Helena, Montana, Thursday, December 13, 1888.
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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
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
"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
"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
"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
"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
"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
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
"And you would do this? You would
compromise me thus if I decline to sub
ject myself to this mad proposition?"
"I swear it."
"Decide!" ho added; "decido quickly.
My mood is not one to bo trifled with! Do
"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
"I wish," said he, "I wish that the ace
of spades should be the turn-up! Cut,
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?"
"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
"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
"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
"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
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
"Ah!" she cried, rising as if something
had stung her, "I was right—it is en
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
Soon the music ceased, the guests made
their parting compliments—the ball was
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
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
"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
"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
"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
"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
"-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
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
"Etienne Godefrey, aged 23, Rue de
"Aline Bernier, 82, Rue Saint Honore."
"Jean Lysart, et cet., et cet.," the play
ers meanwhile continuing to manipulate
Ace of spades!" called Louis for the
third time, making the turn up.
"Lucienne d'Arcueil," concluded Le
caudey, "widow, 26 years. Rue Saint
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
"To arms! To arms!" cried the voices
of the sentinels, followed by a rattling
"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
Brown — Yes —washerwoman—washer
woman. I've had a hard day's work—
Dumlcy—Yv'hat aro you mumbling
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
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
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
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
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
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
rational churches on tho 22d
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
ist, but is not sus
tained by The
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
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
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
ALICE SHAW'S DIVORCE.
REV. W. H. NOYES.
Why tho Famous Whistler Has ITad Hw
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
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
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
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. •
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