anaheim-gazette 1880-12-04

ANAHEIM GAZETTE. RICHARD MELROSE. - Editor and Proprietor PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY. To a Lady's Bonnet. Invidious shads! Why thus presume O'er face so fair to cast toy gloom, And kite from the snusored sight Those lips so sweet and eyes so bright? Why vel those blushes of the cheek, Which purity of soul bespeak? Why shroud that brow in kermis cell, On which high thoughts serenely dwell? Why chain severe the clustering hair, That willom shed a radiance rare— A golden mist—o'er neck and brow, Like sunset ever drifted snow? O kindly shade, forever be Between me and loves wittbery! Forever be to Ellen's eyes. Like summer clouds in grateful skies, Mellowing the fervor of the day; For should they dart another ray Of their enchanting light on me, Farewell the proud boast—I am free! —WILLIAM MOTHERWELL. A Brave Boy. I don't want to go back to the White-hall academy this term. It isn't because of the lessons; they're not harder than common; nor the teachers; I've had worse teachers. No, and it isn't the boys, for they're about as jolly a set of fellows as you'll find anywhere. Now, I suppose you think it's the fare? Well then, you're not right yet, for we have puddin' three times a week. If I must tell you why I don't want to go back, it's because of Starrick. Didn't you ever hear of Starrick? Goodness! I thought everybody in the United States had heard all about that affair. Why, for six months at White-hall we hardly talked, or thought, of anything else! Starrick wasn't much to look at, when you first saw him. He was a stubby little fellow, with curly yellow hair, and big gray eyes, that were always smiling, even when his mouth wasn't. You couldn't help noticing that smile in his eyes. At least it was there when he first came to school, but somehow it changed, and he got to have a look as if he was dodging a win the horse you can sell him and divide. Who wants a ticket?" Every one of us wanted one. You see, these lotteries had been going on for more'n a year, and the President of Whitehall was down upon 'em. He had said they were a disgrace to his school, and that he'd expel the first one of us he caught with a lottery-ticket in his pocket, if he had to break up Whitehall and close the doors. But that didn't stop it. We bought tickets on the ally, and they weren't to be found in our pockets, or in any place where old Pres. could find them. Starrick never bought one. He didn't say that he thought it was wrong to buy lottery-tickets, only that he had promised his mother never to gamble, and lotteries were gambling, sure. Time and again Hardress had taunted and laughed and stormed at what he called his molly-coddle ways. But all the same, Starrick held out, and never winked his eyes when he was called "coward" and "sneak." Perhaps you think he didn't feel it. But if you had seen how white he looked sometimes, and how the laugh died out of his eyes, you'd have known it cut deep. I don't believe there was ever a braver boy. He was afraid of nothing under the sun but doing wrong. About a week after the lottery-tickets were sold, Hardress hurried into the school-room about noon, looking awfully scared. "Pres. is coming down on us, boys!" he said. "Some mean sneak has told about the lottery, and the game's up, if you fellows get to snivelling and confessing. Old Pres. can't wring anything from Jake; he's true as steel." While he was talking, he kept getting nearer and nearer to Starrick, and the first thing we knew, he had him by the collar and was shaking him and saying, "It's nobody but you who told, you pitiful sneak!" Starrick struggled with him as he always did, but he was a baby in his hands. I noticed that Hardress kept pushing his hand in Starrick's pocket, and I thought it was queer, but just then we heard Dr. Maxfield—he was the President—talking at the door, and we were as quiet as mice in a minute. He marched in with all four of the teachers behind him. When we saw their solemn faces we knew the trial had begun. I can't begin to tell you how we lied that day. I was ashamed of it then. Academy. Doctor He felt Starrick's pain him, and said no, but stunned. They carried him infirmary, and went go in. All that thinking over Starrick coming down the stairs must have stepped threw him off his bib. I couldn't find any ing down again, while yellow tied around about half way down tied it, and saw a yyle that had been cut a minute, for I had it two days before. I saw what he While Starrick was had tied it across up. Of course, when he had done, and seriously hurt, he get his cord, so it thing against him pose, he couldn't to cut it hastily thinking that he hind. I put it in my pants. For a week we Starrick. The doe and his mother were ever we asked a hear that he was sighing but one day a me Starrick wanted with him while he out, and the doe sighing. I was almost saw him. All he had been shaved on his pillows, jaws His eyes were shut he opened them with a smile. "You are better I asked." "I don't know My head hurts me." "It was the trick in Hardress have the very cone it with. I wish stead of you!"" "Hush, hush." "Don't let any Starrick wasn't much to look at, when you first saw him. He was a stubby little fellow, with curly yellow hair, and big gray eyes, that were always smiling, even when his mouth wasn't. You couldn't help noticing that smile in his eyes. At least it was there when he first came to school, but somehow it changed, and he got to have a look as if he was dodging a blow. And he got enough of 'em, as all we small chaps did from the big boys. It was cuff and kick and bang from morning till night; but you see we expected it when we went to Whitehall, for we had most of us been through the senior's mill before. But Starrick came to school fresh from home. His ma was a widow, and he had been brought up in the country. I reckon she was pious and didn't allow swearing, for I've seen him draw himself up, and wince as if he was hurt when Noel Hardress used to bring out a whopping oath, with his loud, course voice. One day Hardress saw him at it, and hollered out, "Look at that little beggar! See him stretch his big eyes! Innocent angel just fallen from the skies! Never mind, sonny, I'll teach you a thing or two to astonish mamma when you go home at holidays." Now from what I've told you, perhaps you think Hugh Starrick would have slunk away, and never opened his lips with that big bully's red face grinning at him. There wasn't one of us little fellows that would have done it. But not Starrack. He stood straight up, and looked Hardress square in the eyes. "You will teach me nothing, Mr. Hardress, that I don't choose to learn." He spoke just as clear and quiet as I do now. And then added, "There is nothing in you, sir, besides, that I can be forced to imitate." Hardress was so astounded that he couldn't believe his own ears. He looked just like a bull when you first flap something red in his eyes. Then with an oath he just kicked Hugh through the crowd. "You won't be expected to imitate that, my young saint," he hissed out with his horse laugh. Not many of us joined in the laugh. We knew Starrick must be hurt, for he had been knocked down. He got up, looking very white, and limped away. But we were afraid to say anything, for Hardress would have taken the whole line of us with that elephant foot of his. He was the biggest boy, and the bully of the school, and the other big boys stuck to him, right or wrong. That was the beginning of Hardress hating Hugh Starrick, and doing him every mean turn you can think of. Nearly everybody else liked Starrick; and he was so stout-hearted, though not bigger than I, that even the large boys respected him. They didn't laugh any more when he knelt down to say his name. Starrick struggled with him as he always did, but he was a baby in his hands. I noticed that Hardress kept pushing his hand in Starrick's pocket, and I thought it was queer, but just then we heard Dr. Maxfield—he was the President—talking at the doer, and we were as quiet as mice in a minute. He marched in with all four of the teachers behind him. When we saw their solemn faces we knew the trial had begun. I can't begin to tell you how we lied that day. I was ashamed of it then, and I'm more ashamed of it now. But it didn't impose on the doctor a bit; He said, with a curl of his lip— "I knew I had charge of the most mischievous boys in the country, but I find to-day that they are also liars. Not a gentleman among them. Your trunks are being searched, young men, and Mr. Wilson, will you have the kindness to examine their pockets? They must not be treated as we would treat honorable young gentlemen." We didn't feel a bit scared at that, for we knew the tickets wouldn't be found in wrunks or pockets. Every fellow helped Wilson turn his own pockets out, and looked like an innocent martyr. At last Mr. Wilson came to Starrick, and sir, the very first thing we knew, he drew a lottery-ticket out of Starrick's pocket, and flourished it in triumph. "Mr. Starrick!" exclaimed the doctor, "I am surprised, sir; I am mortified, grieved. I would have sworn to your innocence, guilty as the others might be." Starrick had turned very pale, but he stepped out and said, "If you please, sir, I never bought a lettery-ticket in my life, and there isn't a boy in school who doesn't know it. I don't know who put that ticket in my pocket, but upon my honor, sir, I never saw that ticket until Mr. Wilson pulled it out." Some of the boys spoke up and said they knew he had never bought a ticket; but the mean ones whispered among themselves, and said they had always thought him a hypocrite, and he wasn't a bit too good for it, and all that stuff. All at once, I thought of what I had seen Hardress do, and I remembered, too, that I had seen something in his hand like paper when he pushed it into Starrick's pocket. I sprung right up without thinking, and cried out, "Dr. Maxfield, Starrick is innocent. I saw somebody put a paper in his pocket, and I know now it was the lottery-ticket." "Who was it?" he asked sharply. You see, I spoke so quick that I hadn't thought what would be the next question. I never had been a tell-tale, even about my worst enemies, and I wasn't going to be bullied into it now. "I can't mention names, sir," I said, and sat down. "Mr. Starrick," said the doctor, you've always been so truthful and exemplary in conduct that I am disposed to believe what you say, and what others say about you. Let me ask, have you an enemy you think capable of such an act?" looking very white, and limped away. But we were afraid to say anything, for Hardress would have taken the whole line of us with that elephant foot of his. He was the biggest boy, and the bully of the school, and the other big boys stuck to him, right or wrong. That was the beginning of Hardress hating Hugh Starrick, and doing him every mean turn you can think of. Nearly everybody else liked Starrick; and he was so stout-hearted, though not bigger than I, that even the large boys respected him. They didn't laugh any more when he knelt down to say his prayers. At first you see, there was a regular hullaballoo in our dormitory, and some of the boys called out— "Flop down on your knees again, Starrick! Let's see how you do it." But he didn't any more mind it than if a fly buzzed round his ears. I was his chum, and they made so much fun of him that I said, "If I was you Starrick, I wouldn't say my prayers before the boys. It makes 'em ten times worse, and I'm sure you can't fix your mind on your prayers when they're laughing and nagging you all the time. You can say them quietly when you get to bed, and nobody'll know. That's what I do when I think of it." Starrick looked at me as if he were grieved. "I'm sorry to hear you say that, Mordannt. It's right to say our prayers, isn't it? Oughn't we to say em? I would be a coward and a skulk if I did wrong because I was afraid to do right." You needn't think Starrick was forever canting and preaching at us, and going about with a long face. He never talked religion, nor went about with his Bible in his hand, but somehow we felt he was different from us, though he was as lively and full of sport as the liveliest among us. If he thought a thing was wrong, you'd as soon move that church steeple as to get him to take any part in it. And he never said a hard word of anybody, even Hardress. One day Hardress came out to the play-ground where we all were. "Look here, boys," he said; "out with your spare nickels. I've got a pile of lottery tickets to sell for Jake Devine—the livery-stable keeper. He's put up his fine horse, Tomahawk. Here's a chance for the littlest shiver in the school. Whole tickets, one dollar only. Some of you chaps can club together, and buy a ticket, only a quarter apiece, and if you "Who was it?" he asked, sharply. You see, I spoke so quick that I hadn't thought what would be the next question. I never had been a tell-tale, even about my worst enemies, and I wasn't going to be bullied into it now. "I can't mention names, sir," I said, and sat down. "Mr. Starrick," said the doctor, you've always been so truthful and exemplary in conduct that I am disposed to believe what you say, and what others say about you. Let me ask, have you an enemy you think capable of such an act? "Yes, sir;" Starrick answered. "Name him, if you please." "I'd rather be excused, sir. I didn't see him put the ticket in my pocket, though now I know he did it. I can only give you my word that I knew nothing about the ticket." The doctor and teachers bullied me then, and I told them everything I had seen but the name, and the other boys were afraid to say it was Hardress, so he went scot free. They punished Starrick and me for disobedience in refusing to tell, but not very severely. The doctor knew just as well as I did that Starrick was innocent, but he could not prove anything against any of the other fellows, so somebody had to be the scapegoat. After that, Hardress seemed as if he hated Starrick worse than ever, but he hardly ever spoke to him. Starrick used to play well on the organ, and sometimes he got the doctor's permission to practice on it in the choir gallery of the chapel. It was always in the evening that he went there, and generally alone. One night when he was there, some one wanted him, and I was told to call him. The chapel was at one end of the academy building, and only a short distance away, but I was sleepy and tired, so I didn't go up stairs, but stood at the door of the chapel and called to Starrick that he was wanted. He called back "All right!" and I waited for him. He was coming down stairs with his light in his hand, when all at once I saw the light fall, and he hurched forward and fell handlong down the stairs. I ran and picked up the candle, which was still burning,and then I saw him lying like a log, with his head on one of the stone steps. At first I thought he was dead, and tried out for help, and when no one came, I ran out and shamed the whole ticket." Doctor was the first there. He felt Starrick's pulse and examined him, and said no, he wasn't dead, only stunned. They carried him to a room near the infirmary, and wouldn't let any of us go in. All that night I lay awake thinking over Starrick's fall. He wasn't coming down the steps very fast. He must have stepped on something that threw him off his balance. It just haunted me that I must find out all about it; so, as soon as it was light, I slipped to the chapel and began examining the steps. I couldn't find a thing, and was coming down again, when I saw something yellow tied around the balustrade, about half way down the stairs. I untied it, and saw a piece of yellow cord that had been cut short off. I knew it in a minute, for I had seen Hardress with two days before. I saw what he had—been about. While Starrick was in the gallery, he had tied it across the steps to trip him up. Of course, when he found out what he had done, and that Starrick was seriously hurt, he had come back to get his cord, so it wouldn't prove anything against him. In the dark, I suppose, he couldn't untie it, and so had to cut it hastily with his knife, not thinking that he had left a piece behind. I put it in my pocket and waited. For a week we didn't hear much of Starrick. The doctor came every day, and his mother was sent for, and whenever we asked about him, we would hear that he was suffering a good deal. But one day a message came to me that Starrick wanted me to come and sit with him while his mother was riding out, and the doctor gave me permission. I was almost frightened when I saw him. All his pretty bright hair had been shaved away, and he lay back on his pillows, just as white as they. His eyes were shut when I came in, but he opened them, and held out his hand with a smile. "You are better, Starrick,aint you?" I asked. "I don't know. I don't think I am. My head hurts me all the time." "It was the meanest, contemptible trick in Hardress!" I burst out. "I have the very cord in my pocket he did it with. I wish he was lying here, instead of you!" "Hush, hush!" Starrick whispered. "Don't let any one hear. I was sure academy. Doctor was the first there. He felt Starrick's pulse and examined him, and said no, he wasn't dead, only stunned. They carried him to a room near the infirmary, and wouldn't let any of us go in. All that night I lay awake thinking over Starrick's fall. He wasn't coming down the steps very fast. He must have stepped on something that threw him off his balance. It just haunted me that I must find out all about it; so, as soon as it was light, I slipped to the chapel and began examining the steps. I couldn't find a thing, and was coming down again, when I saw something yellow tied around the balustrade, about halfway down the stairs. I untied it, and saw a piece of yellow cord that had been cut short off. I knew it in a minute, for I had seen Hardress with two days before. I saw what he had—been about. While Starrick was in the gallery, he had tied it across the steps to trip him up. Of course, when he found out what he had done, and that Starrick was seriously hurt, he had come back to get his cord, so it wouldn't prove anything against him. In the dark, I suppose, he couldn't untie it, and so had to cut it hastily with his knife, not thinking that he had left a piece behind. I put it in my pocket and waited. For a week we didn't hear much of Starrick. The doctor came every day, and his mother was sent for, and whenever we asked about him, we would hear that he was suffering a good deal. But one day a message came to me that Starrick wanted me to come and sit with him while his mother was riding out, and the doctor gave me permission. I was almost frightened when I saw him. All his pretty bright hair had been shaved away, and he lay back on his pillows, just as white as they. His eyes were shut when I came in, but he opened them, and held out his hand with a smile. "You are better, Starrick,aint you?" I asked. "I don't know. I don't think I am. My head hurts me all the time." "It was the meanest, contemptible trick in Hardress!" I burst out. "I have the very cord in my pocket he did it with. I wish he was lying here, instead of you!" "Hush, hush!" Starrick whispered. "Don't let any one hear. I was sure academy. Doctor was the first there. He felt Starrick's pulse and examined him, and said no, he wasn't dead, only stunned. They carried him to a room near the infirmary, and wouldn't let any of us go in. All that night I lay awake thinking over Starrick's fall. He wasn't coming down the steps very fast. He must have stepped on something that threw him off his balance. It just haunted me that I must find out all about it; so, as soon as it was light, I slipped to the chapel and began examining the steps. I couldn't find a thing, and was coming down again, when I saw something yellow tied around the balustrade, about halfway down the stairs. I untied it, and saw a piece of yellow cord that had been cut short off. I knew it in a minute, for I had seen Hardress with two days before. I saw what he had—been about. While Starrick was in the gallery, he had tied it across the steps to trip him up. Of course, when he found out what he had done, and that Starrick was seriously hurt, he had come back to get his cord, so it wouldn't prove anything against him. In the dark, I suppose, he couldn't untie it, and so had to cut it hastily with his knife, not thinking that he had left a piece behind. I put it in my pocket and waited. For a week we didn't hear much of Starrick. The doctor came every day, and his mother was sent for, and whenever we asked about him, we would hear that he was suffering a good deal. But one day a message came to me that Starrick wanted me to come and sit with him while his mother was riding out, and the doctor gave me permission. I was almost frightened when I saw him. All his pretty bright hair had been shaved away, and he lay back on his pillows, just as white as they. His eyes were shut when I came in, but he opened them, and held out his hand with a smile. "You are better, Starrick,aint you?" I asked. "I don't know. I don't think I am. My head hurts me all the time." "It was the meanest, contemptible trick in Hardress!" I burst out. "I have the very cord in my pocket he did it with. I wish he was lying here, instead of you!" "Hush,hush!" Starrick whispered. "Don't let any one hear. I was sure academy. Doctor was the first there. He felt Starrick's pulse and examined him, and said no, he wasn't dead, only stunned. They carried him to a room near the infirmary, and wouldn't let any of us go in. All that night I lay awake thinking over Starrick's fall. He wasn't coming down the steps very fast. He must have stepped on something that threw him off his balance. It just haunted me that I must find out all about it; so, as soon as it was light, I slipped to the chapel and began examining the steps. I couldn't find a thing, and was coming down again, when I saw something yellow tied around the balustrade, about halfway down the stairs. I untied it, and saw a piece of yellow cord that had been cut short off. I knew it in a minute, for I had seen Hardress with two days before. I saw what he had—been about. While Starrick was in the gallery, he had tied it across the steps to trip him up. Of course, when he found out what he had done, and that Starrick was seriously hurt, he had come back to get his cord, so it wouldn't prove anything against him. In the dark, I suppose, he couldn't untie it, and so had to cut it hastily with his knife, not thinking that he had left a piece behind. I put it in my pocket and waited. For a week we didn't hear much of Starrick. The doctor came every day, and his mother was sent for, and whenever we asked about him, we would hear that he was suffering a good deal. But one day a message came to me that Starrick wanted me to come and sit with him while his mother was riding out, and the doctor gave me permission. I was almost frightened when I saw him. All his pretty bright hair had been shaved away，and he lay back on his pillows，just as white as they.His eyes were shut when I came in，but he opened them，and held out his hand with a smile. "You are better，Starrick,aint you?" I asked. "I don't know.I don't think I am.My head hurts me all the time." "It was the meanest，contemptible trick in Hardress!" I burst out. "I have the very cord in my pocket he did it with.I wish he was lying here，instead of you!" "Hush,hush!" Starrick whispered. "Don't let any one hear.I was sure academy.Doctor was the first there.Her evening came he was the hero of the hour.The There was quite a respectable gathering，general good-feeling,and he was introduced with a grand hurrah.The It was impossible to make a political speech under the restrictions imposed and he therefore hoped to get away with them on oratory。When all was readyhe began: "As great and grand as is our country-as rapid as has been its increase-as amazing as have been its inventions—we may look to the future for greater results." This was considered pretty good，and he was given three cheers and a tiger.Feeling enthused，he went on: "Fires may rage-floods may come-famine may cast its black shadow over the land-war may sound its loud wail，但 nothing——" Here there were yells，whoops，cat-calls，hisses和 hoots，and the crowd melted away like frosted cake at a picnic.The Detroititer was thunder-struck。一人 man was still left，and to him he appealed for the excuse for such singular conduct. "Well，你 see，the boys have been caught on that once or twice and it has become old." "Caught！Old！What do you mean？" "Why,they knew you were going to finish with‘——but nothing will ever be invented which will knock a cold as quick as Dr.Kyan's cough syrup.'We are up in the woods here，但the boys tumble to a racket almost by telegraph."—Detroit Free Press. Popular Ignorance. had been shaved away, and he lay back on his pillows, just as white as they. His eyes were shut when I came in, but he opened them, and held out his hand with a smile. "You are better, Starrick,aint you?" I asked. "I don't know. I don't think I am. My head hurts me all the time." "It was the meanest, contemptible trick in Hardress!" I burst out. "I have the very cord in my pocket he did it with. I wish he was lying here, instead of you!" "Hush, hush!" Starrick whispered. "Don't let any one hear. I was sure he did it, but I only said I tripped up some way. O Mordaunt, what have I ever done to Hardress to make him hate me so?" "You've done ever so much!" I cried out, for my heart was so full I was afraid I'd burst into tears. "You've been good and noble and truthful, and he's a devil, that's what he is! He hates everybody that isn't like himself. But I hate him, and I wish"— Starrick put his weak hand over my mouth. "There, never mind. He don't realize how cruel he is. Of course he didn't intend to hurt me seriously, and I am so glad that I haven't a hard feeling against a human being. If I get worse, and I'm afraid I shall, I shall want to speak to Hardress. Promise me you won't tell what you know about him." I promised, and looking in his eyes, I saw they were full of a kind of solemn peace, and it made me feel queer, for I knew he must be suffering, and how could he look so calm? Two days after, the doctor came into the recitation room looking very grave. "Mr. Hardress, Starrick wishes to speak to you. He is much worse. That miserable bully, who had been pale and quiet enough ever since the accident, crouched in his seat, and whined out, "O, doctor, don't make me go, please, sir!" "What do you mean, sir, by this conduct?" the doctor cried. "An ill, perhaps dying schoolmate asks for you, and you refuse to go!" I wanted to call out, "He's murdered him, and he's afraid to go!" but I remembered my promise. Hardress muttered something about not liking to go where people were ill, but all the same he was sent off, his face was as pale as the driven snow. I took up my station near the door of the sick room, and in about half an hour Hardress came out, with his head down, and I could see he was crying. Yes, those hard old eyes for once did shed tears. A few hours after, Starrick sent for me. He was lying quiet on the bed with his eyes wide open, and they looked more solemn and peaceful than ever. "You've heard, I suppose?" he said, very feebly. I knew what he meant—had I hard he was going to die? I nodded, for I couldn't speak. "Poor mother takes it hard, but, Mordaunt, I'm not afraid. I've spoken to Hardress, and I don't think he hates me any more. He said he didn't mean to hurt me, and I believe it. He's afraid One man was still left, and to him he appealed for the excuse for such singular conduct. "Well, you see, the boys have been caught on that once or twice and it has become old." "Caught! Old! What do you mean?" "Why, they knew you were going to finish with '——but nothing will ever be invented which will knock a cold as quick as Dr. Kyan's cough syrup.' We are up in the woods here, but the boys tumble to a racket almost by telegraph."—Detroit Free Press. Popular Ignorance. The amazing ignorance regarding sanitary requirements still prevailing, netwithstanding the agitation of the past three years, is forcibly illustrated by an account given us the other day of the measures taken at Saratoga to prevent the freezing of water in traps throughout dwellings during cold weather, when the summer residents have left. It seems that few houses there have a trap to disconnect the main drain from the street sewer, the occupants relying on the traps under the several fixtures to prevent the admission of sewer gas, and even this slight precaution is removed, for when the house is vacated in the fall, men are employed to pump the water out of all the traps; consequently for about eight months the sewer air is let in the house to saturate the carpets, draperies, etc. Is it a wonder that people charge modern sanitary appliances with causing disease, instead of properly attributing it to criminal stupidity? Again, a New York merchant considers his country house well drained because his drain runs down hill, and his cess pools are tight and their contents are removed twice a month and spread on the land. He, however, has no ventilation to his cess pools, because he wants to preserve the gases which he thought would make the contents more valuable as a fertilizer. He received with surprise and gratification the suggestion that the gas he was saving for its fertilizing properties was a menace to the health of his family, and a neighbor hard to exclude from his house when thus confined, and that it would be cheaper and safer to buy manure than to manfacture it in that way. Still another example of the blunders which an ignorant person may commit unwittingly was lately related by one of our Brooklyn subscribers. The lessee of a store, occupied as a pork shop, wishing to put in suitable drains for his refrigerators, employed a man to cut a piece out of the lead waste pipe from a sink, and put in a tin funnel on the lower end, into which he ran galvanized iron connections from two refrigerators. As a result, three untrapped direct connections were made with the sewer, and neither the man who directed the work nor the workman who followed his orders seemed to have the slightest idea that they had done anything wrong. One of these days we may expect to hear that some of this man's customers have been poisoned by eating bad meat, and the blame will be laid on trichinosis!—Sanitary Engineer. One man was still left, and to him he appealed for the excuse for such singular conduct. "Well, you see, the boys have been caught on that once or twice and it has become old." "Caught! Old! What do you mean?" "Why, they knew you were going to finish with '——but nothing will ever be invented which will knock a cold as quick as Dr. Kyan's cough syrup.' We are up in the woods here, but the boys tumble to a racket almost by telegraph."—Detroit Free Press. Majolica. Pesaro says a correspondent of the New York Evening Post is a little old town on the Adriatic; its walls overlook the blue sea, and fig trees grow within a short distance of breaking waves on a delightful beach. Up there hidden away by the nearer hills, is the birthplace of Raphael, and still further, is Gubbie, famous for its Gubbio ware and its great painter of majolica. Maestro Giorgio. From the margin of the naked slopes of the Apennines is found fine and famous clay of Pesaro, with which its majolica was made. Venice imported this clay for her "Venus pursetagne." The most flourishing period of majolica painting in Pesaro was 400 years ago, when the Duke of Urbino commissioned Battista Franco, a Venetian painter to make designs for vases and plates, and bought at high prices all the drawings of Raphael he could procure, which, with engravings of Marc Antonio, he gave to his majolica painters. Pesaro and Loretta are now two places in Italy which have unrivaled collections of majolica, and this one of Pesaro is perhaps surpassed by none. Half a million francs was refused by the municipality of Pesaro for this collection, which is rightly valued as the peculiar and appropriate glory of the town, which is also the birthplace of Bossini! The taste and passion for antique majolica can only be gratified by princes and millionaires. Once in the hands of the antiquarians, rare majolica plates or vases cost as much as plates of gold and silver. The Queen of Sweden is said to have offered their weight in gold for the Loretto vases. Moorish plates or Hispano-Arabic plates were the first models of the Italian majolica makers. Not only did Loretto and Pesaro produce this beautiful ware, but Pisa. Genoa Milan and Florence also. The collection at Pesaro is richest in plates. The wall of two rooms in the town hall are covered with this beautiful pottery. And what a revelation of taste and invention are these lustrous objects iridescent like mother-of-pearl, white like shells, or blue like lapis; red and jazuli; ruby gold; on which the most clever artists have traced with a sure and light hand arabesque; painted traits of mythological and sacred subjects; costs of arms and borders; patterns of wild and curious fancy. It is a tradition that Raphael himself painted majolica; and that Titian and Dosso Dossi were employed in making designs. I didn't say any pocket, it. I can tell what I knew about the doctor, and ex- bullled me thing I had another boys hardress, so punished science in re- well as I did but he could many of the had to be as if he ever, but he on the or- the doctor's it in the It was al- he went here, some told to call end of the only a short sleep and, but stood and called to ight!" and I coming down hand, when fall, and he headlong picked up burning and a log, with steps. dead, and then no one the whailn A few hours after, Starrick sent for me. He was lying quiet on the bed with his eyes wide open, and they looked more solemn and peaceful than ever. "You've heard, I suppose?" he said, very feebly. I knew what he meant—had I had he was going to die? I nodded, for I couldn't speak. "Poor mother takes it hard, but, Mordaunt, I'm not afraid. I've spoken to Hardress, and I don't think he hates me any more. He said he didn't mean to hurt me, and I believe it. He's afraid to tell Dr. Maxfield about it, because he's got a foolish idea they might hang him for killing me. But I told him I'd make it right for him. Mordaunt, you've been a good, true friend, and old fellow, I'm going to ask something of you." "What is it!" I asked. "Don't be ashamed to say your prayers. What would have become of me now if I had denied Him before men who is my only hope, my only stay now! I'm too weak to talk any more, but remember, old fellow, I loved you to the last." "I saw him alive no more. A few days afterwards, when we were in class, we heard the bell toll, and we knew that Starrick was dead. After the funeral, Dr. Maxfield had us all up. He told us that, before his death, Starrick had explained the cause of his fall, but acquitted Hardress of an intention to injure him, and made him promise not to deal severely with him. "I promise, sir," the doctor went on, frowning like a thunder-cloud at Hardress, "and I will not have you prosecuted for wilful murder, which in my own mind, I think you deserve. But I did not promise to keep you in the school you have disgraced. You are expelled, sir!" If you'd believe it, Hardress rose up and said, humbly, "I deserve it, sir. I didn't mean to hurt Starrick much. But I'm glad to be punished." Then he began to sob and cry and say he deserved to be hung, and if he could bring Starrick back to life, had willingly died. We were astonished for we didn't think Hardress had any feeling or conscience. But Starrick brought it out. That why I don't care to go back to Whitshall. I should be forever thinking of my dead friend, and miming him. —Touffle's Companion. Mr. Spurgeon. —His sermons and addresses teem with anecdotes, which are usually very much to the point. To his students last year he told a good story, to show the need of preachers being attractive. "When I was in Arran, quite recently," said he, "I heard of a minister who preached in a certain church, and at the close of the service was strongly urged by the ruling elder to promise a future supply of similar discourses, the collection after his sermon having been unusually large. "Dear me,' said the minister, with becoming pride, 'what might your ordinary collection amount to?' "Last Sunday it was twopence-half-penny!" "What is it to-day, then?' asked the minister, expecting to hear a large sum named. "Eightpence-halfpenny,' was the reply. "Woe is me, moaned the minister within himself,' for I gave the sixpence myself!" Who needed it Mosr. —One night, a judge, a military officer and a minister, all applied for lodging at an inn where there was but one spare bed, and the landlord was called upon to decide which had the best claim of the three. "I have lain fifteen years in the garrison at B." said the officer. "I have sat as judge twenty years in B," said the judge. "With your leave, gentleman, I have stood in the ministry twenty-five years at N." said the minister. "That settles the dispute," said the landlord. "You, Mr. Captain, have lain fifteen years—you Mr. Judge, have sat twenty years—but the aged pastor has stood five and twenty years, so he certainly has the best right to the bed." Charleston Mercury. The wall of two rooms in the town hall are covered with this beautiful pottery. And what a revelation of taste and invention are these lustrous objects, iridescent like mother-of-pearl, white like shells, or blue like lapis red and lazuli, ruby gold, on which the most clever artists have traced with a sure and light hand arabesque, painted portraits of mythological and sacred subjects, coats of arms and borders; patterns of wild and curious fancy. It is a tradition that Raphael himself painted majolica; and that Titian and Dosso Dossi were employed in making designs. The Washington Monument. Whatever changes are to come to us, it is the universal wish that Captain Casey will be retained to finish the Washington Monument. Six courses of stone have already been laid, and the work is to be pushed rapidly forward as long as the weather will permit. A track has been laid, so that the material is delivered at the very base of the structure. The next occupant of the White House will probably have the pleasure of seeing the shaft completed and the Kidwell bottoms transformed into a lovely lawn. Mr. Shea, the watchman: the monument, had a favorite cat kept him company in his lonely room while the clammy fogs hugged the marble after nightfall. One moonlight night last week Tom want up to the top of the monument by the stairway in the interior; and he was so pleased with the prospect that he tarried until the elevator, as noiselessly as Tom's padded feet brought up the workmen in the morning. Sooming the safer doeat Tom took a flying leap over the dizzy edge, one hundred and eighty feet from terra firma; and spread him self until he looked like a dried ooak shin in mid-air. He struck on all four hands and paused to take in the situation when he was spied by an old enemy, terrier. Tom made for a stone pile hard by, but not being in wind to make time of Mand N., the terrier ended the category of poor tom's woes. She's favorite is in the hands of a taxider mint; and will adorn a place in the National Museum; as the cat that leaped from Washington's monument and diated at the teeth of a turkey—Washington Letter in Detroit Free Press Bank of Anaheim, CAPITAL STOCK, $100,000.00. S. H. MOTT B. F. SKIBERT DIRECTORS: H. MABURY, E. P. SPRING H. F. SKIBERT, S. H. MOTV Q. S. WITHERBY This Bank receives Deposits, Loans Money, Buys and Sells Exchange and Currency, makes Collections and transmits 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 Pacific 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 visit any point in the countries named for any relative or friend, can purchase tickets here and forward them to the proper person by mail. FIRST NATIONAL BANK Emperor William, Bismarck and Napoleon at Sedan. At Sedan the Emperor William sat on a hill overlooking the battle-field, with the American Generals Sheridan and Forsyth, when the news of the capitulation came, and the French bearer of the Flag of truce was seen riding sadly back. At dawn the next morning Bismarck, who had been drinking champagne and eating sandwiches with officers and myself until one o'clock, and arguing terms of surrender the rest of the night, was mounted on his bay, fresh and clean shaven, riding toward Sedan, while we followed. A shabby low carriage, from which came the gleam of gold lace, approached. Bismarck sprang from his horse, letting it go, and bowed low. The leader colored, gaunt-eyed, deep lined man with disheveled mustache, in the carriage, was Napoleon III. Alighting at a weaver's cottage, Napoleon and Bismarck sat down and talked in an undertone, while we stood at the garden hedge; the weaver calmly looked on from his window, and eager troops and provision carts streamed by. Then Bismarck rode back to the Emperor and Napoleon waited alone, walking back and forth, limping slightly and smoking countless cigarettes. The proudest monarch in Europe was cooling his heels at a weaver's cottage, waiting in attendance on a Prussian. Soon a troop of cuirassiers formed around the cottage, Bismarck returned, and Napoleon was escorted to arrained house in Sedan. Von Moltke had dispelled the obstinacy of the French commander by showing him the German cannon, and the capitulation had been signed. The German monarch came riding down with head proudly erect to meet the bent and broken Napoleon, who came forward with handkerchief at his eyes, while William's face worked strangely. In the shattered house an interview of twenty minutes was held, when William rode away among his troops and Napoleon spent the night in the bedroom occupied by William the night before. He passed his time in reading, and the book significantly was Bulwer's "Last of the Barons."—Forbes' Lecture on Royalty. QUIET GIRLS.—The quiet girl is generally worth studying, and will frequently astonish those who pretend to understand her, by rising to heights when she is summoned thither which are unapproachable to her complacent and courted critics. Yet it may happen that quiet girls of the best type may lack the wit, the adaptability to that which they have no sympathy, the librarian. A correspondent of the Writing Post is a little old baritic; its walls overlaid, and fig trees grow in distance of breaking sightful beach. Up there is nearer hills, is the caphael, and still furth-famous for its Gubbio that painter of majolica. From the margin of grass of the Apennines is a farn and famous clay of which its majolica was imported this clay for oursetagne." The mostood of majolica painting 400 years ago, when the commissioned Battista Italian painter to make de-stand plates, and bought all the drawings of Bastien procue, which, with Marte Antonio, he gave to painters. Pesaro and for two places in Italy survived collections of this one of Pesaro is peril by none. Half a million used by the municipality this collection, which is as the peculiar and ap-port of the town, which is place of Rossini: passion for antique only be gratified by billionaires. Once in the antiquarians, rare majolics cost as much as plates ever. The Queen of Sweden offered their weight Loretto vases. Moorish papano-Arabic plates were also this beautiful ware, but Milan, and Florence also. At Pesaro is richest in wall of two rooms in the discovered with this beauti-And what a revelation of mention are these lustrous present like mother-of-pearl, bills, or blue likeapis red toy gold, on which the most have traced with a sure arabesque, painted porological and sacred subarms and bordersand pat-ard curious fancy. It is Raphael himself painted that Titian and Dosso employed in making de- QUIET GIRLS.—The quiet girl is generally worth studying, and will frequently astonish those who pretend to understand her, by rising to heights when she is summoned thither which are unapproachable to her complacent and courted critics. Yet it may happen that quiet girls of the best type may lack the wit, the adaptability to that which they have no sympathy, the glibness, and that unlimited faith in themselves which must be possessed by those who desire to attract the notice of the more shallow patrons of society, who believe in noisy girls. All quiet girls are not endowed with genius and the virtues, for some are simple fools, who would be noisy enough if they could find anything to say. But we protest against the habit which prevails of slighting quiet girls and speaking ill of them before they have been fairly trid, and of paying homage to the conceived chatter-boxes of little sense and principle. While noisy damsels often turn cut to be gaudy impostors, many quiet ones will amply repay the time, trouble or love which any one may beslow upon them. THE EX-QUERY.—A curious indirect result of the birth of that Spanish royal baby is the trouble now being given to the Government by ex-Queen Isabella. Going down from France to play her part as royal godmother, she not only has had her salon crowded with the chiefs of the dynastic liberal opposition and all her old servants in the aristocracy and army, but she has vigorously reminded the Spanish Cabinet that she has long standing claims on the treasury, amounting to millions of dollars. This was done at a most inopportune time, so the government now comes out every year with a deficit of some thirty millions, but how to shake off the obligation is what causes sleepiness to the poor Minister of Finance. In official circles there was less rejoicing when the precious Infanta came into Spain the other day than there will be when the ex-Queen goes out of it.—N. Y. Emmett. Politics is the expression or limitation of social virtues—Duceen.