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_ itbsno--p"a - - i * •ortoWB ••rred to oeTer, iMN«HkfMlll>4 mtr, Mlwlthltand SaBgit by, •>>'•' 1 and weather mi*ht riecrda it, ~ , limm Mnd^rin^ii^ V *Mal naght provide IU toMnch or tan, » had aoaked, ih» «an had bumedlt; V » bail th« fisherman iM^arttdqmntd it; the fiaher-girl would ptaj with her hrothet * • » play the poor esttijf - fc --K some use <* o;her„ f v ' ' H t h m I I l a y t h r o u g h w e t a n d d r y , K \ * M.*GT*Y «• THE WJW EONA* fv' TMl by-ead-by came Mercory, A*0,h«Viagimi«ed upon it, "Why, be*®," cried be. -the thing of JiitnMk InKtrrial, uid dimension I OtTCIttat •trinca, and, lo it sings, iraMal indention!" ff'V Setald, so dona; the chords he And, aa his fingers o'er them hovered, Tbe Shell disdained a sOnl had gained, y±i ; ilfceljrM bM be«» discovered. " ;Oh, world that rouud us lies, %B«hsai •f sool and thmfiht fi bat eyes ltbo Mercury's, What songs should wak^n I & . •: BY RALPH DOUGLAS. It surely is true, that "God moves in a fjBTsteriouB way. His wonders to perform." Listen to the facts of the following case, <fcen see if yon will not agree: A tell, handsome, stylish woman is sitting W a private parlor of the Temple House. She and her escort hail come into the town jost after breakfast. Her companion was » very quiet, dignified, gentlemanly party, *ad had registered simply as "Dr. Lester •ad lady." The west-lnrand train they Waited for was due at 7 p. m. Evidently the gentleman was occupied with business, «8 he had been absent from the hotel save •I the noon hoar. Then "Dr. Lester and Lady" had dined together in the private ferlor. They had seemed on the best of terms,very friendly, bnt jnst a little reserved, or "oh KBard" in their manner. After a slow, cosy, loitering dinner the Doctor rose to de- Krt. "1 dislike leaving yon so alone, Myra, t it is best doubtless, and your will, I believe. You will pardon me then?" And lie gave her a kind, calm smile. "Certainly, Dootoi! Don't think of me as linesome. and 1 understand, ol course, that Mnr business cannot be delayed," which litter was wholly to blind the waitress. ?n»ey shook hands and parted blandly. How should any maid or servant suspect them to be a runaway couple? Who should •cent an elopement in the calm condm t of this reserved couple? Thus did they throw dnst in the eyes of observers; for this Uild-mannered man was guiltv of the fcl r.ckest treachery toward the man he had loved as a biother, God help us! How love of a woman can mar and unmake us! Tills -woman, this graceful, queenly Myra, was ene of the chilliest, most virtuous of ^(onieu, yet this terrible love had "gone to lifer head," and she, too, was undone. At this Lester's biild.ng, she had con­ cluded to ignore tbe ties that had become chain* and bonds, and to snap her fetters and Le free! This billy short-sighted lister of ours lost si^ht of the fact that, though she ignore the truth, yet it was not qucn.-h- d, and that broken links make more dangerous wounds than a whole chain with pa ieut grace! So ai« was going wiong. Madam Myra sitting alone by her parlor window leant her golden head on one shapely hand and 1st her mind loaai at will. Where wns Lester? Doubtless roaming •boat town, thinking of her, with head bent and hands c'asped behind him as was his fashion. Suppose--ah! suppose Arthur should encounter him! but 6he •igh^'i with relief. That was impossible, for only^HMdays ago he had started ly in the opposite direction (Poor Arthur! Yes, after How would his wonder- ered, to return and find "away! , whether he loved her or not as he need to, yet he had much pride in her .beauty, her integrity, her social station, f Social station? What would be her posi­ tion hereafter? And her cheeks grew prarm. What was she now? Who would /Slave believed she, the virtnous Christian Ihdy, could h:tve come to this? She who ; $ad ever been so free, and prood, and self- possessed! # She struck her two palms together and ttriced her hands in her lap. Oh, why, hy had she done this? >s True, her husband, this cool, calm, su- terior Arthur, neglected her in a way, but ow much worse he might have been to her! And he had always trusted her, suid had neyer dreamed she could prove wicked •nd vile like many other women; and if 4»ther Who ttd the big teaai wefltl «• her brown eyee and dripppdove* b*r folr, ronnd cheek. Was she already regretting ker wrong step, her voluntary foil from the high ! »laces of principle, honor, and respectabil- ty? Aye! And the little one's soft voioe broke in upon her tearful re very. . WMtt ln tMBed on the gas and noted the beautiful ekild keld so close to her heart, he Whistled with amazement. "Why, who to this?- And he stooped lo inspect tke stranger. Bis wife leaned on her elbow with frightened, wide eyes and pale face. She I seemed choking and unable to do other "Did yonr papa think yon had pretty : than gasp at his name. How little he hands, too? and did he pat and kiss them could guess the caase! too. like my papa did mine?" "Why. my little woman," he exclaimed, Her father. At mention of him be j "I did not think you were such a coward ! seemed to stand before her, and he had j I came in quietly; I have tbe night key, been in the spirit laud for years! | you surely know, vou little goose. I be- A gentle, honorable man. with soft and lieve you mean to faint!" silver hair, with kind eyes that benmed with tenderness and pride and fatherly love as they turned upon her! Oh Lord of earth and heaven, what must be his feelings toward her now! And she had been his pride and joy, his darling only daughter! Why had no thought or memory of her father reached her sooner and saved her from this sinful step? Was this strange, silent child an angel he had sent to save her, even at this last late, dreadful mo­ ment? "What did yon say?" cried Myra, with startling vigor. But Baby Belle' was not frightened by her vehemence, only bewil­ dered, and she slowly repeated her in- quiry. Myra held forth her hands and looked at them. Never before had she realized how very likf her fa her's they were--now the resemblance was startling indeed! Yes. surely, her hands were fair things to look upon, and their beauty had been a pride to her loving father. How he had enjoyed giving her pretty jewels, valuable rings, ana dainty gloves, yet always wisely teaching that a woman's hands, to be fair in sight of men and angels, must be ever adorned with charity, gentle­ ness, and kindness. And once--how vividly it dashed to memory now--some graceful, kind act of devotion to an old, homeless, sick stranger, coming to his knowledge, he had putted her hands proudly, saying: "Now I know these dear hands belong to a good and Christian girl! one not ashamed to be a sensible working Christian, and I am proud, my child, to say these hands are mine!" Which last was in playful refer­ ence to the strong resemblance to hiB own. And now lo eep them! Her father's hands yet, held there before the Baby Belle, like some spirit's warning, and behold! she had forgotten to remove her wedding ring! Strange omen! strange thought! A run­ away wife still cherishing her^ wedding ring. Perhaps it was the flash of that gold band that saved and strengthened her. A mighty revolution of thonght and feeling had swept her being this lonely afternoon. Her father had sent a blue-eyed angel to rescue her, a lovely little angel, whom she cou'd reward with love and care. Heaven had sent the orphan across her path, and her childish prattle had saved her, for Myra's uneasy mind was settled, her path was plain to see--she should return to her husband! Whether he would pardon her or not, she should adopt the child and live to love and guard her. "Isabel, do you like me?" she asked, as earnestly as any lover might in future years. "Very much," was the sweet and simple answer. "Enough, my baby, to give your sweet, small self to me, to come and be my little girl, as I have none?" "And have a home, and yon be my mamma, yon mean?" asked Isabel, with sparkling eyes.* "That is it, my Baby Belle! Will you?* And poor Myra waited with bated breath. Heaven had been unkind, if wo dare say so, when she loved children so. Baby looked straight into the loving brown eyes, then with a sobbing sigh put down her golden head upon the lady's breast and said: "How good God was to send yon here to-day! Nest week they were going to send me to the Orphans Home!" "How Kood God was to send me here to­ day !" Slowly Myra repeated the words, and with whi e lips, as if perchance a sudden death larked in the syllables. Then she kissed away the child's tears of joy and re­ lief. Possibly after all, her strange tempt tation and fall was all a part of her Creator's plan, to teach her a lesson, and to benefit the Baby Isabelle, and kissing th« child, she prayed with pallid lips: "Father in heaven, permit me this to serve as expiation for the foul sin I have har­ bored in this weak and wretched heart!" Then she stnt for the landlord. From him she learned there was no one known to have any claim upon the waif, and that truly enough she was in a few days to have been consigned to the asylum. She then explained her wish to take the child, and also her position in the world, and demon­ strated how much she could benefit the litte one. After all. Baby Belle herself was sole mistress of her future and could decide for herself. So she ran to gather women who ran away from their Husbands with men thev liked belter were , - tile, so in common justice, she, too, must I U,P "er htlle helonsmg8 and bid adieu to ; be vile! And yet in comrfon justice also^ _ ^ maids who^ had befriended the little ifhe must say it was no vulvar passion that •*?' - kad led to this step. -<•" Arthur, absorbed in business, seemed «ool and careless toward her, and her soul vv longed for a perfect friendship. Yet when *t #»y had parted two days before, there had •eemed a flash of the old-lime tenderness. t- , .Ah well! for years he had been careless, he 5, kad coolly thrown her upon society for , friendship, amusement, entertainment; .. what aifection or companionship could she y <nd there? Had she but been blessed with children, surely it would have been differ- " , «nt. She could have been absorbed by £ ,: , them as he by business. Business was a . ^monster that had chilled and darkened all &, their home and flame of love. And Losier Howard was so sensible, ..fender, so devoted, yet with no trace of im- ©ecilitv. He understood as by intuition . ker every thonght and want. Had she but *iet and married him first, all had been fV.'" irell. Bat this she had consented to was not H >k Well. How could it be well for her when . it damned other women? |#; . Probably Art hur did not love her, neither pH did she feel as interested in him as t,f * Once. Mi»ht not she and Lester weary of 7 . fach other similarly? ' Admit they would not, yet she knew now it *kehad done wrong in leaving stern-faced C . Only for pleasant, smiling love. Already 7 ' mi-sed respectability. And she had if teen so pure, so proud, so far beyond ^ temptation! The door swun« softly open and a little H, .' ehild. perhaps six or seven years old, slid •J f v. «o£tiy into the room. ~li\ • took 8,,Rnt note, but being by na- iV - I®*6 kind aml courteous, extended an idle f kand toward the timid intruder. Slowly =>?-"• :; Jfce Ohild crossed the room and her baby k*nd slipped within the white palm await. *. ing her. Myra was gazing on the street. ; •' an-Vlhiu» or nothing without the 1 . ; . -*™']0*' Hnd the baby stood quietly watch- f'. Ler brow*> '-yes her shining hair, and : *n*os«« herself playing with tbe lady's >%; lingers and rings. < ' The child's presence was So he took her in his arms; still the stared at him with widened eyes. "I thought yoa hated me!" she faintly whispered. "Myra! sorely that was not a pretty thonght to entertain; bnt (kissing her) I forgive you, for I believe you are dreaming yet! By the way, it was a bad dream that brought me home so soon! So you see I am as silly as you." She hid her face on his shoulder and was softly crying, while he stroked her shining head and talked. "I.dreamed, dear, I saw you dying, but I conld not reach you to be of any help. It 6eems now a doubt with me if you were dying or lost. Anyway you were in great distress, and I was in even greater agony, so that I wakened. And still I was so worried about you I conld not give my mind to business. Try as I might, I could not shake off the notion yon needed me here at home, and now I am glad I yielded and came, for surely yon are ill, or yon would not be so nervous! Stop crying, Myra, and tell me what is the matter?" Tell him! and turn to adamant and ice this strange flood of tenderness? Never! "I have had bad dreams too! All sorts of evil things, Arthur! I sinned, I died, I saw angels and the dead--oh, • everything has happened since you went! If my bad dreams had come true, Arthur, and I had done very evil, would you have forgiven me if I repented and came back, dying, to crave your pardon?" Heavens! Was she in delirium, in fever? How pale and wan and wide-eyed she had grown! She must be soothed and quieted at once, so he kissed her as he perhaps had not in years, with ail the fervor of a lover. "There! let that satisfy you. I did not think a short separation would so disturb us, Myra! Now tell me, who is this?" nodding to the Baby Belle. So she made a mighty effort--how mighty who of you can appreciate?--and told a simple tale of going to Farnham to shop and "kill time," and finding this wee one so forlorn; Bhe told how her hear; hungered for the child, and tnen she anxiously watched to see if he would refuse to take the little one. Said be with a sigh: "All right, Myra; have the moon if you like--and you can get it. She is a pretty child, and I sup­ pose a prattler will be pleasant about the house." So all was calm. A ehild was given home and love, a woman's soul was saved, the husband's honor and happiness preserved. With another sigh this man who had had such a narrow escape, turned to his wife, saving: "Yes, I am glad you brought her, Myra; she seems a charming child, "but Myra bad fainted away! The sin, the sor­ row, the escape, the danger, and the re­ action had proved too much for the over­ strained nerves. She too fully realized that for all concerned it had been o very close call.--Chicago Ledger. . --, comforting, V f#r "lI.eno® Veal charm, so, shortly. Myra ; l'fted her to her lap, where she too might v^View the scene outside. Thought growing bitter and memorv a sling, Myra turned her attention to the'lit- <We one. f / «iKabej'" y°n' dear: *hftt U name?" •* "Have you ron away from mamma?" ^ ; "No; mamma has gone away from me; 0^ <• <, Che ts dead." ' ii\ M>Ta p essed the child to her heart Poor f! little motherless one; why had not fate v" A , given lit-r the child? Then she had been |r, v' epaj d the folly into which she was now kir «*liing. While her mind would run upon •]•*? «wn affairs, as if to keep those cit-ar Mttt baby eyes from reading all her soul rtte con inned to question the child at ran- <hp)|i Thus she learned that while the MAwtr had be^n some time dead, the CaUteir had di< d only a few weeks before, here in the hotel; and it became plain to Myra the child had no home, no people, Mid only through pity was, for the prt s. nt', •haltered by the Temple House! Then a ai- k»M fell, and thought flew on the faster, the baby sat still on Myra's knee. orphan. In half an hour the return train would leave. Myra called for pen and paper and essayed to write a line for Lester. When leaving home and husband she had written nothing! There had been no effort to soften the blow for Arthur! She held the pen in her white hand and stared hard at the street, the sky, the distant sea. How could she tell it all to that gentle lover? But time was flying, she must be gtfne, she must never see him again! Lester, Lester ! I know your heart will break,--mine may also. I cannot say forgive me, for God will not if I fail in this fast reso­ lution. I dare not thiuk of your grief. As for myself, I am dead. Bemember me as dea l, Lester, and God pity us l*oth. I shall go back. We were in great error, I see it now. 1 shall go back, but do you go on to Europe, even as you w ould grant a prayer to a dying woman,-- go! And God grant we may never maet oh evth again. Wretchedly, MTRA. This she sealed, addressed, and ordered delivered to Dr. LeRter as soon as he re­ turned. Then, as though legions from Hades were at. her heels, she grasped the child and hurried aboard the train. She was white as milk, and sat for hours hold­ ing hard to the child's band, with head thrown back and eyes tightly closed, .her lips as pale as death. But one thought seemed to possess her. She could indulge, poor thing, in respite to her 6orrow, for all the time and all the same the train was sweeping great smiles of distance between them, between her beaten heart and her sore temptation. It was nij^ht, late night, when she again reached home. As the hired carriage swept up the old familiar drives that she had thought never to see again, she leaned forward in the moonlight, while her tears fell fast. Truly, she seemed a dead wo­ man revisiting the scenes of horn* and happiness. „• ... When was it she had left this place,-- yesterday, last week, or years ago? She could not decide. Providence was kind--Arthur had not returned. Of course not; he had not expected to for days. Once again in her own room, alone. Baby Belle sleeping in her bed, she felt her courage come again. It had been a close call, but she was mfe! Said she to her maid: "I am sorry to disturb you at this honr, Anna, but I do want my dresses removed at once from the trunks and put again in their proper places. 1 will reward you well, don't fear. The lady I went to visit had gone away, so I surprised myself instead ot her.- And I have decided to adopt this little girl, Anna; she was an orphan and about to be sent to an asylum, so I took her myself." Poor Myra! she wanted no signs of dis­ turbance to meet even her own eyes in the morning; f>he wanted to waken in. the morning and begin life just as before, not even a misplaced dress or ribbon to remind her of that hasty flight to and fro. All the bustle and stir was quieted, the house once more in peace and darkness; Myra had fallen into an uneasy slnml>er, from which she was awakened by her husband's kiss, so unexpectedly and qnietly had he returned. A fter one little cry of fright Myra said nothing. Politeness and |ts Value. In tliis bustling and practical age we are too apt to be careless as to the graces of manner and conversation. We look back occasionally on the days of Pericles, when the Athenians talked in high-sounding phrases and saluted each other with the deference which subjects now only give to kings, or on the days of the ancient regime, when the cour­ tiers of a Louis were conspicuous for conventional politeness and grace that scarcely served to conceal the hatred, the venom, the meanness, and vulgar­ ity that lay beneath. And, therefore, associating politeness either with a slate of society where there is but little freedom of thought, speech, or action, and where the social fabric is built up of classes who are divided by laws of caste, or else with sleepy Oriental countries where men lead the life of i lotos-eaters and rust away in idleness, the study of manners engaged but little of our thoughts. We tacitly admit, of course, that the exercise of such an at­ tribute is all right; but our great weak­ ness is to look to results instead of to details, and we are too apt to forget that those results are brought about by the very means which we make light of. It must be admitted, however, that we admire politeness in others. As a people, beneath the rough exterior which we so often assume we have a sympathetic and a kindly nature; we are alive €o a tale of distress and are ready to respond to a cry of suffering; but we are too careless of the little courtesies which add suck a cliarm to either social or business intercourse. Politeness may be styled one of the delicate humanities; it -sweetens exist­ ence ; and, besides being a high social virtue, it is--and this is something worthy of attention in such a practical age--.really useful in manv ways and proves itself to be a safe ana remunera­ tive business investment. It is hardly possible to estimate the amount of unconscious egotism to be found in every man and woman. It crops up in the most unexpected quar­ ters, and exercises a large influence on the common affairs of life. Civility, therefore, effects us more than native modesty would probably, care to ac­ knowledge, We look for it in others, no matter what may be the particular relation which tliev sustain to us and we to them, and we feel disappointed and are ruffled by its absence. The larger the city and the more crowded the community the less do we find com­ mercial politeness; it seems to dwindle away in an inverse ratio to the square of business. Men argue sometimes that they have no time to be polite, forgetting that it takes the same amount of time to be uncivil and disagreeable. There are more things needed to insure success in business than money, experience, and integrity. The amenities which some lespise so much are also potent factors; and even if yon can point out a man who is rude and curlish, and yet suc­ cessful in life, that is no argument against the truth of the theory--it simply shows that he has succeeded in spite of the want of politeness. If, therefore, civility be such a large and potential ingredient of success, it is strange that it should be used so spar­ ingly. It costs nothing; it requires no room for storage, and can, in fact, be carried in a vest pocket or put in a glove-box, and the more of it that is given the more remains. When peo­ ple ̂ an be made to understand that the usa of it may bring dollars and cents, then they may also begin to consider it in its moral aspect and make life brighter by showing it in its finer ways and more subtile forma.--Philadelphia Record. SMALL boy (rushing in front of young lady wearing a large poke bonnet, and staring her full in the face): "You've lost yer bet, Charlie; I toldyerit warn'i •a CouM Uf^ « Too sad Could Cany a CNUMS <M His Shonldm I propoM to give a short sketch of the life of a man who was little known outside of the village of Granville Corners, in Washington County, where he was born and spent the most of a long life, says a correspondent of the Troy (N. Y.) Times. It is known of him, and can be proved, that lie has performed feats ol strength unsurpassed by any man that has lived in ancient and modern times, excepting, of course, the biblical Samson. His name is, or was, Stearn Carpenter; his occupation was that of a farmer. Being naturally of a very quiet, peaceable disposition, and a member of the Society of Friends, he never did anything for display to at­ tract attention, but the feats of strength that he performed were done more to satisfy himself, and to see how much he could lift, than for anything else. All his lifting was done by main strength, without harness of any kind. One of hjs greatest feats was lifting a box filled with iron, which weighed *«r «i» iar«f m'u> •*hre. It was truly a gigantio olam; and as % poeUo retribution upon H for this attempt upon Hie life of rtae of our party, we ate * portion Of its flesMor our supper, but found it rather tough. Brown's ankle was severely bruised and wrenched, and he suffered for many a day from the vise-like grip of the huge mollusk.--San Frmumco Argonaut On Getting Rick. Every now and again some wiseacre undertakes a sermon to the working- men in which it set forth, with a good deal of elaboration of detail, and sup­ ported by numerous "practical" illus­ trations, that it is possible for every man, if he be industrious and thrifty, to get into business and achieve compe­ tence for himself. The intention is to say, though they do not say it exactly in that way, that it is possible for every man to be rich. One of the leading citizens of the town will die, John Jones, for instance. The local papers will have fulsome eulogies. It will be told how he originated frpm "poor but re- 1,900 pounds, which is equal to lifting | spectable" parents, worked on a farm, 3,800 pounds in a harness. He lifted it with ease with his hands by grasping a rope or chain which was bound around the box to secure it. He did not know the weight of the box of iron at the time, and was afterward heard to say that had he known it weighed so near a ton he would have put on the other 100 pounds and carried the whole. At another time he lifted a cannon that weighed 1,400 pounds and shouldered it. At Comstock's Landing, on the Champlain Canal, near Whitehall, one day while waiting for a load of mer­ chandise, he lifted a barrel of white lead with ease. His neighbors, when killing hogs, if Stearn happened to be around, would ask him to guess the weight of a hog just killed. If it hap­ pened to be a big one weighing four or five hundred pounds, he would stoop down and twist his fingers into the bristles, and in that way would lift the carcass clear from the ground and guess on its weight. He performed one of the greatest feats of strength on record after he had reached the age of 75 years. He lifted two twenty-four foot iron rails by grasping one in each hand, and walked off with them. The rails were resting on wooden horses, so he did not stoop down to lift them. One day in haying he was going from the field with his men to the house for dinner. They were walking along the road together when one of his men, for mischief, came up behind him, and, by a skillful trip, threw Carpenter down. He gathered himself up and said nothing about it. He walked to the house, and after dinner, when returning to the field with his men, they came along to the place where the man gave him the fall. He suddenly turned upon the man,and,grasping him by the shoulders and the seat of his trousers, lifted him and hurled him high in the air above him and over a seven-rail fence by the side of which they happened to. be walking. The man came down in the meadow a rod or more from the fence, Considerably shaken up, but not badly liurt. Mr. Carpenter was not a gigantic man in size. He was about six feet tall, and appeared much less than that, owing to his massive build. There was no superfluous flesh upon him, but the muscles of his arms, shoulders, and neck seemed to be piled upon him, so great was their size. This gave him a stooping appearance. £n a -crowd a casual observer would not be likely to pick him out for one of the strongest men that ever lived. Mr. Carpenter is living at the present time at Granville Corners, Washington County, N. Y., his old home, or was living the last I heard of him. He must be ovef 80 years of age. % • *A Fishy Swimming Story. The following swimming story is told by a Lieutenant in the navy: "1 kept my eyes fixed on my companion Brown, who was acting in a singular manner. After every few seconds his head would disappear beneath the water in which lie stood, then it would appear again. He seemed to be struggling violenty. As I approached him he cried out, in accents that haunt me still: 'For heaven's sake, Lieutenant, quick and help mc!' I dashed out to him through water to my waist. 'What is it?--'What has hold of you?'I ex­ claimed. 'It's a big oyster, or a big clam,' he groaned. 'I was wading here and stepped into it, I expect. Its shell closed, gripped my ankle, and to save my life I can't get.away, and the tide will soon be over our heads here,' he added with something like a sob. He had been struggling here for fifteen or twenty minutes. I had heard of the tridacna gigas, or monster clam of this coast, and instantly realized the danger. 'Courage, old fellow,' I said, 'I'll stick by you. Here, hold this paddle and the hatchet.' I then ducked down under the water, and with my hands felt about the foot. The huge mollusk hod what might be termed a death-grip on him. The crea­ ture's shell was several feet long, and of proportionate breadth, and the weight of the shell must have been at least 300 pounds. The creative was at­ tached to the coral rock by a grisly bysus as thick as my arm. Raising myself, I got breath, then securing a paddle, thrust the shaft of it in between the coverging edges of the two valves of the shell, nnd using it as a lever, at­ tempted to pry the shell apart. But I could not open it. Brown, too, duck­ ing down, seizing hold with his hands pulled with all his strength, but, exert­ ing all our power, we could not release the monster's hold. Again and again I threw my whole weight on the shaft of the paddle, and at length broke it. By this time the water was up to my shoulders when 1 stood up. Fully realizing that whatever I did must be done in a few minutes more, or else the poor fellow would drown, I snatched the hatchet from frown's hand, and, diving, tried to cut under the Bhell, to break tli« creature's anchorage on the rock. With might and main I out and hacked--then rose an instant for breath --then down at it again. But it seemed as though I could not cut through the tough muscle. Four times I dived, and, with frantic haste, cut at those tough byssl. "It stirs," at length Brown cried, bracing his weight upon his free foot and lifting at it. Then, with a final blow, the byssus was severed, and the buoyancy of the water aiding us, we dragged the great mol­ lusk--still fast to Brown's ankle--bagk to a higher ground on the reef. Here the water was waist deep,- however, and I looked anxiously around for Mac in the lakatoi. To my inexpressible joy he was close at hand, and between us we lifted Brown, with his now captured captor, into the canoe. Even then we could not--both of us together--pry the valves of the shell apart enough to release Brown's foot, till wif,h a knife we had reached in and completely di- fr.Vi A triifWii.--Rnwinnf TP*** or did odd jobs for the neighbors, saved his money, opened a little grocery store, carried in three bushels of clover seed or barrels of flour, and toted the goods round to the customers himself rather than go to the expense of hiring a man to do it for him. How he thus accu­ mulated his first few hundred dollars. HOAV one of his customers got in debt to him for several hundred. How he compromised by taking half the cus­ tomer's farm. How coal was subse­ quently discovered underlying the farm. How he sold it for $15,000 hard cash. And so forth, and so forth, and so forth! This is but one of the variations of the same old story, and the telling it is always accompanied by the same advice that what the eminent deceased did in those ways it is possible for each and every man to do. But what a howling absurdity it all is! To be sure the great majority of men are not thrifty. They are industrious. They mnst be to live. But they are careless in their expendi­ tures, within a certain range. Suppose they were not. Then not half so many of the others would become rich. The recklessness of the many is the chief factor in the construction of the for­ tunes of the few. That is, if it can be called reckless for a man to prefer to surround himself and his family with such comforts as his means affords, rather than pinch and stint, with the hope of some day having enough to buy his neighbor's property at forced sale at half its value, and sell .it to the other man with more money than wit who comes along, for twice what it is worth. There can only be so many rich, and to make and keep them rich others must*remain poor. There can only be so many bankers and grocers and dry goods men. If the supply of either comes to exceed the demand, some will be crushed out, and it is not always the least wise or the least deserving that meet that misfortune. The fact is there are too many men in such business and in all businesses now. There are even too many mechanics and factory and mine workers for the manner in which the business of the country as a whole in managed. The only one class of which there are not too many are the small farmers. Of these there can never be too many. So long as the stock of small farms hold out there can be no excess of small farmers. Farm­ ing the small farm is the basis and best of all business. It is the business the law should do the most to encourage, particularly in a country with so lavish an endowment of rich soil, unequaled anywhere in the world, as this country possesses. And, strangely enough, though the small farmers are sufficiently numerous in the country to outvote all the rest of us, if they saw fit, they are less deferred to by those who make the laws and customs of the State and Nation than any other. With a solid, intelligently managed union, the small farmer conld have the laws just as he might choose to shape them.- He wouldn't be rich in the common accep­ tation of the term; but he would come nearer than any other representative of. a great body could possibly come to having all he needed, and ho would have an organization in comparison witli which all other so-called great or­ ganizations, either of labor or capital, would seem ridiculously insignificant.-- Wilkesbarre (Pa.) Leader. A Boy's Courage. Do the lads of this generation declaim that poetical tribute to youthful hero ism which extols the boy who "stood on the burning deck, whence all but him had fled?" When we were boys there was scarcely a "Declamation Day" on which we did not hear it re­ cited. It may be that the years since then have been so freighted with ex­ amples of brfyish heroism that no boy now cares for "Cassabianca." One of these later, and, to our think­ ing, more attractive examples of youth­ ful heroism occurred at the outbreak of the Sepoy mutiny in 1857. Just be­ fore the awful storm broke, the system of electric telegraphs had been ex-' tended over the surface of British India. The mutineers rushed to Delhi, to seize upon the old hereditary seat of the Mohammedan Empire, and began cutting the throats of Europeans. While the rattle of cannon and mus­ ketry was rolling around the telegraph office, a little English boy, moved by the English sense of duty, stuck to his post until he had telegraphed to the commissioner at Lahore. The mes­ sage announced that the mutineers had arrived at Delhi, and had murdered this civilian and that officer, and wound up with these significant but childish words, "We're off." The boy's courage and sense of duty saved the Punjab. As soon as the tele­ gram reached Lahore, the general in command of the Sepoys disarmed them. When they learned of the rising at Delhi, they were powerless to do any injury. The general flashed the awful news to Pesliawur. The Hindoostanee regiments thore were also disarmed, and, though mutineers at heart, were rendered incapable of harm. Then the telegraph was cut by the rebels--but the boy at Delhi had saved northern India to the British crown. The officer in charge had been killed, but that brave lad stayed long enough at the instrument to dispatch the warning.-- Youth's Companion. In a Restaurant. "Look here, waiter, this pieoe of cheese is mouldy." The waiter looked at the piece of cheese and perceived that it really was green and blue on top, and did not look nice. Taking it in his hand he turned it upside down on the plate, so that the good side was uppermost and remarked: "There! that's the way it belongs. There is nothing the matter with it now, is there?"--Texan Sifting#. THE past, at least, is iter. secure.--Web- -XiS . - ,FK5s ; j. i'i A VmtUmt Wit* ftM »7,000 *fer «lM Cur* of m Colo-aianey la m WgkMs|>. The incomes of the three leading physicians and those of the three lead- mg lawyers are about equal--that is to say, at the rate of about $60,000 a year each, says a London correspondent of the Philadelphia Press. The largest sum ever earned in one year bv a doctor was $100,000, made by Sir Astley Cooper. The three men at the head of the medical profession in En­ gland at the present day are Sir Will- iam Jenner, the court physician; Sir William Gull, and Sir Andrew Clark. Just^lately the last-named has obtained considerable notoriety. He was induced to visit a very wealthy lady at Nfce, and he received the unprecedented fee of $25,000. One-fifth of, this amount he retained as a remuneration for his services and "the remainder he divided between two charitable institutions con­ nected with his profession. Speaking of fees, there is a tale told of a rich colonial gentleman living in Kent who had the misfortune to take*~a slight cold. Not satisfied with his local medical attendant, he desired to have Gull down from London in con­ sultation. Gull happened to be away and Sir William Jenner came instead. He was duly paid his fee $375 for the visit. The patient, feeling no better, then sent to Edinburgh to a leading doctor of that city, who traveled the 400 miles in order to see him and in or­ dinary course received a guinea for every, mile^-that was 400 guineas, or $2,100. Again the patient felt no better, and this timei Gull was sum­ moned and attended. "I suppose," suggested the local practitioner, "you will pay Gull what you paid Jenner--£75." "Nonesense," indignantly retorted the sick gentleman, "I am not going to pay Gull less than I gave the Scotch­ man," and he drew a check for $'2,100. Before he got rid of his cold he had paid $7,000'in fees. Gull himself relates a story of an ec­ centric patient, tipon whom in the days when chloroform or ether was never used, he performed a difficult operation, from which the old gentleman re­ covered. But he refused to paj' Gull his fees, and, as the doctor left the bed­ room in an enraged state, the old man snatched off his night-cap, and, flinging it at him, cried: "Take that; I'll give you nothing more." Gull picked up the night-cap, and, cooling down in his brougham, he com­ menced to rip up the lining. Con­ cealed therein he found a crisp Bank of England note for £1,000. This story, by the way, has also been told of sev­ eral other eminent doctors. Gull be­ gan life in an humble way as assistant to a hospital lecturer at 35 shillings per week. When admitted to practice his first year's fees amounted to $135, but he himself says that each year they in­ creased by one-third. He is a man of dry humor. Once the Bishop of Derry consulted him, and the great doctor gravely said: "You must go to Nice, my lord." "Oh, I can't go to Nioe; I'm to<i busy." r "It must be either Nice or heaven,*' was the doctor's retort. L "Oh, then," quickly added the divine. "Ill go to Nice." m "I will not question your judgment, % replied Gull. "As a right-reverendi prelate you ought to know which is the! preferable place." f Sir Andrew Clark is Gladstone'# physician. He accompanied him oifl the cruise the premier took witlf Tennyson, and again last year to Nor* way. He does not do this as a per|? sonal tribute but as a matter of prof " fessionallduty. Mr. Gladstone is very testy, faddy, and autocratic. Clark is equally firm. Lady Clark is quite in­ censed when Gladstone orders her husband to spend with him those two months of the year when the great physician is accustomed to have most leisure. It is said that Jehner and Gull are chosen to attend royal patients in preference to Clark because the latter is so closely identified with Glad­ stone. A Big Gonrd. Some people are very sensitive about their names, particularly if they happen to own a name that is susceptible of be­ ing twisted and distorted out of shape by the humorist who plays on words. Such persons, even when they were originally very good humored, become morose and crabbed. From the time they go to school until they are wheeled out to their open sepulcher, they have the same atrocious puns perpetrated on their names, and as continued hammer­ ing on one spot is apt to make a sore place sooner or later, the victim of his own name becomes a dangerous man to fackle. An Austin gentleman tells us the following good story about a man who refused to allow anybody to take im­ proper liberties with his name, which was A. Gourd. He belonged to a Vir­ ginia regiment, weighed about 200 pounds, and would fight a cross-cut saw at the drop of the hat. He had been badgered so much in early life about his name, that it was not safe to mention it, even respectfully, in his presence. His fellow soldiers knew and appreci­ ated his weakness, or rather his strength, and governed themselves ac­ cordingly ; but when a new recruit, who was given to putting on airs, and whom it was desirable to take down a peg, was mustered in, Gourd was utilized for the purpose. The soldiers would discuss gourds on general principles, and the following conversation would take place. "I say, Mr. Recruit, how big was the biggest gourd you ever saw ?|' "I saw one once about as big as a wa­ termelon." "We have got a gourd in this company that is as big around as a barrel" "O, pshaw!" "But I tell you we have. Our gourd weighs 200 pounds." < "Yes. I suppose so. That is another one ot those soldier yarns." "Well our gourd is over there in that tent." The soldier would at last be over­ come by curiosity to take a look at the big gourd, and would stroll into private A. Gourd's tent, who would ask the stranger what he wanted. "Nothing, only I heard there was a big gourd in this tent, and I " Before the recruit could finish, A. Gourd was busy fanning the soil with a very green recruit.--Texas Si/tings. A Fault of the Age. "You have always had tlie reputation of.being an honest man; how does it happen that you have been guilty of theft?" asked a New York justice of the prisoner. " "It's tlxe fault of the age we live in. The man who wants to make an honest living nowadays can't do it unless he steals. Look at Squire and Jake Sharpe and the boodle aldermen," replied the ilnnn.Qfl m»n 7'or/ic fiiftinnu f ? ' ' " 1 8 " . * • " *i.i- l t ' ijp INrtter ' its eom-milleniura ing. IT is said that bees possess the power V of memory. So doee enyone who has , v ever interfered with them. "I DOIT1* believe in the reappearance of spirite," as the tippler said when the landlord locked up the bar. WHEN one Congressman assaults an­ other he generally hits him in the mouth, that being about all there is to i * strike at. No MAN was ever so mean that he ' could not give advice.--New Baioen r News. Well, go on; what were yon '•>* going to say ?-- Washington Post. THE difference between two great political parties is easily explained to foreigners. One gets the offices and the other gets left.---New Orleans Picayune. "THE only difference between yon and I," said the evolutionist to the dude, "is . that I believe men have grown from -. < monkeys, and you believe, judging, of course, by yourself, that monkeys have grown from men."--Boston Courier. THE London Globe expands on the fact that very few actors are criminals. ^ ^ ^ They would be, though, if the law could reach them. There's Henry Irving, for _ . instance. He ought to get six months ?, for every time he appears on the stage. --Puck. DROWNING MAN--"Help! help! What do you mean by sitting there and letting me drown, man?" NewspAper proprie- tor "You should have advertised, my friend. You could get all the help you wanted through Uie newspapers."-- Tid-Bits. "I UNDERSTAND, sir, that you are a connoisseur in diamonds." "Yes, sir." "What kind would you select nowa- days?" "Well, I'd have the infield clear of grass, but outside of the bases I think I'd have a fine lawn. I've laid out lots of ball grounds."--Tid-Bits. QUEEB. Aa through this life we travel what wnadns things we see; The man is looking down who reads the Bible on hie knee. But he who from a whiakjr-Jug desires te a 6Up, While in the act of drinking Is most surely look- „ Ing up. --Boston Courier. SCENE, Btreet in Paris: Boarding- school miss and mother. Mother (read­ ing sign in window)--'Entrez sons' f rapper;' What does that mean, Ethel --Oh, it's a French idiom for 'Please shut the door.' Wrapper' means iced, you know. Enter uniced, or leave the oold outside, is what it means literally.. --Life. LAST week I attempted to say that fifteen versts are the Russian equivalent of ten miles. And what did the types make me say instead? Nothing "less ludicrous than that fifteen verses are the Russian equivalent of ten miles!--a reflection upon the prolixity of the national poet which is as undesery it wai unintentional.--The Critic$ SIC SEMPER TYBANNIS. I dashed me off a aonnet : And tont it to the press. As lovely aa a bonnet, . w As swfet ai a caress; About her golden tresses, : , Her merry uyes of bluo, ' • A n d h o w m y t l o r r i e d r c s s M l Ami how she loves me. tee} - I apuke of trees in blossom. Of swinging in the lane; " ^ X sent it whence no poet's SOW ~ Can e'er return again. •' I dashed me off a sonnet '• f v1 And gent it to the press, > • »» And there th< y sat upon % Squelched it, I confess 1 D o w n i n t h e w i c k e r b a s k e t s j #; Buried three feet deep, ' * S * - A Jewel in its casket, 1 •& Sonnet went to Bleep; Bht let them keep the sonbet, t ~~n For its loss 1 '11 ne'er repine-- • » *" For Fiori ie read it first--and piaem \ ie. s' . * Sll "• 'i --Puck. Her little hand in mine. "YOUR appetite is good enough. You have no reason to complain in the mat­ ter of health, Evereat." "No. You are correct," replied Evereat. "I have a recipe," he added; "Sure thing every time." "Hey? Recipe? What is it?" "H--'m. Might tell you. Had to pay the doctor for it myself. Confidential, mind!" and Evereat leaned over to whisper impressively in his friend's ear: "Two things. Make it a rule never to eat them with dinner. Consequence, always sure of good appetite." Ever­ eat hesitated, tilted back in his chair, and cautiously scanned his friend's features, seemingly debating with him­ self whether or not to divulge his re­ cipe. "Well,--what--what is it you don't eat with your dinner?" inquired that gentleman, somewhat nonpulsed. Evereat leaned forward and again whis­ pered slowly and impressively in his friend's ear: "Breakfast and supper, you greenhorn!"--Lynn Union. He Failed to Get the Tacks. A wag, sauntering along a Boston street the other day, was accosted by a man who stammered, as follows: "Can you t-t-tell me where I may g-g-get some g-g-g-g-good t-t-tin t-t-t- tacks?" "Certainly," replied the wag. "You turn down this street on your left two blocks, then turn again two blocks to your left, and again two blocks to your left, and that will bring yon to the best hardware shop in town, where voull be sure to find them." The stammerer continued his way. The wag, walking down the street two blocks, entered the aforesaid hardware shop and proceeded as follows : "Have you any g-g-g-ood t-t-t-t-tacks!" "Yes, sir," said the obliging shopman, producing his best after some rummag­ ing. "Are you sure th-th-these are g-g- good ones ?" "Yes, sir, the best that are made." "Are th-th-the heads g-g-good and strong?" . "Yes, sir." ' " ' Vv" "Have they g-g-got g-g-g-g-good s-s-»- Bharp p-p-p-p-points?" "Yes, sir." "Well, you p-p-p-please s-s-s-sit on them till I come back, will you?" Exit rapidly. Presently the unluoky stammerer, having descril>ed a square of two blocks, arrived at the hardware shop, and, entering, asked innocently: "Have you any g-g-g-good t-t-tin t-t- taoks " "Get out of here!" eto., etc., etc.-- Boston Post The Judge and the Lawyer. An attorney came into Judge Coffey's court guiding a very unsteady client. The room was a trifle small for him, but he managed to get into a chair somewhere. When the case was called tho chippy attorney got up and said : "Your honor, I don't see the attorney on the opposite side present, but I'm on deck." "Yes," said Judge Coffey, looking over to the client who had fallen off his chair, "and your client seems to be overboard."-- San Francisco Chron­ icle. A LATE Parisian play is called KMy Mother's Eyeglass." An Amerioan pa- ̂ must be • spectacular pieee.