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TWO. BY GEORGE ELIOT. Two lovers by a moss-grown spring; They leaned soft cheeks together there, Mingled the dark and sunny hair And heard the wooing thrushes Bing. Oh budding time ! Oh love’s best prime I Two wedded from the portal step; The bells made happy carolings, The air was soft as fanning wings, White petals on the pathway slept. Oh pure-eyed bride 1 Oh tender pride I Two faces o’er a cradl • bent; Two hands above the head were locked; They pressed each other while they rocked, Those watched a life that love had sent. Oh solemn hour! Oh hidden power I Two p.ir’uts by the even ng fire; The red light lell about their knees on heads that rose by slow degrees Like buds upon the lily spire. Oh patient life ! On tender strife I 'J be two sat still together there, 'lTv r d light shone about tbeir knees; But al! the heads by slow degrees Had gone and left that lonely pair. Oh voyage fast! Oh van shed past! The red light shone upon the floor And made the sp ice between them wide; They drew tbeir chairs up side by side, Their pale cheeks joined and said •• Once more I” Oh memories ! Oh past that is ! cam w. BY FLORENCE REVERE PENDAR. “ I don’t care ’ I don’t believe I like him a > very much after all,” rather pettishly exclaimed a young girl, mechanically tracing with the point oi her parasol the name of Laurence upon ibe yellow sands before her. Then as. she jumped up from her seat, a huge bowlder, and settled her sailor hat, that had been tilted over the sauciest of noses, unto decorum again, if there had been any one to see, which there was not, they would have had the pleasure ot gaz ing upon one of the prettiest girls and the rich est heiress Summering at Ocean Bar that sea eon. And those who knew the fascinating little lady would have been surprised to discover two unmistakable tears clinging to that winsome beauty’s long lashes, as she gazed wistfully sea ward, a tremulous quiver parting her pretty lips. “ I don’t care 1 He’s—-he’s horrid 1” After which outburst the young girl with sev eral stamps of her daintily clad feet, erased the name that she had but a moment before im printed upon the sands’ smooth surface; then slowly bent her steps toward the hotel where they were stopping- They consisting ot Mr. Bilverton, a round-faced, genial gentleman, who had failed to gr >w old, despite bis Sixty odd years and bald pate; Mrs. Silverton, an ultra fashionable lady, a victim to nerves and titles; Master Archibald Silverton, their only son, a procoelous youngster of six Summers, and Miss May.Silvert her father’s special ad miration. As May neared the apartments appertaining to her tamilv, a small avalanche of white pi quet, scarlet legs and sash bore down upon her from the end ot their corridor, exclaiming: “ I say, May ! Colonel Edgcomb’s gone and he ain't coming back. J asked him and he told mo he wasn’t. Ain’t you sorry—l am. He was the boss for candy,” c ntinuea the young hope ful, trying to swing on his sister’s arm. Put with rather a petulent motion for her, May loosened the tiny fingers answering: “ There, run along, Archie. I have lots to do and cannot be bothered this morning.” Opening his eyes rather wide at this new phase of things, for May was not usually given to industry, and perhaps a trifle irritated at her cool reception of his news, the little fellow sheered off with the parting fling of: “ You’ve been crying. Your nose is awlul red.” The first thing May did on reaching her own room was to walk straight to the mirror and attentively examine the maligned part of her physiognomy. There was no gainsaying its saucy tilt but, red—no, not even the faintest pink*tinge marred its accustomed whiteness. “Little monkey!” she half laughingly exclaim ed: thus admonishing her small brother, then with a sigh she seated herself in a low chair and buried her dimpled elbows in the padded win d w-seat, thinking: “ I wonder if he really never means to come back. He—he had no need to have been so spiteful. But I don’t believe he can stay away —long. Oh, 1!” and the fair head was bowed low and May’s secret was sobbingly whispered to her two"pink palms and their ten little fingers held it tightly, for not a breath of it escaped to warn May’s many admirers that their cases were hopeless. That night, arrayed in a filmy, loamlike robe, May adorned the ball room and reigned the bright, peculiar star. Mrs. Silverton was also present, having ob served to her daughter: “My dear, 1 feel it my duty to make an effort, or his lord ship may take it as a personal slight, and really May, Ido not think you are as courteous to him as his station demands, and any one can see that he is decidedly epris with you.” “ Idiot,” echoed from May’s corner. “ J wish, May, you would speak more dis tinctly, my nerves are in such a weak state that a whisper grates upon them.” “ She said he ->—here interposed Archie, when a look from his sister stayed the words upon his lips, but nothing daunted, he boldly substituted as his mother bent her 'eyes upon jiim; “ she wishes Colonel Edgcomb would some back.” “Oh ! Archie I” from May. “Really, May, I should think you would show more discretion, and before that child, too ! Of oourse the colonel is nice. 1 got quite to like him, but he is not a party for you with a title at your feet. Why I don’t suppose he has a cent over his pay. ’ “ Yes he has, he’s lots ot dollars. I’ve seen ’em, and he’s ever-an-ever so much nicer than old Barboil 1” wrathfully burst forth Archie in vindication of his absent friend. And at even ing when his sister stole to his bed-side bearing a plate of ice cream and a supply of bon-bons, he somehow in his dreams connected her extra thoughtfulness with Colonel Edgcomb. Notwithstanding the frequent snubs Miss Silverton felt called upon to administer to my Lord Garbole, he still made suit to “the charm ing American,” as he designated May. Mrs. Silverton beamed approval, while her better half generally managed to edge off from an en counter with his lordship. One evening the conversation turned upon Lord Garbole, and Papa Silverton, who paid very little heed to his daughter’s many admirers, it sufficing for him that his “little girl” was always blithe and happy: slowly ejaculated: “ Well, I guess he’s a pretty decent sort of a chap, but give me a fellowjwith a backbone and some grip to him. Now there’s the colonel— bless me ! if there isn’t more character in his little finger than in that foreigner’s whole body.” At this junction two white arms stole around Mr. Silverton’s neck, while his bald pate was most lovingly kissed by May’s pretty lips. All unsuspicious he patted his daughter’s little hands and prepared with a low chuckle to be coaxed, but to his astonishment no favor was begged of him. Instead, May began most diligently the attempt to train her father’s scant locks into curl, as there came with an odd little jerk from between her teeth: u Did you—that is—have you heard from Colonel Edgcomb since he left?” “ No,” was the reply, followed by, “ and I’m sorry for it, for I’d taken quite a fancy to him. 1 don’t suppose he was much in your line, chicken —a trifle too sober and quiet eh ? But to an elderly codger like me he was main attractive, and I’d give a good deal to know if I’ll run across him again.” “ I hope so, papa, dear—for your sake,” was Miss Silverton’s dutiful reply. It was the Winter before the Silvertons’ ad vent at Ocean Bar that Colonel Edgcomb had become known to them through a mutual friend. and somehow it grew to be an established thing to find the colonel quite frequently at the Sil vertons’ handsome mansion. Perhaps he en joyed those evenings best spent with the family. Maybe owing to their rarity, but undoubtedly more to the fact that at such times May shone at her very brightest, at least in the colonel’s eyes, which had acquired a trick of following May’s every movement. And quite well aware ot it was that young lady; being just a little bit elated over this her conquest of one of the North's bravest officers—a man so superior to the general flutterera that singed their wings at the light of her attractive eyes. Of course he was altogether too old for her ; she tjaen argued, mentally figuring how many years there lay be tween nineteen and thirty-two; but he was"nice to talk to when he didn't tell dreadful, unpleas ant truths. Perhaps Laurence Edgcomb never quite realized how much his future life de pended upon thia petted child of fortune, until that night at Ocean Bar, when be had seen one the numerous moths hovering in Mav’s train imprint a kiss upon her little, white hand, as she, with a saucy, half-laughing gesture, tossed him a rose from her bouquet. “ Presumptuous puppy I’’ the colonel had exclaimed under his breath, and as fate would have it, May bent her steps toward where he stood at the opposite end of the conservatory. The air May was humming died from her lips as she paused in astonishment at the dark look upon Colonel Edgcomb’s lace. Then with her most winning smile she said : “ Why ! what has come over the spirit of your dream, colonel, that you glare so darkly upon me ?” Stung by her smile, that he believed she be stowed as readily upon any one else and forget ting in his jealousy that he had no right to criticise her actions, he exclaimed, hotly : “Could you not find a better pastime, Mies Silverton, than seeking to captivate that bov ? My God ! I presume if I should ask a rose you would toss it to me with the same bedeviling smile, and yet—oh, May ! 1 had hoped to win you for my wife. I see my folly now. A flirt— there could be no happiness with such.” Once May bad interrupted angrily: “H<> 1 dare you?” her color coming and go ing ra, , then exasperated by bis last words she dr. - her slight figure to its fullest bight Husweritig, haughtily : “By wnatright, Colonel Edgcomb, do you ad dress me in such language ?” and with the part ing thrust of: “Al any rate, you can never ac- cuse me of flirting or showing any great partial ity for you,” she turned to leave, him, as he, bowing, said : “ Pardon me, Miss Silverton, I have erred, but as I shall leave Ocean Bar to-morrow morn ing, you will never have further cause to com plain of my incivility,” and this was what bad called forth May’s indignant protest at the open ing of our story. The weeks went by, and May rode and drove, and danced and made merry, to her great en joyment. At least, that is what she strove to make herself believe, but deep in her heart there was a longing for the sight of one face that she grew to miss more and more as the days passed. Much to her mamma’s chagrin May had refused “my Lord Garbole,” and he had departed a sadder and wiser man. Mr. Silver ton merely pinched his daughter’s ear and re marked “ he guessed her head was level.” September had already come, when one night such a gale as in years had not visited the coast bore down upon Ocean Bar, and her golden sands in the next morning’s sunshine were strewn with broken spars, upturned keels, and fragments upheaved from the deep. A hushed stillness enveloped the Grand Hotel, where the Silvertons stopped, owing to the fact of a gen tleman, who had been rescued from a yacht, having been brought there in a very precarious condition. May had heard the tale of how the gentleman’s companion on board the yacht had fought and struggled with the waves, and near ly lost his own life in saving that of his friend’s. She was sitting thinking of the nobleness of the deed, when, like a small whirlwind, Archie bounded into the room, utterly ignoring his mamma’s nerves as he exclaimed, excitedly: “Oh ! I say it was Colonel Edgcomb, and I saw them bring him up on aboard. I peeked, too, in the door, when a man opened it, and he looks as white as - as that stuff you put on your face. Sam says he’s the bossest swimmer ’ “Archie!” came with almost a wail from May's white lips; then, with a strong effort, she asked: “ Who did you see brought to the house on on a board, Archie?” Fixing his bright eyes unon his sister’s pale face, the child answered, surprisedly: “Why, the man, of course. Sam says he’s a friend of the colonel’s, and they was out in the man's yacht together, and the storm knocked it higher than a kite, and if it badn t been for the colonel the man would have gone to Davy Jones’s locker.” “But, Archie, Colonel Edgcomb isn’t—isn’t hurt, is he?” “ Hurt!” repeated the child scornfully. “No-o; he’s a-smoking on the piazza. I’ll go tell him you want him.” And before May could protest young hopeful’s flaxen curls had disappeared down the corridor. With returning color and demure smile May stepped through the open French window and made ter a flight of steps that led to the water. At the same moment that May was fleeing to the beach a childish treble was exclaiming to Col onel Edgcomb: “ I guess she’s run away. You ought to have *een how scared she looked when I was telling her about the upset. Girls are so silly. I'd have knowed you wouldn’t be drowned. You bet, I mean to learn to swim right straight oft.” It was not easy to get rid of the little shaver, he having developed an extravagant liking tor the colonel. Truth to tell, it was not often that ( olonel Edgcomb found the child’s company one too many, for he was fond of the boy; but this morning he .used a little stratagem, aud at last found himself alone. Some half hour later as he rounded a bend that shut in a tiny cove he came upon what he had been diligently seeking—a slight little fig ure seated upon a boat’s upturned keel, the warm sun kissing the soft little rings of golden hair at the back of her neck. Not until he stood beside her did May glance up from under her tilted hat with: “ Why, good morning, Colonel Edgcomb,” al though she had seen him coming some minutes before. Then, as she caught a glunpse of his slightly paler cheeks and exaggerated their pal lor forthwith, she exclaimed impulsively : “You’re—you’re not hurt in any way, are you, colonel ?” “Not at all. I assure you I ” “And your friend?” interrupted May hur riedly. “I)oing well, thank God 1” answered the colo nel reverently. “Oh, how grand and noble and everything like that you must feel,” continued May rather nervously. “I—well, to tell the truth I don’t think I ever felt so—quite so stupid before,” faltered the colonel. Coloring slightly, while the shadow of a smile flitted across her lips, May remarked : “ Not very flattering to me.” “ May I—oh, my darling, cannot you see. I thought I could give you up, but here I am back again when I know that there is not even a ghost of a chance for me. If I knew that you were heart whole I would compete for you at all hazards. May,” and in his earnestness he grasped her rather roughly by the arm, “tell me honestly is there any one you care ter ?” “ Yes,” murmured May rather faintly, as she averted her face. “That boy, 1 suppose, on whom you lavished flowers,” he exclaimed rather sharply in bis despair. “ That bov, as you call him, on whom I lav ished one poor little rose, is a very nice fellow, and 1 like him, and in a letter I receivedfrom him yesterday he told me that he loved”— here she paused with rather a mischievous glance at her companion as she added—“a very dear friend of mine, and it all goes well they are to be married shortly.” “It is some one else, then?” asked the colo nel. “ Yes,” answered May, nodding her head, as with a wee sigh she Added : “Like you he pro tests he hasn’t a ghost oi a chance, and I don t see how I am to tell him, so I expect we shall go down to our graves as bachelor and old maid.” “May! You are not jesting—you mean.—oh 1 my darling! don’t torture me!” and with an imploring gesture Colonel Edgcomb held out his arms. Perhaps May’s eyes answered quicker than her lips, lor before she could exclaim, “Oh, Laurence! can a woman speak plainer?’ she was clasped to his heart. Then from somewhere in the region of his breast pocket came a little voice saying, “ Am I really such a dreadful flirt?” “ Forgive me, May. I was mad at the thought of losing you and knew not what I said,” was bis answer, as he gathered her closer in his arms. “And you don’t really think I am a flirt, be cause, you see, how can I help being nice and pleasant to folks, now can I?” and as May at this juncture raised her head, thus bringing her lips in dangerous proximity to the colonel’s, and as he did nothing to avert it, why there naturally occurred a collision; but as neither party seemed any the worse, but rather the bet ter for it, we may safely conclude that such ac cidents are not very dreadful. Mr. Silverton’s jovial face fairly beamed when he heard of his “little girl’s” happy choice, while Mrs. Silverton graciously consented to receive her future son-in-law when she learned that he possessed quite a snug little fortune beside his pay, and was, ii only remotely, still, related to an earl, “and one never knew what might hap pen,’ soliloquized the worthy lady. Archie pronounced himself satisfied with the arrange ment of matters and sought to persuade May that it would be to her advantage to allow him to accompany them on their wedding tour. He failed, however, to gain his will, out in the years that came after he was always a petted and welcome guest in May’s home, for, said she to her husband, “Archie helped to bring you back to me.” “Y’es,” was Laurence’s laughing reply, “but I doubt if I could have stayed away much longer, little wife.” OLD ZACH? TAYLOR. HE ORDERED THEM TO VAMOS. (Ben. Perley Poore in Boston Budget.) Gen. Taylor, of the American army, when he won his victories in Mexico, did not look much like a hero. He was somewhat below medium bight, was short and stout, in fact, was what one would call dumpy. He wore a straw hat, an old linen duster that looked as if it might not have been washed since he fought the battle of Palo Alto. His pants were large and loose, and he wore coarse soldier shoes. Gen. Shields used to narrate an interesting incident that oc curred one day when he was a guest of “ Old Rough and Ready’s ” table at dinner, with Col. Bliss and a son of Henry Clay. Just as they were finishing dinner, a guard filed in with two prisoners that had just been arrested. The men had bean for two days peddling oranges through the camp, and by accident one of the soldiers had discovered that under their coarse gar ments they wore the finest linen. So the two were arrested, and carefully concealed about their persons had been fouud papers contain ing very valuable information concerning the American camp, the number of men in arms and the best points for attack. These papers were handed oyer Jo Gen, Taylor, and alter reading them be passed them to the rest of us. They were unmistakable evidences that the two men were spies. “ Call my interpreter 1” de manded Gen. Taylor. The general could not speak Spanish. The only Spanish word he knew was “ vamos,” and he used it on all occa sions. Whenever he invited the Mexicans into camp, lie said “ vamos,” and whenever he or dered them out of camp, he said “vamos.” The interpreter having arrived, Gen. Taylor said to him, “Ask them who they are!” The prisoners replied that they were Mexican sol diers. “Humph! Thought so. Now ask them what their rank is.” They looked at each other a moment, as much as to say, “We might as well tell the truth,” and answered that they were colonels, one of them Chiel of the Engineer Corps at Monterey. “Aha!” said Gen. Taylor, “so much the worse. And now ask them who sent them here.” They replied that they had come in obedience to the orders of Gen. Apudia. “Gen. Apudia sent you, did he?” roared old “Rough and Ready.” “Well, I say Gen. Apu dia is no gentleman, or he would not have sent you here upon this sneaking errand, to spy about our camp. I say he is no gentleman!’’ The prisoners had just begun to understand that the naan whom they were before was the American general, and when he uttered this hasty opinion ol their chief they bowed very low. Gen. Taylor asked them if they knew the penalty of their crime; it they knew that, as spies, they ought to be shot. At once tiie pris oners drew themselves up proudly and said they knew the penalty, but if they were to die they trusted they would meet their late like brave men. Tbeir bravery pleased the bluff old soldier, and a ter a moment s thought he said : “ Well, I’ll let you go this time, but il I ever catch you spying here again I’ll have you shot, shot like Mexican doge I Now. vamos ! vamos ! NEW YORK DISPATCH, SEPTEMBER 5, 1886. And tell Gen. Apudia that when he wants to find out about our army, ho may eend a delegation of his officers here and I will escort them about myself and order a review of the troops ter their especial benefit. ’ The liberated men scampered off briskly. Shortly after that Gen. Taylor, at the head of his victorious legions, marched in and took possession of Monterey. CELESTINE. FROM TH! FRENCH IF JEAN RAMEAU. The sun was warm that day. It was pleasant to sit for hours idly resting in the shadow of the arbor. Bernadon, a little old man, bowed and wrinkled, with a back so rounded and a head so low that he might be taken for a vague, human interrogation point, sat doing nothing in the garden, by the side of the house, in which the dwelled alone. The house was a strange one. A miserably constructed building, flanked with cross struc tures and towers like a chateau, quite isolated in the middle of a plot of ground with uncer tain boundaries, it stood in one of the richest quarters of the city. Bernadon arose suddenly, and, speaking into the hollow of his hand, he said: “ With this repair, Celestine will do.” Celestine was the name the old man had given his house. He loved this old shed, which ho had erected at different times with his own hands. He loved it much, this immense ru n that had cost him twenty thousand francs and was not worth four sous. With the tenderness of a bachelor deprived of the presence of women, he had called it Celestine in his old age. And Celestine was all his joy—filled his whole life. This parody of a manor house had the ap pearance of a squat old woman, and the large tower represented lor Bernadon the head of his dear idol. Hq had made round openings high un on the facade, and he mentally called them Celestine’s eyes. He had recently given the dwelling a roofing ot red tiles—that was Celestine’s headdress. Finally his sleeping room, the central apartment and poorly lighted, constituted Celestine’s heart. The poor thing was not solid. It settled a little, day by day, notwithstanding its youthful age. It had lost one or two little turrets as one loses his teeth. And Bernadon, overwhelmed by taxes and de prived of income, bad found himself so poor that he had been unable to reconstruct them. Ah ! ho need only have spoken the word to be rich. All that would have been necessary would be to sell the shed and the plot of ground on which it stood. They Would have been worth several thousand, perhaps. But abandonCe lest ne—see her demolished ? Never:! : The old man left the arbor and approached the dwelling. “ Yes,” he said again, “ with this repair everything will do.” He" spoke ot a largo iron brace that he had placed in the interior of the principal tower at the bottom, an ingenious, firm brace that had cost him his very life-blood, but that would prevent Celestine from tumbling down ter many a day. Aud half closing his eyes and inclining Lis head, like a painter examining his work, he looked lovingly at Celestine, as if seeing her for the first time. Suddenly he trembled. Some one had laid a hand on his shoulder. “At how much do you value your property, my friend ?” Bernadon straightened himself, as if he would have broken his back, and, with a ringing voice, looking the man in the face, he said, “It is not for sale, sir ; look elsewhere.” And he terrified the would-be purchaser with an injured look, as oi a husband whose wife it had been proposed to buy. The gentleman bowed. “If you should ever decide to sell,” he said, “I am stopping at the little hotel on the left.” And he went his way. Bernadon turned at once toward his house. “Then, fear not!” he said, as if addressing a person. With short steps, his hands behind him, and his eyes half closed by the sun, Ber nadon returned to his arbor. But all at once an exclamation escaped him : “It can’t be possible!” And his eyes opened wide. A child in that arbor? A very small, red child, wrapped in a shawl? A child, abandoned there, was placed beside the wall. The old man bent over and looked down. “It is impossible !’ But then a sharp cry struck his ears, the cry of the child, frightened by sight of him. Bernadon stood amazed. What was to be done with this package ? He looked up and down the street, under the wall. He saw no one. It took him a long time to decide what to do. The little one continued crying. He took it up, and, hesitating a moment, passed it into the street. “ Yes, I will leave it out here somewhere,” ite said to himself. But people came along and he dared not leave it. The child, calmed now, looked up at him with dull gravity. It might be ten months old, perhaps six, possibly twelve ; the old man was no connoisseur of young children. He laid the little one down near the end oi the wall, but a carriage came rolling along. “Ha !” he exclaimed, “ suppose that vehicle should pass over it.” He growled a little and then took the child up in his arms again. He noticed its hair, beautiful blonde hair, just beginning to curl. How very soft this hair 1 It is a pleasure tor an old man to stroke it. “ I will carry it to the police station,” he de cided. But suddenly, during the journey, the little one said something. Yes, something very strange indeed. “ Papa.” It said this with such a strange voice, Berna don began to consider. And Its heart, yes, his heart, which he had not felt beat for eL many years . But these reflections were arrested by his ar rival at the police station. He entered me chanically. He was questioned, but he heard nothing. His ears were filled with music—very sweet music—whose only word was “ Papa.” “ 1 want to know,” "demanded one of the guardians of the peace, “what you wish us to do with that child. If you have found it and wish to leave it with us, do so and go your way.” “ Hey ? Leave it wish you demanded Ber nadon. And the music rang continually in his “No, indeed,” he said. And he departed, pressing the infant to his breast. Thus it was that Bernadon found an aban doned child, loved it almost in spite of himself, raised it, aud thus committed, to his shame, to his joy, as he termed it, an act of infidelity against Celestine. Now, several years a r ter these occurrences, Bernadon suffered severely one Spring morn ing. Ah ! it was terrible. Bernadon was loaded down with debts contracted for the mainten ance of the little one. He had vainlv sought, invented, reflected, but no means had been found to keep both Celestine and the child—one or the other must be sa rificed. Then, with his eyes full of tears, he compared them for a long time this Spring morning. The terrible moment had come. He must choose between a levy on his house aud sending the little one to the home for foundlings. It was a lugubrious business. He looked successively at the eyes of the child and the windows oi his pet Celestine, the child’s hair and the headgear of the old house. He found them all charming, all adorable, indispensable to his old age. He wavered between the two, unable to conclude which was preferable, equally happy with either. All at once the little one threw her arms about his neck and murmured something in his ear. “ What did you say?” demanded Bernadon. “ I said you are my papa.” Ah! he hesitated no longer. NOj indeed. Houses cannot speak. Suddenly turning his back on Celestine, not daring to look at her for fear she might suspect his treason, he crossed the street and directed his steps toward the little hotel on the left; with his heart on fire, he went to seek the man who wished to purchase his house and land. Six thousand francs he was offered for them, and three thousand in addition to take charge of the demolition of the old structure. “ Come, come,” said the old man when he was back with the little one, “ I shall buy you a beautiful wooden horse.” And he jingled the coins in his pocket with a feeling of contentment. Weeks passed and passed. Bernadon grew lean. He had been unable to prevail upon him self to demolish Celestine. He had hired lodg ings opposite his former home and spent his days in looking at it frpm afgj, He h&J three months according to the written contract, in which to raze Celestine to the fground. Three mouths I Bernadon counted the days in an guish. One morning it was absolutely necessarv to resolve upon doing it. He hired two laborers and showed them the house. “There,” he said, with a dull voice, “go to work.” Feeling a curious vise clutching about his heart, he cried: “ Not there !” They wanted to begin with the great tower, which, to him, was Celestine’s head. But be had them tear down a few insignificant walls at the sides, then a corner of the roof, then a ruined little observatory, starting with each stroke of the piokax as if the laborers were working on his flesh. All this time he held the little one on his knees to console himself. Occasionally his eyes wandered from the house to the child, and from the child to the house, regarding them, in turn as if he bad repented of his choice. ’ “ No, never !” he cried to the workmen, who were abo.ut to attack the tower. “ Nevqr !” So he discharged them, threatening to break the bead of him who dared do evil to Celestine. He became frantic. But on the morrow the new proprietor came' with a troop of men, armed with'long iron tools that made Bernadon tremble. “Don’t, don’t,” he clamored. But, seeing that the die was cast, that this dreadful thing must happen, that nothing in the world could save his beloved house, he himself took a pickaxe, and, motioning the’ la borers away with a gesture of his hand, he ap proached Celestine. “ There, you shall not suffer long,” he eaid in a high-pitched tone of excitement. He seemed to be groping tor a nlace at the bottom of the tower; then he struck a terrible blow, with a power no one suspected in his old arms. The iron brace that upheld the whole struc ture was laid bare. A second blow severed it The house trembled and a crackling sound was heard. “ Heavens ! the whole thing is falling ! Save yourself, Bernadon 1” cried the workmen. But Bernadon moved not. He turned toward the child that was playing at a distance, and, with a strange voice that was no longer human, he exclaimed: “You will come sometimes and play upon my grave, little one 1” Staggering, Celestine fell upon him with a horrible crash, and her timbers, her tiles, her stones and rubbish fell upon him eagerly, cov ered him, killed him fiercely, as if they loved to murder him. IN A CJNFEDERAIE CAMP. HOW THE NEWS OF LEE’S SUR RENDER WAS RECEIVED. (General Duke t in Southern Bivouac.) We reached Christiansburg'late in the even ing of April iCtb. The command had halted for the night, and the troops were about to go into camp, but the column was still closing up, and the larger part of it was still on the road. 1 remember that General Echols and I were dismounted and standing upon the turnpike surrounded by the soldiers. We were talking about some ordinary matter to which I had called his attention. Just then Lieutenant Clay galloped up and asked where he could find the general. General Echols indicated his pres ence, and Clay approached and silently handed him a dispatch. General Echols opened it and read it. I instantly perceived that it contained momentous and disastrous news. His face be came intensely flushed, and then grew deathly pale. He quietly requested me to follow him out of the throng. I did so, and when we were a few paces away he read me the dispatch, which was from General Lomax, and in these words : “ General Lee surrendered this morning at or near Appomattox Court House. lam trying with my own division and the remnants of Fitz Lee’s and Cosser’s divisions to arrange to make a junction you.” Although prepared to hear of disaster, I had not expected anything so dread ul as this, and the announcement almost stunned me. I can never forget the feeling of utter dismay and despair with which 1 heard it, or the impression it produced upon the troops when the informa tion reached them. Gen. Echols had not intended to immediately divulge it. After a brief conference we agreed that the news should be concealed, if possible, from the men until the next day, and commu nicated that night only to the brigade and regi mental commanders. We had hoped that some plan might be devised which would enable us to hold the troops together until we could learn what policy would be pursued by Mr. Davis, and whether it would be our duty to endeavor to join Gen. Johnst n. But to conceal such a fact when even one mm was aware of. it was impossible. Before we had c ncluded our brief conversation we knew from the hum and stir in the anxious, dark-browed crowds nearest to us, the restless oscillation of the long column as a whisper flew along it, the excitement which soon"grow alm st to tumult, that the terrible tiding.had gotten abroad. That night no man slept. Strangely as the declaration may now sound, there was not one of the six or seven thousand then gathered at Christiansburg who had entertained the slightest thought that such an event could happen, and doubtless that feel ing pervaded the ranks of the Confederacy. We knew that Richmond had fallen. We knew that the heroic army which had so long defend ed Richmond was in retreat. We knew that it would be nomadic ; that its operations could no longer be conducted upon the methods which support regular warfare, and that everything necessary to maintain its efficiency was lost. '.Ve could hazard no conjecture as to what would be done ; yet, that the Army of Northern Virginia, with Lee at its head, would ever sur render, had never entered our minds. There fore, the indescribable consternation and amazement which spread like a conflagration through the ranks when the thing was told can scarcely be imagined by one who has not had a similar experience. For four years the people of the Southern States had lived under a separate government of their own, and had looked upon themselves as constituting a distinct nationality. The very fact that those four years had been years of struggle, danger and sacrifice only the more intensified their aspirations for political separation and independent governmental ex istence. What at first may have been with the mass of the population mere prejudice, as some have claimed, or at best but an ideal love of the free dom which, in its widest sense, means the right of the people of every sovereign community to control without interference or restriction tbeir own affairs, had grown into an ardent wish for the maintenance ot the Confederacy and a devo tion to their Southern land which was limitless. Previous attachment to their native soil, all the ideas and traditions they had been reared to believe and cherish, all that contributes to make up what is wise and good, as well as what, in ex cess, may be wrong in patriotism, was connected in their minds with the contest in which they were engaged and the effort they were making. They were almost ready to believe that all future hope and life itself depended upon success. To all who read this - save those who shared the sentiment—it may seem incredible that the Southern people and soldiery can have really felt the blow sb keenly. I will ask such skeptics to imagine the impression that would be pro duced upon them by the conviction that this country had been suddenly subjugated by some foreign power, aud was about to be overrun and permanently occupied by its armies and gov erned by its agents. The South expected, in de feat, to be reduced to just such a condition. General Lee and his army had been so identi fied in our minds with the Confederate cause that to lose them was like taking the heart from the body. During all that night officers and men were congregated in groups and crowds discussing the news, and it was curious to observe how the training and discipline of veteran soldiers were manifested even amid all this deep feeling and wild excitement. There was not one act o. violence, not a harsh or insulting word spoken; the officers were treated with the same respect which they had previously received, and al though many of the infantrymen who lived in that part of Virginia went off that night with out leave and returned to their homes, none who remained wore insubordinate or failed to obey orders with alacrity. Great fires, large aud* more numerous than ordinary camp-fires, were lighted and kept burning. Every group had its orators, who, succeeding each other, spoke continuously. The men rushed from one crowd to another, hundreds sometimes collecting about a peculiar ly fervid speaker. Every conceivable sugges tion was offered. Some advocated a guerrilla warfare: some proposed marching to the trans- Mississippi and thence to Mexico. The more practical and reasonable, of course, proposed that an effort to join Gen. Johnston should immediately be made. Many, doubtless, I thought of surrender, but I do not remember to have heard it mentioned. THE STORY OF A HYACINTH. BY WILL M. CLEMENS. An unfortunate flower was this poor little hy acinth. Mother Nature had failed to nurse this tiny floral waif, and so it was not a pretty flower, but a pale pink blossom that had forced its fee ble way, after many struggles, up through the hard, stone-covered eartb, and it stood there in the field all alone. Not so much as a dandelion bade it welcome, and in all the field about only thistles grew—and weeds, for weeds grow ev erywhere. A gentle Summer breeze came floating by, bringing upon its wings a leaf, a simple wither ed rose-leaf, that had fallen from its parent stalk in the garden not far away. The wind hastened in its flight, and by some curious accident the withered leaf fluttered to the ground and fell upon the sickly flower. The little pink hyacinth sighed heavily, and bent its back as it bore the heavy burden, but uttered no complaint. Hope came to the lonely flower, and it murmured sotly: “Who knows? Perhaps if I bear this leaf awhile, some 9! tjje fragrance of the rose may be mine.” Then there came another breeze and another leaf, bnt not from the rose. “ I come from the pure, white hyacinth stand ing in the corner of the garden, whispered the leaf, and the pale, pink flower whispered in re ply: “Ab! that is better. With your own beauty and the shade from the withered rose-leaf, whs knows but I may develop into a lovelier aud a brighter !"’ - And Uie wiuds brought many dead leaves and brought also white threads from over the way where the milkweed had burst its pods, and the hyacinth laughed and said: “I am not alone. Even the 'Milkweeds love me. They, too, send tbeir tokens to Sift, and I can bear tbeir light filaments that would destroy the beauty of the proud flowers in the garden.” And still the wind brought dead leaves, and the poor little hyacinth withered under the weight 0! its burden. The leaves murmured to the passing winds : “ Oh, it is nothing. The morning sun will revive her. She was always pale and sickly, but every morning she has revived—of course not as pretty and as fragrant as a hyacinth should bo, but as beautiful as when she first blossomed.” And the night came and darkness covered the field and the garden wherein each pretty flower closed its bright eyes with hopes that the warm morning’sun of the morrow would bring a new flush of pink to the cheeks of the withered flower. But in the night another leaf fell upon the hyacinth. A little leaf, but its weight was too much for the little pink blos som. In their midnight dreams the garden flowers beard a strange noise come from the field, and when they shook the dew from their fragile bodies aud emerged into the bright sun shine of another day, they bowed their beads in grief and mingled their tears with the dew upon the. ground. Over in the field the poor little hyacinth was ly ng cold and prostrate with the dead leaves of the other plants all about her. And the flow ers said ■ “ Ob, it is sad, indeed. Who will bear our dead leaves now ?” The morning winds sighed as they chased each other across the field, and the milkweeds nodded to each other, and the thistles mourned. Nature’s children, each and every one, sang silent songs of pity for the poor, pink flower that bore her burden bravely to the end. And the sun kissed the cold and faded leaves with love and tenderness, and the grand old world continues moving as before. * God pity those who bear their burdens to the grave. HUMOBOF THE HOUR. BY THE DETROIT FREE PRESS FIEND. WHAT HE WANTED OF IT. Send me a thousand pounds of oleomar garine.” “ Ah I going to start a boarding house ?” “ No, I'm going to run a dairy out here in the country.” ART IN CHICAGO. Two gaudily attired ladies were observed, recently, inspecting the colossal statue ot Schiller, of which Chicago is pardonably proud. “ What a remarkably large man he jmust have been,” said one, craning her neck and gaz ing up at the flowing locks and prominent nose of the figure. “ Yes,” replied the other, with the conde scending air of one imparting knowledge. “The Scotch are always large men.” SAME HERE. “So you won’t take dot coat for seven dol lar ? ’ “ No, I guess not.” “ V’hell. we shall call it six, though I lose by it.” “ No, I guess not.” “ Say five und a half ?” “ No; I’ll look around a little.” “ Vhat peesness vhas you in, my frendt?” “ 1 sell grindstones.” “ Oh, you do?” “ Why ?” “ Oh, nothing, oxceptdot vhen I like a grind stone I look aroundt a leedle, too !” SOLVED AT LAST. He st >cd for a long time looking into the dis play window of a gents’ furnishing store, and by-and-by he gave himself a sort of a kick and exclaimed: “ Humph ! Just like me I” “ What is it?” asked a boy who came up. “ I’m a fule 1” “ For why ?” “ For because I’ve been wonderin’ for two years how a feller got into one of these buttou behind shirts, and I’ve just diskivered that he don’t have to turn around in it to bring the bu sum to the front! Bub, you may kick me a nickel’s wuth 1” “ BEEN THERE.” He was walking to and tro in the depot, as waiting passengers will, and his face wore an expression of peace and contentment. All of a sudden a wave of anxiety and fear swept cr er it, and he began Searching his pockets. His anxiety was so marked that several men ap proached him, and as he continued to turn his pockets wrong-side out one of the group in quired: “ Have you lost your wallet ?” “ Wallet ? No I I changed my coat an hour ago, and 1 left a letter in the pocket, and— and ” “ And by this time your wife has got it?” “ Y—yes !” And every man in the group spoke up in cho rus and advised him to take the one chance in a hundred—hire a hack and drive back home as fast as the horses could gallop. A Plea for Alcohol. —The “Revue Scientifique ” publishes a paper on alcohol and alcoholism which presents statistics and con clusions of a starting nature. The author, M. Fournier de Flaix, affirms that the outcry against alcohol is utterly unmerited, as it does far more good than harm. To demonstrate this M. de Flaix furnishes tabular statements to show that not only in the French departments, but in all other countries the birth rate is lower and the death rate higher wherever the con sumption of alcohol is small. It is further argued irom these figures that neither crim inality nor suicide is in proportion to alcoholic consumption. In the Seine et Oise the con sumption of alcohol is just about half what it is in the Seine Inferieure, yet the suicide rate is double in the former. In England, again, more alcohol is consumed than in France, and yet in France, the writer points out, the birth rate, the death rate, the statistics of crime and suicide, are less favorable than in England. The com parisons for Italy, Spain, Sweden, Norway, Den mark, Russia, Austria and Germany show analagous results. M. de Flaix s conclusion is that it is the nations with the most vital powers, the greatest wealth and the best morals who consume the most alcohol. Alcohol he main tains to be an elimentary element, whose con sumption should depend directly upon the re quirements of the climate. Our late Prime Minister, among others, is cited by M. de Flaix in support of his thesis. He says: “ Mr. Glad stone takes every day two glasses of claret at lunch and two at dinner, with a glass of port wine. His alcoholic consumption has been estimated by his son at seven gallons a year, which would be three and a half times the average consumption per head in England, and four and a halt times the average in Europe.” Soubise and His Sauce.—Alexandre Dumas used to tell his guests with great gusto the history ot a pheasant ala Soubise. Soubise was a famous French general who was worsted in one of Louis XV.’s campaigns. He fled from the battlefield and took reluge m a peasant s cottage, where dinner was being cooked for the family. The dinner was a oheasant, and the cookery was peculiar. Wearied and hungry, the marshal thought he had never tasted any thing so good ; and, having dined, he got paper and pen and ink, cross-examined the peasant’s wife, and committed the recipe to writing. At that moment two of his aides-de-camp entered the cottage. They too were fugitives from the battlefield, which was now a scene of hopeless rout. “See,” said one to the other, “how great a man he is, that even in the hour of disaster he should be organizing a route lor his army and planning a fresh campaign!” They had not then heard of a pheasant a la Soubise. The marshal returned to Pans dishonored and dis graced. He would not be received at court, and became the object of a thousand malicious epigrams. Some friends were staunch to him and one great lady, who was also a favorite of the king, he still numbered among his friends. She tasted at his house a pheasant cooked after the memorable recipe. It was excellent. The fame of it went through the city. Every one was talking of this Soubise sauce; but the secret was kept. Jealousy and malice were strong with Freneh courtiers; but the desire to taste the new sauce was stronger still. Various over tures were made; but the marshal was reso lute, or, at least, was reticent. Ultimately it got to be understood that, if polite society wanted the sauce, it must accept with it the soldier. The dish was too alluring, and the marshal was restored to favor. Why Calico Has Goke Out of Popu larity.—The calices made years ago would wear twice aS long without washing as the modern calico. More substance in actual fibre is what is wanted to regain popularity. An other reason is the low price that wool has ruled at for several years past, enabling our manufacturers to make woolen dress aoods at a very low figure, and these goods do not re quire washing. Some may think they absorb just as much dirt without showing it, but they do not. Cotton warp goods with combed wool filling can now be sold just as cheap as calico used to be sold tor. But let clean wool again run up to $1 and over and calico would again be more in demand. It might be in its new form and under the more fascinating name of sateen, which is but the same fabric with the same material and process ot printing, only it is woven eu three, tour or five harness, which enables the manufacturer to make what we call a warp or satin face. Sateen is, in weaving parlance, “ quarter satin”—both these fabrics take their name from the method or manner of weaving. Satin is wove on sixteen harness, with fifteen threads up every time a filling pick is thrown in; while a sateen is wove on four harness, usually with four warp threads up every time a filling pick goes in. All observers will have noticed that satin will not hold duet, and will repel all kinds of dirt, although silk in other weaves, such as gros-grains, will catch and hold not only dust, but any foreign sub stance. Cotton does not have the repelling power of silk, because it is not bo dense or lus trous, but is a quick absorber of moisture and has an equal affinity tor dirt. gLECTBICAL — Says the London Engineering.- The acetate ot soda foot warmers now used for laijway carriages gradu ally become cool by radiation, but M. Tommasi, the French electrician, proposes to keep them up to a certain temperature by moans of the heat due to an eleetrio current traversing a high resistance. Only the heat lost by radiation is thus compensated tor, so that the original high temperature is obtained on ths cheaper plan of heating by a fire, or rather by plunging the warmers in boiling water. The current em ployed to maintain their heat is to be supplied by a dynamo driven off an axle of the train, and the circuit passes through all the warmers. A simple device allows ot the foot warmer being thrown out of circuit should it become unbeara bly hot The plan will require fewer foot warmers than are now used, since it will be un necessary to change them during a lengthy journey. This combination of fire and electric heating is perhaps more likely to be successful for the present than a purely electrical arrange ment. Most of the latter which have been de vised are of feeble power. Eucalyptus Doesn’t Affect Malaria. —The banishment of malaria from the Roman Campasna by means ot the eucalyptus tree has been so often announced as a tact that it may be a surprise to many people to learn that, ac cording to the recent demonstration of a scien tific commission, whatever improvement has been effected in the sanitary condition ot Italy in this particular is the result simply of drain age and exposure ot the humid soil to the direct rays of the sun, through the cutting away of forests. There is absolutely no prod! that the eucalyptus trees deserve any credit at all. It is indee*d affirmed, on the authority of Professor Loversidge, of the University ot Sydney, that there are in Australia large forests of eucalyp tus in which' malaria is very prevalent. ( Niovel Method of Preserving Fish. —A rather novel method of preserving fresh fish, the London Echo tells us, has been recent ly introduced to those interested in the trade, and will probably be adopted so far as the bet ter qualities of. that excellent food are con cerned. Mr. Roosen, of Hamburg, puts the fresh fish, as caught, into steel barrels, fits in the head, and then pumps the barrel full ot a solution which contains boracio acid, salt and some other antiseptics, until a pressure of about sixty pounds is reached. The internal pressure prevents any access of air, and the antiseptic solution preserves the fish in a per fectly fresh condition. The tise of this antisep tic solution will probably be regarded as an ob jection by some people—those, for instance, who do not know that the greater portion of the milk delivered in London is dosed with boracic acid or a boro-glycaride, but it is really per ectly harmless in this connection, and, combined with the system of packing the fish in barrels under pressure, should enable mer chants to deliver the delicate sole or the lordly salmon in a really fresh condition at a cheaper rate than obtained at present, for it will be no longer necessary to hurry fish to London by train, at a cost of five to seven times the ex pense of water carriage. There is, however, this drawback—that just as the preservative process will enable the dealers to choose the slower and least expensive means of transit, so it will enable them to keep the fish and sell at their prices; for so long as th*e pressure is maintained in the steel barrels the fish will be, to ail intents and purposes, fresh. Quinine. —It is derived from Peruvian or Jesuits’ bark, obtained from various species of cinchona which grow in the Colombian, Ecuador, Bolivian and Peruvian forests of South America. The Countess de la Cinohon, wife of a Peruvian viceroy, was cured of a fever by its use, and when she returned to Europe introduced the medicine there about the middle of the seventeenth century. It derived the name cinchona from her. This bark used to be gathered by the Cascarillas Indians chiefly, who obtained it by cutting down the trees that pro duce it. This, ot course, soon thinned out the more valuable trees, and such was the reckless stupidity of the Peruvian government that, though it put every obstacle in the way of the tree being planted elsewhere, it never attempted by a system of forestry to renew the riches thus improvidently wasted. The result was that quinine became scarcer and scarcer every year; the price of it went up to an extravagant figure, and at one time it seemed as if this most im portant drug was likely to become unobtain able. It was at this time that the East Indian government determined to try to naturalize the cinchona tree in India. To obtain seeds and young plants was a difficult task, but Professor Clements R. Markham, Dr. Spruce and others accomplished it, and in a short time a flourish ing plantation was yielding large quantities of quinine on the Neilgherry Hills of Southern India. The tree has since become naturalized in Java, the mountainous regions of Jamaica and many other places, so that we are almost, it not entirely, independent ox the Peruvian forests for this great febrifuge. A Japanese Juggler.—The follow ing account of the performance of a Japan ese juggler at Yokohama is taken from “The Cruise of Her Majesty’s Ship Bacchante:” A man lay down on his back on a mattress spread on the ground, put his legs up in the air, and on the soles of his feet was placed a massive empty bronze water-jar four feet deep, into the mouth of which climbed a small boy. The man spun this with his feet, tossed it up in the air, caught it on the soles of his feet again, some times causing the jar to stand with its mouth uppermost white he spun it round and round, then tossed it up again, and caught it on its side, the boy the whole time sitting unconcern edly inside. His assistants then inserted, one alter the other, between the jar and his feet, a series of spitkins or wooden pans about a foot each in depth and decreasing in diameter, so that when the seventh or eighth was in position the jar was at least seven feet above the soles of his feet and standing on the top of this pile of smaller tubs. The boy now crawled out from the neck of the jar, and proceeded to clamber about on the outside for a while, the man all the time balancing the pile on his feet, until the boy got back into the jar, when, by a sud den kick of the legs, he sent the spitkins flying in all directions, and caught the jar and' the boy as they descended seven or eight feet through the air on to his feet again. It took two men to lift the empty jar on to his feet to begin with, and the most extraordinary thing is the great weight he thus pedipulated. The Philosophy of Vaccination.— Professor Tyndall explains the philosophy of vaccination as follows : “ When a tree or a bun dle of wheat or barley straw is burned, a cer tain amount of mineral matter remains in the ashes—extremely small in comparison with the bulk of the tree or'of the straw, but absolutely essential to its growth. In a soil lacking, or ex hausted of, the necessary constituents, the tree cannot live, the crop cannot grow. Now conta gia are living things, which demand certain el ements of lite, just as inexorably as trees, or wheat, or barley; and it is not diffioult to see that a crop of a given parasite may so far use up a constituent existing in small quantities in the body, but essential in the growth of the par asite, as to render the body unfit for the pro duction of a second crop. The soil is exhausted; and, until the lost constituent is restored, the body is protected from any further attack from the same disorder. Such an explanation of non-recurrent diseases naturally presents itself to a thorough believer in the germ theory; and such was the solution which, in reply to a ques tion, I ventured to offer nearly fifteen years ago to an eminent physician. To exhaust a soil, however, a parasite less vigorous and destruc tive than the really virulent one may suffice; and, if, after having, by means of a feebler or ganism, exhausted the soil without fatal result, the most highly virulent parasite be introduced into the system, it will prove powerless. This, in the language of the germ theory, is the whole secret of vaccination.” Carrier Pigeon Races. —A number of .interesting experiments have recently been made in Austria with carrier pigeons. Thirty one pigeons left Salzburg tor Linz, a distance of nearly eighty English miles, which was accom plished by all the pigeons within three hours and three-quarters. In another race which lately came off between Trieste and Vienna, the distance of over 370 English miles was trav ersed by the slowest bird in thirty hours. In Germany the War Department has 6,000 pigeons. There are about 100 associations that bare about 15,000 birds. Independently ot business messages, there are trequeut flying matches, and it has been ascer tained that every year some thousands of pigeons are lost in these matches, or at least never arrive at their destination or return to their homes. There is an erroneous impres sion generally prevalent that carrier pigeons al ways find their way, but German experience at least is quite against this. It has been found that birds frequently fly, not straight from point to point, but making a detour by some place with which they are familiar. Medical Practice in Russsia.—'l h > practice of medicine in Russia is exceedingly onerous and unremunerative. A physician who fails to respond to the summons of a patient is punished by a fine ot from five to 100 roubles. If the case was a dangerous one, and the physi cian knew it, he may be imprisoned in the jail for three months. The legal fee for an ordinary i visit is from seven and a half to fifteen cents; ' for an accouchement, seventy-five cents. These 1 laws are strictly enforced. An elderly German physician, an invalid, was called, on a stormy Winter night, to attend a case seven miles dis tant. He objected to go unless he was reason ably remunerated, naming his fee. The mes senger left to ascertain whether this amount would be paid, but did not return. The physi cian was subsequently arrested, tried, and con demned to eight days’ imprisonment. Beside, he had to pay his lawyer $250 in advance. A Happy Thought.—A neat little sto ry is told of the way Herr Cohn, the private banker of the Empercr of Germany, gained the imperial favor. Years ago, when the present empress was still a Princess of Prussia, she made a railway journey to Dessau. On the way her feet got cold, so' at the next station she sent an attendant to procure a flask of hot water. Unfortunately the cook at the railway staton had just used up every drop of hot water in making fresh coffee for those who had just arrived en the train. The restaurateur was in despair, when one of the guests sud denly got up, seized the pot of fresh coffee and poured it into the imperial flask. The attend ant hastened away with it, but soon returned, as the princess wished to know the name of the man who had had the happy thought of util izing the coffee, and she did not forget him. Stomach Troubles are caused by Improper diet, hasty eating and drinking, late suppers, the excessive use of stimulants, and a scrofulous condition of the blood. Ayer’s Sarsaparilla is the most efficacious remedy for all such disorders. **l am convinced that the worst cases of Dyspepsia Can be cured by taking Ayer’s Sarsaparilla. I suffered greatly from this complaint, for years, and never took any medicine that did me any good until I commenced using Ayer’s Sarsaparilla. I took four bottles of this preparation last spring, and my appetite, health, and strength were completely restored. —Richard M. Norton, Danbury, Conn. ■ My wife was long subject to severe Headaches, the result of stomach and liver disorders. After trying various remedies, without relief, she used Ayer’s Sarsaparilla, and was spee'dily cured.— S. Page, 21 Austin st., Lowell, 'Mass. As a remedy for Debility, Faintness, Loss of Appetite, and Indigestion, I took one bottle of Ayer’s Sar saparilla, and was cured. —H. Mansfield, Chelmsford, Mass. Prepared by Dr. J. C. Ayer & Co., Lowell, Mass. Advantages of Low Ceilings.—- Rooms with low ceilings, or with ceilings even With the Window-tops, says the ‘‘Popular Science Monthly,” are more readily and com pletely ventilated than those with high ceilings. The leakage of air which is always going on keeps all parts of the air in motion in such rooms; whereas, if the ceiling is higher, only the lower part of the air is moved and an in verted lake of loul and hot air is left floating in the space above the window tops. To have the currents of fresh air circulating only in the lower parte of the room, while the upper por tion of the air is left unaffected, is really the worst way of ventilating, for the stagnant at mospheric lake under the ceiling—although mo tionless- keeps actively at work under the law of diffusion of gases, fouling the fresh currents circnlating beneath it. With low- ceilings and high windows no such accumulation of air is possible, for the whole bight of the room Is swept by the currents, as the dust of the floor is swept with a broom. Low ceilings have also the advantage ot enabling the room to be warmed with less expenditure of heat and lees cost for fuel. The above does not agree with the generally accepted idea of the hight of rooms in dwellings, but the authority is good and well worthy of consideration by persons about to build. Crime in Europe. — The London Daily Xeics says: From the new volume pub lished by the Italian General Director of Statis tics, which contains data from 1873 to 1884, the following figures are taken respecting murder and manslaughter in the following countries. The proportion of individuals condemned is for every 103,000 persons. In Italy, 8.12; France, 1.56; Belgium, 1.78; Germany, 1.11; Great Brit ain, 0.60; Austria, 2.24; Hungary, 6.09; Spain. 7.84. Thus Italy, Spain and Hungary have the unenviable precedence in murder. In offenses against morality Italy shows more favorably. The proportion of persons condemned for such offenses is: In Belgium, 15.11 in every 100,000 inhabitants; Germany, 14.03; France, 9.77 t Austria, 9.18; Hungary, 6.52; Italy, 3.77; Eng land, 1.74; Spain, 0.95. Germany occupies the first place in robbery, the proportions being in round numbers: .Germany, 222; Italy, 154; Great Britain, 147; Belgium, 128; France, 112; Hungary, 77; Austria, 60; Spain, 66. Taking all crimes together, Germany is at the top of the scale and England at the bottom. The volume, which is compiled with care, shows that crimes in Italy have sensibly diminished since 1880. The total number of condemnations has de creased in the ten years from 1873 to 1884 from 69,023 to 60,543, and the proportion for every 10,000 inhabitants is reduced from 25.40 to 20.62- Singular Use for Instantaneous Photography. —According to the Court Jburna’, a wealthy ironmaster in the north of England, whose house and works are dazzlingly illumin ated by the electric light, has adopted an inge nious contrivance, by which he may glean some information as to what goes on during his not' unfrequent absences from home. In several of his rooms and in his offices there is a concealed apparatus in the walls, consisting of a roll of prepared photographic paper and a train of clockwork. Every hour a shutter is silently opened by the machinery and an instantaneous photograph is taken ot all that is going on in the room. On the great man’s return he de lights to develop these pictures, and it is said that they have furnished some very strange in formation indeed. One clerk, who received his dismissal somewhat unexpectedly, and boldly wanted to know the reason why, was horrified when shown a photograph in which he was de picted lolling in an easy-chair, with his feet upon the office desk, while the clock on the mantelpiece pointed to an hour at which be ought to have been at his busiest. The serv ants’ party in the Best dining-room furnished another thrilling scene. Military Fearlessness of Death. — Many of the devices by which military indiffer ence to life has been matured and sustained are curious. In ancient Athens the piiblic temples were closed to those who refused military ser vice. who deserted their ranks, or lost their bucklers; while a law of Charondas of Catans constrained such offenders to sit for three days in the public forum dressed in the garments of women. Many a Spartan mother would stab her son who came back alive from a defeat; and such a man, it he escaped hie mother, was de barred not only from public offices, but from marriage, exposed to the blows of all who chose to strike him, compelled to dress in mean cloth ing, and to wear his beard negligently trimmed. <n the same way a Norse soldier who fled, or lost his shield, or received a wound in any save the front part of his body, was by law prevented from ever afterward appearing in public. Ducks and Fish Ponds.—A curious fact about fish ponds, recorded by Frank Buck land, is that the presence of ducks on a pond is an immense advantage to the fish, which he ex plains by the fact that the habit which ducks have of “ rootling” with their bills in the mud enables the fish to get at a quantity of minute insects, while the loosenng of the mud gives facilities to the water croiftures to breed. So distinct is the improvement of the fish in these circumstances, that Mr. Pori, who had charge of the experimental ponds at Receiver, told Mr. Bucklaud that, when handling eels, even in the dark, he could tell from their size whether they oame from a stream of which ducks and geese had the run. 01 course, both ducks and geese must be kept away from ponds when the fish are spawning, as they will, if allowed, de vour immense quantities ot the fish eggs. A Big Collection of Death War rants.—The city of Paris has become lately the possessor of a remarkable collection of docu ments, which will have great interest in years to come for historical investigators. This was the series of death warrants, extending from the 7th ot April, 1808, to the Bth of December, 1882, belonging to Samson, the notorious heads man of the Revolution. The collection was bound up in nineteen volumes, and Samson has prefixed to each volume a summary of the con tents. It appears that during twenty-five years be executed 7,143 capital sentences, being an average of 217 executions in each year-rather. a busy life, •,.«» <• . . ’ AReal Tragedy on the Stage.—A real tragedy of the theatre has occurred at Casale, a town ot Piedmont, in Northern Italy. An actor, who was playing a leading part, failed to please the audience, who displayed their dis approval by prolonged hissing. The actor stop ped suddenly in his lines, and, advancing to the lootlights, drew a revolver and shot himself dead. His wife, who was seated in a box, witnessed the tragedy, and in a frenzy attempted to leap to the floor beneath, wfiicn Wft; quite a distance. She was restrained by sOVefal friends who were in her company, and was finally carried from the theatre unconscious. The Seven Stabs. — An interesting test of visual power may be found in the Pleia des, commonly called “ the seven stars,” Or dinarily only six stars are visible to the naked eye, although the telescope shows a large num ber oi smaller ones in the group. But nearly thiry years before the d acovery of the tel escope, Mocstliu mapped eleven stars, and may have observed fourteen, while Professor W. F. Denning, the well-known English astronomer, claims that he can usually discern thirteen oi the stars with the naked eye, and on one occa sion was able to see the fourteenth. Being Removed.— The huge deposit of oyster shells at Damariscotta, Me., is being removed. The Portland Transcript speaking of the removal says but tew relics have been found thus far, but stone tools and human bones have been discovered. Shells have been found four teen inches long, and those twelve inches long are common. One pair twelve inches long and six inches wide has been found, and it is esti mated that the oyster which they contained would have nearly filled a pint measure. A New Thief Catcher.—Thefts of money from garments hanging in the clotbes room of a Meriden factory led the electrician of the establishment to try to catch tho hitherto undetected thief. He connected a pocketbook in the pocket of a pair ot trousers with wires that terminated at a gong in a distant room, and so arranged the wires that the gong would ring when the pocketbook was mo-ed. The pocket book was moved, the gong sounded, and tha thief was caught. Upon the Plan of Secresy.—Every Persian house is constructed upon a plan of secresy. No windows are visible from tha streets, but the interior is constructed around several courts, with lovely gardens, tanks, shrubbery and even luxuriant groves of fruit and shade trees, of all of which one obtains not the slightest hint from the street. Troubl es Never come alone. If the Liver, Kidneys, or Bowels are disordered, other parts of the body become affected. Ayer’s Sar saparilla restores the vigor required for the healthy action of these organs more speedily than any other medicine. **A few bottles of Ayer’s Sarsaparilla Cured me of Kidney Disease, when all other medicines failed. It* is the most reliable and best remedy for this complaint known to me. —Eli Dodd, Xenia, 111. I was afflicted with a severe bowel diffi culty; my vitality seemed to be rapidly diminishing, my appetite failed, my tongue Was badly coated, and my strength was gone. In this enfeebled condition I began taking Ayer’s Sarsaparilla. I had not taken many doses before I noticed a decided change for the better. My appetite and strength returned, and my whole system manifested renewed vigor. — E. B. Simonds, Glover, Vt. 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