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I. WLLF SLVKE. E«TEF MD HMMIW • • ~ ; ••-fwfr, - • * - - * : ^iW*- v **¥*•* *e.\»7«r.^ , '?,-' • . • .hm^ns .•&&• ILLINOIS. * . -5r:. **' I';/ /.' #tiB HUE WORM'S soko. BT FBANCIS SCOTT XXT. Oh, let mc alone--I'vo a work to be dona That can brook not a moment's delay; • »i While yet I breathe I must Bpki and weav*^ And may rest-not, night or day. »« >; ; Food and sleep I will never know j;, Till my blessed work be don*.' i 2" DmrnyrMt shall be sw4et in (bf WCMfeff- •beet s • Vbat around me I have span. I hare been a base and jjroveHng thlafc - "L^„ And the dust of the earth my home; Bttntnr I know that tho end of my ww And the day of my bliss has come. In the shroud I make, this creeping tram* .. Shall peacefully die away; , Bat Its death shall l>e now life to ma » : In the midst of its perishing clay. ' s I shall wake, I shall wake, a glorious form Of brightness and beauty to wear j I shall burst from the gloom of my opening tomb, And breathe In the balmy air. X shall spread my new wings in the morning son. In the summer's breath I'M live; ' ' • . I will bathe mo where, in the dewy fltf ' * < C The flowers thoir swoetness give. * I will not touch the dusty earth, I'll spring to the brightening skr. f i fjK* And free as the breeze, where'er I ptoSH^f > On joyous wings I'll fly. And wherever I go, timid mortals may know That like me from the tomb they shall rise; And the dead shall be given, by signal from heaven, A new life, a new home in the skies. then let tbem like me make ready their shronds. Nor shrink from the mortal strife • And like me they shall sing, as to heaven they spring, Death is not the end of life. REUNITED BT JOSIE MOKiaSFT. ' • » ; * y ^ ' / |V/ «e fiad quarreled bitterly that morning; in fact, the breaoh had been widening be­ tween ns for some time and it took bat a small provocation to make the gulf of dis­ sension between ns completely impsss- able. It was but a small difference at first, but Norma was wilful and capricious and I was hot-tempered and unreasonable. We both magnified mole-hills into mountains, and remembering every unkind word spoken by the other, we nursed oar wrath and resentment until we had scarcely a kind thought vmaining for each other. Thus it had gone on for several months, until we had been married three rears. The morning of which I-speak, we had quarreled and words had been spoken on both sides that each thought could never be forgotten or forgiven. For a while I had tried to hold my nerr temper in check, but at last when my wife wound up a tor­ rent of taunts and reproaches by saying that she had never ceased to regret our marriage, that it WAS a mistake that had made her miserable for life, my rage be­ came uncontrollable, and throwing prudenoe to the winds I bade her take back her free­ dom. telling ber that I would leave her to herself and never trouble her again. I left the house without waiting for a reply, and, going straight to a hotel I engaged rooms until I could complete arrangements for a foreign tour. It was not until evening and I was done in my own room that I took time to think; then, as 1 looked the matter over, I began to regret the hasty step I had taken, for in spite of the miserable life we had led I had loved my wife. It is true, as I.have said before, she was wilful and capricious, but I had not been patient or forbearing and I could not lose sight of the fact that with all her wilfulness she had a warm, loving heart and many noble qualities. I remembered also that in many instances I had been exacting and selfish, thus chaf­ ing the proud spirit so impatient of con­ trol and so ready to resent any appearance of tyranny, but so quick to respond to gen­ tleness and loving forbearance. Now that I had taken the step that was to put her from me forever, my conscience lashed me sorely for the rash measure I had taken, urged on by my own impetuous anger. I knew well that her speech of the morning was the result of hasty impulse, for in the face of her angry words I knew she loved me. She had given me many proofs of that love in the past. My mind went back to the time, more than a year before, when I had been pros­ trated by a malignant fever; how she re­ mained at my bedside through weary dayB and nights of watching, never quitting her post except when forced to do so through exhaustion; then returning to renew her vigil as Boon as she had obtained a short period of indispensable rest. That night in my lonely room, her face as it ap­ peared to me on returning to conscious­ ness after a long interval of forget- fulness arose before me like an accusing spirit. She had, through sheer fatigue, dropped her head upon the pillow by my side, and with her pale face, and the dark circles arouud her eyes, the result of sleepless nights and anxious hours of sus- }tense, she looked almost as much an inva-id as myself. I had thought a few weeks later when the feeble wailing cry of a tiny babe was heard in our home, only to be hushed in the silence that could never be broken, that nothing could ever cause a dis­ cord between us again; but it was little more than a year ago, and she had returned to the home of her girlhood. I sat soli­ tary, brooding over the events of the day, and we had mutually agreed that hence­ forth the current of our lives should run in separate channels. For a moment the thought almost un­ manned me; then there arose in my mind the memory of her harsh words of the morning, and the recollection awoke the demons of pride and wrath in my heart, driving all tender thoughts from my mind, and steeled my feelings against her anew. The days parsed by and in due time I was ready to sail for Europe. It was night, and I was to stait at 6 o'clock on the fol­ lowing morning. I could not content my­ self in my room, and, lighting a cigar, I went out into the street to try the effect of a brisk walk and the night air upon mv de­ pression. Unconsciously my footsteps turned down the old familiar Btreet that led to my own house, that house where we had passec so many hours together, both pleas­ ant anc unpleasant, but the sight of the closed toors and darkened windows filled my heat with such a feeling of desolate loneliness that I hurried awav, thankful that I should in a short time put the wide sea between myself and the scene of mv great trouble. Old Time, who neither stops nor stays in h» tireless journey, had rolled round in his orbit and brought the snows of five win tors and ripened the harvests of as manv summers, when I returned again to mv na­ tive land. Through all the years of my wanderings I had held no communication with my wife. In the intervening time I had come to look upon my own conduct re­ garding our separation in anything but a favorable light. 1 hat she also had been at fault was true, but I was several years °i v:,, * , my more mature judgment should have been wiser, but I had long looked upon regrets as useless, and had no thought of reconciliation in mv mind when I came home. Indeed, I did not even know that she had not obtained a divorce and made a second marriage, though God knows no thought of marriage had entered Biy own mind. It will perhaps be a, matter of woikler that say friends and relatives, with whorii I corresponded regularly, had not kept die infozvned as to the actions and where- abbfcits of my wife; but I asked no qaee- tiont, and ft was tacitly understood be­ tween tw that it was a forbidden subject, and toey never mentioned her name. On my arrival at home I found my slater Delia in a flutter of excite- BMPt over a ball which, was to be held at the home of an old acquaint­ ance* Mrs. Lisdell, and nothing wonld sat­ isfy the little lady bat my company at the place of amusement. After much persuasion I reluctantly Con tented to go, and Thursday evening found us among the guests at the ball. I had escorted my sister to the residence of Mrs Lisdell, and leaving her with the lady of the house, had gone out arm in arm with Phil McKay, an old friend who had been travel ing in*the old country and into whose company I had been so fortunate as to fall at Florence. He left America some four years previous to my own departure and returned about two months before the even ing of which I speak. He was absent at the time of my marriage and our separation, and as 1 never mentioned the subject, it is no wonder that he still remained ignorance of the facts in the case. We strolled up and down the Btreet, talking of the adventures of the past for a time, then at length we returned to the ball-room Mil sauntered away through the crowd while I seated myself in a corner, out of the brilliant throng, to watch for old acquaintances and amuse myself in my own way. I had sat there but a few min­ utes when J heard a voice that sent every nerve in my body tingling and my heart throbbing with a fierceness that almost suffocated me. There was but one voice in the world that could so thrill me and that was Norma's As I looked up she was standing in the full blaze of the gas-light talking with ^Phil McKay. She glanced carelessly around, her glance fell upon my face and her eyes looked straight into mine. There was just the least perceptible pause in the conversa­ tion, the faintest possible quiver of her lips and flash of crimson in her cheeks, then she turned he* eyes slowly away and resumed her remarks without he compan­ ion having noticed that there had been an interruption. She did not look toward me again. I have not Raid that Norma was beautiful, but the most indifferent stranger could not look upon her face without acknowledging that it was the case. I could see but little change in her since I hid seen her last. As she stood in the brilliant light, she seemed a trifle more womanly; there was a Bhade more of sadness, or perhaps it was a more mature expression than of old (she was but little more than twenty at the time we had separated), but let the slight change be what it might, it was for the better and my eyes never looked upon a fairer picture than she made that night. She was of medium height, 6f' slight, graceful figure, her purple black hair was arranged in a quaint old fashion, a mixture of coils and braid that shone in the bright light like satin and was held in place by a silver dart with drooping pendants representing flowers of the deepest scarlet. Her eyes were of the darkest shade imaginable of purple blue, and her creamy white cheeks with the delicate flash of crimson were shaded by long curling lashes as black as night. Her teeth were white and even and gleamed like pearls between her lips, which reminded one of rare, red old wine, as they were parted in a smile that lighted up and gave a pleasant expression to every feature. Her slender white fingers were encircled with but two rings and I noticed with a thrill of delight that one was the solitaire diamond of oar betrothal and the olher a plain golden band wedding ring. As for her dress, it was simply per­ fect--jnst a bewildering combination of shimmering silver gray 6ilk and rich creamy lace, with a touch of scarlethere and there, as she alone could blend them to the best advantage. A few moments McKay remained by her side in conversation, then turned and looked around until his eyes fell upon my face, then made his way to my side. Come, McDonald," he said, "they will have a waltz next and you must have a partner. I will introduce you to the hand­ somest lady in the room." I arose mechanically and ft" h accompanied him, willing to do anything to divert my mind from the one subject that gave me 6uch torturous pain. We passed on through the crowd until--could I believe my eyes?-- he brought me face to face with the last ! >erson I would have wished to confront-- ! s'orma. The room seemed to turn around in a fantastic manner; as in a dream I heard my friend pronounce my name and hers (she had taken her maiden name), then with a mighty effort I recovered my self- possession and I fancied there was a touch of scorn in her tone as she said: "Mr. McDonald and I have met before," and, whether real or fancied, that tone gave me complete mastery over the emo­ tion that had almost overcome me. The demon of pride once aroused, urged me to, at least in appearance, be as careless as herself. With a slight bow and a mocking smile I asked her hand for the waltz as though she had been the perfect stranger our friend fancied her to be. Without a moment's hesitation, though with a flash of the old defiance I remembered so well in her splendid eyes, she placed her hand in mine. We took our place among the dancers, and, as if it were the very irony of fate, the music struck up, and the bewil- deringly sweet notes of the Beautiful Blue Danube floated through the room. That waltz had been her favorite and mine in the days of "Auld Lang Syne," and the memory was almost more than I could bear, but a glance at her face Bhowed it calm and unmoved, and surely I, with my man's strength of will, should control my nerves as well as she. I placed my arm around her waist and we whirled away. I can never describe my feelings during that waltz. Every drop of blood in my veins seemed like burning lava. My heart beat so quickly and rebelliously that it Beemed as though 6he must hear every throb, but I was determined she should not outdo me in coolness of appearance, or bear the ordeal braver than I. Once her head inclined for­ ward until it almost touched my breast, and I felt a mad, well-nigh uncontrollable de­ sire to clasp her to my heart, but I re­ membered with a pang of the most acnte agony that, although my ring was upon tha hand which rested upon my arm,we were as widely separated as though the ocean still rolled between us. The music swelled and throbbed wailingly aloft, and we kept on and on to the wildly beautiful measures. I beard some exclamations of surprise from old acquaintances, but was utterly careless of the world and everything except the mad­ dening pain at my heart. The music ceased at last, and bowing my thanks I released her, too full to speak; she returned my bow in acknowledgment, and turned with a smile to Phil, who claimed her hand for the next quadrille. It was a pang of genuine jealousy that convulsed my heart as my handsome friend led her away and bent his tall head to whisper something in her ear that brought a bright flash to her fair cheek, and I could not but see the look of admiration in his laughing blue eyes as he returned the 6mile with which she raised her face to his. The air seemed stifling me, and with almost groan I left the house and went out into the shadow of the shiubbery, and seating myself upon the grass I tried to think, but my only intelligible thought was that she loved and was beloved by another and I had lost her forever. I had sat thus some time when the rustle of a silken robe and a light footstep near me caused me to look up, and the woman who was once my wife stood before me. For a moment she stood si!ent. then she bioke forth passionately: "Was it not enough that you have been my evil genius heretofore that you must'return now to annoy me? Have you not caused sorrow enough in the past for me that vou must come to-night and force yourself upon me, to prove to the world bow en­ tirely you forget that we were once man and wife?" "I have forgotten nothing," I returned, "but believe me, Karma (my lips uncon­ sciously uttered the old familiar name), be­ lieve me, I was not aware of whom Phil McKay was speaking when he offered to give me an introduction to the handsomest lady in the room. I am sorry if it grieved you. I supposed you had forgotten as much us I." "I remember nothing I wish to forget," she replied, coldly, "bat for the sake of appearances you will at least pleafle me by ignoring my existence in future, have HO wish to become a laughing stock; for my acquaintances." "It shall be as you wish in future," then ac she was about ta turn away, my feelings overcame me and I said, "Will you answer KM one question before you go? In view of the relattohs that once existed between us I should like to know if you are going to marry Phil McKay?" I knew I had no right to ask this or ex­ pect her to answer, but for my life I could not resist the temptation of endeavoring to ascertain whether my conjecture as to ex isting circumstances was correct or not. For an instant she faced me and even in the moonlight I could see the angry flash of her eyes and the indignant scorn in her face, and knowing her impetuous tempera­ ment I expected an angry outburst, but in a moment she said coldly: "Roy McDonald, in view of the relations in which we now 6tand to each other, I am under no obligation to enlighten you as to my affairs, as I presume you are aware. You have ceased to have a controlling interest in my life and consequently have no right to question me. I shall decline to answer," and without waiting for a reply 6he re­ turned to the house. I had no desire for farther'merry-making that night, and my sister being willing we soon after returned home. For several days I tried to make myself agreeable to my friends and interest myself in their society, but one face was before my eyes, but one voice rang in my ears, and, turn which way I would, I could not drive my trouble, which had been revived with all the poignancy of its first pain, from my mind. Thus two weeks passed away and I re­ solved to again quit my native city and seek forgetfnlness in travel. In spite of the indignant remonstrances and expostu­ lations of my friends I made preparations to again depart. I could not bear to remain and see the woman who had been my wife and who now that she was lost to me was tenfold dearer, if possible, than ever before, become the wife of auother. The night before I was to take my sec­ ond leave I was seized by an uncontrollable desire to visit the house that had once been my home. It was my own property and was still standing as we had left it five years before, the furniture untouched save for a periodical airing. With the key my pocket I started out. As I neared the familiar Bpot lifted my eyes expecting to see the windows darkened, as when I had last looked upon them. Judge, then, of my sur­ prise when I saw a bright light shining from the parlor window. I paused a mo­ ment, pnzzling over the sight, then I pro­ ceeded to investigate. If I had been sur­ prised at seeing the light burning, I was not so much surprised when upon trying the door it yielded readily to the touch, as it was unlocked. I made my way through the hall to the parlor door, which was partly ajar. I pushed it noiselessly open and paused, dazed with astonishment, for there in her sewing chair by the side of the well-remembered table sat Norma. Her face was buried in her hands and she was weeping bitterly. I started forward, but at the first step she raised her head, and upon seeing me she arose hastily to her feet and looked at the door as though meditating flight, then she partially recovered herself, and taking a step forward 6he began speak­ ing, though I noticed that her voice was not yet quite firm. "Excuse me," riha said, "for my intru­ sion. 1 know this honse is your property, and I was wrong to come here at all. I will not repeat the offense," and she seemed about to stnrt, then stopped, and taking a key from her pocket she banded it to me, saying: "Here is the key; I have had it since you gave it to me when the house was mine as well as yours. I will now re­ turn it to you." As she reached her hand toward me I took it in my own, and when she would have withdrawn it I held it closer, and asked, "Why did you come heie to-night, Norma?" 8he did not reply for a moment, then with tears starting from her beautiful eyes, she said: "This is unkind, but I will tell you. I came because here was once my home, here I saw many hours of happiness, here my child was born and died, and--yes I will humiliate myself farther, and say I came because here I looked upon your face last before you passed out of my life; in this very room we were standing when you gave me to understand that you hated me and that yonr life would be happier with­ out me. I came to look at the old familiar objects as one looks upon the face of a dead friend before the coffin lid is closed over it forever. I have indulged the un­ accountable weakness, now I will go," and she ceased her rapid speech and again tried to release her hand from mine. Stop, Norma, Until I tell you why I came here to-night," then as she looked up wonderingly, I went on: "I came because it was once your home, because every ob­ ject was fraught with memory of you and the days when you were mine, because I could imagine your face pictured in every mirror, and hear your voice in every sound within these walls, because I imagined that you loved another, and I was going to leave my native land forever to avoid the agony of seeing you another man's wife, and came to this room to bid farewell to every hope of happiness; in short, sweet wife, be­ cause I loved you, do you under­ stand, darling, I love you," and as her tear­ ful eyes were raised to mine and a smile slowly wreathed the dear lips and the hand that had sought to release itself before nestled in mine, I took her in my arms and the feeling that set my heart throb­ bing was not this time one of "pain. Long we sat in loving converse; hours passed as we talked over the miserable, un­ happy past, and contrite confession of wrong on both sides, when neither sought to screen our own share in the circum­ stances that had caused the blunder that had brought so much sorrow to us both, and humbly and earnestly made promises of loving forbearance in the future. And when at last I spoke of Phil she looked with her dear, truthful eyes into mine, wiih her arms encircling my neck, and said: "As if I could ever have loved anyone else but yoa. Why, do you not know I waB your wife just the same," and I kissed the smfling lipB and was content. Years have passed and as I raise my eyes and see a fair, gracious Norma with her golden-haired baby upon her knee smiling lovingly upon me, I am led to wonder how I could ever have lived through those miserable live years away from her, and all fox a moment's anger. • ; ' - A Modern Fable* A beautiful young lady who always aided her mother in the performance of the household duties, and who was of a kind and amiable disposition, was one day surprised by the visit of a fairy, who said to her: "I have watched you for a long time, and have been much pleased with your cheerfulness, Your kindness and amiability, and i hare come to inform you that you will have one wish granted, no matter what it is." The young lady pondered for a {ew moments and then said: "I would wish to live to a good old age." "Have then your wish," said the fairy; "become a ballet dancer or a chorus singer," and she vanished. Moral: Virtue is its own reward.-- Boston Courier. Hb Social Position at a Stake. Young Noodleby (who imagines Miss Maginty, the wealthy brewer's daugh­ ter, is in love with nim)--Araminta, I have longed for this moment of rapture. Tell me you will be mine. Miss Maginty--I can't, Mr. Noodleby. I don't love you. Noodleby--Don't love me? Miss Maginty--No, I don't lore you. Noodleby--Humph! Don't love me! Well, might I ask you not to say any­ thing to anyone of this proposal ? Miss Maginty--Why, what do you mean ? Noodleby---Why, it might hurt me socially if it was known I proposed to a brewer's daughter.--The Rambler. REMINISCENCES OF PUBLIC MEN. BY BEN: PEBLKV POOBE. Senator McDougall, of California, a few days after he had made an offensive speech, when drunk, in the Senate Chamber, made a handsome apology. "I have," said he, "always thought that it was nobler to confess an unpre­ meditated wrong than to maintain the right. With this conviction I have risen to acknowledge the- wrong, to express my profound regret, and to ask the pfrdon of this body. I do this with more than mere satisfaction. It is fur­ ther due to myBelf, as also to the Sen­ ator, my colleague, that I should request his pardon. This I now do. I had at the moment forgotten the old rule, conclusion stated in a supposed Socratic discussion, ad tmculum: 'Avoid the perturbations.' I violated the injunc­ tion : 'Let not the sun go down npon your wrath.' With the morning, when the morn stood tiptoe on the misty mountain top, there came penitence. These short remarks are designed to be penitential." Hon. Sam Hooper, the merchant-rep­ resentative from Boston, called on Gen. Grant on New Year's day of 1866, and handed him a letter signed by himself and forty-nine other "solid men of Bos­ ton," presenting a library of well-se­ lected books which had cost $5,000. The debates in the Senate on the Kansas-Nebraska question were a pro­ logue to the great Rebellion, and when it came the turn of Stephen A. Douglas to speak on the Lecompton bill, the spacious galleries of the new Senate Chamber were packed. The day--it was the 22d of March, 1858--was con­ sumed by Senators Stuart, of Michigan, Bayard, of Delaware, and Broderick, of California, the latter concluding at five o'clock, when a recess took place until seven. The scene presented in the Senate was one of the most brilliant and excit­ ing I have ever witnessed. No sooner were the galleries cleared, when the recess was taken, than the crowds who expected Douglas would speak, all the morning having patiently awaited a chance to get in, filled up the seats. At five minutes after five the galleries were empty; in five minute^, more they were filled with a brilliant, fashionable and intelligent array. In the gentle­ men's gallery the people wete literally walking on each other. They formed a human pyramid reaching up to the windows, on the inside sills of which some persons were fortunate enough to be lifted. The reporters' gallery was captured by gentlemen who made a press, though they did not belong to it, and rendered it utterly impossible for my friends of the quill, save with one or two excep­ tions, to more than preserve themselves from furnishing a local item of "crushed to death" to their neighbor. For two hours the throng of people were wedged together in expectancy of the great speech. Some ladies brought books, others their knitting, and thus, having early secured seats, industriously killed the time between 5 and 7 p. m. When the chamber was called to order, Gwin and Seward simultaneously arose with the same purpose, to move the admission of ladies to the floor of the Senate. It was agreed to. The doors were thrown open, and a perfect flood of beauty, bearing on the tide all man­ ner of broken hoops and draggled crin­ oline, poured into the chamber. In a few moments every spot was occupied, while in all the lobbies sueh discontent drose from the unaccommodated crowds of gentlemen and ladies there, that sev­ eral times the chair was called on to dispatch officers to allay the disorder. The appearance of Senator Douglas was the token for a round of applause. The sight must have been deeply grati­ fying to him, as it was to that mother and daughter, who, from the reporters' gallery, looked upon the scene with that anxious pleasure which might tell the physiognomist that they, of all the great and brilliant crowd, had the deepest and most exalted interest in it. For three hours Senator Douglas spoke. _ Commencing calmly, with an expression of doubt of his own physical strength to carry him through the duty before liim, he warmed up by degrees, lifting the head and heart of the multi­ tude with him, until one almost felt as if he were in, Europe during the revolu­ tions, listening to some powerful tribune ol- the people expounding their rights and inspiring them to such action as made America a republic. He went through his public course. The period embraced some of the most prominent and vital acts in the history of American politics. He showed, not as a defense, but in a proud, manly and almost defi­ ant spirit, what his acts had been. He echoed his own words, he was proud of his deeds; deeds and words which were recognized portions of the Democratic party. As he proceeded with emphatic and measured dignity to define his position in the present crisis--what the duty of a Senator from a sovereign State was, and the responsibility he owed to the people whose voices culminated in him -- he held the multitude chained with that peculiar eloquence which, based on common sense and the rights of man, reaches its destination without the aid of winged rhetoric. Such eloquence does not dazzle, it convinces; it does not stretch the fancy, but solidifies the head; it does not hold the breath, but makes one breathe frfeer, for it cheers the heart. The great burst of applause which broke from the galleries and rolled over the chamber was a nobler testimony to the principles enunciated by the elo­ quent Senator than might be written. He was there the defender of the peo­ ple, the representative of a State, and not the vassal of the Executive, nor the valet of the administration, to do its bidding without consulting his own judgment or the interests of his people. He stood forth as tho champion of State sovereignty. This Union was not an empire or absolute monarchy, in which the States were but provinces, without individual and distinct and different rights. It was a confederacy of nations, each one of which was equally repre­ sented in the Senate. As he exposed the fallacy of making the Lecomptonism a test question with the Democracy, and claimed the right to vote against it, the expression of the faces around crave a verdict in his favor. With admirable adroitness and force he asked if Brown, of Mississippi, was read out ot the party for differing with the aeutrality policy of the administration; if Toombs was read »ut for opposing the army bill; if Mason would be ex­ pelled for not swallowing the Pacific Llailroad! Why, then, should : he be expelled, read out, denounced as traitor, because he, like those Senators, thought for himself on an administra­ tion measure ? The effect was electric, and was greatly indebted to the manner jf the Senator from Illinois. He gf6w n enthusiasm with the progress of tus subject; and up to the last sentence, in --liich he gracefully prayed the intelli­ gence of the Senate to overlook the style of his argument, as his recent ill­ ness prevented it being more perfect and Satisfactory to himself--up to the last word, the mass of people who heard him were not only patient, but delighted. It really was a study to behold the leader or Lecomptonism. Something about Glon. Mr. Charles H. Adams, of Philadel- {>hia. writing about glass, says: It is re-ated by Pliny that some merchants or mariners having a cargo of natron (salt or soda) on board their vessel, landed on the banks of the Belus, a small stream at the base of Mt. Carmel, Pal­ estine, and finding no stones to rest their pots on, placed under them some natron, which being fused by heat with the river sand, produced a liquid and transparent stream. Such is the traditional origin of glass four thousand years ago. It was introduced by Vene­ tian workmen into France and England in 1453 and 1557 respectively. Glass; in flat pieces, had been found in the ruins of Roman houses, both in England and Italy; in the house of the Faun at Pom­ peii a small pane in a bronze frame re­ mains. Between the third Itnd tenth centuries it was largely used in the im­ mense windows of churches and castles, but its general application to glazing is of comparitively modern introduction. With the settlement of the New World, glass works were established at Jamestown, Va., in 1610, but were de­ stroyed during an Indian massacre"in 1622. The next factory was built at Temple, N. H., in 1780, and destroyed by fire in 1781. The present annual production in the United States amounts to $22,000,000, the work of 225 factories, employing over 25,000 hands, and re­ quiring a capital of over $20,000,000. When Emperor Justinian, I. erected the temple of St. Sophia, in Constanti­ nople, in the fifth centurv, he filled im­ mense windows with plates of glass fitted into pierced marble frames. This is the earliest mention of plate glass, but progress in perfecting its manufac­ ture was slow. Blancourt, in 1598, says that plate glass was invented two hun­ dred years before by a workman, who while melting glass spilt some, which ran under a fiat flag stone; when taken out it had formed a perfect plate. St. Jerome says that in his time glass was cast into plates for windows. In 1773, near Prescot, Lancashire, Eng­ land, works were established on a large scale called "The Governor and Com­ pany of British Cast Plate Glass Man­ ufacturers," which has been in constant and successful operation ever since. Until this time, however, plate glass was generally'Tdown similarly to other glass, but since then the casting of plates has become universal, because larger pieces can be made than by any other method. The company now known as "De Pauw's Plate Glass Works," New Albany, Ind., was the first to manufacture plate glass in the United States, about 1870. There are now six plate-glass factories in this country, employing over 1,000 hands, engaging $3,000,000 capital, with an annual output of over $1,500,000. ttood Books. No doubt many of the boys and girls who happen to read these articles are already reading Walter Scott's novels, and are enjoying these marvelous stories as hundreds and thousands of older people have already done. Unlike the other books we have been talking about, the novel is purely fictitious. The in­ cidents and people described in its pages have not, as a rule, existed out­ side the brain of the novelist. One would think, therefore, at first, that novels have very little to do with real b'fe and real people; but the more we study the best novels the more we shall see that the purpose of the novelist is always to make a picture of life as it really is. A geod many of the famous novels, such as Charles Kingsley's "Hypatia," Charles Reade's "The Cloister and the Hearth," George Eliot's "Romola," Walter Scott's "Ivanhoe,"* Thackeray's "Henry Es­ mond," are called historical novels, be­ cause the writer means to portray peo­ ple who once lived, and incidents and events which once took place. Pro­ fessor Ebers' stories, which so many people have read in these last years, are of this kind. The great majority of novels, however, are not historical; many of them are written only for the amusement of an hour, and are not good enough to serve even that poor use; but there are a great many novels that have already lived a good many years and will live a great many years more, be­ cause they are so true to life. Hie more we read these novels the more clearly We understand that, although a novel is fictitious and the people in it are pure imaginations, nevertheless that which gives it value is its fidelity to life. The great novelist is always studying men and women whom he meets in order to create in his stories men and women who shall be lifelike and natural; and a good many novelists have succeeded so well that the char­ acters they have created seem as real to us, often more real, tkan a great many men who are famous in history. Thackeray's "Coloirjl Newcome" is a great deal more real to many people than Julius Caesar or Alexander the Great. So you see that even in pure fiction it is life which inspires the. writer and gives his story its only value.-- Christian Union. Honesty the Best Policy. "There's nothing like honesty," said the Indiana inn-keeper, "and I'm proud to say every one of my children is carry­ ing out the noble precepts that I infused into their minds when they were young." "By the way, Mr. Husher, what has become ofyour children?" "Well, Harry and Dick are manufac­ turing oleomargarine in New York; George is running a policy shop in Chicago, and Lizzie and Ella are just now Circassian girls in a Buffalo dime museum." It Was the Proper Diet. Le Gush--Aw, De Sappy, my deah boy, let's go into this eating house, doncher know, and get a lean mutton chop and some stale bwead. De Sappy--Why, chappie, isn't that rawther a howwid diet, doncher know ? "It's what the doctah has ordered the Pwince of Wales to eat, so of course it's all wight." "Of course it is; come along."--Pitts­ burgh Chronicle-Telegraph. THE time required for the develop­ ment of amall-pox after exposure to it is very difficult to determin^ but is usually supposed to be from twelve to fourteen days. Prof. H. Eichorst, of Zurich, has, however, at length suc­ ceeded in recording three cases in which the incubation period is clearly known, and finds it to be a little more than nine days in each case. A MISSIONARY was asked the cause of his povertv. "Principally beeauae I have preacned so often without notes," he said. A National Cattle Trail. I have said that the annual drive from Texes will probably be from 750,- 000 to 1,0(K),000 cattle. A large pro­ portion of these will be stock cattle-- cows, heifers, and young steers. Where are these cattle to be held until fit for market ? At the Cattle Growers' Con­ vention, held in St. Louis, November, 1884, the Texas cattle growers were unanimous in advocating the creation of a national cattle trail, six miles wide, and extending from Texas to our north­ ern boundary. The Northern graziers opposed the proposed trail on the ground that the Texas cattle were in­ fected with a disease known in the busi­ ness as Spanish fever. They asserted --and truthfully, too--that the driving of through Texas cattle along the trail would infect their herds. The Spanish fever does not injure Texas cattle; but all native cattle--that is, all Northern stock, no matter what their blood-- catch the disease by grazing on the ground over which through Texas cattle have passed, and they generally die. Here were two parties disputing about a fact that both knewr to be a fact, both cunningly endeavoring to conceal their real hopes and fears. There are Terri­ torial and State laws in force in the West that forbids the driving of through Texas cattle on the many ranges. A national l£w enacted for the purpose of providing a cattle trail would override these local laws, which many lawyers pronounce unconstitutional, and open the Northern grazing ground to the Texas cattle. The Southern stock- growers want the trail created so that they can drive young steers that are strong enough to endure the severe winters of the Northwest through to the bunch and buffalo grass pastures of Wyoming and Montana in one season, and so avert overstocking their home range, which is secure from invasion of Northern herds, as no na­ tive cattle can be driven on to the graz­ ing ground of Texas and live. The Spanish fever stalks abroad there. The Northern men assert and re-assert that the opening of the trail would endan­ ger their herds. They ignore the fact that the first heavy frost kills the Spanish fever, and ends all danger. They endeavor to conceal their real reason for opposing the opening of the trail, which is the danger of overstock­ ing the Northern grazing ground if the Texas men are allowed to drive their surplus steers there. They dread hav­ ing from 200,000 to 300,000 young steers annually driven North to feed on a range that they all realize will, under the present land laws, be speedily over­ stocked, and eventually destroyed, and destroyed by the greed of the cattle men. Underlying all talk of renting the public lands, or of buying them, and of any and all schemes concerning the dis­ position to be made of the public do­ main that emanate from the cattle- growers, is the determined purpose -to secure the land, and to place it under the control of the cattle-growing asso­ ciations, and then limit the number of cattle that shall be allowed to graze on it. The spectre that is ever present to the Northern cattle-growers is over­ stocking. All talk of their desire to conserve the public domain is false. They desire to secure absolute posses­ sion of the range; and if they succeed, they will surely stop agricultural set­ tlers from entering the arid belt to ac­ quire low-lying farms along the streams as if they owned them in fee-simple.-- Frank WUkeson, in Harper's Maga­ zine. , . Signs of a Storm. There are many ways of predicting rain. Every farmer knows when swal­ lows fly low that rain is coming; sailors, when the sea gulls fly towards the land, when the stormy petrel appears, or Mother Carey's chickens, as they are called, predict feul weather. Take the ants; have you ever noticed the activity they display before a storm--hurry, scurry, rushing hither and yon, as if they were letter carriers making six trips a day, or expressmen behind time ? Dogs grow sleepy and dull, and like to lie before a fire as rain approaches; chickens pick up pebbles, fowls roll in the dust, flies sting and bite more viciously, frogs croak more clamorously, gnats assemble under trees, and h«rses display restlessness. When you see a cwan flying against the wind, spiders crowding on the wall, toads coming out of their holes in unusual numbers of an evening, worms, slugs and snails appear* ing, robin red-breasts pecking at our windows, pigeons comuig to the dove­ cote earlier than usual, peacocks squal­ ling at night, mice squeaking or geese washing, you can put them down as rain signs. Nearly all the animals have some way of telling the weather in ad­ vance. It may be that the altered con­ dition of the atmosphere with regard to electricity, which generally accom­ panies changes of the weather, makes them feel disagreeable or pleasant. The fact that a cat licks herseitebefore a storm is urged by some naturalists as proof of the special influences of elec­ tricity. Man is not so sensitive. Yet many feel listless before a storm, to say nothing of aggravated headaches, tooth­ aches, rheumatic pains, and last, hut not least, corns. They Stopped Smoking. An army officer told me an anecdote of Gen. Hancock about his love of dig­ nity and dicipline. He was in command of the train which brought Gen. Grant's remains from Mount McGregor to New York. Gen. Hancock and his staff were in the coach next to the last. In the rear car was a party of Pennsyl­ vania militia offioers, who were pop­ ping an occasional bottle of champagne and smoking quite sociably. Gen. Hancock saw from hi# oar what was go­ ing on in the rear. It did not compare with hia< ideas of the proprieties of so solemn an occasion, and calling the conductor, he said: "Will you please present my compliments to those gentle­ men, with the request that they cease smoking?" fci a few moments the con­ ductor returned with the announcement that the convivial offi«ers returned their compliments with a peremptory decli­ nation to relinquish their cigars. "Where is the next switch?" asked Hancock. "About five miles below," replied the conductor. "When you reach it, ii the smoking in that car is not ceased, switch it on a side track and leave it. You may tell the gentlemen what I have said." In two minutes there was not a cigar to be seen in the appending coach. Its occupants knew that Hancock meant just what he Baid. --Atlanta Constitution. ' A PRIZE of $5,000 is offered for the best essay on the progress of electricity applied to motive power and lighting before January 1, 1889, the king of the Belgians being donor. EVIL thoughts are worse enemies than lions or tigers; for we can keep out of the way of wild beasts, but bad thoughts win their way everywhere. *3 StSS HIM IPFI FCPRA. THERE is only one bill mom penbeHki- I « than the plumber's--the mosquito's. , * r; PROFESSOR: "What is velocity P»> . >. pil: "Velocity is what a fellow puts * hot plate down with." „ A prawns® asks whether, 11 ̂ Titiaî i wife had been named Polly, the fact ? 4 would hare made her a polltieian. WHEN a fiVe-doUar bill is into the contribttiiosibdx, it 1 enough noise to be heffrd in heaven. PROFESSOR in logic to sleepy junior- Mr. K., what is the universal negativ#^ Startled junior quickly answers: prepared.--Fate News: • # DINER--What in thunder do you catl this compound, waiter? Waiter--A*. 'entry,' sir. Diner (rising with dip gust)--Umph; where's the exit. "WOMEN are afflicted by trifles," says Victor Hugo. Evidently the old phil­ osopher had purchased his wife ft bo)b net prior to writing the sente&co-- cncic* A STATE University student wag pen-* sively leaning against the court house, when one of his schoolmates came m and addressed him as "Professor." "Q, please don't do that again," said tha first student impl oringly. " Why not ?" inquired the other with no small degree of surprise. "Why people will think J don't know anything."--Texas Siftings. A TEXAS jeweler hung a watch in his window and labeled it: "Look at thk watch for $10," and the unsophisticated gentleman from Africa who stared at the article and then went in and wanted the $10, had to get down on the floor with the jeweler and roll over and under him a number of times before he could be made to understand that he < have any $10.--Texas Sif tings. FLOWERS THAT BLOOM IN THE POT. The flowers that bloom fn the pot, tra-la, Have the bulge on the flowers of sprUuL For whether it's cold or it's hot, tra-la, They're placed in a temperate spot, tTI liy And, in fact, have a very soft thing; 80 they don't care a jot II It freezes or not, As they teel pretty certain. the pot. > Tra-la-Ia-la-la, tra-lo-la-la-la, Ortheirs is a fortunate lo<& --New Haven Morning News. ^ » "DID you attend the concert last eveg? ing, Mr. Brain waste?" "DUF I? Wefi I dropped in long enough to hear Si|p nor Jangledome work his bronehial cal­ liope for about ten minutes, and I've had an abcess in my head ever since." "Why, what did he sing ?" "Something from Bombardi, they said, and it must . have been, for if he didn't lx>mba«i that audience with lung refuse, then PFTI no judge."--Yonkers Gazette. THE ladies of an Eastern church have organized a society, the object of whiaik is to break up profane swearing., The object is certainly commendable; but until something better is discovered than the old way of clawing a porus plaster off a man's back with a curry­ comb, or soaking it loose with chicken? soup, profanity will be indulged with a regularity unparalleled except by the frequency with which an old soldier with a mashed toe limps up to the pe$f sion office.--Newman Independent. "I SUPPOSE Eastern capital has doxt* a great deal for this country," said ft' traveler to a Dakota settler. "Oh, X 'spect it has--least that's what they a£L say." "Havn't you been benefited bar it?" "Well, no, can't say's I have?* "What has been the trouble?" "Why, you see I borrowed $50 of yer Eastern cap'tal when I first come out here and blamed ef it hasn$ kept me humping 'bout's hard as I can hump to raise the $30 each month to pay the interest on it. It has kinder held back, stranger.";--Estelline Bell. LIFE STUDIES. ft* DESPAIR means that the last brida> is gone. THE violin tihat is kept constantly |JJ| | tune wilj lose in tone. 1 THERE is not much differenoe betweefe earless extravagance and a hole in the pocket. "HEAVEN REVEALED," is the title of ft work recently issued. Another coc|| > book, most likely. IT is better for the general health <#' a community to have one good-natureil man in ^ neighborhood Watt fotflf doctors. . THE parent who never tell a chili ' that he loves it except when about to give it a good licking makes a terrible mistake. .-•* * THE average plug hat only weighs f|' < few ounces, and yet the effect it has ofl/H some men is to make them feel i though they weighed a ton. ^ ,» SOME people go on the principle thai , the best discipline for a boy is to fina out what he doesn't like, and then give him oceans of that very thing. AN Irishman wrote home to hitr friends over the briny that in th|» blessed land everybody is so honest, a reward has to be offered for thieves. THE average man goes about some things with as much awe as an o)d maid would handle a razor. Coming in froi|k ^ the lodge at two a. m., for instance. ^ IN every life there comes a time' when hope is crushed, but the ma|| \ with a healthy liver and a shirt that doesn't pinch in the neok seldom get* discouraged. SOME folks claim that there is op evil that is not followed by an overplaa v compensating good. At Pueblo, Color rado, a cat and dog, which had been playing with some clothing belonging to a child that had been taken witft; < scarlet fever, both took the disease and died. Discouraged people who have" lost faith in boot-jackp should pastir this in their hats.--Lige Broum> f#- Chicago Ledger. . ; . A Kentuckian Not a ColoneL >rw,, "Did you hear about Theodore Ha|*v V lam getting appointed 'Mister?'" saidl* gentleman to a friend in a hotel lobbj^- "No," was the reply; "tell us about it." "Well," continued the Kentuokian, \$f\ well-known Oovingtonian, "HaHam is very bright man; would l>e in Congress^" I reckon, were he not in the same dis­ trict with Carlisle, and may be some­ time, anyway, though he and Carlisle are great friends. "Some time ago somebody called Hallam Colonel, and he professed to l>4" greatly alarmed at the prospect of get|*v" ting mixed in and his identity lost wit|f' the great myriads of Kentucky colonelsR So he applied to the present Governor^'* . who was then running for office, for aHE^-' appointment on his staff, with the titl# of 'Mister.' The pledge was kept, am, Hallam now has his commission, macfi out in due form, with seal and signal ture, regularly appointing Hon. T. Fli Hallam to a position on the stair* of the Governor, with the rank an#! title of 'Mister.' Hallam claims to b#f the only man of that rank and title Kentucky."-- Wash ing ton Letter. MEN love to hear of their power, have an extreme disrelish to be told their duty.--Burke. , M 1