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toy M KOHTtflfc» 3FC'- -I do nAllfciiik we ttirii,«nd ^*~iyTA* If J mm r , t j- «'SiS:K iWkBMr tt» fc*»«t parting nfcli, JfeWmSttfe ; • , Xooma up tlMmadbous* gaunt anagnyi keep* the lonely lamp aglow While old lorea whisper in the Sir, • *tt unfnrgottan long ago , JBelorehU heart had known despair. •* waits till the mar come one* man JProrn oat the darkness to hi* aide : 1k> ahare the changeless love of yore if* CiWhen all the old, old lore# have died. me and this gentle Shining with-humor rich and be sad1 scene rises, and I'" tjpon a Jester or a saint. , ***• . my eyes, still brimming o'er a r tt ith love and laughter, and there falls 1? Jktuross the page fbrever more . .. ,4 >»r shadow of the madhouse watt. % >.! CARL VLB. ,before the churchyard portal pa«Mft A figure gaunt and gray; ^ Mb left his niantlo at the gate And took his lonely way ^ • Along the gloomy path that Ted one grass-hidden mound; softly there he stooped and laid s face against the ground, flfee slept so deeply, did she hear fThe broken words ho said? (Ob, sweet and sad and holy are . The secrets of the dead t) What though in life she only knew The gloom of his despair, *who knows but in that honr she heard : The pathos of his prayer! Mayhap that she who suffered saw' "The shadows backward roll, When through tho storm of passion The glory of his soul. Wliat matter if the world beheld The cynic's frown of hate When rising from her grave he took - " His mantle at the gat*? -Bthvard J. McPheUm. in The Current, I# WAITING FOR DELIGHT. ^ BT LILY CUBBY. Sometimes I rebel. Time is eo long, W!»B OM is waiting, with nothing to do bnt hear the clock tick and watch the sun­ light on the carpet. Besides, the sunlight runs away BO quickly sometimes. I put my foot upon its edge an hour aeo, but I could not hold it there. It receded quietly but surely, until it had wholly withdrawn from the room. The clock, however, con­ tinued to tick as usual, with n tine, snap­ ping sotind. I could also hear the gentlest -and most pitiful music of all music. They believe hi music here, as a restorative for •the more violent' patients. I am not a r patient myself, of course; only a tired soul fresting in aeclusion--resting and trailing. They have an hour of music every after­ noon. Often it is Mendelssohn's. Fre- •queotly the "Songs without Words." It -««eta9 to me the mml that cannot under­ stand- and appreciate Mendelssohn must ®be • very staange, perverse--aye, wicked-- tsoul! Delight is a fine pianiste. How many times I have heard the "Spring Song!" How many times the "Capriccioso!" I shall hear them again, by and by! When the room looked sad at the leaving of the sunlight, I thought to myself--as I bad sometimes thought before--it would "be a good way to kill time by writing. I have not written much since coming here-- not nearly as much as 1 have thought. A tew fragments of reflection, some couplets •of verse, perhaps, but nothing reallv of importance. It occurred to me that others than myself migbt some time possibly be interested in reading a brief history of the singular events which* but a few months ®ince, were the cause of my hither- . -coming, and which further con­ stitute the reasons (which others v may consider still more strange) for " the long period of waiting through which 1 " '"' must exist as best I can. This period tt mu4 number more than a dozen years. LBnt I Khali not remain here to wait it out •to the end. I shall only stay until I am fully rested and strengthened. Then I •shall go back to the world and work for greatness, I shall not be old even then. I am but thirty now. Thirty! A young man--a man in the first flush of yoath and health. And'a dozen years to wait for happiness! Eighteen months ago I knew there was « heaven. I loved and knew my love -was returned. There never could have existed a stranger •or a sweeter being than Delight Williston. She is the incarnation of grace, light, radi­ ance, perfume, and beatific joy. Mark . you, I say i*.' Observe the present and the indicative! Although her name is written upon white marble, with her brief years And the day on which I saw her last,--al­ though no voice now speak* her name,--al­ though the walla that enclosed her ring no more with the music of her laughter,--she exists, and we shall meet and know each •other. Just as we met th$t sweet, first day upon ;the mountain side! Great and merciful Heaven! Let me not forget that day's per­ fection. It was June. Driving up out of a valley of heat and drouth, through clouds of fine, white dust, -and a still atmosphere sweet with the ecent of the sweet briar which ran riot in field and by wayside, up a steep and wind­ ing mountain road, with ravines below to ;• right or to left as we turned, or with rocky •; walls or dense foliage of beech and elm and -chestnut and locust and laurel 'bushes with a myriad rare clusters of wondrous bloom, I gazed about une with a feeling of strange rapture. I -knew not why, save that all the glory of «the day pressed upon and overwhelmed • -<me. All the grandeur of steep and hollow, all the beauty of the yellow setting sun whose arrows pierced through the shrub- 'bery and pierced my very heart, causing ecstatic pain--all these bore down upon one, until I breathed long, hard breaths and could have sobbed aloud with a wild , joy! Then I could not fully comprehend; • 'now I know thut it was so because I neared the goal. Far np, far up the mountain side, where • wayside inn looks over the ravine, tike stood waiting in a porch overhung with roses; nhr stood looking far away over the ravine and over the far-off silver river! I could not speak as I dismounted and •entered the house. But as she stood there •with her glorious eyes wondering upon me, J could bow before her beauty. The same evening, only a fe'w hours later, •we were made acquainted. I hud already learned that she was there alone, waiting for friends to join her--and all to proceed V "elsewhere. And strangely, she in turn seemed to know of me--of my profession and tbe hard, machine-like thunder of the life that drove me mountain-ward for rest «od seclusion. A queer sensation took possession of me an that rose-hung porch, that night with the moon like a yellow flower blown up the «a8tern sky, and the whip-poor-will com- : plaining piteously in the thicket beyond the road. A queer sensation and * one that I had never known before! • Delight! How shall I describe thee? Thou art like none other! A tall, lithe, fearless presence! Small hands that pluck the petals of a rose, Mid finger-tips that shame its pink and velvet beauty. A little face with a curve of cheek And chin that only pictured angels show. Dark hair and wondering wide-set eyes yet darker. Pale, pale with just the burn­ ing crimson mouth for warmth of counts, nance! ' But when she spoke--ah, heaven! The -eatth-echo of the nngels' chorus in Pnradifre! W* talked, as the hours sped--talked as -old frusting friends, we, who had only met <thal day. We talked in serious mood--of serious subjects. We spoke of life and •• «No,*efci«*i . that death ends «H. live agnin--on this i frame, until our certain < You must not laugh if what f foolish. I cannot explain I'Cdttld • * • • For instance this: I thin last life that I had was a man's, a soldier's. You do not read my nature, as you see me sitting quiet here. It is the restless, reck­ less nature of one who could ride hard and charge without a fear, into the heat of battle. * * * * I am quite sure I was a soldier last. You know that I was born just at the close of the war. * * * * It was a glorious battle! I heat the clatter of hoofs, the rattle of musketry. Then some­ thing strikes me here, in the breast, and I fall forward and my horse goes out from under. Mv own red blood has warmed the tod on which . I rest. . "That is a soldier's death, the death of a daring purpose,the--"«he broke off sharply, and ilirew out her hands with a gesture of jmpatience. "Why am I trying to talk to you?" she cried in her high silver self-re­ proach. "I like to hear you talk," I said. "But I cannot say what I think. I only blunder stupidly. You do not understand, nor could anyone else, for that matter. Why was I given strange thoughts without the eloquence to clothe them for others?" And without waiting for reply, she sprang from her chair and slipped iuto the house. Not even did she say "Good night." I remained in the porch long after, thinking of her beauty and her youth. Her friends did not arrive the day fol­ lowing, nor indeed for several days*. In this period I found and availed myself of tin' opportunity to make the more intimate acquaintance of Delight Williston. There are those who would term it "infatuation;" there are others who would know it for something better and grander, my strange and switt-increasiug regard for her. I my­ self did not pause to analyze my feelings. We two were thrown together hour by hour, day by day, uutil we looked iu each others eyes, as if they had always smiled responsivelv, until We fancied we had heanl each other's voice for years. We were almost alone at that mountain inn. We climbed the steep road and steeper hillsides hand in hand; and talked and laughed with boundless pleasure. She was 6o swift, so tenacious, so ready, SD fearless! She was so sweet with woman's archness, so warm with maiden's blushes, so shy with virgin's innocence! And yet throughout that long, sweet week.--how long it seemed, because it was so blissful--my heart forebore to formulate the meaning of its swift pulsations, until the night before they came--her friends-- when word WHS brought that she should be ready on the morrow to start on toward the great hotel upon the mountain's brow above --then something seemed to snap, as if it were a spell which had grown upon me. We were in the porch again, alone to­ gether. v , , Delight!" I cried out wildly. "Delight! f lore you!" We rushed to eftch other's arms. All was silent, save the beating of our hearts in wedded unison! . The rest is quickly told. I met her friends, and at their request and hers, joined them on their upward progress to the mountain summit. The great hotel a! ove, just opening for the season, was of itself a city. By scores, by hundreds, came the summer s pleasure-seekers. But what cared we--Delight and I? Of our love we hnd not spoken to others, but they seemed to look with friendly eyes upon our constant comradeship. Always together, under the clear sky or in the breezy parlors, where Delight would some­ times rilay until the murmur of voices died away, and all hearts--save mine, which throbbed as if to burst with exultation-- were soothed with a great peace. Our love was the pure, sweet blossom of nature; the love that buds and blooms in the free air, the love of summer and of summer sun-warmth. Nearly all of that last day we spent together under the bine sky/ alone with each other and far away from the world. I held her hand in mine ns we walked, her soft, warm human hand. I shall hold it even so again, by and by. " I think I could remember every word we spoke, had I strength or space to write it down. It was a long, long ramble that we took that day. Far away into the depths of a mountain prove, where the silence sang, of its own grandeur. Side by side we sat, upon a fallen tree, still hand in hand. Suddenly she turned her lovely, liquid eyes, her melting, mid­ night eyes, upon me. "If I should die," she Baid, "you would not forget me!" "Delight!" I cried, with dull pain at her words. "Nay," she said, "such thing might be. But you would be true. If I should die to­ day--if my soul should be, for some strange purpose, withdrawn from my l>ody --if Infinite Wisdom should decree that it were not best we be together yet awhile, and this nameless fire that, animates' my body--this invisible, indescribable force called Life -- be suddenly shut off. you would, not give me up. You would be patient and wait. You would remember the many things we have talked about * in this connection. You would wait and watch-- looking in the eyes of every little child you met. to see if I were yet come back into bodily existence." Her words moved me vastly. "Yes. yes," I said. '*Bnt do not let Jis think of this. There is no reason, dear; there is no reason. We are too happy; no Infinite Wisdom could or would divide us." Her head lay on my shoulder. We heard something else beside the singing of the silence--the trickling of a mountain stream somewhere in the distance far away. That bit of spaoe, that brief, sweet hour, was heaven! Enclosed by trees we could not see the sky grow cloudy, nor had we thought of storm. The low mutter, which rapidly in­ creased to angry roar of stoim, brought me no terror. Only the rain beginning to fall in huge drops on the face of my beloved. "Delight," I said, arousing from my cream. "Come, my dearest, we must go quickly." We crept out of the wood. And all at once the fury of the universe seemed to beat and flash upon that high world. I threw my coat about her, that she be not drenched. Then welled together, baud in hand, blinded by the constant blaze of light and deafened by the crashing of the thunder. We tied uutil one final, mighty flame enveloped us, and all was silence. SENATOR MMiETUS SAWYER. Would thai I could picture her sitting •there with pink-rose hands stirring or rest­ ing quiet upon the white lap of her dress! "Would that I migbt render audible the echo «f her voice still singing in my hearil The rain had ceased when once again I looked about. The rain had ceased and there was no more ila6h or crash. I dragged myself slowly--very slowly, lor one arm hung as dead--dragged myself closer to her side. "Delight," I cried in agony, "Delight, speak, sj>eak to me!" But she lay silent. Her face, half-hid- den in the coat that I had thrown about her, seemed to smile vaguely. I could al most hear her saving again: "If I should die » * * » Then I lifted her drenched and yielding frame, and clasping her to my bosom with my one living arm, toiled slowly, painfully back to the great hotel. I have a dozen years to wait- long years. And ia the interval I paqrfe whenever a sweet girl child runs across my pathway--I pause and look in her face to see if there be yet a trace of my old, my sweet, my l>e- loved who shall come again as my De­ light! ______________ THE infinite distance between the Creator aud the noblest of his creatures can never be measured nor exhausted by endless addition of finite degrees.-- Bentley. WHATEVER improvement we make iri ourselves we are thereby sure to niefttprate our future condition.--Paleyi 5? IN the end, like crime, all incivility if its own Nemesis. How H«-Repaid Hta BROTHER (h« OM Dollar He l>nt Hint. A friend of Senator Sawyer tells me of an incident of his generosity to his brother a year or two ago, and the neat w»v in wliioh he gave him a present, making it appear a debt Senator Sawyer hardly knows what he is worth, save that his pile rnna pretty high up in the millions. His father was a hard­ working man, kept a blacksmith shop, and at the same time did a number of other tilings, making a comfortable little income. I'hiletns Sawyer was born in Vermont, but w hen he was still a baby J lis father moved to Essex County, New York. When he was 17 years old Philetns bought his time of his father until he was 21, paving him $100 for it. His elder brother loaned him the monay for this, and he struck out for himself. He engaged in various kinds of work, among which was lumbering, and when he was 31 years old he paid back his hundred dollars, aiul had amassed a little over $2,000 more. He then con­ cluded to go West. In the meantime he had been married, and had a child or twt>. On his way to Wisconsin he stopped at his brother's, and upon his asking him how* much money lie had, he answered that lie had $2,000 in a belt around his waist and under his shirt, and he had 1 een paving out a goo.l deal, but he thought lie had still about $200 in his pockets. "Count it," said his brother. Sawyer counted it, and figured up just $199. Hereupon his brother handed him a dollar, telling him that that would make up his $2,200, and that he would know how much he started away with. Sawyer took it, aud the next day went on to Wisconsin. He bought a farm there, and in time got into the lumt>er business, became wealthy, and now lias been for years in the United States Senate. In the meantime his elder brother staid in New York and attended to his farm. He still lives there, and has a farm worth about $10,000. He is one of the respected citizens of his county, and his note is as good as gold any day. Sawyer comes out to visit him every year or two, and thinks a great deal of him. Two years ago he asked him how he was situated financially, and, after much pressing, found that, though there was no mortgage on his farm, he owed two notes amounting, with in­ terest, to about $1,100, and that he was troubled by the fact that he could not get enough ahead every year to pay more than the interest on them. Sena­ tor Sawyer said nothing, but the next morning, on the pretext of wanting to see some old friends, he slipped away from his brother's house and bought the notes. That night he asked his brother, in the course of their evening chat, whether he had any other debts whatever. His brother replied that he was owing about $100 in debts here and there. Senator Sawyer hereupon took out the two notes, amounting to $1,100, and placing,$100 on the top of them, he handed the pile to his brother, telling him that would make him even with the world, and he then continued: "You need not feel backward about taking this, because it is merely the payment of a debt. When I went West you gave me a dollar, never expecting to get it back. I considered that dollar as a loan, as an investment, as a part of my capital. As far as I can estimate now, each one of the $2,200 which I carried away with me has swelled into $1,200, and in giving you this $1,200 I am only giving ybu your share of the profits." "I asked Senator Sawyer," said this gentleman, "what his brother said when he did this, and he replied: 'He did not know what to make of it at first, but he finally took the money and the notes, saying he wished he had invested $1,000 instead of $1.'"--Washington letter in Cleveland Leader. Slave Martlets In Morocco. In the interior there are slave markets everywhere, writes a corre­ spondent of the London New* from Morocco. The traders take care to feed their slaves well before offering them for sale. The buyers examine the slave's limbs, eyes and mouth; they make him run and see what weight lie can carry, just as if he were an animal. If the slave is a woman between 15 and 25 years of age, the examination takes more time and is much more humili­ ating. Those AVIIO have already had children are naturally preferred, and fetch as high as 125 to 150 francs. Vir­ gins are eagerly sought after at prices ranging from 200 to 300 francs. This sum Is a large one for Morocco, but to obtain it the slave-traders do not care what humiliations these poor girls of from 8 to 14 have to endure iu presence of buyers, and often before the notaries or the judge." To form an idea of this disgraceful traffic (at the gates of Europe) you have only to attend any of the fairs and see how farmers and butchers examine horses and cattle. Negro boys from 8 to 10 years of age attract still more attention. Those from Foulahs and Bambara, near Timbuctoo, are always preferred, and bring generally from 150 to 250 francs. The caravans generally take forty-five days to perform the journey from Tim­ buctoo to Souss, the frontier of Morocco. They are frequently attacked on the way by independent tribes, who carry off-negroes as well as the articles bar­ tered--say ostrich feathers, gold dust and ivory. The caravans are got up annually, in December, at Fez, Morocco, and Elegue fin the Souss country) by Morocco merchants (Tadjers), who are noted slave-traders. These caravans go to Timbuctoo, where negroes are purchased in exchange for cotton and other goods, and they return to Morocco, the slaves being chained together by the neck, half of them often perishing on the way from hunger, thirst, fatigue, and bad treatment. The boys and young girls, being of most value, are placed ou the camels and are better feared for. The "amoogheer," or great slave fair, is held half-yearly at a large town seven days'journey south of Mo- gad or. At this fair from two to five thousand slaves are sold or exchanged, and as a heavy tax is levied on all sales it yields a large revenue to the slieitch of that district, as well as 'to his sliereefian majesty, the sultan. At the fondoiiks, or slave markets, where slaves are sold, the most distressing scenes are constantly witnessed of eliii- dred being torn from their mothers and wi ves separated from their husbands, tlu ir cries and protests finding no echo in the inhuman hearts of either their sellers or purchasers. j Bacillus of Consumption. . f tSr* Canttmi, of Naples, having in mind the faetjAllttt the-bacillus;of con­ sumption Is destroyed when other bac­ teria ore grown in the same soil, has to the destructive b*cil]ti6. In the case of a consumptive patient, Dr. C&ntani introduced a harmless organism, known as the Bacterium termo, and found that the Bacillus tuberculosis gradu­ ally disappeared from the patient's expectorations. The widespread deso­ lation wrought by consumption is mom thau sufficient to urge the strongest effort on the part of the medical fra­ ternity to discover a successful treat ment. It may be possible that this suggestion will bear fruits of the great­ est importance. A Mirn Who Was in Earnest. Seventy-five years ago there was a poor clerk, living at Landport, in Eng­ land. He had :v wife and two children; the second was the l>oy Charles, and as soon as he was old enough he had to do something for his own support. Al though lie had an ordinary day-school education as a little boy, yet at 10 years of age ho was obliged to go to work in the employ of a London black­ ing manufactory, pasting labels on pots of blacking; because his father had become bankrupt and was imprisoned for debt. The family had become larger now, and little Charles had a hard time, and was about as poor and wretched a little boy a3 you would care to hear about. But after a while his father had a little money left him-- enough to get out of prison and take a position as reporter cn a paper--and he then apprenticed Charles to a lawyer, with whom the boy served long enough to learn something of tho hooks and crooks of the profession; but there was another kind of hooks and crooks that he longed to become familiar with: He wanted to become a rejwrter, like his father; so he bought a book on stenog­ raphy, and by hard, persistent study fitted himself to be a reporter. Ho then managed to get a position on a newspaper, where his work was so careful and accurate that he got ahead very fast. Then, after all this hard work in a practical direction, he ventured to blow on the spark of genius which he believed burned inside of him: That is, he wrote some short sketches of English life. He was delighted to have them accepted and printed in a magazine, under the signature of "Boz." These sketches attracted some attention, though they gave small evidence of his wonderful talent. But the young man knew this talent must be developed by hard work, and that he was not afraid of. Each successive thing lie wrote was better and better; and when he wrote "Pick­ wick Papers" he set the whole English- speaking world a-laugliing, and his reputation and fortune were made. Still he kept hard at work trying to improve his style, until his writing be­ came a part of the most remarkable in the language, and in the opinion of some critics his mastery of English is next only to Shakespeare's. This won­ derful young man is remembered to-day as Charles Dickens. Speaking of his own career, he says: "I will only add, to what I have already written of my perseverance at this time of my life, I know this to be the source of my suc­ cess. Some happy talent, and" some fortunate opportunity, may form the two sides of the ladder on which some men mount, but the rounds of that lad­ der must be made of stuff to stand wear and tear; and there is no substitute for thoroughgoing, ardent and sincere earn­ estness. I never could have done what I have without habits of punctu­ ality, order and diligence--without the determination to concentrate myself on one object at a time. Whatever I have tried to do in my life I have tried with all my heart to do well; whatever I have devoted myself to I have devoted myself to completely. In great aims and small, I have always been thor­ oughly in earnest. "--Treasure Trove. The Best Cattle Country. Where is the best-cattle country ? Where can cattle be handled or raised with small loss and sure profit and no cruelty? Unhesitatingly I answer in the semi-arid belt. Here are the re­ quirements of a perfect cattle country; grass to usually start early in the spring, say by the middle of April. The summers should lie warm, the winters dry, so that the cattle will not tramp their feed into the ground, where the hogs that follow them cannot find it. Corn should grow to perfection. Tlie land should be comparatively free from hog and cattle diseases. Such a land is the semi-arid belt, lying between the 97tli and 99th meridians, and extending from Dakota to Texas. Within that area hog cholera is almost unknown. The cattle are free from disease. There is plenty of cheap corn. Large crops of millet can be grown on all the land. Wheat is almost a sure crop. The corn stalks, wheat straw and millet supply the cattle with an abundance of roughness during the winter. All points of the belt are convenient to market. The creeks sejdom freeze over solidly, and the cattle have free access to water. The ground seldom becomes miry, and the cattle's feet are always sound. The business of raising*cattle, or of feeding them, in the semi-arid lielt is profitable. There are plenty of well-bred and in­ telligent people in the country. The country is healthful. There are good schools in every town. Land may be purchased on reasonable terms, but only the liottom land in the western portion of the semi-arid belt is corn land. The best of corn land, say twenty miles from a thriving town, can be bought for from $20 to $30 per acre. Near the towns good bottom land can l>e l>ought for from $50 to $75 per acre. The upland of the western por­ tion of the belt is dear at any price. The increase in the number of cattle in the semi-arid belt during the five years last past has been most remarka­ ble. As long as wjieat sold at remun­ erative prices the farmers did not pay much attention to cattle-growing. But wlien the price of wheat began to fall, and the value of cattle to increase rapidly, they realized that it was no longer wise to burn their straw, or to devote corn land to wheat culture. To show how closely intelligent men who are engaged in the same business em­ ploy the same methods of thought and arrive at the same conclusions, I in­ stance the farmers of Kansas. Up to the autumn of 1881 calves were freely sold by these men. After the crop of calves of 1882 was born, it was rare t<^ see veal hanging in a butcher's shop. Almost all the calves born in the semi- arid belt of Kansas since • 1882 have been raised. Last spring, when travel­ ing in Kansas, in a region where but few cattle were held three years ago, I Maw small herds of cattle in every barn­ yard. The statistics of Kansas for 1883 show that there were 1,801,348 in the State in the spring of that year. There proposed to eradicate consumption by are about 2,500,000 in the State now ilvfrAfltl/lTinu infn fho Ovuf ntn • /lik AM TIiAI'O lifts Infill O UimilAM i n an «v W. Donan Struck at LML My exquisite Angellciana! Her fece, her form I Qet out, Baphael! Hoot, Angelo! Scat, you Titian! You may daub on canvas, and hammer and peck on rock, till your esophaguses turn to bamboo fishing poles, till your hair turns to feathers, and your to pruning hooks, and your best per­ formance will look, beside her, like a painted Jezabel beside a Madonna, like dogfennel beside a lily or an orange blossom. Her face, her face and form! Out with you, Venus of Medici! Get down in the dust and be ashamed of yourself. You are pretty good looking, but you can't come in. Complexion as fair as the dawn of a summer morning --lilies and roses and peach bloom combined! Eyes that drive the stars of heaven blind with envy. Lasljies more gloriously silken than ever fringed the lids of Oriental houri. Hair in which ten thousand clouded sunbeams seemed to nestle, darkly bright, wavy as the tresses of the tasseled corn, fine as gossamex threads, but forming a network which scores of masculine stragglers have found strong as the green withes that bound Delilah's Samson. Her eyes, her eyes! Oh, Cupid, you little cuss, you may as well throw away your arrows, and break your bow. Your day is over. Go to killing frogs for a living. Your sharpest darts are as blunt as a kangaroo's tail, or an average Sena­ tor's wits. Slink off, you little gizzard- splitting imp, slink off, and shut your­ self up in a cabbage-head. Her eyes, her glorious eyes! Sneak into your holes, you little twinkling stars; go into your holes and pull .your holes in after you. Never, never dare to try to sparkle or glitter again. Pull the blue gingham apron of the sky over your pale, dim little phizzes, and keep dark. You can shine only when her eyes are veiled. Oh, her eyes, her* eyes! Mother of Judas! Iam, yes, yes, I'm struck! Struck by a radiant and royal little damsel who won't be my valen­ tine. And then her hand! That tiny, tapering, queenly little manus. Formed to do acts of love, and to render them ten-fold sweeter by coming from such a source. That fairy hand--formed to cling to a manly arm, and to nerve it by the electric touch to do deeds of deathless heroism and devotion; formed to clasp in sweetest prayer that ever angel stooped from heaven to hear. That witching hand--that index to point my soul to glory or despairs-it haunts me, haunts me, still. Oh, that I were her dainty kid, or rat or dog skin glove that I might press those finger tips forevermore. Ah-ah-ah, her waist! Sylphlike, slender. Oh, tell me not of wasp or fairy! Her waist, comely as a lime tree among the rough oaks, surpasses far in delicacy that of any wasp that . ever hung nest upon elm--of any fairy elf that ever tripped it to the music of midnight moonbeams tricking through the dark orange groves in fair Seville or Italy. And oh-oh-oh, her foot! Her high-born, arched, ecstatifying little foot! Modesty, bashfulness, sheep- facedness, preserve me. I faiirt, I faint! I'm struck, oh, I'm struck! Struck by a cruel, coquettish little damsel who won't be my valen­ tine. The daintiest, ravishingist, en- chantingist of pedals terrestial. In visions of the night, before my moon­ struck eyes, float in m&zy dance, a long, unceasing whirl of tiny gaiter boots. I'm bewitched, I'm be-gaiter-booted. Oh, star of the stricken-hearted, beam softly down upon me! For I'm struck! Hurlyburly, ringed, streaked and striped state of pleasure and pain, of bliss and anguish, of uncertainty and of doubt, contradiction and truth, de­ spondency and hope, of ecstasy and of despair, I endure thee. For I'm struck! Oh, chambermaid of Juno! I'm struck! Stru-uck! Stru-u-ck by a remorseless, flirty, peerless voting damsel, who won't be my valentine, and the first six letters of her name are--; but I hardly think I'll tell.--P. Donan, in Bloomington Eye. introducing into the system other bacilli whieh are injurious only to the germs of the disease. If ah organ of the body be attacked by a bacillus dad-' gerous to human life, he would intro­ duce another, harmless to man but fatal There has been a similar increase in Nebraska; and there has been an as­ tonishing increase since 1880 in the number of cattle in the five com States --amounting now to 13,000,000.--Frank Wilkeson, in Haiyer'u Magazine. Savage Map Makers. In the collection recently taken to Denmark from the east coast of Green­ land by Capt. Holm are several objects that have excited the astonish­ ment of several European geographers. They are maps made by the natives. The maps are made by their rude cut­ ting implements on boards that drifted ashore. They were found among the natives who live along the shores of a deep fiord near the most northern point attained by Holm. Only ten or twelve of these 400 people have ever visited the Danish settlements in South Greenland, owing to a stretch of glaciers and ice-fields which have so nearly isolated them from the world that their existence was not known until recently. They had never seen a white man until Holm and Dr. Knut- zen came among them. Some of these curious maps, Capt. Holm says, represent quite accurately the contour of the coast, with all its many big and little indentations, along which they live. Other maps give the outlines of islands lying near the coast, and the explorers say the maps repro­ duce the shape of the islands with a good degree of fidelity. The existence of these maps among a savage and almost unknown people lias aroused much interest, and some geog­ raphers have expressed the opinion that they were not the work of the East Greenland natives. Mr. Hansen- Blangsted, for instance, suggests the theory that some survivor from the ship Lilloise, which years ago started for East Greenland and never returned, may have lived and died on the coast at Angmagsalik fiord, and that he may have made these maps. This sugges­ tion is very far-fetched. We have long known that the Esquimaux have more talent for cartography than is often found among untutored savages. Dr. Hall, for instance, in his explorations north of Hudson Bay found one or two of the rude native charts of a part of that region somewhat serviceable, and at least one of them has been repro­ duced in the report of his work pub­ lished by the United States govern­ ment. Sad Lapse of Memory. A wealthy citizen of a neighboring city had been out until the small hours with convivial companions. It was not exactly a "dry locality" that he had vis­ ited, and he arrived home slightly exhilarated. He managed, by describ­ ing several erratic rather than geomet­ rical lines, to get to his bedroom and into a chair. Then he called to his wife in a stage whisper : "I can't get my "boots off." "What's the matter with your boots?" "Nozzin" (in a faint whisper). "What's the matter with yottr hands, then?" she cross-examined. . "Nozzin.!' -- "Why don't you pull your boots off, then?" . •• "Maria, I've forgot the combination I" --Boston Record. If We Want to Work We Most Sleep. The restoration of energy, which sleep olone can afford, is neo- e.sary for the maintenance of nervous vigor, and whereas the muscu- , lar system, if overtaxed, at last refuses*i to work, the brain under similar cir­ cumstances too frequently refuses to rest. The sufferer, inste%l of trying to remove or lessen the cause of his sleep? lessness, comforts himself with the hope that it will soon disappear, or else has recourse to alcohol, morphia, the bromides, chloral, "etc. Valuable «-nd necessary as these remedies often are (I refer especially to the drugs), there can be no question as to the mischief which attends their frequent us?, and there is much reason to fear that their employ­ ment in the absence of any medical au­ thority is largely on the increase. Many of the "proprietary articles" sold by druggists, and; in great demand at the present day, cAve their efficacy to one or more of these powerful drugs. Not a few deaths have been caused by their use. and in a still larger number of cases they have helped to produce the fatal result. Sleeplessness is almost al­ ways accompanied by indigestion in some one or other of its protean forms, and the two conditions react upon ^ml aggravate each other. If rest cannot be obtained, and if the vital machine cannot be supplied with a due amount of fuel, and, moreover, fails to utilize that which is supplied, mental and bod­ ily collapse cannot be far distant. The details of the downward process vary, but the result is much the same in all cases. Sleeplessness and loss of appe­ tite are followed by loss of flesh and strength, nervous irritability alternat­ ing with depression, palpitation and other derangements of the heart, es­ pecially at night, and many of those symptoms grouped together under the old term "hypochondriasis." When this stage has been reached "the bor­ derlands of insanity" are within meas­ urable distance, even if they have not already been reached,--Fortnightly Review. , ' The Earth's Temperature. Between Merseburgand Schladebach, Saxony, there has been bored the deep­ est auger hole in the world. The inten­ tion originally was to search for coal, •but being unsuccessful the boring has been used to experiment on the tem­ perature of the interior of the earth. A glass tube, open at the top and filled with quicksilver; was inclosed in a metal tube in such a manner as to pre­ vent the entrance of water and still not to prevent its sensibility to the effects of temperature. When the glass tube was reached and let down a warmer temperature the quicksilver exploded and a portion run over. When the tube was brought up the quicksilver cooled down, and consequently occupied less space in the tube than before. The glass tube with the remaining quicksil­ ver was then placed in water the tem­ perature of which was high enough to make the quicksilver rise again to the brim of the tube, which showed that the temperature of the water was exactly the same as that of the interior of the earth. The depth of the boring is 4,500 feet, and the temperature at the bottom has been ascertained to be 120 degrees Fahrenlieit. This temperature increas­ ing in the same ratio, the boiling point of water would lie reached at 10,000 feet; at a depth of 47 miles sufficient heat would be found to melt platina. The radius of the earth being 3,950 miles, the ratio of the solid crust of the earth to the radius would be as 1 to 85. According to this measurement, then, the point at which lead would melt would be reached at a depth of five or six miles, which would indicate that the crust of the earth is not so thick and firm as has been supposed. We must accept the theory, however, that in pen­ etrating to the interior of the earth the increase of heat is by no means found to be regular. / Inventions Wanted. Among other things, says a paper de­ voted to mechanics, there are calls for macaroni machinery, separators for mica and graphite, good red lead pen­ cils, comb-grailing machinery, portable power-transmitting dynamometer (pref­ erable for belts), type-writers which will work on account-books and record- books, indelible stamp-canceling ink, a practical car-starter, a good railway car ventilator, better horseshoes, radial car-axles, independent car-wheels, lo­ comotive headlight, anemometer or in­ strument for measuring velocity of wind currents, apparatus for meas­ uring the depth of the sea with­ out sounding by line, piano-lid hinge which shall be "flush" on the outside, good fluid India ink for draughtsmen, reciprocation counter for locomotives, solder for aluminium, an­ other good method of working iridium, substitute for coal-tar pitch in making artificial fuel from anthracite coal dust and culm, good metallic railway tie, good independent cut-off for locomo­ tives, flexible lxx>k-back, method of al­ loying copper and iron, better facing composition for iron founding, good molding material for iron and brass casting, capable of giving mold which can be used over and over again. 3 An Exeentive Session. She was the daughter of a Senator, and her sweetheart had been to see her every night, since Lent had given them time and opportunity. Her father be­ came somewhat alarmed, and this morn­ ing he called her into his study. "Well, papa," she said, sweetly, "you sent for me. What is it?"' "My dear daughter," he replied, "I believe Mr. Blank has been to see you every night for some time past?" "Yes, papa." "And he was here last night?" "Yes, papa." "Well, daughter, I want Ui know what occurred between you during your protracted interview in the parlor. I ask it, my child, because I have especial reasons for wishing to know." "Dear papa," replied the girl, with tears in her eyes, "I do not doubt your right to ask what occurred there; but, 'papa, it was an executive session, and, papa, you would not have me divulge the secrets of such a meeting, would you?" The old man said never a word in reply. Tile-Drained Roads. We shall never have good roads ii» spring in our northern latitudes until water is removed from them by under- drains laid deeply enough so that heavily loaded wagons will not cut down liind disturb them. The benefit from macadamizing is that the stones form an underdrain for water, but roads then will need to have side drains from their lowest spots.--American Culti­ vator. GOD is absolutely good, and so as­ suredly the cause of all that is good, but ot anything that is evil he is »o cause at all.--Sir Walter Raleigh. 'S* m > 'a Boat tmdittii loafer in world isthe looMdUar. ^ I* votild a®em aaff "rifle matchee? were the right kiftd for btttg^nrs' use.T;;. THS MorrmwT THI*O NC CU»VEA. "A DRRTTW TTTO. IN TFM-MMAHA. I wish to aw » MKteet olev*" •The prettiMttttfn^iiAWM," said be, Are tbeee white baada of Toon, my AN inventive genius at Los Angeles has patented a machine to keep oranges from spoiling. A small boy with on© hand tied can beat thi« machine, f<# ! keeps.--Maverick. . f A NEW law in Kansas forbids a ^ to make an ass of himself. The statute is very ingeniously worded, the reading being that no person shall marry witlik six months after obtaining a divorce. 1 "YOUR husband was a great painter,' was he not, Mrs. Warp?" "Well, not exactly a grate painter, 'cause we never had any grates in our house, but I have known him to paint stoves and chimin * leys, an' things pf that sort."-- Y<mkm 4 Gazette. c 1 "WHAT has the handsome young maiB done that you sneer at him'so much?" said Miss Birdie McGinnis to Esmer­ alda Longcoffin, they being at a part*, . "What has he done? Humph! He la engaged to be married to another giis|» $ That's what he has done." "The wretchF J --Texas Sif tings. TRAIN up a child in the way he should go, and it may generally turn out that way in the long run; but all the pre­ cept and example ever turned loose cannot save him from the sheepish, awkward feeling sure to seize hi»gj when lie goes sparking for the. firi& time.--Chicago Ledger. AN Estelline man came home veiy '• late one night with a suspicious look- 5 ing black eye. "John Henry!" de- ' manded his wife, "what is the matter 6t your eye?" "Noshings, m' dear, nosb> ings musch--I fell down 'n' hit it 'sail," he said with suppressed emotion. "Are you sure you didn't strike it on your breath ?" she replied sarcastically as she bounced back into bed.--EstelliijA | Bell. . "WELL," says Schoeppenstedt mec$» -y-i tatively, "I've been to tlie theater and the opera a good deal, and I've seen all the leading actresses and prinli donnas, and I must say that it's mjr settled conviction after years of ex­ perience that it's no use for any ope of them to try to look solemn and impres­ sive when she has an accidental dab of chalk-white on the end of her nose."-# ^ Somerv ille Journal. . ' i A LITTLE BOCK man received a di^fe^ patch from the country stating that hta son had been killed by a crank. • The father armed himself and hurried to the scene of the tragedy, stimulated by the thought that he could wreak ven­ geance on the slaughterer, but w<» greatly disappointed upon finding that his son's death was caused by an iron crank which lifted him from the floor and thumped his life away.--Arkansap i Traveler. S' "HELLO, Jones! How strong and healthy you have grown since last we met!" "Yes, Dick, I'm cultivating ray muscle preparatory to becoming a pugilist. Feel of that arm." "What are you doing?" "I'm working in a jeweler's store." "Pshaw! How can you increase your muscle by such light work as that?" "Easy" enough. I wind all the Waterbury watches in the | entire establishment.--Newman Ind9- •• pendent. , > s- CAST ashore on a lone, barren isle In the sea into which flows the Nisla, . With no clothes but a battered old ttile-- . From a full suit a rather scant pisle-- I, of course, could notdreas with tnnchltlif * Whild I dwelt in that residence visle; But as there was no one to Btiiiale, I managed the years to begisle-- , That hart else been a long, weary Trhttli With ninny a t-troll in my tisle, And many an innocent wisle, That k"pt in good order my oislo; : * Till a' ship that sailed many a niialo Brought mo home from my dreary oziala. And I this way the tale place on tisle. With the trust that it no one will rialk --Norrtatown Herald. Roundabout Invitations. Now this is how the Judiciary, f<* instance, were invited to the receptions of President Cleveland this season k strict accordance with the precede^ established by President Arthur: ?! i The President told his private secre­ tary to inform the Attorney General that he wished him to invite certain persons connected with his department, and members of the United Statea Courts and the Supreme Court of the District of Columbia. r « Then Col. Lamont telegraphed to thfe . Chief Clerk of the Department of Ju%> 4 tice over the private wire connecting the Executive Mansion with that depart­ ment, and told him to inform the At­ torney General that the President requested him to invite the Justices of the United States Supreme Court, and of the District Supreme Court, and the li£ads of the bureaus of the Depart­ ment of Justice, and the ladies of the# families, to attend the President^ reception on a given date from 9 to 11 o'clock. Then the Chief Clerk, noticing that the United States Court of Claima and the Solicitor General were not named among those to be invited, went to see Col. Lamont in person, to call his attention to the omission, before it was too late, feeling sure that it was not an intentional neglect, and, of course, at once it was explained that the omission was accidental, and tip Court of Claims and the Solicitor Gen­ eral were promptly included in the iijpj vitation. i' " The Arthur plan followed this yeat * , involved a great deal of trouble anil circumlocution, and caused a great variety of invitations to be sent out, including engraved ones, written Ones, printed ones, and verbal ones, each kind differing from all others. The good, old plan, pursue^ by all the Presidents before Mr. Arthuf,.. of announcing the dates of the levees to occur at the Executive Mansion during the season in the newspapers, and ex­ tending no other invitation, was the better waj.--rLouisville Courier-Jour* nal. " Style of the Slashing Interviewer. Reporter--"I represent the Daily Earth." Leading Suburban Citizen--"Yes; be­ lieve I saw one once. Butcher brought it wrapped round a piece of steak. Ho Said it was printed in Boston or some­ where." Reporter--"I wished to inquire--etc., etc." In the Earth next morning--"Mr.--- greeted the Earth's envoy with proper deference, and said, as he laid aside the copy of the Earth, which is always brought in with his breakfast, etc., etc." --Boston Post. To preserve in any evil course makes you unhappy in this life, and will certainly tlirow you into everlasting tor­ ments in the next.-- Wake.M THE man who will not carry out hj|P ~ resolutions when they are fresh upott him "can hardly Jump* ikO|*> from tbaOL afterwards. -