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Si MM l«n)Mtt*r«i y°--< .frMi Nit London. . writes: Send a« two boxes of WW Sapfwcitorle* by! oat. They are M«*. r&l.d.T.rj. in running on in this J iQitttflSCENCES OF PUBLIC XBH. lip. felit th« 8DI l i ife' 1 watch him at his task, * When the broad sua beam! tat light tip Ml ; room; . 1 watch him till the evening lays hor mask Upon tlio face of day; and in the gloom le lays his pencil <lpwn and silent sits, Ana loans his chin uj>onhi« hand and sighs: $4# ; Bow well I know what memory round hllti ftita I , I read it in his eyes. And when his pencil's skill ; ,' Has sometimes wrought a touch of happy art, ' : 1 see his face with sudden gladness fill; I see him turn with eager lips apart, To bid me come and welcome his success: And then he droops, and throws his brash aside : Oh. if mv darling then could only gness That she is near who died ! • Sometimes I fancy, too, That he does dimly know it--that he feels Some influence of love pass thrilling through Death's prison bars, the spirit'a bonds and seals, , Seme dear companionship around him still; Some whispered blessing, faintly-breathed caress, rj The presence of a love no death Mm kju't Brightening his loneliness. , '<? *• Ah, but it cannot be! The dead are with the living--I am hers; But he, my living love, he cannot see His dead wife, though she cling to h'n) so near. 1 I seek his eyes; 1 press against his cheek; I hear him breathe my name in wailing tone-- Ke calls me, calls his wife, I cannot speak-- He thinks he"is alone. ; "This is the bitterness of death • To know he loves me, pines and yearns for me; To see him, still be hoar him, foel lvia breath Fan my sad cheek, and yet I am not free !To bid him feel, by any faintest touch, That she who never left liis side in life-- She who so loved him, whom he loved so mnoh-- • Is with him still, his wife. 'AFTER MANY DAY! BX EDNA B. RUSSELL. v," ; Lilian Whitney looked out into the feathering twilight, her fair face, with the tout-brown carls clinging about it, brought .out in startling relief by a background of vivid blush rcses. She was expecting her lover--noble, landsome Frank Carle ton! Only a week ago he had poured into her ears the story of his love, and had asked her to be his wife. And she smiled softly and blushed as she looked at the diamond ring which • gleamed in the tender light of the glorious June noon, just grandly rising behind the far-off purple hills. "Oh!" murmured Lilian, "what have I * .ever done that such a grand, noble man should love me?" The love-light in her eyes became brighter, the blushes on her cheek deep­ ened, for she heard a footstep which Bhe could never mistake. With a fluttering heart Lilian shrank back among the iose- bushes, thinking fondly that Frank would soon find her. But Frank Carleton was not alone, for a woman, tall and graceful in form, dressed in somber black, was walking beside him. Hark! Frank was speaking, and Lilian Strained her ears to hear. What a look of love and devotion there was on his face us he bent over her! Lilian clenched her hands, and her lips grew white and rigid. "Dear Maud," he said, softly and ten­ derly, "you can never guess how very, very thankful I am that that man is dead. Now you are free, and nothing shall part tts again." "Nothing, Frank?" she said, looking up fct him; and Lilian could see the passion- lite love shining in his eyes. "Not even your marriage with this beautiful Miss Whitney?" "Surely not," he answered, almost re­ proachfully. "Why should it?" And then they passed on. With a low moan, Lilian fell prone among the rose-bushes. Lilian did not stop to reason--did not •top to consider that there might be a „ fnistake, that deceit and falsehood had /tver been foreign to Frank Carleton's nature. And so the next day Frank received a email package--a few books, some old love-letters, and a diamond ring. There was no note of explanation, but he well • knew who had sent them. Enraged and astounded, he immediately sought Lilian for an explanation; but the Servant who answered his impatient ring (said that she was "not at home." v A week later Frank Carleton started for the Continent, and so these two lives, that Bright have been all in all to each other, drifted further and turther apart. * • * • » Five years later. It was the evening of Mrs. Roderick Forrest's ball, and the best society of Melville was there. Lilian Whitney leaned back in the embrasure of •one of the windows, and hidden by the . flowing draperies of the curtains, watched •with dreamy, half-closed eyes the bright, merry throng in the ball-room. Her beauty was more spirituelle than it had been five years ago, and the proud look on her face had softened into more tender, more womanly curves. She was decidedly the belle of" the evening, and it » was only by much skillful maneuvring that' she had been able to gain this quiet retreat for a few moments. All at once she caught her breath with a sudden gasp of pain, and placing her £-^hand on her heart to stop its wild beating, leaned forward and peered out. Yes, it was surely Frank Carleton she saw, though he was much changed. Tall and straight, and browned, with heavy mustache and beard, he looked at least ten years older, and certainly a great deal more hansomer rind manly, than he had looked five years ago. "How noble he looks!" Lilian thought, with a sudden thrill. "Oh, how could I misjudge him so by my dark suspicions? And now I have lost him for ever!" And the hot tears of bitter anguish and re­ morse trickled between her daintily-gloved lingers. The curtains parted, and Mrs. Roderick Forrest and Frank Carlton stood before her. "Lillie, love, you thought you would out- ;Vv as this time, but you see you have failed, for I knew where you were all the time. Allow me to present--Why, child, are you ill?" For, white and trembling, our heroine had sunk down, looking like a broken lily. She had thought she could bear the teeting firmly and calmly, but her strength failed her at the last moment. When, a few minutes later, she opened Ber fiyes, ene found Frank Carleton's arms were about her, and that he was showering kisses on her face. For a moment she felt as if she could die lor very happiness. "Frank," she whispered,--"oh, Frank, can you forgive me after I have wronged you so deeply?" 6 "Hush!" he said--"hush, my darling! I have nothing to forgive!" "She has told me all,*? she went on-- "your sister Maud--how you have loved her, and how much yon have helped her while her miserable, drunken husband w alive. And, oh. Frank, I misjudged you no cruelly! I did not know she was your sister!" _ ",of <2>°rs® y°u did not," he Said, ten. <»«y- Has not your mistake made us miserable for five long years* Do not men tion it again, my darling!" ^d |«! popped her lips with a kfefc lie b#*"ve8 injtuy> while hundreds t4-v' ' -be same thing, and marry wid- re qotftiat, too. g. "f, hundreds--nay, thousands--marry fr** a® SB for every conceivable rVearymB, object under the sun; while here and there scattered through the multitude may be found those who place love npon the great altar. But this has grown Bo extremely old- fashioned of late that oar ladies or style dare only glance at "what might have been," and eagerly grasp the moneyed purse. The working populace, seeing the ex­ ample of their more favored sisters, quickly follow in the wake, thus placing crime npon crime until it ends in family quarrels, separation, divorce, prison, nnd death. Very strong language to use, for » girl tired of working for herself, without a home, and a scanty purse. Well, do you obtain a home, a fall parse, and folded arms? The home may turn to be the one miser­ able spot within you. You eat, drink, and sleep, while the full purse and folded arms may prove an ever­ lasting curse. No happy blessings can, snrely, follow such injustice to him who shares your lot. The tmforseen misery inflicted upon yourself is a just reward for your unfaith­ fulness to him. If he be a widower, your position is ex­ tremely delicate, for by securing yourself a home others may have been driven out to battle with the world, and their tale of woe will be a heavy burden for you to bejar ere you reach your long home. Women of fashion, and the vast multi­ tude who work for your living, if you marry upon any pretext whatever, except for love, death hovers over your bridal feast. As years glide on, a quarrel ensues, separation is talked of, a divorce threat­ ened, and only too often, in the frenzy of the moment, a weapon is seized, and death may claim one offender, while the prison may receive the other. Else you will live on in a perpetual war. Each day will have heavier trials than the preceding. Your little buds of promise are heed­ lessly neglected, because of your one great misery; while he, tho provider of your home, loiters in "privatebars," and drowns his troubles in the poisoning cup. But who--oh, who is to blame? Women, use carefully your mysterious power over the hearts of men. You possess, in a measure, the means of increasing their happiness or woe. Therefore, look well to the trust within your keeping, and have the casket which contains it brightly garnished. Then the clerks in the divorce courts would go begging for bread, and who would not give them a loaf, with a "God bless you?" Many a prison coll would remain vacant, while the pot of soup containing the nutri­ ment of clean bones would be more strengthening, as the quantity of water is considerably less. The churchyard mounds being fewer, the wild flowers playing free amid the long grasses would flourish quite as well with less water from the great fount of human tears. "But is not separation preferable to a life of continual unhappiness?" I still hear some silently questioning. My fire has gone ont; the last coals have faded into ashes. I would htyrg *aH.such queries pass from the lips of humanity. But this cannot be while marriage is a thing of bargaining for gain. When we are reacts to place only the one great power upon the altar, then, indeed, will dawn the millennium in this respect, and until then some few will strongly bat­ tle for the right, hoping the end may lie somewhere in the dimly-lighted future. 'AS YOU sow: Davy Crockett. No quieter or more gentlemanly per­ son did I ever meet than David Crock­ ett. He came slowly lounging into the venerable office of The National In­ telligencer one severe winter afternoon, when and where I was industriously warming my little boy body all round the small, square stove. There was a vacant chair near me. He took it with solemn deliberation. Then over the flat Btove-top he ex­ tended his big, rough hands. "Cold," he said. Nothing more for a long while. I looked up at him--looked inlently; for this was an uncommon comer. A large form--to my boyish idea gigantic --a great, strange head, down each side of which, from a middle parting, fell long, black hair. Something savage about him, yet a most gentle savage,- as if he could fondle a baby, pet a puss, and even cry very heartily, being moved by proper circumstance. My father, present, of course, for he "belonged to the office," observing my amazement, found opportunity to whis­ per in my ear: "David Crockett." I knew a few things about the fa­ mous man--knew that his life had been a romance surpassing the imaginings of any poet or novelist--knew, and what so surprising as this ?--that he was now a member of Congress. Indeed, I had heard read at the breakfast-table some of the "b'ar stories" with which he fre­ quently amused, convulsed, and con­ vinced the House. I saw David Crockett. Presently I felt David Crockett. His big right hand, gliding away from the hot stove-plate, chose to rest itself lovingly among the curls of my hair. "You never met a b'ar?" remarked Davy; "in course you never ?" I acknowledged my total unacqnaint- ance. "Would like to?" "Certainly." "Don't know. Better hear about 'em Sfirst." "I'd be glad to hear, them." "Bo you shall, my boy. HI tell you a story of one I seed once't." I was charmed with the anticipation. He would have begun it immediately, but several members, Senators, and others that moment entered the office. Their business soon over, they still lingered, for a whisper had stolen among them, and more chairs were brought up to the fire, and an expectant circle unexpectedly resulted. "I was going to tell this lad a b'ar story," resumed Davy, when every voice interrupted him with: "Tell it! tell it 1 We all wish to hear it!" ,3 He complied. Listening that after­ noon proved my chief enjoyment of life to date. Listening seemed to prove a similar sensation to every person of the group. It was grand excitement just to listen. Whatever was related we saw. We lived along the remarkable inci­ dents from word to word. Who of mortals, save David Crockett, could display such vivid power--could so wield thunder and lightning? Yet it was not altogether terror. Comical situations were introduced. We were eager, we were alarmed, we were sud­ denly in most violent paroxysms of laughter. -- Brooklyn Magazine. "Nothing but a shop girl married for a home." So I heard the* sentence pass through rosy lips. I turned aside, and bending over my cheerful tre, wonted if she too must be : tr ft t$potnt meats of SEVERAL young men were sitting to­ gether, and a young lady happened to approach the vicinity. One "real sweet" young fellow seeing, as he supposed, tjhe young lady looking at him, re­ marked, playfully and with a becoming simper, "Well, miss, you needn't look A . Z\ . . r at me as though vou wanted to eat me." In the way of furniture and dee- j no^afftk^io," replied the young lady, "I Erwtt greens. BY BEN: PERLEY POORK. Baron Boileau came to the United States as Secretary of the French Lega­ tion, and was for nearly a year charge d'affaires. Subsequently he was Con­ sul of France at New York City, and while there he married Susan, the youngest daughter of Senator Benton. Subsequently he was appointed Minis ter to Ecuador. While in New York he was induced to recommend, as an official agent of Government, the negotiation of the Memphis and El Paso Railroad bonds, issued under the auspices of his brother-in-law, Gen Fremont. Boileau was discharged from the diplomatic corps, and sentenced to imprisonment. While in prison his wife died, leaving six children. Sena­ tor Sumner and others endeavored to have Baron Boileau's term of imprison ment shortened, and I believe with some success. He was a very accom­ plished gentleman, and his visit to New England friends always gave them great pleasure. August Belmont, who has for some years been the agent of the Rothschilds at New York, has exorcised a powerful influence in the Democratic party. He married a daughter of the Commodore Perry who discovered Japan, not the one who fought on Lake Erie, and he was for years the leader of fashionable society in New York. Personally he resembles Leopold Morse, except that he limps a little, owing to a wouiid re ceived in a duel when he first came to this country. He has never held office except when for a time he was Consul General of Austria at New York, and afterwards United States Minister to Holland. His son. Perry Belmont, now in Congress, is a smart young fellow, lavish in his expenditures, and anxious for distinction. Boss Tweed had his eye on the United States Treasury, and had he not been arrested in his speculations at New York, he would have elected Gov. Sey­ mour, or some one else whom he couid have controlled. As a first step in this direction, he invested $25,000 in the establishment of a newspaper at "Wash­ ington, aided by Mr. Corcoran and other hard-shell Bourbons. When about $30,000 had been sunk in the pub­ lication of the paper, Tweed came to grief, and the Patriot was no longer published. During the winter of 1866 a New York artist who had executed a fine painting representing the death of President Lincoln brought it to Wash­ ington and placed it in one of the com­ mittee-rooms of the Capitol, his object being to obtain life-sittings from some of the parties whose portraits were in­ cluded in the group surrounding the death-bed of the dying President, the portraits having been painted from pho­ tographs. One of the most conspicu­ ous portraits in the group was that of Edwin M. Stanton, Secretary of War, who was represented as standing a few feet from the head of the bed, towards which his head was turned, a full pro­ file view of his head being visible. His left arm was thrown behind him, and in bis hand he held a paper supposed to be a telegram. Strange as it'may seem, the artist had represented him in a lilac coat and drab pantaloons, of a fashionable cut, and as unlike the loosely-fitting garments of dark cloth which he usually wore as it would seem possible to make them. So confident were those who saw the picture that Mr. Stantan would be angry when he saw himself portrayed in such n a ridicu­ lous costume, that the artist was urged to repaint it before he should visit the room; but this advice was unheeded. Mr. Stanton finally called at the room to give the artist the desired sitting. Taking a seat in a large armchair, he looked earnestly at the picture, which was then rapidly approaching comple­ tion. For a moment the deep silence which pervaded the room was painfully significant. It was finally broken by Mr. Stanton, who uttered a most em­ phatic and indignant protest against being presented in a fashionable and. fancy costume, so totally different from that in which he was usually attired. "And who ever heard," said he, "of a cabinet minister wearing a lilac coat and drab pantaloons?" These were his precise words. As he proceeded he grew fearfully angry, and finally rose to his feet. His face was almost pur­ ple, and his burly frame quivered with rage. His wrath was truly volcanic. For several moments he held undis­ puted monopoly of the situation, for no one present had the temerity to inter­ rupt him. The artist seemed paralyzed with astonishment, not unmingled with fear, and leaned against the marble mantel for support. His left hand grasped his pallette and brushes, and his arm hung powerless by his Bide, while his face was of an ashy paleness. After Mr. Stanton had given full ex­ pression to his feelings, and his anger had, consequently, become somewhat modified, a friend of the artist, who fortunately happened to be present, took a seat by his side and entered into conversation with him, but found it im­ possible to convince him that he had not been grossly insulted. " What would you think," said he, "if old Mr. Welles, who sits by the bedside, was represented in knee breeches and with buckles on his shoes?" "I should think," was the reply, "that the artist had committed an unpardonable anachronism, which he has not done in your case; for though he has taken a license in the draping of your portrait, he has strictly adhered to the costume of the day, while knee- breeches and shoe buckles belong to a bygone period." He made no reply, but remained silent for several minutes. Finally, turning to the artist, he said: "That, sir, is your painting, and you can do whatever yon please with it; but I will neve* endorse its accuracy or give you a sitting until you repaint the drapery of my portrait." After making this emphatic declaration he was again silent for some minutes, when the artist, who had recovered his self-possession, ventured to speak to him and state why he had thought it advisable to drape his portrait in colors so offensive to him, assuring him that his sole object in doing so was to avoid the unpleasant monotony inseparable from a group of male por­ traits clad in the unpicturesque cos­ tume of our time. He also assured him that if he would give him another sitting he would repiant the drapery of his figure in any style or color he might suggest. With this assurance Mr. Stan­ ton seemed perfectly satisfied, and im­ mediately took a chair, where he sat patiently and quietly for an hour while the last touches were added to the face of his portrait. During this sitting he conversed very pleasantly, and was as gentle and as amiable as a little child. At times his rugged features would be lighted up by a happy smile, which seemed like a gleam of sunshine after a terrific storm. On the day following the events above narrated Mr. Stanton visited Brady's gallery by appointment, where he was met by the artist who had so unintentionally offended him, and stood for a photograph, from which his figiuce was entirely repainted, the great satisfaction of himself his family. Joe Jefferson's Across the marshes and bayous ei miles to the west from Petite A Island rises Orange Island, famous its orange plantation, but called Jef son Island since it became the prop< J and home of Joseph Jefferson. No high as Petite Anse, it is still consp ous with its crown of dark for From a high point on Petite Ai through a lovely vista of trees, flowering cacti in the foreground, ferson's house is a white spot in landscape. We reached it by a ciri tous drive of twelve miles over CALL ON ST McHENRY, ILL. ;:::f FOB • MERCHANDISE. the West Division: prairie, sometimes in and sometiiinsr th© building, low itisur out of the water, and continually verted from our course by fences. a good sign of the thrift of the race, i of its independence, that the colo people have taken up or bought lii tracts of thirty or forty acres, put doing our own work and ing, paying no interest having good credit and a ngaess 10 worfc hard tor I margins, by so doing giv cabins, and new fences round th)ur many customers the lull /LAMOTTTA MAMAM/H/VRTN NF ILIA «Y%L J ( # V fit of cited circumstances, we nore than evier in a position eat all as well, or even bet- mn many others, by offering |iins in NOTHING, table to our Town and try tradp, of real merit and styles.; made up ELEGANTLY, t Splendidly. AR SATISFACTORILY. lit ofir customers will buy Our • •>"*' - ' the Spring of 1887 all th domains regardless of the travel public. We zigzagged all about country to get round these little closures. At one place, where the m road was bad, a thrifty Acadian had up a toll of twenty-five cents for t privilege of passing through premises. The scenery was pasto: and pleasing. There . were freqtif round ponds, brilliant with lilies a fleurs-de-lis, and hundreds of cat feeding on the prairie or standing in t water, and generally of a dun-col< made always an agreeable picture. T monotony was broken by lines of trei by cape-like woods stretching into plain, and the horizon line was alwa fine. Great variety of birds enliven the landscape, game birds aboundin There was the lively little nonpare which seems to change its color, and red and green and blue--I believe the oriole family--the papabotte, favorite on New Orleans tables in t autumn, snipe, killdee, the cheroo (snipe ?) the meadow-lark, and quantiti of teal ducks in the ponds. The little ponds are called "bull-holee The traveler is told that they are start in this watery soil by the pawing bulls, andf gradually enlarged as t' cattle frequent them. He remembe that he has seen similar circular pon in the North not made by bulls. Mr. Jefferson's residence--a pretl rose-vine-covered cottage--is situate on the slope of the hill, overlooking broad plain- and a vast stretch of bayc country. Along one side of his lion enclosure for a mile runs a superb hedj of Chickasaw roses. On the slope bat of the house, and almost embracing i is a magnificent grove of live-oaks, grei gray stems, and the branches hung wit ^ heavy masses of moss, which swing i IN X Hd 1\ the wind like the pendant boughs of th willow, and with something of its senti mental and mournful suggestion. Tli«-- - ~» ffiimTC recesses of this forest are cool and dark ijgii* . IIJhmW m A A AW fit but upon ascending the hill, sudden! bursts upon view under the trees a most lovely lake of clear blue water. This lake, which may be a mile long and half a mile broad, is called Lake Peigneur, from its fanciful resemblance, believe, to a wool-comber. The shores are wooded. On the island side the bank is precipitous; on the opposite shore amid the trees is a hunting-lodge, and I believe there are plantations on the north end, but it is in aspect alto­ gether solitary and peaceful. But the island did not want life. The day was brillant, with a deep blue sky and high- sailing fleecy clouds, and it seemed a sort of animal holiday; squirrels chat­ tered; cardinal-birds flashed through the green leaves; there flittered about the red-winged blackbird, blue jays, red-headed woodpeckers, thrushes, and occasionally a rain-crow crossed the scene; high overhead sailed the heavy buzzards, describing great aerial circles; and off in the still lake the ugly heads alligators toasting in the sun.-- Charles Dudley Warner," The Acadian Landin Harper's Magazine. 1IE match them all. Also ILING PAPER WITH PIECES, AMD our j)| One after another of the scattered hostile bands surrendered. Gen. Miles says in his report: "The hostiles fought until the bulk of their ammuni­ tion was exhausted. Pursued for more than two thousand miles over the rugged and sterile districts of the rocky Sierra Madre Mountain regions, beneath the burning heat of midsum­ mer, until worn down and disheartened, they find no place of safety in our country or Mexico, and finally lay down their arms and sue for mercy.""-- Youth's Companion. The Baby's Bank Account. It is not to a baby millionaire that I wish to call your attention, nor even to any baby; but to the finances of your baby. You, of course, know all about what the little fellow has cost, and know what he is likely to cost, not only in dollars and cents, but in wakeful, watch­ ful hours and anxieties innumerable. But, after awhile, the now costly baby will require not only schooling, but bus­ iness education, and a foundation upon which to stand in the great money-get­ ting world. There are so many tips and downs with prosperous people, that the child of wealth to-day may twenty years hence bo eking out a scanty living as clerk; and, on the o|;her hand, the little fellow whose baby wardrobe is plain and limited, by the same time may be on the broad road to fortune. When you sit by the darling's cradle is the time to thoughtfully mature your plans for the future. There are so many little trifles bought for baby that might be dispensed with and the money allowed to accumulate for fu­ ture use. it is wonderful how nice a sum may repose in ope of the many saving-fund institutions by just a little forethought and economy. A Mayor in a Southern city gave on Saturday even­ ings to his four little daughters all the dimes he happened to have in his pocket. A lady of my acquaintance saved all her gold pieces for her son, depositing them in bank to his ci-edit, she acting as trustee. Another lady having a small house renting for $8 a month, put the sum to her children's account in the savings fund, and care­ fully refrained from using any of it. I know of many instances of well-to- do parents who are faithfully laying up for the children, and that in a small matter-of-fact way which would aston­ ish many with whom they mingle in so­ ciety. A pencil and paper and a half hour or less spent in calculating the possible accumulation of even $20 a year for twenty years will show what can be done.--Babyhood. Begrees of Sileacr. "It was so still in the hall," said Dobbins, speaking of the concert, "that you could have heard a pin drop." "Was there a large audience?" asked Peterby. ' A "The house was half full." "Is that all? Hem! You ought to hear the silence there when there is a full house. Oh, it's something grand!" --Tid-Bita. VERY few men are wise by their own counsel, or learned by their own teach­ ing ; for he that was only taught by himself had a fool for his master.--Ben Jonson. "ALCOHOL will clean silver." Yes, alcohol well stock to will clean out all the silver you have got; DON'T imagine a titled Englishman to be old-fashioned when yon read of his ancient manor. A Mental Grave. The Observer recently chatted with a bright young man who holds a second- class clerkship ($1,400) in the War De­ partment at Washington. He took the place ten years ago, after having been graduated with high honors from one of the leading New England colleges, intending to thus support himself while studying a profession. His salary at that time seemed large, and he was able to save quite a nugget each year. He studied less and less, and after a few months gave it up altogether. Then he married, and instead of saving anything, it is all he can do to support his family in a very modest way. These are his Own words: "A government clerkship is no place for a young man of education and ambition. Alas! I did not know that when I started in, but I know it now to my sorrow. Such work is well enough for maimed soldiers or for sol­ diers' widows and daughters who have to earn their daily bread; in fact, it is a godsend to many such. But let strong, hearty, energetic young men choose almost any other line of work. The work is easy and the hours are from nine to four only, with a half hour for lunch; but it is a treacherous routine and insidiously works upon a man's mental powers until it saps them all up and he becomes no better than a ma­ chine. The government clerkship ac­ complishes the destruction of one's mind just as the galleys used to of the body. I would gladly resign this very day, but what would become of my family? 1 know absolutely nothing about any profession or business occu­ pation ; and were I to start in now, I would have to begin at the bottom and work up, and it would be several years before I could earn what Uncle Sam now pays me so regularly. There are hundreds of men in Washington simi­ larly situated. Their ambition is gone, their talents are gone, and all they de­ sire is to hold on to their clerical posi­ tions as a drowning man clings to a rope. I want to make a desperate effort, even at this late day, to get into business and be an active worker; but I see no op­ portunity. and the chances are that I shall continue to be fed with govern­ ment pap to the end of my days, unless I receive the grand bounce when some change occurs in the administration."-- New York Graphic. A Good String. A well-known druggist in this city was filling an order for a lady when a hawk-eyed young man whose raiment bespoke hard times stood by without making any errand. As the'lady went out he was asked what he desired: "Twenty-five cents to pay for a night's lodging, please." "Well, you won't get it." "Very well, sir. You put up qainine for that lady?" "I did." "Suppose I follow her home and raise the query of whether you didn't make a mistake and put up morphine ?" "But it was quinine." "No doubt, but just to show you how a word will upset som& people I will run after her and--" "Here! How much did yon say you wanted?" "A quarter, please." "Well, here it is, and as you probably haven't had any supper here's fifteen cents extra." "Thanks, sir, and may you never make another fatal mistake. Good­ night !"--Detroit Free Press. GUILTINESS will speak though tongues were ont of use.--Shakespeare. The Lost Bracelet. One evening, when Napoleon £ was in all his glory, there was a grand gala production at the Grand Opera. How many reigning kings and princes occu­ pied the boxes and balconies it is im­ possible for me to estimate; the very seats usually occupied by the claqueurs were filled with noblemen. The Princess Borghese, the beautiful and accomplished Pauline, sparkled and shone in her box, eclipsing all around her by the splendor of her loveliness, as the sun does its satellites by the brilliancy of its rays. On her neck she wore a necklace, the diamonds and massive pearls of which, inter­ twined and blended with transcendent art, still further enhanced her incom­ parable brilliancy. When she entered her box there was a murmur of general admiration. The imperial box opened in its turn and the master of the world ap­ peared, saluted by these kings and princes with a formidable cry of "Vive I'Emperenr!" It was generally re­ marked that the Empress seemed un­ able to take her eyes off her sister-in- law, and appeared to be fascinated, dazzled, like the other occupants of the vast auditorium, with the marvelous brilliancy of the necklace. Suddenly the box of the Princess Borghese opened and a young Major presented himself, wearing the brilliant blue and silver uniform of the aides-de-camp of the Emperor's staff. "Her Majesty, the Empress," said he, bowing low, "admires the wonderful necklace worn by your Imperial Highness, and has expressed the liveliest desire to examine it closer." The beautiful Pauline made a sign to one of her ladies of honor, who unclasped and detaclicd the neck­ lace from the Prinoess' neck and placed it in the hands of the staff officer. The latter bowed gravely and disappeared. This episode occurred toward the middle of the second act. The entr'­ acte came and passed away. The third act concluded in its turn. The fourth act came and passed, and the enter­ tainment concluded, yet still the neck­ lace was not returned. The Princess Borghese took this for a characteristic freak of Marie Louise's. Next day, however, she asked if the necklace had pleased the Empress and whether she had found the setting and arrangement of the jewels to her taste. The Empress was thunderstruck, for she had • not seen it and had sent no officer for it as described. Napoleon deigned to mix himself up in the affair. Hf© had the names of all the staff officers on duty the preceding evening, ascertained. And then one by one under some pretext or other, he had them called before his sister. She did not recognize one of them. They summoned the Prince of Otrante, Minister of Police. A long council was held. Everything possible was done, but in vain. The unfortunate Fouche was ready to tear his hair in despair. He set his keenest bloodhounds at work. His best detectives were liter­ ally worn off their legs, without result. As to their imperial master, he was literally bubbling over with rage, and was almost on the point of thrashing his Chief of Police. But neither the necklace (which was worth nearly a million) nor the audacious thief was ever seen again.--Home Journal. Mary Stuart. We could wish, if it were possible, that no one should he Allowed to write about Mary Stuart who has not previ­ ously testified his acceptance of and %ho shall not in his writing adhere to the following propositions: That Scotch and English, Catholic and Pro­ testant, nullo discrimine liabeat in the matter. That he will constantly bear in mind the ideas prevailing at the time about statecraft and public morality, and will never assume that Mary or that Elizabeth, that Cecil or that Murray "could not" have done this or that thing which a modern Queen and a modern statesman would think It wrong to do. That instead of arguing down from a preconceived character of this or that person to the probable conduct of that person in such a case, he will examine the recorded conduct in the cases, com­ pare it with the general morality, pub­ lic and private, of the time, and then, and then only, construct his general character. That he will carefully ex­ clude not only the national and religious prejudices referred to, but all minor irrelevant provocations to ira and studivm. These are hard conditions, no doubt, but if they be not observed study of such a problem as the char­ acter of Queen Mary becomes impos­ sible. And, above all things, it is nec- cessary that the inquirer into this ques­ tion should from the beginning under­ stand that he is not called upon to decide between the theories of a glorified saint, such as Father Stevenson seems to picture, and a white devil like the creature of Kingsley's and Mr. Froude's imagination, or even a kind of renais­ sance Venus, such as Mr. Swinbnrne would like to fancy. Glorified saints are not met with at kirk and market every day; white devils also are scarce, and even renaissance Venuscs da?is ces parages. Our own conviction, founded upon a very long study of the facts, is that an investigation conducted on these principles will find "not proven" in re­ gard to the two great charges against Mary, with a decided leaning to acquit­ tal in the case of Darnley and a dubious leaning to condemnation in the case of Elizabeth, this latter qualified by a strong recommendation to mercy con­ sidering the great provocation received and the ideas of the time on the modes of vengeance open to sovereigns. Fur­ ther, we have no doubt that the execu­ tion of Mary was a crime in the eyes not only of international law, but of true statesmanship and general morality, differentiated duly for time and plaoe. --Saturday Review. Ifould Talk Irish. t)uring the legislative vacation Sena­ tor Cullom took a trip to Europe. While in Paris he saw Chauncey M. Depew, who was the first man that the Senator had met who understood En­ glish. Going up to him he warmly grasped him by the hand and said, in a way peculiar to the Senator: "Mr. Depew, how are you? I am pleased to meet yon, if it is only to have somebody to talk English to and who will talk English to me." Mr. Depew eyed him for a while and then pured forth a speech in the most excellent French. That the Senator was astounded goes without saying. He tried all the arts known to him to in­ duce the President of the Central road to reply to him, in English, but failed. Finally, becoming desperate, he shook his fist in his face and said: "Mr. Depew, I'll get even with you! I hear you are traveling for pleasure, and that you will go to Ireland before, you are through. Fll make it my busi­ ness to meet you there, and if you speak to me you will have to speak in Irish for I shall use no other tongue." --New York Star. \ - R...- . • PITH AM) PODTT. A CAT-BOAT is always dangrous when ; it squalls. CROWS never kick up a disturbance without caws. LAVINA wonders if the'lot of a pawilP broker isn't a loan-ly one. A MAN isn't liable to arrest for assault and battery if he "beats" his creditor*. DEBTOR--Good morning,-sir. I - just wanted to pay my respects. Creditor --Anything else? BRUSQUE EDITOR--I inust decline your poem. It lacks merit. Indignant poet--No, sir. You aimply lack appre­ ciation. WIIEN a woman endeavors to screen her beauty from the public gaze her efforts are not withont a veil.--Detroit Free Press. THE reason some men never meet with any failures in life is because they never make any efforts to succeed. Philadelphia Pall , j ^ A PRIVATE watchman in New Yo*fc City is charged with five different roS£$ beries. He was on duty but five nighti* and this accounts for the few charges. LANDLADY--Have yon, noticed, Mr. Brown, thai there is "nothing but leaves on the streets now ? Boarder (who has Come late to breakfast)--Yes, madam, * and that fact is very suggestive of your table. : "IN that drawer," said the poet on his death-bed, "you will find a lot of my posthumous works. I bequeath them all to you." "Ah!you are too kind," protested the friend. "No, I am not. No one else wants them." - "I HOPE, my dear, that you don't -*! tend to go to the theater alone?" "No, indeed; I never go unless I am chaper­ oned." "Unless what?" "Chaperoned." "That's just the way with me; I alwayA like to have a chap around." COUNSEL _ for the defense--Gentla* men of the jury, if there ever was I case which, more than any other case, challenged careful comparison with similar cases, this case is that case.--- Fliegende Blaetter. "ISN'T it pretty lonesome out in th* country ?" he said to the boy whose parents moved out on a farm last falL "I guess not," was the reply. "Pa and ma have just as many discussions as they did in the city, and us children get licked about the same.--Detroit Free Press. "YOUR friend, Lawyer H., dresses pretty well, it seems to me, for a man who has only been practicing a few years," said Smith to Thompson; "he is mighty lucky." "I hope he don't gam­ ble?" "I'm afraid he does, for ho told me yesterday that he won nearly every suit he was in."--Chicago Ledger. A CHRISTIAN clergyman once went an orthodox synagogue with a Jewish friend. He listened to a congregation chanting "Mismar L David" with the usual congregational discord, and was told by his Jewish friend that it was sung to the same tune in the days of David. "Ahl" said the clergyman, with a sigh of relief, "thataccounts for it. I have often wondered why Saul threw his javelin at David." A SLIGHT CATASTROPHE. They stood in beanty Bide by aide, They felt the ice with glee. Now Johnny was his mother's pride. And Tommy eke was he. - "I guess der ice is strong enough; \ Let's have a slide," said John. "Well, you go first," said little Tom, "And soon I shall come on." " But ice which may be safe for one May not be safe for two. When John and Thomas reached their homes Some tears two woodsheds knew. --New York Morning Jotvrnal. WITH stealthy baud he strove to clip One golden ringlet from her head. "Ah, don't!" Then, with a smiling lip, "They are my sister Jane's," she MM, --Harper'* Magazme. f^ Girls' Friendships, s ̂ Among the joys of girlhood is"tnend« ship, which, though often laughed at as absurd and "missish," is, neverthe­ less, very sweet. Most girls, even i! they have sisters, have also some spe­ cial friend to whom they vow eternal, devotion, write voluminous letters when they are apart, and for whom they con* trive all sorts of little presents, mora or less useful or ornamental. If the friend is an ordinarily good girl, this affection is beneficial to both parties, takes each a little out of her own small circle as well as of herself, and widens her horizon. It is often very pure and unselfish, and, especially between girls who never marry, endures as long as they live. But there 'comes a time when, to use the ordinary phrase, a girl's education is finished, when lxx>k3 are somewhat laid aside, and she' becomes a young lady at large, free to follow her own bent if she has one, and generally dis­ posed to see as much as she can of the world. A wholesome-natured girl is ready for anything, and "takes* the goods the gods provide" with all sim­ plicity. She enjoys a country ratnble thoroughly, trips along with feet as light as her heart, plays vigorously at lawn-tennis when she has the oppor­ tunity, reads the book and sees the pieties of the day, and adds wonder­ fully to the brightness of the home cir­ cle. She is her father's pride, her mother's vicegerent, and her brother's "chum." This is the halcyon time of life, when innocent pleasures have not begun to pall, and when the future is rosy with the sunshine of love and happiness. Our Mary grows critical about her appearance, detects the ?mallest approach to a misfit in her rocks, and is somewhat difficult to please in the matter of hats and bon­ nets. It is quite natural that she should wish to look hor best, and if a lover comes along who sees in her "His heaven-born Eve, on whose unsullied brow Tho shadow of the sinning never came," and she reciprocates his feeling, a new world opens before her, and her parents live their own youth over again as they feel that the new love only deepens old ones, and draws all natural ties closer. This is as it ought to be; and a wise lover, knowing that a dutiful daughter makes a good wife, will rejoice to see it, and congratulate himself on having won the heart of a girl who so win- somely answers to the sweet name of Mary.--Cas sell's Family Magazine. Too Young t« Appreciate What She Said. A lady visiting at Bethel, Me., writes: "The children here are very bright and quick. The other evening some one in discussing a sermon spoke of the Son of God. Allan (theboy) says: What was God's wife's name before she was married?' Edith, his sister, answers quick as lightning i 'Her name was Mary Virgin.' Virgin is a common name about here." "IT may be," saith a philosopher, that he who yerns for perfection in this world makes a great mistake, for as soon as anything arrives at perfect ripeness it begins to decay." THE man who feels remorse for evil he had done is to be pitied; but there is one being still more unfortunate, "he who feels his guilt beforehand, and yet commits it.