Newspaper Page Text
[crxtmEna
KEiMAYNE'S AVARI).
"Something must be done," said Mrs.
Delmayne, decisively, "the girl is getting
more reckless every day."
"What can be dune?" asked Mr. Rich
ard Delmayne, looking helplessly at his
sister-in-law, "we cannot shut her up in a
convent."
"No, we can, find her a husband and get
her comfortably settled.'"
"But she i3 so young."
"She will be nineteen in May, and I
married at that age. It is a great pity that
you were obliged to receive her into your
household, Richard. Guardianship over
a girl like Dororthea, was a great respon
sibility for a bachelor to assume."
"I suppose so," was the reply "but I
could not refuse the dying request of an
old friend."
"At first I entertained hopes that she
would improve by remaining with us,"
said Mrs. Delmayne plaintively "but, as
I remarked before she is wilder than ever.
I am kept, in a perpetual, state of nervous
excitement, for I never know what mad
cap prank she will play next. I thought
it disgraceful enough when she donned a
suit of Dick's and went skating on the
pond the evn HI they had that skating
party, but this last prank is still worse, if
possible.
Mrs. Delmayne folded her plump,
white hands and settled herself comfort
ably in a luxurious easy chair, and pre
pared to eDjoy her favorite pastime, which
consisted of retailing Dorothea's misde
meanors.
You know Squire Vonsonby has been
looking for a wife for a year or twonow
he is quite wealthy, is respectably con
nected, and would be a very suitable
match for Dora."
Squire Vonsonby!" gasped Richard,
in amazement, lie is old enough to be
her grandfather, and has a married
daughter who is considerably older than
Dot."
Well,"' replied his sister-in law,
Dora needs a husband who is steady
and sober-minded she is so nightly her
self. Resides, Mr. Vonsonby looks full
ten years younger than his real age. In
my opinion it wonld have been a very
suitable match. But it is all over now,"
she added, with a sigh, he will never
enter this house again.'"
In answer to Richard's look of inquiry,
Mrs. Delmayne contidued:
I invited Mr. Vonsonby to tea last
eveniDgI had my household duties to
attend to after tea was over, so I left
-Dorothea to entertain our guest. She
must have neglected him shamefully, for
the poor man fell asleep, and the little
Irizzy seized the opportunity to play one
of her ridiculous pranks she actually
had the audacity," and Mrs. Delmayne
lowered her voice to an impressive whisp
er, actually had the audacity to remove
his wig and substitute an old red one,
that she found among some rubbish in
the garret
Ha, ha, ha!" laughed Richard.# I
can imagine how ridiculous he looked
struttiug along in his pompous man
ner."
I am certainly astonished at you,
Richard," said Mrs, Delmayne, severely.
I sincerely hope you do not uphold
the girl in her disgiaceful actions?"
I shall of course reprove her," he
replied. Dot will improve a3 she grows
older, 1 have no doubtshe is merry
and thoughtless now, but I think she
will develop into a splendid woman."
Mrs. Delmayne cast an uneasy look
at her brother-in-law's face as she left
the room. She had a reason for wish
ing Dot safely disposed of she whs fear
ful that Richard might fall in love with
his fascinating ward, and that would
never do, for if he were to marry, it
would dash Mrs. Delmayne's hopes to the
ground. She had secretly determined
that her son Dickhis uncle's namesake
should be his heir. Beside, her bro-
ther-in-law' ejegant residence made a
very comfortable home for herself and fath
erless boy, and madame had no intention
'of losing it, hence she made the most of
Dot's meschievous escapades.
Just as madame's silken skirts rustled
up stairs the hall door flew open and
light footsteps danced along the passage.
The appellatin exactly suited the
young girl who entered. A dainty form,
a dark, piquant face, lit up with a pair ot
black eyes which sparkled with mischief.
"Well, Guaruy," she said, with a saucy
smile, which revealed a dimple in each
.soft pink cheek. "Whatis it a lecture?"
"Yes, Dot.*' replied Mr Delmayne,
-gravely, "I really must lecture you. Your
conduct to Mr. Vonsonby was extremely
unladylike."
"I don't care, Guardy," cried Dot, defi
antly, "I can't bear old Vonsonby, and I
am confident that Mrs. Delmayne invited
him here to make love to me, so I resolved
to frustrate her kind intentions. She left
me to entertain him all the evening, and I
was just dying to finish 'Jane Eyre.' Well,
I gave him the last number of Seribnefs
and the Monthly Review, and hoped he
would entertain himself but nohe
wanted roe to play a game of cribbage.
I hate cabbage, so I told him I never
phijcd the came without staking a small
N'.u-ii of monoyjust to make it interesting.'"
Oh, Dot'."
He looked horrified at the idea of
gambling, and askeel for some music, so
1 sat down to the piano and made as
much noise as possible. He said that
sort of music was very edifying, but it
made his head ache, and inquired if I
could favor him with Annie Laurie.' I
complied by playing 'Yankee Doodle'
with variations, for I knew he could not
distinguish the differance. Just as I was
playing the last bar I was startled by a
prolonged snorehe had actually gone
to sleep with his head hanging over the
chair, his wig awry, and his mouth wide
open! Now, Guardy, you must admit
that was too much for flesh and blood to
endure, and I don't profess to be a
saint.'-
Not by any means," assented her
guardian.
"Well," continued Dot, a happy
thought struck me. I ran softly up stairs
and got an old red wig that Dick used
to we-u- when he belonged to the Ania-
7er.r Dramatic Club. Then I carefully
removed Mr. Vonsonby's nicely dressed
black wig, and substituted the red one.
I had to stuff my handkerchief into my
mouth to keep from laughing, you can't
imagine how comical he looked!
"Well, I waited for him to finish his
nap until my patience was exhausted,
and then I went to the piano and gave an
awful thump with both hanols. He gave
a sudden start and straightened up. I
grrvslj inouired how he liked the piece.
"Charming! charming!" he replied,
with enthusiasm. "I always admired An
nie Laurie."
Just at that moment he happened to
glance at the clock and nding it later
than he expected he jumped up in great
haste.
"'I declare!' he said, 'I had no idea it
was so late how swiftly the time has pass
ed in your fascinating society but i must
tear myself away, for I have an engage
ment at eight o'clock.'
"Then he bade adieu, pulled on his
overcoat in a great hurry, seized his hat
and rushed down the street.
"But, Guardy, he did look so funny
with those fierce red locks around his
countenance," and Dot broke into peals
of laughter at the recollection.
"Dot," said Mr. Delmayne, looking
sternly at his mischievous ward "1 don't
know what to do with you I believe I
must find some one who will take the re
sponsibility from my hands. Mrs. Del
mayne thinks you are old etough to
marry, and*'
"The old cat?" interrupted Dot.
"Dot," said Mr. Delmayne, sternly, "I
cannot allow you to apply such an epithet
to my sister-in-law."
"Your sister-in-law?" cried Dot, in
nocently, "why, I was speaking of old
Tabby."
Mr. Delmayne adroitly converted a
smile into a yawn.
"Yes." he continued," I must certainly
find a nice young husband for you."
I am perfectly willing," replied Dot,
composedly, "but who is to be the lucky
man? Let me see," she continued, reflect
ively, "there is my French dancing mas
ter, he pressed my hand quite warmly the
last time he was here, and he has beauti
ful eyes, and such a love of a mustache,"
she added, enthusiastically.
"The jacknapes, he shall never darken
these doors again," muttered Mr. Del
mayne, between his teeth.
"Then there is Whitney's heael clerk, I
am sure he admires me.'"
"A clerk," exclaimed Mr. Delmayne.
distainfully.
"Well continued Dot, "there is the
German music teacher at the seminary, he
is a jolly old bear, but then," she adtled,
thoughtfully, "he is a widower with five,
children I don't know as I should be
capable of taking that position."
I should think not, decidedly," ac
quiesced her guardian, with a smile.
Well," cried Dot, with despairing ex
pression on her saucy face," I don't know
what can be doneunless you marry me
yourself."
Then suddenly realizing the enormity
of her heedless speech, she darted from
the room.
Marry her myselt," mused Mr. Rich.
ard Delmayne, il is not a bad idea. I
wonder that it never entered my stupid
brain, for I believe I am fond of the lit
tle monkey after all, and how desolate
the house would be without the sunshine
of her presence."
Not quite nineteeen," he continued,
thoughtfully, I am just double her age
and I fear I am too old to suit her youth
ful fancy but nevertheless, I will trv my
fate."
The tea bell roused Mr. Delmayne from
his reflections. I must mention this sub
ject to Helen, he thought, when I have an
opportunity.
"Marry that forward little chit," cried
madame, in dismay, as Richard thus
ruthlessly demolished her castle in the
air. "Why, Richard, you must be crazy!
A man of your years to think of marrying
when you have a comfortable home, and
a sister to attend to your wants. If you
take this step, Richard," she continued,
"I am confident you will regret it. I
think you will see a vast difference with
that careless, ignorant child at the head ot
your household, for I shall not remain to
be domineered over by a saucy, independ
ent girl."
Mr. Delmayne made no reply to this
remark but it was evident that his sister
in-law's determination would not break
his heart.
sis
Dot stood by the window in the deep
ening twi'ight, awaiting her guardian,
who had been absent several days looking
after some property in New York.
Suddenly Dot was aroused from the
reverie into which slits had falllen by a
well-known step, and she raa eagerly to
the door to admit her guardian.
Well, puss, what have y^u been doing
during my absence?" asked Mr. Del
mayne, as he seated himself before the
glowing grate and warmed his chilled
fingers,
Oh, dear!" cried Dot, I have been
shockingly bad. I can't remember one
half the wickedness I have committed.
You must apply to madame for the de
tails, she has a long black list of misde
meanors ready for your private ear but,
Guardy, did you succeed in finding a
husband for me
Yes," answered Mr. Delmayne, com
posedly, but whether you will be suit
ed, remains to be seen.''
I suppose I shall be compelled to
marry him wether I wili or no," in-joined
Do\ merrily.
Not by any means,"' answeared the
guardian, gravely.
"Oh, that is decidedly commonplace
you are not like the cruel guardians in
stories, who compel their wretchetl wards
to wed the one they choose for them. I
am quite disappointed."
"Oh, very well, said Mr. Delmayne, "if
you wish me to assume the role of tyrant
I will do so with pleasure. The person I
have chosen will, I am sure, strive to
make you happy but remember there is
to be no appeal from my decision."
"It is really going to be romantic after
all," cried Dot, clapping her hands "but
when am I to be presented to my fate?
Now if he had only sent his photograph,
the affair would be complete."
I believe I have it," said Mr. Del
mayne, coolly producing his pocket
book.
Dot glanced curiouly at the ciwte de
visite which he passed to her, and beheld
the handsome face of her guardian.
"Well," said Mr. Delmayne, drawing
his warel to his side, and trying to look
into her downcast eyes.
Dot hid her face lor a moment on her
guardian's shoulder, then, looking up
with a charming color, she said, de
murely
As there is fo be no appeal from your
docision, I suppose I must submit.''
A little four year-old boy. sat alone in
the parlor when a new doctor came to see
his sick mother. The doctor naturally
wished to make his acquaintance, and
said, How old are you, my son?'
not old I'm new, said the boy.
'I'm
THEDEAD lOVKF.
A Froncli Actress' Story.
BY CELIA LOGAN.
Maemdoiselle Clairon occupied in the
last century the same position on the
French stage that Rachel did in this, she
was the greatest tragic actress of her day.
She wrote her autobiography, and relates
some singular events as happening to her.
Her story is corroborated by many people
of note, among otheis, the Duchess
D'Abiantes, who wrote so many interest
ing particulars ot the French revoluti-n
and of Napoleem, she being a member of
the imperial household. She states that
when Clairon was about seventy years of
age she made her acquaintance, and heard
the story from her own lips. Thus in
brief, it ran: When Clairon was young,
she numbered among ner aelinirers one
Monsieur S. After a time she oeoame
convinced that she could not be happy as
his wife, broke off their intimacy, even re
fusing to see him. He had been in fail
ing health, but the disappointment hur
ried the end, and on his death-bed he
sent for Mademoiselle Clairon. She de
clined to go to him, and he died, having
no one near him but an old lady who for
some time bad been his only companion.
lie expired at eleven o'clock at night.
The actress begit-s narative by saying
that that night she was playing hostesss
to some friends, and the supper was very
gay. I had been singing to them, and
they applauded me, when, as eleven
o'clock struck, a piercing cry was heard.
Its heartrenc'ing tone and the length of
time it continued struck every one with
astonishment. I fainted."
The record of the ensuing circumstanc
es is still to be found in the archives of
Paris police. The incidents extended
over a peiiod of two years, and then
ceased. I condense the recital:
"Every succeding night, always at the
same hour, the same cry was repeatel,
sounding immediately beneath my wind
ows, and appearing to issue from the va
cant air. My people, my guests, my
neighbors, the police* all heard it alike.
I could not doubt that its was intended for
me. I seldom supped fromjiomc but when
I did nothing was heard there and sev
eral times, when I returned later than
eleven, and inquireel of my mother or the
servants if any thing had been heard of
it, suddenly it burst forth in the midbt ot
us.
"One evening the President de v/ith
whom I had been supping, escorted me
home, and, at the moment he bade me
good-night at the door of my apartment,
the cry exploded between him and my
self, was quite familiar with the
story, for all Paris knew it yet he was
carried to his carriage more dead tha
alive.
"Another day I begged my comrade,
Rosely, to accompany me, first to the Rue
Saint-Honore, to make some purchases,
afterward to visit my friend Mademoisi
elle ie Saint-P., who resided near the
Porte Saint-Denis. Our sole topic of
conversation all the way was my ghost,
as I used to call it. The young man,
witty and unbelieving, begged me to
evoke the phantom, promising to believe
if it replied. Whether from weakness or
audacity, I acceded to his reciuest. Thrice
on the instant, the cry sounded, rapid and
terrible in its repetition. When we ar
rived at my friend's house, Rosely and|I
had to be carried in. We were both
fountl lying senseless in the carriage.
After this scene, I remained several
months without hearing any thing more,
and I began to hope that the disturbance
had ceased. I was mistaken. The theatre
had been ordered to Versailles, on ca
sion of the marriage of the Dauphin. We
were to remain there three days. We
were insufficiently provided with apart
ments. Madam Grandval had none. We
waitetl half the night in hopes that one
would be assigned to her. At three
o'clock in the morning I offered her one
of the two beds in my room, which was
in the Avenue de Saint Cloud. She ac
cepted it. I occupied the other bed, and
as my maid was unetressing, to sleep be
side me, I said to her, Here we are at
the end ot the world, and with such
frightful weather.' I think it would puz
zle the ghost to find us here.'
The same cry on the instant! Mad
ame Grandval thought that hell itself
was let loose in the room. In her night
dress she rushed down stairs, from the
top to the bottom. Not a soul in the
house slept another wink that night.
This was, however, the last time I ever
heard it.
Seven or eight days afterward, while
chatting with my ordinary circle |of
friends, the stroke of eleven o'clock was
followed by amusket-shot, as if fired at
one of my windows. Every one of us
heard the report, every ene of us saw the
flash, but the window had recieved no
injury. We concluded that it was an
attempt on my life, that for this
time it had fai'ed but that precautions
must be taken for the future.
'Trielntendaut hastened to M. de Mar
ville, then liutenant of police, and a per
sonal friend of his. Officers were instanty
sent to examine the houses opposite mine.
Throughout the following days they were
guarded from top to bottom. My own
house, also was thorouly examined. The
street was provided with spies. But, in spite
all these precautions, for three intirc
months, every evening at the same hour,
the same musket-shot, directed against
the same pane of gass, was heard to ex
plode, was seen and yet no one was ever
able to discover whence it proceeded.
"I gradually became in a measure ac
customed to my ghost, whom I began to
consider a good sort of fellow, since he
was content with tricks that produced no
serious injury and, one warm evening,
not noticing the hour, the Intendant and
myself, having opened the haunted win
dow, were leaning, over the balcony.
Eleven o'clock struck the detonation in
stantly succeeded and it threw both of
us, half dead, into the middle of the
room. When we recovered, and found
that neither of us was hurt, we began to
compare notes and eaeh admitted to the
other the having received, he on the left
cheek and I on the right, a box on the
ear, right sharply laid on. We both
burst out laughing. Next day nothing
happened. The day after, having re
ceived an invitation from Mademoiselle
Dumesnil to attend a nocturnal fete at
her house, near the Barrier Blanche, I
got into a hackey- coach, with my maid,
at eleven o'clock. It was bright moon
light, and our road was along the Boule-
vards, which were then beginning to be
built up.
We were looking out at lh- houses
they were building, when my maid said
to me, Was it not somewhere near here
that Monsieur S. died?'' Yes.' I Tep'ied.
pointing,' in one of those houses in iroat
of u?.' At that moment the same musk
et si.ot that had been purshing me was
fired trorn one of the houses, and passed
through the carriage. The coachman set
off a full gallop, thiiiku.g ne was attacked
by robbers."
The sequel to his Fox-and-Fish storv is
that Clairon resolved to move. Au "old
lady called to see the hou^e. which was
advertised to rent. She .ni she said,
rather to seethe occupant ui.ta the apart
ments.
"I was, mademoiselle,'" said the old
lady, "the best.friend of Monsieur S., the
only one he was willing to see during the
last year of his life. The state of his
mind and the passion which ruled him
wtre beyond his control and your refusal
to see him hastened his last moments.
He counted the minutes until half-past
ten, when his servant returned with the
message that most certainly you would
not come. After a moment of silence he
took my.hand, and, in a state of despair
which terrified me, he exclaimed, 'Barbar
ous creature! But she will gain nothing
by it. I will pursue her as long after my
death as she has pursued ma during my
life.' I tried to calm him. He wps
already a corpse."
Hie Last of the Kites.
Mr. D. Conway writes as follows from
Stratford-on-Avon, England: Between
the beautiful old church in which reposes
the dust of Shakespeaie and the memo
rial Hall, stretches the garden ot Avon
bank villa, and at the far end of it, close
to the Avon, is an Orangery. Over the
door of this Orangery is p-jrohed a large
stone kite, an old pace of -culpture, who
sits there as weirdly as if he had flown
from the Wild Huntsman's wrist, and he
looks round as vigilantly as if he had
been set there on duty, &a stuffed kites
are set on barns in remote regions of Ba
varia as protectors from lightning. This
bird was transferred from an old mansion
which used to stand beside the church,
residence of the once distinguished fam
ily of that name (Kite) in Warwick. It
used to be the fashion for families to
choose emblems which punned upon their
names. Of the wealthy and influential
Kite lamily not one representative now
remains and this carved bird is their
only memorial, unless it be found in a
place some miles away called the "Burnt
House," where no house stands, the mem
ory of a tragedy. For though the kite
was perched over the door of a family
mansion, it did not prevent lightning of a
more horrible kind than darts from any
cloud from falling upon that house.
The last heir of its name and fortunes
was a young man of ability, who married
a lovely wife and had every prospect of
happiness. But he fell into bad was
Being of a convivial turn, he sunounded
himself with ail the fast and dissolute
youth of the neighborhood, alienated the
best friends of the family, became dissi
pated and worthless, and at last, becom
ing unendurable at home, separated from
his- wife and went off to live alone, at a
house some few miles out of Stratford.
One evening he invited all his elissolute
"friends'' anel vagabond parasites, from
far and near, to a grand banquet. They
all came. The teast was magnificent. All
the luxuries that could be obtained load
ed the table. The finest wines flowed
freely as water. The guests became half
tipsy, song followed song, anel wild
laughter rang out through the woods and
lonely fields which surrounded the neiqh
borless house of the wealthy outcast. Kite
now looked round uoon his retinue for
these reckless, coarse sots, he had degrad
ed an honored name, given up the
fairest prospect, widowed a beautiful
wife, lost the smiling cares3 of his sunny
haired children. Amid the orgies he re
mained perfectly sober. He rose up
took a candle from the candelabrum, and
passing round the spacious dining-room,
deliberately fired the curtains and every
thing that could burn. The horrified
guests rushed or reeled out but Kite re
mained. Yells and shrieks of "Fire!"
rent the air, but they went out through
the woods and up amid the clouddrir'ts
unheard, The house crackled and burnt
to the ground, and amid its cinders were
the ashes of the last man who bore the
name of Kite.
J&edele.
Among the Alban Hills, which are
situated some miles from Rome, a lad
was tending his father's goats, when his
eye caught the glitter of arms in the dis
tance, and he knew at once that the King
of Etruria, who had threatened to make
war upon the Roman Republic, was
about to carry out his threat. Without
waiting to communicate with his friends
he set off at tae top en his
speed towarel the great city, to warn its
inhabitants of their great danger, and
bi i them prepare for the coming foe.
Lithe anel active, tha little brown
mountaineer went bouueiing down the
slepes and across the wide marshy plain,
bestrewn with huge fragments of rock,
and intersected by sluggish streams and
reedy morasses, amid which the reel-eyed
buffaloes lurked. On he sped, as fast as
his sinewy legs would cairy him, but he
had a long way to go the sun was
scorchingthere was no pleasant shade
or leafy trees to shelter him from its
fierce glare, nor any sweet cool water to
refresh him, for all about it was unfit to
drink, being brackish and muddy.
Through a areary desolate region he had
to go. His limbs were ready ta sink un
der him, his thirst almost intolerable yet
the lad's courage did not failhe kept
bravely on, and at length entered the
city gate, through which he passed, and
ascended the hill to the Capitol, where
the Senate of the Republic held its sit
tings. He was just able to whisper the
fatal news than he sank down, and com
plained of a sharp pain in his foot, on ex
amination of which it was found that a
thorn had penetrated very deeply beneath
the skin. It was necessary that this
should be extracted, and the lad died
under the operation. Grateful for such a
nobie deed of devotion to his country, the
Senate decreed that henceforth all the
gatekeeperss should come from Vitroch
iano, the boy's native village, and that
they should be called Fdelethe faith
ful.
How imperishable is the memory of a
good deed! In the beautiful city of
Florence there is a marble bust of this
hid Yitrochijino, in the act of extracting
the thorn from his foot this is not strict"
ly in accordance with historic truthhe
was *co much overcome bv fatigue to at
tempt this it was done for him, with a
fatal result.
BABY'S BELONGINGS.
What may the little baby eat?
Kisses and milk?
Kisses and milk, both warm and swtet
These may the little baby eat.
What may the little baby wear?
Smile? and silk
Sunniest smiles and glossiest s'lk,
Ribbons of blue or white as milk,'
Smiles that bathe it with sroldeu air
From the sole of the foot to the eiown of
the hair
These may a little baby wear.
Soft is the little eambric robe,
Soft is the zephyr wool,
That touches ttin* pink ear's tiny lobe
The softest linen and wool.
Linen is cool, and warm is wool.
And the baby's bureau drawer is full
Of the finest linen and warmest wool.
Warm and soft the blanket wrap,
Cool is the linen dress
Warm is the silver porringer's pap,
Cool is the dainty white lace caD
That the little head doth press.
But whiter and softer, pink and warm
As silk or linen or wool, the form
That is set like a jewel so fairly
And baby herself, in her pretty dress,
Is prettivr fair, we all confess,
And sets it off most rarely.
Victiing of a Confidence Game.
He was a man with a triangular smile,
a cold, steel-gray eye, and a face as
clean-shaven as a priest. He sat down
at the end of the dinner-table, tucked a
napkin under his chin, smiled patroniz
inly at the bowing waiter, and said
"Bring me a" good tony dinner,
Thomas. No soup to-daythanks."
"Yes, sah."
Plenty of substantialtuncey,
second joint, reme^ib^r."
Yes, sah,"
"With a dash of cianberry sauce."'
''Yes, sah."
See that the vegetables are all warm."
"And Thomas," calling him back:
the roast beef must be rare and fat
don't forget."
Yes, sahyes, sah."
Then he stroked his face with the air
of a man on the best terms with himself,
dipped a lump of sugar into his glass of
water, crushed it in his mouth, dropped
back into a graceful attitude, and occu
pied hisiselt in watching the other guests
until the waiter returned with his din
ner heaped upon a tray.
"Thomas," he said, as the writer ranged
the dishes in a semi-circle before him
"you must do better if yon expect me to
remember you, as I'm in the habit of do
ing. The last time I was herethe day
Senator Matthews was with meyou
brought me a dinner good enough for a
king. But this is shabby, Thomasvery
shaby, after the way I've always looked
after you" tapping his breast pocket
significantly. "The baked oysters on the
half-shell are missing. Thomas, I don't
see any lobster salad or wine jelly. You
must use better taste, or I shall have to
wade through the bill of fare myself,
Thomas, and I have such a headache I do
not like to do it. The beef seems cooked
to a crisp, and looks as tough as finance.
Take it all away, Thomas and try again.
See if you can't do justice to your reputa
tion. Remember I am ill, Thomas, and
don't be sparing of the dainties. You
know my weaknesstouch the palate in
the right spot, and it's the same as putting
your hand in my pocket," with a wink
that opend the darkey's face from ear to
ear.
"Yes, sahyes, sah. Get right dis time
Gin'l. See de mistaketook ye fo' Gov'
neh Williams- beg pardon, sahbeg
pardon-didn't see ye fe'h in de face.
We all gits "fused sometimesso many
gemmen comin."
And the waiter, with many apologies,
lavished his best bows upon the self-as
sertive stranger as he gathered up the
dishes with great alacrity. In a few
moments he returned with the choiset
vianets the house afforded and this time
met with such unmistakable evedence of
approval that he stenped over to a broth
er waiter and informed him in an exult
ant whisper that he haa just foddered a
member of the Cabinet with the best of
satisfaction and would get a five dollar
fee sure. The other offered him a dollar
for his chance, and lost his friendship
from that moment.
'Thomas." "Yes, sah."
The waiter was bowing at his side in
an instant, and received the order for
dessert, which be proceeded to execute
with the utmost dispatch, not forgetting
to include a good display of rare deli
cacies, as his own voluntary tribute to
greatness.
With folded arms he took his position
behind the chair of the stranger, and
waited impatiently for the moment when
he should see something glitter as it was
slyly shppeel under the edge of" the "plate
for he leit that a member of the Cabinet
could not consistently swerve from the
gold standard.
"Thomas." "Yes sah."
"These figs have been exposec to the
air for same time?"
"Yes sah.''
"Bring me some from a fresh box,
please. My stomach is very deiicate to-
day."
The eye of the stranger watched the
retreating form of the sable child of hope
until it passed through the door and
then the man arose and hastily left the
room. Gentle reader would you know
who so baselv abused the confidence of
the susceptible son of Ham? You shall
it was a Chicago drummer!
Decay of Teeth.
In caring for the teeth, it is important
to bear in mind that weak acids, or acids
greatly diluted with water, have greater
dissolving power than acids in full
strength. Such an acid is contained in
the sour eructations from the stomach, in
many of the medicines administered, and
in the particles of food which, moistened
with saliva, have been left to terment be
tween the teeth.
An article in the British Medical Jour
nal takes the ground that the decay re
sults rrainly from this latter cause. It
further says that the brush, as ordinarily
used, dos not remove the particles of
matter that adhere to the teeth. It should
bo moved up and uowr, as well a., hori
zontally.
The mouth should also be rinsed after
each meal, cr, at anv r:re, before retire
for the night. The writer also says that
it would be well, in rinsing the moutb.to
Uao a solution made by di^olvinw a teis
pooi ful of cooking-soda and a tabtespoon
ful of cohjgne in a quart *f waterthe
cologne, however, being simpiv to heh
the taste.
This wash should always be used im
mediately after taking anv acid medi
cine.
A iijht With a J.unatJ7T~
We take this story from an English pa
per: In a very quiet neighborhood, in
Sussex, resides a family, one of the mem
bers of wh
ch is afflicted with mental de
raugement. Being quiet ana inoffensive,
the parent* had chosen rather to keep her
under their own care than to put her in au
a*yium. Altnough habitually weak-mind
ed, the poor girl i9 not noticeably de
ranged, save at long intervals. A few
weeks since, however, one of these attacks
came upon her and under the influence
of the strange malady, she climed ont of
the window of her room, and sought the
residence of a friend of the family0
a few
houses off. Being well acquainted with
the premises, she had no difficulty in gain
ins admittance and just before dawn, the
gentleman and his wife were awakened
from a pro+bund sleep by a most fearful
scream in their bedroom. Starting up,
terribly alarmed and frightened, they be
held an apparition well calculated to in
spire terror and unnerve the boldest.
With the subtle cunning which some
times attend insanity, the girl had taken
from the mantelpiece revolver, and now
stood in the center of the room, her long
hair streaming over her robe, and the eyes
blazing like fiie, and the pistol pointed
at the two people in oed. Every tin
either of them moved, a fearful glitter of
her eye anel a movement of her arm dis
closecl her purpose to fire. Entreat:es
and
soothing words were aiiko unavailing, and
all questions and appeals .she replied with
a scream ot maniac laughter. In this po
sition hour alter hour went by, and still
the girl stood menacingly at the foot of the
bed, still threatening to shoot, still laugh
ing with a glee that curdled the blood,
and sent the cold chills through the frame
of the appalled couple, who expected
every moment to feel the crash of the lead
en missiles, armed with death. Finally
her mcod changed, and she seemed to de
sire a frolic rat er than a tragedy.
"Get up and dance!" she said" and in
obedience to her commands, the gentle
man and bis wife arose and commenced
a series of terpgichorean antics, which,
however, ludicrous, were anything but
laughing to the paities engaged. The
morning came, close and heavy and the
dense atmosphere of the room made the
unwonted exercise fatiguing to the last de.
gree. The perspiration stood out in great
drops on their foreheads, and ran down
their faces. The steps and graceful mo
tions usually employed in the "cotillion,"'
the "mazourka," th? "schottische.'' were
now exchanged for a staggering red and
the tired and compulsory votaries of
Terpsichore were leady to drop. But ev
ery indication of suspension of the active
exercise, drew from the observant *pcctr.-
tor the stern injunction. "Dmce!" And
although their limbs ached and their
breath came quick and short, dance th*
didthey "danced all night till broad
daylight."
The lady being somewhat obese, and
unused to such violent work, showed evi
dent signs of distress. But it did no good.
The manias was bent on a frolic, and kept
them in incessant motion. Move long th"
frolic would have been kept up it is im
possible to say, had not a servant come in
and eliveited the attention of the girl.
This enabled the gentleman to securethe
pistol, and thus relieved from peril, sus
pend the dance. Although very fond of
such amusements before, both he and his
wife now discover a grat antipathy to
dancing.
Murder of flit Mtirmal'nlcvs.
Mehemet Aii, from a common soldier
had come to be a ruler of Egypt. Like
every man who ever rose to power, envy
hated him and treason plot'.ed his over
throw. The Mamalukes were his mortal
foes, anel he, with no such forgiving spirit
as led Rienzi to spare the barons when he
could have raised fallen Rome and placed
her upon the roael to greatness, planned
their death at one stroke. Filling his
towers with trusty soldiers, he invited the
Mamalukes to parade within the walls of
the citadal. Unsuspectingly they march
ed to tneir dooma splendid band of
gayly decorated warriors', who^e very
steeds pranced with pride to be the bear
ers of such cavaliers. Scarce had the
last man entered when the portcullis fell,
and the truth elawncd upon them. From a
hundred windows a murderous tire open
ed upon them. Giy plumes that waved
in pride o shortly betoie trailed in blood
and dust. der and horse al'ke iell to
form an indistinguishable death's map.
S.m met the.r fate with pra vf-rs and
some with curses, hut u'l fell victims to
the trencheiy and bullets of the Pasha.
AU save one, Emir Bey spurred on his
horse over the deael bodies of his fellow
soldiers, over the dying whose lifeblood
oozed away and over the living suppli
ants who would not .conquer fate, but
knelt and praye'd for mercy. Miracu
lously he passed unhurt amid the shower
of lead that fell around him, and spurred
his horse over the pieclpice that looked
toward the pyramids. A hundred feet or
more befellhis horse a shapeless mass,
he to escape and fly, the only one of all
that splendid band. He lied the country,
never to return. The power of his class
was broken, though to crush it was com
mitted, perhaps in self defvnse, another
ot those bloody murders whose record
and details we call history.
When Fischer, the celebrated oboe
player, who was remarkable for the oddity
of his manner, played concertos at the
errand concerts given fifty years ago at th
Rotunda in Dublin, a noble lord, who had
been enraptured with the rare talent he
displayed, came up to him, and after
having complimented him, gave him a
pressing invitation to sup with him the
following evening, adding," You'll bring
your oboe with you."
Fischer, who was a little nettled at
that sort of invitation, hastily replied,
"My lord, my oboe never sups."
