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mVS&l&g&GQWRF Wm fr'?ij' ' IV b r -, A CTKCAL ricimnr; BT nun LUCCA BQTTSm. In tfa flence of tho midnight, When the sounds of life are still. Comes the thought of othor longings, Comes the void no form may nlL Is it e'er to be the viaion, Kever know the qniet of peace7 Know, no man is true and woman. Ever false, save in release. Am I something of a cynic, Am I cold as Etna's snow? Nay, not quite ; but life i3 chilling, And not always reap we what we sow. life is good and kind or something Such, we're told ; 'tis true, to those. With sense much like an apple tree, Kor know a cabbage from a rose. Does the artist paint his picture, Or the poet tell his taleV Jjsten to the ocean's roar, Or the drowning wretches' wail! Jnch is life ; in sight the haven, "When the storm muBt wreck the barque. Is it sad? Not more than sorrow, Or the soul for venom's mark. New Orleans, La.. 1SS9. SOMETHING SUITABLE. BY B. B. W. "Here is your invitation at last, Margaret !" Mrs. Darton exclaimed, as she pushed open the door of the kitchen, where her youngest daughter sat by the tabic peeling and slicing the apples her sister Mary was converting, with dough and paste-cutter, into substantial tarts for half-a-dozen hungry school-boys. "Hurrah!" and Margaret joyfully waved above her head a long, ribbon like strip of green and crimson peel. "This is good news, mamma! Bless ings light on Aunt Bessie for remem bering me, though she has been a long time about it." "Three weeks," said Mrs. Darton, smiling at her daughter's enthusiasm. "It is no more since she landed in England, and I met her at Gravesend. She accounts in this note for her silence. Business detained her in Lon don for a week, since when she has been looking for a house. She has been ad vised to take one on the south coast till she and her daughters are hardened to our changeable climate; so many years in India makes them dread an English winter." Margaret's face lengthened. "Is Aunt Bessie going to bury her self in the country? I thought that is I hoped she would settle near town." "She has decided on a house at Tor quay; but, as it will not be ready for Iter till the end of next month, she pro jroses spending the interval at Brighton, and you are to go to her there." "Brighton in the heart of the autumn season! Delicious!" ejaculated Mar- gaiet, springing up to waltz her 1 mother round the kitchen, attempting to repeat the dance with her laughing sister, who kept her at bay with the rolling-pin. ""What a lucky, girl I am to have a rich aunt, good-natured enough to give me such a delightful chauge! There's one drawback, and that is leaving home. "Why doesn't she invite you too, mother dear, and Mary?" "As if I could leave papa and the boys !" cried Mrs. Darton. "Or as if I could be spared," added Mary. "At five-and-twenty one feels too sober for much holiday making. I shall have a day's blackberry-picking with the youngsters, and go to the cathedral town for the choral festival, and to the park for the annual picnic of the townspeople ; and that is all the dissipation I care for." "Query. Shall I be as content, at twenty-live, as my sister?" asked Margaret, demurely, "Perhaps I shall, if I have an amiable young curate to strengthen my resolves with his praises. Don't blush, Mary, and don't menace me with such a danger ous weapon. It might fly out of your haud, and I could not go to aunt Bes sie's with a bruised cheek or a black eve. By the way, what day am I to start?" "Next Monday. Her maid will meet you at King's Cross." "And I shall say adieu to the flats of Cambridgeshire for one short, sweet, too fleeting month ! But oh, mother dear, the great question of all has yet to be discussed. "What am I to wear? I should not like to go shabby ; but I know you will not be justified in asking papa for money just as he has been at such heavy expense in articling "Will to Messrs. Stapyltou." "It's all right," replied Mrs. Darton, cheerfully. "Your Aunt Bessie thought of this before I did, aud promised to send you something suitable to wear." Margaret a inced, for she was young and innid. "It's very kind of her," she mur mured, slowly; "but it makes me feel like a pauper." "I don't think you need say that, my dear," her mother made answer. "Be fore my sister left England, to become the second wife of Judge Laurence, youriather had given her the advan tage of his time and talents, and en abled her to get possession of some 'property withheld by a very knavish attorney. Papa positively refused to be paid for his services, and she re members this, and rejoices to requite "him through his children. She is going to send Maurice to college as soon as he is old enough. I am so thankful; for a country doctor, with, a 'large family like ours, cannot always give his sons as thorough an education as he wishes." "If Aunt Bessie is going to be a fairy godmother to the boys, I shall love her dearly. And now to commence prepa- rations for my journey. Don't laugh, Mistress Mary; there is a great deal to be done. "When a lady's wardrobe is a limited one, it is necessary to make the most of it ; and as soon as the 'some thing to wear' arrives that is promised me, we shall liave to set to work at dressmaking in right earnest." Mrs. Darton referred to the note she held in her hand. "I forgot to look for a postscript. Oh, here it is! Listen to it. ' I se lected two or three things for your lit tle girl when I was doing my own shopping, and ordered the parcel to be sent off to you directly.' " "And here comes Carrier Cripps with it!" exclaimed Margaret, with a skip and a jump. "How can you go on, Mary, so placidly rolling: out paste, whilst I am in a flutter of expecta tion?" ,. , Away she ran to meet the little .cov ered -cart in which an apple-faced old man jogged to and fro the martet town and the station three times in tfie week; received from Master Cripps the important package that bore the stamp of a "West-End linen-draper, and hur ried with it to the dining-room, whither her mother and sister followed Too impatient to untie knots, Mar garet cut the string, tore open the brown paper, and then eyed the con tents askance. "Were these the fairy gifts she had expected to receive? the pretty, if not actually expensive, gowns that were to enable her to make a good ap pearance beside her more fortunate cousins ? "What she really found was a roll of stout, serviceable" calico for under-gar-ments; a dress-length of coarse, strong navy serge, and another of a neat chocolate cambric, and these were all. Margaret looked from these things to her silent, troubled mother, and back again, tossed them into a heap, and ran away to throw herself on her bed and weep bitter tears of disappoint ment. "I don't understand it at all," sighed Mrs. Darton, in confidence to her sym pathizing elder daughter. "Unless your aunt thought it would be wiser to make her present plain and useful, than to encourage in Margaret a love of dress, which, in our circumstances, it is more prudent to repress." "Perhaps Aunt Bessie dresses very simply herself," Mary suggested. "A rich widow, who had discarded her crape when she landed, and is evidently not in the habit of denying herself any luxury ! No, no, Mary, my sister Bessie does not clothe herself in coarse serge and common print. But what is to be done? your father will be vexed if this invitation is declined; yet to bid Margaret go, arrayed in a garb that would mark her as the poor rela tion, I cannot." However, Mr. Darton, rendered irrita ble by overwork and the anxiety of making a small income meet the wants of a large family, angrily pooh-poohed the mother's objections. "Decline so kind an offer simply be cause your sister's good sense prompted her to send useful articles instead of finery ! You shall do nothing so foolish. Margaret is to go to Brighton, I insist on it, and let her remember that by be having rudely or ungratefully she may ruin the prospects of her brothers. If anything should happen to me, pray what friend have you in the world be sides Mrs. Laurence ? " "If papa insists, of course I must obey," said Margaret, gulping down a sob. "And for Maurice's sake I will try to be civil and all that; but I shall take care not to stay longer than I can help, and wear those horrid things I will not. The serge can be cut into blouses for the boys." "But, my dear child, you are so poorly provided for such a visit," sighed Mrs. Darton. "Do not I know that, and writhe at the thought of displaying my poverty to my rich relatives ! Yet if they were not ashamed to insult it, why should I care ? Not even to please papa will I put on Aunt Bessie's ' something suita ble.' " And to this resolution Margaret ad hered. Her loving mother would have sold a small quantity of lace she pos sessed, and made a few additions to her daughter's wardrobe with the price obtained for it, but her purpose was discovered and. forbidden. It was, therefore, with a very small amount of luggage the gray cashmere, just made up for Sunday wear, the dark green worn all last winter, and an Indian muslin embroidered for her by Mary at the beginning of the summer that Margaret went away, to be convoyed to Brighton by the highly respectable, middle-aged woman in black silk and furred mantle, who introduced herself to the young lady as Mrs. Laurence's personal attendant. Some of Margaret's resentment melted beneath the warmth of her re ception, for Mrs. Laurence, a hand some, energetic, middle-aged woman, came into the hall to meet her niece, and tell her, with a hug and a kiss, that she was almost as pretty as her mother used to be at her age. Then she was hurried upstairs, to be introduced to Emma and Marion, sal low, sickly looking girls of thirteen and fourteen, whose time seemed to be spent in ceaseless squabbling with the brisk little French governess, who was endeavoring to arouse them from their indolence. There was not much companionship to be expected from them, and for the first three or four days alter her arrival at Brighton, Margaret scarcely saw her aunt, except at lunch. Mrs. Laurence breakfasted in her own room, came to the luncheon-tray with her hands full of papers, over which she pored, or made notes while she ate a few biscuits. The carriage bore her off directly after, and she mere ly returned in time to dress for a dinner-party, being overwhelmed with in .vitations from friends and relatives of her late husband. Perhaps Margaret preferred that it should be so. She felt no desire to im prove her acquaintance with the lady who had made her feel so keenly that she was a poor relation; but, at the same time, she was in no hurry to re turn home. Gossiping neighbors might whisper that she had been sent back in disgrace ; and her father, whom press of work often rendered unjust, would be sure to suspect her of having given way to temper, and forgetting that any aot of rudeness on her part might mar the future of those she loved. So Margaret resolved not to do any thing hastily. Mademoiselle, when set free from her duties in the school room, was a vivacious, intelligent com panion; and the gaiety of Brigtonwas as delightful as it was new to the young girl, who had never before left the village in one of the midland conn ties where her parents resided. To stroll along the King's Boad, watching the ever-changing groups that came and went; to sit on the pier, list ening to the choicest music; or to rent- tire as ciose to me waves as could be done -with safety, and thrill with min gled pleasure and awe as they rolled on; these were amusements enough for such a novice, and the first week of Margaret's stay in Blank Crescent glid ed away with astonishing rapidity. But one morning Mrs. Laurence came to luncheon without the usual budget of papers. "At last I am free," she said to Mar garet, "and I shall have time to attend to you. Poor child, how I have had to neglect you ! I have had a whole fam ily on my hands," she proceeded to ex plain; "a family in which my dear hus band, the Judge, was very much inter ested. I found them out as soon as I got here; and, as two of the sons were going on in a very unsatisfactory way, I suggested their all emigrating; so they start to-morrow. It has been a tremendous undertaking to get them all off with a clergyman who has promised to look after them; but it is done, and I can repose on my laurels and trans fer my attentions to you. "Have you been dull, my love ? No ? You shall go with me to a conversa zione this evening. To-morrow I have a reception here, and a couple of en gagements for the following night, both of which include you. Kemember, you must be dressed by seven. I have promised to look in at the theater on our way, and see the first act of the new opera. Jones shall get you somv. flowers and do your hair." But Margaret proudly declined the lady's-maid's assistance. She did not choose to be under the inquisitive eyes of that important personage while she shook out the skirts of her only even-; ing-gown, and fastened at her throat her only ornament, a bunch of crimson rosebuds. Mademoiselle whispered in her ear that she was toute-a-faite charmante, and Mrs. Laurence, regal in black vel vet and lace, and diamond stars, nodded approval of the simple girlish costume. Nor did Margaret feel as nvuch em barrassed by the inquisitive or admir ing glances of a throng of strangers as she had feared she should, for the first face on which her eyes rested was a familiar one. "When Mr. Darton's family was smaller and his children younger he had taken pupils, and was wont to con gratulate himself that the students who commenced their medical educa tion under his tuition had invariably turned out well. The cleverest of them all Gordon Evrington was now practicing at London-super-Mare, where he was steadily rising to the top of his pro fession. It was not often that he could spare an evening for amusement, but he felt himself repaid when he recog nized in the graceful little creature, whose eyes sparkled with pleasure at sight of him, the pretty child whose willing slave he had been in the long ago. Dr. Evrington soon found his way to the back -of Margaret's chair; and if she had some trouble in keeping back her tears when he talked affectionately of her mother, and recalled the scenes and spots so dear to the young girl now she was so far away from them, still she was sorry when a call upon his attention compelled him to leave her. "But I shall see you again," he said. "I have the pleasure of knowing Mrs. Laurence. You will make a long stay with her?" "Oh! no; I hope not! That is, I think not. I came reluctantly; and though my aunt is kind, I " Here Margaret stopped, afraid of saying too much ; and Gordon Evring ton went away mystified; but deter mined to see more of one who came nearer to his fancy-portrait of what a maiden of seventeen should be, than the more fashionable young ladies an gling so openly for the hand of the clever physician. Mrs. Laurence, who saw them meet, asked a few questions in her brisk fash ion; then, in the important business of going with her daughters to the dentist, appeared to forget Margaret till both were dressed for dinner on the follow ing day, and met on the stairs just as the first guests arrived. A swift scrutiny may have shown her that the embroidered muslin was not as fresh as it had been, but she made no remark; and by the aid of a good natured housemaid, who ironed it out, it even passed muster once again ; but this third time of wearing was at a ju venile party, and Margaret, whose gai ety and good-nature caused her to be much in request, came home with her once immaculate skirts so smudged and so soiled by the sticky caresses of some of her small admirers, that nothing but the labors of the laundress could ren ovate it. And Mrs. Laurence had issued cards for a soiree; Dr. Evrington would be amongst the guests, and Margaret, alas ! would have to stay up-stairs, to miss the pleasant chat he had warned her, during a chance rencontre in the street, that he was looking forward to. If her lips were tremulous that day, and she found it difficult to appear in her usual spirits, no one appeared to no tice it. Mademoiselle was suffering with tooth-ache, and, in the hurry and bus tle of preparing for so large a party, no one appeared to see that Mrs. Lau rence's pretty niece shut herself in her room early in the afternoon, and had not emerged from it when the guests began to arrive. It was verging on ten o'clock when Margaret's door was thrown open and Mrs. Laurence came in. The room was dark, but crouching at the window she saw a little figure, and hurried to ward it. ""Why, what does this mean, child? Are you ill? No, your skin is not fever ish. Have you had bad news from home? But of course not! You would have told me directly. Then why are you sitting here in tins melancholy fashion? I in sist on knowing." "I should like to go home, aunt Bes sie." "For what reason? Be frank, and tell me. "What, silent? I did not know one of your dear mother's children could be sullen. However, I can not will not leave you moping here." And Mrs. Laurence rang imperatively for lights. "Now, dress yourself, Mar garet, and come down with me." . T impossible, madam, for" the tenth was told with proud reluctance fori hare nothing to wear." Nothing! Bid you not have tfte gowns made np that I sent you ? Was there not time ? You should have told me so as soon as you came. I am sur prised that your mother " "Do not blame her!" cried Margaret. "She would have sold her lace to fit me out respectably, but how could I let her?" "How, indeed, poor soul! But sure ly with I se whatnt you, child, you ought to have done very well. "Where are those dresses? Of course you brought them with you unmade ? No ! What is the meaning of this? "Were you too proud to accept my gifts, or was your vanity wounded by their sim plicity? You do not reply. You are beginning to make me feel ashamed oi you ! How can you display such tem per such ingratitude? I bought for you, as I would for my own daughters, and " But now Margaret broke in impetu ously: "And would you have had me appeal before your guests to-night in coarse serge, or a calico gown?" "What are you saying?" exclaimed her aunt, looking positively startled. "I begin to think there has been some mistake. I purchased for you a cream surah and pale blue nun's veil ing to be made up for evening wear, a dinner-dress of biscuit cashmere, and a pretty stripe for walking. Did you not receive them?" Then Margaret described the con tents of the package she had received, and Mrs. Laurence threw herself intc a chair, and laughed long and heartily. "My dear, you must forgive me," she said, when she could speak, "for it is not I who have been in fault, but the shopman, who has evidently put the wrong addresses on the parcels in trusted to him to dispatch. "When 1 was shopping I bought that serge, etc., for a young girl for whom I had. pro cured a situation. I knew she was flighty and had a bad mother, who would have spent the sum I promised for her outfit in useless finery; so I very prudently, as I thought, laid it out myself. And now I can account for the rapturous tone of the letter ol thanks I have received, and the assur ance that the lovely things that I have sent' Sarah Dobbs will make quite a lady of her. "What must her mistress have thought of me? And you too, poor child! Now I can understand why you have shrunk from me and not seemed happy here." Margaret spent the rest of that even ing in her room, but it was in a very different state of mind. She had no more reservations from Aunt Bessie, and not only stayed willingly at Brighton till Mrs. Laurence moved to Torquay, but accompanied her thither. Only for a brief term, however. Dr. Evrington has won from her a promise to be his, and ere long he will seek his bride at the house of her father, Aunt Bessie having promised, 'midst laugh ter and tears, to give her "something suitable," both for her dowry and her trousseau. Recovering Lost Articles. "As well look for a needle in a bundle of hay" as for a small article lost in the city of New York. Of course every well-conduoted railway or carrying company has an office in which articles found in their vehicles are stored foi reclamation. But there are so many carrying companies; the article may have been left in a cab or in some pub lic place; and if the owner cannot re member the exact place, where is he to make inquiry for it? "Would it not be well to have a special bureau to which all lost articles could be sent, just as they have in Paris, for example? There if you leave your purse on a counter, your umbrella in an omnibus, or lose any of the numberless small things a lady loves to cumber herself with, you know where to apply for it. Editoi Medill of Chicago lost a 1,000 franc bill in Paris a few years ago. The next day he clambered to the bureau for lost articles, in the third story ol the Palace of Justice, and recovered it. It had been found in the straw at the bottom of a cab he had used. The Paris bureau has just been re organized. Articles found are entered at the central office, with the name o the finder. To claim them all that is necessary is to properly identify them, and they are handed over without charge, a gratuity for the finder usual ly being left; but this is entirely at the option of the owner. If after fifteen days the article is not reclaimed, the finder may claim it for himself. In case he does not it is sent to the maga zine for storage for three months, and there, if it be clothing or something oi a perishable nature, it is sold. Other wise it is kept for three years. An in stance is cited in La Republique Fran caise where a Bussian lost 10,000 francs in a carriage. Eighteen months passed, and happening to be in Paris again and hearing for the first time of the Bureau for Stolen Articles, he went there aud siade inquiry. He was as tonished to have it handed over to him, and in his generosity he left half of the sum for the honest coachman who had placed it there to his credit, so to speak. Now it does seem a little unjustthat the articles found in public vehicles, and left unclaimed, should be sold tc swell the receipts of the company own ing them; and the knowledge that the product of his find will probably go into the pocket of his "boss" is cer tainly no incentive to the honesty oi an employe. Not only is this Parisian institution self-supporting, but it does offer an incentive to honesty, about one-sixth of the total revenues being awarded in prizes to the policemen, coachmen and others who have aggre gated the most valuable finds during the year. This, of course, in addition to the gratuities. The adoption of some such system in New York would be a great public con venience, and in many cases be a real saving of money, as well as oi time ana trouble. Exchange. A man in New York makes his living by cutting electric light wires at fires. He is employed by the Brush Electric Light Company, and has attended 2,000 fixes within the past five years. PROPHET. AMD BROTHER. tmro history of ns hotkd mx of hcdiak BUTcmma. fdwyiT'-r tfca Historical AeMUti -with. Hb Ova NrrUT Prophet, tha Oro yed Chlaftala, ai TacaaMk, the Iw nut Barrett of the Shawnee. :V -T -ylSITING Ohio lately, and es- naetallr Plana. tho birth nlace of a Shawnee chief. Pro phet. I have concluded to revive some of the memories and old war reminiscences of the old battle of Tippecanoe, calling to my aid the re tentive memory of the historian and my own febrile imagination. TCT-ftaa TH11 Nth. In the Bt. Louis Post. Historical facts are of them selves like the wire foundation ior a Deau- lifnt hnnnaf nnl-nr? Thnv nrfi destitute Of beauty, but decorate them with the gorge ous wora painting oi a neuveu-uuru b"""" and they become the beautiful bonnets of Easter literature. . . It was in 1811 that the firm of Prophet & Brother went into the general slaughter and rapine business, hoping, by close attention to one and all. to merit the public patron age and give general satisfaction. Prophet and his brother Tecumseh were descend ants from Georgia stock and thoroughly nfall hrail Tintlhor Ihor nnr thoir nnp.flstors having done a lick of work for centuries. Like all well-bred people wno cannot Dear Vtt tAf ftf fertnact TinraTlJrjltlnn- thV be gan early to give their attention to crime. a at an. wno aims to suppiy uiue jous oi suicide, homicide, and germicide for idle i..Mila fA A anri Tphrh lina TnnintninAd hta reputation all the way down from Eve to wara .MCAiiisier, reaa me Mgu ui rruji"'' & Brother, and made arrangements with them to handle Ohio. Indiana, and Illinois In his Interests. Prophet was called by his tribe Lahn waslkaw. or Loud Voice. He was the author of a new religion among his people. He believed in prohibitious piety and in dolence. His idea was that sanctity could bejso cultivated and fostered that it would take the place of industry. Ho allowed that the Lord would provide. He united what may be called the High Church and Horse Chestnut Schools of Theology, viz: He combined tho unimpassioned and geomet rical stvle of relicion with the deep, abid ing faith which enables a lowbrowsed horse chestnut to make a stubborn case of rheu matism go right away from there. Prophet had been nicknamed Loud Voice because of his ability to test the acoustic properties of Ohio. He could address an open air meeting as tar as tho eyo could reach. He was also inclined to be a little bit arbitrary, and when anybody found fault with him or doubtod his statements he generally noticed right away that some thing was the matter with his longevity. A great many people saved their lives by be ing en rapport with the Prophet. The brothers, or Messrs. Prophet and Te cumseh. were oppposed by a chief named Black Hoor. Ho did not prophesy at all. but called to his aid what has boon referred to by Plutarch as horse sense. By this means he saw at once that it was a mistake for the Indian to go to war with the white man, and especially without the indorse ment of the press. Black Hoof lived to be one hundred and ten years old. and would have lived much longer, no doubt, had he not Changed his heavy underwear in March for a lighter suit which he found on a clothes line one evening on tho banks of the Auglaize Biver in Ohio. They were not quite dry. In 1807 the Prophet and Tecumseh gath ered several hundred of their followers to gether, and, in obedience to a command from the Great Spirit, located on some land which they had coded to the white people in 1795. Tho people of Ohio and Indiana could not brook this. It was at this time that the Ohio and Indiana men went to Washington to protect their interests, a habit which they have never been able to entirely overcome. Tecumseh was more of an orator than his brother, but was not so good an organizer. Moreover, his brother could beat him to death prophesying. Tecumseh was the original Tall Sycamore of the Wabash. He spoke with great fluency, and when a big tripe or chitterling banquet was given by his people he would always go and pay for his meal by means of a few desultory re marks, Tecumseh had a kind of Lawrence Bar rett style of declamation, which endeared him to all hearts and caused him to hold himself in the highest esteem. Elevating his voice and the price of admission to their full height, he would declaim in stentorian tones which made one forget; all his other woes. He spoke without notes, and could think of a great many things which did not actually exist. Putting his thumb in his girdle and rocking back on his pastern joints, he would look at the proscenium box on the right, and walking L. U. E.. like a man who gets but a dollar a day to work on the boulevard, he would talk like Marco Bozzaris when he awoke to die 'midst flame and smoke, or woke to hear his sentry ,s shriek "To Arms! To Arms! The Greekl The Greek!" . Tecumseh. therefore, was the first to in troduce what maybe called the Larry Bran niean style of acting, in which pathos is marked by pulling out the tremolo of the vox humana to Its full extent, while ex treme anger is expressed by means of a low. guttural and stertorous breathing, punctuated with short, impatient snorts, like those of a fat man eating imaginary spaghetti in his slumbers. With these two brothers thus united, they became a great power. The Prophet easily appealed to the lazy and licentious, while Tecumseh took what was left viz.. the lit erary and dramatic element of the Shawnee .tribe. While the Prophet was said to have been the abler orator of the two. he never epoke in council while Tecumseh was pres ent. The idea of acting as a broker be tween the Indians and the Great Spirit first pecurred to Tecumseh, and was aeted boob AT THE MEBCI OF THE PBOPHET. fWI TECUMSEH, FOM AX OLD PHOTOGRAPH. T m Prophet; vht traaateled MfceffJNv taa remarks of tfca Great Spirit to the re aaamaoaatodewelemtetitilmaalf e Prophet went to see Got. Karrlaoa II 1808. at which time he said, amoa other things: "Father. I was told youlntaaded to1 hang- me. I was also told, ay lather, thatl you wanted to know whether I was a god of aaaa; and if I was the former .you thought! I ought not to steal horses, t this truer"5 "Yes." said the Governor. I said that as' a god you could not expect to hold your po sition so long as you stole horses. That is' all I said about that." "Then I heard also that you said we must not drink whisky. Is that so. my father?" "Well. I said that I thought the red broth er of the Ban Baw Forest and the Jimson Weed Jungle should not drink whisky so long as there was so much suffering among the white men. and also that as repre sentatives of the Great Spirit it weakened your influence with the Deonle and mad your prophecies read rather raw in the aperswnen you got drunk. That was all A stuu. The Governor and Prophet soon came to an understanding, but Prophet was at heart a free-trader and loved King George. This went on till 1810. when the Governor sent letter to Prophet at Tippecanoe, giving Mm TECUMSEH EXPOSTULATES WITH OOV. BAB BISON. further assurances of the good-will of the United States if he would quit getting drunk and prophesying at the same time. He said that after the fatigue of editing a prophesy he did not think it would be wrong for him to take a nip quietly, but he did not think it right for him to try and combino prophesy and inebriety, "for," said Gov. Harrison, truly and succinctly, "if all of us were to put down as revelation all the peculiar things we see while drunk our literature would certainly suffer." Shortly atterward Tecumseh was toldjby the Governor that he desired to see him. Tecumseh then packed a small medicine bag made of the skin of a chipmunk, with a change of clothing in case he should be gone a long time, and called on Gov. Harrison, during which time Tecumsoh made several ringing speeches. They showod great thought, and were uttered in a "Fourth Reader" style that sounded somothing like "The Aged Indian's Lament," and some like "The Burial of Sir John Moore." In the course of his remarks, according to one of the historians, he took occasion to say: "Fathor. we've been led to suppose that you wished to land on our shores, eat your luncheon, catch a few pickerel, and then go away. But you've come far o'er the sea. but you've went not back. I see. You have caught our largest and most fragrant musk rats. You havo bored holes in our bee trees. You have bathed in our rivers, and especially in Ohio Biver. Last fall a white man shot one of our warriors, who is a somnambulist and pessimist, shot him with buck-shot while exercising one ol your horses, and then left him there till his friends hesitated about going near him. Is that any way for brothers to treat each other? I know that our old chief sold to you a portion of tho United States in 1795. but his wife did not sign tho deed, and if so. it was beforo she was taken apart as required by the law. How can we have confidence In the white people? The white people wont the earth, and they may get it. but In the happy hunting grounds you will be able to detect only a slight flavor ol white man. and you will notice that In the soup." m THE UMBRELLA. BY. E M. WEYEB. HE umbrella has many peculiar char acteristics, a few oi which maybe worth mentioning. One of its most wonderful proper ties is its habit oi transforming itseli when left alone. This character istic is most fre quently exhibited in umbrellas of the finer qualities. For instance, if a .new, gold-headed, silk umbrella is left in a conspicuous place for a few moments, on the owner's re turn he will be apt to find it has en tirely disappeared, or else marvelously changed into a faded cotton one. Another habit peculiar to itself is that of getting lost. They are lost by the thousand every day ; yet nobody has ever been known to find one. And here it will be benevolent to add a word of advice to thee, O sad-eyed poet. Thou, who, in attempting to scale the pinnacle of fame, hast found it an infinitely harder task than scal ing a newly painted smoke-stack or greased lightning-rod, to thee, I say, leave thy present occupation, cease writing thy verses, and diligently ap ply thyself to borrowing umbrellas. Borrow them, inscribe thy name con spicuously on the handle of each of them then lend them to friends. So fast will they circulate from hand to hand that in a twelvemonth your name will be known to half the households in the land! Umbrellas, sometimes, get very un happy when there is no prospect of a chance to lose themselves, so much so, in fact, that occasionally, on windy days, they have been known to liter ally "fly off the handle," and lose the tent-like portions of themselves among the clouds an inhuman form of com mitting suicide. According to Josh Billings there is only one way of distinguishing a mis take from a blunder. When a man walks off with a cotton umbrella in stead of his silk one that is a mistake, but when a man walks off with a silk one instead of his cotton one, that is simply a blunder. An umbrella needs no description, you have" all seen one, but it may as tonish you to hear it said of the parasol (which we consider to be the umbrel la's nearest relative), that he is a strange animal. He is surely masculine, for he is a sun-umbrella, and he is an animal, be- , cause he has ribs. Umbrellas are useful in both snn-a shine and rain, and are especially adapted for punching holes through ou paintings. What color is a field of grass when covered with snow? Invisible grcm. MA JVa.- S M Vt T' -vJ M l $1 te '.. SV :J-S, i.Wlf'vJA ' ., & 'Sss&iekkst V BOTCTiilf'-iA-r-