. He would not promise. "It's too late to make a decent man of me," he said, and presently putting on his old coat he went out. The announcement made by the once despised lover caused the utmost surprise, which was in no wise lessened later on. Sarah did not scream, but her very lips grew pale. "It is all ours, Sarah—your mine and Lola's. I have no sister except Lola, you know; and my love for her will increase if she will please order you a wedding dress as speedily as possible, and then come to our home to keep her scapegrace brother in order. But Sarah, though I did not send you the flowers, I did send you a birthday gift—a bracelet! Will you not wear it to-night? "You!" cried Sarah. "Oh! if you knew how nearly I returned it to Gilbert Lee. It is in a package directed to him, with a note of thanks, but declining his gift, at this moment." But it figured at Aunt Kate's party, and only a few weeks later, lent its brilliant jet of light to beautify Sarah's wedding dress when she became Charley's wife, having chosen between diamonds and hearts, and found herself in possession of both. An American Abroad. Railroading in England appears peculiar to an American. There is no paying of fares on the cars so far as we observed. The passenger coaches are only about half the length of ours, divided into three apartments; the doors are on the side. The apartments of the same car are sometimes marked first, second and third class. First class seats are great easy chairs, finely upholstered. Second class, plainly and strictly upholstered with leather. Third class seats are as comfortable as the benches of a frontier schoolhouse. The English say that the aristocracy and Americans and fools travel first class. The business men of England almost invariably travel second class. The conductor is called the guard. The locomotives are much smaller than ours with one large drive-wheel on each side. The smoke stack is not funnel-shaped as here, but straight. The rate of speed is much higher than here. The engineer is not as well protected from the steam. At the holels the waiters are dressed in black broadcloth, swallow-tailed coats, with white neckties, once the style for the pulpit in this country, but now almost monopolized by stage singers. In connection with restaurants is the inevitable bar with the villainous custom of employing young ladies to deal out the liquors. A custom which is tolerated in this country only in low concert saloons. A brief visit to New Castle upon Tyne, discovered nothing worthy of special mention. A large portion of that growing city is unsightly and dingy, on account of its enormous coal trade and coal consumption. The center of the city is remodeled on a fine scale, with beautiful broad streets and some attractive public buildings. A visit to Cambridge was one of more interest to us chiefly on account of its university with its seventeen colleges The announcement made by the once despised lover caused the utmost surprise, which was in no wise lessened later on. Sarah did not scream, but her very lips grew pale. "It is all ours, Sarah—your mine and Lola's. I have no sister except Lola, you know; and my love for her will increase if she will please order you a wedding dress as speedily as possible, and then come to our home to keep her scapegrace brother in order. But Sarah, though I did not send you the flowers, I did send you a birthday gift—a bracelet! Will you not wear it to-night? "You!" cried Sarah. "Oh! if you knew how nearly I returned it to Gilbert Lee. It is in a package directed to him, with a note of thanks, but declining his gift, at this moment." But it figured at Aunt Kate's party, and only a few weeks later, lent its brilliant jet of light to beautify Sarah's wedding dress when she became Charley's wife, having chosen between diamonds and hearts, and found herself in possession of both. An American Abroad. Railroading in England appears peculiar to an American. There is no paying of fares on the cars so far as we observed. The passenger coaches are only about half the length of ours, divided into three apartments; the doors are on the side. The apartments of the same car are sometimes marked first, second and third class. First class seats are great easy chairs, finely upholstered. Second class, plainly and strictly upholstered with leather. Third class seats are as comfortable as the benches of a frontier schoolhouse. The English say that the aristocracy and Americans and fools travel first class. The business men of England almost invariably travel second class. The conductor is called the guard. The locomotives are much smaller than ours with one large drive-wheel on each side. The smoke stack is not funnel-shaped as here, but straight. The rate of speed is much higher than here. The engineer is not as well protected from the steam. At the holels the waiters are dressed in black broadcloth, swallow-tailed coats, with white neckties, once the style for the pulpit in this country, but now almost monopolized by stage singers. In connection with restaurants is the inevitable bar with the villainous custom of employing young ladies to deal out the liquors. A custom which is tolerated in this country only in low concert saloons. A brief visit to New Castle upon Tyne, discovered nothing worthy of special mention. A large portion of that growing city is unsightly and dingy, on account of its enormous coal trade and coal consumption. The center of the city is remodeled on a fine scale, with beautiful broad streets and some attractive public buildings. A visit to Cambridge was one of more interest to us chiefly on account of its university with its seventeen colleges The announcement made by the once despired lover caused the utmost surprise, which was in no wise lessened later on. Sarah did not scream, but her very lips grew pale. "It is all ours, Sarah—your mine and Lola's. I have no sister except Lola, you know; and my love for her will increase if she will please order you a wedding dress as speedily as possible, and then come to our home to keep her scapegrace brother in order. But Sarah, though I did not send you the flowers, I did send you a birthday gift—a bracelet! Will you not wear it to-night? "You!" cried Sarah. "Oh! if you knew how nearly I returned it to Gilbert Lee. It is in a package directed to him, with a note of thanks, but declining his gift, at this moment." But it figured at Aunt Kate's party, and only a few weeks later, lent its brilliant jet of light to beautify Sarah's wedding dress when she became Charley's wife, having chosen between diamonds and hearts, and found herself in possession of both. Ventilation. An illustration of popular ignorance as to ventilation is furnished by the Sanitary Engineer, and is as follows: A gentleman while attending church one evening found that his feet were icy cold, so that he had to raise them from off the floor. Calling the attention of the sexton to the fact, the latter said, with some perplexity, Yes, we have a good many complaints of cold feet from others; but I don't understand the reason why we can't keep the church warm; we surely have fires enough." So saying, he pointed to a register in the floor directly behind the gentleman, in the adjoining pew. Looking around, the latter could see that there was a hot fire in the furnace beneath, and yet no heat came up. When a handkerchief was laid over the register, it scarcely stirred. The visitor asked the sexton, Have you any means of ventilation? "No, sir." Are there no windows open? None whatever. How then, can you expect the air to come in here if it can't get out somewhere? There was no response—the man was non-plussed. "Did you ever try to blow into a bottle?" continued the inquiry. No, sir." Do you think if you did that you could force any more air into a bottle by blowing than was in it before? He couldn't say. Never had thought of it. Well," continued the gentleman, "you would soon find, if you tried that it would be impossible, and neither can you force air into this church through a register if you don't open a window or some other orifice." But," the sexton demurred," opening a window would let in the cold air, wouldn't it? "You just try it," was the response. "Raise some of the windows on the leeward side of the church, and see what will happen." It was done, and instantly the handkerchief lying on the register rose half-way to the ceiling with the force of the ascending current. The sexton stood and stared in astonishment. Anecdote of Alexandre Dumas. Some years ago a merchant of Lyons was returning from Paris to his natal city. In the same compartment with him sat a tall fellow, lively, talkative and full of gasconade; but on the whole,the best and most amusing traveling companion one could wish for. On alighting at Lyons,the merchant, charmed by the taking manner and by the gayety of his neighbor, exclaimed: "By Jove,sir,i am glad to have shaken hands with me,不愿你打我。The mother's heart gave a throbble.The man was foully dirty,just out of a prison; full perhaps,disease." But the baby (surely God sent it) ran forward smiling with both hands out. Jim kneeled down beside it,the tears rolling down his cheeks." It is so like Johnny!" he muttered." It is so like Johnny!" "You'll go back to Johnny and your wife and old mother?" said the lady. He would not promise." It's too late to make a decent man of me," he said,and presently putting on his old cap he went out. Six months later the lady received an ill-spelled letter from Pottsville." Am at work here," it said." That night I had planned to join the boys again.But your little girl saved me.I came home instead. It wasn't too late." Forgotten Congressmen. How ephemeral is political fame.Among the thousands who figured in their day as senators and representatives of Congress,the names of but few are familiar to the present generation Clay.Webster and Calhoun made an impression on the history of their countrywhich perhapswill never be forgotten.The class of statesmen standing next themin ability are even now almost faded out of the public mind.John Forsythof Georgiawas one ofthe most accomplished off-hand debaterthat ever appeared in the United States Senate;yet how few ofthe 48,000,000of people now dwelling in this land oursknow that sucha man ever livedWilliam C.Preston.of South Carolinawas an oratorof great powerandas senatorwho reflected honor on his state.After his deathhow soon was hefo gotten.Webster's replyto Robert JHayneis likelyto keephis(Hayne'smemory freshinthe mindofthe reader.Otherwisehewouldhave losttothe recollectionofposterityyethewasoneofthemostbrilliantmeetingsofhisday.William T.Barry.ofKentuckywasoneofthemostelocquentofmen,andplayeda conspicuouspartinthepoliticsofhisstate。它issafetosaytheeloquenceatthebarandinthehallsofCongress。它isonlythepoliticalstudentordsurvivorsoftheerainwhichhecuthismostprominentfigurewhohowanythingabouthim.MarylandkeptGen.SamSmithinCongressthirty-nineyears,andweventuretosadethatthousandsofthepoliticiansofthepresentdayneverheardofhim.ThesamemaybesaidofNathanielMacoufNorthCarolinawhorepresentsthatstateinCongressthirty-sevenyearsWe mightgoonandspecifyascoreofothers,equallytalentedandinfiltingin theirdayandgenerationwhoarebutseldomthoughtofbeyondtheproducentsofthebloodrelationsIfsuchshouldbethe fateofthesedistinguishedpoliticianswhatistobecomeofthemenwhoarenowstruttingonthepoliticalstage?Alargemajorofthemenwillnotberememberedfiveyearsaftertheybeenconsignedtoprivialife.Suchispoliticalfame.-LouisvilleCourierJournal. as he came me and preocyears of courtcarali with such passing what was by, but Charley grave voice; from you. You meant to ask to wait till seventeen to know her own voice thrilled as he spoke Will you be by his grave in his, without avid blush and charley, radiant, are again. Oh, Sarah, I Gilbert Lee un are wearing sending them night they were and flowers. I take, Sarah, if sily, as if there sect, and Charand fast in his speak about I must tell you when I was a mere years old, the took fast hold he was one of who sailed from from the ground stors of Californy mother heard ervals between and longer, till and waiting, all. I was but my mother died. took me into located me with a rich man, and upon my own soon as I was still he insisted un until I was me a year's tuage in London, myself. I was my home until tom of employing young ladies to deal out the liquors. A custom which is tolerated in this country only in low concert saloons. A brief visit to New Castle upon Tyne, discovered nothing worthy of special mention. A large portion of that growing city is unsightly and dingy, on account of its enormous coal trade and coal consumption. The center of the city is remodeled on a fine scale, with beautiful broad streets and some attractive public buildings. A visit to Cambridge was one of more interest to us chiefly on account of its university with its seventeen colleges and halls. A college official escorted us and made our visit a very pleasant one. The grounds are beautiful. On the little quiet stream flowing through, the Cambridge boys develop the muscle of their boating clubs—a manly exercise if not allowed to absorb and divert attention from study. The record shows that the famous oarsmen of Cambridge and Oxford have fallen far below the average in standing in their class. We were shown the students' rooms. To each student there is a large, airy study-bedroom, and a room for fuel and wine closet, which latter room has been patronized to the great detriment of some of the famous scholars who have gone forth from that ancient seat of learning. Here at Cambridge we hear of Hobson, who made his money by hiring out horses to the students, giving rise to the old proverb of "Hobson's choice." On approaching London from the north, our railroad is elevated so that from the coach we look down upon a wilderness of chimneys.—Letter to the Burlington Hawkeya. The Philadelphia Bulletin says that it really seems odd that although the French railroads were blockaded for five days in December with snow, so that Paris during that period was isolated from the rest of France, none of the railway men had ingenuity enough to conceive the idea of a snow-plow, an instrument which could easily have been constructed in a few hours and which would have cleared the tracks far more expeditionally than they were cleared by regiments of soldiers. By doing nothing we learn to do ill. Anecdote of Alexandre Dumas. Some years ago a merchant of Lyons was returning from Paris to his natal city. In the same compartment with him sat a tall fellow, lively, talkative and full of gasconade; but on the whole, the best and most amusing traveling companion one could wish for. On alighting at Lyons, the merchant, charmed by the taking manner and by the gayety of his neighbor, exclaimed: "By Jove, sir, I am glad to have made your acquaintance! You are a good fellow, a charming fellow! Can't you talk though! Come let us make a trade, will you?" "Well, what kind of a trade?" "Come and dine with me; at the desert we will speak about it. I have an idea—will you come?" "Very well—but I will pay my share, I insist upon it." "As you please; what an amazing fellow he is! Ah, but I like you!" Accordingly they took dinner together, during which the merchant offered the tail fellow a position as commercial traveler for his house; that was his idea. "You have just the qualities required," said he; "you will make your way." "But my dear sir——" "Come, now, how do you live?" "Pooh! on very little!" "Well, how much do you make a year in your branch?" From twenty thousand to thirty thousand francs. "Goodness sakes alive! but what do you do?" asked the other, disappointed. "Oh, I scribble on sheets of paper with a pen!" "Ab, bah—you are joking again, you rogue! But what is your name?" Alexandre Dumas! Tablean.—Paris Theater. The electric light has been extended from Charing Cross to Victoria station, a distance which, it is said, would have been ridiculed a twelvemonth ago, being over one and one-third of a mile from the source of power. The twenty-horse steam engine now maintains sixty lights, and bridges over a distance—and to end-of more than two and a half miles. The same may be said of Nathaniel Macoum of North Carolina, who represented that state in Congress thirty-seven years. We might go on and specify a score of others, equally talented and infiltrate in their day and generation, who are but seldom thought of beyond the precincts of their blood relations. If such should be the fate of these distinguishing politicians, what is to become of the men who are now strutting on the political stage? A large majority of them will not be remembered five years after they have been consigned to private life. Such is political fame.—Louisville Courier Journal. Every one has a welcome for the person who has the good sense to talk things quietly. The person who can go without her dinner and not advertise the fact; who can lose her purse and keep her temper; who makes light of a heavy weight, and can wear a wrist that pinches without any one being thicker; who does not magnify the splitter in her finger into a stick of timber nor the mote in her neighbor's eye in a beam; who swallows bitter words without leaving the taste in other people's mouths; who can give up her own way without giving up the ghost; who can have a thorn in the flesh and yet not prick all her friends with it—succumb one surely carries a passport into the good graces of mankind. Two of those ornaments made plaster of Paris flavored with sugar were bestowed upon an urchin, with the usual warning: "Don't eat whatever you do; they will poison you." For some time they were not garded by him and his younger brother with mingled awe and admiration; but at no distant day their mother misses one. "Tom," said she to the owner who was just setting forth for school: "what have 'ee done with that figure? Giv'd it to Dick," was the reply: "and if he's living when I come home I mean to eat the other one myself can tell 'ee!" DR. W. E. HARDIN, Office and Residence, Corner Los Angeles and Anaheim, Cal. J. H. YOCUM, M. D. Physician & Surgeon, Office and Residence corner Centre and Palm street, with office hours at Ferguson & Lake's Drug Store, from 9 to 10 A.M., and 4 to 5 P.M. Anaheim, Cal. DR. ALICE HIGGINS, PHYSICIAN AND SURGEON OFFICE—Corner of Lemon and Centre Streets. Anaheim. VICTOR MONTGOMERY, Attorney at Law NOTARY PUBLIC, Anaheim, Cal. Office at Santa Ana on Tuesdays and Fridays. P.O. address, Anaheim, Cal. R. W. SCOTT, ATTORNEY AT LAW, NOTARY PUBLIC Commissioner of Deeds for Arizona Territory. Anaheim, Cal. Bank of Anaheim, CAPITAL STOCK, $100,000.00. S. H. MOtt President B. F. SEIBERT, Cashier. DIRECTORS. H. MABURY, E. F. SPENCE. B. F. SEIBERT, S. H. MOtt, O. S. WITHERBY. This Bank receives Deposits, Loans Money, Buys and Sells Exchange and Currency, makes Collec- DR. E. L. COWAN, DENTIST, HAS OPENED AN OFFICE in the upper part of Mrs. Mena's building, Los Angeles Street, Anaheim. Having had twenty years of experience, he can speak with confidence of his work. His scale of prices will be very low. He will be found in his office every day between the hours of 9 A.M. and 8 P.M. B. DREYFUS & CO., Growers and Dealers in California Wines GRAPE BRANDIES. 521 and 523 Market Street, SAN FRANCISCO. 92 and 94 Cedar St.", NEW YORK. THE BEST OF ALL LINIMENTS FOR MAN OR BEAST. When a medicine has infallibly done its work in millions of cases for more than a third of a century; when it has reached every part of the world; when numberless families everywhere consider it the only safe reliance in case of pain or accident, it is pretty safe to call such a medicine THE BEST OF ITS KIND. S. H. MOTT PRESIDENT B. F. SEIBERT, CASHIER. DIRECTORS. H. MABURY, E. F. SPENCE. E. F. SEIBERT, S. H. MOTT, O. S. WITHERBY. This Bank receives Deposits, Loans Money, Buys and Sells Exchange and Currency, makes Collections and transacts a General Banking Business. CORRESPONDENTS: Pacific Bank, San Francisco; First National Bank, New York. Drafts, Letters of Credit or Postal Orders issued on banks in the principal cities in all European countries. Tickets entitling the holder to passage from New York to the several ports of England, France or Germany, or from any port in those countries to New York, via the Hamburg American Packet Company, sold at regular rates. Return tickets at a reduction. Certificates entitling the holder to passage on railroad from San Francisco to New York, or vice versa, issued at the established rate. Persons in Anaheim or vicinity desiring to send to any point in the countries named for any relative or friend, can purchase tickets here and forward them to the proper person by mail. The Commercial Bank OF LOS ANGELES. AUTHORIZED CAPITAL, $300,000. J. E. HOLLENBECK President E. F. SPENCE, Cashier DIRECTORS: A. H. WILCOX, S. H. MOTT, LANKERSHIM, E. F. SPENCE, J. E. HOLLENBECK, O. S. WITHERBY, H. MABURY, W. WOODWORTH. THE BANK IS PREPARED TO RECEIVE DEPOSITS ON OPEN ACCOUNT, ISSUE CERTIFICATES OF THE LINIMENTS FOR MAN OR BEAST. When a medicine has infallibly done its work in millions of cases for more than a third of a century; when it has reached every part of the world; when numberless families everywhere consider it the only safe reliance in case of pain or accident, it is pretty safe to call such a medicine. 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