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6 FATHER AND CHILD. A lonely man in silence sat, With hopeless grief oppress’d; A gentle child in childhood’s grace, Clung to her father’s breast. •* O, father, do not weep,” she said, In accents sweet and low; •» Mother will come to us again, The angels told me eo.” In happy dreams the child had seen Far off another home, Unclouded skies, undying flowers, Where sorrow could not come, And seraphs with sweet harmonies Appear’d in golden glow, And everything was beautiful The angels led her to. Bhe lay clasp’d in her father’s arms, So faint but still so fair, And look’d toward the open door, As at some bright thing there. •• Mother !” she cried, with outstretched arms, Then whisper’d soft and low, •‘Father ! I knew she’d come again, The angels told me so.” FORUFEWLOVE. BY A FAVORITE AUTHOR. CHAPTER XV. •* I WISH YOU WERE AS HAPPY AS I AM TO-NIGHT.” •‘Oh, Rosalie, why have you put on that hid eous dress?” , „ “ Hideous I” I repeat, looking down at it. •‘Do you think it hideous, Lily ?” “ Why, everybody does ! It is about the only unbecoming dress you have, Rosalie—Mrs. Lockhart is always wishing somebody would Btoal it, or burn it, or something.” “ Oh, Olive never admired my taste in dress !” “But it is not becoming to you, indeed, Rosalie.” •• My dear, I hare ceased to study my ap pearance 1” which is not true, since I have ttudied it particularly this evening. “ And I wanted you to look well,” Lily says, sighing, as she considers me. “It you look well, that is all that is of any consequence.” ‘‘Doi ?” the girl asks wistfully.” She looks exquisite in her dress of snowy Llama soitly rurtied with Spanish iace. “ My dear, 1 have spent the last hour and a halt over your toilet—do you think it likely I •would have ceased my efforts unless I had been satis .ed with the result ?” She smiles a little at this—her infantine, in nocent smile. “ You look like a white rose,” I say, tenderly stroking the pretty white arm. “You must have more color m your cheeks than that, Lily, er else your husband will think I have been starving you.” There is color enough in her cheeks for a min ute after that: but it fades away again—the deep, pansy-blue eyes look darker than ever, the childish lips tremble—even the little gloved hand shakes as 1 clasp it closely in my own. I shall be glad when this interview is over. 3ly own heart is beating—my own color comes and goes at every sound without—l am almost sorry I told Bigges to light up the drawing room; but I wanted Gerard to see his wile in a full blaze ol light—to be dazzled by her beauty, as 1 know his artistic imagination will be daz zled by it, surrounded bye s ery adventitious aid that I can think of or devise. It is a quarter to eight o’clock—at eight he may be hero. I have sent a carriage to meet Rim at the railway station; he is to stay at YVoodhay to night. Ronald has been out all day shooting; it is scarcely five miuutes since he ran up stairs to dress. He, too, seems rather excited—l can not think what has come over him. He does not seem .jealous ot my expected visitor—he seems ratlier in a hurry to have him come. His manner puzzles me a little, because he is generally so grave and self-contained, so im pervious, apparently, to the mere outward in fluences which have such power to raise or to depress me. Old Digges has certainly done his best to illu minate the drawing-room. The wood fire crackles and sparkles on the hearth, reflected in every painted tde; the chandelier scintillates with row alter row ot softly-lummous wax candles, reflected in every mirror about the room. It is a pretty room, though I say it, to whom it belongs, quaint and rich and old-tash ionod, and it never looks so well as when it is lighted up at night. Aud its warm red tones throw out that white figure so purely, standing in the lull blaze ol the wax-lights, as a niche of ruddv velvet throws out some lair white statue, rendering its whiteness more purely white by contrast. 1 have drawn Lily into the best light the room affords, unconsciously to herself, and there I keep her standing while 1 listen lor the wheels which seem to my impatience to tarry eo long. “ You must stay hero it Igo out to meet him, Lily, remember that.” “ Hero - aloue ?” she asks, with frightened .eyes searching my face. “My darling, it will only bo for a moment. But you must promise me not to stir.” “ Not even to run to the door, Rosalie ?” “ Not to move from where 1 leave you dear— it is I who should welcome him to Woodhay, you .know ” “ uh, yes ! But might I not come with you?” “No. 1 wish to see him first—for a moment alone.” “ You won’t keep me too long waiting t” she pleads, with a tremulous smile. “ Indeed I will not, darling—not a minute, .probably, it so much.” Donald seems to boa long time over his toilette this evening, or can it be that ho doesnot wish to be present at the meeting of husban d and wile? Auntliosa never makes her appear ance till the gong sounds—l do not think there is much danger of her veering out of her groove to-night. Ten minutes to eight—five—three. I fancy I hear wheels in the distance; but the clock ticks bo loudly that I cannot be certain. “Here he is 1” Lily says, putting her hand to her heart. “ Are you sure ?” “ uh, quite sure I” “Then, do not sfir—remember what you have promised me,” I say, and cross the room quietly, looking back at her over my shoulder. The picture is perfect; all the light seems concentrated about the exquisite figure stand ing in the middle of the floor—she looks more like a vision than a human being, so pale is she, with all that glory of light falling full on her golden head. With a long breath, which is almost a sigh, I open the door and walk into the hall just as Gerard Baxter steps into it out of the starry darkness of the September night. He catches sight of mo in a moment, and comes forward quickly, his hat in one hand, the other stretched out to meet mine. “ Welcome to Woodhay,” I say, smiling, and the dreaded meeting is over. “Thank you,” he answers, in the voice I re member so well, aud stands there looking down at me, while 1 look up at him with eyes which Beem to have suddenly grown dim. This is not my boy, this stalwart man, black haired and bearded like a part! 1 ’ihis is not the lad 1 remember—the lad whom my imag ination had clothed with every lair attribute under the sun I Surely I must have forgotten him, or else he mus have changed mysteri ously, if this pallid, handsome man is the boy I loved long ago—the Gerard Baxter whom my god-like fancy had endowed with perpetual youth ! This man looks old for his age, is in clined to be ijtout, is splendidly handsome, cer tainly, with a k.nd of foreign perieetiou ol fea ture and coloring; but he is not the lad with whom I le lin love t ree years and a half ago— the slender, poverty stricken artist who “did win my heart Irom me” in Mrs. Wauchope’s shabby house in Carleton street, and broke it, here at Woodhay, the day I came of age. “ Will you go in there?”! say, loosing my hand from his close grasp, and nodding my head toward the drawing-room door. “1 prom ise not to detain you for ihore than a minute.” “Is she there ?” he asks, in & sort of breath less fashion. “les.” He hesitates for a moment, looking down at mo. 1 wonder what he thinks oi me in the ugly mouse-colored velveteen which my friends wish somebody would steal or destroy. “ 1 suppose you have .orgotten me ?” he says, a little wistfully. uite,” 1 answer, with a cheerful smile— •• as yon have forgotten me.” Ho shakes his head at that, but I put my hand lightly on his arm and impel him toward the open door. 1 can see that he is eager to go in, end yet he hesitates—can it bo out ol com passion lor me ? “ Go in,” 1 say, smilingly, and usher him into the softly-illuminated room, waiting just long enough - unperceived by either—to see the look of bewilderment on his face change suddenly to passionate admiration, and to bear her low cry of delight as she rushes forward into his outstretched arms. »-*# * * » Dinner is over—such a merry dinner as had not taken place at Woodhay lor many a long day. Not even the grim portrads oi my ances tors or my old butler’s solemn visage could d, mp our mirth—l do not believe anyone gave a single,thought to either. riven Aunt itosa laughed till the tears ran down her cheeks at Gerard’s adventures abroad, which he related with a quiet humor, that somehow reminded me ot Mark Twain and the irresistible “Mr. Harris.” He has traveled a good deal, aud some of his experiences in for eign cities aud galleries were most amusing, or he amused us by relating them in his droll, unsmiling way. As lor .ionaid Scott, I never saw him looking eo nappy before as he has looked ever since Gerard Baxter came into the house. Alter dinner,we three ladies betake ourselves to the drawing-room. Aunt liosa disposes her seh >or a nap uu the sola, and Lily kneels on the rug beside my favorite low-chair, and rests her elbow on my knee and her cheek in her hand, looking into the fire with serenely happy eyes. “ Well, Lily,” 1 ask at last, "is your silly little heart al rest ?” “ I think bo,” she answers, drawing a long breath. “ Oh, Rosalie, I am so happy 1” “Longmay your happiness continue, darl ing I” I say, and bend down to kiss the downy forehead. "Rosalie,” she says presently, taking my hand and leaning her cheek upon it, “ I wish you were as happy as I am to-night.” “Dear, I am very happy,” I answer, a little •toxtled by the unexpected MDintisife “Are you?” looking up at me with soft ques tioning eves. “ Indeed I am,” She sighs a sigh of the most complete content. “ I want you to be happy, Rosalie; you have been so good to me—and to’him.” “And I am rewarded now by seeing your happiness, Lily—and his.” “I think ho is happy,” she says dreamily, looking into the fire. “lam sure he is. I do not know anybody who looks happier than he looked to-night.” “Sir Ronald looked very happy,” Lily ob serves demurely; but this time she does not look up at me. “Yes; I thought he looked in rather better humor than usual.” I have just been thinking how well he looked in his plain evening-dress, with his grave face and drooping brown mustache and that laugh ing look in his brown eyes. It is certainly very becoming to people to look happy. I wonder if I too look happier than usual to-night? “ I wish you hadn’t worn this ugly dress,” Lily savs, laughing as she smooths my mouse colored velveteen with her delicate hand, “Do I look such a show, Lily?” “Well, you don’t look as you would have looked in your white dress, or in the blue flowered one, or in your pink silk.” “Nevermind. I can wear my pink silk to morrow night.” “ But Gerard won’t be here to-morrow night.” Somebody else will, though—l think so, with a strange, glad thrill at my heart. While I smile to myself, wondering why I never felt like this before, Lily turns her head, listening to some sound in the hall. “ You think you will never see him again,” I laugh, pulling her little pink ear. “He is coming,” she says, rising from her place on the hearthrug to stand with her eyes fixed upon the door. And he does come a moment later; but, when I look tor Ronald to follow him into the room, I am disappointed—Ronald has gone out to solace himself with a cigar. * * * » * * The terrace is steeped in moonlight as bright as day, all the flowers in my garden stand up like the ghosts of flowers—white in the white light of the moon. 1 have come out on to the terrace ostensibly to breathe the cool, delicious night air, but in reality to give the lovers in the drawing-room a few moments together before Bigges comes in with tea. But I am glad I came out, the night is so se rene, so heavenly in its quiet, so soft, so un clouded; the air is so delicious with the per fume or my beds of night-scented stock and mignonnotte. I lean over the terrace balcony watching the moon slip from branch to branch of my dark sleeping trees, a white knitted “ cloud” wrapped round my head and shoul ders—a shadowy figure, “ gray against gray.” So Ronald finds me when he SBunters round from the dining-room a moment later, finishing his cigar. "Do I sleep—do I dream, Or are visions about ?” he laughs, throwing away the cigar to lean over the balcony beside mo. “ What lucky chance induced you to take an airing here to-night, cousin?” “No chance at all, but perfect good nature,” I answer, smiling. “ I did to others what I would have them do unto me in the same cir cumstances—that was all.” “I bless the kindly thought,” Ronald says, looking at my smiling lace by the light of the moon. “We must leave them a long time to gether, Allie, mustn’t we ?” I do not think he has ever called me Allie be fore ;if he has, Ido not remember it. But I like to hear him say it in that grave, tender voice of his. “ I must give them some tea presently.” “Tea ! Do you think they will want tea—ot anything else—while they have each other ?” “ But Aunt Rosa will wake up like clock work and call out for hers—you know she al ways does.” “ I hope her jollity at dinner will have a sopo rific effect,” Ronald laughs, shrugging his shoul ders. “ Allie, what a night it is I I was just wishing I could persuade you to come out when I turned the corner of the house and found you here.” “ Were you, indeed ?” I say, watching the moon glide across from one tufted tree-top to another. “It is seldom one’s wishes are so quickly granted—so far, at least, as my experi ence goes.” “ One would think you had need to wish for very little, Allie.” “ How so ?” I ask, turning my head to look at him. “ Why, most people would say you had all your heart could desire.” “ Has anybody that, I wonder ?” I have gone back to my contemplation of the moon, and I speak the words dreamily, not so much as a question as an assertion, yet Ronald answers them as if they had been a question. “Do you mean, is there anybody perfectly happy in the world ?” “ If having all the heart could desire would make one happy—yes.” “I only desire one thing at this moment,” Ronald says, in a lower tone. “ To make you happy ?” “To make me so intolerably happy that I would count one hour of such happiness worth the pain and toil of a lifetime if by that only could I attain it.” He is not looking at me now, but at my dusky belt of woodland rising densely black against the faint, fair, moonlit sky. But I glance at his grave face—almost stern it looks as he stands there erect in the moonlight—and wonder why my heart beats so loudly, and what new glory has come to the soft splendor of the September night. “ Allie,” he says, turning to me suddenly, “ you told me once that you cared so much for —somebody else—that, though I might be a thousand times better—a thousand times more worthy—these are your own words—l could never be to you what that man was.” “ Yes,” I answer, vaguely, remembering the day and the hour when I had said it, standing in the drawing-room window at Woodhay—the very window which is glimmering behind us now in the light of the moon. “ I did not ask you his name then, and I am not going to ask it now,” Ronald goes on, in the same quick, passionate way. “ But lam going to ask you if you will reconsider your answer to me that day, Allie—if you ean find it in your heart to love me a little now—l, who have loved you so long 1” My heart! What heart ? My heart lies buried under those night-black trees in the hol low yonder ! How can I give him—or any one —that dead and loatnsome thing ? “ But I have no heart to give you, Ronald.” “Have you not?” he says, smiling a little. “ Allie, lam wiser than you, and I think you have.” In a moment—in a second o! time, it seems to me—my spirit flies away to that shadowy combe down by the rushing river, where the moon light glimpses so mysteriously through the mov ing branches, and searches till it finds that lonely grave-finds it, and tears away the mosses, the long trailing grasses, the dead leaves of three sorrowful Winters, and discovers -nothing. It is not there, the heart that I had buried there three years ago— that shallow grave had no power to hold it—it is free I “Allie, have you no heart to give me—now?” He is watching my lace, he has drawn nearer to me—he holds out his arms. And with a rap ture that is too deep lor utterance, I cast away th 't haunting memory and suffer myself to be folded in the strong arms of the man whom I believe 1 have really io-, ed since the very day that he ceased to make love to me I (the end.) NEWSPAPER FABLES. NOT AT ALL LIKE THE PERSIAN. THE OFFICE TOWEL. The Editor ot a Country Paper one day turn ed on the Office Towel, which was Hanging on its Accustomed Nail, and began a Tirade of Abuse on its Appearance, terming it Dirty, Un fit, 111-Looking, and fit only to be Flung from the Window. “ While I am compelled to Plead Guilty to all Charges,” humbly Responded the Towel, “ You must Remember that your own Hands have helped 19 Soil me ajid make me what I am.” moral: Had the Country Editor wiped his Hands on his exchanges the Towel could have Indulged in no Back Talk. A DOMESTIC ROW. One morning the Washington Hand-Press in a Printing Office suddenly new its Frisket and called out in a loud voice: “ Hear ye ! hear ye I But for me the Banner could not be issued each Week 1” “Just hear that 1” sneered a Case of Bourgeois over by the Window. “ Whore would be the Paper but for its Type?” “ And they never Printed a Paper yet with out Ink,” added the Roller in a Glue and Mo lasses voice. “ Well, I don’t want to Appear Egotistical,” observed a Bundle ot White Paper lying on the floor, “ but if you knew how hard it was for the Editor to raise the Cash to buy me, you’d Ima gine I was of some little Account Around here.” “ Gentlemen,” added the Imposing Stone in a marble voice, “ I don’t claim to own all the cor ner lots in Town, but if the Chases, Shooting- Stiek, Mallet, Quoins and myself were to go off on a Picnic I’d like to see the Banner go to press —I would 1” The Gordon Jobber, Box Stove and several of the Galleys were getting ready to chip in when the Editor entered and asked the cause of the Row. The matter was explained by the Card-Cutter in a Calm and Unbiased manner, ami the Editor replied: “Each and every one of you are valued in your Respective Places, and all combined go to help issue the Leading Newspaper of this country—circulation (when a circus agent comes along) 6,000 copies—Wood Received on Sub scription as Heretofore.” moral: And the Shears lay right there in Plain Sight and were not even mentioned. THE FARMER AND THE EDITOR. A Farmer who Felt in bis Heart that this was a cold World and that no one Cared for him or his, Mechanically slipped a goose Egg into his coat tail pocket and betook himself to the village and office the ol the Gazette, where he Produced the Egg and Swore by the Horn Spoon that it was laid by a Pullet. The Astonished and De lighted Editor sent out for a Bed-cord to Measure the Length and Diameter of the Egg, presented the Farmer with • Year’s Subscrip lioB t and took Voluminous Note* with • BamflL NEW YORK DISPATCH, NOVEMBER 2, 1884. The next issue of the Gazette contained a full and Thrilling Description of the Egg and the Pullet, and wound up bv saying that Farmer Johnson was Honest, Upright, Enterprising and Pro gressive, and that ho had the Loveliest Family, the best Farm and the Fattest Live Stock of any Agriculturist in the State. All of which so Tickled the Farmer that he carried a Grin until the Weather Wore the Enamel off his front teeth, and ho had no Trouble in Marrying off his Daughters, Selling off his Old Hay, and getting Elected as Supervisor. moral: If you can’t get hold of a Goose Egg a Pump kin Squash or a Peck of Turnips will Answer just as well. MAT A POSTAL CARD DIO. BY KATE KIRK. “Find N. D. in T. T. of T. and send to mo. K. is under a cloud, and L. has gone to B. “ Car.” Detective Slocum examined the postal card upon which the above lines were written. “You think this is a clew, eh?” he asked, turning toward Chief Wilson. “ Yes. It moans, ‘Find Ned Dwyer in Tom Treadwell’s tavern and send him to me. King is under a cloud (suspected), and Louis has gone to Boston.’ Louis started for Boston last night, with Chris Beaver on his trail. Every thing is working admirably. I’ll have the whole gang cornered in less than thirty-six hours. The only point that puzzles me is the address on the postal—Miss Laura Nesmith, No. 57- Fifth avenue. She is the daughter of Elmer Nesmith, a rich stock broker, and can not possibly be connected in any way with a gang of thieves and murderers.” “Carter is a handsome fellow, and a gentle man by birth and education. It is possible that she has met and fallen in love with him,” suggested Slocum, “ And joined his gang, you mean,” remarked Wilson, laughing heartily at the idea. “ No,” replied the other, with a slight flush of annoyance; “ but if you have read the postal correctly, and the signature ‘Car’ is an abbre viation of Carter, she certainly must know him, and there must bo an understanding of some sort between them.” “Perhaps you are rfght. Ono of our men was Carter drop a letter in the post-offico. When the contents of the basket in which the letters are dropped was examined, this card was found. Dean brought it to me. You had bet ter copy it, carry it back to the post-office, ask them to deliver it, and you watch for results.” A few moments after Slocum started on his errand Wilson received a telegram from the City Hospital which read : “Allen, who was beaten and robbed by a gang of thieves tho night before last, died this morn ing.” He throw it aside angrily. “Dead eh?” he muttered. “Why couldn’t he hang on long enough to identify the scoundrels. I’ll have them all in by to-morrow night.” Toward evening Slocum reported that he saw the postal delivered at the Nesmith mansion, and shortly afterward two ladies, one closely vailed and the other, an elderly woman, proba bly a lady’s maid, left the house, walked rapid ly as far as Sixth avenue, entered a car and rode down to Canal street, where they alighted; then turned into Laight strset and stopped before a large brick building. The vailed lady took a pass-key from her pocket and opened the door. They remained in the house about twenty min utes. When thev appeared again, the elder lady had a small parcel in her hand. The vailed lady, while in the act of drawing a handker chief from her pocket to wipe a tear-stained face, dropped the mysterious postal card. Detective Dean spent the afternoon and even ing in and near Treadwell’s saloon, but Ned Dwyer did not appear. The next morning the following note was handed, to Miss Nesmith by one of Wilson’s men. “ Miss Laura Nesmith will please accompany the bearer of this note to S. K. Wilson’s office. The elderly lady who went with you to Laight street yesterday afternoon must also come to the office. It is needless perhaps to inform yon that the safety of a dear friend depends upon your keeping the reception of this note a secret from other members of your family.” “What does it mean. Miss Laura?” asked Franklin Schmidt, after the two had perused the note several times. “I haven’t the slightest idea,” replied the young girl. “ But I shall send word to papa, notwithstanding the warning it contains. There is a man in the reception-room waiting to take us to this Wilson’s office. Please see him, Frau lein, and tell him I will not go until I have con sulted my father.” Fraulein obeyed, but returned in a few mo ments saying excitedly: “ My dear, we must go immediately. He tells me the salety of—that is, he showed me a letter signed Car, and said the safety of that person depended upon our obeying strictly the direc tions in the note. Let us go at once, my child I No harm can befall you when I am with you ” “ But, Fraulein, Ido not understand. Papa will be terribly angry, and I have tried so hard to conciliate him,” cried the young girl in a tone of dismay. “ We must brave his anger, my child. Come 1 I may lose iny situation, but I will not desert Car. This man Wilson is one ol the leading de tectives in the city. Some terrible thing must have happened.” Hastily donning their wraps they descended to the room where the officer awaited them, and. from whence the three started on their journey down town. Arriving at Wilson’s office, the la dies were ushered into a private room, where they found that dignitary. “ Yesterday you received a postal card bear ing the signature Car, did you not, Miss Nes mith?” asked Wilson, looking very grave. “Yes,” she replied. “ Have you the card with you ?’ ? “ I really don’t know,” feeling in the pocket of her ulster. “No, I have not. I suppose I left it home.” “Is this the card you received?” inquired Wilson, handing her the mysterious postal. “ Why yes exclaimed thd'young lady, open ing her eyes with astonishment. “ How did you get it ?” “ I cannot tell you at present. Do you know a man named Ned Dwyer ?” “No.” “Do you know where Tom Treadwell's sa loon is ?” “ No,” she replied, looking more and more mystified. “ When did you see Mary King last?” “I don’t know any such person.” “ Miss Nesmith,” said Wilson, with a profes sional frown, “ you will please reflect before answering my questions. I have good reason to suspect that you do know some of the parties named. At’ all events you know Charley Lomis.” “ I know Mr. Lomis, yes; I don’t Know what his first name is though.” “ When d d yon see him?” “Just before he wont away,” she replied, wondering what all these questions meant. “Are you on friendly terms with the person who sent you this postal ? And are you willing to tell me that person's name?” “I love Car better than anyone in the world except papa, if that is what you mean by being on friendly terms. As for the name ” “ Hush my dear! Do not mention the name until we know why this gentleman asks such a variety of strange questions,” broke m Fraulien Schmidt. “ Car. who wrote this card, is suspected of being an accessory to a very grave crime, and Miss Nesmith can aid us in bringing all the parties whose names are mentioned in this postal to justice. The man whom they assault ed and robbed is dead, we are closing a net around them and thev cannot escape. There fore, Miss Nesmith, your wisest course is to ex plain the meaningot the postal, and your con nection with the parties whose names appear on it. By doing so you may save yourself consid erable public disgrace.” The two ladies exchanged glances of pro found ama ement. °Car. connected with a murder !” exclaimed Laura, in a horiiffod toiiQ, “Impossible! you must be crazy.” 1 “My dear young lady there is no need of growing so excited. Now pray don’t faint ! Here, take a sip ot this water cried Wilson, in a voice ol real distress, for Laura’s face bad grown pallid, 4>ut she recovered herself in a few moments and murmured. “ What has led you tojsuppose that our Car is connected in any way with the dreadful men you have named ?” “ We have been shadowing Car. for several years; every other member of the gang has been in the Penitentiary, but he slips through our fingers every time. lam sorry tor you Miss Nesmith, but I’m determined to corner him this time. Will you tell me what ‘ Find N. D. in T. T. ot T. means?’” “ Yes,” replied Laura, “it means, ‘ Find night dress in top tray of trunk ; K. is undei- a cloud.’ That is my cousin, whose mother is displeased with her because she called to see Car. L. stands for.Louis, Car’s husband. She wants to go housekeeping, and Louis went over to Brooklyn to look for a house. You see Car, as we always call her, is my sister Caroline, who eloped with our music teacher, Louis Coudert. A trunk full of her clothing and some ocher ar ticles mamma gave her, are stored with some valuables belonging to papa. He often goes to the room on Laight street, where Car dare not venture for fear she will meet him. That is why she sent me the postal asking mo to go there and get the things she wanted. Papa has never forgiven her, and their estrangement causes me a great deal of trouble and unhappi ness. Mr. Lomis, whom you asked if I knew, was one of Caroline’s most ardent admirers. When he heard ot her elopement he went to Europe, and, as far as I am aware, has never returned.” Detective Wilson’s face underwent a most re markable change while Miss Nesmith was ex plaining the mysterious postal. After a few words of explanation he asked pardon for the trouble he had caused the two ladies, and as he opened the door for them to pass out, they were confronted by Elmer Nesmith. “ May I inquire the cause of this visit?” he demanded, gazing wrathfully upon his daugh ter. “ Oh. papa, papa, indeed I cannot tell yon. Evervtning is eo mixed up. It is all the fault of that dreadful Louis Coudert, too I Poor Car— if you would only forgive her “ Fraulien take Miee Nesmith home immedi ately. I met a friend a few momenta ago who informed me that he had just seen my daughter enter this building in charge ol a detective, and you can inwot iW nyfttliw vert. Fxa- pare Caroline’s room, I will telegraph for her to return to her home.” The ladies, only too glad to escape his wrath wended their way homeward. A couple of hours after their arrival there Caroline Coudert rang the bell, and rushing past the servant who opened the door demanded breathlessly: “ W hat does this mean Laura ? Papa sent me this telegram requesting me to take no further steps in the matter, but to come homo immedi ately. Oh, good gracious, there he is ! Tell me quick, what does he mean ?” “ I don’t know Caroline ! Between you and papa and the detectives and things I’m nearly crazy. Now I suppose we will have a scene,” and she burst into tears. “ Laura!” called out Mr. Nesmith. “ Yes, papa,” she replied hastily wiping away the tears that were trickling down her cheeks. “ Is Caroline here ?” “ Yes, sir.” “ Both of you come down to the library.” The two girls gazed at each other in dismay, when they entered the library Mr. Nesmith said sarcastically: “ Well, my daughter, it did not take you Ion", to tire of your music master. What steps have you taken toward procuring a divorce ?” “ Divorce ! I, papa, divorced from Louis.” “ I don’t know why you should be eo amazed,” retorted her father, angrily. “ I followed Laura to the detective’s office, and she confessed that Coudert was entirely to blame. It would have been much wiser if you two girls had informed me what you were about, instead of gadding around with detectives. Have you left Cou dert?” “Left him, papa! W’hy, no; I love him more than ever,” replied the young wife, bravely. “ Why are you trying to get a divorce from him then ?” “lam not trying to get a divorce from Louis, papa.” “Laura told me you were.” “ Gh, papa !” exclaimed that young lady, “ I didn’t say that. I told you Louis was to blame for my going to the detective's office, and so he is; because, if be hadn’t eloped with our Car, her trunk would not have been left in the store room, and, oh, dear ! I would not have had all this trouble.” Laura put her arms around her sister, and the two cried softly for a while; then, through her tears, she explained the curious mistakes to her lather, and added : “Papa, it seems almost as if-God caused all these perplexing things to happen, just to bring Car and you together again.” Mr. Nesmith thought so, too, and that night the despised music-teacher dined with his wealthy father-in-law. and Car whispered : “ Louis, the postal-card did it all.” DEVICES oFi)EADHEAI)B. THE SCHEMES FOR OBTAINING FREE ACCESS 'WTHEATBES. (JVom the Washington Star.) “ I beg your pardon, sir, but is there any ob jection to my taking in my littlo boy with mo ?” said a well-dressed man the other evening to a theatre manager, who, at-tiie time, was stand ing at the window of the box office, and oi whom the speaker bad just purchased a ticket to the orchestra circle. The muscles around the manager’s lipa tightened almost imperceptibly, and a cold gleam shone in his eyes as he peeked through tho orifice at the “ little boy,” who was a well developed youth of ten or twelve, but he answered politely, “ All right; here, you’d bettor hand this’chock to the door tender,” and ho passed out an additional ticket, which the applicant took and walked with his boy into the auditorium. “Lo you Lave many applications of that character for tickets?” asked a Star reporter who witnessed the occurrence. “ Yes,” was the reply, “the children racket is one ot the greatest frauds and nuisances which we encounter. Many people don't realize that a half grown child takes up a chair just as much as an older person, and that when we pass in a child who is old enough to go to the theatre, we are in reality giving a seat away. There is also another trouble connected with tho matter. Just as sure as a man brings in a child once, he will endeavor io pass in two the next time, and if.that is winked at he will come three or lour on you, and thou get angry if you tell him politely that a line must be drawn somewhere.” “ Is there much in the saying, ‘ once a dead head always a deadhead ?’ ” inquired tho Star. “ I should say so,” was the answer. “ Any man who ever entered a theatre without paying lor it, regards himself thereafter as a privileged character, and seems to become conscientiously opposed to paying for his amusement. It oper ates peculiarly in some instances. I used to know a man who was an inveterate theatre goer. He would buy a ticket two or three times a week and enjoy the performance thoroughly. By coming so o'.ten ho struck up an acquaint ance with the doorkeeper, and finally secured tho entree of the house. Well, sir, he was never comrortablo after that. Ho would feel as if ho bad not don© right by paying no admission, and ho fell into tho habit or treating tho attaches of the place to oysters, wino, Cigars, etc., and he would nover witness an entertainment without paying from S 2 to lor the benefit of tho boys lie was manifestly uneasy, but be didn’t know how to get out of ’the habrt. He preferred tho reputation of being a friend, a guest of tho house, to going back to the old custom of pay ing lor his tickets and en eying a play in peace Another thing which draws Irom the receipts is the lithograph dodge and the board-bill privi leges. Formerly the merchants would allow us to place a bill or a picture in their stores and say’nothing about it We recogni ed the kind ness, and would Ireouently acknowledge it by sending passes, but you can see how your dead head maxim works the storekeepers now de mand tickets in payment for the use of the win dow. It is a growing evil, and may eventually do away with this form of advertising.” “ Do government officials ever request tickets as a perquisite of their position?” inquired the reporter. “ Oh, no, not at all. On the contrary, they are among the best paying and most constant attendants wo have. Tho fact is that, with the exception of the two inst mees of the children and the lithographs, Washington is not nearly so much oi a deadbead city as it was formerly. Tho leading papers are restricting tho use of press tickets to the men who are on their im mediate staffs, and you no longer see the butcher, the baker and tho candlestick maker walking in on the pass issued to a newspaper man. The New York correspondents are not recognized by the local management of the thea tre at all, though they frequently receive passes from the managers of the companies playing in tho city.” “You meet with a good many ‘ artful dodg ers,’ don’t you ? ’ queried the reporter. “ Yes, especially when there is any great at traction present. Last Winter when Irving was here it was a common thing for three or four fellows to chip in and buy a ticket. Then, one would see the first act, pass out and hand tho doorkeeper’s check over to the second man in the pool, who would enter and see act num ber two, and they would use the doorkeeper’s check as a circulating medium until the play was finished. The next day each one would swell and brag at his boarding place about see ing the great actor, and would offer criticisms on the methods ot the tragedian, on his com pany and on tho stage settings until the other boarders would turn green with envy. Oh, I know those fellows. I’ve seen ’em operate,” ex claimed the manager. At this point the conversation was inter rupted by a man who, stepping up to the ticket hole, and winking one eye in a mysterious man ner, spoke in a low tone to the disburser of the “open sesames.” The manager listened, nod ded his head, and shoved out a couple of tickets. He then, in a thoughtful, pre-occupied way, drew his wallet from his pocket, and, taking out a two-dollar bill, placed it carefully on the money received during the evening. “ He’s le t his pocket-book at home, and has his girl with him,” said the theatre man, point ing over his shoulder witli his thumb toward the couple who were entering the door. “ I know him, so it's all right,” continued the speaker; “he’ll pay upto morrow ; but I’ve 10-jt hiany a dollar by’doing that kind of a favor. Still,’ they ain’t all bad.” “The boys often come out between the acts ‘to see a man,’ ” added the manager, “ but there are about as many who want to enter the theatre while a scene is on in order‘to see a man,’ especially if the house is crowded. They have all sorts of excuses, and frequently try to sell the doorkeeper by leaving a cane with him while the friend is hunted up. The doorkeeper examines the cane, and finds it costs from ten to fifteen cents, and the interview with the friend is indefinitely postponed. You come up to the office some time when Irving or Patti or some one like them is here, and you will see a few of the schemes which we are compelled to thwart.” J ust then a number of gentlemen came briskly out oi the auditorium, indicating th it the act was over, aud the reporter, after bidding the manager “good-night,” strolled off with the rest of the crowd “ to see a man.” WIIISTLIJGMirWEST. Peculiarities of Butler s Vice-Presiden tial Candidate. (Holly Springs Letter.) The honors of a Vice-Presidential nomination rest easily upon the shoulders ot General West. His fellow-townsmen can’t see that the old gen tleman has undergone any marked change. The general is classed as a member of the Greenback-Labor party, because people can’t put him anywhere else. The fact is, the old gentleman lias a platform of hie own, and is a party all to himself. He used to bring out this platform lor private exhibition occasionally, when political friends called upon him. “ I have prepared—who-00-oo—my views,” (whistle) he would say, “ and embodied them (whistle) In a piatlorm )whistle;. Not that I expect (whistle; to see them adopted (whis tle) by any party in my time (whistle), but that my posterity "(whistle) may know about what my opinions really are,” (whistles). Then he would read them, puuotuating with his pe culiar “ whou-ee-oo.” One night, recently, a crowd of Holly Springs people fell in behind a band and marched out to a typical Southern mansion in the straggling suburbs of this little city. After some music, General West came out on the gallery, and, standing there in his dressing-gown, with a flaring caudle in one hand and manuscript in the other, he proceeded to read to the boys i bov sauch anrnriaad ha was far tha nsaxnaalad honor of their visit, and to discuss the great principles of the party which had nominated him as one of its representatives for the cam paign. The boys shouted encouragingly, and, alter having had a good time, marched down town. The General’s candidacy seemed to be looked upon here as a good joke rather than anything serious. Ho went North after the acceptance, and made a few speeches, but he has returned home again, and is serenely waiting for the “ides of November,” after which he will be en titled to a place in the political history of the country. “Yes,” he said, in reply to a ques tion, “ I’m a candidate for the Vice-Presidency in every State in the Union except my own. I’m not running in Mississippi.” This is liter ally true. No electoral ticket has been put forth for the Greenbaekers of Mississippi to vote for, and none is likely to be in the field. HEADLESS "srOOKS. HOW THEY HOLD FENCE-RAIL CONVENTIONS. (Correspondence of the Globe-Democrat.) In making up a littlo party to be on the look out on the 26th of October, for the occulation of Beta Capricorni by the moon, I am reminded of an amusing instance of negro superstition which fell under my notice during the occurrence of a similar display on May 8, 1883. I was at this time the guest of a charming Mississippi plantation home. * “The place” was a large clearing in the midst of an ancient forest, of giant growth. Stately pines reared their bare branchless trunks with spreading crowns to an exceeding altitude. Magnolias which were said to have withstood the storms of centuries, and by actual measure boasted a girth of sixteen to eighteen feet, threw their dense shadows over the poaceiul home, envelop ng it at night in a pall-like blackness. In delightful contrast to the dusky surroundings, on the night ot the Bth, was the bit of in tensely blue sky, sprinkled with twinkling stars and the silver dust of the milky way. Stopping out upon the gallery, after a late supper, our party’s attention was attracted -by the close approximation of a bright little star and the glittering crescent moon.. Then fol lowed a rarely pretty game of “hide and go seek,” the two bodies drawing nearer to each other, untill the star tilted coqucttishly on the very tip of the moon’s upper horn, then appar ently slid down into its hollow, finally disap peared behind the moon’s dark edge, and was lost to sight tor half an hour or more, when it re-appeared on the bright edge, when the star and satellite parted company, rapidly receding from each other. While absorbed in watching the interesting phenomenon, a groan fell upon our ears, and, turning, we beheld Dan, a neighboring field hand, who, after a day’s labor in cotton-plant ing, was about to return to his own quarters, throe miles distant. There he stood, rooted to the spot, his swarthy face of a gray pallor. “ Why, Dan, what a the matter ?” we queried. For answer, a shaking hand was raised, and a trembling finger pointed skyward. “ Well, what of that ?” wo exclaimed. “ It’s a sign—it’s a sign!” aspirated poor Dan. “ A sign of what ?” we demanded. Groaned tho trembling, herculean fellow: “ It’s a sign de sperrits is abroad; de graves is opened, and headless spooks is gloamin’ about.” “ Why. this is delightful!” I exclaimed. “ Spirits and headless spooks gloaming about! How do they ‘gloam,’ anyway, and how—all headless as they are—do they find their way about ? Do tell us, Dan, just where to meet them. Shall you see any on your way home ? If so, we’ll be delighted to walk a-ways with you and have an introduction.” But such levity was not in keeping with Dan’s harrowed state of mind, and he groaned again as he exclaimed: “Yes, half way home —down by de Black Swamp—aat’s de place—de berry spot wbar de trees and vines meet oberhead—de fireflies blink and de long gray moss makes old men’s beards on de dead Tamaracks. Dar doy rides out ob der graves and sits in dor winding sheets on de rail fences and speaks in holler voices to dem as passes ’long.” “We are all right,” we exclaim, cheerfully. “We understand the deaf and dumb language, and can talk with the best of those headless ones on our lingers in hoLow voices.” Dan shivered, as wo added, pensively : “ Poor things, it’s their last lark—if they sit long to-night in the r winding sheets in the chilly blue mist they’ll be too stiff with rheu matism to climb out of their graves the next time, and if we are going to converse long with them it would bo only doing as we would be done by to take along for their use some com fortable headless wraps.” But Dan refused to lead the way, declaring that it was “ not given ” to “ laughing eyes ” to see such solemn and awiul sii’hts—“ only detn as believed might see visions or dream dreams.” So wo left him, reproachfully assuring him that he had deprived us oi our last chance of peeing a “ spook,” as in our Texas home we had no comfortable rail fences for them to “ set onnothing more hospitable for a resting place than a fence of barbed wire; no dismal swamps, and probably no “gloamings ;” though of tha we were not quite sure. Shortly afterward we heard Dan walking val iantly down the jessamine walk toward the road, tooting vigorously on a tin trumpet to keep his courage up. Th%next morning he was on hand at an unusually early hour, with a fervent story o‘ bis ni/ht’a adventure with a “ whole proces sion ” of ghostly ones. The recital was received with a slight dis count, we having watched him the night before skirt about the place, and without passing the safe boundary of the fence, slip back into the milk-house, where he cheerfully snored away the mystic hours, convinced in his inmost soul that “ discretion was the better part of valor,” and that on “ occultation nights ” it were better for him to keep his woolly head under cover and his “eyes from beholding vanity.” A Remarkable Photograph. THAT OF A TIGER IN THE ACT OF KILLING A BUFFALO. (From the London Telegraph.) A tiger photographed in the very act of kill ing a buffalo is probably an occurrence un paralleled in the annals of tho camera. Yet that such a photograph has actually been taken, is vouched for in the Indian press. The artist, it appears, had focused on the buffalo, which was tied tor the occasion to a tree-stump in the middle of a field, and bad just put a dry plate into the camera, when the tiger, brought up to tha spot for the purpose, went at it, and struck down the great horned beast with a single blow ol his right paw. “My instrument,” says the photographer, “was about seven yards from the buffalo, and the tiger might just as well have come at me if he had chosen to do so, but he preferred the beef, and taking advantage of the moment he bad sprung upon his victim, I re le ised tho spring shutter just as he had given the buffalo his knock-down blow. ’ The negative is good enough to give an au thentic picture from the life of the most terrible of carnivorous beasts at the precise moment when it had stunned its huge prey. The buffalo, though fatally struck, had not even bad time to fall before the “sun picture” ot its dying mo ments was fixed upon the faithful plate, and so there it stands with its knees just giving away under it, and its great head drooping in death. A quarter of a second later and it was lying on the ground lifeless: but on the photographer’s glass it remains forever in the actual attitude of dying, and at the instant when it is drawing its last breath. After slaying the buffalo, the tiger stretched its bead round over the neck and, slipping its mouth down to the buffalo’s throat, lay across it, sucking its life blood. This fact is an extra ordinary one, tor it has long been decided, upon what were considered indisputable observa tions that tho tiger never, by any chance, com menced its meal at the throat. Sometimes, if there were a fight, it would wound its adver sary in that spot; but, as a rule, it trusts to its first blow to break its victim’s neck, and then pulling it down on to the ground, begins to de vour a portion of the hind quarters. "biFguns. How They Are Made at the Philadelphia Navy Yard. (From the Philadelphia News.) Not an anvil stroke or even the monotonous blowing of a forge bellows greets the ear as one walks through t.ie vast iron works into which the navy yard has been turned by the action of Congress on the recommendation of the Secre tary of the Navy. And yet there are close upon I,OJi) men handling the metal which has given its name to the present age. Iron and steel are to be seen in every stage of manu'acture, from the forge and foundry to the finishing shop. fejThe principal feature of interest at present is the construction of the steel cannons for the new cruisers. Nearly 300 men are employed in the ' rduance Department, the main work ot which is these guns. These are oi four sizes— five, six, eight and ten-inch bore, and twelve feet six inches, fifteen, twenty and twenty-six feet long. The process through which they pass is astonishingly complicated to the unini tiated. The forged shafts are prepared away from here and brought in a moro or h as rough st ite. The two larger sizes are imported from Europe and come rough-bored and turned, this being necessary to enable the tempering to be done at the place where they are forged. Tho others are turned out in the rough by the Mid vale Steel Works, Pennsylvania, and are rough bored and turned here, being returned to the works again to have the “ oil temper” given to them, without which they would burst at the first discharge. When returned here they are bored out to within one eighth of an inch of their final in ternal diameter. The “jacket,” a cylindrical piece of iron, made about 8-100 of an inch smaller than the main barrel, and after having been heated to a degree just below that required to change the color of the metal, in the language of the forge to a “ black heat/’ is then shrunk on. The shrinkage on cooling is su Helent to perceptibly decrease the calibre of the shaft or cone by compressing the heavy forged steel. All the processes of turning and boring have to be very slowly performed when steel is Ming worked, and thirty inches a day is the average rate at which a six-inch gun is bored out. The first cut is five inches and a quarter, subsequent rimmiiig-giit iawtMifia it to near the required diameter. The rifling is done with a shall con structed in the yard as are nearly all the ma chines used. Outside the jacket, which extends from tho breech about one-third the length of the gun, are placed a number of steel rings passing be yond it, and to about one-half of the total length. These are also shrunk on. All of the surfaces which are thus brought into contact under such a tremendous pressure, are care fully ground to as near as possible an absolute ly true cylindrical shape, and are, therefore, in actual contact for their whole extent. During all of the handling after the first boring a core is placed in the gun, with the double object of preserving the shape intact and forming a lathe centre. The process of boring and turning the outer surtace can bo carried on simultaneously by an improved double lathe, in use and manu factured in the yard. The exact cast of each gun is kept, every man’s time being charged to the work he is actually engaged upon, and the cost of the material and handling being also ac curately computed. Procession of the Bribe in Cairo. — Friday is the fortunate day for Moslem wed dings in Egypt. One is pretty sure to come across the “ Zoftelel-’Aroossh,” or procession of the bride, at some time or other during that day in the Mooskee, Cairo. The shrill note of the Arabian pipe announces its approach. If it is a bride of an opulent family, a little army of pantomimists is pressed into the service, as much to amuse the spectators as to do honor to the occasion. First we have the two rustice {fellaheen), who are never omitted from a “ fan tasia” of this kind, cudgeling, or rather pretend ing to cudgel, each other with quarter-staves. Then comes a clown, mounted on a camel, beating lustily two kettle-drums, while a melancholy-looking jester, with cap and bells complete, mounted on a sorry jade, is scatter ing stale jokes among the bystanders. There are circus-riders, too, in tights and spangles ; sakkas, or water-carriers, clinking their little brass saucers, and ready to fill them gratuitous ly for any one in the crowd who asks; a man with a vessel containing rose-water, which be sprinkles now and then on either side of him, and a bevy of young white-vailed maidens, walking two and two, all preceding the little bundle of cashmere shawls and petticoats shuffling along under a silken canopy. More players playing strange stringed instruments and more drummers beating drums close the firocession, which, amid cries of warning de ivered right and left to ladies on their don keys and sheihks in their slippers, squeezes its way through the teeming street. A Romantic Incident. —At the last piano-forte competition in connection with the English Royal Academy of Music, in which nearly two thousand amateurs took part, a youth of eleven years of age occupied a dis tinguished position. His name was bracketed among the seventy-five successful students, and the list was published in a leading news paper. Alter several weeks had passed by, Lis parents were surprised to receive a letter from a gentleman in Wpain offering to adopt tho youth. Tho father disregarded the letter, but the mother, with the instinct natural to her sex, determined to make “ further inquires.” She went to the Spanish Embassy in London, and was there informed that the correspondent was a grandee, was passionately fond of music and very wealthy. A letter was then sent to him asking for further particulars, and he replied by paying a personal visit to the parentsof the youth. Negotiations were drawn up and signed, and a few days ago the Spanish count and the youthful musician left this country together. If at the end of twelve months the adopted son desires to return home he is to be permit ted to do so; but if, in the meantime, the parents wish to visit him, the Spanish noble will defray all their traveling expenses. Bourdelot and His Violin. —The elo quent French preacher Bourdelot was a per former on the violin, and a story is told that he was once appointed to preach oh Good Friday, and the proper officer to attend him, having ar rived at his home, was directed to his study. As he approached he heard the sound of a vio lin, and, the door being a little open, he saw Bourdelot, stripped to his cassock, playing a brisk tune upon the instrument and dancing about the room. He was much surprised, and knocked at the door, when the distinguished divine laid down his instrument, and, putting on his gown, told the officer, with his usual composed look, that he was ready to attend him On their way, his companion expressed to Bourdelot his surprise at what he had seen, who replied that he might be, unless acquainted with his practice on these occasions. Gn think ing over the intended subject of his discourse, he found he was too depressed to treat it as he ought, and so he had recourse to his usual method, some music, with a little bodily exer cise, and thus put himself into a proper frame of mind to do with pleasure what would other wise have been a work of pain and labor. A Night of Peril. —Says the Leeds (Eng.) Mercury: A strange story of an escape was recently told us. A collier lad, going across a heath returning from his “ turn ” one evening, suddenly slipped into a bole, but by some means managed to grasp the edge, and so held on by his fingers to this treacherous but only safeguard. The evening passed into the dusk, star a:ter star came out, but no moon: hour af ter hour dragged on, and still the hapless minor gripped the edge of the shaft over which he hung with the tenacity of despair. At last dawn broke slowly, then gray light stole over the heath, breaking through the morning’s mists, when he saw a party of mates passing at a distance. He called loudly for help. Guided by the voice they came. Still more nervously did he cling—in a few moments he might be sa'e. Then, as two strong arms grasp each of his wrists firmly, he ventures to look down the dreadful depths. One glance is enough: that one look tells him that his feet are within four inches of the bottom. It is to be feared that in his orisons the collier lad was not as thankful tq. Providence as he should have been. Oysters for Dyspepsia. —lt is not as generally understood as it should be that oysters have medicinal (jualities of a high order. They are not only nutritious, but wholesome, especially in cases of indigestion. It is said “ there is no other alimentary substance, not even excepting bread, that does not produce in digestion under certain circumstances; but oysters, never.” Oyster juice promotes diges tion. By taking oysters daily, indigestion, sup posed to bo almost incurable, has been cured; in fact, they are to be regarded as one of the most healthful articles of food known to man. Invalids who have found all other kinds of food disagree.with them frequently discover in the oyster the required aliment. Haw oysters are h’ghly recommended for hoarseness. Many of the leading vocalists use them regularly before concerts and operas; but their strongest re commendation is the remarkably wholesome influence exerted upon the digestive organs. Intermarriage of Cousins. —The prevalent idea that the offspring of the inter marriage of first cousins are specially liable to be below the average, intellectually and physi cally, is not found to be sustained by good evi dence. Mr. G. H. Darwin, in a very carefully prepared paper, read before the Statistical Soci ety, comes to the conclusion, as tho result of close comparison of all the records available, that the evidence will not “enable anyone to say positively that the marriage of first cousins has any effect in the production of insanity or idiocy * * * With respect to deaf mutes, there is no evidence whatever of any ill results accruing to the offspring in consequence of the cousinship of their parents.” And again : “It tends to invalidate the alleged excessively high death-rate among the offspring of cousins.” And once more: “The sa est verdict seems to be that the charge against consanguineous mar riages on this head is not proven.” Vermin in Mexico. —Says a letter to the Buffalo Netos : Not only is the earth infest ed with fleas -so large that I dare not describe them, and so numerous that our donkeys, wading for days through the hot sand, become literally black with them—and gnats, mosqui toes and stinging insects in unending numbers, but the venturesome traveler is obliged to pro tect iKnsell from a thousand before unheard of burrowing and crawling creatures by wearing a thick black veil so closely tucked inside that no glimpse of face or neck is visible, long leather gauntlets, and tho tallest of leather boots, se curely tied at the top. Bosy and i did not pride ouiseb ©8 much upon stylo as we sallied forth on mule-back thus caparisoned, and even “Solomon in all fc-’s glory was not arrayed like one o<these.” yeti decline to take a Bible oath that we entirely escaped, despite all precautions. Killed by Electricity. —Says the Buffalo Express : Three men fortuitously stepped into the electric light works in the citv of Syracuse on Wednesday evening at dusk. One of them was observed to casually stoop over and reach out his hands toward a thirty-light dynamo mneh’ne. Instantly he was drawn close to the generator without noise, and with out uttering a sound. He had unwittingly ; rasped the positive and negative rods, and was dead. A moment before he had been boasting ot his electrical knowledge. When it wa attempted to remove the body, pieces ot the skin adhered to the rods. The contraction of the muscles of the body was so great that h s legs and arms were drawn out of shape, and his head drawn forward so that the chin pressed tightly against the chest. Born Without Ears, but Made to Hear.— Saya the Newcastle (Pa.) Neios.- Living in North Beaver township, this county, is a man named Wilson, who has a little daughter aged two years, and which was born without ears. On one side of the face there was no sign of an outward ear, the side being perfectly smooth, while on the other side there wrb a little carti lage but it had grown over the canal The oth er organs of the child were perfect, with the ex ception of the jaw, which was badlv shaped. On Sunday the physicians performed the dip cult operation of making an opening, and found a perfect inner ear by cutting through the in tegument to the bony opening into the inner ear They then formed as perieet an outer ear r> s possible from the flesh, and the little one is ’ able to hear perfectly* Mushroom Poisoning. —A number ol cases of mushroom poisoning have occurred in the French provinces, which prove once again the danger of persons gathering and eating mushrooms, unless they are thoroughly ac quainted with them. Near Bordeaux is an asy lum for boys, and the cook of t£e establishment gathered some mushrooms and served them up for the lads evening meal. Thirteen boys, with their master, partook of the dish. All wer© taken seriously ill a few hours afterward, and eleven of the children have died, in spite oS medical endeavors to counteract the eflects of the poisonous fungus. On the same day at Lyons, a family of five persons fell sick under identical circumstances. They had been eat ing mushrooms gathered by the mistress of tho household, who herself lies at the point of death, and has been the involuntary cause ol the death of three of her children. The third case of the kind happened at St. Etienne. A mother with her three grown up sons gathered some mushrooms, which were taken home, cooked, and eaten. Tho same night they all be came alarmingly ill, and before medical attend ance could be procured two of tho young men were dead. Their mother expired shortly after ward, and the life of the remaining member of this unfortunate family is almost despaired of. The warning conveyed by these sad occurrence© ought not to be thrown away on persons who are in the habit of trusting to their own knowl* edge of mushrooms. The Effect of Chloroform. —A Bor* deaux paper relates a somewhat incredible in cident as having occurred there recently. A pedestrian in the vicinity of the Rue St. Jacques observing only sleepers in the shops, ran to in form the police of the strange occurrence, the cause of which was quickly discovered. The employees of a large druggist establishment in the street had carelessly overturned on the pavement a huge receptacle filled with chloro form, and the authors ot the accident were th© first to suffer from its effects. The street being a narrow, ill-ventilated one, the vapors of the powerful drug did not escape, the consequence being that ail the tradespeople on the ground floors were rendered insensible. The restora tives, speedily administered, brought them round before long. ; Illegitimacy in Italy.— A Venice let ter to the Philadelphia BuVetin says: Italian economists are beginning to feel anxious about the rapid increase in the number of illegitimate births registered in that country. It has in deed risen by some twenty thousand in the last ten years, but the returns show that the births are very unevenly distributed. The proportion to the population is highest in Venice and soma of the wealthier towns in Lombardy; it is very low in the Abruzzi and the poorest districts* Its cause is therefore probably to be sought in a temporary rise of the standard of comfort among the bourgeoise, which makes people with their multiplying wants and luxuries a raid of tho responsibil ties of marriage, more than m any decay of the national morality. An Emperor’s Amusement, —A favorite amusement of Dom Pedro 11., of Brazil, is to leave his gorgeous turnout in a side street, and, a ;eomnanied by a grayhaired chamberlain and a stalwart lifeguardsman, walk the distance'of a square or more to a manufactory or other establishment and surprise the proprietor and employees by his sudden and unannounced ap pearance among them. Of course ho is given the liberty of the establishment, and he tikes his time in examining the machinery and modus operandi. With a kind word of encouragements and commendation, he goes away, perhaps to pay a similar visit to another establishment. visits lie makes impartially to the mechanical and mercantile controlled by foreigners as well as natives. A Cause of Defective Eyesight.— The colors of paper and ink, says a writer in th< Scientific Monthly, are far more responsible lot defective eyesight than cross-lights from oppo* site windows, light shining directly in the face, insufficient light, or small type. If these wers remedied the principle cause of tho mischief would still remain, the real root of the evil be* ing tho universally-used black ink and white paper. These, says tho writer in question, are ruining the sight of all the reading nation St Ho argues that the rays of the sun are reflected by a white body and absorbed by a black one, and that we print our newspapers and books in direct opposition to the plainest correct princi ples of optical science. A Bee’s Working Tools.—Natural ists say that tho feet of the common working be® exhibit tho combination of a basket, a brush and a pair of pincers. The brush, the hairs of which are arranged in symmetrical rows, are only to be seen with the microscope. With this brush of fairy delicacy the bee brushes its velvet rob© to remove the pollen dust with which it be comes loaded while sucking up the ne ‘tar. An other article, hollowed like a spoon, receives all the gleanings which the insect carries to th© hive. Finally, by opening them, one upon an other by means of a hinge, these two pieces be came a pair of pincers, which render important service in the construction of the combs. Something New in Bat looking.— A German engineer named Fisher, has made an important discovery in aeronautics, by which be is enabled to condense or expand the gas in a balloon. The agent he employs is compress ed carbonic acid, with the help of which he can ascend or descend at pleasure. This perpen dicular movement puts it in tho power of th© aeronaut to go up or down until he finds a cur rent of air moving in the horizontal direction he wishes. Military critics attribute great im portance to this discovery, be- ause in time of war a balloon will be able to reach the enemy’s territory and ascend again without requiring a fresh supply of gas. The Oldest Inhabitant. —Christophe? Mann, or “Uncle Chris,” the oldest man in Missouri, lives on a hilltop from which, even with his dim eyes that saw the light 1.10 years ago, he can see Kansas City, Wyandotte, inde pendence and Liberty. When ho built his cabin there not another human habitation was in view. “ Uncle Chris ” was a personal friend of Daniel Boone, and he has a grudge against “ Bill Har rison ” to this day. The “ Bill Harrison ” was none other than General William Henry Harri son, once President, who, when a tavern-keeper in Ohio, overcharged “ Uncle Chris ” for a night’s lodging. Royal Hunting. —The forests of Ger many and Austria afford materials for hunting on a grand scale, and Bismar -k himself finds relief from the cares of state in pursuing such lordly game as stags and wild boar. The King of Saxony and Prince William of Prussia are now taking part in the greai hunts which th© Emperor of Austria lias organized in the moun tains of Styria, while two other members of th® imperial familv, the Archduke Rudolnhe and the Princess Stephanie, who are visiting th© King of Roumania, are participating in the bear hunts which have been arranged for their en tertainment. The Great Astatic River. — The Yangtszo-kiang, or Blue River, of China, usually called the Ta-kiang, or Great River, rises in th© high central plateau of Tibet. It extends from 88° E. to 122® E., covering in its winding course a distance of some three thousand miles, of which two thousand are navigable The main stream is formed by three branches having their con "lienee in 94° E., 34° .50' N., where it© breadth in the dry weather is seven hundred and fifty feet, and in the Summer rains over a mile. Its level here is t-h.rtucn thousand feet above the sea. Ballooning for Health. —The com ing health resort, says tho Boston Herald, is to be in the upper air. Bv and by, instead of going some thousands of miles across land or water to reach a salubrious climat---, the invalid will go up in a balloon, and a lively imagination can picture a pretty little hotel, built of paper or something of that sort, anchored high abo- e th© foul odors of our lower air, where pure oxygen will minister to the needs of the sick Such a dream isn’t half as startling as a hundred which have been realized with the last century or two. Money Circulation of the World.— The director of tho mint has prepared a state ment in regard to the present money circulation in thirty-nine countries of the world as com pared with the circulation as reported a year ago, which shows a decrease in the gold circula tion of about ; ; 52,000,01i0, an increase in the silver circulation of $42,000,0 'O, an increase in paper circulation of ?H-',O He attrib ute the loss in go’d circnl t’on to a reduced production and to the increased use of that, metaloin ornamentation and the arts. A Historic Grave.— Fredericksburg. Virginia, lays claim to the distinction of be ng the burial place of i dward H< Idon, a enn enq o rary and one er the pall- earers of the immortal- Shakespeare. A red sandstone slab marked the grave m St. George’s c iurchyard until it was misplaced by Burnside, who cut a road through* the burial ground and removed the stone to th© Masonic cemetery, where it now lies under a locust tree. It was in I'rederi -ksbnrg that the mother of Washington lived alter she became a. widow and reared her family. A New Fruit. —A Los Angeles. Cal. r gentleman has brought from Guatemala a pla it called the “melon shrub,” which grows to jb© bight of about threeWeet. It is nn evergreen, with a beautiful pur le and white : ower, and bears a fruit shaped like a rifled cannon shell, about four inches long by rom n>o to three m hed in diameter, a melon of most excell nt taste, with the outside streaked with yellow and brown, and on the inside the «‘ob r o a canta loupe. The shrub blossoms and bears in four months, from the seed. The Oldest and Largf-st —The oldest and largest tree in the world, so far as known, is a chestnut near the loot ot Mount Etna. It is hollow and large enough to admit two carriages driving abreast through it. Ihe circumterence of the main trunk is two hundred and twelve leet. The Arnrrioan Grizzly Giant, monarch of the Mariposa Grove, measures ninety-two feet. In the Diamond Dyke more coloring is given than in any known dyes, and they give faster and more brilliant colors, inc. at all druggist.. Wells, Hichard.cn z Co., Bnrlinz ton. Vt. Sample card, colors, aud book M direction* lor Ze. elarno.