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earg flaindcalcr VAN W.TKE, Editor and Publisher MCHENHY, ILLINOIS (TTO TOUR LEVEL. Ton can bo a fishing sfaallob if you oanB&t bo : 2 a ship. If you cannot be a lighthouse be at least a r ; tallow dip; You can b > a valiant soldier though you may r noy bo a host. Tou can watch a sinale headland If you can- not {ftiard a const; jftjcre Is everything1 that's noble in the wisdom , - and the arrao > . . >©f fulfilling every duty, whatsoever be your i place. If you epend tho day in pining and in staring >1; at the sun, .. . „ Tou will find that you are blinded long before i, the day is done. \v»3tter be the humble limpet that is safe where'er it clings, 4 Than attempt an ea«le's soarings When you lack the eagle's wings. Hhero are seme as swltt asswailows, there are others who must creep, Jknd you never saw a turtle try to take a tiger's leap. tt you cannot be a Paixhan with its thunder­ ous report, Be content to carry powder in a corner of th» v; " fort; ff you cannot rule an army with a great com­ mander's skill, - Tou can Are a common musket in obedience to his Will; There is but a single oompass In the ship, however great. Bat each rivet and sall-flbre holds a portion % of its fate. : llever try to hold « b«nhel If deelgHed to hold a peck, , Or outreach the cranes and camels with your half an inch ot neck; . Hftver try to race with dolphins If you cannot even swim. Or to challenge hawks for vi&ion if your eyes b? old and iiim; Mever spread a grain of butter over fifty yards of bread, 40c attempt with penny trumpets to awaken up the dead. every stick of timber that is lit to make a mast, Xa* every structure builded is a Pyramid to last. MM every piece of music is an anthem or a psalm, lit every growing Bapllng that is pine or lofty palm; 15H every mossy atom has its own pecul'ar rrac?, JkKid cacfc its perfect usefulness or beauty in its pi«Ce. HKW truths are oM and hoary, yet we need 1 hem every day, A rec-one ie our longings to the limits of our way; She onsy true philosopher is he who learns content Though quartered In a palace or but sheltered m h s tent; Whose cheerful soul is ready to encompass what It can, ' . m vex itee:f in criticising Ood's eternal plan. The secret of the journey is to know and bear its length; The key of every effort is to right'y gauge your strength: Accepting wha is given you with the patience that but asks The knowledge for i s purpose and the cour­ age for its tasks; Content to struggle bravely and with honor : in the strife, Whether ca! led to lead or followon the battle- .j -j fields of life. 'We ask no higher mission than successfully to teach The vanity of grasping for the things beyond our reach; . Of wasting modest talent in ambition's useless fret. To reap but bitter failure and the ashes of re- ii. gret. #0, study what Is in thee, and to be a nob.e man. Know first; then do thy duty in the Great Eternal's plan. 80 shalt tho i know contentment ant content- ment's rich increase, ,* life en lowed with blessings and a spirit fil ed with peace; A dearth of disappointments and of hours with pride perplexed. Wje ilousics heartburnings that so many lives have vexed. d, thoush Pr'nc^ or peasant, 'tis gh that they should tell, w his place and purpose, a9! per ied each duty weil." jSci. Jones, in the Current.. &>-' DICK'S SUPPLEMENT.^ ; Susie Webster bad an impression fttt if she should venture to write ar­ ticles for the papers they would un- doubtedly be accepted. At school she had generally been con­ sidered a fair composition writer, and Susie's imagination had been consider­ ably inflated by hearing what excellent pay an older sister of one of her friends received for contributions to a city paper. And it would be only to a city ptper her contributions should be sent. In the first place, the local "squealer," M Dick always calls it, wouldn't pay a cent for sketches; and then, where would be the glory of seeing her name m that obscure little sheet, as com­ pared with finding it in one of the crowded columns of a prominent city publication ? But there was just one consideration which from the outset must be care­ fully remembered. ho matter when she wrote, or what •he wrote, Dick--"that Dick," as every­ body called him, must not suspect her intentions on any account "Oh, not for the world!" she said to herself, as the dreadful possibility of such a mis­ fortune occurred to her. For Dick was a most incorrigible tease and torment. It made no sort of difference that he had been exhorted, reproved, and punished repeatedly for the aggravating propensity; his grand­ ma once remarked after the pitying manner of grandmas, that it seemed to be in the wrap and woof of his poor, dear little nature to try people, while the less sympathizing and considerate cook liotly declared: "Faith, an' I belave it's the mate and * dhrink o' the little limb to be a pester- 111' o' some one--I do that !*' It seems strange that so much mis­ chief could be bound up in such a lit­ tle body, but Dick, after all, was only 10 years old, and rather frail at that, so considerable allowance was usually r,. made for his pranks. Susie was an ambitious young lady of IB, who had just left school and was in- ^ alined to affect rather an air of dignfty, noticeably in contrast with her lively, frolicsome manners of a few years be- fore. 4; Why it is that young girls who at- l®mpk to writ®» almost universally run #> the pathetic, and hint at unuttera­ ble woe and long endured despair, not fo be alleviated by any antidote this £« world can offer, is a sort of mjs- Some one has said it is the undercur­ rent _of sadness and sentiment inher- \ fnt in every woman's nature. It may ;|>e so; at all events, Susie was no ex- . , ;#eption to the general rule. After much careful thought, a great * faan3r erasures, and frequent correc­ tions, then scrupulous copying, she finally perused with a satisfied air, the teault of her literary efforts. Then a JK>lite little note was addressed to the editor of a prominent city paper, a man J; burdened with a vast accumulation of 1 .miscellaneous reading matter subjected fi to his inspection, yet a man keenly ap­ preciative of anything humorous, often- times gratefully hailing whatever would Muse a smile in the midst of his ab- As jorbing duties. / ' v Susie was about to seal the little • ^backet, when she suddenly remembered . ' , that her friend who had the literary ' sister had said that there must always oe stamps inclosed, or unavailable Jnnnuscript would not be returned to 3 - the writer. Dick had gone fishing; so leaving llie envelope still open upon tho table in her room, she went hastily out, intending to return immediately, but meeting a friend on her way back from the post office, she stood and chat' ted for a while. But Dick had not gone fishing, hav­ ing been confined to the house for the entire holiday a ternoon in consequence of having given the poor cook a piece of horehound candy completely bedaubed with kerosene oil. But ho was not a bit vindictive, only went prowling around the house with bright little eyes wide open, if, per­ chance, an opportunity for some other piece of roguery might greet his de­ lighted vision. Happening to pass Susie's room, he spied a fat looking envelope on the table. In a moment it was in his re­ lentless little clutch, and his eyes were racing over the neatly written lines. "Oh pepper and ginger!" he chuckled, "if only Sue'll stay away a few minutes I'll write a supplement to this perduction of her's, that'll boomer nm both through like Jerusalem crickets!" He ran for paper and pencil, and oc­ casionally stopping to compare notes, he wrote in a queer, scrawling hand for several minutes, and then with a satis­ fied grin he folded and i droitly con­ cealed his sheets of paper between poor Susie's and ran out of sight. Susie returned soon after, placed some stamps in the enve'ope without again disturbing its contents, and at once went out and posted the pre­ cious missive. And the editor had to call in an ex­ pert from the manager's department to help decipher the curious supplement, and was obliged to copy .all the boy had written on the reverse side of the paper, not knowing any better than to use both sides; but when at last it ^ras all straightened out, he decided to pub­ lish the entire communication, as a part of it had brightened him up so, he thought possibly it might entertain some of their readers also. As a result, three or four copies of the next Saturday's issue reached Susie, who eagerly tore open the wraper with delicious tremors of delight and curiosity, not stopping at first to open an envelope directed to herself in type­ writing, which accompanied the larger package. For a few moments her eyes flew ner­ vously over the well remembered words, then her whole expression changed, as something totally unfamiliar appeared in connection with her own composi­ tion; her face flushed painfully, then she burst into a flood of passionate tears. The first part of the article was as follows: MOONLIGHT MUSINGS. Bu Miss Susie A. HV^ster. I slowly strolled by the solemn and majestic old ocean. It was slumbering in calm repose, while murmuring rivu­ lets were lapping the shore in a way to entrance the senses. Sad memories presented themselves and filled my mind in dread and dreary array, until I felt like one who wan­ dered alone midst shadows and snows, on a desert shore. * • m m m m And I concluded that the only re­ source left the way-worn traveler in this mournful world, is to bury the past with its haunting memories, and myste­ ries of pain, and live patiently on with what fortitude we may, until kindly mpther earth, as we fondly call her, shall open for us her sheltering bosom, and the longing, wearied soul shall soar away to regions beyond the reach of earthly woe and deep, crush­ ing regrets. This, and considerably more of the same tenor from Susie's pen, was ac­ companied by the following brief ef­ fort: A PARODT ON THE ABOVE HOWL O MISERY. By a Horrid Boy. He was just a goin' it good. The wind a racketing around like all pos­ sess, and big billers was a licking up sand and dirt in a way to make a feller stare at the spectacle. All sorts of melodious thoughts went racin' through my intellic' like big guns, and it felt like--like --(confound it what did I feel like!) and 1 felt like the comfortable ole hair-pin of a boy that I am. And es I concluded, (concluded's good! that's the way my pardner puts in that moon struck thing oTierin.) I concluded that the best thing for a fel­ ler to do in- this jiggiting world is to take all the lark he can, till ole granny earth as we fondly call her, (tellers mostly don't call her anything) till ole granny earth gobbles us up into her big paws, and the rest of as goes (I've forgot where, and can't go back to my pardner's wail to find out, but it's to some place where woe'n misery'n such don't soar.) The letter which accompanied the "paridy," was also printed: MB. EDITOR:--I ain't in stamps to-day, for a great wonder, eo cant lcrrard any in case this gits back, but there aint a shudder o' achance that a newspaper chap with a head onto his shoulders would think o' r> jectin' such a pro- duehon and such a parridy as I ereintobeforo oontained. Bciumphously your*, KICHABD, More commonly known as That Dick- Webster. It made no difference that the sealed envelope contained $6, half for herself and half for Dick, Susie was not to be comforted; and Mr. Webster declared the time had come when Dick must be sent from home for a few months to some school where he would be obliged to behave himself properly; and doubt­ less he would have been obliged to go, only that his over mental exertion, or it might be stolen tarts, or some other unexplained cause, brought on a fit of sickness, which somehow had a subdu­ ing effect, and made Susie very forgiv­ ing toward her frail little brother, and after his recovery he seemed to re­ member how kind every one had been, for there was a manifest effort on his part to comfort rather than teast.-- Burlington Hawkeye. Kindly, but Firmly. A merchant who had repeatedly dunned a man, sent him a bill of the amount due. In addition to the nec­ essary rule and figure work, the mer­ chant added the following: "I am becoming tired of the indiffer­ ence with which you treat this matter, and I desire to hear from this bill at once." Several days afterward, the merchant received the following, written on a postal card: "Accept my thanks for the bill which you were kind enough to send. I have never troubled you about the matter. When I owe a man it is my disposition to treat him kindly, but firmly. I never hang around him. Well, whenever you haven't anything else to do send me another bilL"--Ar Tcanxaw Traveler. • AN old friend is not always the per son whom it is easiest to make a confi­ dant of; there is the barrier of remem­ bered communications ft fair cir­ cumstances.--George ElioL CKAMJt SONG. »V FRANCIS HOWARD WROLLHH, S:eep, my pretty one? o * : « Sleep, mr little ono, Ros« in the garden Is Mooming so rod; Over the tloweia the fleet-footed hours D..nce into dreamland to melody wed; 1o the voice of the stream--to a song In a dream. Bung low by tho brook to Its acone-oovered bel. Sung soft as It goes. And the henrt o'f the rose * Givos utromulouK leap , < As the melody tlowg. Ah, little one, s.rep, Sleep. . . Peace, my little onC -"» ** Pe> oe, my pretty OB», _ J, ; L^tes tiend low to the breath Of tlie t)reer.e; Lithe ns a willow, the boat on the billow High tosses tho spray for the sunlight to teaeo. With a kiss and a tear--with a rainbow, a fear, Fcr the light is the f un's and the spray Is the sta's; And the wind o'er the lea Breaks to me ody free, As the wnves that release The low lawyh of the sea. My pretty one, pease, Peace. Joy, my pretty Ohe, Joy, my little one, Farics cf night lrom their bright jewe led ears Fling a faint sheen and shimmer on r pples where gl; miner * The up-eazing e\ es of the down-gazing stars; And the I oat, while it giidei, sings the song of the tides is they k>8 into lanyuor the sand of the bars. Oh. 'river tU w fleet, 'Etc the melody meet ri lie sea's breath to destroy, , .What the 1 chocs repeat; • My little one, joy, Joy I ILITTLE JOHN MOTTLE JOHN. Little John Bottlejohn lived on a hill. And a blvthe liltlo man was he; He won the lit art of a liitle mermaid Who lived in the deep blue sea; • And every evening she used to sir And s njr bv the rock* by the sea-- "Oh litt e John Bott:ejohn pretty John Bot- tlejohn, Won't you come out to me?" L'ttle J< hn Tlottlejohn heard her sing, - So he opened his little door; Th: n he skipped and hopped, he hopped and he skipped. Till he came down to the shore. There on the rock sftt tho little mermaid; And Oh, she was singintr so free-- ' Litt'e John Botilejohn, pretty John Bottle- john. Won't you como down to m ?" Little John Bottlejohn said "Oh yes; I will willingly go with you; And 1 never will quail at the Bight of your tail. For perhaps I will grom one too." So betook her hand and he left the land, And plunged into the foaming main; But little John Bottlejohn, pretty John Bot­ tlejohn, Was seen never again. -- Scottish-American Journal. AN EDITOR'S GHOST STORY. BY EDGAR FAWCETT. I had always thought our paper a mere venture at best. True, Verity was a populous town, and there was no reason why a weekly journal, if once definitely started, should not sncceed there. But on the other hand, an im­ portant consideration must be taken into account. Did Verity, with its few paltry thousands of inhabitants, really want a weekly journal at all? Could it support one? Had it faith enough in its own intellectual claims to main­ tain the dignity of a real literarv "organ?" Pettigrew thought yes. If he had not thought so very decidedly, I am sore that he would not have udvanced the solid capital toward the enterprise which he did advance, by this means making it a matter of positive realiza­ tion and achievement. Pettigrew was a man of considerable property, of much education, and of strong ambition to shine in letters. He was a widower, with two or three grown-up children; he had worked hard for his money, and had made it only after the flower of his youth had faded. But he had found time to read and think; I suppose he is what is called a self-taught man. When he selected myself, then aged 24, to be his acting editor, I felt thrilled by the pre­ ference. He was the leading citizen of Verity, and I, Amos Langley, had just. been graduated from a Western college with the keen perception that I must promptly set to work and "do some­ thing," as the phrase goes, or starve. I knew very well that I should not like what John Pettigrew put into the paper. And I knew very well that he meant to monopolize at least a page of it every week. He had ideas, theories, views, on all subjects. He wrote a ponderous, Johnsonian style, whose syntax was not seldom precarious, and whose adjectives were piled one upon another in polysyllabic abundance. The tariff question, the civil servioe question, the woman's rights question, the Mormon question--these and a hun­ dred others were equally inviting to him. His pen itched to treat them all. The paper might be a financial failure for two or three years without dying, for it would still give Mr. Pettigrew a chance of exploiting himself. Other men, after accumulating a certain pile of wealth, buy pictures, keep fast horses, own a yacht. Pettigrew would stand as the power behind an editorial thronei "You can have full swing, Langley," he told me, with the most conciliating twinkle in his small hazel eyes and a very amiable look on his lean, close- shaven, impressive face. "I shant pull you up in anything. I knew your dead father well, my boy, and loved him like a brother. I've watched you closely, and I see you've got all his brains, with a good deal more grit. Grit is what he wanted. You deserve a start and you shall have one. Only I shall ask you to print my stuff--always. Perhaps you won't always like it I dare say you'll think some of it rubbish. But I shall expect it to go in all the same." This was clear, and at the same time decisive. I had dark forebodings, but never once permitted them to trans­ pire. They were verified in the course of time, for when the Folio was once launched into public notice I began to feel that it could never be a worthy exponent of my own pronounced edi­ torial creeds, while Pettigrew's rolling periods and sententious, hazardous rhetoric must forever occupy its initial page. Still, to quarrel with this feat­ ure of the journal was to fly in the face of my own destiny. Pettigrew wrote with a truly massive industry; he bad his flatterers who professed to read his effusions with delight, and who declared to him unblushingly that they "made the paper." Meanwhile, with secret and inaudible groans, I printed them. But I was careful in every other par­ ticular to follow my own wishes and beliefs. I have, through subsequent years, become a very successful editor in a city much larger than Verity, and I think there is no foolish vanity in my stating that I was actuated from the beginning of my career by impulses born of a distinct talent for the work in which I had engaged. I never once permitted the man to supersede the editor. Before our pa per was six months old I had made twice that number of mortal enemies. Miss Anrelia Sims, the reigning poetess of the town, never forgave me for de­ clining with thanks her Odo to the Evening Star. Mrs. Hathaway Wren, Who had written "go^ipj" letters for years to several sheets of local if,not general note, and whoso pseudonym of "Carrie Careless" was held in high esteem at many Verity firesides, con­ sidered herself bitterly wronged be­ cause I resisted the signal honor of her service. Mr. Lemuel Trotter, who sometimes dashes off a lucid tale or erime and passion in the relaxation from his duties as an apothecary, thought mean arrogant and self-suffi­ cient young person because I would not print his "HilJegarde; or, The Shadow of a Father's Sin." And so it went on. But I was inflexible. Though I sowed a new crop of dragon's teeth every week, still would I maintain and cherish a definite ideal. I would print only what I held to be worth printing --ruat caelum. Every tea table in Ver- ity might be forbidden me--well and good; I would drink my tea alone, with a clean editorial conscience. I was a very quick reader of the manuscripts sent me, and no doubt at times an unduly severe one. But it is certain that I received reams of trash. A great deal of this I would merely glance at before reaching a decision as to its wholly worthless quality. One day I glancod at a sheet of foolscap which had arrived with about ten others in a small packet that same day. and uttered a sudden cry of astonish­ ment It was so refreshing to come unexpectedly upon work which was not that of a tyro. The contribution was the first lour chapters of a story, and it was accompanied by a modest noto. The author trusted that I would kindly examine these opening chapters, Which he had written some months ago. Bad health had prevented him from continuing the story, but in case of anything like encouraging criticism he would be glad to resume it. The letter was signed "Hector Laughton," and the writer's address given under­ neath it. I found this address to in­ dicate a kind oC forlorn settlement about six miles from Verity. I had scarcely believed that D oontained a person who could read or write. And yet here was the beginning of a story so simple yet so exquisitely fresh and pure in its style that the author of it gave not only evidence of having read fine classic models but of being able to write with a tender and genial origin­ ality quite his own. 1 had found just what I wanted for the Folio. This tale of Hector Laugh- ton's must at once be secured as a se­ rial. Here was enough for two num­ bers. This I would pay for immedi­ ately, provided the author would visit me and sign the contract to supply me with other installments as early as pos­ sible. This same day I wrote to him in D , and on the following morn­ ing he appeared. He was perhaps 30 years of age-- surely, I should say, not older. His figure was very Blender, and possibly the ill-fitting clothes that he wore made more apparent than it would oth- wise have been a liollowness of the chest and a slight stoop there. The instant you looked into his face you S°JW the ravages of sickness. But it was a face that made me think of Keats' portraits; the large, melting dark eyes told not merely of mental force, but of something which in a novelist or poet- often surpasses it--temperament, per­ sonality, soul. "You look tired, Mr. Laughton," I said to him, as soon as he had made his name known. Somehow my heart had warmed with an instantaneous pity to- ward him. "Fray take this other chair; it is more comfortable. So you walked from D ?" "Yes," he said, breathing with some difficulty. "I'm not used to any but short waiks of late--since my illness." "Have you been ill long !" "It came on about six months ago." (I heard now what I had expected presently to hear, a dry, hacking cough.) "I have been a good deal bet­ ter through August, however. I dread the cold weather a little, for my chest and throat are still a trifle weak. How­ ever. we should at least have two full months of sunshine and mildness yet, and before they have passed I hope to be thoroughly well." Thoroughly well! There was a gl ter in those beautiful poetic eyes, hectic tint on these sunken cliee which made his words bear piercing thos! Still, there might be hope of living for some time yet. There mig! even be hope of his recovery. He had spoken of himself in the m unreserved way, though about all t' he said there was a delicate, winso: shyness, a reluctance to dwell up his own concerns, which made his dividuality all the more subtly attr^nej to lie fouud ill the market, tive. He had passed most of his eai„„u u i* m i- a « ww manhoood in one of the Eastern citii * his father had been a wealthy merchs who had suddenly lost everything in imprudent speculation. Hector come to the West with commerc schemes and purposes, but the broi ing down of his health had rendei them nulL He shared my opinion D , but his sojourn there had bdlorr one of necessity and not choice. ^ "I was on my way to St. Louis," hp explained, "when the attack of pneu­ monia, that has left my lungs so wefck ever since, first seized me. That wns in Macrh. I've been an invalid there from that time till about a month ago. It was when I felt myself likely to re­ cover that tho thought of writing that story occurred to me; so I did those chapters. I have had the plan in my head for three or four years. They used to tell me in college that I could write if I chose. Your letter, Mr. Langley, cheered me wonderfully. It was very kind." 1 "Do not call it kind," I said. "Call it just. I am delighted with your story." The smile that broke from his lips now struck me as irresistible in its candid sweetness. But it was like sun­ light playing bver a wreck. It showed me only more plainly than before how death had doomed him. "I--I am very glad," he faltered, as if ioy, and that alone, made his speech hesitant "D is an uncivilized place, as you say, but I have found some good friends there. And I want money dreadfully. Mine gave out weeks ago, and 1 have literally been living on charity. Pardon me, but if you could let me have something in ad­ vance to-day I will promise most faith­ fully that the remaining chapters of the story shall be sent ycu as soon as I can possibly furnish them. I know that this mode of emolument may be con­ trary to your rules, but--" "Our rule shall be waived in your case," I interrupted. This was quite a magnificent mode of treatment for the Verity "Folio." But I was only too gratified in adopting it toward my gentle, courteous yound visitor, whose enfeebled condition made his brilliant talents seem all the more noteworthy and rare. I not only paid him rather hand* somely for that portion of the story already written, but I insisted on send­ ing him back to D in a conveyance hired at a near livery stable. He thanked me with a warmth and earn­ estness that told of the confidence I was reposing in him had touched him beyond expression. Just before leav­ ing me, he called my attention to the similarity between our respective hand­ writings. "Two or three people to whom I showed your letter yesterday," he said, "remarked this resemblance'" "It undoubtedly exists," I replied. "But it is a resemblance which stops at the formation of the letters alone. I only wish it did not I would give a great deal to write your free, happy, graceful style, and to draw human character with your fidelity, humojr, wisdom, and surety of touch." I published the first two chapters of the story in tho next number of the pa­ per. It made an immediate success. Its poularity amazed me, excellent as I knew the work to bo. The circulation of the paper shot np several thousand copies in a week. Congratulatory let­ ters were sent in from twenty or thirty different sources. A score of influen­ tial newspapers flatteringly mentioned the striking originality of Mr. Laugh- ton's work. I forwarded all the enco­ miums to D , and received a reply full of mingled surprise and gratifica­ tion from the stimulated author. Four new chapters accompanied this reply. These were, if possible, better than those which had preceded them. Through the autumn tho story was in this way regularly continued. Then there came a pause. No more "copy" was sent to me, and I would soon need more. The tale had evidently reached its final stage. But the conclusion was still unforseen. I could not, for my life, tell how matters were to end, and I have no doubt that the perfect natur­ alness and vigor of the narrative, min­ gled with this same element of sus­ pense, were instrumental in holding up the circulation of "The Folio" steadily to that point which it had previously reached. I wrote to Laughton and received no answer. I wrote again, and with sim­ ilar results. There had been a sharp chagne in the weather, of late; a hot, dry autumn had given place to chill, raw winds. A sudden ominous fore­ boding took possession of me. On the day before that which should see the next installment sent in to the printers, I drove to D with my dreary pre­ sentment gaining strength at every new mile of the way. "I had guessed rightly. Hector Laughton could write no more. I found him lying in one of the up-stairs rooms of a small, ugly frame house, at­ tended by a very ignorant elderly wo­ man with a kindly face, and, I am sure, a kindly heart as welL Four days ago he had caught a sudden prostrating cold, which had been followed, a few hours before my arrival, by a violent hemorhage. The moment I looked upon his ghastly face I knew that death must soon do its work. He tried to speak to me as I stood at his bedside, but could only press my hand. His eyes, burning in their darkness, were full of a sweet, unearthly peace. I felt that a genius was passing away from earth. And I know, as well as human intelligence can ever be certain of such results, that if Hector Laughton had lived he would have left a shining name through many future generations. "Before returning that evening to Verity (where duties now imperatively claimed my presence) I made sure that the village doctor could be summoned for the dying man at the slightest warn­ ing, and that his least want would re­ ceive thorough attention. It was past midnight when, seated in my office, I drew forth the last printed installment of the unfinished story. "Could I finish it?" I asked myself. Had not those dark, tender eyes wanted to convey to me this very question ? There had been peace in his gaze--the peace of a spirit which resigns itself fearlessly and a little wearily to death --but had there not been a vague, yearning trouble as well ? No; I could never finish the story. The touch of that dying hand was in­ imitable. To think of the grumbling dissatisfaction of the subscribers at such a time as this was like a sacrileges. leave the story q£ How much better to I 01 all Kinds. Barb Wire 1 II Stock of BINDINC TWINS* athl» WarhQUM. O SELL THE & Co.'s Buggies, 3avy Hardware i 11 be sold at bottom prices. >' S. B. RUSSELLtj ti ipumcu uueiu. x i»mu nam swum this then--I can swear to it still. Whether a sleep or a trance now came upon me, it came in so impercep­ tible a way that I had absolutely no consciousness of its approach. All that I did know was that I awoke from a sort of protracted unconsciousness, and glanced with a shiver at what had seemed but a few seconds ago to be my pleasantly cracking wood-fire. Only a few red, dreamy embers .remained where the logs had formerly flashed. The clock was striking again. I looked up at its face. The hands were both at 12. I had a slight sense of awe, but none of actual fear, as I approached my desk. In place of the blank pages I had left there, there lay at least twenty that were covered with handwriting which I instantly recognized. On one of these was the word "Finis," and that and several sentences besides showed the ink which had formed them still to be wet At 9 o'clock that same evening, seven miles away in D , Hector Laughton had breathed his last The story was ended, clearly, power­ fully, satisfactorily, as only he could have ended it! * * * When I told Mr. Pettigrew my story he laughed in my face. Among the many decided "views" of this gentle­ man, was a supreme disdain* for any­ thing that resembled the least mani­ festation of so-oalled supernatural agency. • I thought him lamentably obstinate when he at length conceded that I had ended the story in a state of somnam­ bulism. Such things had been known before. Unconscious cerebration was admitted by science as a possibility. "And the handwriting, Langley," he delared, "is as much like yours as it is like the dead man's." "But we wrote almost precisely alike." "Of course you did," said Mr. Petti­ grew, with his shrewd hazel eyes twink­ ling. "There's the unfortunate part of it Is yon had written not alike, the preposterous explanation which I now hear regarding the ending of that story would at once be proved erroneous." But Mr. Pettigrew's incredulity, after awhile, failed to strike me as so very obstinate. Everybody else to whom I have narrated my strange experience (or nearly everybody), doubts it just as he did. And yet my own certainty has not for an instant been shaken. Years have passed since the events which I have just faithfully recorded. But I am still, at the present hour, a firm believer that poor Hector Laughton kept his promise with me that night, and in some mysterious way came back to end his story for "The Folio." Let others think as they please; I know. --JndiavapoliH Journal. # The Bright*IIued Fish of tho Red Sea. The water of the Red Sea is of an in­ tense green color, and so transparent that even at the depth of two fathoms the sea bottom is distinctly visible. It is carpeted with coral-plants of many varieties, with sea-weeds of manv species, and with numerous other "wonder of the deep" of both the ani­ mal and vegetable kingdoms. The in­ finite diversity of form and color and arrangement, still farther varied by the restless medium through whioh it is seen, makes a sight which the eye never wearies of contemplating. This beauty is still further enhanced by the thousands of brightly colored fishes which flash through the waters. They are truly marvelous for their beauty of form and color. To say that every col­ or of the rainbow is represented is an utterly insufficient comparison. Not only are there violet, indigo, blue, green, yellow, orange, and red fishes, of purest hue, but there are numbers which combine two or more of the-e colors. One little finny flower of most graceful form was of a delicate oobalt blue, with fins and tail of a fine lemon yellow; there were others with dark blue stripes of a rich golden ground; some black, with silver spots; some red, with green fins and tail; others with secon­ dary and tertiary colors mingled in most elaborate patterns and delicate proportions; while one species, having a rich, warm green for its prevailing hue, had fins and tail edged with a genuine prismatic spectrum.--Engineer Lock- ett, in St. Louis Globe-Democrat. Paupers Who Have a Soft Snap. Enfield, Connecticut, is the most con­ servative and most charitable town in the Slate. So when the State Board of Charities said she treated the poor the best of any iu the State, it is not to be wondered at Nineteen paupers live like princes now iu the town poor- house and drive out behind a fine pair of steeds when they get a chance. Their quarters are on one of the pleas- antest spots in the town. A house with every convenienoe gives them three square meals a day and furnished room and warm bed to every several one at night, while eighty acres of good land afford exercise for those who are able to take it. The men and women eat at separate tables food made from the best provisions in market, and each drink a big bowl of coffee or tea at every meal. Most are too old to work, so they gather in different rooms, well heated and furnished, and gabble the hours away. Nearly all use tobacco in some form, and the town indulges this petty weakness by allowing each 20 cents' worth a month. They are all ducked in a bathtub once a week, too, and made to keep themselves tidy. No wonder their eyes gaze toward this haven, and that when one gets about so old, weary and neglected he seeks refuge there, where three sumptuous repasts each day are served, followed by a dreamy smoke and gurglings of reminiscenses of eighty years or more of active life. Many who have money prefer this place to any other, and so giye it to the town to support them. How It Was Bora. Away off by himself, in some humble corner of the world, sits the man who first said the Chicago girl had big feet, looking at the immense mountain his original mole-hill of a lie has grown into. The origin of this slander upon the fair girls of the Garden City is cu­ rious. A young lady of Chicago was about to be visited by a schoolmate friend from St. Louis. "Mali," she said, "you know how sen­ sitive Julia is, like all St Louis girls?" "You refer to their large feet, Elea­ nor ?" quietly said her mother. "Yes. And you know they look so enormous along side of ours that I thought I'd order a up case of No. 25s from St. Louis and give them around among the girls Julia will meet here." "It will be a great kindness on your4 part, Eleanor," replied her mother, and the noble-hearted Chicago girl did so. When, the St. Louis girl arrived at her friend's in Chicago, she exclaimed: "Why dear, your girls have just as big 'feet as wo have!" and immediately tel­ egraphed the fact home. That is how it 'originated^--Pittsburgh Chronicle- Telegraph. All One Man's Work. Delilzscli is one of the humblest of towns Of Germany; itspopulation, even now, is not more than 8,000, and thirty years ago it was much less; but from small beginnings among the shoema­ kers of Delitzsch in 1850, Hermann Schulze has, by faith and patience, created one of the most remarkable social structures of the century. When he died, in the spring of 1883, there were 3,500 co-operative societies in Germany organized under his own con­ trol, besides thousands more in Aus­ tria, Italy, Russia, and Belgium which owe their origin to his example and looked to him as their father. Those 3,500 societies had a membership of 12,000,000, a share capital of $10,000,- 000, deposits amounting to £21,000,000, and did a total business of £100,000,- 000 a year.--Good Words. Income from Condensed Milk. Gen. Borden patented the process for condensing milk. The royalty on this patent has produced an immense fortune, and now yields an income of about $40,000, a year. The Bordens, nephews perhaps of the dead inventor, are large cattle owners in Texas. IT being shown by test that 282,240 pounds of coal will propel a ship and cargo weighing 5,000,000 pounds a dis­ tance of 3,380 miles, The Railroad Gazette goes to its arithmetic to show that an ordinary letter if burned in the ship's boilers, will generate sufficient energy to transport one ton of freight one mile. As THE Dead Sea drinks in the River Jordan and is never the sweeter, and the ocean all other rivers and is never the fresher, so we are apt to receive daily mercies from God, and still re­ main insensible to them, unthankful for them.--Bishop Reynolds. THE wait of money is not the root of much evil The Kit Cat Club. One of the most celebrated of Lofk don clubs was founded about the 1700. It was a convivial assembly cA young patriots, poets, and wits; and i|^ eluded among its members Montagu|§ Dorset, Prior, Garth, and others. The club was originally formed in Shire; Lane, about the time of the trial of the bishops, for a little free evening cos* versation. It is said to have derived its name from a certain Christopher Kat|» a mutton-pie man and a pastry cook, whose house in Shire Lane was the place where the first meetings of the club were held. Being the chief so­ ciety for the leaders among the Whigf, the membership included thirty-nine noblemen and gentlemen known for their warm attachment to the house of Hanover. The reputation of the club became literary, artistic, and political. During its existence the members in­ cluded Sir Robert Walpole, the Duke of Marlborough, Addison, Steele, and other noted men. At the Kit Cat Club "used to meet many of the finest gen­ tlemen and choicest wits of the days of Queen Anne and the first George. Halifax has conversed and Somers un­ bent, Addison mellowed over a bottle, Congreve flashed his wit, Vanbragh let loose his easy humor, Garth talked aod rhymed." Horace Walpole says the c'ub, thought generally mentioned as a set of wits, were in fact the patriots who saved Britain. Addison speaks of the origin of the club as convivial and remote. "Our modern clubs," he says, "are founded upon eating and drinking, which are points wherein most men agree, and in which the learned and illiterate, the dull and airy, the philos­ opher and buffoon, can all'of them bear a part The Kit Cat itself is said to have taken its origin from a mutton* pie." The mutton-pies made by Katt, tlpr pastry cook in Shire Lane, used §t» form a standing dish of the society at their suppers. Ned Ward, in his hu­ morous account of remarkable clubs, claims that the pastry cook's name was Christopher, and that he lived at the sign of the Cat and Fiddle, in Gray Inn's Lane. Ward says: "The cook's name being Christopher, he was called Kit for brevity, and his sign being the Cat and Fiddle, they very merrily de­ rived a quaint denomination from puss and her master, and from thence called themselves of the Kit Cat Club." Arbuthnot wrote of the club a fa­ mous epigram which alluded to the name of the organization: Whsnce deathless Kit Cat took its name. Few critics can unriddle: Some say frotn pastry cook it came, Aud some from C.it and Fidd e. From no trim beaux i s name it boasts, Gray state-men or green wits; But froin its pell-mell pack of tcaits, Of old cats and voung' kits. Jacob Tonson, a celebrated book­ seller, was the first secretary, and, it ia said, the founder of the club. Patron* ized by his distinguished visitors, Cris- topher Katt moved his establishment to the Fountain Tavern, in the Strand. During the summer months the Flash Tavern, at Hampstead, was the scene of the club's revels. It was customary for the society to toast their favorite ladies at their meetings, and Garth, wrote poems on the most celebrated beauties of the day, for their drinking glasses, which gave rise to the epigram written by Arbuthnot, already quoted.' -- Will M. Clemens, in the Current. A Gosling's Mysterious Flight* I was allowed to visit my uncle Sun­ day in Scotland. Sunday then began Saturday noon and was a long day. For whistling a lively air my unole said, "Jimmie, go into the gar­ ret." Now, if there was any place next to Heaven where I wanted to go it was the garret. There was a sword there which had been used in the bat­ tle of Waterloo, and an old gun, and fishing-tackle. I took a fishing-rod and put it out of the window. Below were two little goslings walking round, just out of the shell. In a moment I had 'hooked' one. It had the fly. As I raised it carefully I heard a heavy footsteep on the stairs, and expected a licking. My uncle came in, looked around the room, and wrent out I was not saying or doing anything. He will let me suffer all day Sunday and liek me Monday, I thought. A gentleman came down from Edinburgh, and I heard my uncle say: "I had an experience to-day that watf mysterious. We know a full-fledged goose can fly," he added, "but to-day I saw a gosling." And turning to my aunt he said: "How old are the gos­ lings?" "Eight days," she replied. "Well," he continued, "I saw' one of those goslings ascend in a straight line from that point of gravity and go straight up." " When he had finished I said, "Kee- hee." And the old man asked me how I got that gosling into the window.-- Major James Haggerty, quoted by Al­ bany Journal. "She Busted." In going over a battle-field at Mal­ vern Hill we came across one of the monster shells throwm from the gun­ boats in Turkey Bend. An hour later in going up the Varuna road we met four colored men driving a mule and cart and told them of the location of the relic. They hurried off to get it and we went into the National Ceme­ tery. Just as the party were ready to return to Richmond the mule belong­ ing to the colored gang came clattering past, having the thills dragging behind him. He was pretty closely followed ' by one of the negroes, who went by us at a 2:40 gait and would not stop to an­ swer questions. In about five minutes a second one came up, hat off and face covered with blood. As he stopped to pant he was asked what had happened. "Pow-powerful times, boss!" he gasped out "Aren't you one of the men who went after the shell?" "Deed I is, an' I'ze one of de me" who found it, too!" "What happened?" "We dun sot out to broke him np wid de ax. De mewl has gone by^ . Julius Henry has gone by, an'heah lis, while de rest of de crowd am maKin* fur de Jeems lliber, and pickin' out pieces of iron as dey fly! Dat shell up ant went an' 'sploded onto us. She , busted!"--M. Quad. There's Nothing New. The dental processes familiar to ns are not so new as may be supposed. In the museum of Corneto, on the coast of Italy, are two curious specimens of artificial teeth found in Etruscan tombs probably dating 400 or 500 years before our era. The teeth were evidently taken from the mouth of some animal, and had been carefully cut and fastened to neighboring natural teeth of two young girls by means of small gold rings. The dentist's art was also ap­ plied to treating natural teeth in vari­ ous ways, but the fact has hitherto es* caped notice on account of the rarity of Etruscan skeletons.