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SONG OF THE MYSTIC.
The following lines were penned by Father Evan, the. author of many choice gems, who is often a .ed " The Poet-Priest Soldier" of the South : I walk down the Valley of Silence, Down the dim, voiceless valley alsne ! And I hear not the fall of a footstep Around me save God's and my own ! And the hush of my heart is as holy . . , , As hovers where Angela have flown. Long ago was I weary of voices Whose music my heart could not win ; Long ago was I weary of noises That fretted my soul with their din ; Long ago was I weary of places , - . Where I met but the Human, and Sin. - - ' - .,!-. , : ; " I walked thro' the world with the worldly ; I craved what the world never gave ; And I said : " In the world, each Ideal, Thai shines like a star on life's wave, la toned on the shores of the ileal, Aud sleeps like a dream in a grave." And still did I pine for the Perfect, And still found the False with the True ; I sought 'mid the Human for Heaven, But caught a mere glimpse of its blue ; And I wept when the clouds of the Mortal Vailed even that glimpse from my view. And I toiled on, heart-tired of the Human ; And I moaned 'mid the mazes of men ; Till I kneit long ago at an altar And heard rv Voice call me ; since then I walked down ihe Valley of Silence That lies far beyond mortal ken. .. f . Do you ask what I found in the Valley ? Tis my trystiug-place with the divine ; And I fell at the feet of the Holy, And about me a voice said : " Be Mine !" And then rose from the depths of my spirit An echo : " My heart shall be thine." Do you ask how I live in the Valley ? I weep, and I dream, and I pray ; But my tears are as sweet as the dew-drops That fall on the roses in May ; And my prayer, like a perfume from censer, Ascendeth to God, night and day. In the hush of the Valley of Silence, I dream all thu songs that I sing ; And the music floats down the dim Valley, Till each finds a word for a wing. That to men, like the doves of the Deluge The message of Ptaoe they may bring. But far on the deep there are billows That never shall break on the beach, And I have heard songs in the silence Tit never shall float into speech ; And I have had dreams in the Valley Too lofty for language to reach. And I have seen thoughts in the Valley Ah, me ! how my spirit was stirred ! And they wear holy vails jn their faces, Their footsteps can srrcely be heard ; They pass through th' Valley, liks Virgins Too pure for touch of a word. Do you ask me tLr place of the Valley, Ye hearts that : rn harrowed by care '.' It lieth afar bet? a mountains, And God and ili" Angels are there ; And one is the cUrk mount of Sorrow, And one the bright mountain of Prayer. TOO JEALOUS BY HALF. There was a jolly sort of scene in Mr. Timothy Thistledown's household, at breakfast, one morning. Mr. Timothy Thistledown , had just come down to breakfast, to which Mrs. Timothy This tledown had preceded him by 'half an hour, and he sat himself down at the head of the table with a most self-possessed air, and a countenauce expressive of the utmost ease and eomplacencp. He had taken it leisurely in the making of his morning toilet. His face was smooth as the shells upon the eggs at his left hand. His razor was in good order he had not cut himself in the operation of shaving. The breakfast table looked nicely in its dressing or im maculate table linen and well-polished silver. The beaf steak in the covered dish was savory of the proper cooking and seasoning. The muffins were hot, just as they should be, and two of the little Thistledowns were anxiously wait ing 1 or Uieir share of the eatables in a coriimendably silent attitude of expecta tionfor Mrs. Timothy Thistledown was a good housekeeper, and appreciated the proprieties of household management with a, keenness of perception sometimes inconvenient. j " A pleasant morning, my dear. Sorry I kept you waiting," said Mr. Thistle down, cutting into the steak. " Yes very," replied his lady, pouring ut the coffee with a peculiar sort of nervousness, and casting a sidelong glance at her husband. Singular that Mrs. T. should have an swered in such an impendingly breezy manner, and still more singular when she burst into tears and left the table suddenly, at which the young Thistle downs laid down their pet knives and forks and looked after mamma, while the paternal head of the establishment followed, napkin in hand, to divine the possible cause of the difficulty.- And now came the jolly part of the dom 3stic scene. Mrs. Timothy Thistle down had vanished from the dining-room only to adjourn to the library and to throw herself down upoa the so., a, and bury one-half of her face in the worked cushion, and the other half of the face in her handkerchief. But her forehead, which was not quite covered, either with hands or handkerchief, was so suffused and crimson that the husband and father feared that something serious had hap pened so he laid his hand affectionately upon the lady's head, and: ventured to ask the question of how she felt. ' "Feel, Mr. Thistledown? O! Tim othy, Timothy !" The Timothy so addressed started at the mention of his name in a frightened manner, and raised her from the sofa only that she might spring away from him, and in a tragic tone command him to maintain a very distant and respect ful distance. - i ,- 1 - - "I've caught vou at -last, you brute you ! I knew it long ago !" She simply threw at his feet a torn and crumpled note, in a lady's hand writing, which he picked up and read, while his hands trembled more than his wife's did when she was pouring out the offee. 1 . . The missive was short, expressive and without address, except upon the en velope, which bore the name of 'T. Thistledown, Esq.," in the center, and was marked " immediate m one corner, and it read as follows : " I cannot get the furs : will see you to-day. Mr. Thistledown blushed fiercely the blush was fierce because the note had been safely placed in his side-pocket, and Mrs. Thistledown had evidently " gone through his clothes to obtain it, for Mrs. Thistledown was more jealous than was comfortable to her husband, and it was not the first outbreak of the kind which had " enlivened" their matri monial existence. " Eve found , you .out -at last Mr. T. That's where the money goes. T see. Fiiri for Somebody else,nd that some body a woman t' - '' ' - -'- -: The supposition, was a correct one, at least. , Furs for a lady '.were the proper thing in a cold winter, and Mrs. T. had for some time deplored the condition of her own not that tney were worn out, tnt thev were not in style, and Mrs. T. always hked to be well up to the require ments oi tne iasnion. And yet her husband made no an swer. The riote was several days old. It had been written by a lady. There was no question of furs involved in its meaning, and he was thrown off his guard by her manner, and just angry enough to smart under what he consid ered an overstepping of the bounds of even well-founded ! jealousy, so he an swered : " Well, what of it ? "Where did you get that note? Were you rummaging in my pockets for Tcuriosities, madam ?" . Well, that is' cool l' retorted the lady, who was by this time too angry to prolong her crying, and too much ex asperated by her husband's coolness to allow him any explanation. The two little Thistledowns had fol lowed their parents to the library, and were standing in the doorway, with their little faces the pictures of anxiety, and the boy's, Timothy, Jr., variegated in expression by tears rtuaaing down his cheeks so the door was closed against them, and the darlings were shut out from ihe domestic trouble, while the breezy encounters were shut in, to have it out. Mr. T. was doggedly silent ; the lady raved and tore around the room, and threw the worked sofa pillow at him, doing more damage to the drop light and shade upon the library table than it did to the gentleman against whom the blow was directed, and without a word, except a muttered sentence, sound ing very much like " Confound you !" Mr. Timothy Thistledown left the room, put on his overcoat, and left the house in no easy frame of mind, and the chil dren went to the rescue of the mother, who rang the bell and called up the coaohman from his flirtation with the waitress below stairs : " Quick, Richard, foUow Mr. Thistle down ; he has gone to Delmonico's, I think ! If not, go to the office. Follow him, I say, and tell me where he goes and who comes to see him !" "But, madam," ventured the man, surprised at the orders," " Mr. Thistle down may have " " No, he hasn't ; he took no break fast, and it s early. Begone, I say ! one was melodramatic and positive in her manner ; she had caught an idea tnew that her husband sometimes break fasted at Delmonico's. She owned the carriage and horses, and she paid the coachman, and so the coachman would obey her orders implicitly. And the irate Mrs. T. was right. Her husband thought more of his breakfast than his dinner, and. under Mrs. T.'s domestic management, he had break fasted at Delmonico s before,' under similar circumstances. As he did not ride down town, he went out from the house, relighted a cigar at the drug store at the corner, bought a newspaper, and consumed ten minutes in the operation, and then starred straight down the avenue, where the coachman overtook him a couple of minutes before he went in to give his order, while faithful Richard waited outside. But there was nothing but the chops. coffee, rolls, and the newspaper ; no dis covery whatever, and would not have been but Mr. Ihistledown sent for a sheet of paper, and an envelope, wrote a note with a lead pencil, and sent it to tlie restaurant oihce. Richard's eyes sparkled at the dis- coverd ; he had something to tell at last, and he watched the Anglo-Francaise clerk as he gave his directions to the hall-boy, and the hall-boy started off with the note toward Sixth avenue. The boy took an upward-bound car so did Richard, and after a few moments seated himself beside the messenger, whom he kne's from the frequent wait ings which had been imposed upon him upon opera nights, and a sidewalk ac quaintance so contracted. Ye re bound forup-town in the early mornin', Frank,"- ventured Richard, by way of inquiry at the beginning. " les, witn a note. " Ye're to get an answer?" " No : only to leave it." And the in nocent messenger, who knew Richard to be a good fellow, handed out the note, which was addressed to a lady living in street, and marked "In haste. ' V., 4. UV 1 , up there," said the coachman. "I'm goin' up that way. IH take it for ye." J.C v U JlA AVI tui llOUl. il Vt il y Lnwiiung at- nrst, the messenger finally consented. , He had " been paid half a dollar for the service, and it suited him to earn it more easily than riding about in the cold ; so he gave the note to Richard, sprang from the car, and Jichard followed his example at the next corner. groins direct to Mrs. Thistle down with the note and bursting into her presence with the air of a military com mander who had captured a citadel and just reached headquarters to make his report. To say that Mrs. T. was still more angry would be far too little in words to do, her justice. Marital infidelity she already suspected, but she did not sus pect an appointment at an up-town pic ture gallery at two o'clock that very day as made Mr. Ihistledown s note with a pretty widow who was one of her best friends and a constant visitor at the house. Mr. Thistledown had named the hour the place she knew the lady ; and now that the dreadful secret was discov ered Bhe determined to follow the dis covery to its bitterest end and denoue ment. ' , v An hour later Richard had delivered' the note by proxy of the butcher's boy at tne corner, and JUrs. JLnistledownwas preparing to go out and to visit the pic ture gallery about 2 o'clock. A red dress, which she would have despised to have worn upon an ordinary occasion, served as a garment which her husband would not recognize, the bor rowing of a cloak trimmed with sable fur from a friendly neighbor, and a thick black vaiL were so effective that she sallied into the picture gallery a few moments before time, with the air of a countess, . and was secure in the consciousaess of her marital dignity and her unsuspected presence. .The pictures were fine, but Mrs. T. had no immediate interest in pictures ; she watched the door and the stairway, and turned her back as the widow, whom she had not before suspected, came into the room and warmed her neat little boots and the feet within them at the hot-air register. " The widow compared time with the clock and her own watch, and so did Mrs. Thistledown ; the pretty widow was impatient, and so was Mrs. T. ; and the impatience of both the ladies in waiting was soon ended by the appear ance of Mr. T. in light doeskin gloves, well brushed overcoat, shining hat, and his favorite cane, just as a gay deceiver would probably be when keeping a sub rosa appointment early in the afternoon at a picture gallery. The meeting was not affectionate they were wary, and discreet, thought Mrs. T. There was no whispered conversation between them ; they were up in the busi ness of such meetings an old story, thought Mrs. T. "Are you ready?" asked Mr. T., to which the lady answered : " Yes, but I must be back to dinner ;" and Mrs. T. was thoroughly satisfied that the faith lessness of her husband was an old mat ter, and it took all the possible control of her.actisns to prevent an interruption of the interview and the scene which would be the consequence, as she nerv ously followed the quiet couple over to Broadway, where they took an omnibus bound down town and so did Mrs. T., but of another line ; and, with the win dow down, and the cold air reddening her nose and blowing in upon her aching forehead, she watched. To Maiden lane she followed them, and then to the store of a well-known furrier, where she saw them enter ; and she had the very unpleasant alternative of waiting outside for a whole hour, till she felt that she must be discovered ; and then went home home, which to her seemed the charnel house of her affections, and where she clasped her children to her motherly bosom, and, while she allowed her tears of agony to fall upon their dear little innocent heads, she waited and watched for their father, who had deceived her so cruelly. But Mr. Timothy Thistledown did not come punctually at the dinner hour ; the clock which stood upon the mantel in the library was sepulchral in its tones, and sounded like the knell of her affec tions as it tolled the hours away, and the dinner was cold upon the table, when the sound of wheels at the doors aroused her, and the slamming of a car riage door caused her to start. True enough, it was her husband with the light gloves, the shiny hat, and the pet cane, and he came directly into the library where the light was burning, and where there was no drop-light, for it had been demolished by the sofa pillow at their morning encounter. Mr. Thistledown kissed the children, threw down his newspaper and a small brown paper bundle and said nothing to his wife. Then he looked at her in a cold, un fe iling manner, she thought, and rung the call-bell. "Dinner, Jane !" was all that he said as the waitress answered the summons, and then his face lighted up with expec tation as the sound of the door-bell ringing was faintly heard. And then the Tjrael, heartless, deceiving husband went to the door a drop too much, this ac tion, in the cup of matrimonial unhap piness already placed at Mrs. Thistle down's lips, and which was overflowing with bitterness. " Stop there, Timothy ! Stop. I sav ! I know all !" shouted his wife, catching him by the arm. But he smiled at her a sardonic, de ceptive smile, she thought and opened the door despite her remonstrance. The pretty widow stood upon the door step, her pretty cheeks red from the cold, and she came forward pleasantly to greet Mrs. Thistledown and the children, calling her "Maria," as she always did, and stooping down to kiss the children. She did not, however, although little Timothy, Jr.'s lips were ready for the greeting ; a strong hand pressed her back, and Mrs. T. placed her arms around the children in a sheltering man ner just as she had seen the prima donna " Norma" do at the Academy. " Standoff from my children, madam !" said the agonized lady, almost overcome by the confident assurance of her visitor ; " go with their father, if you choose, but not with my children. They are not fit for you." She ' did not pause long enough to think that it was not her proper play to expose . her knowledge ; but before the pretty widow could render an explana tion, or even ask the question which should have preceded it, she told her story, the quarrel at table, the note in the coat pocket, the Delmonico break fast, the appointment at the gallery, and the visit to Maiden lane, where she had given up the chase and awaited the issue at home, and then handed to Mr. Timothy Thistledown a whole page of closely written letter which she had in dited to him by way of a farewell epis tle, and which she had concealed in her motherly bosom till the proper moment for its presentation. ' Mr. Timothy Thistledown read the letter, tore it up, and laughed, and then the widow laughed, while Mrs. Thistle down cried. Bnt the door-bell rang again, and a boy, just alighted irom a furrier's wagon, stood upon the steps, extending a box in his little cold hands. " For Mrs. Thistledown, paid, sign the receipt, please," said the lad, ex tending a book, open, with his finger pointed to the blank line, where Mrs. Thistledown was to sign for "Two packages muff, tippet and cloak." But the lady did not sign she left the package in the hall and again went into the library and sank down upon the sofa, while the pretty , widow took the book, and, without removing her light gloves, signed the receipt, sitting at the escritoire. " Too jealous by half, my dear," said Timothy Thistledown, Esq., as he held up the boxes. But Mrs. Timothy could make no an swer. ' ''."' Plant Trees. -The terrible scenes of this winter and the long list of dathson the prairies are having the effect of sug gesting some means by which they heed not , be repeated another i, winter. In Minnesota it is proposed .to plant a line of trees along all the roads, which would not only furnish some shelter, but would so distinctly mark the way that no one, however cold and : benumbed need lose it. This would be one of the surest and cheapest protections that could be given, and early spring should, everywhere in the West, see the work begun. - The Bnckeye State punishes the man wiio opens his wife's letters. Brief Mention. Epizootic still lingers in Kentucky. Des Moines has female lamp-lighters. Female farmers form clubs in Kansas. The cat is not mentioned in the Bible. All gipsies are to be expelled from Italy. " Canned death" is what they call coal oil in Brooklyn. POSTMASTEKS are not rpsnrmsiblo fnr registered letters. South Carolina planters can't get their cotton picked. Atlanta, Ga., claims to be "the Chi cago of the South." Ice on the Maine rivers averages 20 inches in thickness. Kentucky and Tennessee TvrniTirA fhp tallest men in the country. Milwaukee has a small-pox patient with a pit on the sight of his eye. Colorado estimates that it received at least $1,000,000 from tourists in 1872. There is a ereat deal of corn T-pmnin- ing in the fields of Kansas ungathered. Wisconsin ranks as the fourth State in the number of Indiana -within ita boundaries. A NEWSPAPER is Dllblished in flip Smith African diamond district at the low price ot Sou a year. The Galveston News rejoices greatly over the immense "tide of immigration now pouring into Texas. Rain fell on 131 days in the year 1872, according to the annual report from the War Department Signal Service. One hundred and sixty-eight persons over 70 years old died in Providence in 1872. The number in 1871 was 169. The laws of Iowa no longer make any distinction between husband and wife in their control over their own property. A St. Louis paper wants to know xs-lw a Coroner should get $20,000 a year more man a judge ot tne (Supreme Court. The Alaska Seal Company report the catch of st-als for 1872 at 9fi,009, on which they paid to the Government $32,231. One of the most promising students at Cambridge is a Hindoo in Christ's College, who is distinguished as a math ematician. One towel answers for twelve custom ers in an Indianapolis barber shop, and the barber sharpens his razor on the stove-pipe. The latest problem is, where does Rhode Island put 105 postoffices with such names as Escobeag, Quonochontaug and Usquepaugh ? It is estimated that there are between two and three thousand buffalo hunters in Western Kansas, and they average about fifteen per day. Don't do it. Don't advertise your business ; it's paying out money to ac commodate other people. H they want to buy your goods, let them hunt you up. The delicate operation of cutting a man open to remove some false teeth that ha had swallowed was successfully performed, recently, at Pittsburgh, Pa. The Vermont Central railroad cannot pay its employes, cannot buy any cars, cannot even buy any wood, and the State is going to sell it to the highest bidder. A high-toned young Southern gentle man at Memphis recently challenged an old farmer to mortal combat because the latter sent him a pig's tail to make a whistle of. Wooden pavements are luxurious, but expensive. The number of yards of wooden pavements laid in New York since 18G0 is stated at 391,688, at a cost of $2,245,000. The knowing ones tell us that the only way to get pure port wine is to go to Oporto, raise the grapes, press the wine, put it into the cask yourself, and ride on it all the way home. The Roman Catholic Mission for the conversion of the colored population of South, at the head of which was the late Dr. Vaughan, has thus far failed to win any great fJumber of converts. The case of Phelps, Dodge & Co., of New York, has been compromised, that firm paying $500,000, or one-half the amount supposed to have been fraudu lently withheld by them from the Gov ernment. The citizens of Illinois pay annually for life insurance a greater sum than the total annual revenue of the State. The total amount of life insurance premiums paid in 1871 was $4,581,000, and the fire premiums about $5,500,000. The Oldest Inhabitant. He has been found at last the oldest man in America. The discovery was made by a Herald correspondentpossibly Stan ley. The old gentleman's name is George L-e Barre ; he lives at Delaware Water Gap, Pa. ; was born in the same State in 1758, and is consequently 115 years old ; he has been chewing tobacco and drink ing whisky for the past 100 years, and is gradually wasting away under the blight ing influences of these vices ; he remem bers Gen. Washington well, and Bhook hands with him when he (the old man) was 20 years old ; and he was over 50 years old at the breaking out of the war of lolz, and consequently too old for en listment in that campaign. He expresses himself freely on the great whisky rebel' lion, but is noncommittal as regards the Credit Mobilier. A blacksmith named Oliver, at Bel mont, California, made a bet of $50 he could eat nine dozen eggs in an hour. Iu half-an-hour he had eaten seven dozen ; in three-fourths of an. hour he had finished his eighth dozen, when he dropped from his chair insensible, and at last accounts had not come to. He undertook to eat against time, but did not expect eternity would come to time s aid in tne contest. ..; CAMTmTTMJTt. Mohh rpnpntlv hod flfllTlB awful excitement over some bloody clotnes iouna on tne ice, and several would- oe detectives pawed tnem over, amflH nf thp.m. and fnr VAncroanoe. until a doctor came along who pro nounced tnem tne cast-on doming oi a 1w A - A smau-pox patient A State Prison Picture Solitarr Ton. flncment for Life. It is not everv one who fullv enmnrp- hends the meaning of the expression " sent to the State orison " Th prp la n. feeling that the criminal is thereby pun- lsneu, mat ne is under restraint, and i-l. 1. XI 1, 1 M. uiufc, un me wnoie, sucn an episode is decidedly unpleasant and to be avoided; ' but the reour1. of entertainmpnfa irivpn ; by friends of the institution read too t ft .m . . - mucn mse tne narration of an evening s comfortable entertainment in some lec ture course, and the narrationa nf tli celebrations of Thanksgiving and Christ- j uiaa nerve w ami me estimation ot tne hardships of prison life in many minds. Manv. doubtless, who are sentenced fnr short terms are so little affected by their punishment that with the fear of its rep etition Deiore tneir eyes they do not scruple to at once commit acts whose detection means another sentence. But the ones who are sentenced for 20 years or longer, and who, perhaps, have been brought up with the comforts and pleas ures of home about them, are the per sons on whom the discinline of nriann life grates the hardest, and the ones who fiud the most severity in the strictness oi its imperative orders. One dav d;iriny the last month thn writer of this had occassion to visit the Massachusetts prison, and in course of conversation with the Warden, van'ona interesting facts relative to several of tne more celebrated prisoners were de veloped. One. the most peculiar and perhaps interesting prisoner in the insti tution, and one of whom perhaps more is tnown than any other, is James Wil son, the man who i3 now imprisoned for life for murdering a fellow convict. His life has been fremientlv written nr na the saying is, but a short sketch may una reaaers wno nave never seen pre vioKs accounts. Wilson was born in England, and there passed his childhood and youth. He underwent a thorough tuition in crime, and was an inmate of several jails for minor offenses, finally becoming con cerned in a crime which secured his transportation to Botany Bay. Soon alterward, nowever, he escaped with a companion, and, not daring to return to England, came to America ; and unde terred by his previous experiences at once set about earning a dishonest living, and on July 19, 1853, was caught in the act of robbing the city treasury, and re ceived a sentence of four years in the State prison. His conduct during his term of imprisonment was quite excep tional and exemplary, and, as is cus tomary, a deduction of 30 days was made on that account. On the morning of .the day when he was to be released, one half hour before the time when he could have passed out of the prison door a free man, he was walkirg in a file of con victs to do his last piece of work, when he suddenly leaned forward by his im mediate predecessor and stabbed the next man, William Adams, in the neck with a shoeknife which he had concealed about his person, killing him almost in stantly, fie was at once seized and con fined, and at his trial wis found guilty of murder iu the first degree and set- terced to be hung. Every preparatk n tor his execution was made, the gallows having been erected, when a commuta tion of his sentence to imprisonment for life, with solitary confinement, was re ceived. This had been obtained through the individual exertion of one of the bench of judges before whom he had been tried, his honor claiming that as no possible motive for the deed had been proved, and as every circumstance argued non-responsibility, the man must have been insane, and ought not to be hung. Wilson, after his recommital, certanly showed signs of mental and physical weakness to such an extent that the rules of solitary confinement were con siderably relaxed, to allow of proper ex ercise and treatment. Formerly he was a great philosopher in his reading, de voting himself to metaphysical and logi cal treatises, but at present and for some time his mental condition has been so weakened as to compel him to satisfy liimself with lighter works. Prof. Bowen, of Harvard College, paid him several visits some ten years ago, to ascer tain the depth of his logical researches, and on many occasions persons have in quired for, and been anxious to see the " metaphysician," as he is called. In appearance Wilson is a demure-looking person, of kindly features, and not at all the conventional red-handed murderer of sensational literature. Although but 55, he appears much older, and shows the signs of his confinement both in ap pearance and conversation. He has not yet given up hopes of pardon, and any official of the State or National Govern ment whom he may chance to see visit ing the prison, is at once imagined to have come on business connected with his release. For the reason that his mind is rendered constantly uneasy and unhealthy by his nervous anxiety, but few visitors are allowed to see him, those being a few particular friends. He is at present in the hospital quarters, and spends.considerable of his leisure time in carving, at which he is quite an adept. What he flunks of his solitude, how he recalls old scenes in the absence of any change in the future, and what a pros pect opens before him, are sad specula tions, and, in his case at least is the punishment to be considered heavy. Not many years ago, Wilson wrote quite a pathetic letter to the British Consul at this port, the Marquis Lousada, since deceased, in which he claimed his inter ference as a British subject ; nothing, however, came of it, and he is gradually settling into a conviction that his life henceforward must be spent behind bars that separte him from his kind. Boston Traveller. Nancy Luce's Tribute to Her Hen. The proprietors of the New England Marble Works, in this city, have nearly completed a gravestone for Nancy Luce, of Tisbury, to be erected in honor of the hen whose life and death are por trayed in the book of poetry issued some time ago by that eccentric woman. The inscription on the Btone is : Poor Tweedlo Dedel Bebbee Pinky, died June 17, 1871, at J past 7 o'clock in the even ing, aged 4 years. -. r- Poor dear little heart. 1 - Sore broke in her. . ; I am left broken-hearted. She waa my own heart within me. - She had more than common wit. She is taken from the evil to come. New Bedford Mass.) Mercury. Jokk Bright will visit us soon. LEFT ALOSE AT EIGHTY. What did yon say, dear, breakfast ? Somehow I've slept too late; Vou are very kind, dear Kffle, Go, tell them not to wait. . I'll dress as quick as ever I can, My old hands tremble sore, And Polly, who. need ta help, dear heart ! Lies to'ther side o' the door. ' Pnt up the old pipe, deary, .'. I couldn't smcke to-day ; ' I'm sort o' dazed and frightened, And dont know what to say. i It's lonesome in the house, here And lonesome out o' door ' I never knew what lonesome meant, In all my life, before. The bees go humming, the whole day long And the first June rose has blown, And I am eighty, dear Lord, to-day, Too old to be left alone ! O, heart of love ! so still and cold, O, precious lipa ! so white For the first sad hours in sixty years, Yon were out of my reach, last night. Yon've cut the flower. You're very kind. She rooted it, last May, It was only a slip ! I pulled the rose, And threw the stem away ; But she, sweet, thrifty soul, bent down, And planted it where she stood. " Dear, maybe the flowers are living," ahe said, " Asleep, in this bit of wood." I can't rest, deary I cannot rest ; Let the old man have his will, And wander from porch to garden poet The house is so deathly still ; Wander, aud long for a sight of the gate She has left ajar for me We had got so used to each other, dear. So used to each other, you see. Sixty years, and so wise and good, She made me a better man. From the moment I kissed her fair young face, And our lovers' life began. And seven fina boys she has given me, And out of the seven, not one But the noblest father in all the land Would be proud to call his son. O, wall, dear Lord, 111 be patient, But I feel sore broken up ; At eighty years, it's an awesome thing To drain stich a bitter cup. I know, there's Joseph and John and Hal, And four good men beside, But a hundred sons couldn't be to me Like the woman I made my bride. My little Polly ; so bright and fair ! So winsome and good and sweet ! She had roses twined in her sunny hair, White shoes on her dainty feet ; And 1 held her hand Was it yesterday That we stood up to be wed 1 And No, I remember, I'm eighty, to-day, And my dear wife. Polly, is dead. Pith and Point. What a barber mustn't do Lather his wife. Mere catch-penny affairs Hand organs. Which goes the quicker, a full minute or a spare moment ? A good thing for elevation of woman Thick-soled boots. What workman never turns to the left ? A wheelwright. Eagles fly alone ; sheep generally flock together ; so we have herd. Pater famtlias says the only thing that continues to fall is the rain ! In what case is it absolutely impos sible to be slow and sure ? In the case of a watch. Obrenoritsch is the euphonious name of a Constantinople defaulter to the time of $100,000. Do you believe, sir, that the dead ever walk after death ?" " No doubt of it, madam ; I have heard the Dead March.." A young man who attended a lecture on the subject, " Are we better than our fathers ?" started for home saying, " I'm going to get the better of mine some how, any way." A Tennessee schoolmaster reproved one of the big girls for spitting on the stove, and the brother took down his little shot-gun and chased the pedagogue into North Carolina. A well-known jokist of Macon says : " Since the advent of the epizooty, mince meat has declined eight cents a pound, and he has the nightmare every night after eating mince pie." " I live in Julia's eyes," said an affect ed dandy, in Coleman's hearing. " I don't wonder at it," replied George, " since I observed she had a stye in them when I saw her last." Wendell Phillips wants the Governor of Massachusetts to pardon a man who killed his wife and then tried to commit suicide. Phillips pleads that the con vict was goaded to the crime by an un usually severe dose of mother-in-law. A negro in Coffee county, Georgiaf who bet two dollars and seventy-five cents that he could ride a roan mule with a pine burr under the saddle lost the money. He was followed to the tomb by a large and enthusiastic audience. . A pensive man, with a basketful of new hats, waspassing the Wooster House, Friday, when a quarter of a ton of beau tiful snow slid from the roof into his basket. Not being a profane man, his suffering was intense. Danbury News. Here we have a good example of French wit : " A doctor, like everybody else at this season, went out for a day's sport, and complaned of having killed nothing. That's the consequence of having neglected your business,' ob served his wife." A shrewd little fellow was intrusted to the care of his uncle, who fed the boy very poorly. One day he happened to see a greyhound, whereupon he asked the little fellow if he knew wha made the dog so poor. The reply was, " I ex pect he lives with his uncle." In an editorial on the horse disease, the Congregationali8t suggested that it might be well to sit at the feet of a horse and learn humility. " Just so," says the California News Letter, "sit down at the hind feet of a mule, and if he don't humiliate you, pull his tail and tickle the inside of his legs with a stable fork!" . . Agreements. How many misunderstandings arise from the loose way in which business matters are talked over, and then when each party puts his own construction on the conversation, the matter is dismissed by each, with the words " All Bight," "All Bight." Frequently it turns out "all wrong," and becomes a question for the lawyers and the courts. More than three-fourths of the litigation of the country would be saved, if people would put down their agreements in writing, and sign their names to it. Each word in our language has its pe culiar meaning, dad memory may, by the change of its position in a sentence, convey an entirely different idea from that intended. When once reduced to writing ideas are fixed, and expensive law-suits avoided. !