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Show II0XK. ranged the table and ministered to th appetite other cuest with the other Mr. Webb nodded his Home? that sweet ecmpnnW head, keenly surveying her the while. hip All well, he Of life the better part; responded awa lows of colfee. te fcappv emile of welcome on the lij Eliza. Upspriuging from the heart. her love. And Reed no Reed didnt send no love. of kindly hands, Rut lie wanted to he Tt is the eager clasp The long remembered tone, specially remembered, Ree,l did Hes had dreadful good lu. k with the The ready sympathy which understands sweet own. its All feeling by potato patches and tobacco crons this year. The rose cheek of little children pressed Has he? and Hilda blushed ro i To ours in loving glee; y She might have added The presell1 e of our dearest and our best sometime. where we be. mutter Mr3' 'o Murrtt ol!u-'laterf?red!UC And f tiling this, a prince may homeless You niusnt he late for your np-live. pointm.nt with Mr. Dulany, daugh- Though palace walls are nigh; ter, said she. with a glance at the clock. And having it, desert shore may give The joy wealth cannot buy. . AnJ slle added, in explanatory fash-ion- : ns the earth's remotest span, Hilda rides out every day. Two Widespread as ocean foam. Wtk a'e:u' a gentleman sacred iu is the Lreast of One thought friend' man .K.l,les Tcnt does she? It is the thought of home. ... said Mr. W ebb. I guess likely it costs consid-abl- e word his human fate shall hind little to horses in New keep York. Im fjut With destined above, , and Hilda's ?ot so much of his immortal mind glad you for there the homewider to money spare. love. Is in God's I m told, said Mrs. Murray, complacently, that Hildas horse is one of the handsomest in the j A P10USFRAUD. And of course a young girl like park. her t0 Ret plenty o'i exercise and ought fresh HELEN FOREST GRATES. -- sh?5 . ll i J air. LY Saturday Night. "Does Mrs. Murray ! live here? knocked apologetically on of the bakery with ; the glass counter the handle of his whip. It seemed j almost a liberty thus unceremonious i ly to address the gaily attired young woman who was adding up the ac-- i tall desk. counts behind He stood near the door, keeping a sharp lookout on tho barefooted boy who was holding his sleepy old horse -f- or had he nob heard, many a time and oft, of the juvenile New York? In reply to his respectful question, the young woman nodded her head and curtly answered: Up stairs. J Its a pretty big house, said Mr. The about him. Webb, glancing Murrays wasnt rich when, they lived down our way; but Rachel never had I should say, now, good judgment. the rent of a house like this It aint a house, said the young woman, speakiug with a lead pencil between her teeth. Ain't a house, eh? Martin Webbs d honest, eyes gradually would have expanded, until you 'thought the lids could scarcely contNot a house? ain them. Mr. Webb ; I ,f ; onion-colore- its a flat. Fourth story, Xo; Name of Murray. Stair-ris- e the hall there. 1 And so for the first time in his life, Mr. Webb found himself in the prepack room just out in cincts of a flat. lost his way half a dozen of times 1 this gaunt, giant, with a ham in his arms, two or three latrines of a country sausage over his S He good-humore- basket of red apples against his breast. That was a matter of course. He walked into the kitchen of one .'boulder, and a lisped tightly at, brought up in theparlorof anoth-fK'i'.an- d presented himself, smiling, at the itebreaklast table of a third, where c luckless printer, who worked all ight, on the early edition of a morn-1- 5 paper, was sleepily chipping the he shells of an egg. them eggs? said Martin, AVolis Corners ens cant heat that ere sort o thing yBut I nin sure I ask pardon; I guess ve got into the wrong flat. Praps oucan tell me where a lady named Murray lives?, And by dint of many such question-1- 3 and inquiries, Mr. Webb at last nt himself, his red apples, ham and nisases into a scantily furnished xmi looking out on a bare brick wall a room where everything had a arved look, even down to the cat, aich sat intently watching a mou.se-o'ei- n the wainscoting. Mrs. Murray, a tall, pinched, was engaged, through a 'uble of spectacles, in mending pair e faces, hut the slow motion of her die, and the uncertain expression her face, denoted no very briliant cess. Cali If our elder-woma- n, Vnd seated on the window ledge e a riding habit of dark green hit a beaver hat with dark green twisted around it, and a jaunty le ivory handled whip, was a pret-ar- l of IS or 20. started at the entrance of M'ebb, hotii smiled glad recogni- op-ut- her, 'V1? cried Mrs. Murray, vur its ?artin! Hilda, dive cous- chair I declare, Martin, I an: sur-'- d to see yon here! ao more'n I to get here, I guess, inied the farmer, with a peculiar l'nR noise down in his throat, we ere city folks, they do take outen a fellow. Aint li)edder flats down at nir 8 o0Ur corner, eh? Here, cousin ve hrting ye one of Elizas sugar-curelmms an some ages, and a bushel of the apples , 8rowed on the tree beyond the real, red cheeked Josev ,?tr,e 8 you know. i ,r'vry kind of yon, Im sore," ' rs Murray. Hilda, can you J.fr ,ur cousin some refreshments nns " a journey? f.'ored painfully. How could ,m to her mother that the lK.r ,Waa utterly empty, even of i bread? .j1,1 !)nurm'are,iUp 80methinS directly, stnrcl1 d l n S'le "om 0n- a", r 8 .Irestiy-mad- witK van'sed' good neighbor the very indeed she borrowed a e f coffee; from cold boiled beef; bis-d ,a Pan a little butter aud a comb ?n tflen sll flew back to new-bake- & tth6eJrU2ftl ' well, cousin Webb? as holding up her shear- - with oit hr!, Say heartsick, Hilda, " he promptif you want to make me happy! And, smiling through her tears, ehe repeated the word: Yes, heartsick, Reed! Aon will come back home, then, Hilda? ed, I will! that time the old horse wa at the door tor the train, the question was set lied. Reed himself took Hilda back to And by seven-thirt- the city flat, and there pleaded his cause with Mrs. Murray. It must be as Hilda decides, declared the old lady, with dignity sufficient for a crown princess. Though theres no doubt but that she could make a brilliant match in New York Mother! urged Hilda, piteously, 'til!, went on Mrs. Murray, would not oppose her affections; and if you think, Reed, that vou can make her happy a Wolfs Cornets I will do my best! assented Reed, fervently. In that ease, said Mrs. Murray, she is yours!" And she never knew, the poor old Indy, the whole story of Rulanys riding school, and Hildas innocent network ot harmless deceit. It was a fraud! Hilda always declared. Yes, her husband admitted, but . keen it was a pious cne. Once more Martin Webbs glance circled around the room and settled on Hildas deeply sutfused face. She went out. with a word of hurried apology. Hump. was his comment. Yes, nodded Mrs. Murray, with the fluttered, flattered expression of a motherly old hen who has found an extra line kernel of cornjustfor her brood. My Hilda has got into some remarkably good society. And I entertain hopes that she may marry well before a great while. Mr. Webb took his leave rather abruptly, as Mrs. Murray thought and the old lady, after carefully putting away the generous gifts from the old farm, sat down to mend lace and to dream again. Reed Webb Hstened silently to his fathers account of their relatives. Going out riding every day with A grand New York gentleman! said he. Dressed like a princess! Father, that does not sound like our little Hilda. Cant help how it sounds, said Martin. Its so. Thats all I know. said Reed, sadly, Then, its no use my building that wing on tho south sido of the old house? It won't be needed now. Not if you expect Hilda Murray to live in it. Hush!" said Mrs. Webb, who was washing up the supper dishes with true housewifely deltness and speed, making each teaspoon shinelikesilver, each plate glisten like ivory, in the friction of her homespun linen towel. Theres some one at the door. Go quick, husband! Why, cried Martin, standing on the threshold, it's Hilda its Hilda Murray! But I cant stay a minute; said Hilda breathlessly. Ive got to return by the seven-thirttrain! Hilda, said Reed gravely, you must come in. It is not right nor seemly that you should be out alone at this time of night." I wanted Cousin Webb to know. I couldnt bear that faltered Hilda. he should think so ill of me as to fancy that I was indulging in expensive pleasure, while while my mother was no poor. Her sight is failing, you know she is almost blind. She fancies that she is earning something by mending lace, but she only spoils it. We should starve if if it wasnt for the money I earn by giving riding lessons in Mr. Dulany s equestrian school. Mother doesn't know. She would break her heart if any one tol l her that I went daily to the ring and trained little girls and young ladies in She never can forhorsewoman-ship- . get, you know, that my poor father was a college graduate, and once went to the legislature. So we let iier believe Mr. Dulany ami I that I am taking lessons, instead of giving them. She saw us once in the park with the class of young ladies, and she was so proutt Dulany poor little mother! And Mr. he ever savs I am the best teacher had; and oh with a piteous claspis it very wrong? ing of the hands Is it? I almost, fancied so, when I saw Cousin Webb looking at me this morning acting a lie! dnnno about that, said Mr. ib, fumbling around for his but I know youre nicest and best gal I ever saw! lilda, said Mrs. Webb, pleading-canno- t you come back here to mawas fs Corners? I k.tnw your t togettoNew York. She thought r dear, that fortunes was to be Cut e there band over hand. ly, now ilda shook her head sorrowfully. we she said; Ve are too poor, lot atford the expense of moving n. And there is no house to be here now. rs. Webb put bar hand on her lands shoulder, if dartin, said she hurredly, lo really wants to get back by seven-thirttrain, you must bitch the horse and take her to tho ion. And Ill go out to the barn i you and hold the lantern. ice out in the barn, Martin vebb d at his wife. said he, do yor think our Cliza, 1 lias anv chanee? f he hasnt got a chance now, ho r will have one. said Mrs. Aebb. a ,11 you v.hat, Martin, that girl is said I and 1 of always price, great Webb left alone ) sooner was Reed he spoke out what i Hilda than in his heart. ,, you resolutely, lilda, lie said live there t come back. You cantbricks and le great wilderness of here without tar. and I cant live for it self now. The farm is paying n give my wife a comfortable home; also. Dear my wife3 mother will be mine, say that you sudden gust ilda burst out into a ars and sobs. if you knew )h Reed, she cried, coming often I have dreamed ofhomesick here if you knew how ve been y 'I Firates of Our Youth. those dear, delightful pirates of our youthful rending:, where have they disappeared to? Tliey monopolized all of the swift sailing vessels, and their superior seatnanshipenahl-e- d them to safely weather storms to which honest, hard working ships Tlio Oh, often succumbed. M e used to wonder where tho timber grew from which they construct- those tall, tapering masts, for they could sustain an a mount of canvas that would send any other craft to the bottom. You never caught a thoroughbred pirate taking in sail during a storm at least not in our flay. Instead of that he would shake out every reef there was, from the main yard to the main royal. It is wonderful how much sail nn industrious pirate could make in trying to overhaul a prize or get away from a dangerous pursuer. The pirate of our youth was dressed in a velvet suit trimmed with gold lace, and his legs were incased in high top patent leather boots, surmounted by gold tassels, llis broad, immaculate shirt collars, frilled at the edge, rolled over his jacket, with the significant skull and crosshones embroidered in the corner by the pirate's bride, who awaited his return on that beautiful isle of the sea, which constituted their home. Then he wore above hi3 raven locks, that waved so luxuriantly adownbjs Apollo-lik- e shoulders, a cunning little scarlet c.ip with tassel of gold, and broad barbaric scarf around his waist was a receptnle for his trusty pistol anil crimeter of Damascus ed steel, when lie could we'll never see him if we live Texas Sittings. steal one. Oh, another pirate like a thousand years! ; f; y lit-lild- The American Girl, The American girl is gradually invading every department of operatic representation, and always with success. For years past more leadhave been producing prima-donn- e ed by tho United States than by any European country. Madame Patti is almost an American, Madame Albina is a Canadian, Madame Valeria Madame Nordica, Madame Nevada, and Miss Van Zandt, with many more whose names will at once suggest themselves, are all from the United States. Miss Geraldine U'lmor, an American, is one of the most attractive members of Savoy company; and Miss Huntington, another American, reigns supreme at the Prince of Wales. We now hear of a new American Juliet. Miss Karnes, who, coming after Madame Patti at the Paris Optra House, has almost equalled Madame Patti's success, ot an American dancer Mademoiselle Flint, who has made her mark in the grand ballets of Milan of Rome. Stendhal was certainly mistaken when, rather more than fifty years ago, lie wrote that America was the freest count ry in the world but one to which Italian music could never appeal. St. James LIFE. love, death. l am going there to make Lowrys luck shall change. I will come buck rich tociaim you. Ina. Yoa will wait for me, A moral strife IproD.iss and bane, to win sn ne pain ta ne truth or wronsj, or toii or son; mirth and tear ami hop 's ami f. ara ao dare and boar that each hath share. And must on lure, to make more sure Of Woridiy rest the soul s Sud ijueau W darling? M ords were not needed for the one look into her dark eves Was enough. lie elasia-i- l her in llis arms, ami for the firs, t.ui! their lips met iii a ki-- s of true love. A week later Denny started on his an.-we- r; hat is love ( A trust to prove r.aoh heart bv pain and Us and srain, Tdirouirh worth and wroueorshuino or a lie ,o s and tears of faith and fears sonj: make life fair, the procinis share 2 a hut dttfh endure and will make sure Of peace and real the soul s life nuust hat is death A fail'll? breath And then no pa n of hie hut ea.n r rota toil and wron? and faith and Or tears of jeara of worldly fears! son?; From woe ana care that mortals share And sad endure, comes peace mode sure, immortal nest the so il s blest truest -- Harriet , Hostou Tran- journey. ht ? Maxweil-Couverse- - 6Clpt DENNYS BY WILLIAM my fortune. LUCK. G. PATTEN. Dennis Dowry was his name, but '.very one who knew him called him Denny. IIo was a tall, rather yet slouchy-appearin- g young (ellow of twenty-tw- o or three. Ho had always lived in the sleepy little country village of Newton, and every ono for miles around knew him. IIo was called lazy and shiftless, and it was true that he had never exerted himself a great deal to prove this charge false. He was inclined to lay his poor circumstances to luck. AYorse than being born poor, he had been unlucky. This was what he told himself, but people who knew him averred that he had never made any vigorous attempt to change liij luck. Denny was a dreamer. It was his delight to wander away through the woods or fields, and to l..y d all alone amid the c grass nd watch the clouds ns they sailed or follow to tue swilt along above, flight of the swallows as they circled and whirled at dizzy heights. lie would lie thus for hours with his mind Ailed with wild fancies of tho future when his luck had changed. Denny bad a poets soul, but lacked a poets power of expression. Denny and Inza lorter grew up together. They wore playmates while children, and their friendship seemed to grow stronger as they became older. Denny was so kind and gentle that ho toemed much like a girl himself. Inza was a little dark-eyewitch, whose very soul seemed always with mirth, ishe was unlike Denny in many respects, yet something Boomed to bind them together. Denny never knew when ho began to love Inza. It seemed to him that he loved her always. She seemed a part of his life, and his dreams by night and day were colored by her presence. And so the days become weeks, and the weeks months, and tho months years, still Denny was the same shiftless, dreaming, unlucky fettow. One night tliey wandered away d across tho Helds to an old wall, where they stopped to watch the sunset- - Inza sat down upon a flat stone and Denny flung himself at her feet. Tho sun had just sunk behind the western hills, but the purple and gray clouds were painted with tho var-ou- s colors of damask, crimson and molten gold. A rich purple haze hung about the distant hills, and stretched down over the woodlands, growing fainter and fainter as the distance became less. A little stream wound through the hollow at their feet, from tho farther side of which came the plaintive bleat of a lamb. A si y circling crow shouted hoarsely from away in a distant wood. For several moments thev sat there enraptured at the beautiful scene. Finally Inza spoke. Isnt it beautiful, Denny? she good-lookin- g, weet-seente- d, moss-covere- w-l- breathed. Ho drew a long breath as though a sweet spell had been broken, anil his eyes sought hers. Beautiful! he whispered, in a tsoou she received letters from Denny hopeful, encouraging letters. Mie answered them ali trying to cheer him who was working for fortune and her. He was in the mines, toiling, sweating, hoping. Others were making big strikes ami securing fortunes; it would be his turn soon. But slowly a year dragged by and still Denny w as as far from fortune as ever. Ills old luck hung by him like a spectre. Finally he ceased to write, inza was tortured by luqie and fear. Had he made a fortunate trike and w us coming home or was he sick, perhaps dead? She could not tell. Another year wore away and then Inza was married, it was a match of her parents making, and she consented, to please them. Her husband o was a young farmer, and was really fond of her. Inza found him kind and affectionate, and she surrendered her life into his care, feeling that perhaps it was best that she should do so. Ono evening just at sunset, eight years after lnzis marriage to Joel Gray, a be whiskered, foot-sortramp turned into Mr. Grays doorvard. His clothes were ragged and his entire appearance was that of a man who had seen hard times indeed. He came along the pa'.h with a slow tired step. Near tho door a littlo dnrk-eye- d girl was playing, and tho tramp paused to gaze steadily at her for several minutes. Inza who was standing by a window with a baby in her arms, regarding tho stranger with some alarm, saw him dash a tear from his eye. Then she knew that there was nothing to fear from him. Just then Joel came from the barn yard with a brimming milk pail in either hand. The stranger turned toward him as ho approached and asked if he could have something to eat and a nights lodging. It is asking much, I know," said the tramp, in un unsteady voice, but if I do not lind shelter, I must sleep beneath the open sky with only Gods green grass for a bel. I have seen better days, sir, but luck alwSys wus against me." Joel Gray had no particular love for tramps, yetthero was something about this man that won his sympathy. As a result, the stranger wa3 given some supper and permission to stop at tho farm bouse that night. The tramp ate his broad and milk in silenco, but lu.a was conscious that a pair of 6ad blue eyes were watching her every moment. Tho man did not eat much for ono who professed to be so hungry, and when Inza spoke to him he replied in a When ho had low, mumbling manner. tinishel and moved away from tho table, little Lucy, Inzns ablest child, came to him and deliberately climbed upon llis knee. lie gathered her up in his arms, while liis whole frame trembled with emotion. Tin child lay there trustingly, passing her fingers through tho m ns beard and crooning to herself. And thus he held her while tho twilight shadows gathered and she stopped her soft singing to close her eyes in slumber. Tho shadows concealed the tears that run silently down tho mans face and were lust in his beard. No one saw him as he tenderly kissed the sleeping child. That night Joel Gray's buildings were burned to the ground. To this day it y is a how the fire caught, hut sometime in the night the family wai aroused by the smoke and flams. The fire had already seize 1 the house ia its fatal grasp, and with difficulty Mr. Gray und Inza escaped, the latter with the babe in her arms. Close behind them the tramp came staggering out of the burning house. Joel ciught him fiercely bv the throat. This is your work! shouted the fanner, hoarsely. The stranger dashed aside his assailants hands ai lie replied: As God is m.y judge, it is not! Inza seized her husbands arm, as well-to-d- weary-nppeari- my-tor- Yet the word way. does not express it Fainter or poet cannot reproduce the beauty, the peaee, the love of God there is iu such a scene. Denny, said Inza, in sudden conviction, you should have been a poet; you have a poets soul. I know it, he replied, with a touch she shrieked: of bitterness in his voice; hut I cannot put my thoughts on paper. I have Lucy! Lucy! Where is she? Gro t God! groaned Joel, as he tried, Inza, but I cannot express a hundredth part of what there is within staggerel ns if about to fall. .She me. It is my luck to bo thus unfortu- must bo in there! I will s ivc h "r, declared tho tramp nate. For a long time after Ibis they did quicily, as he turned, sprang up tho not speak, b it feasted their eyes on steps and vanish. through the doorthe scene before them. Finally Denny way into the burning building. took Inzas hand, and gazing into her Every moment that followed seemed like linage of suspense and horror to dark eyes, said earnestly: Y'ou know this Joel Gray un 1 his wife. Inza, I love you. Suddenly a already. Wo have grown up together, dark figure appeal'd at one of the and our affection for euah oilier lias windows, and all about him tho fierce been no secret, yet now I wish to tell llames seem'd leaping and curdling. Gazette. you that it is not merely as a friend He held a large bundle in his arms. that I love you, but I want you for my Thor) was a crash of glass, n dark muss Will you marry me? wife. shooting downward, a heavy thud, and A Complicated Find. the tramp lay at their feet. Inza was startled. Joel sprang forwarl and unwrapped you surprise The following account of the disDenny, cried she, of the dreamed not I blanket that enveloped the form of have me! hearing somecovery of a hidden treasure is such words from you, ana yet I I his little daughter, and to his joy found manI her alive, though nearly smothered. what curious from the strange have, she confessed falteringly ner in which the veritable owner re- have not allowed myself to think of Tho stranger lay quite still where he for it seemed that when had fallen. covered his property. In afipldnear such things,such The funner bent over the brave reswords you would tear Sjoke you cuer of his daughter, and ns he turnLondon, some laborers, digging up us asunder forever.1 Why ed the tramp upon his back, the mans the roots of a tree, found two jnrs Why? he asked, hoarsely. If you become my eyes opened, and lie murmured: us asunder? tear s. hundred four containing nearly Inza! wife that will simply bind us closer There was something familiar in They divided the money together. Denny, she spoke softly, can you that voice to touch the very depths of among themselves, and were taken hack by the lord of the manor claim- support a wife? Wc have been to- tho womans soul. Quickly she bent over him. childhood and I acknowling it. Before this claim could be gether from Inza, dont you know me? lie I love you, yet would I not that forcame edge tradesman a investigated hands? Y'ou have munn ured. ward and stated that one night, be a burden on your to with which Denny! she cried, wildly, Denny, begin life, and under a temporary delusion, he nothing luck been against is it you? Have you come back after has always say you had gone out and buried the you. Would not your situation be still all these years? Y'es, I have come back, and I money; but when he awoke, and worse were you marrioi? in he tried for some time afterward, a few moments his head fell up- brought my old luck with me. I have For he had on his breast. They sat there ia come back to die! I am going to try vain to recollect the locality selected. It was not until lie heard silence. From a pasture far away my luck in another country, and with a rumor of the findingof 400 soverigns came the mellow sound of a cow- the Master to guide me, I think it will for the better. The gold that that he obtained a clew and the en- bell and tho crow that was still turn to be reflected against the suntire transaction was recalled to his circling over the woods uttered a few seemed was not for me. This life has set sky memory, lie was able to bring for- harsh cries. Inza. but I hope to to his a been feet started failure, Denny Suddenly in evidence ward sufficient support make amends up yonder. his hands toward the of his singular story, and.to his and stretched And while Joel Gray, the thrifty west. great relief, the money was eventis gold there! he cried. farmer, worked hard to save his cattle There Louis St. to restored hiug ually Gold in the western land! Y'ou can and a part of his tools, Dennis Lowry, gee it reflected against the sky! Inza, the mau of hard luck and a poet's souk soul-thrilli- sov-erigu- sun-paint- ed Globe-De.ncrcfc- i- with his head resting in He told her all his sad tale, his struggles, his sufferings and failures. He whispered of a blow on his head that had deprived him of his 1011011 for years, anl how, when he lay Irom this hour I am going to bi a In.a'sdying lap. man and. Dennis What U life! was once more himself, he had hastened to find her. lie loved her still, and his dying wish was that she might be happy always. And so, with tho red light of the burning house alt about him. ha breathed his last in Inza's arms, happy with her kiss upon his lips. Yankee Blade. Jeff Davis Slave. According to a Washington correspondent, the wealthiest colored man iu tho south since the war, who was horn a slave and set free by the emancipation proclamation, was Ben Montgomery, of Mississippi. He belonged to Mr. Joseph Davis first, and then to Mr. Jefferson Davis. For years before tho war he was the secretary of Hon. Joseph Davis, Jefferson Davis elder brother. The Davises were largo planters and owned the Hurricanes estate, consisting of three great cotton plantations at the extreme lower end of Warren county, Miss., and about eighteen or twenty miles below Vicksburg. There were between 12,000 and 15,000 acres of tho finest land on the Mississippi river in these plantations and 7o0 slaves. All the letters respecting the husiness of these places for thirty years were writteu by Ben Montgomery. Ho frequently went to New Orleans on business for the Davises, and carried with him once ninety thousand dollars in money. Ho traveled with Mr. Davis all over tho north, and could have run away fifty times had he wished. But he remained faithful and loyal to the last. Tho Ihivise were noted for their kindness slaves. to their had They on their plantation finer quarters probably than any plantar in the south, excepting the Hamptons. They kept a physician always on their places, ia c for and every way ired their colored people. as slaves were frequently called. When Mr. Jefferson Davis and his brother Joseph left their homes, one as the Frcsident of the Southern Confederacy and the other as a Brigadier-Genera- l, they put everything under Ben Montgomery's charge. He made the crops of lkCl-6- 2 and 1 SfilMtt, about ff.OiH) bales of cotton, and shippel it to New Orleans and sold it to foreign buyers for gold. This money he carefully sent to Mr. Davis. In the slaves were emanciHurripated, Mr. Davis sold tho canes to Ben Montgomery for (JJDO,-00- 0 in gold. It has been said that this sale win only a ruse to save these splendid csta'es from confiscation. Whether this was true or not, when tho Federal agents for tho protection of abandoned properly and lands canto to take possession of the Hurricanes they found Ben Montgomery with a title so strong aud valid that it could not bo upset, and they left him alone in peaceable possession. After the war ho continued to plant these places with great success, making every year from 1,1'W to 2.20J bales of cotton, besides hii abundance of corn and hay. In 1S71 or RS7o, there still being a balance due on the payments, Mr. Davis took the property back, but left Ben Montgomery in full charge. Tlte-- e places yield a very ban Jsome annual ine into new to Mr. Davis, who. though he prefers to live on tho Mississippi so shore at Beauvoir yet visits his old homo once a year and spends a few weeks with his friends of fifty years ago. As 1 have suid, lie was a very kind master, and, therefore, whenever he goes back to his former o Davis negroos residence all the within fi fly miles around come to see Old Marse Jeff and have a great time. When Bon Montgomery died, in 1S31, Mr. Davis went up to his funeral, and there was no sincerer mourner titan ho who once had the fate of a people ilium his shoulders at tho grave g of his oi l and friend, though his slave. l.Sli.'!,-whe- oid-tini- life-lon- A Poorly Paid Profession. The actor whose salary is $50 or less per week is not, as a rule, ns well off as the clerk or salesman who receives half the amount. Tho actor rarely gets his salary for more than eight months in tho year, and when unpaid salaries and prematurely closed seasons are taken into account a still further reduction has tn ha mvb. Then, too, tin actor, and particularly the actress, has much greater expense for dress than any other person earning a proportional income, while tho cost of living, while traveling, in even second-clas- s hotels, is double that necessary at home. At all tho agencies lists of actors classed Hording to their sp Tinl abilities are kept, and the agent generally knows pretty accurately what salaries will he accepted, lie is also supplied with one or more photographs of his clients. A manager who wants cither a single actor or an entire company states his wants to the agent, who iosks over his list of unemployed people, and then submits names and photographs to the manager. He selects two ot three, who are requested to meet him at the office, and from these a final choice is made. Between 8,000 and 4,010 names ae on the books of some agencies. These names include not only every class of property-me- n, actor, but, baggage-mebusiness managers und advance agents. New Yorlc stage-carpenter- s, n, Tribune. Misdirected Energy. IIo was a society dude of tho first water, and he had been boring her for an hour with his insipidity e men. You alt ndini all yer, Miss Winthrop? he drawl-i- n glv asked. Very much, sir. she said. Aw, thanks. Y'ou regward me as self-mad- dont self-mad- e, dont yer? You must have made not yourself, for you certainly are Dewhat God intended you to be. troit Free iress. I do, sir. It is considered a pretty serious charge to brine against a woman to say that she menus all she says. Rochester Express. |
