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• :..V, ' :K ... *• "'t IK: §ir S'-WiW tad eem, il̂ eHm wings tto t i g f , -jt ' :• In*** i« «MT? £,. '•'? Hwb in the west*-- ZZ" my love to-day, iMMntttnl prime ~ ^ow on her chMin, ^dM to bear words she speaks? J In the wftf _ _ kof the nipht is (Wp, Op ytonaeemy k>*e m ah« lies iAaaollMte, whtte Hover a^leop? Dow ate sail* m «he omlk» with me In * lightM >d haiw While the aftjm winds matte the!«•***, And the Mfht wave ripple *nd RMMBf Ok Unbi-tiwt fly oat of Um wewt. Do ye being me a menace from aer, Atswertasyoartowt-aalMam, When the w*nn sprtae tavern* aMrt Did she whisper a word of bm >-? Aa your tromnknui wings swept 9(fe^ Or uttor my name, mayhap, ^ In a single pwHfonrte cry? Oh, voices out of the west, *-/?? *':•• • -' ' Ye are silent every one, v.. And never an answer corofli ; . From wind, or stars, or rtfft ! And the blithe birds come and go Thronjrh the boundless fields ot Spam, An redden of human prayers An if earth were a deaert place! -The Vcnturst. HONESTY THE BEST Poller. Mr. Podmore Tempany felt very much disgusted when the fair widow who had consented to share his name lumded him a valuable bracelet in order -that he might get a missing stone re­ placed. He was an elderlv bachelor of miserly proclivities, and did not half Toliah the commission, though he could not very well refuse. It had been the aim of his life to marry a wife with a fortune, and, as Mrs. Bramwell Jay possessed this desirable qualification, fee was naturally anxious to avoid of­ fending her. He, therefore, reluctantly took the bracelet to Mr. Bevis, the jeweler in Sackville street, but, finding the cost of replacing the missing stone would be leoaanderable. he could not summon up courage to give the order. He locked "the bracelet up at his lodgings, and fretted a good deal about the unneces­ sary expense the widow had put him to. By degrees, however, he became 'calmer, for it happened that Mrs. Bramwell Jay omitted to make any in- about her property. As time by, he began to hope that the had actually forgotten all about it--which, indeed, seemed to be the 4BMe. Naturally Mr. Tempany did not 'Ibri called upon to refresh her memory, ' ttd thas It came about that the brace- let remained in his possession until the *;4b*e fixed for the wedding was close at -band. ' Just at this inconvenient time a friend T#f Mr. Tempany*s--to whom he was un- dter obhg .tioDs in the way of business --must needs get married" and Mr. Tim- iy felt compelled to give him a wed- esent. He resented this disa- ie necessity very much, because suffered a great deal of uneasi- oflate. owing to the increase m '^expenditure incident to his engaj||r ' I • He was also at the moment par- tklilarly depressed by the prospect of W * LoueVmOOu trip vO Italian lakes, n ot to mention snch fe'. • comparatively trifling items as an outfit S$&-t.^or himself and promiscuous gratuities 'I ;*o every one on his wedding-day. Even JL; %* tbe consoling reflection that, once mar- W - ried, his wife's income would be amply p aofficie it for both failed to soothe liim in this unhappy frame of mind he " Suddenly recollected Mrs. Jay's braoe- JVi 3^, Since he must absolutely give a K»'\. "'Adding present to his friend Bulli- |*t... ~vant, why should he not make use of jf/ '^he bracelet? It was a great tempta- fiS for the ornament had lain in his If- ', -drawer for weeks, and Mrs. Bramwell If , *sJay had evidently forgotten it. If she , should happen to ask for it before their p ^marriage, lie could invent some plausi- 4>te excuse to agtount for the delay in & »^fen thev were married k* /' could pretend he had lost it, or that it had been stolen, and, if driven into a & corner, he could replace it by an infe- ' f,Ti°r article. As a matter of fact, how- ̂ i ever, Mr. Tempanv did not pause to ̂ "J" relect on remote contingencies, for he Sitelt so inexpressibly relieved at the pros- pect of avoiding further expense at the " moment that he yielded blindly to an Sg » overpowering temptation. As to the Ifl -morality of the transaction, it can only '> cliaritfib y sup]>osed that he vaguely if' ' -imagined he had some sort of legal H . property in the bracelet in anticipation ||; , of his rights as her husband. Ik.. '% However this may be, Mr. Tempany jw- . f <flu|>atched the bracelet to his friend's , wife with a neatlv-worded letter of con­ gratulations and good wishes. The ; IBct of one ot the stones being missing ^ "was a little awkward, because it showed v* that the bracelet was not new. But ,)» J ^r- Tempany flattered himself that he fc-ir got over the difficulty verv adroitly If ^ by remarking that the bi-acelec had been jst,' ' B cherished heii'-loom in his family for '1: < :years.aiul that he would never have part- I ? «d with it to any one but the wife of his if* <k*ai aid esteemed friend Bullivant. By 'fXi' ' return of post he received a hearty let- PVS .^,fln^K from the lady, and also from his friend, and Mr. Tempanv ex- Esrienced a thrill of virtuous satisfac-,vf , on ^ having for once in his life gained ; * credit for generosity. j course, he did not mention this tf;\ little episode to Mrs. Bramwell Jay. and ^ ^ nientally resolved never to introduce r , Uullivant to her. But a few days after- P , -ward he was considerably startled by * 'the widow saying: f" "Bv-the-way, Podmore, a friend of | St • mine writes that she has had such a letter from you. Amy Markham S f . , were old schoolfellows. You never ^ >1 told me you knew her." ^ "I never heard the name," Mr. xempany, nneasDy. fk "How stupid of me! - That was her name, of course," exclaimed £ Jay- taking a letter from « * l*er appears she has recently L 5 r been married. Her husband is Mr.-- V ; 3tr JT8Uch. a ^eer name, and I can't r read her signature! But he is a friend •of yours." "Not BulUvant!" said Mr. Tempany. •with a start. "Yes. She writes that her husband 4b an old friend of yours, and that you *ent her a beautiful bracelet. How good of you, Podmore! You never Sve me a beautiful bracelet," added b widow, reproachfully. "All in the way of business!" muttered Mr. Tempany, feeling faint. "Amy says she will be passing through town to-morrow and will mob# m point of calling to show me the bracelet," continued Mrs. Bramwell gfe Jay, innocently. "She says it is ex- £ninely handsome, and she wants to read me your kind letter. Are yoa i&r Podmore?" "No, no. It is the heat of the fire," gasped Mr. Tempany, wiping his fore­ head. "I wanted you to come some­ where with me to-morrow, Theodosia-- for the whole day, I mean. I haven't been to the--the Crystal Palace for years, or to Greenwich Park. Will fou come to Greenwich Park, Theo-osia?" he added, desperately. "What horridly vulgar places! How absurd you are, Podmore I" exclaimed the widow, looking at him rather curi­ ously. "Beside, I want to see Amy when she calls. I shall certainly stay ID for her to-morrow." "I shouldn't, if I were you," said Mr. Tempany, earnestly. "Very inconsider­ ate of her, I call it, toswoopdown upon you like that." "I don't tlxink so," returned Mrs. Bramwell say. "I want particularly to see the bracelet you sent her. Wiil yon come and meet her, Podmore?" *No. no, thank you. Certainly not," replied the unhappy man, seising his hat. "I mean that I shall be busy all to-morrow--particularly busy. Another time I shall be delighted." "I suppose you and Amy have never met?" remarked the widow, with a sus­ picious glance. "Never! No, never! I assure you," answered Mr. Tempanv, and, being anxious to avoid further questions, he beat a hasty retreat. His state of agitation and nervous ap­ prehension may be easily imagined, for it seemed inevitable tU&t the deception lio had practiced would be exposed. The widow could not fail to recognize her own bracelet, and would, of course, call on him for an explanation. The situation was embarrassing, to say the least, and might lead to awkward con­ sequences. Mrs. Bramwell Jay, in her natural disgust and indignation, would in all probability break oft' the engage­ ment on tlie spot, and the story would be known all over London. M'\ Temp­ any got no sleep that night, and become more and more uneasy every moment. It suddenly occurred to him, in the midst of his mental perturbation, that he had committed an act of felony pun­ ishable by law. It was an awful re­ flection, and caused Mr; Tempany to break into a cold perspiration. The disagreeable contingency--however re­ mote--of finding himself in the dock had the effect of spurring his imagina­ tive and inventive powers, so that, in­ spired by sheer desperation, he at length concocted a story which he hoped might serve his purpose. The consequence was that when, in the course of the next day, he received a peremptory note from the widow, re­ questing him to call upon her immedi­ ately, he was able to keep the appoint­ ment with an butward appearance of calm. "Mr. Tempany, this is most extraor­ dinary !" said Mrs. Bramwell Jay, after a very cold greeting. "Amy has been here this morning, and I find that the bracelet vou presented to her is mine I I gave (t to you to take to the jewel­ er's. " "Nonsense!" exclaimed Mr. Tempany, with a well-feigned start of surprise. "It is impossible!" "Impossible! Why, here it is!" said the widow, producing the ornament. "There can be no mistake about it. I will swear to it. Of course Amy re­ turned it to me, and I have lost no time in asking you for an explanation." V> xiai ail utlu circiuurtiaiice--quite ludicrous! I must speak to Bevis. He evidently gave me back your bracelet in mistake for the one I had bought," said Mr. Tempany, speaking quickly and nervously. "Who is Bevis ?" inquired Mrs. Bram­ well Jay. "Do yon mean the jeweler in Sackville street?" "Yes. I never opened the case after he handed it to me across the counter, but sent it direct to Mrs. Bullivant," explained Mr. Tempany, gaining confi­ dence. "I recollect it was the same tj I left your bracelet to be repaired. ' is clear how the mistake arose." "Still, it seems extraordinary!" re­ peated the widow, evidently only half convinced. "The jeweler must be a very careless man. and deserves a good scolding. Suppose we go at once and ask him what he means by it? The car­ riage is at the door, and I am dressed for my drive as you see." "Pray don't trouble, Theodosia. I-- I really think you had better stay at home on a cold day like this," cried Mr. Tempany, with fearful eagerness. "I will call on Bevis at once--this instant --but there is no occasion for you to go." "Oh, I should like to go, and shall enjoy the man's confusion," returned the lady, rather sharply. "Besides, I am curious to see the bracelet you have chosen for dear Amy." Mr. Tempany was so utterly taken aback by this sudden and unexpected whim of Mrs. Bramwell Jay's that he could not find another word to say. He followed the lady meekly to her carriage and took his seat beside her, feeling like a criminal being led to execution. This ill-timed visit to the jeweler's niUst, he felt, inevitably complete his discom­ fiture, for Mr. jBevis would naturally deny all knowledge of the bracelet. It really seemed as though the only course open to him was to confess everything on the spot to avoid needless exposure and disgrace. But Mr. Tempany coiild not bring himself to acknowledge his deceit unless he were absolutely obliged, and during the drive he resolved as a last chance to hurry into the shop alone, on pretense of inquiring if Mr. Bevis were within, and take the opportunity to whisper a word qf warning in his ear. No doubt the jeweler was open to a bribe, and would make no difficulty about screening him. In his desperate stat-; Mr. Tempany took heart at tliia idea, aud even contrived to -converse with the widow with apparent equanim- ity. But alas! his little scheme was frus­ trated by the accidental circumstance of the coachman taking a wrong turn- ®g> 80 that when the carriage stopped the side on which the widow sat was nearest to the pavement. The footman, too, was unfortunately a very smart youth, and descended from the box with such alacrity that the carriage door was open before Mr. Tempany luul recov­ ered his surprise at having reached the jeweler's. The consequence was that i ie flighted first and stepped Into the shop, while Mr. Tempany, feeling that the fates were against him, and that he was pursued by a relent­ less Nemesis, followed after her in a state of despair. "Mr. Bevis, hew came you to make such an extraordinary mistake? You are Mr. Bevis, I presume?" said the W«vW' aPProaching the counter. Yes, madam," said the jeweler, quietly. "Will you be seated? What mistake?" Mrs. Bramwell Jay explained with fatal precision, while Mr. Tempany stood by bursting with desperate IOIwH lNi MK: sueeq$#d in duringl** the jeweler, was and a glance at the f SUP®;', ^ -w , - ... - b bachelor vPJwTwflliy Of* tbrvwd little man, CTPTOBHiaD on Mr. Tempany's eager and bloodless face sufficed to pat him on the alert. He knew the unhappy gentleman by sight, and _ also by reputation, ana, though their inmsuctions had Wu> tremely limited in extent, he had pretty well fathomed his character. He there­ fore guessed at once how the land lay and what was required of him, an<£ though he made no sign, a ghost of m smile flickered for an instant about the corners of his mouth when the 'widow had finished and awaited his reply. "I am extremely sorrv, madam," ha answered, with calm deliberation. "It--it was very careless," Mr. Tem­ pany was emboldened to say, though his heart was beating fiercely. "Very," said the widow, emphatically, manifestly taken aback. "I cannot imagine how you could have done such a thing." "Mistakes will sometimes happen in the best-regulated establishments," said Mr. Bevis, with humility, while Mr. Tempany felt a strong desire to evince his gratitude by falling on his neck. "Where is the bracelet this gentle­ man purchased, then?" inquired the1 widow, still in an incredulous tone. For an instant Mr. Tempany's un­ easiness revived, but Mr. Bevis was quite equal to the emergency. Without a moment's hesitation he turned round 4nd produced from a drawer behind him a case which he laid upon the counter. Mr. Tempany was so over­ whelmed with a blessed feeling of relief that he felt no curiosity as to the con­ tents of the case. His attention was at­ tracted to it by a startled exclamation from Mrs. Bramwell Jay: "Oh, Podmore! What a splendid bracelet! Why, it is a blaze of dia­ monds !" she cried, clasping her hands. "Eh!" exclaimed Mr. Tempany, hastily putting on his glasses, with a startled air. "What! Good heavens! That isn't the bracelet that I--chose," he added, seeing at a glance that it must be worth several hundred pounds. "Yes, it is, sir," returned Mr. Bevis, in a very quiet, decisive tone. "Oh! No. I--I think not, at least," gasped Mr. Tempany, but, observing the shrewd look on Mr. Bevis' face, which said as plainly as possible that the bracelet was the price of the ser­ vice he had rendered, Mr. Tempany subsided into a frightened and uneasy "Ohi Podmore. This is really too good for Amy. Much more than is necessary, I'm sure," said the widow, who had been gazing, enraptured at the ornament. "Yes, Theodosia, so I think!" ac­ quiesced Mr. Tempany, eagerly. "It is too rich. I'm sure she would lilr* something quite plain better. A gold band or a simple bangle would be much more "Suitable. I think I will change it." "No, Podmore; I have an idea. Amy was delighted with mv bracelet, and she shall have it. I wiil keep this one instead of my own as a present from you," said the widow, in a tone of de­ cision. "It will be the first really- handsome present you have given me, you know." Tm sure you don't want H, Theo- ^ cni/1 nanxr^ "urvtli a IMTMI of groan. "It--it doesn't suit your complexion, I'm afraid." You think not? Look, Mr. Bevis. What do you say ?" exclaimed the wid­ ow, clasping the bracelet on her shapely arm. "Excellent!" cried Mr. Bevis, in a tone of emphatic ailir'nation. for which lb. Tempany hated him on the spot. Nothing could look handsomer." Very welL Then that is settled," said Mrs. Bramwell Jay, pleasantly. I'm sure Amy will be glad to get my bracelet back again." ' You will have the stone replaced, of course, sir?" said Mr. Bevis, in a busi­ ness-like tone, as he took up the dis­ carded ornament. Oh! certainly," interposed the wid­ ow, before Mr. Tempany could falter a remark. "In fact I think the setting should 1h> renewed altogether. It is too old-fashioned." I will make a good job of it," replied Mr. Bevis, putting the case on one side. "Good-day, madam. Good-day to you, sir." Mr. Tempany went out of the shop without uttering another word, being quite speechless with mingled emotion. His horror at the probable amount of the jeweler's bill was only equaled by the maddening feeling of helplessness which kept him from remonstrating. So far from experiencing satisfaction at his escape, he was now inclined to think that it had cost him too dear, and his sentiments toward Mr. Bevis had changed to deep resentment. He ex­ cused himself from accompanying the widow for the remainder of her drive, feeling that he must be alone to brood over his crushing misfortunes. The lady seemed neither surprised nor hurt at this sudden desertion, and Mr. Tem­ pany had an uncomfortable suspicion that she rather enjoyed his discomfit­ ure. She was charmingly affable, however, and overwhelmed him with expressions of gratitude for his hand­ some present when he showed her into her carriage. ' By-the-by, Podmore, dear," she ex­ claimed, putting her head out of the window as she drove off, "what could have induced you to say in your letter to Amy that this lovely bracelet was an heirloom in your family ?" This significant speech rankled a good deal in Mr. Tempany's mind when he had sufficiently recovered from his state of horrified bewilderment to think it over. It really sounded as if the wid­ ow suspected she had been imposed? upon, though she had not scrupled to turn the circumstance to account. It may have been owing to a guilty con­ science, but Mr. Tempany certainly fan­ cied that from that day forward the widow l>egan to manifest decided cool­ ness toward him. So apparent did this become to him that if he had had any self-respect he would have terminated the engagement. However, as Mr. Tempany regarded his marriage, as we know, from a very material point of view, he was not inclined to be easily affronted. At the last moment, however, an un­ expected obstacle occurred. The wid­ ow's solicitor intervened with some very nasty suggestions about a marriage set­ tlement. This did not suit Mr. Tem­ pany's views at all, and, being unable to come to terms with the lawyer, he appealed somewhat indignantly to the lady herself. Mrs. Bramwell Jay re­ fused to interfere, saying that she was entirely in the hands of her legal ad­ viser, and the upshot was that, find­ ing the widow's fortune was so strictly tied up that he might be reduced to the no/>i>qBifv of ttWniv\i4ir»rr household Tempany until a mtihl fered. Of course, this was a dreadful blow to him. It aged him considerably, for when he oame to «dd'np what his en­ gagement had ;oapt. him one way and another in actual pounds, shillings and pence he was fairly horriiled at the iiiuonnt. 2£r. Ssprfs' account brought tears to his eyea and reduced him to a state of incipient imbecility for days. He had to pay it, however, nor did he get a farthmg discount. But it was at least a faint consolation to think that he would recover something out of the fire. The bracelet would fetch a good round sum, even at second-hand, and tliis reflection buoyed him up a little so long as he was permitted to indulge in it. But alas! Even this small solace was denied him, for in acknowl­ edging a small parcel containing the presents she had made him the widow wrote as follows: Peas Mr. Tempant: Thanks for your •ad, sad letter and inclosurea I do not like to think of what might have been but for those dreadful lawyers! I return all the dear gifts yon gave me, except one, which I am sore yon will allow me to keep and wear as a souvenir. The bracelet--your last gift --I cannot bring myself to part with, ami I promise to keep It always--always! Your mend and well-wisher. Tksodosu Brasiwbix Jay, , . if 'n Saxony* ""Tlie Saxons bury their deacl respect­ fully, quietly, gently. They do not like, and they do not permit, any vulgar display of cheap grief or shoddy aristoc­ racy on these solemn occasions. When the last scene is over; when friendly hands have closed the sunken, sightless eyes; when loving lips have kissed the* white and still-warm fore­ head ; wlit-n the body is laid out tenderly and decently upon the couch of death the face is covered with a sheet, and the chamber is deserted. The first duty of the nearest relatives or friends is to notify the authorities, and from that moment they practically lose all control over the disposition of the body. A few hours after death, usually before the limbs become rigid, the professional and official "death-dressers" enter the house and prepare the corpse for the coffin. They perform the services usually undertaken by nurses in America. When the body is dressed the friends and relatives are allowed to see it once more. Before the close of the day it is taken to the municipal dead-house, where it remains three days before burial. A case of burial alive would be an impossibility in Saxony. Every pre­ caution which has been suggested by science or experience is taken against such a dreadful contingency. When the body is Drought' to the dead-house, which is connected with the leading cemetery, just outside the city, it is placed upon a marble-top table. Cold water from numerous jets keeps it in a fair state of preservation. The dead-house is arranged very much like a morgue, but is not intended for any such purposes. Around every finger and toe of the corpse is tied a fine silken thread. These threads are connected with an electric apparatus in the dead-house, which is in turn connected with an electric annunciator in the sexton's lodge. The slightest movement, even though it is not con­ ceivable to the najted eye, breaks the electric current in tfte dead-house^ appa­ ratus and rings a uell in iue lodge oitue sexton. The annunciator shows (or, rather, would show) which corpse had moved, as the tables are numbered and there are usually several bodies await­ ing interment at one time. From the dead-house to the grave there is usually a quiet funeral proces­ sion, none but the most intimate friends of the distressed family, and the rela­ tions of the deceased, attending. At the grave the simple Lutheran-Evan­ gelical services for the dead are per­ formed; the grave is closed, and when literally covered over with wreaths, harps, anchors, hearts, and other me­ mentoes, composed of beautiful flowers, the attendants leave the sacred pre­ cincts of "death's eternal camping ground," and turn their mournful and sorrowing faces homeward.--Cor. Chi­ cago New*. Dramatic Critics. Of all writers, the dramatic critic on a morning newspaper has to contend with the most perplexing and exacting circumstances. Thousands of readers look to him the next morning for a ma­ ture, just, accurate, impartial, exhaust­ ive and even brilliant review of what he saw the night before. It may be the debut of a great actor like Salvini or Ristori or Bernhardt, or it may be the first night of a new play that has excited public curiosity. He* takes his seat with the audience, and he does not get away until 11:30. His copy must be in the printer's hands by 1 o'clock. In that hour and a half he is to spin the exhaustive and brilliant review, in which his judgment must be unerring, his knowledge perfect, his view com­ prehensive, his language unexception­ able. The successful accomplishment of the feat requires an instant judg­ ment, a concentration of faculty and a facility of expression that not one man in ten thousand possesses; and it is for this reason that, while all the other po­ sitions on a daily paper are filled by brilliant men, this one so often goes a- begging. There are plenty of scholarly men who, if you will allow them to go home after the play, talk it over, take a night's rest, and then let them compose an article the next day leisurely in their libraries, with books of reference at hand, wall furnish the adequate amount of criticism in the best vein. --New York Dramatic News. Set Clullty. The pastor of a congregation over in New Hampshire received a call one day from one of his deacons, who said he felt it his duty to enter complaint against a brother member for horse racing. "Was he really racing?" asked the pastor. "Well, he passed me, and my animal goes in 3:10, "How fast do yon think he was go­ ing?" "I should say at about 2:50." "My dear brother, you are entirely mistaken," said the pastor. "My pacer can only go in 2:55, and I assure you that whenever I have come up along­ side of Deacon G. I have cleaned him out in the handsomest manner." "What! do you drive in 2:55 ?" ^ "That's the best I have done thus far, but live in hopes to improve on it before spring. Don't be too thin-skinned, brother. You can work your old plug down to three minutes and go to heaven |ust the same!"--Wall Street News. The name of the chief Ambassador from Madagascar to France is Ravonin- A IMwvalattlwi m Ihi PlwlplM ot j--uala- ptna. Doctors, says a cynical contempor­ ary, were invented to repair the dam­ ages which man brings or commits on hnnself. Sometimes the damages com­ mitted by the doctor are as great as those he tries to repair. But this difference in the amount of the doctor's bill for damages. When a doctor finds out any new thing w;hich will cure folks, and uses it, all the other doctors turn to and abuse him for it. ' Doctors go to school for years learn­ ing to prescribe for diseases. Drug­ gists put up the prescriptions. The public take the prescriptions and put up both with the doctors and the drug­ gists. Some think it is a "put up job" between the doctor and the drnggists. About once in twenty years the doc­ tors relabel all the old complaints and give them new names. Thirty-odd years ago pneumonia was "lung fever," and "sciatica" plain "rheumatiz." But complaints with these old-fashioned English names are bad for doctors. People get too well acquainted with them, and they learn to cure them­ selves. When the doctors find them out they rechristen the whole lot. This is done by charging a gun full of Greek and Latin words and firing into the old complaints. When a shot hits the name sticks. The sick are frightened when they are told that these words are the matter with them and think something new and awful has got them. When a doctor has tried to cure a sick man and can't, he tells him he has got "malaria." Nothing readily cures malaria in New York but dying. Doctors usually disagree, and the more there are of them the more do they disagree. No dozen of doctors ever yet agreed entirely upon a man's complaint--unless he was drowned or blew his brains out. Every few years the doctors find out that something they used to do is entirely wrong, and likely to kill more than cure. But they stick up just the same for whatever they are doing now. Bich folks do not hire poor doctors to cure them. A doctor to cure rich folks must live in a fashionable street, an expensive house, and keep up some style. It is not the street, nor the house, nor the style, though, that cures the patient, and if the doctor happens to lack brains it's sometimes supposed that accident or nature cures them---if they are cured. Women are often fond of doctors, be­ cause if a woman thinks anything is the matter with her she wants her medical adviser to think so, too, and she wants to try and be cured in the most fashion­ able and expensive fashion. A coarse, common, unfashionable doctor might tell a woman that her corsets were cut­ ting her in two; that her lungs and other articles thereabouts were being squeezed too much together; that her life in­ doors was that of a human hot-house plant; that all the medicine yet to be mixed and made could not cure her, and that, in fact, she was too far gone in this sort of sin and wickedness ever to be a well woman. This might make her really ill. Would a "skilled physician" make his patient ill ? Oh, no. He will humor them and humor their com­ plaints, and give them all the medicine they want, and put in his regular bill and pocket the cash and step out. of the house rejoicing, and wink at the rioh druggist as he goes by. The time when a doctor gets maddest is when he gives up all hope for the patient and the patient gets well. It's ghastly comical to think how the old doctors of fifty or sixty years ago taught the young doctors to give big doses of mercury for almost everything, and how this drug, which the doctors of to-day don't use near as much as formerly, and which some of them think little better than poison, mu£t, as prescribed by the old-time young and old doctors have gone on killing their patients right and left. : 1 !%. , . Drawing the Long Boff* The London Globe tells the story of a candidate for a Yorkshire borough addressing the electors in flattering terms, and telling them that for "the hope of being their representative he had given up valuable prospects in India, and traveled many hundreds of miles." "What a jolly fool you must be," was the unsympathetic response of one of the crowd. The speaker had, in fact, returned to England because his prospects in India had proved de­ lusive. Exaggerators of this class have been held up to derision for cent­ uries. Lando (sixteenth century) tells a story of an Italian ecclesiastic, who was so_ given to drawing the longbow that his friends only derided his tales. He at last hired a simple country lad, whose whole duty it was to stand be­ hind his master's chair and corroborate his anecdotes. The boy did his work for a time; but at length his employer ventured on a tale so amazing that the honest servant startled the company by exclaiming, "Nay, master, take back my livery; I cannot swear to that." Epitaphs offer a very usual field for ex­ aggeration. Few imitate the sensible conciseness of an inscription in a Hamp­ shire church, where the survivor merely adds, after the name of the deceased: "To those who knew him a narration of his virtues would be needless; to those who knew him not it would be tedious" --a fact too often lost sight of by the writers of monumental inscriptions. Facts themselves may be presented in a light which exaggerates them to the listener. Boswell once praised the profuse hospitality of a gentleman who "never entertained less than a thousand friends in the course of a year." • "That is to say, about three persons dined with him daily," said Johnson. Both "ways of putting it" were true, but they conveyed widely different meanings. Why Ministers Are so Much in Society. There is much sympathy between thoughtful, cultivated a women and clergymen, or ministers; for they are almost the only two sections of our modern society who read and think in an introspective and purely subjective way. Literary men are dying out, or have been replaced by a class of book­ makers who think to order, and ran­ sack libraries instead of their own brains; but the minister is usually drawn from the literary class, and often has literary antecedents, and his in-door life compels him to resort to books and his thoughts for companion­ ship, which is what women are obliged to do also, and thus there is sympathy and understanding between them. Perhaps this is the reason why ministers and clergymen, even of the most rigid sect, are found so much in society. Every woman who can afford to pay pew-rent gives a "tea," and her pastor must attend her tea ; it would be a re­ flection upon her position or her stand­ ing in the church* if he did ttot; MM* lot the. paetorJamseM, routine of all pastors are not famous enough invited to big dinners, aild to make speeches at show banquets.--Jenny J u n e , i n B o s t o n T i m e s > f i , 4 * - - ' " f iTJV1' Plevna. . • Before daybreak on the last day of July the TfMe WM m the move to the front. There was a long halt in a hollow, where was the village of Radishovo, into which Turkish shells, flying over the ridge in front, came banging and crashing. About midday Schahovskoy ami his staff, which we accompanied, rode on to the ridge between the guns, al­ ready in position there, and we sur­ veyed the marvelous view below us-- the little town of Plevna in the center, with the Turkish earthworks, girdled by cannon smoke, all around it. After an artillery duel of three hours, the Prince ordered his infantry on to the attack. The gallant fellows passed us, full of ardor, with bands playing and colors flying, and went down into the fell valley below. For three hours the demon of carnage reigned supreme in that dire cockpit. The wounded came limping and groaning back, and threw themselves heavily down on the reverse slope in the village of Radishovo, in our rear. The surgeons already had set up their fielfl hospitals, and were ready for work. Never shall I forget the spectacle of that assault made by 8chahovskoy*s in­ fantrymen on the Turkish earth-works in the valley. The long ranks on which I Iboked down tramped steadily on to the assault. No skirmishing line was thrown out in advance. The fighting line remained the formation, till, what with impatience and with men falling, it broke into a ragged spray of humanity, and singed on swiftly, loosely, and with no close cohesion. The support ran up into the fighting array independently and eagerly. Presently all along the bristling line burst forth flaming volleys ef musketry fire. The jagged line Bprang forward through the maize- fields, gradually falling into a concave shape. The crackle of the musketry fire rose in a sharp, continuous peai. The clamor of the hurrahs of the fight­ ing men came back to us on the breeze, making the blood tingle with the ex­ citement of battle. The wounded be­ gan to trickle back down the gentle slope. We could see the dead and the more severely wounded lying where they had fallen, on the stubble and amidst the maize. The living wave of fighting men was pouring over them, ever on and on. Suddenly the dis­ connected men drew closer together. We could see the officers signaling for the concentration by the waving of their swords. The distance yet to be traversed was but a hundred yards. There was a wild rush, headed by the Colonel of one of the regiments. The Turks in the work stood their ground, and fired with terrible effect into the whirlwind that was rushing upon them. The Colonel's horse went down, but the Colonel was on his feet in a moment, and, waving his sword, led his men forward on foot. But only for a few paces. He staggered and fell. We could hear the tempest-gush of wrath--half howl, half yell -- with which his men, bayonets at the charge, rushed on to avenge him. They were Over the p&r&pei- in amnnir tiiA Turks like an overwhelming avalanche. Not many followers of the Prophet got the chance to run away from the gleam­ ing Russian bayonets. But there were not men enough for the enterprise. It was cruel to watch the brave Russian soldiers standing there leaderless, sternly waiting death for want of officers to lead them for­ ward or to march them back. As the sun set in lurid crimson, the Russian defeat became assured. The attacking troops had been driven back or stricken down. All around us the air was heavy with the low moaning of the wpu&ded. --Archibald Forbes. The Knot and the Mile. The "knot" and the "mile" are terms often used intercliangably, but "er­ roneously so. The fact is that a mile is less than 87 per cent, of a knot. Three and one-hall miles are equal, within a very small fraction, to three knots. The knot is 6,082.66 feet in length. The statute mile is 5,280 feet. The re­ sult of this difference is that the speed in miles per hour is always considera­ bly larger than when stated in knots, and if a person forgets this and states a speed aa so many knots, when it was really so many miles, he may l)e giving figures verging on the incredible. When we hear parties say that such a vessel is capable of making twenty knots per hour, we usually take the statement with a very large grain of salt, for twenty knots is 23.04 miles per hour, a speed which very few vessels have made, and it is doubted by some who have the best opportunity for making actual measurements whether any ves­ sel has ever made twenty-five miles in sixty minutes. It has been said that' some of the English torpedo-boats have made as high as twenty-four or twenty- five knots. Twenty-four knots are over twenty-seven and a half miles per hour, and twenty-five knots are upward of twenty-eight and three-quarter miles an hour, distances that are incredible. • ' .v-- •• ^ ^ 1:' ikMt i Mi v;" :4*. d". . - . Benjamin Franklin's Papers. The collection of papers relating to Benjamin Franklin which Henry Stev­ ens has been making for many years in London, and which lias been purchased by the United States, is said to be in­ valuable. Some of the manuscripts were found in a tailor's shop, where they had remained seventeen years. One was cut into a pattern for a sleeve, and another was crossed with the figures of a customer's measurements. The papers have been carefully mount­ ed, and bound in sixty volumes. The most curious and valuable is the orig­ inal of the petition of the Continental Congress to the King, indorsed by its presiding officer, Henry Middleton, and marked as having passed through Franklin's hands on Oct. 26, 1774. Another gem is the earliest autograph of Franklin, the manuscript of his ""Ar­ ticles of Belief and Acts of Religion," dated 1728. There is a letter by Frank­ lin to Cadwallader Colden, earnestly advising him to marry, and giving many reasons why a man is likely to l>ecome worthless and unhappy unless he is a husband. Moral and other consider­ ations are mingled in the most amusing way. An argument is even made in favor of marrying old women--"they are so grateful!"--Neto York Sun. Maj. Bubke, of the New Orleans Times-Democrat, went to work in a stone yard as a common laborer just after the war. He is now supposed to be worth $500,000, and to be looking toward th# lTnit<id States flonato • : , ; if' CI.J, w, writer in tha nal, atood logeUier lor in opposition to the CHhu Jaokaoou The publie that they were warm personal , I do not believe that such was the They we?e jeafcua at «m'u v^lier, and why? Because they were all aspirant* for the Presidency. When Ifr. Cafe houn separated from the tripartite alli­ ance, at the extra session of Congress in 1837, Mr. Clay smothered his resent­ ment until February, 1888. Then j| was that he arose in the Senate--Mr. Calhoun having just finished a speech in behalf of the Sub-Treasury bill-~* and poured out his indignation with at eloquence which delighted his Whig friends. He charged ffir. Calhoun with all sorts of political inconsistencies. It was evidently a well-matured oration. At the close Mr. Calhoun took the floor, but it was only to say that he would r# ply at his leisure to the Senator from Kentucky. In the eourse of fifteen q$ twenty days the reply came, and it was a masterly production. He repelled the onset that Mr. Clay had made on his political character with transcendant ability--not forgetting to dissect, with cutting sarcasm, the public record of Mr. Clay. When he finished, a suc­ cession of brief and rapid rejoinders took place between them. It only re­ mains for me to add that the partisans of each champion were well satisfied with the day's work. Great excitement was produced dull ing this session by the presentation of petitions praying Congress to abolisk slavery and the slave trade in the Di* trict of Columbia. John Quincy Adams figured largel on the question. He denied that 1 was an Abolitionist, but he denounced in violent terms the resolution which was adopted in regard to the abolitiqa petitions. That resolution was in theal words: Resolved, That all petitions, memorialsand papers touching the abolition of slavery, or the buying, selling or transferring of slaves In any District or Territory of the United States be laid upon the table without being debated, printed, read or referred, and t,ii4 no further action whatever shall be had thereon. r The intent of this resolution was allay all excitement on the subject of slavery. It had precisely the opposite effect. Mr. Adams declared and con­ tinued to declare that it was a denial of the right of petition secured to all citi­ zens by the constitution of the United States. This was the ery of the Aboli­ tionists and anti-slavery men all over the North, and greatly swelled their ranks. When I look back to those times, I am now satisfied that it would have been a wiser policy to refer these petitions to the Committee on the Dis­ trict of Columbia. This course would have deprived the Abolitionists of a very important part of their thunder. « A Humbngging Monkey. The anthropoid apes are a somewhat taciturn race, but a chimpanzee's mur­ mur of affection is very expressive, and quite different from his grunt of discon­ tent. A sick orang-outang sheds tears, moans piteously, or cries like a pettish child; but such symptoms are rather deceptive, for the orang, as well as the chimpanzee, is a great mimic, not Of men only, but of passions and patho- log'cat conditions. Two years ago.I took temporary charge ot a younjf chimpanzee who was awaiting shipment to the Pacific coast. His former land­ lord seemed to have indulged him in a penchant for rummaging boxes and coffers, for whenever I attempted to circumscribe the limit of that pastime my boarder tried to bring down the house, metaphorically and literally, by throwing himself upon the floor and tugging violently at the curtains and bell-ropes. If that failed to soften my heart, Pansy bec ime sick. With groana and sobs he would lie down in a corner* preparing to shed the mortal coil, and adjusting the pathos of the closing scene to the degree of my obstinacy. One day he had set his heart upon ex­ ploring the letter department of my chest of drawers, and, after driving him off several times, I locked the door and pocketed the key. Pansy did not sus- Eect the full meaning of my act till he ad pulled at the knobs and squinted through the key-hole, but, when he realized the truth, life ceased to be worth living; he collapsed at once, and had hardly strength enough left to drag himself to the stove. There he lay, memoaning his untimely fate, and stretching his leg as if the rigor mortis had already ovorcome his lower ex­ tremities. Ten minutes later his su]$» per was brought in, and I directed the boy to leave the basket behind the stove, in fall sight of my guest. But Pansy's eye assumed a far-off expres­ sion ; earth had lost its charm; the in­ humanity of man to man had made liim sick of this vale of tears. Meaning fo try him, I accompanied the boy to the staircase, and the victim of my cruelty gave me a parting look of intense re­ proach as I left the room. But, steal-, ing back on tiptoe, we managed to come upon him unawares, and Pansy looked rather sheepish when we caught him in the act of enjoying an excellent meal.--Dr. Oswald, in Fgamj^r. Science Monthly. „ Norwegian Farmers. ; ; The Norwegian bonde, or farmer, ijfc manly,self-possessed and brave. Beneat$| his rough exterior he has a most kindly heart; outwardly cold, but easily moveel to the other extreme, kind to his fam­ ily, and merciful to his beast, he mu»t be known to be appreciated. He is truly and honestly pious; his religions feeling's are deep, and have been culti­ vated from his earliest boyhood. I|| rare instances fanaticism may blind hie better nature and make him a bigot. In the character of both men an*' women is a vein of quietness and pen* siveness--the result, no doubt, of the stern nature that surround them. Parents are kind and gentle to their children, and I cannot recall an in­ stance when I heard coarse languag^ used to them or saw them beate% Members of families are affectionate t|f" each other, although they are reservet|j Quarrels are very rare; even on the. commonest farm I have never witnessed scenes of violence between husband and wife.' _ The farmers are very clever at aj| kinds of handicraft. When one wants to build a house, or make an addition to his farm, he goes to the forest anjjjjf' cuts the trees, and is his own carpenter. He may also be a tanner, harness- maker, blacksmith, shoemaker and miller; along the coast he can build boats and ships, and is an expert fish* erman; he is also a maker of musicsE';. instruments and furniture, a goldsmith and jeweler. As a hunter in the mount* ains, he pursues the bear, the wild reindeer or the ptarmigan.--Paul . . . • .' wS- ,. -• - v- ' :