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atg flaimkalrr llp^ 1 S 1 ; 1 1 1 f t t l cHEK&Y, ILLINOIS. »A» BEG IN NIJfG. i Wntto be »n Sings tlin maiden in the choir; She ]>mes for wings and thinks iht'A likl fit twang* golden lyre. But if she'd note the eostuttfee Of maidens <t to-day, > J; „ Shi'd surely e»ethat anseil - Would never dress that way. For instance, take the bustJAi, Such as you'll daily meet; Kow, wouldn't they look quMV.lt Upon the golden street? And Saratoga w aves and bangs. And teeth nr.d blondine; Anauf-cl, giriR, with Buoh aftairt VFould surely ne'er be seen. * 8a, girls, if yoa're in earnest, Yon see yon starred wrong; AN<.L If you're not, why dont you < And sing some other song?' ^-Merchant Traveler. THE 10URNEY OF A BT TOM P. MORGAN. Bui; Yaljean and Major Dartmore sat spoilt* each other in the latter's cheerful p}-'Sion, amoking and talking, as they watched :;,v3the blue clouds roll upward and float, an stratum, above their heads. The if: "Major, though still firm in step and upright ^"Hn carriage and with dark hair yet un- " touched with silver, had had a world of experience, and had traveled, rumor said, PI jwherever the foot of man had trod. The '^decorations of the den were of the trophies ('*%A feathered by him in every clime, and an in- j?yj; teresting collection they were to Harry Valie.n'a eyes. |0'-1, New, as they talked, the Major sat with A scarlet Algerian fez on his head and the x-\ } stem of a hideous Turkish pipe between ^5 >r ' his bearded lips, and Valjean thought he rj}' • ' had never met a more companionable man. -They were famous friends, those two, and I question which enjoyed the friendship of ; the other the belter, the Major, with his rif - -/ genial, matter-of-fact ways and marvelous fc ', aad ever-entertaiping narratives, or Harry |V , Valjean, the struggling author and dreamer, pVr "<*ith his tender, romantic fancies and "visionary outbursts. The Major had been telling a weird, f'f J "wild tale of adventnres in Hindartan, and 4% Harry had listened with that rapt, dreamy Intensity peculiar to him. Then, as the " narrative was finished and he half reclined the comfortable divan watching the blue 8^ "'. , smoke roll lazily upward, his eyes slowly Sj?V roved, as if drawn by some unseen at- i#ef::/:traction, to the paper-weight on the little S .,' ' ' table that stood beneath the collection of S&^vflbartiaiie and Oriental swords. It could haplty have been called an or- only to find too late that I was at least tttft J able to This going in the direction of camp. Jftttlpt j dragon th came on, and I sought a little •*-- firraafa^ilTT^ - * and built a lire, by the side of which I ea» I endowed with Site* ,Licmn sayed to make myself comfortable. The ; in their gravan |̂ 1tM '̂l>Z|̂ ^>r>n>urinn effort was unsuccessful. My head began J Up the d»goMBa«<&^o5 âded b' to throb, as if intent upon bursting, and » bending boughs "f Trtli|li|rn kick- my blood ruBbed through my veins like a j ing aside the rnr« ^ Qn" flood of flame, and my whole person earthly flowers, Valteanstroda. aifcntritAri bv seemed afire with fever. My sight seemed i the sound of weir* to half fail me. and presently I sank to the j glorious sweetness. ground unconscious. Presently my senses J At each side of the avenne, back of the partially returned, and I rose to my feet j dragon idol, were structures of rare archi- aod started in a wild career through the : tectuml beauty, but strange forms. Among tanuled vines, oft-times sinking to my j and about them, humanbeings were* mov- .fit nament, «o Bidk-onsly uncouth was it. Its form wtss tfat of a misshapened and repul- i3>" sive dragon of copper on a base of the &jfr ' same metal, curiously inlaid with gold, in g: " an odd variety of patterns. The entire f ; , affair was about five inches in height and |^, ' about the same in width at the base. The ' head, which was singularly hideous, had > eyes of fire opals that gleamed balefuily •,f . with almost living glances. The moulh, V1'* - turned upward and distended in a cavern- tow yawn, was set with teeth, evidently from some reptile monstrosity, and serrated 1 , pad hooked backward in anything but an * ' iavliiog^ray. The tongue was of gold, set s'\« at the point with a single, gleaming blood- i'. t«d stone. The feet were tipped with un- " claws that once were the weapons small, savage cat-like beast, all odd, ugly ornaments," said Harry Yaljean, slowly, "that paper-weight is cer- Iviady the most superlatively hideous tt was my lot to see." "So, you do not admire it, Hariy boy," teturned the older man, blowing an azure cloud from the uncouth pipe. "No, I decidedly do not admire it, Major, itmt, Bome how, whenever I turn ray eyes •way from it, the hideous thing draws my gaze back, almost unconsciously, with a weird fascination I cannot account for." "Pshaw! you are getting more imagina* tive than ever, Harry. I fail to see anyr thing about the ugly object to attract any one, except, perhaps, its extreme uncouth- Btess." "Neither do I," answered Harry Valjean. Bat, nevertheless, the fact still remains waist in the treacherous ooze, but always plunging onward. At last I reached tiie edge of a dryer tract of ground, and al­ though my sight was a good deal like the dim vision of a drunken man, I saw that it was of considerable extent and believed, in my bnlf-insane, unreasoning way, that I .had reached the island told of by the legend. "The details are very dim to my mind, and I only remember that, in my dazed condition, I wandered among ruins, great and small, wifhont giving them a second thought. Their forms I did not note, and only remember that aH objects were strange and weird to mo. Finally, when 1 had wandered aimlessly for some time, I sank down exhausted, my head roaring and fraoming with fever till it shut out all ex­ ternal sounds. Reclining seemed to re­ vive my fever-stricken senses somewhat and quiet my throbbing head, for pres­ ently I was enabled to take note of my sur­ roundings a trifle. As I lay I saw before me the ruin of what might once have been a temple. Part of a wall and three fluted columns were still standing. I wondered dimly at them and then closed my eyes iu sleep. "I awoke with a start, and was conscious of a sound of feeble groaning behind me. Turning, I beheld a little hut built against a half-destroyed stone wall. Staggering to the hut, I entered and beheld an emaci­ ated figure of a man stretched on a couch of Bkins. His wrinkled face, as dark ns that of an Indian, was like the face of a white man in features, and was creased and seamed with age to a surprising de­ gree. Feebly he addressed me in an un­ known language, and when I shook mv head, he spoke slowly in a sad mixture of English and Cherokee dialect with which 1 was familiar. He was the last of his race and dying, he said, and, in my muddled Con­ dition, I asked no questions, but attended to his few wants as best I could. How long I was there, nn inmate of the hut, I cannot tell, but I remained till the old man died. He teebly called me to his side, and drew from beneath the skin pillow of his couch the hideous object I now use as a paper-weight. It was all he had to .gtfe me, he said, in his broken dialect. There was gold in the mountain, but that was of little valae compared with this gift. It had a strange power and had been re­ garded by its possessors as priceless, and now as he, the last of his race, was dying, he gave it to me. "I but dimly comprehended him, but held the hideous thing In my hand as he talked. If it only contained the power the old man so earnestly gave it credit for possessing it would be indeed priceless." "And, w hat was that wonderful power?" asked Hariy Yaljean, with a quick breath of interest. "As near as I could gather from his utter­ ances, in the head of the dragon lies con­ cealed a powder from which, when ex­ posed to the air, arises an almost heavenly perfume. Inhaling it produces a sort of coma. It is then, according to his theory, the dream-soul lives." "I do not understand," said Yaljean. "Well, as near as I can explnin what I do not understand myself," said Major Dart- more, "it is the soul that leaves the body in dreams; while in ordinary sleep there is a consciousness, a directing force, a will, that holds the dream-soul in check, but, once under the influence of the subtle odor from the dragon's head, that will be­ comes as naught. The dream-soul then annihilates space and goes whither it will, and, in this case, he assured me, it had 'the power of returning through time and space to the island in the swamp, and the time when the little swamp kingdom was in the height of its prosperity. Bolts nor bars had no effect upon it, he said. More he told me, but that is the substance of it, and then he died, almost without a struggle. "What I did, I do not know. My com­ rades found me nearly a week after I had left camp, wandering daft and raging with swamp fever, but with the copper dragon still clutched in my hand. "To their eager questionings I answered with the story I have told you, and they ' that that idol, or what ever you are pleased ||vi, - to c a l l i t , h a s , s i n c e I f i r s t s e t e v e s u p o n i t , . . . f t „ drawn my attention more powerfully than ! toughed me to scorn. It was all a halluci- " 1 would have*believed any inanimate night- I nation of the fever, they said, and, but for mare of ugliness could have done. By the !lte dragon, I would have believed 1- vray, I do not remember having seen it till them." ikf* a few minutes ago. Where have yon been hiding its regal loveliness, and where did' P' % \ you first obtain it?" "There are several odd things connected with that hideous object," answered Major Dartmore. "The tale is rather a long one; J however, it may serve to amuse you a trifle. ^ The reason you have not seen it before is ,% a, Ihe very prosaic one that it has been lying, jg unseen and uncared for, in the bottom of '/f one of my numerous cases of curiositieSw i? Yesterday morning I exhumed it, and, re- membering the legend attached to it, I "brought his ugliness to the lights and phadows of my den. "The legend? Tell me" said Harry Yal­ jean, eagerly. "In the first place, my manner of coming in possession of it was a trifle singular," began the Major, settling himself more comfortably in an indolent attitude. "Home seven or eight years ago, when, as perhaps you are aware, I was somewhat : younger than I am at present, I was in ' company with several friends, hunting in that vast and little-known region, in Ar- t kansas and the Indian Territory, com­ monly called the Sunk Lands. This is •a great, unexplored tract of almost impenetrable swamps and quagmire, where . the foot of man had rarely trodden. The fcnnting, where the land is above water, is ' such as to make it a Nimrod's paradise. '* A very indefinite tradition had some trifling credence among the Indians, that > somewhere in the midst of that wilderness ^ of swamps and quagmires, with all their terrors of miasmas and reptiles, once lay an elevated tract of land, of some few acreB in extent, clothed in a wealth of semi- : tropical verdure. A mountain of some ^ altitude, tradition said, rose from this de­ lightful little island, and was rich in inex­ haustible stores of preciouB metals eopper. Here dwelt the little remnant of a race, the Aztecs, perhaps, who had been hemmed in, cloeer and closer, by the savaee red men, in the days before the steps of the intruding white men defiled the hunting- grounds, and all bnt those who had taken refuge on the swamp island were exter­ minated." "By Jove! Major" broke'in Harry Yaljean, "you are getting really quite romantic and have excited my curiosity." "Thanks, Harry" boy," answered the other. "I feared you would find the tale doll and uninteresting. Well, to resume: This little band, tradition had it, had re­ named on the swamp island, hemmed in by their savage persecutors, but manfully keeping the latter at bay. Disease and death crept into the ranks of both parties, «ad at last tho red men became discour­ aged at the unsuccessful siege and gave it «p. They went away and left the perse­ cuted ones in peace, and at last their loca- < tlon and almost their very existence were forgotten, except for the tradition which was almost wholly looked upon as a fable, •ven by thoee who related it. "Although we put but little faith in the , legend, we resolved to make a search f6r . the mysterious swamp island, not expect­ ing to discover it, ' _ but thinking we might HUnhle Onto new and untried hunting- plapes. Wedfcs we were buried in the #mjstps, lost to the world, and almost sav- •ges ourselves, but always having glorious sport. One foggy, dismal day, when I had BOM separated from my companions for hours, I suddenly discovered, to my con- •tsrnation, that I was lost. To be lost in fks dismal quagmires of the Sunk Lands || ao joke, and I at once set about dis- •overing and taking my camp-ward way. "What did they say about the dragon?" asked Yaljean. "That was a subject upon which they all disagreed. One advances this theory/ and the other that, but none believed my story. I had been insane with fever, they said, and had little or no knowledge of where I had been or what I had done, and they were about right. But still the dragon existed and would not be done away with by theories." "And have yon never tried the wonder ̂ ful power of the magic powder con­ tained in the dragon's head?" questioned Harry Valjean, eagerly. "No, for the very good reason that there is no powder, magic or otherwise, in the hideous object's head. I have examined it closely, many a time, and have failed to discover the slightest trace of a cavity which conld contain the wonder. Look at it yourself. The magic powder probably existed only in my wild, feverish fancy." Valjean examined it critically, and with bands that trembled slightly with eager curiosity. There was certainly no indica­ tion of any receptacle which might contain the odorous powder that could cause the dream-soul to vacate the body. Valjean returned the ugly little idol to the table with a sigh. He would have so loved to have tested the unnatural powers of the wonderful dust. A timid knock was heard at the door. "Come!" cried the Major,'clearly. A boy of bashful motions and washed- out appearance entered, clutchine in a sunburned paw a note. This he delivered very timidly to Major Dartmore. "By George!'" cried the Major, as he pe­ rused the contents of the missive. "This is unfortunate as it breaks up our chat, for a time at least. Gates wants to see me on an important matter, and I must go at once. However, that does not prevent your amus­ ing yourself as best you can till I return. I shall not be absent long. Make yourself at home, Harry boy; ta, ta!" and the genial Major was off. Harry Valjean gazed dreamily at the odd little dragon for some time, won­ dering what stories it could relate were it endowed with life and speech. Through the cloud of smoke the opal eyes of the idol seemed to gleam balefuily, and Harry Valjean felt half fascinated by their glitter. He lifted it again from the table, and as he did so it slipped from his half reluctant grasp and fell to the floor. Upon spring­ ing to recover it, he was astonished to note that the golden tongue had been dislodged from the hideously gaping mouth, reveal­ ing a little cavity beneath its former lodg­ ment place. From the powder, now half caked into a lump, with whicih the indenta« tion was filled, arose a pungent, sweetly sickening ocor that was inexpressibly pleasant to Harry Valjean's nostrils. He Bank back in his chair with a sigh of in­ finite satisfaction. "It is like the nectar of the gods!" he cried in ecstatic delight. He forgot the overturned dragon, every­ thing, in the bliss of the glorious inhala­ tion. His surroundings, the room and its contents, faded from his eyes, and his sight only beheld the dragon. It righted itself, and, surrounded by an encircling mist of the smoky vapor that poured from its gaping mouth, ^rtiw in size, increased, broadened, heigthened, widened, and Harry Valjean was vastly overtopped by it and its fellows, that now stood in two symmetrical rows. A new language sprang to Valjean's lips, and even his thoughts were couched ing. They had the features of Europeans, but were of a dark, rich complexion. The benutiful, unenrthly music grew louder and more entrancing, and Valjean suddenly came to a temple-like building that, before, had seemed to be hidden by the dimness of a great distance, but now was just before him. Great fluted columns and pillars of some rare, unknown stone upheld the ponderous, over-hanging roof. All were adorned with carvings, and every part of the great building Reemed to be in­ laid with precious stones, ivory, and rare woods, in barbaric splendor. The vast structure seemed to stretch away and be lost in the dim distance. Valjean took little notice of time or space, but continued to advance over the marble and ebony floor of the stately edifice toward the weird, sweet music, that grew louder and more entrancing as he neared its source. He turned aside, drawn by the magic strains, and found himself in a room of almost inconceivable splendor. But Val­ jean saw it not. His eyes were riveted in a soul-enslavod look on the perfect being who produced, from a strangely-fashioned guitar, the melodies that had so entranced him. The odor of paradise tilled the room and intoxicated Valjean with a flood of de­ light. The beauteous being laid aside the instrument, and, with a glad, welcoming cry, sprang from the rich divan, half throne, half couch, and advanced to Valjean's side. With sweet words of welcome she led him to the divan and seated herself beside him. Her robe of rare fabrics adorned with gems and precious metal, draped enchantingly, half revealing, half concealing, a form per­ fect in its voluptuous beauty. Her face was that of a vision of loveliness. When, with her soft, rounded arms about his neck, drawing his resistless head against her swelling bosom and her bewitching face close to his, she chided him for being so tardy in coming at her bidding, Valjean wondered dimly why he had ncglected this beauteous being so long, when he seemed to have a consciousness that he had but left her for a season when he went to earth. It seemed days and weeks to Valjean that he lingered at her side, a willing captive. They were all in all to each other, and knew no past, no future, and lived only for the present. Each anticipated the wish of the other, and it wr.s fulfilled almost before it was formed. And Valjean was happy, more happy than mortals are, as he lingered in her enchanting presence, and lived a hundred lives of ecstasy and pleasure. They were constantly together, and wandered through the beauteous bowers of strange plant growths, renewing the vows they had made before Yaljean went to earth. One day the elements seemed angry with the little kingdom of enchantment. The suulight was blotted almost into ob­ livion at a breath. Great clouds of inky blackness overspread the sky and seemed to shed a rain of blood. The inhabitants of the kingdom gathered frantically around the smoking idol, which now occupied the center of the beautiful room in which Yaljean first met his perfect love. She, the priestess to the (treat idol, placed heavenly incense on the 6acred fire, and cried aloud the prayers of her people. The vengeful clouds gathered thicker and faster, and the thunder boomed and crashed like a thousand parks of artillery. The great building shook and trembled in the tempest that raged without. The hideous race of the idol wore a terrifying frown, and the baleful eyeB emitted sparks of fire. The roar of the tempest was al­ most deafening, but above it rose sweet and silvery the voice of the beautiful priestess as she chanted the supplications of her people. Suddenly they raised their bowed heads and glared at Valjean. "It is the work of the intruder!" they cried. "The gods are angry at his pres­ ence, and only his blood will appease them!" Their words rose almost to a roar of maledictions. The great idol seemed to smile. With their dark faces aflame with passion they sprang toward Valjoan, their hands grasping gleaming weapons. In spite of his mad struggles, they held him fast, and one, a giant, raised a glittering sacrifical sword, snatched from an altar, and, in another moment, would have cleft his skull in twain. The benuti­ ful priestess sprang forward, her jeweled robe flowing away from the snowy loveli­ ness of her heaving bosom, and shrieked, in a voice that rose above the roar of the tempest, a warning couched in scathing terms, threatening the instant vengeance of the gods if they dared to harm a hair of Valjean's head. She drew him to her side before the idol, and, with her clinging arms around him, warned them not to ad­ vance a step. The tempest increased in power and fury and tne great building rocked like a house of clouds. A moment the band of insurgents hesi­ tated, and then with wild cries sprang forward. She drew a jeweled dagger from her girdle, and whispered close to hiB ear: "We will die together!" A strong languor Beemed to hold Yal­ jean in chains, and he cared not if he perished, merely feeling as a passive spec­ tator. And there, beneath the frown of the idol, the priestess stood at bay, with an arm about Valjean's neck, and the dagger gleaming defiance. Then, as the insurgents were about to spring upon them, the tempest rent the great building in twain, and it came crashing down upon them with a shock that seemed to blot out 6very atom of life into the darkness of death. Valjean strove, newly awakened by the first sound of ruin, to save the beau­ tiful being, he knew not how, but the tempest snatched her from him and sped away into the outer darkness. Her last Bhriek rang in his ears: "We shall meet on earth!" she cried, and the darkness en­ shrouded her lovely faee. The idol seemed to shrink within itself from very fear, and then, the great structure fell on Val­ jean's bared head, and he fell, unconscious, dead to pain, everything. Strong hands lifted him up, and Major Dartmore called, excitedly: "Valjean, what in Heaven's name is the matter?" Valjean opened his eyes slowly. "Am I dead?" he asked, dully. "She promised to meet me." "Well, upon my soul! Harry boy," said the Major; "you have had a bad attack to be sure. So she promised to meet you, eh?" "Yes," said Yaljean, slowly, looking with an almost vacant stare at Major Dartmore. "Who are you?" he queried. "Well, by George! that's a good one," roared the Major. "Here, I come home after an hour's absence, and find you wallowing around the floor, and then you have the colossal gall to ask me a question of that kind. Well, I'll be hanged!" Valjean slowly regained his scattered senses. He picked up the overturned paper-weight. "Sea?" he said. **Yes, I Bee," answered the other, "that you have broken the tongue out of my dragon. How came you down on fhe floor there, anyhow?" Yaljean showed him the cavity that the displacement of the tongue revealed. "By George!" was the Major's only com­ ment. The cavity contained only a dry, odorless cake, the volatile perfume having totally disappeared. Then Yaljean, with many gestures of nervous excitement, told the tale of his vision, and he and the Major puzzled their brains greatly over it. "She promised to meet me on earth," said Valjean. earnestly. "And I'll find her if it takes a life time." Both he and Major Dartmore are on the in the strange tongue. The idol no longer ! qui rive for the beautiful priestess of Val appeared dull and lifeless, bat seemed to j jean's vision, who never fulfills her braajkhe forth the vapor that was ao enjoy- J ptomise. *BK ART OF COURTING. COUKMRO A COQUETT*. ' In conrting a wayward andl coquet-' tish girl the young man is advised to bear her tormenting ways and over­ look her ridicule without retaliating, except in a good-humored way. "You can then, when occasion offers, say to her that she no doubt want* a pet upon whom she can vent her sprightliness, and that yon are ready to enter her service for life. She will probably re- {>ly with a jest that you would not suit lerat all, or something to that effect. You then insist that you are just tho man for a girl with her excellent flow of spirits, and that she knows it in her heart--that you intend to marry her anyhow, and that you are sure she will consent as soon as she reflects a little. Whatever may be tj*e after conversa­ tion, she will reflect, and ten to one will consider herself engaged from that hour. There is no difficulty at all at­ tending the courtship of a girl of this description, if you have sufficient nerve and bolthiess when the crisis comes. "In 'popping the question' to a do­ mestic young lady you should first im­ press upon her your appreciation of a quiet and orderly home. 'Such a home,' you will s&y, *1 mean to have of my own; and if I could only persuade you to join me, 1 am sure it would be a happy one.' She will, of course, blush and say in reply that you over-estimate her qualities. You follow it up by a formal declaration of your love for her, and by offering her marriage in so many words." « "SHINNING UP TO HISS BASHFUL. "This process is as simple as A. B. 0. Whenever a young fellow desires to be­ gin a courtship with a diffident lady, be must go to work with the same bold­ ness and confidence of success as if he were about to woo a widow. She being too shy to say ruucli to you at first, you have all the talking on your own side. If you are loquacious enough, you will have her all right by the third or fourth visit, and then your course is plain "as' parish road to church." There is no class of girls in the world so easy to get along with after they get acquainted with you as bashful ones. They are so loving and so confiding; no reserve, no distrust, no coquetting, but frank, open-hearted, and generous. Even if you are unsuccessful in your suit, they never mortify you in their refusal. It is generally given in so frank and can­ did a manner as to command your ad­ miration. A naturally bashful girl is so considerate and confiding after she gets acquainted with you that it is not necessary to tell you how to proceed in •popping the question' to her. There will be no difficulty at all about that." CATCHING AN HEIRESS. The triple widower says it generally takes a smart man to catch a rich wife who is at the same time a woman of good sense and superior endowments. Only those heiresses who have no ac­ complishments and no personal charms are taken in easily by fortune-hunters. His directions for making a first-class job of this kind of a marriage are these: "In approaching an heiress in her own right, first seek to convince her that you have in your heart no merce­ nary feelings whatever. Speak of your business prospects, or your every-day life, in a way to convey the idea that you are in extremely easy circum­ stances, and that you expect to make your fortune without any trouble at all. If you can let her understand that you are a welcome and • favored visitor of any other wealthy family with a mar­ riageable daughter, it is all the better, but do not hint that you have any par­ tiality there. In some conversation you could say to h$r: «I really think money is a bar to human happiness; it places so many difficulties in the way of the affections. I wish yen would make over your property to some trust com­ pany. Salt it down there and let it lie for your heirs--then marry me. I can earn an abundance for both of us, and should really feel a delicacy in spend­ ing the money of my wife.' Let all your talk favor the arrangement that she shall ever be the mistress of her own future, and that you would scorn to touch her gold for your personal use. Even should she wish the appointment of a trustee be­ fore marriage, do not object to it, as such an arrangement may be beneficial to you both. If you are deserving of her, you can gain her confidence after marriage, and can then get her cash, or as much of it as you need for legiti­ mate purposes.--Exchange. The Marseillaise. Of all the airs which deserve to be termed national, that of the French "Marseillaise" is, without doubt, the most lively and exciting. "The sound of it," says Carlyle, "will make the blood tingle in men's veins, and whole armies and assemblages will sing it with eyes weeping and burning, with hearts defiant of death, despot, and devil." Even in times of peace and quietness, it is impossible to listen to its animating strains without experi­ encing a certain thrill, and its effects on an impetuous people in troublous times of the past may be easily imag­ ined. Such was its power upon the French that it was at one time forbid­ den to be played or sung, and the pro­ hibition extended until 1879, when the Minister of War issued a circular au­ thorizing bands to play the tune at re­ views and official ceremonies. Considering the extraordinary part which the "Marseillaise" has played in the affairs of France, Ave might not un­ reasonably expect that the words and air had emanated from some genius who had bestowed much labor and care on tlieir production. And yet, as the story goes, both words and music were written in one night, without any pre­ vious sketching out or after-elabora­ tion. The author and composer was Rouget de Lisle, an officer of engineers, who had formerly been a teacher of music. He was greatly admired among his acquaintances for his poetical and musical gifts, and was especially inti­ mate with Baron Dietrich, the Mayor of Strasburg. One evening during "the spring of 1792, De Lisle was the guest at the table of his family. The Baron's resources had been so greafly reduced by the necessities and calamities of war, that nothing better than garrison bread and a few slices of ham could be provided for dinner. Dietrich smiled sadly at his friend, and, lamenting the scantiness of his fare, declared that he woulcl bring forth the last remaining bottle of Rhine wine the house could boast of. After dinner De Carlisle re­ turned to his solitary chamber, and in a fit of enthusiasm (with which the wine must have had little to do) com­ posed the words and the music of the Song which has immortalized his name. The following morning he hastened with it to his friend Dietrich, in whose house it was sung for the first time, ex­ citing great enthusiasm. A few days afterwards it was publicly performed in Sfrasburgi and on June 25 it was sung at: a banquet at Marseilles with so much nrintod at onoa and distriW^ aio^ftg the troops iu«t starf- im Parfe ^Tliey entered the CapK tal singing their hew hymn, which they called "Chant des Marseillaise," and soon the tune was known throughout: every part of France. D e Lisle's claim to the authorship was at one time disputed, but the truth of the story which we have given re­ garding the origin of the air has long since been proven beyond a doubt It should be mentioned tjjat the French have another national tune, "Partant pour la Syrie," which is, however, not very popular and not very meritorous. All that we need say of it is that it waB composed by Hortense, the mother of Napoleon IIL--CasaelVs Family Mag­ azine. ^ " y The Editor and the (ina* • A Huron, Dakota, editor attempted to dsaw a revolver on a subscriber and shot himself through the hand. A man who can't do any better than this is not wanted in the Territory. A man who can't sit up on the editorial tripod and brace his feet and plug a subscriber through the vest pattern nine times out of ten should quit journalism and join the regular army where everything is nice and quiet. A man who couldn't shoot an ordinary, unarmed subscriber would stand a poor show when the editor of his contemporary came in with a gun a yard long. Just think of what a spectacle it must have been! The leading editor of this great, broad Territory jumping around and yelling "Unhand me! Stand back traitors! .I'll have the villain's life! B-b-b-l-l-o-o-o-d! b'gosh! friends and Romans! B-b-b-loody Blood!" and making agonizing efforts to reach into his hip pocket with both hands and stumbling over a dog and pulling out a little twenty-two-caliber pistol and try­ ing to stop the charge by holding one hand over the muzzle! Think of how after the shot he must have stood and jumped up and down on the little Fourth of July pistol with both feet while the dog hung onto his coat tail with his teeth and threw little hoarse barks out of the corners of his mouth while the man who' caused all the trouble laid down $2 for another year's subscription and walked out and left the spectators applauding through their tears and groaning and shouting for more! Think of how they carried him away heaped up on an old empty case and the publisher hired a cowboy who knows which is the bad end of a gun to come in and edit the paper! Just think of it, fellow editors--think how the bystanders and even the poor dog must have blushed for the editors of Dakota! It is enough to know that one of our number was carrying a twenty-two when the rules of our press association prescribe nothing smaller than the regulation forty-four, but then when we learn that he tried to catch the bullet in his left hand and use it again we can but bow our heads and weep. While we must admire the in­ tellect of a man vvho can pull .the trig­ ger and then change his mind before the ball gets out and calmly lay his hand over the muzzle to stop it, at the same time we must blush for his judg­ ment. Something must be done to wipe out this stain. Let some editor shoot a' member of the Legislature and restore ouj; ̂ battered record.--Estellii^^L The Tale of a Clock. liandsome Mexican ottj^ elock which stands in the reception-room of the city residence of Mr. George W. Childs, at the southeast corner of Twenty-second and Walnut streets, has been much admired by the thousands of visitors to that hospitable mansion, few of whom, probably, know the his­ tory of the expensive timekeeper, which is recalled by the death of Le Grand Lockwood in New York. During the Paris Exposition in 1867 Mr. Lock- wood, who was a visitor, became espe­ cially enamored of this strikingly beau­ tiful clock, whose base, four feet in height, supported a superb silver statu­ ette of Liberty swinging from one hand a pendulum. Mr. Lockwood, who was then very wealthy, determined to own this clock, and in the auction of exhib­ ited articles bought it, though the Czar of all the Russias, to yhom time was then of moment, was a competitor in the bidding. Safely transported to Norwalk, Conn., Mr. Lockwood'shome, the costly timepiece was much admired by the visitors to Mr. L0ckwood's house, and by none more than by Mr. and Mrs. George W. Childs. Several years later Mr. Lockwood's house and its many articles of vertu were offered for sale, and at the suggestion of his good wife, Mr. Childs^ determined to buy this clock. Arrived at the sale, and the clock put up, Mr. Childs' first bid was $3,000. A stranger sitting immediately behind him raised that $500. Mr. Childs saw the raise and raised back $500, when the astounded stranger, reaching forward, exclaimed: "Sir, I come from A. T. Stewart with orders to get that clock, and I must have it:" "I don't care if you come from Gol- conda," was the reply of the Philadel- pliian, and he kept raising the bid of his opponent, much to the auctioneer'^ satisfaction, until he had offered $6,500, at which figure Stewart's man weak­ ened. Mr. Childs removed the time­ keeper to his city residence, where it now ticks and tells that time is flying.-- Philadelphia Record. Name-Carving at Harrow School. The old schoolhouse at Harrow is still standing. There is a room down stairs where all the boys in the earl}' days had their classes. But now it is only used two or three times a week, when masters and scholars assemble in it for prayers. It is a long, narrow room, with high, old-fashioned win­ dows. The walls are wainscoted, and all over the wainscoting and on the benches and desks, on tile masters' tables, and even on the head-master's chair, schoolboys for the last 300 years have carved their names. Some of these names are large and sprawly, others small and neat; and they are so close together that there is no space left for any new ones to be added. On one side, in very large letters, Byron's name is cut in two different places, and near it is that of Peel, the great En­ glish statesman. The boys were really forbidden to do this; and every name, you may be sure, represents a good punishment. But the masters are now ?;lad that the boys were disobedient; or many became famous in after life, and their schoolboy carvings are pointed out with pride. Harrovians,* as Harrow boys are called, now have their names carved for them on new panels fastened to the wall for the purpose, and they think it quite an honor. -- Elizabeth Robins Pennell, in 8t Nicholas. b <'.r AT a ball lately given by a well- known lady in Paris several original ideas were developed. A flower quadrille was danced, the ladies com­ posing it representing the rose, the MM pansy, and other flofrera#f r •,aLCLs«4k^j*-.- ~r*' A,-?-../ w It is usually held thai women are the weaker and more delicate sex, but to one who considers the modern fashion of dress the proposition must appear at least open to grave doubts. When on a bitterly cold day a man wrapped in a voluminous and mighty ulster, with fur cap drawn over his ears, and thick gloves, gets into a horse-car and sees sitting opposite a row of fragile-looking young ladies in close-fitting gowns, of which the sleeves are so tight as neces­ sarily to impede, if not wholly to stop circulation, with hats whose only apti­ tude i3 that of height, perched jauntily on the top of the head and no other protection to their small hands than the •uggsstion of kids, he must wonder how his neighbors manage to get on without freezing to death; and very likely wonders why it has never oc­ curred to anybody to send on Arctic exploring expeditions women who are so evidently indifferent to accidents of temperature rather than men who so inwardly find it impossible to rise above the weakness of yielding to the theoretical iconnection between vital force and the dropping of the thermom­ eter. Similar reflections may verv likely arise in more festive scenes, k man when he puts himself into the low- cut waistcoat prescribed by fashion for evening wear, compromises with extra underclothing for the unaccustomed thinness of his dress. His sister, frail and delicate creature, wanders about drawing-rooms and unevenly heated parlors with neck and arms bare, and instead of dying of pneumonia before morning, as in compliance with all physiological laws she ought to do, suf­ fers no inconvenience whatever. The truth is that give a man and a woman equal health at the start, the former barely manages to keep himself alive and well by *ne most constant and careful prudence, while the latter disre­ gards all hygienic rules with a boldness and consistency beautiful to behold, and comes out all the better for it. He has to protect his feet from the snow in his clumsy artics, beneath which he wears the the thickest of leather; she smilingly trips over the icy pavements in thin boots through which every shiver of the wind must be plainly felt, and she does it with perfect impunity. He shuns draughts and sudden changes as the only way of baffling tho fiends of rheumatism lying always in wait for him; she dances until she is in a glow and saunter airily down some cool cor­ ridor or out upon a breezy piazza, and no harm comes of it. He finds a thoughtful prudence and regularity the only means of persuading his stomach to leave him in decent peace and tran­ quility ; she eats at all sorts of odd and unexpected hours, gorges herself on unwholesome pastries and sweets, and in green old age possesses still unim­ paired the digestive force of an ostrich. The truth is that the idea of the fragility of the sex is one of those pop­ ular fallacies which, like the unluckli- ness of spoiling salt or the uncanniness of Friday, should long ago have van­ ished before the advance of civilization and the general diffusion of knowledge, but which persistently hold their own in spite of everything. It is very like the case of the old philosopher who said: "Everybody knows that the sun rises in the east and sets in the west, 'but it doesn't." Everybody knows that women are more delicate and fragile than men, but evidently all the same they are not--Boston Courier* The Lady-Killer of To-Df*, The old type of society man, says a New York correspondent, was giddy, talkative* and more or less effeminate. He was a lady-killer, masher, and a swell, danced as often as the oppor­ tunity offered, and affected a spirited manner and great animation in telling small talk and gossip. He was not a being who commanded admiration from men of sense and importance, but he pleased the ladies, and that was con­ sidered quite enough. He has broad­ ened wonderfully now. He is dignified in manner, quiet, monstrously exclusive, and he affects a single club where he^ knows outsiders cannot intrude upon him. He drives heavy horses to pon­ derous English carts, seldom attends the theater, and does the opera only on important nights. As a rule he does not dance unless the occasion is one of great importance. His hair is clipped short, parted carelessly, and there is about his whole attire and manner an air of easa and negligence, which is so finely assumed that it seems thoroughly natural. From the artful and animated creature of a few years ago the society man has grown into the most simple and unostentatious of New Yorkers. To men whom he believes to be below him in the social scale he is an absolute snob, in the sense that he will have ab­ solutely nothing to do with them, and refuses to recognize them under any circumstances. To those in his own set he is thoroughly natural, unaffected, and entertaining. There are few such men in town--perhaps not over 200 at the ontside--but they are invited every­ where, and the more important of them have it in their power to make or mar the success of any entertainment to which they are invited, or make the reputation of a beautiful woman by a single word.--San Francisco Argo­ naut • The Bible of India. The name Yeda has grown to be a familiar one in the ears of this genera­ tion. Every educated person among us knows it as the title of a literary work, belonging to far-off India, that is held to be of quite exceptional impor­ tance by men who are studying some of the subjects that most interest our­ selves. Yet there are doubtless many to whose mind the word brings but a hazy and uncertain meaning. For their sake, then, it may be well to take a general view of the Veda, to define its place in the sum of men's literary productions, and to show how and why it has the especial value claimed for it bv its students. The Veda is the Bible of the inhabi­ tants of India, ancient and modern; the Sacred Book of one great division of the human race. Now, leaving aside our own Bible, the first part of which was in like manner the ancient Sacred Book of one division of mankind, the Hebrew, there are many such scrip­ tures in the world. There is the Koran of tho Arabs, of which we know per­ fectly well the period and author; the Avesta of the Persian "fire-worshipers," or followers of Zoroaster; the records of ancient China, collected and ar­ ranged by Confucius; and others less conspicuous. All are of high interest, important for the history of their re­ spective peoples and for the general history of religions; yet they lack that breadth and depth of consequence that belongs to the Hindu Veda.--The Cen­ tury. Ir is «asy for a woman to give np the hope of success for herself, and possi­ ble for her to give up such hope for her husband, her dearer self, but for Hfier children. never. - i may bea dasgr* otter than no earn* m A ureus 'eattoli ous thing, but it 2B ing at au. WHEN *Orphens tickled tho rockfi with his music, he must hare transit formed them into grin stones. M LAUNDRYMEN are the most humble . - > and forgiving beings on earth. Th#!l\ more cuffs you give them the more the* will do for you. --St. Paul Herald. A Sioux Indian will never aioux *! man for a siouxt of clothes, but h* ' ' siouxn is siouxthed by a bottle of rum, : that's nioux, to warm his nothea. , Loicell Citizen. vs A FEMALE lecturer talked through ai| '0-•' hour last Sunday on the virtue of reti- 'V<? cence. She had much to say of the dignity of silence. Her remarks were entirely convincing.--Boston Traveler, "O, DEAB," exclaimed Fenderson, "f wish I knew something about history !f "Very commendable aspiration," re-; plied Fogg; "but why do you partici*;.. > « larize history, Fendyf' -- Boston ' Transcript. "WHO is the god of battles?" aske4, a teacher of the class in mythology.? • "Mar," answered little Johnnie Hen* • ~ peck. "Mars, you mean, Johnnie,^ * corrected the teacher. "No, I don'tL neither. I only got one mar."--JFas/ir' . ington Critic. IN China a man never sees his until he is wedded to her for life. Chi* : nese courtships must be very inexpen- • sive affairs, but contain no more fun - . than walking two miles home from ' church alone on a dark and rainy night* " --Norristown Herald. * * ME. BROWN (after seoond act of "Die > % Meistersinger")--It's no use, Miss De ' Beriot, I cannot stand any more of thia Wagner. Miss De Beriot--You oanV stand it ? Why, Mr. Brown, I always ' thought you were so musical. MR : ? Brown--That's just it--Puck. "How DO you like your new post- tion?" inquired a traveling man of a v friend. "O, first rate." "Your em» -'•* ployer treats you well, does he?" "Yesl, ' , • ' indeed. He has already given me IrVf • j; raise." "What, so soon? When wall it?" "Last Sunday night, when I called on his daughter."--Merchant Traveler. ' SCHOOL TEACHER--Johnnie, what ia ;; the third letter of the alphabet ? Johnh ,< ^ nie--You never told me, mum. School Teacher--Yes, I have. What do yon • do with your eyes? Johnnie--Dont know, mum. School Teacher--Well; Bertie, you've got your hand raised; you may tqll us what Johnnie does witi ; his eyes. Bertie--He squints.--Ti(t? Bits. THE sound of breaking glass waa heard through the dining-room. "Wha&l - is it, Joseph? Have you broken ax*» other goblet?" "Yes; but I was real fortunate this time. It only broke i& , two pieces." "You call that being 'foipf>; tunate,'do you?" "Yes; madam can% ' imagine what a bother it is to pick the up when a glass breaks into a thoi pieces."--Tid-Bits. A • FOND father, blessed with eleveti. children, and withal a very domestif " man, tells this story: "One afternoon| ^ business being very dull, he took tha. early train out to his happy home, anil after a time slipped upstairs to help put the children to bed. Being misseft soon, his wife went up to see what watf going on. Upon opening the nursery door she exclaimed: 'Why, dear, whai * in the world are you doing?' 'Why, wifey,' said he, 'I am putting the chip ' I dren to bed and hearing them say their little prayers.' 'Yes,' said wifey, bill this is one of our neighbor's little chil­ dren all undressed!' " And he had ty- redress it and send it home.--C-hicagt Living Church. . ... ; Curloas Clock*, . When the Emperor Charles V. of " Spain retired to the Monastery of St Yuste he took with him Torriano, hia* . clock-maker, in order to while away the time by constructing the movements of clocks. So wonderful were some of;- the pieces of work which they made thai the monks would hot believe any on|£f£ except the devil had a hand in them, until the machinery was shown to the rat by the ex-Emperor. It was ordered by Charles that when he should die all o| these clocks should cease running--an4 it is said to be a faot that his order* were obeyed. Another king of Spain came to Oe^ ; neva to see a cloak which had bee# made by Droz, a merchant of that city, Upon the clock were seated a shepherd, a negro, and a dog. As the hour wa§ < struck, the shepherd played upon hi| flute, and the dog played gently at hia feet. But, when the king reached forth to touch an apple that hung fro% a tree, under which the shepherd restecjg the dog flew at him and barked s0 > furiously that a live dog answered him, - and the whole party left in haste* Venturing to return, one of the cour­ tiers asked the negro, in Spanish, whap time it was. There was no reply, bufe, - when the question yas repeated ia French, an answer was given. Thia frightened the courtier, who rejoined his companions, and all of them voted that the clock was the work of the evil- one. Upon the belfry of the Kautliaus, . Coblentz, there is the head of a giants bearded and helmeted with brass. Tha i giant's head is known as "the man in thfjj custom house;" and whenever a coun* tryman meets a citizen of Coblentp away from that place, instead of sayinf * "How are all our friends in Coblentz?* he asks "How is the man in the customs . house?" At every stroke of the bel] , which sounds the hours upon the clock' • the mouth of the giant opens and shut* with great force, as if it were trying to ' say, in the words of Longfellow, "Timt - was--Time is -- Time is past." -» Popular Science Monthly. ?'M: ' : --. Chinese JournullMBU ; In San Francisco there are four jour* nals regularly published in Chinese characters. These appear weekly, and have a circulation of 2,500 copies. Ao» cording to the Chinese method a good printer can print 400 sheets a day. Fivf" days' work are required to get out a<j?:v edition of 1,000 copies." The journal! are printed with black ink upon singly sheets of white paper, except on the Chinese new year, when the printing it; done in red ink or upon red paper. ' y* IN, Cuba a woman never lose* her . maiden name. After marriage she addft her husband's name to her own. L| being spoken of she is always called bjfe? her Christian and maiden names. To #? • stranger it is often quite a task to find out -whose wife a woman is. Neve* hearing the wife called by the bus**--r band's name, one naturally does not asp^ sociate them together. The childre#; take the names of both parents, but place the mother's name after tho father's. • - 'r"; THE barbers trace their calling back to Solomon, who was the first hair*