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•TOJB I N I N
Of all kind*, plain or colored, executed on abort
notice,^n the beat style, and at St. Paul price*.—
Printing done in German and Norwegian,, a* well
in English, and warranted to give satisfaction.
L. W. COLLINS*
ATTORNEY AT LAW,
8T. CLOUD, MINNESOTA.
Ofes on Second Floor of BeWu Sleek.
D. B. SEAKLE,
ATTORNEY AT LAW,
ST. CLOUD, MINN.
Ogee in Edelbrocfe Block
BAN O ST. CLOUD.
AS. A. BELL,
Jon* Coorxn. P. IM HILWOOD
Cooper & Hinchilwood,
REAL ESTATE AGENTS.
t)fnce on Washington Avenue, two Doors
North of Postoffice.
ST. CLOUD, MINN.
A. F. ROBERTSON,
Watchmaker and Jeweler,
St. Germain Street, St. Cloud, Minn.
Particular attention given to Repairing
O S Sc W A E S
that have failed to give satisfaction after
being repeatedly workedon by incompeten
E. K. JAQUES,
ST. CLOUD MINNESOTA
O. O. HlttES,
Shop on Washington are.
8T. CLOUD, MINNESOTA.
All kinds of County Books and Blanks.
O W S
ST. PAUL, MINN.
W. F. MASON,
It Ernst Third Street,
S A S GAPS,
•WTaMsft) JefNWvOTy VOeWi
... For-the saleand purchaseof
Wholesale dealer in
N S a
HAZZARD POWDER COMPANY.
Mp. tS JfnehMn St., •*. Pnnl,
RAYMOND & OWEN,
r.vir.-»Tt Maaafaotoren of
SASH, DOORS, BLINDS,
CASINOS, STORE FRONTStBRACK
ETS, SCROLL WOM&
Window and Door Frames,
Inside Bllads, Arehltrares, Ac.
Pianino, Matching, Re-Saw
ing and Scroll Sawing
Done to Order.
S A I A I I N
Balusters & Newell Posts,
made to order.
AU kinds of
Inclodina House Brackets, sawed to any
firea rake. v.\'..,::
ORNAMENTAL TEBGE BOARDS,
of any pattern, PlainandOrnamental Stair
tQF'Orderi eolieiUd and prompt attention
awn. Goods shipped in Safe condition.
O AHD FACTOBT Lowaa Town,
vl7n35-tf St. Cloud, Mian
.i!«J VI (TO "!, •:. I "Ml
Dealer* in all kind* of
llow Ji ©b has
TIN, COPPER, \N1 SHEET
St. Germain street. St. Cloud. Minn.
& l~ SC(UX* Proprietor.
Mtnofacturer of first-class
To all person* contemplating
a FAMIJ* 0UGGY or
on to a
J. G. SMITH,
that we are
taking in that linn lor the
spring trade, and superior to anything:
heretofore mad* in St ClOH^i ,a.
REAL ESTATE A(
8T. CLOUD, VTHll.
No. 53. Cornw 1 wrth lfntory honee
Good well in kitchen, good barn,
and good picket fence, with fruit
trees, Ac, in yard. Good location.
Will be sold cheap for cash,or ex
No. 54i Xotol3and 6, in block 40, St.
Cloud City. Good well and small
barn on premises. Good location.
Will be sold very cheap, and on
terms to siutpucohaaer.
No. 55. A dwelling house in lower town,
opposite the Normal School.
Good barn, well, etc. Will be
soldytr} c^enp andoh easy terms.
rooms. 2jIofiTbn which are fine
fruit and. ahadn trees, good well,
cistern and barn. Very desirable
neighborhoods ifns* be told.
No. 58. 180 acresland in Benton eonnty
in good timber 20 acres meadow on
little stream:. running
through the place 40 acres in
crop good log boose and stable
oTschooI' home, .ttorn.] and
miuj am&am, wryn frp,
and on easv terms. ..-..: ..J
No. 113. For ante, thefarm three mUes be
known as the "Barna.F»nn," con
lngs a\nd unproTemenaii This
turn maybe boughttwr cheap and
*»(«rm*fo r*^pnr*Aa»*r, by call-
No. 115. A rood rarm of 1«0 acres, on
acres under calttTStion and 70
IW (DIw^S5tt*T«a BE
i'l 1,'Ui Wrti UK lOftilllOlJ
PUMP TUBING, *fs
Window & Door Frames,
INSIDE A OUTSIDE BLINDS,
PRIMED A GLAZED SASH.
A N I N
Benawimj, Scroll Sawing and Job "Work
Dressed Flooring, Sidim
.. *o itt.TH'tBM jar
JKeiste and Lum,
*^*^.WI§i he 1 rt-ra 1
tartiff axa.*» i:ci A
All Orders by Mali Promptly FilleiV
A uMMfAt. nmdothn TO DMALKBS.
Ofiot and factory oh Washington ayet
nne, next door to the bridge, St. Cloud,
Minnestoa. e* S
Mannheimer & Fraser,
I A O S O E
7 East Sd Street, St. Paul Mian.
WHOLESALE DEALERS IlJ
Hos. 68 and 55 East Third Street,
,wwinii mi*. &AJUX*.
We invite attention of the Trade to our
large and well-selected stock of
I I-H:.* un
School and Miscellaneous
JUST RECEIVED FOR THE SPRING TRADE.
Edward P. Allis & Co.,
4*' 6 I S S S E 9
Manufacturers of Superioi
Material and workmanshipof the Very best
AND FOLLY WARfelMTED.
From the abundant eommevrntion our
work has received in the paityas) well as
from the earnand labor expend^ upon it
we am confident of its giving ,,
French Burr Mill Stones,
CAST IRON WATER AND 08
•QTEverything in our line made and
sold." Illustrated catalouge of machinery,
130 pagesi sent freeon application.
Dealer in ami manufacturer of
E N E E N S
a-u*! and FANCY
No.55 Jaakson Street.
ST. PAUL, MINN
ESTABLISHED IN 1856.
Drugs. Medicines, Chemicals
FANCY AND TOILET
Brushes, Perfumery &c.,
Kerosote sr Gaol
Physicians' prescriptionscarefully com
pounded, and orders answered with care
and dispatch. ,,.,
Furmen and Pkysiciansjrom the country
will find our stock of Medicines complete,
warrantedjoenuine, and of the bettqnalttM.
Waehinrton Avenue. St. Cloud
BARNARD & COPE,
Manufacturers of all kinds of
Special attention given to
B^PTE CUSTOM: WORK
CHURCH LODGE HALL
furniture made to order, on short notice.
to the trade sent on application. All goods
delivered at the depots or within the city
limits FREE OF CHARGE.
As wemanufacture all our goods we
price paid for Dry
I BABNABD A COPE.
Factory 4th street, East Side, areroomt
6 Centre Block.
S E E S O E S
Parlor, Chamber and Oflce
The Woven Wire, Hair,i Moss, and other
Sole Agents for Fisk's Patent Metallic
Burial Casesand Caskets.
-Corner Third and Minnesota Struts,
vl7n4 ~lj ST. PAUL
V.SHi 1 -'•'.'
Then the Being uncreate
On the egg did Incubate,
And thus became the Incubator,
And of the egg didadegate,
And thus became the alligator
And the incubator was potentate,
But the alligator was potentator.
Upon a rock yet uncreate.
Amid a chaos inchoate,
An uncreated being sate'.
Beneath him, rock,
Above him, cloud,
And the cloud was rock,
And the reck was cloud.
The rock then growing soft and warm,
The cloud began to take a form,
A form chaotic, vast and vague,
Which issued In the cosmic egg.
POOR MARY ANN.
"'Deed an* it isn't me'll be here
waitin' for ye much longer, Dan
Doyle," said Mary Ann Blake, aloud,
as she saw the sun begin to sink be
hind the low hills. It was a warm,
soft twilight in May, and Mary Ann
had stolen away, after the cows were
milked, to the "for meadow,*' where
under an old willow-tree by the little
river that bounded her father's farm,
she had promised to meet the lover
she dare not ask to the farm house.
Mary Ann was a beautiful creature,
fro wonder that Dan Doyle and ev-y^e
ery other young man for miles about
fell in love with her. Tall, shapely.
alert, her untrammeled figure had
•he grace of a statue and the color
ing of—a picture,I was about to, say
but no canvass ever wore those won
derful tints of pure flesh and blood.
Her low, white forehead the milk
and roses of her exquisite cheek the
moist, red lipsj that, full and sweet in
repose, yet parted widely over the
teeth, white and even as rows of fresh
corn the great dark eyes, that were
Sgate gray in some lights and hya
cinth brown in others, but ^always
dancing and overflowing with mirth,
mischief or passion the long masses
of blue black hair that were knotted
tightly at the back Ofa delicate head
poised on its full white throat, or, un
fastened by chance Or sport, fell fair
ly to her ankles—all these charms
made up a "vision of delight" that
maddened many a soft Irish heart
and hot Irish head and when the
vision spoke with the softest of merry
Voices and the piquant coquetry of
her sex and race, grander and wiser
men than the "factions" about Bally
moreen might have lost their senses
W worshiped old Pat Blake's
daughter. Moreover Pat was a well
to-do farmer. He kept cows and a
horse, his wife made butter for the
Dublin market, and he had money
In the Dublin bank. And hispointed
daughter was the apple of his eye.
Re thought herfitto marry the
Lord-Lieutenant's son, and he meant
she should marry the biggest- man in
county KiJdare anyway, that man
being, in his eyes, Harry O'More,
ion of Sir Ulrick O'More, a rough,
drinking, dashing, floridly handsome
young fellow, who swore like a pirate,
betted, raced horses, and did every
thing a man should not do. But all
this went for nothing in Pat Blake's
eyes. Harry had made sweet speech
es to Mary Ann, danced with her
many a time, sent her posies and
fairings, none of which she looked at
twice for, partly out of instinct
ive repulsion, partly because her fa
ther wished her to like him, Mary
Ann having a little more than
the ordinary perverseness of femi
nine nature, and partly because
she had a dawning fancy for some
body else, she hated Harry O'More
soundly, and after the fashion of wom
en, fell deep in love herself with the
'last man in the world her father
would countenance for Dan Doyle
had neither a penny in the world nor
an old family under-ground. His fa
ther had a hut on Sir Ulrick's es
tate, a potato patch, and seven small
children belonging to a second wife,
for Dan's mother died in his baby
hood. Nor would it seem to an un
prejudiced observer that he was at
all calculated to captivate pretty Ma
ry Ann. Tet there she stands
under the willow waiting for him,
lovely as an ideal, in her dark cotton
gown and red jacket, with a deep
blue shawl thrown over her head, cer
tainly not for Warmth. Can Mary
"Oh, it's a great felly ye are, to be
keepin' me here this half hour I"
pouted Mary Ann.
"'Deed thin, dhrop ov me heart,
it's hot two minnits be the clock over
beyant in the steward's house that
I'm late. Sure Mr. Barry kep' me
about the pitaties."
"An' I'll have all the b'ys follering
afther to seek for me, an' mebbe the
father himself, if I do be stayin' here
over ten minnits so if you want to
spake, Dan, spake quick. Whativer
made ye sind for me to-night of all
"Bekase, Mary Ann dear, to-night
it is I've the last Bhillin' raked an'
scraped together, that'll make up
twinty pound, an' that sum, blessin's
on it! '11 take two to Aroeriky an'
now whin will we be off to Dublin,
dear? Father Locke there'll be
ready an* wilhV to doforus, an' the
ship .sails Tcheusdav week, 'to-day:be-
to'MondayifUa',-: .•• I :.•- ivTfi.i
The quick blood surged all over
Mary Ann's fair lace. :.v
"Sure, it's a modest young man
y'arel Do you think Mary Ann
Blake's a natural, to be goin* over
says wfd ye, ye omadhaun an' at
wan week's notice, moreover if I'd
go at forty^ If wohdher ye didn't
want me to be marryin ye to-night be
the old Methody -parson at Bantyre.
Dan's face grew white with pas
sion, his light bltfe eyes fairly blazed,
for he had a temper of his own.' Per
haps another man would have coax
ed and entreated, and Mary Ann
would havfr a witll him pussy
fashion, now a pat and now a Claw,
and sat by smiling to see him squirm,
but after' all despising htm. Dan
grasped her white arm with a master
ful grip. *-Ca^4H-lir.i,i-i:-.:il '.:.::•-
^peed, thin, I'm past playin* wid
ye," Mary Ann. I'll niver set foot on
the sod ov ould Ireland again widout
go over say wid me a Tchuesday
night- I'm jiot Dick Boyle, nor
Lan Kearney, nor a half a dozea
*r» larned qver in thim
hands ov yours like a heap ov cards.
Take me or lave me it is, for I'm «o
Mary Ann looked up at him half
frightened, Here was no ductile wo
er, but' a strong, 'hot-headed man
and the girl's coquetry failed her in
the time of need. She felt how. deep
was the passion so roughly express
ed nay there was a traitorous re
sponse'within her—she.ought to have
resented his: assumption. Poor Mary
Ann! [she rather rejoiced in it for
while the world endures there will be
a race of women who accept their
position in creation not only submis
sively, but with content, who like, to
be ordered by the man they love,
who enjoy their chains, who even as
sent in heart and life to the old-fash
ioned dictate, "And he shall rule
over thee." Their strong-minded sis
ters despise them, but they make
quite agreeable wives, and I have ob
served, rather more apt to be mar
ried than the other kind. And Ma
ry Ann, being ac heart as much a
woman, for all her haughty tricks and
manners, as arose is a rose, for all its
thorns, after a few minutes of tears
protestations, promised Dan to
meet him at the time and place ap
and hurried home just in
time to escape a hue and cry, ami an
swer impertinent queries, with a
bunch of cowslips from the meadow
to make a cowslip ball for little Da
Ann know how that deep gentian tint
brings out all the pure tints of her
exquisite skin, and contrasts with the
dull red of her jacket? Great is
the perception of a woman if she is
beautiful, to the becoming. If it on
ly extended to the plain, how much
less plain would they bet But itseasick
never does. Mary Ann had no time
to breathe against her delaying lover
for he appeared just as she closed
her lips after that first soliloquy,
and, too breathless even to speak,
could orly use his lips in other
ways to apologize.
Perhaps the girl's heart would
have failed in that short week if the
very next day Harry O'More had
not come over to the farm, half drunk
and pressed his suit in vehement
fashion he knew very well that Sir
Ulrick would set his face straight
against such a marriage, but he could
have his way before his father knew
it, if Mary Ann would marry him at
once and when Sir Ulrick came
back from abroad and found such a
pretty daughter-in-law fairly estab
lished at Castle O'More, he would'no
doubt make up his mind to forgive
Harry. So he stormed and pleaded
and raved and swore, till Mary Ann
hated him worse than ever and old
Pat Blake, shaking his fist in herflowers
face, swore he would bring her toGod
reason,' add' bade her make up hermand
mindtomarry Mr.O'More by Thurs
day week, or be turned out of his
house forever, thereby doing Dan
Doyle an unconscious service, for Ma
ry Ann set her red lips together,
looked her father in the face with
her great eyes in a black blaze, and
went up to her room to get her clothes
out and mend them up in order to
run away with Dan. It makes such
a difference whether it is a father or
a lover who orders!
So when Tuesday came, and Mary
Ann was sent into Dublin in theanxiety,
jaunting car with Cousin Patsy Blake,
to buy the wedding bonnet, she not
only bought it, but was married in
it to Dan Doyle, and waved her wed
ding kerchief to the horrified Patsy
from the car window as the train for
Cork flashed out of the station and
before Mary Ann's loss could be re
ported at horde by her cousin, she
and Dan were well off the coast, as
as possible, and quite indif
ferent to the rage]) and profanity of
the men they left behind them.
Poor Mary A'jnl many a time on
that long voyage she thought of her
mother, and longed for afresh cup of
milk-from her dairy, hardly knowing
in her forlorn state of mind and body
whether she neeia.! the refreshment
for one or the Other. But at last
"Ameriky" rose on the horizon, and
there was soon firm ground1 under
foot, ahd the usual emigrant experi
Ik1 was hot long, however, before
Dan found, work in the country, and
an old house to shelter their heads,
a mere cabin, in which Mary Ann
bloomed like a scarlet and white lily
set in a broken mug but she kept
it clean, and it was her own home,
which atoned for much, and by the
next May more home-like still, for
there was a baby, a round rosy girl
and now Mary Ann was utterly hap
py. :,'-•••• .~,-. .,„,„,-',
It is doubtful it Dan thought little
Moyna an Unqualified blessing the'
good fellow was neither jealous nor
exacting by nature but the best of
lis do not like to be quite displaced
by what theologians call *'the expul
sive power of a new affection/' and
Dan was neglected indeed since baby
came. •,. '1'
"Sure it isn't an angel, Mary Ann.
Ye don't besayin' prayers to it, da
"'Deed an'she's a little angel itself*
Dan Doyle, blessin's on her!"
"Well Mary ^nh, maybe she isaind
thin but if sbe war T'va thinkin'
she'd say, Mary Ann Doyle, haven't
ye got a husband at all f*
"Dan, ye big idgit, what would a
dacent angel be askin' sich nonslnce
"Oh, bekase I'm thinkin, ye forget
me intircly meself, Mary Ann an*
sure an angel would be more pene
thratin* than me.*', "-:li"
She Certainly loved pan more
than he or she knew but she was
one of those'women to whom mater
nity brings the crowning delight of
life Children had always been her
passion 'thetie thai was hardest to
sever when she left home was her af
fection for her little brother Davy
and now she had a child of her own
a baby that was hers "to have arid to
•hold" literally. Words are ^ea'k. to
describe her affection for and devo
tion to the little creature. It slept
on her arm all night, and she lay
awake to listen to its breathing,
sweeter to her than any lover's soUg'
or sacred anthem. She never left it
out of sight all day, and stopped cbn«
tinually in her work to watch ite
kindling intelligence, to press bet'
lips to its rounded limbs, its tender
face, its shining head. She cared for
it with all the tenderness and assidui
ty a little princess could have requir
ed. She asked no greater rapture
than to to hold it in her arms and
stare at its sweet baby smile and eyes,
till her insatiable heart overflowed,
with eager and passionate love. If it
fell down in its first attempts at walk
ing, her heart fell too she gasped for
breath she Was paralyzed with ter
ror. If it was ill, death seemed to
stare her in her face and be about to
snatch her treasure. She could
neither eat nor Sleep till Moyna was
"Sure what'H this wan do at all
for a mother?j I'm thinkin' 111
havetotake the weeny thing wid me
intirely," was Dan's dry
when another small girl made her en
trance into this world and' Mary
Ann glared at him like a tigress.'
"Faix, thin, is it a mother the
dawshy little darlint'U be afther?
Do ye think I haven't heart-room
enough for a dozen if I had thim to
day itself, Dan Doyle
"It isn't house-room ye'd have,
anny way," laughed Dan.
But Mary Ann proved truetoher
word as far as the'new baby went.
That it was fair, delicate, pining, on
ly endeared it to her more. She lov
ed it more deeply, more tenderly far
than she had .loved Moyna, simply
because it appealed to every pitiful
sympathy of her nature.
Poor Mary Ann! she had the true
mother heart that broods the weak
lings longer ard closer than the
of the flock that gives, like
himself, to need rather than de
that loves best that which
costs most pain ahd care.: Moyna,
bright, strong,- willful, captivating,
led her father in chains and
mother loved her none the less that
she loved little Mary with a deeper
and diviner love, instinct with less of
selfish passion, more of sacrifice and
If Mary Ann ever thought she
loved her children too much, it was
not while they were with her not
while their Clinging arms, their ca
ressing hands, their sweet voices,
filled her heart with earth's intensest
rapture not while they made all the
world bright and beautiful to her
nOt while she was the happiest of
women when their dark ahd bright
heads lay together in the crib at her
side all through the night, and She
heard their soft breathing, or awoke
in the morning to the ripple of baby
laughter, or even the moan of baby
No she was never "PoorMary
Ann" while she had her babies, and
food and fire for them and Dan. If
it could have lasted! But when
Moyna was five and little Mary four
years of age there came a wet sum
mer. Dan was at work on a railway
embankment across a marsh, and day
after day dug and wheeled: in thesee
rain* ^steaming wet, orj if a, SB**
wind blew, shivering with a chill
he took rheumatic fever, and was laid
on his bed for six weeks. Poor Ma
ry Ann began to feel the stress of
hunger for the first time, not for her
self, but for her babies, and with ex
haustion and anxiety, the deeper
pang that the future might.be near
4 band when Dan would leaye her
"With which Parthian arrow Dan
left the house for his work, and Ma
ry Ann, after a, h^o'ments thought
proceeded to dress the baby. „Vfc
Like many another woman and
man too,she never knew how.she
itared h)m till the thought 4»f hishouse-dog,
fysseame home to her, and now she,
almost neglected her children in her
eagerness to serve and save her hus
band,. She,^ W®itfi&^l'-!m
qighjt at the wash tub, in he.r inters
VjOs of nur«i,ng, tp get food fndtod
tpe neighbors were alj good to her,
b!ut they were few and far between,
poor themselves the doctor pit
ied her and petted jthe children, and
the doctor's: wife sent them many a
pail of milk, but still they fretted for
care andJ food \y andT Mary Ann
thought twenty times a day of the
creamy milk in her mother's dairy,
TO xfe,Wves of bread, the freshas
ek^B» the curds, the generous fireside,
the, great turf rick, and the full po-
!w»ffljri^ }lH'.9*ALottie, and howt
toe1 c^U^rjpn would grp.w^ajod flourish
$%& •?. m&£<:?$ ifMifiirH a
letter from home. Her father was
dead. Her mother wrote
?Ok Mary Ann alana! sure: yer
Mfr'a 4ead an' gone all at
wanst of a sudden, it's appleplexy he
J^'Boc^brafchovan' sek an* it's
meself don't know bow he'd have
Jbali anjsyway, for norra an apple
Yfl&^liPP 'te farm save anf except
1^2? WtKrwi °P& W* beic
the fool o' tbe wurrld to' ate. thim
which:heIdidh'tat all:, onljrjuii^ bein'
afther attn'r a good big dinner' ov
poork an' cabbidge an'! cheese an' a
which sure we?H all have to come to
an' the undhertaker med a good job
toe, Heaven rest his sowl poor man
as niver thought he'd have thim black
feathers Over his head this day twelv
month as iver was, which now I write
deer Mary Ann to say he wouldn't
hear to me spakin' to yez afore an'
now come home you aa' Dan an' if
there's babies which the saints, sind
yjel fetch 'em all for there's but Jack
ap' little Davy an' me an' the bit an'
sup ready for yez an* Dan a grate
help on the farm intirely so no more
"ajt prisint fromiyer lovin' mother
And here was Dan could not lift
hand or foot! But it was an outlook
of hope to Mary Ann, and she lived
on the promise of that letter even
more than on her daily bread. She
wrote a. long and, loving answer
bjack, painted her babies, as they
sjeemedtoher, a pair of cherubs in. a
hovel, and promising as Soon as Dan
Waswell and they could raise money
that they would all come home.- But
Dan did hot get well fast, though the
nex mail brought over the money
their passage, which "the mother"
saved up this long while for
them.:,-'-l':-—• ti -i
I The doctor shook his head daily
over Dan. Thefeverhad left him,
but not all pain he was stiff, aching,
feeble. But this was not all a swell
ing appeared on his throat that de
fied the doctor's skill and puzzled his
knowledge. He wished Dan would
go to a hospital in New York and at
last, after,, much persuasion, Mary
Ann resolved to go there with him,
to establish henelf somewhere near
by and take in washing till bis cure
could be effected, and they could all
go "home" together.
But the New York doctors shook
their heads too. The swelling was a
tumor, and in a difficult place per*
haps it could be removed, perhaps
not at any rate, it must develop
further. It be six months, it might
be a year, before they could operate,
and at any rate the result would be
There are some very good people1
who would have warned her not to
love her children "too much"—'•as if
all the love one has to give were too
much to bear the daily and hourly
labor, pains and weariness
that children bring as if love were
hot the condition of their healthy
life and growth as if, indeed, One
could help it.
"Mary Ann, dear," said Dan, in a
patient voice, when the doctors
had told him their opinion, "sure
've an idaya in me head. It's long
sure to be lyin' here, sin' it's hard
for to get work in a big city like ibis,
where ye haven't a friend to spake
to an' I'm thinkin' it*s betther for
ye to go home wid thechildher, an'
lave me till I'll be me own man agin
an' come to yez."
Mary Ana threw herself on his
bed in a passion of tears. "Oh,
Dan! Dan 1 is it lavin' ye here in the
hospittle all alone wid thim docthors,
an'you me own ould man? Sure
whin I do that same I won't be Mary
Ann Doyle at all!"
"But ye'll have the childher, dear,"
was his quiet answer.
His wife felt as if he had struck
her and she deserved the blow. "Yis,
oh yis, Til have the childher but
will I have me husband Tell me
that, Dan Doyle," she sobbed.
Dan smiled. He liked to know at
last that his own childhren had nottime
quite superseded him in his beautiful
wife's heart. He was a man, if he
was an Irish laborer am} "human
natur'," as Mr. Weller remarks, "is a
However, he persisted in bis pro
ject, and at last poor Mary Ann re
luctantly consented to take her chil
dren over, and, leaving them in herunfortunate
mother'* care, come bnck to Dan till
he should be well. She could not
and would not leave him in the hands
of a hospital corps in a strange coun
try. She must be where she cotild
to-Hw ,h«™elf. I cost ber a
great struggle to leave him at all,ey
hut evidently it must be done, for the
children were already pining in the
poor close tenement-houae where thev
had found lodgings, and the sooner
she went, the' sooner eke would re
turn', so she only waited to see'Dan
established nospital ward to
_• ::,, 5j
set off for Ireland and once there,
delayed but two short weeks, to seeher
precious babies safely established in
ber mother's cart, chasing the geese
ih the meadow, playing with the big
eating their fill of bread
and-milk, and recovering every hour
their fresh looks—even little Mary
growing rosy in the soft Irish air and
die, constant out-of-doors life.
Granny, of course, worshipped the
two pretty creatures, and spoiled
them Uncle Jack became their joy
ful slave and Davy, now a big boyof
of thirteen, allowed that they were
"well enough for girls, to be sure,"
which, was high praise for Davy.
But now. could poor Mary Ann leave
her darlings? Daily her great eyes
grew darker and sadder, her cheeri
ness was fitful, her heart was heavy
4ead, wlveeever^be-dared to thmk.
But the inevitable day came.
"Ob, mother, it's lavin' the heart
ou 0' me breast to lave thim two.
Mother—the saints be good to ye!—
watch the hairs o' their blissed heads
till I be back again. Ob, it's the
light o' me eyes an' me heart's blood
Pm lavin' behind, an' I can't bear
it! Oh, mother, mother, I can't!"
And she seized the children in her
arms, and pressed them to her breast
with an agony of pair and love trag
ic to see—alas! how more than trag
to feel !—then, covering them
with hot kisses and a broken torrent
of blessing and prayers, flung herself
into the car, and snatching the whip
from Jack's hand, lashed the poor
old horse into a frenzied flight along
the Dublin road, as if she dared not
trust his sober pace to draw her away
with slow tortures, but must make
the fatal leap speedily and haye it
Over with! Her agony had butburned.
just begun. All through the long
and stormy voyage she pined and
thirsted and panted for ber children.
Night mocked her with dreams. Soft
arms clasped her neck, rosy lips kiss
ed her, a shining head lay on heras
arm, a dark one on her bosom. She
dreamed that her loss was a dream,
and woke to find it true, with stream
ing tears and dizzy brain woke, all
alone, to hear the dull dash of threat
ening waves against the ship's side,
the shrieking wind in the cordage, the
creaking of rudder and yards, the
hoarse cry of the watch, and
knowledge forced upon her that every
hour bore her further away from the
delight ot her life.
(COMCUJDED NEXT WEEK)
A DOMESTIC TRAGEDY.
With fierce energy she strode to
the window dashed back the rattliog
blind and'peered into the inky dark
ness. But her burning glances failed
to pierce tbe pall-like blackness that
enshrouded the deserted streets. Tear
ing up the hall register and detach
ing the pedal from a sewing-maciiiue,
she laid them on a hassock and resum
ed her weary watch. The storm with
out raged with wild fury, driving the
sleet across Charles River with a
force and velocity that was appalling
The night waned and she sat wan and
An abandoned-looking man, with
a crimson nose, tattered Ulster and
fearful fissures in bis trousers was
waltzingwith uncertain strides through
one of the grand avenues of the lower
Port Ever and anon the graceless
man would mutter to himself: "I—
Bracing himself he reached home, and
was trying to pick the door lock with
an empty flask, when the door was
opened from within. Then there came
a wild cry formercy, heard high above
the horrid, raging elements, wakiug
up two policemen, and—then all was
TBE FIBST HEWS OF WASHING
There never was a more striking
or spontaneous tribute paid to a man
than that in Boston when the news
came of Washington's death (1799).
It was a little before noon and I often
heard persons say at the time that one
could kuow how far the news had
spread by the closing of the shops.
Each man, when he heard that Wash
ington was dead, shut his store as a
matter of course, without consultation,
and in two hours all business was
stopped. My father came home and
could not speak, he was so overcome
my mother was alarmed to see him in
such a state, until be recoverd enough
to tell her the sad news. For some
every one, even the children,
wore crape on their arm no boy
could go into the streets without it.
I wore it, though only eight years
eld.—Life of George Tieknor.
A Hebrew gentleman had 11 legacy
left him, but it was hampered with an
condition, which he has
tened to announce to a sympathizing
friend. The sum was £10,000, but
naif the sum, according to the testa
tor's wishes, was to be placed in the
coffin and buried with him. Was
there ever such a waste of good mon-
But the sympathizer was equal
to the occasion. "Where is the mon
ey now?" he asked, and was told
"In the bank." "AU right," he said
"you write a check for £5,000, and
put it in the old boy's coffin, drawn
to order!" That young man ought
to get on in the world.—JV. Y. Wot Id.
GLANCING AT HINDOSTAN.
The AslaUc FOTMWIOIM of the EmnreH of
It is the richest country ih the
world, its exports being annually
8100,000,000 in excess of its imports.
Its 248,000,000 of inhabitants speak
160 distinct dialects, and are govern
ed by the people of one little island
in the North Atlantic. Sixty mil
lion* are still nominally under the
sway of princes, who have very re
spectable armies. To control this
number of human beings England
has only 60,000 European and 150,
000 native soldiers. It is generally
believed that there are four castes,
the Brahmins, the warriors, the toad
erf, and the working people in Hin
dostan, but there are only two, Brah
mins and working people.
Some Brahmins look with con
tempt upon other Brahmins, and the
working people are self-divided into
about 80 subdivisions. A gold
smith is conceded to be at the head
the working class, and he deems
himself little inferior to the Brah
mins. He disdains carpenters and
blacksmiths. Uut wherever the in
fluence of the Anglo Saxon is strong
est the lines of demarcation between
the classes are indistinct A Brah
min, for instance, often finds that he
must ride in a railway carriage wSth
a working man. The Brahmins are
often poorer than the working people,
and must accept alms from them.
But the workingraan's shadow even
must fall athwart the Brahmin's.
Whenever the English have gain
ed new territory they have assigned
officers to survey it and give a title to
the native owner of even the smallest
part of it, and for every acre of culti
vated land a legal deed is held. The
burning of widows and the destruc
tion of female children is as uncom
mon in India to-day as in New York.
In 1849 the last suttee that came
within tbe cognizance of the Eng
lish was performed. The magis
trate of the district was informed
that it would be done the following
moruing unless be should interfere.
He rode hard and fast, attended by
soldier}', but the priests bad hastened,
and dying embers alone marked the
place where the woman bad been
The priests and her near-
est relative were tried and sentenced
to death, but were transported for
life. But the abolition of suttee, and
of the destruction of female children,
was not so much due to rigorous laws,
to the enlightenment of the Brah
min doctors of the law by European
Laborers in India get 61.50 a
month and find themselves, but if
they can maintain themselves upon
half of that sura, it is good pay.
Carpenters receive S2 a month. Yet
there is no poverty in Iudia. Labor
wives and children wear a
surprising number of gold and silver
ornaments. Their sayings are invest
ed in them, for they have no banks.
It has been calculated that $50,000,
000 worth of the precious metals are
lost by attrition every year in In
As soon as the sun goes down, the
day's work is deemed at an end.
The women shoulder their pitchers
and eo to the wells. There they loit
er and gossip. The meu engage in
games of checkers, or gather in the
groves, lit by myriads of fire-flies,
aud listen to wonderful tales about
Brahma. The English dare not en
gage in the conversion of Hindostan.
If the Hindoos once thought that the
English intended to force them from
their religion, the whole land would
be in a blaze.
The English have built up a vast
railway system, established policeand
excellent prisons, sternly enforce the
laws, have introduced irrigation and
a wonderful network of canals, but
they cannot openly favor the work of
Christian missionaries among the
THE METHODIST CHURCH.
In 1856 there were 5,877 ministers,
and 870,327 members in the next
ten years, which covered tbe period of
the war, the gain was (in 1866) 1,699
ministers, and 231,857 members. This
year was also the centennial anniver
sary of the founding of Methodism in
America, and was duly celebrated.
The close of th© present year-(187ft)
will complete the eleventh decade of
Methodism the results of nine years
of the decade are in gains of preach
ers 3,347, of members 548,375 the
totals being 10,923 preachers and 1,
580,559 ambers. The statistics of
preachers thus far given include only
travelling preachers besides these
there are now (1875) 12,881 local
preachers. The property of tbe
Church, including parsonages, is val
ued at $81,084,862, and there are
19,287 Sunday-schools, with 1,406,
168, scholars. It is estimated that
the contributions in 1875 for missions'
salaries of ministers, and expenses of
Suuday-schoola, new churches, church
improvements, etc., aggregate nearly
$17,000,000. There are 81 annual
conferences, half of which meet in
the Spring and half in the Autumn.
Three of these conferences are in
foreign lands, viz., the Germany and
Switzerland, tbe India, and the Li
beria. There are now 12 bishops,
Minnesota furnishing one, Bishop
Stephen M. Merrill, of S Paul.
—An exchange says: "We are in
receipt of two poems, one on the
'Throbbing Brain,1 and other on a
'Bleeding Heait' We will wait un
til we receive one on the 'Stomach
ache,' and publish all three togeth
—Mr. Parton marriage in Mass
achusetts may be invalid, but he's
all right in New York. Over two
months ago the knot was again tied
by Rev. Dr. Stephen H. Tyng, Sr.,
who remarked at the ceremony, "This
time it is suretohold."