Greenfield Republican, Greenfield, Hancock County, 6 September 1889 — Page 7

•^Twaxiut a workman on his wcy From toilsome work to tea, )Tet in a cheery tone ho sang: "Nothing goes hard with me." noted well the rough-hewn look,

-JBf

OTHING GOES HARD WITH ME.

The awkward, untaught air ?he Hpade and shovel on his back, The tangled, unshorn hair. .And theae the thoughts that came uncalled,

Unto my musing mind: "Where In the higher walks of life, Can we contentment find? Content in such a great degree,

As this poor workman proves, PwellB constantly within the walks Wherein he daily moves. How many, of the toilsome task

That each new day must bring, Could learn from that poor laborer To be content and sing! And find how light, the work would fall—

No matter what it be— While cherishing the workman's words— "There's nothing goes hard with me."

TOO LATE. A Sfory of St Valentine's Day.

CHAPTER III.

Nell could not be persuaded she i*exnained a recluse from the September that saw the departure of Lyon Leslie to the opening of the Christmas following-. People nodded and whispered. Some said she was engaged to the handsome soldier, others that she was pining- in secret but Nell made no sign. She was cheerful as ever in manner, if not so buoyant as of yore, and performed her usual routine of parish duty: but, besides persistently refusing to mix in the towns entertainments, she sought less and less the society of the companions with whom she had been intimate. She took her rides alone, and her walks too, at least, so far as human fellowship went, but with a goodly company of dogs, her twin brother's special property and trust to her. Wanderings of hours they took together, but wanderings that brought no roses to the girl's pale •cheek, nor added vigor to her limbs. Her eyes seemed to grow larger, and their inner light more earnest. At times too, she was fretful, and day by day grew more silent and abstracted.

Mrs. Thanet was disturbed she did :not think it wiso to force her daughter's confidence still, she felt that the present condition of things could not be permitted to continue without gk word, and a very difficult word to speak she felt that word would "be. Intuitively she knew that, whatever had passed between her daughter and Lyon Leslie, no definite engagement had fceen entered into. She mistrusted. the man. But, like the prudent woman she was, she bided her time, and that arrived suddenly.

A note from Mrs. Kennett to her sister-in-law informed her oi their arrival at the Hall for Christmas. The next day Mrs. Kennett, accompanied "by Janet, drove into Thorpe and stayed to luncheon with her relatives.

Janet, keen as a hawk, espied a change in her cousin. "You are mooning after Randall," •she said. "You are to come to the Hall for Christmas, and Randall too. "Uncle Nettle"'—her respectful diminutive for Squire Nettlethorpe—"says so, immma, says so, and I say so so it is •fmf'Mv a/icompli."

Afc the Hall Nell always shared the same room with her cousin. This had •hitherto been a great enjoyment to both girls. Now Nell would have -wished it otherwise, but she fell into the usual arrangement without a hint •of her desire.

It was the most confidential hour in the twenty-four, the hour before lying down to rest, Then the girls, arrayed in their dainty dressing-gowns, sat over the cheery fire and exchanged confidences. The confidence of these cousins differed essentially from those usually indulged in by the average young lady of the period. Men played a subordinate part, and persons generally. They used to build castles in the air, to sketch out "great things to do," to criticize their current reading, discuss authors and artists, and bewail the proscribed lot of their own sex.

Nell's hair was long and wavy, dark "brown, with a golden sheen. Janet's was black as raven's wing, straight and glossy. They sat, brush in hand, idly drawing it over their silky tresses, anon letting it fall into their laps and. throwing the rebellious locks back froir their faces, looking into the gleaming ash.

Nell spoke first. "You must have lots to tell me, Janet you have been everywhere." "Which amounts practically to nowhere. I have no distinct recollections of any place in particular, Dresden *tr.d Dussendorf suggest—well, colored canvas. From gallery to gallery we wore trotted, catalogues in hand, and impovera behind. It didn't elevate any scriptural conceptions. I assure you things got mixed, and for the life 'of mo I couldn't recollect Biblical facts apart with heathen myths." "But Paris Oh, how I long to see 1'arl# I" •'Well, PariB is charming, but, my eloar, disillusionising. When I shut my eyes and think, I seem to see nothing but architecture, and to hear the Mftfttfsillalse."

The Khlnc, Janet, and Switzerland, ttn.i Italy! Are you weary of those, tjo?" "Ye?, and no. There are bits of the Clydo the Rhine can never touch there nro arid torrents and glens in the. Highland all the grand Alps cannot show and Italy sent mo to €ep.'" "You aro such a home bird, Janet $m

P®

insular."

'•'•We1'-, you sc.', Nell—Janet took up or brusia .'i.nd began to draw it over Jhv hair—you sec tt wa3 all in the t/ay of education, lfc was to expand gur nAmasisaa said, and all that Sort tf Hi h?,. How, if you were given •.6om6 fovorite- Jollypop and told it contaiocd a tonic, would you enjoy it

No—emphatically no!"—and the brush worked with a will. "I wish you and I could go off together," said Nell, "on from island unto island. But then I have no money. I wish we could Randall would go with us and write a grand poem." "Poetry's only good for the gods," announced her cousin. "I am practical." "So am I, Janet, more so than you perhaps but one may stand on earth and look at heaven." "Nell, you have become quite romantic, and I want to know the reason why," Janet asked regardingthe other critically.

Nell blushed rosy red, and, with sudden vigor, began to brush her wavy locks. "What nonsense you talk, Janet! I suppose, if I repeated one of Tupper's platitudes, you'd call me a philosopher. There is just as much analogy between supposed philosophy as between me and romance." "I thought we were bosom-friends, Nell, real bosom friends. I know I never had a secret from you, and you used never to have one from me." "I have no secret, Janet there is nothing to tell." "Nothing to tell when there is everything to suspect? Ah, Nell, absence does not make tho heart grow fonder! You have grown cold to me."

Nell turned her great mournful eyes to her cousin in some such way as a half-frightened deer. She wondered how much Janet knew. "You would have been the very first I would have told," continued Janet, still in a tone of reproach. "When Mr. Anclivo did me the honor tc- ZZ'J he was 'willin', before I even gave him his conge—the idiot!—I told you." "But, no one has laid such valuables at my feet, Janet. You have been listening to idle gossip." "Hasn't he? Then he is a mean, good-for-nothing, mercenary, cruel—"

Nell put her hand on her cousin's mouth. "How can you, Janet! What have you heard? And do you for a moment suppose I could ever even waste a thought on anyone deserving such insinuations? I could not love unworthily."

Nell spoke very calmly, but coldly. Janet's heart was on fire. She feared for her cousin, and she was hurt at her reticence. "I know your estimate, your highflown idea of love," she cried, pushing Nell's hand aside not a little roughly. "You would believe all things, hope all things, anil endure all things." Her voice took a tone of scorn. "You go too far, Janet," returned Nell haughtily. "I would never give my love unsought once given, it would be forever, and I would endure nothing derogatory to my self-respect. Even in friendship endurance has its limits." "Nell, I will not be frozen out of your heart." The unwilling tears stood in Janet's eyes she felt, if this appeal failed, Nell would never give her lror confidence, and her heart was full of dread for her cousin. "You are far, far cleverer than I am, Nell, far, far more beautiful I am only pretty, and your judgment is clearer but, oh, Nell, darling, all this is but in part, all this vanishes away at the little word, •love'! Love blinds such as you, Nell, for such as you love transcendentally. They make "for themselves an ideal, a fetish, and thus worship with blind idolatry. Such as I, Nell, love through the heart and common-sense, and with eyes wide open, and we are safe. You make shipwreck of all."

With a sudden resolve, Nell threw her shrouding hair back, caught it deftly in her hands, and wound it in a great sheaf, letting it fall so, semiconfined, on her shoulders. Then, cold and pale, she rose to her feet and said softly, yet sternly— "You are right, Janet I owe our friendship confidence you must never recur to the subject until 1 give you leave. I'll tell you all I have to tell you now, and, believe'me, I am stronger than you give me credit for. Lyon Leslie loved me and I loved him—that is all. He will come back some day and take me away."

4 4

Nell, did he say he would

44No

4 4

why should he? Love has not

many words, love does not need many words. I know he will."

One more question, Nell, and I've done. Did he ask you to be his wife That does not take many words."

44No

why should he? He said he

loved me, and he knew I loved him. What else can such love end in but union hero and hereafter?

There was a faint down of color on the girl's pale cheek, and her eyes literally glowed with light.

For the moment Janet was awed. Such faith, such love, were beyond her ken. She recovered herself with a groan. Clutching her brush aggressively, she said mentally— "If he plays her false, I'll—" What she would do she did not express further' she let the brush drop from her hand, and flung herself into her cousin's arms with a burst of tears.

My darling, my darling," she cried, "may he prove worthy of the heart he has won! I will hope with you."

She asked nothing further, and in this she was wise. Unconsciously to herself Nell felt relieved by what had passed her burden seemed lighter and hope fairer.

There was quite a heap of Chi'istmas cards on Nell's plate when she came down to breakfast on Christmas morning—some gifts more substantial, too, One more than the others attracted comment. It was a massive gold locket, of barbaric design, covered with raised hieroglyphics, and attached to a slight chain of linked rings. There was nothing inside the locket, nor did word or irrigation accompany it. It was an anonymous gift. The address on the wrapping was in the.handwriting evidently of the tradesman from whom it had probably bee® bbught. It went

|j9Sf 2&5PJ&

the round of the table every one but Janet had a suggestion as to the donor. Nell, too, was silent here. She did not know—how could she. when there was neither note or initial to help her? Perhaps her new brother-in-law sent it, she suggested he had not given her a bridesmaid's token, and had promised to make up for his omissions some day. "Yes, some day," cried Randall, "l know what Barton's some day means it means to-day. He's just the biggest screw between John o' Groat's and Land's End, and would as soon think of buying an uninteresting creature like a sister-in-law a magnificent locket like that as of getting himself anew hat a thing he hasn't done, his own brother says, since his head stopped growing.

Nell could have boxed her brother's ears with a will.

4'I

shall have a letter in a day or two," she said, returning the locket to its case with trembling fingers.

have a rich godmother, I believe." "What, Lady Morton?" again put in the unlucky Randall. "Why, Nell, you are making bad shots! Why, she never even sent you a mug at your christening—mother said so! Besides, I'm sure she's dead." "No," srid Nell, not a little put out, "she is alive and well. Papa sent her a Persian kitten lately."

Then Janet came to the rescue.

4'I've

The last day of December was the twins' birthday. On that day they were nineteen years old. They had wished to return home to spend it with their parents, but the cousins would not hear of it. In the morning they rode into Thorpe, a merry party of four, received felicitations and loving offerings from their family, and returned, little loath, to the luxurious Hall.

There had been an arrival in tho interim, a most unexpected and awkward arrival—the Baron von Melkenburg. He had followed quickly in the wake of his messenger bird, the brilliant jay.

In Mrs. Nettlethorpe's boudior there was not a little commotion. Mrs. Kennett denied having given any special invitation to the gentleman. Ho had seemed to be an admirer of horses, and she had once said, in quite a casual way, that, if he ever came to England, she would like him to see her brother's stud, never dreaming that he would tako her at her word in this off-handed fashion. "If he were not a foreigner," said the lady of the house,slightly molified, •'I should give him his conge at once but foreigners have different codes of etiquette to ours, and, according to his, he may be quite en regie. Jasper" —alluding to her husband—"will be in shortly, and I shall hand over the intruder to him."

At this juncture, Janet, followed by Nell and Randall, joined the conclave in the boudoir. She was even more surprised than her mother and sisters at the occurrence, and much more irate, for it had been she whom tsw» Baron had honored with his addresses, and she was conscious that she haft shown him in a plain enough manner that they wero distasteful she had been amused, and perhaps just a little flattered. It was a most awkward situation.

4'Where

r-ri vW J"5' *»V -T*

got something mysterious,

too," she cried and she showed up an onyx brooch, with a beautifully executed jay in diamonds, set in the center. "Not much mystery in that!" exclaimed one of her sisters. "It's the Baron, I'm sure. Do get a pebble, Jan, and have a gander done in brilliants, and send it to him." "I like the Baron, Cis," was Janet's reply, "and I do foind de brooch ver' lovely." All laughed at tho mimicry.

Loyal Janet made no allusion to Nell's gift. It disappeared from sight and was soon forgotten in the divergencies of Christmas-tide—forgotten by all but the recipient and Janet.

A close scrutiny, when by herself, revealed to Nell a secret spring within the apparently void case. She touched it and a thin layer of gold flew back, disclosed a tiny ring of dark hair, fastened with a gold thread.

With passionate kisses the girl re placed it in its hiding-place, then laid the locket to her heart and looked upwards, her eyes radiant with joy and her bosom heaving. Before putting it away, till she could devise a plan of wearing it unseen, she examined the delicate chain, holding it up to the light, and within each ring she discovered, in fine but clear tracery the words "Dinna forgot." No happier eyes closed in rest that Christmas niglit in Nettlethorpe's overflowing Hall than beautiful Nell Thanet's.

is he?" she asked much dig-

tressed. "In the drawing-room," said her young sister Polly, not a little mischievously. "He has been there all by himself, for the last half-hour. He came in a carriage and pair, like a grand seigneur, from Thorpe. And Calton—their maid—-"says he has brought a lot of luggage,

The good-natured squire, when he heard of the Baron's advent, desired that his unbidden guest should be entertained, promising that in the meantime he would endeavor to ascertain more of his status in society than the Konnetts appeared to know.

Tne Baron appeared quite at his ease: The Squire had joined him in the drawing-room, and had given him a courteous welcome, if not a hearty one. But he, at first sight, disliked the man. There was an effrontery in his ease, an affectation of equality that sat awkwardly, and a certain sharpness of glance that repelled the simple downright Englishman.

4'A

man to guard against," he

thought but nothing more. At dinner the Baron appeared in an elaborate toilet, with much jewelry and profuse perfume. Nell said very little but she made him her close study the whole evening. She was in better spirits than she had been since

Lyon Leslie's departure. Her wit was bright to-night. Ih the drawing-room later, Andrew reached himself to Nell he had lately shown pymptoms of succumbing to his beautiful cousin's attractions.

A hint of this he ventured in her ear, resting by her side in the noble conservatory which, this night a blaze of light, opened out of the drawing room. The girl was in no mood for whispers of that sort. She felt as o: feels when a strange foot approaches a spot sacred to some cherished memory but she liked her cousin, so warned him off gently, but firmly. "Now, be sensible, Andrew," she said "if you want to keep your hand in, there is Lady Bab"—indicating with her fan the Lady Barbara Merville, a neice of the Squire, a large blonde, handsome, and an heiress— "she is always ready, you know." •'Nell," he said, fairly turning his back on the lady in question—"Nell, we have always been good friends."

4'Always,

cousin mine let us remain

so," "I have the lock of hair you gave me two years ago. I was looking at it this evening before dinner. Your hair has changed Nell it hasn't the true golden tint it had—is it a symbol of your heart?" "I have yours too," she said, lightly and evasively. "It was done up in a sweeping sheaf with Lucy's, Polly's and Janet's, and set in a gold-rimmed brooch. Tibbs"—the Thorpe jeweller—"did it, and I kept it for home adornment."

He bit his lip.

4'Do

you know," he said, "I think

you country girls are much more accomplished flirts than town belief You make a fellow feci awfully sm»® I've thought so much of you, Nell. Do you remember the kiss you gave me one Christmas under the mistletoe? I do." And he looked into her averted face appealingly, imploringly. "And so do I, coz"—meeting his love-lorn eyes frankly. "And, if you're good you shall have another this Chi'istmas, under the mistletoe:" and she held up her face playfully. "I would rather have it under the rose," he said, pulling forward a branch of a Marshal Niel in bloom, and arching it botween them.

She laughed, ignoring his more serious intent. "You are such a boy, Andrew!" she said. "Do be sensible, that's a good fellow. I wanted to ask you about that baron, and here you are rehearsing a flirtation with me."

Andrew's jealousy was fired. "Oh, I'll tell you all you want to know!" he cried. "He's rich—that's the main point he says he's been in the Prussian Guards, and ho sings like a nightingale—not one of which recommendations I possess."

4'You

dear old goosey-gander," said

Nell, with frank affection, "do be sensible—this is the third time of asking. I like your little finger better than his whole baronial corpus'''—she made a gesture of dislike. "It is so hard, when I want a friend, to find a-a spoon and her laugh rang out meirily.

Poor Andrew was in earnest he showed signs of sulks.

4'It's

all that recruiting fellow," he

muttered. "I know him he has fooled no end of girls." Nell was equally determined not to quarrel with her cousin but sho bit her lip, "There's the piano," she said: "they're going to dance. Come, I'll give you the first." lie seized her hand. "Wait a moment," she cried, "I want to say something first—that man who calls himself a baron is no more a baron than I am a baroness, or, what's more, he's not even a gentleman—never was in any country, civilized or uncivilized." "Well, there are not many gen lemen in Africa and, a little mollified by the depreciation of a possible rival, he laughed. "I beg your pardon, Andrew some savages would put many of our fine gentlemen in the shade." "Naturally so, being dusky," he replied, teasingly.

4'He's

not even a foreigner," she

continued, taking not the slightest notice of his facetiousness. "His broken English is put on. Don't you notice, when he's off his guard, how shaky his 'h's' are?" "Very likely fellows of that sort never turn up trumps but he's a first class lady's i««an, and he's rich—-— What does it i^atter? Come, the Wait# will be over." "But it does matter, Andrew. If he is not what he represents himself to be, he is an imposter, and I advise you to giv6 the Squire a hint to look after his silver spoons." "Nell! Are

you

^••"•sr.r-^i mi

off your head?"

"No, sir, my head is as sound as my heart, and likely to remain so only I have eyes, and know how to use them"—Andrew ventured a suggestive nod—"and ears, which are often to more purpose, and not open to idle gossip"—Andrew winced.

'Besides,

I have one gift—I have a second sight. Janet owns I am a witch." "So do I but you won't listen. Don't I tell you you are bewitching?" "Andrew, you're a foolish boy— there, it's out! That's my plain unvarnished opinion of you—just a foolish boy. Come, we're in time for a couple of rounds but, mind, I've warned you."

It was strictly a family party, the only foreign element being the intruding Baron. But, by the time the second dance was over, he had ingratiated himself with the entire company— all excepting Nell. His air had assumed the familiarity of an established and approved intimate, and even Mrs! Nettlethorpe acknowledged that he was an acquisition. "I wonder whether aunt Kennett really gave him an invitation to the Hall?" Nell asked of Janet. "It is mere mistake. Mamma often says civil things, and I knew she liked him," rejili*.^ her rousin. "She prob

ably said something which he miscon strued—he speaks English pretty fairly, but doesn't catch what you say so well." "You don't like him, Janet?" "Good gracious, no! A young man would be preferable and she walked away with a laugh of contempt.

Nell was standing under a crystal chandelier, festooned with mistletoe. Suddenly from the distance came the sound of a band playing the National Anthem it was a village band it came nearer, and clanged out the melody under the windows, and, as the air rose, the church-clock struck twelve, and the bells, taking up the story, rang the Old Year out and the New Year in.

It was the signal for a general commotion. Forgeting the presence of the stranger, each member of the family flitted from one to the other, giving and receiving the kiss of welcome.

Fired by the example, the Baron came behind Nell, and, before she could defend herself, stole a kiss from her lips. Quick as lightning, she raised her fan, and dealt him a sharp blow on his cheek. "That was hardly fair!" cried the Squire, coming for his kiss. "It was under the mistletoe, Nell and he kissed the girl, now rosy red with anger, on either cheek. "Strangers have no right to family privileges," she cried, her eyes flashing lightning.

With his mouth set in hard a line, his face livid, save for the red mark across his cheek, left by the avenging fan, the Baron came up to the irate girl, fronting' her, and said, bowing low— "Some day I will give you your privilege back. I have a very good memory." "A very convenient one, you mean," she answered, turning contemptuously away, "for you seem suddenly to have remembered your native tongue." '•Are you dangerous, Nell?'' asked Andrew, as she paused a moment in a doorway arched over with the suggestive plant. "Everybody has had one but me."

She smiled as she lifted her face to his, and let him kiss her on the lips but she neither flushed nor looked shy. He might have been her brother, and he knew it. "I'll bide my time." ho said to himself. "She is proud and he'll forget." (TO B,: CONTINUED.

In Memory of Brave Men. Three miles east of Gettysburg, in clear view from East Cemetry Hill, stands the monument commemorative of the services of the Michigan cavalry brigade, commanded by that brilliant and gallant soldier, Gen. George A. Custer, of Indian massacre fame. The monument is a striking feature in the section of land where it stands, and its beauty and colossal magnificence is admired by everyone. It is a woi'thy tribute to the valor and bravery of tho soldiers who gave up their lives that the union of states might be perpetuated. The monument is built of Vermont granite and is a masterpiece of workmanship, and is as costly as it is handsome. It is forty-six feet high and twevle feet square at the base. The massive die which supports the body of the monument rests on four bases and has Corinthian columns at the four corners. Above this is a cluster of four columns with a finely carved horse head and cavalry devices in the capital of each. The crowning piece is a statue, eight feet high, of a dismounted cavalryman at rest. On the front of the lower die is a large bronze plate showing the s'one of the brigade engagement, and above it is a bronzo medallion of Gen. Cus'.er. The regulation cavalry badgo as well as the one adopted by tiiis brigade are carved on the sides.

The brigate was the second of Gen. Kilpatrick's division and was composed of the First, Fifth, Sixth and Seven!h Michigan cavalry regiments. Two hundred and fifty-seven men were lost in the engagement at the spot where the monument now stands.

The monument lias just been completed and with tho other eight will be dedicated tho coming summer.

The Spoon in History. It seems that our common table utensil, the spoon, antedated the knife in the household of prehistoric man. As the ancient Romans used round spoons, the counterpart of those which are fashionable for the salt-collar, it would have been natural enough if the spoons of prehistoric man hac oeen of the same shape. But some which have been found recently in the Laoustrine dwellings in northern Italy, were precisely the shape used by ourselves, and of baked clay. Two sizes were found, one that of an ordinary table-spoon, the other that of a pot-ladle. The question arises for what purposes wore these spoons made, and it is higniy probable that it was for consumption of hasty pudding or farmety, which was a species of cracked wheat. Tho Lacustrian folk were agriculturists, and possessed domestic animals, but their food was principally cereals, and their condition must have greatly resembled that of a Slavonic communistic village of the present time. They had milk and thoy had meal, and they had the wild honey of the woods, so that they did not fare very badly. One of their tables has been found. It was tho round section of a tree, afoot thick, and there were hollows iu it burned out with fire, which were phi inly the receptacles for the food, whatever it was. The spoons of the AngloSaxons were made of wood, lor Ihe word means not only a culinary utensil, but it also meant a sliver of wood made for writing purposes. In the poem of Tristan and Yseult, it is ex pressly stated that the lover wro'.e verses on light linden spoon, in rur.es, and that he cast them in tho river, and they floated down to the loveress who gathered them in.

ST. PIERRE.

First Impressions Which It Makes on tho Tourist. When you find yourself for the first time, upon some unshadowed day, in the delightful West Indian city of St. Pierre—supposing that you own the sense of poetry, the recollections of student—there is apt to steal upon' your fancy an impression of having seen it at all before, ever so long ago, you cannot tell where. The sensation jf some happy dream you cannot wholly recall might be compared to this feeling. In the simplicity and solidity of tho quaint architecture in the eccentricity of bright narrow streets all aglow with warm coloring in the tints of roof and wall, antiquated by streaking and patchings of mold greens and grays in the startling absence of window sashes, glass, gas lamps, and chimneys in the blossom tenderness of the blue heaven, the splendor of tropic light and the warmth of the tropic wind—you will find less the impression of a scene of to-day than the sensation of something that was and is not. Slowly this feeling strengthens with your pleasure in the colorific radiance of costume the semi nudity of passing figures tha puissant shapeliness of torsoes ruddily swart like statue metal the rounded outline of limbs yellow as tropic fruit the grace of attitudes the unconscious harmony of groupings the gathering and folding and falling of light robes that osciliatc with swaying of free forms the sculptured symmetry of unshod feel. You look up and down tha lemon tinted streets—down to the dazzling azure brightness of meeting SKy and sea up to the perpetual verdure of mountain woods—wondering at the mellowness of tones, the sharpness of tines in the light, the diaphaneity of colored shadows, always asking memory, "When—where did I see all this long ago?" Then, perhaps, your gaze is suddenly riveted by the vast and solemn beauty of the verdant violet Shaded mass of the dead volcano, high towering above the town, visible from fill its ways, and umbraged, may be, thinnest curling of clouds, like spec-: ters of its ancient smoking to heaven.

And all at once the secret of your dream is revealed, with the rising of many a luminous memory—dreams of the Idylists, flowers of olu Sicilian song, fancies limned upon Pompeiian wall. For a moment the illusion is lelicious you comprehend a:s never before the charm of a vanished world, the antique life, the story of terra cottas and graven stones and gracious: things exhumed even Ihe sun is not to-day, but of twenty centuries gone thus, and under such &> light, walked the women of the elder world. Too soon the hallucination is broken by modern sounds, dissipated by modern sights—rough trolling of sailors descending to their boats, the heavy boom of a packet's signal gun—• the passing of an American buggy. Instantly you become aware that tha melodious tongue spoken by the passing throng is neither Hellenic nor Roman only the beautiful childish speech t»f French slaves.—Harper's Magazine..

Interesting Discovery of Ancienl Coins. The discovery of a large number o! York coins at Neville's Cross, in tli2 north of England, is exciting a good deal of interest. They are believed to be associated with the battie between the English and Scotch armies in 1316. The coins, all of silver, number about 300, and were discovered in an urn. A young man named Markey was bird, nesting near Neville's Cross, and near the foot of a tree saw what appeared to be a pot sticking out of the ground. On picking it up it smashed and a number of coins fell to the ground. Taking them first to be checks, ha afterward found out what they really were, and sold about forty at Durham, where they were melted down. Others he took to a town councillor of Durham, Mr. Fowler, who, perceiving thai they were English and Scotch coins ii» good state of preservation, bought them at a fair price. The rest, with a portion of the urn, were secured by Mr. George Neasham, of the Durham University. The urn is about nina inches high, and of mediaeval work* tnanship. The coins are groats, all groats and pennies of the two Scottish Kings, Robert Bruce and David II. and the first three Edwards of England, l'he collection of these interesting coins, ail now in the possession of Mr. Fowler, includes a large number of pennies from tne Royal and Episcopal Mints of Durham and York. The inscriptions show that the groats of EdWard III. were struck in London and it York. They form an interesting Jtudy for numismatists, and it is prob» able that the collection will be transferred to a museum.

Let's reeyour Tongue. In this United States there is one physician to every 500 people. If this Beems to be a little crowded to the new doctors who came out this Spring, we would suggest a good opening for young physician in Gilead, where there is no physician, nor yet any balm. We don't know where Gilead Is, although we know some doctors who we think ought to go there.—» Burdette in Brooklyn Eagle.

The man with a bt.il on his ne nover borrows trouble. lie has enough. of it. ~'k

,.'V