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Borne on Thrill P<Mn and p aSlv i Q • i !*:i .'.v"' ' RECOLI.KCTIO*. »T AT.BXANDKR OOPFXAND HltiUUk Hffoiiph the i Float tlio visions of Float nnd tarte like clouds <s i fitful Hot the songs of chfldhood's ~ "" aVid fill our hearts wl 'er the hopes of life so OU it bo that once free-hearted, Innocent and pur© wer® we? Am the -wreaths of hope that c; But the withered leaves we Beef Smiles, like gleams of sunshine met When thej- o'er the meadows chaM Played among the childish dimples, Gave to everj- feature grace. Where are they--those mark* of Ever changing Anger-prints, Left bv the creating angel. Jhurthly trace of heavenly Conies a pure, sweet exhala Gently wafted on the air; Hi the fragrance and the ii Of an infant's lisping prayer. Bright as dewdrops in the i ' Gleam or innocence the t- Gleam in youth, bnt lose their spdfeUI And their lustre with the years. Tiros the past flits, flits before ua Things are riot what they were ti Sad and solemn is the feeling, They will never be again. Bat despair not of the future; The past, the past is dead; To-day is life, to-morrow promise- Bright the stars shine overhead. Let ns not sit idly dreaming; Hope for better thines to come; Through the light of morning glestmiOff Bises our eternal home. --Chicago Current. mi .1#* Jl?*' tlTHIE'S SiD FATE: BY H. MARIA GEOBGE. |v er; mnulens, Cathie conld only wait, dream, suffer. - Oti the second tnorning afterward, a bright, beautiful girl in a worn dress nnd shabby bonnet walked into Ralph Sey- mour's studio. The painter was almost rtartled at the sight of her golden loveli news, which seemed to light up the room With its brilliancy. "I need uot ask who yon are, or your er rand," he said, pleasantly. "Miea Wilmot sent yon. You are Fair Rosamond. 8ht> smilfed as she answered: "Yea, Miss Wilmot snid you desired to engage a m and I have come. Do you need me?" There was a little anxiety in her tone, and she looked at him appealinglv with her radiant sapphire eyes. He led*her to one side of the room, courteously re­ moved her bonnet, threw over her shoulders Anglo-Norman drapery, and then mmmmmmm/iKmmmmtm stepped back to regard 1 "Perfect!" he cried, hang loo the flood your hair had let fall loose, of only yon should let There!" after she her golden hair, : TI»e sunlight of a lovely May morning jihone into the studio of Ralph Seymour, L jFhere he sat at his easel before a picture, -touching here and there with marvelous %ill the .» canvas that grew into greater . beauty with each stroke of his artist's brush. He was grand looking as a Greek demigod, this struggling young artist who %as just beginning to meet praise and tcognition, tall and of regal grace, with a ce like a Raphael lit , up by a pair of great gray eyes which held a world full of jfenius. There was another occupant in the room ^a beautiful, magnificently-formed wo- Iban, dressed in silk and velvet and fine "laces--a woman royal as a queen, with rich, dark hair, a proud, impassioned face, «nd eager, dark eyes that seemed •O hide a certain weariness Wider all their flashing bril­ liancy. With one hand large and fair as that of a Juno supporting her head, she fa" reclined in a sumptuous fauteuil, gaz- •vg thoughtfully at the young artist and his jrork. So absorbed was her contemplation fM she could scarcely be seen to breathe jj|nder her tight bodice. Vf: The painting, though but half completed, Save promise of being a masterpiece. It ras a subject of genre--Queen Eleanor «nd Fair Rosamond--but free from the jwmmonplace treatment with which such ljubjects are usually represented. The 'Jjolor throughout was grave and subdued, ' ihaste, and cool. The conception was Strong. The scene, an arbor in a luxurious : j|arden, with the turrets and battlements of #. castle in the back-ground. The local English concomittants of the twelfth cen­ tury were given with strict fidelity to truth, ©f course the main interest converged upon the forms and faces of the two rivals. Ralph had represented the Provincial f>ueen with nil the majesty of a pythoness, edked in the gorgeous robes "of dtate, standing half in the shadow of the vine- , «lad,rose-bowered arbor. Her dark,haughty features were thus rendered the darker and Jiterner. Her mouth showed unfaltering . firmness and noble scorn, her eyes watch- Jtulness and sadness--the sorrow of a pri­ vate grief for a wrong done by a beloved . friend. Yet there was no sign of remorse in the majestic features, nor of pity, either, i He had seen fit to depict her without the Vtisual adjuncts of a poison-cup and a dagger. It needed not these vulgar sym­ bols to show that she was the injured and vengeful queen. The figure of Bosamond, the fair Saxon beauty who stole the heart of the great Heniy from his rightful spouse, was only in outline; the face was wholly shadowless. „ The artist turned at length* with an ac- ; jfion betokening impatience, to his beautiful And admiring visitor. , "I never can paint that face," he said, de­ spairingly; "never. Miss Wilmot. the pic­ ture will remain unfinished--another ^example of the vanity of human wishes, the folly of a vaunting ambition that over­ leaps itself." * . "Fie, Mr. Seymour," returned the dark beauty, whose face was almofetl counter­ part ©f the lovely Southern countenance ®f Queen El on or on the canvas, "have ; «ourage. You h ive succeeded admirably , «o far. It is a grand painting, which onlv the daring and great genius would have at­ tempted. I think you will complete it." --a: "Sot at present; I have not the power," •e said, rising and stepping back to study pis creation. "I shall try a landscape »iext, and let this rest--at least a while. If I only knew of a face I could model IP®*', but alas! there can be none that Approaches my ideal." "I do not know--perhaps I can aid yon," #bserved Miss Wilmot after a moment's thought "I have a friend of that very type of beaut;--sapphire eyes like stars, . #air like one of Titian's women, and a form like a young Venus, a perfect Saxon Jiowena. She is poor, and of course proud, think she will be glad to come." The artist walked towaj-d her with an abrupt motion, one hand pressed upon his forehead, the other stretched out to his friend. "I towe you so much already," he said, and if'the obligation is increased how •hall I "ever repay you? You have been a friend indeed, dear Miss Wilmot, a helpful friend always: and now for my Eleanor to find me a Rosamond that were asking too much." He spoke the last with a certain play­ ful badinage; but smile as she might, the «tately beauty flushed till her cheeks were tosv red. "You owe me nothing; it has been a pleasure to help deserving genius. And Queen Eleanor is too proud to fear the smiles of fair Rosamond. It will be no trouble I assure you. I will call and see her this very day, and to-morrow she will be here." "U is good, very good in von. What «hould I be had it not been for you?" he murmured, softly. "Ralph Seymour, you made vourself. I oould not make your genius. I have not «ven encouraged it. No woman has power •over a man like that." "1 do not know---I do not know. I ••j might not have been a greater painter, bat you have made me a more popular one." « "And I am glad to have done that, I am glad if I have been of any use to you--to any one; we women are so heloless. so | useless." She spoke a little sadly, a little bitterly It grieved her, perhaps, that she, an heiress and a beauty hud done so little for the •w orld: or did t-he grieve because she could cot stir the heart of the man she loved' For Cathie Wilmot, the leigning belle and an heiress of great possessions, pas­ sionately adored italph Seymour, the poor artist, though he knew it not, cared not to know perhaps. About a year before this be had been engaged to paint her portrait and the acquaintance which had thus begun' ripened into friendship, and on her part into a love which she knew was the passion of her life. They had been very intimate. She had generously aided him in securing * sales for his pictures, the piestige of her influence and patronage being of great help to him in this. During the past month she had almost daily visited his studio to sit as bis model for the royal Aquitanian dame. Of Ralph's feelings towards her she could only guess. Though poor, he was (proud, and did not wear his heart on his sleeve oven for his beautiful patroness to ; examine at will. So, like the humblest of "You look now just as if you had stepped ont from some mediaeval 'castle w ith Ivan- hoe. You'll do. When can you sit?" "Oh, any time yon wish, sir, and long." "I would like yon to come twice a week in the forenoon." And he named such lib­ eral terms of compensation that the wist ful face brightened with delicious bloom and color. "I am so glad, Mr. Seymour, that you like me, for I need the money very much. Yet, it seems as if you were paying me a great deal." "I pay according to the value of a thing. You are very beautiful. I had dreamed of beauty like yours, but never thought to see it. My Rosamond will be magnificent J shall look for you to-morrow at 8 o'clock precisely, and," with an attempt to appear very business-like, "you will please be prompt. I am a perfect despot as regards punctuality." ' "Have no fear; I will not keep you wait­ ing." "Oh! I had almost forgotten. What is your name?" "Barbara--Barbara Hovrth," she an­ swered, with a queer little tremor in her voice. "Perfect like yourself. Well, good morning, Miss Howth," and the • artist turned to his brush and palate. Barbara How th, true to her word, made her appearance at the time designated, and for da>s and days thereafter, she illumined the room with her beauty. Ralph felt an inspiration even when he looked at her, and as his Fair Rosamond grew on the can­ vas, the original grew dear to him, not merelv as his model, but as the one wo­ man who could guide and make happy his life. But for long, long days, he never told her this. Miss Wilmot had come in once after he had begun his work, carrying herself like the queen she was, in her costume of vel­ vet satin, with a soft white plume sweep­ ing round the purple-black hair, and ca­ ressing the curve of her superb shoulders. She was charmed with the progress he had made, and the attitude of the model, and she went away without one thought or fear of her rival's power. For several weeks thereafter 6he did not visit the studio, and Ralph had begun to wonder at her absence, when one day the post brought a letter. He smiled as he recognized the elegant hand-writing. Opening the envelope he read: DEAR MR. SEYMOUB:--Have you missed me? I am so sorry I had to leave t»fore "Fair Rosa­ mond" was finished But mother was not well, and we left the city earlier than usual. Newport is l>eginning to wake up, and Soon society will be in its gay whirl here. I am, woman-like, wasting time and strength on peurile things, while you are struggling nobly on works that will live. Well, I will not sav f.'ui bono. Do not put out your painting till I return. I shall expect to see you by the last of October. With good wishes, your friend, " CATHIE WILMOT. The letter pleased him, for its tone was so free and frank that he felt she wrote only as a friend. He had half suspected she loved him. but he was glad it was only friendship--glad for his sake nnd for hers. "She is a noble woman and my true friend," he said to himself, "a good and true woman; there are few of them, but she is one. She thinks of my labors even in the whirl of her fashionable life. Well, no stranger's eye shall see my masterpiece till she hath seen it." And when at last the great painting was finished, when the last touch had been given it, he turned it to the wall in his studio, for the sake of her who had in­ spired it. The summer days passed quickly, and the cool, frosty nights of October brought Miss Wilmot back to her city home. The second after her return she visited Ralph's studio. She went up the stairway to the well-remembered room, and the rustle of her silken robes startled Ralph at his work. After an exchange of civilities she walked up to the painting and gazed with all her heart at its wonderful figures. And as she looked her lips grew white and a terrible expression crept into the dark, despairing, beautiful eyes. She elapsed her hands over her heart and would have fallen had not Ralph's strong arms been near. "What is it?" he gasped. "Miss Wilmot, are you ill r" "It is nothing, Ralph--Mr. Seymour," she answered, recovering herself. "A sud­ den faintness, the room is close perhaps. I am better now." "And what do you think of Queen Eleanor and Fair Rosamond?" he asked, thinking only of what she would say. "What do I think?" with an eloquent gesture. "Why, that it is grand. It will make you famous. I am so glad for your sake, Ralph, for I love you " "My God! what are you saying?" cried the astonished artist. Miss Wilmot-- Cathie, are you mad?" "No; but 1 shall be if I go longer without telling you my feelings," she answered, sinking into a chair. "Wait, do not speak; hear me out. I have loved you from the first; you did not know it, but 1 tell it to you now; and I feared lest you might think my wealth should stand between us. Bnt tell me truly, Ralph, now that yon know I love you, are you alad?" She raised her Cleopatra-like eyes to his, and stretched out her white hands entreat- inglv. And there was a great anguish in his face as he took one of the fair hands in his, and his voice trembled and shook as if he had stood at the grave of a friend, as he said: "Cathie, dear Miss Wilmot, would to God you had never told me this. I shall never be happy again. I--" She grasped his shoulders with both hand, and gave him a glance that he never forgot. "Then yon cannot love me. You are not free. I have spoken too late. Oh, God, that i were dead!" and she buried her face in her hands while her form shook like a sobbing child's. "Cathel, forgive me. I would rather have died than wounded you," said Ralph, feeling that he must say something to comfort her, and deeply hurt for her sor row. "You are a dear friend. I prize you highly. Forget this folly, and let ns be friends as of old." "Oh, Ralph. I love you too deeply for that. It cannot, cannot be." She staggered to her feet, and went across the room to the picture. Her face w as pale as death, but the rigid lines about her mouth were firm as iron. "Is it true Ralph, can it be that she won your heart? Yet I need nft ask. Yon have ftainted your heart into the canvas. The igbt of victory shines in that soft, fair face. ^ And she could win yon, whee At this moment the door opened,and into the sunlit room, making it seem still brighter, "enme the golden-haired model Fair Rosamond. "My wife!" exclaimed Ralph " Seymour proudly, introducing her. Miss Wilmot grasped her hand ah& kissed her. "You are very sweet, and I think you are worthy of him. He is noble and good, may you both be very happy." \N ithout another word, without even say ing good-by, she went from the room. "NShy, how strange she is!" exclaimed Barbara. "Did you notice bow queenly she acted, Ralph?" "She was always strange," answered the husband, who was busy just then over some prints. "All these rich have queer manners, but she has. good friend to me." They never saw her again. She was too proud to remain in the city, and soon they learned that she had made Paris her home. By and by there came a letter from her to Barbara, a letter full of love and tender­ ness, asking kindly after her husband's success and fame. So did not forget them. And they spoke often of her and the old time, and one twilight evening Ralph told his wife of what had passed between them at that time. "I cannot blame her; how enn I, Ralph?" murmured Barbara, kissing him fondly on the lips. "And I can hardly believe that yon did not love her just a little," with a roguish look in her eyes. "I do hope she is not unhappy. It would hardly seem right for us to be so happy if she were And ever after from that night there went up a prayer from the heart of the wife for the welfare of the imperial beauty whose heart was so sad nmong the gayeties and splendors of the city of the world. There was no jealousy in that innocent, happy heart, nnd when, a few months later, a little golden-haired daughter came to bless the married pair, it was Barbara who named the little one Cathie. A Lesson in an Eggshell. Five hundred million dozen of eggs, says an English paper, are annually consumed in the United States; their value, at 8 pence per dozen, being con­ siderably more than £16,000,000. These figures are to some extent accounted for by the national fondness for pastry, of which Ude declared eggs to be "the great, original." One of the best signs of a thriving industry is the little pub­ lic fuss made abfiut it; and American poultry farmers have for a long time been naturally and profitably silent. But a cause of disquietude has at length arisen. No duty is imposed on foreign eggs, and some sixteen million dozen of these are annually imported into the United States. The competition is not so very severe at present, the foreign supply being less than one-tliirteenth of the entire consumption. Still, fore­ warned is forearmed; fcnd an American trade" journal presumably expresses the sentiments of its subscribers when it indignantly asks w hether the native egg industry is |^be crushed out by the rivalry of the "cheap pauper fowls of the old world." There is. perhaps more pique than propriety in this expression, though it suggests obvi<JUs matter for reflection on our side of the Atlantic. If we may judge from the innumerable treatises founded upon the problem, "How to make poultry pay," poultry seldom does pay in England. In regard to this matter there is a singular if not a pain­ ful contrast between English indiffer­ ence and American enthusiasm. Amer­ ican producers are excited by the fact that a quite insignificant proportion of foreign eggs finds its way into their markets. English should-be producers are in no way disturbed, although every retail shop in the kingdom has practic­ ally to rely upon the foreign supply. The statistics of these imports tell their own significant story. During the sum­ mer months, from fifty to eighty tons of eggs are landed every twenty-four hours on the quays of Harwich. These come almost exclusively from North Italy, by way of the St. Gothard tun­ nel. The daily cargoes occasionally amount to as much as 130 tons, repre­ senting about 2,000,000 of eggs, of which London is almost the sole desti­ nation. Besides these, from 50,000,000 to 60,000,000 of eggs are sent into En­ gland every month from Denmark, Ger­ many, Belgium, and France. The last country does a thriving export trade after supplying the egg-loving Parisians with the 40,00*0,000 dozen which is their annual consumption. It may be in­ structive to note some of the points on our coast at which this foreign produce is discharged. Weymouth receives from 3,000,000 to 4,000,000 of eggs per month; Newhaven and Southampton over 8,000,- 000 each; London (port of), 5,000,000: Hartlepool, 8,000,000; Grimsbv and Newcastle, 5,000,000 each; Leith, 2,000,- 000. The duty on imported eggs was repealed in 1860. t | If there is any one thing on which poultry experts are agreed, it is that fowls thrive best in moderate com­ panies. A stock of fifty head of fowls i» likely to yield a greater proportion­ ate profit than one of 500. Poultry^ keeping is, in fact, the ideal of a poor man's industry. The enorniovw conti­ nental supply of eggs is not due to large establishments, but to a well- organized system of collecting the produce of small ones. The Italian peasant finds fowl-keeping one of his most profitable pursuits. He barters or sells his eggs to the local agents, of the great dealers, who apportion the various circuits to traveling collectors. Thus, by innumerable small but fructi­ fying channels, the prosperity of the countryside is connected with the main­ tenance of the central marts. Such facts as these might appeal to the gen­ eral laborer, or at least to many who assume to be interested in his behalf.-- "Chicago Tim en. A Word to Young Men. It is as easy to be a rich man as a poor one. Half the energy displayed in keeping ahead that is required to catch up when behind would save credit, give more time to attend to business, and add to the profit and reputation of those who work for gain. Honor your en­ gagement. If you promise to meet a man, or to do a certain thing at a cer­ tain moment, be ready at the appointed time. If you go on business attend promptly to matters on hand, then as promptly go about your own business. Do not stop to tell stories in business hours. If you have a place of business be found there when wanted. "Seven "fool on" business matters. Have order, system, regularity, liberality, prompt­ ness. Do not meddle with business you know nothing of. Never buy an article you do not need, simply because it is cheap and the man who sells it will * take out in trade. Trade is money. Strive to avoid harsh words and person­ alities. Do not. kick every stone in the path; more miles can be made in a day by going steadily on than by stopping to kick. Pay as you go. A man of honor respects his word as he does his bond. Aid but never beg. Help others when you can, but never give what you cannot afford to, simply because it is fashionable. Learn to say "no." No necessity for snapping it out in dog- fashion, but say it firmly and respect­ fully. Have but few confidants, and the fewer the better. Use your own brains rather than those of others. Learn to think and act for yourself. Be vigilant. Keep ahead rather than behind the time. "WHICH is the most reasonable and does his duty best; he who stands aloof from the struggle of life calmly con­ templating it, or he who descends to the ground and takes has part in the contest.--Thackeray. * WHAT is an artist to do when he is ont of canvas ? He should draw on his imagination. A To TAMING • Power ol the Eye. When Mr. Fred JustfikaliafuR, of Columbia street, reached home from the office a few evenings ago, he looked very much as if he had Wen dallying with a young but healthy Western cyclone, or had just l>een run through a large-sized corn sheller. He was de- cidedly tattered. That part of his coat TEST where the tail usually hangs resembled nothing more thau lambrequin fringe of new and peculiarly eccentric design. His shiny beaver hat had lost its shine, and looked like ft tin-can which lias been bandied about by sportive boys in the roystering game of "shinnvonyer- oneside." The lower part of his left trouser leg had renounced allegiance to the upper part, just below the knee. There was a,stellated daub of mud as large as a new comet on his usually immaculate shirt front, and his cuffs seemed to have been engaged in a spir­ ited rivalry to see which should con­ tract the greater quantity of dust and dirt in a given time. Under one of his eyes was a dado of dirt, and the other eye bore the blue mark of violence. There were scratches on the back f of one hand that evidenced the somewhat hasty removal of patches of cuticle, and the other hand had apparently been tryingcitself at the popular pas­ time known as base bail, and got badly left--it was the left hand, anyway. When this sorry spectacle, almost specter, of the personally neat and trim Mr. Jristlikallafuss, appeared at the door of the pretty little home on Columbia street, in the doubtful half light of the waning day, young Mrs. Justikallafus, who happened to be in. the front parlor at the time, gazed at it just long enough to take in the hor­ rible reality that it was in fact her hus­ band, and then threw up both her deli­ cate white hands, uttered a dainty melo­ dramatic shriek, and fainted. It took fully one hour to restore her to con­ sciousness. All the help applied re­ storatives, several neighbors ' were called in, a doctor summoned, and poor Fred himself danced around among the rescuing party with an agonized look on such portions of his face as were not covered by the daubs and blotches of mud. It so happened that when Mrs. Jnstlikallafus* eyes finally struggled open again with returning conscious­ ness, the first object on which they aligl tedwas Mr. Justlikallafus, still in his bedraggled and battered state. "Oh, Fr-r-ed-die!" she gasped, "wlia-a-t" -but the rest of the remark was lost in the feathers of the pillow in which she buried her head, preparatory to another fainting fit. The prompt at­ tention of the attendants prevented a renewal of her attack, however, and Fred knelt down by the bed, and in tones of touching tenderness implored her to calm herself and speak to him once more. "O-o-h, F-f-fre-ed-die!" she moaned at length, without again raising her head, the words coming from the pillow in muffled syllables. "H-how c-can I-I e-ever look at you a-gain?" "Why not, my darling, why not?" cried the unfortunate Justlikallafus, frantically. "O-oh, F-freddie! You've been drinking, I know Vou have!" "No!" exclaimed Fred, with an emphasis that reached clear across the street. "No, my .darling! I swear I have not touched a drop to-day." "Then you've had a disgraceful street- fight?" "No, no! my beloved, how can you believe such a thing? Look up, my life's life, look up into my face once more." Mrs. Justlikallafus raised her head with a shudder. "Oh, Fred, what have you been doing then ?" she exclaimed. "Calm yourself, pet," he said.? , "It's nothing serious." "How can you do so? It looks ser­ ious enough; your clothes almost torn from your body, and--and your face and hands--ugh, b-rr! [Another shud­ der] But how did it happen ?" Fred looked at the picture of despair painted in mud and trimmed with rags, as he fumbled in liis vest pocket and fi­ nally pulled out a small clipping from a newspaper. "Read that," was all he said. Mrs. Justlikallafus took the clipping and read: "The pow>er of the human eye over the dumb brute creation is wonderful. Any one can keep at bay the fiercest dog by simply gazing steadily into the eye of the animal. The dog will at length go away completely tamed." "I tried it on a bull dog," said Fred, dolefully. "Oh, yes, I tamed him--at last," said Fred. Then he added, "But it was not simply by the power of the human eye. He resisted till I got hold of a rock and smashed his head. But I tamed him all the same."--Detroit Tribune. to a small, a tall and rder-to dft aff Sum- toods, to make room for 111 and Winter {Stock now JET, we will offer you Bar- ^at will mane it an object \Vto come and bee us. el\ . «•*?«• ••. -*.• y enfirely. Cabbage leaves dipped in a solution of Paris green--say a table- spoonful to a bucket of water--and laid at the hills in rows a rod or so apart across the field will poison a great many. The solution must be well stirred; or the Paris green, mixed with twenty parts of flour, may be sprinkled on to leaves previously moistened, and the leaves laid with the dusted surface underneath. In many localities, melons, squashes <Cnd cucumbers require unceasing vig­ ilance while they are young. As soon as they have runners a foot long, they are tolerably safe from the attacks of the striped bug; but the odious smell­ ing hard-slielled bug and the borer lin­ ger much longer. I have often caught and killed large numbers of both the striped bug and the hard-shell (corens tristis) in traps, as follows: In the evening lay two small pieces of board by the hill, one above the other, with a fresli broad loaf between them, serving both as a bait and to keep the boards a little apart. Very early in the morn­ ing go around the hills and grind the two boards very hard together for a moment; you will be almost certain to smash a number between them. This method vigorously followed up will ex­ terminate them. Against the squash borer it is more diflicult to contend successfully. I triqd covering tlie vines with earth a foot or so from the hill, to allow them to take root anew against the time when the borer should have destroyed the original roots, but I never found this very satisfactory. A mixture com­ posed of dry road dust, one-fourth; dry unleached ashes, one-fourth;'dry pul­ verized hen manure, one-fourth, and the other fourth composed equally of salt and sulphur, is said to be effica­ cious as a preventive against insects. The earth should be scraped away from about the roots for the depth of an inch, or two, and the compound piled up around them. After heavy rains it would have to be removed.--Edmund Horsey in Boston Journal. Who A richly-furnished suite of apart­ ments on one of the thoroughfares of axe city is devoted to a peculiar pur­ pose. A gilded plate of modest dimen­ sions, on which a name, and nothing nore, is inscribed, is among the flaunt- lig signs by the main entrance to the >uildin<r. Ascending one flight of the visitor's attention will vill be attracted by the marked care which the doors leading to the ront apartments are curtained. He ( ill understand at once that it is not a irivate establishment, for the name vliich appears on the plate below is kgain inscribed on one of the doors, reporter was ushered into rivate apartment, where gentleman in a fashionable suit waited on him. In a large r connecting with this ante-room glass door a conversation was go- It ran this way: Try once again, please." Th-th-the th-th-tlirush th-th-things -th-thweetly in th-the th-th-thpwing f th-th-the year." A young lady was endeavoring to ate in plain English that a thrush lings sweetly in the spring of the year. The place proved to be a private chool for teaching persons who lisp, «itammer, and stutter to articulate their vords distinctly. The instructor con­ sented to explain the secrets of his in­ teresting business. He said that not one in twenty of those who lisp and stammer have any organic or natural defect, and in proof of his assertion he cited the fact that few children com­ mence to stammer befor the age of 5 or 6 years. " Various causes can be assigned for stuttering, lisping, and stammering," he proceeded: "Fright often causes this result, and sickness, which does not at all affect the vocal organs, pro­ duces the same effect through nervous action. Stammering, too, is contagioiis, and a child whose speech is perfectly distinct will almost certainly become a stammerer if permitted to play and as­ sociate with stammerers. The habit is acquired by sympathy." "Can persons whose habit of stam­ mering and lisping is a matter of long standing be taught to speak distinctly ?" "The habit can be overcome in a very short space of time with training and patient practice where there is no inflammation of the vocal organs. Take such a veteran as Mr. William R. Travers. • He could be easily made to converse like other people, but it would be a crime against society to change his speech. If lie spoke plainer he would lose some of his fascination." "Is it not true that many ladies pride themselves on their ability to lisp prettily?" "In some circles lisping is considered a fashionable and desirable accom­ plishment. The trouble about lisping is that when a lady has once acquired the habit she cannot adopt a new style as she would a new dress. Most young ladies who take lessons in lisping when frolicking with companions of their ow n age are sQrrv for it later on. and tl*' HI Guarded Millionaires. The private service for the protection of the Yanderbilts, Astors, and Gould was organized three years ago, and is entirely separate for each family, though the men who defend the Van- derbilts and Astors are provided bjr the •same establishment and practically «vork together. Regular patrol duty is done night and day, and twenty detect­ ives are exclusively employed for the purpose. There are. four Astor residen­ ces and five belonging to the Yander­ bilts, all in or close to Fifty-second streets. The spies are on duty eight hours each per day, and the beats are so arrauged that the nine houses cannot be approached unseen by one or more of the guardsmen. Wm. H. Vander- bilt was the originator of this system, and he was incited to it by the large number of cranky letters he received. He professed to have no fear of ra­ tional evildoers, but was apprehensive that maniacs might attack him or some meml>er of his family. Since his death the mails have been laden with all sorts of appeals, demands, and threats di­ rected to his sons. Jay Gould's self-protection is most secret and characteristic. He does not intrust it to a detective agency, but hires his own bodyguard. For years he lias always been accompanied by a stal­ wart young fellow. But that is a safe­ guard against Wall street enemies. Cranks who might cut up capers in or around his home are under the view of spies whose quarters are in a room of the Windsor Hotel across the way. This is additional to patrol duty done by a separate set of men. The employes of the millionaire families, whose names are poor people's synonymes for wealth, are kept informed as to every new dem­ onstration by a crank, and they are alert to descay and drive off the mono­ maniacs who attempt any exploits. During the Western strikes Jay Gould has made the trips between his home and office in a cab, instead of elevated cars as formerly, and it is observed that a ring at his bell brings a sauntering watchman to the foot of the steps about as quickly as it does the servant to the Happiness Without Wealth. William H. Vanderbilt had the cost­ liest home and the largest income in America. The day he died the only thing he could think of that would give him any pleasure was a buggy ride. Any young fellow in Keokuk gets that any Sunday afternoon, and a good deal more pleasure than Yanderbilt knew for $1.50 and a buggy from a livery sta­ ble. Many people say they would like to have w ealth to be able to have ele­ gant pictures in the home. Well, plenty of men have had private picture galleries and most of them have in late times given them to the public. When the individual had them, he soon wearied of them. We would far rather be able to go to Corcoran's gallery three or four times a year and see the pictures than to own them. In fine this "otherness" in the benefits of wealth privately owned is well worth thinking of. Men are striving, toiling, planning, suffering to get t and use wealth as a private possession^ and much of the largest, best, and happiest results go inevitably to all about them, and the poorest about them. There is not much that wealth really does for its owner as an actual result. As a possi­ bility it could do much if spent; but if spent, its possibilities to its owner would be gone. So those who have much do not as a general thing get more out of it than those who have less. The richest man in Iowa spends all he desires upon himself and his own per­ sonal wants, and yet, we dare say, he spends no more than any Keokuk me­ chanic and not as much as most of them. The elder Vanderbilt never spent so much money on himself, all his life, as most clerks do. Most wealth is not used by the owner, save for those enterprises which bring their results to the community about him as fully as to himself. For this he toils, plans, worries, suffers, endures, saves, projects, and completes what others could not and would; and he has the toil and bitterness and leaves the re­ sults to them.--Keokuk Gate City. Two Kinds of Suspense. A murderer under sentence of death had a number of influential friends who were exerting themselves to secure a respite from the Governor. The Sheriff believed in capital punishment, but he was a charitably disposed man and had been' doing a good deal of running around for his doomed guest. One morning he returned from such a trip and went to the prisoner. "Well," said the man eagerly, "what did the Governor say?" *My dear sir, he hasn't said anything yet; he wants tfine to think." "Great heavens, man! This suspense is terrible," exclaimed the criminal, dramatically. "Don't mention it," responded the Sheriff' in a cheerful tone; "it ain't any­ thing to what it will be if the Governor doesn't interfere."-- WashingtonCritic. Of Interest to Female-Suffragists. "Is there no way to enlarge the scope of woman's activity ?" exclaimed Miss Bluehose, pathetically. "Certainly there is," responded the gallant Dr. H. "Then give it to the world. What is it?" "Enlarge the corsete."--Chicago News. . - . • • It Is. "Papa, if three wheels is a tricycle, and two wheels is a bicycle, what is one wheel ?" "One wheel, my son. -Well, let me see! One wheel must be a unicycle," "No, it aint, papa, it's a wheel­ barrow !"--Boston Record. A COA.T of paint has no buttons oii: PASSIXQ fair--the street car passen-p^ 8 THE staeTc. IF THERE is anything in a namejfe No-ah waw a dude' of'negative tenden* cies.--Yonkers Gazette. GEOLOGISTS maintain that many rockd^l are friable. The "saddlerock" sizes their theory.--Yonkers HIS SOLACE. And waits to feel the (._, And there at Intervals, ia i The finrgle of the jug. m Courier. - "THEBE is something exquisite in aiMl American's reply to the European trav-« eler, when he asked him if he had just crossed the Alps: "Wal, now you call my attention to the fact, I guess I did-, pass risin'ground." "ALL this talk," said Blobbs, "about not being able to live on a small income is bosh." "Well I dunno," said Dobbs. "But I know, for I have tried it. Lived a whole year on nothing." Guess you must have been tramping then." • "No, I was in jail."--Bqzton Courier. AVIFE--"Can you tell me, my dear, why a widower is like a young baby?" Husband--"H--m--er--bccause "-Wife --"The first six months he cries a great' i deal, the second six lpontlis he begins || to take notice, and he always experien- . ces great difficulty in getting safel^fl through his second summer." " ] IN writing the obituary of a man ;:! ninety-nine years old, an Arkansaw edi-.| 1| tor, wishing to employ a classical quo- \ tation, said: "Those whom the gods • » love die young." He did not realizeH , the misapplication of the quotation un- ,:™ til the next day when a great-grandson" | of the deceased came around an«J played on his head with a hickory club, j --Arkansaw Traveler. " "BILL, did you see that man with no^ | legs in the dime show?" "No, was he^| born so?" "Oh, no indeed, he grew so. ^ His legs disappeared because when he1! ! , was a boy he didn't use them any. They4i'| sort of shriveled up, you know, for lack • | of exercise. He was very slow when J he was a boy." "Why what could have* been his employment when he was youngster?" . "He was a telegraph mes-» , senger boy."--Lynn Union. A YOUNG GENTLEMAN somewhat num- . I erous in social circles took his sister, a * If wee miss, to see a family the other day * in which he is a regular caller. The lit­ tle girl made herself quite at home, and exhibited great fondness for one of the'"| young ladies, hugging her heartily.!"'**! "How affectionate she is," said the lady f of the house. "Yes.; just like her J brother," responded the young lady, unthinkingly. Paterfamilias looked up \' sternly over his spectacles, the young- 'f| gentleman blushed, and there was con- '• *1 sternation in the family circle*, • DOLLY. Dolly 1s plump, acd Dolly is fair,"' ' Dolly has brown eyes, and soft, vttcvy &•; Dolly is'witty, and Dolly is gay, " Laughing and singing is Dolly all day. £lolly is comely, and Dolly is neat, voice, too, has Dolly that's tender and sweot, oily is saucy sometimes, I confess,-- ' oily is witchingly chic in her dress. _,olly at home is the light of the house, >olly can cook, doesn't scream at a mouse, 4»I L- -Diphtheria, Croup, Asthma, Bronchitis, Neuralgia, i 3 Influenza, Hacking Cough, Wlicopiug Couch, Catarrh! idney Troubles, and Spinal Diseases. Pamphlet free. •ollv is brave, and Dolly is kind,-- nother like Dolly you never could find. iolly is courted by suitors a score, >lly tells each of thorn he is a bore, illy I worship--but what, is the,use? •uel and fair Dolly, go to the deuce! Sonwnerville Journal. "No, SIB!" said a Dakota jtistice of ie peace, during a trial, "the court ust over-rule the motion of the attor- |ey for the prosecution that the testi­ mony of this witness be thrown out, pom the fact that the attorney for the fense was seen to hand him a chew of rbacker after he took the stand. The preme court has held, and this court lyi & Mfi iieves rightly, that an ordinary chew*'"5 3iunot be construed as a bribe. If the vterv common in Paris. Every day we read of the arrest of manufacturers and "shovers" of the "queer," and the courts deal Avith them very severely; but the example does not appear to ex­ ercise any deterring influence on other evil-doers. One and two franc pieces of lead, so clumsily imitated that you wonder how any one can be taken in by them, are constaatly being offered in change at cafes and restaurants. It is an absolutely necessary precaution to examine every coin received at such places, not only to avoid counterfeits, but to prevent the garcons from passing off on you Peruvian and Chilian dollars, which are exactly the same weight and size as five franc pieces, but, not being legal tender, are worth 15 to 20 cents less. How this South American money has found its way into France is some­ thing I cannot explain, but there cer­ tainly is a great deal of it floating around, and, sure of being able to pass them on others, the waiters at many of the large cafes on the boulevards make no difficulty about accepting them. But it is not only at such places that you are likely to get taken in with these South American dollars. Only the other day, when I was going over to London, I paid for my ticket at the railroad depot with a bank note and then, holding my change in my hand, I went into the luggage-room to get my baggage registered. My trunk was a trifle over weight, and in paying for the excess I handed the baggage master one of the coins I had just received at the ticket office, but it M as pushed back to me with the remark: Pas hon; and on examining it I found that it was a Peruvian dollar. As I had no time to go back to the ticket office I put the piece in my pocket, and went to the train. Since my return I have learned that the railway companies make a regular practice of sending all the bad, or uncurrent coins they receive in the course of their business to their ticket offices, and, as the traveling public is usually in too much of a hurry to ex­ amine its change, these coins are easily got rid of. It is quite as bad at the postoffice, where it is a rule to pay from one-half to two-thirds of all money or­ ders in silver, and the chances are that if you have to collect an order of any amount you will find one or more de­ preciated coins in the stack of 5-franc pieces piled up in front of you. If you express your surprise at such a pro­ ceeding the clerk will reply that the department is so often cheated by the public that it feels itself at liberty to do a little cheating in its own turn.--- Letter from Paris. A Good Little Bof* Sunday-School Teacher--And what is your favorite book, my little boy? Little Boy--The Bible, sir. S. 8. T.--And you love the Bible? L. B.--Yes, sir. S. S. T.--And why do you love the Bible more than any other book ? L. B.--Because pa gives me 5 cents every time I read it.--Boston Courier, • - NEITHER matter nor mind, nor both combined, could keep this world from becoming a howling wilderness without moral forces.--Journal of Education. attorney for the defense will please hand the plug of terbacker now under consideration to the court it will take a bite and the extracting of testimony from this 'ere witness will continue." --Estelline Bell. A Mammoth Inkstand. A letter from Heidelberg in the Ber­ lin Das Echo savs that a rich American has offered to provide the city on the Neckar, already famous for its gigantic tun, with the biggest inkstand in the world. He thinks that the inaugura­ tion of a mammoth inkpot would be a most appropriate part of the ceremo­ nial at the approaching centenary of the university, while it would be much more fitting for the citizens of the Athens on the Neckar to boast that they owned the biggest thing in inkpots rather than the biggest thing in wine barrels. The generous man i3 the owner of an enormous monolith in Texas, which could be excacated so as to hold countless gallons of ink. The stone is worth at least $1,500, but he will gladly present it to the city, or the university, if the authorities will ar­ range for the cost of its transit from America to the palatinate of the Rhine. It is not like the Cleopatra obelisk, ob­ serves the owner, for it has never been "desecrated by a chisel." An Intelligent Horse and Mule. ' Our Methodist friend, the Bev. Mr. B., told us the other day of a preacher he knew who owned a horse that he had been driving for eighteen years. The preacher told our friend that he had so often driven the horse to church and left him standing near by that the horse had learned the Doxology, and when­ ever it is sung he begins to neigh, knowing that he is either going home soon or going to a neighbor's for din­ ner. This reminds us of one of our friends in Dooly County who owns a mule about twenty years old. The old mule knows wh^n it is 12 o'clock by the sound of the dinner horn, and when­ ever he hears the horn, if it is a mile away, he begins to bray, and increases his speed with the plow till he reaches the end of the row, and then he stops and refuses to move until the harness is taken oS.--Uawkinsville (On.) News. Tempting Her Appetite. The General's wife went into the kitchen and found the oolored cook seated at a table engaged in eating a dinner composed of delicaciesvand many dishes." "Why, Mandy, what are you doing?", "Eatin' my dinner, mum." "My goodness, you have never pre­ pared such a dinner for me. What do you mean?" "I means dat I want feelin' so mighty well ter day an' would fling er side de gen'l roughness dat I'se been puttin' up wid for some time an' try an' tempt my appetite wid er little suthin' extra. Ef dar's anything left de white folks ken habit, mum."--Arkansaw Traveler. - o "No, MY friends," exclaimed an im­ passioned orator,^--"no I you cannot make a caterwaul of brick, but you can disperse the makers of caterwauls with brickbats." \,A