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k ;<v , M.tlENBY, m ipi mmmmm mum •%^r iM\W-s *• % < ,by T •71' ws " ? «. UJ* ** "^4 SL£"*V »»«*» ,:: ̂ ^1 iyx. 5^.^,1 *P» " ;i4 Wi ,f? "Hff I rv i'Uunicalcf VAN SLVKK. Editor w»d Publish*. ILLINOIS. AS THE'i LOOK <>l/T TO BKi, ZMTT two women standing on a hill ] the sea. Th^ fcWW wuuu!«8wmidl|K That looked out towafd one Thi Snae of 1|u worn and seamed with cal*, yet 4*lm and ;'vi Still, Like one whoso work is done. ; (!» otbor'a fact* was voting and fresli anil fair, 1 And v.'t within Iior'bfii t there Beemed'to bo •bme sorrow, giving htr a pensive air, ' As shi' looked out to si>a. - |Ri«T looked not at the wind-blown floors that lay &" " About their foot, bat followed with their eyes A stately vessel, sailing on her way, Where billow* fall and rise. :'V. • *»»e maiden, though her face bespoke hi ifWi'-A* parting from her lover, vet sseined ' lull hrr eonnw with the fond belief ,' "That they would meet ft ain. ' Hbt so the other, for trembling ~p - .Told that she thought she had los l9tl»at ere tigoin th;>se waters knew his B Jtter life's voyage would be done. '» -'..Hkey waved their kerchiefs, thinking they C0(ild see ; \ ' An answering signal from the vessel's deck; "• . •' HSMHI watched the phip uutil it seemed tq be - f ,|0nly a distant speck. TChey watched it out of sight, then turned away .; • With Iioavy steps and heavier hearty attd hands » ' -••• • •: "• . Jacked in each otjter'a, while the twilight gray ^, a^etti^d upon t^e lands. And as they slowlv took their homeward path From cither heart went up a silent prayer That heaven 'would arrest tlie tempest'* wrath, ;A*d one dear sailor spare. 1 "^O ehip 3 receding 'twixt the vaves and skies, Swift bo thy going, sVift thy coming be]; Gladdening bis mother's and his BweethsaBt's eyes, i . ; At IJ»y look o<itte sea. •' • •• 1'*^*'* £*&**> York Ledaer, LIDA. r BY MBS. M. L. RAYSB. r %6» Was a heroine, though no badges •f honor decorated her with the tri- Hlkiphal plaadit of fame, and no monn- Mental record ever told the story of her simple and unswerving devotion to duty; yet none the less is her name written in imperishable characters upon the scroll of glorious remem­ brance, witnessed and attested to in the higher conrt, where her welcome «hall be sounded: "Well done! good And faithiul servant!" For she was only a servant girl, and bad sat meekly and sorrowfully among the others in the forlorn city intelli­ gence office, waiting for somo one to ap- ptove of her, anil take her into service. 5nst the day before her mother liad given her the little red Bible she had in her pocket, and said with tearful Vpiee: "Be a good girl, Lida. If things don't go to suit you, and you get down­ hearted, think of your father and me, and read what he marked ia this book. That is all the help and comfort a poor girl can get that lives out and hasn't •iky home." • ' Lida was thinking this oyer as she cat there in the commercial exchange «f flesh and blood, when she heard a loud voice say: t "What is the matter with tfei* one?" S:'She lifted her eyes, shy as the wild .-Jjbwers of her own conntry fields, and iftw a gentleman regarding her with a ceol business look. "She is just in from the conntry and •t®s'never lived out," said the politic femes of the mistress of the office. "All the better then," said the gen­ tleman. "My wife will, make a good servant out of her. There is nothing suits her better than to break in a raw Hey, girl, can yon cook a po- m fand: lato?1- His voice was rough but not un- tindly, and as the girl timidly answered im, he continued: "Send her to the house, Mrs. Spence, *nd settle with my wife about the %ages. We won't be particular if she turns out to be quick and willing." Lida smiled thankfully and tried to ;li«y a few grateful word that stuck in . Mer throat, but it was all the same-- •he gentleman who had hired her, Mr. Simpson, had turned away, and from jjhitt, moment forgot her as completely »3 if she had never lived. She was engaged at his house, and loon learned how to cook city diet in a "jyay acceptable to the family. She ,|gould wash and iron, sweep and clean, 1 "pad in a month Mrs. Simpson told her friends what a treasure she had in the ,«iew girl. '-Xhfl Jiew girl could do other things iIS~sew an^ embroider, sing very sweetly, S^ftay the melodeon prettily, read and recite better than either Belle or Ifaud Simpson, and had lovely culti­ vated thoughts about the people and the relation of one human being to an­ other. c But the family never knew it. They did not even appreciate the fact that she spoke beautiful English and iiad refined manners. She was the «taaghter of a Scotch minister, and a «troag, plain, good-hearted l'ankee girl, who, when her young husband be­ came blind was eyes and ears and feet »6r him till he died, leaving a family of younger helpless and dependent children. The father had taught Lida, •aid in dying he had charged her to help her mother maintain the children. •But not in this way. Oh, no! good j&an as he was, his prldo would have 'Xevblted at Lida's going into service, i ' But she, brave little woman, had ^reasoned it all out. Her education ' -SJL*9 erra'*c to permit of her teach- flfeg school. Sewing would soon ruin «wr health. Other girls lived ont. Why Khould not she? The fronts of houses are very insin­ cere. They flaunt light and style, and the appearance of comfort in the face tf the passer-by. The skeleton is in ba back part of the house--a closet - yjfcfciit has no stained glass windows to Attract attention. • Lida lived in the kitchen; she worked •filone all day, feeding upon herself. IMra. Simpson did not scold or interfere •itmtess something went wrong. Then fclie did both. "Alas, how easily things go wrong. jShe could excuse them for herself or ^ \Jber children, but not for the "servant • . within her gates." Lida had a letter ifroni her mother saying that little JBennv had broken his wrist, and cried Wll one night for sister Lida. Then *»he crid, and the coffee browned too ->• ,much, and Mrs. Simpson scolded her severely. She sent every dollar home • and wore her summer clothes all win- ;tor. Then she did a very dishonest thing. -She wore the ironing-blanket Jl^under her thin shawl when she went - • »out one bitter night to buy the yeast for the breakfast muffins. Mrs. Simp- taon came into the kitchen and saw the ' '"lining of poverty. "Perfectly shameful," she said, " wear- ' ' tag my things out in that manner. I pay you enough to buy a warm shawl -every month. What do you spend your money for?" i», ' Lida did not say. The next morn- ' iug the muffins were light, but not her heart. It was heavier than lead. She ipftij Iter braath i "D.iro to do right--dare to be true.* A Then she changed it to-- "There's it land that is fairer than day." It seemed to help her, and she forgot the wearying rub»k-dub-dub of the wash-board, and sung higher. Mrs. Simpson locked in: "Lida, stop siaging. It is onough to set any one crazy to hear that dismal tune. I never allow my hired girls to sing." After that she sangbnly in her heart. "l'ou are a dear good girl," wrote her mother, "and I am so glad you like your place ami that the people are kind to yon. We should have starved this winter but for yob." When Lida read this letter she laid her head down on the kitchen table and cried. All the inanimate things that were her only companions seemed to be sorry for her. The stove shone warm and bright, the room looked cozy, but, oh! it was not home--home, where mother and Benny and the rest loved her. She read a chapter in the little Bible, went to the small, dark, dreary room that exists in most honses as a sort of catch-all, and is known as the girl's room, and there by her narrow bed asked God that "peace which floweth as a river." It earner to her sooner than she expec­ ted. Mrs. Simpson sent for her family physician one morning and said: "Doctor, I am in such tronble. My kitchen girl seems thratened with fever. I have sent Mand aqd Belle away, and want yoa to tell me just what to do." The* doctor followed Mrs. Simpson to the rear apartment where Lida slept. The room was cold and full of the odor of cooking. The girl lifted he? weary head from its scanty pillow and locked at him with shining eyes. "It is .so boautifnl here," she said in » faint voice; *'the sun shines and it is never cold. Hark! that is father's voice! and. thay are all so kind here. Oh, Mrs. Simpson, have I overslept myself! Let me get up. twill never forget again!" 1 "Delirious," said the doctor, with his finger on her pulse. "Must be sent to the hospital at once." "I know you could advise me, Dootor," said Mrs. Simpson gratefully. "Such trouble as I had to teach that girl, and now when she can do anything and knows I depend on her, she has to go and get sick. It's all her own fault, too, for she would not wear comfortable clothing." "Has she any people?" asked the doctor in an abstracted manner. "I'm sure I don't know." answered mistress; "I really never thought to ask her." The old mother waited long for a letter but none came. One day a cheap little trunk with a few poor clothes in it was left at the depot, lienny saw it and ran home with sshining eves. "It's Lida, mother! It's sister Lida!" cried the boy. "Oh, goody, goody!" "God be thanked!" said the mother reverently. Alas! she never came. A kind nurse at Harper Hospital wrote the poor mother of Lida's brief sickness and happy, unconscious death. But she did not say that the mis­ tress for whom she had faithfully worked had left her to die alone among strangers; that she had struggled with home-sickness and failing strength, and no helping hand had been lifted to lighten her burdens; that she had gone poorly clad to feed the loved ones at home, or that at the last she slept in the potter's field unrecognized save of .God. ^ Oh, woman, merciless to your own sex, swift to condemn, slow to defend, who shall say God will not hold* you responsible tor these untrained souls committed to your care in the day when He maketh up His jewels ? Set the gates ajar to your hearts and bid them enter. Make their drudgery divine. Few often these faithful, tireless ones silence your grand paeans of self-praise in mission work by the small, still voice of their daily song: "Humble need, humble d»ni} To thn hitfl.ta of Heaven lead. --Detroit,Free Press. n TWO OF LOOKKK'S POKM* f * * « I % MY ORAMDMRORMT This relative of mine, " Was «he seventy-and-nine 4 Wbenshe'died? | •f. By the canvas may be seen How she looked at seventeen,1 As a bride. - r. Xeneath a summer tr^|' Her maiden reverie Has a charm: , Her ringlets are in taste: •.»."*" " "What an arm!--what a'wttM t :>< For an arm I' With her bridal-wreath, bonqlli^ t w.i Lace, farthingale, and gray ,u' i Falbaln -- : Were Roinney's limning trae,,. , , What a lucky dog were yoti. t. • Grandpapa t Etc., etc. IIT MISTRESS' BOOTS. ] They nearly strike me dumb.-itf14 ' 1 And I tri inule when they com#?r»#'f Pit-a-pat; ' v ,}!s Thi8 palpitation mean* . M 'j , 'VjgJjThat these boots one Omr&ldine&jf; * A Think of that! " > Z*r Oh, where did hnnter win So delicate a skin For her feet? " * .. ^.iiYou lucky bttle kid, . V Tod pprished, so yo« dMt^: *" " For inv sweet! •. *• TVie fairy sti'ebing gleams On the sides and in the seams, Ami it shows •The Pixies were the wags Who tipped these funny tag* ,, . And these toes. j Etc., etc. Me Lecher. °'S< ( A'v^ without torturing his heart with cruel descriptions of Henry's superior en­ dowments. Humanity abided in Tom's breast, and with its strength also its little weaknesses. Tom bought him­ self a new suit of clothes and fine effort to wrench them frr>m Tom's iron grip; but he was delicate, and, morn- over, weakened by pain an<l loss of blood, while Tom, who itad always been large and sinewy, drew additional strength now from the -unwonted excite boots, which only accentuated the con- ment under which he was laboring, so trast between him and his rival. He began taking care of his finger-nails, «id twice a week shaved his sunburnt visage with devoted care. Still hope that in less time than it would take to describe the manner of it he had over­ thrown the poor rebel, pinned him to the ground under his knee, and so se- lived in his heart, until one day, at the ' cured his hands that further resistance ID luck of Wpter, A statute or legal inch o! water in California ia the water discharged through an opening one inch square under a pressure of four inches from the center of the orifice to the top of the box or point of overflow. This is equivalent to .02 cabic foot discharged per second, 1.2 cubic feet per minute, and 72 cubic /o^tjp^r hour, to reduce to gallons multiply by 7.48, which gives about 9 gallons per minute. The miners' inch runs from 5 to 7 inches pressure, varying with locality. The great hydraulic companies, however, have agreed upon a G-imsh pressure, which gives by actual measurement, aaf made by Hamilton Smith at the North Bloomfield, 2,200.0 cubic feet per 24 hours, or 94.2 cubic feet per hour. In reducing to inches the water stored in reservoirs the practice is to allow 100 cubic feet per hour. For irrigating heads the pressure runs all the way from 3 |g>8 inches aftvmg comniercial ditches. The latter is--or wis recently --in use by the National Canal Com­ pany, Sacramento County. That com­ pany measttres through an orifice 4 inches deep, with 6 inches additional to overflow. In regard to the measure ing-box, the practice is quite uniform. It should be so large that the inflow will not create a perceptible current or commotion. The opening is usually 2 inches in depth, its length being regu­ lated by a tight-fitting slide, each half inch being equivalent to an inch of water. The edges are smooth, and, if necessary, ate, chamfered on the Out­ side.--San Bernardino (Cal.) Time*. Decrease In English Land-Values. Facts furnish practical evidence of the agricultural adversity in England. Land in Norfolk whioh eight years ago let for 58 shillings an aore is now to be had at 16 shillings--the average gross rental at letting-t by auction now being no more than one-third what it was then. Word to the same effect comes from Somerset and Hampshire; and it would appear that the value of land in the last four or five years hae fallen in England even in a greater in Ireland^ What >\Toineu Lack. Woman has not the full gift; she has wit and some humor it is true, but she has only a slighter sense of htimor, whence comes much marital unliappi- ness. As George Eliot tells ns, "a dif­ ference of taste indents is a great strain of the affectionsC^--Longman's Maga­ zine. / THE difference between rising at 5 and 7 o'clock in the mornin&r. for the morning, for the, space of forty years, supposing a man t^go to bed at the same hour at night, is nearly equivalent to the addition of ten years to a man's life.--Doddridge,. CONTKNTMENT abides with truth And you will generally suffer wishing to appear other than yoa are, whether it be richer, or more learned. The mask soen becomes an instrument -of torture. TOM JONES. Tom Jones was a tall, awkward, shaggy-haired fellow of 20 years. He worked hard on the Chandler farm, in Kentucky, about fifty miles from the Ohio, near the little town ,cf W . His fellow-laborers, whose greatest de­ light was to crack coarse jokes, spit tobacco juice, and "go a-sparking" on Sundays in "store clothes" and high- heeled boots, thought Tom was "uncom­ mon dull." They only liked him be­ cause he was good-natured, willingly-- it was thought blindly -- taking the hardest row to hoe or the meanest team to drive a-field, but he never shared their fun or joined in the loud mirth which followed Charley Meeks' sallies of wit. He did not dance, neither did be drink whisky or "court the girls." He spent the evenings, Sundays, and rainy days alone, reading the books which the old school-teacher lent him, but the boys thought he read only because he was two dull to tell jokes or too timid to talk to the girls. It is true they all remembered how one day Charley had made a coaise joke about Mary Chandler's parentage. Tom had very unexpectedly thrown cold water on the resulting merriment by declaring, in language that was no less forcible for being grammatical, that if ever again he heard Charley Meeks or any one else speak of Mary Chand­ ler in anything but a respectful terms, he would so chastise the offender that earth would be to bim hotter than hades. Butithey looked upon that only as a proof of Tom's inability to ap­ preciate a good joke and his ignorance of the uses, of womankind. And Mary was a favorite, too, in that neighborhood. All loved her, and even the witty Charley would have done anything she asked, even to the extent of keeping his tongue for half an hour at a time. But no one knew exactly who she was. From her most tender childhood she had lived at John Chand­ ler's house, borne his name, and been treated as his daughter; but the old man had never confided to anyone the secret of her birth, and, more, he had met all queries in this regard with such stern intimation that it was no­ body's busyness that no one had for a long time made any attempt to dis­ cover the now^almost dead secret. Mary was pretty. A wealth of wav­ ing hair fell like moulton gold on her shapely shoulders, and her blue eyes, rosy lips, sparkling teeth, and delicate complexion were supplemented with a graceful form and sunny disposition that forced the admiration and won the affection of all who knew her. She was but 17, modest and retiring as she vas happy and industrious, and no young fellow in a circuit of twenty jniles but would gladly heve joined liis uwt to hQi£. Bflt she encouraged no lover*. She talked to Tom perhaps more freely than to anyone else. They had gone to school together, and no more assiduous devotion was ever show to mortal being than Tom had given to Mary. No one, however, thought of it as A love aftair. "^V?ia a Jackass Tom ia to be always talking 'rithmetic and what not to Mary Chand­ ler," the boys would say. "If she would give me a chance, I think I'd sing another tune, eh? But he ain't got no gumption." Tom had devoted himself without reserve to Mary's pleasure. To know her wish was for him to gratify it. Hfs first efforts in the study of books had been dedicated to her. His greatest ambition wuS to win her approval; his life's purpose to make her happy. Yet' he had not thought of love in tliose school-boy days. Ho was only sure that Mary was the perfection of womanhood, and that whatever she approved was neces­ sarily good. Happy, adolescent pas­ sion ! Like the brightest of flowers, it adorns the spring timo of our life; its withered petals perfume our latest memories on earth, and preserve ever­ lasting faith in our hearts. , Tom's early love was of that stalwart growth that outlived his boyish fancies and took af>e?m#nent place i^ the aspi­ rations of his manhood. He resolved to be truly greet that he might be worthy of Mary Chandler's affection ; to win position, wealth, and influence that she might be proud of him, and he determined, whatever might chance, never to breathe a word of his great ambition until he had proven his abil­ ity. Thence grew the sober thought- fulness that caused his companions to call him dull; thence, too, his earnest labor to gain the education without which he could hope for nothing. Such was the situation in the sum­ mer that saw the beginning of our great national struggle for the preser vation of our nation. Then it was that unforeseen event directed by the hand of Providence overthrew our hero's cherished hopes and cast a lasting shadow, over the pros­ pects he had so industriously painted in sunshine. Firmer Chan­ dler had a brother who had died manv years ago, broken-hearted at the desertion of his young wife, whose re­ treat he had been unable to discover. And, dying, be had left his fortune and his son Henry to the care of the old farmer, knowing well that beneath his coarse garb there beat a heart which knew nothing but honesty and kindness. Henry had been raised at college, and for three yards had been making his apprenticeship at law in the office of an old Lexington lawyer. Failing health during this summer brought him to the country and to old Chandler's house. Henry was handsome and well. dresse^; lie hiad the habit, of .society,. wa4 l>ifHW*nt and attentive to Mary, and she, unsus­ pecting the nature of Tom's interest in , her, never saw her old school-fellow turning of the old poplar-shaded road down by the oreek, he ventured to say to May, whom he had met and stopped for a talk: "It jse^tais to me you are thinking a good deal Jkto much of this city gentleman." "Why, Tom, how could I?" was the Teady answer, "you know he is my cousin, and then--that'* a secret yet-- We are engaged." The sound of Gabriel's trumpet would have been sweet music to Tom's ear compared to those words. He had schooled himself to enduranoe as a nec­ essary ally in the arduous task he had undertaken, but this was too much. His heart seemed to cease beating, he grew dizzy, his frame shook like a bat­ tered wall. He felt that all liopo had at once deserted him; all the fanciful future, whose wealth and beauty he had treasured as his own, at onoe dis­ appeared, and the future appeared to him as a desert, in whose heated sands he saw himself alone, hopoless, and overburdened, sinking down, never to rise. Without the support of the rugged trunk beside which be stood, he would have fallen. May sprang to his assistance/' "What is the matter, Tom? You are sick. Sit down till I get some water," and she ran to the creek, using her straw hat and handkerchief to carry water to bathe her old friend's head. But he had summoned a tempo­ rary energy. It was her happiness he wished--not his. Did h6 let her know the agony she had inflicted, her joy would be marred by his misery. He met her with u smile that ill. became his pallid face, but it was almost with­ out a tremor that he said: "Really, that's funny--I felt--I got--dizzy, and, if it had not been for that old tree, I believe I would have fallen--and just when you were telling me of--of your engagement, wasn't it? Well, I sin­ cerely hope he will make you as happy as--as you deserve." And with that she soon went her way, ignorant of the deadly wound she had dealt. But when alone Tom Jones con- temp ated the dismal ruin which had overtaken his dearest hopes, a great despair took possession of his heart. At first he could not realize it. He sought to imagiue it was only a dream. Then he cried in his agony: "My Gcd! have you no pity, no mercy, to rob me at once of all hope, all joy, all future ? Close your heaven forever be­ fore me, but give me back my Mary." This great passion soon exhausted his physical strength, and for a long time he sat on the root of that old beech near where he had parted with Mary, his elbows on bis knees, his face in his hands--stupefied, unnerved, almost in­ sensible. The little creek ran softly by; l>eyond was the meadow hill, rich in the sun­ shine, with its glossy herd of fat cattle, and over the hill ran the old turnpike that, like a silver thread over emerald and gold, circled around the fertile hills of Kentucky. Suddenly an un­ wonted sound came rippling through the air, and to the ears Of poor Tom brought gradual consciousness and surprise. It seemed to bring the an­ swer to the question which paralyzed his senses. "What shall I do now'?" and there seemed nothing on earth that could be dono, till the sound of drum and fife in martial tune aroused his sleeping consciousness and brought the inspired reply: "To the war." "Yes, to the war," he said. "I will go at once, and who knows what may happen?" ,A melancholy smile revealed the secret, though. To the hope of happiness had succeeded, an ,hour» 4he hope of death. , * * '• The summer days were spent, the autumn fruit gathered, and the stripped trees now mourned in the winter's ga(fW The ruling star of Gen. Grant led bun! on to forts Henry and Donelson. A party of skirmishers had been sent to scftur ft had been surprised in counsel, fired upon, some dismounted, the others put to flight and pursued down the fallow land beyond. To:n Jones was the officer in charge, and ho, satisfied that the woods were now clear, was return­ ing at the head of his tronp to give an account of the skirmish,' when it oc­ curred to him that the extreme edge of the ridge where the cleared land began might command an extended view of tho valley which he had failed to take advantage of, and commanding his men to march slowly on, he turned his horse and galloped to the place indicated. With the aid of a field-glass he in­ spected the large expanse of country before him, and was just turning his horse's head toward camp when a sharp report and the wicked whistling of a -bullet in close proximity to his ear awak­ ened him to danger and to caution. A rapid and experienced look soon re­ vealed to him a rebel soldier lying be­ hind an old fallen trunk, and in the act of introducing a second cartridge into his carbine. It did not take long for Tom to make up his mind. To whip out his saber ana charge upon his enemy was the affair as an instant. The next, the rebel, who had risen to elude the horseman, found himself overthrown by the shock of the animal's breast and bleeding from a deep out on the shoulder, and before he could recover himself Tom's sabre Was in such close proximity to his heart that he involun­ tary threw up his hands. Tom's faoe had been flushed with excitement of conflict for his life, but now that for the first time he looked closelv at the features of his antagonist, his own became livid with hatred, while his lips trembled and a strange fire gleamed in his eye. It was no longer the soldier defending his life, but the individual man, brimful of intense passion, medi­ tating murder. "Ah," he cr'ed, "I know you now. You are Henry Chandler, are you not? You lelt a sweetheat in Grant county, whom you expict to return to in triumph after the war. Say. is that not so?" And lie looked upon the poor fellow as if he had just convited him of the most heinous and unnatural crime imaginable. "Yes, that is so." Henry wonderingly mused, "but who are you, and what has that to do with the present situation?" "It has this to do--do you hear? that I am going to kill you right here, and there is no power on eaitli can save you." As he spoke his - eyes fell upon a package of papeni that lay in the shrubbery near where tho rebel soldier ha<J first been.. espied. He Bprang forward and seized them. But Henry would not give them up without a struggle, and he made a desperate was impossible. He then hurriedly looked over the paper, and it was with a joy no less fierce than his late pas­ sionate fury that he said: MOh, ho! we'vo been playing the spy, eh ? the dumber of men, line of march, and all in first-class order. I congratulate yon, Mr. Chandler. And now we can go. It i$ useless for me to kill you now, for to-morrow at daybreak, if I mistake not, your gvaceful form will adorn a gibbet." Tom was not worse than other men. This savage speeeh was only the out­ burst of long-pent-up jealousy and hatred, and his moral faculties were so paralyzed for the time being that he would certainly have ended Henry's earthly careor had not the discovery of the compromising papers revealed to him and, to Ms conscience, a safer means to the same end. He fastened his horse's halter to Henry's manacled hands, and mounting his horse ordered the unfortunate prisoner to march. While they were slowly and silently- winding their way toward camp, Tom began to review the situation and re­ flect calmly upon the crime he had con­ templated. He thought of Mary. How would she receive the news of her lover's death ? What would she think of the man who had brought him to the cruel bar of martial law ? Finally, in a tone so much in contrast with tha*t, of his last remark that Henry looked up in surprise, he asked how it hap­ pened that a man of Henry's parts should be pursuaded .to play the dangerous and unhonorable part of a spy. "There is no danger," answered the prisoner with much enthusiasm, "that I would not gladly encounter in behalf of the cause I am serving, but I am not and could never be a J*py. If you know me you should understand that. These papers wrere intrusted to me by one of your soldiers, who for money betrayed hia companions and his country. I could prove that, but I shall die rather than break the promise of secrecy I gave the scoundrel." And, stopping short: "Ito not think, either, that you will have tlie pleasure of iee- ing me die the death qf a ^miscreant. I am determined you sinall kill me be­ fore we reach camp," And, suiting the action to the word, he7 made a violent start which broke the tether that bound him to the horse, but he was unable to maintain his balance. He fell head­ long, and was making a desperate effort to regain his feet when Tom, who had quickly dismounted, came to his assistance. He deftly untied the now bleeding hands and said: "You can go now. Take that ravine down to the creek, and once there go right up over the ridge, where you will probably find the detachment I have just pushed out of the woods," and vaulting upon his horse he was soon out of sight. Tom delivered the papers to his su­ perior officer, claiming to have pursued a spy, who, fearing capture, had thrown away the compromising papers. His comrades found him more melancholy, more daring, and more reticent than ever, but none ever suspected in what a violent battle Tom had fought and conquered. It was many a day after that, and Tom eeemed to bear a charmed life, for, though he was always in the fore­ front of battle, and never missed an occasion to risk his life in the pursuit of honor, or in the defense of his fellow-soldiers, he had never received the slightest wound. The discipline of war had given him a military mien, and melancholy had imparted a thoughtful and dignified expression to his countenance, so that one would hardly recognize in gallant Capt. Jones the awkward farmer boy of three years ago. The great work of the siege of Yicks- burg was slowly progressing. The cannon daily thundered over the city; iiy the works crept closer and closer ti the defense, find ftlgacsj dftily^ too, +'\p bx<\yp rebels sougnt uy Vi^oictis tai-Ks to break the. line which seemed inevitably would crush them. One day after a desperate engagement, which iiad scattered the dead and dying all over the ground separating the famous rifle-pits from the works of the besieged, the cries of the helpless wounded were piteous in the extreme, birt the discharge of cannon still continued, and a second sortie was momentarily expected, so that it was impossible without the most imminent danger to render the poor sufferers any assist­ ance. A voico more dist:nct and per­ sistent than the otheis had not ceascd begging for water to quench his thirst or a bullet to end his suffering, and many of the b6ys in blue had to make a supreme effort to keep their eyes dry, in spite of their two years? service. Presently the voice began another strain. It was evident that fever had caused the poor fellow's mind to wan­ der. He cried out, "Mary, they're going to kill me at last. Never forget those bloodthirsty bluecoats. They did it, Mary. Oh, you'll be a widow before we are married. But never for­ get these Yankee cut-throats; never think of taking one of my murderers to fill my place. Water! Water! If you won't give me some water, why don't you have the heart to kill me?" And he continued incessantly in that strain, to the great distress of those in hearing. Some spoke of sending a mereilnl bullet to his relief, when a young officer who had been sitting apart with his face in his hands sud­ denly arose, and, walking by the speak­ er, he said: "No, no. Do not think of shooting a wounded man. I am going to br ng him in." "What! You don't mettfrtt!" the men said. MYou ain't a-going to walk out among that grape and shell to help an internal rebel who's been a-cursing us this hour?" "Yes. You know the poor fellow is delirious; lie is not responsible for what he is saying; and then, you know lie may live tp make that lady he is talking about happy--who knows?" And he walked up quickly--not hur­ riedly-- among the falling bombs and the shell and grape. Ho took up the delirious soldier in his arms and car­ ried him back to the pit. It was done in an instant. Five thousand soldiers hidden lrom each other's view had wit-^" nessed the daring feat, and sent up hearty hurrah of admiration of the her who had just walked in the face of death to save a life. God protects the heroic. Tom Jones had not received a scratch, and he had amply atoned for a moment of murderous intent by saving for tli? second time his rival's lite. The future offered him no re­ ward, and no doubt he felt that he had raised one more obstacle between him- fr*lf and happiness. But the pang of hopelessness was mellowed with the consciousness of a noble deed, worthy of li s deep devotion. We know not what fruit may follow the fragrant bloom of heroic endeavors. Vicksburg fell and opened a widt gateway to the south. Gettysburg's conflict was followed fay a grateful shoui of victrious patrioiisrr?. The summer waned and the departing vear tilled to overflowing the hopeful " hearts that were battling for fljae union, and f-pon the ever-swelling voice of victorv rent a joyful peal that was no longer hope but well-assured suocess from the field of Appomattox. Then the heaving breasts of mothers, wives, and daugh­ ters left at home grew tremulous wi h fond anticipation. The mourners wept, and, against reason, hoped; the rejoic­ ing sympathized with the weeping, and all thanked God that the end of sfri!e had come at last. Old Chandler's household wept with uncertain jov. Paroled at Vicksburg, Henry was theie: BO was Aunt Betsy and M ary and old Grandpa Redmond, the father of old Chandler's departed wife; but the stout farmer had not heard his country call unlieedingly. Two years ago lie had le/t for the army, gray-headed though he was, and given the farm in charge to his sister Betsy. During the first year news came from him at intervals, but now twelve mt^iths had passed since a word or a message had bedh received, and though {tone had heard of 1UB death the palpitating heart of the "home folks" heal with alternate hope and fear. Henry and Mary had agreed to wait till the end, till their hopes were realized or their fears verified, before consummating their engagement. Many a time they had told each other that their wish was vain; many a time they had set a day beyond which hope would be unreasonable. Aunt Betsy always delayed them with, "T. know be will come. John ain't made of mush, and if any of 'em come home from them rebel jails I tell you he will." Three months had passed since the boys had been mustered out, and yet no news had oome from John Chandler. Some one had heard that Tom Jones had re­ ceived an appointment in the regular army with the grade of Colonel, but no one had heard from him directly. At last one sunny afternoon in October, while Henry and Mary were gathering the winter store of apples in the orchard, a buggy came rattling up tho pike un­ heeded. It stopped at the gate and a tall gentleman in black got out and tenderly helped his companion--an old, trembling, and hoary-lieaded man -- from his seat. They came slowly up the walk, and no one saw the greedy look with which the younger man scanned the doors and windows, the flower-garden, and the lawn. They reached the porch. The old. man stopped and sighed. A tear rolled down his wrinkled cheek. "I had given up all hope of seeing home again," he said. "God bless you, Tom. Now 1 can die." "No, indeed; not yet," said his com­ panion. "You have many a year to live. Rest and quiet and good nursing will give you new strength." They entered the door. The clean, tidy room was just the same as when the old man had left it nearly thirty months before; the rag carpet was bright and clean as ever; tho heavy- posted bed with immaculate sheets and pillow slips stood in the same place, the little table still supported the gn at family Bible, the wide chimney-place was fillod with fresh, leafy oaken boughs, the grandfather's picture hung over the mantel. All was there a^ he had left it, and each was a friend whose silent greeting drew a tear from the granite heart that had not quaked to look on death, and destitution, and suffering in every shape that war and pestilence can engender. Nor was the tender spell broken till Aunt Betsy, who had heard a noise from the kitchen, came to the door. At first she stopped and dropped an involuntary courtesy to the stately gentleman of military mien who stood beside the old man's bent and weeping form. Then with a sweeping start she rushed to her knees beside the old rocking chair, and, with uucei'tain voice, "Can this be you, John?" she said. "My poor old brbfch- er!" and don't rou know your Betsy? I tokl 'em v^u'd ocn^e Wk jfty, tuOUgiii fo >otl so like lute that; and Fhe wept and laughed together without a thought of why. Tom, from the window, saw with deep emotion his beloved Mary coming arm in arm with the man he had hated with the insanity of murder and saved with tho heroism of love. Both feel­ ings now rose tempestuous in his bosom, and it was with an effort almost superhuman that he said calmly: I see them coming; my time is not my own, and I mast be off." "What, you're not going that way? Oh! I guess you're in a hurry to get home. That's right, but don't fail to come over to-night." "No, I'll 'jnst *top to shake hands with father and mother. I must be off in an hour for Cincinnati. Good-by." "You can't mean it, Tom--why, don't you know Mary and Henjry's been a-waiting all this time till John would come back home to get married. You must be here for the wedding,- sure." This was * too much, and Tom was about to bolt out of the house without another word, when, turning a last look at his old friend, he saw his eyes lit up with a peculiar expression of wonder and thankfulness. His head arose from his bosom, and with a voice which was almost a prayer of thanks to heaven he said: "Henrv and Mary married! It was God's hand that brought me back, Tom. That can never be. Mary is Henry's half-sister." A wild scream came from tho back door^ through which Aunt Betsy had come in. There stood Mary and Henry. Her hands were on his shoulders, her head was hidden on his breast. Tom's heart was big with wonder and hope and pity. He stood motionless, swayed by a thousand contending thoughts. Amaze­ ment seemed to have struck dumb ev­ ery member of this strange group, when Henry, taking Mary oy the hand and advancing into tho room, said. "Mary, let us not grieve, but thank God--me for a sister, you for a brother; and let me introduce you to the man who twice took me out of the jaws of death. I know he is a man worthy of all honor, and, if I mistake not the light in his eyes, he is greatly pleased to find me your brother instead of your sweetheart." Mary looked up dazed with surprise and admiration, at her old schoolfel­ low. "Tom!" she said. "Mary!" came from the poor fellow's deepest heart, freighted with such hope, such love, such intensity of hap- Vpiness that Mary resigned jrerffelf to %is outstretched arms. ( >' A WOMAN has asked the Belgian Jookey club to let her ride her own horses in their races. OUR country is wherever we are well off--Milton. PITH AND POI5T. tuft ; EVSBT jackass has its bray. • , WHEAT covers a multitude of bins.! ^ A FBAUD in need is a fraud in deed.* \f MiBFOBiftjNKs never come second­ hand. A GOOD big-inning is half of the game. SWEDISH version: "Home, Swede Home." A BANANA in the stomach is worth two of the skins under your sole.*-* Barber's Gazette. MAINE has a lumberman poet His productions are probably remarkable for their loggy-rhythms.--Exchange. I^MEKSON said: "Every man would be a poet if his intel ectual digestion was perfect" This shows that indiges­ tion is a blessing after all. -- Ejcchan<j& How is it that none of us, not even the extremely modest, can enter a store without sticking our noses into the tradesman's business ?--Barber's Gw zette « A VERijoIfT farmer reports that he made a profit of $24il from six hens the last season. He sold them early in the spring, and consequently had to plant his garden only once.--Exf:hafj@*. ' AFTER LONGFELLOW. Lives of great men all remind us, Wo can live n, life of eaBO By Bkedadling, and behind us Nothi i r leave, but plenty of abBencs, ol<i boots, _nnd disappointment for creditor to seize. --Bingham,j>ton ltepuhlioan. A NEW S item in an exchange ra headset "A Man Drowned by a Drum." If it can be proved that the man beat the drum--which was probably the case-- the instrument should be acquitted on the ground of self-defense.--Norrig~ town Herald. AN old lady was viewing the exposed stock "'of some burnt-out dry-goods stores. The burnt-edged bales were all strewn across the sidewalk. Above was the sign, "Another Sacrifice.!*. "Another sacrifice," said the old lady. "Yes, burnt offerings!" , HE went to a masquerade ball as • harlequin. A few days afterwards iit intimate friend asked him for the loan of his costume, as he wished to attend a masquerade ball. "No, sir," was tlie reply, "I allow nobody to make a foot of himself in my costume except myself."--Texan Siftiugu. SWEARING OFF SLANG. " 1 "So you've sworn off slang," the father Mid I To his fair-haired houseuold pot; t And the maiden tossed her pretty hoad ""r And laughingly said, "You botr "Keflnement of speecli becomes a maid, Slang phrases do not belit her; You'll always remember tlia*," h^ SRid, And she giggled, "Well, I should twitter." "You'll give up tho habit, then, right away?" And ho stroked the golden head; "You'll give up tlie habit this very day?" • "Yes,'Ijet her go, Smith,'" 6ho said. --Kx dm ' "MADAM, will you be kind enough to board that street car?" said a man to » fussy fat woman, who was taking m great deal of time to get on. "I'm sorry, sir", she answered, in' the most polite manner, "but you see I can't do it, now. Here's my card. I've got an elegant front room, though, to let, with fire, gas and bath, suitable for two gen­ tlemen, or gentleman and wife, and only $25 a month, but I'm not taking any borders since my husband died, and, of course, I can't board"--the man made a grab for her and lVustled her on the car so quick, she land'ed on a boy's lap, in the corner, and mashed him clear into tlie wood-work, like a mosaic.-- Merchant Traveler. A WEALTHY church in Brooklyn hired a cftoir, but when it learned that one of its members was a colored man, the en­ gagement was cancelled. Then the choir secured a position in another wealthy church, but again the contract was broken on account of the colored singer. The religion of a wealthy church congregation is a rather sensi­ tive th'ing. It is absurd to suppose that Christians rolling in < affluence can camly sit and listen to the expounding of a religion that teaches that all per­ sons are created equal, while a man whose skin was not so white as theirs was in the choir assisting to sing the praises of our Heavenly Father. What does a colored man know about the price of diamonds and good clothes, anyway ? He should not be permitted tQ distufb the pioUS tfrttJghls of ft Venltty congregation.-- Norriatoion Herald. A Story of Hugo. goring the days of Victor Hugo's ex­ ile in Guernsey an English lady, who had for some time been living with her family at St. Saviour, near the center of the island, missed her youngest son, an intelligent child of about five years old. The boy, it afterward appeared, had strayed from his nurse, and, wan­ dering aimlessly about, had grown weary, and had quite contentedly gone to sleep in the open air. Hugo, on one of his solitary rambles, found the child just awakening, and recognizing him as the son of a lady whom he knew by sight, he hoisted him on to his back, and, greatly delighted, cantered with him across country to his own home. A storm came on, and it was decided that the youngster could not be sent back that night. A message, however, allayed the mother's anxieties and the next morning the boy was returned, together with profuse apologies, manj thanks, and a huge basket of flowers and fruit Upon being asked how he had enjoyed his unpremeditated visit, the child said, "Very much, indeed! M. Hugo played at lions with me idl the evening. He was the lion--under the table. And, do you know, once when he came out of. his den and growled, he pulled off the table-cloth and broke ever so many glasses. It was such fun!" It is not given to every one to have played at lions with the author of "Les Miserables." No Smoking Allowed. "Does the smoke displease yon, mad­ am ?" said a smoker to a lady in aa Austin street car. "Very much, sir," answered the lady, tartly. "Well," returned the gentleman, "that only proves what I have always said, that smoking was a mere matte# of taste with different persons. It pleases me very much." He kept on smoking until he left th<t car. The driver savs that if the man hadn't been an alderman, he would have put him off the car.--Texas Sift- fngs. THE story is told that as James T. Fields was once on his way on the cars from Boston to his summer cottage at Manchester-by-the-Sea, two men satin front of him discussing places and per­ sons who lived in them. Mr. Fields, caught his own name and went forward to listen. "Let's see," said one; "Fields, the publisher, lives around here somewlieres, don't he?" "Yes; he's got a house on the hill just beyond here." "Lectures, don't he?"- "Oh, yes, he lectures a lot" "Well, how Is lie anyway?" "Well, he ain't Gough, by a big sight!" ARISTOCRATIC English girls play ia publio cricket matches, wearing fanoi- 'fol nnifftriagi '