Newspaper Page Text
Helena, Montana, Thursday, December 13, 1888. No. 3 A. J. FISK. R. E. FISK D. W. FISK Publishers and Proprietors. Largest Circulation of any Paper in Montana -O-- Rates oi Subscription. WEEKLY HERALD: One Year (tu imI vance)............................. «3 00 »1* Months, (In advance)............................... 1 -5 Three Months, (in advance).........................• • 1 00 When not paid for in advance the ra»e will be Four I>ol)ars per year^ Postage, in all cases, Prepaid. DAILY HERALD: vîSty Subscribers, delivered by carrier 81.00a month One Year, by mail, (in advance)................. 80 00 Si* Months, by mail, (in advance)............... 5 00 Th:.e Months, by mail, (in advance)........... 2 50 If not paid in advance, 812 per annum. [Entered at the Postoflice at Helena as second class matter.] Mjt-Aki communications should be addressed to FISK BROS., Publishers, Helena, Montana. HEAVEN AND HELL. fTfeile forced to dwell apart from thy dear face, Love linked with Sorrow, led me by the hand, And taught my doubting heart to understand fhat which has puzzled all the human race. Full many a sage has questioned where in space Those counter worlds are, where the mystio strand That separates them. I have found each land, Lnd hell is vast, and heaven a narrow place, a the small compass of thy clasping arms. In reach and sight of thy dear lips and eyes. There, there, for me, the joy of heaven ües. >utside— loi chaos, terrors, wild alarms, Ind ail the desolation fierce and fell Of void and aching nothingness make helL —Lila Wheeler Wilcox in The Cosmopolitan. THE ACE OF SPADES. It was a whirl of black coats and white »boulders, and those of the men who did aot dance still remained in the salon to «Itnire the beautiful waltzers. M. d'Arcueil, in his quality of master jf the house, was doing his duty turn by urn with all those women that without ais example no one would have thought jf inviting. The card room, however, vas empty, and at the same moment that time. d'Arcueil, across whose charming head twenty-five springs had come and gone, perceived the incumberment of her salon a young officer of 30, perhaps, so licited the honor and happiness of a waltz with her. "Upon one condition," she responded, "that we have a game of cards first; but I warn you that I know only ecarte." • The young officer did not stir, and btniu. »V Arcueil, -with that freedom of tone that distinguishes the Parisienne, added smilingly, "Who loves me follows me!" Immediately not less than twenty of those solemn men who believed it dero gated from their dignity to dance, and who had been invited solely on account of their wives, trooped after her to the card room anti placed themselves at table. "Every one will thank me for this," said she, "and the ladies will be able to move without tearing their trains. Mes »ieurs, I give you the right to play." "Lucienne," demanded in a low tone the young officer, "tell me quickly the true meaning of this!" "Simply that we may have a pretext for talking together without disturbance. Besides. I should have died in the midst of those dancers. But pla\ Louis, playl" He obeyed and mechanically distributed the cards, turning np the ace of spades. And they played, but in the hand g of the cards, in pronouncing insignificant phrases, in giving change to the players, or chatting graciously with the guests who passed beside them, Lucienne, who was deeply in love, and was experiencing how cruel the torture could be, was forced to bring the same upon her lover. Her husband, ex-ambassador from Franco to Spain, had been charged with a secret mission that required a prompt de parture. Well, M. d'Arcueil had decided that his wife during his absence, the pre cise duration of which he was unable to tell, should remain at Andelys, where her family were then residing. And he, Louis de Bremont, captain in the-th, would have no right to leave Paris, since his regiment was on duty there. As he made this reflection he distributed the cards for the third time, and for the third nmo the ace of spades was the turn up. "Again!" cried Louis; "clearly P is sig nificant of something. " "Significant? yes," murmured Mmj|. d'Arcueil, "of the manner, perhaps, in which we have trifled with our hearts as ve now trille with these cards!" 'But, Lucienne, why do you go? Why io you not resist? "Why do you not refuse to leave Paris? Why do you permit this man, whom you do not love, to co mm a n d your life in this way? W T by do you leave me, and my love so ardent, so faithful? I say my love, you see, for I know well that yr'irs''' "My love, Louis, so beautiful and sweet! I beg of you not to alter it by un just reproaches. I have committed sin enough in loving you—recognize this in placo of torturing me by suspicions. I shall he punished sufficiently when to morrow 1 find myself alone—all alone with him!" "Alone with him!" repeated M. de Bre mont, despair, anger, jealousy, disgust, tearing at ids heart, while the indifférents that surrounded him took ices, played, danced, arranged intrigues—obeyed, in short, that odious law of autithesis that since the world began has encompassed in clouds of joy, in rays of sunlight, the sad dest sorrow. "Play, Louis, play!" cried Lucienne sud denly; "some one comes." "But is it ended?" he murmured again; "have we met, have wo loved, and do we now part forever? For a year you have been to me the universe—you who tell mo with calm a tone adieu! And I—I mast respond to you, adieu! And after Lucienne, after I have said adieu when this night is over, is it to bo nothing more—am I to see you no more? Is it— 81 I ask it for the last time—is it ended?" ' les," «-ho answered, "for I must go— icannot do otherwise; and I beseech you H"t to speak to mo in that way—not to mate me to commit imprudence! If I have l° vo to M. d'Arcueil I have nl known how to respect his name! But, they regard us curiously!" And d'Arcueil gave the cards a new . Ace of spades!' announced the captain. Always that!" she answered aloud an4 00 -5 00 00 00 50 nolding it up with a smile that showed two rows of teeth as small and white as thöse of a child. "Decidedly, I shall have to go and consult a fortune teller. Doesn't it alarm you," sho added, "that it is always the ace of spades that is turned?" "Not particularly; a mere matter of chance. 1 have seen at Spa a series of even more surprising occurrences than this. Stiil, the persistency of this ace of spades may have a meaning that we can not read. At all events, I will make you a proposition, mad, unrealizable, perhaps without possible result, but you feel the turning of this card portentous of some thing, and they say thero is a genie of play—eh bien! I call upon it to serve me! If I turn it again, this ace of spades, you will give me the right to send for you, to call you to me, no matter where, no mat ter how, no matter at what hour, day or address—and we will find ourselves to f ether once more. Do you agree to it? Ah, know what you would say—that my hope is wild,insensate; that I must give up; so much the worse for me! But you—you risk nothing; it is I who will struggle with the cards, and I—I give you my word upon it—will do nothing to trick you. You refuse? So be it; you shall not go, or, rather, if you do, I follow you at every sacrifice, despite your husband, despite yourself even" "And you would do this? You would compromise me thus if I decline to sub ject myself to this mad proposition?" "I swear it." She hesitated. "Decide!" ho added; "decido quickly. My mood is not one to bo trifled with! Do you accept?" "I accept!" she responded, in a shaken voice; "shuffle the cards and begin!" Louis shuffled them feverishly, then placed them before his vis-a-vis, fixing upon her a look long, piercing, fiery, as if he would compel her by the force of mag netism. "I wish," said he, "I wish that the ace of spades should be the turn-up! Cut, madame!" She cut, and Louis distributed the cards. He turned one. It was the ace of spades! "Victory! I have won!" ho cried. "By enchantment, then." "No, Lucienne, no! I love you—it is the enchantment of love that wins!" "But my revenge, monsieur, you will permit me to have my revenge?" "Revenge?" "Certainly; I desire to play against you. Did you think I would yield without a struggle? If 1 win the matter ends here." And as it was not, after all, the game of ecarte they were playing, and the turned card was the only one in which they had the slightest interest, Mme. d'Arcueil quickly gathered them together, shuffled them and gave them to her op ponent. "And you wish the turn to be" "The queen of hearts." The eight of clubs showed itself upon the top of the pack. Lucienne had lost. "Again!" she persisted; "try it again!" For well did she realize that it was more than the ace of spades that she had promised to obey; that Louis, her lover, would not be dilatory in appointing the rendezvous to which it, this ace of spades, would call her—a rendezvous that, after all, must end in parting; upon which scan dal possibly would spy and tattle, and chastisement attend for a reckless, erring wife. Lucienne shuddered. "1 cannot," she cried, "I dare not—I am afraid. I dare not abandon my des tiny to the will of a card! You are a gal lant man, Louis. Release me, I beg of you—release me from this thoughtless promise." "No; impossible! and if I should you would still suffer the same. I love you— you know it, and I believe that you love me. No, it is impossible!" "Then begin anew—make the test over agai:i !" "Willingly—something tells me I shall win. What card will you take now?" "The one that came up before—the eight of clubs " "Eli bien! Shuffle and give them to me yourself. " Once more she did as he told her, shuf fled the cards and gave them to him, and once more, as on the other occasions, the card that Do Bremont turned was the ace of spades. "Ah!" she cried, rising as if something had stung her, "I was right—it is en chantment 1" Whether she were sorry or glad Lu cienne d'Arcueil could not at the moment have told you. It was very late. The orchestra was playing the last waltz. Without a word Louis placed his arm around Lucienne's waist, and the two lovers, heart to heart, the one -with the other, found themselves in the wave of dancers. Soon the music ceased, the guests made their parting compliments—the ball was over. The next morning M. d'Arcueil con ducted Lucienne to Andelys, and the day afterward departed on his secret mission. Whilst diplomats occupy themselves at a distance with the interests of France, the soldier also has his duty as a French man, and almost immediately following the departure of the D'Arcueils from Paris the -th was ordered to depart for Africa. The news of such an order was not re ceived with delight, but gradually, as the «hour approached for them to start, Louis do Bremont felt his ambition to reawaken _the captain desired to see himself a colonel. With scarcely time enough to put their affairs in order, to drop a fare well line to friends and parents, to climb into the wagons, stop at Lyons and then at Marseilles, the regiment embarked upon the transport and in due time put their feet upon African soii. Do Bremont, like the majority of French officers, had made his debut in Algeria, and now between skirmishes amused himself revisiting places where, as a simple lieutenant, he had first pitched his tent, the field where he had won his "maiden spurs," the bourgade or straggling village where he had left a lady loveT for soldiers do not give up these pleasing pastimes when they turn their backs upon Paris. Threo months passed thus. By the end jf the fourth he was well under way with a promising love affair with a young in structress of music, bom ot L reach pa rentage in Algeria, but Parisienne by in stinct. One knows that Arabs are ahvays in a state of insurrection. Louis was likely to remain in Africa a long while. Nor was he astonished one morning toward the middle of-to J 36 to make a sortie against the Chachouia, then, as the military g ove ™°r had been informed bv courier, makuur daily ravages in the neighborhood of Con stantine. It was his regiment that had been selected to protect the colonists and quell the disturbance. He went without reluctance, for those of his comrades who knew the province of Constantine spoke with enthusiasm of that wonderfully beautiful country, with its plain of the Gazelles, its mountains of Albâtre and Sei. A splendid country, but one in which, behind its thickets of laurel roses, its intoxicating perfumes, its cliffs, precipices and seductive hedges, danger lurked perpetually, danger from the wily Chachouia, ready to train upon you with out a moment's warning the shining bar rels of their moukalas. On the evening in question Louis de Bremont and the 500 men whom he had taken with him on the expedition were resting at their sixth and last halting place before reaching their destination, gathered about a clear spring. A hun dred meters further away the sentinels were posted who guarded the camp. The rest of the soldiers slept, drank or mended their uniforms. De Bremont, who was not in the least sleepy, not at all in the humor for view ing the country and regretful of the charms of the little music teacher, was decidedly weary, not to say bored, by the situation. "Play cards, then!" cried Leroy pres ently, a little subaltern, with a turned up nose; "what do you say, Lecaudey, to a game of cards?" "I'd play in a minute," said Lecaudey, the lieutenant of the troop, "but I never win; more's the pity!" "And you, De Bremont?" appealing to the captain. "Win or no win, I'm with you," he re sponded. And already the "brasher," as they called the orderly who waited on the mess, had opened one of the camp tranks and was lost in its depths searching for the cards in the midst of the thousand and one objects that soldiers know how to cram into the smallest space. Five min utes later a game that left a good deal to be desired in the way of comfort and ade quate light was preparing to begin be tween Louis and his friend upon the top of the trank now closed and serving as a gaming table. "You'd a great deal better talk," cried Lecaudey, complainingly, and stooping to pick up a roll of something that had fallen from the trunk as the "brasher" had re placed the contents; "it's devilish slow kicking my heels while you two amuse yourselves. Zounds!" he added, his eye alighting upon the package in his hand; "here's a find—it's a paper!" "And the game—what shall it be?" de manded De Bremont, cutting for deal. "Ecarte, of course; it goes quicker." "Are you ready?" cried Lecaudey, un folding the sheet; "yon wouldn't talk to me, so—I revenge myself by reading to you. 'Political Bulletin—Paris, April 29: The Gazette de Franco refuses' " "Oh, enough, enough, Lecaudey!" cried Louis; "throw it in the fire, man; stop the stuff!" "Will you stop your playing, then? Will you talk to me?" "No, I won't!" replied De Bremont; "voila! my response—I turn up the ace of spades!" "-refuses," Lecaudey began again. "Mercy! mercy! Lecaudey!" added De Bremont's adversary; "pitch it away, that infernal paper! Give us a rest from poli tics and finance!" "Don't listen to him!" said the captain. "Think of the game! Attention to the turn up, ace of spades!" "But the news of Paris, the letters from Italy, follow the 'informations,' a turn at the news in the province, official aopoiutments, the hunt, the balls" "Sacristi!" from time to time groaned the little subaltern, "but it's long, that journal!" Nevertheless the reading went on, and with it the grumbling—"They had come to straggle with the Chachouia, and not with Lecaudey and his 'divers facts.' " Again it was De Bremont's play, and again he turned the ace of spades. To you, my readers, the card speaks volumes; to him it said—nothing! Love, you see, goes so quickly! "Chronicle of the court," read Lecaudey; "legal affairs;" but, like love, the longest paper has its end; the lieutenant had come at last to fatalities, to marriages, to deaths. "Etienne Godefrey, aged 23, Rue de Courcelles." "Aline Bernier, 82, Rue Saint Honore." "Jean Lysart, et cet., et cet.," the play ers meanwhile continuing to manipulate the cards. Ace of spades!" called Louis for the third time, making the turn up. "Lucienne d'Arcueil," concluded Le caudey, "widow, 26 years. Rue Saint Ger" De Bremont started to his feet. "What did you say, Lecaudey?" said he. "Lucienne d'Arcueil, mon ami; I was finishing up the list of deaths!" Lucienne d'Arcueil I Dead! Widowed! and that card, that ace of spades, once so beneficent, today so accursed! and which returned anew at the name—as if called— at the name of his forgotten love! But would Lucienne be dead if he, Louis, her lover, had called her as it had been arranged he should do? This was the question the captain asked himself as he stood there, his eyes fixed upon the ace of spades that he had seized in his hand— All at once a shot broke the silence of the night. "To arms! To arms!" cried the voices of the sentinels, followed by a rattling volley. "To arms!" repeated the captain; "to" -the words died in his throat; he had not time even to draw his sword; a ball had struck him in the heart; he fell, the fatal card riddled between his fingers! He had not called Lucienne d'Arcueil to the rendezvous of love, but she, widowed and dead, had called him!—Translated from the French for 'The New York Mer cury by E. C. Waggener. Aid to Memory. Dumlev (overtaking Brown on his way home to dinner)—Aren t you rather lato to-night, Brovn? Brown — Yes —washerwoman—washer woman. I've had a hard day's work— washerwoman—washerwoman. Dumlcy—Yv'hat aro you mumbling "washerwoman" for? Brown—So that I wouldn t_ forget to advertiso for a washerwoman m this af ternoon's paper. My wife told me to keep repeating washerwoman, and I ve kept it up all dav, and (suddenly) by thunder! if I didn't forget it after all. Washerwo man— washerwoman— blank —washerwo man.-» -New York Sun. POLICE IN JAPAN POLITENESS OF OFFICIALS WHEN ARRESTING AN OFFENDER. Scene In a Japanese Police St^t ion X islt to the Bureau of Newspaper Censorship. Suspending an Offending Journal—Secret Service. A Japanese policeman was never known to smile, hut when he finds it necessary to proceed to the extreme step of arrest ing a lawbreaker his face becomes clouded over with a pall of sorrow and solemnity that would do credit to an Irish under taker taking the coffin measurement of an archbishop. Grasping the offender firmly with one hand, with the other he extracts from an invisible pocket of great capacity a roll of strong cord. Whisper ing polite and minute directions in the ear of the victim, who obeys them with Bcrnpulous consideration for the feelings of his captor, ho winds the cord several times around his waist and then attaches his wrists in optical contact with tho small of his back. Six feet of cord re main; the policeman grasps the loose end, and bowing to the prisoner with an "After you, sir," the pair march away in a touching union of sadness and security. Tho neighborhood is paralyzed during the performance, business is suspended and traffic is stopped. MAIICIIED OFF TO PRISON. The formality of an arrest, however, is tho only amusing side of Japanese jus tice. If you follow the white clothed policeman and his prisoner you will soon reach a police station in which sit a dozen clerks and functionaries hard at work at books and accounts and reports, with nothing except their physiognomy and the little teapot and tobacco brazier be side each one to differentiate them from similar European officials. The prisoner will bo taken before a superior officer, the charge against him noted down; he will be searched and then put in one of a dozen wooden cells, ten feet square perhaps, separated from tho central passage by great wooden bars reaching from floor to ceiling, and making a cell curiously like an elephant house, but providing admira bly for ventilation in this hot climate. At the police station he may not bo kept more than twenty-four hours, and then he is removed to a central station, which is simply the first police station on a large scale. minus the functionaries and plus the necessary arrangements for the deten tion of prisoners for long periods. The courts are much liko European courts. After visiting many court rooms wo reached a room where twenty particularly intelligent looking officials sat at both sides of a long table piled up with news papers. scissors, blue and red pencils, paste pots and all the familiar equipment of the exchange editor's sanctum. I turned to my guides for an explanation, and caught them regarding me and each other with amused smiles. Then I saw tho joke. It was tho Bureau of Newspaper Censor ship, and these gentlemen with the spec tacles and scissors and paste were exam ining all tho newspapers of Japan for treasonable or seditious sentiments or im proper criticism of ministerial and im perial affairs. I was introduced, the t wenty gentlemen rose simultaneously and the laugh became general. "This," said my guide, waving his hand proudly over the piles of newspapers and the teapots of tho censors, "is an institution you have not yet reached in England." CENSORSHIP OF THE PRESS. The procedure of this branch of the Japanese police is simple in the extreme. A lynx eyed censor discovers an article which flfeems to his conservative notions to threaten the stability of tho govern ment, to bring a minister into contempt or to foster improper agitation among tho people. He extracts it and submits it to the director of the bureau, who probably takes counsel with the higher authorities. If the censor's view is confirmed the edi tor of the paper is peremptorily but po litely summoned—everything is done politely in Japan, and I have no doubt that the school boy is politely birched and the criminal politely executed—to appear at the department of police at a certain hour on a certain day. When that sum mons comes to join the innumerable cara van of martyrs to a sense of journalistic duty he knows that—in the expressive language of the Bowery—he is a "goner." "Sir," he is told, "your estimable journal is suspended for so many days. Good morning." The whole system of secret police is highly developed in Japan. There is a regular staff of detectives who disguise themselves as laborers, merchants or trav elers, or even in case it is necessary to hunt down some great criminal, hire a house in the suspected neighborhood and live there. One of these men loses caste very much in his office, if he does not ac tually suffer " degradation of position, by failing to return with information ho is dispatched to secure. Besides these, however, there is a regular staff of private police correspondents in all parts of the country, and one whole bureau at the de partment of police is devoted to receiving, ordering, classifying these, and taking action upon them. A good deal of infor mation must be picked up from the tea houses, each of which is a center of gossip, and in one or other of which almost every male well-to-do inhabitant of Tokio is an habitue.— Tokio Cor. New York World. The Man Who Baughs. There is one man whose presence in a theatre during a comedy is worth money to the management. Ho is the greatest laugher I ever saw. Like all good laugh ers he is fat, and it fills a man with merry moments to be around when he is laugh ing. Ho has a hearty rolling laugh that catches an audience quickly, and soon the audience and he aro engaged in a laugh ing match. When the laughing has been going on for four or five minutes, and everybody's sides aro soro and all hands take a rest, there is a lull through the house which is immediately broken by a low passionate sob and a gently modulated "O-ah!" from tho laugher who is putting the finishing touches on his cacliinatory effort. Immediately the audience forget the soreness of their sides and burst into a roar. Friends of his bring tho laugher to the theatre just to have tun with him. He comes with a different crowd every time, and his friends get their enjoyment out of him and not out of the perform ance. He's the jolliest laugher I ever heard.— "G. M." in Globe-Democrat. I must think of everything, so aa never to be taken unaware«.—Napoleon. - A FEW HEALTH HINTS. Wearing Night Clothes—Dressing tho Neck, Outer Wraps—Foot Coverings. It cannot be generally known that we practically breathe through the skin—in other words, that the skin has a function something like that of the lungs. It can not, of course, be active unless kept clean. But in other ways than by neglect of cleanliness can its usefulness be im paired. Tight clothing cripples it and keeps the poisons which should be thrown out at the surface locked up in the sys tem, and also shuts out pure air which should reach the skin. In purchasing un derclothing, therefore, it should be so large that, even after frequent washing and shrinl 'ing, it will still be loose and permit of a volume of air between it and the body, it naturally follows that the outer garments should also be compara tively large, and at least enough so to permit every movement to be made with as much ease when they are on as when they are off. There is a habit which all, without ex ception, should practice, and yet it is safe to say that not one man in ten of our people do follow it. Reference is made to the removal of the undervest on retiring, and the substitution of one kept for night wear alone. The underclothing, during the day, becomes filled with emanations from tho body, and must be well aired regularly every night, otherwise it be comes to a considerable extent poisonous, and tho noxious matters are again ab sorbed by the skin. This self poisoning is sure to go on unless the rale given is observed. Safety from "colds" depends in no slight degree upon how the neck is dressed. Nothing should be worn about it which interferes with its freedom of movement, nor should it be encumbered with handkerchiefs, which so many wear as much for appearance as for comfort. Let each one now choose a certain kind of collar, and wear no other style until spring comes. Even a very slight variation in this important article of dress will favor a sore throat. The habit of wearing the fashionable bandages— silk neckerchiefs—is an exceedingly bad one to get into, and, as a rale, those who have it are frequent sufferers from throat troubles. Bract ically the collar and neck tie will be sufficient protection for the throat. When the cold is intense, turn ing up tho coat collar will be a sufficient additional protection, unless one is riding far in a strong wind. When leaving the cold air and entering warm rooms, remove the outer wraps at once. Ladies fail to observe this rale oftener than do men. When people have been long enough in warm rooms to be come heated, they should not leavo them and at once enter their carriage or a street car. Under those conditions they are chilled even by a short ride. Before attempting to ride they should walk a few blocks, until the body is accustomed to tho change and circulation is active. After one has been exposed to intense cold and is even slightly chilled, a cup of hot tea or coffee is advisable to "warm up." Alcohol, so often taken for the pur pose, is more active, but seldom better than the simple, harmless beverages men tioned. During prolonged exposure to cold, as on a long drive, hot drinks should not be indulged in, for they render the body yet more sensitive to cold. A word about foot coverings. Woolen stockings, of course, should be worn by all. Wear now heavy shoes and delay to put on overshoes as long as possible; when once they are on, keep them In service until next spring. Car drivers, conductors and other men out all day in the cold will be by far more comfortable if they discard leather boots and shoes and wear cloth shoes inside their over shoes. Then their feet will be better ventilated, perspire less and hence keep much warmer.—Boston Herald. Took Her at Her Word. A queer episode in Connaught life was the case of the king at the relation of Dennis Bodkin versus Patrick French. The plaintiff and defendant were neigh bors. The latter was of the "ould shtock," full of airs, and possessed of an intolerable temper. He and wife had conceived a deep dislike for Mr. Bodkin, who entertained an equal aversion to the Frenches. Bodkin had happened to of fend the squire and lady. That evening they entertained a large company at din ner, when Mrs. French launched out in abuse of her enemy, concluding her wish "that somebody would cut off the fellow's ears, and that might quiet him." The subject was changed after a while, and all went on well till supper, at which time, when everybody was happy, the old butler, one Ned Regan, who, according to custom, had drunk enough, came in. Joy was in his eye, and, whispering some thing to his mistress which she did not comprehend, ho put a large snuff box into her nand. Fancying it was some whim of her old servant, she opened the box and shook out its contents, when lo! a pair of bloody ears dropped out on the table. The horror of the company was awakened, upon which old Ned exclaimed: "Sure, my lady, you wished that Dennis Bod kin's ears were cut off, so I told old Geo ghegan, the gamekeeper, and he took a few handy boys with him, and brought back his ears, and there they are, and I hope you are pleased, my lady." The gamekeeper and tho "boys" left the county. French and his wifo were held in heavy bail at the Galway assizes, but the guests proved no such order was given, that it was a mistake on the part of the servant. They were acquitted. The "boys" and their leader never reap peared in the county until after the death of Bodkin, who lost his ears many yearn before his death.—Argonaut. A Hint to Smokers. It is remarkable that people smoke so much tobacco, in its various forms, that is impregnated with deadly nicotine, when by a simple method, which would not de tract one whit from its good quality, but would remove all that is objectionable, tho tobacco could be made free of this poison. Merely soak the tobacco a day in a shallow trough, and then lay it in the sun, if feasible; if not, dry by the most convenient means, and the weed is robbed of all odoriferous properties and of nicotine. It is then so sweet the fumes would not offend the most sensitive lady, because it has no fumes. Besides, tho vessel in which it is burned does not be come "strong"—a valuable thing for a man who prefers a meerschaum pipe to cigars. —Sergt. McNamee in Globe-Demo crat. CARE OF HIE EYES. WHAT SHOULD BE DONE DURING THE TIME OF CHILDHOOD. Parents and Teachers Must Exercise an Oversight—Carelessness of Nurses—Cause of Squinting—A Critical Period—A Cou ple of Good Buies. Many persons yearly make the very sad mistake of neglecting their eyes until they begin to see the mist before them, until the object they are looking at must be brought very close to the eye to be dis cerned, or until the print in the book they are reading becomes all blurred, and then, when in many cases it is too late to re E air the injury that has been caused, they egin to seek advice. Every year there are hundreds of cases that come under the oculists' care that could have been cured if a few rudimentary principles had been known to or observed by the patient. These things everybody should know, but, perhaps, of ail persons whose es pecial duty it is to know them, the mother has the greatest need of it. She, at least of all persons, should know that the human eye of the child whose infancy and the first few years of its tender childhood are especially entrustedvto her care, for very often it is in infancy, when the child is yet but a few months old, and has not left the nurse's lap, that its little eyes are injured for life. It is natural that, when we have ar rived at middle age and begin descending the hill of life, our sight should com mence to fail, but how aro we to preserve it as long as it is possible? First, by hav ing our competent mothers and nurses take care of them for us while we are yet infants. In a day or two after birth it will perhaps be noticed that the lids are swollen, and perhaps that some irruptive disease has set in. In such a case the mother or nurse will do well not to try to be doctor as well as occupying the trying position of either mother or nurse. A skillful practitioner should at once be called in to see the child, that is, if the symptoms become at all serious, because it is at this very time that the sight of the child may be seriously affected and perhaps permanently impaired. Above all things don't in such cases try moth er's milk; neither bo overanxious that the child may be hungry, and thereby overfeed it. Remember, first of all, that a low diet must be given in such cases; this is imperative. Tho child should at once be taken from a place where there is a strong light and kept in a room where the sun or artificial light has been sub dued. A conscientious physician will in most cases be able to effect a rapid cure and save the child from untold agony, which it might have to endure when it grew older if neglected now. CARELESSNESS OF NURSES. Nurses frequently allow the child to lie in their (the nurses') laps, and in such a position that in order to gaze about it, the infant must roll its eyes until sometimes it is staring at objects over its forehead or with its head tipped back it is looking at objects upside down. The careful nurse and the thoughtful mother will never allow tho child to recline in this position, or if they do, will place it so that there will be no incentive for it to look over its head. Sight is impaired in many children in this way. When the child is teething is a critical time for its eyes, and later, when it is be ginning to learn to read, be careful then that it does not acquire habits which, when it matures, cannot be easily eradi cated. Observe how it holds its book; don't let it hold it up to its ."ace and squint at it. Be careful also that it uses both eyes at the same time, because many children acquire the habit of using one eye and leaving the other unused, caus ing it in time to grow exceedingly weak. Primers and first readers should invariably be in large type, and the child should be made to sit up straight. Constantly leaning over a desk or a piano has a bad effect upon the eyes of children, which is fully equaled by a misfortune which befalls little girls, and that is their tresses falling down over their faces. It is supposed that squinting is caused in the brain, but it is well known that children inherit it. Many of these surrounding influences are indirectly the cause of squinting, and they should be most zealously guarded against. Always see to it that children have plenty of fresh air in the school room, and do not excite the child's imitative faculties. Many a child has been a squinter for life, made so by imitating a nurse or a com panion who squinted for fun. This is a most pernicious practice, and one that is oftentimes indulged in by those who have the care of children because the child is so smart it mimics so well. ANOTHER CRITICAL PERIOD. The next very critical period is when the child has grown into a youth or maiden. Their constant study, or the too close application to an exacting occupa tion, will work incalculable injury. The young man or woman who is fortunate enough to discover this in time has reason to be thankful, for the skillful oculist may, if he lias the patient in season, be able to do him some temporary good; but, alas! for those who are not aware of their true condition until they are frightened some day by the specter of '.uminous objects and black specks floating before them. They see undulating lights and objects that appear to be composed of a misty substance. When this state of things arrives the wise youth or maiden will at once show himself to a physician and get medical advice. If the defect to the eye is in its first stages the doctor will not be in any hurry to have you wear glasses. This is not so desirable as many suppose. Glasses are annoy ing to those who are forced to wear them, and if thero is any way to avoid it, no one should be in any hurry to put them on. In the first place, a perr -» who notices himself afflicted with j these symptoms will seek rest. If he is a student, let him temporarily give up the companb uship of his books and seek the companionship of nature. Always it will be found that good sight is dependent to a great extent upon good health, and one should never, under any circumstances, neglect his general condi tion, no matter how trifling the circum stance or symptoms may appear to be. A good rule to remember in caring for the sight is: Never read in bed; and another very good rule to observe (it is disregarded by almost everybody) is never to read on the cars.—Boston Globe. Death foreseen never came.—Italian THE ANDOVER CONTROVERSY, Brought to tho Surface Again by the Case of Mr. Nojes. The case of the Rev. W. II. Noyes, who was to bo sent out as a missionary by the Berkeley Street Congregational church, of Boston, and who was not ac cepted by the presidential committee of the American Board of Foreign Missions, lias reopened the discussions of a year ago, known as tho Andover controversy. Mr. Noyes was ordained as a foreign missionary by an ecclesiastical council of rational churches on tho 22d Congrega of October last. The board to whom tho matter of appointment was referred, upon examination of the statement of the Christian experience and doctrinal views of the candidate, found him, according to their views, unfitted for the position. The trouble is the same as that which has previously disturbed the board and in the case of Mr. Noyes tho question of an opportunity for probation alter death. Now it appears that Mr. Noyes holds that this hypothesis of probation after death is "in harmony with Scripture" and "a necessary corollary to a belief in tho uni versality of tho atonement." Tho pru dential committee of tho board state that inasmuch as the board gave them in structions in 1886 and reaffirmed them with emphasis in 1887, when this partic ular case was under review, the commit tee cannot appoint Mr. Noyes so long as he holds these views, and Mr. Noyes affirms that Ills convictions are stronger than ever before. The action of the prudential committee is sustained by Tho Independent, The Advance and The Cong regational ist, but is not sus tained by The Christian Union. Mr. Noyes thus states his position in a nutshell: "Those who do not hear the mes sage in this life I trustfully leave to God. I do not ^claim to know God's methods of dealing with them, but I do not refuse to think about them. I entertain in their behalf what I conceive to be a reasonable hope that somehow, before their desti nies are fixed, there shall be revealed to them the love of God in Christ Jesus. In this, as in every question to which God has given no distinct answer, I merely claim the liberty of the Gospel." Dr. Richard S. Storrs has given a defi nition under which, he thinks, certain men may safely be sent out as mission aries, and it is claimed that Mr. Noyes comes under this definition. The com mittee are not a unit on declining Mr. Noyes. Therefore there is considerable strength on the Noyes 6ide of the con troversy and some dissatisfaction with the management of the board, whose members, it is claimed, are using tho missionary fund to teach their peculiar views. Meanwhile there is a confusion of council as to what to do with Mr. Noyes. Some claim that he is qntitled to be ac cepted by the board and should apply again; others, that he should be sent out independently by the Berkeley street cKumlk ALICE SHAW'S DIVORCE. REV. W. H. NOYES. Why tho Famous Whistler Has ITad Hw .Marriage Annulled. Tit« story of a mother's hard struggle to care for her children and herself when their natural protector, the husband, had deserted them is revived by the report that Mrs. Alice Shaw, the famous whistling prima donna, has been granted an absolute divorce from her husband, William H. Shaw. Mr. and Mrs. Shav were married in Elmira, N. Y.,in 1873. TLev soon removed to Detroit, where two daughter« were born to them. In 1878 Mr. Shaw failed in business and they removed to New York, where Mrs. Shaw made a bit ter struggle to maintain the family by dress making. The burden was more than she could bear, and she, with her children (there were then four) and husband, returned to her father. Three j ears ago he started out to make a living. He has never returned, and Mrs. Shaw gets her divorce on the statutory grounds. The necessity for taking care of four , children, all girls, stim u 1 a t e d Mrs. Shaw to the devel opment of her nat ural gift of whist ling into an artistic accomplishment. After two seasons of metropolitan favor she ven tured a London season, and was just as well received. The publication in a London let ter since her return of a story that places her in the same category with Mrs. Wet more as asserting an extra Ameri can independence and repulsing the at tentions of tho Prince of Wales, is the only exception, as she thinks, to the pleasantness of the newspaper notices she got abroad. She is represented as having refused the request of the prince, who wished her to whistle the Queen waltz composed in his mother's honor. What did happen was this: At a dinner at Mrs. Campbell's, in Cavendish square, the prince asked the fair American whistler if she knew the piece, and was pleased to learn that she did. He asked her to whistle it, and after a whispered inquiry to the English lady who sat next her, "Ought I to whistle here?" which was satisfactorily answered, she con sen tec* MRS. SHAW. Thought Ho Could Stand It. "You would bo sorry to lost your sister, wouldn't you, Johnny?" asked the visitor suggestively to the little boy who was entertaining him in the drawing room. "Nope," replied Johnny. "I guess I could stand it, Mr. Honkiuson. Maw says I've got to wear short pants till after Irene's married."—Chicago Tribune. Not at All Unnsual. "My name is Johnson," said a gentle man tc a chance acquaintance. "Will you fav )t mo with your name, sir?" "Cer tainly," said the other. "My name is Popover.'' "Hum, don't you consider that a very unusual name?" "No, sir. 1 have been familiar with it all my life. • Chicago News.