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^laindtiilcr VAN SLYKE, Editor tmi Publisher. •tc HENRY ILLINOia TUWARTXU Mi i t ' When first we mot it was agreed •, That we shonld banish Cupiit. ^ fihe thought, him simple; so indeed '• -? • , Did I. and called liiin stupid. . V't,'; "And -what's the use," waid »he, "ofltfs f,V! Impertinent attendance?" vM - Adding, with zest, "My motto is, - A Friendly Independence!" . ! Go In the -waltz around her waist She let iny arm go stealing ; •leanwhlld with constant gam the ttM^d The cherubs on the ceiling. 'SS&J And -what I could'not understand-- Though ignorance w as ploasing-- : j t' "Was that her tinv plump white hailli Did not object to squeezing^'. W&P't 1 ' • , 'Then out of friendship I vf; Directly to discover ;!• * 'That naturall* girl and man | Grow into girl and lover. . , I told her so ; and when I did-* Her modest love confessing--- Her face npou my breast she bid. And Cupid asked the bleasing. ~-Xfarpcr's Bazar. A HEROIfE. A Trae Story of Storm and Shipwreck, tr'ifr ?0'. BYM. E.W. &&'•> • • : ' -It had been a stormy day, and bade " lair to be one of the worst nights of the season, at least so said the lisliermen at the little village on the cape. The """'uds blew as if the very furv of Hades itself had been let loose and the sea t ««rged and beat upon the cuckles, those crnel rocks that turned skyward just outside the harbor, until it threat­ ened to tear them from their very foun­ dation and hurl them with mighty force against the village. It was a night such as few men cared to be abroad in, unless the stern call of duty brought them out. And yet far out on the cliff that ( formed the southern boundary of Wood Island stood a young girl. She was closely muffled by a cape and hood, and yet the face, as it showed in the dim twilight, was singularly beautiful--a face that one could scarce expect to <neet in such a town as Cape Newaggen, •and one that would certainly make a person stop to take a second look were €t met in the heart of some big city. Six years before Kate Johnson's father had sailed away in his good ship, the Water Witch, taking with him as aeeond mate young Ned Bolton. "We will be back inside the year, lass," the old sea-dog had said as he kissed his pretty daughter good-bye, "and if this trip is successful it will "be my last, and Ned can have the ship and yon." And Kate had blushed and hoped that all might be well. But the time had flown and nothing had been heard of the Witch until one day there had coMe to the village news that the stern board of a ship's boat Lad been picked up in the south seas bearing the name of "Water Witch," and that was all the tidings that had ever been heard from the proud ship that sailed from the little port that bright June morning, so full of life, and joy and hope. The days grew into months, the months into years, and the subject of the disaster was drowned in that of more recent calamities, for not a winter passed that did not 'ring to that little fishing town news of or more disasters, and sometimes any lives were sacrificed to the mer- "ess d#ep. But though others might forget,there -was one who never would. Kate John­ son held the memory of her father and 'Sweetheart as fresh as when she had last ;seeu them, and there were some among the people of the little hamlet who de­ clared she was grieving herself' to 'death. Be this as it may, she had never given up hope that some day, in some mjrsterious manner--she never even •Sailed to think when or how--her father *ndher sweetheart would be restored to her. When the storm beat fiercest and itibie tempest was at its height, she was "front to creep out on the ledges near the dangerous reefs and watch the cruel eea, andlmany were the alarms of danger she had giveu in the little town back by the harbor, for this was one of the most dangerous reefs on the coast of Maine. But to-night, as she stood and watched the great breakers •a they beat against the giant rocks, she seemed to feel a vague un­ easiness, a dread that she had never felt before. Was it a premonition of some­ thing-- 3ome tragedy that was about to ba; pen beneath her very eyes, and she unable to lend a helping liandV How long she had stood, silent and •lone, upon the ledge she never knew, when suddenly she was a -oused from ber reverie by a dull, sullen boom! She started as though she had been shot, and putting her hands to her eyes, peered out into the gloom. How well •he knew what that sound foreboded. Two years ago she had heard a simi­ lar sound, and the next morning the coast was strewn with wreckage and th She closed her eyes and sent up to God a silent prayer that her father might be saved, and as she did so new strength seemed to come to her --a courage born of despair. There was!' but one hope, and that '" a slim one. No one on that great sl>ip knew of the new channel that had been Cleared the year before. Could they but be told, they might yet be saved. They most be saved, and Kate John­ son must do it. Her little boat was in the cove below--a frail craft in which to trust one's life in such a tempest. But it was the only way to save the lives of those so dear to her. She rushed to the boat, cast off the lines and, commanding herself to the care of Him who controls Hie tempest, rowed out into the storm and blackness. Would she be in time to intercept the great ocean monster as it swept P^t? * Wonld they see that little speck on the ocean in tbe blackness and storm ? The chance was so slight that she shud­ dered as she thought of it. And then, shutting her lips closely together, she useft her utmost efforts to keep her lit­ tle bark afloat. Now the great ship loomed up before her. There was but one thing to be done, and she threw her boat directly in front of the ship! There was a crash as of a nutshell hit by a sledge hammer, and the boat was sucked under the ship, a hopeless wreck. Kate with ready sight and active muscles, had grasped the forechains firmly with her hands and in a moment drew herself safely to the deck. There was no time to be lost if she could compass the object for -fcrhieh she had come. She rushed up aU gave a few hasty commands to the mafr at the wheel, which, in his superstitiousffears, he obeyed without question. A quick "liard-a-port!" "steady!" "hard-a- port!" and in an instant the proud ship shot through the narrow passage, her spars on either side grazing the cliffs, aud had grounded on the sandy beach. Then the Captain had an op­ portunity to look for the young pilot who had saved him and his ship from its inevitable doom, but she had fainted, and lay a lifeless heap on the deck. She was taken up and tenderly cared for, but it was many long and weary weeks before Kate Johnson recovered from the dangerous brain fever which ensued. "But, papa," said Kate, as the three --Kate, her father and Ned Bolton-- sat on the littJe porch overlooking the sea one quiet afternoon, "now that I am well enough tell hie how it all hap­ pened. "It is a long story, lass; and Ned can spin the yarn better than I," replied the old man, as he filled his oSraje for a smoke. ( fp * Well, to begin," said &ed, "it was like, this: After we had been out about a week, we were struck by a nor'- wester that didut let up until we had been blown into the South Sea. One of our boats was stove in and washed overboard, and part of that' which was picked up was what gave rise to the theory of our wreck. But soon we found that the vessel had sprung a leak during the storm. In vain we pumped, the water kept gaining, and we were obliged to put in at the first land we made and beach the vessel. No sooner had we struck ground than we were surrounded by tbe natives and made prisoners. Here we were kept until six months had passed, when your father, being somewhat of a physician, as you know, affected a miraculous cure, as they thought, on the king, who was suffering from some disease they could not understand. "This got him in high favor and he was allowed to take his vessel and what was left of his crew and return to his own country.. After a pleasant voyage we arrived on the coast of Maine, ju*t in time to meetour end, in sight of oar own house, if it had not been for your conrage and daring." Three months later there was a quiet wedding at the Cape, and Kate Johnson became Mrs. Bolton. Many gnests were present, and all agreed that Mr. and t Mrs. Bolton were the handsomest and best couple that the Cape had turned out. To-day, should a stranger visit the little village on the Cape he would see the dismantled hull of the ship, lying in the sand, and, on asking a question, would be told the story that I have at­ tempted to tell. The harbor that received the good ship in her hour of peril refused to give her up, the water not being deep enough to float her, and there she lies, telling to the world the story of the daring ana courageous young girl. THE CAN EAGLE, MB*. *. M. HOWARD. A Cunning Fox. Paul R. Shipman has a verv pleasant "Fox Tale" in the. Wide Awake. Here is one of his anecdotes: "Foxie was very fond of tallow, and I had great trouble to keep him from eating up mv small stock. He knew my disposition to guard it. as well as I knew his to steal it; so it was an open strife of wits between us. Shortlv after °f theweVud parage™ ; rising one Sunday morning mv eye was 8teamew that I caught by his unusual attitude in the Sr ^ P' fhad,been Sphered up j shop, the door of which I had thrown % the fishermen for days -( open. He was standing in the middle A moment more and the sound was ! V the room, with his eyes glaring at a lncgp of tallow on my bench, and glancing from time . to time toward a tamp chimney set on the table near my bed, where I was dressing myself at the moment, though how the tallow and sound was repeated. It was no trick of the sea, «o crnel hallucination; there was a ves­ sel iu the offiug in deadly peril! What should she do? To fly and alarm the town was her first impulse, but she £lLthtwoth? T aV«»e life-saving i ^ch^^ a' a y ° u ' hftd4ielrdthe !ia hi* brain I could not imagine. Ac- £>und and would soon be on the scene; cordinglv I watched him. 4cmtaias! they would come too late. "Km j • ... ^She must act at once if she would be glass chimney, breaking^iT^to a .of any assistance to the imperiled craft, i thousand pieces, aud instantly before I Bv a flash of lightning she could see a I could withdraw my attention from th* €ull-sized bhip just inside tbe deadly ; crash and rum, sprung for the lump of cuckles a quarter of a mile to the tallow. which he seifed in his mouth •outh and east. Coula she reach it ? j and flew out of the door, running awav There was a possibility--a slight hope, at the highest speed of which his but a hope, nevertheless--that she might be able to pilot them safely into • harbor. Only last summer the coast- imprqvemeut service had blasted the , . speed of which his obesity admitted. He had thrown his glass dust in my eyes, and while I was getting it out of tliem, had pounced uuon my tallow and made off with it. big rocks at Devils Ledge; but even ; The strife of wits was coine atrainst me »ow nothing but fishing vessels entered | Half dressed as I waf I infmediat*lv tbe harbor by that channel, j»d they j gave chase to the thief' and l»y reason -^ilyxnfair weather. - | of his corpse,,ce gained on hS Sofait Again came the ominous boom ef the ! that he turned abruptly and bolted into JJj8 a was *fut UP j tLe 9°**"?t^ble, which I entered at full jinto the air. bhe started as though I run just in time to we him carefullv i How wel1 she knew ! dF°Pthe tailow from lus mouth into a 4hat light. \ears before, Capt. John- j puddle at the edge of which he was «on had had a set of rockets made in standing, and whence he came up to me > that he serenely looking the picture of inno-Boston of a special kind, so ^Bould announce to his wife and daughter j cence, and wanting to plav wis arrival in the offing; the Water | had happened." Witch was the only vessel that carried I • them, and this was one of the set! Thus, then, after long years of ab-' aence, was her father to come back to perish in sight of his very home! And ne would not be the first brave maria^r brought up on that rugged coast who had been drowned almost at his verv door. if nothing THE minister was a great hand shaker --shutting down like a vice. One day he shook a boy s hand and gave it an awful squeeze as he says: "My little fellow, I hope you are pretty well to­ day." With tears in his eyes the boy answered: "I was till you shook hands with me." . ' R . B U N C O M B J S had rectived an in­ vitation to make a speech at the com­ ing Fourth of July celebration. £o had hundreds, perhaps thousands, of other men, but it is to be hoped that the honor did not have the same effect upon the other thou­ sands; for, from the hour when the com­ mittee on program waited upon ' Mr. Buncombe with the reqnest, he had be­ gun to puff up and enlarge until there seemed to be a coming necessity for a new sait of clothes at the least, if not an entire change of resi­ dence and occupation. He was not a domestic angel at any time, and poor, gentle Mrs. Buncombe immediately descended to a lower scale in his estimation than ever before, while the junior Buncombes were made tbstand around with a firmness hitherto unparal­ leled in the domestic economy. He had a gait of swelling importance at any time, and now his spinal column seemed in danger from the strain put npon it, as Mr. Buncombe swelled and strutted, while his eyes had a far away look, as if the great mind was soaring off into space in search of wonderful and unapproachable thoughts for the coming or tion. It was this important gnit and manner of his which had gained him the invita­ tion in the first place, for the committee, not being composed of critical or analyti­ cal members, naturally Supposed that where there was so much cry there mnst be a corresponding amount of wool, to use a homely proverb, and gave Mr. Bun­ combe credit for the talent and import­ ance which he so evidently considered himself possessed of. It was to be a rural celebration, held in the woods, with the good old accompani­ ment of a pionic dinner, swings and like luxuries, and a glorious time was ex­ pected. Tfce principal lawyer of the village was to mitke the opening speech of the day. the doctor following with the reading of the Declaration, ^ud Mr. Buncombe, representing the agricultural interests of the community, would follow with his speech after the music, and Mr. B. se- cietly determined the last should 6utdo nil the frist of the programme, in fact, that the lilgt should be first liter illy. The dictionary, the encyclopedia, and all the historical works which the village library afforaed, were on the kitchen table for wjreks before the auspicious event, apd ^4ery evening the young Bun­ combes w«re tip-toing about in deadly * IXatwaed a vivid red, ran his hands r through Ml hair with desperate energy, and jbeffan again. "Dear friends and fel- lolr-cimena, that proud bird of liberty, the representative of our American free­ dom -- the American eagle----* Just then an owl, probably awakened from his noonday, nap by this invasion of his domain, solemnly inquired, " SVhoo, whod?" The audience tittered, and Mr. Bun­ combe turned a shade redder. "My friends,* he said again, desperately. "That representative bird, the proud Americ.n eagle "Say, mister, I guess, the 'merican eagle's Hewed away," squealed a small box in the audience, after the pause had be­ come oppressive. The opportune or inopportune remark had completed 2Ur. Buncombe's embar­ rassment; and, while the people roared * St "THAT ma KAJf XUN'T GOT CfBVATOTO 0» THB SPINE, HKS HE?" •A HOKEKT LATER MB. BUNCOMBE EMERGED FBOM THE BARN." . X ' _ fear of "disturbm" pa," until sueh time as they were sternly ordered off to bed, until the oration was finished and its commitment to memory began. "Pap 8 a recitin'," 6aid Johnny to Phi­ lander, as they came withiu hearing of a sonorous voice out in the barn, affirming that "The great cause of Americin lib­ erty, has been gloriously--ahem!--ah!" Evidently Mr. Buncombe had referred to his MS.', which he always carried with him now. So there, you unregenernte heart---" Evidently, also, the cows' views on the subject of American liberties bad been enlarged, and a moment later Mr. Bun­ combe emerged from the barn with an empty pail and clothing very much be­ spattered with milk, oratory and milking, seemingly two distinct occupations which did not meet harmoniously. Mrs. Buncombe meekly wiped him off, while Mr. B. mentally resolved to seek a new sphere of action at no distant clay--a wider sphere, better suited to his talents, and where cows are not a disturbing element. There were savory smells proceeding from the Buncombe kitchen the day pre­ ceding the picnic. Mr. B, was not generally a prodigal provider, but the circumstances were such in this case that the paternal pnrae- strings were unloosed to an unprecedented extent, and Mrs. Buncombe was almost bewildered nnder the fire of raisins, citron, Spices and other good things which the grocer's delivery clerk rained in npon ter. "Say, Johnny, yer don't s'pose pap's goin' ter die," said Philander, anxiously. "Naw, not 'nless that air sj eech sticks 'n 'is throat 'n chokes 'im," replied John­ ny, ineverently, smacking his lips pros­ pectively at sight of the unwonted dain­ ties. "Het there's big words nuff in it to chokean'ox." Mrs. Buncombe, dressed in her best Sunday delaine, climbed into the big wagon the toorning of the Fourth, fol­ lowed by Johnny, Philander and little Matilda, and last but not least, the clothes basket full of good things, which was carefully hoisted in by Mr. Bun­ combe himself, who was gotten up ip a style befitting the importance and solem­ nity of the occasion. Very few words were exchanged on the way to the picnic ground. Mr. B's mind being evidently employed in rehearsing the intricate portions of bis speech, as he sat bolt upright, holding the reins with all the "dignity a little at variance with the meek and humble characters of old Doll and Bess, ambling ulong in equine ignorance of the fact that they l ore an orator of the day in their rear. Mr. Buncombe formed i.n ornamental addition to the select crowd gathered on the platform, as his stately head towered up from his stiff collar and ample cravat, his broad brow bared to the July breeze, t>nd his broad smile beaming upoi his fellow-citizens in a most condescending and patronizing manner. "Thet yer man hain't got curvatoor of the spine, hez heV remarked an honest farmer to another, as he caught a side view of Mr. Buncombe's portly figure. " 'Pears like his backbone's kinder drawn back somehow?" The lawyer gave a terse and pointed speech, ending by wittily remarking that he presumed his audience were as hungry as he was himself, and he would not de­ tain them with a long speech within the very shadow of the tempting tables. The ioctor rattled through the Declaration with all the speed allowable, and the band played fast and furious upon the "Star Spangled Banner," and then Mr. Buncombe arose, and with a mighty ahem! posed before his audience, ran his fingers through his stubbly hair, and began: "Ahem! Friends and fellow-citizens, that proud bird of freedom, the repre­ sentative of our American liberties, the American eagle *" Poor Mr. Buncombe, he was unused to public speaking, and that terrible malady known as stage fright seized him in its re­ lentless grip, and his speech Hew away | from him to the fou inds of heaven in the twinkling , _ ,• ssijkiA with laughter, 1ft. Buncombe st<ggered back to his seat, nnd mopped the per­ spiration of defeat from his brow, and wished for a few mountains to cover him from the gaze of that giggling audience. "Pap's gone an' done it now," whis­ pered Philander in Johnny's ear. "Sarved 'im right," returned Johnny. "He'd no business to a-feltso blamed big over it." "Our esteemed fellow citizen, Mr. Bun­ combe, desires me to say that, owing to a sudden attack of illness, he will be un­ able to finish the interesting and eloquent oration which we had hoped to hear," Said the lawyer, blandly, as he came to the front, obligingly crooking his elbows and spreading his coat-tails as much as possible to screen his eeteemed fellow citizen from the gaze of the laughing crowd. In fact, Mr. Buncombe was sick--sick of public speaking, of Fourth of July celebrations and several other things, and giving Philander hasty diiections in regard to unhitching and driving Bess and Doll safely home, he folded his tent &and silently stole away. « "I say, Philander, one piece o' mam's currant pie is worth half a dozen o' pap's speeches, "• whispered Johnny at the table as he took an enormous bite of the delicacy in question. _ "Tell ye what, ef I was mam, next time pap makes fan o' her cos she ain't ez smart ez he is, I'd jest ask 'im ef his American eagle'd got back yet. Bet I would." The audience was a good-natured one, and seeing by Mrs. Buncombe's scarlet cheeks and moist ej'es how thoroughly mortified she was by her spouse's failure, they undertook to smooth things over by a judicious series of compliments on the spicy contents of the clothes-basket and otherly neighborly attentions, succeeding so well that she spent the day far more pleasantly than she bad ever been able to when shadowed by the eclipse of her lord's superior presence. Meanwhile Mr. Buncombe trudged sadly homeward; he had been so over-confident of his abil­ ity to repeat his speech verbatim that he had left it on the table 8t homeland as he entered the kitchen the fateful docu­ ment was the first object whioh met his gaze. He took it up, looking at it with vin­ dictive eyes, and shook it as a terrier shakes a rat. "Ye'll never make me any more trou­ ble, ye blamed onsartin thing," he mut­ tered as he struck a match. Perhaps the speech was uncommonly dry; at any rate it burned merrily and quickly, and a little heap of floating asheB was all that remnined of Mr. Bun­ combe's maiden speech, the effort which was to have led on to fame and future glory, and then and there his oratorical aspirations died an easy apd natural death. As Mr. 1'uncombe meekly took the milk pails and went out to milk rantan- kerous MoolAe, he concluded that though farming has its uncertainties and draw­ backs, still a pail of spilt milk occasion- "FRIEND8 AND FELLOW CITIZENS P ally is not to be compared to a flyaway oration as a source of mach unalloyed vexation, Circuinntances Alter Case*. Reverend Quip--Johnnie, I am sor­ ry to hear that 3-011 have been telling a fib again. You know it says in the" Bible Johnnie (who has gathered a wrinkle and waited an opportunity)--But why should you always want me to go by the Bible, when you don't go by it yourself? Reverend Quip--What do you mean, child ? The Bible is the guide of all my actions. . Johnnie--Then why do you dye your hair when it says that the glory of the old man is the gray headV--Fick-Me- Up. Probably tlM Hun, "Is this a portrait of your runaway husband, madam V inquired a detect­ ive. "I took a snap shot at him with a concealed camera as he was entering a door across the street from me." "I am not exactly sure," said the lady, doubtfully, "This is a rear view. AVhat kind of a building was it?" ""It was a saloon, madam." "M--yes. What was the time of day ?" aIt was 11:45 a. m." "There is 110 doubt about its being his portrait," she eaid decidedly! "I can recognize him by- the saloon aud 11:45 a. m."--Chicago Tribune. , . Realization. Ala«, when the day has gor.e by, 1 How heavy and heartfelt the sigh. As the bills all come in For the fireworks and din . Alld we find the fun coats mighty And the boy, a» with pain he ia toned O'er bin pillow, then reckona the c6st Whicli the <lay'n Hport imposed, • <i I" bofch optics cloned i flaps of*two h/haitost!.;'" A COMMON 8Jcm, •<*!»• Cheftptit l/nlaundered «Urt Ii «1m City. You see this sign in the windows of all gentlemen's large furnishing stores. You go in, examine the bargains pre­ sented, and you buy a half-dozen of these cheap shirts, and congratulate yourself on the low price you have paid, and you tell your neighbor about it, and you and she together declare that you will never make another shirt as long as you both shall live! You can buy them at the cost of the material, and you get the work for nothing! It is a very satisfactory thing to think of getting something for nothing, and w9 enjoy it. It means just so much saved. It means just so much the more of this world's good things. But did you ever consider what cheap Hhirts mean to the wretched slave who shakes them at fifty or 66venty-five cents a dozen ? . Did you ever think of the long, long hours of toil, of the loss of needed rest and sleep, of the aching muscles, and the weary, pricked fingers, and the throbbing brain of the seamstress who makes the shirts which are sold at fifty eents each? Did you ever put yourself in her place, and try to think how you would like to work ten or fifteen hours for money enough to keep soul and body together? « All over the country- men of different trades are clamoring for nine, even for eight hours of work daily. Strong, healthy, courageous men, with muscle and brawn; and yet these same men will purchase shirts for half a dollar each, and never think the reason why they get them so cheap is because the woman who made them is compelled to work twice the hours men are willing to work, and for starvation wages! Abd when the hastily sewn seams rip, ant' the stitches break, and tne buttons come off, indignation fires the bosom of the wearer of the cheap shirt, and he says he wishes this "sale-work" were not such a cheat! And why is it a cheat ? Simply be­ cause no more time could he spent on it by the seamstress, if sha would not die of weariness and wan4 at her machine, or with the needle in her hand. Think of these things, young man ; think of them, men high in power and influence; think of them, philanthrop­ ists who are workinc for the good of the heathen at the other side of the world--the heathen who, though they may be spiritually starved, have at least food enough to keep their physical nature from suffering; think of it, be­ nevolent capitalists who are endowing colleges already so wealthy that they have become?, in a certain sense, gigan­ tic syndicates where a poor youth has little chance of being received; think of it, eminent divines who are straining every nerve to raise your church steeples .a little higher than that of the rival church across the way! , Think of it, men who lavish thousands on needless luxuries; think of°it, women who roll in your carriages, and who scrow your seamstress down to the last penny, "and then ask her to wait till you have the money for her! It is worth whi'e to think of it in oth*r ways than in the philanthropic or sympathetic point of view. If we would lessen crime in the community we must see to it that everybody has food and raiment. How many good aud pure women have been driven to vice and destruction by their utter in­ ability to earn wages enough to sustaih life, only the recording angel can tell, and he is silent. We cannot get access to his statistics. The newspapers--even the Sunday papers, which some good moral people so bitterly condemn--have spoken many a word foy these poor sewing women with which all our "large towns and cities abound, and we trust they may speak many more. If ever it is justifiable to boycott the fruits of any industry, it would be justifiable to boycott the cheap shirt. Let every man of honor and humanity wire and picked out half a thimbleful ol dirt and list from the key, tried it again, and a better working Jock wag never^ seen. 'How much is your bill ?' As this involved a trip to and from Calais, of about six hundred miles, and time and expense in-proportion, he re­ plied $40. Taking ^ roll of bills from his pocket, he said: 'That is satis­ factory, on conditions. Does any on* in the place know your business here ?' The reply was 'No one.' 'All right, then; get out by the next train, and keep mum; for I would gladly pay $100 rather than have any of my friends know that I was fool enough to go to Boston foy * man to pick the dirt out o| my key.'*' * Not a Pleasant Place for Widows. , The practice of treating widows as quais-criminals, outcasts, or slaves, the London Spectator says, is among the Hindus of high antiquity. It is prob­ ably a substitute for a still older cus­ tom, once universal) among the conquer- lng tribes of the Asiatic world, of slav­ ing the wives of chieftains on the birial places of their lords. As manners grew milder and men less desperate and new religious ideas were born that practice was abolished, and widows were per­ mitted to live, but only as persons whose right to survive must be regarded as imperfect. Their position became that of household slaves, or rather fdftnily outcasts, entitled to no honor, bound to serve officers, dressed in the meanest clothes, fed with the cheapest food, and regarded by all. around them as persons who ought to consider them­ selves indurably degraded. Had not the very gods themselves or the fates pronounced them deserving of heavy suffering? It is the rooted belief of every con­ vinced Hindu that unexpected or severe misfortune brought about with­ out human hands is evidence that the sufferer has in some former state of be­ ing deservedly incurred the displeasure of the higher powors and is justly ex­ piating by his own misery his own ac­ tual though forgotten guilt. They think this even about themselves, and we have known a respectable Hindu, full of life and energy, and by no means specially bigoted, upon the death of an only son suddenly renounce the world aDd thenceforward live, covered with ashes and repeating only prayers, the painful expiatory life of* the sunyasee, or Hindu hermit. What he believed about himself, his friends were more ready to believe about him, and, as the death of a hus­ band is the highest misfortune his wife can endure, those who insult or degrade his widow, even if her own closes" connections, do but carry out the visible will of the Divine. The widow is, therefore, in theory, at all events, abandoned to her fate. Of course, natural laws are not wholly suspended, even by superstition, and thousands of widows protected by per­ sonal affection or by their own abilities, or by their wealth--for widowhood does not cancel rights of property--lead decently happy and contented lives. The majority, however, suffer under the ban typified by the shaving of their heads--that is, they are regarded till death as fallen from all title to respect, and are treated with a habitual indignity which, even when they are exempt from actual oppression, makes the positions of millions of unoffending women no better than that of slaves or cpnvicts. So severe is their lot that it excites pity even among those who believe that it is sanctioned by religion, and it would probably have been ameliorated long since but that it fits in with one of the principal Hindu social arrangemeuts-r- that of early marriage. Prison Life In Russia. A curious phase of prison life is ex­ hibited by a "medical correspondent" of a Moscow paper. It often happens that a respectable man is confined in prison for a few days for some slight of­ fense. At times evpn an elder of a small community must submit to such penalty for what the Russian law calls refuse to buy shirts that are made at f ?eRJect of, dut-v" Such+ a P«rson Re­tained in a large room together with a lot of Obdurate criminals, who are either awaiting trial or sentence to be put at hard labor in a fortress. When the re­ spectable prisoner comes among them they begin to press him for "a treat of good fellowship." He must send for a bottle of brandy. If he is not as liberal as they want him to be they liarrass and torment him. Should he make a threat to complain before the authorities of their conduct they immediately decide upon performing on him the "operation of cupping." as they call .it. The poor fellow is then stripped naked, stretched on a bench, and held fast. His mouth is stuffed with a rag so that his cries cannot be heard out side. A spot on his breast is made wet, and one of his tormentors rubs it with his unshaven chin until the skin becomes red. Here­ upon another one slaps that spot with his flat hand with all his might. A large blister immediately appear-s on the wounded place. This is what they call setting a cup. Six or eight such "cups" are sometimes set on the breast,' tbe sides, and the back of the sufferer, so that he is unable to lie down for several davs. In some instances more serious injuries are caused by the blows he receives. Making- Money out of Kleptomaniacs. " What do you do with such people ?" the reporter asked of a merchant. "We send them bills for what they take, when we know them. If they are strangers we act according to circum­ stances. A few days ago a lady was in this store with her daughter--a beauti- j ful little girl of twelve years. The new set of vault-doors to a bank about child had been slipping a roll of costly two hundred miles away. Just beforo ; ribbon into her satchel. We spoke to they were ready to oocupy their new j the mother who became indignant. She quarters we had a telegram to send a j opened the satchel to convince us that mau at once. The bolts of the outer we were mistaken, when it was found door would not throw far enough1 to to contain three lace handkerchiefs, two starvation prices. It is only right and just to these women who strive to earn an honest living that they should have some sort of protection; for if ever any class of wage-workers needed it, they do. And may God speed the day when the fact that "the laborer is worthy of his hire" shall be recognized in all classes of society, and when the women who make shirts for fifty cents or a dollar a dozen, shall be paid the money they earn, and not the miserable prices which make it possible for every house­ wife to say, "Oh, no, I never make any of the family underwear; it is so much cheaper to buy it."--Kate Thorn, in Kew York Weekly. Safes That Did Slot Work. "Not long ago a firm wanted a man to fix their safe," said a safe manufacturer to a reporter. "It was open, but they could not shut the door far enough to throw the bolts. The man went to the place, and after a brief examination saw a penny resting on one of the . bottom flanges. Takiug this off, the door shut and locked all right. It is forgotten how much it cost the firm to have the man go to their place and pick up that little coin, but it was enough to prevent its being repeated, no doubt. A simi­ lar case happened recently. We were sent for at about the close of busine-s hours to see what was the trouble with one of our safes. The bolts would not throw far enough to turn the lock. The result was the finding of a cloth button in the lower bolt-hole. This removed, all wa3 right. " Some years ago we had delivered a lock it. Our man went, and this is what he found: The bank officers had fitted in a board for the tread of the vestibule, but had omitted to bore holes in it to allow for the throw of the bolts. An auger and ten minutes' labor mad* pairs of gloves and the ribbon. All these articles had been appropriated." "That was a plaiu case of stealing. What did you do?" "We took the things back and said nothing. We can't afford to arrest everything all right, but made that wealthy people and injure our trade by piece of board a rather extravagant j making enemies among our rich custo- iuxurv. Epicurean-like, we have re-1 mers." served the best for the last. .For fear 1 "You were speaking of sending out this may reach the eyes of tiie hero of j bills for stolen goods; are they ever the incident, I will substitute for his j paid?" correct address that of Calais, Me. It i "Always, where the person u a klep- was not a thousand miles from there, j tomaniac. We never have any trouble The letter read to come at once and open a safe, as there were important documents wanted for immediate use. With his kit of tools, our man took the next train and arrived on tha following evening. It proved to be an old- fashioned safe, with a large key lopk. 'There,' said tbe man, 'is the safe. The lock has been working harder and harder for weeks, until now I am locked out. I am in a hurry to have it opened. Never mind the damage, if you will only break into it in short order.' Ou» expert took the key and tried it, but it •efused to work., then took a small in that way. I have known of stores who kept a regular list of kleptoma­ niacs. Whenever they lost anything they sent bills to all of them. As they all settled for the stolen goods, yon can imagine that the business is a profita­ ble one, can't you ?" CLARA PLACID (to her bosom friend) --So you and Arthur are at outs? Emily Darling--Yes, and we don't look at each other any more. That is to say, I don't look at him any more, though I've quite often caught him looking at me when we've met. "JIMMY TEAR-DROP.** ' j .,Jf: A Palfcettc Story of the War of th* Mm- ̂ G|! I hellion. , / W* had been skirmishing with Stu- ' " ait's cavalry and at the bend in the road *, we had shelled them vigorously with K i our light artillery. As we passed thia^t,""] bend, still following the enemy, we foiled four dead men, three or four dead ,**» v horses, and a boy about 10 vears old slfli sitting on a stone, so white-faced and > scared that he could not speak a word. We spoke kindly to him, and tned to * ^ " comfort him, and finally he began to cry. When we asked for his name he as "Jimmy." "Jimmy what?" * . He was crying so that we could not fp make it out. Then some Dce'«uggested Sf that it must be Ter.?-Drop," and v the name at once bec&n.e his. V* The soldier of the civil war was a *. curious being. While the heat of bat- tie was in his blood his heart would grow soft at eight of a poor rabbit frightened from cover by the awful din. Wje had not a second look for the dead lying there, but half a dozen troopers jangled as to who should be guardian of that boy. He was a legitimate capture . --one of the spoils of war. As a com­ promise he was sent to the wagon-mas­ ter for the time being. # In time "Jimmy Tear-Drop" told us that his mother was dead. His father lived on the road by which we had marched, and as Stuart fell back he took his boy by the hand and fell back with the soldiers. In the confusion father and son had become separated, and they were never to meet again. Our camp was thirty miles away, wd • the boy went there with us, and oa6e withiu our lines the father, even if alive, had little chance to hear of him. Every company of soldiers had its pet, if not a doer, or cat or goat, then something else--even a 'possum or rac­ coon. It was late in the. fall when we captured Jimmy Tear-Drop,* PinTf -1-- t m - spring he was known to most all the men in the brigade. He was a quiet little chap, seeming to have a great sor­ row in his heart, and it was only when heard us talking about the end of the he war, and how we intended to find his Jf ; father and bring about a reunion, that 5 * he laughed and seemed boy-like. The y officers tried to send him away, but we kept him hidden and treasured him as if he had been a gold nugget. Our tailor made him clothes, and we foraged him a pair of shoes, and when we got him rigged out we all felt proud of him. I don t think Jimmy Tear-Drop learned any wickedness from us. We taught him to dance, and he could sing a song or two, but the boys were careful of their hard words when he was near, and no one would teach him anything about 1 cards. On the contrary, "Old Jack," ' our company teamster, got some books and taught him his A. B. C's, and called """"" us in to hear him spell "dog" and "hen" and "hat" and other easy words. Well the spring came, and one day our whole army corps moved. Jimmy went along with the wagon train, and at a certain point on one of the highways the enemy made a dash and cut off a portion of the train. . We got it back after a sharp fight, and when we came to look around we found about twenty dead and wounded men. If there had been nothing more we should have wheeled into line and jested over it. A soldier takes his chances, you see. If he wins lie gets no credit. If be falls there js always earth enough to hide his body from sight. ^ W% were getting ready to move on, when there was an excitement -among the wagons, and we pushed into" the train to find "Old Jack" bending over something lying on a blanket on the grass. He was orying like a woman, *^*8^ and some of our boys were brushing / tears from their eyes and others hotly vowing vengeance. That something on the blanket wfcs our boy--our Jimmy Tear-Drop. A stray bullet had whistled through the cover of the wagon and ended his life as quickly as you could blow out the flame of a candle. And as he lay there on his back, white-faced and dead and his eyes half-closed, we saw'through our own tears a great tear on his cheek--a pearl glistening in the southern sunshine which streamed down through the smoke yet hanging about the tree-tops. Then in our sore hearts we felt that we had rightly named him Jimmy Tear-Drop, and that the hand of God was in it:--Detroit Free Tress. • Dreamy Cuban Women. The Cuban woman goes through the world in an easy, shiftless sort of a way, lounges only too gracefully in a hammock or lolls in her rocking chair, her mind intent only on one idea--how to keep cool. The grace of the woman is set off by the marvelous way with which she uses her fan. Not for a moment is it at rest: it flut­ ters, waves idly, is opened and shut in the space of a second; falls to the side and again rises to take part in the con­ versation. The type of the face which beams above every fan in Cuban high life is difficult to describe. The com­ plexion varies from olive to white; deep black hair is the prevalent hue; but the eyes I ( Luminous, dreamy, so large, dark and vivid. La Senorita, with her certain child­ like lrankness, but with a provoking richness and fire of nature in her fea­ tures, ensnares many a heart as she sits at her open window twirling her fan and watching the curling smoke of her cigarette, and, while she is kept under the strictest surveillance, she is a woman, and romantic, and many are the proofs that "atone wails do not, a prison make."--Louisville Courier- Journal. Ktlquette in Holland. "I was once staying in a country house," says an American lady writing of her experience in Holland, "where I created a positive sensation by simply asking a youug man to be so good as to fetch me my sissors from the adjoining room--I had my lap full of work, whioh I could not lay down. The young man himself looked astounded--fairly as- ^ tounded--as if he could not believe his ears; and such a blank silence fell upon the company that I asked oufright if I had committed some terrible breach of etiquette. Mr. Doorman recovered himself, and said: 'Not at all,'but my hostess told me afterward that she had • never heard of such a thing in the whole. course of her life. This young man was the son of one of the richest bankers in Antwerp, but his manners--oh! they were of the roughest. However, I have the satisfaction of feeliug I improved him. I remained five weeks a guest in ^ the same house with him; and I taught him, among other trifles, that it is po­ lite for a gentleman to allow ladies to leave the room before him; that is an attention to offer to turn the leaves of their music, and that it is better not to smoke when they a're singing." There are iu the world three kin<fa of things--the valuable, the non-valu­ able and the invaluable; and it is a long time before we decide in our minds which of them we have been en- " deavoxing fraobfrjp. : r , -tf. *•' ' -*•- ^ ' .fefi; ••j.. • ..3