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]!V FRUIT OF INDECISION. T?rom the Norristown Herald. A maid I knew, had lovers two, And both were quite respected But to decide to be the bride Of one, left one neglected. And so she hung, her doubts among, Until she grew dejected. "There's John," she said, "has got ahead That ne'er will be directed, But he is wise, has lovely eyes, And is so well connected. I love him, too, of course I do! And he shall be selected. "How James would start' He has a heart So easily affected. He's fond and fair. I wonder where Such graces he collected? He's rich as well. I cannot tell Why he should be rejected." 80 James or John it balanced on, Each judgment new corrected, Until the maid began to iade, Her thoughts still uncollected. And both the men proposed again To girls, while she reflected. A CREOLE CINDERELLA. In that portion of New Orleans which is called by residents the Third district and by all others the French quarter, stands a small but pretty park, which bears the patriotic name of "Washington square." By what name it is known to the children who play on its green lawns,or how matrons and maids who sits in the shade of its trees on summer afternoons twist their pretty mouths to prnounce its in'harsh Anglo-Saxon syllablcs,itis not hard to imagine. It must figure their nomenclature as "Vashington ske- vare," or else as "La-Place Washing- tone." It was a fashionable neighbor, hood in the early days of this century, and it still retains an air of decayed gentillity, which appeals to one's sym pathy. Descendants of grand old families, bearing historic names, live near by in houses handed down with the name from one generation to another. Some of these houses face the park from Dauphine and Frenchmen streets oth ers are situated within a radius of a few squares in all directions. Most of the old French houses have an air of almost oriental seclusion. They would present a stern, often a forbidden as pect from the street, but that fig trees white oleanders, or scarlet pomegran ates show high above thegarden walls, holding in their embrace inquisitive climbing roses and honeysuckles which hang over to see what is going on in the world outside. Great.saucy,purple, wisterias run riot all along the fence, whispering wonderful tale3 to each passer-by of all the glory shut in by these envious prison walls. They tell of beds of crimson lilies looking like sheets of flame, of geraniums that eu-e almost trees, of roses so wholly a mass of bloom, that they seem giant bouquets, of jessamine, creepingover summer bowers where sit beautiful young girls. And all this while one's senses are steeped in the odor of or ange blossoms, which pervades the at mosphere. In a large old-fashioned house, not very far from Washington square, liv ed Jeanne. It was indeed fortunate that the house was large, for the size 'Of the family, as is the case in many Creole households, was patriarchal. In Creole homes four generations often dwell beneath one roof in peace and happiness. Their peaceful "interior life," as they call it, strikes with .amazement all those Americans who Are privileged to enter the inner circle of the Creoles. Mothers in-law and daughters-in-law, mar ried daughters with their husbands and children, the old and the young, live pleasantly together, and no word of discord echoes into the outside world. The reverence of the young people for the aged is beautiful to be hold. The oldest member of the fami ly has the place of honor his or her counsels are always accepted as having most weight in all discussions, and yet, expecially if this aged person is the grandmother, she is never too old to take an interest in the enjoyments of the smallest child. In the family, of which Jeanne was a member, the grandmother, a charm ing old lady, was virtually the head of the house, and every member of the household was sohcituous for her health and happiness. Her son, the father of the familyan actiye, vigor ous man of 50and his wife, a bloom ing matron of 41 or 42, completed the list of the second generation but the third was more numerous. In truth Jeanne was the eldest girl of a family of nine brothers and sisters. To these must be added the young wife of the eldest brother. The baby boy of the young couple, like the grandmother, stood alone in his generation. From first to last they were a hand some family. In any other household Jeanne would have been considered a beauty but her younger sister, Odille, was marvelously beautiful, and the two little rosebuds, Celeste and Blance gave promise of being, if possible, even j prettier than Odille so that Jeanne's less obtrusive charms were unnoticed. She was the modest violet in this rgarden of girls. Sh r*the m% waserather below medium height,e whil Odille who was not much above it, .was so queen ly in her carriage that she seemed taller. In character Jeanne was gentle and unassuming. She had so modest an appreciation of herself that she im pressed the feeling on the family. They all loved her, it is true but she was so ever ready to do for others I that -insensibly they were exacting .ri.4 with her. Jeanne's tireless little feet S| ran countless errands for all of her ff$ dear ones her dainty fingers gave the %g4f finishing touch which made her sis jp tors' toilettes so pretty, or rendered acceptable music when her brothers spent their evenings at home. If the young-people wished to dance it seem ed qaite natural for Jeanne to remain &, seated at the piano during the entire SnASi mtaninn dnrl r\n rtuft aYianrVtai- Mm.fc she, too, was young and liked. to dance also. :*C^ When on festival occasions^ the whole family would go abroad .in search of pleasure, if "grandmamma" did not feel well enough to ac company them they would say quite as a matter of course, 'Jeanne cherie, grandmamma can not be left alone, you will stay with her, n'est-ce-pas?" And they would all go off in gay good humor, leaving little Jeanne to read aloud from books of divotion, or to play for her grandmother those airs from the operas that the old lady lik ed best. If the girl's unselfish heart ever felt one pang of regret at these times she never gave expression to it by word or look. Her self abnegation had become so much a part of their daily Jives that her relations, loving and valuing her as they did in their hearts, never realized what continual self-sacrifice they demanded of her. They were good,* kind people, all of them, and would have been shocked could they once have been made to understand their want of considera tion for the young girl. Exactly as Jeanne's unselfish nature tempted her relations to require much of her, so did a certain, imperiousness in Odille compel them to render that young woman a kind of homage. She accepted this homage by the di vine right of her magnificent beauty, yet it fostered a selfishness of which shp was unconscious. Jeanne was Odille's most devoted and adoring slave. Her exquisite taste and deft fingers fashioned many a pretty trifle wherewith to heighten her sister's charms, and it was a pretty sight to witness the rapture of admiration with which she contemplated the result of her labor on the person of the su perb Odille. Little Jeanne never imagined that any one could think her more ataract ice than this magnificent sister. In fact Odille allured the senses, but Jeanne touched the heart. "Howpretty you are, Jeanne," said a friend to her one day. "If you can find me pretty," answer ed Jeanne "then what must you think of Odille?" When the lady friend afterwards spoke of this conversation to her hus band the latter remarked that it seemed a pity to disturb the young girl's innocent faith in her sister by seeking to instill a belief in her own equal if not superior loveliness. "Leave her," said the gentleman, "in the possession of so rare an attraction as unconsciousness." This friend of Jeanne's, aBaltimore an by birth, had married into a New Orleans family which had been on terms of intimacy with Jeanne's peo ple for many years. She introduced a new, and, as it were, a foreign ele ment into Jeanne's life. She was at first the only "American" with whom Jeanne had any acquaintance, and could tell such pleasant things of the great, far-away "Nort," about which distant land our Jeanne felt much curiosity. Then, too, Jeanne prized the opportunity of "spiking Engleesh," which her intercourse with this friend gave her. And just here the narrator of this little tale begs leave to ask a question often propounded by Creole dames and damoiselles. "Why is it," they wish to know, "that the American ladies will rarely speak French in their intercourse wTit the Creoles but force the French ladies to summon all the English phrases they can muster, whether broken or otherwise, as a medium of conversation?" "Is En glish more easy to learn than French?" ask the Creole ladies. "Is this fact a consequence of the superior politeness of the Latin race, or of the false mod esty of the Anglo-Saxon?" ask the Americans, for these last are con scious of their incivility and deplore while they do not correct it. Jeanne's mamma, who could only say "Oh, yes," and "Ver' nice," would exhaust her vocabulary again and again in the presence of "American" guests ac companied by many amiab'e wags of the head and a generous profusion of smiles. But she also filled their hands with the rarest flowers and warmed their hearts with a taste of her almost, priceless wine. Though our Jeanne declared that her jaws ached when she "talked En gleesh" all day long, yet, as her accent was the prettiest that could be im agined, and her little mannerisms quite adorable, her admiiers wished that she might "talk Engieesh" for ever, despite the injury done to her jaws, for Jeanne had admirers by the score, though she kept them at a dis tance. "Why do you not tell me of your lovers, Jeanne?" asked her friend, Mme. Dufour, of her one dry, when she had been discoursing of Odille's conquests, and counting on her fingers the long list of Odille's lov ers. And Jeanne answered gayly: "Oh! I have no lovers. After three days they all leave me for Odille." "You mean you leave them to Odille, you hard-hearted little girl," replied her friend. "Its all the same," laughed Jeanne "if I do not leave them they would leave me as soon as they saw my beautiful sister, so I save myself the pain of being forsaken." One day Madame Dufour introduc ed into Jeanne's family circle a cousin of hers, also a Marylander, who had but recently arrived in New Orleans. He was a tall, broad-shouldered, handsome young man, of agreeable address and charming manners, so that he pleased all who met him. Jeanne's family were delighted with him from the date of his first visit, evidently he was equally pleased with them, for he soon became a constant visitor at the house. The charming home life of this large family attracted him immediately. "Just think of what elements of dis cord are in that house, and yet they are as harmonious asanestof doves," he remarked to his cousin. "I have often said that Barnum ought to have them," replied Madame Dufour. Young Frank Howard thought he had never witnessed anything more delightful than the affection and con fidence the members of this large fam ily manifested for each other. The artless manner in which they, one and all, openly expressed their admiration for each other pleased while it amus ed him. As for "Grandmamma," no queen on her throne was ever more honored or petted than this an cient dame. From little Blance, whose fairy fingers plucked the first violets for "Ma Grand- mere," to the boys who brought her choicest fruits, and the ladies of the family, who gave her lively descrip tions of all that went on in society, every one sought to add something to her comfort or pleasure. Even visit ors were encouraged to offer morsels of amiable gossip at grandmamma's shrine, and she was not averse to lis tening nor did the witty old lady hes itate to supplement these stories with reminiscences of her own bright youth, when the grandsires of those heroes and heroines figured in romance more or less wonderful. Although it was this picture of idyl lic home-life which had first caught young Frank Howard's fancy, yet he soon began to feel a more personal interest his visits. He had been struck, as every one was, by Odille's remarkable beauty but from the first he thought Jeanne was lovlier and more winning. Her pretty, dainty ways, her gay repartee, her tact in do ing or saying always the right thing, but above all, the perfect amiability of her character, made her become every day more and more charming to him. As Frank became more intimate in the household he perceived and began to complain to his cousin of the mani fold demands made on Jeanne's good nature by all the members of her family nor could Madame Dufour make him understand that it was the young girl's own absolute unselfish ness which had produced this result. From the first Madame Dufour had instructed her cousin in the customs of Creole society, and he knew that young men visitors were never allow ed to see the young ladies of the house except in the presence of some older member of the family yet, with the egotism of a lover, Frank fancied that they all knew for the sake of whose bright eyes he came so often to the house, and he chafed under what he called "cruel espionage." Never was their vigilance relaxed for one instant, Frank thought, never could he find an opportunity to say three words to Jeanne alone. In three words he felt he^could explain himself to the girl of his heart. But, alas! there was no chance offered in which to speak those momentous words. If he dined with the family he was seated by Odille if they all went for a walk in the neighboring Washington square, or sat on its benches to listen to the band playing on summer afternoons, Odille was his inevitable companion, placed by his side with a few words from her father or brother. Little did Odille dream as the youug man saunter ed along by her side, while Jeanne romped with thechildren.orhung on the arm of one of the brothers, chatting gayly, of the storms of wrath brooding in the heart of her companion. Frank felt that he almost hated her. It never occurred to any of them, cer tainly not to Odille herself, that any man could have eyes to look at Jeanne when Odille was present. At Frank's instigation Madame Du four proposed many little parties of pleasure, in which she sought to give her cousin the long-coveted opportu nity to speak to Jeanne alone. But their best laid plans were brought to naught by the superior tactics of the other side, and Frank could scarcely control an expression of rage when, at ftie last moment, some other member of the family would appear, with a polite excuse for substituting herself for Jeanne. Finally the husband of Frank's cous in and confidant was taken into their counsels, who solved the question easily, for he said: "There is nothing for you to do, Frank, but to go to Jeanne's father and ask his permission to pay your addresses to his daughter." "And I will be careful to say which daughter," added Frank with energy. What a bombshell was launched in to the bosom of that peaceful house hold when Frank finally secured his interview with 'papa.'' It was, indeed a difficult task to convince the head of the house that the eldest daughter's hand was asked in marriage, and not Odille's. The mother proved almost obstinately incredulous when her hus band, as in duty bound to do, gave her an account of the interview. She announced to the others very decisive ly that "papa must be mistaken for Mr Howard's attentions had all been bestowed on Odille." But "papa" held to hrs last opinion, and that night the peace of this happy family was menaced. Discussion ran high, and the family conclave sat talking until late into the night. Poor Jeanne in tears, almost in disgrace, went off early to bed but Odille posed as a martyr and was petted and condoled with accordingly. At last "Grandmamma" sent the disputants off to their individual apartments. 'Be quiet, my children," she commanded: "certainly this young man must know his own heart. Let him come to-morrow and explain him self to me." So Grandmamma had a private con versation with Frank next day, and when she sent for the agitated, blush ing Jeanne and placed her hand in Frank's then the fiat of grandmam ma's decision went forth and all agreed that it was wise and good. Thus was harmony restored. Thenceforth congratulations and heartfelt sympathy were bestowed on Jeanne, and Odille, for the first time in her life, held only a second place in the consideration of her family. As for that young woman, after the first moments of indignant surprise, her sympathy and goodwill were given to Jeanne as freely as the good wishes of any of tha others. She had liked Frank wellenough as an acquaintance, and, as he was a good parti, was young, good looking and agreeable, would have accepted him as her hus band had she been told to do BO, and would have made him a good wife afterwards. But she philosophically reflected that the world held many other eqnally- deserving young men, some of whom would not prove soun- appreciative of her attractions as her, futurebrother-in-lawhadbeen. Sheen red with zest into all the romance the love affair and the excitement wedding preperations. Frank, with a-new, brotherly regard for her, ac knowledged that she was too beauti ful to be hidden ina comer, and prom ised himself the pleasure of givirfg her a wider field of action. She was to accompany Jeanne and himself on their wedding tour abroad. Dear little Jeanne found it hard to realize that all this happiness rightful ly belonged to her. "J. always thought you came for Odille," she whispered to her lover, "besides, I was fast becoming an old maid. You know, I have nearly twen years." Said "Grandmamma" afterwards Mme. Dufour, confident that she speaking idiomatic English, for had heard of "pop the question." Ven he popped, ma chere, nobody vas so astoneesh as my little Jeanne.'' San Francisco Chronicle. tered of of ty to was she! The Model for a Marble Hand. Lexington (Ky.) Letter to the Cincinnati Enquirer. After the restoration of Louis Phillippe to the French throne,'many of Napoleon's soldiers were left in comparative poverty. One of them, a famous General, had a beautiful daughter, whom he wished to marry rich, but who fell in love with a poor young manan under-secretary or something of that kind. She man led at her father's request a rich Count, but refused at the wedding ceremony to allow the ring to beplaced upon her left hand, upon which she wore a ruby, put there by her lover. Her jealous husband was not long in finding out what was the matter, and intercepting a letter in which the ardent young lover claimed Matilda's hand as his. he determined upon an awful revenge. One night as the celebrated surgeon Lisfrance was returning from a pro* fessional visit, he was captured by a party of men, blindfolded and taken to a distant palace, and led through a labyrinth of passages and rooms. At length his conductor, stopping, said "Doctor, we have arrived remove your bandage." The doctor, who! fears had given place to a restless cu riosity and a vagi^g apprehension, obeyed, and found hinTself in a small chamber furnished with remarkable luxury, and half lit by an alabaster lamp hung from the ceiling. The win dows were hermetically sealed as well as the curtains of an alcove at the end of the room. Here the doctor found himself alone with one of h's abductors. He was a man of imposing height and command ing air, and his whole exterior of tbe most aristocratic stamp. His black eyes gleamed through the half mask that covered the upper part of his face, and a nervous agitation shook his colorless lips, and the thick black beard that mframed the lower. "Doc- tor," said he, in an abrupt, loud voice, "prepare for your work an amputation." "Where is the pa tient?" asked the doctor, turning to ward the alcove. The curtains moved slightly, and he heard a stifled sigh. "Prepare, sir," said the man convi sively. "But, sir, I must see tie patient." "You will see only the hand you are to cut off." The doctor, fold ing his arms and looking firmly at the other, said: "Sir you brought m here by force. If you need my pro fessional assistance I shall do my duty without caring tor that or troubling myself about your secrets but if you wish to commit a crime you can not force me to be your accomplice." "Be content, sir," replied the other, "there is no crime in this," and leading him to the alcove he drew from the cur tains a hand. "It is this you are to cut off." The doctor took the hand in his his fingers trembled at the touch. It was a lady's hand, small, beautifully molded and its pure white set off by a magnificent ruby encircled with diamonds. "But," cried the doc tor, "there is no need of amputation nothing is "And I, sir! I say," thundered the other, "if you refuse I will do it myself," and.seizing a hatchet, he drew the hand towaida smalltable and seemed about to strike. The doc, tor arrested his arm. "Do your duty then, doctor." "Oh, but this is an atrocious act," said the surgeon. 4'What is that to you? It must be clone. 1 wish it madam wishes it also if necessary she will demand it herself. Come, Madam, re quest the doctor to do you this ser vice." The doctor, nonplused, and almost fainting under the torture of his feelings, heard from the alcove, in a half-expiring voice and an inexpres sible accent of despair and resignation: "Sir, since you are a surgeonyesI entreat youlet it be you and not Oh, yes you! you! in mercy!" "Well doctor," said the man, "you or I." The resolution of this man was so frightful, the prayer of the poor lady so full of entreaty and despair, that the doctor felt that even humanity commanded of him compliance with the appeal of the victim. He took his instrument with a last imploring look at the unknown, who only pointed to the hand, and then with a sinking heart began the operation. For the first time in his experience his hand trembled but the knife was doing its work. There was a cry from the alcove, and then all was silent. Noth ing was heard but the horrid sound of the operation till the hand and the saw fell together on the floor. Lisfrance wore the ruby upon his watchchain, where it was seen by the young lover on his return to Paris, and out of it grew a duel that led to the disclosure of the infamous crime. The morning after the young lover's arrival at the capital he was present ed by a man in livery with an ebony box. Opening it he discovered a bleed ing hand, Matilda's, and on it a pa per with these- words: "See how the Countess of keepshis oath." After the duel the young man fled to Brus sels, where the bleeding hand Was transferred to canvas." Hart seeing the painting copied it in marble. rsf^rap^pp^l At Appomattor Detroit Free Press. *-r While Gens. Grant and Lee were in conference, arranging the canditionsof the latter's surrender. Ward's battery from Mississippi occupied such an ad vanced position in the Confederate line as not to know what was going on at army headquarters, and having receive! no orders to cease firing, con sequently its guns were opened upon the federals whenever they were in sight or range, notwithstanding the latter called to them to cease firing, and, also waved handkerchiefs at them. The officers of the battery thought it quite strange that firing had ceased everywhere else, and. after a consulta tion, dispatched Lieut. T. to Mai. Pogue, who commanded the battalion of artillery, for orders. As the Lieu tenant rode along he noticed an unus ual number of blue coats within the lines, and saw groups of Confederate and Federal officers in conversation, and said "the thought took possession of him that the Confederates had won the day and captured a terribly bis lot of prisoners." Finally, heieached Maj. Pogue's tent, and, after saluting him, announced that "his battery had cleaned out the enemy in its Iront, and that the Captain was waiting in structions to move further to the front, and had sent him for orders." "Ordeis' exclaimed the Major, "why1 the jig's up!" "It is9the said the Lieutenant. "Yes! surrender occurred more than an hour ago," continued the Major, but before he could finish the Lieutenant wheeled his horse, and, giving a big hurrah, stuck his spurs to him and went dashing back to his comiades. As he reached them he whooped and yelled louder than ever. "Hurrah' boyb the jig's up. We've seooped 'em in. Old Grant's surren dered to Marse Bob, and his fellows and our fellows are all up the road there a-shaking hands and a-sw appmg greenbacks and Confed. money lor war relics. I swear it's a fact. I saw it with my own eyes, and Maj Pogue told me so." About that time the Major came galloping up, and the Lieutenant ex claimed: "There he comes now. He'll tel. you all about it." But before tho Major could speak the Lieutenant asked: "Hasn't the surrender taken place. Major?" "Yes," s/iid he, and again the Lieu tenant whooped and yelled: "I told you so. Hurrah for our side!" and the officers and men joined in and yelled till their throats weie sore. All this time the Major, who was still in his saddle, was trying to'get in a word or two, but all in vain. Great tears were coursing down his cheek, and when the Lieutenant noticed this he called out- "By granny, boys, the news is so good, see, the Majoi is actually cry- ing." At last there was a lull, when the Captain remarked. "Tell us all the particulars. Major." The Major, with some effort, and in a husky voice, complied but when, he told them Gen. Lee had surrendered to Gen. Grant, his eyes were not the only ones that were filled with teais. The Lieutenant looked confounded, then bursting into tears, said "Well, boys, I don't believe it was ever intended for us to win." The Hobbling Brigade in, Con gress. Washington Letter. Two big, broad-shouldered men,each one walking on crutches, hobbled into the "bob-tailed" car at the capitolthe other day just as the house adjourned. One was Congressman Brown of Ohio, who lost his leg in the Union service, the other was Congressman Stone of Kentucky, who lost his in the confed erate army, and as they passed up to the front of the car and deposited their three cents each in the fare-box, each turned and walked back to the rear end of* the car, taking the end seats on opposite sides of the door. "This is the best location for men in our condition," said one, and the oth er smiled acquiesence, as they rode down the avenue until they reached the National hotel, where Mr. Stone In es. There he met another of the one-legged brigade congress Senator Beiry of Arkansas, who lost a leg 111 the confed erate service, and who looks so much like Mr. Stone that they are often mistaken one for the other. Another member who is just now going on crutches is Congressman Henderson of Iowa, who walks with an artificial leg part of the time. Recently, however, he has suffered a great deal of pain from the use of the artificial limb and has laid it aside temporarily. Con gressman Brown of Ohio wore an arti ficial limb for a year or two"tortur ed myself with one for awhile," is the way he puts itbut was obliged to re turn to the crutch. The two South Carolina senatorsButler, who lost his leg in the confederate service, and Hampton, who lost his by accident in the warseem to be more successful in the use of artificial limbs. They walk so well on them that you would scarcely suppose the loss of the natur al ones. Besides the six one-legged men in congress there are several men who use crutchesDaniels, of Virginia,who jwas wounded in the war Caldwell, of Pennsylvania, who was disabled by war service, and Hahn, of Louisiana, who has one leg shorter than the oth er, and uses crutches when the walking is bad. J. D. Taylor, of Tennessee, has a short leg also, but does not use a crutch. Frank Hurd, of Ohio, is al so afflicted in the same manner and walks with a cane, sometimes two ol them. tm. James Jackson Jarves, the art critic, says of Miss Anne Whitney's statue of Lief, the Norse discoverer of Ameri ca, whose history is almost lost in the mists of fable and tradition, that it is, without exception, the finest creation of any American sculptor. It will be pla/fed on Commonwealth How it Brought WealUi ami Fame to One Who Rose From Irfmly Place. Philadelphia Times. What mighty changes can come to men in a few years in this country. The marriage of Miss Katie Bantz Da vis, to Lieutenant Brown of the na\ y, illustrates this. The bright young girl who took a husband in Baltimore is the second daughter of ex-Senator Henry G. Da\is, of West Virginia. She is an interesting young lady, in heriting many of the traits of ber mother for whom she is named. The magnificent wedding and the number of distinguished guests who were there illustrate one of the singular phases of American life. Not many years ago her father was brakeman on the Bait more & Ohio railroad.the president of which stood at the marriage feast. He is a plain, unassuming man, but saw bis second daughter wedded with great ceremony. Hellie, his eldest child,was at her sister's nuptials. She' is the wife of Stephen B. Elkms, and there are few" more charming wom en in the country than Mrs. Elkms As Senator Davis looked on at this wedding cermony, with all its style and richness, he must have thought what a change had come upon him since he married Mis Katie Banrz. at Frederick, Md., when he was a poor man. Mr. Blaine once told me that Senator Davis was in prospective the richest man in America, and he is now in actual possession of many millions of dollars. He has risen to a place where he can command for his daugh ter's wedding the fashionable people of the country, as well as men ditin guished in every walk of life. Yet I remember that when he was first elect ed to the United States Senate, which body he served twehe years with great acceptability, those who believe that book-learning made up the sum of education sneered at his lack of rhetoriGand good penmanship But Davis set ah these people aside in the race, and, with his homely hab its, grew to be a man of force in every position which he occupied. The "Earlv-Bird" Error. Socially speaking, early rising is an error. If we go early ty bed, well and good. But our artificial nineteenth century life will not permit much early rising. Poets may dream of the beau ties of the morning. We do not deny it. Occasionally early rising is all very well. But it is not healthy to get up early as a rulethat is, very early Old people want rest, young people want sleep. The early morning ar is not wholesome. "It is laden," says a medical authority, "with pestifterous miasma," though feeling so cool and fresh. We often feel languid at break fast after an early walk in summer, and in winter we are simply frozen. Cui bono? (To what advantage?) Besides, your habitual early liser is a, nuisance. If he does not di&rnib you he will come down on you fri/iuhis as sumed elevated standpoint virtue with his "Ah1 bed to look out. &k> of the hour of the day, the night com" eth in which no man can work, and rest is as necessarymore necessary than money making Cassell's Satw day Journal. A Story of Some Kisses. One of our most eminent stage he roes, says the Berlin Tagblatt, was traveling by train to Switzerland a few weeks ago. Opposite him sat a eouplo of handsome young ladies, who not only fairly stared him out of counte nance, but made him the topic of their whispered conversation. Flattered at first by this delicate attention, the actor good-humoredly submitted to it, but in the long run began to grow tired of "this sort of thing," and de termined to put a stop to it. When in -the tunnel, befoi reaching Laus anne, he imprinted a'few audible kiss es on the back of bis haad. After the train emerged froi* A & tunnel the actor sat calm aMtfimpassive as if nothinghadhappei td, while the ladies nrst stared at each rt*-r and then be gan a series of mutuaf recriminations, on the enormity oi their conduet takmgsuch liberties With-'" he hro cf the footlights. Of courser/each blamed the other, and the dispute lusted until the tram stopped at Lausanne. Be fore leaving the car the actor bowed to the ladies, hat in hand, and 'said Indies, tho great be stowed on me during the journey *j ^turallyattention 5 Pi /n at 7 o'clock* \or 8 no matter what hour) "Iwa='*3u a'id about' I was far afield when you -Q snoring!" Well, what if he were' Did he do any good? Not much he prob ably interfered with the gardener, the grooms, or theeamekeepers.or witness ed a harmless flirtation between John and Mary for which act they will hate him forever! On the other hand.say the moralists, "by rising two hours earli er each day you will have gained at the end of forty years 29,000 hours, or seven years of life'" Very likely but you may not live forty years, and the want of rest may shorten my life too! Thomas Moore tells us: "The best of all ways to lengthen our days is to steal a few hours from night, my dear," and he was certainly an au thority. But there is an application, socially and individually, to the prov eib on the subject which is generally overlooked. "The early bird picks up the worm," it is said, and the true meaning of the maxim is. Be ready to seize your opportunity. At least, that is our idea of it. Be first in the field when you pe o've the worm do not get up at 5 A and perch on a damp wall, waitiir is too comfortable anxious tyou which of ou gaveome,you learn in the a proof affection.os^tunn tie did not wait for reply, but Kt the. ladies to their reflections.