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l^lifaSwriwgri!^^^^ i wax^** ^WWWS! A FRONTIER DUEL. By Maj Alfred R. Calhoun. HE plagues of ths mining camps in the far west were the bullies and des peradoes who, ig noring honest in dustiv, lived By gambling, or even 'mmm' wors8- ^"^k' These fellows al ways go armed, carry themselves with a swagger and figuratively drag their coat tails on the ground at all times the hope that some one will give them an excuse to shoot. Fajiplaj. is a \ery good name for a town 01 \imp, and Fanplaj, Colorado, is today a thriving, law-abiding place, but, like all western towns, it had to pass thiough all the stages of social evolution fiom the abbolute barbarity of its beginning to the high civiliza tion of the piesent. There aie m~ny men not yet beyond middle life who distinctly remember 'the first hut erected in Fairplay, and who letain a vivid recollection of the first hotel, the Gieat Western, which was composed of three rooms, one earn as, one log and the other un planed boards Though this establish ment clamed to furnish "accommoda tions for man and beast," it had no stable for horses, and all its lodgers had to sleep in bunks in one room, while bread and bacon constituted the bill of faie, with now and then sugar less coffee. The "extias" were com posed wholly of bad cigars, strong chewing tobacco and whisky of a kind so much viler than the oidinary fluid that one drink of it has been known to produce all the effects of delirium tremens on a man accustomed to it, and it always produced a homicidal mania in those who indulged in it as often as once a week. The bai of the Great Western was the rende\ous, the headquarters, for all the miners and teamsteis in the vicinity, and you may be sure that it *as a constant lesort tor the gamblers and desperadoes who always swarm about a new mining town like flies about a sugar hogshead July. For the accommodation of the latter class, v,ith whom he was in full sym pathy, and with an eje to his own gainhe had only one eyethe land lord of the Great Western had fitted up a place foi playing faro, and a num ber of pine tables on which those so inclinedand it was surprising how many wee so inclinedcould play that alluring but most uncertain game called poker At this time there were only two women in Fairplay, viz Mrs Cham berlain, the wife of the principal mine superintendent, and Lizzy Chamber Jain, hei daughter. Ladies were certainly at a premium, and Lizzie was very popular and a standing toast with the hundreds of men working in or near the camp But as she was a very charming, mod est girl she would have been popular had the sexes been more evenly bal anced Some men, with w\es and daugh ters at home in the states rather blamed Mr. Chamberlain for subject ing his family to the haidship insep arable fiom such a life, but had they known .hat the devoted wife and daughter insisted on accompanying him and sharing his tuals, they would not have been so hard in their judg ment. Arthur Lyons, a fine fellow of four -and twenty, was Mr. Chamberlain's as sistant, and as he boarded with his me plover, it was pretty generally con ceded that he had "the inside track" so far as Lizzy was concerned, and that their marriage was only a ques tion of time. There was, however, in Fairplay, one man who emphatically refused to 'believe that Lizzy Chamberlain looked 'kindly on Arthur Lyons, and this man was known as "Red" Snively, the first name being given to designate his com plexion and the sanguine color of his fcushy hair. Red Snively wished to be known as '"The Mountain Terror," and he tried hard to have the name attached to himself, but as the majority of the miners looked upon him as a nufsance rather than a terror, the name did not stick to any great extent. Red Snively was a swaggering, ever armed braggart. He was supposed to be a silent partner in the Great West ern hotel, and it was a matter of notoriety that all the gambling fea tures of the establishment were under his immediate charge. He always had money he always drank, yet he was the one man who did not appear to be affected by the ^vile whiskyindeed, it would be nearly ^impossible for any liquor to make him more brutal and bloodthirsty than he was when in his natural condition. He claimed Missouri as his home, and when he became confidential which was always the case when the -game was going against himhe would hint that he was forced to come west "owin' to a little cuttin' scrape" 'he had over a game of cards. With the brazen effrontery of his -class, Red Snively made himself very -objectionable to Lizzy Chamberlain by vhis disgusting attentions, so much so, -Indeed, that she dreaded to venture out 'unless accompanied by her father or lArthur Lyons. On one occasion the latter told Red Snively very emphatically that his conduct was, disagreeable to Miss Chamberlain, and that it must be stopped, and this was said with such .calm emphasis that the bully was not left in any doubt as to the young -man's meaning, nor of his determina -tton to enforce his request. \n addition to its many other uses idhe Great Western was the postofflce j$l^Wrs at which the weeklymore often the monthlymail was delivered. One rainy afternoon after the mail had come in, Arthur Lyons went up to get the ever-welcome letters and pa pers from the east. While he was leaning against the damp bar waiting for the man behind it to look over the addresses of the parcels that had come by post, he felt a heavy hand on his shoulder, and at the same time he heard Red Snively saying, in a mocking, bantering tone that meant mischief: "Come, Lyons, join me and we'll drink to the health of the beauty of Fairplay." As Arthur shook the fellow's huge hand from his shoulder, he said, "very quietly: "I do not drink." "You don't, eh?" sneered Red Snive ly "I do not "Then I'll drink for two." The barkeeper handed Red Snively a bottle and a glass. Half filling the latter, he raised it toward his lips, but, stopping as if he had suddenly changed his mind, he shouted, with an oath* "No gentleman ever drinks alone!" and with this he threw the contents of the glass into Arthur Lyons' face The unexected explosion of a bomb could not have caused greater con sternation than did this unwarranted act. Men leaped from the tables and sought places of safety, for such an in sult they felt must be folllowed by im mediate shooting. Red Snively expected to use his pis tol, for he drew it, but before he could fire, Arthur Lyons seized the arm that held the pistol with his left hand, and with his right he planted a blow between the ruffian's red eyes that caused him to fall as if a bullet had been sent through his brain. "No more fighting here," shouted a number of men, rushing in between Arthur and the man whom the land lord of the Great Western was helping from the floor. "If there's to be shootin' let it be done fair and square outside under the rules of the code, and not in a crowded bar whar innocent men may get popped over." "I agree to that!" roared Red Snive ly, who had now recovered himself "Landlord, you'll act as my second." "I'll do that and take your place if you go down," replied the lanlord, who was only little less of a brute than the man he was championing. "And I'll act for this gentleman," said a tall man, who had been sitting unnoticed since he reached the place, a few hours before, with the mail-car rier. He had a long, black beard, his hat was slouched, and his coat collar turned up so that but little of his face could be seen, but there was that in his voice and bearing that convinced the lookers-on that he was no ordinary person. As the stranger took his place be side Arthur, who acknowledged the offer by a courteous bow, he drew from A PUFF OF SILVERY SMOKE, under his coat two revolvers and he held them with the peculiar grip of a man wno knew how to use them. Arthur Lyons, like all civilized men of sense, was opposed to duelling, but he knew that if he did not fight this fellow under the rules of the so-called "code" the chances were he would be shot down like a dog, and he well knew that in such an event there was no law to punish his murderer. He knew that he was not a good shot with a pistol or any other weapon, for his life had been spent at college or at hard work where he had neither need for nor opportunity to acquire the doubtful accomplishment. Red Snively was notoriously the best pistol shot in the mountains. He had been known to send the bottom of a tin box skimming into the air and then to draw his pistol from his belt and fire two bullets through the center of the bit of circular tin before it reached the ground. "Have you a good pistol?" asked the stranger, as he took Arthur's arm and led him out of the hotel in the direc tion Red Snively had taken. "I have not," replied Arthur. "Then take this. It is loaded, and has a fine hair trigger. Are you a good shot?" Arthur took the pistol the stranger handed to him, and replied: "I am not, and so you must place this man so close to me that his su perior skill will not result to my dis advantage." "Leave the whole thing to me, and do not interfere, no matter what I pro- pose," said the stranger, pressing the young man's arm. "You appear to be a gentleman, and I will do as you say," replied Arthur. The crowd in the bar came out in the rain to seeifte duel, all taking care to be out of range. "I propose," said the landlord, "that we place our men at ten paces with re volvers, we scconds'll toss up for the wcrd, and then they're to fire and keep firing till one or the other goes down." "I'll do nothing of the kind," replied the stranger, in. tones that evinced mm coolness and determination "this bully," pointing to Snively with his re volver, "is a good shot my man is not. I propose they shall shoot across a pecket handkerchief, or let only one pistol be used we'll draw lots to see which man shall take it. Are you agreed?" he asked, turning to Arthur. "I agree to whatever you say" "But I don't!" shouted Red Snively. "This ain't to be a murder, but a duel." "A murder!" cried the stranger, striding toward the bully. "Do you dare to speak of murder?" "I want a fair fight," replied Snively. "A fair fight is impossible without an equality of skill and force. You would not fight, you cur, if you did not feel that you had all the advantage on your side," said the stranger, with stinging contempt. "Mebbe you'd like to change places with your man," said the landioid of the Great Western. "That is exactly what I proposed to do from the first," said the stranger. "This is my fight," he added, turning to Arthur Lyons. "Hear me out I have been searching for this murderer for a year, and now, after a hunt of ten thousand miles, I have him under my pistol, and no man can fire at him till I have squared my account." "Who are you?' demanded Snively, his countenance purple and his thick lips trembling with excitement. "I am George Pierce, the twin brother of Henry Pierce whom you murdered in St. Louis one year ago." The stranger threw off his cloak and false beard, and stood before the cowed desperadoHyperion facing a Satyr. "Stand back, men, and let us have it out. Coward and murderer though this Snively is, I will give him a chance for his vile life" The men dropped back and Snively suddenly raised his pistol and fired He was in the act of cocking L^s pis tol again, when the young stranger raised his arm. A crack, a puff of silvery smoke ?nd a crimson spot in the center of the man's forehead, who lay dead before the barroom door. One hour after this GeorKB Pierce shook hands with Arthur Lyons and rode away from the mountain camp, the preserver of one man's life and the avenger of another's. Soon after this the landlord cf the Great Western had to fly the cimp, and was subsequently lynched in Ne vada. Arthur Lyons is today one of Colo rado's most prominent citizens, and he often tells his children of the early days of Fairplay and of the duel he came near fighting on account of their mother. The Rabbit Problem Solved. The vexed question of the extei mi nation of the Australian rabbit, which has hitherto constituted the chief problem that has confronted ever an tipodean administration, has at length received a satisfactory solution* ^ner?. is no longer any necessity for invoking the services of great scientists such as the late Dr. Pasteur and Professor Koch to devise means tor their exter mination, for the invention of the cold storage rooms on board ship has led to the bunnies being exported in a re frigerated condition to the omnivor ous market of the mother country Rabbit pie is a favorite dish in the United Kingdom, and the rabbit which could not be successfully canneu for transport and preservation is now leav ing Australia for England at such a rate that soon there will not bo a single one of them left in the antipodes. Manna. In Australia, tropical Asia and Af rica true manna is found on a kind oi blue grass. It appears in masses as large as a marble on the lodes of the stems. Nearly three parts consist of mannite, which, though sweet, is not sugar. The manna also contains a ferment wh"ch has power to decom pose cane sugar without evolving car bonic acid or any kind of gas. PERSONALITIES, Sir William Harcourt is chopping down trees on his estate for exercise. Miss Alma Tadema has written a volume of poems which will shortly be published. Gen. Lew Wallace has written a new book', consisting of two poems, dealing with Oriental life. Rev. Mr. Saunders, a member of the East Ohio United Brethren conference, recently resigned because the confer ence decided that its members should not use tobacco. An ant which Sir John Lubbock, the English naturalist, has kept for obser vation many years, "died recently, whereupon the Indian Mirror publish ed an obituary notice of his aunt. An obelisk adorned with a medallion of Chopin has been erected at Reinorz, in Prussian Silesia, where in 1826, at the age of 17, he gave his first public concert. He organized it for the benefit of two orphans. Mrs. Richmond Ritchie, the only sur viving daughter of William Makepeace Thackeray, intends to write biograph ical and anecdotic notes for each vol ume of a new edition of her father's works, which is soon to appear. Jean de Reszke and W. K. "Vahder bilt were among the purchasers at the sale of yearlings from the Joyenval stud. The tenor bought the colt Orme son for $4,000, while Ontario for 83,300 and Oasis for $4,000 went to Mr. Van derbilt. The shah of Persia, who owns so many valuable articles of jewelry and fancy goods, is the possessor of what is doubtless the most expensive pipe in the world, it being worth some $400,- 000, The whole of the long stem and' bowl ii simply lncrusted with jewels. rALMAGE'S SERMON. "SINS OF THE TONGUE,** SUN DAY'S SUBJECT. From the Text Acts T. tlOy Fol lows: "A Certain Mau Named Ana nias, With Sapphira- His Wile, Sold a FossesBion," Etc. WELL- MATCHED pair, alike in ambi tion and in false hood, Ananias and Sapphira. They wanted a reputa tion for great ben eficence, and they sold all their prop erty, pretending to put the entire pro ceeds in the charity fund, wnile they put much of it in their own pocket. There was no necessity that they give all their property away, but they wanted the reputation of so doing Ananias first lied about it and dropped down dead. Then Sapphira lied about it, and she dropped down dead. The two fatalities are a warn ing to all ages of the danger of sacri ficing the truth. There are thousands of ways of tell ing a lie. A man's whole life may be a falsehood and yet never with his lips may he falsify once. There is a way of uttering falsehood by look, by man ner, as well as by lip. There are persons who are guilty of dishonesty of speech and then afterward say "may be," call ing it a white lie, when no lie is that color. The whitest lie ever told was as black as perdition. There are those so given to dishonesty of speech that they do not know when they are lying. With some it is an acquired sin, and with others it is a natural in firmity. There are those whom you recognize as born liars. Their will whole life, from cradle to grave, is filled up with vice of speech. Misrepresen tation and prevarication are as natural to them as the infantile diseases, and are a sort of moral croup and spiritual scarlatina. Then there are those who in after life have opportunities of de veloping this evil, and they go from de ception to deception, and from class to class, until they are regularly gradu ated liars. At times the air in our ci ties is filled with falsehood, and lies cluster around the mechanic's hammer, blossom on the merchant's yardstick, and sometimes sit on the door of churches. They are called by some fabrication, and they are called by some fiction. You might call them subter fuge or deceit, or romance, or fable, or misrepresentation, or delusion but as I know nothing to be gained by cover ing up a God-defying sin with a lexi cographer's blanket, I shall call them in plainest vernacular, lies. They may be divided into agricultural, commer cial, mechanical, social and ecclesiasti al. First of all, I speak of agricultural falsehoods. There is something in the presence of natural objects that has a tendency to make one pure. The trees never issue false stock. The wheat fields are always honest. Rye and oats never move out in the night, not paying for the place they occupy. Corn shocks never make false assignment. Mountain brooks are always current. The gold of the wheat fields is never counterfeit. But while ,the tendency of agricultural life is to make one hon est, honesty is not the characteristic of all who come to the city markets from the country districts. You hear the creaking of the dishonest farm wagon in almost every street of our great citiesa farm wagon in which there is not one honest spoke. or one truthful rivet, from tongue to tail-board. Again and again has domestic economy in our great cities foundered on the farmer's firkin. When New York and Washington sit down and weep over their sins, let Westchester county and the neighborhoods around this capital sit down and weep over theirs. The tendency in all rural districts is to suppose that sins and transgressions cluster in our great cities but citizens and merchants long ago learned that it is not safe to calculate from the character of the apples on the top of the farmer's barrel what is the char acter of the apples all the way down toward the bottom. Many of our citi zens and merchants have learned that it is always safe to see the farmer measure the barrel of beets. Milk cans are not always honest. There are those, who in country life, seem to think they have a right to overreach grain dealers and merchants of all styles. They think it is more honor able to raise corn than to deal in corn. The producer sometimes practically says to the merchant, "You get your money easily, anyhow." Does he get it easily? While the farmer sleeps,and he may go to sleep, conscious of the fact that his corn and rye are all the time progressing and adding to his for tune or his livelihood, the merchant tries to sleep, while conscious of the fact that at that moment the ship may be driving on the rock, or a wave sweeping over the hurricane deck spoil ing bis goods, or the speculators may be plotting a monetary revolution, or the burglars may be at that moment at his money safe, or the fire may have kindled on the very block where his store stands. 7 Easy, is it? Let those who get their living on the quiet farm and barn take the place of one of our city merchants and see whether it is so easy. It is hard I pass on to consider commercial lies. There are those who apologize for deviations from the right and for practical deception by saying it is com mercial custom. In other words, a lie by multiplication becomes a virtue. There are large fortunes gathered in which there is not one drop of the sweat of unrequited toil, and not one spark of bad temper flashes from the bronze bracket, and there is not one drop of needlewoman's heart blood on the crimson plush whili there are other fortunes about which it may, be said that on every door knob and on every figure of the carpet, and on rv ery wall there is the mark of dishonor. What if the hand wrung by toil and blistered until the skin comes off should be placed on the exquisite wall paper, leaving its mark of bloodfour fingers and a thumb? or, if in the night the man should be aroused from his slumber again and again by his own conscience, getting him self up on elbow and cry ing out into the darkness, "Who is there?" There are large fortunes upon which God's favor comes down, and it is just as honest and just as Christian to be af fluent as it is to be poor. In many a house there is a blessing on every pic tured wall and on every scroll, and on every tracened window, and the joy that flashes in the lights, and that showers in the music and that dances in the quick feet of the children pat tering through the hall has in it the favor of God and the approval of man. And there are thousands and tens of thousands ol merchants who, from the fir-'t day they sold a yard of cloth, or firkin of butter, have maintained their integrity. They were bOT-n honest, they will live honest, and they -\ill die honest. But you and I know that there are in commercial life those who are guilty of great dishonesties of speech. A merchant says, "I am selling these goods at less tjian cost." Is he getting for those goods a price inferior to that which he paid for then? Then he has spoke.! the truth. Is he getung more? The.i he lies. A merchant sayt: "I paid ?25 for this article." price he paid for it? All right. But suppose he paid for it $23 instead of $25? Then he lies. But there are just as man/ false hoods before the counter as there are behind the counter. A customer comes in and asks* "How much is this arti- cle?" "It is five dollars." "I can get that for four somewhere else." Can he get it for four somewhere else, or did he say that just for the purpose of getting it cheap by depreciating the value of the goods? If so, he lied. There are just as many falsehoods be fore the counter as there are behind the counter enough to have the hands blistered with outdoor work, but it Is haruer Isf^Then, how often it is that there are with mental anxieties to have the brain I misrepresentations on the part of in consumed. God help the merchant*. And do not let those who live,/In country life, come to the conclusion -that all the dishonesties belong to city Mife Social life is struck through with insincerity. They apologize for the fact that the furnace is out they have not had any fire in it all winter. *They apologize for the fare on their table, they never live any better. They de cry their most luxuriant entertainment to win a shower of approval from you They point at a picture on the wall as a work of one of the old masters. They say it is an heirloom in the family. It hung on the wall of a castle. A duke gave it to their grandfather. People that will lie about nothing else will lie about a picture. On small income we want the world to believe we are affluent, and society today is struck through with cheat and counterfeit and sham. How few people are natural! Frigidity sails around, iceberg grind ing against iceberg. You must not laugh outright that is vulgar. You must smile. You must not dash quick ly across the room that is vulgar. You must glide. Much of society is a round of bows, and grins and grimaces and oh's and ah's and he, he's and simperings and namby-pambyism, a whole world of which is not worth one good honest round of laughter. From such a hollow scene the tortured guest retires at the close of the evening, as suring the host that he has enjoyed himself. Society 's become so contorted and deformed in this respect that a mountain cabin where the rustics gath er at a quilting or an apple-paring, has in it more good cheer than all the frescoed refrigerators of the metrop olis. I pass on to speak of ecclesiastical lies, those which are told for the ad vancement or retarding of a church or sect. It is hardly worth your while to ask an extreme Calvinist what an Arminian believes. He will tell you that an Arminian believes that man can save himself. An Arminian be lieves no such thing. It is hardly worth your while to ask an extreme Arminian what a Calvinist believes. He will tell you that a Calvinist believes that God made some men just to damn them. A Calvinist believes no such thing. It is hardly worth your while to ask a Pe do-Baptist what a Baptist believes. He will tell you a Baptist believes that immersion is necessary for salvation. A Baptist does not believe any such thing. It is hardly worth your while to ask a man, who very much hates Presbyterians, what a Presbyterian be lieves. He will tell you that a Pres byterian believes that there are In fants in hell a span long, and that very phraseology has come down from gen eration to generation in the Christian church. There never was a Presbyte rian who believed that "Oh/' you say, "I heard some Presbyterian minister twenty years ago say so." You did not. There never was a man, who believed that, there never will he a man who will believe that. And yet, from boy hood, I have heard that particular slan der against a Christian church going down through the community. dividual churches in regard to other churchesespecially if a church cornea to great prosperity. As long as a church is in poverty, and the singing is poor, and all the surroundings are a^&kfoiSJB^s^^iaLl^^ decrepit, and the congregation are-sot* hardly bestead in life thatttheir pastor goes with elbows out, then there* will always be Christian people in churches who say, "What a ptty! what a pity!" But let the day of prosperity^ come to a Christian church, and let the music be triumphant, and let there be, vast assemblages, and then there will be even ministers of the Gospel critical and denunciatory and. full of misrepre sentation and falsification, giving, the impression to the outside world that they do not like the corn because it is not ground in their mill. Oh, my friends, let us in all departments of life stand back from deception. But some one says, "The deception that I practice is so small that it don"t amount to anything." Ah, my friends, it does amount to a great deal. You say, "When I deceive, it is only about a case of needles, or a box of buttons, or a row of pins." But the article may be so small you can put it in your vest pocket, but the sin is as big as the pyramids, and the echo of your dis honor will reverberate through the mountains of eternity. There is 110 such thing as a small sin. They are all vast and stupendous, because they will all have to come under inspection in the Day of Judgment. You may boast yourself of having made a fine bargaina sharp bargain. You may carry out what the Bible sajjg in re gard to that man who went in to make a purchase and depreciated the value of the goods, and then after he had got away boasted of the splendid: bargain he had made. "It is naught, it is naught, saith the buyer but when he is gone his way, then he boasteth." It may seem to the world a sharp bar gain, but the recording angel wrote down in the ponderous tones of eter nity, "Mr. So-and~so, doing business, on Pennsylvania Avenue, or Broadway, or Chestnut Street, or State Street, told one lie." May God extirpate from society all the ecclesiastical lies, andShbore all th socialyM lies, and all the mechanical lies, and all the commercial lies, and all the ag riculturale lies, and make every man t nei ni trllt tn IsTliaL the Spea friends, let us make our life corre spond to what we are. Let us banish all deception from our behavior. Let us remember that the time comes when God will demonstrate before an as sembled universe just what we are. The secret will come out. We may hide it while we live, but we cannot hide it when we die. To many life is a masquerade ball. As at such enter tainment gentlemen and ladies appear in garb of kings or queens, or moun tain bandits, or clowns, and then at the close of the dance put off their disguise, so many all through life are in mask. The masquerade ball goes on, and gemmed hand clasps gemmed hand, and dancing feet respond to dancing feet, and gleaming brow bends to gleaming brow, and the masquerade ball goes bra\ely on. But after a while languor comes and blurs the sight. Lights lower. Floor hollow with sepulchral echo. Music saddens into a wail. Lights lower. Now the masquerade is hardly seen. The fra grance is exchanged for the sickening odor of garlands that have lain a long while in the damp of sepulchres. Lights lower. Mists fill the room. The scarf drops from the shoulder of beauty, a shroud. Lights lower. Torn leaves and withered garlands now hardly cov er up the ulcered feet. Stench of lamp wicks almost quenched. Choking damp ness. Chilliness. Feet still. Hands folfled. Eyes shut. Voice hushed. Lights out. GROWING OLD. 'mmmmwrn* lit- Oar Friends and Our Enemies--Of terest to the Public at Large. Our enemies (when we are old)and who Is without them?no longer an noy us. Indeed, they have ceased reviling to them we are as dead men, 1 "out of mind," to whom the proverb, de mortuis applies, says the Nineteenth Century. And our friends are twice our friends. No one who is not "laid by" can understand the depths of hu man sympathy. Even our acquaint ances become our friends, and the least soft-hearted of visitors murmurs to himself: "Poor soul!" or perhaps (with equal commiseration) "Poor devil!" What is most curious is the interest, if we have in any way become known to* the public at large, complete strangers, take in our physical and mental condi tion. If prescriptions could cure us we should be in rude health indeed. The* materials are sometimes a little diffi cult to procure. I have seen a letter from New Zealand recommending an old gentleman suffering- from rheu matic gout to bathe in whales. In that island whales, it seems, are oc casionally thrown up on the seashore, when rheumatic patients- hasten ta lie in them during the progress of their evisceration for purposes of commerce. The extreme rarity of whales upon the Thames embankment seems to. have been unknown to the writer. Some correspondents give most excellent sanitary advice, but too late for its practical application. An aged poet* who had lost the use of his limbs^ was exhorted by an admirer to dig, "even if it were but in his, back garden," for an hour or two every morning before breakfast? all thai* was wanted, h* was assured,, for complete recovery, was "profuse perspiration followed by a healthy &ow.^%^rA^I^ $&%&&,_' Shakespeare's Daughter* 4 Shakespeare's daughter, Judith, wha was 32 when he died, survived him forty-six years and became a Puritan. So rigid was she that she would never go near a playhouse and was intolerant of everything theatrical. ,A She"Did you see anything in Now York that reminded you of Philadel- phia?" He"Yeg the' m.HQng? boya."Harlem Lift m^ $m *f e-