rt’ / '0 -/.i\ 'WC‘SEWZ.‘ \ r..— ‘b‘ ‘ 'y . (g-.- BIG INJUN OVER THE RHINE. BY JO KING. An lnjun sat in a garden Drinkin lager bier, He had le t his Wigwam on the plains, And his squaw she wasn’t near. But a Dutch girl stood beside him To hear what he should say, And replied to his InJun jargon, " " Nip kum haraua unt mai ver stay! This beer In no bluhbered As he tgok shat Dutch girl‘s hand, And said, “ Me never more shall see Me own, me native land. Bear some message and a scalp or two To those distant friends of mine, For I am a big Injun— Big lnjun over the Rhine. “ Go tell my brother warriors As they sit the camp-fire round— Aud listen to my story, All s uatting on the ground, That 1 rank m lager bravely From morn ti 1 set of sun, Beat the Dutch at their own game— Beat every mother's son! For sprawled among the empty kegs Were some grown old on beer— Iu un never tasted none n'il haflrst came here. ’Mid all that throng not one can say He e’er heard me decline— 1 tell you I’m big lnjun-_— Big Injun over the Rhine! "' Tell m mother that her other sons | Shalfcom fort her old age, Chase the buffalo, scalp the driver or the overland mail stage. For my father was a warrior bold, And e‘en as a pappoose I .iy'd to know that the old man as sound upon the goose. And when he died and left us To divide his scanty hoa rd. I let them take whate'er they would But kept in father‘s—gou rd. Then take an fill it high with beer, Let‘s see the lager shine. Gross glass for the big Injun— Big Injun over the Rhine. “ Tell my sister not to whimper Because she misses one When the In on delegation Comes bac from Washington; But gaze upon them proudly, And never shed a tear— Her brother’s the only Injun As ain‘t afraid of beer. And if some brave her love should seek, Then it would lease me much, If mingled with is Injun blood Was just a shade of Dutch. I‘d drink his health in this old gourd— My father’s gourd and mine— To the honor of Big Injun, 1 f ‘ . ' Big [njun over the Rhine." His voice grew faint and hoarser: His legs seemed limp and weak; He beckoned feebly with his gourd, Hie-cupped and ceased to speak. A oliceman bent to lift him— The task it wasn‘t light— The savage from beyond the Plains Lay 'cross the table tight ! And the soft moon rose up slowly, As the lights seemed burning lower, And the loud Teutonic music Was drowned in the red-man‘s snore. He fell early in the battle— ’Twas only halfopast nine—— This boastful, beery lnjun, Big Injun over the Rhine. A Change of Base. BY MARY REED CROWELL. Ir ever there was an object of de'ected misery on the face of the earth, certainly octor Ewing was that object, as, walking up and down the limits of his office reception and operating room, he strove to fully realize the sition in which he stood toward lovel little Lilac Holly, with her melting blue e es, t e color of her fra- grant name flower, an her flying lden hair. “ Mad? Mad as the friskiest Marc hare that ever eluded a sportsman!” he asked and answered himself as he wiped the firs iration off his bald, polished forehead with ' hina silk handker- chief. “At my age, fifty-three come next Octo- ber thirteenth, to go and ask a rosebud of a girl yo enough to be my granddaughter to ma me! ear, dear, dear! There never are suc fools as an old fool, and the biggest fool of all is an old bachelor when once he sets himself to see what he can do! Pretty and sweet as a rose, of course she is and I certainly do live a lonesome sort of life, but then—bless my soul, to think I have actually done it, actually am engaged to be married to little Lilac Holly!” And Doctor Ewing, good-natured and good- looking, firtl and perspiring, trotted up and down his 11 ome room, somethin as a caged grizzly bear in Barnum’s show does, eeling very ': much like a surprised child might feel who had 37 , ‘ inadvertantly touched aharmless—looking button ‘ ' and set in motion ponderous machinery, or a patient in a dentists chair who has to wait a moment or so while the correct instruments of torture are bein adjusted. In other words, Doctor David Ewmg had asked Lilac Holly to marry him—seventcen-year—old Lilac, as a robin and as sweet as a peach, and ' ac ad said “ es.” And at the selfsame time when Dr. Ewing was trottin up and down his room before ofiice— hours, usy1 with his thoughts, Lilac Holly sat in her mot er’s pretty room looking very grave and sauc and rebellious. “ But don’t want to marry Dr. Ewing, mam- ma,” she pouted, so becomingly. “ Of course you don’t. Did on ever want to do anything sensible in your li e?” “ And he’s three times c1 ler than I am, too.” . . “Don’t be a goose, Lilac! He won’t always a be three times as old. He’s a—” “ And I don’t care one cent for him, mamma, indeed I don’t!” But the eager plaint, half-defiant, half-wistful, nHiade not the slightest impression on Mrs. 011 . . “IY married for love, Lilac, and have been a - miserable slave all my life in consequence. But I’ve learned my lesson, and my daughter shall profit by it, and not sacrifice herself as I did.” “ But, mamma—” “ Hold your ton ue, Lilac!” : “ I’d rather scru floors than marry him, and x " I’ll tell him so the very next time I see him, too!” : : Lilac flashed out, defiantly. ., - Mrs. Holly’s le cold eyes glittered down on 2 the sweet face fore he . “ Lilac May Holly, if you dare—mind, if you dare to do such a thing, it will be the sorriest dag you ever saw!” nd the girl quailed under the menacing look from her mother’s eyes. And after Lilac ad gone to take her after- noon walk, Mrs. Holly came to a conclusion very decidedly. f .I “The little imp! She’d just as quick as not , tell him so if she means it! I’m not so sure, after all, but that something should be done. Just as like as not there’s some nonsense between her and Ted Germayn, but I’ll put a sudden stop to A ‘ that. I’ll send her down to sister Joannas in ' ;..; Monmouth county, while I’m going on with the preparations for the wedding—an ounce of pre- ventive, I suppose Dr. Ewing would call it.” And so, the very next day, little Lilac was dis- patched to the farm-house down in Monmouth county, welcomed by her country cousin with a strange mingling of affection delight and aW% for had she not been to boarding—school, did she not wear her hair banged and—glory of glories— ;. was she not engaged to a rich city physician, , I 3 , who would make her mistress of a fine establish- ! ment of her own? And when she cried and declared she was per- fectly miserable, and would rather stay at the farm all the days of her life, and wear calfskin tied-up shoes, than go where Dr. Ewing was, it was very hard indeed for aunt Joanna and the cousins to believe her. That is—the cousins of the feminine gender, for the one son and brother in the GrantleyJ family Lilac’s cousin Max, did beheve, and, w at was far more to the point, did sympathize with her in her tribulations. “ And I wouldn’t let them make a tool of me in any such gay. ' vehemen , one 33:51, almost ended, and the two stood on the shady south piazza, all odorous With honeysuckle runnin roses. _ an‘C‘lBut whit would you do ?” Lilac asked, as she ose to ieces. pu‘l‘leldvgllioh, ailiything. I’d cut statlresg—nvamose ch—di out—run away, in s or . th?‘ fit I cangz run away, Max. Where would I run to?” _ _ n “ Anywheres. I’d earn m own livmg. “ But I don’t know how, ax! It’s all very well for a big, strong man like you to talk like that but for me it’s a very different thing. ’ “ ut all the same,” and Max looked very grave as he said it, “ I wouldn’t be coerced, into a marriage with one I didn‘t carefor. You 11 re- gret it to the last day of your life, Lilac. Its wicked—selling yourself jitist as, much as though on were ut u at an auc ion. y And this; night, when Lilac went to bed, she cried before she finally went to sleep in the moonlight. . . Meanwhile, the elegant mansion on Lexington avenue was being made ready to receive the bride. Rarest upholstery, costliest draperies, most aesthetic china were demanded by Dr. Ew— ing, but, not feeling equal to the ordering and superintending of the whole thing, he wrote a letter to his cousin Hazel, meekly requesting her to come on and assist him. “ I know of no one else of whom to take coun— sel, and cousin Hazel Ewing always was a senSi- ble, practical girl in the days when I knew her best—before she married Jim. I’ll be let alone and have a little peace if Hazel will oblige me and come.” . . And Mrs. James Ewing, otherWise “cousm Hazel,” did oblige the doctor, and in a week’s time came on from the VVest—a brisk, bright little lady of twent -five, with merry black eyes and lustrous black air, lips like a damask rose- bud and the most bewildering white teeth—one’s very ideal of a luscious little widow, as she was and had been for two years. ' “ And you are actually to be married at last, David,” she said the greetings over, and they sat down to lunc . “ Yes, I believe so,” he returned dolefully. “ It’s a momentous step to take. “ I know that,” he “ And I ho you have Viewed the matter on all sides, weighed it, thoughtftu and delib— erately?” And the expression on the doctor’s counte- nance was simply indescribable as he answered: “ Oh—of course—y-y-e—s!” Cousin Hazel went on sugaring and creaming his coffee to precisely the right degree as she talked. . . “ I wouldn’t presume to dictate to you, DaVid —you on ht to know that, but— ou remember Hugh De ar, your old chum, on’t you? He took it into his head to be married a year or so ago—to a mere sli of a ‘rl, not seventeen, with blue eyes and go den hair and pink cheeks, and the consequence is—she ran off with a younger man about a month ago— recisely what might have been expected of suc an un- ual marria e.” eqPoor Dr. lgwin ! His coffee nearly choked him as he sip it. And Mrs. James went innocently on: “Then there is Susie Granger—m second cousin you know, David—nothing wo (1 do but she must marry Colonel Morrison—a man twenty years, yes, thirty years her senior, because he was rich. The last news I heard of her was that a divorce was pendingE—another inevitable result of unequal umons. on’t you have some salad, David? You’re not eating anything. Is not our coffee right?” you, but I—somehow I i: “ xactly right, thank don’t feel hungry to-night “A serious case on your mind—patient sure to die? Oh, I hope not, David. You don’t feel as if on were going to be ill yourself, do you? Stay home from the office to-night, can’t you, and let me coddle on up, and make you some lemonade, and r to you, or play for on.” And he did—not that he felt any bodi y ailing, but because it was so novel and delightful to re- cline in the big Turkish chair and be “ coddled,” and have cousui Hazel going about—a thousand times nicer than being married and seein a mere slip of an inexperienced girl trying to has around. ‘ Yes, Dr. Ewing had never been more thorough—. 1y convinced that he had made a great mistake. While down at the Monmouth coun farm, 1i tle Lilac Holly was very peculiarly ppy that selfsame month. when one warm bri t day cousin Max sought her in the stable, w ere she - was making love to Flick, the coquettish little satiny chestnut pony, behind which she and Max had had so many delightful rides. “ You are wanted, Lilac!” he said, with a merry twinkle in his eyes. “ A digitied, portly old gentleman, with mutton-cho w ' kers tinged wit if an immense watch-c ' , and—” “ Era ax, it’s—it’s Dr. Ewing!” she inter- rupted, in sudden, flushed consternation ‘ I su posed so. Well, we’re not in the least alarmed? are we?” “ N—no, but—” And Lilac flew away, all confusion and blush- es, wishing to gain her room in order to rear- ran e her somewhat disordered toilet, and meet- ing r. Ewing in the hallway. ‘ Lilac!” “ Oh Dr. Ewing! Please walk in the parlor, sir—I’ be back in a minute. I’ll tell cousin Josie to come to you while—” “ But I didn’t come to see your cousin Josie, my dear. I wish particularly to see you—in fact, my chief object in coming is to ask a ri- vate interview with you. Step in the par or, lease.” Lilac’s heart beat furiously, and the rich color ebbed and flowed in her cheeks, while she sud- denly and utterly forgot that her hair was wind- blown, and her dress was only a calico. “ Dr. Ewin ,” she quavered, as she went into the parlor an that gentleman carefully closed the door after them, ‘ please, I have—something I wish—I would like, I mean—to tell—to say to on. y “And, Lilac,” he answered, as he cleared his throat, “I have something most important to safito you.” ut, in her confusion, Lilac did not compre- hend him. “ Because I have chan my mind, sir,” she hurried eagerly on, as s e twisted her fingers nervously in and out. “ I would rather—I have pgomised to marry my cousin Max! You won’t dreadfully angry with me, will you, Dr. Ewin ?” An to her supreme surprise Dr. Ewing went up to her and patted her head in the most patron- izing, fatherly manner. “ Angry! Of course I won’t be angry, my dear child. Marry your cousin Max, and I’ll make you a present of my check for a con le of thousand dollars on your weddin -day. ou’re a sensible little girl, Lilac, andI have felt all along that you and I were not exactly suited to each other in many respects. And, to tell you the truth, Lilac, my business in coming down here was to tell you that I, too, have changed my mind, and have promised to marry my cousin Hazel.” Lilac’s blue eyes widened and brightened. “Oh, how g ad I am! And I Wish you so much happiness, sir!” And, for the first and last time, she offered him her lovely red mouth to kiss; but in his heart he thought how infinitely more he relished the flavor of cousin Hazel’s laughing 1i s. So everybody was satisfi , except the match- making mother, who never will cease bemoan- ing that she sent Lilac down to the South Jersey farm, and yet when the inviting July and August days come, she does not fail to acce t Mrs. Max Grantley’s invitation to visit t e farm—house which aunt Laura gave her boy on his marriage, and which was furnished most elegantly with the royal wedding gift Dr. Ew- ing sent. And when Mrs. Holly sees the handsome silver serv1ce Dr. Ewing sent the bride, her lamentations break forth anew; but when one of the farm-hands brings Max’s wedding gift to if I were you, Lilac,” Max day, when his cousin’s Visit little basket haetons and a satin-smooth chest- nut pony namgd Flick—she feels somewhat better for the time of the rides Lilac takes her every d . a\DZIVhile Lilac herself! Well, there never was a happier little lady on which God’s fair sunshine shone—unless it be Mrs. Dr. DaVid Ewmg. A SNOW-DRIFT. BY TILLIE J BAKERD. Pure monument. serene and fair! Beneath you buried fiQWers lie; Safe hidden from the chilly air Till dreary winter has passed by. I know a maiden cold as thee, And ‘neath her coldness. hidden deep, Close-bound. and waiting to be free, Lie Love‘s fair roots, in deaihlike sleep. Ah, precious, olden flowers there, That et lie eep within her heart, Untouc ed by any blighting breeze That through Life‘s foliage may dart. They lie so far from earthly things— By purity so hemmed around. Far nearer touch of angel Will Than human glance, or ten er sound;— Yet, some day, Love Will come aglow From out your gray and lonely sky That swift will melt away the snow And touch the hopes that hidden lie. Then. thrilled by this pure glowing sun, As Spring awakes the slee ing earth, You‘ll own that Life, real L fe egun The hour that Love. true Love had birth. Tough Tom. A True Story of Picket Placer. BY EDWIN S. DEANE. SCARECBOW GULCH had always in its short existence borne the reputation of being a tough place, but of all its Citizens who helped to give it that name none had contributed more freely than Tough Tom Grayson, who, after gaining the first-mentioned appellation had in true West— ern style immediately lost the last, and was known only as Tough Tom. Perhaps not half his acquaintances knew what his true cognomen was, and as be but seldom took the trouble to guarantee any information on that point, the average citizen was forced to be contented with what every one else called him. Tough Tom could get into more fights and drunken brawls, could drink more whisky with— out coming under its potent influence than any other man in the diggings, and was in short the bully of the place. Outside of this, however, he was generous and good-hearted, sociable and even popular among the better class of citizens when sober, which to be honest, was not his normal condition. The demon of drink had almost entirely for the pres- ent at least obliterated all good in a character leading his little protégée by the hand, pomtm out to her the beauties of the scenes throng which they were ing. It was wonderful to see how great a ancy they had conceived for each other, neither being contented when out of the other’s sight, and t e happy miner rew as accustomed to “ Uncle Tom” as if he borne that relation to her all his life. _ Matters continued in this state for six months, and Tou h Tom was ashamed only for one thin during t t interval—his name. He wonder how he had ever endured being called thus. but now that he had gained the appellation he was obliged to submit to it, for no one thought of calling him anythin else. One of the most dif- ficult things he h to do was to explain to Della how the word “Tough” came in, for she could not believe otherwise than that he was the most entle and loving of “ Toms.” . . In tie mean time he had made the most dih- ent and careful in uiries about his charge, and even advertised in the papers so that word might get to her parents, but so far without ef- fect; and they were all settling down to the con- clusion that it was a hopeless case. One evenin , however, as Tom and Della were standing on t e corridor of the Overland House, the stage-coach came. ragtlifpg tlae Village and de 'ted its cargo o ei an passen- gers—gng the latter a well-(igressed lady and gentleman. With the cry of “ Papa! Mamma!”—the glad- dest cry that ever came from a child’s lips-— Della cast Tom’s hand aside and flew into the arms of her newly-found parents, who were wild with oy at a reunion that they had scarcely ex- pect ever to take place now. It was not long that her friend was forgotten, for Della with a pretty smile, led her rents to “Uncle om,” when a full explanation of all that had occurred took place. It was in vain that the fond father, who had met with Tom’s advertisement, tendered the good fellow a gen- erous reward, for the latter answered that his reward had come already in the shape of a changed life and a precious friendshi , and it is scarcely needful to sa that when t e time of parting came the roug miner shed many a tear over his loss. But the saddest scene of all was when he went back to his lonely shanty after his friends had taken their departure, and found naught but the remembrance of the sweet face to keep him company thereafter. It was a great wonder that in his extremi he did not yield to the temptation to revisit his old haunts; but he bravely held out, and when, two months later, he received an invitation from Mr. Lowe to pay him a visit with a View to en- tering his employment, it was gladly accepted for his life now seemed to be bound up in that of the chlld. He can be seen any day driving the little mim, who has arrived at the mature age of ten years, along the streets of her native city, happy even in the privilege of being her servant. which evidently posseSSed qualities that under cultivation woul have been of a high order. Chance, howveer, accomplished what nature had failed to bring about. One evening when in the all-night saloon with adozen festive comrades. all en in a drink- ing bout, the door opened and in walked a mite of humanity, not more than five years of age. Whether Tough Tom was the first person her eyes encountered or whether she was attracted by his then smihng countenance, will perhaps never be known; but the fact is that she ran to him, and grasping his great rough hand in hers, cried out in a ' ing voice: “ Please, sir, ncle Grant islying outside hurt. Won’t you come and help him?” To say that the inmates of the saloon were sur— prised at the sudden a 'tion would be putting it mildly, but Tough om, who by the sense of touch had the best means of determinin whether it consisted of flesh and blood, was t e first to recover, and baring his head tothe ladylike little personage, remarked with an assumption of all the dignity he could muster at the time, that he was prepared to follow her to the North Pole, if necesagyia . Imm ' tely outside the door they met with a scene that startled their spirits, accustomed to many a bloody brawl as they were. A man lay beside the entrance breathing his life awa the blood flowing from half a dozen woun He was at once lifted and taken inside, when some one made a suggestion to call the only hysician the little town possessed; but this the man vetoed. “ o, comrades,” he said, weakly, “the time has come for me to pass in my cheeks and I am not the man to squeal or kick against fate. No doctor can do me any good nor himself either, for he would expect pay for his services, and a cent have the thieving rascals left me. But before I leave the old plantation for a lea into the future, there is awrongtoberigh ,andthis,m mates I leave for you to accomplish. I’ll ac owled a I’m the chief villain in this tragedy, but you 11 think none the less of me for making the con- fession, although you may feel like scalping me for the deed. “ This little a1 calls me Uncle Grant, but she’s no more rela to me than to you. In short, I’m what you might call a kidnapper, because a few weeks ago I stole her from her parents and have been runnin away from them ever since. I did so that I might call around for a ransom some time but death has called around too soon for me. .Iust outside your entle village I met with two gentlemanly roar?- ents who, after ) Heroes and Outlaws of Texas. at “ nucxsxm sun” The Knight. oftho Golden Circle. MAJOR Bicxronn of Kentucky, the ori ' tor and organizer of “The Knights of the lden Circle,’ visited Texas for the purpose of or an- izing lodges, some time previous to the br ' g out of the civil war. The major was, at that time, in feeble health, yet was most energetic and enthusiastic in his mission and object. He belon ed to an old and wealthy family in his native tats, and had re- ceived a liberal education. The ostensible object of the Order, as explained by him, was the con nest of Mexico; and it num- bered some 60,000 in the States, and half that number in the adjoining republic. But all Bick— ford’s talk of fillibuster' and revolutionizing was evidently a “ blind.” is ob 'ect w with- out doubt, to form a strong an secret eague favoring the secession of the Southern States. From the fact that he died a United States pris- oner in Fortrem Monroe, during the war, it whqsuld seem that there had been ample proof of t . There were, however, many members of the Order who believed full in the Mexican scheme, and acted upon their be 'ef. Ma' r Bickford’s head-quarters were at the City otel in San Antonio during the time he was organizin a lodge o the Order, and the members drill in an upper story of a house di- rectly across the sheet. The drill was conducted in secrecy, Dr. Jordan being the first drill-master. The doctor was a remarkably handsome man, who had an impla- 3131(1)) hatred for all who were of Northern birth Finally, w en the reign of terror in Texas be- gan tostcast its shadows befolie, tltifi K. G. C.’8. now a rong or ' tion, too 11 eir uarters in the Braden House, guards and patroIs being stationed at all points about the hotel during the meetings. Eventually, as the crisis arrived, and secew'on became a fact not to be disputed, General Twiggs, then in char of the Government prop- erty in that district elivered to this Order sixty stands of arms, with the uipments belonging to the same, and forty roun of ammunition for each gun, with bayonets. They were secretly conveyed from the Government buildings and stored in a small adobe building, in the yard of the Braden House. San Antonio, on the night of the capture, was, pulling their wea us before could find out what they wan , proceeded to make a target ‘ out of me, much to my cha ' They succeed- ! ed perfectly, as you see. ter going through ’ my pockets and abstracting all the wealth there— : from, they took their departure, and left about Enough life in me ,to drag my worthlms carcass ere. “ Now, my comrades you will take care that i this poor lassie reaches her parents, will you not? They would give a big reward to see her sweet ‘ face again, and my conscience ”—-he smiled weak- ly at the assumption that he ssed such a thing —“ has dealt me some hard ricks for the step A that I have taken; but God ows I have tried 1 to treat her kindly, and she doesn’t know but ‘ what she is taking a pleasure trip over the country With me. That’s Why she calls me uncle.’ With every word the stranger’s voice had been growing weaker and as he ceased speakin' , he sunk back with h grdan that show how Iittle ' stren h be had left. Tough Tom eagerly in- uir what her parents’ name was, and where t ey lived. “ Her name is Della Lowe; her parents—” These words were the last he ever spoke, and i as the rough men arose from about him, they felt ‘. that the had a mystery before them which i might ta e years to unravel. “ Boys,” said Tough Tom, in a voice that qua— , vered in spite of his efforts at composure, “ I am going to take the contract of providing for this little gal, and if she comes to any harm through me, just take me out to the nearest tree and ban me as high as Human. I’ll take keer of her, and try to find her parents, and I’ll be faithful to my charge.” Under an ' other circumstances this offer would have broug t forth a derisive laugh from his au- dience who were still somewhat astonished at ' the idea of a single rough miner, and a tough one at that, taking such a midget as this under his protection; but they said nothing, and he walked away to his shanty as proud as a king. Tou h Tom kept his promise to the letter. Little ella fared sumptuously at his hands, get- ting the best that was to be had; and as the story became noised abroad, little delicacies came from almost every house in the village for the helpless waif cast upon their hands. The rough miner ad many a roposition from the wealthier classes to take ella out of his care, but he gave the same answer to all ' and thus the time passed awa , bringing its changes, the most marked being t at in Tom. No more did he visit the saloons, no more was he seen in any disturbance, but in the pleasant evening . his bride, round to the door—the daintiest of twilight he often sauntered out. over the hills, I , officers of the guards, cut off by the conspirators with the exception of the “ Knights,” wrapped in slumber, none dreaming that anythin out of the usual line was to occur. Ma'or iclcford had succeeded in or izin several odges of the Order throughout t an West Texas, and at two o’clock of the eventful night, the celebrated Ben McCullou h, who had frequently been in command of exan Rangers, marched silently into the Alamo City, at the head of over a thousand well—armed and mounted Texans, who filed into the Main Plaza. Silently the K. G. C.’s marched, on foot, through the streets bearing ladders, and mount- ed the one—story, fiat-roofed Mexican buildings which commanded a View of the Government Hospital yard where the United States sentinels were pacing back and forth. The night was quite ark, and the soldiers were i orant of thléieg’aS tranipiging a near them. he officers resi ' in co es yond the Commissary' Buildings, and were, with the exception of the from their men. The Alamo, which was used as a Government store-house, and the yards attached, with all the Government property they contained, were socii in possessmn of the “Knights,” and the guards were made prisoners. All this was done without a shot being fired, although the carbine of a Texan went off accidentally on the Main Plaza woundmg two horses. But this report caused no alarm to the sleepin citizens, as it was no unusual occurrence in t eir streets. When the sun glided the eastern sk , they arose from their beds to find the city fill with armed men. Astonishment, and in many cases, great con- cern and grief were seen upon their faces as they saw the Lone Star F floatin from the Alamo staff in place of the tars an Stripes. Ben McCullough was brave as a lion, tall, straight, and 501 ierly in his hearing. He was, later on, commissioned a eneral in the Con- federate army, and was k' ed at the battle of Pea Ridge. Considering the number of armed and mount~ ed men in the streets and plazas, the town was remarkakly still. But smiling faces were few aged far (LletsveenE all], even the victors wearing a s m an nicurii u ex ression and SN: " ‘ hushed and subdued toges. ’ I akmg m The United States troops were given until ten o’clock in the forenoon to evacuate the Govern— ment buildings and march to the Gulf coast, there to embark for the North; they being al- lowed to retain their arms. This compact was, however, broken by the Confederates; the sol~ diers being disarmed upon arriving at the Gulf ports. stationed at certain points, in those times, with. out change for years very frequently; and this forced evacuation was a most affecting sight, as the women and children could not acconipan , the troo on the march, and must follow their e ects afterward; having, too, the pros- pect of a long and uncertain separation. A sadder si ‘ht has seldom been witnessed than this march 0% the old soldiers of the regular army from San Antonio, where they had been so long stationed. The band played the “ Star Spangled Banner,” tattered fla that had been carried on the bloody fields of Pa 0 Alto, Resaca de la Palma, and up the hights of Monterey. Tears rolled down the well asp of the hand when they reached the suburg of the ci . ' And althou h raced stiffly, pressing their guns hard to s oulder, their bronzed faces grim and stern—striving like true soldiers to control themselves—many a tear trickled down the bearded cheeks; those that shed them feeling that they were thus being humiliated by those for whom they had battled on the plains of Mexico. The Knights of the Golden Circle were left in 'on of the Government propert in San Antonio, and Ben McCullough, With is regi- ment, marched to seize forts and stations at different Saints; while Colonel John Ford, with Captains onaldson, Nolan, Tobin and Littleton roceeded to force the evacuation of the United tatestroops from Laredoto Brazos. Ford made his head-quarters at Brownsville, which Colonel Luckett afterward commanded and garrisoned. A false alarm, later on, caused Luckett to re— move the heavy guns from the fort; but there was no Union force approachin at that time although afterward the troops did appear, an ment buildings, evacuated, while the Boys in Blue marched in. Casual Mention. WHILE boring an artesian well on the Rose- crans tract, near Los An else, the workmen discovered a deposit of cone shells at a depth of 160 feet. ' tion lately cremated a favorite bull. The cere- mony lasted nine hours, and was witnessed by thousands. THE canal which Germany intends to construct to unite the North and Baltic seas is to be large enou h to admit of the largest war vessels pass- in t rough it. It is estimated that the work wfil be completed in five years. “KID-GLOVE ” oranges, grown in Florida, are so called because when led they are so dry that one can eat them w 'le wearin kid-gloves without damaging the glove in the east. They are small, aromatic in flavor, and of the Man- darin variety. A PIOUS convict in the Philadelphia Penitcn- , tiary, where the system of solitary confinement isin v e, manages to do some missio work among is fellow-prisoners by writing Scriptural ' texts on the backs of immense cockroaches which ‘ wander from cell to cell. To get even with their doctors, two families in ' Atlanta recently ornamented the graves of their dead children with the bottles containing what, remained of the medicines prescribed b the at- 5 tending physicians. The bottles bore t e drug- gists’ labels, the prescriptions, and the names of , the physicians. - Tm: growth of the o r industry in Connec- ticut has been remar ble. The first steam’ that was used in this trade was put on less than ten years ago, and now there are forty stea j with an aggregate capacity of 36,720 bushels a day. Four more large new steamers are build- ing for the spring' . ' Tm: Warden of the Kansas State Pnson' a that more convicts, in proportion to the mini: tion, come from counties where the p ' tory law is enforced than from counties who then! is no 1i uor law. A prohibition populatim 0! 115,865 ' bed 16 more convicts than mantl- prohibition population of 117,239. IT is stran how difllcult of conversion I I sionaries fin Jews all over the world. A ‘ - ciety for the Conversion of Jews has just repo eda ' of four converts and an expendi _ of £5,427. Converts at 825,000 apiece are ; I 1 rather dear. Possibly the subscribers of the ,427 may not think them quite worth til. money. ' Tait sea—coast of California has been Visited this season by several varieties of birds Which have never before been known to leave the mountains, This has generally been sup to ' indicate a severe Winter, but, acco ' to science, the migration is more probably due to -‘ the prevailing scarcity of all kinds of seedsin v the mountams' this season. Telephone Echoes. WHEN a St. Louis liceman is asked question about city p he takes from ket a small guide-book and offers to sell it for cents. ' BROWN—“ What a wonderful thin is man! His form how majestic l—his fac ties how grand!” Smith—And how admirably his legs are adapted for wearing trowsers!” A PATENT-MEDICINE advertisement speaks of the “ liver failing to act.” We suspect the man- ager cut down its semi.f When the liver refuses to act the drama of “ ' e ” can’t go on very suc- cessfully. an Adams Express Company, but an inspection of the business done at the express offices holiday week will warrant the opinion that the Eve re- ferred to is Christmas Eve.” THE Texas editor and father who penned the following paragraph must have had a tough time: “ f in proportion to size a man could hol- phones needed in this country.” trouble?” “ Yes; my mother-in-law died last night—” “Ah, excuse me. I hadn’t heard of the sad—” “—And I promised m wife that I wouldn’t drink anything for a wee . Over six days yet!” A PHILADELPHIAN went to a physician with what he feared was a hopeless case of heart dis- , ease but was relieved on finding out that the creaking sound which he had heard at every deep breath was caused by a little pulley on his patent suspenders. ‘ A LONDONER made a bet that he would invent ‘ a question to which fifty peo le would all give ' the same answer. He won t bet. The ques- tion was, “ Have you heard that Smith has com- mitted suicide?” and the an8wer in every case , was, “ What Smith?” PEOPLE who bu things should see that all " labels are removed: A lady in Cleveland the other day created a great deal of amusementogi parading the streets two hours wearing a cl ' on which was a card reading: “Former price, ' $20; marked down to $12 to close out.” ' “ W'er man has done,” shouted the orator, ‘ “man can do.” That isn’t enough, in son.j Man must do what man hasn’t done; w at he was afraid to do; what he couldn’t do. If man would only do what man has done, Christo her Columbus would never have sailed a bun " miles from land and we would be Indians still. A CITIZEN who had been playing ker tlil7 night before dropped a blue chip into t e contri-‘i bution box by mistake. After service he went . the deacon who had passed the plate and to“ him of the mistake. “So I’ll just ive you I'. dollar in its place,” he said, “ and we’ 1 keep matter quiet.” “ No, you don’t,” replied t3. Many of these men had families, they being deacon,_ ignoring the money offered; ‘that’s A" blue chip. It’s worth five dollars.” “F and aloft the soldiers bore the bullet-pierced and ‘ cheeks of wives and children as they hastened - along by the side of their loved ones; to gaze at , them as long as they could, and to give a fare- ‘ A WELSH enthusiast in the cause of crema- 5 AN old pun states that Eve was created for ' ler as loud as a baby, there would be no tele- « “ WHAT makes you look so gloomy, Jones? In ’ the Confederates, after firing all the Govern- ,