anaheim-gazette 1880-12-11

ANAHEIM GAZETTE. RICHARD MELROSE. - Editor and Proprietor PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY. The Song of the Shirt. With finger weary and worn, With epilids heavy and red, A woman sat in unwomanly rags, Plying her needle and thread; Bitch! stitch! stitch! In poverty, hunger and dirt, And still with a voice of dolorous pitch, She sang the "Song of the Shirt." "Work! work! work!" My labor never flags: And what are it's wages! A bed of straw, A crust of bread and rags, That shattered roof, and this naked floor, A table, a broken chair, And a wall so blank, my shadow I thank For sometimes falling there. "O men, with sisters dear! O men with mothers and wives! It is not linen you're wearing out, But human creature's lives; Bitch! stitch! stitch! In poverty, hunger and dirt, Sewing at once, with a double thread, A shroud as well as a shirt. "But why do I talk of death! That phantom of grisly bone, I hardly fear his terrible shape, It seems so like my own; It seems so like my own, Because of the fasts I keep; O God! that bread should be so dear! And flesh and blood so cheap! A Husband Horrified. A horrible discovery was made this afternoon in the third story of the Vaughn Diamond Building, at the junction of Main street and Delaware, used by the Kansas City Medical College, at which time Mr. John Torrence found the dead body of his wife on a marble slab, where it had been placed by a party of ghouls of the grave, having been stolen from its resting-place in the Union Cemetery, during the previous night. As the poor man saw the naked body, where it had been left by the human hyenas, he could hardly believe that it was that of his wife whom he had buried less than twenty-four hours before, but being requested by Sergeant Deitsch, he drew closer and the frightful revelation was made doubly apparent. He sank back into a chair while the police officer covered the body with a table cloth, and after giving orders that no one should be allowed entrance to the room, the husband went before Chief of Police Speers, vowing acceptance on the men who had dared Just in Time. A STORY OF THE SEPOY REBELLION. Dinner was over at last, and Mr. Walter Currie, English commissioner at the up-country station of Hutta-Bagh, in Northern India, had gone out upon the veranda with his wife and two guests—the Colonel and Major of the —th Light Infantry to enjoy the cool of the evening. On three sides the house was surrounded by its compound, a large enclosed space serving the purpose of a court-yard; but the fourth was only separated by a small patch of garden from the public road, along which a number of native women were passing with their little pitchers on their heads. The sight of them naturally turned the conversation upon a favorite subject with all Anglo-Indians, viz., the character of the natives and the best methods of dealing with them. "There’s only one way," said the Colonel emphatically, "tell 'em what they’re to do, make 'em do it, and thrash 'em well if they don’t. That's my way." "Well, I venture to differ with you there, Colonel," said Mr. Currie, quietly. "I've had to do some thrashing once or twice, I own, but most of my native servants seem to get along very well without it, and they serve me excellently, I assure you." "I wish you'd been in my place, then," retorted the Colonel; "you'd have changed your opinion, I warrant. Why, the year before last, when I had charge of the two battalions of the reseals down at Sutteepoor, because there wasn't another Queen's officer within reach, just like my confounded luck, there was no getting anything done unless I did it myself. By Jove, sir! I had to be everything at once—my own quartermaster, my own sergeant-major, my own caterer, and —" "And your own trumpeter, Col. Anneley?" asked Mrs. Currie, with an arch smile. The Colonel's broad face reddened ominously, and an explosion seemed imminent, when a sudden clamor of angry voices from the road below drew them all to the front of the veranda. The cause of the disturbance was visible at a glance. Two half-drunken English soldiers, swaggering along the road, had come into violent contact with a native boy who was running past, and one of them, enraged at the collision, had felled the poor lad to the ground, and was unclasping his own yet? A detachment lish) are coming up off of the river; if we catch them as they pass, we "How do you know Major, eagerly. "I heard the Sepoys was lying hid among der," answered the lion. "Among the bushthe Colonel, fasting you really been in the cut-throat villains,they said? Whatever for? "I did it for Sahib replied the boy, prow was good to me." The Colonel turns hide the finish of m that overspread his strong smiled slight mutter: "By Jove! these black as they are paired "But if the trooper how can we tell them?" asked Mrs. Torrance by the shouting joined the group.pass near enough to we have no mean word." "Fear nothing sahim," (madam) said quietly; "I will call self." "But how can you cried Mr. Currie, to confident tone in w spoke of a task from veteran might have" "Listen, sahibi "I will slip out of a dash-into the door were deserting from you can tell yourself or two after me as I go. Then thme kindly,and I'll all dying of thirstonly wait one dayyou,so that theyanother attack.Tno suspicion,andof themselves.I'llacross the water." "But are you qwill believe you?strong,doubtfully "They'll believplied the boy,c deep gash in his staining his whiteas he glided froby Armstrong. The plan was smen below,and being stolen from its resting-place in the Union Cemetery, during the previous night. As the poor man saw the naked body, where it had been left by the human hyenas, he could hardly believe that it was that of his wife whom he had buried less than twenty-four hours before, but being requested by Sergeant Deitsch, he drew closer and the frightful revelation was made doubly apparent. He sank back into a chair while the police officer covered the body with a table cloth, and after giving orders that no one should be allowed entrance to the room, the husband went before Chief of Police Speers, vowing vengeance on the men who had dared desecrate the grave of his wife and lug her body into a dissecting-room. As soon as it became known to the faculty of the college that the body had been discovered, an effort was made to keep the matter quiet, but "murder will out" and a reporter was among the first to hear of the case. At once divining that the faculty must be acquainted with the facts in the premises, an effort was made to interview the prominent members, but suddenly they had become as dumb as oysters and refused to say anything about it. A reporter called on Dr. George Halley at his home on Wyandotte street, but that gentleman would impart no information to the scribe, being in conversation with Dr. Tyre at the time, and at last the reporter sought new channels, where the following facts were obtained: Mrs. Torrence, wife of John Torrence, died on Wednesday last at the old Gillis House, on the levee, and was buried on Friday. Her grave was in the southeastern portion of the cemetery, and yesterday morning, when the sexton, Wm. Todd, made his inspection of the newly-made graves, as he is compelled to do by orders from the Association, he discovered that Mrs. Torrence's had been tampered with, and at once came down town and placed the facts before M. J. Payne, President of the Association, who in turn gave them to Chief of Police Speers. It was at once seen that the utmost secrecy must be maintained, and Sergeant Deitsch was detailed to work up the case. After visiting several localities and interviewing one or two physicians, he came to the conclusion that the body was in the dissecting-room of the Kansas City Medical College. In the meantime, Mr. Torrence had been notified, and the two proceeded to the building, and could not gain admittance. The janitor was found at last, but refused to allow the officer into the building till he was threatened with arrest, when he opened the door and the investigation was made. Several rooms were searched before the one used for dissecting purposes was reached, and the officer felt sure before entering that the body was there, as proved to be the case. Mrs. Torrence, although she died in a miserable way, was a woman of more than ordinary intelligence and ability, and fifteen years ago numbered as her friends the best known people in the city. She was born in Edinburgh, Scotland, as was her husband, and shortly after their arrival here, misfortune overteok them, and they went from bad to worse till their associates were of the worst kind, both male and female. One of the "And your own trumpeter, Colonel Neesley?" asked Mrs. Currie, with an arch smile. The Colonel's broad face reddened ominously, and an explosion seemed imminent, when a sudden clamor of angry voices from the road below drew them all to the front of the veranda. The cause of the disturbance was visible at a glance. Two half-drunken English soldiers, swaggering along the road, had come into violent contact with a native boy who was running past, and one of them, enraged at the collision, had felled the poor lad to the ground, and was unclasping his own belt with the evident intention of beating him unmercifully. "Served the young whelp right," shouted the Colonel, rubbing his hands; "that's just what they all want." The other officer, Major Armstrong—popularly called Major Strongarm—was a huge, brawny, silent man whose forte lay in acting rather than in talking. During the whole discussion he had sat like a great bronze statue, never uttering a word, but at the sight of this man ill-using this child, he woke up rather startlingly. To leap to the ground twelve feet below, to dart across the garden, to vault over the high stockade beyond, was the work of a moment for the athletic Major; and in another instant he had raised the fallen body tenderly from the ground, while saying to the foremost soldier in the low, compressed tones of a man who means what he says: "Be off with you!" "And who deuce are you, shovin' your nose in where you ain't wanted?" roared the infuriated ruffian, to whose eyes the Major's plain evening dress bore no token of his being an officer. "Jist you —" The sentence was never finished. At the sound of that insolent defiance Armstrong's sorely-tried patience gave way altogether, and the powerful right hand, which had hewed its way through a whole squadron of Sikh cavalry, fell like a sledge-hammer upon his opponent's face, crushing him to the ground as if he had been blown from the mouth of a gun. "Well done, Major Armstrong," shouted Mr. Currie from above. "You deserve your name, and no mistake." At that formidable name, the soldier took to his heels at once, and Mr. Armstrong, without even looking at his prostrate antagonist, proceeded to examine the hurts of the boy. The latter was sorely bruised in many places, and the blood was trickling freely over his swarthy face; but the hero still did his best to stand erect, and to keep down every sign of the pain which he was enduring. "You're a brave lad, and you'll make a soldier some day," said the Major to him, in Hindooostane. "Come with me, and I'll see that no one molests you again. The lad seized the huge brown hand which had defended him so bravely and kissed it with 'the deepest reverence,' and the two walked away together. Six months have come and gone, and Mr. Currie's hospitable mansion presents a very different spectacle. The The Dinner Hour.—Edward King says in one of his recent letters that theater-going is becoming less and less common in Paris, the modern dinner hour, which has pushed its way along from hour to hour, coming now at 7 or 8 p.m., too late for frequent attendance at the theater, except when a first night makes society sacrifice its dinner to see and still more to be seen. As the received dinner hour grows later with every generation, it would be interesting to know when the next century will dine. Perhaps it will take a pill of concentrated food instead of dinner in order to have time for its hourly paper. A century and a half ago in France the Grand Monarch himself dined at 2 p.m., and Queen Elizabeth dined the century before even earlier. Since then dinner has passed through each hour, crossing 4 and 5 p.m., in the last century. It has already reached 6 p.m. Probably the twentieth century will take its pill at midnight. Still did his best to stand erect, and to keep down every sign of the pain which he was enduring. "You're a brave lad, and you'll make a soldier some day," said the Major to him, in Hindooostance. "Come with me, and I'll see that no one molests you again. The lad seized the huge brown hand which had defended him so bravely and kissed it with' the deepest reverence, and the two walked away together. Six months have come and gone, and Mr. Currie's hospitable mansion presents a very different spectacle. The pretty garden is trampled into dust and mire and the bodies of men and horses are lying thick among the fragments of the half-destroyed stockade. All the windows of the house are blocked up, and through the loopholed walls peer the muscles of ready rifles, showing how steady the besieged garrison stands at bay against the countless enemies whose dark, fierce faces and glittering weapons are visible amid the half-reuined buildings and matted thickets all around. The Sepoy mutiny of 1857 is blazing skyhigh over Northern India, and Colonel Anneley is blockaded in Hutta-Bagh, with a certainty of a hideous death for himself and every man of the few who are still true to him unless help comes speedily. Day was just breaking, when two men hold whispered counsel in one of the upper rooms. "No fear of the water running short," said Major Armstrong; "but even upon half rations the food will be cut in four days more." "And then we'll just go right at them and cut our way through or die for it," growled the old Colonel, with a grim smile on his iron face, for, with all his harshness and injustice, Col. Anneley was "grit to the backbone." "We mustn't say anything to them about it, though," added he, with a side glance at Mr. Currie, who, standing in the further corner, was anxiously watching this thin, worn face of his sleeping wife. At that moment a loud chase from below startled them both, and the next moment Isaiah (the "Major's boy," as everybody now called him) burst into the room, with a glow of unwonted excitement on his dark face. "Sahib," he cried, "there is hope for turned anxious group, fearing some movement that the trick wilt Ismail mean to Would he plunge without any discern further strategy one could say stooped to plead dipper into the his hand and wipe the stream. Laugh from the boy was seen rye the bank, and the vessel as it "What on grunted the Coiled." "I see!" ocriumphantly, "and he's making my brave boy." But at that from the Sepo discovered. Lankily, they their pieces would soon hear the alarm instill of their armed fell like hail a gallant little pear. "Let us find show of sallying it'll take their But in this h The first rat besieged home most of Isaiah a dozen were leased fire, et again. All at once glass to the floor. Between them had seen the b and go whirling river, heel up. "There'a am muttered the w bless him for now, old friend there's no hope. The first f passed quietly feenders, utter drugged with after midnight the two vessels Mr. Murray is now in the office of the surgeon-in-chief of a newly formed sub-unit of the best the what and what's you currie, brash-stout of along we place, you'd warrant. I had of the cause withluck, done, sir! my own major, ol. Anith an addened seemed minor of y drew daa. was visrunken ing the contact running at the to the is own of beat us yet? A detachment of Ingles (English) are coming up on the other bank of the river; if we can send word to them as they pass, we are saved!" "How do you know?" asked the Major, eagerly. "I heard the Sepoys say so, while I was lying hid among the bushes youder," answered the lad. "Among the bushes yonder?" roared the Colonel, facing around. "Have you really been in the midst of those cut-throat villains, listening to what they said? Whatever did'you do that for?" "I did it for Sahib Armstrong's sake," replied the boy, proudly. "Because he was good to me." The Colonel turned hastily away, to hide the finish of not unmanly shame that overspread his hard face; and Armstrong smiled slightly as he heard him mutter: "By Jove! these chaps aren't so black as they are painted, after all." "But if the troops are beyond the river how can we communicate with them?" asked Mrs. Currie, who, awakened by the shouting, had arisen and joined the group. "They may not pass near enough to hear the firing, and we have no means of sending them word." "Fear nothing from that, memsahim," (madam) said the Hindoo boy, quietly; "I will carry them word myself." "But how can you possibly do it?" cried Mr. Currie, thunderstruck by the confident tone in which the mere child spoke of a task from which the hardiest veteran might have well shrunk. "Listen, sahib," answered Ismail. "I will slip out of the house and make a dash-into the enemy's lines, as if I were deserting from you to them, and you can tell your people to fire a shot or two after me with blank cartridges as I go. Then the Sepoys will receive me kindly, and I'll tell them that you're all dying of thirst, and that they need only wait one day or more to be sure of you, so that they won't care to make another attack. Then, when they have no suspicion, and think I'm quite one of themselves, I'll steal away, and slip across the water." "But are you quite sure the Sepoys will believe you?" asked Major Armstrong, doubtfully. "They'll believe this, anyhow," replied the boy, deliberately making a deep gash in his bare shoulder, and staining his white frock with the blood as he glided from the room, followed by Armstrong. The plan was soon explained to the men below, and a moment later Ismail's watch here in the whole garrison, except the murders themselves—caught a faint stirring in the surrounding thickets, which seemed to argue some movement on the part of the enemy. Listening intently for a few moments they felt certain that they were right and lost no time in arranging their man. The scanty stores of food were opened once more, and crouching together in the darkness, the doomed man took what they fully believed to be their last meal on earth. "The they're coming!" said Major Armstrong, straining his eyes into the gloom through a loophole. "I hear them creeping forward, though I can't see them." "What the deuce was that?" exclaimed the Colonel, suddenly. "It looked like a fiery arrow flying past." It's worse than that," said the Major, in a low voice. The rascals arguing lighted chips of bamboo on to the roof to set it on fire. Send the women up with the buckets to flood the tatch—there's not a moment to lose." "I'll go and see to it myself," cried Mrs. Currie, hastening out of the room. But the power of this new weapon had already become fatally manifest. The house was an old one, and dry as tinder from the prolonged heat, and as fast as the flames were quenched in one place they broke out in another. When day dawned the fire had already got a firm hold of one corner of the building, and a crushing discharge was poured upon all who attempted to extinguish it, while the triumphant yells of the human tigers below told that they felt sure of their prey. "It's all over with us, old fellow," said the Colonel, grasping his old comrades' hand; "but at least we shall have done our duty." "Give me one of your pistols," whispered Mrs. Currie to her husband, in a voice that was not her own. "I must not fall into their hands alive." At that moment Major Armstrong was seen to start and bend forward, as listening intently; for he thought—although he could scarcely believe his cars—that he had heard distant firing. In another instant he heard it again, and this time there could be no doubt, for several of the others had caught it likewise, and a gleam of hope once more lighted up their haggard faces and bloodshot eyes. Louder and nearer came the welcome sound while the sudden terror and confusion visible among the enemy showed that they, too, were at no loss to guess its meaning. Then high above all the din rose the Washington City as a Matrimonial Center. Washington is now more than ordinally full of life. Business at all the leading hotels is 50 per cent better than it has averaged in corresponding months of recent years, and a rush is expired all winter long, winding up with a perfect jam at inauguration time. It would be difficult to name the errands that bring the American citizen to the Capital, but matrimony takes the lead just now. The influx of October brides and grooms in simply tremendous. Eighteen of these gay, guilless pairs were housed at the Ebbitt at one time, and the dining room is still thick with their successors. Just think what loads of bliss pass in review before your correspondent daily. I have a penchant for late breakfasts, so, by a surprising coincidence, have these sheepish young pilgrims on the sea hymenial. This morning I breakfasted at a table with three sets of them, and (between you and me) I needed no maple syrup on my pancakes. Sweetness was a drug in the market. One of the brides called in leaning fondly on the arm of her beloved. A pretty little creature opposite me, with mischievous eyes and pouting, rosebud lips, coquettishly wearing a big poke bonnet, merrily whispered to her Alonzo: "See! there's another pair. I wonder if all the world is getting married." Another young husband was indoctrinating his Dulcinea on the political situation while waiting for their breakfast to come in. Her remarks in reply reminded me of Mrs. Spoopendyke, but to him, while the glamor lasts she is, no doubt, the wisest, discreetest, best" of women. A whole column might be written about these young doves just mated and trying their wings together. "All the world loves a lover," and even a prosiae femme sole with a turn for literature and politics may have a soft spot in her heart for these happy, unsophisticated voyagers. I am sorry Mrs. Hayes is not here to beam on them, all and singly, when they go to explore the White House. She would say something particularly nice to each one of them, and give every bride a little regulation bouquet with a white camellia perched in the center—she always does. She keeps a big basket full of them on purpose; and every bride goes away handling those flowers with religious care, and thinking herself favored above the common lot.—Washington Corr. Troy Times. Lucretia Mott. As already briefly announced Mrs. At five o'clock the next morning a light buckboard wagon, drawn by a lively sorrel mare, sped along the roadway leading out of New Lots into the country thereabouts, and on the buckboard sitting perfectly erect, with his own beaten and had prepared a letter of withdrawal. He had a sudden inspiration one night as he was copying this letter, the result of which we give in the words of a reporter in the N.Y. Sun; At five o'clock the next morning a light buckboard wagon, drawn by a lively sorrel mare, sped along the roadway leading out of New Lots into the country thereabouts, and on the buckboard sitting perfectly erect, with his own beaten and had prepared a letter of withdrawal. He had a sudden inspiration one night as he was copying this letter, the result of which we give in the words of a reporter in the N.Y. Sun; turned anxiously upon the distant group, fearing to see at any moment some movement which would show that the trick was detected. How did Ismail mean to accomplish his purpose? Would he plunge boldly into the river without any disguise, or had he some further strategem in preparation? No one could say. Suddenly, as Ismail stooped to plunge his light wooden dipper into the water, it slipped from his hand and went floating away down the stream. A cry of dismay, a loud laugh from the Sepoys, and then the boy was seen running frantically along the bank, and trying in vain to clutch the vessel as it floated past. "What on earth is he up to?" grunted the Colonel, completely mystified. "I see!" cried Major Armstrong triumphantly, "there's a boat yender and he's making right for it. Well done, my brave boy!" But at that moment a yell of rage from the Sepoys told that the trick was discovered. Luckily, those on the bank had left their pieces behind, or poor Ismail would soon have been disposed of; but the alarm instantly brought up a crowd of their armed comrades, whose bullets fell like hail around the boat and it's gallant little pilot. "Let us fire a volley, and make a show of sallying out," said the Colonel, "It take their attention from him." But in this he was mistaken. The first rattle of musketry from the besieged house did indeed recall the most of Ismail's amabilis, but at least a dozen were left, who kept up an unceasing fire, striking the boat again and again. All at once the Colonel dashed his glass to the floor with a frightful oath. Between the two guns of smoke he had seen the boat turn suddenly over, and go whirling away down the dark river, keel upward. "There’s an end of the poor lad," muttered the veteran, brokenly. "God bless him for a brave little fellow. And now, old friend, we must die hard, for there’s no hope left." The first few hours of the night passed quietly, and the exhausted defenders utterly wore out, slept as if drugged with opium. But a little after midnight the quick ears of the two veteran officers — the only all men; that all means we commend for the attainment of these objects are reasonable, peaceful and thoroughly legal, offending in no degree against National right, moral obligation or intelligent human law." The address then reviews the work already accomplished by the League, and continues: "We never will pause or rest from the labor which we have accepted until public action has wholly swept away the system of landlordism which antagonizes our people. This great reform will be achieved, not by invasion, threats, breach of any law or evasion of any duty, but by continuing that course which we have hitherto pursued, by teaching the people not to become themselves the instrument of that despotism under which they have so long suffered, and by directing public opinion against the acts offany persons who willfully damage the interests of the people. We therefore, appeal to you, fellow-countrymen and friends of public freedom, to create an additional fund, the primary object of which will be to provide such defense as legal skill can afford to the men who have stood in the vanguard of this movement. All that money can do will be done, to gain a victory over the leaders of the frish people. The English Government commanding an unlimited use of the public purse, has already secured the resources of the most powerful array of counsel ever engaged in any prosecution in our time. We feel entirely confident that you, on the other hand, will do what lies in your power to equalize the conflict and deprive the prosecution of its tremendous odds by providing adequate funds for the defense. Relying in this great national crisis on your sympathy, we beg to subscribe ourselves—your faithful servants." It is a significant circumstance that of the 457,257 immigrants who came to the United States last year, 99,708 were from British America. Canada sends us more immigrants than any European country, except Great Britain, and nearly a third as many as all Europe. Of the arrivals, 347,747 were from Europe, 101,681 from America and 5,880 from Asia. An onion, like a laborer, works best with its cost off.—New York People. Trustees. Mr. David Hopkins and Mr. August Detloff being the rival candidates. Mr. Hopkins concluded, after a careful survey of the situation, that he was going to be beaten and had prepared a letter of withdrawal. He had a sudden inspiration one night as he was copying this letter, the result of which we give in the words of a reporter in the N.Y., Sun: At five o'clock the next morning a light buckboard wagon, drawn by a lively sorrel mare, sped along the roadway leading out of New Lots into the country thereabouts, and on the buckboard, sitting perfectly erect, with his hat set jammitily a little on one side—a very unusual proceeding—was Mr. Hopkins, smiling in such bland and cordial good-fellowship that the country folks he met upon the way were forced to smile in return, and after passing to turn and look again at the pleasant-looking gentleman. Mr. Hopkins remained away for some time, but when he returned he still smiled. Election day at last arrived, and as the votes came pouring in the elation of Mr. Detloff's friends became extremely painful to the friends of Mr. Hopkins, and they shook their headsominously. But still Mr. Hopkins smiled. Suddenly a broad grin overroared his features as an old-fashioned country carry-all drove up, and five farmers' wives and daughters climbed to the ground, while the farmer who had driven them over said: "How are ye, Mr. Hopkins?" And then, turning to the woman, added: "Now do it." "But," said one," we don't know how." "You go right in there and stuff your five votes in whichever one of them boxes is marked 'Hopkins,' and don't you make no mistake." And then as the anti-Hopkinsites looked down the road they were appalled, for they saw more farmers' wagons coming, all filled with smiling women. And the women came to the number of 108, and every woman voted for Mr. Hopkins, and when the returns were posted, Mr. Hopkins was declared elected. He still smiled, while Mr. Detloff shoved his hands way down into his pockets and murmured: "I'm blamed if I didn't forget that women could vote this year." An Extraordinary Correspondence. A correspondence with hair was once attempted between a notorious Parisian thief in durness vile and his comrade outside. A letter was sent to the prisoner from his sweetheart, containing merely a look of hair wrapped in the leaf of a book. The jailer did not consider the sentence important enough to be delivered; but in a few days there came a similar incision, and yet another. This aroused suspicion, and the governor took the matter in hand. He examined the leaf of the book; it was that of a common novel, twenty-six lines in a page. Then he studied the hair and noticed the small quantity of the gift. Counting the hairs he found them of unequal length, and twenty-six in number, the same as the lines on the page. Struck with the coincidence he laid the hairs along the lines of the page which they respectively reached, beginning at the top with the smallest hair. After some trouble he found that the end of each hair pointed to a different letter, and that these letters combined formed a long sentence which informed the prisoner that his friends were on the watch, and that the next time he left the prison to be examined an attempt would be made to rescue him. The governor laid his plans accordingly. The attempt was made, but the rescuer fell into their own trap. Indians Shopping. In her book on Manitoba Miss Fitzgibbon says: "I watched some Indians shopping, and was astonished to see how invariably they waved aside inferior goods and chose such materials as merinos at $1.50 to $2 (7s 61 to 10s) a yard. One of the merchants told me it was useless to offer them anything but the best. An Indian who could not speak English or French, and wanted five things, divided his money according to his idea of their relative cost in little piles on the counter, and going through a pantomine descriptive of his wants, was handed first some silk handkerchiefs. Taking one up, he felt it, held it up to the light, and throwing it aside, shook his head vigorously, uttering an "Ugh!" of disgust. When showed a better one, he was doubtful; but, upon a much superior article being produced, he took it, and willingly handed over one pile for it. This, however, was too much, and when given the change he put it on one of the other piles, and proceeded in the same way to make the rest of his purchases. "How easily they could be cheated," I said to the clerk after the Indian had left. "No," he replied, "not so easily as..." A Wonderful Adventure. Sergeant O'Keefe returned last evening from an unsuccessful attempt to ascend the Peak. He says that it is the first time within his experience that he has been thus baffled and he asks to be excused from ever being subjected to a similar experience. By the reports which he had received from Mr. Sweeney, who is stationed at the Peak, he was led to infer that but little snow had fallen, and in consequence he was not prepared to contend with the obstacles which blocked his path. The journey for the first few miles of the trail was without any satisfactory feature, but, while making an abrupt turn in the trail in the vicinity of Minnehaha Falls, the Sergeant was brought to a standstill by an immense herd of black-tailed deer, which impeded his further progress. He contended that the herd contained fully 700 head, and says it took just one hour and forty minutes for them to pass a given point. The Sergeant was only armed with a 32 caliber Smith & Wesson revolver, and, with this poor apology for a fire-arm, he succeeded in killing seventeen of the deer. The only planable reason that Sergeant O'Keefe can give for the remarkable appearance of this vast herd is that they were driven from South Park by the recent storm.—Colorado Springs Gazette. Business.—Peter Bement hobbled out like a horse on three legs. He was bent and shattered and riven, and he had his face puckered up like a boy swallowing green persimmons. "Peter, straighten up!" commanded the court. "Peter straightened until he was as plump as a bean-pole." "Put both your feet down!" Both feet went down with a stamp. Don't try to work that old game on me. Peter. Now, sir, you were drunk again last night." "Yes, sir." That's twice within a month. Peter, look up here." David Hopkins and Mr. being the rival candidate concluded, after a of the situation, that he beaten and had pref withdrawal. He had ration one night as his letter, the result in the words of a report Sun: k the next morning a wagon, drawn by a re, sped along the road of New Lots into the mouts, and on the buck-perfectly erect, with his little on one side—a proceeding—was Mr. King in such bland and lowship that the country won the way were forced turn, and after passing to again at the pleasant man. Mr. Hopkins resor some time, but when still smiled. At last arrived, and as pouring in the elation of friends became extremely friends of Mr. Hopkins, their heads ominously. Hopkins smiled. Sudden overpread his fest-fashioned country carry- and five farmers' wives climbed to the ground, or who had driven them, Mr. Hopkins? And to the women, added: one, "we don't know right in there and stuff your whishever one of them old 'Hopkins,' and don't mishake." as the anti-Hopkinsites the road they were apoy saw more farmers' all filled with smiling the woman came to the end, and every woman voted, and when the returns Mr. Hopkins was declared still smiled, while Mr. and his hands way down and murmured: and if I didn't forget that vote this year."