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I Can't, I Won’t, and I Will. Three little boys in a rollicking mood Out in the snow at play : Their hearts are light, for the sun is bright, On this glorious winter day. Three little boys with shouts of glee Slide down a snowy hill, And the names of the rollicking little boys But play inust cease, and wamingvoice Calls out from the open door: “ Come, boys, here's a task for your nimble hands, \Ve must have it done by four." “ I “'ill" speeds away at the mother's coni- iiiand “'ith a cheerful and sunny face, And " I Can't” follows on with murmur and groan At a Weary and lagging pace. But “ I \Von’t," with a dark and angry frown (loes sauntcring down the street, And sullenly idles the time away Till he thinks his task complete. At school, “IWill” learns his lessons alll well, And is seldom absent or late: “ I Can't" finds the lessons all too hard “ I Won't" hates book and slate. So the seasons come and the seasons go, In their never ceasing race, And each little boy, noi ' a stalwart man, In the busy world finds his place. “I \\'ill," with a courage undauntcd, toils, And with high and resolute aim, .And the world is better because he lives, And he gains both honor and fame. " I Can’t" finds life an tip-hill road ; He faints in adversity, And spends his life unloved and unknown, In hopeless poverty. “ I \Von’t" opposes all projects and plans, And scoffs at what others have wrought .And so in his selfish idleness wrapped, He dies and is soon_forgot. A Dog Wins aIJecoration- “ “'ho brought that dog here ‘2 Send him back at once.” So spoke, in hisdeepest and sternest tones, old Colonel Eugene Noirmoiit, ashe rodeout of the French fort at lliskra, iii the Sahara desert, at the head of a strong body of irreg- ular cavalry which had been sent to check the raids of a hostile Arab tribe. “ He is my dog, Colonel,” answered the junior captain, youn r Alphonse dc l’icardon, glancing apologetica ly at the small white poodle that was close at his horse’s heels ; and I hope you will not object to his gomg with us, for it. would break his heart to be left behind.” “ And whose heart will it break,” growled the Colonel, “ if the brute begins barking just as we're going to take the Arabs by sur- prise, and warns them of our coming ‘1" “It is not for me to contradict you, Colonel,” said the young officer, respectfully; “but, with your permission, I can soon show you that there is no fear of that.” Then he turned to the dog and said, steriin : “J ac- quot, silence a la mort." » . Then, at a sign from the Captain, several of the men began to shout, clap their hands and make noise enough to set an ordinary dog barking furiously, but Jaequot never uttered a sound. A “Very well,” said the Colonel at length, “the dog may go,” but- l‘t‘lll‘UlllllL‘l‘, Captain ile l’icardon, that I shall hold you responsible for his behavior." The young captain saluted and fell into nis place without a word, and Oil rode the actaehnicnt. ' It was weary work riding ov r stony ridges and sandy hollows through the blistering heat and flie blinding glare, while the hot, prickly dust, rising up in clouds at each step, clogged every pore and choked every breath. Mile after mileof the desert was left behind, hour after hour of the burning. weary inter- minable day crept slowly past, but still there was no sign of the enemy, or of any living thing save a wide winged vulture, which hung poised in mid-air, like a blot ppon the bright, scorching, cloudless sky. llie sol- diers grew impatient, and began to murmur and growl. _ . But all at once the dog (which was still keeping pace with them) stopped short, snufl'cd the air uneasily and then began to run rcstlcssly backward and forward, uttering a low. anxious whine. “Do you think he scents the enemy?" whispcreid L'oloncl Noirinont to Captain dc l‘icardon. “ I'll stukc my life that he does," replied the Captain. “I've never yet found him wrong. There must be. some hollow here that we can't see. llcrc. Morel. llarbot. hold fast to cach other while I climb on to your shoulders." . And then. supported by the two burly hampers, he raised himself hiin cuough to make out a dry watercourse a few hunnrcd yards iihcad, iii the hollow of which a large iiuuilwr of mcn might casily bc hiddcii. " Alia 1" cried the (fol-incl. when he heard this. " thcy want to catch us in an ambush. Ill) thcy‘:' Xvi so fast. my llni‘ fellows". Half a donut of you dismount. lads, and unâ€" slim: your carbincs. nrn'c forwaid about fifty pitccs. and then the. ' The crash of the volley rolled like thundcr ulUll‘: the silent ilcscrt. while tlic t‘oloiicl .romi-d, in Arabic. ‘1 Ram out. you dogs': \\'c we you plainly." 'l’iiccfl'cct was l)l:\_i;l\‘.\l. l'p started. a~ if rising through the carth. a suarm of savagc liitk‘t‘~"l‘.llll \iild figures. while the llash and crackle of the answcring volley followed as thunder follows lightning: but the Arabs. tirln: hastily and ‘Jllllthl at random. only wounded two nicu. "Now," thundered the ('oloncl. “upon them before thcy can rclmid." ~ I llown swept the brooch iipvu tin-ir cut-mics like a whirlwind. and in a moment were haudto hand with them. 'l'be.~\rab.~ fought like tigers. but training and discipline soon began‘to tell. and the battle was “over was one of the French trooywrs regretfully ob- scrvcdl "almost before one had time toenjoy it." llut. when the Arabs began to scatter and fly. the Colonel (whose blood “as fairly up'l diishcd otfiii pursuit of them N: l‘e‘t’kli‘sf’ly' that he was soon left almost zuunc. set-in: which three of the enemy faccd round and attacked him. ' Captain dc l‘icanlnn. who was tamous as the best swordsman in the l‘L‘gllllt‘lfl. came dashing up. lurcly in tune to cii't‘u-nvn out; of ,\'oiriiioiit's assiilants. \tllll') the (blunt; himself disposed (-f anoihtr. but the thiru ~ . ‘. . u, . .- . man was pist about to :t..b m. l ....zd. ii .i. Are " I Can't," “ I “'on’t,"and “ I “'ill.” while 1 do up the diiincr things." \vas ol~li~.cd to :1ch up and was soon tucked .thc back when his dog ilew at 1.32 A a‘u's l throat and clutched it witi st "h rty liencrgy that the man fell to the ground, bleeding and half strangled. . "Form in line i" shoutid Colonel Noir- inont when the fight was mer and all the wounded had been brought in. “My child- ren. you have done well, and I thank you. To-morrow you shall be reported for good service to the cominander-in-chief himself, and he will not forget you, butI have one acknowledgment to make before that. Cap- tain de I’icardon, bring forward your do".' The four footed scout was at once produc- ed, and, when set down in front of the Col- onel, he stood up on his hind legs and made a military salute with his fore paw, to the unbounded delight of the soldiers. "A soldier who knows his duty so Well." said the Colonel, with a grim smile, “must not go unrecoinpenscd, and thus I reward his services.‘ So saying be detached from his own uni- form the cross of the Legion of Honor and hung it around the dog's neck amid thunder- ing cheers from the assembled troopers, who declared with one voice that this decoration had been fairly won by their “dog sol- die-r.” Aunt Nerv's Mistake. Belle Colman's Aunt Nerv was more like a coi in than an aunt. And a very dear cousin at that. Minerva I'rcsno was only two years older than llclle Colman, so that it seemed strange to hear voluble Belle, when she was three years old, calling an- other tot, who really seemed very little old- er, “Aunt Ncrva." And yet that was the way Ilelle Colman always addressed Minerva Fresno. Grandpa I’resno lived in \Valnut Valley, eight miles from his son-iii-law, Jonathan Colman, but these two little maidens, aunt and niece, made at least two visits yearly to each other. At Grandpa Fresno's there was the wonderful dairy cave in the side of the hill near the kitchen door, and the great orchard below the house, both full of wonders and delights for them; while at Mr. Colman's there was the large lake and the turnpike to oecnpy their time and talents. \Vhen they were apart they long- ed and talked of the time when they should see each other; when together, they played very hard and constantly, so as not to think of the parting time ; and when they came to separate, their tears and laincntations made a scene dolcful to behold. Now Belle was supposed to be giddy, while Ncrv was a quiet, steady girl. llelle's impulsive headlong ways made her many a true fricml and bitter enemy ; Ncrv’s placid nature gained her very few warm friends, but she had no enemies. Belle threw herself into the enjoyment of'tlie passing moment with abandon : or vehemently dctested any- thing iii the passing moment that made it; unenjoyable. It was hard to vet an opinion out of Nerv, and she rarely scolilcd or praised. 'l‘hcse two girls, so very different, were bosom friends until the eldest was sixteen and the youngest fourteen years of age. At this time Mr. Colman removed from his farm to town, and opened a store. This threw lclle into gay company, and with her im- 1 pulsivc nature it- is not strange that she soon got a reputation for being volatile, and yet she was a good-hearted girl, true to her 1 friends, anxious to know and do the right, ' but seorniiigto take the trouble to undeceivc those who judged her wrongfully. The first time Ncrv visited her in town, . a coolness sprang up between them because Ncrv made the mistake of thinking licllc “ stuck up." and llellc made the mistake of allowing licrto think so. It is unnecessary to repeat the thousand and one little things that sundcred them more and more. I will hasten to the pleasant task of relating how they “ made up," About two years after llclle had gone to town she visited Nerv. Upon her arri 'al at \Valnut Valley, Grandma Fresno said: “ lella, dear, I'm awful glad you've come. I Vina is down sick and I must go and nurse l her. Ncrv: is not well, and the hired girl i left last week. I wish you would stay right. l here and manage things until I get back.” ' “ I'll do so, (lrandma, with the under- . standing .tlnit you are to ask no questions l about how much cream I use on my straw- ' berries, when you get back.” " '.\ow, llcllc, you know I always want. you to have all the cream your berries will i stand.” “That‘s true, Grandma, I was just- teas- . ing you. (lo on to Aunt Vina; I'll run this . machine all right." i And so big-hearted (iraiidma l’rcsno I l l fussed away three milcs to see her sick dauglitci'. leaving Ncrv and licllc to cook ' for (lrandpa. Ross. dim and Joe, milk seven lcows and makc the butter. The swccping, bed making. ctc., made the. task of keeping house no siliccurc. but llcllc was in earnest, 'and when lirandma was fairly away, she said : ” \Ycll. Aunt Ncrva. what shall I do “ l'iii afraid you'll spoil your hands, llellc. with housework. You'd better take your crochet and stay in the sitting room." "t'l'uchctl l‘rlcss you. I can crochet in lNeola. if you arc more anxious about my lhauds than {I am.- I'll go pick sonic straw" berries." and away rhc went. .\'crv dragged through the prcparation of diiiizcr. which the incn, fresh from the fields, .~\'.'a’.l'iI>\\".‘Il with i'clish. 'l‘hcy \vcrc soon luv-l; at their work. but .\'crv could not go on uith llL‘i' work. She was sick. llclle saw it and said: “ Now. Aunt Norva. you must. lie down, .\'erv in bod. ' “l'vc bccn cliilliir__f for some time past, and today is my chill day. I belicvc the agile is coming on now." "\Ycll. I'll go into the kitchen. ('all me if you iiccd inc. and soon llcllc's electrical iir-vcnicnts \\‘c‘c making the dishes rattle. She was fait'wkiiiiicd and looked «hirsute. but \.;t.~= naturally iol-ust. llcr white aldc hands scircd the work with no uncertain grip. llci' quick. almost uncrringjudgment guided her by the short cut to the perform- ance of each task. and in a few moments slu- closed the door on a clean kitchen. and bustlcd into Aunt Ncrv's room. "How are _\‘n|l now. aunt Xcrva ‘1" "The chill luh pissed and the fever is on inc." “You will srxui lw better the." lltl . in a few moments .\'e:'.v said 2 "I'm shaking again." "\Viiat T" said llcll‘l. springing up. She ex. amincd the sick girl a moment. and then iiiuttcr‘ng. “It‘s a enligufillnn.” started to- \‘..i:‘«i2 :ih‘iicn. 0;- ln-i‘ way she Mixed four lam-ks. and. arrived in the kitchen placed lit“) in thc uvcii. 'I'iicn filling the ‘l1‘\&1'\‘-liil\\'«->-i. ~h~~ («wk i-ll' :woof the lids, o i '5 l l l l l o l l . “Ales, into weicli s :e , ' to the sick room sac ; replacing them wi. pured water. Ht‘.l’l_ placed the stove lids a: the patients feet: then gave her a cap cf ginger tea. She now i called the men from the field, started one for the doctor. and with Grandpa. worked l with the si ' 1 until the doctor came. wcniiig's work while Xerv was delirious. \‘t'iicn the. dot-tor lei: at mid- night, (Qram‘ipa asked him if it would be best to send for Grandma. ” No, I would leave her where she is. needs careful nursing. llelle will take care of Nerv, and she'll be all right in four or rive day. " \Vell. Grandma did not get home for six . t l 4.. » 57;“: did all t'” n D '1 Vina days. During all that time Belle nursed Xcrv, did the liousev.'~rk, n‘ lked the seven cows, churned every day. washed and ironed once, and met Grandma with a smiling wel- cunie saying: “ I irandma, I never had so much fnii in my life. Aunt Xerva has been sick and I've had the whole thing to myself, T hey‘re bosscd the men around shamefully. awful glad you've returned." A week later, when Btllehad to go home, Nerv folded her in a long embrace and said: “ My dear girl. I never hated to see you go as badly as I do this time- Just to. think u . ta bigmistake I made. I thought I you weic stuck up, and you are as common as my old shoe." _..___.___Q_.-..___ Only a 1300‘. Finding Francesca full of tears, I said. “Tell me thy trouble."â€"~“ Uh, my dog is dead 3" thought,â€"â€" . “A better dog can easily be bought.” For no‘what animal could him replace? Those loving eye‘s ! face ! Those dear, dumb touches ! Therefore I was dumb. From word of mine could any come ‘2 A bitter sorrow ’tis to lose a brute Friend, dog or horse, for grief must then be mute, So many smile to see the rivers shed Uf tears for one poor speechless creature That fond, confiding comfort dead. “'hen parents die there's many a word to say-â€" Kind words consolingâ€"one can always pray ; \thn children die 't is natural to tell Their mother, “Certainly, with them ’t; is . well 1" Ilut, for a dog, ’t was all the life he had, Since death is end of dogs, or good or bad. This was his world ; he was contented here, Imagined nothing better, naught more dear Than his young mistress, sought no brighter sphere ; Having no sin, asked not to be forgiven, Ne’er guessed at (.iod, nor ever dreamed of heaven. Now he has passed away, so much of love Goes from our life, without one hope above ! When a dog dies there's nothing to be said, nitâ€"kiss 11110, darling lâ€"~dear old Smiler's dear . '.l_‘. W. Pxnsoxs. o The French. Pretender. The Duke of Orleans, who was recently sentenced to two years’ imprisonment for‘ violating the law of banishment from France, remains behind the bars, but it is understood that as soon as public opinion has had time . to subside, President Carnot will release His [loyal Highness and have him quietly conducted to the frontier. Meantime Mr. Henry Labouchcre has paid a visit to the duke, who is only ‘21, and thus describes him : “ The hope of the house of France is l a cross between a little fool and a smart young officer of a crack regiment without any idea beyond those subjects which are discussed at mess. He is fall, of fresh coin. plexion, has neat features, and could not fail as an ensign troopiiig colors to steal away the hearts of nursery maids and romantic young ladies, if they were not physiogno- mists enough to see that the eyes are harsh, unpleasant and dull, and that although he has lost. the pudding contour which made him an ugly boy, the domination of stomach over mind is still shown in his cheeks. His light-brown hair, of a dull shade, is parted, masherdike, in the middle, and is slightly curled. As to dress, it: was irrcproacliable and carefully -arcless. 1 could trace a re- scmblance in the cut of his features to the late Duke of Orleans, but the countenance was not his. and betrayed a mind on very small pattern, a good deal of vanity, and a‘ temper more irasciblc than sunny. 'l'hc cv as, to which I venture to recur, are small, ' l triangular and wanting in fine expression. and, too close set, gave a mean character to the face." 0f the diikc's near friend the Duke dc I.uyncs, .\Ir. Laboucherc says: " This nobleman is saved by a clear. fair skin and a good-naturwl laugh from being the exact image of our Darwinian forefathers. I never saw a clcai‘cr casc of reversion to a far back anccstral type. This diikc‘s mouth reaches from car to car. and his loose lips refuse on niiil gums. llis forehead slopes back from his brow at an angle of thirtydive dcgrccs. Republicans and Sciiiitcs have no reason to fcar the ducal pa: ty. 'l'hc lluke of Luyncs. though now fairly well stricken in years and carpiilcnt. continues '-.o dress as a finisher, and wears his grill/lo hair ll‘ll'lwl in the middlc, while i 11'. ‘ks of curlingr irons on the top part court attention." _.-.,V_.__A. v.. -.A.. Upright Men in Downriglit Earnest. " We need. nowadays," i-Xclaiins Spur- gcoii, the great l‘inglish pi‘caclicr, “upright men iii downright carucst. who say what they mean. and incan wha'. thcy say. ('ln-at- ing in trade, clicating in religion. cheating in milk, must [nil bc put up with any longcr. (lid l’athci' l’lt'llcely is the man for our money. None of your painting and gild- iug. give us the real thing. 'l'hcrc Would be! a great fall in sheepskins if all thc \vol'.‘c-. were stiiplml :biit stripped lin-ynnght lulu-,1 the rascals! [.11 each one of us begin to mend the \vul'l-l by putting off l.‘\'L|_\' bit of sham that wc may lune had about us. “if With thctruinpei‘y liiicry of pretense. Show the siiiv-ck-friw'n. or the fii~'.i:iii jacket. and the chimp lxxllr. and don't be ashamed." , . ....Ae_fi . . .. .â€" A Burnt Child D ends The Fire. .lintklllél' I wonder why ol-l Huffy never married 2' He looks so melancholy when the conversation turns on Woman that I am afraid there is some sad romance connected with his youth. Hog: ~.\'o their is: he. "'01 b.tu in a breach of pruniiu: (fill-t that he could never ILL-l: at a woman sin-.c. . cabin 1 “Child,”._1 begun to say: but, checked my \nientil anixctv uner which she appeared to I i l ‘iin-nfioii the hero of this strange scciic only am account to tm c1 up t 1": net icl tool \h Hon. plwfl pflg “U “.m, M, mud”. . l l A Very Clear Case. "And how do you feel, my dear. this morning?" asked a synqmtbi/ing physician )iippcil “i ‘ lmm c [body La! been greatly underestimated." TRiGED‘E ON A STEsliiS . A Female (‘u‘oin l'usscngcr Takes :1 Dose of Landsat 1m and iilcs. Mrs. Illa Ward. of l ‘l ‘.cr. England. ii ' ) cn ' the American .. ,. .~.:lii.. buried at \\ lien the llrltl<ll ‘rincsss lch Liverpool she had about lUti steeragc ugers and V :s>t' one cabin passenger ~azi lungligli woman whose name appeared on the passenger list as Mrs. Ida “'ard. liven if she had not been the only saloon passenger alacard the amen» tcntion of Captain lirecth and his willows would have been drawn imvnrds their sol- itary table companion, as .\lis. \Vard was a wcinaiiwho would have attracted notice a- board a crowded transatlantic liner. She was young, a'w 1. twentyâ€"Iii:- years old. handsome and highly :iccciiiplished. speaking several languages and was a finish ed musician. The intonation: of her voice and intimate kiniwledge of all the convention- alitics of society strengthened thebclief that she was a woman belon- ~i1g to a cultured an-i refined circle of society. She was extremely reticent about herself. But she told t'apt. Frecth that she was from Leicester. and that her husband lived there, and that she was on her way to Cincinnati. 0., to study to become a professional nurse. From several other remarks the officers decided that h 1' domestic relations were not happy, and the evident depression and suffer confirmed their opinion. .‘drs. \Yard suffered greatly from sea-sickness, which tended to still further depress her and Capt. Frecth grew anxious about her condition. 0n the morning of the 11th of the month the stewardess knocked at Mrs. \Vard's state room, and receiving no answer opened the door and found her lying in her bunk in a nearly comatose condition. One glance at the unconscious woman told the doctor that she'had token laudanuni, and he at. once administered the regular antidotes. She was walked up and down the deck and the stomach pump was brought into use. but despite all their efforts she died a few hours after she was first dis- covered. That same day she was buried at sea in the presence of the crew and steerage pas- sengers, Capt. lirceih reading the Church of England burial services over her body before it was consigned to the ocean‘s bed. No communication or letter of any kind was found to show what reason drove her to her death. It is possible that the unfortunate woman did the deed in contemplation before she came aboard the Princess, as three bottles of laudanuni, two full and one empty, were found in her state room. ._.__.._s__AQ ._.-- .____.__ AN ' INPIDEL PHILOSOPHY. The Extraordinary Lust Moments ofa Vien- na l'nbvcrsity Professor. A most remarkable deathbed scene took place in Vienna three weeks ago. The hero of it was a young professor at the University there. He was a man of great brilliancyand learning. His lectures concerning the inner life of the soul were famous among the stu- dents, who attended them in crowds. He was regarded by his fellow professors in the philosophical faculty as the coming man in the department of psychology. Socially, also, he was a man of considerable pro- minence. He had married into a wealthy family, and took every opportunity to get for his wifeand three childrcnall the pleasure which the gay Austrian capital affords. At the theatre, on the promenade, and at the great court balls he was one of the most familiar figures. Four years ago he fell ill of an incurable disease, and his physician warned him illill/ only a radical change from his gay mode of life could binder for a short time the progress of the malady. The young professor answered quietly that he would die as a philosopher should die, without an effort to defer his last day. He ate, drank, studied, lectured and danced exactly as he did before the doctor wailicd him. A few weeks ago he lay down on his deathbed. He read the same books and talked of the same frivolous amusements as usual up toone evening about three weeks ago. At 8 o’clock the doctor then told him that he would die within a few hours. The youn" professor discussed many topics, entirely oreign to the subject of his fastyapproaching death, with his wife till midnight. , “I feel well,vcry well,"hcsaid to hcrfiiially, “ so well that I. would like to drink a bottle of champagne with you before I go. Kiss inc--~for I may go while you are av.‘ay»â€"â€"and then have the wine put on icc.” lliswifc obcycd. A few minutes later he took the bottle from the servant's hand, pourcd our. wine for his wife and himself, cmpticd his glass to her health, flung it to the floor, and dropped back on hispillov.‘, dead. The Vienna dailies, which have a constitu- tional prejudice against printing the frll name of any man of high social standing, _........_. ._v. .. ._.._... W A. A REMARKABLE DU‘BL. 'l‘licy haul Only (Ini- Itcvolycr and 'l'oolt Turns In I"ll‘lll‘.:. The new mining town of l'ilkins, \\'. \'a., was the scene of a reniarlntblc (lin'l on Sun- day night. A coal miner named James Nee, and a carpenter namcd Archer, went on a drunk together. and going to a salcmii kept by Mrs. \\'i.â€"e, they drove the Woman out of doors and wrecked thc placc. About the time they had completed the ruin lhc two men quairelml, and they concluded to fight a duel ovcr the wrcck of the bar. They had one rcvolvcr. and decided tln-y would take turn about in shooting :it one another. 'l'hcy agreed on fiftccn fret. nearly the length of the iooin. as the di-taizcc. Archer got the first shot. and his bullet ploughed a groove along ch's i-ctilp. He then gave. up the pisn-l to Nee and he fired at Archer and missed. Arcln-r' then took a second shot and missed and handed the H’- volvcr over to Nee. This time Nee fool: bet- ter aim and shot Archer through the band. Iii-fun: any more shots could be fired ont- 'i‘ltlul‘r' interfered and took the revolver away. + ~-~â€" ~- of a lady prostrated by "lagripw." "I feel as if a freight train had run nt’cr me," _ your "Ache in my bone-8' yes Ido, and l tiiink the number of bones in the human Was the reply. “Do you ache in n "t l ._. ,. _ ._ ,. .,._.,._--E:'F PEARLS 0F TRUTH. I: is for youth to acquire: for age to api p'. ' i There is nothing at all in life except what. We put there. (‘onvcntioizality always gets: to the front i i these niiscmblc ll1\\& I love men. not because they 'arc men, but» because tlic_' arc not women. The peasantry feel no patriotic hath-d] that belongs to the upper clafi alone. Solitude is as ncedful to the iiiiziginati. n as society is w liolesonie to the character. The limit of youth is rzachcd through the seiiScs : the sc :scs of age throngs t ie heart. Rogucry is thought by some to be can wing and laughable ; it is iicitlicr : it is devilish. I‘lnvcloped in a (‘omiiion mist. wc rt‘r-ll‘. to , walk in nearncss oiirsclvcs, and brlzobi only tie mist that cnshrouds others. And irc. the stern. sad truth spoken. that. I the breach which guilt has once made into l the human soul is never in this mortal state l repaircd. The unfaithful woman, if she be known ltor sucn by the pei‘smi conccriitd. is only unfaiihfiil: if she bought faithful she is pcrndious. Take all rcasmiable advantage of that which the prestut may oilcr you. t is the only time which is really ours. . . . Y 05! enlin is buried iorcvcr. ’.l'oâ€"niorrow we may never see. If we could throw ourselch away. like broken china. every time we think we have spoiled ourselves and all our story. the back- yards of creation would be full of broken flindcrs of us. Disappointed love makes the misery of youth ; disappointed ambition that of inanâ€" liood; and successful avarice that of old age. These three attack us through life ; and 'ili is our duty to stand our guard. Loveâ€"that 'ast excess of reason, the stern and virile pleasure of great souls -â€" and enjoyment â€"â€"the vulgar happiness sold in the streetsâ€"are two aspects of the same thing. The woman who can satisfy these two cravings of man's double mitiirc, is as rare in her sex as the great general, the grcat. writer, the great artist, the great inventor is among a people. The. man of superiority, equally with the common man, feels the need of the ideal and of the material pleasure both : they all seek the mystcrious hcrma< phraditc, thcr are being who comes to them as a general thing in two volumes. -â€"â€"â€"-â€"â€"‘-â€"-â€"â€"â€"- Evolution of Bea. uty. All people agree that beauty lies in health and proper vigorous proportion, to speak roughly, and yet women as fragile as thistle- down, and consumed with a wasting disease, have at. times a beautyinore potent than the rosicst maiden. Helen the daughter of the gods, was most divinely tall and fair and Cleopatra was “little and black" it is said, and kingdoms were thrown away for both of them. There is one thing vcry certain : The amount of beauty in the world has in- creased enormously sincc the days of Helen and the Serpent of Old Nile. Men do not; leave their homes and fii'ht for ten years for even the most 'adiant icauty to-day: nor do the great conquerors think the world w oil lost for any modern smile. In the days of Helen, and even of Cleopatra, beauty was very probably far more rare than now. \Vo- men in all but the wealthiest classes were illy protected from the discomforts that. destroy beauty and burden and coarscn fcmi- nine lovelinc s. They did heavy manual labor, were poorly fed or protected from wind and weather, and. like thcpciisauts of many of the Latin nations to-day, while they may have had a certain beaiite du diablc in the first flush of youth, the radiance-quickly died and left them ugly servants and beasts of burden. 'l'licrcforc, when a \vonmnarosc who possessed the true beauty that age cannot. wither nor custom stale, men wcntinud after her, fought to possess her, and possessing her thought the world but a bubble incomparison. Selection of this sort\i'ns,ofcmirsc, constantly at work improving the type, and thcsurvival of thefittcst, ago by ageliftcd ilpthc general plane ofbcauty. Ascivilization grew. women no longer trudged with heavy burdensthrough rain and blindinglicataftcrnomad husbands, and tlicirfect grew delicatcandlightlyarchcd. "The richer wives resigned the coarser labors l to tlicirservanfs, andiuscd their fingers only to spin delicate threads, toniako rich nccdle- work, to knit. to thriim thc. strings of inanâ€" dolin and lute, to curl the silken their infants and smooth bind the wounds of their lovers and war- iiors. The palms grew like llcschm-na's, moist and tendeiyfhc nails, no longer brokcn with coarse labor, glcamod like the Ill-licatc, transparent micro of a shell. The skin. pro- tected from the sun and wind, grew fair and clear as rose lcaivcs. the lips ruddy and soft. 'I'beir hair, carefully washed and tended. ,woimd itself into vinc~liko curls, and took 'the smooth gleam of silk. Siiflicicn‘. food lgavc roiindcd contoiiis, long hours of ruff slumber sprinkled tin: dew in the violle oi lin-ir 0ch, and the inovciin-nls of dance and gay motion made their limbs hl1:ll(l(’l' and siipplc. and at lav-t the modern beauty was cvolvcd. trcsscs of the brows and _____+.â€"â€"-â€".â€"â€" The Consciousness of Doing Good. ("oiifcntmcnt m-rcnc in the bomm abide», And he rings in the midst of'his labor l \\'lio nth-am; oil' the snow past the line that, divides Ills sidewalk from that of his neighbor. The Animal 8110 Would Like to Have Him Be. Iic ~ “ What sort ofan animal would you prefer to be, Miss Norllicotc, » that is, if you had to be an animal . Shc “ Uh, I don't know, I am sure. lot I know what Still of an animal I would lilil' to line you ln- 3" He (curiously: " \‘t'hnt ': Sll‘." --" A “cowl.” She-w" A i‘.‘¢asellâ€"~aiid pray why 1" : Iic- " Don't. you run: inln-r the old nurs- ery rhyme. ‘ I‘op goes. the weasel 2' " A Matter of Economy. “ \Vait a moment outside, Mai in. I've got to etc-p in her " “ You ought to have more regard for ap- p;ar.inccs,.lohn, than to stop at a drug slow on the way to church." " (Fici‘celyl“ It. isn't a question of appear- aiici-s,.\laria, it's a question of economy. I've got to buy a cigar or two and get Wllll': Hliiill change or elm: throw this twenty-five cent piece in the contribution box. Ihfvoi; think [in a Jay Gould ‘:" '