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THE SENTINEL. J. IT. BGCHAXA5, -Manager and Proprietor. GRENADA, - MISSISSIPPI. I AM DYING, MOSQUIT, DYING. I am dying, mosquit, dying, Ebbs the crimson life-tide fast, And thy large abdominal region Is puffed up with thy repast; Let thy bl!!. oh MosquiL leave me, Stop thy buzzing in mine ear; 8kjp down stairs to Jersey farmer- Get him ready for liis bier. Fly away, blood-irorffed mosquito, With thy appetite so vile!— Go and suck the very life out From that granger full of Kuile— Who secured me tor a boarder, With his promises so sweet, Saying: "No mosquitoes ever Come to my roo-ral retreat I" I am (lying, Mosquit, dying: Hark! I near thy comrades cry— Round my bed they come to picnic On iny carcass, as I die. Ah! no more behind the counter Shall I ever cut a swell! Jersey liar, curses Macy's Broadwuy, life, farewoll! —" Jeff. Joalyn," in Life. 1 lice - BOBBY'S BUSINESS EXPERIENCE. Bobby was a very busy boy; so busy that often the days were not long enough, and lessons had to give way to the pressure that any man might feel who was at once editor of apapor, treasurer of a Debating Society, captain of the Eleven, and so prominent member of a Foot-ball Nine, and a Glee Club. He was a popular, happy-go-lucky boy, never stopping to think very long about anything, particularly if it promised to afford a "jolly good time." But for once in his life, Bobby was giving something very serious thought; he was giving it be forehand, too. which made it the more sur prising. There Vas a reason for this, of course; and the reason was one which gives rise to a great deal of thought in this thoughtless world—lack of money. It was nearly vacation. In about throe weeks school would close, afid then hurrah for two months of fun, and this summer, if it could only be managed, there prospect of more fun than he had ever had in his life before. Bobby had thought tho same on one or two other occasions. Half a dozen of liis particular friends had planned a trip to ltangely Lakes, fishing and hunting. For the last week at school they had been talking it over, enthusiastic as only boys can be when a fishing and gunning expedition is on foot, and getting somewhat wild in their plans, till to-day thev had come down to solid calculations, and appointed a committee who were to arrange for the necessities of camping out. It was decided that each must furnish twenty-five dollars; and that part of tho money—ten dollars each—was to be handed in to the Committee before hand for canned provisions, a tent, a few cooking utensils and such necessities as flour, meal and pork, and for the rest they intended to de pend on guns and rod* But while the others had been discussing and planning, Bobby Grey had been un usually silent. Twenty-five dollars was a large sum to him, and what was worse, it was a large sum to Doctor Grey, for coun try doctors are rarely rich. Could he ask him for the money—for his own pleasure simply? though how great that pleasure looked only a boy could tell. Almost soon as he had asked the question did he decide that it could not be done. It would be useless and it would give his father pain to refuse; after all, rollicking, though t less boy though Bobby Grey was, that was the reason why he cou id decide two months to perfect bliss. No man, they say, is a hero to his valet, a i to relinquish but sohiebody has cleverly added, "That is more the valet's fault than the hero's." If so, it was to the credit of ^)oth Bobby and his sister Rose, that to them there was no man in the world like Doctor Edward Grey. Not many boys have that feeling toward their fathers, how ever much they may love and respect them. With Bobby it was genuine hero worship. In the first place, the early years of Doctor Grey's practice had been in the army, at first i Plains, where he had been distinguished for his dashing bravely, his regardlessness of danger, his coolness and command of all surgical skill, though Indians were whirl ing and shouting, and Indian arrows and bullets were whizzing past him, with doath a happy alternative from falling alive into the enemy's hand. What boy's heart would not thrill at the thought of that figure in top boots and spurs, slouch hat and sweeping plumes. Spanish poncho, with streaming ends and floating scarlet sash stuck full of revolvers? It is needless to state that such hail not been the costume worn by Doctor Grey whilst in the service of his country. It was the one furnished by Bobby's lively imagi nation, assisted by stacks of the literature he was ill the habit of devouring. Think, however, of living in the house with Buffalo Bill, Davy Crocket, Gen eral Custer, Dick Onslow, Kit Carson! Then there were other reasons that appealed to tho man, and not the boy, in Bobby—his father's gentle ways toward women and children, his standing in his profession, his honesty and straightforward ways, his scorn of anything that above board, in the famil a soldier—to active service on the B&me was not Bobby felt all these y light. A doctor and help and to fight. Bobby -sometimes thought in the serious moments that come to even boys of fourteen, that it was iust because he had been thut his ideas of honor were so rigid; as though derived in part from a life where the creed is "To do nothing unbecoming officer and gentleman." After that discussion about Rangely, Bobby walked homo thinking very bard. Asking his father was out of the question. There was only one way in which it was possible to obtain the necessary money. It was just this: His birthday was the twenty-fourth of June, and aunt Melissa always made him a present then of twentv* five dollars; exactly enough to cover liis expenses. It would not do to ask her to advance the amount, of course. But why not take the ten dollars required at once, from the funds in his possession as Treas urer of the Debating Society, and Editor in-Chief of the School Register ? | He had rejected the idea at first. Still It had come to him again and again, he dwelling on it longer each time, till now the question had to be decided at once and for good. He did not quite like to do it, yet why he did not exactly know, or re fused to acknowledge. Not that there was harm in it, or the slightest danger of his not being able to replace it. Had not he borrowed small sums—three cents for a stamp, his fare to town, ton ceiits' worth of candy, time and again, and replaced it almost immediately? It was just a tern porary convenience, and it would be idiotic to let the money lie there unused because >of a sudden squoamishness. What lay at the bottom of the boy's reluctance was a lurking and undefined feeling tiiat "father would not do it." He argued with himself all the way home, and it was not till he had reached the gate— Arthur Wales just then rushed by on his bicycle; lie did not have to bother where his money was coming from. How unfair it was some fellows should have everything. Part of th? money was his, anyway; surely he had the right to "lend" it to himself good security, when he had always had the trouble of it—Bobby made up his mind with a spring. And the minute he had done it, his doubts vanished, and he won dered how he could have been such a ninny -as to have hesitated. Ho ran up tho steps, slammed the door After him, and proceeded to sow the seeds of dyspepsia by eating his dinner in throe minutes. Then the Treasurer and Editor wont to his private room, got out the the latter an on collar-b—strong box, In which the funds w«re deposited, and counted them. Forty - four dollars and sixty cents, mostly In quarter and half dollars. He counted out ten, dropped the rest back, changed the borrowed money that afternoon for a bill, and the next morning Bobby Grey's name was clown on the list, and its owner talked longer and louder than anybody else about Rangely. It was about a week after this that a splendid bargain came right in his way. A friend of his knew another fellow who had a gun to dispose of. It was a beauty, with all modern improvements, and he would r dl for twelve dollars. Bobby's own weapon was an old muzzle-loader with the barrels in such a state that to lire was more dangerous to the sportsman than to the sport. This time he did not hesitate, but after examining the gun, bring it once or twice and stroking the shining barrels lov ingly, paid over the twelve dollars which he had borrowed from the same source; there would be a slight deficiency, but he could pick tip the difference in some way, and the ba rgain was too great a one to dream of losing. He had almost begun to look upon the "funds'' as his own. He stowed the gun carefully in his own closet, and did not say anything about his bar gain to his family. Perhaps his father was foolishly particular about some things. His birth-day—the twenty-fourth, came. And no letter from Aunt Melissa came with it. It did not worry him, however; she al ways had sent him his birthday present ever since he was a little fellow, and no doubt it would queerly pleasant feeling, as though the funds were really his own, was not without its influence. Perhaps she had not posted it as soon os usual, or maybe there had been some delay in the mails. The next day was Saturday, and the morning was spent with another fellow looking ovor fishing-tackle, and the after noon in a rousing game of base-ball, whence he returned home so tired that all he could do was to eat his supper and go to bed. The letter never came into his head at nil. It did not Sunday, either, and Mon day he did not get home till late, having stayed after school for an editorial meet ing. Then the matter was recalled by a trifle with no apparent connection, as often happens. An open paper was lying dining-room table, where Dr. Grey had flung it as he was called off to see a patient in on epileptic fit; and in large capitals at tho head of one column, were the words: ive soon; besides, that i 1 11 • GREAT BANK ROBBERY. EMBEZZLEMENT OP FUNDS BY A TRUSTED OFFICIAL. A Long Course, of Systematic Peculation! Facts of the Downward Course. Bobby did not stop to read details, for strangely enough, at that moment he re membered Aunt Melissa's letter, and for getting dinner and everything else, rushed up-stairs to see if it had come. Ho walked down—for it had not. And then he did begin to worry. He could settle to nothing, but roamed about as though* possessed of the spirit of the Wandering Jew, quarreled with Rose, was cross to his mother, and went to bed at half-past seven to avoid meeting his father. The next day was one of such torment that he wondered it did nob turn his hair white. It seemed as though everything conspired against him. He failed in geometry, was spoken to by the French professor for his unaccountable blunders and inattention, and was kept after school by the favorite history teacher because coming in after recess with his cap on, through forgetfulness. He did not dare say anything about the missing letter, for with the curious lack of logic so often displayed by a guilty con science, it appeared to him that any dis play of anxiety on his part would tell ev erything. Even when Rose sympathet icallv said: "Where do you suppose your present can be? I think its so funny of Aunt Melissa," he had answered indifferently, "Well, who cares," and begun whistling "Captain John." "But don't you think it will come?" per "But don't you think it will come?" per sisted Rose. "How do I know?" Bobby began to lose his temper. "Wlmt's the odds if she don't? I can get along without her old money." "It would be just like her to take it into her head not to," pursued Rose, innocently unaware she was torturing her brother. "She can't have forgotten. I don't believe she's going to this year." "Bother Aunt Melissa ! Can't you let hfsr drop?" Bobby was downright angry now. "It's none of your business auy way." "Well, then, I hope it won't come," "Glad of it, said Rose, vexed in turn, too. Papa said the bonds, or leases, or something or other of Aunt Melissa's Chi cago railroads, had dropped, and that she was probably half crazy,even if she has such a lot of money. I know it won't come now, and serve you right, too! Rose was so provoking. But though Bobby glared furiously at her, feeling for one brief instant that wild anger that could hesitate nt nothing, she did not know, then or after, how her words cut. He went off singing the last song of the Glee Club, "Captain John." It was Tuesday then, and a business meeting was to be held after school the following Thursday. He shut himself up in his room and counted the money ovor. Twenty-three dollars and a quarter. He had spent more in small sums, as the ex pected twenty-flve would cover everything. Without clearly knowing why ho did it, but with a sinking feeling at his heart, and a sudden rush of what, if he had been away from home, he would have called "home sickness," 1 ho poured the money into his pocket, and then he went out, still whist ling "Captain John." The words had somehow taken possession of his brain, underneath the dizzy whirl of thought, like Mark Twain's horse-car refrain: Vive le John, Vive lo John, Vive le Captaine John! And now happened a queer thing. Per haps his trouble had really unhinged his mind a little; perhaps a kind of frenzv had come ovor him, in which he would not think; perhaps the possession of so much money—unused as he was to tne article made him dizzy; perhaps he had got strung up to such a pitch that, desperate, he had resolved to be "hung for an old sheep better than being hung for a lamb;" per haps it was that singular thing scientific men have agreed to call kleptomania; per haps—and this is the likeliest perhaps of all—it was induced by a state of mind that not even scientific men could clearly ex plain. Ho went first to Buffum's, where he bought five pounds of powder, some shot and a revolver. The revolver was some thing he had longed to own since long clothes, and as he put tho pretty shining thing in his pocket, he felt that one of tho ambitions of his life was fulfilled. Then he strolled along High Street till ho came to the one stationery and fnney goods store, and after a prolonged survey of the window and a deliberate selection of several articles therein displayed, he bought a dog-whip, a Russia leather pocket inkstand, a belt and a pocket book. He met Jack Forbes as he was coming out, and greetiiig him cheerily, they went together to look at some pups a man had for sale, Bobby finally engaging one at three dollars, agreeing to call for it in a dav or two. Th<*n he invited his friend into George Bill Watson's for an ice cream—strawberry and chocolate mixed— and further treated to cream cakes, pickles and Washington pie. All the while n happy as a king, displayed his purchases and talked about them, and walked half way homo with Jack, laughing and talking and eating walnut taffy. And then he went home, strulght to his own room, and sat down and thought. Perhaps none of the men whose "defalca tions" have amounted to thousands suffered on the eve of discovery, or it may be when thev realized their crime for the "first time, as Bobby Grey did for that hour. Boys are apt to be stern judges, and boyish codes of honor are strict. To como before his frieuds —how queer he should all of a sudden bo •fraid of them—and say: "I have not the monev." 'He could not do it. It may have / v. IH bean by a mere revulsion of feeling that It looked so horrible to him. Was there no way of escape? Must evenrbody know that he was a thief? He looked pitifully at the money he drew from his pocket thirty-seven cents—and felt a vague wonder that his hair had not turned white. Ask Aunt Melissa? That would be useless. Tell his father? That one thing that was pos sible, was of all others the most impossible. Look which way he would there was no chance of escape. Worse than the scorn of the fellows, the sorrow and indignation of the teachers, the grief of mother and Rose, even the knowing that his name would be in everyone's mouth in shameful notoriety, was what—what father would think! At the very thought of the look that would come into the kind, pleasant eyes, Bobby felt that all his manhood—or what he thought his manhood—would fleo from him, and ne should burst into tears. His life seemed to him at an end. There thing for him to do, and the resolution he came to was accompanied by such an guish as, boy or man, he mignt never know again. He opened his upper bureau drawer and , his choicest trea sures. A watch that would not go, but which its owner kept in affectionate re membrance of the time when it did, a stylographic pen with the ink reservoir ex hausted; a battered photograph of a man in the uniform of a Captain of Cavalry, which lie did not look at, but laid face down at the bottom of the pile. Then he opened the second drawer and took out sev eral pairs of stockings, a change of under clothing and all his handkerchiefs. He made all these up into a neat little bundle put it on the top shelf of his closet and went down to tea. Rose difference of tho afternoon, but there withstanding Bobby's angelic behavior, replied sweetly to several intentionally provoking speeches from her, refused to get angry when she alluded to aunt Melissa, and in the evening played Logomacy with her, when he hated games, and that particu lar game above all others. Ho split wood fcr Biddy without his usual intimation she used enough for a hotel, closed doors quiet ly, studied till he had every lesson perfect and neither whistled nor sang "Captain John," which latest effort of the Glee Club was fast undermining the reason of its members' families. Mingled with the real tr&gedy of the situation was a queer element of enjoy ment, which Bobby himself would have boon the last to recognize. Ho just what so many of the heroes of his favorite books had done on arriving at the age when they know more than their par ents and guardians. In the background was a faint picture of how, like them, he probably should flsh the son of a million aire out of the water, rescue the wife of a rich merchant from a runaway horse, save tho daughter of an influential Senator from death in a railroad collision, or jump to fame and fortune in some other of the in numerable ways the favorite—alas!— writers for boys depict. Ho was up the next morning at five o'clock, stowed his bundle in the stable, where he could get at it easily, and then set out on a round of leave-taking. To his rabbits, his pet rat that would come at his whistle, the turtles in the tank made out of the old refrigerator, his dog, a mongrel cur that had followed him home one day, and lastly to Billy, the doctor's old horse. Bobby had his arms closely about his neck and there was something glistening on his mane when he said at last, "Good-bye, old fellow." but took out, one s inclined to be cool, after their no He doing He went in to breakfast and was so quiet and subdued that his mother asked him twice if he were sick, and Rose, impressed by his magnanimity of the evening before, began to feel the gnawings of remorse at hfer own "hatefulness" in view of the ill ness that was hanging over her brother. There was a ohoking feeling in Bobby' throat as he kissed his mother twice. H did not kiss Rose, that could not have been expected. But he said, "Good-bye,Rosie!" which was a kiss translated. a But to his father he could not say a word. Doctor Grey thought it brushed his hat so carefully and laid his gloves just where he could that Sam had been extra careful in groom ing Billy that morning. Bobby was a model boy at school that never-to-be-forgotten Wednesday. "The last time," ho kept saying to himself, with a pang at his heart and that curious under current of enjoyment. His geometry les son vfas perfect. In history he had "read on every point; the pretty history teacher thought her reproof of tho day be fore had had excellent effect. Tho profes sor told him in his excited way, "You haf a ferry gootlesson, Grey," ending with the funny little grunt that beginners in his classes thought was the French accent and strove to imitate, to the foreign g€ man's wrath. He did not whisper. H not play "Crambo" with the boy behind him. He did not throw an apple-core into Billy Watson's mouth when he gaped so widely. He did not laugh when his most intimate friend slipped with a pile of draw ing books, scattering them widely. The hero of a Sunday school book could not have behaved better; nay, even Rollo him self was but a creation of the imagination compared with Bobby. At recess he gave away his jack-knife to Jack Forbes, his best pencil to Billy, his two short ones, dull at one end and chewed at the other, to Tommy Blake, his block to another fellow and his small French dic tionary to a boy who did not own any, largo or small, but who always had the host lesson in the class; he was a boy Bobby hated, too, so this made him fool more vir tuous and increased his meek air. When two o'clock came he walked quietly to the dressing-room, took his cap without getting into the usual scuffle, and went back to tho class room on some pretext, that on going out he might say "good-bye" to tho history teacher. There was base ball after school. He was going to stop for that. One last rousing game, that should stand out a landmark in the history of the school, and be re ferred to regretfully ever after—this with the enjoyment uppermost—as "the last time that stunning player, Bobby Grey, played with us," even when his name had become something to be handled shrink-, ingly, the heartacue was all on the top now. Rose who had them, and up entle o did "He'll die, I know. And mo so cross and ugly to him. And him so sweet and lovely . Didn't I know ho was going to be killed this morning ! Oh, dear, oh dear !" and Rose wrung her hands as she went to tho door for the twentieth time to look for Billy's Roman nose. For half an hour before an excited crowd had brought Bobby home ou Toddy Mulli gan's tip-cart, Bobby with a broken leg, and set white face. Mrs. Grey had somehow reached the door, her heart standing still and a dreadful fear, hardly enabling her to say, "Tell me quick what has happened !" with Rose, close be hind, clutching her skirts, and with her eyes shut, murmuring incoherently, "I told you he would break his nose?" They had all tried to explain together how it had happened, while between them, Teddy Mulligan and Taffy Austin fore most, they were bringing Bobby in and placing him on the office lounge. He was lying on a board, too. That was the last touch Qf horror in Rose's eyes. "It was the lovliest game of the season. And Bobuy had just gone ahead of any thing that had been seen on tho field. And then Taffy Austin—you see Bobby had just made the stunningest home run. Wo didn't know till we heard a howl and saw him in ft heap. Taffy had knocked a three-baser and sot out to scoot to first, and he slung away tho bat—he didn't see Bobby. Taffy is the strongest striker on the field. The bat took him just under the knee." It was all a jargon to poor Mrs. Grev, who had Lamed to look upon a base-ball us but littlo inferior in danger to a battle-field. "Should they go for a doctor?" Four boys were ready to dart off, glad to dft anything, and guiltily glad, too, to get away from the sight of trouble. But Bobby's weak voice spoke then for the first time: "I'll wait for father." Ami wait he did, though it was two lone* 1<> hours before Doctor Grey returned. ** Even in the midst of the painof setting the broken limb—it proved to be a compound fracture —the boy's love and pride in his father was uppermost. How neatly he went to work: how quick and strong was his touch! Have Doctor Barrows touch him, indeed! Why, compared with his father, he was a bungler, a quack, a homceopothist! But when it was over, and he was lying there exhausted.another thought came over him: "With a broken leg, how the dickens am I to run away?" He had not thought of it before. The pain and the strangeness had swallowed up everything else. But now the whole thing came back over him with a rush and the misery of it drew a groan from him such as all the pain had not done. "Why, my boy, was it as bad as that?" and the clever surgeon's hand brushed the hair off Bobby's forehead with as much tenderness as a woman. There are plenty of mothers in America. There are fewer fathers than in any other civilized country. It was Bobby's great good fortune that hd had one of them. He had never so realized it as at that moment, genuine hero-worshipper though he had been all his life. There was a wonder in his mind, too, that in his admiration he had overlooked tho fact that even more than "officer and gentleman," was Doctor Grey "father." Why, it seemed the most natural thing in the world to tell him all his trouble. How could he ever have been such a jack as tb have been afraid? Bobby's language was never heroic. lie blurted out everything, from begin ning to end—-even how he had planned to leave them all. Dr. Grey, listening at first, not understanding, then gradually coming to an insight, said not a word. Only that look that Bobby had dreaded more than anything that could happen to him, did come into his face, and, manhood or no manhood, Bobby did burst into tears, and burying liis face in the sofa-pillow, cried like a baby—"11 k$ a great girl f" "How much did you say it was?" "Forty-four dollars and sixty cents." From the pillow Bobby heard his father go to his desk, unlock it, then after a short pause go to the door and call to Jack. Poor Taffy's., feelings were relieved by Doctor - Grey's few cheery words, and he went off feeling less like Cain. Jack went, too. with the funds of the Debating Society 1 School Ben lifter, for Bobby would not, of course, be able to attend the meeting, and wished him to take his place. Bobby heard it all. When he closed tho door, he spoke:, "Father, Taffy had stead." "You must not talk. I shall have you in a high fever." Doctor Grey was putting his instruments in their places; his face was from the lounge, but there was a strain in his voice that gave Bobby a great deal more pain than his leg. "I shall be if you won't say something to me about it." Perhaps Dr. Gray realized the truth of that, for in a minute or two he had drawn up his chair to the lounge. "Your fault was when you 'borrowed' that first cent for a postal card." "But I put that straight back!" Bobby had his father's hand ftose in his. He would not have liked the fellows to have known it, but it was astonishing how much help there was in that strong nerve-clasp. "I thought—I thought—when—when I fooled away all that money yesterday afternoon"— Doctors probably understand human na ture better than most people, they see so much of the underneath. So what Doctor Gray said now was this: am something! I wish me on my head in only say knocked "That was the natural end. The sur prising part would have been had you not done something of the kind. But in the beginning you were tampering with a trust, ana you knew it. It does not do to be careless in such things, particularly as example in the world so easy to follow as one's own. I acquit you of any thought of stealing, but it is just that loose ness that works so much more mischief than deliberate evil-doing. Half the defal cations and forgeries and embezzlements begin in some such wav. Now don't talk any more, my boy. We must be getting you into bed." He did not allude to it again. Nor did Bobby, but he thought all the more as he lay through that summer, for he did not get to Rangely, or anywhere else, and it was well into fall before his leg was fit for again. Almost the first use he made of his mended limb was to sell off: A gun that had been stowed away in tho corner of his closet, and had never been fired by its then owner. A small revolver. A Russia leather pocket inkstand. A dog whip, pocket-book, and bolt. And then ho fell to work at odd jobs; sawing and splitting wood for the neigh bors, running errands, working after school for Buffum, sifting coal, taking care of any furnace that offered, taking care of two horses, and going around with the morning and evening papers. And Doctor Grey un derstood why it was that Bobby had now no time for foot-ball; why he had even re signed on the Glee Club and the School Register , though he did not say a word. Just as Bobby understood why it was the old microscope still stood on the office table. It was not till just before Christmas he had at last succeeded in scraping together forty-four dollars and sixty cents, that ho felt he could look into his father's eyes without shrinking. He put it down on the desk by him without saying a word. Doctor Grey held out his hand and the two shook hands. That was all, but both un derstood. Aunt Melissa never sent any more birth day presents, for though she had many thousands, that fall of Western bonds had convinced her she and could not afford twenty-five dollars to her grand-nephew. There there i on the brink of ruin, another odd result. To this day Bobby hates the name of Rangeley, and nothing makes him so miserable as tne air of "Captain John."— Edith Robinson, in Wide Awake. Care of Young Trees. Trees that are not on cultivated land should receivo especial care until they have been set about two years. Trees that do well the first year often die the second, because, supposing them to be out of danger, they receive no special care. In our climate tho sun is very hot and we often have long continued dry weather, sometimes so long as to dry the earth below tho roots of trees that have been set but a few years. As a tree full of leaves exhales a very large quantity of water every day, the roots, to keep the tree full, exhaust the moisture from the soil so rapidly that when capillary action is checked by a hard-baked crust on top, there is not enough moisture drawn from below to supply water in sufficient quantities to keep life in a tree. To keep tho soil in a good condition it should well cultivated latter may be best dono by mulching, if done before dry weather commences. The mulch should if possible be applied early in tho spring. It is wonderful what a difference it makes in the moist ure of tho soil, whether it be well mulched or left exposed to bake in tho sun .—Orange County Farmer. be oither or well shaded; the —A queer accident recently hap pened at Plantsville, Conn., to Henry Clark, a workman. A Hying splinter of steel from a hammar cut through five thicknesses of cloth and imbedded itself in his back, and, strange to say, tho splinter could not be found, al though tho pain was so groat that It was agony for him to move. Temperance Beading. WHAT TEMPERANCE HAS DONE FOR JOHN AND ME. tty story, mn'nm! Why, really now, I .aren't much to say: If you had conic a year ago, and then again to-day, No need or any word to tell, for your owh eyes ooula see Just wlmt the Tcmporanoo causo has done for my dear John and mol A year ago I hadn't flour to make a batch of bread, And many a night these little ones went hun gry to (heir bed; Just poop Into the pantry, ma'am; there's sugar, flour and tea— And that is what the Temperance cause has done for John and The pall that hold! the butter he uaed to fill with beer: He hasn't spent a cent for drink for twp months and a yoar; * He pays his debts, he's well and strong, and kind as man can be— And that Is what the Temperance cause lias done for John and me. He uswl to walk along the street looking so moan and low, As if ho hardly darod to moot the friends he usod to know, he looks, them in the face, and walks off bold und free— And that is what tho Tomporanco oauso has done for John and me. Why, at the shop, the other day, when a Job of work was done. The boss declared, of all his men tho stcadlost ono was John; "I usod to be the worst, my wife," John told me, and Bays he: "That's what tho glorious Temperance cause has done for you und mo. Oh, yes! the sad, sad timos are gone, tho sor row and tho pain: The children have their father back, and I my John again. Don't mind my crying, ma'am; lndeod It's just for joy, to see How much the Temperance enuso has done for my dear John und me! Each morning when he goes to work I up ward look, and say; "O, Heavenly Father, help dear John to koep Ills pledge to-day!" And every night, before I sleep, thank Him on bended kneo For wlmt the Temperance cause has dono for my dear John und mel But "Pool for Brinks" and Home Amuse ments. The cell-door in the police station was closed upon a thief who had given liis age as seventeen years, and who looked even younger. He did not look much like a criminal. His clothing and per son were clean and his features were of type indicating intelligence. The brutal expression often noticed in the features of law-breakers was lacking en tirely in his. A Tribune reporter, who saw him locked up, noticed tears in the youth's blue eyes. The detective who had made the arrest had served many years in the Police Department and was familiar with the history of many thieves. " That boy ought not to be a thief," lie said. "liis father is dead, and lie has a respectable, hard-working mother, to whom he might be a comfort instead of a curse. He has been on the island twice already', and now he will go up for burglary." "What kind of beys become burg lars?" the reporter asked. "All kinds." "Do thieves? "Yes, when they fall in bad com pany." " What influence do you consider the most powerful in leading boys on to crime?" "Rum." " Has not natural depravity much to do with their fall?" "1 do not believe that human deprav ity is natural," the detective said. " It is unnatural. Tho lives of the worst criminals in the city prove as much. Did it ever occur to you that there is much less ol what you call natural de pravity in country places than in the city? People get to be bad because their surroundings are bad, because they can not resist temptation, beenuse their better instincts are taken away by evil influences. This boy here lives in a tenement-house. His mother is poor, and there is not much pleasure for him in the house. So lie runs about in the street. If he lived in the country, as I did when 1 was a boy, he couldn't find much mis chief away from home. Here he asso ciates with all kinds of boys, and there is not much, wickedness which a New York gamin does not know about. Eve ry grog-shop which bears the sign 'pool for drinks' is a training-school for young thieves. The boys g with beer, and are fascinated game. joy the sport, and drink leads them to steal it. This hid began stealing from his poor mother first. She would not have him punished. Then he stole from his employer and was discharged. I caught him picking pockets and sent him to the penitentiary. When he got out he robbed a money-drawer in a grocery. Last night he and his 'puls' broke the shutters of a cigar store and carried oft a small amount of the stock. After he gets out of prison again he may become a more expert burglar, but his mother will die of a broken hegrt." a good boys ever get to be et heated with the They must have money to en A sob within tho cell sounded like an expression of assent. The officer no ticed it, and turning away from tho door, he added in a lower tone: "It is the fault of the parents sometimes. If his home life had been made a little better und pleasanter he might have been a steady boy. His mother was al ways complaining and fretting in the house before he began to steal, and since then she has tried to shield, him from the police, while she kept nagging him when they were alone. Boys are growing up to be sober, honest men in the \vorst tenement houses in the city. You will find, as a rule, that they have been taught by their parents to expect punishment for evil-doing, and that «hev have amusement at home."— N. Y. Tribune. The central figure of a cartoon in a recent number of Harper's Weekly is a sheaf of wheat, rising from which are two figures—Ceres and Death. The former is passing a loaf of bread to the family table, about which nro gathered tho happy father, mother and children; the latter is pouring alcohol upon the prostrate form of a drunken father, while the mother sits hftart-broken, surrounded by her rugged, starving babes. It represents the work of the mill and the stilt, and the picture is most truthful in its terrible reality. The mill feeds and nourishes and strengthens, while the other degrades, weakens and destroys.— Western Ware. The Drink Demon. At an enthusiastic temperance meet ing hold recently in Manhattan Hall, Now York, Rev. Father Elliott, C. S. 1'., delivered an eloquent address, from* which ihe following is taken: "Not all that the Church can do ia able to persuade many of that their foolish hospitality in lavishly serving drinks to visitors sets a bad ex ample to the children, sets up s false standard of enjoyment, leads the chil dren as they grow up to deem beer os punch essential for the entertainment of friends, and fosters the delusion that the absence of intoxicating drink at social entertainments is a mark of stinginess. Gentlemen, such practices based on false maxims. For It is clear as day that drinking to entertain friends is very apt to become a conviv ial habit which is the fruitful source of intoxication. Some men, rather than be called stingy by those whose praise or blame is of no account any way, run the risk of teaching their children at their own hearth the charms of a vice the most destructive of ail human wel fare. Then, too who does not kDow that young men should confront the allurements of the saloon and the beer garden armed with a certain wise dis trust of tho use of drink in any quantity P But, if drink is a common thing at home, where's the harm—the boy will say—of spending an evening with some friends, playing cards, singing songs, or chatting, in the back room of the liquor storeP The young man who fancies that he can drink moderately when, where and how lie pleases is pretty sure . to become a drunkard. Even the very best example of total abstinence at home, the kindest and most persuasive explanation of devout parents of the evils of excessive drink, the most dread ful; results of the vice among near relatives (ami how few families are quite without this lissonP) are not enough in many cases to restrain the younger members from the allurements of this vice. The Evil Spirit seems to have spent his greatest cunning in dis guising the horrors of intemperance. The poet's genius is enlisted to write drinking songs, the wit of the neigh borhood is often a frequenter ol the saloon, the most grotesque and laugh able incidents are connected with intox ication or partial intoxication, orators are told of whose eloquence was only displayed in drink, such showy virtues generosity, physical bravery, attach ment to old friends, are sought to be al most identified with the free use of drinks. Yet all the time drunkenness is a most hateful and loathsome vioe. No heart so hard as the man's who robs his child to enrich ills enemy. No man so frightfully, cruel as the one who turns himself from a loving husband into a wolfish brute. No murders so cruel as those done upon friends, and some times upon kindred, by half-drunken men. No music so sad'as the heart- ' rending merriment of the saloon. No irony so devilish as that which calls joy the death danco of immortal souls about the liquor-dealer's counter. "Now pretty nearly all convivial drinking is done in saloons. It egpes by tho name of treating. Treating at home is confined mostly to tippling fe males, and though in some localities a dreadful evil, still on the whole is not to be named in comparison with the evils of saloon-drinking. The enorm ous, almost countless, revenues drawn from the people by the liquor business is for the most part the tax that foolish good nature pays for other people's drinks. Tiiat is why the drunkenness of men is almost inseparably associated with 6aloon going; because'the practice of treating belongs to the saloon. Hcnoe our Temperance Union is firmly get against the saloon. Against all saloons? you ask. Well, there is what Bishop Ireland calls an ideal saloon^ and ha calls for Diogenes with his lanfbru to find it in actual life. Show me a.saloon where treating is not allowed, and it will then be in order to discuss whether there is no danger in resorting there. No. Stay away from saloons. Stay at home. Attend an innocent amusement Read an entertaining book. Subscribe for and read a good newspaper. Spend tho evening with some respectable family. Join a debating or literary so ciety, or gymnasium. But keep aw» from the saloon. Is not that good ad vice? I should like to see any mah, old or young, Irish or American, Cathol ic or non-Catholic, who will have the face to say that " saloon " is not good advice that tho National Union of the Temperance Societies of the Catholic Church in America insists on making public, ringing it out from the public platform, spreading it out before the reading public in the newspapers, whis pering it in the ear of the friend and relative: " Keep away from the saloon." her members' ft re as Keep away •d advice. from the It is that Temperance Items. A man in Dixon, Cal., got drunk re cently, fell into it pig-pen, broke hia neck, and was eaten by the hogs. The amended Liquor law or Arkan sas includes cities of the first and ond class in its provisions. By a ma jority vote of the inhabitants tho sale of intoxicating drinks may be prohibited within throe miles of any church or school-house. Women are allowed to vole on the question. Collections netting in all over one thousand dollars were taken up at the Temperance meetings which Mis* Frances E. Willard has recently been holding in California. She was strong ly urged to take this for her own neces sities and use, but she preferred to leave it to help carry on the work. One evening recently a little boy called at the Sacramento police station and asked the keeper to pass the night with liis mother, who had been jailed for drunkenness. The woman was once beautiful and highly respected. The child, who had procured a small pack Hge of delicacies for liis mother, was admitted to her cell and locked in for the night. When our genial news editor called and paid cash down for the suit the German was so delighted that he asked h a customer to go out and take a drink with him. The editor, of wyrae, de clined, saying he did not drink; where upon a gleam of satisfaction and intel ligence combined shot across the tailor's countenance as he exclaimed: " Dot's de reason vy you pay for de clothes so quick as you got 'em."-** Troy (N. Y.) Times. see-