Democratic Sentinel, Volume 8, Number 17, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 23 May 1884 — Page 6

THE BABY. BY J. W. BELEY. O, this is the w*y the baby came: Out of the nixht as co nee the dawn; Out of the embers as the tee; Out of the bud the blo-som’s on, The apple-bough that blooms t';e same As in glad summers dead and gone—- ■ With a grace and I eauty none could name — O, this is the way the baby camel And this is the way the baby ’woke: And when In deepest drops r>f dew The shine and shadows sink an 1 soak, The sweet eyes glimmered through and through. And eddyings and dimples broke About the lips, and no one knew Or could divine the wortls they spoke— And this is the way the baby ’wokal And thi* is the way the baby slept: A mist of tresses backward thrown By quavering sighs where kisses crept With y arnings she had never known; The little hands were closely kept About a ily newly blow n And God was with her. And we wept— And this is the way the baby slept! —lndianapolis Journal

LILITH.

BY LILY M. CURRY.

And round his heart one strangling golden hair 1 The keen wind, rising ever at the sea inlet and sweeping its breezy circuit around through the old town and up the sandy, level road, swept with it a merry party that August morning, up from the railroad station to the summer home of Harold Swain. The latter, a youngish man —a widower of six years’ standing, long relapsed into the happy habits of bachelorhood —had come down from the city, bringing with him friends to remain one week, ©r two, or ten, as they should please. Not all vere of old acquaintance; only his trusted Lester Chappies, who had introduced him to the others, all ladies, and specifically, as follows: Theodosa Wells, a vivacious brunette .widow, with a tender recollection of “poor J nek, ” who would go shooting in a boat on Sunday, in spite of all she could say, and so had met his death; Miss Meigs, the elderly chaperon of the set, a little inclined to lace mittens and dawdling; and Miss Meigs’ niece, Lilith Francillon. Harold Swain had met Miss Francillon but twice before this, and as they walked up together from the station he said to himself she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Nevertheless, had any one called him j aside and asked him to describe her, lie might have hesitated, uncertain of the hne of those changeful eyes, the shifting gleams of sunlight in that redbrown hair, the flushes deepening or paling in that pure, sweet face, Glancing from time to time atfhe Jowly profile and loosely twisted liair under' her seaside bonnet, with its careless droop of sailor-blue feathers*, its knot of violet velvet, ■•htfc'-MjPp-dered how Lester could prefer the gay banter of the little widow and the prim vsisdrmi of the elderly chaperon. But Lester, lib admitted, was bearish at times, in spite of bis good looks, his fortune, and, pis excellent connections. ‘The faci? that Miss Francillon was an heiress should not detract from her loveliness. Was she not ever modest and deferent? Harold had not kept silence while thinking these things. He had spoken of what they should do for amusement. “Hid you ever catch a bluefish, Miss Francilloo ? I mean a good-sized one. Because i’ve got the best little boat you ever saw. Captain George runs it for me. It is the ‘Mary Jane’ at present, Vnt I would like to change the name, if I thought a young lady wouldn’t object to a boat for a namesake.” Lilith swung her parasol lightly over her arm, and laughed her own musical

mezzo. . $ “I should think any young lady •would be delighted with the compliment. I’meifre I would.” “Would you?” he asked, seriously. And now the others, who had lagged, came hurrying after, tlie livs}y widow entreating Lilith to go more slowly and to enjoy the morning! “But lam enjoying it, Theo,” Miss Trancillon answered, earnestly, ing as slid spoke, and lifting her gaze :to the leafy capopy of the old street. Harold Swain remembered ever after how she • looked, standing there, her Ted, sweet lips parted slightly* quick rose tints hashing into those fairest cheeks, and golden, varying lights in the wide eyes. They went on presently, up into the cool width of the rambling old seaside house, where the cheerful housekeeper waited to welcome them. “We are all here, Martha,” said Harold, laughing pleasantly. “You might let tlie ladies choose their own rooms. They will want those looking seaward. Mr. Chappies will have the one you always give himand, turning to his friend, “Come, Lester, we’ll go right up.”

He went into the room with Chappies and shut the door. “You know the ways of the house, Lester,” he said. “Ho as you please; come arid go as you like. I wish you’d insist on the ladies sending for their baggage. I don’t want them running away in twenty-four hours; and that’s women all over, if they haven’t all their toggery at hand. ” , “You’re very good, Harold. I’ll use my influence if I have any.” Chappies was plunging his blonde, handsome fae into a bowl of rain water and mopping it, znan fashion, with a damask towel. “How do you like them?” ■“Very muc'i. The little widow is extremely fascinating, as you, of course, acknowledge; the aunt is a virtue born of a necessity, and Miss Franeillon is the most beautiful woman I ever ” He stopp t d and went to the door where Martha was knocking to inquire alxmt lunch. Meanwhile, the ladies, having brought no luggage, could only wash away the suggestion of coal-smoke, indulge in a suspicion of fine powder, and descend to the parlor. "Mr. Swain has a taste for art,” said Mhm Meigs. “Lilith, my dear, come and see these engravings.” “Yes, presently, aunt.” Miss Francillon was surveying her sailor-blue costume in Ih • narrow length of giltfraaed pier-glass. Theodos a was interested in the life-size portrait of a Monde young Jady over the piano. “Lil, come and look at this picture, r anppose it is his wife. Hear me! I

wonder if it makes him as gad as poor Jack’s makes me!” “I don’t care to look at dead people,” Lilith answered, regardlessly. “You shook me, dear. Let us go out on the piazza. Will you come, Miss Meigs ?” “I think not, thank yon. I’m tired enough to stay indoors.” Miss Meigs was remarkably easy-going for chaperon. There was no need to bother these sensible girls two or three-and-twenty years. She made herself comfortable in a wooden rocker, while they slipped away through the long window and indulged in girlish, gossipy confidences. “It’s a lovely,place, Lil. And he is very impressionable.” Lilith laughed. “You like him. What can I do to help you?” “Help me ?”—in surprise. A bell began to ring loudly. And immediately Lester Chappies came out. “Hungry, girls ?” He was not a man of many words, but the pleasant accompanying smile sufficed. He offered an arm to the little widow, whose “Jack” had been her second-cousin; Lilith took the other, and they went in to lunch, Mr. Swain escorting Miss Meigs to the seat of honor.

In the afternoon they took their first sail, and, though no fish were caught, returned with excellent appetites for dinner. Afterward the lively Theo played waltz music in the parlor with contemplative eyes upon the portrait of the deceased Mrs. Swain. Lilith danced a little with Chappies, and also with their host, just a swing or two around the room, while Miss Meigs dozed over the engravings, and concluded to retire. Tbe young people now took te strolling in the verandah, which was built on all sides of the house. Miss Francillon walked with Chappies this time; the widow with Harold, who found her less flighty than he had imagined at first. The couples were well apart when Chappies asked, gently: “Will you send for your trunk, Lilith ? I think we could enjoy a fortnight here, and Swain is really anxious we should.” She looked up into his face as she answered softly: “If you wish to stay I shall be happy here. ” “But I want to consult your wishes, my darling.” She felt his closer pressure of her arm. “I would really liko to stay, Lester. I will send to-morrow, and Theo will dfr the same. ” “Hear," said Chappies in a tenderer vbice, “don’t you think it would be well to announce our engagement?” “Perhaps,” she answered, “Ta-morrow, if you wish. But Is there need of haste?” “No; only I feel ns if I should like the world to know that you belong to me. ” They had turned thp corner of the house, and were out Of the other’s sight. He leaned his face down to her own. “Kiss me, Lilith; you love me, don’t you, darling?” “Better than any one else on earth,” she cried, passionately. “What made you sob, then, sweetheart?” “Nothing, dear.”

They turned back to the parlor, and found Tlieo singing softly a duet with Harold Swain, after which the little widow declared herself sleepy, and carried Lilith off to bed. Martha was closing the house, and the gentlemen went up-stairs to smoke. “Ho you know that I have been decidedly impressed, Chappies ?” “With our little Theo?” “No, no; net Mrs. Wells.” ghl gk , “Not Mrs. |Lester looked Up apprerierisive|r. § i f “Mrs. Wells ls’m %«nr little tiling, but when Miss Franeillon is present otfeer women pale. I fancy if she is here very long I shall be offering myflelf. I’m more in love with her than I've been with woman .since my wife .died.” Chappies had risen from his seat and ‘strike with vehement sarcasm. “You really would do Miss Frrincillon that honor? I am sure she ought to be delighted to accept a place as seoond best.” He grew still angrier. “Perhaps, Harold Swain, you fancy any woman would jump at what there is left you to bestow. But Lilith Francillon deserves more than a second affection; a man’s first’ last, and eternal worship is little enough to offer her.” “Chappies,” said his friend, recovering from the first surprise, “you are in love with her yourself. But how was Ito know ? You are undemonstrative; you gave no sign. And does she love you?" “She has promised to be my wife.” Harold put out his hand. *“I congratulate you. Forgive my offending; it was unintentional.” “ It—it is all right, old fellow. lam apt to show temper when I shouldn’t. Let’s talk of something else.” “By all means. I’ve been floundering about all the evening, finding out odd things. There’s the little widow says she knows another friend of mind quite intimately, Dick Livesay. You don’t know him. Funny fellow, never stays long in one place. Went out West, then to Europe; came back in the fall. Capital company, one of the most fascinating fellows. Handsome features, olive complexion, lustrous eyes. I’m going to write him in the morning to come at once. I’ve told Mrs. Wells I should, and she seems pleased. You see, Chappies, I had it firmly fixed in my mind that you were in love with little Theo.” Lester shrugged his shoulders. “ I want a woman’s first affection, and she shall have mine.” “ Then Miss Franeillon has never loved but you ?” “ Certainly not,” said Chappies vexedly, and shortly after withdrew for trie night. Harold shook his head ever so slightly when ti.e other had gone. “Perhaps he is right,” he said. “Yet ! she is very beautiful, and she is out of her teens, I think. Such girls are beset with lovers from the start. ” In Theo’s chamber, whose windows faced the starlH sea, Lilith sat, brushing out her glowing, gold-brown hair and talking to her friend.

“I must tell you something,” said Theo; “something which has been a secret until now.” Lilith’s beautiful eyes turned questioningly upon her. “What is it?” she asked. “Oh, Lil, I wish you could see how pretty you look!” • “Never mind how I look, but tell your secrets.” “Well, when I was walking with Mr. Swain to-night, he spoke of a friend of his, whom I happen to know very well indeed. And Mr. Swain will write him to-morrow that I am here and he is to come." “It is a lover of yours ?” “Well ?”—defiantly. “And yon are in love with him?” “Well?” stronger than before. “You are engaged! ” cried Lilith, shaking back her golden mane. “Well?” decisively. “Well, Theo, why don’t you go on? Who is he ?” “ He is very ban dsome and fascinating; he has money enough for us—with what Jack left me. I love him dearly, quite as much as I did Jack. ” “But his name, Theo ?” “His name is Bichard Livesay. ” Lilith made no answer for a moment; the brush had fallen out of her hand, and she was stooping to pick it up. “Bichard Livesay,” she repeated by and by. “Yes; what’s the matter, do yon know my Hick ?” “Know your Hick, Theo?” she laughed, oddly. “I think not. Yet I did know a Livesay once—perhaps his name was Bichard.” „ “Hid you know him well ?” “Theo, you are looking jealous. Perhaps I’d better tell you my secret; it will be announced to-morrow. lam to marry Mr. Chappies.” “O, Lilith! lam so glad, dear. I—l hoped so. How could you imagine me jealous. Ido hope you will be very happy.” Lilith went on brushing her hair. “Isn't your affair something sudden, Theo?” “Well, yes; I’ve only known Hick two months. I met him in Washington, and we soon became engaged. Nobody knows but you, Lilith.” “I thought it strange I hadn’t even heard you mention his name.” And with a careless good-night sho passed to her room, where she stood looking out into the starlit night and reasoning with herself. What was Bichard Livesay to her now, that she must feel this pang at the knowledge that he loved another ? Could he love another, after having loved her so? Or had he never loved her? Was she sorry for Theo? No, for Theo was clear-headed and practical. She was rather sorry for herself, sorry that she must feel this pang. It would not be pleasant to meet him as Thco’s lover, yefc she had some curiosity to see him oaoe more, this man who had been her earliest betrothed. “I shall only love Lester the more, when they stand side by side!” she said. “He is so noble, so tender, so great-hearted. Nothing could turn me from Lester. Of that I am certain.”

Three days later Livesay arrived. Theo went down to meet him, their engagement having been announced, as had that of Lilith and Chappies. Coming up the path with her lover, the little widow, in her gray velvet costume and jockey cap, looked undeniably radiant. Lilith at the same moment rose gracefully from the piazza hammock, clad in the palest of blue lawns, with delicate laces and satin ribbons, a white woolly shawl clinging to her shoulders, a knot of heliotrope upon her bosom. Her pale-blue handkerchief, scented with the same heliotrope, fluttered to the ground. “I believe I have met Mr. Livesay before!," quite ungloved at the introduction. Then she slipped back into the hammock and they entered the house. “He has not forgotten,” she said, with a thrill of exultation at his heightened color. Letter Chappies came out And stood smiling down on her. ' “Mj\ Livesay has arrived,” he said. “Theo tells me you used to know him.” “A long time ago,” she answered, dreamily. Lester, bending, lifted her handkerchief and held it for a moment, as if he could caress any dainty belonging of hers. She took* it from him then, and laid it under her cheek. And still he looking down fondly. “We go sailing to-day,” he said. “Your name is dry upon the boat. It is the ‘Lilith’ now.”

She was alone in the parlor that afternoon, waiting for the others, when Livesay came in. The deep blue of her yachting dress intensified the transparency of her complexion. Yet she was first to speak. “You didn’t expect to find me here ?” “No,” he said, in an uncertain tone. “You would not have come, perhaps ?” she went on, slowly. “But I have to congratulate you.” “Lilith!” She shrank from him, continuing, “You will be very happy, I hope.” “Not now, having seen you. Lilith, is it too late?” “Hush! You are wildTYoumust not say such things. Go quick. There is Borne one coming!” He slipped into the hall, and then— Lester Chappies came through the long window, white with horror. “Lilith,” he said, faintly, “1 was not to blame; I was in the piazza; I heard it all.” He walked unsteadily, and covered his eyes, as if the sight cf her was pain. bhe came and clung to him, crying, remorsefully, “O, Lester, don’t believe lam not true to you, don’t! I was wrong in not telling you of this—old engagement; but it only lasted two months, and I broke it myself. I couldn’t have done that if I’d really loved him, could I ? I found it was a mistake, he only fascinated me; he was fickle besides. Lester, look at me. Only look at me and say you love me still!” He opened his arms and drew her to his bosom. “O, my sweet! I shall love yon till I die! O, my sweet, if I should lose you the world would go out from under me. Lilith, must I give you up ?” His despair rent her heart. “O, no! I swear it; I have been true;

I will be true. Lester, it was only pique, jealousy, that an old admirer of mine shoald care for another,” “But he loves you still, Lilith!” “No; lie will marry Theo. Hon’t fear, don’t look so distressed, dear. Only forgive me for not having told you. Let us go outside, some one is coming. ” Chappies excused himself from the sail, pleading a headache, and Lilith remained with him. The others came back to dinner in their usual spirits. “Your captain seems cautious about the rocks,” said Livesay, carelessly. “He ought to be,” Theo exclaimed. “Fancy going down out there; what a death!” “Lilith is shivering,” said her aunt. *Tm afraid you’ve taken ill, dear.” “Oh, no, I think not, aunt.” With the following morning came gray, bleak weather, sourrying clonds, and white spots out upon the sea. “Lilith,” said her aunt, at noon, “yon are not well; you have a feverish look. Pray, be careful.” “I am notill; the wind has burnt my face.” Chappies came to her an hour or two later, saying: “Lilith, Harold has a horse he wants to try. He has asked me to go along; do you mind ?” “Go, by all means.” There wa3 a restless ring in her voice. “I’d rather Btay with you." “No; please go.” “Very well.” But he went away too uneasy to know where they drove or what was said, or anything else, save that something about the carriage broke while they were outside the town on a lonely road, and delayed their return until 6. Chappies found Miss Meigs dawdling ( in the parlor alone.

“Where is Lilith?” he asked, anxiously. “She went out for a walk with Mr. Livesay. ” “Theo went also?” “No,” said the aunt, slowly. “Theo was asleep. She had a headache. ” “Have they been gone long?” He was struggling with misgivings. “They went to the station in time to see the 4:30 train pass to the city. A little diversion, you know.” Chappies turned and hurried up into his own chamber, where he sat down by the window to watch for them. They had been out two hours! His very heart seemed cold within him. Martha came by and by with word from little Theo, asking if he were net alarmed lest something had befallen the two. He lit the gas before he should go down to speak with her. When he had done this something white on the carpet caugh t liis eye; a letter, which must have been slipped under the door. He took it up, and know the .writing to be Lilith’s. He had ta steady himself by the dressing case as he read;

I will not ask your forgiveness; yet I know you wiil forgive me, sinie you are too great at heart for hatred. God knows 1 was not worthy of yon. J thought it was oply jealousy I felt about fc.'m, but It Is more; it is so muoh that I will no: wrong you by taking your lovo. The old feeling:?, the old fascination, have comd upon me. I mutt go away. God bless you and give you one worthier than _ Limru. “Swain! Swain!” He went staggering into his friend’s room. “Help me, for God’s sake help me, to bear it!” Harold knew what it must be ere he took the note. “We must break it to Theo,” he said, witu a thrill of horror at the thought of this suffering for both. And Theo was coming in now with Miss Meigs’ arm about her. The little woman stood brave behind her pallor. “O, Lilith!” she said, and hid her face in her lupds. “O, LilithJ” and a moment later she cried out in sudden angers » “Understand, I am not regretting Hjiveaiiy. I am only too glad of the escape. But for Lilith’s sake; it is her money he wants!” And then she began to cry softly, and Miss Meigs led her away. Chappies turned to his room once more. He uttered no cries, gave no sign of anguish, save intense pallor. Swain followed him. “What can I do for yon, Lester?” “Nothing, only let me be. ” Harold went down to tell Martha that the ladies might need wine or strong coffee perhaps. He reproached himself bitterly for having taken Lester away that afternoon. He reproached Miss Meigs for bliudness —poor Miss Meigs, who seemed dazed and helpless now. But he could not help admiring Theo’s bearing. “Hear little woman!” he said. “She is w.ojflhjr of all devotion.” Then he went upstairs again, and passing Chappies’ door could hear nasty, irregular footsteps. “God pity him !” he said

As the night wore on Harold felt painfully his own powerlessness to lessen this trouble of his friends. He remained up, thioking Chappies might come to him by and by. At 2 o’clock he lay down without undressing, and despite the wildness of the wind fell into a troubled sleep. An hour or two had passed when a knock brought him to the door to find Chappies, whiter than ever and wild of speech. “Harold, lam going. I’ve packed my things. Please forward as they’re marked. I left written word, too youTl find it on the table. God bless you.” He tore away from the detaining hand, and Swain could hear the great hall door unbolted and then reclosed. “The train isn’t due lor an hour,” Harold said, noting the time. Then he ran to the window and leaning out called loudly, “Lester! Lester!” The wind swept his words away, nor brought response. Was it best to follow at once? Would not the walk to the station and the subsequent waiting relieve his friend a little? At all events Lester could not go till the train came. Harold waited half an hour, and then started to leave the house. He stepped into the chamber Lester had left, where the gas was flaring wildly and the wind r .shing in at the open windows. Chappies’ valise stood locked and strapped upon a chair. Why had he not taken it ? The written wprd, of which he had spoken, lay upon the table. Harold slipped it into his pocket and hurried from the place. Dawn was at hand, cold and gray. But Lester was not at the station, nor did

(he come, though the train thnndered into the town and ont again toward the c:ty. Harold thought of the note in his pocket; perhaps it might explain. He opened it now. It was brief, but as he read he shivered. “O, my God!” he cried and rushed out. He ran swiftly, not homeward, j but off in the direction of the covr, ] where the sailing-boats were ever moored, and whence they bad so often set sail toward the far-out, treacherous rocks. The boat, his boat, so lately named the “Lilith," was gone from its moorings, and he could only stand there looking forth upon tie angry waters. Presently he turned, knowing he must bear the awful tidings to others. And as he flew upon his way, there were terrible written words dancing before his eves in letters of tire—the words of Lester Chappies’ message: The earth has gone out 'rom under my feet. The sea must receive me. Igo forth to my death. I could not live without her?

Players’ Pranks.

“Stage fright," said a veteran actor, “often causes some funny effects. Edwin Forrest’s tremendous voice and fierce manner used to alarm the utility people and supers, and manv are the stories told of him. One of the best is of a super who had to do a little bit of business and couldn’t manage it to the star’s satisfaction. Forrest did it for him once or twice in the desired way, and then growled out, ‘Why can’t you do it as I do?’ ‘Because,’answered the super, ‘if I could I should be getting your salary instead of twenty-five cents anight!’ Forrest was once about to play Metamora, and at a particular point desired to turn and find a utility man standing close beside him. The cue for the utility man was to be ‘the tomahawk of tne red man is buried at the white man’s hearthstone.’ Several times the cue was given, b it the poor man never got there in time. He gave assurance, however, that it would be all right at night. The moment arrived, and Forrest thundered the speech with all his might. Then he turned, but the man was missing. When For-

rest was in the dressing-room after the act the face of the culprit appeared through an opening just wide enough to admit it. ‘I am very sorry, Mr. Forrest, but I really didn’t hear you give the cue.’ Any other excuse would have drawn from Forrest a torrent of abuse, but this astounded him. Taking out a five-dollar bill he gave it to the man, with the words,-‘Didn’t hear me? Well, go and see an ear doctor in the morning.’ “When eating has to be done on the stage there is a great temptation to play tricks with the food. During the run of ‘Henry .V.’ at Booth's. Bishop, as Pistol, hid to eat a leek every night. It was made from an apple. But once Thorne, who wa3 Fluellen, gave him a real onion, and he had to struggle with it though the tears coursed down his fat cheeks. When Sellers has the dish of turnips brought in there are always two peeled apples on the dish. Raymond can’t bear a turnip. It is poison to him. An actor removed the apples one night and Raymond had to struggle with the real thing. You can bet there was war after the curtain fell. Matt Snyder, now stage manager for Robson & Crane, is an inveterate practical joker. He was sitting one clay at a matinee performance of ‘Uncle Tom.’ Fosberg, who is exceedingly ' tall; was playing George Harris. When he came to the speech in which;he declares that at the worst he can earn six feet of free soil, Snyder arose and said very politely, ‘Excuse i me, Mr. Fosberg, seven.'* ‘Thank yon, Mr. Snyder, seven,’ returned Fosberg, and went on gravely with his lines. “The boys got even w.th Snyder last seasbti when he was playing in ‘4b’ with RknknA Snyder acted the bibulous general who has to take three or four drinks of whisky during the last act. Cold tea was the substitute all along, but at the end of the season the boys got some awful Jersey lightning and handed three stiff drinks to him. Snyder smelt them, but had to drink. The cruelest part of the joke was that, after drinking the whisky, water is offered him, and he has to refuse it with disgust. That night he would have given $5 to cool his throat, but Rankin was

watching him, and he had to do the regular business. When people get up and go out during a scene it is, of course, very annoying. A variety man said to a party of young men who' were moving rathe? noisily from their seats recently: ‘Pfay, don’t get up; 111 have the drinks sent to you.’ They didn’t go. Pistols that have been forgotten, or that have refused to go off. have caused innumerable trouble to actors. This year, in Chicago, Boucicault forgot the pistol which he has to fire from behind the barrel ii} the last act of tire ‘Shaughraun.’ Arte O’Neal and Korry Kinchilla engaged in their desperate struggle, but no pistol came to the relief of the virtuous maiden in distress. Those spectators nearest the front heard this whispered dialogue*: “ ‘Where’s the pistol ?’ “ ‘l’ve forgot it.’ “ ‘What shall we do?’ “ ‘Hit him, and he must fall.’ “Arte raised her pretty little hand and knocked out the villain with one blow. But the actor who had to come or and feel the wounded man was not prepared for the change, and his refer ence to the supposed bullet brought down the house." —New York Sun.

A Pleasant Day in the West.

“My dear,” said a Western farmer to his wife, a 3 he got out of bed, “will you look and see what kind of a day it is?” “Well,” she replied* gazing out of the window, “Mr. Smith's barn aoross the way is being blown into the next lot but ” “Not his new briok barn?” “No, the old wooden one; and it looks as if the roof of his house will have to go; but I don’t believe there will be much of a storm.” “Probably not,” replied the husband: “but still we can hardly expeot settled weather at this season of the year. 1 guess I had better drive to town to-day instead of waiting until Saturday, it might storm then.”— Flit adelphia Call. V

Talking Through the Nose.

“Talking through the nose " when a person has a cold, is in reality talking with the nose so stopped that lesc rather than more than the naual quantity of vibrating air can pass through the nasal cavity. In producing certain artieulate sounds— those which occur in English are represented by m, n and ng —all the vocal air escapes from the pharynx by the nose. The nasal air passage has the general form of the resonator, and there can be no doubt but that it has a corresponding influence, and that the o nds produceu by the air passing through it are strengthened by its resonance. The larger the nasal cavity the more powerful the resonance, and consequently the re-enforcement experienced by the tone. Sounds uttered wit a the nasal resonance, particularly the na-al vowels, are fuller and more ample than the same sounds when strengthened by the resonance of the cavity of the mouth, and it is for this reason that third-rate tragic actors like to give a nasal resonance to all the vowels in the pathetio speeches of their heroic parts. The resonance of the nasal < avity plays a part also in the formation of non-artieu-late sounds; then, however, appearing only as a re-enforcement of the resonance of the cavity of the mouth. The directly excited nasal resonance sometimes plays an immediate part in the formation of all art culate sounds, producing the nasal “twang. ' But the general conception of this mode of speaking is by no means scientifically correct, every species of pronunciation in which the nasal element asserts itself with undue promi u nce being called “talking through the nose.” It may, however, arise fro n two unlike causes; firstly, from a stoppage of the nasal cavity; or secondly, from incomplete closure of the posterior entrance to this cavity. If the nasal cavity is obstructed, as when a child’s nose is pinched and he is told to say “pudding,” an accumulation of air forms in the hack of the mouth, being unable to escape through the nose, and in the end is obliged to find exit through the mouth. the resonance is also altered, and the nasal sounds are, therefore, formed imperfectly and falsely. The same disturbance is produced by the partial obstru tion of the nasa cavity which is experienced from the swollen condition of the mucous membrane, and from its increased secretion, during a “ccld in the head.”— F. A. Fernald, in Popular Science Monthly..

The Blue Laws on Smoking.

From the Colony Records the following extracts are taken, showing the orde s and sentences of the Massachusetts Court of Assistants and General Court before the establishment of the “B6dy of Liberties” in the year 1040: “Oct., 1632.—1 tis ordered, thatnoe person shall take any tobacco publiquely, under paine of punishment; also that every one shall pay Id. for every time bee is convicted for takeing tobacco in any place, and that any Assistant shall have power to rcceave evidence and give order for the leveying of it, as also to give order for the JeveyiDg of the officer's charge. This order to begin the lUth day of November next. “Sept., 1634. —It is ordered,That noe person shall take toha co publiquely, under penalty of 2s. (id., nor privately in his own bowse, or in the bowse of another, before strangers, and that two or more shall not take it togeather, anywhere, under the aforesaid penalty for every offence. ” Then followed several laws relative to the same sub ect, and in November, 1637, it was decreed that “all former laws against tobacco are repealed, and tobacco is sett at liberty. ” And in the following year the suojoined was announced : “Sept., 1638.—The [General] Court, finding that since the repealing of the former laws agakist tobacco, the same is more ab sed than before, it hath, therefore, ordered, that no man shall take any tobacco into the fields, except in his journey, or at meale times, under paine of 12d. for every offence; nor shall take any tobacco in (or so near) any dwelling house, barne, corne, or hay rick, as may likely endanger the burning thereof, upon paine of 10s. for every offence; nor shall take anv tobacco in any inne or oommon victualing house, except in a p/ivate room there, so as neither the master of the same house, nor any other guests there, shall take offence thereat; whioh, if they do, then such person is forthwith to forbeare, upon paine of 2s. 6d. for each offence.”

The Elephant and the Buddhist Priest.

Two young ladies were gazing at the white elephant as it stood enthroned in all its sacred splendor and surrounded by the mystic emblems of its holy character and the adoring priests who were kneeling devoutly ou every side. “How curious it is,” remarked one, “that any race of people should be so deluded as to worship an elephant.” “It is, indeed,” replied the other sadly. “When I look upon this worshiping throng of ignorant, superstitious creatures, and realize how earnest and sincere they are, I cannot but feel that there should be no rest until the missionary message is borne to the last one of these misguided heathen. ” “True,” asserted the first speaker; “it is a grand and solemn duty ” Just at this juncture the animal flicked his tail and struck one of the Buddhist priest i in ths mouth. “Howly Moses!” he exclaimed, interrupting his devotions, “ye hathen baßte ” and then the young ladies strolled on to the monkeys’ cage—Philadelphia Call. Dr. Dudgeo , the famous homeopathist physician of London, recalls the l'act—apropos of Koch’s investigations into the nature of the cholera germ—that Hahnemann in D3l suggested that the contagious matter of < holera consisted of “excessively minute, invisible living creatures,” and accordingly advised the free use of cam hor, which he held to be a po'ent cholera bacillicide —to the effic- cy of which treatment, adds Dr. Dudgeon, the statistics of every epidemio in Europe testify.