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f , ̂ reMlefcw. McHENRT. : t : •ILLINOIS "'ITS BETTER TO HAVE LOVED AND LOST:\% -R ' " i l l . # B B B K I T S D i f t i f I I fi(i*t I *e*ft when I bat hfl̂ to£ girls and boys Al The-- ̂ . . Oat in toe street? There is no merry fioise Within thi« silent house--no children near. MY children in all dead. Yet 'tis not clear And rare to me. The ghosts of my dead joy* Are all about me. Fancy half destroys Hie stint of sorrow, though an icy fear Freeses my heart. My happy girls both dead ? I cannot feel it«b. Tnpgn inthegroniid I saw them laid--the ton oer each deer head-- I feel their presence--Bite the pleasant sound Of their sweet voioes, Ait, should I awake And lose these dear dream-children, then my heart won3c' break! • Death hath pawed by the com* ripe foe the To blast my neighbor's blossoms. Bitterly She weeps for her sweet girls. Yet there may be A woe far deeper. Though these lives were brief. They were all beauty. Before slow-paced Grief Joy ever tripe. Who mourns her lost, ever. sis© Hath had to lose. The flower of memory Gathers its fragrance 'neath hope's withered leaf. From love's pure fountain gushes every tear That bills for death. Btill in the wnite moon mild The dead sun softly shines. But 0, how drear The desoJate desert where flower never smiled. And fountain never gushed! My heart could The lorn of children, had I bat had a child. --Chailes QuUt, in Jf. T. Evening Pott. WHEN WE WERE CHILDREN. HAVE you focgotten, little wife, < •Our far-off childhood's golden life? 1 • Our splendid castles on. the sands, The boat 1 made with, .my own hands. 3 i1 he rain that caught us in the wood, he cakes we had when we were good, he doll 1 broke and made you cr^. hen we were children, you and Have you forgotten, little wife? | The dawning of that other lift? -i strange new light the whole world yore, e dreams we had! the songs we made! e sunshine! and the woven shade! e tears of many a sad good-bye, hen. we were parted, yon and 1! h, awsi jour loviaafi liaaii, Ifcnow,•** members still the long ago: is the light of childhood s days t shines through all your winning ways. ' "'lIGod grant we ne'er forgot our youth, im. ..Itsinnocence, and faith, and truth, The smiles, the team, and hopes gmti fey, < i 1 ?jWben we were children, yon ana I. \ SATED BY A »0«. Am Aivmtnre in the Alsrali, Fnuaee. | AT the, time of which I write I had 'fast been made a partner in our "house of business. Until this period I had been much confined to tne counting- house, aud it was now considered de­ sirable that I should travel for a few mqnths, in order to make the acquaint- MiQe of our principal customers, many of whom were trench. In those days railroads were unknown, and the dili- slow |nd uncertain modes of Conveyance. I therefore traveled on horseback, accompanied by my trusty dog, Lion. Lion was my faithful companion for many years, and once did me good service, as you shall hear. On one oc- . oaston, being bound for Noirmontiers, . ^n^yrrdad lea through that part of La Yeidee known as the "Marais," It was then literally a marshy tract of country, thinly populated by an almost amphibious race. The swampy ground was intersected by numerous canals that frequently served as roadways. Through these the peasants traversed the district in flat-bottomed boats, called " IilOiGSf " and always armed wi,th a long pole, with which they cleared the quagmires or propelled their boats, according to need. meditations, and,1 whistling to Lion, 1 set forward on my way. I oould now only see a very few yards before me through the increasing gloom. To be belated in that dismal country was no pleasant prospect. The road was in many places quite unpro­ tected from the dykes, and every mile that brought me nearer to the sea-coast rendered the country more dreary. Salt swamps began to alternate with sandy heath, and the road became little more than a causeway carried through a morass, where the slightest deviation from the beaten track might cause horse and rider to sink, with little prospect of rescue. Now, however, I distinctly heard a footstep behind me on the road, and, turning, I saw a man, who had started out of the swamp apparently, leaning- pole in hand. Lion growled, but at a word from me he came close up to my horse, though still uttering a low, dis­ satisfied snarl. The man, m I oould perceive in the fast-gathering dusk; was a sufficiently rough, disreputable figure to excite the suspicions of any dog accustomed to good society. His ragged shirt, open in front, displayed his brawny chest. His coarse frieze jacket was out at the elbows. Thick-lipped and low-browed, with his hair hanging in matted locks under his broad-brimmed hat, his ap­ pearance was certainly the reverse of prepossessing. Nevertheless, such as he was, I hailed his advent as a god­ send. Surely he oould be induced, by promise of reward, to guide me to some habitation where I could pass the night. When 1 made this proposal, with the offer of money for his trouble, I could see his eyes glitter under his shaggy brows. There was no village near, not even a farm-house, he said in a rode patois; but if 1 would put up with such accommodation as he oould give, he would take me to his own cottage near at hand. I gratefully accepted his offer. Any­ thing wuuid bii better thau befng lost in the morass, which might only too probably be the case as night closed in. The man took the horse by the bridle and led him on, Lion following close at my heel, still, by an occasional growl, protesting against the arrangement. After proceeding a few hundred yards my conductor turned off the main road to a causeway leading to the right through the swamp. By this time bare­ ly lignt enough remained to render discernible the sullen pools that lay here and there on each side; while, rising out of the marsh patches of high­ er ground were visible as we passed along. These were apparently planted with osiers and alder trees,.and loomed dark like little islets in the midst of the sea of mist that cover the fens. To­ ward one of these the man directed his way. 1 heard a quacking of ducks as we traversed the pathway between the osiers, and at last we stopped before a cottage, or rather cabin, through a hole in the roof of which a wreath of turf smoke found its way. Adjoining stood what at first appeared to be a mound of thick foliage, but which proved to be an out-house. I found afterward that it was constructed of wicker-work plastered over with mud. Many of the willow twigs had taken root, and cov­ ered the erection with a canopy of green. The horse having been relieved of saddle and bridle, and Jed into this primitive stable, where a few handfuls of hay and a drink of water had to serve him for supper, I followed my guide into the cottage, saddle-bags in hand. He at first made some objection to Lion's entrance, suggesting that he might remain in the stable, but to this I refused to listen. Lion was, therefore, admitted, though with a bad grace. I It was toward the close of the dajjTT Yound the interior of the cottage low Inaf ivtaamy in f Inf aKai* I ha Oil* , . O . in the last week in October. The air felt chilly and damp. A mist hung over the lowlands, rendering objects invisi­ ble at a short distance On one side of the t*>ad along which I was riding, a broad dyke flowed sluggishly, on the other stretched an extensive tract of hej&th and furze-covered ground, brown ana desolate, though here and there a few blossoms still lingered amid the dark, prickly green. I found it was vain to think of push­ ing on to the coast that night, and I hoped to oome upon some village or farm-house where I might find rest and refreshment for my tired horse and fnyself. I looked from side to side, en- <• deavoring to pierce the mist, in search of some object that would guide me. At length, a little further along the road; I perceived several cows standing at the border of the dyke, as if waiting, and on the opposite side 1 could faintly discern traces of culture.^ 44 There must be a house hereabouts," - Xa&id to myself; and as the thought . passed through my mind a punt came gliding over the dyke, impelled by a vigorous push from the pole of a stur- . dy peasant. .•*. The cows, lowing, advanced close to the edge of the dyke, evincing their wadiness to be ferried across to the milking-place. As the punt touched the bank the boatman stuck his pole the earth and threw a rope round a stump of alder, while the cows stepped .qn- board. Slipping the rope again, he „.,, was about to push off without taking any notice erf my approach, when 1 > .hailed him. "My friencl," I said,"can you direct me to a house where I may find a night's lodging?" " No,11 the man replied, in a surly tone. " There are not many houses ./iMreabouts." But there is surely a farm over ^ wonder," I returned, pointing with my whi p in the direction of the fields, v , "Maybe," the man answered; "but we don't take in strangers at our place." Without another word lie pushed off fc«s ^tpthe opposite side of the dyke, where ' i tjie ctOws landed, and set o|r leisurely 61- fifspitward. 11 *< Caayon not direct me to some place * skelter, my good fellow F" I called out as the man tethered his boat. ^He took no notice, but made fast his t. Then, with a "kup, kup," to cows, he walked, away and disap­ peared in the mist. 1 confess the wish I sent after him 1 ffas not a blessing. There was noth fng for it, however, but to proceed; waiting in tfte road was evidently use- lqae. I touched my jaded horse lightly , J$th the whip, rousing him from his * and smoke-stained. The one unglazed window was partially closed with a wooden shutter. A turf fire smoldered on a flat stone that served for hearth. At one end, in a corner, stood a rude pallet, covered with sheepskins. Op- f>osite was a heavy wooden press that ooked as if, at some former day, it had known better quarters. " You will have the place to your­ self," said the man, in a hoarse voice; " I am going out again. You'll want supper, I suppose?" I signified that such refreshment would certainly be desirable. He opened the cupboard and brought out a loaf of black bread, some eggs and dried fish. These latter he pro­ ceeded to cook. He then produced a bottle of wine, and set on the table a plate and drinking cup of a more re­ spectable kind than might have been expected. I drew out my purse, and placed a few coins in the man's hand. If you are going out, let me pay you now, my good friend," I said. " I must start at daybreak, probably before you return." For a moment I was startled by the greedy manner in which he eyed the money; but he merely expressed him­ self satisfied and pocketed the coin. Then taking down a lantern that hung from a nail in the wall, he lighted it, and set off on Ma nocturnal errand, whatever that might be. When3 having finished my supper, wad having given Lion his ahare, 1 had time for reflection, the sinister counte­ nance of my host began to haunt me unpleasantly. However, he had pro­ vided me with a roof over my head, and that was something to be thankful for in that foggy, dreary, isolated spot. I threw more turf on the fire, for the bit of candle that had been lighted when I began my supper burned low, and I did not relish the idea of being left in the dark. , \ Before it failed me, I thought it ad­ visable to take a survey of the prem­ ises. Beside the entrance door, there was another at the end of the room on one side of the press. Opening it, I found it led into a sort of lean-to, part­ ly tilled with hay. I raised the candle and glanced round. The place seemed to be a receptacle for all sorts of odds and ends, some of which raised uncom­ fortable doubts, so out of keeping did they seem with the cottage and its in­ mate. The further I looked the more my suspicions became excited. I took a pole that stood against the wall and removed the hay. An irre­ sistible feeling took possession of me that it had been thrown there for the purposes of concealment; nor was I • % mistaken. The first object I turned up was a boot of Parisian make, and near to it I found a Russia leather valise, with a brass plate at one end, on which I made out the initials C. F. A cold shiver ran through my frame. It was a situation that might well dis­ may the boldest. I could no longer question but that I had fallen into a nest of brigands. A very few months before, a good deal of painful interest had been roused by the mysterious dis­ appearance, in this part of the coun­ try, of a commercial traveler, named Charles Favel, and the oonviction forced itself on my mind that I had come upon the relics of this unfortun­ ate man. It was scarcely possible that my host oarried on his nefarious traffic without accomplices. In all probability he had then gone to acquaint the gang that a bird had been caught. How many might there be? I was alone, with only a dog for my companion. Tnie, 1 hao pistols in my saddle-bag, but of what avail would they be against a number of des­ peradoes? For a moment I thought of saddling my horse and making my escape, but, on cooler reflection, such an attempt seemed to be only flying from uncer­ tain to certain peril. H I had been in danger of losing my way in the dusk of evening, how could I hope to keep to the pathway in the dense darkness that had now closed around? I put away that idea and determined, if at­ tacked, to sell my life dearly, at any rate. "Forewarned, forearmed/* I said to myself, as, returning to the principal room, I took down the pistols from my saddle-bag and looked to the priming. "If they make any attempt upon us they shall have a hot reception, Lion, my boy." I said, and Lion looked in my face and slowly wagged his tail, as much as to say, "Let come what will, we are ready." I threw myself on the bed, without undressing, and placed the pistols un­ der the bolster. Lion stretched him­ self at my side. I had no intention of sleeping, you may be sure. I watched the fire for some time, but the fatigue of the day had overpowersd me, and objects became dim and indistinct be­ fore my eyes. Once or twice I started as a noise caught my ear, but I soon convinced myself that it was only my horse stamping in the outhouse, or the ducks disturbed in their sleep. I strug­ gled hard to keep on the alert, but the wearied senses refused their office; past and present began to be mixed up in inextricable confusion, and at last I suppose I fell asleep. I must have slept for some hours when I was suddenly roused to full consciousness by the report of a pistol, and a gurgling sound as of some one being strangled, and, by the faint glimmer of the fire 1 saw a man steal­ ing toward the bed, and the glitter of a knife he held in his hand. To catch up my pistol and fire was the work of an instant. Fortunately, though my aim had necessarily been uncertain in the hurry and semi-dark­ ness, the shot had taken effect, thor­ oughly disabling the ruffian, for the arm that held the knife dropped power­ less by his side. He groaned, and staggered back against the wall for a moment, then witn a volley of curses, he turned and fled through the open door. Meanwhile I had sprung from the bed and hastened to the assistance of Lion, who had pinned another of the brigands by the throat. The dog's in­ stinct had proved right; as I had ex­ pected, it was the master of the cot­ tage. He had ceased to struggle, and was nearly at the last gasp. A dis­ charged pistol lay close to where he had fallen; it must have gone off in the air when the dog flew upon him, thus rousing me. In my examination of the premises I had observed a coil of rope; with this I bound the miscreant's arms tightly, and then called Lion off, not a moment too soon. When the man recovered sufficiently to speak he began to cry for mercy, but the only consolation he got from me was the assurance that I should by early morning give notice of what had occurred at the nearest prefecture, and that doubtless a dpuple of gens (Purines would conduct him where he would be taken care of. Alter awhiie he uuased to plead, and lay passive, only groan­ ing with the pain of the injuries he had received from the dog's fangs. I did not yet feel myself out of danger. It wanted some time to day­ break, and every moment I expected others of the gang might come to the rescue of their comrade. I reloaded my pistol, and at a sign Lion placed himself at the door on watch. At length welcome streaks of light appeared in the east. It was not so misty as the evening before; the wind during the night had brought a heavy shower, and cleared the air. As soon as it became sufficiently light to distinguish the path­ way through the swamp I saddled my horse, and, with a feeling of thankful­ ness at my escape, ratraced my steps to the high road, leaving my treacherous host bound on the iloor of the cottage. The sun rose as 1 cleared the morass, casting long shadows before me, and presently a faint blue line on the far horizon gave token that the bourne toward which I journeyed would soon be reached. In another hour I saw the little fishing village before me, the sea sparkling in the morning sun, and beyond, the Island of Noirmontiers. When I made my deposition, I gave a full and particular description of the cottage. It appeal ud that a, gang of highwaymen had infested the district for some time, eluding the search of the police; no doubt was made but that the men who had attacked me formed part of the number. When the officers arrived, the y found the cottage empty; my host must have been liberated by his accomplices; * but, once put on the track, the law soon had the wretches in its clutch. The ringleaders were executed, the oth­ ers sent to the galleys. My host con­ fessed. It had been his part to lie in wait for belated travelers and lure them to his cottage. My suspicions .had been too well rounded; poor Favel had been murdered, and the same fate had been intended for me. The ruf­ fians,' however, had not calculated upon the strength and courage of Lion. He it was who saved my life, and de­ served the thanks of the inhabitants of the Marais, and all who traveled that way, for being the means of bringing a gang of desperadoes into the han.\s of justice. Terrible Figfct with a tiriuly Bear. Youths' Department. OK Thursday of last week Mr. Nath­ an Rogers, who lives upon a ranch *n the mountains above West Point, had the most terrific encounter with a griz­ zly we ever heard of. Gray squirrels are quite plenty there this season, and after dinner Mr. Rogers went out for an afternoon's sport He was armed with a light rifle, and fortunately had a large knife, which he occasionally carries. Grizzlies are no strangers in the vicinity, and Rogers had frequently seen their tracks while hunting his stock; but as it is yet too early for rav­ enous beasts to be driven out of the higher mountain ranges by the snow, he felt no apprehensions from that source. In leaving a timbered ridge upon which he had been shooting, Rogers had to cross a patch of comparatively open country. He had gone but *a snort distance when, in descending in­ to a little blind ravine, he came upon a huge • grizzly feeding on the carcass of a sheep. The bear was not over twenty feet distant--a space that Rog­ ers had not the remotest desire to diminish. Man and beast discovered each other's presence at the same in­ stant. Rogers is a resolute man, a splendid marksman, and well inured to the dangers of backwoods life; but, with a full knowledge of the character­ istics of the ferocious animal facing him, hope died away in his breast. His first impulse was to run; but his better judgment told him that if he did so, and should be pursued by the griz­ zly, escape would be impossible. There was a chance that the grizzly might not attack him if he retained a bold at­ titude, but this was dispelled by the bear giving a low growl, dropping his mutton and advancing toward him. When the grizzly had got within about fifteen feet of him, Rogers threw his rifle to his shoulder, ana, with » steady aim planted a bullet in the bear's breast, just inside the point of the right shoulder. The animal was hit hard, but no sixty-to-the-pound bullet ever stopped a grizzly. With a growl, so ferocious tiiat it resembled a roar, the infuriated animal rushed forward to the attack. Throwing aside the now useless rifle, and drawing his knife, Rogers braced himself for the death struggle. As the shaggy monster reared upon its haunches, its great, black, convex head towering two feet above Rogers, the latter involuntarily threw ujT his left arm like a pugilist on gn*rd. The bear seized the arm in its mouth and, throwing its great paws over the shoul­ ders of the hunter, hugged him in an embrace so cruel that his eyes seemed starting from their sockets and the blood gushed from his nostrils. Rog­ ers' right arm was free, and he drove the blade of his knife to the hilt in the side of the grizzly close to the shoul­ der. The blade reached a vital point, but it!) immediate effect was only to increase the grizzly's ferocity. It hugged Rogers the closer, its long, sharp, chisel-pointed claws tearing gaping wounas in the unfortunate mail'a back, while thie bones of his left arm were ground to powder in the vise-like laws of his terrible antagonist. Rogers plied his knife with the energy of desperation, driving it again and again in the vitals of tne bear, literally carving it alive, Aiiile the latter, with claws and teeth, lacerated its human foe in the most frightful manner. The terrible wounds of the grizzly were commencing to tell upon its vitality.. Rogers' senses were not so dulled but that he could distinguish that the grizzly was gradually relaxing its hold, and the ray of hope the knowl­ edge afforded stimulated him to renewed" exertions with his knife. The bear endeavored to support itself, despite its cruel wounds, wavered for an instant, and then, with a low moan, the huge monster toppled over, dragging the man with it, the latter falling partly underneath. Summon­ ing all his remaining strength, Rogers SIiiBged his knife into the grizzly's ab-omen, the hot life-blood and viscera 4.5 OUUUUU^ lull 1U uio A(«vv» AUV I/VU& IV- linquished its hold, and Rogers, torr, lacerated and bleeding, crawled liber enough away to escape being rent |e» in pieces by the terrible death-struggleDouit- the grizzly. Although victorious, Rogers' 001*5 #nfj tion was critical in the extreme. • was a mile and a half from home,""®"** weak and faint he could scarcely stap ap- and in danger of bleeding to death $t. fore he could reach help. Consciator. that he must soon have help or peri - he summoned all his resolution j.. staggered along in the direction^, - r home, more dead than alive, a trai" . blood marking his footsteps. He n, ect aged to reach a spring, in sight oft> house, whenhis endurance at last g 'goods way, and he fell in a dead faint by, what water's edge. Fortunately he was « after discovered by his son, a lac^toK some twelve years, who immedisi five the alarm. Rogers was ta)E, ome and his wounds temporal dressed, an express, in the meanti being sent for a physician. The grizzly' was the largest tfhfciig© known to have been killed in the coiocsold ty. It measured nine feet in len^rty "over all," and weighed 1,400 pouni ^^ The left side of the bear was literally torn to pieces, there being no less than twenty-two knife-wounds, nearly every one of which reached a vital point. Mr. Rogers is lying in an extremely critical condition.--Calaveras (Cal.\ Chronicle. ! "b'.'ir. TWO KITTIES, ' Ywo UTTLK kittiea - Wandered awmy Into the prairie mi One summer day. One on two feet, r^Golden Hair." Tour feet-useless. Eyes taste orne in • basket, „ The other dosed. >9earohingm tenor ^Far and wide, ^fktlden Hair's" 1 - Moaned and oried, HotberPnssoahnly 4 Following slow, listening--catling tfctfjL Meoh!--Meohl-- K«l tfother Pmsfound thlik - j A little heap, •i j pgrain the deep gnu* * - Rs» asleej V f ,i1> !»;*»•.' f '< iS ' .-vs'H^ »• to St. leep. ' -J «"<*• Nichola* /or : : JACK'S LESSOR. What Neglect IT is a true story. Jack H. told ft to me of Ms own boyhood. He was born and reared in the North of Ireland. The winters there are not usually se­ vere, he says, but occasionally they have very deep snows. Father came through the shed where I was fixing straps to my new snow- shoes one day, and said: "Jack, do you get the sheep together, before night, into the lower fold. It looks as if this storm would last all night; and, if it should, it may be easier done to^ day than to-morrow," I looked, up through" the open door at the snow which was falling gently and steadily. It did not seem to me likely to be much of a storm. But I had been taught unquestioning obe­ dience, and only replied, " Yes, sir; I will," and went on with my work. Be­ fore it was finishedTom Higgins came, and he had a new plan for making a rabbit trap, and we spent half the aft- ernobn trying to carry it into execu­ tion, and the short winter d*y n'WMsd, and the sheep were not folded. In short, it quite slipped from my mem­ ory, only to be recalled by my father's question, as he drew the Bible toward him for evening worship: "Jack, have you folded those sheen?" The blood leaped to my forehead, as I was forced to reply: "No, sir; I got to playing with Tom, and forgot." The silence that followed my reply was dreadful to me. If my father had upbraided me with violent anger 1 think I could have borne it better. "I am very sorry, shrt" 1 stammered out at last. "I fear you will have reason to be," said my father. " If those sheep are lost to-night, remember there will be no more play for you till they are found. People who will not take trouble will be overtaken by trouble." Nothing more was said. The read­ ing and the psalm and prayer over, I slipped, quietly away to bed, taking a peep, as 1 went, through the shed door, to see how the storm was progressing; I saw it had increased, Mid the wind was rising. Nothing had power to kfep me long awake in those days, however, so I slept soundly. In the morning I found the storm was still raging. The snow lay deep on the ground, and the wind was drifting it into, the hollows, and packing it away into" solid masses. Father came in from taking a survey of the weather, bringing a rod full fif­ teen feet long. ; •* The snow is deep," said he. " I am troubled about those sheep. They always seek shelter in the hollows, and along the hedges, just where the drifts will be deepest. How we shall find them 14o not know. I hope you are ready for a week's hard work, my son Jack." " Yes, sir; I am very sorry, and will do my best," 1 replied; 441 our best would have gone much farther yesterday than it v ul to-day. But we won't spend our strength groan­ ing over a baa job. After breakfast we will go out and try what we can do." "In wis storm, father?" said my mother, deprecatingly. 'Sit is the worst storm of the year. The snow blows so you can scarce find your way," "There 2.TC f'-vn h::n:lrfld of those 91 f 00a : • 1 sian W lir 3 1 Hay Bake, a quantity of he Cultivators, an4aU my 9NMP#fre Took).; ». TER*S OI* WBLIof ft jliider,,.. Cjish. ,JtbaV ad|®|»i credit of one year will b6 g'tVeu peeved Notes at $iper went.. , • ' U . i $ 1 . ' • 1 1 1 mg. ^ gree of strength, while wet spared nopflff time from the search. I21| " It's no use to hunt longer; the rest^ are all dead," said father, one nigbtr > when we were coming home, dirolritedr and weary, having n>un& fen} jof]Ule| poor things lying together, 4nrira<ii,L in daeettf-.-the hollows. " You look thin? • and pale. Jack- You have worked well. I'think I must release you now." But I would not be released. The* - word had been, " No play tall everyfe i sheep is found," and, alive or dead,. • they should all be found. I toiled alone,& - next day, but I found three, and one was alive. The thaw carried away thei ; snow so fast that I had lesa and less^ ' area to search ovqr now. But waaF poor encouragement to work, for all £ found were dead. A dqzen times I was tempted to yield to my mother's pet-lit suasions not to throw away any mowiW labor. But my father said not a word|tr and I kept on. 4 * " The sheep are all found now, fa*, ther; I took off the pelt of the last ofT the dead to-day," I said, one evening, when he came in late from work. " Well, Jack, this lesson has cost me almost a score of sheep, and both of us a good deal of hard work; but if it teaches you to be faithful to your du* ties in future, 1 shall not be sorry." " Thank you, father!" said I. And i vowed inwardly that it should, and I believe that it did.--Episcopal Register„ it IC- ier at. •lit Fifty haad of full blood Rpow at pflce#*o#uit t| : "*i post" --No man can go down into the dun­ geon of his experience, and hold the torch of truth to all the dark chambers and hidden cavities, and not come up with a shudder and a chill as he thinks of the time when he undertook to talk politics with the deaf old father of his first sweetheart while the girl was pres­ ent. --Cincinnati Breakfast Table. . --Sir Garnet Wolseley, the British commander now in charge of the Island of Cyprus, is first cousin of Mrs. Wake- man, the wife of a physician at Red­ ding, Conn., and corresponds regular­ ly with the family. me )d fer ] ich «ked by i>or .. Jog. Wmmukxm now k«eps|om Valkfs Miiwiiult«e;£ibf>9S't tyotilfl »ek whluliiiw pa<|e, BUtity- FatetltBoUUMhk will keep mid sio*. - WUJ,te furnished dozen or single oottie. ,, J,,' A trm Story of t A FEW years ago an officer cf ouft army was stationed in Boston Ha^ soon found that his fine horse Charlie, of which he was very fond, would be of no use to him in the city. So he sent him into the country. In the pasture there were several horsess and among them, one poor, forlorn old horse, called Paddy, who was constant­ ly teased and worried, by the other more frisky hordes. When Charlie, who was a superb animal, arrived, what do you suppose he did? Did he join the others in toi> menting poor, harmless old Paddy f No, very far from that. Ac soon as HV aow the old horsa was treated, Charlie lost no time in making himself his protector. He guarded the trough, and would not let le other horses nave a drop to drink until Paddy had had his full share. They all looked up to Charlie, and when they found that old Paddy had such a powerful friend, thegave up their ugly, teasing ways. So you see it is witn animals as it is with men and boys; the iridy brnv#"~ ones always protect the weak. Cowards are only too fond of abusing those not . strong enough to defend themselvea.-- Youths' Companion. ' the ond the KQTICB TO WOOL OROW , .The sH&wrlbew; woultf ' you wish >tqclothe your family r" hg Mnirliw ftt amdlnfct'H can find any alive," saicfmy latner. The snow had settled into compact masses, nearly thirty feet deep in some of the valleys, but we still round now and then a sheep by the hole, which the warm breath of the creature made in the iinow as it rose. I searched diligent­ ly for these holes. Little I cared that I had not a moment's play in all the days since the storm. I was most anxious that all the sheep should be found alive. I think the first real prayers I ever offered were sent up then, that the thaw might keep away till *11 the sheep were found. It did keep away wonderfully. At the end of three weeks all but twenty- four were rescued. Still we searched, and now and then found a poor crea­ ture, famished and emaciated, but alive, which we carried to the farm­ house, and consigned to my mother and the girls, who chafed and fed and tended, till it was won back to a de- The Yellow-fever Horret" it Caaton, miss. MR. CHABLKS HANDY, one of the ' members of the Howard Association who has been at .Canton, Miss., and lb now in Philadelphia, gives to the Timet of that city the following account at the panic tnere and the scenes of suf­ fering: " When the panic began, people fled , in every conceivable way--in vehicle^ on horseback, afoot. They fled bj£ night, and they fled by day. Dwellings houses were closed, stores were oimeci| churches were closed, the train! stopped running, every form of com­ munication was either cut off or rem* dered difficult. In less than twenty^ - four: hours after the death of old Di{, , McKie the town was almost completely depopulated. You nnuld not call fleeing; it was more of a stampede* Physicians fled with the rest, soma H tried to get away in the night, bu| were stricken down helpless befor# they got out of town. In two days not more than 200 people remained in thi town. These would have left if thf| fever had not taken hold.of their famj£ ^ilies. Persons who had made ever* arrangement to go at a late hour dp the night would find either themselve§ or some of their family attacked wit% •» it before daylight and would be cons* pelled to remain. Ten days later we were without any assistance, with tha exception of about ten citizen^ who re- mained to nurse the sick. "The condition of things at this time . was terrible. With no- female nurse%' ycsiig men were compelled to lay oui and prepare for burial the bodies of young women. The undertaker and a colored man conducted the burials. ^ The supply of coffins ran out. Dry ' goods boxes had to take their place. Only two physicians remained able for duty. The rest were sick, dying or dead. The ministers had left or wera leaving. Twelve men cared as well as they could for over one hundred and fifty sick or dying. At the end of three, weeks the death rate had run up to fifty. Even dry goods boxes became scarce, and any kind of a box that would inclose a corpse became in great demand. With the railroads ana sur­ rounding towns quarantined against us, medicines and the commonest neces­ sities of life were hard to procure. Dp to the end of the second week we had made- no call for assistance. The twelve vol­ unteer nurses had organized themselves into a branch Howard Association. It looked as though nurses as well as patients must die for want of food. At this stage I set to work to make ap­ peals to my friends and acquaintances throughout the country. Responses cameliberally in the form of supplies, both of focd and medidnes. If we had had a proper supply of medicines at first there would nave been fewer deaths. " In the fourth week things were at their worst. People, not only in the town, but surrounding it, had fled. Some took to the woods. As many as six and eight families sought refuge ia ° one country church. Every farmhouse was crowded. Toward the last of the week some returned to nurse their friends. Numbers died who would not have died had they had attention." --A young .man made his appwinmca at Deadwood, the other day, fiji a "pair of white pahts. He was pMiBVtiY ea^ oorted to the cars, puton boacd oc . and an injunction placed up«a hi* never to revisit the place. " We oa* 4 ̂ stand a biled shirt, you know," a miner explained, " but when it comes t# wearin' biled drawer*, we jw* wafer (them git up and .git.** 1 • V 4,: