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6 THE WATER FAY. BY HEINRICH HEINE. The evening darkness slowly The sea with mists blurs o’er; With mystic murmurs rushing The wave steps white ou shore. Steps from the wave the mermaid— Beside me sinks to rest, And from its vesture stealing Escapes her loam-white breast. She bound me to her bosom And strained with passionate might; " How fast thine arms are pressing, Thou lovely water sprite I” ••Fast in my arms I press thee. Fast to my bosom hold; I strive from thee to warm me The evening is so cold.” " The moon grows ever paler On yonder cloudy bight; Thine eyes are wet and troubled. Thou lovely water sprite.” "They are not wet with weeping, Tho’ fast and free they rain; Bnt in mine eyes from ocean These showers of drops retain.” The mournful sea-mew calleth And angrier grows the bay; "Thy heart is striking wildly. Thou lovely Water Fay.” "My heart is striking wildly And wild my bosom’s storm, Unspeak’ngly I love thee, Thou darling human form I” PLEADING FOR i FURLOUGH. A Reminiscence of Lincoln and Stanton. BY CHARLES K. BISHOP. It was Fred Walton, an energetic young man of nineteen, who thus addressed his mother: “ it lather does not obtain a furlough this week, I’ll go to Washingt -n myself and seek an inter, iew with President Lincoln, who is too kind-hearted a man to refuse to grant a reason able request if presented t > him in the right wav. It is necessary that father should be here to attend to his property, for which he has been offered a considerable advance upon the price paid tor it a lew years ago.” “ I kn ;w that, my son,” said Mrs. Walt n, in reply, “ but what chance have you to pre ail up n the authorities in Washington to allow your father to come home, when even the mem ber ot Congress from this district has failed to make an impress! n upon the Secretary of War, without whose consent the President has dis tinctly said the furlough will not be issued ?” •• I ve thought of all that, mother, but, as I have said, Mr. Line In has a kind heart, and if I can obtain an audience with him, 1 think I shall be able to so put my request as to achieve for it a ready compliance.” “ You have my c nsent to go, Fred, if you feel so confident that you’ll succeed. I know that y. u have perseverance and persistency, and will make both felt in y. ur mission to the National Capital.” A week rolled by, and as all efforts in the in terim had failed to accomplish the end in view, Fred Walton left New York city on his errand of duty. But he had something more than a business interest to urge upon the attention of the Presi dent. His mother bad been in a decline for some time past, and the doctors gave no hope of prolonging her life bey; nd a tew months. His lather had enlisted for the war, and it promised to be a protracted one. Hence the necessity of pleading anew for a furlough. On Fred's arrival in Washington he repaired at once to the residence of the gentleman who represented, in part, the 1 mpire City. He found him in, and asked to be introduced to the President as early as convenient. The next day was named for the interview, but the mem ber of Congress gave Fred no encouragement as to a satisfactory result. At the time of which we write the government had made up its mind to prosecute the war of the rebellion with great er vigor than it had before done. The Secre tary of War had announced that few furloughs would be granted in the future, and those only in cases of extreme necessity. Beside which an important f rward movement was in contem plation and every officer and man in each corps Was expected to be in his place. It was under these disadvantages that the y; uth, Fred Walton, made his first visit to the White House in behalf ol his father. Mr. Lin coln received him very kindly, b.t reiterated in str ng terms the reas ns why his father could not be furloughed. He said he felt very sorry for all concerned, but under the circumstances he could not be more indulgent to one than to another. In vain Fred urged the delicate health of his mother. The President c uld not be moved. He had put his foot d >wn, and evi dently meant to keep it there. Naturally a man of the most tender feelings, he had been so im fiosed upon during the progress of the war, that t seemed he had determined to show very lit tle of the favor and affection hereto! re as cribed to him. Was our young friend dismayed? Yes, for awhile; but having slept upon the President’s refusal, he thought he would urge his suit be fore the Secretary of War. He was not un aware of Mr. Stanton’s peculiarities. He had seen him held up to the public gaze as almost a monster, but lie knew he was a human being notwithstanding, and so with set lips and a con fident manner he called upon the grim Secre tary. He called alone, so that if repulsed, no one but himself would know how be had been received. To his surprise be found Mr. Stanton comparatively unengaged and disposed to listen with interest to what lie bad to say. But Fred saw that no ordinary reasons would suffice to procure the long-sought-for furlough, and so he dwelt upon the slender thread upon which his mother’s existence hung, and in bringing his remarks to a close, alluded to the faithful ness with which his father, who held the com mission of second lieutenant, had discharged his duties. “ I know your father quite well,” said the Secretary, “ and a better disciplinarian is not to be found in bis company, ana for that reason I was amazed to learn that he had begged for a furlough for business purposes. No one knows better than he how the issuing of furloughs has been abused, and at this juncture to ask to go home I regarded as an unsoldiorly solicita tion; but your mother’s frail condition, not be fore told to me, has put your application in a new light, and it you can persuade the Presi dent to make your father’s case an exception to the rule he has laid down, I will give the order for a brief furlough.” Mr. Stanton here signified that the interview was at an end and Fred Walton retired from his presence, after thanking him for his courtesy and conditional promise. But how was he to approach Mr. Lincoln again ! He was apprehensive of offending him with another appeal, and. beside, it was not al ways easy to gain access to the executive cham ber. Should he wait another day ? Alas ! there was no help for it, tor on going to the White House he was informed that the Presi dent was indisposed and perhaps would not be able to see visitors for a day or two. Poor Fred ! was his mission, after all, to be a fruitless one ? We shall see. The day following the announcement of the President’s sickness, Fred sauntered into Willard’s Hotel, and almost the first words he heard were in the form of a salutation addressed to Col. B , who commanded the regiment in which Fred’s father was an officer. The gentleman who had accosted Col. B was the same member of Congress who had interested himself in Fred’s task, but who had ceased to make any energetic efforts in his favor, believing it to be “ love’s labor lost.” Fred was not personally acquainted with Col. B , but as soon as courtesy would admit, he made his presence known to the two friends who were in conversation, and an introduction to the colonel soon followed. Fred did not hesitate to urge Col. B to aid him in behalf of his father, and soon got from him a pledge to see Mr. Lincoln on the subject. He said he had simply acquiesced in Lt. Wal ton’s application for a furlough, as he had no objections to his receiving one, it the Secretary Of War did not object, but now that he had been apprised of the pressing necessity for it, he would use his best influence with those in authority to have it granted. The night after this meeting with Col. B brought but little sleep to poor Fred. Just be fore retiring he had received a dispatch from New York, stating that his mother had had a severe hemorrhage of the lungs, and advising him to return home as soon as possible. He was comparatively a youth, but he had the feel ings of a man, and it was some time ere he could compose hie thoughts for serious reflec tion. He loved his mother more than his own life, and his first impulse was to take the earliest train for New York, but if he did so his father would not be given his furlough, and his mother would have to die without seeing the husband to whom she had always been de votedly attached. A man of mature years would have been sorely puzzled as to the pro per course to pursue, and the reader may easily imagine why a young man like Fred Walton should be in doubt. At last he recalled to mind the promised visit of Col. B to the White House, and he made a resolution to try and be there at the same time with that officer. He might injure his cause by too much importunity, but he would take the risk. At an early hour the next day he walked upto the Executive Mansion, and lingered at the door until he saw Colonel B , true to his promise, enter it. Inquiring of the usher the condition of the President’s health, he was told that it was better, and that he was receiving a few visitors. He sent in his card with mingled emotions of hope and despair. The President might refuse to see him at all, and it he did, his only expectation of success would rest upon Col. B , who was then probably in conference upon the subject. The five minutes Fred had to wait for the return of the usher seemed a great deal longer, but he did not complain, as at the end of that time he was invited to take a seat in the ante-room until Mr. Lincoln was dis engaged. Once more the heart of our youthful friend bounded with hope. He felt assured that though the President bad refused recog nition of his father’s claims upon Executive clemency, he was not prejudiced against him, and that he was willing to give him one more hearing. And he was right. Col. B had £ leaded so strongly for his father that Mr. incoln had been visibly agitated, though he •till adhered to tho resolution, as preyiouslv stated, not to issue any more furloughs to sol diers capable of duty in the field. No persons save the President and Col. B were in the audience-chamber when Fred was ushered in, and he noticed that the first named, though pale from illness, wore a more smiling countenance than on his last visit. He had just received news of some substantial Union vic tories in the West, and that recruiting for th© army was more rapid than for a long time pre viously. It he now granted furloughs he could do so without harm to the public weal. Fred, of course, did not know the* cause of the Presi dent’s smiles, but he was encouraged to make his last appeal as touching and forcible as it was in his power to make it, and as he referred to his mother’s serious illness, and the probability that it would be his father’s last chance to see his wife alive, he could discern signs of relent ing on the part of his distinguished hearer. As soon as he closed his remarks, and before the President could say a word, Col. B followed up the good impression Fred had made, and spoke with such effect that it seemed impossible to combat his arguments. But Mr. Lincoln was eminently a just man, and he tried to be consistent in all his public acts. He admired the youth before him, and he knew Col. B to be a good officer; one not easily swerved from a soldiers duty; still he hesitated to grant the favor asked him; and it is probable that Lieut. Walton would never have seen his wife alive again had not Secretary Stanton made his appearance at that particular juncture. He had hastened from his office to read io the President a dispatch he had just received regarding some very successful move ments of the army and navy on the Southern coast, and being in a jubilant mood himself he communicated his spirits to the President, who suddenly said: “ Stanton, these successes should be cele brated, don’t you think so?” Before the Secretary could reply, Col. B exclaimed: “ Mr. Secretary, I know you have now no Objections to seeing Lieut. Walton furloughed. Suppose you suggest to the President that he celebrate in part, our recent victories by grant ing the prayer now’ under consideration.” “ With all my heart,” eaid Stanton. “ What do you say, Mr, President ?” Mr. Lincoln hesitated a moment; then a smile stole over his wonted sad face, as he responded: “Have your own way, gentlemen. I yield for this once.” Half an hour later the furlough was sent to its destination, and Fred hastened to New York where he found that his mother had rallied a little, and that she might live a few weeks longer. We have only to say that her long absent husband arrived in time to soothe her last moments, and that to the day of his death he never forgot the efforts made by his idolized son-now a prosperous man-to procure him bis first and last furlough during the war. THE A PLEASANT LOVE STORY. “ My dear old fellow,” said Bartley, “you can no more afford such a wife than you can afford a steam yacht or an ivory-mounted billiard ta ble.” “There’s no occasion to tell me that,” mourn fully replied Dr. Dale. “I’m quite aware of it already. If I were rich I’d marry Miss Clarke to-morrow—always providing that she thought me worthy of acceptance—but I am only a strug gling young doctor. I’ll do my best to keep away from her fascinations in the future.” “A sensible decision,” observed Bartley. “But she so is pretty 1” yearningly remarked Dr. Dale. “Stick to your colors, man !” cried Bartley. “Clieey Clarke is nothing on earth but a society belle. What you want is a helpful, willing, working bee for a wile—one that can aid you with heart and hand to climb life’s hill. You saw Miss Clarke at the Winfield masquerade last night m white satin and pearls ?” “And very beautiful she looked,” cried the voung physician, firing suddenly up at the recol lection of Miss Clarke’s auburn hair, all twisted with ropes of seed pearl, violet blue eyes, sparkling with a girlish animation. “Did she look like a poor man’s wife?” “ No,” hesitatingly. He recollected,..now, that he had said some thing to Clissy about going to the Clarke cot tage that day. “It won’t do,” he said to himself’ “I had better keep away.” And so, instead of following the dearest incli nation o: his heart, he betook himself with Spar tan resolve to the public library, “ I’ll read up that case on the investigation of cholera microbes,” he thought. “If a man ex pects to make any mark in his profession he must keep posted up in these modern discover ies of science.” So he disappeared in one of the alcoves of the library with the medical quarto and his memo randum-book, and set to work in good earnest. But he had not fairly entered into the microbe question when the twitter of sweet girl voices from the adjoining alcove struck upon his ear. “Oh, Clissy Clarke 1” said one. “I called for her and she wouldn’t came. It was baking-day, and there was Clissy, up to her elbows in flour and spices.” “ Well, I never I” said the other, with a gig gle. “ Oh, she does all the housework I” said the first speaker, scornfully, “ like any hired serv ant. Even the fine washing—they only keep one little bound girl—and Mr. Clarke doesn’t wear a shirt unless Clissy has ironed it.” “ How does she find time for her music and oil painting ?” asked a second. “Uh, she rises at dawn. She says the best time of the working day is before breakfast. She finishes the housework, sews for the fami ly ” “ Makes all her own dresses, don’t she ?” “ Yes, and her mother’s too! That satin dress she wore at the party last night was her grandmother's bridal gown made over, and the pearls were borrowed from Miss Layton. It doesn’t cost her anything to dress. She’ll take the horridest old affair, remodel it with a scrap of ribbon or a panel of velvet until you’d think it was made by a French dressmaker. I de clare I wish I had her knack. Papa is always grumbling about my bills. But that ain’t all. Do you know she gives Bessie Layton music lessons apd earns quite a nice little income for herself? And she writes book reviews and things for the newspapers, and keeps Mr. Clarke in books that way. “Dear me!” said the other, with a yawn, “ who at the party last night would think of it?”. “ Humph !” remarked the other, “ she’ll live and die an old maid, see if she don't. Such girls always do. Come, here are our novels at last. Let’s go.” Tfie perfumed silken flounces rustled out of the library ; the sound of chattering voices died away, and still Dr. Dale sat with his pencil in hand, staring down at. his memorandum book. It seemed that the gloomy vail which bad drop ped between him and his future life was lifted. In his heart he could have blessed the angel tongues of those idle, gossiping girls. Clissy, then, whs no mere butterfly, but a true, noble-hearted working girl! He carried back the ponderous medical tome to the assistant librarian. “Much obliged,” be remarked, succinctly. “Got through with it pretty quick, haven’t you?” said the assistant librarian. “ Yes, I have had very good luck this morn ing,” said the doctor, cheerfully. He went straightway to the cottage on the outskirts of the village where Clarissa Clarke lived. An apple-cheeked little brother came to the door to answer the knock. “Yes, Clissy’s at home,” said he. “But she’s fixing a chicken for papa’s dinner. And then she’s got my trousers to mend. Clissy can’t come up stairs.” But Dr. Dale laughingly pushed his way across the threshold. “ I’ll come in and wait,” said he. In five minutes Clissy came in, looking even prettier, if it were a possible thing, in her calico morning dress than she had in the white satin and pearls the evening before. How he happened to speak out the dearest wish of his heart Dr. Dale never quite knew. He had prepared a form of words on the way, but they bad vanished utterly out of his mind when the eventful moment came. He could only remember that she stood before him in all her fresh young beauty, like a human apple blossom, and that be loved her. But after be had her hand in his, one arm thrown caressingly around her waist, he told her of the morning occurrence. “Until then, dearest,” he said. “I looked upon you as a sort of unattainable luxury—a star to be worshiped afar off only. I knew I was only a village doctor, with more ambition than practice—for the present at least. But now I feel that I may venture to hope. Will you run the risk of sharing my scanty fortunes, Clissy ?” “ Willingly,” she said, looking up into bis face with her frank, blue eyes. “ And, to tell the truth,” she added, smiling a little shyly, “1 am almost glad that you are not a rich man. Because, dear, I shall be so glad, so proud to help you in my humble way.” a pockeFbatFtub. The Mischief Wrought by a Patent in a Once Happy Family. ((From, the Washington Critic.') Closely following the printed instructions the young lather rested the rim of the tub on two chairs, filled the aldermanic bulge of rubber cloth with tepid water and in the pretty little lake be placed the baby. So far all was lovely. Tho baby crowed just like the one in the picture, and the tub—like the colored troops in the war—behaved nobly. The mother was called to the pretty parlor, and the delighted father de cided to join the revels of his bov and thus thoroughly test the endurance of the tub. The sounds ot aqueous revelry were at their bight. The mother below was telling of the new tub, and father and boy were as happy as pollywoge in a country pool, laughing together and freely splashing the rubber cloth that was spread . over the floor. ' \ Even the centre of gravity belonging to the two chairs was disturbed by the gayety of the | bathers. These useful bits of furniture finally took an active part in the proceedings, and, gently bowing forward, laid down on the porta! ble bath-tub. They were intelligent chairs and probably wanted to bathe their eight legs. Then the happy home seemed to be given up to the damp caresses of a water-spout. In the nursery there was a mingling ot chair-leu-s, bare-lcgs, rubber, soap, sponges, towels, yells NEW YORK DISPATCH, JULY 18, 1886. in • high key and swears in the bass clef, while the water stood two inches deep. In the parlor there was first heard a “dull tb<id,” then the trickling of water from the prettily papered ceiling and subsequently the crash ot a hundred weight of plaster upon a five-hundred-dollar piano. It is a good place to draw the vail. That portable bath-tub (patented) will not accom pany the family to the country. The family will not go. The baby has the croup, the father a sprained back, the mother a full set of disor dered nerves, and the bill for repairs to family and home has taken nearly all the money saved for the Summer’s pleasure. The closest friend of the young lawyer would not dare to mention in the latter’s hearing the baleful words, “Portable bath-tub.” HALF-MAD MONARCHS. Benefits Which Subjects Derive From That Kind of King. {Paris Letter to the London Truth.) I had a talk a few evenings since with Cle menceau, Dr. Ball, the Forbes-Winslow of Paris, and some other physiologists about your theory, that a mad king is the best kind of a monarch for his subjects. They agreed with you. But they said it is not often a nation could get a monarch whom it is possible to class as a lunatic from the first hour of his reign, like Otho, the present King of Bavaria. What is dangerous is a gradual run down from weak ness of mind to madness. In a descent of that kind George 111. lost America, and committed England to her long war against revolutionary Franco, and to the Irish policy which the Grand Uld Man is now trying to undo. Philip 11,, it is now shown, was in a state of semi-lunacy when he became the gritnd chm pion Ql orthodoxy against heresy, and fitted out tne Armada. Mary Tudor’s sanguinary policy toward her heretical subjects is now explained by a condition of neurosis, the germs of which came to her from Catherine of Amagon, sister of Joanna the Insane. It Mary had lived a little longer she would probably have been locked up by Philip, as her aunt had been, and died in a state of dementia. The Emperor Paul's semi insanity was prevented by the courtiers who murdered him from developing into full-blown madness. But he contrived, in the short period during which he was on the throne, to do a lot of mischief Charles XII. found Sweden a strong State, but, owing to the bee that was in his bounet, he left it incurably crippled, and, so far as its Livoniau and Finland provinces went, at the mercy of Russia. He unquestionably had mili tary genius, but he was as indubitably a “crank” (as the Americans say) in everything else. What saved Bavaria from utter ruin un der Ludwig 11., was the aversion in which he held politics and administrative business, and his passion for art. He never troubled himself about government so long as he was able to pay for his artistic freaks. Spain, through semi lunacy of her Hapsburg kings—from Philip 11. to Charles il.—descended from the rank of a first-class nation to the miserable condition in which she was in the time o‘ Louis Quatorze. Had they been whole-daft, like Joanna, men ot ability might have governed in their name. I have a theory that no human being is good enough to be allowed impunity, and that wealth and power with irresponsibility, tend to make men mad. There are certainly few monarchs now who, politically speaking, are all-powerful, but courtiers treat them as if they were, and their palaces remove all checks from the exor cise of their will, however irrational or evil it may be. The late King of Prussia became in sane in 1848, but he was permitted to govern for eleven years after. The naturally affecti nate disposition of Queen Isabella being allowed to run riot by the impunity her situation gave her, led her to invert certain texts of the Koran, and then live according to them. It is impossible to read all the correspondences about Caroline of Naples and her numerous paramours with out regarding her as a semi-lunatic, much more dangerous than if she were wholly demented. The semi-mad in private lite should be left alone.' Tho chances are that they will never stand in need ot the strait waistcoat, and will be able to manage their own little affairs fairly well. Poor Ludwig was not all bis life insensible to feminine beauty. He once (it was in 1866) fell in love with a princess who was one ot six sisters. She had the untamed air of a wood nymph, was passionately fond of sylvan sports, of dogs, horses, and the excitement of hunting. As she lived on the edge of a romantic sheet of water, on which she often shot out in a iigh t skiff, he called her ‘The Lady of the Lake.” It pleased him to come and woo her in secret, and if he bad a fault to find with her it was that she was too coy. An offer of marriage was made and accepted. When preparations were being carried on for the wedding, Ludwig, who was fond of coming unawares on those he loved, to afford them agreeable surprises, came with a band of wandering musicians, disguised as a minstrel, to serenade his betrothed. He ap proached through a wild wood her father’s cas tle a little in advance of hrs musical comrades. What did he see in a glade ? His betrothed toying with the locks of the groom who had been attending her on an equestrian excursion. He was sitting on a rock and she was standing beside him, with her waist encircled by one of his arms. The king rushed to kill both, and, as he was tall and muscular, he might have done so had not the other minstrels come to save them. He denounced her to her father, a bluff German. She denied the evidence of his eyes, and said that, being subject to hallucina tions, he fancied he saw what never happened. This caused him to relapse into the misogynous state, from which he never recovered, and he got to hate even his own mother. As the musicians never gave their evidence, perhaps, after all, the king only fancied he saw the princess toying with the’groom’s locks. KlmTto bipHANS. SOME GENEROUS PEOPLE OF THIS WORLD. (Prom the San Francisco Chronicle.) “ The people who apply to us for children are not few,” said Mr. Dooley, of the Boys’ and Girls' Home, “and many are the instances when people of wealth seek to obtain a servant under the pretext of offering a home to some unfortunate child. For instance, a lady came to mo in quest ot a child whom she could love and have for company. Selecting a little urchin that I con-idered suitable for her wants, I brought him before her, believing that a child of nine or ten years of age would answer, as being at that age when his life was really at its beginning, and when his disposition was most pliable and plastic. “‘Ob, he’s too young,” she instantly ex claimed. ‘ And of what use do you think he could be to me? I thought you wanted com fortable homes for your children.” “ I assured her I did, but wanted the right home for the right child, and inquired what she wished the child to do. “‘There isn’t much,’ she answered. ‘We have a small place of thirty acres ; four cows to milk, a couple of horses and some young stock to see to just a little, some wood to chop, some water to bring, and he will, of course, help me about the house. That’s all.’ “She said it would be quite impossible to send the boy to school and seemed a little an noyed when I told her we always sought to bet ter the condition of our children, and insisted that they should receive either school or home instruction, or else they are to receive all the wages they are worth. I called in a stout boy of 15, for whom we had been looking for em ployment, and, directing her attention to his many good qualities, said he had received .$lO a month at his last place. In a state of indigna tion she said, rather haughtily, that she could get all the boys she wanted in her own town for $3 a month if she wanted to hire them, and repeat ing that she had expected we wanted to find good comfortable homes for our children, she abruptly left the room, leaving us to meditate upon the strange things of this world. “ A man one day accosted me on the street and said he would like to have a good boy whom be could take into his house and care for. I told him I had just such a boy, and accord ingly sent him a blank application. Hearing nothing from him I went to his office and asked him if he was ready to take the child. “ ‘ No,’ he replied, ‘ I think not. My wife has hired a Chinaman that will answer every pur pose.’ ” TIT FOR TAT. It Doesn’t Always Do to Play the Curmudgeon. Our readers will recall the story of how John Randolph was once baffled by a common man’s little revenge. When about driving away from a tavern in hia traveling carriage, the friendly landlord asked him, “ Which way do you go?” “Do I owe you anything 1” said Randolph. “No.” “Well, then I suppose I can go which way I please." He started soon after, but coming to a fork in the road which puzzled him, he sent back his ] footman to ask directions. The landlord accom- ! panied the man, till coming in sight of the car riage he shouted out: “You don’t owe me anything, Mr, Randolph; you can go which way you please.” Under all circumstances, it is in human nature to retaliate when snubbed, though many times the revenge is quite out of proportion to the provocation. Forty-one years ago John Smith was the driver and chief proprietor of a line ot coaches running to the mountains. Whether this was John Smith the first or the one thou sandth, we can not say. It was said that he had but one eye, and that he was keen and on the main chance. On his down trip one time a Bos ton gentleman took a seat by John’s side, and being of an inquisitive turn of mind, asked nu merous questions concerning different moun tains and views, till at length John’s patience was exhausted, and in answer to one question he tartly said: “ Stranger, if you will attend to your busi ness, I will to mine." As might readily be imagined, there was a very quiet time after this. After a drive of a iew miles John drove up to a country store and post-office, where the mail bag was thrown off. While the mail was being changed, Mr. Smith swapped horses with a man who came for that purpose, and the new horse was “hitched in,” and the driver was so intent on the trade and so desirous of trying the mettle ot his new horse that lie started off without taking the mail bag. After a drive ot some ten miles he drew up at another office, and on reaching lor the bag and not finding it, be said: “I’ll be whipped if I didn’t leave that bag at the other office 1” “ Yes, said the Boston man, “ I observed that you did.” “ Why in blazes didn’t you tell me ?” “ Because you said you would attend to your own business, and I thought I would let you.” HE KEPT HIS OATH. CARRIED HIS DEAD WIFE’S BODY HOME IN TWO SATCHELS. (From the Omaha Bee.) “ I never think of the Preller-Maxwell mur der case but that I recall almost shudderingly an incident in my career which occurred twenty years ago.” The speaker was an Omaha physician, and his auditors were a small party of fellow medi cine men and an Omaha Bee writer. At their request he continued the recital ot his tale. “ The affair I am about to relate happened in the Fall ot 1866, it I recollect rightly. I was just out of college, and had come West to travel, partly for my health and partly with the idea of seeking a location. In October I found myself in Colorado enjoying a trip through that mag nificent newly opened country. I was alone, save for the company of my horse—for railroads were not as numerous in the West then as they are now. One night 1 found darkness coming - on apace before I bad gained a place of shelter. 1 knocked at the door of a house near the foot of a large mountain, resolved to ask lodging for the night. The door of the cottage opened and I was admitted by a man. He was evidently a miner, and when I told him what! wanted he greeted me with rough cordiality, and told me that I was welcome to anything he had. I noticed that bis appearance and actions were rather peculiar—indeed, in more than one way suggesting that he was demented. However, when he escorted me to the little garret in the house, or more properly hut, I thanked him and bade him good-night, and laid down with the determination of having a good night’s sleep. “ It must have been about four o’clock the next morning that I was awakened out of a sound daybreak slumber by a tugging at my elbow. I awoke and found my strange host at mv side. There was a savage glitter in his eyes as he quietly commanded: “ ‘ Dress yourself and come d >wn stairs.’ “Not knowing what the matter was, and al most too frightened to think, I obeyed instant er. He led me into the-rear one ot two rooms on the lower floor. There, on a rough bed, all c tvered except the face, lay the dead body of a woman—his wife. He surveyed the corpse calmly for a moment, and then turning to me, said: “ ‘ This is my wife. She has been dead for two days, kwant y. uto cut her up. You say you are a doctor.’ “ I stared at him in speechless amazement. “ ‘ Come,’ be continued, ‘ don’t lose any time. I mean what I s «y.* “‘ But, I gasped, partially recovering myself, ‘ what is the use of cutting her up ?’ “ ‘ Take this knife and do as I tell you,’ said the lunatic, for such 1 had to my own satisfac tion determined that he was. “I hesitated lor a moment, but when he br ught the shining barrel <-f a Colt’s rev fiver within range of my head I held back no longer. He brought out two old leather satchels, and as 1 went on with ray revolting work, dis secting the body, joint Irom joint, be made an explanation. Two years ago he had come to Colorado with his wife to bunt for gold. She had suddenly taken ill and died, but before ex piring had made him take a solemn oath that she should be buried beside her parents in a lit tle town in New York State. ‘ I have no money,’ he concluded, ‘ but I shall not break my oath. I will carry her body to New York in these two satchels.’ All this time he had the pistol within convenient range of my head, and you may De sure I worked rapidly. In less than an hour my task was finished. By this time it was broad daylight and I started off, bidding my host good morning. “To cut my story short, I afterward wrote to the postmaster of the little town of N , in New York State, and found that, two months after my strange experience, that the miner had appeared there with his ghastly burden. The remains were given a decent interment, and the husband's oath was fulfilled. A month after ward he was placed in an insane asylum a rav ing maniac. His mental collapse had undoubt edly been caused by the sudden death of his wile.” A S2OOjdoTicKER. BUT THE PROPOSER WOULDN’T STICK. (Trom the St. Louis Republican. A rather remarkable little episode occurred in a broker’s office in St. Louis the other day, going to show that sometimes even very acute gentlemen do not know how well they are off. Ex-Judge L. and ex-Judge M. were discuss ing the bad times and the general retrogression of civilization, Mr. L. making the point that the legal business in St. Louis was going to the demnition bow-wows, when the discussion took such a shape that Judge L. declared with much asperity that if anybody would give him $200,000 in cash the unfortunate purchaser could have everything he owned in the world. “ I’ll just take you on that proposition,” said Judge M. “ Mr. Campbell, would you mind stepping out and getting me a certified check for $200,000, while Judge L. and I settle this little affair.’’ “ Certainly, - ’ said Mr. Campbell. A couple of sheets of foolscap were produced, and in entire earnestness the two gentlemen began noting the goods to be transferred. There were United States bonds, State and county securities and private claims so long that three pages of foolscap were consumed in enumerating them. At the middle of the third page the $200,0G0 limit had been passed, and still the old cross-examiner kept discovering new property of Judge L., who began to be acutely unhappy as the process continued. “ Any real estate in the country ?” “ Yes, a farm up the river.” “ How many acres ?” “ Four hundred, worth about S4O an acre.” “That adds $l' : ,000. Well?” “ Hold up, judge, I don’t know that 1 can in clude that farm. You see there is a sort of a claim on it “Oh, never mind that, I just buy your in terest.” “ Come to think of it, I don’t believe you will. It wouldn’t be fair to load you up with all this unsalable property and I guess I’ll pull out of the trade and compromise by setting up champagne for the party.” Which accounts for the good humor, which has recently been so marked in St. Louis Gas light circles. THMOBILERIFLES. A PLEASING AND TOUCHING IN CIDENT. The following little incident, touchingly sig nificant of the better feeling existing between the military people of the North and South, occurred recently at Mobile, Ala. A general of the United States army was on his way from Arizona to New York, where he purposed entering a surgical college to have a difficult operation performed. As the train with the sick soldier approached Mobile, his aide saw that he was rapidly becoming very ill, and telegraphed ahead for assistance to convey him to a hospital. Dr. Hutton, the medical superintendent of the Marine Hospital, was at the depot with attendants and a carriage. The invalid was comfortably placed in it with the gentlest and most assiduous attention, but he died within sight of the building, a stranger in a strange land. The next day Dr. Hutton telegraphed to the family of the dead officer in Arizona for in structions as to the disposal ot the remains, and received in reply: “Bury him wbero he died.” As soon as the Mobile Rifles had heard that, " A soldier of the legion Lay dying in Algiers,” they hastened to his help. But he was already dead, and it only remained for them to do honor to his memory. This they did by taking upon themselves the performance of the last rites as though the dead stranger had been one ot their own comrades, they carried him draped witli flags to the National Cemetery and gave him all the honors of military burial. In the afternoon of one of tho hottest days of the Southern Summer they marched in procession over the two miles of dusty road, and as the sun went down fired a farewell shot over the stranger’s grave. Then covering it with flow ers, they left him in the peaceful bivouac of the dead. The deceased soldier was a Philadelphian, and when the Mayor of Philadelphia heard of the “brotherly love” of the Mobile Rifles he sent them an autograph letter of thanks, ac companied by a beautiful floral tribute. Surely this little incident is an earnest ot united interests, and a proof that ever and always The bravest are the tenderest, The loving are the daring." THEOIFa fi~ClfAlß. AN INTERESTING DISCOVERY. The following story appeared in the Paris Ga zette des Trtbunaux in 1858 : A man, nearly eighty years of age, who was formerly an upholsterer, had been residing in Paris for many years in a garret, where he saw no other persons than his two nephews, both nearly sixty years old, and poor, but who, nev ertheless, contrived to give him the means of subsistence. A short time before his death he addressed them as follows : “My children, be sure that God will rewar(^ ,, you lor what you have done for me ; thanks to you, I am able to live in this house, irom which I perceive that which was founded by the Abbe de I’Epee, who was once my protector. I shall soon die, and have very little to leave, but I en treat you not to sell the old arm chair in which I am seated, and which has been with me these fifty years. It is an old friend, and I owe to it the preservation of my life on the 10th of Au gust, 1792. I had then the honor of working for the king's upholsterer, and had just finished some hangings for the cabinet ot Marie Antoin ette, when the rebels from Marseilles and those of the Faubourg St. Antoine had their conflict with the Swiss. The palace being taken, I should have been massacred, it my sense of danger had not inspired me with the idea of tearing off the skirts of my coat, and blackening my face with some soot from the chimney, so that I looked like one of the assailants. When the pillage commenced, I took up this arm chair, placed it on my head, and in this way traversed the half of Paris. If you have any regard for me, keep this old royal arm chair, and it will bring you good luck. ” A fortnight ago the old man died and was decently interred by his nephews. When they came to share the poor effects that he had left, they would have disputed as to who should have the old arm-chair if they had not both felt a respect lor his injunctions. While they were discussing as to whose property it should be, one of them laid hold of it to remove it from its place, and was astonished at its weight. “It is as heavy,” said he, “ as if there were pigs of lead among the horse-hair.” The other then laid hold of it, and made the same remark. The two nephews now looked at each other and resolved to ascertain what was the cause of its weight. They removed the old covering, and, cutting open the velvet, found, to their great joy, forty-three rouleaux of gold coin, of different reigns, from Louis XV. to Louis Phil ippe, with a bank annuity of 1,000 francs and other papers. Being honest men, they mentioned the fact to the authorities, by whom it was declared that there could be no doubt of their rightful pos session, and that even if the property had been in the chair when it was taken from the palace, the theft was of such old date as to have the benefit of prescription, but that the property evidently belonged to the uncle, most ot the gold being of more recent date than that of his first possession of the chair, and the bank an nuity being also recent. QU E FITCHAR LEY’FWIFE. BY A SECRET SERVICE DETECTIVE. One of the most successful counterfeiters in this country up to the Spring of 1864, when he was nabbed and placed behind the bars for a long time, was a former employee of the Bureau of Engraving and Printing named Charles At sell. While still an emplovee of tho Bureau he married a girl named Williams, of Providence, R. I. She had been brought up to regard her self as an heiress, educated abroad and was one of the proudest young ladies in the land. In 1862 her possessions were swept away by fire and embezzlement, and in December of that year she married Atsell. The match, 1 believe, grew out of some romantic incident. People who knew her best doubted if she had any love in her heart. Her pride did not go with her money. Notwithstanding the fact that she had married a man earning a moderate salary, she came to Washington with her nose high in tho air, and her arrogant manner and style of dress was generally remarked. It was, indeed, her extravagance which led her husband into crime. Twice in the Spring ot 1863 sums ot money were lost in Atsell's department, and while he was both times the object of suspicion there were no proofs to convict him. One sum amounted to $175, and the other to S3OO. After the last affair he resigned his position, and, as was afterward learned, allied himself with a gang of counterfeiters who had their headquar ters in New York. Two or three treasury notes were put out by them which circulated exten sively, and for months the whole Secret Service force was working in vain to turn up the crimi nals. Atsell was not suspected of being a coun terfeiter. He left Washington for New York, and through the influence of relatives, it was said, secured certain profitable army contracts. He could have been found any day had we wanted him. Along in June, 1864, having at length satisfied ourselves that the gang was located in New York, the circle began to narrow down. One night a stranger from Missouri was arrested m a drunk en condition, and on his person were found two or three letters implicating him as a sbover of the queer and famishing straight clews to work the gang. Aided by local detectives, we raided a residence on Twenty-second street and cap tured Atsell, a man named Coffin, a shover named Green, and the entire outfit of press, tools and plates. We made the raid about 3 o’clock in the after noon, and Mrs. Atsell was driving in Central Park. I was left to await her return and take her into custody. She returned about 5 o clock, dressed in the richest attire and as arrogant as a queen. I broke the news as gently as possible, but she was not a bit agitated. Without the least sign of embarrassment she replied to me: “ Very well, sir. You will allow me to change my attire?” “ Certainly.” She passed up stairs and I followed. She en tered her bed-room, locked the door, and I sat down to await her reappearance. At the end of twenty minutes 1 rapped on the door. No an swer. I waited five minutes and rapped again. As she did not respond 1 felt it my duty to make a move, and after one more effort to induce her to open the door I burst it open. She was lying on a lounge, dead for the last quarter of an hour, having, as a doctor afterward testified, imbibed some swift poison. She whs not too proud to be a counterfeiter’s wife, but too proud to be tried as a counterfeiter’s accomplice. When I carried the news to her husband he was for a moment stunned, then he rallied, and carelessly said: “Well, she’d have died in prison inside of a month. She is better off.” gUsrdlaueouis ghtto. Variety in Food.—Says the American Agriculturist : Often a sickly, waning appetite can be stimulated by some exceedingly simple change in the commonest articles of daily food. Slices of dry bread are uninviting, bufrthe same bread, lightly browned, with a delicately poached egg resting on the crisp toast, becomes altogether another item in the bill of fare. Cold beef or mutton have .become standard dishes for washday or other slim dinners ; but an ac companiment of pickles for the one and jelly for the other, makes all the difference in tho world between tasteful and bald utilitarian house keeping. Oatmeal porridge is a most excellent breaklast dish, yet it is well to occasionally sub stitute in its pl ace berries or other fruit, or even a change to pearl hominy, or cracked' wheat, or corn meal mush. I know there are forty different ways in which to prepare pota toes, and should not be surprised to learn that there may be fifty, yet how few are the tables, especially in the country, where one sees this vegetable except in the stereotyped foiled whole, mashed Or fried. A great variety of de lightful dishes can be made with apples at all seasons of the year, whether one has fre h or danned fruit. Breakfast, dinner, or tea need not lack a healthful relish if one has a dozen or so of apples within reach. Ido not enumerate the host of what are known as “ made dishes,” which can be so quickly and easily concocted out of remnants. I know it is worth the trouble to set on the family table, not courses of elabor ate dishes, but a wholesome, agreeable and yet economical diversity of food. How to Get Rid of Rats.—An at tempt to catch rats by traps, or by poisoning them suddenly, will-fail. Old rats know too much, and can be caught only by kindness. To destroy them, give them a good meal every day. Do not put any poison in the food, but simply prepare a dish for them daily, as a free lunch, composed of corn-meal moistened with milk, into which an egg and a little salt (to sea son) has been beaten. At first they may not touch it; but keep it before them, making it fresh daily, They will soon try a little, an ci, if not injurious, their suspicions will be allayed. In a week or ten days they will expect it, and every rat will be at the appointed place for the treat. Give them plenty of it, so as to induce all the rats in the neighborhood to join in. Do not be in a hurry to poson them. If they eat all the food, give them a larger quantity next time. As soon as they have thrown off all sus picion, go to your druggist, get some phos phorus paste, or other rat poison, mix it with the food, and be sure you give them enough and something to spare, so as to induce all to eat. They will either be killed or become so suspicious of all other food as to leave, and not a rat will remain. Hence, to destroy rata, take plenty of time, gain their confidence, and finish them when they least expect it. Doctoring an African King.—This is from the correspondence of the “ Scottish Geo graphical Magazine :” It is no joke to be a doc tor to the King of Uganda, for whenever I took him a new supply of medicine I had always to take a dose myself, and, to administer one to seven of the persons who might happen to be present. Should one of these seven unfor tunates die within a week, it would be con sidered that 1 had attempted to poison the king. If the king had to take a pill, I had always to hold two in my hand ; he chose one, and 1 had to swallow the other, unless I had a friend with me who kindly undertook the office. I soon noticed, however, that Mtesa also chose the smallest, so I arranged accordingly. One day Mtesa played me a nice trick. 1 had been to the palace to take him a lotion, and had warned him particularly not to drink it. After I had left he sent a page after me .with a gourd of mwengi, asking me to taste it, and say if he might have some. I did so, and said “Yes.” It being a very hot afternoon, my friend drank the remainder ; but it soon became evident that the king had doctored the wine, for my friend became violently sick. It turned out afterward that Mtesa wished to see what effect the lotion would have upon me. Law and Living in Turkey.— A pro fessor in Roberts College, Constantinople, is our authority for the following fresh illustra tion ot the travesty of justice which passes un der the name of law in Turkey, where an ac cused man is obliged to prove his innocence, or else he is declared guilty. A native convert to Christianity came to Dr. Lord, a well-known missionary, and tasked it it was ever right to tell a lie. This was a staggerer for the doctor, and he said he would have to know the case before he could decide, although on general principles, he did not think it was. “ The case is this,” replied the seeker after truth, “ a Turk, a stranger to me, living in Rusichuk, ac cused me ot buying and receiving irom him 1,000 sheep. I, knowing of no way of prov ing that I did not buy and receive these sheep, the case must certainly go against me. It came up for trial to-day, and after the charge had been made, I admitted that I had bought and received the sheep (which was a lie , and had at the s me time paid for them in full. He could not Drove that I had not, so the case was dismissed.” The good doct >r thought ii e era lie was justifiable, this was certainly the time. I How Beer Brewers Drink.—Says the Milwaukee Sentinel: “We have one man who drinks 100 glasses per day.” This answer was in reply to a question as to how much beer the employees in the Milwaukee breweries con sumed. The speaker was a gentleman engaged in the office of an extensive brewing company. “ What is the average consumption per man ?” About one and one-fourth gallons, or forty glasses, daily.* As a rule, our employees drink fifty one-quarter barrels a day—nearly SIOO worth. During warm days this number is in creased to sixty quarters and more. Each man generally takes two glasses at one time, which would make the number of visits to the bar about twenty during the day. Allowing three minutes only for each time he knocks off work there is one hour which he loses in this way. Some of the men have to walk a block and further, and it often takes about five minutes.” “ Where is the bar generally located ?” “ Ours is in a corner of the wash-house. We pay a man S6O a month to draw beer for the men; and he earns his money, too. He does nothing else.” “Do your employees get as much beer as they can hold since the late strike ?” “They receive all they want.” [A gallon contains sixteen glasses, consequently the men drink but twenty glasses a duy. Anybody can test the accuracy of our statement with a gallon of water.—Ed. Dispatch. How a Girl Got Rid of Suitors.— Says the Boston Record: A curious story comes from Moscow. A clever and beautiful girl had an immense fortune left her to be paid into her hands on the occasion ot her marriage. Her friends tried to oblige her to marry a man whom she could not endure, and she had no money to take herself out of the reach of his at-, tentions. So she sent for an old beggar man, to whom she had occasionally given a few cents, and offered him three hundred roubles if he would stand up for the marriage ceremony with her and straightway leave the town and never let her hear irom him again till the news should be sent of his death. He consented very cheerfullly and the marriage took place, all the beggars in Moscow coming to see the strange pair wedded. In a few years, the girl who is only twenty-two years old now, will doubtless be legally a widow, with the right to give her hand to the obscure lover for whose sake she went through the extraordinary ceremony. In the meantime she is rich and free from suitors. An Astonished Policeman. — The Chicago Mail tells this story: Two well-dressed ladies were rounding the cane of the Ashland block when a banana peel that lay in ambush there brought one of them prone. The officer who came to her aid was startled nearly out of his boots when she said: “Pull my leg, will you, please? Pull my leg.” Affecting to misunderstand, he took the lady by the arm, with the remark: “ Will you let me help you, madam ?” “No, don’t I Pull my leg, I say! Tull my leg, can’t you ?” The officer let the arm drop instantly. He was thunderstruck. He backed off and wiped great beads of perspiration from his reeking brow. At this moment the second lady came to his assistance. She seized one of the pedal extremities of her prostrate companion and gave it a vigorous pull. It was a cork leg. The fall had disarranged the knee adjustment, and a pull was needed to sot it right. Retired from Literary Labors.— Mrs. Harriet Beecher Stowe has announced to her intimate friends her permanent retirement from the literary world. “The author of ‘ Uncle Tom’s Cabin’ is no longer the strong woman of a few years ago,” says the Boston Transcript, “ her constant watching by the bed side of her dying husband having practically shattered her health, as it has reduced the ro bust physical frame to merely a skeleton. For more than eighteen months, with scarcely an interruption, has the affectionate wife remained at her busband’s side, reading and singing to him as he lingers through the days and nights waiting for the end that is not far off. Mrs. Stowe is seventy-five years of age, and although she retains a lively interest in current events in order that she may gratify the desires of her invalid husband, the famous writer is content that her work is done. The returns from her work have fortunately placed her in comfortable circumstances.” Ladies Carried Across Wet Streets. —Says a Mexican letter to the Boston Trans cript : “ When the streets become flooded by the heavy Summer showers, multitudes of “car gadores’’—standing upon either pavement, with their trousers rolled to the thighs—ply a lively business carrying pedestrians across upon their backs. They make nothing of hoist ing a lady, as though she were a sack of pota toes, with her reticule, fan, parasol and other paraphernalia, and trotting away with her, while her little feet dangle and generally beat a tattoo upon his back, and her fingers clutch him nervously amid a series of shrieks, and dump her, dry shod, upon the other side, all for six cents I When a family party comes along—mother,maids and children—it is a funny sight to see them transported, one by one, over a tbree-foot-wide, six-inch-deep torrent, with more fuss than Barnum’s menagerie, white ele phant and all, would make in crossing the Mississippi. Rice for Hot Weather.—Some of the caterers who supply cheap meals to the community and keep what are known as coflee and cake houses, have discovered the expe diency of providing something else during the heated term. They supply a slab of cold boiled rice and a bowl of milk tor ten cents, and their customers are duly grateful. But those who come from the Southern States, South Carolina and Louisiana, where rice is freely used, say that the rice is not as it should be. It is in a thick, sticky, close-pressed slab, and these ex perts declare that it should be in distinct grams, any one of which could be removed from the others. They say, moreover, that milk makes many people bilious and that the best thing to make rice palatable is old-fashioned molasses. Still it is as a Summer food an enormous im provement upon the hot cakes and boiling cof fee and the corned beef which have hitherto been the staples in the cheap eating-houses. Statistics of Mad Dogs in London.— Says the London Daily News: Sir Charles War ren, the Chief Commissioner of Police, has just issued some statistics in regard to mad dogs and deaths from hydrophobia which have oomo under the uotiee of the metropolitan police from January, 1885, to May, 1886. During this period the total number of mad dogs was 495. The lowest number was in January, 1885, when there were only 8. From this date the number of cases varied for each month, as follows: Feb ruary, 10; March, 22; April, 20; May, 34; June, 38; July, 47; August, 28; September, 31; Cctober, 31; November, 58; December, 40; January, 1886, 27; February, 14; March and April, 29, and May, 23. The deaths irom hydrophobia, which are taken from the Register-General’s returns, numbered 26 up to December, 1885, the great est number being in October and November, when there were five in each month. Between January and May, 1886, theye were 7 deaths. Why the Irish Prefer Green.—The early Celts worshiped the dawn and the sun rise. It is more than probable that the Irish preference of the color green for their flag and their sashes arose from a mistake among those who bad lost a thorough knowledge of the old Irish language. The sun, in Irish, is called by a word pronounced like our word “green,” and it is likely that the Irish fondness for that color arose from the word’s exact likeness in sound to their word ior sun. In the same way, when we talk about green-houses, we think they are called so because the plants are kept green in them during Winter, let it is far more proba ble that “green” here is the Irish word mean ing, not the color but the sun, because green houses are built so as to catch the sun’s rays and store them up while it is hidden by clouds, as happens more than half the time in showery Ireland. Diet of Strong Men.—The Roman soldiers, who built such wonderful roads and carried a weight ot armor and luggage that would crush the average farm hand, lived on coarse brown bread and sour wine. They were temperate in diet, and regular and constant in. exercise. The Spanish peasant works every day and dances half the night, yet eats only his black bread, onion and watermelon. The Smyrna porter eats only a little fruit and some olives. He eats no beef, pork or mutton, yet he walks off with his load of 800 pounds. The coolie, fed on rice, is more active and can en dure more than the negro fed on fat meat. The heavy work of the world is not done by men who eat the greatest quantity. The fastest or longest-winded horse is not the biggest eater. Moderation in diet seems to be the prerequisite of endurance. Increase the Appetite By taking Ayer’s Cathartic Pilis. This remedy is thorough In its action, imparts tone and strength to the Stomach, Liver, and Bowels, and enables them to perform all their functions properly. **l have used Ayer’s Pills, for a number of years, and have never found anything equal to them for stimulating the appetite, and imparting energy or strength to the system. I always keep them in the house. —R. D. Jackson, Wilmington, Del. **For over two years I was afflicted with torpidity of the Liver. I had no appetite, suffered from Constipation, Indigestion, Headache, Pain in the Side and Back, and General Debility. Ayer’s Pills were the first medicine to give me relief. I took three boxes of them, and was cured. This remedy never fails to Stimulate-the Liver and quicken the appetite. Ayer’s Pills promptly relieve Headache, and are the best cathartic I know of.— George 0. Williams, West Meriden, Conn. During the spring of 1877 a disagreeable taste in my mouth entirely destroyed mv appetite. My tongue was thickly coated, and what little food I ate distressed me. Believing my trouble to originate in a dis ordered liver, I commenced taking Ayer’s Cathartic Pills. I felt an improvement after the operation of the first dose. I continued their use in diminished quan tities, for a short time, and am satisfied ■ that these Pills have completely cured me. ' — Sophie Harmon, Biddeford,‘Me. AYER’S PILLS, Prepared by Dr. J. C. Aver & Co.. Lowell, Maas. Sold by all Druggists., What the Hindoo Lives On.—Says the Contemporary Review: Human life ia sup ported in India upon the barest minimul of ne cessaries; the village population feed upsn the commonest grains, never eating animal food (which is contrary to their religion', and rarely tasting the finer grains, such as wheat and bar ley. The clothing worn is of the scantiest, and I was distressed to see many of the people in the Northwest provinces’ shivering, ana half naked in weather so cold that I was glad to wear two top-coats. The houses are built of clay, and almost destitute of furniture, and I understand that a large portion of the popula ti n only eat one meal h day. Of course this in an eastern country does not signify what ii does in Europe—life can be sustained on less food and less nutritions diet than in Northern climes; the labor power of the Hindoos i® small; there is far less taken out of the human machine than in our labori us Western life; ir consumes less and produces less; beside, the Asiatic has the power of digesting a greater quantity of food at one meal than is possible to Europeans, but when due allowance is mad® for all this, it is not to be denied that the pov erty of a great part of the people of India is ex treme and more acute than what we witness iR Europe. It may be said with truth of a great part of the rural population that it is never far re moved from famine. A scanty harvest any year brings thate calamity within measurable dis tance; a failure of crops means death to a large part of the population unless fed by govern ment. He Has Found It Out.—Says the El mira Gazette : “ I am a man sixty years of age, and I have been until now discovering a very simple thing,” remarked a well-known artisan,,, the other evening. “ And that is ?” “Just this. I have always drank beer and: smoked cigars. I like 'em both. I never over indulge; but two, three or four glasses of beer a day seem to agree with me. Now, my boy® have lately began keeping a horse for pleasure-- driving. They neither smoke nor drink. I have purchased the feed for that horse of late, and have several times thought they were rather extravagant. Now, here comes the discovery— it actually costs less to keep that stepper than it does to buy my beer and cigars. Yes, sir, ifc does.” “ And so you are going to quit ?” “ Well—ah—l am thinking of it,” and he de« parted, meditating. Champion Kiss of the Country. —A. Springfield belle was vis ting Bloomington, 11l. t> not long ago, and received a large share of re spectlul homage from the leading society gentlemen. She commands attention not only' tor her personal charms and graces, but for her mental culture and vivacious conversation,, Before leaving the Union depot for the State capital, the young lady was describing to & friend with whom she had visited the “ Bloom ington kiss,” as she was pleased to term the* salutations which some fortunate but bold ad mirer was permitted to give. She said “th® first time she was kissed by a Bloomingtonian she felt like a big tub of roses swimming in honey, cologne, nutmegs and cranberries. Sh®r also felt as it something was running through: her nerves on feet ot diamonds, escorted by an gels, shaded by honeysuckles, and the whole* spread with melted rainbows.” French Sentiment and Rings. s—ln an article on engagement rings, a French writer says : “Do not choose the ruby, it is too showy,, loud and indiscreet. Good taste inclines to ward the sapphire and the diamond, of which the one does not go well without the other. Do not choose a large sapphire surrounded by diamonds, but ask your jeweler artist to inter lace in happy combination the sapphire and th®; diamond. The turquoise is also a tasteful stone, but when it is constantly worn it has th®* immense disadvantage to change color, and to this change most women attach a sad and sen timental superstition. It should not. there'ore, be chosen for the first present, which is to be worn and cherished while life lasts, and which remains from the days of youth while every-- thing else changes.” Making Sea Weed Useful.—An Eng lish chemist has found away for turning to ace count the practically illimitable quantity of sea weed that the ocean supplies, or at least a® much of it as may be desired. He boils th® weed with carbonate of soda and treats the fil tered solution with sulphuric acid, obtaining from it in this manner a substance that ha® more viscosity than starch, or even gum-arabic 0 and that can employed in stiffen ing various textile fabrics. It is also said to be excellently adapted lor the making of sirup®, and for certain culinary uses. From the cellu lar and fibrous matter left after the extraction of that material—to which he has given th®- name of “ a-lguma a very good quality ofc writing paper can be cheaply made. A Bit of Real Due.—Says the King-- ston Freeman : One of the many rainy days this week, and at an hour when it was pouring the hardest, one of Roudouts absent-minded cler gymen met a parishioner on Wurts street, Hon dout, and the following amusing conversation ensued : Said the clergyman : “ Good morning. Mr. lovely day, isn't it?” “Yes,” eaid', the other, “ it’s charming.” The two then went: on their different ways, but Mr. had only proceeded a few steps when he turned hastily, and looking after the minister, said : “B’gosn, the minister is taking leave of his senses if he calle this a lovely day, and by the Lord Harry t I’m as big a whopper myself, for I said it was 8> charming day, and here is the rain coming down in bucketsful.” A Fickle Fortune.—What is to coms' of the poor Russian gentleman who was left »• fortune by bis uncle on the condition that he never smoked, never played at cards and mar ried within six months? Should he fail to ob serve the conditions, the fortune is to go to ths children of the three executors, who have formed themselves into a vigilance committee. Rumor says strange things of the temptations thrown in this hapless legatee’s way—how rub bers at whist are got up in railway carriages for his benefit; how complete strangers are con stantly offering him the most delightful cigars, and how the course of true love is never aL {owed to run smooth. , ‘T ’ •- l— —’ *1 Surprised by a Sturgeon.—Captain John Haley, of the Fort Popham Life Saving Station, was quietly pulling home from Bath, Me., the other evening in the dark, when he wa«> struck violently on the head and knocked to the bottom of the boat. The captain, who thought that he was alone on the water, was not only surprised, but, he confesses, terribly scared. He was greatly relieved when he found that »■ fifteen pound sturgeon in his evening gambol ings had leaped from the water and in his flight through the air whacked the captain as afore said, and lay gasping in the bottom of the boat. Divorce, in Franou —Tf numbers count for anything, the French Divorce Actio working: well. During the first five months 1,773 peti t one for divorce and S.'t'tti petitions for judicial! separation were applied or, ot which 1,657 ot the former and 2,8'J1 of the latter were granted. The only direct opinion on the subject comes from the French actress, Mme. Rose Caron. Ik having been recently reported that she would, take advantage of her divorce to marry again,, she wrote to the papers to say she “ was per fectly satisfied with her first trial of that inter esting institution.” He Wouldn’t Rob the Poob Devil.— A lawyer in California was called to defend Mexican for some serious crime, and he got him off. “ What fees did you get ?” somebody asked him. “Well, the fellow was very grateful—very grateful. After the trial he came to me and emptied his pockets. He had twenty dollars, and a watch and jack-knife.” And you “I took the twenty dollars and the watch. I gave him back the jack knife. Darn it, yott didn’t expect me to rob the poor devil ?” The Usual Result.—Two children of Farmer Agnew, of Tara, Canada, a boy of ten and a girl of four, while playing in the barn,, found a gun, which their father kept loaded for rats. “ Stan’ off there a piece,” said the boy, “ an’ let me see if I can’t shoot you.” The little girl obeyed cheerfully, and the young Cannels filled her face and shoulder with fine shot. A Pleasant Companion.—A colored woman, who is telling fortunes in Houma, La., save that while a slave in Cuba, she cut open the calf of her leg and inserted a large snake. The wound healed up and the snake now lies coiled there, except when making daily visits to the woman's stomach when he feels hungry. For a number of years 1 was troubled with Biliousness, which almost destroyed my health. This ailment commenced in Costiveness. Indigestion, Headache, and Dizziness soon followed. I became weak, emaciated, and totally unfitted for work of any kind. I tried various reme dies, but nothing afforded me any relief until I began taking Ayer’s Pills. They cured me, speedily, and I now believe them to be the most reliable cathartic in. use. — G. S. Wanderlich, Scranton, Pa.