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«*!» l?taindralcr 1 mm SLYKE, Editor and PuMlshsr. ILLINOIS. ' THE OLD FOLKS' ROOM, Ik old tnnn nt by the chimney slda, Hit fiim wa» wrinkled anil w«.n, Arxi h«» leaned both hands on bis fctOUt a «um, A* if mil bis work were done. ;vi _;v„; -W» cwt was of good old-fasbioned gtStfV ... v. TIM pocketB were deep ami wide Whew his "specs" and hie a teal tobasoo bo* . Imj? abuser side by side. 'Tbr aid man Eked to stir the flre ; Ho oear him tie tongs were kept; " •amt'cinies ljo juusod &« ba^aMaattk* ***\ Sometimes lte 6 lit and sfopt. S. >> Vhtt naw belli ttioeuibera there? Ah1 t'iuMiren of other years; f p \ l ' A n d n o w a n d t h e n t h e y " w a k e n e d a m ^ | % . Hat oftener started tears. , V, • feY V ^ 1 • py: *-Jfc (P*»d wife sat on ihe other side, J, In a, high-back, flag-seat chair. fi'i' 1 J. w» "neath the pile of her muslin cap i ;• line sheen of her silver hair. Ifcjv ^"Where's a happy look on ber aged faca, \'M. As abe busily knits for him, &?'• - -A»d Nellie takes up the stitches dropped, fert ;" . RJC grandmother's eyes are dim. ir.- Bfer H*t children come and read the new*, tto pass the time each day How it stirs the blood in the old man's h. - - Tto beer of the world away. "XM a bomely scene, I told you SO, B«t pleasant it is to view; * At least, I thought it so myself, Aud sketched it < own for yon. ; y JBe fcitsd imto the old, niy friend, Tbm 're worn with this world's strife, 1 Though bravely once perchanco they fought Hie stern, fierce battle ol life. -'They tanght our youthful feet to climb > Upward life's rugged steep: Then let us gently lead them down *Ba where the weary sleep. u. A PRISONER OF WAR. {TOUNDKD TPON FACT.) 5 My':' A Sunday morning in the autumn of '62. A m fil ; bright sun, a cloud­ less sky, and a 'breeze make the most sluggish blood r ^tingle with new life. * "Perfect," solilo- "quized Mr. Allen Berkeley, as he left the Union entrench­ ments behind him, •n*l prepared for a canter across the J ' Opatt country. "Only a run of a few > . mile - and back,9 he continued, placing „ lus hand with an affectionate touch «n«o the silky neck of his beloved mare. "No monotony in camp for us, vhen the gods provide such weather as fcbu*, eh, my beautyf notwithstanding -this openly e*-. pressed gratitude for this gift of the our young soldier was not un&p- ; pfweiative of his risk. icK leaving the ^ UtHK-a lines, and invitipg the dangers of . ffts -saemy's country. The superfluous v iyiteiity that chafed under the prospect •••? ef s day's inactivity, did not render him the,less keenly alive to his situation, v andI as he rode along occasionally in­ dulging in soliloquy, his practiced eye was constantly on the alert. -®or sometime, no object of a suspici- nalhrre crossed his field of vision, , thee with sudden distinctness, the sharp souemI of rapidly approaching horses, - fell apon his ear. Turning quickly in i' Jm» aaddle he beheld severeal horseHtiren, wearing the Confederate uniform, 'iag the course in the road im- ately behind him. ISabel sold:ers by all that's holv," he a mettieraA with a alight whistle of dis- > ^Ifiyem were not in so serious a fix. t»i4 fellow, I might say, it serves - yon right No use trying to get back \Jp the Union lines by that road. And Hesvil knows where this one leads to. Well the chance in front can't be much nrwree'than the certainty behind. Per- h*CH Providence may interpose in h my behalf, and lead me into promised land of safety. •IF at: <ence my uniform is 'decidedly in the way. Ah, their sharp wyes have discovered it already. Well, Moll, this isn't our first tight squeeze, is tit? your best, old girl. It is a race Kto the death, and may the devil cateh the hindermost." He "bent with the words, and once wore patted Moll's sijky neck. She Aarned her head aflectionatelv, and her Ihm&a responding promptly. They were covering the ground at "a speed that / promised to distance their pursuers. "Thev are no match for your fleet lego, tay beauty," continued our hero, wife a quick backward glance and an- v other caressing touch. "We are leav- ®sg them badly in the lurch. We'll- W&'i' ls^> here his flow of remarks was in- imiupted by a sudden stumble, which brought Moll to her kneas, and sent fcar rider ingloriously over her head. This was, indeed, a most unfortunate -contretemps. Even Moll, who had re­ gained her foothold too late for the bene- °f her master, appeared to appreci- but Allen, lying immovable •»here l>e had fallen, bevond a vague impression of flying through the air, «*s conscious of nothing until he opened 4ii««yes a few minutes later to find a T<*»ng and beautiful woman tending -over faim. His feelings at this crisis can scarcely be described. Who or what was, he did not pause to conjecture. •The impcession of dreaming was too strong within him. Nor could he dispel "the illusion, until the quick, proud ges­ ture, and bright, warm flush, with viuc.h the fair stranger drew back from his admiring glance, convinced him that no dream, but a living reality, con- frooted liim. W ith the knowledge a thousand sweet and subtle sensations • anrged over him. All th<i Hentiment in his nature rose to tte surface iii. every nerve thrilled under the .flnbtle magnetism of her presence, i JPor the tiuie bmng he forgot! but the lovely vision which had charmed him back to consciousness Determined to diecover lier identity, he xose with some difficulty Irom his posi- tioa on the ground, and prepared to address her. Evidently divining his intention, she turned with a restraining gesture, ard the quick words: "This the fair pleader, discharged his gun at a tree near by. His action caused a floe scorn to leap into her face. ° Throwing back her head with a hauty gesture, she eyed him un­ flinchingly, breathing the one word; "coward." Then wholly ignoring his presence, she addressed herself to the *>thers: "Brave men are generous, and gentle­ men are conrteous. As brave men and gentlemen I appeal to you for this plan's freedom. Many months ago a ' Confederate soldier was left as dead lupon the battle field. He was not idead. A Union soldier found him; cared for him, and aided Dim to a place Of safety. That Confederate was my brother. His benefactor is the Union soldier before you. Now gentlemen *re (Southern soldiers to be outdona in generosity by a Yankee? Must I say again. He is my prisoner?" For a second no sound broke the silenoe. Her jwords had brought a gleam of intelli­ gence to Allen's eye. The oon- temptous emphasis, perhaps un­ conscious, yet delicately per­ ceptible, expressed by the one word, Yankee, brought a gleam of something more, l'et he forgot thi«; forgot even that he was the unfortunate, whose fate was under discussion. He saw and felt only the beauty of that incomparable picture. The blue sky, the splendor of gold and crimson foliage; the wavering lights, and shadows. The gray clad soldiers, and the gloriously beautiful girl- Then the charm was broken.; With one accord the three caps were raised. The order, "Right about, March," was given, and Allen's would-be captors rode away, leaving him alone with his real captor. Surely never had a prisoner of war so happy a fate, thought the im­ pressionable young man, as with a variety of emotions he tried to express his gratitude. His attempt appeared to bring his companion to a sense of her position. . She oolored deeply, while her manner *&rew perceptibly colder. "You exaggerate my service," slie re­ plied in a low, musical voice. "It yas but a part payment of a debt, I can never fully discharge. Gerald told me of your kindness to him, and described you so accurately that'I recognized you immediately. I should advise you now to return to your friends as soon as pos­ sible." She turned away with the evident in-, tention of leaving him. * "Don't go," cried Allen impetuously. "I beg you pardon," he added more calmly. "I tear I have not expressed my gratitude as I wish to do." "Can one ever do that. You have for­ gotten the obligation on my side." "l"es, but mine is greater. I have proved to-day that Southern men can be generous. Pray believe that Yankees are not ungrateful." A half quizzical smile drove the oold- ness from her fuce. Such emphasis as that must have seetnfed very rude in me,"she-returned in a low voice. "I was appealing to the men, you know, not reproaching you." "Yet you do dislike them. Those unfortunate Yankees?" Her face clouded. "They are foes of the South, and I love the South. You are one of them, but you were Gerald's friend in a time of need. What has happened to-day can never wash out that debt. I hope you may pass through this war unhurt, x cannot hope you may be on the win­ ning side." I thank you for the first hope," an- sweied Allen, slightly moved. "I shall always be happy for having helped a fellow-man in need, and doubly happy in the knowledge that my service wao ren­ dered to your brother. You call me a foe to the South, but try to believe that I light according to my convictions,and that I hold as noble the cause for which I am willing to seal my faith with my life." "I can give you credit for that, but I cannot forget that yours may be the hands to take the life of those ! love the best." These words haunted Allen, long after he had left the i-cene, destined to live in his memory. They were always with him; in the quiet of night, and the strife of day. Often he looked for her brother when the sharpness of the contest brought Blue and Grey together. tie saw him at last. It was during one of their fiercest struggles. The two lines had rushed upon each other like waves of a living sea. Moving backward and forward, with the motion of a mighty human tide. The great guns poure:l forth their terrible broadsides. The light Artillery mowed dow n men like reeds before the wind. Shells tore shrieking through the wooded knolls, and the whole storm-swept field was covered with the dead and dying. It was amidst that scene of awful courage, as th£ passing wind lifted the cloud of heavy sulphurous smoke, that he saw the smooth boyish face with her hair and evej. Saw it only for a moment, as it was raised to the calm sunlight of heaven. And then with the "Yes, w mueh has happened," h« re­ peated, after vainly searching his mind for another remark, "but all seems nat­ ural here. I could almost think---" She stopped him with » partion- ate gesture. "Natural," sheeohoed, bitter!/. " Nat­ ural to you, perhaps. Nothing is natural to me now. Even the very face of the oountry seems changed. You cannot understand my feeling. You cannot real­ ize it. You are on the winniag side." The words were uttered # quickly, and with a repressed intensity, which told of strong feeling. They stirred Allen's heart strangely. Here was a lack of common sym­ pathy, which neither time nor any other cause seemed likely to remove. "There are no sides cow," he replied, with unusual earnestness! "1 wish we might all forget, that there ever has been." t "That never can be forgotten. I am not magnanimous, you see. You may be. Magnanimity is no credit to the victor. None at all. I have to be re­ minded of What his been. You remind me." "Then I am most unfortunate. I deeply regret the desire which led me to renew my acquaintance with this scene since it has forced • upon you an unpleasant reminder." "You are leaving with the impression that I am unjust," she responded after a brief silence. "Perhaps I am," she added, nervously fingering the leaves in her hand. "You must consider the circumstances. Defeat is hard to bear, and to love one's enemies harder still. Won or lost my heart must ever be with the Southern cause. I gave to it what I loved best." She hurried away with a quick gesture, hor feelings completely overcoming her. Allen came close to her side, try­ ing to express his eympathv, yet daring not to do it, as nis feelings dictated. "He told her ^however of that day upon the battle field, when Gerald clasping the flag he bad fought for, died a hero's death." And while she listened, her face soft­ ened, and a proud tender light gleamed through her tears. "He was a true soldier," she said, with a strange tfcrill in her voice. "A true Southern soldier. They were all brave. All heroes. There were heroeB on th£ other side," she added quiokly. "I feel generous enough to admit that." .. "Yes," was the answer, with a half sigh, "but there are still sides for you." Allen had however won his reward, for when they parted a few minutes later, it was with the modest understanding, that he should spend the evening at the old home, where Emily lived alone with her aunt. Allen never' forgot that evening, and as he said good night he asked for the privilege of coming Again. "We will bury the Union soldier if you will," he s:iid to Emily. "Think of me as a friend instead." "The eoldier deserves something more than a grave," was the answer in a voice that made his pulses quicken. "We will let him live, and be friends notwithstanding." So Allen called again. Not once, but many times. He sang and talked with Emily, through the long pleasant evenings. He rode and walked with her during the glorious autumn days, and before the snows of winter covered their pathway through the wood, he had wooed and won his bride. He Was Kind to tba Children. Wh6n the Galveston, Harrisburg and San Antonio Bail road was laying out its line to the Alamo City, Col. Andy Faulkner spent several days in % small town from near the latter city purchas­ ing the right-of-way from the Bettlers. Quite a number of the land owners hesi­ tated about selling the right-of-way, un­ less tbey received some extraordinary remuneration. \ Among those who regarded the rail­ road as a nuisance was a hard-faced widow of about fifty years of age. who owned a small farm. She said that if she was not compelled to have a hun­ dred dollars right off, she would fight the company until a certain place froze over. "That ere road will run over some of my cows, but I've got to haye money," she said. "It will not be as bad as you imagine," replied Col. Faulkner. "It will be a heap wuss. The sparks from the locomotive will set fire to my hay stacks. But necessity knows no law. I reckon I'll have to sign the right-of-way, but I'd rather tak i pizen." "I don't think that you will be diS' turbed as much as you suppose." "I never expect to get another'wink of sleep at nights for them trains. Just know my health'll break down. I'll be in my grave before a year, but hand out ver hundred dollars ^nd it's a whack. I'll do it on account of I the children. What won't a woman do for her own fle»h and blood?" Col. Faulkner h'anded over the money cheerfully. "Do you really need the money so badly ?" asked CoL ' Faulkner, as he u a , • , , • v j , .. folded up the document, and put it in battle flag which his hand was planting hi9 ill8ide poc^t. "The worst in the in the ground outside the guns,'waving above his head, he. lellj and the tide of battle swept on. Allen thought of the home in the quiet village of Virginia, and of the sister who might even now be praying for Gerald. A mist rose before-his eyes memory surged over bim. Then came the sting of keen agony the sensation of falling, and the rush* world, stranger. A gentleman from Galveston--a drum­ mer I believe they call him--visits me every time he comes to this town. The last time he was here he called me his gazelle, and wanted me to sit on his Jiliee, but I told him 'no, not yet.'" "I understand. He is paying you at­ tentions." I . , , , , "I should snicker, and he's going to ing of a human sea above, and around be bef<J iQ aW two week* him. Then darkness, silence, oblivion. When he awaked again*the tragedy had been played to the bitter end. Gen. Lee had surrendered, and the white flag of peace floated above the crimson banner of war. In the autumn of '65 Allen His pulses quickened, and j again found bis way to the scene of an event which had marked an epoch in A PACKING-BOX DESK. Mow s Ds*et*l and Ornamental Ou Can Us Made for 93.30 A flat-top writing-desk at which two persons vsau conveniently write and have plenty of space for books, papers, etc., is a luxuay de ired by many who cannot afford to purchase the expensive ones offered for sale. But a subttantial desk can easily be made that will be an or­ nament to the library or sitting-room and a comfort to i s possessor, writes Annie Ellicott Douglass, in the Lai/4,eg' Home Journal. 'Below is given a list of articles, vnh the cost of each, necce*sary for the con­ struction of a desk 49 inches long, 30 inches wide and 28 inches high. A smaller desk could be .made at propor­ tionately less expense. for cartage of packing-box .§ % 2 1-5 yards of red relt (double told), at *1.03 2 20 2 yards dark red cotton flannel, at 12% cents 25 700 brass tacks, nt"7 cents per hundred 49 2 dozen brass rings, at 2 cents per dozen ' 04 2 yards brags wire Oft o largo blotter^, obtainable at on iDaursno* agency. . . _.__r ,. 00 Putty.... 05 T o t a l . . . . i f t . 1 J , . 1 . . . . * 3 3 0 The boxes used for packing men's heavy clothing are stronger, and there­ fore more desirable than an ordinary dry goods box, the ends being strength­ ened by boards four ioche* wide, which are fastened along the edges and form a large panel in the center of each end. These boxes can be obtained for nothing, or for a small sum at any large clothing house. Take the bottom of the bo* for the top of the desk. Drive in all protrud­ ing nails and fill the crevices with [the putty, which must harden befoie the desk is covered. Then with ounce tacks secure the blotters to the top of the desk, being careful to keep their edges close together, so as to form a perfectly smooth surface. * From the middle of each side, com­ mencing at the bottom of the desk, f<aw a space 24 inches wide and 19 inches high. From this point arch the space, so that the center of the arch will be two inches from the top bf the desk. The sawed edges must be fastened oif the inside by narrow cleats, and snfall THE DRY GOODS BOX DESK. IS •no time to talk. Do you not see they I him. Her hands filled ;*ra quite upon you. Answer one more •'colored autumn leaves, -noestion. Are you not Alleu Berkeley? ' Xea, I thought so. Stand where you >are tJease. I will speak to these men." Intensely surprised by her words and ft<aefcion, Allen could only obey her. JLeanins: Against the tree beside him, he tuw her walk forward a tew paces, ) and face the horseman who had how «4r*wn rein. < _ \ •Gentlemen,* she said in a low, ^Chough determined voice: "This man his life. | There was^po cliange in the aspect of1 the country, and the familiar hills and fields recalled with distinct vividness each well-remembered detail. Sitting beneath the same tree, where he had once lain, it seemed but natural to fee Emily Dare come from the shadow or the familiar wood. A living reality, she stood before with bright- lier face un­ changed except for the deeper sadness and gravity visible in her eyes, and about the tender, expressive mouth. As she saw Allen she started, while a change passed over her face. I "I am not an apparition'," be hastened ! to fay, approaching her with out- i stretched hand, "only your old prisoner J returned to the scene of his captivity. II can scarcely hope to have lived in your memorv" right on the ragged edge of proposing, but if I don't encourage him he may grow cold and listless. It may be good­ bye John with me unless I dQ. my part. You know how men are. They are so unreliable." "Yes, I understand., X00 want to ! lend him the money," said -CoL Faulkner. "Not muoh am I going to lend him any money. But I'm going to San An- tone to-morrer, and I'll buy the a new silk dress and a new hat, and I'm going to have a new set of false teeth, built, and if I ain't Mrs. Drummer inside oi three weeks, it won't be my fault." "Do you really love him?" asked CoL Faulkner. "No, I'll never love again. How kin you expect me to forgit my other hus­ bands ; I've had four, but he's so kind to the children, and my poor children need a protector so bad that I'm ready to make any sacrifice. I den't think we ought to take our own feelings into con­ sideration when the weifare of our off­ spring is concerned. Dp you know who is the best dentist in San Antone?"-- Texas Sifting*. • piece* of wood should be nailed across the sides for ihe shelves to rest upon; these may be made Irom the boards that formed the cover of the box, two or three being placed at each end of the desk. Now fasten the wire with screw-eves in front of the shelves as nearly as pos­ sible to the top of the desk, and from the cotton flannel make a curtain for each side, using the brass lings to sus- 1 end them from the wires. The shelves and the entire inside of the desk may be covered with red paper cambric, which, though not necessary, gives a neat finish." ' > The desk is now ready to be covered. Cut the felt for the sides so that it will extend from the bottom to within eight inches of the top of the desk, and lap over the ends and sawed edges, where it must bi fastened with small tacks to* hold it in place. Fit*a piece of the felt in each panel and extend it over the edges of the narrow "brace-boards." Cut pieces of felt the width of the yarrow boards surrounding the panels and fasten the horizontal strips first, then the vertical strips with the Bmall tacks, which should be driven lightly, so that they may be easily removed. The ielt should now be stretched tightly over the top of the desk and ex­ tended eight inches on each side to meet the covering already tacked to the lower part of the sides. It must be caretuily fitted round the arches and tacked on the inside of the desk. At the ends the top cover may lap over about half an inch. This manner of using the felt cuts it to the best advantage, and makes the sides of the desk look less plain than if covered with a continuous piece of felt. The brass tacks may now be driven one inch apart around the arches, across the top and bottom of the fides, where the two pieces of felt join, and around the panels and edges of the braoe-boards." This done, the desk iB completed and ready for use. A drawer might be placed on each side of the desk, and castors fastened at the corners so that it could be more easily moved, bnt these improvements would of course, , entail additional skill and expense. Uliera Kdgar A. foe Duxl. The "kindly refuge" to which Edgar A. Poe was borne that sad day of his "immemorial year" was the Washington Hospital, in East Baltimore, now the Episcopal Church Home. The build­ ing *vas easily found, but to locate the apartment where he lay those few lin­ gering, agonizing days was said to be a somewhat difficult undertaking. T " ' Margaret, an aged attendant who my prisoner, i claim the right to; " So much has happened since then," jle him." Surprise was plainly vis-; she answered, allowing her hand to upon the throe faces. But resolu-1 touch his for a second, was equally marked, and Allen's , forgotten you." seemed far from gained. The exchanged questioning glances, The words were kind enough, but Alien detected the coldness in face and IF you have children, don't TTLL them every minute in the day how much it ( costs to clothe them. It will not make but I have not j your expenses any less, and it puts a I feeling in their little hearts that they one of them, ». Wlii ig to frighten <oice, and his own ardor was dampened. are not welcome; a feeling' that stays with them a great deal longer than you imagine. suirotinds ihe chapel, and opened 1 door. 'This is the place,' he said, and stood a few minutes looking around and pondering deeply." He had come to deliver a lecture on this thrilling theme, and no doubt was refreshing his mem­ ory with the circumstances which here occurred more than a quarter of a cen­ tury before, but as vivid in their intense dramatic interest as ever to all .4wsiaii- ity.--Frank Leslie's Monthly. ! Financiering In Ueor(A> Four or five of us were waiting on a hotel veranda in a Georgia town for the 'bus to drive up and take us to the de­ pot, when a oolored man came along, dragging after him about the meanest- looking dog you ever saw. "What are you going to do with him?" asked one of the group. "Kill him. sah!" *But why?" "No good, •ah."- - 5 "Then sell him." "Can't do it." ^ v *Then give him away." ' "Nobody would dun take him." "I'll take hint. Bring him right up here." "You is foolin' sah." "No, I ain't. Here, give him to me, and hese's a quarter for you." » He tied the dog to a chair and ran over to a hardware store and bought a collar. Then he went to a dry goods store and got a half yard of red silk and a yard of blue ribbon, and in ten min­ utes the dog was blanketed up and bowed up until he did look fancy. He was taken to the depot in the 'bus, and we had scarcely arrived** when a white man. who sat on a box whittling, came forward and said: "What ye got thar, stranger?" "Chinese fox hound," replied our friend. "Shoo 1 Never saw one before." This is the only oneiu this country." Cost a heap ?" "Given to me by the Chinese Consul at Washington, but I wished he had him back. He's so wild after game that he bothersothe life out of,me." "Is he all right for this climate?" "Oh, yes." "(jlood-natured ?" "A perfect baby." "How smch'll buy him?" "W3II-- um. I never bet any value on him. He's a present, and I suppose I ought to keep him, but as he is a fox dog and this is a fox country, some good man around here ought to have him." "Will you take $20?" "Um! Make it $25." "Can't do it. Just got two tens here for the dog as hi stands." "Well, I suppose you'll use him well, and it will be better for the dog." We rolled away on the train as the purchaser headed for home with his dog. None of us could Bay a word for a long, long time. It was the seller who finally spoke first, and he said: "Gentlemen, think it over, and be ready to name your drink when we reach Atlanta."-- Neiv Ycrk Sun. A sequel to it. He had a push-cart full of "thejater and best" novels, tays the New York Sun, and had just opened np on the corner of Third avenue and Twenty- seventh street when a young woman stopped and inquired: "Have you a real good book ?" "I have, lady," he replyed. "Here is the latest thing out and just what will please you. Let's see! Let's see I* "Is it real entertaining?" "Entertainingest book published for a year, miss, as I'm willing- to swear to. I was so interested in it that I sat up all night and never went to the bank next day. Ah! here is it: 'How She Won Him.' Tells you all about how a young woman of --of--well, about 24, miss, and very picture of yourself, begging your pardon,won a lovely husband who was so rich that he gravelroofed his stable with pearls and diamonds. It give* jrpu au insight into " "Hew much?" she interrupted, aa Bbe took out her purse. "Fifty cents, missk and as I was going ^ * n "I'll take it." She dropped him a half, tpok the book, and passed 1 n, and the old fellow had a twinkle in Lis eyes as he looked after her and muttered." "She'll be along again in three or four days, and then I'll sell ber the sequel to it: 'How He Skipped Out After He Was Won.' Got to study human nature in these dull times." "Come, Disappointment; Come." Dfl in the building at, its conversion into tho home, avers that Mrs. Clemm believed the corner room occupied by her on the second floor was only removed two doors from that in which her "dear Ed­ die" died, and to which she often re-1 paired to indulge the grief that, during all the twenty-two years of her survival, was ever as poignant and present as at the first dreadful announcement. It seems a strange yet fitting coincidence that this fond and faithful woman should spend her last days in the same building endeared by his death, and pass away under the roof that had sheltered him, a dearer idol, if possible, than her own daughter. "She never mentioned him but with tears," said the old nurse, "and yet she continually talked of him." The presiding matron, Miss Sudler, told me the following incident in regard to the identification of the room in which Poe died, which will be con­ clusive tc all candid inquirers: "A few years since Dr. Moran, who was the physician on duty when Poe was brought^o the hospital, came to the newly habilitated home, in which many repairs and changes had taken place,for the express purpose of locating the apartment where the tragedy occurred --now of world-wide interest, then a matter of every-day indifference. He ran up several flight? of old stairs to the third sjbory, crossed the gallery (formerly a lecture-room) which now Young Man--Oh, bother! Why the deuce does she always bring her Sister v big brother with her ? I don't get no was cbance to say nothin' pooty to her 1-- L ife. fat'* Ready Answer. Dr. Burns is one of those penial souls who can tell a good story and who loves a good joke, even though it be at his own expense. Receutly he employed a son of Erin to cut some wood at his door, and it being a very cold day, in­ vited him into the house to warm him and to drink a potion of hot whisky. After Pat had become sufficiently warmed the doctor turned him out a glass, which he drank off with great relish. "Pat," asked the doctor, still holding his tumbler in his hand, "what is better on a cold day like this than a glass of hot whisky ?" "Two of them, sure!" was the ready reply. Perhaps it is hardly necessary for me to add that Pat got his two glasses.--Bangor News. I'onor ot a Taper. It is said that a burning taper uncov­ ered for a single instant, during which it does not lose power amounting to one-thousandth of a grain, would fill with light a sphere four miles in diame­ ter so as to lte visible from every part of the compass. OLD age is the night of life, as night Is the old age of day. Still, night is full of magnificence; and for manv it is more brilliant than the da{.--Jfma. Sw etching. AIMMMUMMM There waa a convention of Sunday school teachers in session at Crystal Lake and all the teachers of the three oountles represented were there. The amount of Biblical and theological knowledge they had was something as­ tounding. On the last day of tho con­ vention the high chief ranger of the affair announced to the 4U0 delegates that he would be pleased to have the knowing ones think up__ some bard questions on subjects pertaining to their work, write them on slips of paper, and submit them to him, and that eveniog at the last session, which was to be a sort of entertainment he would apiwer them. A lot of people wrote their questions and gave them to the great pro essor, and when evening came be had about fifty good gnarly problems in his bunch 5of paper slips. The evening's exercise began with heading and answering the questions, -jand though some of tli%cn were fcom away back and very obtuse, the good old man who had put himself up there as fl mark co^ed with them successfully, and impressed the great gathering with his vast knowledge. » Finally he ran against a question that made him knit his brows. He scowled at it a moment and then laid It aside. When he answered all the rest he picked up .the side-tracked query and said: "Here is a question which I confess I am unable to answer. I submit to the audience, and if any one is able to give me the answer 1 will be glad to bear what it is." Then he read this query: " Who was the boy and what waa his name who held the basket containing the five loaves and two fishes which fed the multitude?" Nobody made any effort to answer it, and the professor said: "It seems that nobody knows any more about it than I do. I will have to call on the person who submitted the question to come forward and answer it. Will you please do so?" To the great surprise of the 400 peo­ ple and his mother as well, Frank Jones, a thirteen-year-old schoolboy^ got up and modestly walked up the aisle. Everybody looked at' him amazed. The professor said: "Didyon submit this question?" "Yes sir." "Can you answer it?" "Yes, sir." "Well, I am sure everybody will be glad to hear it." "The boy," said Frank quietly, but steadily, "was Ben Ezra, son of Miriam, who was a sister of Philip, one of the twelve disciples." A murmur of astonishment ran over the audience. Here was something too deep for even the professed theologians in convention assembled. The professor turned to the boy: "Did you find that in the Bible?" "No, sir." "Where, then, did you get it?" "In Greek history." That was tho capsheaf. A lad of thirteen bowling down 400 declared teachers in the Christian cause and telling them in an unassuming way that he dug the information out of a Greek history.--Cbicago Mail. Hla Last Ordar. "I have taken my last order; I am going home," he said, as the clock struck the midnight hour. The nurse looked at the doctor with a significant glance and whispered: "His mind wanders." Presently he lifted his feverish head from its pillow. "Any letter* from the house?" he inquired. "There ought to be letters here." Then he slept, and in his sleep he was a boy again--babbled of fishing streams where the trout played, of school hours and romps with his mates. At 12 he suddenly awakened. "All right," he called in a strong voice; "I'm ready!" He thought the porter bad called him for an early train. The doctor laid a soothing hand on him and he slept. In his sleep he murmured: "Show you samples of our goods. I'm going off tha road now. This or­ der closes me out. The house has called me in. Going to have my first vacation, but I shall lose time--time-- time!" He drowsed ofl and the doctor counted his pulse. Suddenly the sick man started up. "Give me a letter from home. Ellen always writes me here. Dear girl, she never disappointed me yet--and the children, they will forget me if bay trips are too long. I have only a few more towns to sell--I promised to be home Christmas--I promised to be home--promised--promised " * He slept again and again awakened with a start. "No word from the house yet?" He was going fast now. The doc­ tor bent over him and repeated in a comforting voice the precious words of promise: "In my Father's liouce are many mansions; if it were not so I would have told you." "Yes--yes," said the dying traveler faintly. "It is a clear statement. It is a good house to travel for. It deals fair and square with its men." The chill December morning dawned --the end was very uear. The sick man was approaching the undiscovered land from whose bourne no traveler re­ turns. "I've changed my route," he mur­ mured laintly. "The house is calling me in--write to Ellen and the children that I'm-on-my-way-home--it's in my sample case--without money and with­ out price--a good house--fills all its Or­ ders as agreed. Call me for the first train--I am going to make the round trip and get home for Christmas." He laid his head back on the pillow. He had made the round trip. He had gone home for Christmas. -- Mrs. M. L. hay tie, in Detroit Free Fress. Saloon L«wi in Norway. Temperance laws in Norway are uni­ que. A syndicate may be formed to sell licenses conditioned on the giving up of all profits beyond 5 per cent, on the paid- up stock to benevolent objects which depend on voluntary contributions for support. In Bergen, a city of 50,000 inhabitants, the syndicate has a capital of $20,000, divided into 400 shares, which are owned by 150 stockholders. Shares are at a premium and the profits are fully 125 per cent. Since the yew 1876 $340,775 has been distributed in charity. Seats are not allowed in coun­ try barrooms, neither is lounging per­ mitted. Prices of liquors are posted in the saloons, and each day's sales are re­ ported at night to the agent for the syndicate. Drinking and crime have steadily decreased Bince the introduc­ tion of these stringent laws.--Congre- gationali*L WHAT sthers drihk distresses a tee­ totaler more than it does others, fre­ quently. SOME BABY STORIES. Xl»«y Mmr *»«Bs Kntlraljr Xaw, *«t Tfc«f . at* Worth (loading. Nearly every one remembers the story of the ingenious father who coddled hit wits to devise some means to keep bb youthful hope quiet while his wife dil her work, or he rested himself after r#*. turning from work. After putting sev­ eral ideas into practical form, he at last hit upon a scheme which seemed to fill the bill. It consisted of dipping the iifr- dex fingers and thumbs of the babyH hands into syrup or some other sticky substance and then handing it a small feather. The effect was electrical. The child immediately took to the idea, and would amuse itself for hours picking • the feather from one hand to another. The father looked upon himself as * very smart man indeed, and lost no time about letting his friends know of h|n success as a nnrse. Keeley did not feel more elated when he put the finishing touched to his motor than did this fond father when be surveyed his plan io {>raotical operation. But all great men lave their trials, and his came soon or than he expected. From constantly 'looking at the feather, the baby became cross-eyed, and it cost that enterprising meddler in women's affairs quite a nioe sum to have the child's eyes straight* ened. Now, when any of his friendt want to get him angry, they have aim*? ply to ask him what hi3 latest idea ftf- for keeping youngsters quiet. Few people realize when they hea*1 * baby cry that it must have some reasoli •for crying. The popular idea is that they cry out of "pure cussedness," but close and carefal observation h^s over­ thrown this popular theory. An infant is human and suffers wants just as well as we do. They are subject to the same feel in gs that we are, only in a more in­ tense degree. When a child becomes old enough to talk it asks for what It wants, but those that have not arrived at that happy period imitate their elder brethren as well as they can and cry. It is well, therefore, to reflect a momeafc and ask ourselves what the possible cause of the uproar may be. Some­ times it may be suffering from cold, to which they are very susceptible, or may be colic, thirst, or the pricking of a pin. At any rate, there is a cause atv the bottom of it all, which his babvship would gledly explain if he had the power to do so. Man is an impulsive animal, and liable to act without reflec­ tion when irritated, bnt still, the nobil* ity of God's noblest work Bhould assert itself while dealing with those who are too weak to help themselves, "liobust men and women fair," will be the re ­ ward of those who sacrifice a little of their own comfort in order to promote that of the latest arrival. ^ Bandy legs, like bustles, are now a thing of the past. Any parent that will allow a child with crooked legs to grow up in that deformed condition is guilty of criminal negligence. The advances made in orthopedic surgery make it possible for a child, suffering in this manner, to be thoroughly and permaa- ently cured. Crooked legs may be in­ duced by a number of causes, but ti)fr principal one is a laek of earthy matter in the composition of the bone. Thanks to the charity of some of our leading sur­ geons, both rich and poor can sha^e alike the advantages of the recent dii- eoveries and improvements made in tbe field of surgical appliances. If a per­ son is too poor to pay to have aa oper­ ation performed on a child, let then bring the child to some reputable hos­ pital and the little sufferer will be treated free. In any case, failure in this line of duty can only be ascribed to the grossest kind of criminal carelessness on the part of the parent.--New York News. X-.M 5?.'l of a Syrian Seaport Town* But it is in the streets of Syrian cities that we are most interested. Beyroujjj* where the Turkish jargon gives place tt>' Arabic, is our first point of approach^ and sailing down the coast in the after­ noon light, the setting of the city is truly superb. From the rocky harbor; the graceful beach of St. George's Bay sweeps around to the northeast, re­ minding one of the Bay of Naples. The houses, rising on terraces as they re" cede from the sea, are of varied archi- tecture,presenting colonnades of slender pillars cut from Italian marble, tall minarets, or little square dwellings with flat roofs. East of the »city rises to a height of more than eight thousand feet the majestic range of Lebanon* capped with snow in winter, and to thjgt rugged slopes cling *u score of pretty villages, like swallows' nests under the rocky eaves. We can be quite resigned to the treelessness of the mountain­ sides. What delicately tinted crags, what alternations of light and shade as the deep chasms fill with evening shad­ ows, what gorgeousness on clouds and peaks as the sun plunges finally into the blue waves of the Mediterranean! We find Bayrout a city of nearly • hundred thousand inhabitants, many of whom are Europeans, ane have brought with them European houses and streets and shops and costumes. But with the old city, inside the dingy walls that at the beginning of this century inclosed all there was of Beyrout,. we can find the same queer, narrow, crooked streets and miniature shops as iu D&m&s«tu or Hamah. Landing at the wooden pier by a small boat from the steamer, we met our friends, the hawkers, in full cry. Among the jostling crowd of travelers, soldiers, porters, and beggars, they sell and thrive.--St. Nicholas. Ttkm Beginning and End of a Centwi jr How many people are there whose ideas are misty as to the time when the century begins and ends! The first century comprised 100 years, and did not end with the year 99; it was no£ completed until the last moment of the last day of the j»ar 100. The same blunder is likely to crop out again and again as the close of the present century draws near, and one of the most fre* quent inquiries addressed to the omnis­ cient editor by the intelligent corres­ pondent will be as to whether the" twentieth beutury begins with 1900 or 1901? The same difficulty was experi­ enced last year, when not a few people thought that they had entered upon the last decade of the nineteenth century, and did not hesitate to say so, though as a matter of fact that decade did not begin until the first of January this year. If people would only think of the analogy between a century and the age of a boy or girl, it would help them to clarify their ideas on thu subject. As soon as a boy passes the age of tea* for example, it is well understood thai he enters on his eleventh year--he is "going on eleven," as it is sometime^ phrased; but he is not eleven years old until the whole of that year is completed, and then, of course his twelfth year takes its beginning. So tho century- will enter on its hundred and last year, with 1900, and the new century will be- f in with 1901; its seoond year will lie 902, and so on until its hundredth and last is 2000. J* 1?